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What if she hadn’t been saved? What if he had?
#mha fanart#shigaraki tomura#mha eri#shigaraki makes me so fucking sad#shimura tenko#mha#mha shigaraki#digital fanart#fanart#my art#the parallels make me insane
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Fuck you Endeavor. Fuck you All For One. Fuck you to all the Pro-Heroes. Fuck the Hero Society and FUCK YOU HORIKOSHI too 🥰
#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#bnha#mha#bnha spoilers#mha spoilers#bnha 426#mha 426#fuck endeavor#— ❥ kelrambles;#am i pissed?? HELL YEAH. am i sad?? FUCK YEAH. I AM FUCKING CRYING FOR FUCK SAKE—#ahhhh i am so done with horikoshi istg… SO. DONE.#always killing off the characters who more than anyone in this god forsaken manga deserved to be happy#the hero society haven’t got better AT ALL#the same toxic shit all over again that promotes so much toxicity it makes me VOMIT#excusing the abusers and crucifying the victims OHH I AM SO FUCKING SICK TO MY STOMACH#been hurling so bad at the last few chapters because tf?????#like… i’m sorry today’s chapter was… nice (at most) only because touya got to have a last talk with his mother and siblings…#but other than that???? hope horikoshi steps on a lego hits the corners of every furniture with his toe EVERYWHERE he goes#and most of all???? that in this scorching weather both sides of his pillow are WARM AS FUCK#honestly… just like shigaraki’s chapter this chapter felt RUSHED as hell too…#especially after how much horikoshi have been staying behind the todorokis as a family…#idk these last chapters just don’t make sense to me…
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still working on this fic but I just wanted to share a piece of it
#boku no hero academia#kudoichi#bnha kudou#yoichi shigaraki#fanfic wip#my writing#these two make me so fucking feral#soft an sad and self-indulgent
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I hate this fucking baka series
#said with affection. and sadness#in tears rn#the ending is so beautiful i love it#tomura and izuku make me cry tho#WHEN I FUCKING CATCH YOU HORI WHEN I FUCKING CATCH YOU#in another world all might would have married into the midoriya family and then adopted tomura#and then also got another corgi called mon chan 2#and the villains would be fine and and and *collapses*#bnha#bnha season 7#bnha spoilers#bnha manga spoilers#sorta? there's an implication in the tags sooo#shigaraki and midoriya#mettys posts#metty posts#tomura shigaraki#izuku midoriya
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If I can be real for a second - what turned me off from BNHA/MHA wasn't even the series itself (though it def has some things I don't care for in the later half) but the fucking real life League of Villains stans who just CONSTANTLY blasted the hero side and acted like LoV were totally in the right just because they have tragic back stories where they were abused or failed by society (it started getting truly unbearable when Hawks killed Twice, like jesus. I will forever argue his actions were entirely valid, if misguided, given the information he had).
Because... it's literally the gif.
The who damn point was that they had valid points, that hero society was fucked up and failing the people who needed help the most... but LoV were not against MURDERING GENUINELY INNOCENT PEOPLE and thus had to be fucking STOPPED. They didn't just kill heros, they'd kill civilians as well. They were actively continuing the cycle that hurt them, just for the other half of society. Their actions weren't about making everyone equal, it was about making others suffer and putting themselves at the top.
Their reasons being understandable and sad DON'T MAKE THEM THE TRUE GOOD GUYS. Just like the heroes weren't purely the good guys because they fought bad guys (fuck Endeavor, all my homies hate Endeavor). It was gray vs gray, not black vs white. Both sides had something they needed to learn or understand, and change as a result of.
I just got so sick of wading through 'LoV is right!' 'Kill Hawks/All Might/etc.' 'All Mights a bad guy' rhetoric, I couldn't enjoy MHA.
#ditto rambles#mha#dont fucking debate me im not here to debate#all the fucking hawks hate was so baffling#like my god HE HAD A POINT#TWICE'S POWERS WERE TERRIFYING AND WILDLY DANGEROUS WHEN LOOKING AT WHAT WAS COMING#WHAT IF FUCKING AFO TOOK IT? OR MADE A SUCCESFUL COPY OF IT????#JUST LOOK AT WHAT TOGA DID WITH IT#YES TWICE WAS A COOL DUDE AND ITS SAD THAT HE WAS KILLED#BUT HE WAS WILL TO KILL INNOCENT PEOPLE#heros should 100% be expected to take villians in ALIVE if at all possible#but it wouldn't always be possible!!!!#and if your weighing the life of one man to the hundrends possibly thousands he'd be willing to kill for his friends#hawks choice MADE SENSE#and no one likes it when you point out hawks was basically groomed to be they way he was by hero society#just like shigaraki was by AFO#making BOTH of them victims of society#in different ways#suffering has many shapes and forms#anyhow ive been thinking about this a lot#...all that said i do like to pretend more of LOV survived and are living happy lives#hopefully not murdering indiscriminately
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/busts down your door WHAT ALL HAVE I MISSED IN BNHA?????? I just saw your comic and I’m so confused
okay so bakugou got got right we all know that, shigaraki fucked up his arm, bakugou said “oh I know what I gotta do” and did a good attack on shiggy but his heart exploded </3 and he died but edgshot said “nuh uh” and used his body to stitch it back up and then deku was late to the party and didnt even have time to be bummed out about bakugou’s corpse cause he has to fight shigaraki and then somewhere else afo does stuff blah blah blah and snatches hawks quirk (rip) and then takes off to join shigafo in that fight but all might says “not on my watch” and intercepts him and they duke it out and all this time afo is getting younger cause he used something made from eris quirk so he could keep duking it out with endeavour and that gang so he’s like a teen fighting poor old man all might who used all his savings to by himself a mech suit but it’s not going so hot for him and stain shows up to take on afo with all might but afo still wins and is about to finish off all might when bakugou starts up his own heart with his explosive sweat and makes really fruity eye contact with deku and with the power of friendship deku pauses his fight with shigafo to launch bakugou towards afo and bakugou saved all might and goes “dawg who’s this kid I’m about to beat the shit out of” and all might says “that’s afo” and bakugou goes to beat the shit out of toddler afo and succeeds because afo finally benjamin buttons out of existence but the whole balugou’s arm looks like seconds away from falling off, then after a long day of fighting bakugou takes a well deserved nap and we go back to deku v shigafo and it’s not going well for deku he’s trying to break through to tenko but he’s not getting anywear and then shigaraki steals danger sense and it gets even worse but second user goes “wait ! What if we attack him with psychic damage, give shigaraki ofa and we’ll beat the shit out of his mind so you can do your thing” amd deku is very sad but agrees and then after he goes punches all of the ofa vestiges into shigaraki they end up in his mind palace and little deku holds little tenko hand even though it’s disintegrating his own and this is where we think “wow he truly won with the power of friendship” but no !! He did not ! The afo vestige that loves in shigaraki’s mind comes out and evil laughs and says “you idiot I’ve been behind all the awful missrable things that happened your whole life ! I convinced your dad to have you, I took your og quirk away and gave you half of an ability that should have let you destroy and recreate but only gave you the destructive part because I am evil and you are too because I made you that way” and shigaraki goes :0 ?!1?;& and dissolves because afo cast vicious mockery and got a nat20 dealing double damage. We then exit shigaraki’s mind and deku has no arms !! But behind him avengers endgame style, heroes amass and aizawa steps out of the portal and goes “damn sorry midoriya if only I’d come like a minute earlier now you’re armless </3” but ! He tosses deku eri’s horn because eri havked it off herself to give to deku to save him and deku’s arms start growing back :D at the same time, afo has fully taken over shigaraki’s body and i like “haha tomura is no more it’s just me now” but he’s super bummed out because his vestige brother is gone as well and he’s like “damn what even is the reason for doing anything anymore :// I guess I’ll still kick ur ass or whatever but I’m kinda apathetic about taking over the world now” but while deku gave away ofa he still has some of the embers and with the power of froendship once more, he dodges afo’s attacks and punches him super duper hard, and we see shigaraki again :D and yoichi :00 and yoichi says sone shit to afo and shigaraki turns to deku like “this was truly our hero academia :) tell spinner I love him” and deku says “sure dawg” and they fist bump and stuff
tldr: deku gave up ofa to save shigaraki and bakugou’s arm is super super messed up which is very fun
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Office Life (Shigaraki x Reader)
Just Shigaraki awkwardly fantasizing about the cute receptionist who works in the same office building as him. You guys let me know if you like this quick “imagine” format for when I don’t have a full fanfic idea.
Smut. 18+. Violence/Blood (not Reader’s). Gender neutral Reader. Dubcon.
Shigaraki, who never had much interest in sex before, when he was so busy with the League and the war. Sure he jacked off to hentai every now and then, but the thought of having real life sex with a real live person didn’t really enter his brain.
Until now.
Shigaraki, who is fresh out of prison and working a dumb office job as part of his “rehabilitation”. Who is ignored and avoided by most of his coworkers because of his very publicized past.
Shigaraki, who just can’t understand why you’re nice to him, why you smile at him so sweetly, like he’s an actual human being and not a monster. Why you, the cute receptionist from down the hall, keeps coming into the office he works in with five other men, desks all lined up neatly.
Shigaraki, who likes that you look at him and acknowledge him, but sometimes has the irrational urge to show you how terrifying and monstrous he can be, to make you fear him the way everyone else does.
Shigaraki, who sometimes has violent fantasies about you that he will never act upon. Like today when you come into the room to share cookies you baked and brought in to the office. You, having such an obvious crush on him that even a socially inept weirdo like him can tell, blush and smile shyly when he takes a cookie from the box you hold out to him.
Shigaraki, who has no idea what you could possibly like about him, but feels a little smug that the rest of the guys in the office are clearly jealous.
And as you move toward the back of the room handing out cookies, constantly glancing back to see if he’s eating his, as if wanting his approval, Shigaraki’s dark fantasy takes over again.
He imagines standing up from his chair and moving through the room, decaying each man in turn, most of them still holding their dumb fucking cookies, only to reach the back, where you’re cowering in a corner, trembling with fear as blood pools around your feet.
You turn around to look at him, terror in those big wet eyes of yours, and then the pleading starts. He imagines you begging him not to kill you, babbling promises to not tell anyone, confessing your love in some desperate attempt to win his favor. You’re still clutching your frilly pink box of homemade cookies in your shaking hands.
In his fantasy, he has perfect control over his quirk at all times, and with no effort at all he can decay the clothes right off your body, leaving you naked and vulnerable in the room full of bloody chunks. And you drop the cookies in your shock, trying to cover yourself with your hands.
He won’t allow that. He’s wondered what you look like under your clothes for too long. And so he roughly pulls your hands away, getting an eye full, before shoving your back onto the nearest desk, spreading you open and unbuckling his pants.
In this fantasy, you always struggle at first. But after he starts fucking you hard, you begin moaning his name, wrapping your arms around him, looking up at him with teary eyes and blushing cheeks as he rails you.
Shigaraki, who snaps back to reality when you walk by him, the scent of your floral perfume drawing his attention. You look at the uneaten cookie in his hand and a flash of sadness crosses your face. He hurries to take a bite, and tries to give you a smile that isn’t creepy.
You smile back, and he knows for a fact he will never, ever act on his worst impulses with you. Because far more than his desire to show you how much of a villain he can be, he wants you to keep smiling at him.
And someday, maybe he’ll stop being a fucking coward and ask you to go to a movie with him.
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𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎: 07/09/2024 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚜𝚎: Would they peel a tangerine for you? 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: none 𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜: fluff 𝚃𝙾𝚃𝙰𝙻 (𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝): $349
I. The ones who do it without asking
"Yes, of course darling", they say after quickly grabbing the tangerine from your hands and start peeling it skillfully or maybe a little clumsily, still, the act is appreciated.
๋ ࣭ ⭑ Izuku Midoriya, Kirishima Eijiro, Sero Hanta, Mirio Togata, Hinata Shouyo, Asahi Asumane, Kiyoko Shimizu, Ittetsu Takeda, Ryuuchi Kashima, Keigo Saikawa, OM!: Mammon, Beelzebub, Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon
II. The ones who do it doubtfully
"Huh, you don't know how to do it? Don't worry, I can teach you, look"—they start peeling it off slowly for you to watch closely and learn (if you really don't know) or start giggling from their cute reaction.
๋ ࣭ ⭑Shotou Todoroki, Tenya Iida, Tamaki Amajiki, Nejire Hadou, Momo Yaoyorozu, Aizawa Shouta, Takami Keigo, Shigaraki Tomura, Tobio Kageyama, Tadashi Yamaguchi, Ryonusuke Tanaka, Daichi Sawamura, Keigo Saikawa, Yoshihito Usaida, Hayato Kamitani, Maria Inomata, OM!: Lucifer, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Barbatos, Solomon
III. The ones who tell you to fuck off and do it yourself, regretting it after seeing you sad
"What? No." As simple as that, they refuse your wish and shoo you away. 'You can't give up just now', you think, so try once more—this time making a pouty face that would be incredibly difficult to resist. They end up groaning while snatching the fruit from your hands and do it rapidly to stop that devilish smile you're giving them.
๋ ࣭ ⭑Katsuki Bakugou, Neito Monoma, Aizawa Shouta, Shigaraki Tomura, Dabi, Tsukishima Kei, Hayato Kamitani, Maria Inomata, OM!: Solomon
IV. The ones that does not give a shit about it
"Hey, I asked if you can help me!" you exclaim after they just fled away from your sight when you asked them to. So sad, probably they already know what this is about and they do not wish to be part of it.
๋ ࣭ ⭑ Katsuki Bakugou, Aizawa Shouta, Shigaraki Tomura, Dabi, Tsukishima Kei, OM!: Belphegor
V. The ones who don't know how to peel it, but still try
"Uh... uhm, I don't know how to put this... I've never peeled a tangerine off", they confess, head low in embarrassment. You smile sadly to their response, trying to cheer them up, you end up peeling it off to show them how to do it. After this, rest assured, you'll have your back covered if peeling tangerines is what you need.
๋ ࣭ ⭑ Denki Kaminari, Izuku Midoriya, Tamaki Amajiki, Mirio Togata, Hinata Shouyo, Ryounusuke Tanaka, Yu Nishinoya, Ittetsu Takeda, Ryuuchi Kashima, OM: Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Diavolo, Simeon
VI. The ones who fake not knowing how to peel it
It probably started off as the latter one, and as you are about to tear a part from the tangerine, it getting caught with your nail uncomfortably, you wince and catch your partner's sly smile. "Oh you're gonna pay"—yeah they won't ever refuse to anything you ask ever again.
๋ ࣭ ⭑ Hitoshi Shinsou, Neito Monoma, Sero Hanta, Mirio Togata, Nejire Hadou, Takami Keigo, Dabi, Yu Nishinoya, Daichi Sawamura, Koshi Sugawara, Keishin Ukai, Yoshihito Usaida, OM!: Satan, Asmodeus, Belphegor, Barbatos, Solomon
˚ ༘ ೀ ⋆ 。˚ ˚ ༘ ೀ ⋆ 。˚ +6 peeled tangerines
All writings rights reserved © 2024 Mitsua's Coffee Shop. (Credit to the respective owners of the pictures and tagged anime characters.)
#๋ ࣭ ⭑mitsua's coffee shop#tangerine#gn reader#reader insert#x reader#bnha#mha#haikyuu#haikyu x reader#hq#gakuen babysitters x reader#gakuen babysitters#obey me headcanons#obey me boys#obey me x mc#obey me scenarios#obey me shall we date#obey me swd#om#om! shall we date#om! swd#bakugou x reader#izuku x reader#kirishima x reader#tsukishima x reader#haikyuu yamaguchi#ryuuchi kashima#hayato kamitani#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon
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thoughts on the chapter
“these differences, both internal and external, allow us to run towards other people and search for a point of intersection” kid out of 8 chapters you spoke like 5 sentences to Shigaraki. What intersection. (I know, I know - the crying child. the only thing Deku can care about.)
Aizawa and Mic visiting Shirakumo's grave
Compress reading Spinner's book with a sad smile...
Did villains just magically stop appearing? because AFO is gone? Because everyone is a bit nicer to each other? Because the rankings got expanded and now everyone wants to get the Eiyuu title?
Shoji says "This award goes to those who rose up 8 years ago." GEE SHOJI. I WONDER WHO IT WAS THAT GOT THEM TO SHOW UP IN THE FIRST PLACE.
I know he's thinking of the heteromorphs that stopped that day. But i just. can't get over the fact that it was Spinner's call to action that inspired them first to even come out.
"peacefully resolving prejudice-based incidents in the rural areas" Peacefully telling a man to put down the rake they're about to hit a heteromorph child with.
I know the intention is de-escalation or something. And that's a good thing! Ideally I don't want the man holding the rake to be smashed into the ground. I don't want the dumbasses spray painting slurs on a wall to be punched around. But the word peaceful here feels like it implies that... it would be victim's fault if they use force to resist violent discrimination. Equal responsibility on all parties and it's up to Shoji, it depends on Shoji to resolve it nonviolently. The originator of the violence doesn't enter the equation.
idk. rubs me the wrong way.
Did Shoji resolve the heteromorph riot peacefully? Not really. He fought Spinner (ah, you might say - well, Spinner was using violence! Shoji has to react to that with punching as well! Yeah. That's what I mean.) Koda had birds shoved someone off a building. What actually stopped everything was one rioter feeling doubts. It's credited to Shoji's words, but Shoji also admits that it's good they showed up and in the chapter here, he calls it an "uprising".
And they showed up because of Spinner.
Well. Maybe Shoji turned to "peaceful resolves" afterwards.
Just to clarify so that no one misunderstands me. Peaceful resolutions are good. I'm glad that's how Shoji is stopping anti-heteromorph incidents. What I dislike is the shallow framing.
"Quirk Counseling Expansion Project" EXPANSION???
Toga became the way she was because she didn't go to Quirk Counseling enough. Needed Expansion. The counselor saying she'll make Toga "nice and normal" didn't go far enough. Needed Expansion.
Again, I get that probably reform is implied in that, or the intent is probably expanding the concept/ideas/tools/methods/scope to include better methods. But wow.
All Might + Crowd of Supporter Statues is the creepiest thing I've ever seen.
Story literally breaking the ending fourth wall to give a happy ending to Deku.
I expect the volume extras to have Shigaraki to come and decay the ending and rescue the league.
It's amazing how the answer to "can someone quirkless be a hero" is a NO. Because Deku's feeling sad and lonely being quirkless and just a teacher and saving a kid from tripping and encouraging a future student. It's not enough. It's not Heroism. So he gets a support item and gets to be a Hero again
And then Shigaraki's Star Wars ghost is just there, not tied into the theme happening on page because Deku failed to saved the fucking guy, but he remembers Shigaraki. for one panel.
Just to repeat this because it's hysterical: This ending is "Can a quirkless person be a hero (and be happy and feel worthy?)" We get a gentle bittersweet but resounding NO. Until All Might comes again to help him out with a 'gift'.
"Remember that day when I used support items to inject acid into an immortal child demon on global TV? The day that you killed a man? Well, data from that day made you this support item. Use it to be a Hero."
Also being a quirkless Hero after all depends on knowing people and having lots of money.
All Might is now about 64 years old.
Shigaraki ghost...........
Something about shigaraki in his original outfit has me all choked up.
That's the appearance he chose to present as in the vestige realm before he disappeared.
The appearance he had in that flashback of him and Spinner bonding over games.
I like how Deku looks back, sees the ghost, but then turns forward and smile. Not even a smile as he's looking at shigaraki. I know this is nitpicky. jfc tho.
"You already destroyed it"/"That depends on what you guys do from now on." I see that there's barely any credit to Shigaraki forcing this amount of change in this chapter. As far as I can see, Deku barely thinks about Shigaraki or even Tenko this chapter. Shigaraki's just a ghost hidden vaguely in all this.
"I'll never forget" lol. The ghost is just like an afterthought from the story to make sure Deku keeps his 'promise'
I don't think a single villain's name is mentioned here. Not a single League member's. Uravity's work towards quirk counseling is not publicly or explicitly credited to her experience with Toga (the vaguest of implication). We don't know Dabi's fate and Shouto is only known as "Endeavor's son" - which might be good? because it's Endeavor's who was the main perpetrator, but still. Spinner lead the uprising but Shoji doesn't mention that. Spinner wrote his book but there's no impact, except for making Compress smile sadly and that's it. Twice has been long forgotten. Deku thinks of Shigaraki's words at the beginning of the chapter, then sees his ghost at the end, but otherwise, nothing.
Truly they've been swept under the rug. A lid put over everything.
Whatever!!!! Shigaraki and the League - the absolute best part of bnha.
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The MHA vestiges/OFA holders make me so terribly ill.
they make me so sad. They make me so sad and I love them so much. All of them. From the first to the seventh. (I dont count All Might as a vestige since he isn't dead) . All of them died horribly (maybe not for Hikage since he just died of old age lmao loser died at 40 💀💀)
btw I made an AU with @rockin-it-rusty so read more to know (be careful, spoilers for after the finale war!)
We made an AU where after the war & the defeat of AFO & Shigaraki, the holders come back to life (since they all died because of AFO/OFA, and since both of it finally came to an end, I think it would be fair for the holders to finally get a fucking change at LIVING.) and they now have to adapt to the post-final war world & their new quirks (since they keep their evolved quirks ^^) & evolutions of society :)
I think a few points I would love to explore in this AU is the shear amount of angst you can get out of Nana coming back, ≈40 years after her death, still looking like the day she died(in her 20's) and meeting a 50+ years old Toshinori (y'know, her protégé? Her sorta adoptive son?) and her friend Sorahiko Torino who used to be her crime fighting partner and is now a senil(not really) old man. Imagine how devastated she can be. She knows that the man who put her friend in the hospital is her grandson. She knows they had to fight someone who shared her blood. Nana coming back to life has such amazing angst potential it's sickening.
Another point I wanna explore is the first user, Yoichi, Yoichi SHIGARAKI. You know.. AFO's brother? His twin? His blood? Yeahh. Yoichi coming back to a world destroyed by his brother. Not only does he grieve his brother, but he feels responsible for everything that has happened. Why does he gets to be alive again? Therapy might be needed here. Everyone HATES AFO, so why would anyone welcome him?
Then, we ofc have the fact that most(if not all) of the vestiges are WAR veterans who died HORRIBLE deaths. That means : nightmares, flashbacks, PTDS, potentially derealisation from their time as vestiges, paranoia and other mental illnesses/health issues. We also have : phantom pains!!! Phantom pain is really important since : En got sliced in two. He died losing half of his body and his right hand. He HAS to feel some kind of phantom pain even if they're back once he get resurrected; and Bruce got stabbed, having a gaping hole in his torso.. he had to be feeling some phantom pain too! Then, obviously, with Kudo & Nana getting choked, I can imagine that it would feel a certain way (choking is very easy, and the feeling of hands squeezing the life out of you is something you don't ever forget)...
we also have a few other ideas and stuff, so stay tuned ^^
#aro's statement#mha#mha spoilers#mha au#bnha#my hero academia#yoichi shigaraki#mha kudou#mha bruce#hikage shinomori#banjo daigoro#en tayutai#nana shimura#all for one#one for all#ofa users#ofa vestiges#I personally adore the vestiges and hold them very dearly#I'm a huge fan of Kudo/Kudou btw. He's my favourite character (don't tell Shinso I replaced him)#Yoichi would feel like shit knowing he never was able to save his brother and he would feel responsible for the war. He always did.#they all need therapy#they all need a hug but I dont think they would feel comfortable having one#They wished for a “normal” life? Get one idiot. Normal? What is normal? Is that not normal enough?#I feel like they would all have psychological issues#mha milk au#Its called “milk” because of the Jack Stauber's Micropop song btw#Thanks Rusty for the title/name#We're gonna write it someday#And draw it maybe???#The vestiges are so important to me
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A common trope in fanfics is that Izuku could become a Quirkless Hero via an Iron Man-type armor. But while it doesn't work at all for the ending, it works in fanfics. You know why? Because in those fanfics, HE MAKES THE ARMOR HIMSELF. It's not handed to him on a silver platter. He goes though many amounts of trial and error to continuously improve his suit, and is allowed to feel emotions and thoughts from his point of view. He's allowed to be spiteful, angry, sad, and conflicted. The fanfic "I Am Not Done" by JayDeeKay on AO3 is one that I HIGHLY RECOMMEND because it did all those things and more, depicting Izuku as a victim of both Bakugo (who crippled him) and Hero/Quirk Society for wanting to become a Hero, with many people from different angles coming at him because they fear that his attempts will rightfully shake up the status quo. Love that fic.
Iron Might in canon shouldn't have even worked in the first place because Horikoshi conveniently forgot that AFO has a Radio Waves Quirk that can disrupt all kinds of electronics. Why the fuck didn't AFO use that? As Deadpool would say:
Hi @patrickowens86 👋
Iam going to be honest but I love quirkless izuku and he honestly doesn't need to be OP just quirkless izuku who changes the definition of what it means to be a hero works really well in a story because like you said it's a journey that izuku must take. This journey allows Izuku to feel certain emotions, grow as a person, allows his beliefs to be challenged and changed by his experiences in society and it also focuses a lot on Izuku's intelligence which I love.
The reason iron Izuku doesn't work in the manga ending is because he never made the suit it was given to him. Izuku also never goes through the journey of trial and error the journey of challenging his beliefs and overall development it's just a little thing hori gave izuku so he can still be a hero.
There's also the depiction of canon iron Izuku or iron might as the suit being powerful enough to beat many villains but to be a hero you don't need to beat villains you need to SAVE people not BEAT them. Like I said izuku doesn't need to be powerful enough to go against villains like all for one or shigaraki but his intelligence and influence can change society and allow for him to connect with others.
Izuku becoming a quirkless hero is also one way that he breaks the status quo so there's that.
Going on a tangent here but one of the things I don't understand is the belief that izuku can't be a quirkless hero when heroes like wash (a flipping washing machine) can be a hero or someone like lunch rush is a hero. The term hero doesn't mean that someone needs to physically fight villains.
I don't like iron might. To me it hinders all mights own development of him learning to leave stuff to the younger generation and also learning and finding his own self worth outside of heroics and being able to fight or save others. Also I must say that I even forgot that all for one had a radio wave quirk and I suppose hori just ended up nerfing all for one because he made him too powerful in the first place for anyone to beat.
The link to the fic that you mentioned is here Iam not sure but I think I might of read it but I forgot so Iam definitely gonna read it anyways.
#mha#mha critical#bnha critical#horikoshi critical#bnha#hori is a bad writer#bhna critical#thanks for the ask#thanks for the ask!#izuku deserves better#quirkless hero izuku#anti iron might#anti iron deku
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Ok. About Tenko.
I understand why so many people are angry that he's dead. I really do. I would've loved for him to live as well. I cried when he died.
However.
Just because he's dead doesn't mean his character has been handled poorly. In fact, all things considered, this ending (even though it makes me real fucking sad) makes the most sense for both his character and his story. Let me explain.
First and foremost, there's the matter of Shigaraki's characterization and arc. It goes without saying, but he's an angry, used, and abused child who grew up into an adult who wants nothing more than for everything to end. His goals have always been destructive to an extreme and honestly, the logical end to "let's destroy it all" is LITERALLY everything, including himself. He's also had absolutely zero agency since the moment his parents even thought of conceiving him, and has been struggling to become his own person since the beginning of his arc. He, against his abuser, who covets immortality and eternity.
What better a way for a person such as himself to assert his agency is there than to go out the way he did? To shift his focus away from the faceless masses and to the (similarly faceless, lol) abuser who caused his pain in the first place? To destroy the control AFO has held over him and prove to him that he was always his own person? To say, this is who you molded me into. And because I am who I am, I will now kill you, and take myself down with you, and be glad for it.
(and in the process, destroy the worldview AFO showed us in the Star and Stripe arc, that the ones who survive are the victors. AFO has completely and eternally lost, but Shigaraki is victorious to his last.)
It's his first moment of complete agency in his life -- acting entirely against anyone else's wishes for himself or his actions. And he uses it to do the one thing he's been itching for his whole life -- to destroy the source of his pain.
It's a negative character arc, in a way. It's not what any of us would've wanted for him. In a perfect world, he would be able to recover and readjust, building a life for himself and his found family in peace. He'd be able to experience life fully for the first time, and see that the world is not so bleak after all.
(I'm choking up just thinking about what's been lost. It's a fucking tragedy.)
But not every character arc gets to end happily. Sometimes people do slip through the cracks. That's always been what Shigaraki's character is about.
....and what every other member of the League's characters have been about.
Because here's the thing. The story of Shigaraki's life and death would be incomplete without his relationship to his found family. He's their leader. Their symbol. Their All Might.
Shigaraki's death is not the grimdark, fuck-the-audience, senseless kind of tragedy. He is a martyr, yes, but the people he stood for will in all likelihood survive. He died for the League. His life -- his existence -- brought them together, gave them purpose, and showed them a bright future. It is my steadfast belief that he will be the only death among the main villains. Because this is a story about saving to win, after all. And given that My Hero doesn't like to kill characters off too often and each one of them still has a path to recovery, I think it's a safe assumption to make. Especially since (especially in Toya's and Toga's cases) each of them had a moment of reconciliation at the end of their fights -- the kind of thing that can help them move forward.
And to be honest, we've known for a very, very long time that BNHA is the kind of anime that likes to turn old cliches on their heads. Kacchan did not become a villain during Kamino. La Brava's literal power of love was not enough to win the battle. Deku fought tirelessly to talk-no-jutsu Shigaraki into redemption, and while he did get through to him, he still couldn't save him after everything that happened. It's nuanced and messy in a way that I've come to expect from BNHA.
So yea, Shigaraki died. But Shigaraki also lived. Despite everything that AFO and Kotoro wanted from him (despite the fact that he was never meant to really be alive in the first place), he lived on his own terms and fought so that the people he cared about would be seen. Because he lived, the old world was destroyed, and from his ashes, a better one can be built. He achieved everything that no one thought he could, and reclaimed his life in the process. What better ending could you ask for a tragic character?
#bnha manga spoilers#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#mha#shigaraki tomura#midoriya izuku#deku#all for one#shimura tenko#bnha#bnha 424#league of villains#lov
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Stoner Shigaraki Headcanons 🍃
Warnings: drug use (weed), shigaraki being a loser, some x reader inclusions (fem-reader), NSFW
18+ Minors Don't Interact
Shigaraki started smoking at 16. How he got his hands on it is a question neither AFO or Kurogiri could answer tbh. All they know is one night they smelt a WRETCHED shunky odor coming from his room and the sounds of coughing
When he first started he was actually bad at inhaling, a lot. He'd cough so hard and sometimes to the point that he'd straight up puke. And then he'd go take another hit with the puke still sitting on the floor
Shigaraki's appetite varies when stoned but usually he gets munchies for junk food or bland food like wheat thins lmao
He gets sleepy when he's high and the only thing keeping him awake are his games and his babygirl
Sad Story: AFO loves feeding into Shiggy's anger right? So one day he took his weed when he wasn't there and Tomura came back fucking MAD. He kicked a dent in the wall because he couldn't find his weed. Somehow it was some test of willpower from AFO. He got his weed back tho cuz it got conveniently placed back in it's proper spot a day later and Tomura thought he was going crazy
He's so funny when he's stoned because Tomura can either be pretty chill or clearly zoinked. When he's high af you can tell cuz his eyes are red af and he shakes a bit. He also doesn't make sense when he talks and will start talking about shit that's completely off topic
Hornyyy. Gets horny when he's stoned but sometimes he's too couchlocked to touch himself
Loves pens so much
He's more of an indica girlie because it helps him with his rage. He'll smoke anything tho
You best believe the League has smoke sessions
Goes through periods where he'll be high all the time and then other times he'll be sober or on another substance for a bit. Usually, he swings around his substance use with his manic episodes (I do headcanon Tomura as bipolar and you can't stop me)
Has tried smoking resin
If you can get him to laugh when he's stoned he won't stop for a while
All you'll hear for the next 2 minutes is a nasty uncontrolled cackle
"HehehHHahhaehHEHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
Had burnt holes in his mattress with joints he smoked when he lived at AFO's
Kurogiri tries to get him to ease up but he never wins
He let's it happen cuz stoned Shiggy is easier to manage than drunk Shiggy
I will make drunk Shiggy headcanons eventually
Will get very affectionate when he's stoned, don't you mistake it. So many kisses and he will not let you go. You'll probably get stuffed
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The Potential of You and Me [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader]
Title: The Potential of You and Me [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader]
Synopsis: You have a stalker. And he's tired of waiting for you.
Word Count: 5100ish
notes: yandere, stalking, threats, noncon oral sex, humiliation and degradation
Every box packed is sealed with a mixture of bitterness and relief, all stacked high in increasingly precarious towers; filling the dark corners of your longstanding home with cardboard and hastily made tape labels that you hope won’t peel off in the moving truck.
It makes you sick to see them. It makes you scared. It makes you sad.
It might be different, if you were leaving under different circumstances. If you’d gotten a job in a new city and you were starting over with a fresh coat of paint, or something like that. Something you could spin into sweetness and adventure.
If only.
If only you weren’t moving because you had a stalker and this was the only palatable option left. The police couldn’t do anything--there was no tangible evidence, no matter how many times you insisted things were missing.
It turns out that “I can feel someone’s eyes on me” and a letter detailing how much they loved you and how good you were going to feel on the inside was not, in the eyes of the authorities, enough to really do anything. Change your locks, they said. You did. Switch up your routine, they said. You did.
It didn’t matter. Things kept going missing. You kept feeling watched. You came home and found your bedroom window open and another letter on your pillow that you tossed out without reading.
It wasn’t going to stop, with or without the advice of the police. And you couldn’t do anything to protect yourself, not on your own. You didn’t even have a damn quirk.
So what can you do? You can pack up your life and find a cheap apartment in another city, where you don’t know anyone, where you don’t have a job, where you’ll be in a place half this size and nowhere near as nice.
You can throw away everything you’ve ever known and pretend that things are going to be fine.
This is what you’ve been reduced to--but it’s this or your life, isn’t it? Your sanity? You don’t know how much more you can take or how long it will be before your stalker takes a step beyond stealing your underwear or sending you notes.
What if your stalker decides to go further than leaving letters and taking panties? What if he decides to hurt you--or kill you? You were no stranger to the nightly news, to stories of women found killed and dismembered by men found to be stalking them.
You had a life to live. Even if you have to live it somewhere else, if you want to be safe.
You slap another label on a box filled with books (and God, you had too many books, didn’t you? But you couldn’t bear to part with them, stalker be damned) and wiped a trickle of sweat beading on the back of your neck. This would have to do for tonight. The moving truck was coming in 2 days, and you’d been living on little sleep, tons of coffee, and far too much takeout.
You needed a break. Just a little one. Just some sleep, to feel refreshed, before you spend another whole day packing and shoveling food someone else made into your mouth as quickly as you could before you went back to it.
You’re in the bathroom--still not packed, but you’d been putting it off for the end--when you hear the noise.
Something small. A creak. A noise that you would have brushed off a few months ago as nothing.
But now it sends a twist straight into your gut. You freeze, turn off the sink, and spit foamy toothpaste carelessly into the basin. Your fingers shake and your toothbrush clatters into the sink, too loud, too overt. Fuck.
Your hands clench the end of the counter and you strain sideways, forcing yourself to listen.
Nothing… nothing. Maybe you are being paranoid. Maybe it’s best that you’re moving away, if even the slightest noise had you on edge--
But, oh.
Oh.
You hear it again.
A creak--but it’s not just a creak, is it?
It’s a step.
Down the hall. Something is in the hallway. No, not something, because something wouldn’t be wearing shoes that make an unmistakable sound when connecting with the floorboards.
Someone is in the hall.
Someone is coming for you.
Your body seems to move on autopilot, quick, numb.
One step, two step.
You hear the hallway closet door opening. Nothing inside but boxes.
Another step, and another.
The guest room door opens. More boxes, and piles of stuff you planned to take to the donation center tomorrow.
Step, step. Step.
The hallway isn’t long enough, oh God, how you wish it was longer.
Because all too soon, the steps stop at your bedroom door and there’s an awful scratching sound, like someone is dragging fingernails down the wood.
The terrible reality of that sound makes your body jolt back to life. You’re just standing there! You stupid, stupid moron. You have to do something.
Your buzzing mind races, what are you supposed to do? Call the police! But your phone is on your bed, sitting idly on top of the bare mattress where you left it earlier. There’s not enough time. It’s too far away. You’ll get caught, mid-lunge, and your trembling fingers will probably drop the phone anyway.
So you, legs tingling with fear that seems to both paralyze and push you, rush into your doorless closet and stand inside next to the open doorway.
You’ve already packed your closet up, so there’s nothing to hide behind, no layers of clothing to shield you. Only the darkness of the bedroom that you hope is enough to hide you.
The door opens with a foreboding creaking that makes your chest hurt. Slow and methodical, like whoever it is is fucking with you on purpose.
You cover your mouth and nose and will yourself not to breathe.
Someone steps into the room and you curse yourself for not turning off the bathroom light. But the closet should still be dark enough, right? You pray for that, mindlessly.
Whoever it is--it’s a man, you realize, with lanky silver hair, but you can’t see his face--glances toward the bathroom.
He takes a step, then pauses.
Don’t come to the closet. Don’t come to the closet. Don’t come to the closet. It’s a mantra, a prayer, rushing through your brain as you will him to inspect the bathroom.
Maybe someone up there likes you, because he does take slow steps toward the bathroom and you wait until he’s in the threshold (where he’ll no doubt see the room is empty) before you bolt from the closet, arm slapping carelessly against the door frame (it hurts) before you rush through the doorway of your room and into the hallway.
Everything is dark and dim. You were going to bed, now you’re running for your life.
You register only sounds and vague physical feelings that puncture through the veil of your terror. The slap of your bare feet against the floor. The sound of the clock in the kitchen. The scratch against your elbow from one of the cardboard boxes as you run towards the front door, a sharp corner digging into your skin.
And then you hear the slow, calm steps that come from behind you, almost matching the ticking of the kitchen clock in their lack of urgency.
Your fingers pull on the doorknob and nothing happens. Your palm grips it, twisting this way and that, turning the lock open and shut and open and shut. But it doesn’t open, no matter what you do, what you turn. A soft, helpless sound pushes its way out of your throat.
And then you look up and see something jammed into the top of the doorway, like it’s been stuck on there. A barrier? A lock? You have to get it off, and you go to stand on your tiptoes when a voice behind you sends every nerve in your skin tingling.
“You’re not very good at this, are you?”
Your bowels clench and your hands shake as they slap against the door and you turn your body around to face the man who broke into your home.
The light is dim, lit only by some streetlights streaming through the window and the tiny light above your stove in the kitchen. His hair is the easiest thing to see about him, light colored. His clothing is dark. His face is hidden in shadows.
“Please don’t hurt me,” you whisper, keeping your back pressed against the door. If only you had a quirk that would let you melt through walls or blast open locks or do something, anything, to help yourself.
The man tilts his head, and there’s a dim recollection in your mind at the gesture. It’s like something out of a movie. Or a video game. Is this a game to him? Some twisted entertainment?
“No?” His voice has something of a gravel to it, like he needs to clear his throat. But there’s a smoothness underneath it all, too--a teasing lilt that worries you to the core. “Why shouldn’t I?”
“I--” You lick your lips, and your shoulders shake like you’ve been left in the cold for too long. “I don’t want to die.”
“Oh,” he says, and there’s a snicker at the edge of his voice that promises to cross over should you amuse him too much. “Of course you don’t.”
Your hand stupidly reaches behind you and pulls at the door again. All it does is make a shifting sound as it slips uselessly through your fingers. You aren’t going anywhere. At least not through the front door. But the windows…
You stand up straighter, trying to center yourself, trying to calm down.
“What… what do you want? I-I have some money, but not much. I’m moving, so--”
He scoffs. You can’t see his expression, exactly, but you get the impression that he’s narrowed his eyes. That he’s annoyed with your suggestion for some reason you can’t fathom.
“I don’t want your money.”
It’s a stupid question to ask, but you ask it anyway.
“Then…what do you want?”
He sighs, and that snicker is there, all dark and teasing. It makes your chest hurt more. And then you watch, entranced, as he reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. A handkerchief? Or a piece of lace? It’s light blue and colorful and--
Fucking hell.
It’s a pair of your underwear. A cute pair you’d picked out on a whim last year. And… he’s holding it in his hands, fingers drumming in the air, almost toying with the fabric as you stare. This pair went missing, didn’t it? Then how--
“I came to give this back. Aren’t I generous?”
“Give it… back?” The words come out in quiet disbelief and everything clicks in your head, like a lock snapping shut on something you should have realized long ago.
He’s holding a pair of your underwear.
He’s broken into your home.
He’s your stalker.
“You’re--my…” You can’t bring yourself to bring the word into reality. “And you’ve been…” Your back presses harder against the door, as if you might just conjure up that wall-busting quirk through sheer will alone.
“Please leave!” You’re almost shocked at how high and loud your voice is, despite the way your body trembles. You lick your dry lips again, and words come tumbling out. Something, anything, to make him go away. “I’ve already called the police. So-so they’re on their way and if you don’t leave, they’ll--”
“Don’t lie.”
Your mouth stops mid-ramble.
“I’m… I’m not lying. I really did, I--”
His hand dips into his other pocket and he pulls out your phone, shaking it slightly at you, like presenting evidence of misbehavior to a wayward child. One of his fingers is sticking out to the side. It’s strange, but--
“Unlock it,” he says, holding the screen out flat and there’s no room for argument in his voice. Nor are you stupid enough to try to grab the phone from him. You place a shaking finger on top, and the screen lights up, revealing your latest background--some silly photo your friend sent you a few months ago.
He begins to run his thumb down your screen, until you see that he’s bringing up your recent calls.
“Moving company… takeout…” He smiles, but in the darkness, it looks more like a sneer. “No police.”
You swallow, throat dry. He splays his fingers out suddenly, keeping his thumb wrapped around the screen. He places one finger down. Two fingers. Three, four, five.
And your phone crumbles to dust.
Your bowels clench hard, and you push back against the door.
“Please,” you whisper, throat dry, mouth trembling.
He takes a step closer. You can look at nothing but his fingers. Even in the dimness, you can see a fine layer of dust on them. Your phone. Your phone, there and gone, nothing but ashes. And now he’s taking a step closer to you, reaching out with his hand.
You make a sound, something soft and primal in what you believe are your last moments, but instead of agonizing pain and nothingness, you feel only a single finger on your cheek. You blink, and the tears held back by your imminent death fall easily. His finger makes a lazy swipe up your cheek, catching the tear.
“I like that. Keep saying that, okay?”
“Please?” There’s disbelief in your voice, yes, but hope, too. Hope that you can get out of this alive.
He makes a low sound, like a hum.
“Please… don’t hurt me.”
He pulls his finger away and looks at you. Now that he’s closer, you can see a bit more of his features. Or at least, you can make out the smile he gives you. It’s not a comforting smile.
“I won’t hurt you, if you’re good. Now…” He takes a step backward. “Turn around for me. Face the door.”
You don’t want to. More than anything, you don’t want to listen to him. But you have to, at least for right now, if you want to live. So you force your stiff, leaden muscles to work and face the traitorous door that won’t open for you anymore.
“Good,” he says, with a note of something like pleasantness. “Now stay nice and still while I tie your wrists.”
You do wait. You wait until you hear him unzipping the bag slung around his shoulders, and then you bolt on tingling muscles, pounding down the hallway and whipping back into your bedroom. You can’t call the police, but you sure as shit can jump from your bedroom window.
Your thighs are up against the bottom of your bed--you just have to climb on and get over your headboard to the window behind it, so close, so close--when you feel hands on your back, pressure, and all of the air goes out of your lungs as something big and heavy tackles you and pins you to the bed.
Your mouth opens, and you’ve finally gotten the idea to scream--only for four fingers to slap over your mouth in an instant. There’s dust on them. Like bitter salt.
“Quiet.” The word is practically hissed into your ear, and all thoughts of making a sound cease. But you don’t give in, not yet, because you’ve read your true crime books and watched your horror movies, and you know what happens to people who get pinned to beds by stalkers who break into their homes. It can’t happen to you. It can’t.
He grips your shoulders with one hand and flips you onto your back. He slowly releases the hand over your mouth, because you’re smart enough to stay quiet, aren’t you? Especially when those fingers could come down (one, two, three, four, five) and kill you in an instant.
You’re quiet. But you won’t give in without some fight. You move to sit up, free hands pushing against his check--do you really think you’re stronger?--and his breath hitches above you as he grips your wrists and pushes forward, pinning you to the bed.
Your teeth clack together when your head hits the mattress, and against your better judgment, you continue to buck and squirm, pulling at the wrists keeping you on the bed. He’s too strong. You don’t even make it an inch. And the sheer helplessness of it all turns to worms in your stomach, cold and slithering.
But you don’t stop trying, and your breath comes in heaves as soft, timid sounds of daydreamed escape push past your lips. If you could just get a wrist free. If you could just get a leg free. If you could just get him off you.
Thoughts come and go without staying concrete. Maybe a hero was walking by your bedroom window just now and he heard the tousling and he’s going to break the window and save you. Maybe the police decided to do something and send a patrol car to your home. Like gray daydreams, these fuzzy hopes of rescue.
Instead, there is a man above you, pinning you down with nothing but his strength and if he wanted to, he could turn you to dust for being too difficult.
But you don’t turn to dust. Instead he’s looking down at you, leaning forward so his hair tickles your face. You can make out his features now, tired, lined, crazed. He scares you in a way you can’t articulate. There’s something deeply, terribly sad and--wrong--about him.
“I should punish you a little.” His words feel sour, breathed onto your face. “But… I can’t stay mad at you…” He leans forward until his nose is absurdly pressed against your cheek, nuzzling your skin, even as you turn your head in an attempt to lessen the contact. “Not when I’m finally ready to take you home.”
The word is a vice, and it’s like all the strength gets sapped out of you at once.
“Home?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he tugs at your wrists until they’re resting on top of your stomach, and he takes one hand and holds both of your wrists firm.
“Don’t be stupid.”
You aren’t. Your skin feels numb from fear, but you keep your wrists still as he leans backward and opens the bag hanging from his shoulders. He pulls out some restraints made from some type of cloth, and wraps them around your wrists one after the other. There’s a center strap in the middle of them, which he yanks high, pulling at your arms, until they’re above your head. The headboard--he’s tied the strap to the headboard.
"There. Nice and snug." He seems pleased, and that scares you more than any of his threats or the dust still clinging to his fingertips. You don’t want him to sound so pleased, not when you’re here, in the dark, tied to your bed.
Your words taste bitter as you force them out of your drying mouth.
“What are you going to do?” You want to know. You don’t want to know. You want it over with--you don't want him to start. You flex your fingers, but your bound wrists aren’t going anywhere.
He leans forward, and there’s something sickly sweet on his face. A grin--a grin that is not very nice at all.
“What am I going to do?” he says, voice higher, frightened. Mimicking your fear. His hand reaches for your face and you flinch, but all he does is trail two fingers on your cheek, winding down until they rest on your lips.
“Open up.”
You do, because what other choice do you have? In an instant he shoves the fingers inside, and you gag on dust and salty skin. He pushes them too forward and you retch.
“Oops.” He giggles. It’s a breathy sound, not at all sweet. “Lick them, okay?”
Your eyes widen. You want to ask him why, but the thought of making any muffled sound around his fingers makes you sicker than the grittiness currently in your mouth.
“It’s for your own good,” he says, with an almost teasing lilt to his voice. “I promise.”
You don’t trust any of his promises. But you do trust the taste of the dust in your mouth, a forewarning of what might happen to you if you don’t listen.
Slowly, you force the muscle of your tongue to start licking his fingers. It’s a short motion--you want as little contact with his fingers as possible. You have to fight back that way, at least, don’t you? Even if it makes him mad.
But it doesn’t make him mad. He coos, if anything. “Oh, you’re like a kitten.” The words are gross and stick inside your chest, and you can’t ignore the tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks. But you keep licking.
Done, or maybe just bored, he pulls them out and wipes an excess line of connecting drool onto your cheek. “Good enough.”
For what?
Without warning, he reaches lower and yanks down your pajama bottoms. You can hear the elastic rip from the force, and the soft fabric bunches up around your knees.
Whatever part of you that had resolved to be good and quiet dissolves in primal fear, and you shriek--perhaps there’s words in there (Don’t, please, oh--)--but they die the instant he holds up his hands, and is there where you die, too?
But he doesn’t bring his hand down.
Instead, he digs down into his pockets and you only have the briefest moment to register that he’s holding the panties from earlier, the ones he stole from this very bedroom, before they’re shoved into your mouth. The fabric tastes stale and there’s brief pulses of horror (what was he doing with them all this time?) before you try to push at all the bunched up fabric with your tongue, desperate to get it out.
He regards you with a smile, and there’s something so low in it, degrading and dark.
“Keep them in there. Unless you want the neighbors to hear?” Then he pats your cheek with a few fingers. “If you spit them out, I’ll just gag you with something bigger.”
You don’t want to know what that would be. What remains of your whimpers are muffled around your underwear as he scoots backward and grips your thighs. He pulls them apart without a word and your legs tremble. You could kick, couldn’t you? You could fight and kick and even if your hands are tied, you could.
But you don’t want him to hurt you. You don’t want to die. You want this to be over with. You want him to do what he’s going to do and leave and you’ll call the moving company in the morning and ask if they can pick up your things today. Or you’ll run out the door with only your essentials, and a favorite book or two, a memento--your mom’s necklace, a trinket or two--and… and things will turn out all right.
They have to.
So all you do is keep up your pitiful little whimpers as he rips your underwear off and tosses the destroyed garment on the floor. The coolness from the exposure makes you tremble. Or maybe that’s the fear, and the realization that he’s going to touch you.
He hooks one arm under your thigh and keeps it pulled to the side, giving him easier access to the .
You feel them, then. His fingers. Warm and a bit gritty. Touching you, stroking you, playing with you carelessly like someone who is happy to explore something for the first time. There’s no real consistency to the way he touches you. He pulls apart your pussy lips and prods inside. You jump. He runs his fingers up and down the middle of your slit.
It doesn’t feel good. But it doesn’t hurt (that’s something) and maybe he won’t hurt you, after all? Not that you want it, not that you would rather be anywhere else right now (I won’t complain about my new city, you think, not the rent or the public transportation or the new neighbors. I’ll be so good and so grateful if this is over with quickly and he leaves.)
And then his finger is touching gently at your clit. It’s too sudden. Your hips jerk and a sound is stifled by your gag. He watches you and pulls his finger back a bit, instead touching around your clit, ghosting it, a much more tolerable (and sickening) feeling. He’s gentle, almost, and it hurts to contrast it with everything else.
You think about how many of your personal things have gone missing. The letters he’s left you flash in your mind. He can’t stop thinking about you. He wants to know you. He-needs-you-he-wants-you-he-will-have-you. And then… then you think about your phone crumbling to dust and what would it look like, if he did that to your skin?
You don’t want this. This can’t be happening. But it is, and there’s no way to escape the reality of the situation with his body so close to yours--with your hands tied firmly to the headboard.
You feel the trail of slick on his fingers before you see it, just as he pulls his fingers away. It’s a bodily reaction, nothing more than that. But it doesn’t lessen the humiliation and the terror, and the panty gag in your mouth is soaked with drool and salty tears that have dripped in from between your lips.
“I was going to wait until we got back,” he murmurs. “But…” He almost looks wistful, and there’s a small, childish smile on his face. “You feel so much better in person than I imagined. You know that?” You see him working his bottom lip under his teeth--is that where his scabs are from? “Fuck it.”
All you register is him swooping down and the quick bob of his head before you feel it--his tongue between your pussy lips. It’s startling, and you gasp around your stolen underwear as the warm muscle goes from awkward prods to gently lapping around your clit, just touching the edges of it with enough firmness to send your nerves singing.
You mewl. You can’t help it. It’s a sinful feeling, delicious and abhorrent. It’s a wet warmth that keeps going, lapping and lapping, making all of your nerves go haywire. Your legs kick on their own, and the thigh kept in his grip trembles.
He pulls back just enough to talk, and you wish he wouldn’t.
“Are you close already? You’re going to be so much fun…”
He’s back between your legs then, and you feel one finger carelessly toying with your entrance. You clench, but he doesn’t go inside. Instead he presses his mouth back against you, and there’s warmth both from his mouth and your own body, flushing as he forces pleasure to start shooting down your stomach straight to those blissful nerves between your legs.
You moan into your gag, and he moans back. Everything feels sloppy and wet as his tongue begins to lap back and forth, harder, pressing firmer against your clit until you feel it coming--electric and tingling and unwanted, all the same. Your orgasm hits as you shake your head--no no no no--and your legs twitch until the orgasm fades.
All you’re left with is aftershocks and shame.
He maneuvers himself until he’s almost chest to chest with you. His pants press against your exposed lower half, and you can feel your dampness mingling with the fabric of his trousers. And there’s… something else you feel, too.
He’s hard.
You choke back a sob into your gag. You imagine what he’ll do now. He’ll pull down his own pants and he’ll spread your legs again, and you’ll feel him and it will be even more invasive and--
Your breath comes faster now, and you almost wish you were still gagged, so that the sound of your frightened heaves weren’t so open and ragged.
It seems like he understands what you’re thinking.
“You can pay me back some other time, okay?” A finger traces up your neck to your mouth, and he sticks his fingers between your lips and pulls out the now damp panties without a word. “You’re probably tired, huh? I’ll take you back, then.” He says this all so casually and it makes it harder for the words to soak in at first.
And when they do it, it stings just as badly.
The sounds that were muffled by your gag now seem to echo around the mostly-empty, packed room. Sniffling. Little choked sobs that shake your chest. Because if he wants you to pay him back, is he going to let you go? If he’s planning on taking you somewhere, will he ever bring you back home?
How could you call that moving truck anyway, if your phone is dust?
Where can you run to, if your stalker can kill people with a touch?
What can you do, except beg for something you know won’t be happening?
“Please,” you whisper. Quick. Erratic. “I won’t tell anyone. Just let me go, and I won’t tell.”
His smile twists into something that’s almost like pity. But there’s something deeper in it. Sharp and bitter. “Hush, hush.” His knuckles reach up and wipe at your tears. “You’ll get used to it. I know you will.” He pats your cheek twice. “I’m…” He seems to consider something. “Call me Tomura. Only that.”
You don’t respond. You don’t want to call him anything.
Without fanfare, he sits back up on the bed and reaches into his pocket to pull out a phone. His phone, you assume. There’s only a few swipes before he’s putting it up to his ear and talking to some unknown recipient.
“Hey.” He looks at you and pets your hair. Is it meant to be soothing? Patronizing? Both? “Yeah, we’re ready.”
Without warning, there’s a heavy feeling before blackness fills the room. Your eyes widen like saucers but he doesn’t explain--he doesn’t need to, you know this is not going to be good.
You could beg. You could spend the next few seconds promising that you’ll do anything if he just leaves you alone. But whatever words might force themselves out of your trembling lips are stuck inside your chest, like so many other things. Thoughts of the apartment waiting for you in a new city. The movers that will call and call and never get an answer from you. Friends and family who are waiting to go out for one-last-big-lunch to send you off.
He unhooks your wrists from the headboard and hoists you over his shoulder, giving you a perfect view of your bedroom as he takes steps into the heavy black swirl that appeared out of nowhere.
Behind you, the doorway of the unpacked bathroom is still open, lit up, showing the contents of your life in full display.
#yandere shigaraki#yandere tomura shigaraki#yandere bnha#yandere boku no hero academia#yandere#afterwitch writes
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I felt like being emotionally destroyed today, so I watched the dub of episode 151 of MHA. I don't know what it is about Izuku's face when he comes careening out of the sky like a fucking warhead and sees the state of the fight but it gets to me every single time in both languages. He looks positively haunted and it makes me want to cry, my poor son. Anywho, to recover, I decided to go rewatch 136 and 137, which are my favorite episodes of the entire goddamn series and I realized it's high time I do a little rant about them.
This is mostly for me because, again, I don't have anyone to rant about this with and I have got to get these emotions out of me somehow, but I hope someone else finds it enjoyable!
Welcome to Lizzy's MHA Evening Ramble: Why MHA episodes 136 (Deku vs. Class A) and 137 (A Young Woman's Declaration) are what really show us the impact Izuku has had on the people around him (specifically Class 1-A).
Honestly, I don't have much science to back up this post. There's not really a psychological reason behind why these episodes slap, but they do and I'm gonna talk about it.
You see, for better or for worse, everyone in Class-A has a different and unique personality. That much is obvious, I know, but that also means each of them have different things that impact them. Think about it, what means a lot to one person doesn't so much to another.
And yet, despite that, every single one of them had something to say to Deku. Every single one of them. For some of them, it was as simple as helping them organize their notes. For others, it was something he said or did that has followed them through the entire show.
"Meddling where you don't technically have to is the essence of being a hero, right?"
Izuku said that one time to Tenya. One time. But that, accompanied by his actions that night, became the corner stone of what Tenya strove to become.
They all voted to go after Izuku–not even voted, they all just got up and went. No second thoughts, no questions, they just went. They literally slapped a GPS out of Endeavor's hand so they could find him. They were not about to take no for an answer, not even from Izuku himself. It's insane, honestly, that one person managed to impact a group so deeply they'd risk everything to bring him back to their class.
I think a lot of the time, we think of difficult or unhealthy relationships as those where you give and give and give and the other person refuses to the same. No one really tells you what to do when someone you love dearly is giving so much it's hurting them, but they refuse to receive. It's an odd situation, but one I love seeing explored.
Could they have just let him go on his own? Fight by himself because that's what he wanted? Yeah, they totally could've. But they didn't, because they knew if the roles were reversed, Izuku wouldn't have thought twice about hunting them down. They weren't victims, they didn't want to be protected, they wanted to kick ass at his side.
They didn't do it out of heroism or even necessity I'd argue, they did it because that was their friend and they'd be damned if they let him suffer alone.
Still, despite that, Izuku wanted to protect them and he was so, so scared to lose them. It makes sense, in a sad, twisted way, that he would rather keep them locked away behind a wall and fight alone than let them stand at his side. He was haunted by the shit the people around him went through because of Shigaraki and AFO. It's far easier to blame yourself for things than it is to admit that it wasn't your fault and, sometimes, nothing could've done would've changed the outcome. I have no doubt it would've felt like he killed them himself if he went back and something happened, and the thought of that was far more terrifying than any threat to his own person. Of course he wanted to fight alone, he didn't want to fathom the possibility someone else would get hurt because they were around him.
But that wasn't for him to decide.
Sometimes, we forget a relationship goes two ways. It was dangerous for them to be there, sure, but that was a choice they made. A choice they wanted to make. They couldn't make him let them help, but he couldn't make them go away either. I have no doubt that if he got away that day, they'd have followed him to the ends of the earth until he gave in.
It's also easy to forget Izuku is just a kid. He's sixteen, barely in high school. Ochaco says as much when she pleads with the crowds to let him in. Her voice cracks as she begs this group mostly made of ADULTS to let a boy rest inside the walls of his own school. He probably doesn't physically know how to deal with these kinds of emotions yet (the frontal lobe, responsible in part for our emotional reactions to situations, doesn't fully develop until around 25/26, and even then research suggests it's never really fully done). It probably makes perfect sense to him that the best course of action is to be alone, even if it seems stupid to us.
We all need support at any age, but especially during those teenage years. Those are vital years of development as the mind develops and starts to take shape. Izuku has been beaten, traumatized, and terrified, it's no wonder he seems to be making such irrational decisions.
No kid should be carrying the weight of the entire goddamn world on their shoulders at that age and, of course, no one could've predicted that AFO was going to accelerate the process and force Deku to face him, but that doesn't make it any better.
However, that's the great thing about having friends, families, and partners, they come alongside you in those times and help you navigate this crazy new situation. They pick up the things you can't handle because they want to. Sometimes, they just stand next to you. Sometimes you have them lean on you for support. And, sometimes, they shoulder up next to you and carry you for a bit so you can catch your breath.
Because that's what you'd do for them.
Whenever I watch these episodes, I'm reminded of that scene in Lord of the Rings where Frodo thinks he can't go on and Sam says, "I can't carry the ring, but I can carry you!" I think this has similar vibes.
They couldn't carry One for All, but they could carry Izuku, and they were determined to do at least that.
#my hero academia#mha#mha spoilers#mha manga spoilers#mha thoughts#bnha#izuku midoriya#class 1a#deku#but you knew that already#tenya iida#ochaco uraraka#I love them so much#when the anime ends I am going to simply pass away#I'm gonna miss them so much#was all this an excuse just to talk about my son?#Maybe#who am I kidding#yes#yes it was#Lizzy's MHA Rambles
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Ranting about the end of mha, almost two months later; because why not.
This is in regards to you-know-who losing you-know-what.
I imagine people know by now but in case somebody is scrolling to the tag, spoilers about the end of MHA.
So, for reasons that nobody really cares about; I stopped reading the manga for awhile, and came back for the ending.
Reading that Midoriya didn't have OFA was sad, but I thought that surely, there was a good reason for this, truly, this was the only way. So even if I felt was a bit contrived he getting a suit at the end that basically gives him his powers back; it had his friends paying back the kindness Izuku has shown to them, and he kept his dream so, it was just a minor hiccup on the ending.
Because my country is a fucking shit shot and I needed something to take my mind off things, I ended up rewatching the my hero academia anime, watching for the first time the seasons I missed, and ended up reading the manga bits that I had neglected all this time.
And with that insight in mind...holy shit what was the point?
Izuku giving OFA in order to somehow "break into Tenko's core" just feel completely contrived? Like okay, they made Shiggy too powerful, I can get that much.
But the fact that "the only way" to defeat him was to attack this core with the quirks? The idea of somehow throwing a quirk strongly enough (how does that even made sense)? Why Izuku needed to reach this core in the first place?
What was all of that?
"Duh! He wanted to reach the little boy crying!"
I'm sorry, was I dumb to think that was a metaphor for Shigaraki deserving saving, even if he was a villain who Midoriya couldn't forgive, and not somehow looking like Shigaraki had DID and Izuku wanted to reach a specific identity stuck deeply in the mind for some reason?
Was this really, the only way he could do this? Let me remind me you the idea of being a core, and that the core needed the users to break it for some reason, were all new things introduced not long before Izuku had one of the past users give him this idea.
This isn't like the vestiges, who appear as early as the Sports Festival, this came out of the blue; and truly, Horikoshi could had come up with another ending.
This didn't save Shigaraki, Izuku didn't even attempt to talk to Shigaraki and save him honestly; so why did we need this? Why did it had to end this way?
This rubs me the wrong way specially with Izuku getting the suit; because we had this nonsensical reason for him to give up OFA, just to end the story with him basically having that back.
Sure, the suit isn't OFA, and I think it would be a neat idea exploring how the suit may need things like maintenance, being careful not to break it, and things like being taken by surprise making him more vulnerable than other heroes.
But this is the end and the story doesn't explore any of that.
And look, as much as I love the idea that class 1A and Bakugo specially, wanting Deku back as a hero, enough to fund this project even if Izuku seemed content with his life, I just feel we took the little stakes we got at the end, just to be like naaaaaah.
I was willing to let that go, because I thought there was surely, a good reason to give up OFA.
But knowing how things actually went down...what was the point, again?
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