#and a part of me wants to change the entire thing and another part wants to try to keep the general feel/major plot points

[rainylana]

“It’s just a cut.” Part three!

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

warnings: physical abuse, mentions of injuries and wounds, emotional turmoil, angst and lots of tears, readers mother is in jail, language, hospitals, reader and eddie are at heavy odds, mentions of betrayal and broken trust. let me know if i missed anything! original request by @h-ness1944

note: i hope everyone is doing okay! enjoy this new instillation of the series, and let me know what you thought about it! this particular series seems to take a toll, so please share your thoughts! it means the world to me!!:) as of right now, this is the final chapter. the ending isn’t necessarily a cliffhanger, but it’s not exactly a solid ending, either! hope you enjoy!

You had shut the world out and everyone in it, refusing to speak or comply with anyone. You were throwing a tantrum, you knew that, but you were too heartbroken to care. Eddie had betrayed you, the one person you loved most in the world had done what you had asked not to do. You wouldn’t talk to the cops. You begged Eddie not to, begged him to keep his silence, but it was clear his feelings hadn’t changed. He couldn’t do it. 

He told the cops everything. From every bruise and wound he had tended, to the aches and cracks in your heart from harsh words. Of course, the police wanted to hear it from you, but from the extent of your injuries, they knew Eddie wouldn’t have been making it up.

The tried to talk to you multiple times, so did the nurses and your surgeon. Wayne tried, Eddie begged. The kids came in, so did Robin and Steve, but it was to no avail. It felt as if the whole world knew your secret. You felt nothing but shame and embarrassment, and the worst of all, betrayed and alone.

Your dad had been notified and was on the way, but the last thing you wanted was for family drama. You wanted to rot in that bed, and if you had it your way, you surely would. It had been almost two days since you last spoke to anyone. They’d given up, but not Eddie. He was determined to make you understand. He couldn’t loose you. A life without you in was one he didn’t want to have to live.

And as far as your mom went, you felt cold and empty. You didn’t know why. You didn’t care about your injuries, you’d been hurt before. You didn’t care about the mean things she had said before she pushed you down the stairs. You simply just didn’t care anymore. You didn’t want to see her, but you wished everything could go back to the way it was, as sick as it seemed. You were too hurt, too betrayed to feel anything else. All you felt was grief, and a horrible ache in your stomach.

You were to be on bedrest for the next three weeks so your wounds could heal properly, and you couldn’t wait to get the bandage off your nose so you could breath again. You looked terrible. As the days sat in your bruises began to change shape and color, your face decorated with marks of angry purple and red shades.

The only thing that could be heard in the room was the ticking of the clock, which happened to be running five minutes slow. You could barely move, only laying flat on your back with your head turned toward the window. There were so many damn flowers everyone you felt as if you were living in a greenhouse. 

Eddie had resorted to sitting outside your room. You’d made it very clear you didn’t want to see him, but he refused to leave you completely. He’d come in every now and then, asking if you needed anything, tearing up with another I’m sorry. He never got a response.

If he loved you like he said he would, he wouldn’t have betrayed you. He wouldn’t have broken your trust like he did. He wouldn’t have turned your entire world upside down and ripped out your heart. You wondered if you’d ever be able to look at him the same again.

•

“Ed, don’t you think you should go home and rest?” Wayne stood behind Eddie, watching him as he stared at stuffed animals in the gift shop of the hospital.

“I’m fine.” His voice was gruff and cold, almost matching yours the last time you spoke to him.

He was indeed, not fine, not in the slightest. He was completely pale and malnourished, hadn’t eaten in days or taken a shower. He hadn’t slept in almost five days, not properly, anyways. The heart in his chest that kept him alive was breaking second by second, and he wondered if it would completely shatter inside of him.

“Don’t start that with me.” Wayne comes up to the side of his nephew, glancing down at the teddy bear in his hands. “You’re not fine. You need sleep. I’ll stay with y/n. You go home and rest.”

“Wayne.” Eddie stressed, placing down the teddy bear, twirling around toward the exit of the shop. “Stop. Leave me alone.” He walked as quickly as he could out of the store, ignoring the have a good day from the check out lady. He walked with angry, heavy steps, so quickly that his hair bounced with each step of his boots. He could hear his uncle trailing behind him.

“I can’t leave her, Wayne.” He stopped in front of the elevator, pushing the button with a ringed finger. “If you want to go home go ahead, but I’m staying put.” The elevator opened and he was walking inside, leaning against the metal wall with crossed arms. “Are you coming or not?”

Of course, Wayne followed, not ready to give up on his son.

“You’re just as stubborn as she is, you know?” The old man said gruffly, the hot temperature of the elevator making him sweat. “You’re no good to her like that. You’re dead on your feet, boy.”

Eddie stared at the floor and ignored every word, at least tried to, and thought about you staring at the wall, the same spot that you had for the last two days. Would you ever speak to him again? Was any of this worth it? Would the two of you ever be the same? He knew the answer already, whether the two of you were together or not, nothing would be the same in your relationship. That was inevitable.

•

Your nose killed you, your face aching with the weight of your tears that had your bones throbbing with pain. Your shoulders shook with the weight of your sobs, your mouth clamped shut as to not alert anyone that you were awake. It was almost four in the morning and you’d awaken up from another bad dream. You couldn’t sleep no matter how hard you tried.

You were just so sad. You missed your mom, you’d come to that conclusion. You missed her and wanted to be home. You wanted to see your dad. You wanted to be in your own bed. But most of all, you wanted Eddie to hold you in his arms, wanted him to tell you that everything would be okay and that he loved you. You craved him more than anything.

But where did you both stand? The last thing you told him was that you’d never speak to him again, you’d threatened to break up with him. Yet he had stayed. He hadn’t left at all. Or had he? You hadn’t seen him almost all day. The thought made you sob, hoping to god that he was still outside your room.

You looked to the door, flexing your leg. You were barely able to stand with help from the nurses, you surely wouldn’t make it out there on your own. You whimpered and fell back into the bed, covering your face with your good arm, the other now in a cast, and cried brokenly.

“Y/n?”

You jumped and uncovered your face, eyes widening at the familiar face. “Wayne.” You cried, holding out your arm. You broke down into heavy tears at the sight of him as he shut the door, quickly hurrying over to you.

“Hey, hey, shh.” He sat on the bed and scooted to sit beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you carefully into his side. “I got ya, kid. You’re okay.”

You bawled into his shirt, the comforting smell of cheap cologne and cigarette smoke brining a sense of calm over you. Your body shook in his arms, and you cried for everything in that moment, like you were mourning for the entire world.

“It’s okay, darlin. You’re okay.” His face watched etched with concern, have debating whether or not he should go get Eddie from the chapel, but he knew he’d be sound asleep. He shouldn’t leave you, he decided, holding you closer and letting you cry out everything you needed to.

“I don’t know-” Your breath hitched, fingers fisting at his shirt. “what to do.”

The weight of your sobs made it difficult to understand you completely. He kissed the top of your head, shushing you gently.

“I’m so..s-scared.” You whimpered, face burning with a broken ache. You were becoming inconsolable, hysterical with your broken heart, you didn’t even hear the door open up.

“Wayne?” Eddie’s eyes were wide at the sight of your distress, freezing him in his spot. Wayne looked from you to Eddie, knowing that it was his nephew that you really needed. He nodded him over, gently trading him spots as Eddie quickly and carefully swapped spots to hold you close.

“Shh, shh, baby, baby.” He coos, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you to his chest. You’re not cold or distant, you relish the scent of him, bawling into his chest like a lost little girl. “I’m here. I’m here.”

He was so relieved to hold you, so happy that you were allowing him to comfort you. You’d probably hate him again in the morning, refuse to speak to him probably, but this, this was a step forward. He heard the click of the door shut and he was left alone with you, kissing the shell of your ear. “I’m here, baby.”

•

You were left with hiccups and an awkward silence that neither of you knew how to fill. He continued to hold you, almost two hours later. The sun was beginning to rise and you knew the nurses would be making their rounds to your room soon. You weren’t as relaxed into him as you were, now tense and unsure where to keep your arm.

He felt the same way. He rubbed his hand up your arm, trying to keep connected with you, but the awkwardness in the room continued to grow heavy, your tears having long since stopped. He didn’t know what to say and neither did you.

You couldn’t help but groan, your head killed you from your breakdown.

“What’s wrong?” He looked down at your face. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” You said hoarsely, bringing your shaky hand up to your nose. “Just my nose. My head is killing me.”

He sat up, examining the darker shades of your face. “Do you want me to get a nurse?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, I’m okay.” You we’re tired of them pestering you every five minutes with medicine in little plastic cups, trying to get you to use your legs, despite the fact the doctor wanted you on bedrest.

You held your face and he watched you, swallowing dryly as he tried to find words. There was so many things he wanted to say, but would you listen? He got up and walked to the window, peeking out the blinds at the sun that was beginning to rise. He stretched awkwardly, a crick in his neck that made his own head hurt, too.

You looked at his back, trying your hardest not to cry. You had the urge to apologize, but did you have anything to apologize for? Was this your fault? Eddie was clearly suffering, but so were you.

“I’m sorry.” You blurted out. Sorry for what exactly, you didn’t know. You couldn’t forgive him, could you? Could you forgive him for the way everyone was looking at you now? Could you forgive the fact that your mom was in jail?

He twirled around, eyes narrowing in confusion at your words. “For what?”

You gulped, not able to meet his eyes. “I don’t know.” I’m sorry you’re in pain. You could be sorry for that. You still loved him, after all, despite everything that happened.

“Do you hate me?” He asked, looking toward your bed. “For telling?”

It felt so back and forth. You were so sure of your feelings one minute, then completely changed the next. “I don’t hate you.” You answer honestly, voice dry and cracked. “But It’s hard to look at you.”

He nodded once briefly. He understood the feeling. It was your turn then, to look at him, finally taking in just how rough he looked. His hair was matted and greasy, desperate to be washed. He was exhausted completely. “Have you went home at all?” You ask, halfway sat up in your bed, good hand at your stitched side.

He gulped, shaking his head.

You frowned. “Eddie,” You began. “You should go home. I’m okay.”

He finally turned away from the window, standing their awkwardly in the middle of the floor. “Do you want me to go?”

No. No, you didn’t. But it wasn’t fair to make him stay just for your sake. He looked like he was going to pass out any second. He needed food and rest. “I want you to take care of yourself.” You answer. “You don’t have to stay here on my account.”

He gave you a look then. I want you to take care of yourself. He wanted the same for you, yet he was the bad guy. He furrowed his brows, licking his fry lips. “Okay.”

He made it halfway across the room before you stopped him again. “I’m sorry, Eddie.” You say, closing your eyes.

He sighs that time, becoming irritated himself. “Why, y/n? Why are you sorry? There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.”

You shake your head, nose throbbing. “I don’t- I don’t know. I just feel like I should say it, so I am.”

His hand was on the doorknob, and he rested his forehead against the door. “You don’t know what this has been like for me. I had to tell them, y/n. I understand you’re mad, but you don’t need to apologize. You have no reason to.”

Your eyes start to tear up, and you can feel the damp feeling of your bandage against your nose. “You didn’t have to.” You look to the wall again. Your safe spot. “But I know you felt like you did.”

He scoffed without humor, looking back at you like you were crazy. His eyes were matching yours with tears. “I didn’t have to? Is that some sort of joke? Do you not realize the situation you’re in? You could have died, y/n. You almost died.”

You cringed at his words and clamped a hand over your mouth. “But mom is in jail now. She’s going to go to prison.”

“Good riddance!” He couldn’t help but raise his voice, an angry tear spilling over his face. “Fuck her! I hope she rots in there! I don’t care how upset that makes you, y/n, it’s true. She’s a shit mom and deserves what she got!”

You sobbed with each word that spat, glaring at him over your fingers with a look that could kill. “That’s not true! She’s my mom, Eddie! I’m okay!”

“No, you’re not!” He marched over and pointed his finger at you. “You flew through a fuckin’ window and tore your stomach to shreds!” He took a deep breath, that soon had him releasing a sob. “Do you know how scared I was waiting for you to come out of surgery? The doctors didn’t know if you’d pull through, y/n. Do you have any idea how fucking messed up in the head I am now?” He was weeping freely, pacing across the room.

“Don’t you dare say you’re okay.” He said sternly. “Do you really care that little for yourself? Do you hate yourself so much that you don’t care for your own safety? Do you want to die that badly? Well, I won’t watch it. I won’t sit here and watch you wilt away. I can’t, baby.”

You were blubbering and carrying on, saying things that couldn’t understand. “I’m sorry.” He managed to hear through your broken sobs. “I’m so sorry, Eddie!”

You looked up at him with a bloodied nose, hot tears and snot pooling at your cupid’s bow. “I’m sorry that I’ve hurt you so bad, Eddie. Please, please don’t leave me!”

“Y/n,” He crumbled, going to you. “Stop apologizing, you silly girl.” No matter the fight, he would always go to you. “Aren’t you listening to me? You haven’t done anything. It’s your mother. She’s the one who’s hurt you, hurt us.”

He held your face and wiped the blood from your nose. “Please, forgive me, baby. I’m sorry. I promise, I won’t ever let you get hurt again. I’ll protect you if you let me, please let me.”

He’s kissing your hands, moving up your good arm and to your cheek. “God, I missed you, baby.”

“I love you.” You cried, gripping at his shoulder. “I’ll forgive you if you forgive me.”

I love you. He sobbed at the words. You still loved him. He said it back lovingly, muttering the words he forgave you as you said the same. Neither of you realized just how hard it would be to move forward, but that was the thing about love, it conquered above all else.

Over time, you’d come to terms about your mom. Your dad would move down to Hawkins until you graduated, where eventually you and Eddie would have your own place. The abuse you had endured would be something that would always stick with you, but Eddie was your rock at the end of the day, and he’s the one that got you through it. Love always conquered all.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson angst #eddie the brave #eddie angst #it’s just a cut

[milliesfishes]

The Heir

(requested)(@kayleigh--23 <3) [fem reader] contains: pregnancy angst, arranged marriage, pressure to become pregnant. pairing: young coriolanus snow x fem reader summary: (au) You thought being married to Coriolanus Snow would be enough, but when there is pressure on the two of you to have a child, the events that follow are life changing. author’s note: Oh I do adore pregnancy angst. Another take on the arranged marriage trope, please enjoy!

"...an heir."

You could barely hear the words through the door. Your husband of one and a half years and an old Snow family friend, a man called Mr. Vesta, had disappeared into his study an hour ago and they hadn't allowed you in. It had sounded important, and you couldn't help it, you needed to know what it was. Especially after you'd heard your name mentioned more than once.

With one ear to the door, you'd caught bits and pieces of the conversation. None of it made sense in your mind, this new bit of information least of all.

Coriolanus Snow was the least objectionable option when it came to marriage. Not that you'd had a choice at all in the matter, but for your own peace of mind you pretended. You pretended it hadn't been a strategic political move on his part to marry someone from your family. You pretended Mr. Vesta wasn't overbearingly and old fashioned-ly invested in the image the two of you presented as a married couple.

The goal was to make him president. You knew that much. And Mr. Vesta, as well as having known Coriolanus his entire life, had experience in running for office. But you knew very little else. Politics in Panem were a mystery to you, and at times they could be archaic. At least, the things everyone wanted you to do were.

The dresses you had to wear, the people you were seen with, how you acted. Hell, the arranged marriage itself seemed that way to you. But this was how it was done. Your own mother had married your father for similar reasons, though her situation had nothing to do with politics, only social gain. Yours was both.

You went into the marriage with a positive attitude. This will be what you make of it, you'd been told. You figured if you walked in with a positive attitude and determination it would work out the best it could.

But then you met your husband to be.

He was handsome but cold. Charming but manipulative. Attentive at times but distant at most. Every good thing about him was punctuated by a flaw. He'd make a good politician, you'd noted.

The wedding was a blur of photographers and fed lines. He'd barely acknowledged you, and you knew every look, every touch was false. It cheapened the whole experience for you, and a resentment built up inside you.

At least after the wedding night he'd allowed separate bedrooms.

Maybe you'd have felt guilty about your feelings toward him if he'd shown any sign of fondness toward you. But he didn't. He ignored you most days, except when he needed your influence or your image or your body.

Which is why now, in the present, you hardly worried about the consequences of eavesdropping. If they were talking about you in there, you deserved to know.

"...bring her in..."

Forgetting your confidence, you scurried away as quietly as you could, returning to the sitting room, where you'd last been spotted by them. Picking up a book, you pretended to read until Mr. Vesta, an older man with a beard, came in and said that your presence was required in the study.

Ignoring the way he'd spoken to you in your own home, you followed him back through the study doors, nodding at everyone in the room before your eyes moved to your husband.

Coriolanus was sitting behind his desk, a look of discontentment on his face. What had they been talking about in here? You moved to his side automatically. He may have not been your number one pick, but he was the safest person in the room for you to stand by.

Putting your hand on the back of his chair, you looked between them. "What did you need from me?"

"We're here to discuss a proposition," Mr. Vesta said, looking entirely too comfortable. He nodded at your husband. "Snow?"

Coriolanus took in an almost frustrated breath and turned up to you. He held eye contact with you for a moment before speaking. "It has been suggested that we..." he inhaled through his nose. "...produce an heir."

You blinked in surprise, doing a double take. When you looked at the other man, you could see that this wasn't a joke. They were serious.

"...No," you said in disbelief, looking back at your husband. "This was never part of the arrangement."

"Things change," Mr. Vesta said, giving you a pointed look. "It is imperative that you produce an heir by the end of the year. A male heir."

That sentence was so offensive to you that you had to look away for a moment. When you gathered your manners back, you said, "Why is this suddenly so important? Isn't us being married enough?"

"Coriolanus is the last of the Snow name," Mr. Vesta said, seeming to think he was providing an explanation. "It would have to happen eventually. In the best interest of keeping the old family names around."

"I don't see how that serves your interests," you said stiffly, and Coriolanus grabbed your hand, squeezing it as a warning, the cool of his ring pressing into your skin.

"It was of the utmost importance to Crassus that I, specifically, see this through," the bearded man said in stern tones. "He hoped his son would be able to carry it out on his own-" he gave Coriolanus his own pointed look- "but since he has not, it was time for me to step in. Not to mention that having a son would increase political gains greatly. Seeing that an old family is still strong."

You were dazed. It all felt so ridiculous to you. Of all the things they'd made you do for this role, this had to be the worst. They were asking you to not just sleep with a man you hated, but to bear his child. And Coriolanus himself looked less than happy about it.

"Within the year," Mr. Vesta repeated, and he stood up. "Both your image and your obligations to your family depend on it." He nodded stiffly at you, then left. You never got the impression that Mr. Vesta was all that fond of you. He didn't see you as a person, more as a machine that broke now and then but was ultimately served its' purpose.

Once he was gone, you turned to Coriolanus, your expression horrified. "You're not seriously thinking about this are you?"

"We don't have a choice," he said, his voice dangerously quiet.

"Yes we do," you protested, kneeling by his chair, grasping the arm. You were trying to look him in the eye, but he was avoiding you. "We're already married. Your image is intact-"

"But my family isn't," he said sharply, turning suddenly to look at you. "You don't understand. I have a responsibility to continue the line and Vesta reminded me of that." He ran a hand through his hair frustratedly. "I apologize that I didn't disclose this before but it's not optional."

"Coriolanus-"

"You think I want to do this?" His voice was irritated, and he stood up suddenly. You did too, surprised.

"No, but-"

"We have to," he said angrily, pacing. "I don't want to do it either but there are no other options. I need Vesta's support, and unfortunately that comes with the wishes of my late father."

You were silent, tears pricking your eyes as you realized this was really going to have to happen. Scoffing in disbelief and trying to hide your emotion, you buried your face in your hands.

He sighed, and you heard him move closer to you, his polished shoes making a distinct sound on the hardwood floor. "Sweetheart...I'm sorry. I am. But you're my wife. You know that means fulfilling certain...obligations."

Coriolanus took your hands in his, removing them from your face. "We'll make the process as quick as possible, okay?"

When you nodded, there was a ghost of a smile on his face. "That's a good girl. The sooner you're pregnant the sooner it'll be over with."

It was terrifying how well Coriolanus knew himself.

The domineering persona he'd built up when entering the political game may as well have become him. It was a skill he'd honed- the art of pretend.

But every thorn had its flower.

You.

Before meeting you he had high hopes for marriage. He'd hoped you'd be tolerable to look at, decent in conversation, with half a brain. Someone who'd please him, but nothing more.

But you were far beyond that.

Upon your first meeting he knew he was doomed. You were extraordinarily beautiful, with a pretty laugh. And so clever. You'd discussed literature and art so naturally, easy as breathing. Within the first hour of knowing you he knew he could fall deeply, madly in love with you.

And therein laid the problem.

Love was not the goal. In fact, love strayed so far from the goal that it was almost the opposite. If Coriolanus fell in love with you, it would ruin him. His mind, his soul, his pursuits. He'd gone to Vesta afterward and asked if there was anyone else, anyone at all. Surely there was some other girl who was less...enticing, but still had good connections.

Vesta hadn't seen a problem with the arrangement. He'd chided Coriolanus for it. He had the most sought-after woman in the Capitol. Your social status would make him more favorable in the eyes of voters, as would seeing him in love. Seeing no other options, Coriolanus had agreed.

To marrying you, not being in love.

He'd endured the game, accompanying you to dinners and galas, and going through with the wedding, all the while keeping you at arm's length. Coriolanus resolved that the only way to keep himself from falling in love was distance. And distance he maintained.

Except for at public events, he avoided you. Occasionally, he'd beckon you to his bed, whenever he needed to relieve some stress or tension, but that was the extent of it. He couldn't help himself- you were just so perfect. And you were his wife after all.

No matter how he justified his actions, it still felt wrong.

With Vesta's newest demand Coriolanus felt his control over the situation slipping. The old man didn't know what he was asking of him. Honestly how could he have, but it was still frustrating. He was asking them to produce a child as casually as one would ask a favor.

The worst part was seeing how distraught you were over it. A bit of his heart had warmed at seeing how you'd come to stand by his side but it was squashed quickly by what he had to tell you.

An heir. And not just an heir, a son.

Coriolanus could have strangled Vesta. It was ridiculous how invested he was in such private affairs. But his father's old friend was experienced in an area he desperately needed help in: politics. So, he had no choice but to accept.

Seeing you on the verge of tears had nearly broken him. He allowed himself to comfort you, just a little, convincing himself that that was what any husband would do, even if he didn't love his wife, which Coriolanus certainly didn't.

You fell pregnant quickly, which he was thankful for. For his sake but surprisingly, more for yours.

Naturally, he kept close tabs on you while still trying to maintain the distance he'd determined was the best solution for the situation. Reports were delivered to him daily.

You were quiet most days, hardly speaking to anyone. He felt guilt over that. Vesta and their public relations team had determined that for the first bit of pregnancy it was best for the two of you to stay out of the spotlight. That meant you were hardly able to leave. And with his insistence on distance, well...it was inevitable that you'd be lonely.

As the months progressed, his reports contained more concerning information. You were losing weight at an alarming rate, becoming more drawn. The baby was doing exceptionally well thanks to the doctors he'd brought in. But you...you were suffering for it.

He saw evidence of this when he was standing at the window of his study one day, taking a pause from his work, when he saw you in the rose garden wandering amongst the blooms.

The reports had not done your condition justice. Even from the window on the third floor he could see how thin you were, even with your belly swelling.

Beautiful, he couldn't help thinking as he watched you. Even in your current state, you were glowing. He tossed a look over his shoulder at his papers, a mountain of work he suddenly did not feel like doing. then in a split-second decision, he abandoned his study and headed down the stairs, rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt.

Heading into the rose garden, he hesitated at the sight of you. You were bent slightly over a flower, lifting the rose to your nose. The corners of your lips turned up slightly as the fragrance hit you. Turning slightly, you caught sight of him, and straightened, your hand sliding over your belly immediately. "Coriolanus."

"Sweetheart," he greeted, stepping closer.

You looked a little puzzled. "Did you need something?"

He felt a little dazed, unsure really why he came out here. "No...I just..." Coriolanus was now less than a foot away from you. "I wanted to see how you were."

Your expression grew slightly more surprised, but you stayed graceful. "I see."

"Yes," he said, unable to stop looking at you.

Biting your lip, you looked to the side, fingers splayed out over your belly. "I'd have thought you'd gotten enough from your reports."

He blanked. "You know about those?"

"You aren't very discreet," you said, giving a tight smile. "Besides, I know you. You're nosy."

He sniffed a laugh at that. "It's hardly being nosy when it's concern for my wife."

Silence.

Your hand fell off your belly and you moved to examine another rose, a white one. "I didn't know you cared for my wellbeing."

He followed you, tracing your steps. "You're carrying my child, sweetheart."

"Not by either of our choice," you said softly. You reached over your belly to touch one of the rose petals on the outside of the flower. "It is an obligation."

"And yet here we are," he said, picking the rose. He snapped the stem, tucking it behind your ear, his hand sliding under your chin, lifting your eyes to his. "Making the best of our situation."

Your doe eyes as you looked up at him nearly melted his heart. Coriolanus wished he could paint a portrait of you as you were right now: belly round and full of his child, one of his family roses in your hair. You looked so utterly his.

"You haven't been well sweetheart," he murmured, thumb stroking your cheek. "Even if I wasn't getting reports-"

"I'm fine. As fine as I can be," you said quietly, trying to avoid his eyes. "Growing a child is taxing, believe it or not."

"This is different." Coriolanus took your hand, which hung limply in his. "I worry about you."

"There is no need for it." You walked over to a stone bench, sitting with both your hands beside you. Your dress fell over your belly in such a way that your knees were not visible. The little detail made you all the more endearing to him.

"Darling." Coriolanus sat beside you, taking your hand once again. "I know this is hardly ideal, but I need you to try."

"What on earth do you think I have been doing?" you asked, looking up at him.

"You're fading," he said simply.

Taking in a breath, you turned slightly to face him. "I'm doing the best I can. I'm pregnant, you'll have your boy. There is nothing more to ask of me."

"Part of that obligation is taking care of yourself," he said, looking you straight in the eye.

"Am I not doing enough?" you exhaled softly. "I don't know why you're so concerned. You've ignored me for the brunt of our marriage. You do not seem to feel any affection for me. I don't see why you should care."

"You know exactly why I care," he insisted, his tone growing frustrated. "I cannot watch you wither away into nothing."

He stood up, holding out his hand. "When is the last time you ate?"

You bit your lip, casting your eyes to the side as you thought. "This morning."

It was nearly the evening. "Come. Let's find something."

"Coriolanus," you said exasperatedly.

"Sweetheart," he said earnestly back, extending his hand further. Even though he wanted to stay distant, there was a protective urge festering inside him, one he couldn't ignore like he'd done in the past.

You pursed your lips for a moment, then seemed to decide something. Taking his hand, you carefully stood up and let him lead you back up to the house.

As he found you something to eat, he thought of his earlier promise to himself not to let himself fall for you. He knew deep down that you had the potential to entrance him, make him adore you. Despite his aversion to this trait of yours, he knew he couldn't keep you at arm's length any longer. Not when your health was on the line.

Perhaps he could resist but stay close.

Your pregnancy progressed with a few things to note.

The first being that your health improved greatly. You were kept under watch, and your weight became less concerning. You found yourself feeling better, a little less tired all the time.

The second notable thing was the sudden closeness of your husband.

Since the day in the rose garden, he had become warmer towards you, more open. He took meals with you every day, diligently making sure you'd eaten enough.

One evening he summoned you to his study, surprising you.

"Is something the matter?" You stood in front of his desk, slightly worried. You'd rushed up so quickly that you hadn't put your book down, your finger still marking your place.

"Will you sit with me?" he requested, gesturing to the seat in front of him.

You tilted your head, sitting down carefully, hand over your belly. "Is everything alright?"

"Of course," he said, nodding. "I just...wanted you to be close to me. Read your book."

Slowly, you nodded, leaning back in your chair. You opened your book and began to read, peering up to see that he'd begun writing again. Slightly confused but surprisingly pleased that he wanted you near, your eyes found the page again.

Shifting in your chair, you did your best to get comfortable, but it proved to be a difficult task. Your belly didn't exactly make things accommodating for you. Doing simple tasks with ease was becoming increasingly harder.

Apparently, this fact was noticeable to your husband as well. He set his pen down. "Darling?"

You looked up. "Hmm?"

Coriolanus patted his lap. "Come sit."

Tilting your head, your brow furrowed confusedly. "You want me to-?"

"You're uncomfortable," he said, leaning back in his chair, his arms open and ready for you. "Come."

Hesitantly you stood up, book in hand, and went around the desk to sit across his thighs. He secured an arm around you, a little over your belly and you leaned back against him comfortably. "Is this okay?"

"More than," he said, smiling just a little. "Stay here."

And with that, he went back to his papers, working with one hand and keeping you against him with the other. You returned to your reading, perfectly content against him.

This became a routine of sorts. You'd come shyly into his study; he'd hold out an arm for you and you'd sit on his thigh and read. You began to look forward to it, to this time you spent together. His touch was somehow comforting to you.

That was the third thing to note. How much you liked his closeness. The way he went out of his way to make sure you were comfortable, to make sure you weren't lonely.

That wasn't to say there weren't challenges.

At the first gala you attended with him since becoming pregnant, you knew it was going to be a trying affair. Coriolanus was attentive, whispering to you that he'd get you out as soon as possible.

Dressed in a white gown that accentuated your pregnancy, you knew pictures of you and Coriolanus would be splashed across every headline. Keeping that in mind, you did your best to be gracious, to smile and say the right things.

But, three hours into an event that would surely last all night, you found yourself becoming weary. You tugged at Coriolanus' arm, which you'd been glued to all night, but he didn't notice. He was speaking with a senator, engrossed in conversation.

His wife turned to you, starting to speak. "How have things been so far? With the baby?"

You smiled tightly, not upset with her, but tired. "Very well. It's been a wonderful experience."

"How lovely," she smiled, eyeing your figure. "It is a wonder to be sure. A great deal of people have thought you'd never give him a child."

You didn't quite know how to respond to that, so you merely smiled shyly.

"And you're certain it's a boy? We certainly don't need any more young girls around here," the woman laughed, oblivious to your discomfort.

"I suppose we'll see," you nodded, stifling a yawn with your hand and tugging at Coriolanus' arm again. He didn't respond.

"I suppose you aren't eating enough then," the woman noted, raising an eyebrow as she caught your yawn. "If you were you wouldn't be so tired. Or thin for that matter. I know when I was-"

"Darling," Coriolanus cut in, turning to you. "I believe it is time for us to leave." He nodded politely at the woman in front of you and escorted you out, one hand holding one of yours and the other on your back.

Once you were alone at home, you started to cry, a hand over your mouth as you let yourself break down. Your fatigue, the unsolicited advice, the comments on your appearance...it was all too much. You couldn't stand any of it.

It was just another reminder to you of how alone you were. You had no friends- the women of the Capitol were less than inviting, only speaking to you out of obligation and jealousy. And your husband...well, you weren't sure what to think of him at the moment.

Knowing you needed to move around to calm yourself down, you left your room, wandering down the hallway. You tried to keep your breathing even, a hand on your heart as you walked.

You stumbled upon the ballroom, opening the door and wandering inside. The vast emptiness of the large room made you feel small, and you marveled at the feeling. Sometimes being married to Coriolanus made everything feel more heightened. But being alone in this large room made everything feel smaller...less important. It was wonderful.

There was a piano in the corner of the room, and you meandered over to it, running your fingers along the keys. In your training as a socialite, you'd had several lessons in the instrument, but it had been a long time since you'd played.

You sat on the bench carefully, positioning your hands on the keys and beginning to play an old favorite. Muscle memory was your companion, and your fingers moved nimbly and easily. It was comforting to know that you still knew how to do it, that not everything in your past was easily forgotten.

When you looked up after you finished playing, Coriolanus was standing in the doorway. The corners of his mouth were turned up slightly, and he walked over to you. You turned slightly on the bench as he did.

Your husband knelt in front of you, taking your hands in his and bringing them to his lips. He lifted his eyes to meet yours, seeming to take you in. You were still in the same white dress you'd worn to the event. He squeezed your hands. "I'm sorry. I know tonight was hard."

Closing your eyes, you nodded, trying not to cry again. "I'm okay." Coriolanus was still looking up at you when you opened your eyes, and you gave him a small smile when you saw how sincere he was in his apology.

"Are you tired?" he asked softly, searching your eyes.

You shook your head. Somehow your fatigue had vanished somewhere in your walk through the halls.

"Okay." He nodded and stood up, helping you stand as well. "Will you come with me?"

It was a genuine question, and you nodded at it, somehow trusting him more in that moment than you ever had before.

He led you upstairs and up to a door you recognized as his room. You hesitated before going inside but ultimately decided to follow him. Coriolanus kicked off his shoes and sat you down on his bed, hands in yours. "Are you well?"

"Yes, I'm fine," you managed, looking down at your joined hands.

"Darling," he murmured.

"I just...it gets so lonely sometimes," you said softly, looking up at him.

"Oh, sweetheart," Coriolanus lifted your chin, searching your eyes. "I had no idea."

You closed your eyes, shaking your head. "It just gets to be too much sometimes."

His hand came to your face, thumb stroking your cheek. "Sweetheart." You opened your eyes. He brought his forehead to yours, the gesture surprisingly comforting. "I'm sorry. I never meant for you to feel this way."

"I feel like I'm all alone in this," you said quietly, rubbing a hand over your belly.

Coriolanus pulled you closer to him, his expression softer than you'd ever seen it. He kissed your temple. "I'm sorry sweetheart. I know that's my fault."

"It's not. Not really," you murmured, leaning into him. "I know you didn't want this."

"That doesn't mean you should suffer for it," he kissed your forehead. Then Coriolanus took your face into his hands, and you leaned into his touch. "I want you to know how grateful I am for you."

You softened between his hands, looking up at him with doe eyes. "Grateful?"

"Grateful," he clarified, looking over you, your body and your belly. "Grateful because you have given yourself wholly to me. You're doing all this for me. And you might say you didn't have a choice. But you did. And you chose to do this for me. Whatever the reason is, I am grateful for you."

You were stunned at this, your lips parting slightly. He saw you. He had seen you and he cared. A tiny smile made its way onto your face as you looked up at him. "That means a lot."

"You deserve more than a lot," he breathed, his hands sliding from your cheeks to your shoulders. "After everything...what you've given me..."

His voice was husky. "Nobody's ever done anything close to this much for me. You..."

"Coriolanus," you whispered, your lips ever so close to his. Months ago, you never would have allowed it, never would have gotten so close. But things were different now. The child growing inside you had changed everything.

"I'll never let you feel alone again," he breathed. "Never let you feel undervalued, unappreciated...nothing less than what you are."

"And what's that?" you asked.

"Beautiful," he murmured. "The beautiful mother of my child. A woman who is more than I deserve."

"Hardly," you looked up at him, feeling like you were seeing him for the first time. His expression was caring, his touch gentle. He seemed so different now than he was at the start of your marriage.

"Let me show you." Coriolanus muttered, hands coming back to yours, lifting them and kissing your fingers once more.

Your heart pounded, breath quickening, and you nodded. He set your hands down, moving his hand to the zip of your dress and pulling back slightly to look at you. You nodded and turned so he'd have easier access. He slid the zip down carefully and you helped him move the dress over your shoulders and down your body. It ended up as a pile of fabric beside his bed.

Gently, Coriolanus laid you back onto the bed, eyes roaming over you. He appeared entranced by you. Your skin was glowing, your body curvier, belly swollen. His lips parted. "Beautiful," he breathed, leaning down. Your lips were terribly close to his...

You took the final step and pressed your lips to his, capturing them in a kiss that started innocent but quickly became searing.

He pulled you in by the waist, pressing you against him. You knew from experience that Coriolanus' kisses were hungry, but tonight he must have been starving. The way his lips moved against yours was sinful, but you wanted it, wanted it bad.

Your hands moved of their own accord, tugging at his shirt buttons and discarding the garment once it was unbuttoned. His pants were the next to go, joining your dress and his shirt on the floor. When he kissed you, his hands wandered over your body, reaching for the clasp of your undergarment. His touch set you on fire.

When he'd gotten you completely bare and he was in the same state, he pulled back, not kissing you for a moment, just looking. You squirmed a little under his gaze, which was intense although caring. "What is it?" you questioned softly.

"Breathtaking." He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "You...carrying my child...you're very nearly a goddess."

That made the corners of your lips turn up sweetly, and you pulled him down for another kiss, his body hovering over you, careful not to put too much weight on your belly.

As you laid tangled in his sheets in the aftermath of it, your body was more wholly satisfied than it had been in a long time. You looked over at him, smiling softly and resting on your side. He reached out and rested his hand back on your cheek, stroking your soft skin. You felt a connection with him then, for the first time since your pregnancy began.

Coriolanus leaned down and kissed you, his lips soft and feather light. He moved on the bed, so he was facing you. The soft light combined with what you'd just done made him look a way that pulled at your heart.

His eyes never left yours. You recognized that look. He was making sure you were comfortable, that you felt safe. Usually, you only saw that look at public events but seeing it right now after something so intimate sent a flutter through you.

"Will you stay tonight?" he murmured, one hand in your hair.

"Yes," you breathed. He opened his arms and let you snuggle close. As you drifted off, you felt one of his hands wander to your belly, caressing it gently. It was the first time he'd really touched it your entire pregnancy.

For the first time, you began to think of the baby in your belly as yours too. A baby. Your hand ran over your bump, and you smiled softly. It was both of your child. As much yours as it was his.

And you didn't mind it one bit.

He had vowed not to fall for you.

He had spent countless hours convincing himself he hadn't.

But after the night of the gala, he couldn't deny it anymore.

Every time Coriolanus looked at you, whether it be at the breakfast table when the sunlight filtered through the windows and hit your face just right, or when he looked up from his work every night when you were on his lap to see your concentrated face as you read, he felt the tendrils of feeling close around his heart.

He found himself becoming more affectionate with you. He used your pet names in an abundance, and he always felt like he needed to be touching you. You were the bright point in his life.

The last months of your pregnancy were bliss. Vesta rarely called on him, so he was free to spend all he free time with you.

Walking in the gardens, reading side by side. He'd press a kiss to your temple now and then, keeping you close, making sure you were well.

He feared childbirth for you the closer you got to it. Thoughts of his own mother, and the stories he'd heard of swam through his head and he held you a little tighter because of it.

Now he insisted you sleep in the same room as him, wanting to keep an eye on you. Sometimes he'd wake in the middle of the night and just watch you sleep, making sure your breathing was steady, wanting to be around in case you needed anything. He was paranoid you'd go into labor while he was asleep.

And of course, when you finally did, he was.

You woke him in a panic, the bedsheets soaked, telling him in hurried tones that it was time, that the baby was coming. He leapt into action immediately, sending for the doctor. The two of you had fallen asleep in your bedroom tonight, and when he tried to move you, you whimpered and shook your head, a cramp rippling through your body.

The doctor arrived, and everything was a blur after that. He never left your side, even though the sight of you in pain made him feel faint.

Before the both of you knew it, the baby was out, and you were collapsing back into the pillows, your body exhausted. Coriolanus looked over to the doctor, who was holding his new baby...

Girl.

Coriolanus stood up, his heart racing. A girl. Vesta would be furious. He was just outside the door after all, expecting the news any moment now.

He went to stand by the window as the doctor handed you the baby, gathering his thoughts. What would he tell Vesta? More importantly, what was the man going to do? His blood started to boil as he thought of Vesta hurting you in any way for this.

Looking over at you with the baby girl in your arms, close to your chest, he was filled with a sense of wonder. You'd grown his child, pushed it out of your body, and he was supposed to be upset that it wasn't a boy?

The door burst open, and Vesta revealed himself, looking over the scene. You rushed to cover yourself, and Coriolanus moved to your side, making sure you had some privacy.

"For heaven's sake Vesta," he said protectively. "You couldn't have allowed us ten minutes."

"Not when the bloodline is at stake, my boy," Vesta said, grinning. "So, your son?"

"Not a son," you spoke up, cradling the baby close to you. You smiled down at your daughter, who was fast asleep.

The man's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what she said, Vesta," Coriolanus said in quiet tones. "Not a son. A daughter."

Vesta's face grew cold. "This is unacceptable. A daughter isn't good for the family."

"And yet," Coriolanus folded his arms, still standing in front of you.

"She will have to be hidden away. We'll tell the public the baby died," Vesta moved forward, as if to take the child from you.

You shook your head, holding the baby tight to your chest. "No, no don't."

"To have a firstborn daughter isn't good for your image," Vesta reached out for the baby. "Your wife is clearly defective in some way. We'll have the child taken away. Given to another Capitol family."

"No," you cried out, looking fearfully up at Coriolanus. You looked so scared, and the surge of protectiveness that shot through him was amplified with what you said next. "Coriolanus, don't let him take her."

As Vesta moved toward you, Coriolanus stood in his path. "You won't be taking our daughter."

Vesta's face grew sterner still. "I beg your pardon?"

Coriolanus was unmoving. "A son will come eventually. But in the meantime, our daughter will be claimed as ours."

"Your image-" Vesta started.

"Will not be ruined by a child," he cut him off. Coriolanus took a step toward Vesta, his frame tall and intimidating. "Since I enlisted your help in my career, you have been rude, demanding, and disrespectful, especially toward my wife." He glanced back at you. Your eyes were wide as you held the baby.

"If I ever see you insult my wife again," Coriolanus started, his voice quiet but deadly. "Even if I hear of it, I will not hesitate to disappear. You see, since last year, my resources have grown exceptionally. I suppose I have you to thank for that."

Vesta was silent, looking shocked at his words.

"Now get out before I have you escorted," Coriolanus pointed at the door. "Out."

Vesta huffed, straightening his suit. "If your career collapses, you'll only have yourself to blame." He cast a dirty look at you. "Well, I suppose not only you."

And with that, the older man left.

Coriolanus stood there seething for a moment. He had half a mind to run to his study and call the right people to have Vesta taken out right now. But he controlled himself. Later, he thought.

For now, he turned to you, kneeling beside the bed and pushing sweaty strands out of your face. "I'm sorry sweetheart."

"You stood up for me," you said, smiling softly as you looked up at him. You looked down at the baby. "You didn't let him take her."

"How could I?" Coriolanus murmured, leaning in and nudging his nose with yours, which made you smile again. "How could I when I..." he swallowed. "When I love you too much to let that happen."

Your eyes widened a bit, your smile sweeter. "You love me?"

"I think I've loved you ever since I've known you," he said, the adrenaline from the interaction with Vesta seeming to give him courage. "And after this..." he reached down to the baby, stroking her soft little cheek with his finger. "I can't keep it in anymore."

You watched as he sat on the bed next to you, encircling you and the baby in his arms, pushing a kiss to your hair. He smiled, a real smile he always found himself wearing around you.

"I didn't think I'd be able to love you when I married you," you said quietly, looking up at him. "But somehow I do."

He lifted your chin, kissing you briefly. "You love me?" He'd repeated your words, which made you smile.

"I love you," you confirmed, looking into his eyes. You looked so tired, but happy. He'd never understood before how one could feel happy because of someone else's joy, but now he did.

He kissed you again, wrapping his arms tightly around you and the baby, around his little family.

The sun rose that morning, the dawn of a new day, but also a new life for him. He now truly had his wife and his daughter, both so loved.

And he was loved too.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coryo x reader #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo snow #the hunger games #the hunger games fanfiction #married to young president snow #coriolanus x you #ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #tbosbas #tbosas fic #tbosas x reader #Spotify

[greenhappyseed]

did... shiggy just died i-. idk what to feel. So he is not coming bach huh..... :(. OFA is gone too....

I don’t know what to feel either, anon. We really have to wait and see what comes next. But I do think Horikoshi is trying to say something about rebirth, so the rest of this post is going to be something like an elegy for the Tomura Shigaraki we knew (and what that can mean for Izuku): Why rebirth? Why is Tomura doomed? Tomura’s entire existence was tainted by AFO. Tomura can change his name, change his hair color, kill the AFO vestige, etc., but it’s impossible for him to escape AFO. How society would view him or his “redemption” is irrelevant; it’s that HE now knows his entire life, from conception onwards, was never his own. For Tomura, a happy ending is being completely free from AFO, deciding things fully for himself, and knowing his decisions are his own. It’s not a happy ending to remove Tenko from Tomura’s origin trauma only to plunge him into Twice’s “am I really me” trauma.

What AFO’s final, awful reveal showed is that even if Tomura Shigaraki became Tenko Shimura again, it’s not a rebirth. The very first cells of “Tenko Shimura’s” being were stained by AFO since AFO manipulated Kotaro into conceiving Tenko. Tenko’s parents and childhood friends were totally under AFO’s thumb. “Tenko” has no path to freedom; he has to be rebuilt from ash, one way or another.

For my own aesthetic tastes, I would very much prefer for Tenko to have agency over this. If he was going to disintegrate, I’d prefer it to be a clear choice — like Katsuki and Toshinori choosing moves that brought them to the brink of death. I don’t like the idea that Tenko had no choice in life or death, and that disintegrating is just another indignity that AFO manipulated him into. But maybe his story was always destined to be a tragedy, no matter how hard he tried to fight it.

Of course, there are ways that the spirit/consciousness of Tenko Shimura could return in a new body, and many of them do have Tenko participating actively in the process:

Phoenix quirk — Tomura disintegrates to ash so Tenko can choose to be reborn free of AFO’s distortions. (Maybe fandom was right about this theory but wrong that the phoenix was Dabi!)

Overhaul or quirk awakening - It’s possible for Overhaul (who is very much still alive and in possession of his quirk factor) to reverse the disintegration. It’s also possible that Tenko can do it himself (or that Tenko gave Izuku a quirk to do it) since Decay is half of Overhaul. Personally I don’t believe this is likely because I think Decay disappeared when AFO took control of Tomura this final time? Unclear, the end got really rushed and messy on these details for me, but if Decay is gone then it’s hard for it to “awaken.”

Rewind - The MHA standby ever since Eri’s introduction. She doesn’t have her horn anymore, so it seems unlikely, but she still has her quirk factor. The thing here is Tenko’s agency and if he would want to be rewound back to the body that AFO built for him.

All For One - Yes, Tomura could have given Izuku a quirk when they touched. What if it’s actually…All For One? Yoichi said the AFO quirk could have been the kindest in the world…and Izuku did promise to “bring it all back”… so if Tomura’s parting gift was to give the raw All For One power to Izuku, then Izuku could Overhaul and Rewind his way into healing everyone. He could borrow any quirk needed (Recovery Girl? Erasure?) use it as a tool, and then give it back because of course Izuku wouldn’t keep a stockpile for himself (absent being told he could keep a quirk). FWIW, I’d be HIGHLY amused if this happens, because it sounds straight out of a DFO fic. :)

Aura Might/OFA shenanigans - The “heroic fire” of OFA has seemingly gone out before, only to re-emerge both in the same person and in other people. I could see Tenko emerging from this fire.

Wishing energy that twists fate - Izuku and All Might both lived when they were “supposed” to die, so it could happen for Tenko too.

However, Tenko returning in a physical, corporeal form is not the only kind of rebirth that can complete his arc. It pains me SO MUCH to say this, but there’s a real chance his body doesn’t come back. Tomura fought for someone to see what was swept under the rug and understand that hero society isn’t perfect. He wanted a hero who would save him and imperfect humans like him, and he got that someone in Izuku. (He actually got it in Nana too, because of Izuku.)

Izuku Midoriya taking Tenko’s message deep into his heart and influencing all the people watching him to care more about the misfits and “villains” that pro heroes can’t help is a form of giving Tenko a new life. In the same way that the vestiges extended their power decades beyond physical death, and the same way that Shirakumo’s heroic heart survived his death and Nomu-fication, Izuku can keep Tenko’s spirit alive long after his body died. Maybe Tenko’s spirit is a new type of “heroic fire,” and it’s up to Izuku to keep those embers burning. It’s all in Izuku’s rewound, notably non-decayed hands.

Looking at it with this framing, you can also say Izuku gets his win AND save. Because even if Izuku couldn’t save Tenko’s physical body — and how could he if Tenko was doomed before either of them were born? — choosing to carry on Tenko’s legacy IS saving everything he could of that crying boy. It’s also far more immediate and tangible for Izuku to take on Tenko’s legacy rather than being unwittingly thrown into the 200 year old OFA-AFO fight. There’s something so poignant and human about an ending with quirkless Izuku humbly fighting for what Tenko believed in compared to celebrity #1 Billboard ranked hero Izuku with OFA. After all, Tenko and Izuku are 2 sides of a coin. Tenko could have had Izuku’s role in another life if OFA kept passing in the Shimura family.

Even the fact that Izuku never told anyone outside of Ochako, Katsuki, and All Might that he wanted to save Tenko works in Izuku’s favor. Izuku can help the whole world become the people Tenko challenged them to be and they’ll never know they’re actually fulfilling the dreams of a villain. (‘Cuz they’d be too biased to do it otherwise.) Finally, you know all the complaints that Izuku’s character has been stagnant in MHA’s third act? That he hasn’t really been challenged in his ideals? Maybe that hasn’t happened yet because it’s just starting NOW.

After all, Toshinori modeled “All Might” after Nana’s ideals, and she wasn’t known to the population at large. Izuku could follow their footsteps by modeling his hero career after Tenko’s ideals. We’d have multiple generations of Shimuras posthumously changing society for the bettter.

Look, I understand how emotions are running high. I’ve loved this series for years and I cried reading this chapter. I personally don’t love it if Tenko is gone, even though I can make narrative sense of it. It’s a tragic and bitter-barely-sweet ending for poor Tenko, whose very dreams of being a hero were engineered to sow division in his family and break his psyche instead of lift him up.

But none of us will know what it all means for a few more chapters. We could still have several more chapters before we get Tenko’s real finale. It’s nearing the end, but it’s not THE end yet. In the meantime, take care of yourselves and as always, curate your fandom spaces lovingly.

#bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha 423 #mha 423 #tomura shigaraki #Tenko shimura #Elegy for Tomura Shigaraki #mha meta #bnha meta #Izuku midoriya #Deku #Phoenix quirk #AFO #all for one

[alphajocklover]

What about a G2S story about greasers? There's so few of those.

Imagine: A very lonely gay guy meets a rockabilly, greaser gang. They take him under their wing, which gay guy appreciates because of his loneliness. But slowly they start changing him, making him just like them.

In the end the lonely gay guy becomes a James Dean, Danny Zuco-wannabe with the gang becoming his new found family.

A lot of people think that Alphas and Betas are a relatively new thing. It makes sense to assume so in a way. Alphas as we know them are pretty new, but that’s only because Alpha culture has changed over time, just like ours. There were Alphas in the old west, in the ancient world, and even going back to the beginning of civilization as we know it. Recently I discovered an old book where someone had written down a number of stories about Alphas from the past. I guess I’m not the first person to document their behavior. One story in particular stuck with me though, so I’ve transcribed it here. Hope you enjoy.

Caleb Sparrow was a complete and utter nerd. An unhip clyde with a reputation for being a bit of a spaz. The kind of goof all the cool cats completely ignored. He was only really good at one thing: not standing out. A part of him hated that he was the way he was, that he was a loser with no friends. But a part of him was grateful. For a secretly queer man living in 1955, he was actually pretty lucky. No one bullied him (mainly because no one noticed him), his secret desires hadn’t been found out, and he had a good future ahead of him. He knew that eventually he’d land a steady job, find a swell gal who he could get along with well enough to marry, and live the traditional life his parents had always wanted of him. A part of him was grateful. But a part of him still hated it all. Hated how lonely he was, how he’d never find someone he’d really love, how his entire life was always going to be a lie. But he was resigned to it. Until… he met an Alpha named Biff.

Biff was everything Caleb wasn’t. He was the hippest greaser in town, with a handsome face, manly muscles, a souped up rag top and a gang of fellow greasers to hang with. Biff had it all. Sure all the squares all said he was bad news, but he didn’t care. He had it made in the shade. He had a different betty with him every night. That’s what made it so weird to everyone when Biff suddenly started being so friendly with Caleb. Caleb didn’t know what to make of it at first, and was pretty sure he was going to end up getting beat, but Biff was… well he was dreamy, so Caleb let himself believe that he really wanted to be his friend. He had no idea that Biff was just looking for a new Beta. Turning Caleb into the perfect Beta took less time than you’d expect. Caleb integrated into the gang with surprising ease, all of the other members treating him like they had been friends for life, and as he began to grow closer to the group and Biff, he began to change.

At first it was a slight change in style and lingo, trying to keep up with his new crew. Then he shot up several inches and began to pack on muscle, which the 19 year old brushed off as an overdue growth spurt. But over time the style changes became more and more drastic and his body grew at an even faster rate. Soon he wasn’t just the new kid, he was the second in command, right after Biff. That’s why everyone started calling him Deuce. Just like everyone else in the gang Deuce was muscular, cool, loved cars and was obsessed with Biff. Deuce eventually even came out to Biff and confessed his love, but Biff didn’t wanna deal with all the issues that came with having a queer beta, so he ‘suggested’ that Deuce was actually a pussy hound like him. Considering how many gals Deuce has played backseat bingo with I think Biff might have overdone it, but just like always he got what he wanted. Another manly, muscular, straight greaser for his gang.

**hey there guys! Never done anything with Greasers before, so it’s probably not as good as my usual stuff, but I had fun with it. Hope you all enjoy. Might revisit the idea of Alphas throughout history sometime**

#muscle growth tf #greaser tf #muscle tf #alpha with a capital a #gay to straight

[cricketnationrise]

For the ficlet fest: 6:42 pm, a private stage, and Arthur Fox please. My ao3 is katsudonforthesoul. Congratulations on the followers!! It's so kind of you to give back to us as a way to celebrate, especially on top of all the other things you do!

thank you so much for your kind words! the not so secret part of the ficlet fests is that all y'all's prompts are so fucking cool that i have an absolute BLAST writing them <3 for once the Arthur feels are non-angsty, which is exciting for all of us, frankly. enjoy!

read the rest of the ficlets here

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

6:42pm, a private stage

“O, for a muse of fire that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention!”

No one becomes an actor hoping for small audiences. 

Famous actors can wax poetic all they want about how “reaching even one person is meaningful,” but at their core, in their secret egos, all actors want to be able to interact with the largest possible audiences. That dream is why Arthur tolerates filming; the reach is so much greater than live theatre. Even so, he’d much rather be on a stage, in front of a live audience. That feedback, that energy of a crowded room, solely focused on him and the story he’s telling is intoxicating.

“A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, and monarchs to behold the swelling scene!” Arthur winks at Catherine as he finishes the line, making her giggle. As much as he loves a packed house, there’s something special about performing for her alone, hidden away in his flat for once. She’d worn down her PPO’s enough that they’d grudgingly allowed her to stay the night, and that they’d monitor from down the hall instead of right outside his door after sweeping his place. Arthur can’t stop looking at her, casual in a way she rarely is, even in her own rooms in Kensington, completely at home here with him. The next line, something about Mars and hounds, pours out of him automatically, years of muscle memory serving him well, but Arthur couldn’t have told anyone what it actually is right now. He’s too distracted trying to memorize the precise configuration of laugh lines around her eyes.

He comes back to the text in time to appreciate the irony. “But pardon, gentles all, the flat unraisèd spirits that hath dared on this unworthy scaffold to bring forth so great an object.” It’s one thing to try to imagine vast battles and courts of ages past when you’re watching from The Globe, the building itself drenched in echoes of people imagining the same things for centuries—it’s another thing altogether to try and imagine fantastical settings and the grand scale of the story with a backdrop of worn out floors and his amazingly shit telly. Can this cockpit hold the vasty fields of France, indeed?

“Or may we cram within this wooden square the very casques that did affright the air at Agincourt?” Arthur recites, swapping “O” for “square” to reflect the shape of the room, grinning when Cat catches the change. She’s a princess, and she’s bloody brilliant, and she’s dating him. And if she wants him to perform Shakespeare for her, he’ll do it with bells on.

He bows a little at the next line. “O pardon, since a crookèd figure may attest in little place a million, and let me, ciphers to this great account, on your imaginary forces work.” Arthur meets her bright gaze steadily, as the lines ask her to imagine mighty monarchies and proud-hoofed horses.

Arthur paces forward and kneels before her where she’s perched on the couch. “For ‘tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings carry them here and there, jumping o’er times, turning th’ accomplishment of many years into an hourglass.”

“Did you mean, my entire life?” Cat snorts. 

Arthur just chuckles in response and takes her hand for the last line. “Admit me chorus to this history, who, prologue-like, your humble patience pray gently to hear, kindly to judge our play.”

Cat twines her fingers with him and leans her face close to his. “I can’t believe you memorized a scene that wasn’t your own from Henry V, you gigantic nerd.”

“It’s a good monologue,” he protests. “And you like that I’m a gigantic nerd.”

“God help me, I really do,” she admits, standing up and pulling him up after her. “Now, let’s put a different gigantic part of you to work, shall we?”

“Well, if you absolutely insist…” Arthur fakes a heavy sigh, but lets her tow him toward the bedroom, more than happy to do her bidding.

#cricket writes #purgingmyemotions #ficlet fest 500 #rwrb #arthur fox #henry v

[youremyheaven]

Can you elaborate on your experiences with goddess worship? 🩷🩷

I started my journey with goddess worship in 2022. Chanting has always appealed to me and chanting mantras (beej mantras of the deity in question) while visualising the deity is how it started for me. I was drawn to a certain Goddess almost instinctively even though I did not know much about her up until that point and connecting with her energy made me feel really good. I felt bodily sensations that felt powerful and by chanting, it's akin to embodying the energy of the Goddess within yourself and making yourself sacred??? I remember how during the height of my practice, I'd get told often that I emanate a certain "glow" and that I had a very sage like aura lmao. I just remember being stared at often and being perceived in an almost exalted way.

However late 2022- much of 2023 was a tough time for me and I fell out of touch with my practice and really suffered as a result. I felt myself go haywire, I gained more weight, my hair was falling out in chunks, my skin was breaking out and it's like I did a 180 😭 I felt really lost spiritually and otherwise and struggled to feel any kind of balance. And these had very physical repercussions for me.

Then obviously, I found my way back and I regained fresh perspective and how important my practices including Goddess worship have been in shaping my internal landscape. Several months ago, I struggled with severe anxiety and it was prayer that helped me get through it. During those times yoga did feel a bit mechanical or robotic but I kept doing it simply because I'd rather do it than not do it.

Finding my way back into the practice has taught me so much. Spirituality is truly a calling and no matter how much you read/research/practice, unless the Divine calls you, you will remain blind to the true nature of living. This is not to discourage anyone, in fact I suggest deep diving into it yourself and see what you gain from it. It's worthwhile to keep showing up everyday until you're called in further.

Also no spiritual practice makes you invulnerable. You're still human and you'll still make mistakes and be hurt/upset but you will have more grace moving through these experiences. You'll suffer less than others who make suffering their entire personality. One cannot embody the Goddess without also embodying her boundless mercy, infinitude reservoir of strength and tranquility.

It's always amusing to me when people say things like "oh why did the goddess not give you $5 billion and your dream life, what's even the purpose of worship them???" or "how can you be spiRitUaL when you watch movies/listen to music/are involved with men???". Being spiritually evolved does not mean you turn into a Zen master who lives in a cave.

The Goddess is not a vending machine. You want xyz things bc we live in a capitalist society where you're taught to value them. The Goddess gives you internally and when you're sorted within, you can make strides in life. Obviously she also often throws miracles your way but it's important to understand that the purpose of prayer and worship is not making $$$ or whatever. Im not saying you shouldn't pray for money or material things just that you shouldn't look at prayer as some kind of quick fix for financial woes???

You can still have a life, hobbies, interests etc and you don't have to "transcend" beyond them. You don't become less Zen by shaking your ass to Nicki Minaj 😬

However it will be hard to be a part of stan culture and celebrity worship because you won't care anymore and it won't feel right?? We worship money, fame and celebrities because our soul craves for connection and worship is inherently a part of our making. But it's important to not worship false gods (like money, fame and celebrities). Remember you are what you worship.

My personality has changed remarkably in the last couple of years and maybe even every few months, i feel like a new person and that's another feature of one's evolution. It's easier to accept and imbibe fresh insights and be comfortable with growth and change.

The concept of mantra purusha (which is different but similar to all the chanting ive been doing all along) is still very new to me (thank you to that anon who lmk about it) but Im reading David Frawley's book and it's all kind of coming together.

Goddess worship helps me feel connected to a profound nurturing spirit, a tranquil cosmic bliss, divine sensuality and ultimate peace and abundance.

All that said, do not start your Goddess worship unless you're prepared to commit to it daily and tbh once you start and feel its effect, you probably will want to worship everyday hehe

its actually helped me embody femininity in a way that did not feel limiting instead more transcendent, powerful and beyond whatever society tells you to be.

#goddess worship

[casiavium]

I really need to be cleaning my room but. fanfiction I'd write if I had time but I Do Not

There are several ghiralink fic storylines that are along the lines of "Link gets exactly what he thinks he wants and turns out it isn't really what he needs" (whether real or a dream-state) that have him taking Ghirahim's sword and gaining complete control over him and the themes are of personhood and power and complacency. be careful what you wish for type things. A few that are Ghirahim killing Link/Link losing and realizing he would rather have him alive and fighting instead of dead/given up because it was more fun than way, but usually end up being sad. oh well I guess for the former and teaming up with Link to defeat Demise for the latter.

What I want to write is the themes of scenario 1 but role reversed so it's like scenario 2 with Ghirahim having the "this isn't what I wanted" moment. Ghiralink adds, usually as a joke, a level of "if I can't kill you, maybe you could join me ;)" and I want to write more or less Link doing that, Link being a perfect subservient extension that does everything he wants him to and he doesn't regret it (he can't), but Ghirahim having the realization that he doesn't want someone who is nothing more than an object for him to use. A doll. A sword.

And then, how Link has guilt over Fi and the Master Sword and his role as hero and how Hylia controls him but he's no better than her, Ghirahim realizing Link is now what he is to Demise and rethinking his own position. Is this what Demise thinks of me. Is that why he treats me the way he does. And he takes his anger out on Link but Link can't fight back anymore. Link doesn't want to fight back anymore, and not in a depressed it's hopeless kind of way, but in the same way Ghirahim accepted Demise pulling the sword out of his chest.

When Ghirahim is empty and goes isn't this what you wanted, Link can genuinely say no because he has a hero's heart and conscience and never meant for anyone to get hurt. When Link goes I am what you made me, Ghirahim has to face that fact that yes, he is, and he is made in my image, and I do not want this anymore.

#ghiralink #ghirahim #I want skyward sword bad ends but I want them completely different from what is already out there #I want the dark ending from Ghirahim's POV where he got what he wanted and everything is perfect and Link isn't ever an issue anymore #and like honestly. I don't want it to be a sex thing. like yeah that could be part of it but I don't think it would work as well #how I wanted the sword spirit au to go but did not manage to make it work this way 😔 #I want Demise to win and Link to live and Ghirahim to know he does but not see him for a few weeks/months. to not even think about him #or feel any guilt that he's probably rotting away in a dungeon or getting tortured or whatever. no even excited about that just apathetic #and entirely focused on Demise (who is in turn pretty apathetic about him but he doesn't even realize) until one day he sees Link and he's #*not* a prisoner. he's just another solider in a demon army or a regular servant or maybe even a bodyguard to Demise. and he speaks with him #and there's no trace of animosity or anger or sadness or anything. there is no war in ba sing se etc. #and then I don't have anymore than that it's just kind of wouldn't that be fucked up huh #for Ghirahim to have absolutely no underlying thoughts of demise actually sucks or foreshadowing he's not the perfect blade he presents as #and all of that to snap when he sees an enemy completely changed. he wanted Link dead. even when he says you could join me #he would expect push back and fights and relapsing into wanting to be the hero. he never considered what if he wasn't an enemy at all

[autisticlee]

the whole "you shouldn't identify as X, don't form an identity when you can't/don't know yet, you're too young, what if/you might change your mind!" etc etc. it's so silly when you think about it. what's wrong with changing your mind anyway? why did we all decide that gender/sexuality identity has to be static and can never change? why did we decide that it's a bad thing to change? because the old generation tells us change is bad? because they (mostly conservatives) want to conserve "the good old days/the way things are supposed to be" in their minds???

WHO CARES if someone says they're gay then realizes 5 years later they're bi. WHO CARES if someone says they're a girl and realizes after trying it out they're not. let people explore who they are until they figure it out even if they go through every lable available to them! maybe none fit and they make up their own! who cares! who cares if they change it every year for the rest of their lives! humans change. that's the only constant about us! why is it a bad thing, even taboo, to accept change and exploration within sexuality and gender specifically?

there's always so much shame that comes with someone realizing they were wrong, changing as a person, or discovering something new about themselves. i've seen people afraid to explore themselves more or afraid to talk about a change in identity, for fear of the queer community pushing back on them the same way they're afraid to come out to the cishets in their life who are trans/homophobic. that's just not fair that their own community can become hostile towards them, too. being in a closet within a bigger closet essentially. everyone is always told to figure it all out first before claiming an identity, because then you're locked in it for life, apparently. you can't change your mind after that. why though? what's the point of that really? why can't we embrace fluidity a bit more? why can't we accept that humans do change all the time? why is making and trying to prove that these identities are static/unchanging/innate the only way to validate them? why can't they just, I don't know, BE VALID. without reason. why must we jump through hoops to be valid when we should just automatically be valid because we are human. stop letting the cishets gatekeep everything, leading to us gatekeeping each other!

I am sometimes very hesitant to talk about my own identity. I identified as a gay/biromantic trans guy for like idk 8-10 years? transitioned and everything. then like a year or two ago, I realized/decided that doesn't fit right anymore. now i'm a nonbinary, but also kinda fluid, aroace person. sometimes I don't like to talk about that because of the stigma behind changing your gender/sexuality identities. but you know what. i'll talk about it anyway and people have to learn to accept it.

what were the consequences and bad parts about changing my mind/identity like that? none. absolutely none. (outside of people being weird about it for no reason) but the benefits are feeling more comfortable with myself, and that's no one else's business.

#lee rambles #lgbt #lgbtqia #what tag do people usually use. idk #sexuality #nonbinary #transgender #gender #i know some things you cant “change” like if you transition. reversing some parts might be hard. but who cares #change what you want. change back a 3rd time if you want. we should let people do what they want in a safe way. #we arent going to talk about and debate children and their ability to “choose” im not opening those worms. thats for another discussion #but i will say them simply using words to describe themselves (identity) and changing it later DOES ABSOLUTELY NO HARM. LET THEM DO IT. #we are not talking about physically changing things so dont argue that. only words. words dont harm ans are allowed to change. #but people gatekeep adults from words as well so its not “about the children” its people in general. #everyone wants to gatekeep everyone from gender/sexuality so much for some reason #but this isnt about “the children!” so lets not talk about them #if anyone tries to argue children i will instablock. you have no permissiom #anyway. i feel like this entire post is a whole unpopular opinion. it'll probably make someone mad or cause misunderstanding #because words are hard and explaining my thoughts is hard. but youre not allowed to argue with me. im tired and dont want to deal with it #thats my boundary and im setting it up. no arguing. im not asking for debate or opnions. im simply rambling to myself snd anyone who #might not have thought about this before? idk. not sure who im rambling to or why i even added specific tags lmao #im tired and sleep deprived where am i going with this.......

[dragonji]

being a student is always going so well until it Isn't .

#j.txt #vent #think i am going to drop this class that ive already had to put myself through and fallen short on twice. round three is looking Bad folks👍 #I genuinely just. do not know what I am supposed to do anymore. it always seems like I understand the material and have vision of what- #I want to produce and then I go to execute and Bam. severe demand avoidance hit you like a knife in the ribs #I am simply So Tired of it. hitting my head against walls. being told I need to “experiment” without any explanation. having resources #offered and then never followed up upon. advice of I just need to buckle down and do it.being unmedicated lol. it's just Too Fucking Much<3 #like its to a point that I am seriously and desperately considering changing my entire major. Over One Single Class. but I dont Want to not #be an artist it's the best thing I've ever been and I Know im good at it. just not. this part I suppose. #so funnie that im going to have to bring this up next therapy sesh and shes gonna go. this is a traumatic event that we should probably #deal with. like no yeah I realize trauma is for when things actually hurt you and this situation is so frustrating i could *** #but it definitely doesnt count because it's Me so yknow. we can just pack it up now and Not deal with it for yet another semester maybe<3 #but like Whatever. academia is what you get out of it and all that and if nothing else we have tenacity etc etc o7

[navree]

there's a lot of reasons why that titans show wanting to do batfam specific arcs, especially death in the family/under the red hood, flopped so hard each time, but one of the biggest is that they basically brought jason back after, like, a fucking month and it basically negates the entire thing

#personal #i mean the entirety of the stupid plotline makes me want to go mad #like i think they do actually have bruce kill the joker in retaliation which is like well then what's jason's problem then #that was the main sticking point for him #and then they have bruce like actively looking for replacement robins which like???? he didn't want another robin???? #he was DONE with robins until tim full on blackmailed his way into the position like a little fucking menace #but like a huge part of the tragedy of the whole thing is the amount of time jason missed #jason dies as a shrimpy fifteen year old (like i think he's under five foot i think he's canonically 4'6??? baby!!!) #and then he comes back and he's older and more jacked and significantly more jaded #than he was in his 'i'm robin and being robin gives me magic' era #he lost a significant swath of his life and bruce never got to watch his son grow up it's fucking sad #and more importantly bruce had a lot of time to sit with this loss #to try and get to something of an acceptance and understanding that it happened and there's no way to change it #the *entire family* did they all had to take a lot of time to come to terms with that #and then suddenly jason's back??? and all that attempted healing gets thrown way out of whack because suddenly he's here again??? #listen there's a way to do death in the family/under the red hood to make it a huge gut punch in a tv format #it's a bit difficult because it's such an iconic and well known arc that people can sometimes be blasé about it all #but there's a way that you can make it Work and work really well (as always i have thoughts) #titans uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh titans did not do that. at all. they beefed it.

[erythristicbones]

while i do love that i decided to write the EOTA trilogy w/ different POVs for each book, bc yea it's just the same 6 ppl working together regardless but it's important to see all of their POVs, it does also leave a lot unexplored for the previous POVs each time. like these things still happen and i DO get to explore them, its just different when it's no longer the POV

#this is namely me thinking about kirsens ptsd + depression and recovery #like book one puts her on the path to recovery and you get to see from her POV as she gets to that point #then she's still a hugely integral character in books 2 & 3 you just arent seeing her thoughts/POV #and her recovery is still taking steps forward AND back over those two books #which the reader will see bc obvs she's still a part of the main trio saving the world #its just. it does make me lowkey sad that the reader wont see her thoughts as she makes those steps #like I'LL know and i Could do short stories on some of the scenes in particular i know will be going on in the background #but its not quite the same for the reader #i dont think i'll ever consider changing my POV plans tho #bc each book has 2 POVs of ppl taking different paths to reach the same theme/moral #its as important to see jashe/novas and isaac/demis POVs as it is to see kirs/luces #its just a shame i wont have the time/ability to write each characters ENTIRE journey thru these morals/themes #lowkey tho i might start a kirsen short story tonight if this mood continues to plague me #i have Thoughts about kirsen. and also kind of myself bc boy howdy does she have a lot of me in her #and i want to explore at least two scenes in particular that happen in the few month interim between book 1 and 2 #ones that get mentioned/remembered by jashe but also i just really want to ACTUALLY write kirsens POV of those moments #its one thing to have jashe worrying over her cousin while theyre forced to save the world #its another to see kirsen having those struggles herself and trying to hide them or work thru them w luce

[satellitesunset]

myle.text

#besties guess who's having a gender crisis 😌 #it's been like building up the entire month #mostly pronouns n labels bc that's how it is #a part of me wants to like drop the she/her see how it feels #but also like i do both identify n present fem yk? #or like at least put a disclaimer that's like unless we're friends u legally aren't allowed to use she/her #idk idk idk #but on a more less chaotic news I've like figure out finally why ive never vibed with non-binary label so success #and I've reached a stage where im like happy with how i present n like the vibes #but also a part of me is like what if 🥺 we drop the she/her 🥺 at least on Tumblr 👉👈 #and it's like confusing bc i dont mind the she/her it's just a matter of perception yk? #and i know i tend to gravitate towards more fem terminology when i refer to myself #and like i dont experience dysphoria and i know that for me that's not a thing i want #anyways so like if u find i change the pronouns to just they/he that's like a lil warning #but like if we're friends u can still use feminine terms n she/her #its really simple 🤪😃 #myle overshares #i love how i said sm yet so little but i can't have the full crisis about like how growing up as a women impacts it all #+ the way i don't necessarily identity with androgynousity or at least how the white view of it #bringing like race n culture to this also adds another layer that like is a lot

[orcelito]

the funny thing is everyone's like "oh yea a fic studying the senses of an inhuman character, that's pretty cool" but Little Do They Know i happened upon this idea by accident. Sentido started as me just messing around with the idea of hearing Life And Death, which REALLY started as a "Vash can hear dead people" kinda au lksdjfld

decided to go with less of a literal Hearing Dead People and went more of Hearing Death being the acute hearing of death-related sounds. i think this idea's pretty good tbh, even with how accidental it was

#speculation nation #listen i was looking on my akeshu ideas doc like 'is there anything i can recycle?' #bc i had NO ideas but i wanted to write smth for vashwood Desperately #saw my Akira Sees Dead People au & was like 'hmmmm' and then this happened #another Sentido Fun Fact was that the entire like first part of chapter 1 was written on the toilet lksdjlkdjf #i write entirely by phone (thumbs are fast & it helps me focus) and ykno what. when the idea hits. it hits. #a Vash Hears Dead People au could have its place but tbh there wouldnt be as much use to it ykno #like with p5 the dead live on in the narrative. goro's mom & futaba's mom & so on #people separate from akira so as to make it less uhhh. Personal i guess #also with akira being so young in comparison. and being freshly traveled to tokyo. #for vash he'd be walking in a cesspool of ghosts for some 150 years. i think that would kinda just drive him insane. #it would just change who he is as a person! & cheapens the idea of accepting death in Trigun #p5 it's like 'heres some teens doing metaphysical things and also theres a talking cat'. hearing dead ppl talk isnt that weird in the end #i do still wanna write that. someday... #for now tho im enjoying my sacrilegious gun anime lmao

[kingmaximusboltagon]

so i found out about bizzare adventures and how triton has a mini-comic in bizzare adventures #28 and so OBVIOUSLY i had to go read bizzare adventures for this, like, 6 pages of triton. and now i HAVE to talk about how triton was in a comic for like three entire minutes in the 80s.

considering how little triton gets personality-wise, i really like that this opens with actual triton lore!! "seeker by nature" !!! how he wishes others could see the ocean like he does!!

now that i think about it, im kind of surprised triton hasnt been used for anti-pollution messaging more often? or like, ever, afaik, other than this? and even here, it very quickly stops being about the oil spill that nearly kills triton. i know namor comics deal w that kind of thing (on occasion? often? no idea i have. never read a namor comic 😳) but i think this is also very much a triton avenue. esp since inhumans already cant breathe the standard air on earth, i def think you could make a good triton comic out of how humans are destroying the planet (sorry this post got darker than i intended we're moving on now)

i really love how triton looks in this!! it's not *that* different from his usual green-man design, and it could very much just be an art style, but im a big big fan of Fish Triton. his uncanny appearance is like my favorite ever. i want him to look as fish like as possible!! but this does a really good job at keeping that original green guy look while also still keeping the amphibian parts very noticeable. its mostly the face. i love his face!!!

i love this description of him. i feel there's never any acknowledgement of how strong triton is (which tbf i kind of forget a lot too) but also,,, yeah he can just totally hang out in the ocean. id love to know if theres a limit to how deep he can go. triton could make a mad living off of cave diving and scuba guiding. and salvaging ship wrecks!! the amount of trinkets this guy could just go sell off. im getting distracted. I LOVE TRITON.

have i mentioned that i adore how he looks here? i love how he looks!! maybe its the pointy ears. its a good look for him!

#crying over triton forever and ever #you can fit so much potential in this fish #i just. AGH. i need more triton in my life!!! he rarely gets any time to shine. and when he does its over so fast :( #this isnt much to do w this comic but ive been thinking about that doti rewrite i said i would do a whileeee back #and a part of me wants to change the entire thing and another part wants to try to keep the general feel/major plot points #and just make it make. more sense. #and im strongly considering not killing triton off bc i really want to give him a chance to do something in it! #undescribed #triton mander azur

[shotmrmiller]

retired pornstar!Ghost who can't seem to ever keep his hands to himself whenever you're around, even when about to film.

f!reader, 18+ smut. unedited.

If you're standing at a table making coffee, he'll sneak up from behind and wrap his arms around you, his chin resting on the crown of your head.

Hi, Ghost.

G'mornin', love.

If you're walking out of Price's office with a script in hand, he's by your side in mere moments, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

"New script?"

"You should know, you're my co-star. Again."

"Lucky me, pet."

He's leading you toward his office, perches you on his desk and cups his hand over your core.

"Gonna let me eat this pretty pussy?"

"I dunno, Ghost. Gonna fuck me here too?" you smirk at him.

"Whatever you want from me," he breathes.

You stumble out hours later with swollen lips, love bites mottled over your neck and collarbone, and his warm spend trickling down your legs because Ghost pocketed your knickers.

The day of, he's texting you if you'd like a ride to the studio.

Sure thing. Get me in 15.

Yes ma'am.

He doesn't ask for your address, and you don't question why he knows where you live either. Ghost, forever the gentleman, opens the passenger door for you, and gently helps you get in. The entire drive over, his hand rested on your bare thigh, his small finger occasionally grazing your clothed cunt. By the time you arrive, your knickers are damp with your arousal.

"Somethin' wrong, love?"

You snort at his feigned innocence. "Cute. Is mercilessly teasing me fun to you?"

"Sorry 'bout tha.'" Ghost doesn't sound all that apologetic.

He brings you in tight, wrapping his arm around you firmly.

"Lemme make it up t'you in my dressin' room", he purrs.

You click your tongue. "Price'll have your head if he catches me in there, especially when we're about to make a vid."

"Be sure to keep quiet, then. Would absolutely hate to get caught."

With his smart fingers and expert tongue, you're brought to peak 3 times.

Price rolls his eyes when he spots you both walking in at the same time 15 minutes before the shoot.

"Always cheek by jowl, eh Simon?"

His piercing eyes cut to Price's. "Not a crime, last I checked."

Price lifts his hands up, palms outward in mock surrender. "Easy, Ghost. Only teasin'." He turns away, gesturing the crew to get in their places.

Ghost taps your chin with his pointer finger, drawing your attention. "Showtime, baby."

The wolfish grin on your face mirrors his.

"Showtime," you echo.

Ghost turns sex into art. He moves with discipline; every languid roll of his hips deliberate. Like a skilled painter, he transformed you into a living masterpiece, using each drag of his cock as a brush stroke on the canvas of your very being.

It's otherworldly.

He watches your face intently as he changes the angle, bites his bottom lip when he changes the pace, grunting into your ear as your walls begin to flutter— the telltale sign of 'his favorite part', as he loves to say.

"Gonna come f'me? Lemme hear that sweet, little voice of yours, pet." Almost as if following his command, you're digging your nails into his biceps, and closing your eyes in bliss as you climax. A loud, drawn-out moan escapes your lips as your cunt rhythmically pulses around Ghost's heavy length. Your soft thighs quiver around his broad waist as he works you through the aftershocks with slow, firm thrusts.

"Look at tha'. Came when I told ya to, like a good girl." Your mind is blank from your orgasm, tongue too heavy and thick in your mouth for you to even try to articulate a response.

"Creamed all over my cock, can ya hear it?" Hard not to when the wet sounds of your pussy squelching every time he bottoms out fills the room.

"You're so fuckin' tight. Cunt's squeezin' me like it doesn't want me to pull out."

His filthy words send a jolt straight to your throbbing core. "Felt tha'. What, you got a breedin' kink?"

Another jolt, so sharp it almost hurts.

"Want me to fill ya with my come? Is tha' it?" His husky voice dripping with desire. With want.

yes. yesyesyessss—

"Tell me you want me. Fuck, tell me you want me to come in you." The words fall from your spit-slick lips like a faucet.

"Come in me, oh my god, come in me. Fill my pussy up."

His thrusts lose some of their rhythm, but still not sloppy enough like when he's on the very brink.

Ghost's jaw in clenched, as if digging his heels in to hold off his climax. Well, that's simply unacceptable.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, giving him a slight tug to have his lips hover over yours.

"I want you come in me, Simon."

The change is instantaneous. His eyes widen a fraction before stealing your very breath with a searing kiss and fucks you. He puts his weight behind each snap of his hips. The tip of his cock pressing into the plug of your womb, making your eyes prickle with tears.

It's too much, he's too much, you think you've gone and bitten off more than you can chew with him when he mercifully stills with a groan you swallow— cock twitching as it pains your insides white.

He breaks away, gasping for air, sweat that beaded on his forehead dripping onto your heated skin.

Cut.

DaVinci and his muse.

Later, when he threads his fingers into your damp hair, you ask him why he doesn't record with others.

"'Cause I don't want to."

Oh?

"Besides, you and I have fantastic chemistry, dont'cha think?" He tugs on a lock of hair. "The fans love seeing us together, just as much as I love seeing my cock disappear into your sweet pussy."

He chuckles when he takes in your flustered expression. "Don't ask questions you aren't prepared to hear, then."

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mwii #cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x you #ghost smut #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader

[othercrossee]

#z rambles #i just deleted two wall of texts talking shit about tmr course exam and the fuck ass teachwr #its so bleak 🥰 #damned if u do damned if u dont type scenario eith this damn teacher its so crauzy #today was funny tho he was supervising todays exam and when he tried to make small talk everyone just stare at him #and no one said anything. WE DO NOT LIKE HIMMM #i mean why tf wouldnt we when he failed half the class during our midterm and gave all of us 60/100 for our oresentation #and one team even got 40 #i still remwmbwr this cuz the audacity he has is insane #he explained to that team what to do and they did the way he wanted and changed a wording anf he said they got it all wrong #mind u? it didnt change the menaing at all like everything is all there and he undermined their effort entirely anf everyones ofc #another one is when he was like ouuu disappointed we failed our midterm and proceed to explain that we answer the question wrong #by focusing on the wrong thing. anf then he explained what to focus on in the wuestions and the part he wqnted was #not in the question. itw invisible. it is not there. he want us to answer shit that wasnt asked #great just. 10/10 all around this course #even worse if we fail this course? we csnt fucking gj to our next year cys its essential #babe how r we passing if he keeps failing us what🦧 #its even crazier considering the midterm that half of us failed we answered exactly as he wanted when we were doing questions with our team #and EVEN CRAZIER me and my friend were checking our answers anr check in with someone who passed #and we wrote the same fucking reasoning and he decided ours wasnt good enough ☺ #im tired man how tf can any damn score pull us this time when he faiked our midterm and our quiz and our project score is low as shit #its so fucking bleak #girl we dont even know what to review cuz he didnt say anything lmao #neat 🙏 #rant #IM GOING TIRED ❗❗ #not crazy cuz the wall of text swrves that purpose alrrady i need to sleep