#Would absolutely have fallen for this man's bullshit. Like let's not kid ourselves we see takes like this every day on this hellsite

[talaricula]

Things I've seen tumblr memeing about James Somerton doing à la "How did no one see how bigoted he was!" as if those things haven't been a significant part of tumblr culture for over a decade :

Presenting untrue and bordering on conspiratorial versions of (queer or otherwise marginalised) history without any sources

Completely disregarding and disrespecting any expertise on socio-cultural topics/humanities and distrusting academics and historians (incl. acting as if no academics or historians could be queer or marginalised)

Downplaying the role misogyny played in the historical oppression of queer women and concluding that queer men must have been more oppressed than queer women

Bi women are, at best, not as queer as "real" queer ppl, and at worst, simply equivalent to straight women

Despite nominal trans inclusivity, transmasculine ppl are functionally women when convenient (combined with the above, bi transmascs are functionally straight women)

Despite nominal trans inclusivity (bis), shamelessly attacking, threatening and actively endangering any trans woman who questions them or smth they find important (often by unfairly presenting her as violent or as a threat)

Having absolutely fucking wild and reductive takes about ace ppl, the oppression they face and their place in the queer community

Stating that marriage equality is an assimilationist fight while completely ignoring its direct roots in the horrifying consequences of the AIDS crisis for partners of ppl who died of AIDS

Praising western media creators from the past for queer coding even under censure and in the same breath condemning current non western media creators for being homophobic bc their representation isn't explicit enough

Blaming China for all existing homophobic censoring in western media

Assuming all queer media would be better told by western creators and by western standards

Only out queer ppl get to tell queer stories

Heavily criticising almost all queer media created by women or ppl they see as such (see above points about trans ppl) or involving/starring a significant amount of women for any perceived or real amount of "problematicness", but fawning over and praising and negating criticism of queer media created by and starring mostly or even functionally exclusively men (even when it could be argued that, you know, not involving/seriously sidelining women is a pretty clear example of misogyny which should probably be considered "problematic")

And I'm probably forgetting stuff or there's stuff I have internalised myself and don't recognise as an issue

Like idk but I feel like the takeaway from Hbomberguy and Toddintheshadow's videos should maybe be "be aware of such patterns in your communities bc they definitely exist" and not "this guy is uniquely awful" and I feel like a lot of the discussion I've seen surrounding this has been severely failing at that. Most ppl who've spent any significant amount of time on tumblr prob either have internalised at least one of those thought patterns, have had to de-internalise them, or have had to be extremely vigilant to not internalise them (which is done by, you know, seeking out other sources, which also seemed like an important takeaway from the videos)

#Also I'm saying this as someone who actually watched quite a few of Somerton's videos #And noticed those patterns and stopped watching bc I recognised them from here #and had already learned to unlearn them after being so exposed to them here #And tbh I think anyone who hasn't had the luck or made the conscious choice to seek out ppl who pushed against those narratives #Would absolutely have fallen for this man's bullshit. Like let's not kid ourselves we see takes like this every day on this hellsite #2014 me would have. For sure. #This is next to the plagiarism issue which as Harris points out is an Internet wide issue and this includes tumblr #James Somerton #hbomberguy #todd in the shadows #This brought to you by a conversation with my wife yesterday #So many ppl on here don't deserve to meme or be this self absolvingly critical of this man #The call is coming from inside the house #The man has a tumblr it would legit not surprise me if some of the things he supposedly made up himself he did actually get from somewhere #And that somewhere was a tumblr post

[flightofaqrow]

old friend

qrow + Glynda ( @professor-goodwitch​ ) [VOL 8 AU: Inner Circle Jailbreak]

qrow’s not sure where Glynda came from, why, or how she seems to know more about what’s going on than even he can piece together after it all, but. it’s okay. probably. it’s probably going to be okay. 

brothers, his body and soul have never felt heavier in his life.

he can’t deny it’s about all he can ask for to see an old friend right now - a familiar face, alive and well and willing to stand on his side. 

“Glynda,” he gruffs, “…thanks.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“ Get some rest, Qrow. I know recent events had you exhausted. I made sure our hide out is well protected and hidden.”

It was a surprise to see Glynda here helping Qrow and his companion Robyn out of Atlas’ vehicle. She knew for herself that he had nothing to do with that murder unless it was absolutely necessary. He didn’t even have to explain nor did Robyn.

All Glynda wanted to know was what happened to Atlas and James, but that can wait.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

qrow’s not sure where Glynda came from, why, or how she seems to know more about what’s going on than even he can piece together after it all, but. it’s okay. probably. it’s probably going to be okay. brothers, his body and soul have never felt heavier in his life. “…yeah. sure.” he takes her up on the offer and leans up against the wall, willing himself to even sink into it, phase out of existence for just a few moments.

but he can’t deny it’s about all he can ask for to see an old friend right now. a familiar face, alive and well and willing to stand on his side. 

“Glynda,” he gruffs, “…thanks.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Glynda would peek out of the worn down windows of their hideout and didn’t spot any Atlas shoulders. Robyn had silently offered to be on watch so the huntress could catch up with her old friend. She nods at her then walked back to Qrow who sunk on to the wall.

“ No problem. It’s.. good to see you Qrow.” She sighed and would go to a pile of compressed haystack taking a seat on it.

“ I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here..” She said, patting down on some dust on her pants.

“ I heard about the incident at Haven Academy and immediately I knew they were going after the relic so.. I went to Atlas in hopes to retrieve the other one. However, it seems James has turned his back on everyone.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

qrow had a lot of people to thank once the dust settled. eyes draw back from staring at nothing in particular to focus on Glynda, “…same.”

actually, he wonders more how she got here with the borders still closed than why. why seemed pretty obvious. he takes a deep breath and crosses his arms over a depressing chest as he lets it out. time to get back to work. next steps. no time for huntsmen to grieve, at least, not until the job is done.

“well, he turned his back on Mantle, that’s for damn sure. cut off our scroll communication right when everything started. i don’t know what’s happened in the cities since the declaration. or with the relic. or the kids. an’ i have no idea what he’s thinking or why, apart from what i assume is some bullshit martyr complex nonsense. never got the chance to talk. …but things are past reasonin’ at this point, anyway.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“As sad as it seems, I predicted this from James even back at Beacon. His whole military coming to the Vytal Festival, showcase of military and the council granting him seats.” She took a deep breath shaking his head. “ I can guess he’s lost his heart and.. mind. But, fear can do that to you. It’s just the way how you handle it and I bet James didn’t know how to.”

Glynda would start up a small flame to keep them warm. “ Talking to James would be difficult at this point… At least when you do. I’ll try to reason with him with all of this madness but– a punch to his face can wait.” She wasn’t exactly intending on ‘verbally’ reasoning with him.

“ I just find it upsetting after preaching about ‘unity’ and ‘working together’ with Mantle, he just turns his back the moment a bigger threat showed up.” She sighed, looking at the flame then back at Qrow. “ His fear will consume him sooner or later.”

“But.. pressing matters at hand, we need to help out Mantle..”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“yeah, well. all the ‘i told ya so’s in Remnant ain’t changin’ the situation, Glyn,” he chides in a low rasp. sharp features find their edges amid grief, but he directs their focus more into the fire than at his friend. surely, some of that was about getting thoughts off her own chest more than being heard.

and she’s not the only one looking to take him down with more than words once they get a handle on all this and find the overgrown tin can.

right. one thing at a time. like most of his thoughts must be right now. one card building each base of a castle, lest trying to have too many at once make it all come crashing down around him again.

he sits up, finally, leaning towards warmth and flickering, distracting lights. “how is mantle holding up so far? any new reports come in?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He was right, nothing was really going to change the situation no matter the ‘What If’s’ they had. Glynda just found herself frustrated after leaving Beacon only to find that Mantle had been cut off by Atlas. James was a man of ‘protection’, ‘security’ but ‘power’ as well and it’s upsetting he had fallen into a pit where he may not possibly get up anymore.

She took a look at her scroll, seeing the alert of all the Wanted huntsmen. Sure enough, Qrow was there along with her other former students. “ It seems you really pissed off James if he’s turning you all in but of course, he’s losing his mind like his heart.”

She sighed tapping onto her scroll looking at the live feed of everything. Her eyes looking at the dark clouds lurking. “.. I don’t think Mantle will hold up any longer. Salem is about to arrive.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

she’s catching up with this whole damn emotional roller-coaster just like he’s trying to catch up with the past day or so. both hands run through his hair with the same frustration before he gives the fire the thousand yard stare again, “tch. he’d only be pissed if he cared. nah. s’just like Robyn says. all he wants is t’have us outta his way.”

hands clench between his knees, “well, that ain’t happenin’.”

he pulls his scroll out for the first time since it has been returned to him. a bunch of missed calls flood the screen, so someone must have gotten them working again, and he has maybe two guesses who. not that it matters when he still can’t really answer anyone.

“so Salem’s right at our doorstep and we’re squabblin’ among ourselves just like she wants. this is bad. this is really bad.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“ He’s lost his mind and heart if arresting all of you is his solution to get what he wants. I’ll have to remind him that the half of his body can easily be destroyed if I deem it to be useless.” Her tone seemed calm yet dangerous considering she actually WAS capable of tearing him apart with her semblance. Glynda’s often level-headed when it came to frustrating situations but this was one of the rare occasions she’d serious about using violence to knock someone back into reality.

Glynda glanced at Qrow for a moment. His body language immediately told her he’d been through a lot and she was too afraid to ask him about it fearing it might shake his thoughts and emotions.

That wasn’t the priority anyway, it was the danger that has arrived in Mantle. Salem.

“ Fighting Salem head on is a suicide mission but if we wait for her to land in Mantle then it’ll cease to exist in a matter of hours.” Glynda sighed. “ ..And judging by the clouds, she brought a whole army of Grimm to get what she wants.”

“ We need to move soon. I’m sure you’re worried about Ruby and the others. It’s best to rendezvous with them because we need all the help we can get if we want to save Mantle.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

usual memories of Glynda store as her putting things back together. often messes he’d created himself. in a single moment of emphasizing her ability to just as easily tear things apart, she reminds qrow of how terrifying a woman she really is. he can’t say the image of James severed right down the middle doesn’t jolt him out of his thoughts, and bring some shred of solace. it’d serve him right.

looking up meets the emerald fire in her eyes, sizzling slow and controlled.

right, one step at a time.

hands cup around his face as he thinks. this’ll be the most difficult battle they’ve faced yet. and that’s saying something. “i’m more worried about all the grimm than Salem. her track record shows more’a desire to control humanity than exterminate it. unlike those beasts’a hers.”

arms then fall to his lap with the mention of Ruby and her friends. his family. but now also huntresses and hunters in their own right. “Glyn, the kids… Ironwood issued ‘em their license before it all went down. ‘course i’m thinkin’ of them, but they can hold their own. have been for awhile now. if our scrolls are workin’ we can get in touch. it…,” it twists in his gut as if the words are food poisoning themselves, “it might be best if we all spread out throughout the city. besides, this is too important to…”

he turns away again, shuts his eyes and tries to force out the image still imprinted behind eyelids of blood …so much blood, “well, they might be better off without me around for this.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“ Salem creates the grimm herself and anytime she can procure a unit of grimm to ambush any parts of the city if the numbers dwindle. But… if we leave the grimm be, the civilians will suffer in their hands.” Glynda sighed feeling a little conflicted about how they’ll proceed.

Everything was coming too fast, Salem’s arrival, grimm already infesting Mantle, Ironwood cutting off Atlas and Mantle and everything else.

Her attention wavered though when Qrow mentioned licenses were handed to them. “ that seems bold of James to give them their licenses that early but… with the conflict, can you really tell them to sit down for a class?” She tried sounding sarcastic for a moment but knew the situation was too dire to insert that in.

“ Sounds like your niece and her friends have really evolved into huntsmen and huntresses at such a young age. Though.. spreading out would be a good idea if we’re going to hold off and protect Mantle from multiple points..”

His last sentence though, worried her. “ Qrow? Why do you think that? What made you possibly think that they’re better off without you? And I’m certain that’s not because of your semblance..” Glynda’s well aware of his semblance being a key factor in putting the kids in danger but he was right– they were capable of taking care of themselves yet.. there seems to be more.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

lids stay screwed shut; qrow’s head shakes in the smallest arc side to side, processing what Glynda says, meshing it with what he thinks. his palm aches to hold a drink that would help slow it all down. but he’s done with that, and they’re out of time, and it does him no good to be dulled.

and he doesn’t really know the answer. qrow’s vision only goes so far as giving his report and insight, and Glynda or Robyn can decide how to manage from there. they’re better suited to delegate orders, and maybe qrow might just follow along until he can break off and run his own vendetta mission alone like always, because more than ever he knows he’s not meant for a partner, and has always known he was never really cut out to be a leader.

even the voice in his head is hardly his own.

with the conflict, can you really tell them to sit down for a class?

that finally earns Glynda a turn to her direction again, dark brows lifting to rest on his face in a soft and wistful way. she makes an inappropriate comment, and qrow lives for inappropriate. it’s downright refreshing from her.

qrow shrugs, tilts his head down to accentuate a coy glance up, a glint of hope returning to red eyes, “heh. you know, Oz would say he’s glad you still have a sense of humor in alla this.”

one moment of lighter breath, and then it’s gone - just like the man mentioned and a solid chunk of qrow’s affection for him; expression sours as hands come down harsh on his knees.

“so you must be joking.”

she’s certain it’s not his semblance. she’s got to be kidding! how can anyone be certain? qrow sure as hell can’t ever seem to tell when and how and who Misfortune hits the worst!

he leans in, frowns and furrows lining frustration into his face, but he speaks more haggard than rough, “of course i mean my semblance, Glyn. this ain’t a single man brawl or bust ‘em up rescue mission! there’s too many lives on the line! …we can’t afford any mishaps. …I work better from the sidelines and the shadows, we both know that.”

#* emerald fire in her eyes; controlled and refreshing = professor goodwitch * #* we got work to do = ic * #* your favorite fairy tale = AU * #* how do you think legends and fairy tales get started? = thread archive * #cries..... i just love them so much

[diningpageantry]

Stew

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18672919/chapters/44928196

Chapter 5/13 of Proximity (The Collision of Lonely Men)

Word Count: 2384

Chapter Summary: Nostalgic meals, red wine, and hand holding.

Chilly, late fall nights have always been a favorite of mine.

I’ve always found myself inexplicably drawn to the harsh crunching of leaves and soft, wispy scent of their decay.

I get to wear those nice jumpers the Wellbeloves bought me for Christmas, and cooking doesn't feel as much of a chore rather than a comforting task. It’s feel warm all fuzzy--like the recipes were made for me to indulge in, rather than scarf down.

My favorite of all was always stew. Whenever there was stew nights at care home, I was always begging for seconds. It's hard to really mess up stew to the point beyond any recognition, and even with canned vegetables, it somehow managed to hold a home-cooked feeling.

It's so deeply ingrained into me that it's now one of the only recipes I know by heart. Probably only because I'd made it about 40 times over the course of one fall/winter. Made it so often that Aggie got sick of it while I was off memorized every little bit.

There isn't much in life I pride myself on, and stew is one of my top things. While I'd taken the recipe from a classics cookbook, I call it my own now. I've added some flair here and there to the point where it feels like it should be mine. Aromatic and thick--I feel like it could entice anybody with it.

Hell, it somehow even got Basilton in a shock.

I hadn't heard the door open, but I hear it fall shut, taking notice of the tall man standing at the door with his eyes fallen shut.

I turn down my music respectfully, raising both brows at him as I wipe my hands on the drying cloth. “Office hours over?” I ask, half expecting no answer (per usual). He treats me to one anyway.

“Mhm,” he hums, eyes still not open as he visually inhales. “Are… you actually cooking? In that shitty little kitchen?”

“Yeah. Of course I am.”

He finally takes a look at me, back straightening as his hands hover over his jacket buttons. “Oh. My apologies for intruding. You're probably expecting someone. I can leave--”

“Bullshit I’ll make you leave your own flat,” I shrug. “I don't have anyone coming over. I've got who in my life, Penny? That's about it. You're fine, come in.”

He stays put, not seeming convinced.

I exhale. “They're not serving dinner. Unless you plan on paying someone else or starving, I'd expect you to stay here. Take a seat, I'm nearly done.”

He runs his eyes over me and hesitantly slides out the top, thick black button of his coat. I stand at the small kitchen's entrance (it really is ridiculously tiny), hands on the towel as I watch him slip out of the jacket and his shoes.

He approaches slowly, one foot falling in front of the other almost like a skittish animal’s would.

I let him step closer on his own, heading back into the kitchen and eyeing my leftover wine. Enough for us to split a good bit.

Wordlessly, I settle a glass in front of him at the table and pour it up about halfway before settling the bottle in the middle. His gaze follows my hands, lips pursed hesitantly as I step back from him. I feel like a hovering parent, watching him somewhat nervously as he lifts the glass and brings it up for a taste.

He cringes slightly, frowning. “Tastes like cooking wine,” he mumbles, still going for another sip.

It makes me smile. “Wine is wine,” I shrug, walking back over into the kitchen. I can't see him, but I hear his tiny scoff. Still, there's the short scrape of glass behind me, roughing up against wood as he picks it back up. Soon enough, I'm sure he’s emptied it because I peek at him pouring another.

As I’m cooking, the creeping familiarity of the sense of being watched falls onto me. Like I’m his prey now, and his eyes are closely locked and not letting me go. And, as unnerving as it is, it’s harshly too regular now. It seems like every time we’re in a room, he’s watching me when I can’t see.

I pop the cast iron pot into the oven and silently go to fill my own glass. For now, I’m trying to stay focused on my own tasks, rather than Basilton’s concentration on them. Well, somewhat. I'm thinking about him thinking about and watching me, but that's completely different than thinking about him just watching me (isn't it?)

We're silent, but much closer than we usually are. As I lean against the table, he sits and blinks up, sipping at his own wine. Our eyes catch briefly, staring back at one another as the timer in the room over clicks rhythmically. I feel myself hold my breath, shoulders squaring out as I take an extended drink.

His head drops, index slowly tracing the rim of his glass as I struggle to find anything of use to say.

“How have your classes been going so far?”

He seems a bit shocked by the sudden interaction, snapping back into reality and staring up at me. “They've been manageable. The class average for my highest class was exemplary, but the papers of my fourth period class make me want to strike them from the gradebook, given how horrendous they turned out. It's like they learned absolutely nothing.”

I nod slowly, glass settling against my lips as I chat. “How's the students? Your schedule?” Easy enough talk, especially since he seems loosened up in the slightest from his drink. He's even got a small drop in his shoulders.

“Students themselves are fine. There's one student who wishes to be called ‘The Behemoth’, since that's what his rugby mates call him, and he might be the most obnoxious arse I've ever met.”

“Behemoth?”

“I'm assuming it's all in irony, given how short he is. He's not scrawny, but definitely not the biggest kid you've ever met.”

I feel myself chuckle, watching the downturn of his lips as he speaks. It makes me fight the impulse to simply reach out and rub my thumbs over the corners, smoothing them out to a more tolerable expression. “Well then, why is The Behemoth a nightmare?”

His head lazily tips back, eyes falling shut. “I can't begin--it's everything. Incessantly rude, impulsive and disruptive, no sense of respect for the classroom. I caught him trying to carve another dick into the table, and when I sent him off for it, he said ‘Thought you liked those’. It's a wonder I can't get him expelled.”

“Students can just… say that you?” I ask in a bit of a shock. He seems a bit amused by my surprise, raising a brow at me.

“With the amount their parents pay, they can call me a fag if they want to.” He simply stares up at me, glass reflecting spots of light down his wrists as we keep a shaky eye contact. I don't know what to say, if there's even anything left to he said.

“Fucking hell.” That's all I can manage from that. “Bloody fucking--have any students said that to you?”

He shrugs, soothing my anxious gaze by glancing out the window across the room. I listen to the settling of his glass against the table, making note of his uncharacteristic response. Does this mean I should comfort him? How the hell do you react to the person you like the least feeling like shit?

He finally speaks after what must be at least a full minute of silence. “Once. I gave the class a history on the word, and made it so tedious that nobody ever wanted to say it again, since they'd have to sit through another lecture.”

That's funny to me. I don't know why, but I'm laughing. And, suddenly, as if by a miracle, he's chuckling along. A quiet, hand-covering-face chuckle. One that, if he had his usual composure, would've never slipped out. It's stunning--soft and melodic. So much of him, yet so foreign and new to his usual reactions that it's making me smile openly.

We stop ourselves short to the beeping timer, signaling me to grab the pot.

We're calmed by the time I carry two bowls over. We sit adjacent to one another, hands only at reaching distance. The tiniest, cowardly part of me wonders what it'd feel like to push his skin against mine. To know what his hand feels like is to empathize, and to empathize is to bring that compassion we lack.

I don't know if I really like our fighting. I've never been a fan of pointless bickering or condescending arguments. If he was more like how he is now, a few glasses in, he'd be a lot more tolerable.

He polishes off that second glass and goes for a third, eyes blinking heavily as he stares down into the cheap drink. “How has your first quarter gone?” His voice is near-silent; a quiet chirp over the clinking of our bowls and spoons. I nearly could've missed it.

“Can't particularly complain. Boring, frankly, but it's temporary.”

“Temporary?” I suppose that's the best of a conversation spark as I'll get from him.

I shrug mindlessly, watching my carrots push around in the bowl. “Only a few years, then I wanna move back to the city. I miss the people being around me. It's far too quiet here.”

He raises his brows briefly before they drop back down. “Back to London then?”

“Back to London.”

The look on his face makes it seem like he has something to say, but nothing comes out. I let the moment between us pass in a safe silence, finishing my first bowl and going back for seconds.

As I sit, I allow myself to break the space again. “Thank you, Basilton,” I say, letting him meet my eyes quizzically before continuing. “I'd never properly thanked you for letting me come to your meeting a few weeks ago. It was really nice, and I never really go a chance to say that.”

He takes a moment between us, eyes traveling over my face and focusing on every little detail before he silently relents. He nods, eyes soft and a very faint blush spread over his cheeks. The light rosiness, of course, he can't really hide.

No matter how much I may want for it to be progress between us, I'm really sure it's entirely from the wine.

I find myself nodding back to him, a smile creasing my cheeks as we hold an equal gaze. One second, two seconds, then it's done. He drops his face, focusing on finishing up his dinner.

I start to do so too, barely able to enjoy it from the distraction of his closeness. Part of me says to not get too close--a dog may not have rabies, but that does mean it won't leave a nasty bite.

Although, the smallest part of me wonders whether or not his bark is far worse than his bite.

He finishes his food as I do, and I make the quick move to clean up after finishing my second glass. He doesn't make to stand, watching me go take them to the sink. There's an odd comfort in the feeling of him studying me now. In it gives an equal peace of mind to where he is (so he can't really sneak up on me). And yet still, there's an equal concern to where his mind is. Plotting a rude snap, trying to get me to move out faster. Something. Anything evil.

I quickly look at him while I'm wrapping the leftover container, and he immediately turns away, finishing what must be his third glass. Innocence doesn't fit him well--it's like a cheap suit. Stressed.

He stands once I'm done, following me nearly side-by-side as we step off to our bedrooms. He halts right as I'm reaching for the door, and I feel the flashing grip of his hand closing around mine, holding my skin to his. My breath catches, mind melting into a confusing puddle as he simply gawks at me.

He stays silent for a full moment, jaw hanging as he searches for something clear to say. Hesitantly, I turn my palm around, comforting him with a soft squeeze back. It does nothing but stun him further. It's a long minute before he speaks, chin tipping up as he finally manages out, “You're welcome to come to meetings anytime.” It's barely choked, and comes out in a quiet rushing flow of words. He exhales slowly, looking down upon me as I stare. “And… don't call me Basilton. Makes me sound sixty. Baz is just fine.”

I relax a bit, nodding a bit as we keep our eye contact, and I keep hold of the soft hand of his. It's warm at the palm, and cool at his fingers, making me worried briefly for the state of his health. Still, it's a mindless comfort of knowing right where he is, looking back at me.

Seconds pass, and then minutes. It starts dragging onto a staring competition--one where I feel set to win as I'm now stuck on the sight of his strong grey eyes. They're less harsh now, softened by the night and the alcohol in his blood. They're nearly human. Like I could do this forever.

I contemplate doing so briefly, but the touch of his hand and gravity of his gaze keeps me longing for such an odd moment.

It finally breaks when I yawn, noticing how flushed his cheeks are now. I bet they'd be warm to the touch. “Tired,” I mumble, eyes finally falling shut. I feel his hand loosen. “I think I'm gonna get ready for bed.”

His hand drops mine fully, and as I'm opening my eyes, he's already retreating to his room. I can't help but feel empty, watching the door of his swing shut and closing him away. As if there was a missing touch there, or a final word, before we let this night rest.

I'm too tired to fight it, and just slightly buzzed enough to respect it. So, I take my leave to my own room, letting our moment pass us by.

#carry on #snowbaz #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #mine #simon snow #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm-pitch #baz pitch #simon #baz #proximity (the collision of lonely men) #p(tcolm)

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 154: The Inevitable

Previously on BnHA: Even though the previous chapter ended with Deku arriving to punch Overhaul in the face, the majority of the chapter somehow was spent getting up to that moment which we’d already gotten up to! But finally it happened, and Aizawa, Nighteye, and Deku burst onto the scene. Nighteye gave Mirio a big ol’ hug and told him he did so good, and it was one of the few highlights of this arc, and so deserved. Deku and Aizawa went to apprehend Overhaul, but one of Overhaul’s Endless Minions woke up and used his quirk to basically paralyze Aizawa, so that Aizawa in turn was forced to blink and Overhaul was able to reactivate his own quirk. He proceeded to straight up murder his loyal right hand man and fuse their bodies together to form some kind of grotesque monstrosity, but like, it’s not even the good, interesting kind of grotesque. It’s just the same old Overhaul with some extra demon arms that’ve got big claws on ‘em, and now his mask is fused to his face like a demon bird beak as a bonus. Whatever. Nine seven chapters to go.

Today on BnHA: Overhaul revels in his new power-up and taunts Mirio a bit, mostly just to make sure everyone knows that his quirk is gone for good. Nighteye tells Deku to take Mirio and Eri and get them to safety while he holds Overhaul off. He thinks about everything he taught Mirio and how strong he became and how proud he is of him, and that all he wants to do right now is protect him and Eri. As Deku hauls Mirio and Eri away from the carnage, the narration starts talking about how Nighteye spent so much time desperately trying to change the futures he saw, but that it never worked no matter what he did. In spite of this, and in spite of knowing that his actions are merely “drawing out the inevitable”, he continues to fight Overhaul until he is brutally impaled on some more spikes. Enraged, Deku turns back, leaving Eri with Mirio, and activates One for All at 20%.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 185 now, so any ETAs will reflect that. Posting this a few hours early since I won’t be able to later this evening.)

fun fact, Fallen Angels/Jaimini’s Box doesn’t have this chapter translated on their site. in fact they don’t have any chapters translated from 154 all the way until 167. I can only assume they were getting as sick of this shit as I am. can’t even blame them for bailing

so Mangastream, that leaves just you. the brave souls who stuck it out till the bitter end. you guys are the real heroes academia

unfortunately the FA scans were also the cleaner scans, so now we’ll have to deal with these kind of dark, smudgy-looking pages. on the bright side, if you squint you can almost pretend like what’s happening on the page is actually interesting

sorry to rag on you before you even get started, chapter. but let’s not kid ourselves here

so Overhaul says he’s in a bad mood but “this is a little better”

and the text is all “that form... grotesque!” but again, it’s just his normal form with a couple extra demon arms. nothing we haven’t seen from Shouji or Tokoyami. do you guys remember Shouji and Tokoyami. good kids. wonder whatever happened to ‘em

Deku is like clinging to one of the floor spikes and trying to assess the situation

oh?

if Aizawa gets a one-on-one fight with that guy it had better be sick as hell. do NOT fuck around with my Aizawa fight. I will not forgive you

(ETA: does it count as fucking around with my Aizawa fight if we don’t even get an Aizawa fight. given how they probably would have managed to make even that inexplicably bad, it’s probably for the best that we didn’t get this in the end.)

Overhaul is monologuing about how germophobic he is and how this is the first time he’s been pushed to this point

oh shit he’s bringing out the big guns

did Mirio even know that his quirk was gone forever? up until this point he had no reason to assume the effect wouldn’t just be the same as with Tamaki. he really drew the short end of the stick. poor baby

oh here’re the rest of the bullets

-- excuse me, they’re the ones dragging this out?? WHO WAS IT THAT ORDERED HIS SUBORDINATES TO CREATE A NEVERENDING MAZE OF MEDIOCRE SECOND TIER VILLAINS

now he says Mirio has gotten all his friends mixed up in this and that they’re all gonna die

why does he keep taunting Mirio even though he’s already basically out for the count. still sore about how badly he fucked you up huh buddy. you prick

Mirio is all

um, yes way. he was torturing a six-year-old on a regular basis just to make no-quirk juice. he doesn’t even have a deep-seeded reason for it as far as I can see. he’s just in the mob and wants to make money. and even his boss was all “dude I get that you wanna make bank, but that plan is too fucked up even for us.” but he went and did it anyway

so yeah, I don’t know why anyone’s surprised that he’s cool with callously murdering his own subordinates, or why that of all things would somehow be the straw that broke the camel’s back

here comes Deku again!

did he throw that spike at him? nice

he caught it, and it did nothing, but still. nice

he’s grabbing another one! and thinking of Mirio!

stab him in the face Deku. do it for senpai

you know who I miss? fucking Stain. I miss him so much. I’ll never say a word against him again. that’s a lie but my god it’s like how you weirdly appreciate George W. just a little more after dealing with Trump. even though W. was just the worst. still so bad. but like, it gives you a new sense of scale and an understanding that no matter how bad things are, they can always get just a little bit worse

anyway, Deku’s diving in still but Overhaul is creating more spikes, this time from his hands

they’re crumbling upon impact with Deku’s kicks, but he’s thinking that if it weren’t for his iron soles he’d have been done in just now

I’m sorry are those things not impressive? what else do you need? he’s got smarts too, for what it’s worth

what in the

was that another one of his stamps?? Nighteye is such a freak

yep. look at this

take that bitch. I’m gonna sign for you like a package from Fedex

we’re now flashing back to a conversation they had while running in the hallway for those five long hours

“don’t you DARE fucking break your bones again you little punk”

Nighteye’s asking what Overhaul did with Aizawa

oh shit this is the first interesting thing Overhaul has said in ages

(ETA: so what a surprise that absolutely nothing came of it)

yeah, I bet he’s interested. oh shit. so now he’s whisked him off to the “VIP room.” what’s in there, caviar and high-stakes poker tables?

you guys. Nighteye is piiiiiiiiiiiissed

yeah for real. because he used the permabullets even though he only had five of them. I was wondering about that too

now Overhaul is disintegrating his two right arms. what are you playing at now

look how fucking weirdly Nighteye dodges

the hell kind of dodge is this

Overhaul is thinking he’s not particularly fast, but that his movements are similar to Lemillion’s. “so this guy’s the teacher...”

Nighteye’s flashing back to Mirio’s internship when he explained to him that by accumulating experience he would learn how to predict people’s actions and move accordingly

I’m so sorry this asshole took your son’s quirk Nighteye

all right so now Deku’s reached Mirio and Eri and he’s asking if they can move

Mirio’s all “no sweat” ffff

ffffffffffffffffff

baby sweetie honey nooo shhhh. don’t apologize for being sad that he forcibly destroyed a part of you. something that was unique and that you worked so hard to perfect and that was going to lead you toward your dreams. fuck. you’re allowed to be fucking bummed out kiddo. it’s gonna be okay

so Deku’s grabbing them all and he’s kicking open the path that Overhaul just tried to close up again

and now Eri is clutching at him and crying ffffffffffffff

THIS IS NOT OKAY. HORIKOSHI!!! COME THE FUCK ON. WHAT IS THIS

and Mirio’s looking back over his shoulder as they retreat, and he seems to have seen something troubling oh shit

this is all very interesting, but I thought he could only do one person a day? I still don’t fucking get how his power works in combat

(ETA: as the next page clarifies, I guess he used it on Overhaul and that’s how he saw himself and Deku dying at Overhaul’s hands. and this must mean it’s been more than 24 hours since he used it on the babysitter guy. and this is also why it takes him a full day to die afterwards, so that he can live just long enough to look into Mirio’s future one last time. ...fuck me why am I thinking about that noooo)

OH SHIT!?!?

WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT. “THE INEVITABLE”!?!?

WHAT THE FUCK

DID THEY JUST FUCKING KILL NIGHTEYE WHAT THE FUCK

AT THE VERY LEAST WE ALL AGREE HIS ARM IS GONE, YES. STRAIGHT UP NO LONGER GOT A LEFT ARM

HOLY FUCK

AHHHHHHH EVERYTHING JUST SUDDENLY WENT BLACK

AND HIS EYES ARE LIKE

I’M FREAKING OUT!!?!?!?!?!

DEKU’S LOOKING BACK TOWARD THE SCENE AND HE’S TOTALLY BUGEYED

OVERHAUL IS SENDING SPIKES THEIR WAY

HOLY SHIT DEKU!?!?

OH SHIT

DEKU BE CAREFUL OF YOUR LIMBS!! ALSO YOU’RE THE BEST, HOLY FUCKING SHIT

even Overhaul has abruptly stopped his endless spike attacks and is now resorting to cautious trash talk

oh shit

CALL BACK TO THE ALL MIGHT PROPHECY OH SNAPPPPPP

DEKU YOU ARE SO COOL JESUS CHRIST THIS WAS SUCH A COOL MOMENT. I FORGOT THE MANGA COULD DO THAT

WAS IT WORTH 900 CHAPTERS OF BULLSHIT? AND MIRIO LOSING HIS QUIRK? AND NIGHTEYE FUCKING DYING FUCKING JESUS CHRIST? NO

BUT GOD IT’S SOMETHING, AND THAT SOMETHING IS ADMITTEDLY PRETTY COOL

I swear to god if he loses even with this. just...

just remember Deku. Nighteye literally died for this shit. probably. oh my godddddd

no bonus. because I’m pretty sure the next omake is supposed to go with tomorrow’s chapter. it’s really hard to figure this out tbh. but I guess I should be grateful that we even still have translated omakes right now, since even that will come to an end once we hit chapter 167. enjoy it while it lasts I guess

#bnha #boku no hero academia #overhaul (bnha) #midoriya izuku #sir nighteye #toogata mirio #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #well at least we're in the home stretch now #just one more week and we can say goodbye to all this misery #remember everyone #before we throw this arc away #we should thank it #this is because the arc taught us that we do not like to read arcs like this