#otp: ache & hunger

[undercovercannibal]

Hannibal 1.02 “Amuse-Bouche” | 3.02 “Primavera” | 3.03 “Secondo” | 3.09 “...And the Woman Clothed with the Sun”

#m* #are you sure about that will? #will graham #hugh dancy #hannigram #hannibal lecter #mads mikkelsen #hannibal #hannibaledit #horror #horroredit #crimeshowsource #userbbelcher #userstream #dailyflicks #cinemapix #tvandmovies #useroptional #uservici #userrlaura #otp: ache & hunger #hannibal e: amuse-bouche #hannibal s1 #hannibal e: primavera #hannibal e: secondo #hannibal e: ...and the woman clothed with the sun #hannibal s3

[malinaa]

CATCHING FIRE, CHAPTER 6

#lit #the hunger games #catching fire #everlark #otp: real or not real? #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #photo #tais toi lys #thgpost #THE PHSYICAL ACHE IN MY CHEST GUYS. IT HURTS. #*

[bigfan-fanfic]

Creme de Menthe and Ryncol

Year of the OTP: January OTP: Shepard x Kaidan Alenko Prompt: First Kiss Synopsis: Two whole games with no gay, BioWare? What the heck?

The end of the world is definitely one of those catalyzing events that really calls things into perspective.

The "Fuck it, we're dying anyway" principle, perhaps. Shepard wonders what Mordin would think of that analysis.

It's not that he would've never kissed Kaidan at any other point. Just that... trauma has a way of bringing people together.

They're neither of them truly spontaneous people. Kaidan thinks things through, down to the minutiae, and Shepard, like any good commander, considers as many possible tactics as he can before deciding. Maybe, in a more sedate three years, they'd have come together naturally, would have had their conflict of interest removed as Nihlus trained him as a SPECTRE and perhaps Kaidan would have become the CO on the Normandy.

Maybe it wouldn't have, and this is just the one pleasant side effect of the damn Reaper war.

But from the moment they both made it clear that the "someone' they had been looking for was the other, it had been hard to let a moment go by without knowing Kaidan was near. An ache, a hunger that slowly began to build.

And on a night - or whatever passed for night when it came to space travel, when the lights cycled to dim and some crew would head to their quarters to bunk for a rest period - spent in transit between systems, Shepard pours his fellow SPECTRE a drink.

"You know, you're not supposed to drink that. That's dextro stuff." Kaidan warns conversationally.

"I drank ryncol once, you know." Shepard fires back. "I think I can handle the indigestion."

"I'm sorry. I forgot that the drinks of mortal men no longer give you any buzz."

Shepard laughs, and Kaidan grins. It's a nice laugh. It's a nice grin. Kaidan had never fully acknowledged the "Shepard voice" before then - Shepard's voice slides into a slightly higher, more relaxed register when he's comfortable. It doesn't lack any of its usual authority, but the bass notes of his voice are conspicuously absent. Shepard, for his part, studies the cleft of Kaidan's chin as if he wishes to memorize it.

They drink, and the alcohol gives them courage. Kaidan teases Shepard for his range and flightiness - he keeps switching drinks, from batarian shard wine to creme de menthe. Never the same drink twice, never bothering with sophistication nor machismo - it's something Kaidan admires about Shepard, that he can accept things no matter their origin. If a Reaper turned good tomorrow and asked Shepard to let it help, it'd probably be flying in formation behind the Normandy in the next battle. Or maybe that's the Canadian stout he's drinking (and no, it doesn't escape Kaidan that the bar mysteriously kept getting filled with Kaidan's go-to lager).

Kaidan ends up occupying the same couch as Shepard, and doesn't leave any space between them. Shepard is happy to curl up, his knees lifting to gently rest across Kaidan's legs. The movement is a little awkward because of the Commander's broad frame, but Kaidan manages to get an arm around him, focusing on holding him at the waist instead of the shoulders.

Shepard breathes him in as his nose traces along Kaidan's jawline, back and forth. Slow.

Like they have all the time in the world.

Everything is cranked up. The world is in the highest possible definition - he can see the air bubbles behind the dark bottle holding the black label whiskey on the table. He swears he can feel each individual stubbly hair move as Shepard's nose swipes past. And the soft sound of Shepard's lips gracing the corner of his mouth with a kiss cracks through the room like thunder.

He has enough restraint to make their first kiss perfect. Kaidan's lips part, and they look into each other's eyes as they tilt their heads and kiss.

Kaidan can taste the notes of different drinks left behind on his lips - Shepard seems to drink for the flavor, not just to get drunk, and the combination is heady - sweet and sultry, clashing but harmonious. There's not a lot of movement, not this first time, but an intensity behind it that belies so much more than just this one kiss. This is a declaration, a bonding.

I love you and I always will.

They break apart, and Kaidan smiles like a dope at Shepard's goofy smirk. And Kaidan indulges Shepard in their second kiss. Third, fourth, and fifth are soon to follow, and the sixth will last quite a long time as they make out.

It doesn't feel like their first kisses. It feels as though they're old hands at this, musicians returning to an old instrument, picking up their bowstrings and playing a virtuoso as if they had never left. Like Shepard's lips are made for his.

"I love you, Kaidan," are the last words spoken that night, as Shepard swallows the instant like response in another fierce kiss, and they entangle in each other's arms until sleep takes them both.

#year of the otp #shepard x kaidan #my writing #my writings #mass effect headcanons #headcanons

[roselevesque]

Ngl, I kinda wanto to read Book!Hannibal and NBC!Hannibal meeting, because I think it'd be helarious.

"WILL GRAHAM!? How even-"

"Who is this Clarice!?-"

Meanwhile Clarice and Will are somewhere in the back exchanging notes on how being the spouse of a cannibalistic serial killer is surprisingly cozier than you'd imagine in the end.

#hannigram #clannibal #hannibal lecter #clarice starling #will graham #nbc hannibal #hannibal book #hannibal x will #hannibal x clarice #hannibal crack #murder husbands #otp: ache & hunger

[theedorksinlove]

rewatching parts of hannibal and being like: whatcha have to be so gay for huh?

#i cannot with them they make me insane #otp. ache & hunger #tv. hannibal #*t #*txt #hannibal #nbc hannibal #hannigram

[sociallyawkwardgirlstrikes]

The moment, when we all knew that something bad was going to happen…

#yup #feel free to kill me #idk why i thought of these two #but i did #and my heart aches #bellarke #peeniss #otp #endgame #babies #the 100 #the hunger games #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

[kingsofargentina]

I had planned on making this before copa américa begun, but then life happened. Better late than never, tho, right? Let's call this a celebration of Argentina's win. :D

Kun Agüero and Leo Messi are the OTP of all OTPs for me, so here is a list of a few of my favorite kunessi fanfics that I've read over the years. This is not by any means a complete list since there are so many great fics (so hmu if you'd like more recs or are looking for something specific), and the fics are not in any particular order.

Multi-chapter/ novel length

Before the Third Star by rainedparade (162 096 words, rated E)

When it was the two of them, the pitch became their world and the ball, their very own sun.

A story about football, love, and life featuring Leo and Kun from 2005-2010. Takes place in an alternate reality with liberal use of the butterfly effect.

This feels like an account of what could have happened. Many scenes that draw on real events etc. A very beautiful story of boys who love football and each other.

A Messi Love by stillgold (69 188 words, rated E)

Kun knew he never should have had that last drink. Now he's gone and spilled his deep dark secret to Masche. And why is Kun's feelings for Leo the only secret Masche can't keep?

A good story with excellent smut.

two bodies pressed together by yvenger (jjjat3am) (6015 words, rated T)

"If I weren't a footballer, I would be a footballer's wife." - Kun Aguero

or

The one where Kun has to retire from football early and becomes Leo's househusband instead.

A little sad at the very beginning, but then very cute and domestic.

A Matter of Biology by MessiFangirl (hpdm4ever) (25 701 words, rated E)

Nicolás guides him down the hall, body still tight with tension. “You shouldn’t be alone,” his friend says, a hint of a growl in his voice. “Not anywhere until we’re back in England. We don’t really know if it’s true about how they do things here. The last thing we need is you mated to some neanderthal from Russia. It would probably be the end of your career.”

“They were being perfectly nice,” Kun says, frowning. Instead, he takes a deep breath as the familiar scents of his teammates wash over him, trying to raise his spirits again. It’s what gives him the strength to add, “I’m allowed to do things differently here. You’re the one who was being rude.”

The a/b/o fic I didn't expect to love as much as I did.

By the Rio de la Plata I sat down and wept by whimsicule (48 904 words, rated M)

Buenos Aires AU. Kun is part of the city's social elite, drifting without any sense of responsibility and purpose. A chance encounter with a childhood friend puts his life into perspective.

AU that has nothing to do with football. My favorite fic of all time; any genre, any fandom, any pairing. What an absolute masterpiece. It broke my heart, but in the most beautiful way. I cried, and then I cried some more. And then i reread it.

One shots

Prayers by ren_makoto (3418 words, rated E)

How do you worship a god? Kun Aguero shows his reverence to one D10S de Futbol. But gods can be spoiled, complicated creatures...

"He's seen fans almost kill themselves jumping down from the stands to hug Leo, kiss him, bow down at his feet. Nearly drowning themselves to swim to his yacht. He's seen fans cry in joy when Leo gives them his shirt or a hug. This is his equivalent, Kun imagines. This is as close as he comes to praying anymore."

Hot and a bit angsty. Actually really angsty if you think about it.

Tonight Is For You by MessiFangirl (hpdm4ever) (3199 words, rated T)

Nobody approaches him, perhaps aware that he's fighting to maintain his composure. The Icelandic players are respectful enough that they give him his space, while the Argentine players are wise enough to know that he needs it.

There's a light touch against his bare back then, right against his waistband, and Leo lowers his shirt to glare.

I just love it when Kun get's a little angry. I mean I also love it when he gives Leo anything he needs, but when he puts his foot down, it makes for very good plot. This fic has that.

Make it better by brightcrystal (4324 words, rated E)

After Argentina's semi-final defeat against Brazil in the Copa América 2019, Leo is devastated and Kun wants to help him feel better. Going down a familiar path is the easy choice, but is it the right one when the kisses are mixed with bitter tears of disappointment?

A bit of fluff, a bit of angst, and a bit of smut. Can't go wrong with that.

short beards are for fun by mm_nani (834 words, rated E)

leo has shaved his beard short and this is why

Hot and fun. Made me smile.

Todo Por Vos by stillgold (1286 words, rated G)

There’s nothing to say, but the words come unbidden. “Hoy por vos”, he whispers. Today for you. For you. He could have said todo por vos, all for you, and it would have been true.

Maybe Leo understands, or maybe Leo already knew—maybe Leo, with his dark eyes and his quiet mouth—maybe he can see better than others can. It seems like it on the pitch, but maybe that skill translates here too—maybe it sees Kun’s yearning, his hunger, his ache, his everything—all for Messi, todo por el.

I just reread this as I went to copy the link and GOD it's so... I can't even describe it! It's just.... The feelings, u kno???? No smut or nothing just... words and.... and FEELINGS!!!

sometimes your voice might just be enough by westhamutd (1773 words, rated M)

“hey kun. how are you doing?”

he hears kun yawn on the other end of the line and starts to laugh.

“oh you’re tired? it’s literally four in the morning here.”

--

things you said on the phone at 4am

This manages to be both cute and hot in less than 2000 words.

#fic rec #kunessi #sergio aguero #lionel messi #fanfic #long post #I was going to tag the authors on tumblr but maybe that would be annoying for them? I don’t know! I’m very socially awkward! #(and I wasn’t sure about the tumblrs of a few of the authors)

[ddagent]

Dude, I ship Hannibal and Clarice so much and I had forgotten until I saw your post.

I SHIP THEM SO MUCH; I REALLY NEED TO RE-READ THE BOOKS. AND WATCH THE FILMS. PERFECT VALENTINE’S VIEWING. 

I just – there’s something so fascinating about the only man who ever really gives her respect being a fucking cannibal, and the relationship they have behind the glass in SotL, and that he writes to her in Hannibal, and, oh, the line from the opera:

Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for her? Find nourishment in the very sight of her? I think so. But would she see through the bars of his plight, and ache for him?

The fact that that could easily apply to my current OTP makes me feel I have a very specific type. 

#lielith #question time #also one of my favourite romcoms sees clannibal as couple goals #ship: clannibal

[chrysalispen]

Prompt #17 - Obeisant

moar Haurchefant/WoL. this is my other otp if i’m honest, and haurchefant’s obvious love for the warrior absolutely does go straight into a worshipful territory.

"Another storm, yes. I shall return anon, but his lordship is concerned for the safety of all and would have me set out once the wind is past."

Aurelia let out a contented sigh, set the linkpearl aside on the nearby side table, and turned her attention back to the warm weight on her bare chest. 

One of the most obvious advantages of having established good relations between the Scions of the Seventh Dawn and the knights of the Coerthas central highlands was the relative leeway she was given to visit Haurchefant at his cold and remote outpost. Of course, it was done mostly at her leisure when she wasn't on some errand or other. But given the Ishgardians' extremely obvious regard for the Warrior of Light and the way she had stepped in to aid them with Shiva without even a moment's hesitation, and given their reputation for prickly inhospitality to nigh everyone else, not even Alphinaud was inclined to stop her from her frequent jaunts into the snowy foothills.

Alphinaud, she knew, even preferred it. If the Scions could establish more inroads to bring Ishgard back into the fold of the Alliance, so much the better, whether it be done through official diplomatic channels with Ser Aymeric or through rather more informal ones with Lord Haurchefant.

But advantages there were aplenty besides, such as the privacy her reputation afforded the two of them.

In some ways, Coerthas reminded her of home -- the few good parts of it she could remember, anyroad. Blizzards didn't bother her, and she enjoyed the cold even when the wind outside didn't howl and rattle at the expensive glass and whistle around the stones of the keep.

But at the minute, there *was* a storm, and she was disinclined to leave before it had abated. Currently that sharp wind was accompanied by ice, and she could hear the gritty slap of sleet with each gust that bit at the fortress' outer walls.

She ran her fingers through Haurchefant's hair: a light bluish silver, thick, and fine as silk beneath her fingers. Her shirt was on but unbuttoned, and she felt him press a slightly damp kiss to the edge of her sternum, directly between her breasts.

Days like these didn't just make venturing out into the Coerthan wilderness undesirable, but actively dangerous. Which to her mind was so much the better, really, because it allowed them quiet afternoons like these to themselves: enjoying each other's company while the rest of the barracks lay in slumber, occupants piled together for comfort. Haurchefant would always see to his paperwork first -- like herself, the lord of Camp Dragonhead was nothing if not dutiful -- but once his work was done, he'd join her, for conversation, for hot chocolate, or... well.

Whatever sport they wished to make, to while away the cold hours.

"Commander Leveilleur knows you're here?" the Elezen murmured.

"Mm. I told him the storm's too bad to risk leaving."

"...I confess I'm surprised he didn't point out that you could simply use the aetheryte to return."

She laughed.

"He knows I hate using them. Travel by aetheryte doesn't bother me now half as much as it used to, I suppose because my aether control has improved so, but it still gives me awful headaches on occasion. You're right, I suppose I could. But I don't," she said bluntly, "and I don't feel like explaining to him or the others why."

In truth, she didn't feel like explaining much of anything to the Scions these days.

Nero's decidedly acidic observations that day before they'd entered Syrcus Tower for the first time had truly angered her, but he hadn't been wrong, and she knew that was part of the reason it had struck home. The Scions, especially Alphinaud as of late, *did* seem to take her strength and her sense of responsibility for granted. The tribunus had been entirely correct about that much, had -- much to her own bewilderment -- seemed genuinely frustrated beneath his mockery.

And she couldn't deny the bitter pall of resentment she felt at the realization that out of all of the people who seemed able to see her instead of the hero's pedestal, it was someone who shouldn't have given a damn one way or another, rather than the people who were supposed to be her friends. Oh, he wasn't the only one, to be sure. Cid Garlond had ever seen her for who she was, had offered her his own space as a shelter from the constant deluge of requests.

The man whose bed she now lay in was another.

Sensing some of her distress, Haurchefant propped himself up on one elbow and leaned forward to peer curiously down into her eyes. One hand was left to wander where he willed it (or insofar as she would give it permission), and his crystal-blue eyes were dark with concern.

"My friend, is aught amiss? They are your close associates, and yet I can hear your discontent. Has there been a falling out between you? Should I reconsider our association with Revenant's Toll?" A shadow crept into his expression. "...They've not mistreated you in some fashion, have they?"

Aurelia sighed and shut her eyes.

"No, it's... I... I'm not really being fair, Haurchefant. I know I'm not. Minfilia is under considerable strain, herself, and Alphinaud I worry is attempting to singlehandedly solve a problem years too old for him, and there's more I'd rather not get into. But-"

"But?" he pressed, when she didn't say anything for a moment.

"....Sometimes I want to recapture the freedom I had when I chose to become an adventurer. When the only thing that was important was the next new horizon and the sights beyond." One of her hands fretted at the coverlet beneath her fingers. "I went to Ul'dah intending to expand my medical knowledge for certain, but also because I had never seen Thanalan, and I thought that if I could never return to my home then I might as well see the southern lands with my own eyes. But then... things happened."

"Ifrit happened."

"Yes. And almost before I knew it people were calling me a hero. I feel like a fraud on a good day, Haurchefant, and on a bad day I just want them all to bugger off and leave me be. Some people are still immensely kind and grateful, but others just see me as a wall between them and the beastmen."

Haurchefant had kept his counsel, seeming content to run his hand over her belly and thighs as she spoke. There was a warmth there, simmering just under the surface like coals that had not yet gone to embers, and on a different day she might at that point have decided to kiss him rather than continue her litany of complaints. It would, she thought, certainly have been more productive.

You did all this to yourself and no one cares to hear your whinging, a part of her sneered.

But the floodgates were open and she could not stop.

"Sometimes I wish I had never agreed to join the Scions," she confessed softly. "I know, it's an awful thought, but-"

"Not awful," he said. "Human."

"Perhaps."

"All of us have had those thoughts from time to time. 'Tis the hardest thing in the world, to stay when you are saddled with a duty you do not want. I know from long experience. And yours..."

When he had trailed off for a handful of seconds, Aurelia opened her eyes and blinked up at him. He offered a smile that was just a little bit rueful.

"Yours, dear lady," he continued, "is a great burden indeed. I would worry about you did you not weary of its weight from time to time, and I know even heroes need a refuge, which is why I offer mine own modest lodgings freely. But this too will pass. You say you wish you could run away, but you would not do so if pressed."

Biting her lower lip, Aurelia rolled her head to one side and stared at the grey light in the window, listened to the ice slap against glass. "How do you know?"

"Because adventurer or not," he said, leaning forward and pressing his lips just above her third eye, "you are brave and responsible. I have never known you to run from aught you consider a job that is yours to be done."

"I wish I could."

"But you won't."

"No," Aurelia said, "I won't. Because as much as I mislike it, there is no one else."

There was no response to that save the obvious, so she hadn't expected him to answer:

"If ever you do weary of your toils, you can make Ishgard your home."

"Ishgard would not have me."

"I would make it so. Did they see in you what I saw, you would be welcomed with open arms."

"Oh? Would I be able to remain at Camp Dragonhead for all time, then?" She laughed, her dark blue eyes twinkling with mirth as she flopped back onto the pillows and grinned at him. "Should I be the lady Lucia to your Aymeric, then? Your resolute and ever loyal second?"

Haurchefant did not laugh in return. His hand had shifted to her hip, stroking along the outer curve of one of her thighs, ghosting over her skin in a way that caused gooseflesh to prickle up her limbs. Her nipples were taut and aching, and now she wasn't entirely sure if it was due to the lingering chill of the room after all.

"No," he said. "I already have a second. To you, my dearest lady-" His hair tickled at her neck and his teeth grazed her collarbone, a hot and pleasant sting. Aurelia made a tiny pleading noise in the back of her throat, squirming at the contact, already seeing the mark that would bloom beneath her robes. "-I would be your vassal."

"You cannot, you lovely fool," she whispered, kissing the soft silver crown of his head. "You are pledged to your nation and to your house, not a defector with no nation left to call her own."

Haurchefant's hand on her legs moved inward, gently coaxing them open, and she felt the tips of his fingers on the sensitive inner all the way down to her toes. 

"I would pledge myself to you anyway. I would serve you as I serve the Fury Herself."

She took a shaking breath; he was but ilms away from where she actually wanted him, but even that urge was secondary to her hunger for his soft words.

"I am not of your people, Haurchefant. Perhaps once I was a lady, but I no longer even have a house."

"You need no house, though I would gladly give you mine if you wished it," he murmured, his lips moving just below her navel now, "and you are wrong. The truth of what you are, the things that made you what you are, cannot be taken from you."

G'raha Tia had said something similar, she thought.

"And neither can those things which were *not* given to you by your birth. You are kind, and you are just, and you are compassionate. You are not only a hero, but the greatest lady I have ever chanced to know," he said. "The fairest roses of all the High Houses pale before you."

She wished keenly she could see herself through his eyes, or G'raha's. If any gods existed in this world, the Garlean felt as though she could spend the rest of her life trying to atone for her people's cruelty and still never shift the scales. Her eyelids stung with tears she tried with effort to swallow back.

A rough palm, gentle, framed her face. 

"I promise upon the Fury herself, and upon my faith in you, that my sword and shield will always be yours -- whenever you have need of them."

He had returned to hover above her prone form, his wandering hands stilled for the moment. His eyes were soft and reverent.

“After all, dear lady,” he whispered, “a knight lives to serve.”

#haurchefant greystone #haurchefant/wol #ohhh the vault is going to hurt to write when i eventually do it #aurelia laskaris #ffxivwrite2019

[undercovercannibal]

I will forever be sad that we didn't get to see Hannibal's trial, the lost potential of it all keeps me awake at night.

Espec Will Graham's testimony and his subsequent cross examination.

Will being confronted with the fact that because he went undercover suspecting Hannibal of being a cannibal, he must have, if not known, at least highly suspected that some of the meals Hannibal's was serving him contained human meat. And yet he still ate them.

Just imagine the defense, in their best effort to undermine Will Graham's testimony (and shine a light on his own suspicious behavior) asking him how difficult it was for him to eat them? Maybe even being extra bold and asking him if they still tasted as good to him as before he started to suspect Hannibal? Hannibal is known as an excellent cook in the community after all.

How did Freddie Lounds describe the look in Hannibal's eyes when Will lied and said he could barely keep the food down?

#hannibal #will graham #hannibal lecter #hannigram #murder husbands #otp: ache & hunger #*mine

[malinaa]

THE HUNGER GAMES, CHAPTER 27

#this bit actually makes me physically ache #lit #the hunger games #everlark #otp: real or not real? #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #photo #tais toi lys #thgpost #*

[flyswhumpcenter]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled. I don’t have any request left, so feel free to send in suggestions for this card!).

I have no idea what I'm doing and I must scream about my friend's OTP

*bangs pots together* I HEARD THIS FANDOM NEEDED MORE SICKFIC SO I CAME HERE TO PROVIDE With angst too! It's simple, even simplistic to a fault in fact, but I'm kind of happy with it? The beginning especially, man I love writing the literal equivalent of suffering. The ending may be a letdown, but I hope it's decent anyway.

also yeah can we all stan my good pal @chess-of-flowering-kingdom's writing in the chat because she's much better than me at this FE3H thing, she’s like an icon or something in this fandom

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Thanatophobia

Summary: [thanatophobia: noun. Literally, “fear of death”; a feeling of dread, anxiety or sollicitude when thinking of or faced by death or the process of dying. Derivated fromthe Ancient Greek "θάνατος", death, and "φόβος", fear or anxiety.] Ingrid almost loses someone again. 

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses (post-timeskip) Ships: Ingrid/Sylvain (pre-relationship)

Wordcount: 2.8K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

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Her vision was blurry from the water flooding in her eyes, her hearing by the sobs she was trying to keep inside, her thoughts from the swirling concerns and confusion hitting it at once. Her head ached, so did her heart, and her stomach was hardly able to keep up with the nauseating worry she was finding herself to be the victim of.

Yet, and it only hurt further to admit it, even the best training in the world couldn’t have prevented this, so all she could do was not let herself get eaten away by her sorrow, as looking like a mourning widow would do nothing to improve the absolutely abhorrent situation that was unfolding right before her helpless eyes.

 It wasn’t like it was her fault, she knew that. She couldn’t have prevented it even if she had tried her hardest: in a way, this was bound to happen, but that train of thought only made it worse. What, was she supposed to just stay here and do nothing because this was always going to end in some tragedy one way or the other? Was she supposed to believe there was fate above all of their heads menacingly staring at them and waiting for the first opportunity to cause them misery to happen?

As it stood, Ingrid hated being unable to do anything, always wanted to do something and be of some use whenever things turned sour; yet reality was forcing itself on her, itself and its terrible sides and toll. It was telling her that no matter what she did, no matter what she was trying to do, no matter where she went, no matter how or why, it was a superior face on her soul bound to its realm by her flesh and blood.

If reality wanted to pain her again and make someone die on her for a second time, it could, and it wanted very desperately to show her this without any possible contestation on her part.

 Perhaps it hurt her even more to know this would eventually happen, no matter what she said or did. Ingrid had always watched over Sylvain ever since they had known each other, had gotten to know every side of his personality to the point she could predict every single thing he was about to go through with. He was a free spirit, someone who took his life lightly, a true skirt-chaser, someone who listened to her and stared into her eyes without ever considering if her words could have an impact on his life.

Ingrid had always found him to take his existence too much on the light side of things, and Glenn’s demise had only enforced his feeling, but she could only confirm that to a whole new extent she had never wished to behold today.

 They were fighting alongside on the battlefield, the two of them, against the enemy forces. She was the prideful knight, he was the free-thinking monk, and they worked better than she’d have expected coming him and his seemingly lack of seriousness about anything that involved life-or-death stakes. Both on the battlefield, sharing a portion of land as decided by their strategist, weapons out and senses sharp, focus undefeatable as she defeated her foes one by one on her fierce mount.

At least, it was in her case, because Ingrid couldn’t stop spotting in the corner of her how sloppy her battle partner was. Usually, and that was one of the qualities she could give him, he was more than competent when fighting, He’d usually slipped in a couple teases and flirtatious lines of banter between two battles, yet all she heard are pants and wheezes coming from his side, her moves slow and unprecise, the absolute opposite of what a warrior was supposed to be standing for in her eyes.

 But the battle was raging on, so she ignored it at first and just made it out to be a minor thing. Must have been because he had been chasing skirts all night again, without thinking of tomorrow’s battle (even if that seemed too easy of an explanation). It was a day like any other, even if the taste of blood wasn’t as strong as it’d have usually been. Nothing wrong to report on, truly, or so she thought (or tried convincing herself of? It wasn’t clear, not even in the heat of the moment where lucidity of the mind was key). And, in her point of view, it all looked fine and usual until she noticed she was alone killing off the last of the enemy’s forces.

As it stood, meddling with the dried leaves of the early autumn metamorphosis, crimson poking out from the light browns and oranges, was the unconscious body of a childhood friend.

 The assault had stopped for them, in the far-end part of the battlefield; yet the feeling of dread wetting her back in cold sweats didn’t give in, nourishing itself from the misery plaguing her mind. Ingrid got off her mount, her stallion’s reins firmly enclosed between her fingers, approaching the suddenly shapeless form of who could have only been Sylvain if she squinted enough with heavy steps and a heavier breath.

She slowly crouched, feet trying to avoid stepping on the leftovers of the battle, until her available hand could touch him, the other gripping harder on the reins as soon she realized what was wrong. A clump formed in her throat, her stomach twirled, she felt like she was about to get sick from the sudden rush of worry nausea taking a hold of her system like a demon possessing her body. Without uttering a word, she put him on his back, finally able to see his dirtied face and harsh breathing, skin paler than the corpses around them, red splattered across his cheeks like blood on a soldier’s attire.

 Ingrid didn’t waste words trying to wake him up, but her hands burned when she let go of the rein to put him on her mount and escort him back to safety, back to their base while she walked, in silent, with a troubling vision and sobs threatening to exit her chest if she wasn’t careful to them even for a moment. Her feet crushing the dirt and leaves, three breathes of different intensities and faraway cries were the only things she accepted hearing for the time being, careful that none of these breathings stopped all of a sudden and forever.

She was sniffling worry in. This was happening, under her eyes, and she couldn’t do anything about it. She was no healer, no priestess of any kind. She didn’t know how to beg a deity for someone’s wellbeing, all she knew was fighting and court codes, in the end. Despite the toll of the battle on the enemy’s forces and her army’s victory, her heart couldn’t scream any cry of war, couldn’t sing a hymn, because it was busy crying while her mind was busy not to let herself do the same.

 And, in this time of great mental distress, sorrowful Ingrid realized something: for the first time in her life, no matter what had happened before since they had been children, no matter what she could say or even think of uttering, she couldn’t do anything for Sylvain.

 The rest of things was a blur from then on. She brought her horse back to the base, couldn’t explain what had happened aside from the idea that he had collapsed while she was looking elsewhere to fend against the enemy, and watched events unfold while her hands went unoccupied and her legs restless. Her entire body turned into lead jelly, stiff like metal yet tender from her weaknesses striking at once. Healers tried their best, but only words of apology came out from them: they had spells for injuries, not illnesses, and they were as helpless as she was.

When she was invited to see him after a more formal exam, shortly before the battle ended with her army’s flawless and stainless victory, Ingrid turned down the offer. She wasn’t ready to face the situation, not at first at last, and went for a walk outside instead to calm down the nausea and stop her thoughts from becoming a tornado inside her skull.

 The air had gone cold since the battle had ended, the warmth of her companions and blood pouring on the floor having given stead to night’s silence and comfortable judgement. Nobody could see her now, all inside either celebrating or getting concerned, maybe both; but even her hunger had gone missing, buried under the thick layers of concern she kept putting on because of her own uselessness.

Her hands rubbed against her arms, her breath emitted clear smoke against the black backdrop of the night embracing her, her feverish skin finally calming down to a point where she felt like she could face her friend again, even if this entire fiasco made her doubt her own feelings’ nature. Perhaps staying for too long in the dark quietness of the deserted paths only accelerated her uncertainties, so she went back inside, the warmth of a group reaching back to her right as her skin was shivering.

 Her heart was wavering with the intensity of a typhoon, even as her footsteps echoed in the corridors as she made her way to the infirmary. She knocked once and entered without waiting for a reply, not expecting any considering it was already fairly late in the evening. The silence of the room reminded her of the outsides, which eased her heart into entering the room, even if immediately the sight of Sylvain in this bed, left to devilish devices, stung her deeper than she’d have thought.

Her hands were fiddling together by themselves as she sat on the chair that was already there, eyes unable to face it. She wanted to weep at last, let her sorrow run free; but that’d have been disgracing Sylvain, disgracing all the cautious words she had ever told him and all the messages she had tried to drill through his skull as much as possible so he wouldn’t ridicule himself again, so she wouldn’t suffer second-hand embarrassment from him.

 Her heart was pounding. In truth, she wasn’t confused about her feelings, more than she wanted to deny them: really, falling for her childhood friend wasn’t something she wanted. It was even worse if she considered how he was such a skirt-chaser, flirting with everything that moved or had a pulse, from her grandmother to their female colleagues: it was going to end badly for her if she truly stopped lying to herself about it, if something made her stop rejecting what she shouldn’t have felt in the first place.

The problem was that this something had already come around. No matter how much she told herself this, seeing Sylvain in this bed was like watching herself lose Glenn all over again: it started small, it always ended terribly, this much she had been taught and she had learnt over the years, throughout her experiences and connections with people. She was afraid of losing someone else, so she denied their value to her and tried keeping her tears inside, even if she knew it was all a lie, even if she was fully aware it had been nothing but a charade of refusal and unhealthy denial.

 Yet, even with all of her efforts, Ingrid was crying, tears rolling down her face and sorrow finally making its way out of her airways, pouring in thoughts and tears. How ungraceful, how weak coming from the woman who had wanted to become Dimitri’s most fellow knight, the one who grief and death shouldn’t have scared like a little girl whom the world had deemed to forever be lost in the eternal penumbra whose last beacon of light had been engulfed by the shadows.

At least, she was alone, unseen from the world, with the only witness being an unconscious man. It was the only consolation she had, the one thing fate had decided to keep her away from being shame and dishonour, but it was minor compared to the pain raging in her chest.

 Until she felt a trembling finger stroking her cheek, stealing a tear away.

 With her vision now restored, Ingrid saw the impossible: Sylvain, awake, the faintest smile he had given her on his face, whose finger was indeed against her cheek despite the weakness she could tell came from it. For a moment, a short moment, time stopped, until he broke down coughing and her heart started stinging again.

“’nice to see you, Ing,” he slurred as he looked at her, breathing still as heavy as it used to, glass-eyed and disgraceful all around. Yet, even in this moment of vulnerability on his part…

“…nice to see you too, Sylvain,” she tried to ignore that fact and hide her relief to see him conscious enough.

 It meant that, in another sense, she could finally do the one thing she should have done all along.

“Never, ever do that again. I don’t want to escort you out of the battlefield after harvesting your body like rotting wealth.”

“That’s not a… nice thing to say…”

“Do you think worrying me was a nice thing to do?”

If she couldn’t have hidden the tears forever, she surely couldn’t have pretended like she wasn’t blushing from embarrassment after dropping such a line. In fact, like a foolush beginner, she had stolen her own speech away from herself. Talk about a bad move on her part.

 “I… I made you worry…?” His voice was unnaturally groggy and low, as if gravel had infected his airways. It was like speaking to someone else altogether if she didn’t focus on his face.

“…of course you did. We’re friends.”

“Ah…” His expression was genuine, this much she could tell, but his sudden solemnity weirded out in some measure. “Sorry… I thought it’d do the opposite, but…” He coughed, yet smiled, and it confused her even further. “’was wrong.”

“You sure were…”

 They fell into some kind of constantly broken silence, wordless moments interrupted by coughing fits she had never wanted to hear and desired to see gone for the rest of their existences. Her heart continued aching against her bones, fatigue never truly coming to her senses, until Sylvain put her hand away from her face and she missed his undesired hotness.

“Y’know, I’ve always l’ved you, Ing…” He slurred, his face’s flushing making her unable to tell if it was genuine, just a delirium kind of side effect, or a plain joke. Considering the context, she scratched the last theory out on her quick mental list.

Not like she’d have possibly had the wittiness to reply to that in her usual fashion, not when she had feared for his life merely an hour ago all evening.

  “I…”

He’d forget that by the time morning rolled around, right? Someone like him wouldn’t have normally laid down his feelings like that. She could, maybe just this once, maybe because he was alive and she was more than happy about this fact, allow herself a confession of her own.

“It may have been reciprocal for a longer time that I thought.”

 Her response must have rendered him speechless, because all she saw him do was blush even further and almost faint on her.

“Hey, are you alright?!” She yelled without really realizing about it. “You should rest, that’s the only way you’ll win against this thing.”

She still didn’t know what the nature of the illness was exactly, but for now, she’d do without that piece of information. It wasn’t like she had dared asking or even thinking about it, it could have sent her into another wave of choked sobs if she had.

“I… s’pose you’re right… See ya later, Ing…”

“See you. Take care.”

 She waited for him to completely fall asleep before leaving the room, her heart still heavy from the concern, exhaustion of the day and sudden revelations that had showered on her out of the blue. It really hadn’t been the right moment to have those, this much was for sure.

Yet, tomorrow seemed a bit more promising now. She still felt helpless, useless on the surface, and her chest ached from seeing such a dear friend (this, she couldn’t deny anymore) in such a pitiful condition. Nonetheless, she left his room before she could give him the one thing he didn’t quite want in her opinion, her pity, and thought sleep would clear everyone’s minds out of whatever had bothered them during the day and made them endlessly stir.

Yeah, she just needed a good night of sleep and for him to be alright. It was a lot to ask for, but she’d be caught red-handed trying to get that to happen nonetheless.

-----------

By the time day rolled around, even if the fever was still clogging his brain, Sylvain hadn’t forgotten about their conversation.

Ingrid didn’t quite know what to make out of that realization.

----------

jokes on everyone (that includes me, a clown) I know very little about the game, it was just to make my good friend Azure smile and write even more angst

As such, I want to formally apologize if anyone is OOC beyond recognition.

#fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #ingrid brandl galatea #sylvain jose gautier #sylvgrid #sickfic #angst #introspection #stream of consciousness #bad things happen bingo #bthb 2 #otp: never would and never have

[roselevesque]

There's something about ships with the "falling in love with the one who may very well be my undoing" dynamic that just hit different

#lawlight #hannigram #l lawliet #light yagami #will graham #hannibal lecter #hannibal #death note #otp: the asshole and the frog #otp: ache & hunger #murder husbands

[melroesplace]

Gonna steal your question and ask for your top 10 ships of all time for Valentine's Day :D

Ok this is super late (and also super fucking long) because it took forever to narrow down my top 100 ships to only 10, but here we go:

1. Ron & Hermione (Harry Potter)

My very first OTP and still my favorite.  Their slow burn development from enemies to friends to lovers makes this the best relationship of the entire HP franchise.  Haters can deny it all they want, but these 2 have always and will always belong together.  Harry & Hermione would be together if Ron wasn’t around?  Nope, Hermione and Harry was pining for Ron when he was away in Deathly Hollows.  Ron & Hermione will get divorced because of their arguments?  Lol you thought, they are planning to renew their vows after 20 years of marriage.  I’m sort of gloating now, but Idc because this is one of the very few endgame ships I have.

2. Zuko & Katara (A:TLA)

In the exact opposite of what happened with Romione, this was my first ship that wasn’t canon and the first one to make me cry angry tears over the fact.   Zutara introduced me to the dark side of my fangirl, engaging in shipping wars, hating on Bryke for not getting them together even tho I should’ve known it was never gonna happen.  I’m not proud of everything my preteen self did in the Avatar fandom, but *tune of God Bless the USA* I’m proud to be a Zutarian, where at least there’s fans like me  They are twin flames, 2 sides of the same coin, and forever friends.  Plus, Dante Basco and Mae Whitman shipped them, so neener neener neener.  (Sorry, my 12 yr old fangirl came out a bit)

3. Katniss & Peeta (The Hunger Games)

#RelationshipGoals  That is all.  Ok, not really.  I love seeing a hardened badass fighter like Katniss with such a gentle soul like Peeta.  He is her anchor, she is his passion, and I am their bitch.  No matter how many times I read the books or watch the movies, I fall to pieces over them in the best way.  And to think when I first started reading the books, I was convinced Peeta would end up dead because all the signs seemed to be pointing that way.  I’ve never been so glad to be wrong in my life.

4. Magnus & Alec (Shadowhunters)

Let me start this off with #SaveShadowhunters.  I will miss Malec, I will miss the Malec fandom and I will especially miss the showrunners being so lovely to the fans.  After being disappointed by JKR, Bryke, Plec, and Shonda, it is such a relief to feel validated by a creator.  Todd, Darren, and Matt Hastings are real supporters of the LGBT community who actually listen to fans’ concerns and fight to include as much diversity as they can get away with.  I’ve never watched a show that treated an interracial same sex couple the same (or imo better) as all the other couples.  Magnus & Alec had me at “Who are you?” with their amazing chemistry.  I love one badass shadowhunter/warlock team who are also adorable boyfriends.

5. Jackie & Hyde (That 70s Show)

Sigh…..what could have been.  I will never understand how the writers could throw out such an amazing relationship after so many years together.  Jackie & Hyde are the epitome of the Opposites Attract trope.  Hyde is a sarcastic little shit and Jackie is a materialistic snob and they love each other exactly as they are.  He keeps her grounded and she makes him open up.  Since I don’t consider season 8 canon, I like to imagine Hyde opening up his own record shop in Chicago so that Jackie could pursue her dream.  They’re still together.

6. Isak & Even (Skam)

Just look at these pure babies!  You should really watch this show if you haven’t already.  I think you would love them and I don’t mind spoiling that they’re endgame so you don’t have to worry about that.  Evak probably have the hottest chemistry of everyone on this list, but they’re also 100% soft boyfriends.

7. Bonnie & Jeremy (Vampire Diaries)

TVD is responsible for at least a quarter of my ships, but Beremy was my first OTP from the show.  After watching everyone treat Bonnie like little more than a magic wand for over a year, it was nice to see someone want her simply for her.  Jeremy didn’t care about what Bonnie could do for him, he genuinely admired her strength and morals.  Bonnie stopped seeing him as her best friend’s kid brother and saw him for the hot, strong protector he is.  I will never forgive the writers for ruining their relationship twice, but I still head canon that Bonnie & Jeremy reunited as adults.

8. Harry & Uma (Descendants)

My favorite thing about Huma is that Harry is a hook wielding maniac who is also completely head over heels in love with Uma, a beautiful black girl who is Captain of their pirate crew.  He is unapologetic in how utterly devoted he is to her and even tho she keeps her feelings close to the vest, it is obvious Uma has a soft spot for her First Mate.  My least favorite thing about Huma is that despite the overwhelming evidence, I still don’t know if they’re an actual couple.  I hope D3 clears that up.

9. Dante & Ari (Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe)

*There are plenty of amazing fan art of them, I just couldn’t decide which one to post*

You should read this book if you haven’t already, it classic coming-of-age queer literature.  Ari is an introverted smart ass kid with no friends until he meets cinnamon roll Dante.  These are my favorite type of relationships to see/read, especially when its a slow burn like this.  Idk what else to say other than how much I love these two makes my heart ache in a good way.  Right after finishing the book, I went back and reread my favorite parts.

10. Kelly/Yorkie (Black Mirror)

My favorite wlw ship only appears on 1 episode of a tv anthology, that’s how amazing they are.  I relate so much to Yorkie, uncomfortable in my own skin and socially awkward.  All I want is someone like Kelly who can bring me out of my shell, but still love me for who I am.  Their relationship honestly gives me hope that even someone like me (with little relationship experience) can maybe find love.  You know, if I ever leave my damn house for anything other than work.

#Romione #Zutara #Everlark #Malec #Evak #Huma #Beremy #gifs not mine #Danielle #ask and answered #kelly x yorki #otps

[hejer-maomao]

Hello! ^^ I like the things you write, they're really cute! I was wondering if you could write something with a male mc and edgar? If you're uncomfortable with that (but I'm going to assume it's okay because you're writing some BEAUTIFUL Jonah x Lancelot) then a female mc?? It would be cool if you could do a sick MC with a high fever asking Edgar to stay with him. Thanks, your stories make my day! :D

Hey there! Aww ❤ Thank you so much sweetie! I can’t be any happier if I’m actually managing to make your days better!

Since the day I received your ask, I was dying to write you something cute that will hopefully make you smile! Unfortunately, I had to go through a literal pile of other requests before reaching yours, so I apologize for the long wait.

About your request of a male MC, I have absolutely no problems with it! It’s just that I’m much better at handling a female MC rather than a male one in my writings. JonaLot are the only exception since they are not a Suitor x MC ship but rather my Suitor x Suitor OTP.

In any case, although I’m not very familiar nor experienced with this, I tried my hands at a Gender Neutral MC, who will hopefully suit everyone’s tastes, since your request was simply too cute to turn down.

Okay, I think I blabbered enough! Let’s get down to it ❤

It was unbearably hot.

Too hot, yet still too cold. 

Sweat slowly trickled down your forehead and a sharp pain shot up your spine as you tried to move to a more comfortable position on your bed. You involuntarily shivered, trying but miserably failing in suppressing your moan of pain as you struggled to open your eyes, dizziness making the world spin violently around you.

You were well aware that rushing outside yesterday, without so much as a coat in the middle of the winter, falling into the ice-cold pond while attempting to catch up to the Creeks family and then waiting till the evening to take a warm shower was all going to come back and bite you in the ass, in the form of a painfully high fever.

A soft noise came from your left side, but you tiredly ignored it, wrapping your hands further around yourself, tightly squeezing your eyes shut to repress your pounding headache.

A soothing, pleasantry cold towel touched your scorching forehead, and you sighed in relief. 

Edgar’s gentle hands properly fixed the wet cloth, before laying a third fluffy blanket on top of you, softly chuckling when you buried yourself deeper into the new cocoon. 

A delicious aroma of soup was wafting through the air, and your stomach growled in hunger, reminding you that you have yet to eat anything since waking up. Your eyes, groggy and half-asleep, followed Edgar’s silent movements as he laid down a tray, holding a bowl of soup and some medicines, on your beside table, his perfect features subtly marred with worry.

“Do you think you can eat something? Jonah made sure to tell the chef to make you something light on your stomach.” 

Edgar pointed to the still-steaming bowl on the tray, his eyes gleaming in amusement as he remembered how panicked Jonah was, shoving the soup into his hands and basically ordering him to feed it to you.

You sluggishly managed to smile, slowly trying to sit up in your bed, lightly nodding your head in approval.

"Yeah, I think so. I’m feeling quite hungry by now.”

A relieved smile made its way to Edgar’s face as he carefully moved the tray to your lap, waiting until you successfully balanced it, before handing you a white napkin.

“I’m glad that you have your appetite back. It’s a positive sign.”

You hummed, and Edgar pulled a chair close to your bed, picking up the silver spoon on the tray, before reaching to your bowl.  

Your fever-ridden mind was slow to process the situation, as you only managed to blankly stare at your lover as he scooped up a small portion of the warm liquid, gently blowing on it before bringing it to your lips.

You blinked. Once, twice then your cheeks caught up in flames.

“Edgar, what in the world are you doing?”

Edgar innocently smiled, tilting his head to the side in the cute way possible.

“Feeding you?”

“That’s not the point! I am perfectly capable of feeding myself! See?”

You reached your hand to receive the spoon from Edgar, but your lover skilfully dodged you, taking the opportunity to smoothly nudge the spoon into your mouth. The warm liquid seeped into your throat, halting your protests, as you stopped to savor the delicious taste, anger momentarily forgotten.

“That wasn’t that hard, now was it?”

Edgar’s amused voice snapped you back into reality. You raised your head towards him, ready to lecture him, but you stopped once you saw his strange expression. 

Although Edgar was wearing his usual mischievous grin, his face was still tainted with imperceivable worry, well-hidden in the green waves of his jade eyes.

You opened your mouth to say something to your beloved, anything to make those gorgeous green gems regain their lovely shine, but Edgar softly placed one long finger on your lips, effectively stopping you from talking.

“Now, now. Sick people shouldn’t tire themselves out. Lay back down.”

Edgar guided your body back under the warmth of the blankets. Once he made sure that you have settled in, he removed the now dry cloth from your forehead, wet in again in the basin he brought a while back, before placing it back on your forehead.

You sighed again, relishing in the regained coldness against your feverish skin. You were now feeling sleep tugging at your eyelids, a deep ache settling in your bones and refusing to budge, urging you to rest up.

Hearing Edgar clean up the used utensils beside you, you cracked an eye open to see his affectionate gaze locked on your frame, verifying your well-being before announcing.

“I’ll be on my way now, alright? I’ll leave you to get some rest.”

Edgar moved towards the door, but his steps suddenly halted when your hand caught his sleeve.

“Stay with me.”

Edgar’s eyes widened in surprise, his body frozen in his spot. 

Few moments passed as Edgar’s brain seemed to process the situation, the softest smile replacing his trade mark grin as he span back to face you.

Eyes still closed, you tightened your hold on his sleeve, voice barely a whisper as you repeated your words again.

“Stay… with me.”

Edgar brought his free hand to cover his face, hiding the hints of red coloring his cheeks. A sigh escaped his kissable lips before he peeked at you again through the cracks of his fingers.

“So cute.” Edgar resignedly thought to himself, as he slowly placed the tray on your beside table. He sat back again, his fingers brushing the damp hair out of your face as he watched you sleep peacefully.

Leaning down to lightly peck your lips, Edgar softly mumbled.

“I love you.”

I hope you like the result, and I hope that my writings continue to make you smile ❤ 

Also, please feel free to request JonaLot from me if you want me to write from a male perspective! They’re the only ship that I drop everything in my hand to write about them 😂

My Ask Box is officially full to the brim! I’m going to close it very, VERY soon, in 2 to 3 more days, and it will probably stay closed for quite some time, since my exams are growing closer and I’m going to drown in studies in no time. For now, make sure to make the most out of my still open box! I’m looking forward to your asks!

#ikemen revolution #edgar bright #this is so not an accurate description of how fevers work! #this is basically how i feel when i'm ill #and my body is pretty fucked up #soo #also #i need more jonalot requests in my life #give me more!!!

[demyrie]

Maybe someone’s already asked, but do you have any other BNHA OTPs/Ships?

NO HISS ERASERMIGHT ONLY I AM A MONOSHIP GREMLIN no really that’s what it feels like sometimes looool, but I do have other ships I genuinely enjoy and cheer on! I’m a basic bitch though. No edgy shit here, just the FDA approved Standard Queer BNHA Ships. But thanks for asking even if I’m boring!!

SILLY SHIPPING BLA BLA TO FOLLOW

Kiddo shippos! *DAB*

I love love love TodoDeku. Like. Todoroki just breathing steam through his nose every time oblivious Deku enters a room, shining with friendship? YES. Shouto hangs the moon by his gaze and their vibe is so soft and centered on healing!!! Shouto needs it. He needs the green boy love and it’s pretty much canon he’s never had a friend before and they both come from backgrounds of neglect and HE DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO PEOPLE OR BOND and *nodsnods*

MOMOJIROUUUUUUU *SCREAMS* PREP PUNK TWITTERPATION NATION they’re so in love and fashionable i cant, the sheer amount of blushing involved in a first kiss I jUST

Shinsou/anyone pretty much? in my hc he has a crush on the entirety of 1A and it gives Aizawa a fucking stomach ache of nerves and dread just like CHILD AT LEAST PICK ONE but no not that one not deku anyone but deku SHIT

TSUYURAKA OR WHATEVER ITS CALLED *SCREAMS LOUDER* FLOATY FROG LOVE HOW ARE THEY SO SOFT AHHHH guaranteed they just binge netflix and eat cake and popcorn and cuddle and Uraraka gathers tsu to her tummy fluff so her frog girl can stay warm and happy aaaaaaaaa it reminds me of me and Rae!

canonically I do appreciate Dekuraka because just … *squints* if we’re gonna have a het midoriya it’s mcfuckin whoppercute ai’ght let him blush and be a twitterpated kid ok… 

IIDA/ANYONE LET MY BOY BE HAPPY. TodoIideku is pure bliss and any fractal of the triad is bliss. TodoIida is hilarious and wonderful -- their personalities are so funny, with Iida being SO EXTRA and Todoroki being singularly unflappable but also secretly Soft. But I also like Iida + Uraraka in context of tododeku?? Like ... they would be so cute ...

I love KiriBaku / Bakushima because it’s just s-s-s-so pure. Like, Kirishima is such a Good Boy that he melts Bakugou with the brightness of his smile and that’s a canonical miracle. The way the shippers portray it is just so emotional and the only way I can lock into ships with Bakugou is explosionboy finally chipping a little off of the ice block around his heart and realizing he can Emote Softly. Hopefully after Breaking Down in the Fucking Loudest Way because … necessary. (in the same vein occasionally I’ll reblog a BakuDeku something or other, but I only jive with that when they’re way way older and have obviously done the DIFFICULT work to come to terms with their past and all the abuse Midoriya has suffered. Just to head off the purity police, obviously not fetishizing or expecting romantic relationships to solve, or emerge from, bullying =__= Bakugou is a little shit and has done a lot of harm, and could have done even more, but he’s learning and that’s better than the alternative.)

Well, I’m gonna be honest, I OT3′d (triangle) the big 3 before their anime debut and wanted to write so much dirty fic about Nejire and Mirio basically coaxing and praising Tamaki into a three-way (not like it’s a first time but like it happens EVERY WEEK and they STILL HAVE TO COAX HIM and everyone involved loves it, praise kink +100000%) but now I think it’s Miritama and Nejire + her best friend who worships her cuteness? But I dunno I’ll have to see more Nejire. Man. Writing about the ot3 makes me wanna do it though ugh I’m weak.

Adult ships!

Erasermight shut up

Midnight/me yep thats one of my faves. I’m kidding I mean Midnight/everyone, I fucking dig MicNight and AllNight like woah, but also can’t see her being anything but aggressively and professionally poly. She would D E V O U R a monogamous mate, you gotta spread that hunger out man. I know there’s a Mount Lady/Midnight community but I haven’t dipped my toes in! (*pokes fingers together* I-I have an OC … in fact I think the only OCs I make are Midnight’s current partners or her exes, like in Newsflash … and I think I just realized that … whoops im gay)

I like Erasermic in an ‘Over There’ sense – I loooove the art and I loooove the silly-ass shippers and can see why people adore it, but it doesn’t push my buttons. I never read fic because I exhausted all my ‘pining for your best friend’ tropes in my younger years and that well is dry now haha.

NAOMIGHT. JUST. NAOMIGHT. *jumps up and down* I DONT KNOW HOW IT WORKS IN FICTION BUT I LOVE IT IN ART

DAVEMIGHT? DAVEMIGHT but in the past, and sad, it has to be sad otherwise i don’t cum

Toshinori/happiness tbh

NightMight maybe once I meet the man??? Again, toshinori/happiness always wins you don’t even have to twist my arm let the man be loved

Those are my ships! Sometimes I get asked for fic recs for other pairings but honestly, I absorb all of these in a visual sense, especially the kids. It’s hard for me to sit my ass on one ship and stan it with the same fervor as Erasermight because they’re KIDS. They’re all just so young and have so many defining moments to go through (such zygotes!!!!). I just feel super happy and full of anticipation watching Horikoshi develop them

But hey man!!! if anyone has any really good fic recs for the aforementioned ships, please send them over!! I am always open to wooing and quality and am deeply, deeply terrified of and overwhelmed by the amount of fan material out there. SO. probly not gonna find it on my own without a panic attack. *shrugs*

#demyrie talks #personal #bnha #miserableglassrabbit #kiribaku #bakudeku #uratsuyu #miritama #NightMight #davemight #MightyShield #naomight #tododeku #izuocha #momojirou #i love them all #want happiness for all my children even the grown ass adults