#sho shad

[oceanwithouthermoon]

imo everyone who insists that saikis life was perfect and he was a spoiled brat complaining about nothing are just purposefully ignoring and misinterpreting the whole manga simply because they like other characters better and want to make up scenarios to make their fav seem like a precious little victim in every situation

its hard to explain but i see it happen a lot with specifically people who have dedicated accounts for other characters and constantly misattribute every issue to "saikis such a baby, my character has it way worse!" "saiki hurt my babys feelings once so i hate him!" "saikis such a spoiled brat, my baby has a way shittier life and never complains about it!" "saiki hurt my poor precious fav once so hes an abusive monster!"

and said "shittier life" that they "never complain" about is either the persons headcanons (literally made up) or... the character DOES complain about it and the person takes those words at FACE VALUE but ignores everything else, including things that actually HAPPEN right in front of our eyes

[sweetestpopcorn]

I know you hate the tv show but saying that seeing a gif of show-daemyra make you wanna vomit is just very rude towards the actors. It seems like your berating the actors too and not just the show.

That’s the thing Anon 😊 you don’t. You really don’t. You also don’t understand the difference about a character making me want to vomit and the actors. You went straight into thinking I’m calling them ugly or something of the sort. That’s how short a sight you have regarding this and you feel the need to police what others are saying 😊

You and many others do not understand the full extent of my distaste for redacted and of what Ryan and co turned Daemyra into: a fcking joke.

What is rude is that none of you seem capable of respecting my wish of leaving me alone with redacted based stuff and I am still getting asks of people who don’t get the memo that I only discuss the Asoiaf canon and don’t give a flying f:ck about redacted canon. Oh :( Matt wash not happy with Lana? Oh I’m sho shad for him :(

Maybe it was because she was a child :(

Also I wish Lana would have killed them all using Jurassic Park including her parents who tried to p:mp her to the local wife killer and especially Rita who smirked at the m::der victim’s funeral. Cause she’s another girlboss 💕That would have been the only happy ending in redacted possible for me. Lana becoming queen and ending the other idiots.

On the show I am team “Lana please burn them all”.

Bottom line is anything related with this show makes me want to vomit. Not the actors appearances. The show. Are we clear? Wonderful.

I don’t even reblog something with redacted tag. That’s how much it makes me want to vomit.

And also for your information you have no idea how many asks I have of people insulting the actors’ appearances and I don’t share those. So spare me.

Let me also say this black on white: in redacted I don’t ship Matt and Renada. Let me repeat that I thought it was the equivalent of a fcking circus that Renada told Matt that they were “always meant to burn together” when she went to f:ck another dude with Matt’s saliva still on her mouth and finger grease on her cooch. Also fking rich he was telling her she was a child :( at what?! 19 when he married a 15 year old? Again Lana please end them all.

Matt is a limp d:ck loser of the highest order.

Renada is making Catherine on the Spanish Princess feel less unlikable by comparison. Girlboss, gatekeep, gaslight turned victim. So sad :( it’s really sad you guys. Murder daddy doesn’t love Renada and wants a boy.

[rainbowgothdisaster]

my brother got updates as i descended into madness so here

missing some stuff :(( sho shad :((

may add my headbands to it

[possum-socks]

sh shadow the hedge shadow th sh shedge the hog shadow the shado the sh sho the hedge shad ho the shadow the hedgehog

[f0xd13-blog]

Every fucking interview: i'm sho shad nobody shesh me as the top guy *cries*

[delicate-rage420]

I don’t even wanna be on social media everyone is in Oakland having fun and I’m just at home drinking 40’s by myself.

[shadowtarot]

Wild Card Theory: The True Potential And Power They Hold

As I was browsing through Arena’s various stories, a particular one caught my interest. That of Elizabeth’s. But not for the details of her own Journey, but rather what she faced...and how it connects to several things. 

Have the Wild Cards been holding back with their powers, even when faced with their ultimate threats?

Another absurd claim is probably what this seems like at first. But there’s a lot of evidence to support this from just about every game that’s been released since the concept of the Wild Card has been introduced into the series. But I’m going to go a bit out of order here. So let’s talk first about Akechi.

An outlier in the grand sceme of Wild Cards, he doesn’t seem to have much going for him. Two Persona to his name? A power all his own that no one else has? Not that big of a deal, right? Well I’d like to refer you to this post of mine from a while back. 

Sounds like my Yu post from before right? Forced awakening combined with a restrain of power and ability to forge bonds. Akechi is or perhaps rather, was living proof that you can try to strip a Wild Card of most everything they have, and they can still manage to undermine you in some fashion. He still formed one bond in the end after all. And he still had his ability to cause Psychotic Breakdowns.

So how much stronger would Akechi be if he wasn’t held back? Well maybe I should remind you of a line stated by Makoto after the boss fight: “We were only able to win because we all worked together” 

Akechi is restrained, mind you, so even then he’s still such a threat that it takes a whole team just to outmatch him. And given his antagonistic nature and the fact he was legit trying to kill the thieves, he probally would have been able to should there be no restraints whatsoever on him.

Which brings us to Minato, Yu and Ren. 

These three have stayed on the right path their whole Jouneys, and reaped the rewards of Bonds as a result. But they never seem to go overkill.

Except, there is a few times where they do. 

For Minato in the Movies, or rather Makoto in this case, he acts with reckless abandon as he uses Orpheus, never even letting his teammates get many hits in once he arrives on the scene back in the first Movie. As the Movies go on, of course he starts to work better with his friends. But...he always had the potenal to get worse. And it all comes down to one thing:

Think back to Akechi and how unhinged he was. He had NO BONDS. Left unchecked, this could be the fate of Minato, Yu and Ren. The power of the Wild Card, while a blessing given it’s over all rarity, is also a bit of a curse.

The power it holds far exceeds that of any average Persona user, as the power of limitless possibility. Zero.

It’s tempting.

Powerful.

And it’s a gift that comes only to those who have shouldered something tragic, but have the willpower to shift that experience into something positive. 

 It may be loss.

Miss-treatment

Displacement

Or Injustice

The power granted by fate, if left to run free, can cause trouble. 

This is why the contract exists. Not to allow access to Velvet Room, but to make sure this power is monitored. 

Akechi and Sho both are examples of what can happen if the Power of the Wild Card is left without someone to watch over it and with no bonds to their name. Even restrained, it can kill thousands. 

Even if premature, it has the power to go up against a god.

Even if the World is never obtained, it can still be deadly. 

But even with all of that...is that truly the limit? 

When Yu is defeated by Elizabeth in her story, his friends rush to his aide and despite his injuries quite possibly making him slowly bleed out, he stands up and power radiates from him that scares her.

Nothing in any Persona game has ever been able to shake an Attendant. And it was revealed to be connected to Yu’s bonds. We never get to see just what this sudden and dramatic spike in Yu’s Spitrual power is, but this is proof of one thing.

When a Wild Card is down to their last bits of life....a new form of power shall shine through. 

As their own personal chains break.

[carryon-crow]

I was at the Leipziger Buchmesse yesterday! Its like a big literature convention but a part of it is dedicated to Anime Games and Manga too!

I went with my lovely friendo @agender-ghost and some others so i might post some pictures later of our cosplays. (if they allow xd)

Anyways I saw one Himiko and also one Ouma (running around with Junko uh oh) and I hope they know i love em

[mogai-impossible]

~#Greetings, Agent. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is:#~

Slimcharic: This gender is related to the character Slim Shady.

~#All information needed to complete this mission can be found below.#~

The name for this mission comes from the name of the character it’s related to, combined with the word character.

The flags for this mission are inspired by images of the character.

Suggested code names for this mission can be found under the break.

~#This post will self destruct in five seconds. Good luck.#~

Blo/Blond/Blond/Blonds/Blondself

Blo/Blond/Blonds/Blonds/Blondself

Blon/Blond/Blond/Blonds/Blondself

Blon/Blond/Blonds/Blonds/Blondself

Blond/Blond/Blonds/Blonds/Blondself

Blow/Blond/Blond/Blonds/Blondself

Blow/Blond/Blonds/Blonds/Blondself

Dy/Dynamite/Dynamite/Dynamites/Dynamiteself

Dy/Dynamite/Dynamites/Dynamites/Dynamiteself

Dyn/Dynamite/Dynamite/Dynamites/Dynamiteself

Dy/Dynamite/Dynamites/Dynamites/Dynamiteself

Dyna/Dynamite/Dynamite/Dynamites/Dynamiteself

Dyna/Dynamite/Dynamites/Dynamites/Dynamiteself

Dynami/Dynamite/Dynamite/Dynamites/Dynamiteself

Dynami/Dynamite/Dynamites/Dynamites/Dynamiteself

Dynamite/Dynamite/Dynamite/Dynamites/Dynamiteself

Dynamite/Dynamite/Dynamites/Dynamites/Dynamiteself

Dine/Dynamite/Dynamite/Dynamites/Dynamiteself

Dine/Dynamite/Dynamites/Dynamites/Dynamiteself

E/Ego/Ego/Egos/Egoself

E/Ego/Egos/Egos/Egoself

Ego/Ego/Egos/Egos/Egoself

En/Encore/Encore/Encores/Encoreself

Enc/Encore/Encore/Encores/Encoreself

Enco/Encore/Encore/Encores/Encoreself

Encor/Encore/Encore/Encores/Encoreself

Encor/Encore/Encores/Encores/Encoreself

Encore/Encore/Encore/Encores/Encoreself

Encore/Encore/Encores/Encores/Encoreself

He/Him/His/His/Himself

Hey/Hem/Heir/Heirs/Hemself

I/Me/My/Mine/Meself

I/Me/My/Mine/Myself

My/My/Mine/Mine/Myself

My/My/My/Mine/Myself

Na/Name/Name/Names/Nameself

Na/Name/Names/Names/Nameself

Nae/Name/Name/Names/Nameself

Nae/Name/Names/Names/Nameself

Name/Name/Names/Names/Nameself

Nay/Name/Name/Names/Nameself

Nay/Name/Names/Names/Nameself

Ra/Rapper/Rapper/Rappers/Rapperself

Rap/Rapper/Rapper/Rappers/Rapperself

Rapp/Rapper/Rapper/Rappers/Rapperself

Rapper/Rapper/Rapper/Rappers/Rapperself

Rapper/Rapper/Rappers/Rappers/Rapperself

Ray/Rapper/Rapper/Rappers/Rapperself

Re/Real/Reals/Reals/Realself

Rea/Real/Reals/Reals/Realself

Real/Real/Reals/Reals/Realself

Sho/Show/Shows/Shows/Showself

Show/Show/Shows/Shows/Showself

Sli/Slim/Slims/Slims/Slimself

Slim/Slim/Slims/Slims/Slimself

Sly/Slim/Slims/Slims/Slimself

Sha/Shady/Shadies/Shadies/Shadyself

Sha/Shady/Shady/Shadies/Shadyself

Sha/Shady/Shady/Shadys/Shadyself

Sha/Shady/Shadys/Shadys/Shadyself

Shad/Shady/Shadies/Shadies/Shadyself

Shad/Shady/Shady/Shadies/Shadyself

Shad/Shady/Shady/Shadys/Shadyself

Shad/Shady/Shadys/Shadys/Shadyself

Shade/Shady/Shadies/Shadies/Shadyself

Shade/Shady/Shady/Shadies/Shadyself

Shade/Shady/Shady/Shadys/Shadyself

Shade/Shady/Shadys/Shadys/Shadyself

Shady/Shady/Shadies/Shadies/Shadyself

Shady/Shady/Shadys/Shadys/Shadyself

The/Thim/This/This/Thimself

X/X/Xs/Xs/Xself

Xae/Xaem/Xaeir/Xaeirs/Xaemself

Xae/Xaem/Xaer/Xaers/Xaemself

Xaey/Xaem/Xaeir/Xaeirs/Xaemself

Xe/Xim/Xis/Xis/Ximself

Zae/Zaem/Zaeir/Zaeirs/Zaemself

Zae/Zaem/Zaer/Zaers/Zaemself

Zaey/Zaem/Zaeir/Zaeirs/Zaemself

Ze/Zim/Zis/Zis/Zimself

[scriptaed]

his side, her side finale | 00:00

genre: angst/fluff/implied smut; 

pairing: reader x jungkook;

length: 4.6k;

synopsis: a collective snapshots in time shared between two, whose fates were undeniably intertwined and futures would never come to be.

No matter how infinite the pages could write itself, in the way that he catches her stealing glances from across the room or the scalding spark imprinted on her hand by the touch of his own, there really are only three versions to every story: his side, her side, and the truth’s side; and in your unsolicited albeit self-justified defense, the truth is, what was once seemingly perpetual is now merely trivial. The imagery that once had you kicking and screaming into your sheets at night, the fleeting moments that were shared by both but valued by one, and the inevitably incessant burden of jealousy brought upon by a fervent want that could never be had could only have been falsified by a break—spatially, temporally, and heartfully. The mind can only tug so much at one’s strings; and yet, to be bent, only time could prove possible.

...and that time is exactly what is needed by all.

her side;

“Are you joining us for dinner tonight, Y/N?” 

“Huh? What?” your ears perk at the sound of your friend’s call. 

“Oh, there she goes again,” your other friend interjects with the roll of her eyes. You almost collapse when she swings a hand over your shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to get your ears checked?”

“No, but I might have to get my eyes checked,” you joke, despite pulling in all the performance points you could win with a disdainful scan up and down her less than professional attire. Thankfully, your act is gleefully extended by her cheesy gawk of an expression. Putting up a merciful pair of hands in the air, you laugh, “hey, in all seriousness, it’s not my fault you guys keep drooling over boys.”

“Uhuh, so you’re trying to tell us that boy talk is what’s putting you to sleep?” your friend’s accomplice crosses her arms, raising an accusatory pair of brows. 

“Yeah,” you say much too seriously so you throw in an airy laugh, “I mean, there’s more to life than boys, y’know?”

“Right, like…?”

“Like…” your voice trails off because, for some reason, your mind goes blank as you attempt to recall your lifestyle from your previous hometown. “Like… hanging out with friends! With you guys!”

“Gah! You’re only able to say that because you have dozens of boys chasing you around the office. Us, on the other hand, time just… it just keeps ticking…” the two of them sigh in synchronization and you feel the heat of her arms retract as she shakes the hand of her one and only sympathizer. 

“Psh,” you can’t help but grin throughout the frown elicited by their vivacious performance, “you guys have plenty of time. Just enjoy life for now and I’m sure you’ll find someone along the way.” 

“Wait, but seriously,” her voice suddenly rises from her previously sullen state, as does her head on her friend’s shoulder. She looks you dead in the eye, and, honestly, you almost feel as though your privacy had just been invaded. “You really haven’t ever liked anyone before?” 

“Uh…” you scatter through the disarrayed files that were your buried memories, eyes squinting at the sun that peeks through the clearing sky after a day full of rainfall. “Elementary and middle school don’t really count… too busy studying in high school… college was full of fuck boys I couldn’t care less for… and at work…”

The more that you hear yourself ramble, the more the reality of your lonesome future settles into the already burdened shoulders of yours.

“At work? You mean here? Or do you mean your last job?”

“Well,” you frown, trying to recall every male colleague that had piqued even the tiniest of interest in you; and as the two of your friends lean in, you start to lean back, despite the charging light bulb that flickers from the unlocked recollection of two years ago. “There was a guy who liked me and told everyone at work that he liked me, which I thought was really weird… nice guy, kind of a nerd, but I didn’t like him that way. Who else? Uh, hm—”

—bzzz. 

The vibration against your back pocket pulls the plug from your train of thought. 

“Aw man,” you hear your friends curse in the background, “just when we were finally getting her to spill something.” 

The name on your screen has your heart skipping with delight.

 Yezi [5:20 PM] Hey, I know you’re gonna forget, so you before you do, we’re having dinner together tonight :) 

“It’s okay,” your friend pats the back of the other, “there’ll be some cute enough boys for her at tonight’s barbeque, I’m sure.”

“Ah shit,” you curse under your breath, hastily typing a response before peering up at your friends like a deer caught in the headlights, “actually, guys, turns out I already made plans with my friend from home. I’m sooo sorry.”

“Oh, really?” the two of them gasp. “Isn’t that a two hour train ride from here?” 

“Yeah, so I really got to go now,” your phone tumbles into your bag as you begin to widen your strides like a woman on a mission. 

They shake their heads in unison, “no, no, it’s okay!”

“I’m seriously so sorry guys,” you say as you pant, the distance between you and your friends widening by the second and forcing you to whirl around as you pace backwards. “I’ll make it up to you next time and do whatever you guys want, okay?”

“Really? Anything?”

“Yeah,” your hands draw a wide, inclusive circle into the air, “anything.” 

“Even a blind date?” 

“You know what? Why the hell not?” you chime, whirling back around with your back on them and a smile hidden away. Skipping off into the opposite direction toward the train station, you exclaim nonchalantly, “new year, new me!”

Lately, either through a stroke of luck or a reset of a life in a new town, there’s been something spectacularly whimsical about tonight’s air; and when a zephyr passes by, lifting you to the tip of your toes to an invincible high and relaying the confuzzled whispers of your friends—

“—wait, it’s not a new year, it’s already April—”

—you finally acquire a two year long-sought sensation: golden.

-

“I can’t believe you almost forgot about our plans!” 

“Hey, I had a reminder set on my phone just ten minutes after your reminder” you quip with pursed lips, “and I still made it on time, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Yezi prims with a stern look plastered across her face, gesturing, “with your hair and clothes damp in rain and your face smiling like a wagging, clueless beagle.”

“Well… beagles are cute, so I’ll take that as a compliment?” 

She frowns, ignoring your remark, “did you not check the weather forecast?”

“I did.”

“So why didn’t you bring an umbrella?”

“I forgot.”

“Ugh, you forget everything these days,” she plants a palm to her forehead before returning to her plate, “well, I’m glad that at least you’re so carefree nowadays. You’ve finally settled into your new workplace, huh? You look so happy now.”

“You talk—” it’s difficult to speak with food being stuffed into your mouth “—as if I lost a loved one.”

“Well,” she grits her teeth, as if biting her tongue, and proceeds to slice the slab of steak, “I wouldn’t say that’s too farfetched.” 

Frowning, your words come out muffled through puffed cheeks, “whaddya mean by dat?”

“You can’t tell me you forgot about what happened last time you were in town.”

“Uh…?” you furrow your brows, tracing into a forgotten yet familiar field you had long neglected for your own wellbeing. Last time you were in town, last time you were working here, last time you went out on a company party, last time you walked through this town’s treacherously embracing frosty breeze, last time you were dining here, last time you got wasted, not just here but anywhere, last time you shed tears… all the last times of this town shared only one similarity, a similarity you had subconsciously left behind at some point in your transition between the past and the now. 

“Do I really have to say it myself?” she leans in, concerned. “I don’t want you bawling your eyes out again…”

Did she possibly mean… him?

“Jeon Jungkook,” she blurts, “there! I said it!”

Her utensils clatter onto her plate as she tosses her hands in the air in mercy, almost as if bracing herself for the storm after the calm, observing you intently but warily; that supposed storm, however and ever so fortunately, never arrives. 

“Oh,” you utter, words slipping from your lips like sand through a palm, “I’m not crying.”

“You’re not crying,” she confirms, astonished. 

“It doesn’t… hurt anymore?” you almost ask yourself. 

“It doesn’t?”

“It doesn’t,” you utter, shaking your head. Just as she’s caught off guard, you lurch across the table to pinch her cheeks, “but that doesn’t mean I appreciate you bringing him up during a perfectly lovely night!” 

“Sho—” she furrows her brows in combination to her squished cheeks “—he doesh make you shad shtill?”

“Well, he doesn’t make me elated,” you finally release her from your wrath, returning to stare downward at your food, “but I guess it makes me reflect fondly on the past. It’s kind of like a scar. I know how much it once hurt but I can’t feel it to the same magnitude anymore. Actually, instead, the happy, jittery moments are more vivid to me than the tears that were shed. Is that… odd?”

“Like… like what? Examples?” 

Like when his arm bumped into yours for the first time on the walk after work, like when he discretely went out of his way to ensure your safety across the bridge home, like when he enamored over the ‘ripped abs’ of a fully nude female character design of an upcoming project whilst you stood awkwardly with a set of breasts in full display for the two of you, like when the two of you escaped to become the aloof, static noise of an unbefitting party, or like when he held you in his hands and kissed you at the stroke of midnight, the butterflies live on—even today—to shield you from the dampened blows struck by dull weapons of jealousy, insecurity, and remorse. 

With time, the silver lining finally showed itself like a sun shining through after a stormy night. You’ve finally accepted the truths behind every weapon. She was pretty. They were pretty. She never wronged you. They never wronged you. They deserved his love. His heart belonged to whomever he desired. 

He never badmouthed his peers and, as blunt of a man as he was, he never pointed out your flaws, even if that meant you would later return home only to find mascara flakes on your cheeks. He treated women like a gentleman, as contradictory as it may seem from his appetite demeanor; and while you fell for him for that, you also cursed him for that very reason. He didn’t owe you anything… up to a certain point until the lines were too blurred to decipher between the truth, the deserved, and the faulty. Be it Ji-eun or Jennie, you’ve come to terms with his relationships. 

As much as your relations with him seemed to run on a fragile thread of fate, your time had run out and the window of opportunity had been shut—but hey, at least you had fun.

“Are you… smiling?”

“Hm?” you look up to find her staring at you in concern. Blinking blankly, you quickly clear your throat and retract the smile you had subconsciously adorned. “I am?”

“I… don’t know if I should be worried or not,” Yezi downs another glass of iced water and you’re about to follow suit until she almost chokes on her water, “hey—isn’t that Jennie over there?” 

“Jennie?”

You almost curse at Yezi for teasing you over bygones that should’ve been left as just that, but she really wasn’t lying. You can’t believe your eyes when you whirl your head around to look through the darkened tint of the restaurant’s window panes. You might have never really spoken to Jennie, but that figure is undeniably Jennie. 

“What is she doing?” you squint, struggling to grasp a clear vision of her silhouette under the dim, orange street light beside her. You could only catch a hint of her side profile but those cheeks and unique sense of fashion definitely belonged to her; on the other hand, the constant stumbling and the hand to her head, almost as if she’s about to collapse at any second, did not resemble her. “Oh, oh, hold on, wait, whoa—we should help her!” 

You scramble to your feet and bolt out the door whilst Yezi takes care of your abrupt leave with the restaurant staff. A freezing blast of wind welcomes you as soon as you step into the sidewalk but you waste no time. Abandoning the cold behind you along with the past, your mind is set on aiding the collapsed woman on the streets. 

“Hey! Jennie, hey!” you call out to her as you sprint to her side, dropping to the floor without caring to notice the shards of glass that consequently cut your knees as you carefully roll her limp body onto its back and away from the sharp hazards. The pain has you wincing and seething under your breath, but the conditions of the person lying before you has you even more concerned. Her skin is even paler than usual. Her chest rises and falls rapidly in an evident struggle. Your taps against her shoulder gradually become frantic shakes until all you can hear is your voice and the whispering commotion of bystanders behind you. “Jennie! Can you hear me?!” 

“Y/N!” you turn around to find Yezi peering down at you from above. “What happened?”

“I don’t know but something’s definitely not right,” you say as calmly as you could, “call 911. I’ll call her family.”

“Got it,” Yezi nods, immediately dialing the numbers on her phone but pausing in the midst of the ring to face you, “wait, do you know anyone from her family?”

Gritting your teeth, you frown as you dig into your memories, “...no, I know she might have had a boyfriend back then, so he might know, but I don’t know if they’re still together and I don’t even know his number…”

“Do you know anyone who might know her boyfriend then?” 

“Well…” 

The ending trails of your voice are whisked away into the returning wind of that fateful night. Hands gripping at your phone and eyes staring at the stranger yet familiarity of a name that glares off the screen, it’s an inevitable force that has you stupefied yet marveled at the revival of a tugging string that ties you to him through the strangest, most meandering paths. 

-

his side;

It was almost like a fever dream. Her name plastered across his screen and his eyes squinting through the glaring light that illuminates his room. It had been two years since he had any contact nor mention of her; and now, out of the blue, in the midst of a nap after gym session, she calls him for help. He couldn’t believe his ears when he first heard her voice, believing it all to be another one of those numerous dreams that had him regretting his past or questioning his choices. He shot straight up in bed, phone grasped and glued to his ears that blocked out the computer fan that ran in the background. 

Even now, after throwing on a sweater and jacket and bolting out the door in a state of rescue, he can’t quite believe his eyes; because there she sits on the hospital bench, in the signature slumped boyish manner and the confused blank stare off into the distance that still has him quirking a smile in remembrance every once in a while. In her favorite white blouse and her only slack of black dress pants, it’s almost as if nothing had changed, almost as if she had never left. 

It’s almost like time had bent to his incessantly subconscious pleas and reversed its works; but the almost will always be an almost, for as long as those hallmark vivacious eyes and those rekindled mien of ambition lives. As far as Jungkook knew, she left with a dreary heart and returned with a fiery purpose. 

Despite all that, he can’t help but notice the way she fidgets in her seat, nearly sinking and avoiding all contact the second his presence had been noticed. Instead of the sheepish flickering stolen glances of the past, he finds himself at odds with the way she fights to return the locked gaze of his eyes. She fought so hard that she might have forgotten how to speak, rendering a soft chuckle from his lips because the girl he endlessly dreamt of might still live after all; and for the first time in a long while, Jungkook has to put forth the effort to fill in the silence. 

“Why did you call me?” he asks plainly as he stands before her.

“Well, I didn’t know any of her friends except you…” he watches as she fidgets with her hands, gaze falling to the floor before returning to him, “are you going to visit her? I think the doctor should be okay with it if you’re her close friend.”

“No, Kai will be here soon,” he explains, finally bending down and placing the bottle of rubbing alcohol beside her on the bench. “I have other shit to attend to.”

“Oh, right,” she mumbles. The evident surge in annoyance amuses him that he just can’t quite wipe the smirk off his face. Turning her head, she continues, “you must’ve had plans with Ji-eun tonight. Sorry for the trouble.”

This is it. This is the moment that replayed on repeat like a broken tape in his dreams. This is his chance to mend the wounds he had inflicted upon the confessing girl who cried her eyes out on the cab home that one, indelible night. 

An uncomfortable silence fills the air with the exception of the unscrewing of a plastic bottle and the gentle return of the bottle against the metallic bench, which is then followed by another staggering silence. 

“We’re not that close and I’m not dating Ji-eun now.” 

The girl turns with the quirk of a brow, especially when she spots him kneeling before her with a soaked cotton ball. “W-Wait what? Wait, shit, ow.”

“I don’t talk to Jennie as much as you think,” he states as a-matter-of-factly and continues to gently pat the cotton against the wounds on her knees. After hesitantly placing a band aid over the wound—something he had never done for anyone else nor for himself who just “sucked it up”—he finally lifts his gaze to interlock with hers, observing intently as if to soak the reality of it all in now before the inevitable tape begins to replay for the near future. “I broke up with Ji-eun before you left.” 

“And...” she utters slowly, “why are you telling me this?” 

Just like in the pool on that one night, her challenging eyes never budge and neither do his.

“I thought the past you would’ve liked to know,” he states. Head tilting to the side as if to get a better look, he remarks, “shit, you don’t look away anymore, huh?”

“Why would I?” she quips, snorting and finally breaking contact to stare off to the side. “It didn’t matter if I knew or not. It’s not like we were a thing.”

“Really?” Jungkook hums, gathering the scraps of cotton and paper before standing to his feet with a genuine soft sigh. It’s hard to brush off the two year old sinking sensation in his chest for something so nonchalant, but he manages to do it like he always does with that stoic look on his unreadable face. “Cause I thought we were.” 

“What?” she gapes and he only gazes firmly back at her. “Why? It’s not like I… liked you.”

“Really?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker up at the ceiling for a brief second, lips pursing as he concludes the cards on the table: the unapologetic albeit risky truth or the defensive albeit purposeless self-deception. Unbeknownst to her, Jungkook had all the cards in his hands. 

“Yeah,” she mumbles, avoiding his gaze and shrugging, “and it’s not like you liked me.” 

Peering down at her from above, the boy’s crooked grin gradually settles into the silence along with the usual unreadable mien that he wears on the daily. “How would you know?”

Finally turning to return his gaze, she raises a brow at him before uncrossing her arms and standing to her feet. One step, two steps until she stands before him as close as she could recall on that night, she utters the one mutual truth of the night. 

“Because you never told me.”

The brief silence filled with tension seems to last an eternity, yet neither of the two could take their eyes off the other. A rush of thrill intermixed with panic floods his blood. His fight or flight system screams at him to obey the very laws he had followed all these years but his mind warns him that change is a necessity for this euphoric heat that radiates from this very moment. He’s never quite felt like this before: throat knotting and heart leaping nearly out of his chest. 

“Let’s—”

“—I need to catch the last train home,” she blurts, quickly taking a step back to distance themselves. 

Like a magnetic force that she is to him, her retraction almost pulls the breath from his lungs along with it.

“What?” he frowns, trying to steady his breath. “It’s 10 right now. My last ride is at midnight.” 

“Yeah, well mine is at 11 and I still have to walk there,” she shrugs indifferently to the entire ordeal—something that Jungkook takes to the heart. 

“What?” he mutters, “the station is right next to this hospital.” 

“What can I say? I’m a slow walker,” she prims, bowing her head and waving her hand to bid farewell. “Thanks for the band aid and all the help today. It was nice catching up. See y—I mean, take care.” 

He stands there in silence, too stunned by the constant turn of events. Distracted by the crestfallen weight in his chest elicited by his shattered hopes, Jungkook raises a hand in response to her pressed, upcurved lips. He can only mumble a seemingly indifferent, “...see ya.”

There she goes—as gracefully as she had reentered his life and as fleeting as she had left for a second time. All this time he knew his side of the story: growingly regretful, discovering a yearning he never knew was within his capabilities, and helplessly pondering over a past he could not change and wondering if she did the same. At some point in time, those feelings became a fragment in time and that person he wished she knew became a version of his present self. He moved on, he forgot the magnitude of the pain, but he never quite came to terms with what it all could have been. 

And all at once, the very moment he stands before her, the past him whomst he had perceived to be temporary comes flooding back into reality—flesh, fervent, and feelings of an immensity he could never have been prepared for—and if he were to be honest, he thought it would have been the same for her. 

He never really knew her side, after all; but at the very least, he desires to hear it from her, herself. She never missed him, she never thought of him from time to time, she never woke up from a dream of him so vivid that it felt so real that she was left with a melancholic loneliness in the air—those words would close the gap in his chest. 

If there’s one thing Jungkook had absolute control over at this very moment, it’s the last chapter of their shared novel in time and this is not the conclusion he imagined. 

Before he knew it, Jungkook finds himself sprinting down the train station. Across the coldly lit hallways, up and down the stairs instead of the ‘shitty, slow escalators,’ and cutting through the nearing midnight breeze of the platforms until the breeze finally brought him to the last unvisited area, his daunting final destination. 

Checking his watch, Jungkook’s chest heaves as he holds his hands to his knees in an attempt to catch his breath. It’s well past 11 now, nearing midnight, and he’s standing at the platform in the opposite direction of her new hometown. To the mere bystander, this platform really didn’t make any sense; but to Jungkook and his inkling, perhaps by a disheveled and desperate state, every twist and turn of the wind brought him right where he believes he belongs. 

Puffs of his breath mark the airy night as he watches his last ride pass by the rails before him. Every cart, every seat, he scans them all. No one. His heart sinks with each check, each flicker of the eyes, and he begins to curse himself for his state of delusion until the last cart of the train flashes by to reveal his finale. 

And as if by some sort of invisible string, life had somehow led him to her once again.

Because there she sits, across the wide yet surely crossable gap of the railway, legs crossed and hands folded in her lap, as if she had been waiting for him all this time. 

Jungkook stands there, stupefied by the works of fate, “why are you—”

“—hey, Jungkook!” she calls out to him, voice echoing across the vast, empty station. “What were you going to tell me back at the hospital?” 

Taken aback by her question, Jungkook chuckles to himself in utter amusement; and as if by the magic sifting through the night, the nearby tower bells ring across the remaining distance between the two at the precise stroke of midnight.

“Let’s date!”

The boy’s zestful holler resembles more like that of a cheerful proclamation, for the way he holds his hands to his lips before throwing them freely into the air garners a giggle from his spectator. His voice projection accompanies the bells, perhaps too softly and thereby physically undetected, but she could hear him nonetheless. 

“I liked you and I still like you so damn much, you dumbass!” 

After witnessing the boy’s courageous display, the words she’s been waiting for but never knew she needed until their paths crossed once again for a limitless nth time slips from her like second nature, almost as if she’s practiced it in her dreams all this time. Her loud proclamation, however, slips beneath the bells like an accompaniment to a ceremonious work of fate. 

The two of them stand on opposite sides of the platform, their confessions are far and wide and perhaps inaudible, but the dorky smiles adorning their lips as they gaze across at their inevitable final chapters serve to prove an undeniable fact. 

Whether by sheer will or by this invisible string, whether by his side or her side, the truth is: their eternities will be forever tied, forever golden.

[the-ethereal-aura]

James and Cordelia?SHIPPP

SHIIIIIP

Awhh man there was sooooo much miscommunication between them sho shad

[neopronouns]

hi may i please get some pronouns of “dark” things?? like knives/kniveself, dirt/dirtself, ect?? im trying to find some pronouns for myself and an oc ive made recently. thank you so so much!!!!! also im sorry if ive worded anything weird and its not very understandable,,,,,

under the cut! hopefully i got close to the vibes you were going for!

blo/blood/bloods/bloodself

de/dea/dath/death/deathself

gore/gores/goreself

gri/grim/grime/grimes/grimeself

sha/shad/ado/adow/shadowself

bo/bon/bons/boneself

ro/roach/roaches/roachself

spi/spid/spider/spiders/spiderself

hell/hells/hellself

vu/vul/ture/tures/vultureself

smo/smoke/smokes/smokeself

re/red/reds/redself

fang/fangs/fangself

switch/blade/blades/switchself, bladeself, or switchbladeself

ma/mace/maces/maceself

spi/spike/spikes/spikeself

sku/skull/skulls/skullself

sho/shot/shots/shotself

ba/bat/bats/batself

sto/stom/stomp/stomps/stompself

ra/rat/rats/ratself

axe/axes/axeself

💀/💀s/💀self

☠/☠s/☠self

🐀/🐀s/🐀self

🕷🕷s/🕷self

🦴/s/🦴self

🪓/🪓s/🪓self

🩸/🩸s/🩸self

⛓/⛓s/⛓self

🔪/🔪s/🔪self

💣/💣s/💣self

🚬/🚬s/🚬self

🔥/🔥s/🔥self

🖤/🖤s/🖤self

💥/💥s/💥self

🖕/🖕s/🖕self

[hal-in-the-family]

A Waddle Dee places plenty of gold coins onto Ankh's counter. They are gesturing to the plush UFOs and whatever other dolls she's selling.

”…. (Oh, good. I wash starting to get shad that no one would notice.)“

“You have a good eye there! Sho far we have a few different UFO plushies. A shmall one with keychain, a median-shized one, a large one…”

“…And the EXTRA - large one. Take your pick!”

Can one tell just. How much she adores the UFO?

Don’t worry, she already promised the shares with the real UFO.

[starfoxrry]

🤢🤢🤮 Sorry to beat a dead horse but I didn’t have to scroll but a few posts down that woman’s page to see some of the most nasty het fantasy posts on twitter. This is why I don’t go on Twitter 😷 Anne was right, there is no age limit to who can be a supportive fan, but to @ him on a public platform with your sexual fantasies is not respectful. To have respect you must earn it, and maybe she doesn’t have respect on Twitter, because she is the one not treating others well...

oh sip. she does that boohoo im sho shad i owld n deez zoomers r makey fun of me tweet after every time someone calls her out for being gross about harry. sad that anne spared her kindness onto such an ugly soul but her message still stands.

[calucadu]

Baked Love

This is the piece I made for the @acidzine, a Mina Ashido Zine! You can download the zine for free here! It’s very pretty so check it out because Mina deserves more love 💗

I did a collab with Chie! This is her twitter and this is her Tumblr!

(I know I’m super late at uploading this, I’m very sorry)

Baked Love, a Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia One Shot.

Summary: Mina quickly placed the plate on the bed and embraced her in a tight hug. She wasn’t all that good with words, but she hoped that what she couldn’t tell her by talking, she could say by squeezing her with affection. It seemed to work as she felt her friend relax against her.“You’re wonderful. You’re the best. You’re all they want. Ever. Don’t ever think you’re not. You’ll always be the hero they need, Ochako.”Uraraka didn’t answer. She just buried her face into pink locks and inhaled.

Characters: Ashido Mina, Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijirou, Jirou Kyouka, Shouji Mezou, Satou Rikidou, Kaminari Denki, Yaoyorozu Momo, Sero Hanta, Midoriya Izuku.   

Rating: General Audiences

Read on AO3

Or read below the cut

It was a coincidence that Mina heard that phone call that day. But then again, Uraraka hadn’t exactly been hiding, probably too distracted by the incoming call to go to her room. She’d just walked over to the stairs and answered it. That’s why when the pink haired girl came down, she’d heard it all.

Mina was profoundly moved when she noticed just how upset Uraraka had seemed. She didn’t know what the conversation was about, or who’d called, but the pink haired girl decided she had to do something for her friend.

The first idea that popped into her head made her smile instantly and she hurried over to talk to Satou, to ask him for recipes. He seemed willing to help and led her to the kitchen, giving easy instructions and tips while they picked the ingredients they were going to use. Since the simple kitchen they shared at the dorms was unsurprisingly understocked, he kindly gave her some of his precious supplies. Mina promised she’d pay him back eventually.

He turned the oven on while she mixed the sugar and butter together under his careful supervision. When it was done to his satisfaction, she proceeded to beat in the eggs a little at a time. He helped by adding the flour and she did the milk, asking if the consistency seemed right. When that was ready, she got out the little pink paper sheets he’d given her and placed them neatly on the tray. He instructed her to fill them with the mix until they were half full.

Satou made sure the oven was warm enough before he asked Mina to put the tray inside. He turned the timer on but insisted they check on them regularly.

She nodded eagerly, happily picking up another bowl, this time for the icing. He started beating butter in it, humming to himself as he did. He asked Mina to pour in the icing sugar and he beat that in too. He let her give it a go when she asked, and he proceeded to add the last bit of the sugar in with some milk. The resulting mixture looked smooth, which made him feel happy. He also complimented her, handing her the pink food colouring she’d asked to borrow from him. She mixed it in, watching the icing turn a nice vibrant pink that was sure to make Uraraka cheer up in no time!

Satou spooned the icing into a piping bag and showed her how to cover the cupcakes in icing. Mina was extra careful as she did as he instructed, moving her hands in a spiralling motion as she squeezed the bag gently. When she felt confident enough that she could do a good job and the pastries were out of the oven, she began to adorn them with the pink icing, squealing as she finished each one.

When the cupcakes were finished, he congratulated her by patting her on the back and she thanked him repeatedly for his help and encouragement.

She picked up a plate and filled it with the better-looking delicacies before walking into the common room looking for Uraraka. More than one hand tried to grab one of her desserts, but Mina jokingly threatened to spray acid on them if they misbehaved. She would’ve loved to share her cupcakes, but her priority was helping her friend!

It didn’t take long for Mina to come to the conclusion that Uraraka was in her room. Upon knocking, she clearly heard a slightly hoarse voice answer, telling her to come in.

Uraraka looked like she’d been crying but tried to pretend like she hadn’t. There weren’t any tear marks across her cheeks, but her eyes were red and a little swollen, and her face lacked her usual blush.

“I made you pink cupcakes!” screamed Mina, showing her the sweet creations with a pleased smile. She was going for over the top on purpose, hoping her enthusiasm would spread to the other. It seemed like it did a little, when she saw the smallest of smiles appear on her friend’s face.

“Ah, that’s so nice!” The blush slowly returned to Uraraka’s face, which only made Mina happier.

“But now we’ve got to talk. You’ve got to tell me who called you and why you feel so bad about it.”

“It… it’s… it’s not what it seems.” Uraraka said, waving her inside and sitting on the bed. She took a cupcake when Mina forced the plate onto her to encourage her to spill the beans. With her mouth full, she started to speak. It had been her parents, and it had been an awfully normal conversation. Nothing they said had made her feel bad, and nothing had happened at her house to make her upset.

“Sho?” Mina asked with her mouth full, a bit of pink icing on her lips. “Whuh haffened? Why’f you sho shad?”

Uraraka sighed, closing her eyes tightly before opening them again, staring at her friend with a confidence she seldom seemed to have. She grasped Mina’s hand tightly, almost painfully and whispered that she may as well tell her. “My parents aren’t doing anything wrong. I am.”

And with those words, Mina gulped audibly, accidentally choking on her cupcake. The pink haired girl coughed, trying to get rid of the sensation of uneasiness that came with what she’d just heard.

“What did you do!?” Then she realised that that would only make it worse, so she tried a different approach. “I bet it wasn’t that bad. You can never do anything really, really wrong. You’re so sweet and nice! And you always have the best intentions.”

Uraraka sighed. “It’s not that. I’m not doing enough. It’ll never be enough. My parents are struggling financially and there’s nothing I can do about it! And… And I’ll never be the hero they need. I’ll never be the best one, I’ll… I’ll…!”

Mina quickly placed the plate on the bed and embraced her in a tight hug. She wasn’t all that good with words, but she hoped that what she couldn’t tell her by talking, she could say by squeezing her with affection. It seemed to work as she felt her friend relax against her.

“You’re wonderful. You’re the best. You’re all they want. Ever. Don’t ever think you’re not. You’ll always be the hero they need, Ochako.”

Uraraka didn’t answer. She just buried her face into pink locks and inhaled.

“They’re proud of you. They always will be.”

“Thank you so much, Mina. That’s all I needed to hear.”

“And it’s all true.”

“Thank you. And thanks for the cupcakes! They’re delicious!”

“My pleasure! But hey! Since we’re not going to eat all of these,” Mina said, gesturing at the cupcakes wildly, an ecstatic grin on her face, “we could offer them to whoever’s in the common room? I have some more in the kitchen. You up for that?”

“Yeah, sure!” Without letting Uraraka so much as breathe, the pink haired girl grabbed her arm and took off, the plate with the pastries in her other hand.

Once in the common room, Mina gently pushed her friend to offer their classmates the leftover cupcakes in exchange for a hug. She blushed as she complied, opening her arms to her friends.

With a grin on her face, Mina supervised her, watching intently. She frowned when her eyes locked onto Kirishima, noticing that something was off. He was munching on his cupcake, but his gaze was on the floor and he looked downcast.

She crossed her arms over her chest, pensive. She was determined to do everything she could just to make any of her friends smile; she would not tolerate any of them being sad, ever.

Thinking about what she could do, she smirked, deciding that she could make both Kirishima and the entirety of class 1-A happy at the same time by preparing a surprise party for him.

After all the cupcakes had been finished, she rounded up a few of her trustworthy classmates and together they came up with a plan. They assigned themselves tasks with a reasonable date for completion. Kaminari and Sero were in charge of the food and drinks; Mina, Uraraka and Yaoyorozu had to decorate the common room, gussy up the place to make it worthy of a party; and Midoriya’s task was to make sure Kirishima wouldn’t be in the dorms. He did so by preparing a sparring date, just the two of them.

Kirishima was close to crying when he opened the door and found all of his friends and classmates waiting for him with a scream of ‘surprise!’. His mouth fell open as he looked around, sparing quick glances at their smiling faces, the emotions overwhelming him.

The party went amazingly well. Jirou acted as the DJ, playing an ample repertoire of music to suit everyone’s tastes, all tracks that Kaminari tried to dance to with his awful sense of rhythm. Even Bakugou was on his best behaviour. He wasn’t dancing but at least he wasn’t exploding anything.

“How’s the party boy?” Mina walked over to Kirishima and smiled at him lovingly.

“It’s great! It’s amazing! Thank you so much!” By the look on his face, she thought he was about to burst into tears again. With a slight hint of panic in her face she turned to look for someone. She gestured frantically at the first person she saw, who happened to be Shouji.

“Don’t cry! You deserve this!”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve all of you, you’re just all so great.”

By the time Kiri had said those words the other boy had appeared, looking confused.

“Hey! Take a picture of us!” Mina shoved her phone into Shouji’s grip and slung her arm over Eijirou’s shoulder, bringing them closer. She made a V with her free hand and grinned at the camera. She heard the snap of the photo being taken but hung onto him for a few seconds before going over to look at it, showing him as well. “We look super cute!”

“Yeah, we do! Thanks, Mina!”

For Mina’s birthday, Kirishima gave her the picture Shouji took of them together, neatly framed in pink as a present. With tears in her eyes, she hung it in her dorm room, and it was her favourite gift she got that year.

[mayohigan-orange]

“Y-y’know... Yukari-shama’sh m-meant to be really, r-really powerful right? Like, sho powerful that she could p-pretty much do both my and Ran’sh jobsh w-within an inshtant... but if th-that’sh true, why are Ran a-and I the onesh who do it? Ish Y-Yukari-shama really jusht THAT l-lazhy? Or ish she n-not ash powerful a-ash everyone thinksh, and s-she jusht tricked Ran-shama into thinking she w-wash, sho that Ran, and e-eventually me, would jusht d-do everything for her? Or, ish she r-really that powerful, but j-jusht shad and lonely, and m-makesh me and Ran-shama do everything t-to make it sheem l-like that’sh why w-we’re her sherevants, becaushe s-she doeshn’t want people to k-know how shad and lonely she i-ish...?”