#can u imagine if people were saying this shit about any other art form

[finalgirlgretchen]

people on instagram r saying that anyone who enjoys gore in horror is an evil fucked up psychopath again :(

[mirrorforevers]

here, there, and everywhere • graham coxon/reader

this fic is based on two prompts y'all sent me:

and

this fic really tested all of my blur knowledge holy Fuck. blur as talking heads au i guess. how cool would it be if they

1. had a girl bassist instead of the cheese tory dude

2. werent as unhappy as they were in the mid 90s (just a bit)

3. were just a little 🤏🏻 bit more female friendly lets just pretend this is a universe where the blurjob passes didnt exist heh

it took me everything i had to make this sound as realistic as it could be. u know these girls who think they could fix patrick bateman or don draper? perhaps y’all could fix blur

consider this a gift n not only me writing for your prompt, @nottuned! thank u so much for all your support n encouragement n for always bein so sweet 🥺 i hope u enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

let’s see how many references to unfortunate britpop moments y’all can find in this

also i hope i captured the silliness of the gossip and drama in that era well. if you enjoyed it, please leave an ask telling me more! ur feedback is rly important to me 😔✊🏻

tw (?) reader has shitty parents

word count: 7.938 (this one's quite long!)

smut. set in the 90s. au.

You were unlocking your door when you heard your house phone ring. The shrill sound echoed through the empty corridors as you hurriedly unwrapped your scarf, tossing your keys and backpack on nearby furniture as you ran to answer the call.

“Hello?” You answer, panting.

“Y/N?”

“Dave?” You smile, that call was a very welcome surprise. Your friend owed you an answer.

-

A few weeks ago, Dave Rowntree, your music classmate who became a close friend, told you that he had teamed up with two other proficient musicians to form a band. Dave was ecstatic, and every day he had new stories about his new friends to tell you between breakfasts and lunches that you shared between the countless hours of rehearsals. Even though you weren't part of the group, you already felt that you knew Damon and Graham like the back of your hand. Yin and Yang. One was expansive, ambitious, vain, impulsive. The other, shy, introspective, anxious and careful.

Damon Albarn wanted to be an actor, Graham Coxon had a firm foot in the visual arts. One was a fan of grand classical compositions, the other was a Beatles fan. They had been friends since they were children, in a seemingly unbreakable bond. Damon dropped out of his theater class not only because out of a sudden he had found a bigger calling in music instead of acting, but also because he couldn't stand being away from his best friend for so long. You found yourself often imagining their faces and voices while trying to make all of the wild and endearingly funny stories Dave told you more tangible in your head.

It was not long before Dave started dropping little hints that they needed someone else for their project. “It’s not that Graham isn’t good at bass,” he’d say, “but we could do better.” It wasn't at the top of your plans to be part of a band right now, especially as you were preparing intensely to join the Royal Academy of Music, and he knew it. When you mentioned the conversations you had with Dave about the boys on your family dinner, in quiet wonder and timid want of being part of something really exciting, your parents wrinkled their noses. Focus on the greater things, they’d say. Don’t let these boys distract you from your goal.

Our goal, they meant to say. Since you were born, you never knew if the things you wanted were really your will or theirs.

But anyway.

That dynamic went on for a while, until the day Dave invited you to audition for them while you shared a Diet Coke in the tube home.

“Will it take too much of my time?” You asked, coyly.

“Bold of you to assume we’ll let you in that quickly.” He chuckles, amused by your confidence. You playfully elbow him in return. He knew how good you were at what you did, though, and there’s lightness in his tone when he continues, “But no, unless you let it. You’ll probably have to stand up to Damon every once in a while.” He sips the drink, handing it over to you.

“What about Graham? How much is he determined to make it big?”

“Damon’s the one who wants it the most. Graham’s studying Fine Arts at Goldsmiths, so. There’s still cautiousness in him.”

“Huh. Okay then.” You reply, thoughts running wild. “Do we have a time and date?”

“Is tomorrow ok to you?”

“Sure. After our class?”

“Perfect.” The train reaches his station. He ruffles your hair: “See you tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

You don’t tell anything about it to your parents, you just warn them that you’ll arrive a bit later than usual. Dave’s intel was crucial to your choice of songs: knowing Graham was the beatlemaniac and also the rational brake to Damon’s tireless ambition, you knew who to please and have as an ally, so you build an innovative and fresh mashup of Paul McCartney’s greatest basslines to play for them. Of course it could backfire, but you didn’t care. You had a hell of a good ear anyway and if Damon wanted you to play anything out of the blue, you would improvise beautifully over it.

The day comes. You didn’t know why you were that nervous for an amateur audition. You weren’t even sure if it was the right path to follow, given that, depending on how focused Damon really was and how contagious his aspiration was, being part of a band could really take you out of your predestinated course. The reason why you were so nervous, now thinking a little more about it, may be because deep inside, you want your path to be a little less predictable. You didn’t want to fill your heart with hopes that you might make it big and travel all over the world because you didn’t even know them. But… what if it clicks? You knew some people in the scene whose work was getting seriously recognized out there.

Meeting them for the first time was an enigmatic experience. Damon was incredibly brash and cocky - not the first theater kid you’ve met in your life. Graham was way more approachable, though also a bit conceited when pushed just right. You wondered if you’d fit in that boys’ club, and decided you wouldn’t be an easy target for discredit or any kind of shit they might give you. “Took me a while to fully get their trust. You’ll do just fine”, Dave said, out of their earshot.

That gave you more fuel to play amazingly well. Damon definitely wasn’t one to be impressed quickly, but he was, when you finished your set. So was Graham - Graham was starry eyed with your performance, actually. Albarn showed you a song and asked you if you could improvise to it, just as you imagined. Of course you could, on the first play. You even suggested some adjustments to its structure. Your feedback was welcomed and noted.

-

Even though everything went surprisingly well, you still weren't sure if you would be a member of “Seymour”, as they called themselves. (You knew it wasn’t the best name, but you didn’t have a better suggestion at the time so you’ve kept your opinion to yourself.) Graham became eerily quiet out of a sudden and wouldn’t cross eyes with you the entire time you were there. Damon, well, was Damon. Perhaps he thought you were too ordinary and mainstream for deciding to play Beatles when he’s trying to be the new avant-garde Jesus.

But Dave's news was different than you expected. “They really, really enjoyed your audition. As I thought they would.” You can hear the smile in his voice. "When can you rehearse with us?"

-

Months after, on your first gig as a fully formed and integrated band, Damon was hit in the face by a guy twice his size, Graham vomited onstage and you and Dave had to take care of both. A beautiful way to close the already exquisite day you had, after you fought with your parents, got kicked out of your childhood home and gave up on entering the Royal Academy of Music two days after you received your acceptance letter featuring rave reviews of your entrance exam.

Dealing with these boys - no, grown-ass men - was hard, but not completely unpleasant. If it were totally unpleasant, you wouldn’t give up on your entire life to embark on such an adventure.

You - plural you - were so gifted and Damon’s compositions were so good. You could see that artsy pretentious mess of an act going somewhere. Of course, you were a bit lost in your life, but so were they, as you ran from city to city meeting new people and trying new things in your journey to fame.

Loneliness, once a close friend, became a distant acquaintance. One you didn’t know anymore.

You confess you were getting worried, though, with how much money you had left on your savings and how much you were spending lately now that your parents weren’t an active part of your life. Wanting to eat something you cannot dream of buying without that money being really useful in a much more critical situation, not having nearly enough money to replace something important that broke or got torn off was frustrating. Some basic things became luxuries out of a sudden.

One day in particular, you very briefly mentioned that you were dying to eat a slice of chocolate cake, but your voice was so small and everyone was so immersed in their duties you thought no one gave two shits to what you said. Two days later, Graham arrived late at rehearsal with a small chocolate cake in his hands, handing it over to you like it was a completely ordinary act. Nothing in the way he acted told you he expected a reward, it was so natural and… gentle. You knew no one in your band could buy a chocolate cake without it being apocalyptic to their personal finances during that time.

That day, you were assured by fate that feeling lost together was better than feeling guided alone.

-

The band finally got on track - strictly musically speaking. Personally speaking, many contemporaries who followed you at parties and other events described you as an ever-growing odd, annoying and intermittently disarming bunch - and Blur and its members became household names, at least in the UK. It became harder and harder everyday to impose yourself as an entire industry and its target public aimed to tear you down. Men couldn’t understand.

(Graham Coxon was the one who tried the hardest to.)

It was four in the morning. You’ve got used to following your bandmates to hospitals, running away from trouble or knowing when to relish in it. But it was the first time you offered yourself to clean up dried blood from one’s face, given how much you hated seeing the fluid and even fainted when younger whenever exposed to it.

You, so delicately, wipe the saline solution-soaked cotton across Graham’s face, who flinches at the cold sensation on his still sensitive skin. He stares at you with the eyes of a child, and you couldn’t help but give him a slight, warm smile in return, which he retributes. Your face conveyed gratitude and affection towards the one you were taking care of. Your hands still struggled to stay completely still after the surge of adrenaline your body received a few hours ago.

Being the only girl in a massive band, and one the music magazines and mainstream media loved sexualizing, meant having paparazzis in your window in odd hours (not that that’s acceptable in any hour, but you had to lower your standards even more these days), meant having different photographers trying to pressure you to get into all kinds of uncomfortable angles with skimpy-ass dresses and just count on the intervention of your fellow bandmates so they would stop, also having invasive male fans who would try to harass you in any way they could.

Of course the day where one of your bandmates would get into a fist fight with one of these men inserted into these categories would come. And even though they were all protective of you, each in their own peculiar, increasingly contradictory way, Graham’s dedication to it was sometimes commendable.

You were making your way through a small corridor of people on your way to the stage when a random guy cupped one of your breasts. It’s not like the venue was incredibly tight, it could not have been on accident and it made your blood boil. You turned around to scream at him, and Graham, who was just behind you, threw a punch directly towards the man’s face, without thinking twice.

And oh boy, took a lot of people and a sweet amount of time to separate the two after that.

After all was said and done, Graham had a few scratches, a black eye and a cut brow. He kept dodging your many “sorrys”, “you didn’t have to do this” and other expressions of guilt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, he deserved it”, he kept assuring you, like a mantra, just giving in to your pleas when you supplicated to take care of his wounds during intermission and after the show.

“I get why you did what you did, Gra. I hate that you took such a risk because of me, but I understand.” you say, voice cracking from not using it for a while after spending some good minutes in complete silence taking care of him. “However,” you soak another cotton ball in the saline solution a roadie got you, punctuating the word with a squeeze to the cotton to remove excess liquid. “I was worried sick about you. What if he… had a knife or something? You could’ve got seriously injured. Or killed.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly able to have a good fight,” after wincing from the contact of the cold wet cotton with his dried blood, he purses his lips in a forced, shy smile, trying to light up the mood. He notices your hands are still shaking from the adrenaline, and takes one of them in his bigger ones, trying to calm you down. The fact that he did this for you, coupled with the fear and how tired you felt of having to go through that kind of situation once again, made you cry-laugh from how overwhelmed you felt.

His expression changes to one of pure compassion in an instant. “Hey, don’t--oh my,” he gets up from his chair to embrace you as you pour your frustrations through fat tears running down his shoulder.

“It’s so exhausting,” you mumble, through sobs. “Now I’m putting you in danger too. I feel like I did and I’m still doing everything wrong. I should be the one giving you a shoulder to cry on.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong! Anything at all, I promise you,” he says, tenderly, running his hands through your hair, still holding you tight. “It was his fault! I decided it was the right thing to do. You’re worth the risk. What people have been putting you through is unacceptable.”

“I’m not worth the risk!” You break apart from his arms, trying to get your point across. “What would I do without you if someone killed you? You need to be more careful!”

The silence hangs heavy between you two thanks to the weight of your words.

“You should’ve asked me before you lunged at him, at least. I don’t know.” You wipe your many tears as you move towards the nearest bottle of water to try to calm yourself down. “It’ll never end. I’m so afraid that these situations will get even worse. That,” you motion at his wounds and dirty clothes, “is a bloody tragedy. It’s a tragedy things escalated to this point. You can’t do that forever.”

“This is just a consequence. And something I would do for you in a heartbeat whenever necessary.”

“Graham, I don’t want you to get hurt because--”

“They hurt you. I won’t let you go through that alone. Besides,” he comes closer to you again. “As I already told you, I can take care of myself, most of the time.” He takes your face in his hands, his fingers so delicately running across your cheeks to dry your tears. You knew that gesture wasn’t his way of asking you for anything you weren’t ready to give him yet. He just wanted you to feel safe. “And I want to take care of you.”

“I’m the one cleaning your wounds.”

“A great partnership, I think.” Coxon chuckles softly, and finally gets a smile out of you. As he always does. “And they make me look cool, don’t you think?”

“Shut up.” You giggle, still feeling too emotional to return to the stage. You sigh: “Thank you for being there for me. You know I’m still not very used to it. Just please be safe.”

The roadie returns, a little flustered by interrupting your little moment together. “5 minutes and you’re back, guys.”

“Okay!” You both turn to answer her.

“I’ll be. No need to thank me for anything, Y/N.” He answers, giving your forehead a little kiss. “Let’s go.”

“Give me two minutes. I’ll be right behind you.”

-

“What’s it like, being the only woman in the band?”

Four eyerolls at once don’t seem to faze the interviewer. She waits for your response.

Apparently the thousand invasive questions regarding Damon’s love life and the same bullshit treatment of women as either rare specimen or sex dolls is what pleases the audience of music TV shows these days.

“What do you think?” is what you say.

“Must be a thrill to have these beautiful boys around you all the time. And we’ve heard you never even took advantage of it!”

You don’t like where this is heading. “Is that… a bad thing? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Perhaps some of our lady viewers might think it is. No judgement though!” She raises her hands. “You do you, it’s just that it’s quite unexpected to see prudes in non-Christian bands. I mean… from what we’ve heard.”

“I’m sorry? What are you trying to say? What did you hear?”

Her tongue clicks while she stares at you with defiance and mischief on her eyes, as she goes a little further and raises her voice so it can overlay yours. “Oh love. You do know what I’m talking about. There’s no need to be ashamed of being a virgin.”

Your cheek burns intensely and the only thing you wished for was for the ground to swallow you whole. Dave and Graham are especially uncomfortable. Damon’s a bit amused. The three knew almost everything there was to know about you. The one topic that surprisingly they didn’t know about is that you’re still a virgin.

They know you’ve been single for a long time. They know that’s part of what draws so much attention and twisted lore regarding you and your past, but that’s not something they felt they needed to know about you at all, and you truly never felt the need to comment about that with any of them, and they haven’t asked. Not even Mr. “the way to be successful in this game is to make all the boys wanna be you and all the girls wanna sleep with you. In your case that’d work in reverse” Damon Albarn.

“Is that even something that should be discussed in an interview about our music? Is that what your boss told you to ask her about?” Dave answers, his tone venomous.

“Musicians are way more than just music. You’re entertainment in every sense of the word.”

“Who told you that about me?” You asked, not sure if you want to know the answer.

“A lovely elderly lady who lives in Elgin Crescent. She knows you so well.”

That’s your mum. That’s how far low your relationship has degraded. You’re not surprised. That doesn’t feel less like a punch on your gut, but you don’t feel like tumbling again. Not today.

“I know who you’re talking about. Tell her I asked her to go fuck herself and burn in hell. In that order.”

“But that’s your--”

“Yes, she is my mum!” If people are going to expose you anyway, then why don’t you do it on your terms? “We’re truly entertainment in every sense of the word, aren’t we. Not everyone’s mum’s a cunt. Some of us aren’t that lucky.”

“You want to be the next Gallagher sister with the spicy remarks?”

“Not sure. But I do want to be the last person you ever get to interview.”

-

The management of the band wasn’t at all surprised your interview became UK’s topic of the week. People were heavily divided between family is family and we shouldn’t hate our relatives and blood isn’t everything, family can be shitty too. Your bandmates were proud of you. The management was angry but tried to understand, and didn’t press you for further explanations. They suggested a two-week break from everything so Blur could rest their image and start a fresh cycle after that, and you gracefully accepted it.

The whole thing seemed so ridiculous the more you thought about it. Did your mum tell the reporter about that gratuitously? What was their conversation like? How did that even happen?

You became the butt of jokes in some places. You saw other famous people doing challenges between them, countdowns, all sorts of crude remarks. What a pathetic, sad chapter of your career.

You dial Graham, and you feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

“Hey, Gra. It’s me.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He sounds pleasantly surprised. “How's it going?”

“Better, I guess. I have to take my mind off all that chaos though. Are you available right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been owing me a movie night for quite a while now and I miss spending time with you. Wanna come over?”

“Aww. Sure, I--um. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“I’m pretty sure I got everything we need here--ah… I think I don’t have any more beers.”

“I’ll buy some then. See ya in a few minutes.”

Actually, you couldn’t take all that chaos off your mind because that was the only thing in it. You’re feeling so nervous.

The main reasons sex wasn’t a priority for you until now were:

You didn’t have any real opportunities of losing your virginity in your teens. You were impossibly introspective until, like, 3, 4 years ago, and the way your family worked hasn’t really allowed you to get really close to people. Be it boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends. Anything that threatened to take time off the various tasks and classes your parents assigned to you just couldn’t be part of your life. To be honest, you still struggled a bit to form meaningful connections with people thanks to how you grew up.

The moment you stopped being shy, you noticed it was a real man’s world out there, especially in music, classical or not. You didn’t want anyone to think you fucked your way up to the top, you didn’t want any messy affairs. Also, you had yourself, and you didn’t get all of the hype regarding the concept of screwing someone. But apparently there’s a lot you’ve been missing, given the importance people seem to give to it. After that incident, even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t give in to any kind of misogynistic pressure, that was one that really got under your skin.

You never really found someone who you felt 100% safe with in that sense until the one who’s about to arrive at your house appeared in your life. Bloody hell, and you don’t even have anything romantic going on. By the time you were a Blur member, you’ve fooled around a bit, but not all the way. You knew how to kiss, knew how to touch yourself and even brought manual satisfaction to some random fool you thought you were into one time. But perhaps this is the time to go all the way. Why not? Everyone knew how close you two were. He made you feel special. He was so kind. And gorgeous. And--

You hear a knock on your door. It’s him. Beers in hand, hair somewhat in place, twitchy as ever.

He comes inside and you feel like your legs will give up anytime. It was not the first time he visited you. It was one of many, actually, and he noticed you were acting… different.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks after a brief dialogue between you two, after plating some snacks for both of you.

“Graham...” You sigh, being really careful with your words. “What is your perception of me?”

“My perception of you?” He smiles. “I… think you’re great. You’re fun to be around. You’re one of the best musicians I know, if not the best. Why are you asking me that?”

“N-nothing. It’s nothing. Also, I asked the wrong question. What was your first perception of me?”

“Uh… the day of your audition?”

“Exactly. You barely talked to me that day.”

His eyes lower to his own feet. “I was really timid, actually. I wasn’t used to being near any girl, especially one who… w-would spend so much time around me if everything went well.”

You giggle. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never!” his smile turns into a full blown laughter. You melt at his confession. “Also because it seemed like you were trying to read my mind or something.”

“Of course! Because I thought you hated me!” Now that was a laughter you two shared. You do a voice: “‘Why is that pesky girl trying to get in my band?’”

“My goodness, no! I don’t even sound like that - you know what, I changed my mind. You suck. Because, besides the fact you don’t even know what I sound like, you still haven’t told me why you are asking me that in the first place.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he slightly cornered you physically in one of the kitchen corridors. Graham could be really persuasive when he wanted to.

“Okay. Right. Um. I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”

“What, exactly?”

“Everything that happened this month. The great virginity debacle,” you roll your eyes, and he scoffs.

“You don’t own anyone any information about what you do or don't do with your life. Everyone’s being so invasive. That was incredibly childish of the reporter to do, and we talked about that hundreds of times.”

“Yeah, but… you know what, forget it.”

“Tell me, Y/N. I just said that because I want you to know you were not in the wrong.”

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s silly for me to… keep closing myself for affection. Any kind of affection.”

“What are you talking about?” His brows furrowed in curiosity.

“I’m not sure if it’s the pressure that finally got under my skin, but… I’m willing to learn what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s silly that I’m still a virgin.”

He bites his lips, still processing what you just said, expression unreadable. Perhaps you’ve treaded a ground you shouldn’t. You step back both literally and figuratively. “I’m sorry I even brought that up--”

“No, no, don’t be.” He assures you. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all. I swear.”

“And...” You know what. You already went too far, so why not go all the way. You’ve already gone way past the point of no return. “I was wondering if… you would… popmycherry?”

His eyes widen, yours still closed. When you finally open them, he’s closer to you again.

If his head was a machine, you’re sure it would be releasing lots of steam and shaking due to overprocessing. You felt like you just ruined everything.

“Y/N, you don’t need to do it if you don’t really want to.”

“But I want it! At first I thought I didn’t, but then I thought...”

“I don’t want to be part of that if you’re just doing it to fulfill weird expectations.”

“But it’s not that. Not just... that. I asked about your perception of me because I really like you, Gra. I think we should be more than friends and I wanted to know what you think about me. And I want to know what the fuss is about, yes, but I’m not telling you that just so I can lose my virginity to prove some point. I’m telling you that because I like you, I want to kiss you, and I think it would be a great idea if you showed me what it’s like. Y-you know, sex.”

“I-I can’t believe it. Did you even have any movie in mind?” His smile’s back, but you’re still not confident about what his answer will be.

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. You don’t have to--”

He sighs. “I was in love with you the moment I first saw you, actually.” He says it like he’s releasing a huge load out of his back, his arms crossed. Now your eyes widen, and you hold your breath without even noticing. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I know how you feel, or, felt about relationships, so… there wasn’t any reason for me to tell you that. And what I said about being timid was just half of the truth.”

“Huh?”

“I also was really intimidated by how pretty you looked. You can’t imagine how.”

“No way.”

“It’s true. I felt like I wasn’t even worthy of looking at you, really.”

“You’re joking. That’s mean, Gra.”

“I’m not. I’m really not.” He doesn’t look like he is joking. He looks relieved. “I’m really not. That’s why I’m so surprised by your request.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“You are everything to me. But I can’t accept your offer, not now.”

“Are you… seeing someone? Am I too late?”

“No. Definitely not. I just want you to be sure you’re not doing it because people are saying you should.”

“Graham, I’m a grown woman.”

“I know.”

Graham carefully presses his slightly chapped lips to yours, kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds before pulling away; his voice is impossibly silky when he suggests, “Let’s watch a movie. How about The Godfather? I heard it’s airing tonight. Then, if in two weeks you don’t change your mind, tell me and I’ll be glad to help you with what you want. Do we have a deal?”

“That’s so unfair. I want you so bad.” You whisper.

“Tell me if you still do in two weeks.”

You sigh, defeated. “...Deal.”

-

You definitely notice the subtle shift in Graham’s personality and actions after that fateful night. If you were already close, both figuratively and literally, it now seemed like he would use any excuse to always touch you, be near you, sometimes tease you. The shift was subtle, though, don’t forget it’s still Graham Coxon we’re talking about - the constant “is it okay if”s or “is it alright if I”s were still there, as careful as ever. You don’t even talk about your deal that entire time, or even kiss again - sometimes you wondered if it was even real or just a fabrication of your mind.

The way he now caressed your hand discreetly when you listened to Damon’s ramblings, the way his hands now went directly to your waist when your games became too handsy, the way he seemed to be madly in love with everything you were and still are from the start - made you realize you were ready for this man to be a consistent part of your life.

The dust of the controversy was settled, and your own intentions were 100% clear to you now. The societal pressure has waned. The need for Graham to be your first persisted. After exactly 2 weeks have passed, you call him again, yearning to share the answer with him.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

Four beeps. “Hello?”

You release a sigh hidden deep inside of your lungs. “Graham, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh. It’s been two weeks.” You could hear the contemplative tone of his voice.

“...Yeah. That’s precisely the reason I’m calling you.”

“Do you still want to…?”

“...Desperately.”

“Ok.” He chuckles, flustered as hell on the other side of the phone, probably one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “Right. Ok. Your place or mine?”

“I think there’ll be an element of mystery if I go to your place this time.” You lose some of the constraints this silly shyness has been tying you on. “Do you have everything we might need there?”

“We don’t need a dungeon, you know.”

“The basics.” You make your smile heard.

“I do have… I do have the basics.”

“See you in a few minutes then.”

“Will you want to… ease into it? Or just go straight to it?”

“God, don’t make it awkward!” Your cheeks burn, your smile turning into contagious laughter. “Maybe… I don’t know. Ease into it, I guess? A movie night… but with s-something else?”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Alright then. See you.”

“See you.”

-

You don’t choose any particularly fancy or sexy clothes, instead settling for a slightly oversized yellow striped shirt he gave you as a birthday present some months ago and some skirt that fit you well. He wasn’t one to lavish his loved ones with gifts all the time, but few things were as precious as the look on his face whenever he saw you wearing something he gave you or, hell, even eating something he paid for you. You’re thrilled to see it again when he opens the door for you, it easing some of your deepest doubts.

2001: A Space Odyssey is already playing on the TV when you arrive. Despite it being one of your favorite movies of all time, and his, you’re not mad it was already halfway through when you arrived. It wasn’t your main priority to rewatch it for the 17th time tonight.

He offers you some wine, which you accept to ease the nerves. You sit on his couch, and he shares the cozy space with you, now mindlessly throwing one of his arms around your shoulders. You cuddle up to him, and everything seems peaceful in the world for a while.

The tip of his fingers softly caress your lifted knee, absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but notice how well his body fits with yours, how your skin was apparently made for him to touch, and the anxiety rumbles in your stomach like a storm in a wild wavy sea. After some minutes, you raise your head, his big brown eyes meeting yours as if asking you a silent question. You leaned up a bit more to press your lips to his, in a silent answer. The sweetness in him makes this moment as precious as every other moment you ever shared with him. His hands enter your hair, making you shiver a bit from the unfamiliarity and the electricity of it all - but it doesn’t sway you from deepening the kiss, wanting more of his taste, more of this, more of him.

“Do you wanna take this to the bed?” He whispers, after noticing your moans were becoming more frequent and needy. You nod, and you are taken by surprise when he carries you bridal style to it, hiding your excited giggles in his broad shoulders.

Graham wasn’t exactly the most organized man in the world - so the fact that his bedroom was now impossibly tidy was something that positively caught your attention. He put some planning into this. He lays you down and you part your legs, beckoning him to meet you between them. He does, and you go back to the breathtaking makeout session. You notice he’s holding himself back a bit, taking his time, his warm tongue moving smoothly, not hurriedly, against yours. His self control falters a bit though, given how he can’t stop grinding against you. You follow the rhythm of his hips a bit timidly and not nearly as in sync as you’d really like, though the pressure his covered cock is creating against your core can already be felt and some particular thrusts are able to fill at least partially the aching, wet need growing within you.

“How do you feel about oral?” He asks, breath warm near your ear, his voice raspy and spent by his desire for you.

“Um… It would be my first time receiving or doing it.”

“Would you like me to go down on you?”

“Wow. I never thought I would hear you saying something like that.” You smile, still assimilating the situation you’re in, trying not to show how badly his voice is affecting you. “Sure.”

“I never thought I would get to propose this to you. Aren’t we full of surprises lately.” He smiles back, warmly. He notices your hands trembling a bit from how anxious you are while you’re taking off your underwear with his help, and as he lowers himself to where you need him most, he takes your hands in his as an act of reassurance. “Tell me what you like. Tell me if what I’m doing works for you. I want this to be a great experience.”

“You want me to get addicted to you, that’s what you want,” He chuckles, lovingly kissing your thigh as a reply. “Okay, Gra. Guess I’ll find out along the way.”

You quickly take a peak below you to see the lower half of his face disappear in the middle of your thighs. The sight alone sets your fire ablaze, as he hooks his arms around your thighs and lifts you closer to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the curls between your legs tantalizingly and his breath catching when your hips jerk forward.

As he begins his ministrations, you immediately notice it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. That feeling was completely alien to you. It was even wetter than you expected, and weird, but powerfully pleasant. Before this exact moment, you had a firm belief that hardly anyone else would make you feel the same way, or better, than you do yourself, but apparently you were very wrong. Thankfully you were wrong. “My god,” you gasp as the flat of his tongue drags over your folds, too much and not enough, and you jerk at the contact. “This is great. So weird, but-- great.”

He moans at your response, his movements carefully enthusiastic. He works his tongue between your folds and traces up to curl the tip of it around your clit, and it’s quite endearing and madly arousing to see how he eats out you like you’re the sweetest and tastier dessert he has ever tasted. You involuntarily buck against him with a desperate sound the moment he moves his tongue and lips in a particularly wicked way, something that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but you still feel the need to highlight in case it didn’t - “That. Keep doing that, please,”

And he does. The building of this climax is also different than the ones you already had by your own hands, and is more coy. As he sees the drops of sweat sliding along your soft skin and the expressions on your face as you get lost in this new but enchanting sensations, his hesitation and self-control fades away; there’s nothing uncertain in the way he buries his face in your cunt now, nothing restrained in the groan he lets out as he devours you and drinks you down as if you’re the first stream of water he has seen in days.

His tongue glides deeper in your folds again and again, swirling up through the wetness you’re coated with to tease at your clit while he grunts and strains closer, squeezing your thighs with both hands tight. The wave of heat inside of you is cresting so fast, you don't even know how to tell him, how to signal that you’re nearly done for and, in the end, it happens too fast to even try. He sucks at your clit, circling it with his tongue, once, twice, and then you’re crying out, shaking underneath him, trying to keep your thighs from clenching too hard around his head as he laps you through it with with urgent whimpers and moans, as if he cannot have enough of you.

You’re still trembling when he rises, the look on his face revealing to you how proud he feels by making you feel this way. It looks so good on him.

You fail miserably at the simple task of connecting words together after that, choosing instead to collect your remaining strength, prop yourself up and beckon him again to keep kissing him and learn, through his talented tongue, how you taste. He kisses the thin fabric of the shirt at your chest that covers you from view, your throat, your jaw, and before he reaches your impatient lips, he notes, sinfully, “Seems like you enjoyed yourself, love.”

“That was… unbelievable. Stars, I want to make you feel good too. Please show me how.”

“Keep kissing me,” he begs, voice still strained from how aroused he is. “I want to be inside you so bad. Let’s get you prepared.” You’re still so sensitive, you tread on overstimulation when his fingers lightly touch your clit, making you break the kiss in a hiss. He traces a line on your folds, inspecting the impact his mouth had on you. “So wet for me.”

“Bit slower, Gra,” He complies to your breathy plea, his fingers now more tame as he slowly spreads your wetness throughout your pussy. He stretches towards the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, interrupting his contact to spread some on his fingers before unhurriedly slipping his middle finger inside of you. The coldness of the gel makes you shiver in surprise, the easiness brought by it very welcomed. Again - the sensation is odd. Completely unfamiliar. The feeling of having something inside of you for the first time, going further than you ever dared to try, probing, exploring; the coldness of the lube clashing against your burning hot cunt. But it also felt nice. The focused look on his face was adorable, he looked like he was a scientist in the middle of very complex research.

Despite the panting, the messy hair and the fire in his eyes.

Your body already has a lot of new sensations to process simultaneously, so when he asks you to take off your bra and shirt so his tongue can work on your nipples - which you gladly accept, you feel like you’re on sensual overload. His tongue, again, so talented, takes your mind off the slight burning you feel when he introduces his ring finger to your soaked, throbbing core, his focused, carefully overpowering and constant stimulation driving you insane.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, voice muffled by your breast. You nod, carried by the wave of pleasure sweeping you.

“Yes. God, yes.” You pant, tangling your fingers tightly on his thick hair as an encouragement, a desperate sound escaping from your lips the moment he reaches a certain point within you you didn’t even know existed, hot mouth continuing to lick and suck your nipple. Even though you were spent by your last orgasm, he was indeed getting you addicted to those new feelings, and even though this was heavenly, truly heavenly, you needed more. “Gra, I’m ready, I think.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Releasing your nipple from his lips with a sounding pop, he eagerly frees himself from his trousers - hard as a brick - and puts protection and lubrication on, swiftly positioning himself between your thighs while stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You motion to take off your skirt, and he holds your hand, not letting you. “Don’t. It’ll be really hot to fuck you in this.” He confesses, giving your forehead a kiss in a very different context than before. He aligns his forehead with yours, each of your lips just barely touching while you breathe each other’s air. He looks deep into your eyes, slowly running the tip of his cock between the slick folds of your pussy, coating himself in the remnants of your pleasure. “Do you trust me?”

You trust me to know your limits? Not to go any further if you don’t really want me to?

“Absolutely.”

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head. You feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, as he finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck. He then, very slowly, penetrates you, stopping when he hears the noises you make indicating you’re struggling to adjust to his presence. Out of everything you’ve felt in the last minutes, this was by far the most painful sensation. “This-- is new,” you note, your face completely incapable of hiding the discomfort. He also notices that.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

“It’s okay. I’ll get used to it.”

“It’s not supposed to be about endurance, you know.” He says, a bit breathless and worried, caressing your hair. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Or if you feel too much pain.”

After some long seconds and some deep breaths, you say: “Okay. Go on.”

“As you wish.”

He moves inside you at a very slow pace, the lubrication clearly making it easier for you to handle it. It still hurts, significantly, but the sensation of being filled is also surprisingly arousing.

His hand moves to your sensitive clit again in small, measured circles, your little moans being a mixture of the pain of penetration and the sheer ecstasy of seeing him falling apart because of you. The way his chest heaves while the drops of sweat start pearling his fair skin, the furrowed brows and broken groans, the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room - everything’s making your chest burst in love and satisfaction. You tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow; it stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you, and Graham becomes even more vocal as he picks up a steady and gradually faster pace. He turned all of your keys, it’s about time you turn some of his.

“Graham, deeper,” you whimper, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. His name rips itself from your throat while Coxon clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. He found denying you to be impossible.

He snarls and curses as he holds you down and rails you, determined to make you sing again before he finishes, and to his delight, your heightened sensitivity gives him what he wants. And this time, he couldn't hold on.

Graham kisses you one last time as he groans and gives in, head dropping to your neck again. You didn’t reach a second climax, but stars, what an experience you just had.

When he comes back to himself enough to realise he still had you practically folded in half, he carefully pulls his softening cock free, taking the condom off and taking the strands of hair out of your face as you struggle to catch your breath. You suggest a shared bath, a suggestion he gladly accepts.

Too tired and too sore for pillow talk, comfortable silence falls as your hand finds his, and you lay, listening to each other’s breathing slowly settle.

I could get used to his little snore on my chest, is the last thought that twinkles on your mind before you fall asleep snuggled with him.

[fakeloveaskblog]

Hi, me again. Maybe at some point after the story is finished you could show us the different paths that we could have taken. No pressure if you don’t want to I just thought it might be cool to see the what ifs.

Glow Eyes

jfhfd when I said jot down my ideas I meant jotting it down in my head. Sadly i don't really keep any notes or spreedsheets so once a path has been decided i usually forget it tho i can say some recent paths i havent forgotten yet

First of Remy wasn't supposed to be this open with Remus about their substance abuse problems. They were gonna hide it but getting understanding messages from the watchers convinced them.

If Remy had moved in with Janus they wouldn't have tried to real themself in as much to avoid triggering Remus so they would be much more prone to hurting themself/get high. Even maybe bringing home other people to Janus' place. Which u can imagine Jan wouldn't react well to. Also Remy wouldn't have gotten as romantically close to Remus tho and it would have taken Remus longer to get motivation to make art again

I think going to the aquarium has been an option a few times now? which could lead into a meet up with a certain someone

Patty and Rowan were never planned to start dating btw. That was just bc y'all seemed to like them together lmao

Janus has a fucking snake bc of y'all

somehow the fuckingfihj the snails have befhsdkghfd have succesfully preventened Oswald form ebing able to harm anyonehkjdhfgj. im sorry its so funny to me i immediately start laughing thinking about it. and by anyone i mean like random people around him not like one of our guys

I think it was Demon who told Remy that Oswald was Remus' ex and if they didn't know that they would have become friends with him and there could have even been a possibility that they would have willingly moved in with Os instead of Rem or Jan bc Os is a good manipulator and Remy only has self preservation if it means keeping someone else safe. they could hve also willingly gotten romantic with him and more. So good Demon said that fdhkjghdfkj

If y'all hadn't spoken some sense nd guilt into Virgil before Remy left him them leaving could have gone much uglier. Like Remus having to hold him back from hurtign Remy kind of ugly. Him yelling the most vile shit at them while theyre leaving ugly. and they wouldn't have been able to say goodbye to each other which obv wouldn't have given either any closure and would have just made both spiral even more. He could also try to like find them like stalking and shit almost.

Virgil is going to therapy somehow lmao

And if Virgil didn't realize what a piece of shit Oswald was and if Viv was still angry about Remy he could have asked Os for help with finding Remy. Os knows where Rowan lives and it's easily assumable Remus lives with her and Virgil knows that Remus and Remy are friends so that wouldn't have gone good !

This was just some i could remember. i feel so mean bc most of these are for Remy. poor Jan fdhjkdfhgj somebody get this man some paths hfdjhdk /j

[rickriordanfandam]

opinions on riordanverse ; my edition

a lot of people have been doing this so i decided why not right. probably gna lose some followers or smth but anyways. pls respect my opinions! if u disagree, thats fine, but please be polite. unless any of my opinions strikes u as morally wrong then pls point it out to me respectfully. thanks!

- i actually liked drew. im so sorry to everyone who hates her but full offence, why. think about it this way ok, first of all drew became hc because silena died. silena was the traitor, the one who betrayed chb, yet after she died campers celebrated her as a hero? and then drew suddenly has to replace her and live up to idk that legacy she left behind,, when all of a sudden this girl named piper swoops in and takes her place. idk abt u but i wld be salty abt that too. not only that, but as an asian, the chances of drew having faced racism/bullying as a child is pretty high (she studies at brooklyn academy). which means that when she finds out shes a demigod, and arrives at chb where most of the campers are white (this is an assumption btw), she’d obviously be scared of being bullied for her skin color right?? so the first thing she wld do before the campers get to bully her is to bully them before they can do so. (sentence structure here is wack i apologize) ofc this might not even have happened, drew could have had a perfect childhood && was a b1tch for no reason, BUT EVEN THEN HER ROLE AS A BULLY WAS PRETTY VITAL BECAUSE THAT FURTHER SHOWED THE CONTRAST BETWEEN HER AND PIPER,, HIGHLIGHTING PIPER AS A HERO//GOOD CHARACTER,, AND THEREFORE MAKING READERS LIKE PIPER MORE. anyway stop hating on drew please. ALSO WHY IS THIS SO LONGA SDFJHG

- jason isnt bland, the fandom just kinda erased his backstory (thanks to @pjohoo-memes for the phrasing lol)

- reynabeth wouldnt have lasted/would have broken up several times. idk i just see them as two extremely powerful characters who have firm opinions and will definitely clash at some point. in a platonic relationship,, i can see them as really good friends but as lovers? idk i just think theyll break up

- PIPABETH

- i dont really like jercy,, i see them as better friends than lovers. also idt jason and percy were that close..?

- the dam and not my type jokes are srsly cringey and were never funny. ik that seems hypocritical since my username literally makes use of the dam joke but honestly i dont actually like the joke. its not funny to me and has never been funny

- the seven were not best friends. they definitely argued,, and honestly probably werent as close as the fandom makes them seem. like ure dumped with 6 other people, out of which u only know a few. my introverted ass would have jumped off the argo 2 quicker than leo valdez could bomb camp jupiter up. also leo was a dick to frank. so what if frank is bigger sized?? thats not a valid reason to tease him

- the fandom needs to stop hating on octavian while worshipping luke. if u hate luke and u say u hate octavian too, then okay. but if u tell me ure a luke stan but u despise octavian?? imma disagree w u. luke was worse than octavian im sorry. first of all, octavian being a dick was kinda justified. hes been after the praetor position for so long, and everyone keeps saying to “wait for jason” when suddenly this dude, whos a son of NEPTUNE (neptune wasnt liked much by romans), and the camp decides to make him praetor?? dude i would be pissed off big time. and then afterwards, he finds out that greek demigods are real and the dude they made praetor is greek. AND THEN GREEK DEMIGODS COME TO CJ AND ONE OF THEM BOMB IT UP?? octavian has been told all his life that greeks are scum and this dude called leo valdez attacks cj. sure it was an accident, but did octavian know that? no. so it was honestly justified that he was such a salty prick im just saying. also some of yall be hating on octavian for cutting a teddy bear open and thats the funniest shit ive ever heard i swear 

- luke didnt go to elysium

- travis and connor stoll r way too underrated. the two have been head counselors of the hermes cabin since luke was revealed as a traitor, can u imagine the stress? luke, the person they probably looked up to as a brother, betrayed them. and they didnt even have time to process this when they were  thrown the roles of being hcs. that would have been so stressful and i would probably have broken down if i were them. the stoll brothers taking turns to wake up at ungodly hours because a new camper is crying and homesick and terrified, the stoll brothers having to comfort and take care of new campers, having to deal with the amount of people in that cramped space because not enough campers are being claimed fast enough. having to resolve issues between campers in the hermes cabin all the time. the stolls arent just comedic relief, and we need to stop treating them as such

- tratie shldve been canon idc idc

- demigods of the demeter cabin arent talked about enough and i love the fact that meg was demeters kid. like she isnt the child of one of the big three yet shes so powerful.

- we need to hype clarisse up more her character arc was phucking amazing 

- rachel is overhated. sis found out greek gods exist and regularly come down to earth to fuck around and went “ok cool”. queen shit behavior methinks

- the floor 19 crew of mcga is srsly underrated. like do u even remember halfborn gunderson, mallory keen, tj, etc??? bc i feel like we only remember samirah, magnus, alex, and sometimes blitz and hearthstone

- sadie (tkc) was kinda annoying at first. i like her more now tho but i rmb not liking her for a phat while

- tkc and mcga need more love

- carter kane and jason grace arent boring. theyre just really sweet boys who are too good for this world and yes yes yes 

- hazel and frank (especially frank) need to be hyped up more. i hardly ever see anything about them. also yall seem to forget that frank was literally made praetor and that even hecate admired hazel and was willing to fight beside her because of how powerful she was

- frazels age gap is kinda sketch but i still think theyre really cute

- nico definitely had trauma from going to tartarus on his own

- GROVER IS PERCYS BEST FRIEND

- annabeth isnt smarter than leo but neither is leo smarter than annabeth. ive seen a lot of discussions about who is smarter and heres my hot take on it: neither. theyre equally smart, just in different ways. leos a genius mathematically speaking. he has no issues solving math problems meant for people much, much older than him. annabeth on the otherhand, is great at strategies etc. she can make an army of 1000 more powerful than the enemy, even if theyre outnumbered. so in my opinion, both are equally as smart//u cant compare their intelligence, because their talents lie in two different areas.

- while i do agree rick riordan isnt a god and that hes bound to make mistakes,, AND that hes given us a lot of representation,, if the representation offends the people its sposed to represent, then theres a problem. im talking about piper as a poc and wearing feathers in her hair. im not a poc, so i cant speak for them on whether or not its wrong, because i dont know either. HOWEVER, i have seen multiple posts BY pocs talking about how they didnt really like rick’s representation of piper, and thats an issue. pocs have been and are still oppressed and discriminated against by many. as a white cis man, we cant really blame him for not knowing (tho he could have done a research,, asked some pocs,, idk), but by representing pocs in that manner, hes influencing impressionable kids/teens into thinking “oh pocs wear feathers in their hair all the time” etc, which isnt true. the pjo/hoo series is extremely successful, and kids who read the books will probably start forming inaccurate opinions on pocs. the amount of fan art that depicts piper with feathers in her hair dont help either. “but rick said so in the books, so its canon” yeah well rick isnt a god and he can get some things wrong at times. im not saying we should cancel him, im saying we should start educating ourselves and not spread false info like pocs wearing feathers in their hair all the time. also that snake song shit where she sang Summertime was just- yeah. bc heres the thing you can be racist, and still include minorities, but portray them in a racist way. And even then, ignorance isn't a thing to admire. Getting those facts wrong still has a major impact. It continues to perpetuate racist stereotypes.

“ With the feather thing, I looked it up myself; it takes less than five minutes to figure out that Cherokees don't braid feathers into their hair. I didn't grow up in the country where my parents are from. I have many other first/second generation American friends who have also been through that, with a bit of a disconnect from their culture. But something that most of us have in common is that when we didn't know something, and when our parents weren't that big of a help, we looked it up. We sought out resources online and through other people from our culture to be able to connect more with where we came from. Some of that took a Google search. So I find it hard to believe that Piper, a girl who Rick's trying to portray as someone who is attempting to connect with her culture and is totally against racist stereotypes, wouldn't know that eagle feathers aren't supposed to be braided into your hair casually. She may be disconnected from her culture, but she's also shown to want to connect back to it. Piper wouldn't be casually braiding feathers into her hair while also telling off people for being racist. It makes no sense.” - reddit thread (down below) 

for those of yall who wanna know more please please read this, it has a lot of things i wanna add in here : https://www.reddit.com/r/camphalfblood/comments/gy3gl2/piper_mcleans_portrayal_is_innacurate/ 

as well as https://finding-my-culture.tumblr.com/post/189422373260/maxie-ratties-and-cattie-finding-my-culture 

i will be posting screenshots of these in future posts so if ure viewing this on ig and u dont have tumblr,, dont worry 

- the fact that most of the strong female characters in the series refuse to be “girly”, and ngl i dont really like that. just because ure girly doesnt mean u cant be strong. 

- piper would have been a great way for him to start making the strong characters act girlier, but instead he went with the “I’m not like other girls��� trope which is quite obnoxious to hear constantly, and I don’t think it’s necessarily great for younger girls to read that idea growing up.  the closest we've ever had to a strong female character who was also into "girly" things was Silena. when I was younger I admired Piper's "I'm not like other girls" thing, but then I got older and realized that the whole mentality of "not like other girls" is super obnoxious, and a little bit toxic

i have a heck load more that i cant rmb rn but yeah feel free to add more 

[mandaloriangf]

given the topic of reylos and fandom, im gonna say a thing and i hope it makes sense, but if it doesnt definitely feel free to point out

as context, i spent most of my entire 20+ years of life engrossed in fandom. im the white autistic girl exploring sexuality and identity through fandom lenses that these communities love to trot out as the reason why fandom criticism is a form of oppressive rhetoric (its not).

fandom has always been an actively hostile space to those it considers "other" (black people overall and most especially black women, gay men who are treated as concepts and not people and told to be silent on the trend of harmful abusive slash fiction). it has not ever been a fully welcoming community

but i really do believe reylos ruined fandom as a concept overall

to elaborate, the size and proliferation of reylos sparked a league of discourse that left the boundaries of star wars entirely and instead focused around a singular question, applicable regardless of media content you consume. who is fandom for? this question split the identity of fandom in twain.

reylos, and quickly following behind pro-shippers and anti antis, answered that fandom was for "everyone" but in reality encouraged an environment where fan content was never questioned or criticized regardless of its contents or implications and that to do so indicated something about you as a person rather than your critical debate skills or media consumption. fandom was a space for pleasure, sexual and literary, first and foremost, and nothing could infringe on that. it is considered the ultimate escapism and ultimate freedom, through the thin veneer of fiction. nothing you say or do reflects anything about your person because none of it is real, it only FEELS and is meant to feel good, via catharsis or fluff or erotic fanworks. the fiction you write is a means of exploring your happiness through a vehicle of media consumption, with no bearing on reality whatsoever, so even if you write objectively awful triggering topics, the only request is that you at least acknowledge its fucked up even if you do NOTHING to protect other people from it. it is a position of inherent selfishness actively hostile to marginalized peoples, most especially women of color.

on the other side of this divide is anyone with a functioning brain. grossly oversimplifying the situation but this is already long enough lmao.

the faults of individuals acting in these debates is almost tangential. awful people of all stripes were drawn to both sides of the divide to leverage power gained from getting clout through discourse, but one side was significantly more accepting due to the inherent nature of their position. if you thought fandom was meant to be fun and nothing else, all you really had to do was apologize and everything would be swept under the rug. obviously plenty of people get away with this shit no matter what, but we have to notice the trend of genuinely awful and abusive reylos and anti-antis continously able to remake and move accounts with no issues

this discourse moved from star wars into the general online conversation, and then was taken back to individual fandom communities. and fandom was absolutely torn apart. anyone who couldnt stand it packed up and left, artists were driven out by the droves of people who liked their art and saved it but refused to share or reblog it, fanfiction writers didnt get any interaction unless they went out of their way to cater to the niche specific fanon interpretations regardless of how much it clashed with the source material, and reylos and their legacy fostered an active culture of harassment.

reylos didnt just ruin star wars

reylos ruined *everything*, even for the communities of people they hold up as their martyr, white autistic girls like myself exploring identity.

there is no content for questioning people anymore. there is no content of exploration. there is no fic detailing recovering from abuse with loved ones while exploring facets of yourself you couldnt face. im sex repulsed and wlw, can you imagine how hard it is for me to find something that covers these topics that isnt straight up porn?

these problems are compounded even MORE for anyone who isnt white, to levels i am shielded from thanks to my privelege. and now, when people like stitch find publication to discuss her experiences in an open forum, she is subject to a harrassment campaign that is now the norm.

its monstrous

(sorry for the long ask rip, hope u enjoy the impromptu essay)

i wouldn’t say reylos are the ones who ruined fandom but instead they are the natural progression of a community where racism has run rampant and it’s run rampant for the reasons you listed.

reylos in particular are especially sinister in the way they utilize progressive language as a way to shield themselves from criticisms of racism and make themselves feel justified in viciously attacking and driving out poc who speak up. and that way they can make the fandom a safe space for themselves and only themselves. and other fandoms do the same.

[emmadonovan]

[ EMMA DONOVAN. 27. FEMALE. SHE/HER ] is here! They’ve lived in Silver Lake for [ 2 YEARS ] and are originally from [ PALO ALTO, CALIFORNIA ]. They are a [ TATTOO ARTIST AT KING INK ] and in their downtime love [ HIKING IN GRIFFITH PARK ] and [ WATCHING ‘THIS IS SPINAL TAP’ FOR THE MILLIONTH TIME ]. They look a lot like [ LILY JAMES ] and live [ ON REDCLIFF ST ].

[ trigger warnings: death (suicide), abusive relationship ]

me: i will keep this brief Arrested Development narrator: She did not, in fact, keep it brief.

the important bits

meet the love of my life, Emma no-middle-name Donovan. 

her bio is LONG, but if you wanna read the full thing, you can look HERE. 

born in colorado, grew up in palo alto/silicon valley.

mother is a published poet, father was a prominent engineer for Apple (think the Woz to steve jobs)

only child (yes, has only child syndrome)

moved to los angeles from san francisco, lived there for 5 years.

a certified Bay Area bitch. 

completed freshman year at stanford, but dropped out at the news of her dad’s suicide.

has a 7 y.o. bulldog named tito. he came into her life 4 yrs ago as a rescue and is her soulmate.

a brunette!!! (!)

~work~

picked up drawing while staying at her grandparents’ in colorado following her father’s death.

 it became a lifeline and she never stopped, becoming a tattoo artist’s apprentice when she moved to san fran.

built up a name for herself in san francisco as a prominent tattoo artist with a distinctive style (work tag). 

artistic influences: h. r. giger, zdzislaw beksinski, moebius, max ernst.

mainly does blackwork with a mix of red, although will do colour occasionally. skilled in dotwork and linework.

has an online shop where you can buy her prints/original drawings. also has gallery representation, but hasn’t displayed work in many years.

married to her work, most days you’ll find her at king ink.

despite her hardworking ethic, there are days when her mental health fucks shit up and she has to cancel on her clients. her work is understanding of this though, and so are most of her clients.

highlight of her career: designing the artwork for marilyn manson’s last album and getting to tattoo his niece. 

rescheduled multiple bookings when Cyberpunk 2077 came out just so she could stay home and keep playing it. (oops) 

wildest client story: she once tattooed a guy who flew in from Europe to San Francisco just to get tattooed by her. upon flying back home, he emailed her a marriage proposal complete with honeymoon itinerary.

** the ex **

has an ex called Tomo, a musician and DJ. they were together 5 years and it was no secret, so you are honestly free to have your character refer to that.

it was a textbook toxic relationship, where Tomo slowly pulled a vice grip around Emma and she found herself in very deep, very quickly.

if you can imagine anything horrible or abusive happening, it happened here. he wasn’t outright physical with her, there were no black eyes, but he did exert his power over her in other ways (controlling what she ate, her style of dress, jealous fits if she talked to other guys, etc).

there was one horrible incident too many though, and finally it dawned on emma that she needed to get out.

with the help of an old friend, Ben, she packed most of her shit and her dog and left while Tomo was away on a tour.

she hasn’t heard from him since, but does lowkey live in fear.

has been going to therapy for the past year or so, which has proven invaluable for the ptsd/trauma from the relationship.

despite all this, she still loves him and knows her saving grace is the fact they live on opposing ends of the state.

he just released a song that’s all over the radio. it’s everywhere. someone distract ya gurl from going insane.

random bits n’ headcanons

a taurus-gemini cusp ( a mental breakdown, but make it luxury! )

loves to surf but kinda sucks at it

total metalhead. motorhead’s lemmy was the love of her life and she’s still grieving.

perpetual insomniac. #eyebags4dayz

doesn’t have a fave cuisine, but seafood trumps everything.

attended steve jobs’ funeral when he passed away, as he was a close family friend.

loves horror video games. talk to her about PT or Amnesia.

will beat u in mortal kombat. yes, even as Mokap.

a not-so-secret weeb (has a huge Ryuk tattoo on her chest). 

has a tattoo on her collarbone that says ‘wanderers still’. it’s a tribute to her father and their common love of carl sagan. the full quote reads: ‘Exploration is in our nature. We began as wanderers, and we are wanderers still.’

trying to get out more, so you may find her at  drag nights at carousel.

Connections & Shiz

[0/1] — REDCLIFF ROOMMATE WANTED! I’ll be putting up a set of her house soon. It’s a cute, cozy 2 bedroom house with an aesthetic af kitchen and generally just, the shit. 

Other:

I’m not great with forming pre-existing connections, 9 times out of 10 I prefer on-dash interaction & chemistry because I like to build my charas’ relationships with others as they go along and also rarely ever know what they will be doing/thinking at any given time. But in case you do want something more specific, here’s a few ideas (that I’m happy to elaborate on in ims/messages) :

Palo Alto/San Fran/Bay area friends 

Stanford acquaintances/friends

Tattoo clients past/present/future

Anyone associated with Apple/working there

People associated with the following scenes or industry: Art / Tattooing / Music (metal and/or edm shit) 

Colorado acquaintances (Emma lived here for about a year. It was a bit of a wild/whack phase so they’d know a different kind of Emma.)

Music industry connects/friends or people who knew her ex, Tomo.

[panharmonium]

@MERLINOBSESSIONIST I’M -

YOU CANNOT POSSIBLY UNDERSTAND HOW FILLED WITH LOVE THIS MADE ME FEEL

(^me @ you!!!!!  but also merlin @ will lbr can you IMAGINE)

i know you know i don’t really read much fic but in terms of just tag browsing, almost everything i’ve ever seen about reincarnation is either about just arthur or just the camelot crew and i will tell you right now, the ONLY acceptable explanation for this is that will hasn’t shown up yet, like - it is patently not fair for merlin’s ultimate ‘happy ending’ to do nothing but affirm the message that camelot was the only thing about his life that mattered.

so perhaps, instead: reincarnation runs in reverse, so that merlin finds the first person he lost last.  long after he stopped expecting to meet anyone else, long after he figured this new world’s roster was complete - even merlin assumed it was just camelot that was part of this grand story; destiny never seemed to care about any other part of him before.  

so he doesn’t even think about it.  it doesn’t even cross his mind as a possibility.  

until, of course, it does.

[in other words: i took your ask and wrote you a story.]

i really don’t care for this destiny shit.

merlin hasn’t done accidental magic for a millennium and a half (and it’s a good thing, too, considering his capabilities) but in that space between one thunderous heartbeat and the next, the pavement under his feet splits into a spiderweb network of cracks, and along each crack blooms a tangled vein of grass, shockingly green and decidedly un-urban and definitely not the result of any conceivable natural processes.

will is unimpressed.  “you haven’t changed one ruddy bit,” he says.  “you numpty.  it’s broad daylight.”

merlin wants to say that will hasn’t changed one ruddy bit either, because no one else on earth can manage to show up fifteen centuries after their supposedly permanent death and still make merlin want to strangle them within seconds, but it comes out like “mmmf  ffmm mfmf” because merlin is sort of strangling will after all, in a hug, and his face is mashed into will’s clothes, and he can’t enunciate properly with a mouthful of t-shirt.

(he also can’t enunciate properly when he’s crying, but that’s nobody’s damn business.)

merlin is insufferable for weeks.

that’s will’s opinion on the subject, anyhow.  merlin maintains that this is an exaggeration, in response to which will retorts, “yesterday when i woke up i cracked my skull on your nose ‘cos you were hanging over me while i was having a nap, merlin, you’ve gone completely round the bed - ”

later on, maybe, merlin will admit that perhaps will has a point, and maybe merlin was being just a little bit overbearing.  

but in the moment, all merlin can think about is zippers.

zippers are a clever little invention.

of all the innovations merlin has seen emerge over the last 1500 years, he has always been oddly charmed by the zipper, which up until now he believed to be a perfectly designed machine.  currently, though, he’s revised his opinion - zippers for fastening two bits of clothing together are handy, make no mistake, but merlin, who has resolved to never again let will out of his sight, thinks zipping two people together would be a handier function by half, and wonders if zipper manufacturers are open to suggestions.  

it’s just that not letting will out of his sight means not letting will do...well, almost anything, really, and it would be much easier to accomplish this if merlin could keep will where he wanted him while also having both hands free.  but merlin is willing to make sacrifices in the name of precautions, and he resolves to master the art of shadowing will’s every move even without the aid of specialized fastening apparatuses, for all that a zipper would have been more convenient.  

for some unfathomable reason, will seems to find this annoying.  but merlin tries to make himself feel better about his friend’s marked ingratitude by convincing himself that will’s reluctance to follow perfectly reasonable, safety-related rules is just a consequence of his natural anti-authoritarian streak, and not, in fact, a reaction to the fact that merlin has gone completely round the twist.

merlin is not being unreasonable.  he’s not.  

it’s a dangerous world out there.  you can’t be too careful.  

“what are you doing?” asks merlin, alarmed.

will looks blankly at merlin over the hood of the car.  “getting in?”

“oh, no.  you can’t sit there.”

“can’t i?  i’m driving.”

“no.”

“no, i’m not driving?”

“no.”

“you’re driving, then.”

“no.”

“i don’t understand.  who’s driving?”

“...no.”

“...how are we supposed to do your groceries?”

“look, i just think, you know, let’s just...skip it.”

“merlin,” will says, with forced calm, “you have no toilet paper.”

“what are you doing?”

“...eating.”

“you’ve not had that before.”

“so?”

merlin hesitates.  “do you know, allergies are hundreds of times more common now than they were when we - ”

“merlin...”

“i’m only saying that if you haven’t tried it before - ”

“merlin - ”

“maybe i should just - ”

“merlin, if you try to take this plate away from me i am dumping the sticky bit all over your trousers.”

“what are you doing?”

“nothing, merlin.”

“you got up.”

“so?”

“where are you going?”

“...the loo, merlin.”

will tries his best to be patient with merlin, but unfortunately patience has never been one of his strong suits, so merlin’s fingers do end up getting slammed in a number of bathroom doors before merlin manages to finally (grudgingly) admit that will has, in point of fact, always been rather more self-sufficient than merlin himself, and that will has also, in general, been quite good about not getting himself killed in stupid accidents, when left to his own devices.

“so,” merlin concedes, “as long as no one’s actively trying to murder you - ”

“can’t promise anything,” says will, around a mouthful of toast.  “something about me puts people’s backs right up, merlin; i know a couple of blokes who’d be well pleased if i did drop dead of a freak nectarine allergy - ”

“ - then i suppose,” merlin continues, gritting his teeth, “you’ll probably be fine.”

merlin is proud of himself for deciding to be such a grown-up, and he thinks his insufferable period ends there.  

the rest of his friends quietly disagree, even if they never say so to merlin’s face, because for them, merlin’s insufferable period has just begun.  merlin, who has spent the last 1500 years diligently serving someone else’s interests, has now suddenly reacquired the one thing in his life that was ever just his, and the fact of the matter is that will’s reappearance, unexpected as it is, turns merlin temporarily feral.

even after merlin decides to stop (literally) breathing down will’s neck at every turn, he still goes virtually everywhere at will’s elbow (if they go out at all), and he comes home in exactly the same position, and he sleeps on the living room floor because that’s where he and will are lying when they talk themselves out in the middle of the night, and he gleefully declines invitations to do things with other people because he is already doing exactly what he wants to do, and he will continue to do so for exactly as long as he wants to do it, and now it is everybody else’s turn to wait.

people who haven’t seen him for a long time start asking him if he wants to come round, and he doesn’t even bother with ‘oh, i’m a bit busy atm;’ he just replies <no> and then "loses” his phone behind the couch.

(gwen is the only one who ever gets a clarifying text after one of these episodes, the content of which reads i didn’t mean that in a nasty way.  she sends back a little purple flower in response, because of course she knows perfectly well he didn’t - she laughed, to be honest, when she got the original message.)

(she thinks it’s nice to hear merlin using the word no as a complete sentence, actually.)

(she knew him the longest, after everything went to hell.  by now, they understand each other.)

most of merlin’s other friends don’t bother him too much after their first failed attempts at connecting, because they can take a hint, and they have their own lives to live, and they assume they’ll just see merlin when he wants to see them.

a few of them, however, are accustomed to getting everything they want, very quickly, almost all of the time, and said people (person) spent a formative chunk of their lives relying on merlin to (literally) drag them out of bed every morning, so these people (person) turn out to be a bit more persistent.

merlin’s email inbox pings him multiple times a day, asking increasingly curious and impatient variations on “where are u,” until merlin activates the out-of-office reply feature and sets the bounce-back message to “at the tavern.”  merlin’s mobile keeps ringing, until he magicks it to redirect all incoming calls to an in-home laundry service.  the landline starts ringing then as well, at which point will picks up the phone and says, his face utterly serious, “we’re not home,” while merlin cackles (unsubtly, audibly) in the background.

much later, when merlin has finally relaxed a bit and rejoined society, arthur will grumble about this, because he still gets Like That sometimes and doesn’t appreciate being Mocked, thank you very much (especially not by “that fellow”), but will isn’t the least bit concerned.

“i wasn’t taking the piss, mate,” will says, quite obviously doing just that.  “i thought you might fall for it, is all.”

arthur, huffy: “why in god’s name would you think i would believe such an obvious lie?”

will:

what eventually gets merlin and will out of their self-imposed quarantine is not, in fact, arthur’s exhaustive collection of attempts to hassle merlin by phone, email, and carrier pigeon, but rather a simple text from gwaine, which, in true gwaine fashion, asks no questions and makes no demands, but contains instead a single blurry photo of what might be elyan and percival looking disappointed and droopy in front of some kind of beach, though the sky behind them seems very grey and the camera lens appears to be smeared with raindrops.

>>freak thunderstorms on beach day/weatherman said no chance??? >>NOT ON, you funky little wizard

merlin laughs and lays his phone aside, not feeling any particular need to explain for the thousandth time that he does not, in fact, control the weather (well - all right, not usually, anyhow; there was that one time, yes, fine, but on the whole, natural forces were not to be trifled with), and then, as quickly as he puts the text out of his mind, he snaps up the phone again, struck by a thrill of realization.  “gwaine,” he breathes gleefully, consumed suddenly with anticipation.

“wossat?” will asks from the other side of the table, barefoot and pyjama-clad.

“we’re going out,” merlin says, popping up from his chair and pushing will out of his seat.  “put your shoes on.”  

will allows merlin to hustle him out of the kitchen, but grumbles, “can i put my clothes on, too, or are we trying to be somewhere yesterday?”

“you can put your clothes on,” merlin says, shoving will into the living room.  “i want you to meet somebody.”

will puts on the brakes immediately, stopping them both in the doorway to the hall.  “who?”

“a friend of mine.”

“what friend?”

merlin pauses.  will’s expression is suddenly wary, and merlin knows him well enough to tread carefully.  will doesn’t know any of merlin’s other people, and he claims he doesn’t care to, ostensibly because he’s got enough friends already, but merlin knows what the real issue is, and it’s that the picture-plastered refrigerator door in merlin’s kitchen is a disquieting, uneasy mystery to will, a puzzle he on some deep level doesn’t believe he fits into.  

merlin can’t blame him for feeling that way.  it’s not like merlin did much to disabuse him of that notion, after all, in their old life.  

“just a friend,” merlin decides, keeping it simple.  “gwaine.  you’ll like him.”

“i don’t know him,” will counters.

merlin spins will around by the shoulders and points him in the direction of the bedroom.  “trust me.  you want to.”

don’t leave, merlin texts gwaine, afterwards, while will is getting dressed.  stay at the beach.

merlin’s phone buzzes a moment later.  it’s tipping down out here.

merlin leans against the warm, rain-spattered glass of the window and checks the sky, which is grey still, but brightening, and then looks at will, who has emerged from the bedroom, shoes in hand.

don’t bother about the weather, merlin types.

why?  gwaine’s reply is almost instantaneous, but merlin ignores it for a minute, watching as will crouches in the foyer and does up his laces.  

merlin spent half his life at home watching will’s hands fly over more complicated knots than the bow in a pair of trainers - double-half hitches for calving ropes, halter loops for wayward goats, ring knots draped over gateposts and snap-releases for pulling legs up and out of kicking range.  will was always good at that sort of thing, at anything handsy - it was how he talked, when he finally ran out of things to say with his mouth.  his fingers were always moving, tying string or tilling soil or turning trees into harrows and haycarts and hundreds of yards of rough-hewn fencing.  he always had sawdust in the hem of his trousers and splinters in his hands, and - for far too long a period of their lives - a little frowny crease in his brow.

why?  gwaine’s inquiry is still glowing up at merlin, awaiting a response.

merlin watches will double-knot his second shoe in one brisk motion.  will is tidier now, and his hands are less scarred, but his fingers move as surely as they ever did.  and even if his forehead sometimes still sports that same little uncertain crinkle, merlin has caught will in a silly grin once or twice, too.

merlin ducks his head and taps out his answer:  

i think things are looking up.

“you were talking to lancelot?”

it gives merlin an indescribably warm and pleasant squirm in his stomach to see will and lancelot chatting together in gwen’s back garden.  lancelot is hardly ever in town these days, and merlin has dragged will out to this to-do specifically because if there’s one event lancelot will show up to this year, it’s gwen’s birthday.  but will hasn’t fallen into the rhythm of these things yet, and he’s always in danger of slinking off to the sidelines, to less well-tended patches of plants illuminated only by the twinkle lights wound into gwen’s fencing.  he is startlingly uncertain now, in a way that would have shocked merlin in another life, though these days merlin just takes it in stride, joining will on whatever patch of grass he’s chosen for himself, where they eat from a shared paper plate, and eventually the rest of the party comes to them, because people follow merlin like a beacon wherever he goes, even into dark corners.

will nods.  “yeah.”

eloquent, as usual.  merlin prods him in the arm.  “what do you think of him, then?”

will makes a face.  “i’ve only just met the man.”

“i’ve never known that to stop you having an opinion.”

will sighs.  “he seems fine, merlin.”

on the other side of the garden, elyan is building up the firepit, breaking up sticks for kindling.  arthur is watching lancelot, who is watching gwen, who is radiant and beaming in a bright yellow sundress, but she, too, is watching both of her observers, whenever they aren’t watching her.  

none of them look troubled, exactly.  just thoughtful.  

“he seemed to know who i was,” will says suddenly.

merlin is surprised to hear will offer anything further on the subject.  “well, i suppose he does, a bit.  he’s my friend, you know.  he’s heard of you.”

“the rest of your friends hadn’t heard of me.”

the rest of merlin’s friends are, at that moment, pestering leon to give elyan back a confiscated can of lighter fluid nicked from the grill, swearing on their oaths that the (former) blacksmith isn’t planning on doing any forge-appropriate stunts.  “lancelot’s different,” merlin says after a minute.  “it was different with him.”

“how different?”

gwaine pops the can out of leon’s hands with a pair of tongs and tosses it to arthur, who tosses it to lancelot, who looks surprised at being included.

“well...” merlin says, and pauses for a moment before continuing.  “he knew me.  not like the rest of that lot, i mean.”  he glances at will.  “like you.”

will raises his eyebrows and looks at lancelot again, as if re-evaluating him.

“i couldn’t tell them about you,” merlin says, after a longer pause.  “they wouldn’t have understood.”

will watches lancelot lob the can of lighter fluid to percival, who slings it back to elyan, who freezes mid-pour when gwen hollers his name in That Voice.  “well, that’s all right, then,” will murmurs, almost to himself.  then he turns back to merlin, lifting one curious eyebrow.  “how in the hell did that happen, then?”

“it was sort of an accident.”

“i thought you said gaius was an accident.”

“well - yeah.  also that.”

a disbelieving laugh bursts out of will’s mouth, startling them both.  it’s loud and bell-bright and it turns gwen’s head from where she stands over the picnic table, setting out a plate of desserts.  she catches merlin’s eye and smiles.

“right, then,” will says, recovering himself, but smiling still.  “i’ll have to give this lancelot bloke another go, then.”

“please,” merlin says.  “you should.  he’s worth it.”

will nods to himself, considering lancelot for a moment.  “a whole two of us, is it?”

merlin nods.

“we’ve got nearly enough people to start ourselves a little Society now.”

“a small one.”

“very small,” will agrees.  “...not that - well, i mean...”  he looks suddenly uncomfortable, like he’s said too much.  “i mean, not that i’m saying...well, cat’s out of the bag now, isn’t it, so obviously it doesn’t matter - ”

merlin is already shaking his head.  “no,” he says, stopping will mid-sentence.  

will’s gaze flickers uncertainly between merlin and the group clustered around the firepit.  “no?  i thought you said - ”

“no,” merlin repeats, his voice quiet but uncompromising, “it matters.  don’t ever think that, will.  you have no idea.”

will turns slightly pink and diverts his attention to making an intense inspection of the grass under his feet; merlin decides to leave the subject there, for now, and let will have this moment to be flustered.  someday, maybe, it will take more than the barest scrap of appreciation to turn will sixteen shades of red, but will was always like this at home, too, quick to close himself down, easy for merlin to embarrass, taken off guard by unfiltered affection and squirming at too much sincerity, unable to conceive of himself as something anyone would need or want in any way that wasn’t “an extra pair of hands in the field.”  

merlin did not do much to correct that impression, back then, he knows.  but he’s been given a gift, now, a chance to amend his first and ugliest mistake, and he is going to be deliberate about this unexpected chance at atonement.  he is going to be better.  braver.  he will be less selfish, he promises himself, more patient.  gaius always says that allowing sufficient time for regrowth is the only surefire way to set a broken bone, and merlin doesn’t care if it takes him another 1500 years - he owes will too much to offer him anything less.

will returns his attention to the group on the patio, determinedly looking anywhere but merlin’s face.  “that looks like a torch in a hayloft,” he mutters, watching arthur, gwen, and lancelot’s unfolding dramedy of longing looks.  “long story there, i take it?”

merlin has to smile.  “i’ll tell you all about it, i promise.  you might want to clear your schedule for a week or two, though.”

will shrugs.  “i’m not going anywhere,” he says.  but then he looks sideways at merlin, teetering on the edge of an unasked question.

merlin does not make him wait.  not this time, not ever again.  

“neither am i,” merlin says, and settles in to watch elyan set something on fire.

there are, of course, less pleasant moments.

time has not mellowed will’s sharp edges in the slightest, and those associated with his tongue least of all.  now that he is up to speed, he’s formulated all manner of angry opinions to offer about the reeking cow pie merlin stepped into when he went to camelot, and every week seems to present him with something new to stew over, leading to episodes of simmering surliness that boil over every so often into bitter arguments.

will rarely makes these blunt and unflattering observations in the presence of merlin’s other friends, but merlin is all too aware that this is not because will is even remotely afraid to speak his mind, but rather because he is profoundly disinterested in what merlin’s camelot compatriots might have to say.  will does care what merlin has to say, even if he thinks 90% of it is “cow shyte, merlin, don’t try to feed me that rubbish,” but even merlin can’t escape will’s ire using explanations or placations or rationalizations of the Ultimate Good; will simply doesn’t care about the Powers That Be, and he tells merlin so, every time merlin tries to defend them or justify the part he himself played in their story.  

[^actual footage of will and merlin in the twenty-first century]

someday in the future, will and merlin are going to realize that they don’t actually want to accidentally (on purpose?) murder each other out of sheer frustration, so they decide they are only allowed to argue about this topic twice a year.  

for now, though, will can’t seem to shut up, and merlin can’t let will’s comments pass, and they lock horns every other week on things neither of them have any ability to change.

it’s tiresome, a little bit, and they sometimes have rip-roaring rows which are Horribly Worrisome to other people (‘oh dear, it’s really over for them this time, isn’t it’), but neither will nor merlin fret over it like the rest of their circle does.  they’ve known each other since before they could talk, and fighting with one another is a time-honored tradition, not something to be frightened of.  besides, these are not trifling, unnecessary tiffs they are having - these are necessary evils, lanced abscesses, scoured wounds.  these are bloodlettings, draining both their weary, aching bodies of accumulated poisons.  

merlin knows this has to happen.  he appreciates seeing will this way, up on his toes and full of fire, snappy and uncompromising, ready to shred illusions and evasions and excuses as if they were so many sheets of 1500 year-old parchment.  will in a fight is like a fish in the water, or a bird in the air, balletic and agile, strikingly at home, a creature in its absolute element, and merlin loves watching him, for all that it means he sometimes get bitten for getting too close.

it’s not the end of the world.  they have both known how to fight with each other for a long time.  and merlin - for whom a row with anybody else has always been tedious, uncomfortable, a bothersome disruption - does not mind rowing with will.  rowing with will is like getting his exercise.  it’s natural and familiar, and everything is where it’s supposed to be, in those tinderbox moments, even when Where It’s Supposed To Be is the two of them having an absolute cow at each other in the kitchen while the rest of their friends sit in the living room trading wide-eyed stares and trying to silently debate whether or not they should risk edging sideways out the back door.

merlin tells himself again and again that there’s no need to worry.  the other thing he’s learned from gaius is that a poorly healed fracture sometimes needs to be snapped again in order to set up properly.  

merlin wants his relationship with will to set up properly.  he’s willing to break a few bones to make it happen.

it takes a year for the cast to finally fall off.

it’s summer again by the time they come around to the marrow of the matter, to the tension undergirding all of their arguments, to the knot of grass stuck stubborn and tenacious at the heart of the concrete.

“why did you do it?”

will doesn’t answer merlin’s question right away.  they’ve just finished (or maybe are about to finish, merlin hopes, feeling strangely anticipatory, as is something tentative and promising is hanging just out of sight) a spectacular squabble, and the kitchen in which they sit seems to be sagging, unsupported in the yellow, windowless gloom, the painted cabinetry as tired as they are.

“i left you,” merlin continues, and even though the shameful taste of the truth burns on the way down, he swallows it willingly.  be better, he tells himself.  braver.  “i was afraid to tell you i was going.  i was afraid to get in touch with you after i’d left.  i never said goodbye.  i didn’t ask my mother to relay a message.”

will says nothing.  

“i let people line up to die for something i could have done myself.  i protected myself at everyone else’s expense.  i hid my secret behind our neighbors.  i got you killed.”  merlin takes a deep breath.  “i never said i was sorry.”

will taps his fingers on the table, his eyes focused somewhere off to merlin’s left.  he looks more thoughtful than angry.  “are you?”

the idea that will even needs to ask this question makes merlin want to cry.  merlin could talk for 1500 years and still never manage to explain how sorry he is.  he’s never breathed a word of it to anyone, but there was a part of him that was relieved to bargain his life away to nimueh, all those years ago.  he’d earned that punishment, he knew.  it was a just price.  

“yes,” merlin replies.  “i was wretched to you, and you saved my life.  i left you and you lied for me.  you - ”  merlin’s throat threatens to snap closed; he tells himself to finish.  be better.  be braver.  “i would never have asked you for that, will.  never.  i didn’t deserve it.”

will doesn’t say anything.  he is still not looking quite at merlin, but at the refrigerator behind merlin’s chair, which hums into the silence, blissfully unaware of the conversation taking place directly in front of it.  there’s a photo of will and merlin on the door now, added last month, and merlin still feels slightly strange, when he pulls out a jug of milk in the morning and sees will’s smiling face hanging there.  

merlin has never had a picture of will before.  he has never seen will’s face outside the confines of his own memories.

“well?” merlin prods.  “am i wrong?”

“no,” will replies, “you’re right.”

“then why did you do it?”

will sits up straighter, fixing merlin with a penetratingly direct, unflinching stare, the same startlingly candid look that merlin spent years searching for in other people’s faces, all those ages ago.  fifteen centuries of grieving later, and there it finally is - and one thing, it turns out, is exactly the same: will never did have any patience for foolish questions.  

“you know why,” is all will says.

merlin’s throat snaps shut for good.  he lets it, this time, and closes his eyes, taking a deep, wobbly breath, in through his nose, out through his mouth.  behind him, the refrigerator hums, and the tap drips onto a stack of dirty dishes lying forgotten in the sink, and somewhere, out in the heart of the city, the summer breeze ruffles a section of pavement overgrown with year-old grass.

in about three seconds, merlin is going to have a big, ugly cry in his kitchen.  it’s going to be mortifying and unsightly and sort of inconvenient, since he is supposed to be doing the washing-up, and it’s going to be even more inconvenient because will is right there, and will might not have a freak allergy to nectarines but he does have at least a little bit of an allergy to tears; his own, mostly, though merlin can’t imagine he’s going to love merlin’s very much, either, even if merlin only ever tried to test that theory once and didn’t exactly have a chance to collect any data after the fact.  

but before that inexorable wave rolls in and washes over them both, merlin takes three bracing seconds to remind himself of what he already knows: that will is going to accept merlin’s bawling, this time, or at least take it in stride, and he might even pull over a chair, and tuck up his feet, and have a silent sit with merlin for the duration, because will heard that calloused bone break, too, and felt the sharp, misaligned pieces snap finally, blessedly back into place, and he certainly knew exactly what he was doing when he answered merlin’s question.

you know why is as close to i love you as someone with will’s fraught history is ever going to get.  

and close enough is, for them - for now - close enough.

[rnajorarcana]

               ❛  can’t tell if i’m really here , i think i’m leaving this body -                                              bye - ye - ye - ye - ye !

                                                        oliver oli d’angelo . 23 . pan . he/they .                                                                              angel boy .                                                                              ( bullying , toxic relationships )

✧ ˖ * ° ><> ╱  ross lynch,  genderfluid,  he/they —  look  who’s  fresh  from  the  ferry,  aren’t  you  OLIVER  “ OLI "  D'ANGELO  ?  your  eroda  brochure  says  you’re  TWENTY - THREE  and  that  you’re  currently  residing  in  MARMOTON.  your  favourite  tourist  attraction  to  hang  around  is  SEA ROCK BREWERY,  and  the  locals  around  these  ports  would  describe  you  as  SILVER  TONGUED  &  CLEVER,  RETICENT  &  INSECURE.  your  resting  fish  face  really  gives  off  SHADES  OF  BLUE  REFLECTING  THE  SEAS  &  SKIES ,  TATTOO  INK  MIXED  WITH  GLITTER ,  THE  MAGIC  IN  HIS  VEINS  &  THE  DIAMONDS  IN  HIS  BONES  and  i’m  a  big  fan  of  the  DECK OF TAROT CARDS  you  seem  to  always  be  attached  to.  well,  if  you  see  the  minister  this  morning;  make  sure  you  head  on  home  as  quick  as  possible,  you  never  know  what  bad  luck  he  could  bring.

                       i . past

there is a saying that the amount of kind people in the world is diminishing ; and given exactly what you’ve been through , my dear boy ?? you could attest to that . kind people are forged in fire & have blood leaking from their mouths , given bruised knuckles and black eyes - yet here you are .

eroda born you grow up shy & quiet , gentle & sensitive - the type of kid that is easy to befriend if you talk to him but is equally as easy to shove into a locker . you are sketchpads & soft smiles but bruised cheeks & visits to the principal’s office and you’re told boys will be boys so there isn’t much the school boards can do about your constant harassment . you’re different than them because you don’t fit into their mold ; girls like you because you don’t pull their hair or make fun of them for being girls and that makes the other ones jealous , further worsening the treatment .

all you have is you , taking solace in the two things you know - artwork & video games . you imagine yourself as a gallant hero - like the one in the zelda games - riding alone but still kind & brave , and these drawings you make consist of both the characters from your comfort and yourself as such . you bury yourself in your nintendo ds , carrying it everywhere , and maybe one day you’ll be the link to a story where there’s a courageous hero needed and you can fill that slot . of course , your interests only contribute to the fact you’re seen as high school’s punching bag . you take it .

but things get different the one day you get pushed to the ground - because high school’s like that - and your beloved drawings get torn , your ds held from your grasp like a toy held from a jumping dog . and oli d’angelo , the ‘ angel boy ’ , with red lips & cherub cheeks & puppy eyes , decides he’s had enough and clocks his assailant back . principal’s office visit again , you’re suspended , but your darling mother ( she’s all you have ; your father strolled out the door before you could know him & the woman is a bit broken from hoping he could come back after all these years ) rubs your back , takes you out for ice cream , and tells you that you did the right thing .

doesn’t feel like it , since your limits were simply pushed .

graduation , art school , new horizons . oliver d’angelo meets trevor frost , and they instantly click , and with words exchanged across library tables and eventually kisses behind bookshelves , a budding romance is formed . he’s rich ; he even offers to pay for your tuition , but you fall in love with him because he looks at you like you are everything , but you don’t realize the wool pulled over your eyes - because you’re an angel who’s naive & innocent and he’s the monster that berates you & digs at you with even the most syrupy words , then lulls you into coming back . you spend your nights crying thinking you are to blame for things he’s done to you - finding he has more bedmates than just yourself , being accused of things that aren’t your fault or your doing . . . you are broken down , piece by piece , and once more . . . there’s a day where you can no longer take it .

screaming , hellfire , a broken angel finally breaks free of his chains and runs away , even though the monster tried to clip his wings . you pack up your things and leave , and you realize that your financial support is gone , but you need to get out . 

. . . this life , it’s tested your kindness & your patience - you’ve been tossed through the wringer endlessly , and as you leave his apartment , you make a resolution that you can no longer allow yourself to be hurt . you cannot be vulnerable .

you are now oli , and oli shows up to his high school reunion with a new air of confidence . obnoxious confidence , like a party boy - but he retains his charm , words of silver leaking from his lips and charisma among a crowd enough to bring in even those who treated him unkindly in the years prior . he becomes the LIFE OF THE PARTY , but he doesn’t actually want to be there . this new persona - this arrogance , this annoying voice , this being who participates in every vice possible . . . he is nothing like the sweet & gentle boy that lies underneath . but he’s a mask , a suit of armor that you carry - so you can numb yourself over the loneliness & hurt that’s plagued you over the years .

new horizons , take two . you complete a tattoo artist apprenticeship , get your license - ship yourself off to another chapter of your life that hopefully means things will change . you’re black clothes & sunglasses & tarot cards & tattoos , silver tongues and smiles that only signal mischief . long conversations and words flying a mile a minute because your mouth is your greatest weapon . the good thing is nobody here knows you . . . even though maybe , you’d want them to - but if you do , you run the risk of getting hurt again .

oliver gets hurt , but oli is a courageous hero ( maybe ) that can go up against anything needed . . . you can be oli for now , even though that hurts just as much . 

                      ii . present

SO OLI . . . god this is my son . this is my oc i’ve written forever and god do i love him . 

so !! he’s an artist , loves to draw , paint , etc , now employed as a tattoo artist ! and . . . he’s also . got a lot of bad habits since he’s got a party boy facade to keep up and tries to make himself into someone else since , who he actually is , he’s scared to be in fear of getting hurt again . 

on the inside , he’s sweet and gentle and introvereted - he doesn’t like big social gatherings and would much rather vibe on his own or with a few close friends ( if he had friends ) than anything else . but he’s afraid , again , of being himself or being vulnerable towards anyone else because he’s seen as an easy target , and his feelings are easy to manipulate . . . 

so on the outside , he’s much different . he’s fucking annoying , to start - he’s a talker , always has something to say , and he’s very good at keeping a conversation . he’s a charmer , and paired with his big brown eyes and his award winning smile he can talk a snake out of its basket . but he also , again , maybe says too much and doesn’t have any fear or realization of consequences , and indulges himself in things like alcohol , sleeping around , loud parties , etc . because that’s the persona that keeps him guarded . and he’s gotten used to it , but he doesn’t like that this is what he’s known for . he wants people to get to know him for him but . . . this is his only option , since if he lets people inside , he gets hurt . so he just has to deal . 

he’s that person that talks so much , you think he’s oversharing when in ACTUALITY he’s telling you nothing of importance . oli is fucking smart & intelligent and he knows how to read a room , how to pick his words - all survival techniques he’s learned from navigating the world around him . he’s . . . an expert at this social stuff , even tho tbh he much rather wouldn’t be . 

some ppl want to kiss him some ppl want to kick him it be like that sometimes

he’s still nice !! he’s very nice - but maybe a bit more crass and unafraid to say shit that you wouldn’t expect anyone else to say .

but also also it’s like i said before - he is very into artwork and video games , the latter especially being his huge comfort . first is his passion , second is his comfort . oli loves games and he’s lowkey nerdy as hell , even though he’s trying to conceal some parts of himself THAT always bleeds through in some shape or form . 

he’s also extremely into witchcraft , and that’s a major part of his character as well . he likes hanging at the brewery because it’s easy to get people who want tarot readings from him , and he always keeps a sigil or a crystal or something on his person . always has a water bottle of witch tea , always enchants his clothes or items , cleans his workspace at the tat parlor he works at with moonwater - that stuff . he’s known as two things - the angel boy or the magic boy . 

o also he’s genderfluid so rly any titles are valid for him , comfy with anything . diagnosed bipolar ii & adhd bc i’m a bitch that loves to project . 

HE’S . . . HE’S A GOOD BOY . he’s just . afraid to show that he’s a good boy . he’s got a heart of gold but he’s scared that if he shows it someone else is gonna use him again .

ANYWAYS !! like this n i , light , the bastard , will message u for plots !!

[fics-not-tragedies]

Intervistare

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

It’s time for some Italian loving tonight, with a special dedication to @ivatsworld​ who’s obsessed with Santino just as I am 😈

SUMMARY: You’re a journalist who had the chance of having an exclusive interview with the heir of Camorra - the one and only Santino D’Antonio. Words:  3783; Warnings: smut ahead;

Readers tag list:

@spookier-than-u; @oreofenyloetyloamina; @derangedcupcake; @geostarr; @catsmieow; @wickedlangdon; @bodhi-black; @bugalouie; @onebatch--twobatch; @fandom-lover-4; @mikaneonox; @drunkonyellow; @spadesandaces2342; @harrisongslimited; @hhighkey; @lunilate; @i-cant-remember-my-old-login; @sgt-morgan; @coloursunlimited; @childrenofthegun; @weminiaturestrawberry; @silverlambcaptain; @scarletmoon83; @howtoruin-someones-perfect-day; @krazycags01; @charlottebonnie; @moonlit-raven-haven​; @girl-at-the-verge; @boopdedoop; @jardani-jovonovich-bitch; @ladyreapermc​; @wifeofdarklordsworld​; @mysticfluffyness​; @zombiepandajfish​; @kollover24​; @greenmanalishi​; @persephonehemingway​; @lovelycarose​;

You were tense to say the least. Not because of who he was, you’d come to terms with him being the biggest name you were interviewing yet, but because he looked quite uncomfortable, like he didn’t really want to be there. But there was no backing out now, from neither side really, and you’d been so excited so you tried to stay professional, not just get it over with but make it as good as you could, no matter how disinterested, reserved, distant he looked.

“Are you comfortable?” You inquired, looking at him doubtfully, “Is the coffee alright?”

He nodded slowly, holding the coffee cup in his hand, bringing it up to his lips to take a small sip. “Si, bella, thank you…” he said quietly, his thick accent making every word sound incredibly sexy.

Not just his mood was intimidating, the way he looked was too, the neatly tailored suit, his black coat threw nonchalantly on the armrest of the couch, the way his eyes kept piercing through you, the stare overly intimidating, and he just looked too well.

“Because I can get you something else…” you assured him, wanting him to be pleased with the drink you’d made him, you were desperate to make everything perfect.

It felt like you were the only two people in the whole building now, except for the security standing outside the door and lurking from every corner; he hadn’t been able to make any other time, it was past your hours, had gone dark a while ago, but you’d been willing to do this either way, if he was going to make the time to talk to you and grant you first and fully exclusive interview, you were going to make an effort and give it your all.

“It’s really good actually” he said, clearing his throat. “I like it, bella.”

You smiled, nodding and glancing down at your notes. “Okay, so… are you okay with me filming our conversation?” you asked, a faint smile hiding in the corner of his mouth, “I promise it’s only for my eyes, so I can refer back to it and go back and forth through it when I write the article.”

Santino nodded, “Yes, bella. I already agreed to that when you called.”

You nodded quickly, “Yeah, yeah, I just wanted to make sure again” you stammered.

He gave you a small smile, shifting slightly on the couch, “It’s fine, veramente. I bet you’re not the only one that would like to have videos of me” he chuckled.

You swallowed hard, your cheeks started to burn and you tried your best to calm down, and get your shit together.

“Okay…” you said, smiling, also clearing your throat. “Let’s… uh… let’s start then” you said, leaning over to press play on your laptop that you’d set up in front of the sofa you were both sat on, “Easy question to start with… how are you doing?” you asked, feeling like it was suitable to start on as he seemed to start flirting with you, “Like, not just your mood right now” you added with a laugh to seem a bit more deep, professional, “How are you generally… I can imagine that being a mobster isn’t an easy job… and I must say that I appreciate how you just simply agreed to talk with me, perhaps you want to show a warmer side of the mafia?”

He chuckled, the sound relieving you a little, hoping he was loosening up, “You’re right about that, bella. It’s not as easy as it might seem.”

You nodded, smiling, “So, right now it’s just… relaxing, recharging, taking a break from the usual… businesses?” you asked.

He sighed, stretching his arms out a little.

“Malavita is a form of an art really. With all of the power and money I have I could use it for anything I wanted.”

You smiled, nodding again, “Yeah” you said, “but isn’t it all like a burden for you somehow? Living in a constant state of danger? I’m sorry, I’m slipping into the heavy questions that early…” you laughed.

Santino shrugged, waving it off, “No, no, it’s fine, bella. I can understand that you have various questions… about various things… but I like to live in a constant state of danger” he leaned closer to you, “just like now… since you weren’t searched al momento dell'arrivo, how can I be sure you’re not having a gun or a knife… hidden somewhere.”

You nodded understandingly, smiling, “Right…”

“So… all the blood we, D’Antonios, have spilled is for our best. Our enemies have to die, so we can live.”

You laughed, “Yeah, I see that. And what’s made you stick with it, the fact that somehow it’s a family business?”

He nodded few times, before grabbing the coffee cup, “Yeah, I suppose…” he smiled, shifting and leaning back against the cushions of the sofa, turning his body slightly, so he was facing you more, pulling one of his legs up onto the other and taking another sip of his coffee. “It’s the only way of living I know.”

“But… haven’t you really tried, to escape this way of living?”

He shrugged, “I haven’t really thought about that… it’s more like I was already born into all that… born with murder coursing through my veins. I won’t describe myself as a bad person even though I kill people.”

“So, in your opinion, what makes a person bad?” you looked up at him from your notes and when your eyes met he couldn’t help but smile.

“I live by the codex, bella. A codex I have to work out myself… in my world there are three crucial rules: you don’t hurt women, you don’t hurt children and even a single word is worth more than anything. That’s how you make people trust you. You won’t hurt someone’s wife and kids even if it’s per vendetta. A loving woman is worth more than any amount of money, gold or anything equally pricey.”

You watched as he gently placed the empty cup onto the coffee table, “Would you like another drink? Perhaps some tea?” you offered.

He thought for a moment, “Veramente, bella, have you got… anything stronger?” Santino smirked.

You laughed, placing your notepad down and shuffling off the sofa, heading to the kitchen, “Really?” you grinned.

“I mean, not just for me, have a drink too…” he said and you could feel his eyes on you from behind you.

“I’m working…” you said, “And so are you, Mister Santino.”

“Please, just Santino!” he undid all of the buttons of his jacket, “Well, if no one sees that video, no one will know…”

You returned with two small glasses and a bottle of whisky, “Lucky me. Getting an exclusive interview and he’s even requesting a drink that’ll loosen his tongue” you joked.

“Well, you don’t seem as a person who would twist my words, then run them for printing. Also we both agreed that you’ll show me the final product of our discorso.”

You nodded quickly, pouring both of you a generous drink, handing him his before sitting back down with yours, picking up your notes again, “Absolutely” you said. “I don’t want you to think about every single word you say clearly because then it’s just going to be stiff and not very real, right? You’d be much more comfortable and more likely to just speak your mind and we can have a proper conversation.”

Santino smiled, nodding. “You know what you want, bella. Also you’re not trying to force me to say something that I’d regret later… you’re a true professional. You’re not one of those that’d like to force out a scandal.”

You nodded understandingly. “Yeah, but… that’s understandable” you smiled.

“But I feel … much more comfortable now, and it’s somehow like we’re just having a chat like… un primo incontro style…”

Your eyes widened and you blushed, trying to quickly think of something else to ask him, skimming your notes.

“To good journalism… and beautiful journalists” he said, quickly taking over your job of moving on and holding his glass up.

You laughed nervously, letting your glasses ring together, smiling at his words and taking a big sip of the whisky, the sharp aftertaste burning down your throat.

He smiled. “This is good…” he mumbled, “At least I know you have a good taste in liquor. So… now you can ask about the juicier things…” he joked.

“I don’t know about juicy…” you laughed again, “but I definitely have some few tricky ones, that I didn’t know if we’d get to, or if you were comfortable with…”

“Don’t be scared, either of asking or of me” his fingertips ghosted over the skin of your hand, a smile on his face.

You nodded, another blush creeping on your face.

“You said that ‘a loving woman is worth more than any amount of money’, is there someone in your life that you truly love?” his eyes seemed dull for a moment, it felt like he was deep in his thoughts, but he blinked them away.

“I’ve never really met someone I could adore… until now, I think” he probably sensed that his words made you uneasy, “Well, it’s definitely been one of the greatest conversations I’ve ever had in my life” Santino added quickly, laughing a little.

You smiled, flattered by the lovely compliment, “Wow, that’s… that makes me really proud” you said.

“You should be, bella” he said, sitting up straight and finishing his glass. “I’m actually… dying for a cigarette” he said, fumbling in the pocket of his jacket, “You smoke?”

You thought for a moment, then nodded slowly, “Yeah, I could have one too” you said with a smile, leaning over to finish and save your recording, before grabbing one of the ashtrays from the kitchen and placing it on the coffee table next to the sofa.

“It was a great conversation” Santino said as he handed you a cigarette and trapped one between his lips, lightning them both with a silver lighter.

“Thank you” you smiled. “I thought so too, I was a little nervous but that turned out to be unnecessary.”

He smirked, taking a drag from his cigarette, “Doesn’t it always?” a little chuckle left his lips.

“True” you laughed, nodding, also taking a drag and blowing it away from him. It felt like he moved closer, slowly reducing the distance between you two.

“So, any plans for now?” he asked, slowly moving even closer to you.

You shrugged. “Well, I didn’t know how long this was going to take so I didn’t make any plans…” you confessed, “I might order some food, start writing the article. Bit of lonely work. How about you?”

“I mean, quite the same” he laughed, “Mob life is a quite a lonely one, surprising.”

Your eyes widened as you looked up at him, biting your lip, “O-Or… perhaps … you could… just stay for a little longer” you suggested, “If you wanted, to just… have another drink?”

“I don’t want to keep you away from work, bella…”

You smiled, “Well, I asked, so…” you mumbled nervously, unable to take your eyes off his with how close he was and you wondered if he really was getting closer or if you were just imagining that.

“Magnifico…” he hummed, “Because I feel like the real conversation hasn’t really started yet.”

You swallowed hard, your eyes glued to his face, hypnotized by the way his lips moved as he spoke, his face was even prettier in person and you just couldn’t take your eyes of it, thought about what it would feel like if he just came a little closer, if he just closed the space between the two of you completely and then your heart fluttered when he did.

Your eyes stayed wide open for a moment, unable to believe that this was happening, how was this happening?

And then he already pulled back, eyes fluttering open, looking back at you, “Mi spiace, bella” he mumbled, the Italian accent driving you more and more insane with every word he spoke, “Was that okay… okay with you…? I… oh, bella…”

You nodded eagerly, reaching to cup the back of his neck, not giving him a moment of doubt and leaning up to press your lips to his, your eyes fluttering shut. Santino quickly stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray and you felt how he hesitated for a moment, just like you had before kissing you back, one of his arms looping around you to pull you closer, his other hand cupping the side of your face. He tasted exactly the way he looked, sweet, like smoke, the whisky and something else that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, something mysterious…

You drew back, inhaling sharply and he giggled shakily, “I thought I just sbagliare…” he said quietly.

“No, no, I was just … caught off guard, I…” you took one last drag from your cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray just like he did with his.

“No, no, bella…” he said, his thumb grazing your lips, “don’t apologize” his other hand gently touching your neck, “I just… my first thought when I walked here was that you’re una bellissima donna… when we started talking… you’re voice was the most sublime music I’ve ever heard… I felt like we were on the same wavelength, I think that’s how you say it in English…” he smiled again.

“No, no, I agree!” you assured him quickly, pressing your hand to his chest, “I … just wasn’t sure if you… felt the same…”

 “I do, bella. There’s something magic about you…” he smirked.

You poured both of you another glass of whisky, a little more this time and you kicked off your shoes, getting more comfortable on the sofa, Santino doing the same, pulling up his legs and leaning his side against the back of the sofa to face you properly.

He smiled back at you, sighing, “I know you can see me as someone who’s ruthless… someone rotten to the core, but I rarely pull the trigger, I just make orders.”

“That’s understandable. You have a whole army of people to do that for you” there was a faint smile on your lips.

“Bella?”

“Y-Yes, Santino?”His voice sounded serious and you looked back at him curiously, swallowing.

“Can I kiss those lips again?”

Your heart skipped a beat and you found yourself nodding, placing your glass down on the table but holding his gaze.

He smiled softly, biting his bottom lip before shrugged off his jacket and leaned in again, his hand moving to the back of your head to draw you close, pressing his lips to yours again, less hesitant this time, more confident, like he wasn’t all that before and it felt more like he meant it, like he now knew what he truly wanted.

You sighed softly against his lips, returning the kiss, moving your hand to the side of his face, brushing your thumb along his jaw, a slight gasp falling from your lips when you felt his tongue slip past them to dance with yours, deepening the kiss.

You felt a fire coiling in your stomach, trying to compose yourself, to not get lost in the kiss but he tasted incredible, felt incredible, smelt incredible, he was intoxicating and you wanted more, tried to hold yourself back but you couldn’t, cupping his face with both hands to keep him close, kissing him back more eagerly, the alcohol loosening your inhibitions, making you more confident than you normally would’ve been in any sort of position like this. Not that you’d ever been in one, not that you’d ever had the chance to be with someone like he was.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer and you shifted to climb into his lap, sighing with relief when you sank into his arms and it was much more comfortable to kiss him this way, pressing yourself close to him as you moved your tongue with his and his lips became more demanding, eager, almost desperate for more.

You didn’t know what had gotten into you, didn’t recognize yourself, or the confidence you had, your hips grinding forward into his, your face flushed, heart racing as he tightened his arm around you, groaning softly into your mouth. One of his hands moved slowly up your side before cupping your breast over your shirt, groping, kneading before tugging up your shirt, both his hands wandering underneath and you moaned against his lips as he massaged your breasts through your bra.

As you moved to grind your hips forward again, aching for some friction, something to tend to the ache between your legs that was growing more and more prominent the more he touched you, the more he moaned, mumbled your name, sucked on your tongue, “S-Santino…” you were unable to stop the little moan from leaving your mouth.

“Are we making love tonight, bella?” he drawled when he felt your hips grinding down again, hands moving slowly down your hips. He was hard, straining in his perfectly tailored trousers.

You whimpered at his words, couldn’t help but nod, “Y-Yes…” you whispered.

“Mmm, perfetto…” he mumbled, making you giggle against his lips and he pushed up your skirt, hands roaming your thighs and spreading them further apart in his lap, allowing you to press up closer to him, whining when you felt the rough fabric of his trousers brush up against your wet folds, just grazing your clit slightly.

“O-Oh, fuck…” you whispered.

He was quick to unbuckle his belt and you lifted your hips to give him enough space to tug down his jeans far enough to reach into his underwear, giving his hard cock a few pumps and you watched him, mesmerized, licking your lips.

Then you just switched his hand with yours, giving him a few more pumps, stroking him slowly, enjoying the look on his face as he slowly relaxed, his eyes fluttering shut, lips parted slightly, little moans you couldn’t figure out falling from his mouth.

You couldn’t believe this was about to happen, doubted it was for a moment but here you were, on top of him, aching for him to be inside you and soon you couldn’t wait any longer, sitting up on your knees to position yourself above him, whimpering when his tip brushed up against your clit and you pulled your thong to the side, whining when your wet heat enveloped him, you were so wet that he slipped inside easily, before you could properly adjust, falling against him, your chest pressed up against him.

He groaned, throwing his head back as he sank inside you slowly and you squirmed when his cock was buried all the way inside you, throbbing, stretching out your walls, “Excuse my words, bella, but la tua figa è perfetta…” he muttered, his hips bucking up.

You whimpered, arms wrapped around his shoulders as you tried to lift your hips, only to sink back down on him again, moaning softly at the friction, his cock rubbing up so tightly against your walls.

“Take this off…” he groaned, pushing your shirt up properly and you tried to sit up straight so he could pull it over your head, grabbing at your tits again as you started rolling your hips, adjusting slowly to his size and starting to pick up the pace, bouncing in his lap, whining softly each time his cock reached deep inside you, brushing up into just the right spot and you reached between your legs to rub your clit.

He moved his hips with yours, bucking them up and groaning, massaging your breasts and dragging your bra down so they spilled over, making you whine when he rolled your nipples between his fingers, teasing, attaching his lips to your neck and sucking needily on your skin.

You picked up the pace, hips rising and falling faster, it was a quick grind, a fast build up and you could tell he was getting just as close just as quickly, your walls clenching around his throbbing cock.

“C-cazzo, bella! You’re fucking gorgeous…” he panted, his hands dropping to your hips to guide your movements, bouncing you faster in his lap as he started pushing up inside you, his snapping up again and again and again, making you cry out, whimpering his name each time he drove his cock deep inside you.

“Santi!” You moaned loudly, glad you were all alone now. “Oh, fuck Santino! I’m… I’m so close… I’m gonna…”

“Me too, bella, come on, let go, let your pretty little cunt come all over my cock…”

His filthy words were doing it all, encouraging you as your hips slapped together and you fell against him, your hard nipples brushing up against his chest as you gripped his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin through the fabric, whining, squirming as your walls gripped his cock, fluttering around him, the pleasure rocking through your body.

Triggered by your orgasm, he followed suit, burying himself deep inside you, holding you close and whimpering as he bit down on your neck.

“Santi!” you whined, moving your fingers to the back of his head, nails scraping against his skin gently, riding out both your orgasms, sighing as his cock brushed against your sensitive walls, a quiet whimper escaping your lips when he slipped out of you.

“Cazzo… oh, bella…” he groaned, tucking himself back into his underwear, fixing his clothes.

You shifted off his lap, your legs shaking as you stood up to fix your own clothes, picking up your shirt and pulling it back on, turning around when you felt his hand close around your wrist and he pulled you down on the sofa beside him again, your head falling down on his shoulder, his arm wrapping around you.

“Come here…” he mumbled softly, pressing an absent kiss to your hair, his hand brushing up and down your arm.

You were surprised by the tender nature of his touches, had thought he’d really just want to grind it out quickly now but he still seemed interested in spending more time with you and you were pleasantly surprised, cuddling closer to his side to cherish the moment.

“If you want me to go just say a word, bella…” he mumbled quietly against your hair.

“I don’t…” you sighed, speaking into his chest and wrapping your arm around him.

[vitosscaletta]

1, 2, 6, 8, 22, 25, 28, 34, 42, 50 for Christian and Peggy!!! Give me that lore pls...

THANK U... im gonna do Christian bc i’m too tired to do both 😳

1. How does your character think of their father? What do they hate and love about him? What influence - literal or imagined - did the father have?

Omg they honestly didn’t really have much to do with each other?? Christian’s father (his name was Charles) was deeply religious and very practical, he didn’t have much patience for frivolous things like art or whatever his eccentric wife was into, so they never bonded that much. He gave most of his attention to his eldest son/Christian’s older brother as he was the heir and all that, Christian on the other hand was too irresponsible and a bit of a disappointment in his eyes :/ I mean there was some sort of love between them but he never really bothered to bond with any of his children and least of them all Christian

2. Their mother? How do they think of her? What do they hate? Love? What influence - literal or imagined - did the mother have?

He loved her!!!!! Little Christian was her favorite child, the one she bonded with the most 😳 She had a great love for theatre, dance and art & would have wanted to be an artist or musician or something, instead of marrying a man she doesn’t love for his status but you know, 17th century france was like that. Christian got his love of the arts from her so out of her children he was the one she connected with the most!!! She used to play him children’s songs on her harpsichord when he was a toddler & he smashed the keys of it with his little chubby baby hands 🥺

She was devastated after her favorite child “died” and sunk into a deep depression that she never recovered from until her death in the 1690′s 😰 Of course she’s long dead but Christian still misses her a lot & regrets not being able to tell her that he didn’t really die. She’s probably his biggest influence - he takes a lot after her and she’s the one he got his love for the arts from.

6. Did they feel rejection or affection as a child?

Definitely affection from his mama!!! She pretty much showered him with it. His father... not so much but he was this way to his other siblings too. He just wasn’t a very affectionate person in general, he would show them a bit of love but only in the form of an approving smile and maybe a shoulder pat 😓

8. How does your character feel about religion?

He’s catholic lol, definitely not as religious as his father. He never really gave religion much thought, maybe there is a god, maybe there isn’t 🤷‍♀️

22. Who are their friends? Lovers? ‘Type’ or ‘ideal’ partner?

When he was alive.. his mom of course, his little sister Marie Anne, a few random nobles 🙄 His family was kinda close to the king (mostly thanks to his charismatic mom) so he was always surrounded with fake friends I suppose. I’d also say his sire, Simonetta - an italian noblewoman who he met at court (she’s a fictionalized version of a real person so lore is kinda cringe.. maybe i’ll share one day.. maybe not dkjkjdf). They were good friends & she eventually embraced him to save his life after an illegal duel, after that they lived in rome for a while, she eventually grew tired of him due to his behavior & was like “come back when you’re less of an asshole 😤” 

In modern nights, his friends are his ghoul Claude, a descendant of his favorite sister who I mentioned, they met in paris during the belle époque; the hollywood anarchs and Jeanette... he’s.. kinda frenemies with Gary, more enemies though? Like they’re both like 😏 @ each other when one of them makes fun of the prince or something but most of the time their dynamic is this

As for lovers.. there were a LOT!!! Most notably Lo/uis’ mistress, his ex-boyfriend in the 19th century aaaand miss Helena, his childe 🙄 but you know how that ended! Generally I think he’s drawn to charismatic people (like him lol), someone who can captivate everyone in the room with their presence or something like that.. someone who shares his love for the arts of course. I think he always imagined his ideal partner to be someone sweet like Helena and Simonetta, but those relationships obviously didn’t work out so..

25. What are their hobbies and interests?

Like his late mother, he’s a big fan of theatre  even though he doesn’t do any acting, he himself enjoys dancing (ballet... there wasn’t any stigma attached to it back in the 1600s, iirc it was even one of the requirements of being a gentleman? can’t have shit in the 21st century :/) and fencing 😌 he’s also a very social person & enjoys being around other people. Which means he’s mostly making fun of others 🙄

28. Who is your character’s mate partner? How do they relate to him or her? How did they make their choice?

of course you’d ask that.. hoe 😒 just kidding.. you know... Miss Lucrezia 😌 They met in 21st century Los Angeles where he’s the Baron of Bel Air & kinda important I guess so she started rumors about him for fun. Christian decided to confront her about it and that’s how they met babey!!! They had a pretty antagonistic relationship in the beginning but it eventually blossomed into a very passionate romance in the 1970s that ended as quickly as it began when Lucrezia left for Europe (corny casablanca ending kinda goodbye but it’s 1977 and saturday night fever just released). He’s heartbroken over it and drowns his sorrow in creating messed up art about abandonment & losing the only person he’ll ever truly love but eventually picks himself up again. He eventually meets miss Helena & has a short romance with her, thinking she’s his soulmate or something but his feelings for her, as intense as they are, are the result of some toreador obsession, not real love. There was some sort of connection but as infatuated as he was with her, it wasn’t the same as he felt for Lucrezia 🙄 He spends weeks just moping around in his mansion when she leaves him but immediately forgets her when he hears that Lucrezia is back in LA :) 

Like I said, he thought his ideal partner would be very different but in the end Lucrezia is the one who truly understands him, they’re different in a lot of regards but very similar at the same time, she’s been his best friend all this time, she made him truly happy the way no one else could and Christian is a big dumbass for not realizing it sooner but!! here we are!!

42. What does your character want most? What do they need really badly, compulsively? What are they willing to do, to sacrifice, to obtain?

What does he want most... his character sheet says to find his soulmate ❤ jhsdjhsd really he’s a toreador, so he’s always chasing whatever he’s obsessed with at the moment, then gets bored of it and throws it away - mostly it’s art, sometimes people lol. He’d do anything to get what he wants - not like randomly killing innocents of course but. stabbing others in the back. stealing. taking advantage of people. you know

50. What are the prevailing facial expressions? Sour? Cheerful? Dominating?

Mostly his charismatic fake smile that he's always wearing in public, also often a slightly bored frown AND the “got invited to venture tower & has to listen to Lacroix spewing his bullshit again” eye roll. here’s a Theo James in Sanditon gif to illustrate my point

[b4civility]

Chapter 5: James

  I know that not a lot of people that were also taking Visual Arts were going to be there, but I wasn’t too desperate about it either. Some to who I’ve talked to during the first week were nice but most of them were those edgy, cold, Clock Orange and Tarantino worshippers that just had their heads too far up their own butts to have a real conversation with. I think Betty was the only freshman that didn’t annoyed me at some level this past few days.Hope I get a chance to talk to her better. Is she thinking the same? Did she have a nice first week? Did she think of me at any point this past week? ‘Cause I had. I saw her twice on campus from afar, but she was always in a heated discussion with a group of people. This Political majors won’t miss a discussion, apparently. I hope she can take a joke, too. I think I remember her smiling at me the last time I was around, that gives me hope. 

  I skate there, only me with a bottle of champagne that I had smuggled from my mother’s hidden bar on the attic. Didn’t blame the people for staring, I was a Kid Cuts His Face While Riding a Skateboard With A Glass Bottle In Hand accident waiting to happen. I toss my board on the grass and get in, make myself home. I have been here for the same reason more times than it’s legal, but never felt uncomfortable enough to never come back again. It always started with some dubious glances and “who’s brother is this” muffled comments, and when we were all ready to call it a night lots of hugs and cheek kisses and “hope I see you next time, man!” were delivered at me as goodbye. Thus, I always came back. 

 “Sup Jaaames” Zoe greeted me. “ Nice! we were almost running out of this one, saved the party bro” she was pouring the champagne on her cup letting it leak a bit. She wasn’t sober. 

“Yeah, I see you enjoyed some of if”

“ You don’t miss a thing, do you?” she took a sip. “ I was going to say this party is going to be good for you to mingle, but you already know most of our friends. I didn’t invite many people from your class but I hope you get to know them better, it’s good to be friends with people you study with, don’t underestimate that” She handled her tipsiness with grace, I bet she could give me a well-thought speech out of the tip of her tongue if I keep winding her up. 

“ I talked to some, but they weren’t exactly my type of people, but I guess if I’m nice to them, they’ll be nice to me” 

“Probably. But I suppose they were no Betty, am I right?” she said, stretching her name.Had I say something? 

“ What do you mean?” 

“ Rumors fly,boy. A little bird told me that you and her had a pretty agressive locked-eyes-situation last time you were here”. Inez couldn’t keep her words neither her imagination to herself, which was worse. 

“ Yeah, I guess,but whatever…”

“Speechless,all of the sudden? hehehe”  she leaned her arm on my shoulder,trying to catch her breath to talk  “well, it’s not like it’s a surprise for anyone here. In any case, you know were the porch izzzzz” 

  I sat her down on the kitchen top, handled her a glass of water and told her I would say hello to some people. As I walked around, I saw some boys that would be in my grade if I was still in high school, Trevor and Nate. Fucking idiots. They were always the ones to start a fight on a party or to make out with girls that were just too drunk to persist to refuse. I didn’t engage in the first one, but had already started some myself for the second reason. But, right now, in front of all this people they were new to, they seemed like two nice puppies. I nodded at them and went to the backyard. Needless to say, I wanted to get to Betty as fast as I could so I just waved to a lot of people, grabbed a beer and looked around trying to appear as casual as possible. And there she was, talking to a friend. She was much more relaxed than when we had met and her eyes gleamed a bit when she smiled. I feel like I could come up to her and just ask “what’s up?” and we would spend the entire evening talking, as if we had done it a million times before. The scenario in my head didn’t worry me anymore, I wasn’t revising all my pick up lines trying to decide which one would work with her, I wasn’t forming a backup plan if she told me off. I just wanted to switch places with the girl in front of her. If only I had arrived earlier, if only that girl was talking to some other friend, if only I… was touching her tight. That girl was touching Betty’s tight. How close could you get over introduction week? Well. I guess I wouldn’t be the one to know. 

  I noticed that I had my eyes glued on the two for way too long so I went back inside. I wouldn’t say that I was crushed, but definitely disappointed.What was up with me? I misled my own self; it’s not like we had have any significant communication before, and it’s not like I was short on options of who to end the night up with. I wasn’t the one to fall like this;I had never been in love before.I sat on the couch for a bit drinking my beer until I heard from behind the other couch, that was in front of me: 

  “ You good, James? Another girl dumped you again? Uni girls don’t need your help when I’m around, do they? “Trevor said, giving Nate a high five for the extremely mature - almost academic, I would say-  line that intended to get on my nerves. His goal was to either get me to fight him or to kiss him. But I guess I was still too sober for his taste. I always nod it off, never engaged the other twenty times he has ever tried to get me out of my cool. 

But I could use the distraction.

 Deep breath, fake smile and ask: “Beer pong. Me and someone against you two. What do you say?” I ask him. If life gives you two brats, you make a beer pong match. 

  “ Never saw you so engaged in making a clown out of yourself, James. I’m in. What’s in for it?” 

  “ Shit, isn’t the whole point to just get drunk? That’s what’s in”

  “ I could be getting drunk with any hot bitch on this party, I’m not wasting that on you.Don’t be a pussy and bet something already” 

  “Whoever loses has to strip to the entire length of a song in front of everyone, in the kitchen counter.” Nate said.Trevor’s shadow could talk and knew the word ‘lenght’? Really underestimated that dude. 

  “Deal.”

  It’s not that I was a good beer pong player. Neither was feeling especially lucky that evening. But I did have Ashley going for me, she made an excellent partner when it came to this game. However, I managed to balance her out and we lost. 

  “Okay! This is finally the night that we’ll know what is the color of James’ panties!” Trevor high fived Nate again. 

  “ Dreamed about it much, Trevor?” I answered. 

  “ Doesn’t matter. It’s not me who’s getting naked. I’ll let you choose the music” 

  I hesitated a bit.

 “U can’t touch this”,I said. 

 He looked at me, a bit confused . “ Don’t get me wrong, James, I’ll definitely blast this but you’re digging your own grave” 

Trevor laughed.

  But a newbie is a newbie- since it was the first time they were ever in a college party, they weren’t aware that this was the song that played in every one of them and everyone had to dance to it. It was tradition. My brother, who was here before me, two years ago, warned me of it and taught me some smooth steps to this song. That’s when I discovered that I wasn’t too bad of a dancer and, long story short, everyone knew I could dance. So, when the song started and everyone got up and I stood on the counter, their heads bounced side to side, wondering what kind of code had been passed to everyone but them. And as I did the choreo, people started blasting my name, encouraging me. Damn, U can’t! touch! this! I was having a great time being the center of attention and the fact that I had to strip just hitted me by the middle of the song, so I started doing so. I took my shoes off, kicking them away on the beat of the song, and just as I had taken my shirt off- what led some girls to scream louder- the song ended. 

“LET’S GET THIS YEAR STARTEEEED!!!!!” I screamed at the end. The crowd shouted my words back at me. 

Yeah, I guess I’m starting big.

[magioftheseas]

Hiyoko & Yasuke

Summary: Saionji Hiyoko’s FTEs in the SDR2 Protagonist Matsuda Yasuke AU. Yep. They’re different enough from canon, I swear.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Language...? Hiyoko’s still definitely a bitch. Matsuda is, too.

Notes: This was a prize for correctly guessing the reference in Chapter 4 of the main fic! Since Hiyoko deserves more appreciation, I cross-posted it to here. Her and Matsuda predictably bicker and don’t get along that well, all things considered, but they have an enjoyable banter and a surprisingly interesting relationship. Since I probably won’t be able to portray it to its fullest in the main fic, I was pretty okay with writing up this. It was pretty difficult tho so FTEs for the entire cast is looking like a far-off dream lol. If there’s interest in certain characters (and/or a request I accepted/a thing I was commissioned), then ehhhhh maybe more to come. Maybe.

Read this fic among others HERE

Main story is HERE

Commission? Donate?

By all accounts, this is a shitty fucking idea but...

“One! Two! One! Two! Left! Right! Left!” A giggle. An intake of breath. And then, she wails. “Waaaaah! Some fucking creep keeps staring at meeeee!”

“I’m just astounded you’re still not bored with squishing thoraxes,” Matsuda muttered, already questioning every single choice he could’ve made that would lead to being in this situation. “Do you have a vendetta against drones or what?”

But I guess it’s better than stomping crabs.

Saionji snorted.

“And now the weirdo creep is asking me strange questions. And in such a droning voice! I hate it!”

“Sorry, my baby talk is pretty rusty. But if you’re that whiny, would you be pacified with a candy?”

“If it’s lemon I don’t want it!” Saionji exclaimed, looking absolutely affronted.

“...”

Matsuda pulled out a lollipop.

“Orange, then?”

“Give it! I’ll never forgive you if you don’t!”

“Alright.”

Somehow, with that little exchange, a devil’s contract had been formed.

FTE#1

“Mm, mm.” Sickening smacks of the lips, and Matsuda really was wondering how things turned out like this. Saionji looked pretty content, at least. “Hey, hey, Matsuda-nii. You wanna know what I think about you?”

“I can’t imagine it’s positive,” he replied. “Even if you weren’t a yappy bitch desecrating our serene cultural beauty, I get the feeling you would still think I’m kind of a dick.”

“Mm...” Just like that, Saionji’s wide, watery eyes filled with tears. And she begin to sniffle. And she wails yet again, “I ABSOLUTELY WOULD THINK THAAAAAT! MATSUDA-NII’S SUCH A JEEEEEERK!!! A P-PERVERTED...SHIT-SPEWING...COMPLETE ASSHOLE!!!”

“At least most of what you say is true and everyone knows it.” With a roll of his eyes, he dropped a crumpled up handkerchief into her lap. “So shut the hell up. Do you have any fucking pride at all? Pathetic.”

“U-Uu. The worst. The absolute worst. You even gave me such a shitty fucking rag.” Irritated, she still fiddled with it. “Did anyone even teach you how to fold?! Oh.”

She quiets when she sees that there’s a candy tucked inside. It’s wrapped up cutely in pink and orange polka dots. Her face pinches up so much so she looks constipated. All the same, she finishes up her lollipop so that she can unwrap this new candy and pop it into her mouth. Bitterly, she seems to like it a lot.

Not that Matsuda is really looking at her anymore.

“You really are a pervert, thinking you can pacify me with that.”

“I forgot about it,” he said, shrugging. “But think what you want. I’m not interested in the line of correcting stupid, stubborn brats.”

She hiccuped, sniffling and blowing her nose on his handkerchief.

“I-If you were really sorry, you’d get me the sweet I really like.”

What makes you think I’d fucking care? And anyway...

“You mean those gummies you always eat?” Matsuda asked,  Just pick them up at the damn supermarket. You’re a big girl, aren’t you?”

“THAT’S NOT IIIIIIT!!!” Saionji shook her head furiously. “Dummy! Stupid! Perv! That’s just ordinary candy I happen to like! What I really like is special!”

“Shut the heeeeeell up,” Matsuda snapped. “If you want me to figure shit out, don’t be so fucking vague about it. Haven’t you ever been to a doctor before? Shouldn’t you know this?”

“U-Urgh.” Grumbling, she wiped irritably at her eyes, glaring back at him darkly. “What I really like is special, sweet, small, and shaped like a star!”

“Oh.” Matsuda inhaled, nodding in understanding. “Confeito.”

She nodded back.

“Well.” Matsuda rubbed at the nape of his neck. “I dunno what to tell you, then. They don’t have that shit at the supermarket.”

Just like that, Saionji’s face turned to stone.

“And even if they did, like hell I’d share any with such a bratty, yappy troll.” Matsuda frowned. “Do you really think that with a face like that, and if you cry, that you can just get people to do whatever you want? You’re not even a kid, you’re the same fucking age as me.”

Saionji bit her lip.

“Still, I guess confeito’s at least good taste,” he sighed, shrugging. “Small yet intricately designed, sparkling like the stars they’re based off of. They’re works of art, along with flower candies along with the kind of aesthetic treats enjoyed at a tea ceremony. Personally, I’m a big fan of Mont Blanc, too.”

“Too sweet,” Saionji muttered darkly. “Foreign sweets are way too disgustingly sweet. They’re uncultured.”

Matsuda gave her an unimpressed look.

“Even castella?”

“M-Mmgh.” Saionji fidgeted, seething as she did. “Castella is...it’s... It’s fine, but...”

“Buuuuut? What?” Matsuda’s brow furrowed. “What’s got you so bitter?”

Saionji got to her feet, eyes brimming with tears again, and she shoved him down none too gently. He grunted as he landed harshly onto his back.

“Big! Stupid! Jerk!”

He only barely managed to avoid her stomping feet and just as he glared, she had already rushed off, leaving him in her proverbial dust.

And what the actual fuck was that about?

He sputtered a bit.

Seriously what the hell?

Sighing, he shook her head. He wasn’t in the mood for chasing her, especially considering the shit she’d scream at him if he did, so for now, he’ll just leave her be.

FTE#2

Unsurprisingly, the next time he saw her, she turned away in a childish huff. Since he had time to think about it, even though he hadn’t really wanted to, he can figure that she was probably pissed about...being called out on her shit.

Predictable.

He would’ve just given her time to sort that nonsense out on her own, but Saionji kept sneaking angry glances. Kept sneering. Kept turning away with a childish huff.

Oh for fuck’s sake. What a goddamn nuisance.

So, in the end, he approached her first after all.

“Yo.”

“Gross.”

“I’m not going to apologize,” he snapped, unaffected by her look of contemptuous disgust, even as he retained his usual scowl. “So if you’re trying to guilt me, it’s not going to fucking work. Just. Letting you know.”

Saionji bristled, but then, she sighed heavily.

“Of cooooourse not. I’ve known that from the start that fake tears weren’t going to do shit on someone like you,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You’re awful. Super cold. The kind of person I hate super much even if it’s not the most.”

“Were those tears really fake?” he asked, unimpressed. “If you knew that it wouldn’t work, you wouldn’t have reacted so strongly.”

“Shut up.” Her expression would’ve terrified a weakling like that mechanic guy but Matsuda just met her glare coldly. “A filthy, shit-spewing asshole like you should just keep his trap shut.”

He shook his head, tilting it with a twisting frown.

“And you can’t even be bothered to say please? You’re about traditional dancing, right? Where’s your fucking formality?”

Saionji reddened with anger. With a stomp of her foot, she huffed and then, with trembling shoulders, she mumbled, “You really are someone I super hate very much.”

He waved his hand.

“Then, there’s really nothing more to say,” he said, and he turned on his heel. “I’ll get out of your sight then, brat.”

“Y-You really don’t feel bad or guilty at all?!” she sputtered. “Where’s your heart?!”

“Bedside manner is reserved for patients, and I don’t have the patience for someone like you,” Matsuda snapped.

“W-Wah...” Shuddering, Saionji’s breath hitched as her fists balled. “T-The worst. The worst. I hate you so much!”

Urgh.

“I don’t really hate you,” he said. “But I can’t exactly say I like you, either. Then again, with the way you act?”

His head was throbbing, which was even more irritated. It was only worse when Saionji wailed and wailed.

Urgh. Urgh. Why do I...?

“Will you shut up, you bitch? Shut up!”

Unsurprisingly, she just got louder.

“Shut up!”

And louder.

“Shut...!”

And louder.

“Saionji, for fuck’s sake!”

Saionji’s mouth shut, but she was glowering darkly and viciously. Chin tucked, with eyes hooded yet bright with fury.

“Call me that again and I’ll fucking kill you.”

And now she’s actually threatening me?! Is this the same gremlin or is it now the other one? But more than that...

“You don’t want me to call you by your name?” A pause. “Your family name? What? Is your family that bad? Well, the rotten apple doesn’t fall far from...”

He ends up trailing off as she scoffed, lips trembling, eyes glimmering.

I’m treading into sensitive territory, here.

“Just don’t use it,” Saionji snapped. “It’s an awful wretched name and I hate it more than I hate you.”

Matsuda opened his mouth to say something, but for once, he thought better about it and kept his trap shut.

...your family name, huh...

Saionji ended up being the one who turned on her heel and stomped away. Matsuda watched her, feeling a weird twist in his gut. Guilt, maybe? Gross.

I might’ve gone too far after all. Shit.

FTE#3

“Yooo.”

“Grooooss.”

Saionji sneered as he shuffled his hand into his pocket. Grumbling lowly, he ended up pulling out a bag of sweet buns and very nearly flings it into her face. Saionji’s expression shifts to unreadable, but she immediately opens the bag. Her beady eyes are expectant as she takes a bun and bites down into it.

“I actually should apologize for before,” Matsuda muttered, averting his gaze. “Family matters can be delicate, I guess.”

That said.

“I’m not really going to pry into said family matters, mind you. That’s really none of my business. So it’s whatever. Just take what you will from it.”

“Mm. Mmf.” Saionji chewed and swallowed, blinking at him a few times with those childishly wide eyes. “You really are suuuuuper fucking pitiful, huh? You have no grace in apologizing at all!”

Matsuda grumbled.

It’s whatever. Whatever. Just what the hell am I trying to accomplish, again? Fuck.

“Yep!” Saionji giggled. “You act all high and mighty but you’re just one of many unimportant losers under me! So you should just accept your place as a slave and don’t bitch so much!”

Matsuda blinked. And he held up his hand.

“You’re about thirty-eight centimeters too short and about a hundred years too young to make those kinds of demands.” He rubs at his nape. “Still. Sorry about earlier.”

“I don’t forgive you,” she chirped. “Not until you grovel.”

“I’m not that sorry.”

“Awww! Then what good are you even for?”

“Do you even remember what my talent is?”

“Nope! Why should I?”

Matsuda rolled his eyes.

Playing around with a spoiled brat really isn’t a worthwhile use of my time. I should just leave.

“You’re a doctor, right?”

Just as he had turned on his heel, the words gave him pause. Saionji’s tone was high and cheerful, but lowered in pitch when she clicked her tongue over the syllables of doctor.

“If you’re a doctor, then you should stay by my side.” Another click of her tongue, followed up by a giggle. “Don’t you know? Anyone with the surname Saionji is cursed to die.”

If he hadn’t been drawn in before, he was definitely curious now.

“Bloodlines are always targeted by organizations and are often subjected to assassinations,” she went on, waving a bun around as though it were a fan before stuffing it into her mouth. She had some manners to chew and swallow, touching her lips before finally going on, “Since I’m head of the family, I’m a target, too. I’ll get pins in my shoes, dead mice on my bed, food poisoned, and stage lights dropped on me. I’m in a lot of danger, Matsuda-nii. That’s why you have to protect me.”

“That’s w̴̡̫͆̃͗̓̃h̴̞̤͂͒̊͋̕ỷ̷̛̻̓̿̽̀...”

A sudden striking pain in his temple, and Matsuda was immediately snapped out of the moment. Grumbling, he rubs at his temple, and he grimaces at Saionji’s innocently blinking eyes.

“That sounds like you need a guard, not a doctor,” he huffed. “If that’s what you’re so concerned about, why not indoctrinate one of those two meatheads or something? Well, I can’t speak for their observational skills, but...”

“But nothing!” Saionji shrieked. “Those two are sooooooo boring! Owari’s so gullible that she’ll believe anything I say! What’s the fun in that?!”

“There’s also that I’m a specialized doctor,” Matsuda added, exasperated. “As not fun as it would be to turn up with pins in your feet, that’s not my field. I wouldn’t be assigned to work on that. Pins in your skull, on the other hand...”

Saionji’s cheek puffed until they looked rosier than cherries.

“If general health issues are a concern, then go for the healthcare committee chick,” he said. “Tsumiki Mikan, was it?”

“Mmgh.” Just like that, she went from pouting to splitting with a smirk. “She is really fun to mess with.” Just like that, her smile quickly dropped. “You, on the other hand, aren’t much fun at all. Just when you were showing potential, too.”

Potential?

“You really are hung up on your manipulative act, huh,” he mused. “What’s even the point of that? You clearly aren’t that good at it. You’re way too easy.”

“What was that?” she asked, gaze hooded.

“Playing dumb isn’t going to help, either,” Matsuda said, gaze drifting to the side. “You’re too obvious. Despite some shallow similarities, you’re actually nothing like...”

He stops. He blinks. Once. Twice.

Just...what was I in the middle of saying?

His head hurt. It really hurt. It was as if all his thoughts came crashing down in a heavy heap that dig into his head deep enough to pierce nerves. It really fucking hurt.

“Matsuda-nii?”

Saionji sounds as confused as she does frustrated.

“I... I-I need to go.” His mouth felt dry, head and heart pounding, thoughts in shrieking, shattered remains. “Right. Away.”

“Hey, what the hell, Matsuda-nii?!” When he took off running, Saionji yelled after him. “H-HEY, MATSUDA-NII!!!”

He could hear her, but it was detached and distant, as if she didn’t even occupy the same plane.

FTE#4

The next time their paths had intersect, Saionji was, as per usual, pretty pissed right off the bat. But this time, her glare bore into him intensely, almost searchingly, like there was something she needed to see and yet nothing yielded. She was frustrated. Still confused. About what had happened.

Which was fair, Matsuda had no idea what the fuck he was on about earlier either. Truth be told, he barely remembered it because he downed so many pills afterwards that he passed out. As it stands, he’s just grateful he didn’t get his idiot ass seriously sick. He’s still a little drowsy and out of it, but keeping his body active should work wonders.

He should avoid anything that aggravates whatever that was, which would include Saionji. But. Even if that’d be good in the short term, he had a bad fucking feeling about the long term.

And so here they were. Matsuda lowkey wanted her to stomp on his foot and storm off because this intense, glaring silence wasn’t doing anyone any favors. His head doesn’t hurt, but he’s tired.

So. So fucking tired.

“...you don’t know what happened either, huh.”

Finally Saionji does speak, shuffling so that her hanging sleeves press together at the ends, hiding her curling fists.

“You know...” She stomps her foot. On just the dirt. “You really started acting so freaky and weird! It was scary! You should’ve showed up with sweets to make up for it, Matsuda-nii! Why didn’t you?!”

“Urgh.” Glumly, he digs through his pocket and pulls out another wrapped candy. He then unwraps it and pops it into his mouth, making Saionji shriek. He only shrugs. “I haven’t really been in the mood to give away snacks that I can just eat myself. Sorry. I guess.”

“You pig! Your perv! Y-You pig perv! You’re the worst!” Saionji sobs. “J-Just the WOOOOOORST!”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” Matsuda swallows down the candy. It itches his throat a little. “So. Now that we’ve come to an understanding, we can just not bother with each other anymore.”

Saionji sniffled into her sleeves, shoulders hitching.

“I still don’t have any interest in catering to you,” he went on. “And I’m...”

Just so...so tired.

But he’s alert enough to avoid, Saionji trying to stomp on his foot for real. However she does latch her sticky fingers onto his coat.

“You owe me! You’re not going to just tap out, you jackass! Meanie! Jerkface!” She blows her nose on his coat, to his recoil of absolute disgust. “I-I... I demand compensation for emotional turmoil! Five bags of sweet buns! E-Every day...for a week!”

Matsuda’s response was to none too gently wrench her off of him from the back of her kimono. She wailed, and he doubted that it hurt that much. All the same, she only shut up when Matsuda muffled her sobbing with his handkerchief, pinching her nose until she blew on that.

“A lab coat is shit for doing anything about mucus, you fucking idiot,” he hissed. “And that many sweets will rot your teeth! Just how unreasonable are you? Not everyone signs up for brat sitting, so are you really that spoiled? Or are you just stupid?”

Saionji hiccuped but smacked his hand away despite keeping his handkerchief for herself as she continued blowing into it.

“I swear.” Matsuda grimaced at the stains on his coat, wiping it off with the spare handkerchief he carried around with little success. “If you wanted to keep hanging around for some unfathomable reason, you can just converse like a normal person. Like about manga or something?”

“M-Manga is...for gross pervs.” Saionji’s trembling like a leaf. “I-It’s for gross, disgusting, pedophiliac pervs!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

“N-Novels are way better!” she wails. “L-Like The Madness...of Nakazu!”

He does perk at that. Sucking in his breath, Matsuda threw his head back.

“I Am A Cat isn’t a bad read,” he mumbled. “It’s probably my favorite of Souseki-san’s.”

Saionji nodded furiously.

“Right, r-right!” She sneezed, hiccuping and rubbing at her eyes. “What a miserable, wretched time period! How sad for Souseki-san to be surrounded by...by awful, wretched, stuffy pigs!”

Your behavior isn’t much better than those ‘stuffy pigs’.

Matsuda sighed.

“Although isn’t it disrespectful to disregard an entire medium because of a few undesirables? There are works that put emphasis on long-standing cultural ideas and aesthetics.”

“There are too many works that don’t!” Saionji exclaimed, heated to the point that her grip on the handkerchief was white as bone. “They stress other super undesirable ideas and aesthetics! And they pander to such a low brow! There are ideas that far more deserve to be retold and retained in the public conscious! And with such an influx of shit, those ideas are getting muted and muffled, overturned and overwhelmed by what’s nothing more than trash...!”

“Hhh... I can’t argue with all of that, but don’t rip anything.” Matsuda waved his hand. “I’m too tired to argue period. So just tell me about Madness of Nakazu instead, you stupid brat in a kimono.”

“Gladly! It’s about a father who...for his daughter’s sake...”

And such was how he spent his free time. He still had to wash his coat afterwards, which wasn’t great.

FTE#5

“Matsuda-nii, you seem like the kind of person who falls asleep in the middle of performances.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be a wrong assessment.”

“You really have no class at all!” Saionji laughed and there was a cruel edge to it. “Aren’t you ashamed?”

“Not particularly.” He shrugged. “Performances like that are sometimes meant to evoke a sense of serenity, so I still appreciate them even if I fall asleep. The effect that visual arts have on the brain isn’t one that can be understated.”

“Oh, right, you’re a brain-obsessed brainiac.” Another cruel, childish laugh. “That’s so weird.”

“Understanding this is how we put to words the effect and significance of the emotional reactions the arts evoke. It also shows just how deep our biologically-ingrained empathy runs,” he rambles on, not giving her much thought. “For example it is believed that we map the movements and actions of others onto our own somatosensory system. When a dancer leaps, the audience soars. Adrenaline pumps in response to the sight of death-defying acrobatics and stunts. That kind of thing.”

Saionji fidgets, frown twisting.

“That’s nothing exclusive to traditional dancing, though,” she pointed out. “It completely ignores the importance of how in order to set my audience at ease, I must first be relaxed to my fingertips!”

“Yeah.” Matsuda blinks, rubbing at his eye. “There is that.”

“Traditional dancing isn’t just about showcasing beauty! It’s about evoking the feeling of that beauty!” Saionji exclaimed. “It’s about making everyone feel the same love for that beauty that I feel! Which is far more important than just the clinical explanation of it!”

Matsuda hmphed, brow furrowing.

“Similar to your passion for the dancing, my passions lie in those clinical explanations,” he snapped. “It’s rude as hell to dismiss them, especially when they’re the foundation keeping your performance afloat. Even if you moved beautifully, if people were incapable of that empathy, the necessary stimulation required for that appreciation would be unreachable.”

Saionji seemed pretty unimpressed with that.

“I shouldn’t have to hear this from someone who just falls asleep!”

“I don’t always fall asleep,” Matsuda griped. “I wouldn’t fall asleep during your performances, for instance.”

Because I do have a sense of self-preservation.

“If you do, I’ll publically humiliate you and post it online,” Saionji seethed.

“I definitely wouldn’t. I’ll make sure I’ll stay awake if it’s you.”

“...”

Saionji bit her lip, playing with her sleeves for a bit.

“Y’know... Daddy used to say the same thing, but he was way nicer about it.”

Hmm?

“I thought you didn’t like your family?”

“Daddy married into it, so he’s fine.” Her frown deepened. “But my family name really is important, as my hag grandmother used to say.”

Maybe she’s the disliked family, then.

Matsuda decided not to push the topic.

That’s not my place to barge in on. Family matters can be delicate.

But he remembered, vaguely, The Madness of Nakazu, about a father who went crazy in order to protect his daughter. How they lived happily ever after, and how real life wasn’t always that simple.

“I don’t like your tone,” Saionji said, apropos of nothing and ironically making it easier on him. “But, y’know, I don’t always hate the things you say.”

And how am I supposed to respond to that?

“Alright.”

Brilliance.

“You really are super uber pitiful though, Matsuda-nii,” Saionji said, eyes wide. “But that’s alright. Once you accept your place under me, I’ll definitely protect you.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t!” she laughed again. “Like hell I would!”

“Yeah. I’m not surprised.”

But, y’know... I think I have a pretty good picture of your character.

“If you do fall asleep in the middle of my performance,” Saionji said, lowly and seriously. “I’ll never, ever forgive you.”

“I won’t, I won’t.”

All things considered, I guess we’ve gotten to know each other reasonably well. I don’t see us getting all that close for obvious reasons. This bitch is still a major pain in the ass and ears with her shrill whining, but...

“Promise you won’t! Swear on your life!”

“I won’t.”

She’s not the worst person and weirdly enough, dealing with her is nostalgic, almost bittersweet.

But if I think too deeply on that, it’ll definitely hurt.

[emeraldwaves]

Title: A Dragon’s Magic Chapter 7 Pairing:  Kacchako Rating: M Word Count:  5,498 Summary: Uraraka Ochako has always believed in dragons, though she was constantly told they were long since extinct. Now an adult and professional mage, she’s ready to help her parents as a healer for their village. The last thing she expects is for her beliefs to become a reality, but when a dragon attacks her village, she learns there’s more to magic than she ever could’ve realized. Read on AO3 Thanks to @its-love-u-asshole for reading this over.

"It should only take a little over a day to get there. If we walk fast enough we could make it there in the evening, if you two don't mind walking in the dark."

It was early morning, and Todoroki locked his door, leaving the small apartment behind.

"You have to ask Cheeks that," Bakugou snorted, glaring at her. "She's the one who kept making us stop for the night."

Ochako rolled her eyes. "I'm fine with walking through the night. We didn't know how long it would take to get to the city so I wanted to save my strength.

"I see," Todoroki smirked, leading them towards the edge of the city. "It seems you two are a lively traveling party."

"No," Ochako said quickly, pouting her lips. "Bakugou doesn't want to talk normally."

"What point is there to fucking talking. I'm using you to get to my other dragon and then we're fucking leaving," he said, stomping ahead of them.

"I'm so glad he is so pleasant even after a good night sleep," Todoroki sighed, following after Bakugou's loud stomps. Of course, Ochako knew Bakugou would eventually pull back since he had no idea where he was going.

"Yeah," she sighed, "he's always like this. At this point I just let him be angry. It'll be nice to have you here, Todoroki! Someone fun to talk to!"

"OI! Pink Cheeks!" Bakugou hissed, immediately turning around. "I'm fucking fun to talk to."

She raised her eyebrows and shrugged. "Okay, Bakugou!" she giggled and stepped around him, following Todoroki out of the southern gate of the city. The sun was slowly rising, the sky a light, cheerful morning blue, and though the sun was out, a winter breeze flowed through the air.

"Anyway Todoroki," Ochako continued, ignoring Bakugou's muttered grumbling behind her. "What do you know about this place?"

"Not much," he admitted, tapping his chin. "I haven't been to this village despite it being close to the city center."

"Any reason?" she asked. Her brown eyes flicked back towards Bakugou. His hands were shoved in his pockets, his lips curled up into a pout. A typical attitude for him she had come to learn.

"No," he shrugged. "All the supplies I need are in the city and I've never had to go this direction," he admits.

"I see!" she nods. "So we have no idea what we're getting ourselves into."

"It can't be much different than your home village," Todoroki chuckled. "It's not as if we're traveling to a different continent."

"True! Where did you hear the rumors from?"

"They came in from a fellow informant the day before you arrived. It's what made me think the stories line up. This town is apparently hiding a large red beast, said to look like a dragon. However, nothing is confirmed."

"Since you fucking morons don't even know dragons exist, no one wonder you can't 'confirm' it," Bakugou hissed. "Red beast... sounds like Kirishima."

"Can I ask what you two hoped to accomplish by attacking human villages, especially if your magic was so weak?" Todoroki asked.

"...No, you can’t ask," Bakugou hissed, narrowing his eyes. "I don't like you, Half and Half."

"Really? Even though I'm the one potentially leading you to your missing friend."

"Shut it."

"But you like Ochako?" Todoroki accused, raising his eyebrow.

"She's... No!" he yelled. "I hate all humans! Once I get Kirishima, I'm fucking out of here."

"Interesting," Todoroki mused, tapping his chin. "You know... they say when humans and dragons are close, they form a bond which allows them to use magic freely."

Ochako blinked, immediately turning to Todoroki. "W-What?"

"It's... what all the old myths say!" he elaborated. "Written history from humans states that humans and dragons used to live peacefully together-"

"But humans got greedy and wanted all the magic for themselves..." Ochako continued. "My grandmother used to tell me the story all the time. She said it's why dragons left us."

"Right. According to legend there is some truth to the myth. But it also states that unlimited power could be found when a mage and a dragon shared a special bond. Magic could be harnessed from various places and shared among the two. It would basically connect your magical currents."

"That would be... incredibly powerful... TWO magical currents?! Even if a human and a dragon were to share... that's a lot of energy."

"Admittedly, when you showed me what Bakugou was, I thought you were perhaps trying to get closer to Ochako to bond with her."

Ochako's cheeks turned red as she looked at Bakugou's surprised face. "Fuck no," he snorted. "That's not a thing. It's just a fucking myth."

"I don't believe that's true, perhaps it's just a forgotten art among your people."

"It's not!" Bakugou yelled. "I-I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

"Maybe it's not real..." Todoroki muttered. "Ruins my theory about the other dragon sighting..." Todoroki seemed to be lost in thought, and Ochako had a few questions about this bond... but neither Todoroki nor Bakugou seemed capable of answering.

The three walked quietly for a bit, until Todoroki began to speak once more. "I do wish you were more willing to answer questions about dragons, Bakugou."

"HAH!?" he yelled, his voice echoing through the trees. "What more do you need to know? You shits practically figured everything out."

"Mmm..." Todoroki nodded, continuing to stay with his thoughts. Both he and Ochako accepted by now it was impossible to get any more information out of Bakugou. He was probably claiming they knew everything to get them to shut up.

"Ah... Todoroki..." Ochako said, stopping in the middle of the path. "How... exactly are we going to find this dragon... If the town does have him captured, I'm sure they have him locked up somewhere... and he must be hidden if no one has seen him... A-And even if he is in human form... T-That doesn't mean we'll be able to break him out!"

"How did you free Bakugou?" he asked.

"I...I didn't? I just sort of threw myself in front of him so they didn't kill him," she laughed awkwardly.

Todoroki blinked. "I can't... believed that worked."

"Yeah... but it's probably not going to work again..." she said and shook her head.

"No... Bakugou... can you smell him?"

Narrowing his eyes, Bakugou turned his nose up slightly. "No scent yet. I should be able to pick it up when we're closer... unless..." he trailed off glaring forward, "the humans already killed him. I wouldn't put it fucking past them... with how quick they were to try and put me down."

Ochako gasped, covering her mouth. "I-I really hope that's not the case."

"We should come up with some sort of plan," Todoroki said, glancing at the setting sun. "I'm concerned we're farther out than I originally thought."

"We're not stopping. If Kirishima is alive, I need to fucking get there!" Bakugou snapped.

"If we made it... we could spend the night in the inn," Ochako suggested.

"That would be much better compared to sleeping outside," Todoroki chuckled. "Let's pick up our pace."

Silence fell over the party, and Ochako truly hoped Bakugou's friend was alive. He was so tense and angry anyway, she couldn't imagine what he would act like if he lost someone important to him. Or... well.... she assumed this Kirishima person was important to him. She couldn't imagine he would go out of his way like this for someone he didn't care about.

He turned his nose up to the air again, his pupils widening. "He's there," he grunted, walking faster.

"You smell him!?" Ochako asked, stepping forward after him.

"Yeah. The fucker is definitely still alive." In the distance there were a few lights which shone brightly and Bakugou immediately flung up his hood. "I can't pinpoint him directly until we get closer."

"Good idea to keep your hood up," Todoroki said. "We need to stop at the inn and regroup before we do anything," Todoroki admitted. "Most inns are attached to a pub, Uraraka and I might be able to gather more information there as well. Rumors fly around towns easily in places where people are intoxicated and have their guard down."

"Oi, why the fuck can't I gather information about my own damn friend?" Bakugou glared at Todoroki. For some reason Ochako couldn't understand, Bakugou was always looking to pick a fight with Todoroki. At least, he seemed angrier with him than he was with Ochako.

"Because," Todoroki hissed, glaring right back. "First off, you drinking sounds like a disaster. Second off, if anyone notices your scales or ears, you'll be thrown wherever your friend is. Uraraka and I can handle it."

"Maybe if I get thrown there I can fucking rescue him. I don't need you two dipshits," he snorted, walking towards the inn.

"I take it he's sticking with us," Todoroki muttered.

"Mhm," Ochako nodded, following his intense gait. "He just... says stuff like that when he's all angry and riled up," she giggled.

"I see. You seem to know him very well."

"I mean we've only spent a few days together, but... he's not been too difficult to figure out," she said, following the path down the hill to the already rowdy inn.

The lights were on, and they could hear cheers coming from the basement, raucous noises clanging and echoing in the air. Todoroki was the first to step into the inn, walking forward to the woman at the front desk.

"Hello, do you have a room for the evening? Potentially two if possible."

"Two rooms? Of course. One for the lady and one for the men?" the woman said.

"We can do one room, Todoroki. We don't need to spend so much money," Ochako urged, but the elemental mage shook his head.

He slid money across the desk to the woman, taking the two keys she handed him. "Rooms 20 and 21, right across the hall from each other. I do apologize for the noise. The town is celebrating this evening! Feel free to join us in our pub if you would like."

"A celebration!?" Ochako asked, leaning over the counter, her brown eyes wide with excitement. "What for?"

"Well... tomorrow we're going to have our first annual dragon slaying competition!" the woman cheered.

All three of their faces paled.

"WHAT?!" Bakugou snapped.

"I know! I know what you're thinking! Dragons are extinct... but we found one!"

"Then... why are you slaying it!?" Ochako gasped. "You know how rare they are!"

"Rare... and incredibly dangerous! We can't have this red beast terrorizing our town anymore," she said, pushing the keys towards Todoroki. "The pub has some drink specials tonight in celebration if you would like to join in. Have a good night."

The woman stepped away from the desk, obviously not wanting to argue the point about keeping the dragon alive. Ochako glanced towards Bakugou, his fists clenched and trembling. "I'll fucking murder her," he hissed, his voice deep and gravely, rumbling against his throat.

"C-C'mon Bakugou!" Ochako said, pushing him towards the stairs. "Let's go talk in the privacy of our rooms!"

He stomped up the stairs, smoke pouring out of his nostrils. Ochako's hand shakily put the key in the lock, swinging the door open.

"I'll fucking kill this whole goddamn town!" he said.

"I-I don't think we should do that," Ochako admitted softly, tucking the key into her pocket. "But I can't believe they're doing this..." she said. "Why would they not want to protect such a rare creature!?"

"Not all people are like you, Uraraka," Todoroki said. "People don't like what they cannot control or understand."

"I don't know what to do to get him back!" she said, knowing there was no way she could run in front of him like she had with Bakugou.

"Kill them all," Bakugou stated flatly.

"No. We'll enter the competition," Todoroki said. "If we enter, we can injure him... and take him for ourselves."

"T-Todoroki... do you really think you can take on a dragon?!"

"Of course."

"Someone's confident," Bakugou snarled.

"I have to be, don't I?" Todoroki sneered back. "Uraraka and I should go to the pub and try and gather more information. Hopefully it won't be too late to join in."

"You're right... there's so much we don't know..." She placed her staff down on the bed, and removed her cloak and hat. She ran her hand through her brown hair and nodded. "Alright. Let's go get drunk!" she cheered.

"Let's not do that," Todoroki snorted. "But one glass of something to fit in sounds smart."

"Sorry to leave you behind Bakugou," Ochako blushed.

"S'fine. If I go down there I'll blow someone's head off the more I hear. I've been dying for some fucking peace and quiet." He leapt onto the bed, folding his arms behind his head. He crossed his legs and sighed. "With you two morons gone, maybe I can actually think and try and figure out what to do. Smarter than your stupid plans!"

"R-Right..." Ochako whispered. "Well... let's go Todoroki." She followed him outside the room. As she shut the door, she watched Bakugou lay comfortably on the bed, and she wondered if he was scared of losing his friend.

~~

The pub was rowdy, patrons dancing and cheering loudly. Drinks were sloshing and splashing on the table and floor. People were singing and cheering, and a crude drawing of a large red dragon hung on the side of the wall. A group of loud men were throwing darts at it, cheering whenever they would hit the creature's face or heart.

"This sure is... something..." Ochako muttered, smoothing her tunic out. She pressed her fingers together, feeling uncomfortable in the giant crowd.

Todoroki looked even more uncomfortable, his eyes darting between groups of people, as if he wasn't sure where to focus. "Yes. Let's find out more information and then leave."

"Let's get a drink to blend in," she said, tugging him towards the bar. "Two beers," she said, leaning over the counter, slamming the coins down. Large pints full of frothy liquid rushed towards her, and she grabbed the cups, handing one to Todoroki.

She took a sip and immediately wrinkled her nose. Why did beer taste like dirt sometimes!?

"Not much of a beer drinker, Uraraka?" Todoroki said, casually sipping on his drink as he leaned against the bar.

"Not really," she said, taking a large gulp. "Deku, Iida, and I rarely spent time in these sort of places."

"I see," he said, glancing around, continuing to casually sip at the beverage.

"What about you, Todoroki?" she asked, watching him seem so casual.

"I hate places like this. Far too loud," he grumbled, wincing when a girl hollered loudly for another round of drinks.

"Yeah... I can see that," Ochako laughed, taking the last gulp of her drink. The faster she drank it, the faster she wouldn't have to drink it anymore. She placed the cup against the bar, her skin feeling tingly, her blood buzzing in her veins. "Another please," she said, pushing the coins against the counter.

Another beer came rushing towards her and she scooped up the mug, sucking down the drink.

"Please don't get too intoxicated, Uraraka," Todoroki muttered. "The last thing we need is you drunkenly telling people about Bakugou."

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" she insisted.

She certainly was not fine, especially after sucking down the second drink. The beers were far more alcoholic than she realized. She couldn't stop staring at the men throwing darts at the awful drawing of who she presumed to be Kirishima. How could they just do that!?

Well... she was certainly going to give them a piece of her mind.

"I'm going to go talk to those men playing darts!" she said, her face filled with determination.

"Uraraka..." Todoroki muttered, concern flickering across his gaze.

She slammed her empty cup down on the bar and shook her head. "I'm gonna kick some ass," she said, already making her way towards the men.

"Okay… Good luck, I'll be here," he sighed, leaning against the bar. He glanced towards two women talking quietly, and she heard him ask what everyone was celebrating. Perfect. There would be no way they wouldn't find the information they were looking for now.

She stumbled over to the men standing by the dart board covered by the ugly picture of the red dragon. "So, boys," she smiled, folding her arms purposefully under her breasts. "What is this all about?"

One of the taller men smirked. "We're practicing!" he slurred. "Tomorrow we're going to slay this ugly thing!"

Ochako swallowed, biting down hard on her lip. How could these people be so cruel? Dragons were beautiful creatures and they deserved to be treated with respect.

"Really?" she asked, tilting her head. "I thought dragons didn't exist!"

"We found one! Saw it with my own two eyes!" A burly looking man laughed. "Anyone can enter tomorrow to attempt to slay it! You wanna try girly?" he smirked, waggling a dart in her face.

She snatched it from his hand, glaring. "'Course I do," she hissed.

"If you actually land a shot, I'll buy you a drink!" The man challenged, his attitude cocky and annoying.

As much as Ochako didn't feel like drinking another beer, she certainly didn't want to back down from a challenge. "Alright," she said, holding the dart in her hand to aim.

The drawing was absolutely horrible and though Ochako didn't know if Kirishima looked different from Bakugou, the idea of slaying a creature almost extinct sounded horrible to her. "So... anyone can sign up tomorrow?" she asked, tossing the first dart forward. She hit his tail and bit her lip, closing one eye to aim again. This time she hit his chest, the men cheering as she did.

"Yeah! You going to sign up little lady?" he asked, winking. She resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose at the drunken man. "Here!" he said and shoved a beer towards her. "You've earned this for being so brave. Plus you did land a shot."

"O-Oh!" she gasped, and took the drink. "Don't worry," she mumbled. "I can do better!" The first two drinks hit her surprisingly hard... probably because she rarely touched alcohol. Already she felt her entire body humming.

She took a large gulp of the third beer, standing in front of the picture. Aiming again, she tossed it forward, hitting the dragon right between his eyes. "See? Perfection!" she laughed, taking another swig.

"If you fight as good as you play darts, I bet you can slay the dragon!" the man laughed.

"Oh, I won't... I won't need to slay the dragon!" she declared, slamming the mug down as she slurped up the last drop. "I will tame it!"

The men stared at her. "Tame... it?"

"Yes!" she yelled, pointing at the horrible picture. "I'm a dragon tamer! And I will tame this dragon like I have... the... the one upstairs!" she said, wobbling backwards.

The men began to laugh. "A tamer!? I'm sure you've tamed plenty of dragons upstairs!" One of them nudged her and smirked.

She frowned. "I-I have!" she called out, but was yanked backwards by Todoroki. "Todoroki! Tell them... Tell them I tamed the dragon upstairs and I'll tame the dragon tomorrow!"

He blinked and glanced at the men. "Come on, Uraraka," he whispered. "Let's go," he pulled her away from the men, who all looked disappointed to see her go.

"I was being serious! I bet I could prove I'm a... I'm a dragon tamer! If Bakugou just helps..." she slurred, rushing all her words together.

"Uraraka... I think the alcohol hit you a little hard. Maybe it's time for bed?" he suggested, gently touching her shoulder.

"I'm serious, Todoroki!" she yelled.

"I get that... and it's not a horrible idea, but we should talk about this in private tomorrow," he hissed.

Ochako rolled her eyes. Just because her body was a little woozy didn't mean she couldn't come up with amazing, coherent ideas! "Fineeeee," she whined, tilting her head to the side. "I'll go upstairs."

"Let me walk you," Todoroki said, but Ochako shook her head.

"No! I promise I'm good!" she said. "Seriously!" she urged, especially when Todoroki's brow furrowed in concern. "It's... It's just right upstairs. You should finish your drink and keep gathering information!"

"If you're sure..." he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

"I swear." She took a few steps forward and tried her best not to stumble, though she was very close to toppling over at one point. "See? I'm doing... great!" she said and gave him a thumbs up.

Todoroki raised his eyebrow. "Just... be careful."

"I will, I will!" She waved her hand up and down quickly, and made her way to the stairs. As she climbed to the top, she felt herself stumble forward. The world was spinning more than she realized, and she wondered if she should've accepted Todoroki's offer.

No... it was fine. She only had to climb one more set of stairs and then their rooms were in the middle of the hallway.

Ochako felt exhaustion hit her, the alcohol making her far sleepier than normal. She was ready to crawl into bed and get some sleep in a comfortable place for once.

She stumbled up the stairs, her body still tingling from the buzz the alcohol gave her. As she made her way down the hall, she stopped in front of the door to her room. She swallowed, digging into the pocket on her pants to pull out the key.

Oh, right. Todoroki hadn’t given her the key to her room, she only tucked away the one to the boys’ room. Oh well, he could sleep in the private room alone.

Turning the key, she swung the door open, finding Bakugou completely asleep in the bed. She didn't know why she expected him to be awake. He really had nothing else to do but sleep. Biting her lip, she slowly tiptoed into the room.

She wanted to do her best not to wake him, especially since he was probably exhausted from traveling so much. She knew she was. They hadn't had the opportunity to sleep in an actual bed for the past few nights, and she was certain he was probably exhausted.

Making her way closer to the bed, Ochako picked up the staff and her hat, almost dropping them when she stared down at Bakugou's peaceful face. She'd never seen him looking so... so calm!

Her cheeks flushed and she lowered her staff and hat back down to the ground. She slowly sank onto the side of his bed. Her cheeks were throbbing with her heartbeat, her pulse racing. The alcohol made her whole body feel warm and fuzzy, especially when she was looking at him.

She took a deep breath, leaning her fingers forward to gently brush against the scales on his cheeks. He was so handsome when he wasn't yelling and looking so damn pissed off. Of course, he still looked handsome then too... this was just more pleasant.

Bakugou's scales felt cool against her fingers, the surface of his cheek rough, but it sparkled with the golden color, even in the gentle lighting of the room.

There was a small part of her that still couldn't believe dragons existed, which was partially why she wanted to touch him. She had to be certain he was right there in front of her. She leaned closer, her nose practically tapping against his. She wondered if his lips would be soft... they looked a little dry. But she could almost feel the hum of excitement at just the thought of kissing him.

Suddenly, his hand shot up and grabbed her wrist, his red eyes snapping open.

~~

Sleeping was something Bakugou didn't get to do often, especially lately. It was part of the reason he was so damn grouchy. So when the Half and Half idiot and Uraraka went downstairs, Bakugou was quick to shut his eyes and try to rest.

It was difficult however, with his brain being so fucking noisy. He kept thinking about Kirishima. Was he trapped in his dragon form? Why were the humans talking about slaying a dragon when Kirishima could've changed back and proven they had no way of killing him.

Then, Bakugou's thoughts drifted to his stupid dragon clan and magic... and humans being confusing as shit. Who the hell was taking their magic if not idiot humans?

And right as he started to drift off, he heard the door open. He didn't wish to open his eyes, not wanting to talk to either of his travel companions. From the scent, he could tell it was Uraraka... she smelled nicer than Half and Half... kind of like roses... and though humans in general had muted scents, he could tell she also smelled of alcohol currently.

He was trying to sleep, so he wasn't going to engage... though he wondered if she knew she technically was in the wrong room. Not that he cared where she slept.

It became difficult to ignore her however, when he felt the bed sink under the weight of her, and when her hand brushed against his cheek. He knew he needed to stop... whatever was happening exactly.

"Oi-" he snapped, flicking his eyes open.

"Bakugou!" she gasped, still staring directly in front of his face. Her breathing grew heavy and she swallowed quickly. "I... You... you're really pretty," she hummed, her face bright red. Fuck, she was so intoxicated, and why the hell did he think she looked so cute?

"Hah!?" he breathed, his eyes flicking towards her lips. His nose twitched slightly and he frowned. "Are you drunk?"

"No..." she hummed. "I only had three drinks! How could I be drunk!?" she gasped, as if she was horrified at the suggestion. Her fingers stroked down his face, touching at his jaw. "I've never seen someone as pretty as you. I just can't believe you're a dragon," she mumbled, slurring her words again. A shiver rolled through his spine. She was so close to him, her breasts pressed against his bare chest and holy shit she was getting closer to him. What the hell was she doing?!

"Oi. Believe it. You're drunk, Cheeks. Go to bed," he hissed.

"But... But I love you," she said. She loved him!? What the hell was she talking about!? She didn't even fucking know him.

Leaning down, she pushed her lips up against his. His eyes widened, feeling her soft lips press against his own. The kiss was kind of sloppy and she tasted like alcohol, and Bakugou froze, unsure of what to do.

But as soon as the kiss began, it ended. "Ahhhhh," she sighed, pulling away to let her head flop against his chest. "I love dragons... they're so cool and amazing... you're amazing..." she mumbled, her eyes fluttering shut.

So she loved dragons, not him. Right. Of course. What the hell else would she have meant? She didn’t fucking know him, it had only been a few days!

Then, her lips were slightly parted as she breathed gently, her chest rising and falling against his.

"Oi..." he grumbled. "You really sleepin'?!"

He waited a moment, wondering if she was going to answer... and when she didn't, he let out a long sigh. So much for sleeping comfortably. He yanked the blanket over both of them and wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her in place.

"You're... an idiot, Pink Cheeks..."

~~

Ochako's eyes fluttered open, her head throbbing. "Dammit..." she whined, regretting having anything to drink the night before. What even happened? She barely remembered playing darts... Her neck felt sore and she pushed herself up, the bed feeling oddly hard against her palm.

She blinked, gathering her surroundings, and she suddenly realized she was pressed against Bakugou, lying in bed with him.

"B-B-Bakugou!?!" she yelled, pushing backwards as she flopped onto the ground, her butt landing on the floor with a loud pound.

Bakugou groaned, pushing himself up. "Oi... Uraraka... why the hell are you making so much noise!?" he snapped.

"E-Eh!? W-What did I... What did we... what?!" she gasped, pointing her finger directly at him.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Bakugou stretched up. "What the hell are you getting so worked up about?"

"W-What did we... did... we... what did I do!?" she squeaked out, clutching her staff to her chest.

Todoroki jolted up in his own bed, glancing at the two of them. "What's going on?"

Bakugou smirked, folding his arms over his chest. "Yes, Uraraka... What the hell did you do?"

"I don't know! Why did I wake up in your bed!?" she yelled.

"You were here the whole time?" Todoroki asked, tilting his head. "I thought it was odd the door was unlocked when I came in."

Rolling his eyes, Bakugou huffed out a long breath of air. "Calm down, Cheeks. Nothing fuckin' happened. You came into get your hat and staff and you fucking passed out on my bed next to me."

"R-Really!? That's all!?" She let out a sigh of relief. If anything else happened, she probably would've felt insanely foolish.

Bakugou glanced to the side, his cheeks heating up. "Yeah... that's all," he muttered. She couldn't tell if he was actually telling the truth. Something about his behavior felt off, but she couldn't quite place it. She wished she could remember anything from last night besides the stupid dart game...

The dart game!

"T-Todoroki! she gasped, suddenly remembering the entire reason they spent their night at the bar. "Anyone can sign up to slay the dragon today, but... I have a better idea."

"You're going to pretend to be a dragon tamer," he stated flatly.

Ochako blushed. "Oh... did I already tell you about this?"

"Sort of..." he mumbled. "I heard you yelling about it."

She rubbed the back of her neck and pushed herself up as she cleared her throat, trying to ignore how much of a mess she had apparently been all evening. "If I can prove that I can tame dragons, they might let me take Kirishima back," she said.

"And how the fuck are you going to prove something as ridiculous like that?" Bakugou hissed. "Tamer..." he clicked his tongue as though he were offended at the very idea.

"With you," she said flatly.

"Oi, what the fuck am I supposed to do about it."

"You'll come with me and transform into your dragon form. Then you'll listen to every command I give and we'll prove I can take care of Kirishima! You can talk to him when you're both in dragon form right?"

"Oh hell fucking no! I'm not gonna play the part of your pet dragon!" Bakugou hissed, his red eyes burning with a flame of anger.

"Please Bakugou! Trust me, I know you couldn't ever actually be controlled by me! But if we could pretend and prove it, it would stop them from murdering your friend and we could escape unharmed!"

"Do you actually think humans would fall for such an... idiotic plan!?" Bakugou yelled.

"Actually, yes," Todoroki mused, cutting into their arguing. "If the people in this village think Uraraka has a way to control dragons, they might be scared of her, and by that I mean scared she would attack them with you. If she could make it seem like she could control you and your captured friend, they would most likely not wish to fight us."

"..." Bakugou huffed out. "I already said no. I'm not being your fucking pet."

Ochako glared at him. "Do you want your friend to die?! This could be the only way. Even if Todoroki and I enter the battle there would be no way for us to communicate with him and one of us could accidentally kill him! Or worse, someone else will get to him first!"

Bakugou growled, folding his arms across his chest. "I fucking hate this!" he snapped, punching his fist against the wall. "I should be able to go get him myself."

"Unless you want to be the next dragon they throw darts at down in the pub, I suggest you listen to Uraraka's plan," Todoroki said, clicking his tongue.

"Yeah... I fucking get it. But I can't stay transformed for long. You know what will happen if I do..." he grumbled.

"I-I know. So we have to be quick. I have a plan if you're willing to listen," she said softly.

"Fine," he hissed, glaring at her, "but only so I can take Kirishima back with me."

"That's... the whole goal," Ochako nodded.

They would get Kirishima back, and she would convince Bakugou to help her help him find his magic, all in one day.

[ryoshan]

after the fall spoilers /

when u wanna liveblog but ur the first person you know to start/finish reading: a collection of disorganised and contextless thoughts by an excitable brit

book: mentions weiss and ruby 

me: SCREAMING

fox is from vacuo!!!!!! i am VINDICATED 

ADA ADA ADA ADA 

split point of view per chapter is sososososososoososos GOOD SO GOOD DO GOOD 

nothing will beat novels for their ability to drop explicit details in a short period of time 

VELVET HAS A PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMORY 

coco adele? was that a typo? or is adele her middle name? stylistic choice? hmm 

what a fucking show off our boy fox is 

tiny criticism: pls stop knocking on about coco’s fashion sense we get it you’re doing that thing where you boil her down to one trait, hopefully this will happen less as the book goes on 

FOX CLAPPED HIS HANDS TO HIS EYES. “OH NO!” HE SAID. “WHYYYYYYY?” 

this initiation is some juicy fucking lore my guys 

y.. yatsuhashi CAN FUCK WITH MEMORIES???

dyou think when fox stutters over a word in team cfvy’s mental group chat, coco, yatsuhashi and velvet repeat his mistake back at him 

i am supremely interested to know how fox’s semblance interacts with rens

i literally fucking winded myself at the start of chapter 5 gasping so hard 

“she looked like she had a mortal wound in her side” OH HAHA VERY FUNNY I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE 

coco mentoring ruby has given me more life than anything so far

WEISS DONT BE MEAN TO YATSUHASHI 

oh im not comfortable with weiss calling fox red that sounds very weird and not at all in character it sounds too much like torchwick and im not about making that association 

WHY WOULD HER HAND GO TO MYRTENASTER ARE YOU REALLY GONNA FIGHT FY IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HALLWAY WEISS?

i really did forget how much of an ego weiss has right in the beginning ive been writing her post development for too long 

BLAKE N VELVET BLAKE N VELVE T once again i gasped so hard my lungs hurt 

wow huh okay blake being violent is..... a surprise 

“I don’t believe in fighting prejudice with violence” jess is vindicated im so proud of my wife

COCO WAS GOING TO LIKE HER, VELVET THOUGHT you’re damn right she does

i dont like velvet and coco fighting ):

fox as the hardcore realist i am once again, VINDICATED

velvet employing the same words to gus as blake did to her..... aaa.....

yatsuhashi’s semblance makes me sad cause imagine if he made someone he thought cared about him forget him and it turned out to be really easy

UGH THE THEME IN THIS BOOK IS LEARNING LESSONS AND ITS SO APPARENT AAAAAA

fox and ruby interacted...... thank you for my life............

the inclusion of not only yatsu asking velvet to guide him so he can be better in terms of his language but also an active example of this happening is really pleasing to me 

as the player of a dnd character who always splits off from the group i can say with complete confidence fox splitting off from team cfvy in the sands of vacuo will almost certainly not go well

“she kept waiting for the others to see it” ;___;

PYRRHAAAA ;____________;

literally all it takes is her name and i am sad . 

this TEAM make my heart SURGE 

coco genuinely is the big explicit wlw i’ve been hoping for 

jesus christ coco hold urself together. 

fox vc alexa play darude: sandstorm 

OK BUT CYRANO IS MCFUCKING COOL MY DUDES I COULDNT HAVE IMAGINED SOMETHING LIKE THIS 

- as long as her remembered to charge his scroll. i knew it, boy’s gonna run out of battery . 

IF MY BOY GETS KILLED I’LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU ROOSTERTEETH

i love when things connect with canon i love it i love it 

why is coco of all people picking on velvet ): 

VELVET BITING BACK THO aaaaaa yay but also ):

uhg i love this fuck ign fami ly 

im.... emotional,,,,,

the cairn mission......... no wonder it was so hard..... im ): 

COCO FINALLY LETTIN VELVET DO SHIT YASS

I KNOW ITS JUST THE INDLUENCE OF GUS’ SEMBLANCE BUT IT MAKES ME SO SAD WHEN THEY FIGHT 

also im getting serious shadow of the colossus vibes

FOX BETTER NOT DIE BERTIE NEEDS TO GET FUCKED 

i love my son he’s so strong and smart 

theres so many death flags here i dont even know who they’re on anymore

lol jk he’s fine

i really love how sure of himself fox is and so he should be he’s fought really hard to be confident

it is REALLY cool seeing an actual scene from the show written from velvet’s perspective, im all about this 

moro is gonna be happy about glynda i know it she’s fab 

“we just need you to tell us everything” “ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING” ozpin still putting tremendous amounts of pressure on teenagers i see

“we prefer to speak with you individually so we can separate you from your support system while tugging on your vulnerabilities” 

yatsu getting mad ):

im not too fond on how blithely ‘coco never picked up on that’ regarding the finer points of velvet’s tendencies when coco has been established already as a people watcher and observational thinker.,

CFY TO THE RESCUE 

what the FUCK these adults???? hello????? “i deserved that” NO YOU DIDNT???? what did glynda think he was gonna do, stab ozpin??? 

“haha we broguth her here alone to TEST you!!! you passed because you came to her!!!! hahahahahah!!!!!!” fuck you ozpin 

no explanation as to WHY she had to be brought alone as if her ‘keen observational skills’ couldnt have been asked about in the presence of her team or indeed pulled fro the written report she’ll be making 

this is such a formative mission for them and i like it but damn ozpin really up here ruining it all 

the death flags were yatsu’s ALL ALONG 

oh god the impact of velvet using some of these weapons has not been lost on me and it must be devastating for her 

“if this didnt qualify, what did?” me when i get to the end of a game with 3468758976495 different things hoarded and dropping them all on the final boss

why are coco and velvet having a conversation like they’re about to die noones dying NOONES DYING 

nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

FUCK RIGHT OFF WITH SHIFTING TO A FLASHBACK YOU WANKERS

thumbelina peach...? really???? but hey looks like beacon has more than 4 professors now

“noone knew what had frozen that beast there” interesting . 

its interesting to me that so far its been atlas thats been shown to be the least accepting of faunus but now its becoming clear mistral is worse, worse enough that velvet wont even consider going there

“velvet waited for someone to ask her what she wanted, but they never did” :( 

anyway i cant wait to see how coco is gonna make the blind worm her bitch

yatsu is so shy about his semblance im sad for him, 

I CANT BELIEVE I THOUGHT YOU WERE CUTE 

coco getting edward to help ;_____;

its both funny and depressing that sssn are here and sage and scarlet are still yet to have any actual fuckin lines or DESCRIPTORS for that matter 

fox tapping that @ everyone command and getting chewed out for it 

COCO YOU BITCH THAT WAS ART 

u kno whats getting me most? 

BOOK #2 WHEN???????????

[bigskydreaming]

gingerjab replied to your post “ANYWAY. The petition/prayer circle for Michael Trevino to be cast as...”

I’m forever an asshole obsessed with fire/ice ships so Thunderbird or Sunfire, fuck the inhumans one off and St. John. Also, Rahul Kohli as Neal Shaara/Thunderbird/Agni. Also I’m sposed to be asleep so ignore if this is a shit idea.

For the record, I actually kinda like the Inhuman guy, cuz I mean, its not his fault he’s part of a trash franchise. I think it probably helps that I’ve only ever read one issue with him, so as to render it absolutely impossible for his writing to piss me off. I like to just close my eyes and pretend he’s a mutant. Y’know. Like I do with Kamala!

Who is obviously a mutant.

(And like.....let’s be real. The dude is a pyrokinetic with a demon form, the codename INFERNO, and his REAL name is DANTE Pertuz. DANTE. INFERNO. Like, that’s the on-the-nose-fuck-your-subtlety-we-came-here-to-be-pretentious-as-fuck-with-our-literary-references-look-how-dignified-it-makes-our-character balls to the wall character concept I am HERE for. I’m like OH HAI I SEE WHAT U DID THAR. And they’re like “oh yeah? You got it? Hahaha, we were worried nobody would, phew, good job tho. Totally adds to the character right? Pretty clever of us.” And then I’d be like Hahahaha no, not even a little bit, but ‘scool, I like him anyway cuz I’m easy like that. I put out for puns.” And then they’d be like awwwww, dammit, we worked so hard on that. And I’d be like....well, that doesn’t speak highly of your abilities, I mean it was a super obvious joke. And then I stopped making up conversations with hypothetical people in my head.)

Also, in defense of comic book St. John Allerdyce and absolutely NO OTHER VERSIONS EVER because agreed, they all suck....

Comic book St. John is a snarky Australian asshole who in between acts of mutant mass destruction, has a side career as a successful romance novelist under a pen name.

(I’m not even joking. Comic book St. John, in canon, writes romance novels in his spare time as a hobby. LOLOLOL c’mon, how is that not a great character beat for a supervillain slash occasional kinda-if-you-squint-superhero).

Anyway.

I too am also trash for fire/ice ships because SCREW SUBTLETY, WE SHIP THEMATICALLY. But like, its gotta be the RIGHT fire/ice ship. I weirdly have standards with my fire/ice ships? Probably just because I’m obsessed with Bobby Drake but whatever, who cares, how is that relevant.

I mean, OBVIOUSLY, you have your proto-fire/ice ship, the one, the original, the Word I came out of the womb prepared to preach and ship and like, spread to the masses....Bobby Drake/Johnny Storm. Because like. They are elemental dorks whose competitiveness is only matched by their dumbness, how can you not love them, I DEFY YOU TO SAY.

I’m kinda meh on Iceman/Pyro, because like, original comic book Pyro and Bobby never even interacted I think? And in cartoons they’re always totally different generations/age groups, and in the movies they’re like....boring and stale and not even all that attractive and also did I mention boring, omg no offense to whomever wrote them, but I tried reading Bobby/Pyro movie fanfic years ago because like, that’s the only movie Bobby fic there is, unless you want to read about him being an asshole to Rogue and/or cheating with Kitty and just generally driving Rogue into the arms of the much (much much much much, like ewww) older Logan or Gambit. Because srsly, so appealing. So obviously, I caved and tried reading Bobby/Pyro fics because like, they had the word ‘Bobby’ in them, and the bar is too low in my X-Men fic reading habits. And omg I fell asleep. I just. It was all just the standard m/m cookie cutter generic ‘good boy plus bad boy uwu yaoi-zowey’ bleh starring two not at all deeply written or well-acted meh-looking white dudes, and just. Why.

But that’s what I mean when I say I’m wary of fire/ice ships, because sometimes with powered characters like, authors think oh hey, LOOK ONE IS FIRE AND ONE IS ICE, THIS TOTALLY COUNTS AS THEM HAVING OPPOSITES ATTRACT PERSONALITIES AND THUS I DONT NEED TO GIVE THEM A PERSONALITY, RIGHT? Like. They’re just very boring and unimaginative in execution, just because they expect the basic premise of fire and ice/’obvious opposites attract, obviously’ to do all the work for them.

(Katey if you’re reading this I’m super for sure not talking about YOUR superpowered romances, because you are wonderful and GOOD at writing and imaginative, and thus none of this applies to you. Requisite disclaimer.)

So, when they did this random Bobby/’New Pyro Dude like where did he even come from I still dont know’ hook-up, I was prepared to like, yawn endlessly, because I figured it would be more boring imaginationless ‘ooh look what an obvious pair they are and yet still praise me for how clever I am for pairing them’ crap. 

And I was absolutely right!

(But I mean, it was written by Marc Guggenheim, the odds of it sucking were totally in my favor. Betting against them being well-written under his pen might feasibly be construed as cheating. Whatever).

And also, the art did them ZERO favors, like I know they’re both generic blond dudes in their twenties, but I LITERALLY COULD NOT TELL WHICH WAS SUPPOSED TO BE WHICH in any of the panels that they were like, in bed together or dressing or talking or literally anything until they started using their powers to fight bad guys. It was soooooooo bad. Like the art just manifested every ‘look at the white gay date his mirror reflection lol what is variety even’ cliche and beat you over the head with it.

(Also Bobby is supposed to have brown hair, which at least would’ve helped a LITTLE bit. Meh. Still was gonna suck because like, nobody had any intention of WRITING them together, like, developing their characters and laying the groundwork for a possible relationship. It was just ‘oh look, the fire and ice dude got drunk at a wedding and hooked up, cool deal, now on with the story.’)

Anyway, the ONLY redeeming potential for a Bobby/Simon relationship in my opinion is ENTIRELY due to a fic I read with them. Its probably the only fic written about Simon ever, lmfao, so its not like the writer’s characterization of him has any competition among either canon or other fans’ renditions of him. But it was pretty well written, I actually liked their portrayal of Bobby, which I’m SUPER picky about in fanfics, and they actually invested time in developing Simon and his POV and giving him an actual personality and shit, that wasn’t half bad. So if Simon was written like that in the comics and their relationship progressed in similar ways, I could feasibly be on board with them.

But it won’t, so I’m not. Meh. Anyway.

I actually really REALLY like both Shiro AND Neal, with the caveat that I hate Neal’s stupid offensive-ass codename, I know Claremont only named him Thunderbird because he introduced him in an anniversary issue that was supposed to be a call-back to the original Giant Size lineup, and he needed a stand-in for John Proudstar, but like....wtf Claremont, just use your brain and save Neal to introduce a whole issue later and stick Jamie in John’s place the way everyone else does. He literally went by Thunderbird in the comics already in his Hellion days, which YOU wrote, so why the fuck did you feel the need to be stupidly offensive and act like Native American people and traditions are interchangeable with those of a guy from India? Ugh he’s so....gah.

Anyway. So I actually like both Shiro and Neal, though pretty much only when people other than Claremont are writing them, lololol. Which is admittedly...rare. Because of all his pet characters, they’re both at the top of the list of ones nobody else has any interest in touching. Bizarrely, my favorite run involving Shiro was when he was randomly shoe-horned into that Alpha Flight relaunch in the late 90s, that only lasted a couple years? Dunno if you know what I’m talking about, the team with Radius, Flex, Murmur, Heather as Vindicator and Mac was a robot or some weird shit.

I have no real thoughts on either of them with Bobby though, for a fire and ice pairing. Tbh I can’t really see Bobby/Shiro like, at ALL lmfao. For one, Shiro’s always felt written as though he’s a good ten years older than Bobby at least. Like they’re not really compatible dialogue-wise lol. And he’s pretty much never had any patience for Bobby in the comics, which has a lot to do with most of their interactions being written by Claremont himself, and Claremont infamously haaaaaaates Bobby’s character and trashes him any chance he gets, aka the few times editorial makes him actually use Bobby in a script. But I also think even under other writers, like....Shiro honestly is not the type to have any patience for Bobby’s antics or brand of humor, like.....he’s like JP but without the superficial crush JP used in canon to view Bobby’s idiosyncrasies as endearing instead of migraine inducing. I don’t think any readers would buy someone of JP or Shiro’s personality-type crushing on Bobby twice, lololol.

I DO however kinda like the idea of Neal/Bobby? If someone ever actually brought Neal back and gave him a new codename and stuck him on a team with Bobby? They’ve also barely interacted in canon, and the only time I can think of, Neal was super rude and dismissive of Bobby, because like, Claremont was writing it of course, so it made total sense for him to have the dude who’s literally been an X-Man for two issues talk down to the X-Man of several decades like the latter had no clue what he was doing, lol. Oops, still slightly salty there. 

But honestly, I doubt anyone who didn’t have hyperfixation fueled grudges on a fictional fave’s behalf would ever even remember that one canon interaction, and tbh Neal’s pretty much a blank slate character wise. His only defining traits from what little he’s been used are that he’s fairly young, in his early to mid-twenties, from a wealthy family, a little full of himself but in a ‘really wants to impress people and prove himself’ kinda way instead of an overly entitled ‘i genuinely believe I am superior to all you buffoons’ kinda way. And he was always endearingly enthusiastic and eager about new stuff he encountered from being with the X-Men.

(He was also randomly obsessed with Psylocke, but I truly think Claremont was like, well I’m just gonna write him like I would Warren Worthington because why not. So yeah, obvsly he’s super obsessed with Betsy. Duh.)

Anyway - I would like someone to do something interesting with Neal, and I think his and Bobby’s chemistry has a lot of potential and they could bounce off each other well. 

Also, I like Rahul, but I was randomly fancasting some of the more obscure X-Men awhile back for Reasons (I forget what they were tbh, but I’m sure I had them. I usually do). I came across this Indian actor named Karan Tacker and was like ohhhhhhh he totally looks like he could be Neal Shaara.

I mean, I’ve literally never seen him act, so who knows what his acting is like, but since we’ve established Neal’s character is essentially whatever the person to actually use him next wants it to be, I don’t think that’s a big deal lol.

So this is totally superficially based casting, like I think this guy looks and ‘feels’ the way Neal’s typically been drawn and the kinda vibe he gives off.

Also, incidentally, having absolutely nothing to do with anything, let alone my selection process, by pure coincidence the dude just so happens to have abs for daaaaaaays.

But I mean. Like I said, that is neither here nor there. Obviously.

Of no relevance whatsoever. I didn’t even notice, tbh. Don’t even know who hijacked my body and ghost wrote these last few sentences, quick, call an exorcist.

....oh noes, is this one of the consequences of being an ‘anti’? IS THIS MY COMEUPPANCE? *flees*

[shidiand]

How do you imagine Tenco's Story ending in your head?

that is a GREAT but UNEXPECTED QUESTION freshlybaked "spider" bread and i'm really happy to have the opportunity to try and answer this ageless question that has burned within all of us in the tenco's story iv waiting room community since 2013. it is an incredible coincidence (or is it? 👀) that i was just talking to Risa about tenco's this (edit: yesterday) morning so i am extra double super in the mood to talk about Tenco's Story today. so excellent of a coincidence is this that i am tempted to refer you to them in case you wanted to hear their thoughts on the matter that would probably turn out super cool, but that is neither here nor there; let us talk Tenco's Story.

i of course must mention my unadvertised and modestly detailed commentary on tenco's i-iii at https://shidiand.tumblr.com/tencos, presenting slightly interesting facts in an unwieldy and difficult-to-use format, but as it dates back to june 2017, i want to take some time to understand my feelings about the series once more.

tenco's story is a series that has a lot of meaning to me.

i took on my current name of shidiand in november of 2013. i was still in 11th grade at the time, 4th year of high school, and a very socially isolated person. i should say i was introduced to touhou in 7th grade, 2010, so i was still working through a 3 years-strong phase of trying to simultaneously both find an outlet for and bottle up an endless wellspring of awkward weeaboo-gamer nerd energy at the time.

i had my first real foray onto the internet in 2010, tried out twitter, followed some RPers and other people who had Cool Touhou Usernames. didn't really go anywhere. i had maybe 50 followers, i dont really know the count but it was definitely a) double digits and b) pretty low. didn't know what to tweet about. didn't know how to hit it off with others. i think there was basically maybe only 3 other people i ever properly interacted with. oh shit i was playing league of legends at the time. oh my god. i really did play league of .. oh my god. let's move on.

aw shit im super digressing amn't i. well.

this is just how it goes when i write essays on tumblr.com.

i'm afraid you're just along for the ride at this point so please do your best to enjoy it.

i got kind of tired of twitter at the time because i didnt know what to do with it. didnt know how to interact with people and didnt find the people i was following interesting, so i ghosted on out of there by the end of 2012. didnt deactivate it until like 2015 but at that point that was just burning away my dark history. anyways. november 2013.

--im taking a lot of time here trawling through old files on my computer, my tumblr blog, notification emails still lying around in my gmail inbox from twitter, the dropbox i didn't actually use but it had several tenco's story pictures on it but i deleted them so this was useless, ... to trace the timeline of this story and im really seeing a lot of remnants of dark history here you know? did you know i wrote a letter to a girl i had a crush on valentine's day 2014, slipped it into her locker, and anxiously hung around nearby at lunchtime to see how she reacted at lunchtime? i certainly didn't, or at least i made darn ass sure to forget about this incredible virgin incident and not remember it, ever, until i came across the records of it that i thoughtfully preserved for the me of 5 years later today. ok well now i have to read the letter to see if it was as bad as it just sounded there brb

ok so the good news is that it was actually very focused on being positive and full of admiration for the cool things she did instead of being a confession letter so i am very glad i was able to be a respectful chad 5 years ago, but the bad news is that the jokes, the actual sentences i put together. oh my god. but i mean. well. at least i got the spirit. its certainly a step up from this other person in my grade, WEEABOO ANDREW, YOU MAY RECALL THIS STORY AND HIS NAME FROM PREVIOUS STORYTIMES, THE MAN THE MYTH THE LEGEND who came to school on halloween once cosplaying kirito from sword art online and got very possessive about people asking if they could hold his black replica plastic sword, and probably worse, dropped a "will you be my girlfriend" letter into the locker of my homie and fellow trombonist samantha, who was a little bit nerdy, hung out with the anime-likers who were actually sociable and fun to be around so you can imagine why weeaboo andrew was into her, which had i) a direct quotation from SAO chapter 16.5 (origin of the famous "glopping noise" line), and ii) a condom. jesus christ. i dont want to talk about this any more. next topic.

i also put this drawing of iku nagae and her skarmory (actually an albinoss from 18 DRAGONS) on the other side of the letter because it was the coolest thing i could think of drawing at the time. and i completely agree with 2014 me because it IS super fucking cool. hell fuckin yeah

https://shidiand.tumblr.com/post/76301993387/iku-nagae-ft-that-thing-that-supposedly-is-a

alright that was a fun little trip down memory lane but lets get back on track. november 2013. i started anew as shidiand. still awkward, still learning how to express myself and looking for my place among others. i followed some touhou bloggers, hung around r/touhou a lot as well. in december i got my first tablet for christmas, a wacom bamboo splash. i still use this thing! the usb cable disconnects if you bump it so i have to find just the perfect position to sit in whenever i want to draw, but its served me well. anyways. i was just starting to play around with digital art but i remember, probably just before new years, for some reason i wanted to find out more about tenshi hinanawi (i don't remember why. tenshi wasn't even one of my favourite characters at the time) so i went googling and right there on zerochan i found this:

https://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=23525572

this was during my dark souls phase so i just went BANANAS at the sight of this. this was literally the coolest image i had ever seen in my internet life. That image alone made me want to draw in hopes that I could make something as cool as that someday.

it wasn't immediately after but i soon discovered tenco's story, and it was love. kannnu was my very first artistic inspiration, and for a long time, my only one. i absolutely idolized them at the time. since then, ive found other artists to look up to, in a more healthy manner, but to this day i still look up to kannnu, still admire their work a lot.

i played around with drawing, followed the lives of people on tumblr, started reading touhou fanfiction, made a new twitter. i met a lot of new people along the way. some people i havent stuck with, some i cut ties with, and some people i still keep in contact with today. over those long 5 years of being shidiand, i found a name (i used to use shidian and then shid, but someone called me shidi once and i realized that was a lot better), how to reach out to others, how to express myself, places that i could feel included in. this is why i owe a blood debt to evelyn, who permitted me to kneel at her throne and was like "yea ok you can join my discord server u seem cool". evelyn, if you were confused by me ominously mentioning this blood debt/blood oath in a tumblr reply 1-2 years ago, this is the context. those 5 years were like a coming of age of sorts, that i never had when i was in high school.

and my love for tenco's story, that inspired me to draw that day, has been with me since almost the very beginning of my time as shidiand. from the beginning, i have always encouraged people to READ TENCO'S STORY, like the kin of those who cry PLAY MELTY or WATCH SYMPHOGEAR. i think my very first sidebar description was something akin to a prayer, written in very choral language, hoping for the day tenco's story iv was completed, ..., "meanwhile, furious shitposting". kannnu's work, finding delight in whatever they chose to draw, has been at my side, all along. my true mentor, my guiding moonlight...

so that's why i still to this day love tenco's story so much.

let's talk about tenco's story.

tenco's story is a story told through single pictures. the plot is vague, and details are sparse. dialogue is rare. we only know what has happened; we seldom know why. furthermore, there are many gaps between scenes that the reader is left to fill in for themselves; we see only snapshots that form an hazy outline of the events that occurred, and must imagine the rest. motivations and explanations fail me. but even with a barebones plot, tenco's story has themes, and if nothing else, those have to be carried through.

the main theme, of course, is journey and travel, but there are also other ideas, too. i actually think they start to change as the series goes on:

book i, where tenshi runs away from home, is about striking out on your own. it's a very fun and unpredictable journey, together with a friend.

book ii, where tenshi and iku are separated, forces tenshi to find and rely on companions of her own even more. but they do so, and they are able overcome hardships, and there is food and festival.

book iii marks a climax, reasserting tenshi's goal of finding the sword of hisou. i feel like the journey shifts from a travel (visiting) to a path forwards (making your way through). perhaps this is just something i get from knowing the locations from dark souls (Anor Londo, New Londo Ruins, the Great Hollow), but the locations start to give more of a sense of verticality, like they're emphasizing tenshi's climb to the summit. the hardships and enemies are the greatest they've been yet, and right when they near the top, tenshi and iku start to bleed. the book ends on an uncertain note.

if i had to describe the type of journey and travel that tenshi and iku undertake, there's this sense of wonder at discovering new places, wandering from vista to vista in delight, but also a sense of conquering, making it through a difficult patch. the sequence from pages 2-44 to 2-51, taken together, convey this sense of overcoming the best. it's one of my favourite parts. again, although the tone definitely starts to lean towards struggle in book iii, i think tenco's sense of wonder really is the heart of the series. there's no map of the world, no predicting where tenshi and iku will end up next. and through their travels, though they come across many enemies, they also find friends -- places of refuge, places full of life, people who will look after them for a few days, companions who will stay with them for the rest of the journey. at the end of book iii, we see a long haired tenshi with purple hair being impaled by the sword of hisou (3-33, see also this extra illustration that risa pointed out to me http://sinnnkai.blog.fc2.com/blog-entry-195.html), and regular short haired tenshi continuing on her journey (3-42). if we ignore the out-of-story images where tenshi has the sword of hisou, tenshi has actually only ever used her sunlight blade (2-24, 3-26, etc), so i think that the long haired tenshi on 3-33 is a different person altogether. (if i had to guess, she might be the purple haired woman in the top left of https://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=35443328 as we have never seen that woman appear anywhere.) she probably has something to do with the flashbacks at the end of book ii and she might somehow be short-haired tenshi at the same time, but this is just speculation.

however, in 3-43, tenshi's hair is rather blue, so i don't know if this is the purple haired woman or not. if it is, tenshi is probably still fine and closing in on the summit, but if it isn't, then it's very worrying to see a picture of tenshi without any of her companions. it's very ominous.

meanwhile, iku, while climbing the red carpeted corridor, is stabbed, and disappears for a few pages. there's a black page, a shot of a shrine that strongly resembles the hakurei shrine, and a picture of iku standing behind someone in a tux, with the line "In the past, I was saved by the lady I was serving, you see?". and then iku wakes up in a field of flowers.

i think what this scene makes clear is a theme that has continued to appear and reappear throughout every book of "being saved, being aided by someone's kindness".

i think another theme that is implied and has to be addressed by this story of running away from home is "return". something im imagining is that the reason tenshi makes finding the sword of hisou her goal is because she wants to have something to prove herself with, to vindicate her when she comes home. but i don't think she needs to prove anything, and i ultimately think that she would be happier spending the rest of her life exploring.

so i think this should be what happens in the ending.

open on iku's journey, and give her a long sequence of travel without seeing tenshi. underline her newfound resolve. she climbs to the summit with albinoss, and finds the rest of tenshi's companions fallen. and in the last room is sword of hisou tenshi, who has lost herself, and it comes down to iku to bring her back. after a difficult battle, when both of them are on their last legs, iku is unable to stand any longer. but at this moment tenshi sees her companions struggling to get back up and reach her, and that's what brings her to her senses. and iku gets to see how many friends tenshi's been able to make on her own, and they finally and properly reunite. together, tenshi and iku carry each other out of the last room.

i don't think it's necessary to return to heaven. as a conclusion, dedicate some time to tenshi and iku travelling together. they're on their way back, revisiting old friends who helped them along the way, enjoying the journey. their last stop is the house of the elderly nawis (1-42). tenshi shows off the sword of hisou; she decided to keep it not as a trophy to show her family but as proof of the bonds of her companions. surrounded by friends, tenshi and iku decide to part ways with each other, knowing that the other will be alright. iku drifts among the clouds once more, and tenshi sets off for the horizon.

that's the plot that i'd write/just wrote. i don't really expect tenco's story iv to ever come out, though. i mentioned my first sidebar description earlier in this essay, but of course, you can see that it's been changed. 2 years ago, i read my hopeful prayer once more and was struck with a terrible melancholy, so now it reads this: "having come to terms with the fact that tenco's story iv will never be released, i can still live, knowing that the spirit of the journey will live on through kannnu's original works [...] meanwhile, furious shitposting".

on one level, tenco's story is a story, but in the process of following it, i came to think of the work itself as a journey too. you can constantly see kannnu's improvement between and even within each book. they have always drawn whatever they liked; what plot matters in the face of "I wanted to draw a beautiful sky." "I wanted to draw a fantastic battle." "I wanted to draw Dark Souls and Monster Hunter and Pokemon and Brave Fencer Musashi and Bokura no Taiyou and Touhou."

its not really kannnu's style to go back and tie up old ends. they just draw whatever makes them happy. so as i watch them continue to draw beautiful places and fantastic creatures, new characters heading out on journeys of their own or just enjoying their everyday lives, it's as if tenco's story never ended. the limits and consistency of that world ignored, and a new one springs up; in a way, the world of tenco's, which had such thin boundaries, just gets bigger.

but even so, having said all that, i still see them draw that short-haired tenshi from time to time. it makes me happy to see them remember tenco's story with such fondness. often crossing over with orion or roar or elweiss, you can see tenshi on another journey.