#im so used to drawing used up middle aged men

[ellenchain]

I've been confused about a lot lately

[todayisafridaynight]

i love posting to twitter cause my posts breach containment way easier and that means once in a blue moon sometimes i see shit like people calling daigo and aoki sexy old men and THAT always takes me out forever and always

[itneverendshere]

Just saw the new popular movie ’’This ends with us’’ and I beg of you to draw from the actual beautiful love story, so pure! So same concept of the love story: Pouge!Rafe has been kicked out by his mom and her abusive boyfriend, Kook!Reader sees him homeless & hiding. Reader does small acts of kindness, which builds up to a romance but they separate for whatever reason (could be because they get discovered, he joins the military, like the movie, or something different). It could also be reversed with Pouge!Reader instead being homeless, you pick! Years go by, Reader meets an abusive partner, she bumps into a now grown up Rafe. Lots of angst, lingering feelings and longing, he sees the signs of abusive and gets protective. But without the movie plots of reader getting pregnant and married) I adore and worship your writing skills, truly have a gift to make you feel all the emotions!! <3333333

INVISIBLE STRING - r.c series (one)

i loooove this request because pogue!rafe so i decided to turn into a mini series (two or three parts). im personally not a fan of it ends with us, but i love your requests bc it's still very different from the original plot.

pairing: pogue!rafe x sweetheart!kook reader. chapter warnings: domestic violence; absent parents; angst; fluff.

Rafe was born rough around the edges.

There was never any sugar-coating about it; with his hair always messy, sun-bleached and salty, and his hands perpetually stained with the grime of whatever job he'd taken up that week, Rafe Cameron had never known peace. He moved like a stray dog that had learned to fend for itself, his eyes always scanning for trouble. 

Most people kept their distance, and he liked it that way.

There wasn’t much softness in his life. His mom tried her best, he supposed, but that wasn’t saying much. She had a new boyfriend every few months, and they were all the same — mean, drunk, and looking for a fight. Rafe learned early on that if you couldn’t fight back, you were nothing. So he fought. A lot.

He fought the men who walked into their house at night, stinking of cheap whiskey and cigarettes. He fought the kids at school who called him trash, who mocked the way his clothes never quite fit or how he always seemed a little too hungry. But mostly, he fought himself — every time he looked in the mirror and saw his father’s eyes staring back at him. The man who left and never looked back. 

Another piece of shit. 

He kept his head down, kept his hands busy, and kept his mouth shut unless he had something to say. He wasn’t nice. Nice got you nowhere; nice got you used, broken, and left behind. He had seen it too many times to believe otherwise. The world wasn’t a kind place, and he wasn’t a kind guy. 

Most days, he’d finish work covered in sweat and salt, with just enough money in his pocket to get by. He'd dropped out of school years ago and head to the docks, sit on the edge, and smoke a cigarette while the sun dipped below the horizon.

The only real moment of peace he had.

Rafe took what work he could find — fixing up old fishing boats for the few Kooks who’d dare come down his side of the Cut, pulling shrimp nets in the dead hours of the morning, his back aching and his muscles screaming at such a young age, but at least it was better than being home. If he could call it that.

Home, where his mom was probably passed out again, where the latest loser she'd dragged in might be passed out on the couch or looking for a fight.

He could hear them shouting before he even got to the door. His mom’s voice screaming her throat out, and he could hear something crashing inside — a glass, maybe, or a plate. Then came the matching scream of the new boyfriend, Tony or Tommy or something — they all blurred together after a while. Rafe paused on the porch, his hand hovering over the door handle, debating whether it was worth going in at all.

Inside, she was standing in the middle of the living room, her face flushed, her blonde hair a mess. Tony stood over her, fists clenched, his face red and veins bulging in his neck. 

Rafe knew that look. 

He’d seen it before — seen it in a dozen men who thought they could push their weight around, thought they could break whatever they wanted.

“What the hell’s going on?” 

Tony turned, eyes narrowing. “None of your damn business, boy.”

Rafe took a step forward, his fists balling up instinctively. “If it’s in my house, it’s my business.”

His mom spun around to face him, her eyes wild and desperate. “Just stay out of it, Rafe. You always have to make things worse!”

He felt the sting of her words. He should be used to it by now. “I’m not the one who brought this piece of shit in here.”

That was all it took. Tony lunged at him, shoving him hard against the wall. Rafe felt the air rush out of his lungs as pain flared in his back. “You watch your mouth, punk,” Tony hissed, his face inches from his, his breath a disgusting mix of beer and god knows what.

“Or what?” Rafe shot back. If there was one thing he’d learned, it was how to keep his anger in check — at least most of the time.

Tony’s eyes flicked to his mom, like he was making a point, and she just stood there, watching. He’d lost his faith in her a long time ago but it still blew him away how she never lifted a finger to help him. 

“Get out,” she said finally, hand moving to point towards the bust-up wooden door.

“What?” Rafe blinked, caught off guard. He must’ve heard her wrong.

“You heard me. Get out!” She was shouting now, her voice high-pitched and desperate. “I can’t have you here, always stirring things up! You make everything worse!”

It had to be a fucking joke. He was the only one bringing in money to pay the rent, the only one who kept the house clean enough so it wouldn’t look or smell like someone died in there. Paid the hospital bills when they hit her too hard. He did everything, always. 

Tony shoved him again, harder this time, toward the open door. “You heard her. Get the hell out.”

Rafe stumbled backward, catching himself before he fell. He looked at his mom, his chest tightening in a way he hadn’t felt since he was a kid. “You’re really gonna choose him over your own son?”

She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Just go, Rafe. I can’t do this anymore.”

He forced himself to nod. He almost wanted to laugh. “Fine,” he muttered, pushing past Tony and heading for the door. “Don’t call me when he sends you to the hospital again.”

He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. The moment he stepped outside, the wind hit his face like a slap, the kind that made his eyes sting and his heart pound. Things had never gotten to this point before. He would’ve rather taken a beating then get kicked out. 

He walked, hands stuffed into his pockets. He didn’t know where he was going, just that he couldn’t go back. Not now. Not ever. He’d die before he begged his mother or Tony to let him in that shithole again. His feet took him along the edge of town, past the marina and the fishing docks, and eventually, he found himself in the wealthy part of town, near Figure 8.

It was ironic, almost funny.

The Kooks lived here, the ones who wouldn’t give him the time of day if they saw him on their streets. And here he was, a beat-up pogue, walking right through their territory, angry and suddenly so damn tired.

He spotted an old, abandoned house, sitting at the end of a street where the mansions stood tall and proud. He had walked by it a few times before and noticed it had been empty for years, the paint peeling off in strips, the windows boarded up, and the grass overgrown. He crossed the street, glancing around to make sure no one was watching, and pushed the broken gate open. The hinges squeaked loudly, proving just how long it had been since someone had been there.

The front door was unlocked; it opened with the slightest push. Inside, it smelled of dust and mold, but it was dry, and it was quiet. It was enough. He made his way to a small room in the back, what must have once been a kitchen. There was an old sofa left behind, covered in a dirty sheet. He pulled the sheet off, threw it in a corner, and sank onto the sofá, finally breathing properly. 

He stayed there, staring at the cracked ceiling and the empty walls, wondering how the fuck he was going to get himself out of this one. 

For the two next days, he moved carefully, quietly, in and out of the house. He didn’t want anyone to know he was staying there. He wasn’t getting his ass thrown into jail again. He found a way in through the back window, kept to the dimly lighted areas, and avoided the main roads. He didn't have much — a few changes of clothes, some cash from odd jobs, and his dad’s old pocketknife, the only thing he had left of the bastard.

It was on the third day that he saw you.

He was sitting on the front steps, having a cigarette, when he heard the sound of a bike chain clicking. He glanced up, and there you were — riding a yellow bike, hair pulled back, and eyes glued to him as you pedaled down the street.

He stiffened, quickly stubbing out the cigarette, his heart rate picking up. You were one of them, a Kook, from one of the mansions just a block away. He’d seen you before, always biking around town, sometimes with friends, sometimes alone.

He didn’t know you, didn’t even know your name, but he knew the type.

You saw him, too, and slowed your bike. His first thought was to get up and disappear back into the house, but he knew that would look suspicious. So he stayed put, trying to look casual, as if he belonged there.

You stopped a few feet away, still on your stupid bike, one foot on the ground to steady yourself.

“You live here?” You asked, not in a mean way, just curious.

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “Yeah,” he lied, “Why?”

You shrugged, “Just… didn’t think anyone did. Looks pretty empty.”

He tensed, waiting for you to say something like, “I’m going to tell someone,” or worse, to start asking more questions. But instead, you just gave him another curious look, nodded, and biked away.

Weird girl.

The next day, you were back. This time, you had a bag with you. He watched you approach, wary. You stopped in front of the house and took something out of the bag — a sandwich, wrapped in paper, and a bottle of water.

You held them out to him, a gentle smile on your face, “Figured you might be hungry.”

He thought maybe you were just trying to make yourself feel better, some Kook guilt thing, like feeding the stray cat in the alley so you could pat yourself on the back for being such a nice person.

And he hated that. Hated you for even thinking he needed your stupid charity. So he gave you every reason to leave him alone.

When you handed him that sandwich, he barely even looked at you.

He just grabbed it and then turned his back, heading into the house without another word. But the next day, you were there again. And the next.

He started making it obvious he didn’t want you around. He’d grunt when you said hello, roll his eyes when you tried to make small talk.

One time, you offered him an apple, and he snatched it out of your hand without a word, just to see if you’d get annoyed enough to leave. You didn’t. Like some fucking saint.

Instead, you kept coming back, like some sort of annoying, persistent fly he couldn’t swat away. Every time, your smile was a little nicer, your eyes a little more curious.

He didn't get it. Why the hell were you still trying? Didn’t you get it? He didn’t want you here. Didn’t want to talk to you. Didn’t need shit from a Kook.

“What’s your problem?” he muttered one day when you showed up with a bag of groceries.

You blinked, “What do you mean?”

“You keep coming back here like I asked you to. I didn’t. I don’t need your charity.”

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, still not leaving. “I’m not doing charity. I jut figured you could use a little help.”

He scoffed, turning his back on you again. “I don’t need anything from you, princess.”

You hesitated, then placed the bag on the steps anyway. “Well, it’s here if you do.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes again. “Great. Another pity gift from the rich kid. Thank you so much,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You clenched your jaw, but still didn’t leave. He expected you to finally get the hint, but you just shook your head and walked away.

The next day, you there you were. And the day after that. Always bringing something, always with that same annoying, stubborn smile.

By the end of the week, he was done. You rolled up with another bag, and before you could even open your mouth, he let out a loud groan, throwing his head back. 

"For fuck’s sake, don’t you have anything better to do than bother me every damn day?”

That was it — you snapped.

Your eyes flared, and you stepped in closer, voice getting louder. "Will you just eat the damn food before I throw it in your face?" You shouted, cheeks going red with frustration.

He blinked, caught off guard. He didn’t expect you to clap back.

You’d been silent and too sweet for his liking. Most Kooks would’ve run back to their fancy houses by now, but you were still standing your ground, fists clenched, breathing heavy. Cute.

He almost laughed. Almost. “What’s your deal? You think you’re some kind of hero bringing food to the poor pogue? You think you're gon' save me or something?”

You glared at him “I’m not trying to save you, jerk! I’m just trying to be a decent human! Maybe you should try it sometime!”

He stared at you, face set in a deadpan, but he felt something— something he hadn’t felt in a while. Respect, maybe? But for some reason, he didn’t tell you to get lost.

Instead, he snatched the bag out of your dainty small hand. “Fine. I’ll eat your stupid food. But don’t think this changes anything,” he muttered.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Oh, trust me, I don’t.”

You both stood there in this weird silence for a minute, glaring at each other. Then you shook your head, and smiled like you hadn’t read him to filth ten seconds ago. “See you tomorrow, Rafe.”

What? You knew his name?

He watched as you rode away and he realized he was grinning, just a bit. For the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel completely alone.

And somehow, that pissed him off even more.

Days turned into weeks, and you kept showing up, like a plague.

No matter how much Rafe grumbled, no matter how many times he rolled his eyes or muttered under his breath, you just kept coming back. It was always something small — fruit, a bottle of water, a warm meal in a container. Every time you showed up, you had that same stubborn look in your eyes, like you weren’t going to back down no matter how much he pushed you away.

He hated to admit it, but he started to look forward to your little visits. He hated even more that he noticed things about you. Like how your hair fell in your face when you leaned over to hand him something or how your laugh sounded when he said something sarcastic. He noticed the way you seemed to care, even when he made it clear he didn’t want you to.

One day, you showed up with a duffel bag. Rafe looked at you suspiciously as you parked your bike and slung the bag over your shoulder.

“What now?” he grunted, eyeing the bag like it might bite him.

He could tell you were nervous and that weirded him out even more. Since when could he read your mind? 

“I was thinking… maybe you’d want to come to my house. Just to shower and get some real rest. My parents are out of town, and y’know, you could use it.”

He stared at you like you’d grown another head. “You want me to come to your house?”

You nodded, looking a little unsure now, hands tightening around the bag’s strap, “Yeah. Just for a bit. I thought you might like a break from this place.”

He scoffed. “And why the hell would I want to do that? You think I’m gonna be some charity case you can parade around to make yourself feel good?”

You sighed, clearly getting frustrated. “No, Rafe. I just thought… I just thought you might want a hot shower. But if you don’t, that’s fine.”

He usually cleaned himself up near the docks, but the water was freezing during this time of the year. Every time it felt like his balls were going to drop to the floor. So yeah, a hot shower in a big mansion sounded tempting.

Even if he didn’t want to give you that satisfaction.

A hot shower… a real bed, even for a little while. He hadn’t had that in what felt like forever. He looked at you again, trying to figure out if this was some kind of sick twisted plan, but all he saw were those stupid glowing eyes staring him down like he’d be dumb to refuse you. 

“Fine,” he muttered, standing up. “But just for a shower. And if you try anything weird, ’m outta there.”

Your nose scrunched up, “As if.”

Your house was everything he expected from a Kook — big, clean, and way too fancy. He felt out of place the moment he stepped through the gigantic door, like he was tracking mud on a white carpet. You led him upstairs, pointing out the bathroom.

“You can use this one. Towels are in the cabinet, and I’ll leave some clothes outside if you want them.”

Rafe grunted in response, still unsure why he was even there. He went into the bathroom and locked the door, leaning against it for a moment. The place smelled like lavender or some other fancy soap he couldn’t name. He turned on the shower, and the hot water poured out instantly, filling the room with steam.

He stripped off his dirty clothes and stepped under the water, hissing as the heat hit his skin. But then he relaxed, letting the water wash away the grime, the salt, the exhaustion he’d been carrying for so long. He stayed under the spray longer than he should have, almost losing track of time.

When he finally got out, he saw the clothes you’d left outside the door — a plain t-shirt and sweatpants, nothing flashy, but clean. He put them on and headed back downstairs, finding you in the kitchen, making coffee.

You looked up when he entered, “Feel better?”

He shrugged. “I guess.”

You handed him a cup of coffee, and he took it reluctantly, still waiting for the catch. But you just sat across from him at the kitchen island, sipping your own cup, not saying anything.

He found himself watching you, noticing the little things again.

The way you tucked your hair behind your ear, the way your fingers tapped against the mug when you were thinking. He hated that he was noticing, hated that he found any of it interesting. He took a sip of the coffee and scowled when it tasted good, because of course it did.

“You do this shit for everyone?” he asked, breaking the silence.

You looked at him, “What do you mean?”

“This.” He gestured around. “Invite random guys to your house, make them coffee, act like you care.”

You laughed, a light sound that made his chest feel weird. “No. Just you.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he just looked away, taking another sip of coffee. He didn’t do nice. He wasn’t used to nice. This was weird.

You kept doing these little things for him — small acts of kindness he didn’t ask for and definitely didn’t deserve. You’d leave extra food by the house when you knew he’d be there, sometimes even a blanket or a pillow you said you didn’t need. You’d offer to let him use the house again, and every once in a while, he’d accept, hating how much he craved the simple comfort of a shower or a bed.

And all the while, he stayed the same — gruff, sarcastic, always trying to push you away with his attitude. But you didn’t go. You took his crap and came back.

One night, after a particularly rough day where everything seemed to go wrong, he found himself standing outside your house again. Your parents were out of town again, and he didn’t have anywhere else to go. He hated that he was here, hated that he needed this, but he knocked anyway.

You opened the door, your face lit up with that familiar smile. “Rafe,” you said, voice warm. “Come in.”

He liked the way his name sounded on your lips.

He hesitated, but he did. You led him to the living room, and he noticed a few things this time — the family photos on the walls, a vase of flowers on the table, the soft throw blanket on the couch.

Your home was nothing like his, but it felt… safe.

They sat in silence for a while, and he noticed how you didn’t bother him with questions, didn’t try to fix anything. You just sat there, close but not too close, letting him breathe. He found himself looking at you more, catching the way your lips curled up at the corners, how your eyes seemed to soften whenever they landed on him. He felt something strange, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He sat on that big couch, staring at his busted-up hands, trying to ignore the way his heart pounded in his chest. You were just a few feet away, eyes flicking over to him now and then, like you were waiting for him to speak. But he didn’t know what to say.

He felt… uncomfortable. Not because of the place, or you. No, never because of you. But because of this strange feeling that kept crawling up his spine, making him feel restless.

You were sitting on the arm of the chair, legs tucked under you, looking at him with that familiar, gentle expression that made him feel like maybe he wasn’t such a screw-up. He didn’t know what to do with that. You were the kind of girl who should have nothing to do with him. Yet here you were, again and again, showing up, like you didn’t know any better.

He cleared his throat, trying to push back whatever weird tension was building between you. “So… your parents,” he muttered. “They’re out of town a lot?”

You nodded, sighing, “Yeah. They travel for work. I’m used to it.”

“Must be nice,” he said, but his voice came out rougher than what he was going for. He didn’t know how to do gentle and he was still half-convinced you were going to kick him out or tell him you had enough of his crap.

“Sometimes,” you replied, “But it gets lonely, too.”

He wasn’t expecting that. He glanced at you trying to read you. He knew you weren’t looking for sympathy; you were just stating a fact.

He wasn’t sure what made him ask, but he did anyway. “Why do you keep helping me?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I— I don’t know. I guess… I just see something in you. Something good.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “There’s nothin' good in me.”

“There is,” you insisted. “I see it. Even if you don’t.”

He felt his chest tighten, and he had to look away. “You’re wrong.”

“Maybe,” you said quietly, “but I don’t think so.”

He feel your eyes on him, could feel the way his pulse was racing under his skin. He hated it. Hated that he wanted to believe you, wanted to feel whatever it was you seemed to see in him.

“You’re too good,” he muttered. “Too good for someone like me.”

You laughed softly. “You don’t know me as well as you think, Rafe.”

He glanced up, surprised by the boldness in you. You were so soft most days it always threw him off when you took the reins. You were closer now, leaning forward just slightly, eyes fixed on his. He felt that breathtaking tension tightening again.

Before he could think better of it, he spoke, voice coming out meeker than what he was going for, “You really think there’s somethin' good in me?”

You nodded, not taking your eyes off of him for a second, “Yeah, I do.”

He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. He didn’t know what he was doing, didn’t know what possessed him, but before he could stop himself, he reached out, his hand finding yours. You didn’t pull away. Didn’t flinch in fear or scrunched up your nose in disgust.

Instead, your fingers tightened around his, and his breath caught in his throat.

“Why?” he asked again, desperate.

 “Because I just do.”

Something snapped in him then, something he’d been holding back for too long. He moved closer, his other hand reaching up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your delicate skin. You didn’t pull away again, only leaning into his touch. 

He hesitated, just for a moment. “I’m not— I-I’m not a good guy,” he murmured.

You smiled again, softer this time, the way he hoped you only did for him, “I don’t need you to be.”

He didn’t get it, but he didn’t have time to figure it out.

He leaned in and kissed you. It was clumsy at first — just a touch of lips, a bit hesitant. But then you kissed him back and suddenly he understood those stupid cliché novels his mom used to read when he was younger. He’d never kissed anyone before. 

He was too aware of how inexperienced they both were, of the way his lips barely brushed against yours. He felt stiff and unsure, like he didn’t know if he was doing it right. But it felt right. It wasn’t smooth or perfect — there was hesitancy and uncertainty, but it was real. He felt your hand touch his cheek, your fingers warm and trembling just a little.

His hand slid from your cheek down to your neck, pulling you closer, fingers curling into your hair. He couldn’t get enough. It was messy, frantic, his heart racing like it was trying to break out of his chest, and for once, he didn’t care. He felt your breath hitch against his lips, the warmth of you pressing into him, and all the walls he’d built up, all the reasons he’d given himself to push you away, disappeared. 

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his old shirt like you didn’t want to let go, and that did something to him. Made him feel more alive than he had in a long time. Every time he kissed you, it was like he was drowning in you, like nothing else mattered except for this — your lips, your skin, the way your body pressed against his.

He pulled away, just for a second, eyes wide and breathing heavy, like he couldn’t believe what had just happened.

He looked at you, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and wet from the kiss, and damn, you looked beautiful. More beautiful than he ever let himself admit before.

But then you smiled, that same heart-shattering smile, and it was like you were pulling him back in, “You don’t have to be afraid,” you whispered.

“I’m not…” he started, but even he didn’t believe it. Because he was. He was terrified as hell of this, of you, of the way you made him feel like he wasn’t a complete mess. But before he could say more, you kissed him again, and this time, he didn’t hold back.

He didn’t think about what he should or shouldn’t be doing, didn’t overanalyze the way his hands moved from your waist to your back, pulling you closer until there wasn’t any space left between you. You melted into him, your body warm and soft, like you belonged there and he felt like he was burning up from the inside out.

His hands roamed, exploring, memorizing the curve of your waist, the way your body fit so perfectly against his. Every little sound you made, every breathless gasp, made him feel like he was on fire.

You broke apart again, both of you panting, and he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, trying to catch his breath.

“This is crazy,” he muttered, his voice all shaky.

You giggled, the sound making his chest tighten in the best way.

“Maybe. But I don’t care.”

He opened his eyes, staring into yours, and he knew you meant it.

You didn’t care about the Kook vs. Pogue thing, about the stupid rules that had been drilled into them from birth. You just cared about him. He didn’t know how to let himself want something good, something real. But he wanted you. God, did he want you.

From that night on, everything changed. 

You started seeing each other in secret, meeting up when your parents were out of town or sneaking off to some hidden spot by the beach at night where no one would find you. Every time he saw you, it was like a high he couldn’t get enough of. You’d kiss, talk, hold each other like you were the only two people in the world, and he’d forget about all the shit in his life. Forget about the fact that he was supposed to be a screw-up who didn’t deserve someone like you.

You sat side by side at the dock, feet dangling just above the water, the tips of your shoes barely touching the surface. Something was calming about the sound of the gentle waves lapping against the dock, the world feeling small and distant for once, like it was just the two of you.

He leaned back on his hands, staring out at the horizon, not saying much. He’d been quiet today, more so than usual. You nudged him lightly with your shoulder.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

He snorted, shaking his head slightly. “You don’t want ‘em. They’re not worth much.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him again. “C’mon. You’ve been quiet all day. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He hesitated, glancing down at the water, his fingers curling into the wood of the dock. He was biting back whatever was eating at him. He wasn’t the type to open up easily, you knew that, but he wanted to, for you. You wanted to know him, all of him, not just the fake exterior he put up for everyone else to see.

“You ever think about… like, how different your life would be if shit didn’t go so sideways?” he asked, his voice low, almost like he wasn’t sure he wanted to say it out loud.

You frowned, turning to face him, “What do you mean?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand through his hair.

“My mom, she… she used to date these losers. Real pieces of shit, y’know? Guys who’d roll through, thinking they owned the place, treating me like I was some kind of burden just because I was around.”

It wasn’t easy for him to say it, but he was doing it anyway, like the words had been stuck inside him for years.

“She didn’t really care what they did. As long as they paid for her booze, she was cool with whatever. They’d knock me around sometimes, tell me I wasn’t worth shit. But she never did anything about it.” He paused, swallowing hard, his gaze fixed on the water because he couldn’t look at you. “One of ‘em got real bad. Fucker hit me so hard one night, I thought I was gonna pass out. And when I told her… she didn’t care. Told me I was a liar. Said I probably deserved it.”

“Rafe…” you whispered, reaching out to take his hand. He didn’t pull away this time, just let you hold it, his fingers squeezing yours a little too tightly.

“I tried to stick it out,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “Tried to stay for as long as I could. But one day, she kicked me out. Told me I was too much trouble, and she didn’t need me around anymore.” He laughed, but it was hollow, bitter. “I guess I wasn’t worth the space I took up.”

You were quiet. He liked that about you, that you didn’t try and get his thoughts out of his head, just let him do his thing, on his own time. There was nothing that could make up for the kind of pain he’d been through. You just squeezed his hand tighter, and he just knew you wished you could take some weight off his shoulders.

“That’s why you were in that house?” You brushed your lips against his shoulder.

“Yeah.”

It was hard for him to talk about this stuff. Hell, it was hard for him to talk at all when it came to anything real. You just sat there, holding his hand, being there. That was what made you different. Most people didn’t wait for him. They’d get frustrated, give up, move on.

You just... stayed. And that scared him almost as much as it comforted him.

“You didn’t deserve that.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. Deserve’s got nothin’ to do with it.”

You shifted closer, your knees touching his now. “It matters to me.”

He didn’t understand how you could look at him like that, like he was worth something.

“You knew my name.”

You nodded, “You delivered fresh seafood to the house once.”

His eyes nearly popped out from their sockets, “I was fourteen.”

“Yeah?”

“And you remembered that?”

Your brows shot up like he’d said the dumbest thing ever. “Obviously.”

His breath caught, and before he could stop himself, he reached out, pulling you into his lap. His hands found your waist, desperate, almost frantic, holding onto you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

"You shouldn’t—" he started, but the words died on his lips because you were already kissing him, and it was like everything stopped. The world, his thoughts, all the shit that weighed him down. It was just you, your lips, the way your hands tangled in his hair, and the soft sounds you made against his mouth.

He kissed you harder, more urgently, like he was trying to prove something to himself — that he could have this, that he could deserve this. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His lips moved against yours and he felt like he was falling apart and putting himself back together all at once.

When he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his chest was heaving, and you were looking at him with that same softness that made his stomach twist.

"How—How the hell did I get this lucky?" His voice cracked, just a little. He hadn’t meant to say it, but the words spilled out anyway. 

You smiled, brushing your thumb across his cheek, and he realized then that his face was wet. He hadn’t even noticed the tears slipping down, hadn’t noticed the way he was trembling.

"You deserve this" you whispered. 

That was it.

That was the breaking point. A choked sob escaped him, and before he could stop himself, he crashed his lips against yours again, kissing you so hard it hurt, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t get enough of you, couldn’t hold back the way he felt like he’d been waiting his whole life for this moment. For you.

His hands cupped your face, fingers trembling as he kissed you again and again, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he stopped. 

And as his tears mixed with your kiss, he realized that for the first time in his life, he wasn’t running.

He wasn’t pushing you away. He was falling, hard and fast, and he didn’t care. Because for once, he was exactly where he wanted to be.

[pepper-makes-art]

relavity falls stans, graunts, n friends

oK THEYRE HERE NOW AND NOT JUST FIDDLEFORD!!!

fiddleford can be found here!!!

i wish i could've done more sketches but im a bit busy atm </3 will def do some on the weekends though!!

on the au:

instead of taking place in 2014, it takes place in 2024 now! which doesnt rlly change much outside of appearances and slang lol.

bold is what their au name is

stanford (ford) <--> dipper

pretty self explanatory! i feel like stanford'd be an x-men fan, hence the x patch on his shoulder lol. also yes, dipper is a trans woman here. and she has glasses bc fuck dude i hate drawing regular eyes.. i thought the design looked a bit empty, so i decided to make that cool glove thing ford had dipper's robot hand thingy!

stanley (lee) <--> mabel (mason)

stanley now wears a hat. hoorah. nothing much to say here besides him also smuggling shanklin in (w/o the knife unfortunately). mabel's still impersonating her sibling (who, before the portal scene, doesn't know that she's a girl now) under the name of mason, but has ultimately shed her sibling's fashion tastes for her own. mabel wears a turtleneck UNDER the suit bc she doesnt feel heat apparently!

candy <--> wendy

candy's now a 15 yo asian kid who took up the cashier job under grauntie bc she needed more extracurriculars and the experience. totally cant relate to that haha. wendy's now a 12 yo mischievous lil lumberjack who's best friends w/ stanley (i thought it'd be interesting since theyre all now still associated w each other) and who has ALL the middle school tea (which is A LOT)

grenda <--> soos

as much as i want the ages to line up relatively (haha get it.), i think it'd be funny if mabel just hired a bunch of teenagers to run the shack (not sure what to call it). grenda's the 15 yo handy(wo)man who has the voice of an angel and the golden mentality of "smash with couch"! soos is now a friendly n equally naive 12 yo who's best friends w stanely (yada yada) and who somehow always solves problems

on dipper and mabel (will be using he/him for pre-transition dipp):

hoo boy. i see SO many ppl arguing abt their relationship, and i just gotta say, i can tell who has siblings and who doesn't! (joke. thats a joke. mostly) anyways, theyre good siblings!! up until high school, where after drifting apart somewhat, they have a big argument abt where theyre going in life - dipper wants to go to insert rlly good college name and become a scientist while mabel, well, she doesn't know where she wants to go. unbeknownst to them, while theyre fighting, their parents are also fighting. suddenly, their parents split, and mabel is forced to live with her mom and dipper with his dad, far apart from each other. dipper (wearily) accepts this while mabel silently resents dipper for his submission

dipper attends his dream school but is unhappy in his schooling years. afterwards, with his 12 phds or whatever the hell, he goes to a quaint town named relativity falls... mabel becomes an artist of sorts, taking commissions n such, but finds that this doesn't exactly lead to profit. she then becomes a sort of con(wo)man and psychic in attempts to capitalize the strange. she DEF doesn't get into as much srs trouble as stanley did back in his day, but she still lands herself in hot water from scamming and stealing across state lines...

im tired rn so lmk if yall wanna hear more lol.

[istherewifiinhell]

okay. heres what were all here for. tell me why the fuck im supposed to suck the dick of these uk comics

[ID: A man holding up an aged looking paper, with a medieval style drawing of a giant metal fire breathing man. He leans forward serious asking his son "... Did it look like this?" END]

marveltf story line, MAN OF IRON, 9-12 in the UK, or.... 33-34 in the us. alright lol do whatever i guess. first published in 1985

new vibe same procedure: Script: Steve Parkouse art: John Ridgeway (9-10) Mike Collins (11-12) Colours: Joise Fermin (9-10) Gina Hart (11-12) Nel Yomtov (US)* Letters: Richard Starkings Editor: Sheila Cranna and these caps are from the UK classics idw book so: Original Series Edits by Shelia Cranna and Ian Rimmer, editorial notes and assistance by James Roberts, Collection Edits by Justin Eisinger and Alonzo Simon, Collection Design by Shawn Lee (<- hey i know his work from turtles!)

*so the uk comics were part in colour and part B&W, to save costs... including the american reissues? printing costs i guess. but when reprinted in collected books, they would get the full colour treatment. whats not clear to me is WHO did those colours, its not listed anywhere i can find. ill simply have to assume its the same artists... and hope im not discrediting anyone....

AND ALSO the last page in this reprint apparently uses the US comic page, and i have a cap of that last page, so. Yomtov's in here too..... tf franchise the way u treat ur sacred texts breaks my turtles fan heart.

and lastly! the keen eyed may notice, we are back to toy accurate art, the character model designs haven't and wont make their way over until much later, I'm told.

well with all that perfectly convoluted business out of the way, lets explore what tfs is like across the pond.

[ID: The same man, Roy, driving as he thinks to himself "What kind of bozo would want to bomb the castle? The Saxon Liberation Front? The mind boggles…" END]

[spluttering laugh] so the humours a little different!

[ID: The boy, Sammy, climbing a tree, hand outstretched reaching for the arrow he lost. Standing, with his in the canopy is Jazz. Sammy yells in fear. END]

OKAY. so the vibes are little different

[ID: Caption Box: And the apparition was fearful, being a Man of Iron of great height and girth, seeming unheedful of quarrel, spear or sword…" The robot from the illustration, clearly transformer, but blockier, more retro scifi, standing in the middle of a medieval battle, men with chain-mail and swords looking at him with trepidation. Caption Box: The Man of Iron forded the stream at Eldric's Cross, making great strides for the abbey… and some brave souls followed, though none dared come too close…" Two of the fighters shown following him, a body shot with an arrow lays at the other side of the river. END]

damn okay. so the vibes are ALOT DIFFERENT

(no 10) sammy dreams

[ID: Sammy stands on a house rooftop, in his PJ's, looking down at the cobble street, where a seeker in alt mode rests. END]

[ID: Dark and moody art, a barely seen figure towers in the shadows over the residential houses. From a higher angle, its shown to be Mirage, he stands taking up the entire street, backlit and casting shadows. END]

WHAT THE FUCK. that is terrifying

(something about beautiful black inked art + toy model makes them so CREATURE)

[ID: Roy speaks to a man in army uniform. Roy: How large? Soldier: Well… ahh…at a rough estimate? About the size of an ocean-going liner. Roy: Whaat? Roy with a hand to his head in dismay: Well, for god's sake what is it? Solider: We don't know. I've called in extra men and we're going to excavate… END]

somethings! buried under the castle... gee well one wonders what it might be

[ID: Close on Jazz's alt mode dashboard, its filled with lights and screen of alien language. Hes saying: But I'm not a stranger, Sammy. Deep down, you know… don't you? You've been wanting an adventure all your life… Besides. I have something to tell you. Sammy looking doubtful. Jazz continues: Something really important. Sammy has a hand on Jazz's open door: Why not just sit for a while in the front seat? Just pretend you're driving… END]

JAZZ THATS KIDNAPPING BUD....

really get a kick outta this note in the printed version

[ID: REMEMBER: NEVER ACCEPT LIFTS FROM STRANGERS! TO BE CONTINUED! END]

(no 11)

[ID: Jazz speaks to Sammy on the road, a blue and white F1 car pulling up. "My name is unpronounceable in your language… so just call me Jazz! And that's Mirage right behind us!" Jazz takes a exit to a low road, a black camper truck driving alongside. "This is where we rendezvous with Trailbreaker. All set Sammy?" All three driving along, Sammy responds "Sure thing Jazz!" END]

[guitar riff] THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN. im so glad all my good friends are here.

[ID: An fiery explosion engulfing Trailbreaker with a "Whaamf!". Wheels coming off, glass shattering, the truck top blowing to bits. Trailbreaker veering off road, a trail of fire and parts behind him calls out "Jazz! I'm hit... I'm hit BAD! END]

TRAILBREAKER NOOOO. who could have seen this coming...

[ID: Jazz narrowing swerving a missile. Exploding behind him, and speedlines trail him, and a wreath in flame around him. The colours are almost delicate, and a reflective glow in his paint. END]

wha. this just looks so cool.... what the hell....

[ID: Bluesteak, smiling speaking to comms "Autobot Bluestreak to patrol leader +++ Just brushed something off your tail, Jazz+++ try to be more careful in future, hmmm? Bluestreak out+" END]

being a cunt in the work slack. king

[ID: Jazz in profile, lit under the starry night sky, soft line-less colours defining the planes of his head in blue greys, and pitch black. To Sammy he says "Not really. It's a shuttlecraft… now stand back…" To comms "Autobot Jazz To Autobot leader+++ Approaching shuttle with Surveillance Subject+++ Request permission to board+++" END]

Wuh. Huh. Jazz u look so fucking cool right now?? And handsome.....

okay whats going on back at the castle (no 12)

[ID: The army soldier half sitting on a desk, holding a phone to his ear, the rotary cradle held resting on his leg. He's saying "IT's not just a question of scale, sir. We simply cannot identify it. END]

whys he kinda... apparently this style of uniform is called temperate barrack dress?? that answers none of my questions im just kinda... whyd u draw him like that tho...

[ID: A seeker, drawn in blues, walking between the ruins of the castle. Off panel someone says "It just seemed to appear from nowhere!" END]

bigfooting it up... AT A CASTLE. oh lads. im done for [blah blah he telePORTS and thats skywarps power but hes blue so WHO is it. dont worry abt it man. dont matter. they apparently change in the various times its been coloured, which is objectively funny imho. keep em guessing]

[ID: Moody and still illustrations of a robot identical to the Man of Iron in stasis, plugged into a bed of sorts. The ship around him is dark but for strips of coloured computer like lights in the walls and floor. Caption boxes narrate: Deep beneath the Autobots feet, in a sealed chamber, a special Autobot lay waiting… He was navigator, warrior and guardian of Autobot destiny… In his long, slow, machine world, a million years were as fleeting seconds. Human history had passed over him. Small inter panels. Mid on the Guardian: Locked in his dormant brain was the location of the planet Cybertron. He waited only to be re-activated, re-integrated with his mission… Restored to life. Close on the Guardian: His attendant was no more, the link between them severed. Laying in profile, just barely defined in the pitch black: Alone in the darkness he patiently beamed his signal. The same pattern of impulses… Waiting. END]

What the actual fuck (its even more somberly dramatic than just that)

[ID: Sammy, from a distance, staring at the castle. Caption Box: Autumn came, leaves fell. Sammy was a year older and a year wiser. He never saw Jazz again… Sammy asleep in bed, moonlight pouring through his paneled window. "But on clear, sharp nights, when stars glittered like needles and the night winds rattled his window… Then he slept a fitful, fearful sleep…" Sammy sleeping, with his dreams projected above him. "And the Man of Iron walked once more through his dreams." The End]

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

um well. okay! thats. fucking crazy. and this is the only tf comic this dude ever did. okay... can u tell he was from the dr who comics...... it ALSO means this doesnt actually speak at all for what the rest of tfuk will be like. which is damn funny. LIKE WOW! THAT WAS CRAZY. anyways.

[skyblueartt]

Do you have a phone guy design?

Omgggg so I was waiting to answer this ask because I wanted to maybe come up with a phone guy design (which I absolutely will now that I’m better at drawing men— shoutout to William and Henry for helping me learn tbh…)- but I don’t have one yet! I’m feelin sorta not the best physically today so I’m like hmmmm. I don’t feel like drawing right now BUT I saw this ask again and I wanna think about it because I LOVE designing how I think characters look in my head. Big part of why I took to the human characters of this franchise so much lmaooo

I FEEL LIKE phone guy is likely a middle-aged guy, or at least in his early to mid thirties or somethingggg. I’m just picturing that. Idk!! I do enjoy the idea of him starting as a server or something at Freddy’s when he was a teenager, but just stuck with the company since because he seems to know his stuff really well. Like, he’s been the manager for awhile or something. I also have seen people use the name Scott for him- I’ve been told that’s a fandom classic, which makes sense haha- and I like that name!

I feel like ‘Scott’ (guess I’ll just call him that now) is a pretty cool manager, he just gives off those vibes. Like he’s probably a little awkward but damn does he try his best. Like, employees aren’t intimidated by him or anything, they actually get along pretty well with the guy even tho he’s the manager lmaooo!! And working with the manager can be intimidating.

I GOTTA WONDER what this poor guy was going through during the whole MCI thing. Oh my godddd!!! Interesting stuff! See I imagine that William is the type of boss that can be very intimidating if he wants to be, but he is also extremelyyyy good at being charming. He puts on an amazing act during the time when all these murders are being committed. So imagining that Scott just cant bring himself to suspect William, after all, Will's been his boss for so many years. Will's lost a child himself. it couldnt be him!

I DONT WANY PHONE GUY TO DIEEEE :( ALL IM SAYIN IS…we never see a body!!!!! (jkjkjk but phone guy. you're a real one)

[funkii-fox]

I dont understand people that intentionally get themselves into discourse or trigger themselves on purpose and stuff like that. Its like… do u have nothing better to do?

I have this friend on instagram and hes fun but DEAR. GOD. Hes so negative.

Today i got back from school, sweating as all hell and red faced due to the Texas heat, and i got onto instagram to chill out. “I wonder what my beloved mooties are up to.” And when i press on this guy’s story, its like 5 fucking stories of rants abt selfshippers that make ocs to ship w characters and draw the ocs into the anime style.

GET A LIIIIIIFFFFFEEEEE

You never have to like something if u truly dont like it, BUT HOLY FUCK. How do you get through life getting this fucking triggered over every small thing that people enjoy? This guy went on and on crying abt “ooo i hate women” “this character is gay so u cant self ship w them if ur a woman” “im such an edge lord” “these ocs are so bland” “mlm and wlw is superior” “dont make a male stone ocean oc” “women shouldn’t be into jojos bc its a masc anime” get a life. Touch some goddamn grass. Get off the internet.

Anyone can see that this guy is going ape shit over something only privileged ppl would, but it also hits a little too close when hes attacking selfshippers: my people. I dont usually do oc x canon nor do i draw my self shipping, but these people that hes losing his shit over are still my family. And so its like hes attacking me in a way. And the only reason he doesn’t find me cringe is bc i self ship through writing and do self insert. Like if i were just a little different, he would be directing his misogynistic rants towards me. Odd. It makes me wonder if he does think im cringe and look down on me but wont say it bc of our friendship

Best thing is: this guy has ocs. “Ooo but theyre actually cool” what if i disagree? Would i be justified in saying that his ocs are trash? No? Bc thats rude? 🧐 (sarcasm)

Even better: this guy claims to be an artist yet uses ai to make ocs. Like not to draw them but get an idea of the design. I told him hes not using ai ethically and he should know better but he doesn’t care. But if i used his art and put it in ai that would be messed up. Goofy behavior.

I originally bonded w this guy bc we both hate bruja arianna and the “fem trans masc” thing (And tbh i still do: this mockery of trans men needs to stop and cis women need to stop being weird abt trans guys in general). But he goes so fucking far in his hate. He stalks bruja ari just to make himself seethe and then does rants on his story. Like ??? Is ur life that boring?? U rlly have nothing else to do?? U couldn’t do anything else in the world?

And a nit pick: this guy constantly announces that hes horny and other horny stuff. And it comes across as so middle school. It feels like a 7th grader trying to be funny. Like dude, being horny is normal and all but no need to announce it to the world bc i promise no one cares.

This guy, that is my age (his birthday is literally in the same month) has the brain of an edgy middle schooler. And i just thank god that im not like that. His negativity gets me down as a mere witness, i cant imagine how negative the inside of his brain is

[cilil]

Ive been reading through @edensrose's rp blogs and Ive noticed that your original character is written a lot. Im very curious. He looks very interesting. Would you mind telling me more about Navëquen? Please? 🤭

Oh, it'd be my pleasure! Thank you so much for your ask!💖

Navëquen means he who/person who judges in Quenya

Appearance-wise, his accustomed fána is humanoid and tall (8’3’’/~2.52m) with long black hair that he pretty much always braids, dark eyes with a slight emerald hue and a pale complexion

For animal fánar, he prefers corvids, mostly ravens, crows and magpies

Navëquen is a Maia of Námo and focuses mostly on the justice side of things. He serves as a prosecutor and later Námo's personal attendant as well, taking care of him whenever he's experiencing his future visions

Unlike his lord and his counterpart Vanimóre however, Navëquen doesn't possess any future sight. Other Maiar of Mandos sometimes say he's "blind to the future"

While Vanimóre's right eye sees the future, Navëquen's left eye sees the past, in particular past evil deeds

Aside from this, he also learned spirit magic and sword fighting from Námo, including his patient, defensive and precise style

Navëquen is very intelligent and observant and has an excellent memory, even by Ainur standards

He has a strong sense of justice and does his best to achieve it via the law, though at times he gets frustrated by its shortcomings. Additionally, he doesn't like making exceptions

Navëquen mostly appears to be calm and collected, even seeming cold and aloof to others; this is due to him trying to follow Námo's example and practice neutrality

Deep down, he does have strong opinions on many things, but won't voice them unless prompted. His statements may at times come off as odd or cold because of his tendency to approach matters from the pragmatic perspective of the law, sometimes also with a hint of cynicism

Navëquen isn't very good at recognizing and expressing emotions. His coping mechanism is his journal, in which he writes down his thoughts, feelings, observations, and he likes to draw as well

It takes him a while to warm up to people, but once he does, he can be quite sweet, caring and protective and grows very attached to them. His trust is not easily earned

Vanimóre is - or was, after his fall - his closest friend and Navëquen continues to have strong feelings for him. Yes, they're essentially soulmates <3

Because of this, he agreed to go to Middle-earth and attempt to save Vanimóre when Námo asked him to, but unfortunately ended up being captured and held in Angband for a while

Navëquen also has a bit of a crush on Námo, which is one of the reasons he's very loyal to him; the other main reason being that serving his lord gives him a sense of purpose and belonging

Now for a bit of fun trivia~

Navëquen is ambidextrous, which he uses to complete several tasks at once. When he has a lot of work to do, he may temporarily grow additional arms

He likes to braid ribbons, charms and other fun accessories into his hair

Those close to him call him Navë for short. Vanimóre also likes to call him Quenquen or Creeps

Over the ages, he has already filled several journals and sketch books

As some of you may have noticed, Navëquen has a bit of a type (pretty, dark-haired men). If you are one or can at least assume such a form, you have his attention

Here's his masterlist🖤

[blueiight]

I don't think any of your other anons have mentioned this yet but if they have correct me! But a really key difference between book and show Lestat is his age not just in pure number [150 vs 30 something when he first meets Louis] but the age when he was turned [~35 vs 21]. Cause show Lestat even as human would've already sown his oats, lived it up and is basically middle aged for 18th century France life expectency before he's even turned. Then on top of that, he's spends another 100 years or so fucking around, going on adventures, trying to find a companion, having failed relationships, dirt napping before he finally meets Louis. Book Lestat's life was very much cut short due to his youth when turned, he goes from a bad relationship with Nicki to a bad relationship with Louis and then spends many decades barely alive and napping. Show Lestat at 35 should've been settled down, married with kids already during his time? [whether he actually did that or not is irrelevant, that's what was normal for men of his age]. Like I think that's why show Lestat is so much more of a patriarch in the show?

I don't know what else they plan to do with this change in the show but its one of the most fundamental changes to his character I'd say!

before i go along id like to correct the rl perception of life expectancy u have. a lot of ppl (not just u!) conflate ‘average life expectancy’ with a vague notion of the ‘average adult life span’. what life expectancies account for is the societal underpinnings in health namely the sheer numbers of maternal, infant and young child mortality due to the sheer risk of pregnancy alone& infectious diseases prior to the advent of germ theory, clean water systems & the widespread use of vaccination/s. chances are, if u lived past the age of say 5-10 and/or survived ur pregnancy, u already beat a number of odds & could very well live to old age [certainly the numbers of ‘respect ur elders’ hierarchies in cultures worldwide support this. but i get ur point& im being the pedantic ass i complain about. adolescence did not exist in les time as we know it so hed be considered a man in his teens-early 20s, and in fact in most of human history ppl got married 20s& above so if book les didnt get hitched idt show les necessarily had to neither? esp cuz hes still the younger of sons.]

i agree! i do think og iwtv lestat was a force of nature & a manic figure, but he was certainly more pitiful than his amc counterpart [in no significant part due to 1976 iwtv lewis narration] and being aged up certainly can play a role into how much of a firmer authority figure he is in this version of the show so soon. i think this change is fascinating, and imo draws both from iwtv/tvl as well as subsequent [consistent beats of, an exploration of] characterization of lestat as the pinnacle of vampirism, the brat vampire prince lording over in later works of the chronicles. hes not only stronger in a patriarchal sense but also in the literal sense of what hes capable of doing as a vampire. much to think of! louis also being an older man [33-34 as opposed to his early 20s] when turned also has sweeping implications for his character, and performatively equalizes their dynamic in the eyes of the viewer. & louis himself in s1 selectively likens himself to both lestat’s equal, yet u have the ‘lover, murderer, maker’ line being repeated & louis saying ‘could the children murder the father?’, likening himself to claudia in that they are both lestat’s children & claudia in the rue royale timeline compares louis to a pitiful housewife or something like that .. not to mention this👇🏾

[i feel like ive talked about this scene ten times. from claudia being the exact age/close to the age louis himself was here when he was turned, to lestat denying claudia her adulthood , louis selectively playing up her adulthood, and claudia attempting to neutralize this family dynamic & claim her own sense of maturation by making all of them siblings… levan akin ur everything to me 😵‍����🫣]

i do wonder how nickistat will be adapted for s3 with these age shifts in mind, and what implications that holds for nicki , armand & co.. hell, even gabi. especially gabrielle. [also i time traveled & spayed les he will not have no babies on lou]

[masked-disciple]

im sure someone has asked this but 696

#696 is delightfully, wonderfully, holy-shit-I-didn't-realize-how-little-art-I-had-of-him-what-the-fuck Hero of Wind and Voices, Tarim 'Laqir' Nakoshima, chosen Hero of Kharos! Pictured here as his recolor.me from 2020, a very bad drawn image from 2014, and a base art from 2012. As you can see, he's always had Generic Anime Protagonist brown hair and green eyes, and has always had that bright-red and bright-cyan motif around him.

When @castcuraga decides he is ready to open commissions, I will give him somewhere between 150-300$ CAD and he will do a fully painted picture of Tarim for me, and it will be glorious, and it will force me to draw a full reference of him, which tbh he really needs.

I know I said 'a few facts'. You're getting a fucking infodump and you will like it, Tsuko-my-dear, because Tarim is one of my oldest OCs, and if I'm not mistaken, my oldest OC that I still use. I think... I'm pretty sure the only older OC that I have is Tranq (Shadow Tranquility is her full name, and I have no idea if she's ever coming back, I won't rule it out).

Tarim has been with me for over a decade, and I love him, and he deserves the world. He was the protagonist for Vocal Paradise, my very first NaNoWriMo novel in 2012. I won that year. I was so proud of myself. He came back for 2017 in Starlight ~ Beginning of the End, which I should reread because the only info I apparently put on NaNo itself was "tarim has to leave the vamps because shit blew up, naitofiara is there," so 10/10, me.

2018, Firstlight ~ The Cultist's Blade opened with "Tarim Nakoshima is dead, the Reihe having consumed him after a Fragment left him in the wrong timeline. [..] Thus, a new group of Twilight Warriors must be chosen." Three years later, Tarim makes his as-of-right-now final appearance in 2012 with Dragonsword ~ His Last Night's Requiem as not only the owner of the titular requiem, but "Not so long after the initial fall of Kagiru Network, two strange young men appear in the middle of the Salem Academy courtyard. One looks Tarathiel Draconis in the eye, tosses her the necklace he had around his neck, and fades to nothingness." which is a pretty metal way to die.

So, now that I've established Tarim's been around for fuckin ages and likes haunting the narrative, who is he?

Tarim is Maradeim! Originally called the Cherchant, which is French for 'searching', because when I was 12 I was learning French so a great deal of the language made it into my writing. The Maradeim are from Ilya Loremmi, the oldest of my original worlds (and very much still a part of the Aethel!), and specifically from the city-state of Isuparingu, which I think is a google-translated-romaji corruption of 'inspiration'? Anyway, they were birthed by the goddess Ivonnu, who's still around, in a fight with her sister Ikuto, who is also still around as Kharos' daughter and being pissy in the woods.

What makes the Maradeim different from ye average elf? Uh, they're grey? Yeah, I know, good question.

Maradeim have been established to be Pretty Rare, so you don't see 'em much outside Isuparingu, and almost never outside the Lorem as it is. Four of the Detan Burata - Zona, Seikyoru (who you may know better as Athena Cykes), Myn, and Rokichi - are Maradeim. To date, Tarim is the only named, non-DB Maradeim character I currently have. (There's two others in my records, Felix and Jaycinda, but I highly doubt they'll ever reappear. I would have to totally rework them, and changing names and designs for characters who didn't have more than that is just making new characters.)

Tarim has average brown hair, spearmint green eyes, gunmetal gray skin, and a jawline sharp enough to slice a man alive. He stands 5'9", would probably be called an otter if he were in a gay bar, and from what I can tell, is the Most Average Maradeim To Ever Maradeim.

He doesn't have parents. Why doesn't he have parents? Dunno. The very first iteration of Vocal Paradise was actually a story my first soulbond, Iban, told me about growing up in the desert. He was making shit up because he was babysitting his younger brother, but I still took it for inspiration. Eventually I moved Tarim to Ilya Ustuxe, I think in 2017 for Starlight, where he actually was an illegal immigrant, worked as a veterinarian for horrors that come out of the woods, and promptly had a super-gay romance with the king, Morcair Rakshara.

Tarim's role has always been that of Protagonist, when he appears; and if he does appear as the Mentor Who Dies, it's because of how his powers and prophecy have always worked.

The oldest prophecy I've ever written was the Prophecy of the Five Heroes, in various forms, and the kicker to it is that people have tried to fulfill it, and crucially, they failed. There's been three generations of Heroes: the first was the Bringers of Hope, the second was the Crafters of Balance, and the third is the Challengers of Fate.

The Bringers of Hope failed so badly that none of them have ever even appeared in any written works: the only thing left of them is their titles, and the fact that they failed. (I know their names, though, and their relationships with each other. Hehehe.) The Crafters of Balance was Tarim, Nyktophotia, Elrua, Akui, and Ikane; who were all actively written out of the narrative when their powers overwhelmed them. They still haunt the narrative. The Challengers of Fate are Tarathiel, Kinefira, Ezra, Saga, Tessa, and Leilahi.

You'll notice that there's six challengers, whereas only five of the other two. Really wonder why the first two groups failed, folks...

Regardless. Tarim is the OG Hero of Voices, and his main magical power is to command the three Alyvian spellsongs - the Reihe, Sterben, and Lautlos - and to reshape the world of travel, Ilya Serina, to his will. He begins using the Sterben, and eventually the Reihe, and only once uses the Lautlos. Contrary to Tarathiel, who primarily uses the Lautlos and sometimes the Sterben, and only uses the Reihe when she purifies her own heart.

Tarim has always been the protagonist, and his job is to be dragged through the Serin into varying parts of the wilderness of the Aethel by the plot, being pissy the entire time and befriending a bunch of animals, sometimes being dragged around by a girl who is supposed to be his love interest and who he doesn't give two shits about. The only person he's shown any romantic interest in was Morcair, who he died on very purposefully and who he kept a lot of secrets from. Morcair's pretty bitter about it, and helps out the Challengers only for Tarim's memory. Lmao.

You'll notice, though, that right up top I said that Tarim goes by Laqir. This is because while I knew from the start what his name was, he has never willingly given his name to another person in his entire fucking life. Seriously. If he weren't sorted under the Ts, I wouldn't have told you his name was Tarim. In my actual files where all his art is, he's listed under Laqir. When I make the wiki, he'll be listed under Laqir as well, and his actual name will only be in the sidebar.

When I write him, he always and only uses he/him pronouns, and only gets named in the narrative after someone asks him his name onscreen, and he has to give it. The first time he did in Starlight (because tbh I barely remember all the shit that happened in Vocal Paradise), it was to Morcair. Tarim panicked, glanced around outside the carriage they were in, saw a road sign for Laqir Lane, and told him his name was Laqir.

What fuckin name was he going by before the shattering of the Aethel? Gods only know. It sure fuckin' wasn't Tarim.

Why he has this issue, I have no idea. But he won't give you his name, just Laqir, and gods only know if Nakoshima is his actual surname either. Prob'ly not. I have no idea why he was orphaned in the desert. He got to Ilya Ustuxe by being a stowaway on a ship as a teenager and is Super Illegally There, but fuck you he's Laqir Nakoshima, consort to the King and Hero of Voices, no one is going to be asking for his passport.

The red/blue thing he's got is something he famously shares with Nyktophotia: that's actually an Alyvian thing, and they both have it through their use of the spellsongs. Tarathiel only does that when she's actively using her powers, and Kinefira simply refuses to use the spellsongs so she doesn't get to be special.

Tarim is a grumpy, generous guy honestly. Dislikes being personable, dislikes being dragged into shit, a very Bilbo-like character tbh? Genuinely very loving, absolutely atrocious at trusting people. Super reliable, though, and has an interest in chemistry.

Tarim is also the actual owner of the Kharosian stronghold on Ilya Kava, as well as a low mansion on a phantom island in Ilya Ustuxe. He stored most of his personal stuff in the Ustux, and most of his Hero stuff in the Kav. The Challengers use his stronghold in the Kav as their primary base of operations in the Aethel, since they don't reeeeaaally want to go to the Ustux and deal with Morcair's grief over Tarim, but Tarim himself is still haunting both of these places in what fragments of consciousness he's managed to plant in them, so he's all smug about that.

It'd be nice to go back and write a few stories for him, tbh. It's been a while, and most of the things he's done in Sagiverse sum up to angrily being written out of the narrative onscreen to pass the mantle to Tarathiel. We should go see what he was up to before that.

[send me a number between 2 and 787 for a few facts about that OC, please send me more these are super fun]

[misqnon]

hi. march. slowly shortening this introduction to my posts. sorry if this is a little incoherent i woke up in the middle of the night and im getting sleepy again

i tried looking up fanfiction involving hannyabul and magellan the other day and there was almost none??? i really thought theyd be .. at least a little popular ... the dynamics... arent the dynamics similar to zosan or cavendish and bartolomeo.. dont people like that.. (i wouldnt know since ive never really been a fan of the enemies/rivals to lovers trope)

im pretty sure kidd wears a beast pirate disguise? and like .. good for him... (good for me).. hes got the titties out. i love men. i also rly enjoy the few frobin moments we get when theyre in disguise, theyre super cute!! it seems like u havent been spoiled on the Biggest Moments in wano so im very very glad to hear that. it also kind of has a mystery aspect so i think its probably way more enjoyable to go in blind. there IS a special kind of anticipation when u know what's coming but.. imo its more fun to guess how things will go rather than know and be excited about it

honestly i didnt care for the setting either. in the anime tho .. big mom's introduction is so good. theres a song that plays (its in the manga too but it's way better to hear it rather than... read lyrics) and when i started wci i was still watching the anime, so i got to listen to the song. it was stuck in my head for days. very catchy. i love how theatrical it is and it really made me excited for the arc .. and then i ended up barely enjoying it LOL. also i do actually love pudding but her age also makes me go... ewww. oda made an awful decision making her 16 . gives me kyros flashbacks.. although sanji doesnt seem to be genuinely interested in her. but still like why did oda do that... why... what is the point ... wci does pick back up a bit imo after they get sanji back (which i think is the part ur at? or a little bit after?) and i honestly think it wraps up quite nicely. and yeah.. most importantly.. katakuri is introduced in the second half. lovely guy. i heart him

robin's va did that in. one take??? that is Insane?? she genuinely channeled robin in that moment wtf

i will definitely talk abt opla if/when i watch it. even if zoro doesnt have his goofiness at least i can thirst over him. am i into mackenyu? no.. zoro? yeahs........ also i can definitely see how jacob being too hot is an issue for usopp LOL. some people just.. ooze confidence.. and are too smooth. i think ill probably enjoy his characterization anyways tho cuz i adore usopp

i cant draw women for the life of me but transfem sanji is haunting my brain and.. she made me attempt .. attempt to draw a lady. its her. shes the lady.

YOU THOUGHT OF ME??? im so flattered U have no idea aikfjshdjd. law.. i.. hes a little fucked up.. human art pieces . actually as someone who's done a bit of sculpture (but not abstract art. and it was ceramics) i can appreciate it. if he didnt use real living people in his art i would definitely appreciate it more.. but i imagine seeing a severed head on a sculpture and then they start talking to u.. i imagine that would be a Little.. scary... just a little . i think he should go to therapy probably. ur mental illness is showing law .

i think its semi canon?? theres a moment in the anime (idk if its in the manga or not) where bepo gives law.. puppy dog? eyes? but like .. polar bear version. and law is clearly weak to that. also he calls chopper a tanuki even after being asked not to bc chopper has a cute reaction (he gets mad). so i think he IS weak to cute animals. he is very similar to robin like that... they would definitely bond over choppers cuteness. and they both have weird taste.. in cute animals. its not bunnies or idk. dogs or cats. robin likes pathetic animals (the dragon that had to carry them all up to zou) and law likes . bepo. a 7 foot tall polar bear man.

THATS SUCH A STRANGE COINCIDENCE. this is my first time moving since ive lived in the same place my whole life .. so its kinda exciting and also kinda scary.

OH so u can send images but it just cant be on anon. im.. one day... one day for sure.. (soon). i grew up on twitter tho .. yeah. and before that it was youtube. i have been on the internet since the beginning of time (since i was in single digits. like 5 maybe idk, but i do remember being able to make my own youtube account at 7, and i had been using my brothers before that). my dark past. since ive been on the internet so long i just accept that theres probably a load of my personal information out there for anyone to see. and also a bunch of embarrassing things I've said from years ago. sometimes i come across a youtube comment from when i was like 9 and its always a bit shocking LOL

I HEARD WHAT HAPPENED WITH SESSHOMARU. when i found out .... it .. it .. i.... i dont have words. its so upsetting 😭. actually ive kind of been trying to get into vocaloid bc i recently (like 2 years ago) found out i had been listening to it.. and i didnt know. i didnt realize it was vocaloid

LOL, i say IT COUNTS. i dont draw in my mind cuz i have slight aphantasia. i imagine drawing in ur head is way more relaxing than actually drawing... cuz like... the struggle of anatomy.. proportions.. lighting.. colors.. yeah art is so hard.

there havent been any sbs's recently i dont think?? like they stopped at some point during wano and .. idk what happened. i miss it .. i want to ask about the giant snails that pull germa's ship... well i want someone else to ask about it really . not me. but yeah i have a lot of questions and i just hope it comes back soon 😔. maybe im just missing them somehow but i have checked multiple places. but for some reason i dont see anyone mention it.

RIGHT?? RIGHT???? dont worry the colorism stays /s. they have characters in the latest episodes that are dark skinned and they made only the girl lighter skinned. oda didnt do that. oda made them all the same in the manga. its infuriating.

an issue i have post timeskip is that i actually cannot tell the women apart half the time. they all look pretty similar in the manga, although theyre distinguishable by their clothes and hair. but there was a spread (not colored) that had the main one piece women all in different clothes and with different hair and i sat there for multiple minutes trying to figure out who was who. like i genuinely couldnt tell. i miss nami's short hair,, it had so much character.. and i also miss robins short hair.. again.. it had so much character.

even on a colored cover i had a moment where i was like "is that vivi or is it nami" because it was just a solid blue. i assumed vivi based off context clues and bc.. blue. but if i hadnt had that.. i dont think i wouldve been able to tell. i have no problem with character design changing but oda makes most of the women next to indistinguishable from one another now. its really upsetting. if they had different skin tones or even just. different eye shapes. or different figures. it wouldnt be that much of an issue. but nooo he cant do that. all women who are supposed to be attractive have to look the same.

YEAH ive seen that video!!! u show up a lot on my feed but most of the time its just... the same few posts... which is kind of funny. I ALSO LOVED THE NEWKAMA!! like wow!!! queer representation??? i feel a kinship with these characters?? bon clay literally made impel down for me. my favorite boygirl girlboy. i adore u bon clay.. i adore u.

im a big fan of fukaboshi so i think anytime he was on screen my enjoyment was elevated. also zoro fighting hody(is that who it was) underwater was so cool . like how are u better than a fishman in water??? and the moments with noah... it felt like it was setting up some rly big things and i always love stuff like that. LOL YEAH sanji was even grosser on return to sabaody. i think its just not talked about as much because it wasnt a long arc and he wasnt on screen for a lot of it

oh they for sure have some good points. i also miss the silly shenanigans of pre timeskip. but overall im enjoying post timeskip more, and i do think theyre at least a LITTLE BIT blinded by nostalgia. its hard not to be tbh. i do really miss seeing all the crew together. i dont exactly mind them splitting up but .. i feel like a lot of them end up kind of sidelined. we dont get to see (just some examples) brook or chopper or nami fight much and i. i love them.. i love them just as much as the rest of the crew. i think nami has a really interesting fighting style. and brook is just fun. and people complain (validly) that chopper has been mascotified. which i wouldnt mind so much if he got more cool moments but he doesnt!! we dont even get to see him being a doctor that often :(.

like the writing is still fantastic but yeah. i agree. oda has basically run the jokes that were already pretty tired. into the ground. sanji being the one who suffers most from it. i dont mind robin having more moments where she imagines a really gruesome thing has happened to someone, for example. because she barely did that pre timeskip, and now she only does it occasionally so its not like "oh my god STOP". its still enjoyable. but. idk if theres even a prominent example of someone's character joke being awful other than sanji. like hes the only one who has a consistently awful joke. that in my opinion has never been funny. and its been made into a huge part of his character. i still love post timeskip to death bc. look at everything thats happening!! but i have a lot . lot . lot of gripes with it.

fellow impel down and dressrosa lover 🫡. i do rly like water 7 but . i dont know why but i never enjoyed enies lobby all that much. i think thats probably super controversial LOL. oops.

oh friend... u have no idea..... i have SO many one piece thoughts ... i have paragraphs upon paragraphs of one piece thoughts... the hyperfixation is actively killing me /j

wait let me. find . some.. i send them all in my private (as in its just me and my irl best friend) discord server so its not only in chronological order from when i sent the messages but its also extremely disorganized.. hmm a lot of these are/involve huge spoilers LOL

wait. how do u feel about sanji with heterochromia. one eye is blue and the other is brown . u get the best of both worlds... i felt like i was smart for this but ur the resident sanji lover. u have the say (in my mind) of what is best for him,,,

i saw someone say usopp would get conquerers haki and i big time disagree. he has the best observation haki in the crew and i feel like him getting conquerers haki would kinda cheapen that. and it cheapens his growth. why does he need to have conquerers haki to be a brave warrior of the sea? hes doing perfectly well without it. and also i dont think it fits his character. hes cowardly, has no self confidence, runs away from battles sometimes out of fear, and definitely has a huge sense of shame. from what i know, people with conquerers haki are usually super self assured, strong in a pretty traditional sense, and dont have much self doubt. usopp is like the opposite of that. i think hes very brave because he fights despite how scared he is, but the character archetype just doesn't work imo. like usopp without those characteristics is. to me. not usopp. tell me what u think!! also im like 90% sure none of this is spoilery but if it is i am so so sorry

obviously i havent seen the live action yet but live action shanks looks too hot to me.. like hes too conventionally attractive. i want him to be.. a rat man.. greasy .. but extremely charming.. and hes NOT!! hes just regular hot!??

do all places in one piece just have extra chairs or tables that are bigger? cuz there are some characters that arent of the giant race but are huge. and yet they fit on regular chairs. do u have a 8 foot tall guy walk into ur bar and u have to say "wait a second, we need to get out the big chairs" and then drag out a chair twice ur size? is that the case EVERYWHERE? or do some places not have big chairs so if ur extremely large u just have to sit in a chair thats too small for u.. or maybe u just sit on the floor. or stand.

that scene in sabaody of usopp asking rayleigh if the one piece is real, and luffy gets mad and tells usopp that he doesnt want to know, and if he finds out he will quit right now because he wont go on an adventure that isnt any fun. luffy is such a chill, silly captain, that im sure him snapping like that must be scary. usopp looked so shocked. i love their relationship. i think moments like that. really solidify how real the characters feel. like yeah, they have strong, defined morals. and they will argue and be childish and yell for the sake of their morals. i feel like a lot of media has characters with morals but it doesn't ever show them actually disagreeing with someone. let alone a friend. idk im not wording this great but i think this moment is so good. i love the moments of childishness in one piece. its very humanizing to have immaturity in ur characters

ok thats what ill leave u with for now :)

IM GLAD THAT MADE U LAUGH!! i felt really called out by constantly seeing it bc.. yeahm.. admittedly .. cannibalism is sexy sometimes.. i recently admit this to myself...

"i think he should go to therapy probably. ur mental illness is showing law ."

i think he should go to therapy probably. ur mental illness is showing march .

*nods* march 🫡

i dont think i’ve ever actually met someone who doesn’t like enemies to lovers before?? ik its popular bc its one of my favs and im happy about that bc im always nosedeep in the content SFNKJDN. valid tho. i cant speak bc ive written two 50K+ zosan fanfics and will probably write more 🧍I’LL USE THOSE SKILLS TO WRITE HANYAGELLAN FOR YOU. HAHA JK …UNLESS

so ive only met kidd once or twice right. i met him in sabaody pre-timeskip when the worst generation got introduced and he’s had a couple small moments since then. but i just feel and know in my heart that i would be a kidd girlie. red haired angry anime men are one of those specific niches i’m like YEAAA YEAAA [CHEERING] and people are always talking about his tits in the one piece server i’m in so. DFJNVIDJ HELL YEAH IM READY FOR THAT

and frobin…hell yea…theyre so cute…my weirdo couple…

actually!! im reading the manga on tcbscans and there’s a comment section under every chapter that i like to read bc its cool seeing ppl’s reactions (as i’ve said) and in big mom’s intro chapter someone was like “if ur manga only look up her song rn its actually so good” so i did and YEA. ITS SO FUN?? AND THEATRICAL?? AND I LOVE THE MELODY?? like ok big mom go off

yea i already knew pudding was 16 bc i was all up in sanji’s business and reading about wci when i joined the fandom but I DIDNT KNOW ABOUT KYROS AND I WAS SO MAD WHEN THAT REVEAL HAPPENED!??!!? I WAS LIKE DAMN ODA HAS DONE THIS SHIT LIKE 3 TIMES NOW?? for the third one i count shirahoshi. even though she didnt have a love interest it was nasty for him to make a character so obviously meant to be so beautiful and sought-after and sexualized and then make her a teenager. plus vander decken . existed.

OOH YEA THEY JUST GOT SANJI BACK AND THEY’RE TALKING WITH BEGE ABOUT AN ALLIANCE RN. I PLAN TO READ MORE TONIGHT SO WE WILL SEE 👁️

“am i into mackenyu? no.. zoro? yeahs........” this is so real

U DREW TRANSFEM SANJI?? HAH?? HELLO?? HELLO MAY I SEE??

i have an art degree and tbh i support law and his human sculptures wholeheartedly. its very dada of him imo. but abstract art seems more up his alley. regardless i know some of my professors would have been like “live human sculpture…wow…that is so Art” very marina abromavic of him as well. but um yeah he should still go to therapy tho. yea

robin and law 🤝 “cool and collected” characters thinking fucked up weird animals are cute

i’ve moved like 9 times in my life this is just another day in the life [eyebags the size of dinner plates]

(looks at the other ask in my inbox) oh yeah…very soon

omg. i started getting on the internet in single digits but to like. get on mylittlepony.com and play facebook games. i started being more “ONLINE” around probably 10 or 11 though and i made my tumblr account when i was 12 💀 i, too, sometimes see something old i posted and just go Oh God 

and i DEF had/have too much personal info online bc of that but i’ve tried to cut it down lately in the interest of ~ internet safety ~ . i dont use my first name online as much (hence going by mont in addition to the. trans-ness) and i took all my selfies off my blog. but who knows what else i put up and have forgotten about

RUMOKI TAKAHASHI I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU ‼️‼️ RUINING BEGRUDGING FATHER/ ADOPTED DAUGHTER RELATIONSHIPS FOREVER (jk i still love it but now im always just scared of. betrayal)

I LOVE VOCALOID!! i’ve been into vocaloid basically since i started being online (although i dont keep up with a lot of CURRENT vocaloid news so im like an old man who didnt keep up with the times. i love the original crypton 6 (miku, rin, len, meiko, kaito, luka) + gumi and gakupo but until a couple years ago i was like “What The Fuck is a Fukase” jbfvhjdn

i’ve caught up to date a little bit and still consider myself currently a vocaloid fan but yea im like a genwunner of vocaloid but just bc im lazy not bc im pretentious djsnkj

i actually saw kikuo (my fav vocaloid producer) in concert in january!! my first and only vocaloid concert…(but only bc he happened to be touring with bo en. no miku hologram for me)

ur like the third person ive met with aphantasia! and. yea its much easier in my head </3 why did i major in that shit </3 

WAIT REALLY?? THEY DONT DO SBS ANYMORE?? I LOVE SBS :( I ALSO HAVE SOME ONGOING QUESTIONS I WANT ANSWERED!! (that i want someone else to ask kjvfnkfn) i looked it up and didnt see much at a cursory glance aside from the fact that sbs happens every volume instead of chapter (?) who knows but i hope they didnt stop completely…

toei feel my wrath re: the racism. oda also feel my wrath re: the sexism. and the racism (why do you use the same skin color for everyone in the colorspreads…oda PLEASE) and the worst part about the nami clone thing is that we know he can draw women differently. have u seen how he drew young big mom. she was so hot. and yet he chooses NOT TO!!

FKJNKDLS WHY AM I WHATS NEW PUSSYCATTING ON YOUR FEED. WITH THE CANNIBALISM POST TOO. I POST SO MUCH GOOD CONTENT TUMBLR WTH </3 (LYING)

YEA I WAS ACTUALLY SURPRISED HOW WELL DONE THE IMPEL DOWN REPRESENTATION FELT?? THAT WHEN WE GOT TO KAMABAKKA I WAS LIKE why did we go…backwards…but they cant take the impel down newkama land away from me. that scene where iva makes a speech about gender and does a little performance made me feel so seen on screen even if oda meant for it to be tokenism or something. i think he thinks we (gay ppl) are cool but doesnt quite get it. like he saw gay ppl and went “this would work with my silly art style so well. transgenderism is a thrilling character trait” and then did not attempt to understand much after that KDCKJS

FUKABOSHI MY BELOVED actually all 3 of the fishman princes…when they cheered up shirahoshi during the scene where their mom was murdered i actually cried as they danced and sang through their own tears. like wtF. AND YEA ZORO ALMOST DROWNED SO MANY TIMES THAT ARC BUT HE WAS STILL COOL AND HOT 😔 the noah was also a cool concept!! you see the noah’s arc thing come up a lot in anime for some reason?? like my d gray man loving ass was like huh…okay two nickels…

ur so right about the sidelining (its like anyone that isnt the east blue 5) and especially about chopper. aside from being mascotified i wish he wasnt baby-fied too (which stems from the mascot problem). like…he’s 17. chopper is a full ass teenager, not a child. I GET that he’s a reindeer and also very naive but imagine how cool he could have been post timeskip…horn point chopper is my fav bc i just love the design but IMAGINE IF HE LOOKED LIKE THIS ALL THE TIME!!

and he could have so much more development in terms of constantly seeing his crewmates near death and always having to fix it…or just him improving as a doctor! i dont think we get to see chopper doctor enough but we also dont get to see him struggle! (m really just over here advocating for more depression and more hardship for chopper im so sorry king)

a lot of the running jokes i can still get behind (zoro getting lost will never not be funny to me idk how it hasnt gotten old but it hasnt okay) maybe bc its so harmless?? robin’s gruesome joke i agree, its not overdone so i still like it. mean nami slapstick i’ve never liked but can get a chuckle out of me every once in a while. brook panty joke L 👎brook skull jokes would be funny but they’re always too easy 👎 and yea sanji is the worst victim. i found it somewhat funny/endearing pre thriller bark when it was mostly harmless swooning and heart eyes but nowadays uhhh [beating him to death with hammers] 

u know what i see ur point on enies lobby. for water 7 it had great new characters and an AWESOME bright and beautiful water city setting but enies lobbies is. just a bunch of white government buildings on an island. the high point is definitely just robin’s moment. and kaku saying “I LOVE GIRAFFES. GIRAFFES ARE AWESOME” 

one piece brainrot is ruining me i have MUCH IDEA !!

OKAY LISTEN . I HAVE HEARD BOTH ROBIN HETEROCHROMIA AND SANJI HETEROCHROMIA AND LIKE. I DONT THINK EITHER ARE / COULD BE CANON BUT. robin heterochromia is so fun. and sanji heterochromia although for some reason i dont feel like it fits him HAS POTENTIAL bc imagine when he comes back post timeskip with his bangs covering the other eye now and the crew is like “🤨 wait i thought you had blue eyes?” ugh i need it. ive seen a LITTLE art and like 1 fic of heterochromia sanji and its very entertaining for sure i always eat it up even tho i dont necessarily headcanon it. i am so glad i have authority on this in ur mind btw. [clanging my sanji gavel] order in the court

i agree about usopp and conqueror’s haki! like damn we already got two of them with it dont we…although i saw someone on youtube somewhere suggest he could have “conquerer’s observation” ?? idk enough about haki to understand that but it sounds cool 👍 its not spoilery so dw! although that yt comment made me think like “if there’s multiple types of conqueror’s haki it it like..all based on one guy? one original conqueror ?? and who was it…” who knows…i mean i know zoro has conqueror’s haki bc of spoils but idk how or when that happens (wano, i assume. idk how i feel about that yet bc much as i love the green guy sometimes i feel like he’s favored a bit for the op stuff) and you made some really solid points about usopp’s character too!! part of me was like “damn sanji the only monster trio member not to have conqueror’s haki…” but he could not have it for. several of the same reasons u listed for usopp lmao AND THATS OK!! THOSE THINGS ARE REASONS I LIKE THEM BOTH 

“live action shanks is too hot” ok then explain this

you know what. that is. a good question. why do they get so big btw. like humans come in all sizes but why. is it to do with the gravity of the planet cause its so huge and got so many moons…thats how i explain half of the unrealistic things in this show lmao. maybe they just stand. its more Intimidating™. sorry villains dont get to sit (although that makes me think about that time doffy was just sitting on the table in the middle of the warlord meeting?? did u see that post?? its a screenshot like why did they let him on the table like that. evil cat behavior from local bird man)

THATS A GOOD SCENE TO POINT OUT. YEA YEA YEA YUOU GET IT. i loooove the serious luffy moments. ive said it a million times but luffy is intelligence 5 wisdom 20. luffy is actually very selfish but in a way that i dont hate…he just wants to be free. and free others. and he lives so in the moment. he’s so different from so many people that he’s very fascinating as a character to watch, esp bc he DOES have moments like u mentioned that make him feel real and have boundaries. u know its funny bc luffy is like the most open accepting character that its hilarious how many times ive seen something oda has written/done and been like “luffy would never do this. the character u made up and continue to write would be more accepting than this.” like luffy is totally chill with women, doesnt see them as lesser, never even hints at this like even zoro does, luffy’s super chill about bon clay and the newkama, luffy doesnt discriminate based on characters’ races etc etc etc. and yet oda DOEs do all this its like. oda u have to see if bc u MAKE it so why cant U BE MORE LIKE THE GUY YOU MADE UP FDJVKND. i think the only moment i can think of that even vaguely implies luffy knows what a gender role is is when he’s in amazon lily and they put him in a frilly shirt and he’s like “i dont wanna wear this. this isnt my style at all” but its all about his OWN preferences and not about anyone else’s. u get me??

“cannibalism is sexy sometimes” u get it. u get it. u understand. we are kindred spirits rn. join me

and the end KJFNDKJEN ITS OKAY MARCH LET’S GO TO THERAPY TOGETHER 

to end off here are some of my one piece headcanons (some of which probably will never be canon and im okay with that)

first off sanji is a repressed bisexual and u can tear this from my cold dead hands. post kamabakka he’s gnc too he just wont admit it bc hes a scared little baby bitch. ik it was anime only but that scene were he’s fighting in a dress and caroline keeps telling him to accept himself or some shit as a flower slowly blooms metaphorically in the in-between footage was transgender as hell. also that time someone sent a message to oda in sbs saying like “i’m so glad sanji is girl crazy and not boy crazy” an oda responded “uh, totally” …like is the translation just coming off sarcastic or am i reaching-

i think zoro is gay. he just gives me that vibe ok. 2nd choice he is aroace and luffy is like his qpp or somethin ok (i dont ship zolu but i can admit those bitches got a point bc MAN they really love each other. i like it much better as friendship tho) and on that note luffy is aroace too.

nami is a lesbian. im aware all 3 of these are the popular fandom hcs but idc. this one i have actual evidence for have u seen how she latches onto every woman in each arc. she’s just as bad as sanji she’s just more chill about it /hj

FRANKY IS STRAIGHT BUT HE’S A REALLY LOUD ALLY OKAY . HE’S JUST A COOL DUDE

contrary to fandom hc i think robin and usopp are probably straight. robin would make a very dignified lesbian or bisexual but i think she’s just a weirdgirl straight who’s being a supportive ally with franky. 

brook is probably straight but i think he was also simultaneously in love with yorki a little bit and doesnt talk about it bc yorki is gone now so its not like its gonna happen ever again. soul king “im straight but i had a boyfriend one time” brook

chopper is a reindeer

god what else do i have aside form sexuality headcanons. OH !! this isnt a headcanon but i have a running theory that many of the strawhats are based on classic characters from fiction/pop culture…i keep meaning to make a post about this but im busy

zoro is inspired by zorro. okay easy next

chopper is inspired by rudolph, obviously

usopp is inspired by pinocchio but I DONT SEE THIS ONE MENTIONED AS OFTEN: CYRANO DE BERGERAC!! down to the lying and the long nose and the crush on the rich girl out of his league!!

robin is inspired by matilda in my mind. weirdgirl with mind powers abused by her caregivers and obsessed with books…like okay oda just tell us u read roald dahl

i know sanji was inspired in looks by mr. pink in reservoir dogs but i havent seen that movie so i cant speak on anything else LMAO

i feel like its possible the others were inspired by more that i just am not aware of / might be japanese pop culture and therefore harder for western fans to spot…thoughts?

[naggingatlas]

me and my friend are both nb and once talked about our confusions growing up. and i remember them saying something along the lines of "being nonbinary and treating that as something groundbreaking while also. you know. being latino. is weird, because thats... how white people viewed me either way? i had a stache and arm hair in elementary. to them i was never a girl nor a dude. just a brown fat thing".

its the dehumanization. at a very early age. a girl doesn't have dark skin. a girl isnt too long, too wide, too heavy. a girl is interested in these things only. a girl can see and walk and hear and talk. a girl has friends. a girl isnt weird.

and then youre born a weird girl. a black or brown girl, a fat girl, a disabled girl, physically or mentally. and you're still very much expected to follow the rules of girlhood, it says so on your documents, you have to and you shall. but youre deranged if you think that they'll let you have the rights of a little girl, the few delights of it, the butterflies and cream of it. a let-off for a fault. a compliment without a leer or pity. a gaudy friendship bracelet made with six hands at a sleepover. you can only dream.

but you can only only dream for so long, before it hurts too much and you push it all away, the bad and the good, every dream and butterfly hairclip shoved into a shoebox and buried in the backyard.

and you plough through middle school in hoodies and a bob if your parents are lenient, you muffle the endings of your verbs and adjectives, stealing a vowel whenever you can, you make a secret account that your classmates and family will never find.

and in the evenings you look at pictures of men in dresses. forums they write. a "she", "она", and that stolen vowel here and there.

and they're so beautiful.

and you draw a boy (?) in a dress. a character from a cartoon, or a comic, or your brain. over. and over.

you hear a song from a band that a decade later everyone will find annoying and they use the f word sometimes. you learn the lyrics by heart. and you draw yourself. on the same page. in a suit, with a moustache and a flat chest. and high heels. and fishnets. and the suit becomes a bodysuit. and you keep the stache and you don't add a chest. and you're beautiful too.

"i wish i were a man so i could dress like a woman"

you go on like that for 7 more years.

and then you dig up the shoebox. and you say a prayer for every woman from that forum. and you say a prayer for every electronic musician whose f word you've put through ytmp3. and you say a prayer for every weird girl who's born in that moment and who had been born since the dawn of time.

and you open the shoebox and put on the butterfly hairclip.

and your tits are 4 sizes bigger from the risperidone. and you don't hide them at all.

its fighting to be allowed to be a woman. because you want to be one. and a bajillion other reasons i guess. despite what society presents as an idea of a woman. despite there maybe not needing to be one.

i dont articulate myself well. i cant win arguments with radfems, im not rational, im schizo. i rely on abstractions and vague sensations. but it makes me happy. trans girls make me happy. please exist.

thinking about how i relate to transfem experiences more than to any other trans and gnc ones and how freeing it is to realize that again after being in close proximity to a radfem for a long time and how i will never stop loving my trans sisters. ever.

[littlemisslipbalm]

“your turn”

Harry Styles was a romantic. He hated weddings. Rori Williams was practical. She hated weddings, too. How could she deny a man who had just drunkenly confessed his love for her at a wedding? Even if it was completely and totally untrue.

A story of two semi-strangers to lovers with weddings, drunken confessions, and girls with two names.

gif has nothing to do with it but he looks fancy and i like it :) tpwk

Hi! this is for @meetmeinfleetwood to lovers fic challenge! and it’s a little cruel of me to post it today after those wedding pics came out but i have been working on this for awhile and tomorrow’s the deadline so if it’s too soon im sorry and if its just what you need enjoy! I used prompts 12 and 15! It’s my first ofc story which is a little strange for me but i wanted to use a name for this, but besides her hair and eye color and a name she’s pretty generic,,, idk thank you all for always reading and all of that. lmk what you think and reblogs are always really appreciated

Word Count: 9.3k | Warnings: drinking, swearing, implied? smut (couldn’t bring my heart to write any my apologies), harry being a silly drunk, mentions of being afraid of someone taking advantage of someone under the influence but ofc no! actual any misconduct -- a SITCH wedding!!! so cute ::))

Harry Styles was a romantic.

He loved love songs that professed their undying love for their significant other. He loved romance movies, rom coms especially, because they were happy and in love and he got to cry and laugh all in one. He loved writing his own songs about love and he loved spreading the idea of loving and treating others with kindness. He loved first dates and the relationships that sometimes sprouted out of them. He loved reading books about love and how to make it last. He loved poetry that waxed eloquent about love. He loved love.

He hated weddings.

Well, he hadn’t always hated weddings. In the beginning, they were like every other aspect of love, he loved them. But slowly, as he kept receiving announcements of engagement and wedding invitations and he kept not sending out letters of his own, his aversion grew.

Sure, he still loved going. He still wept for the happy couples when they committed themselves to each other. He still clapped profusely and danced to the dj or live band. He still tried to enjoy it. But with weddings he had a nagging sense in the back of his head reminding him that he still hadn’t found it yet. Each of his relationships had fallen short in some way as to not lead him to this destination. So when he sat at his assigned table at these various gatherings, he held a bit of apprehension, a bit of envy, about everything going on. He knew that his smiles were all a little forced and his laugh not quite genuine. His thoughts always managed to be controlled by his green-eyed monster that he always attempted to keep locked away. But at weddings, especially when the alcohol started flowing, he had a harder time controlling it.

Seeing all his friends getting together, getting married, and having children wore on him. Wore him thin more than he ever let on to anyone but his therapist. And his therapist couldn’t seem to give him a better answer than to be patient and not give up hope.

By 2021, Harry had decided that maybe he was just meant to be alone. Love was something he could admire, but it wasn’t meant for him. He could chase it, but it would never let him have it. He was unlucky in love and by Sarah and Mitch’s wedding in the Spring, he had come to terms with it.

He had even been optimistic for it, being Mitch’s Best Man and all had gotten his hopelessly romantic heart all aflutter. He was introduced to Sarah’s Maid of Honor, Renee Williams and she had been lovely. She was 31, a little older than Harry - but age wasn’t something that deterred him, and she had worked with Sarah in Los Angeles before Harry recruited Sarah for the band. They were best of friends and Sarah had known for a long time that Renee would be her Maid of Honor.

When Harry met Renee, he was sure that she was meant to be his person. She was beautiful and hilarious, her beauty mark at the side of her lip was so utterly unique he called her a “right Marilyn”. She insisted she was not a Marilyn Monroe type at all and had laughed. Harry had charmed her with his expert flirting and claimed that just because she was a brunette didn’t mean she was a Marilyn. She had smiled and bantered through the rehearsal dinner with him at her side. He was entranced, it had to be Renee, he had been so sure of it.

When Renee had walked down the aisle just before Sarah, Harry had been sure of it. When Renee had smiled at Harry as Mitch slipped on Sarah’s wedding band, Harry had been sure of it. When he had hooked his arm around hers as they walked down the aisle and into a foyer, Harry had been sure of it. When she laughed at his jokes while they waited for their wedding party photos to be taken, Harry had been sure of it.

When Renee walked up to Harry at the reception with another man wrapped around her, Harry wasn’t so sure of it anymore.

“Harry, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, Corey,” Renee smiles giddily between the two men.

Harry’s eyes widen slightly at the word ‘boyfriend’ and he swallows harshly before blinking and putting on a sweet smile. He thrusts his right hand out for Corey to shake.

“Hullo, mate,” Harry says happily.

Corey greets Harry, extending his hand to meet Harry’s with a warm smile and a “how are you”. Harry laughs boisterously and takes a sip of his champagne flute. They shake hands with a firm up and down motion.

“Planning on getting really drunk,” Harry says in response to Corey’s question. “Have a great night, you two,” he finishes and stalks off for a refill.

Renee watches him go with a little bit of a confused look on her face. She sees him tilt his head back and finish his drink before turning to face her boyfriend and peck his cheek. She mumbles to him, “He’s a really nice guy, wouldn’t stop chatting my ear off the past few days. All these people must make him antsy.”

He nods back to her, “They must.”

Harry sidles up to the open bar, discarding his empty flute and exchanging it for a much stronger drink.

“Tequila. Neat...Please.” He sighs and runs a hand through his curls that are slowly becoming less and less coiffed. His fingers slide to the collar of his shirt and tug, attempting to loosen it a little.

“Rough night already?” Someone asks from beside him.

His face turns to them and sees a smiling brunette. Her eyes are big, larger than most eyes he’s come across. They’re brown with tinges of gold and green, likely making them hazel by her standard since most people prefer saying hazel eyes to brown. Her smile is bright and clean and if Harry hadn’t already heard her speak he would assume she was American from that smile. It was perfect, too perfect - the teeth both straight and blindingly white.

He raises his eyebrows at her and thinks about his response. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, leaving them parted, but he remains silent when the bartender hands him his tequila. Harry wraps a specifically less ringed hand tonight, he had forgone his ‘H’ and ‘S’ rings as well as the rest of them actually on his left hand. His right hand still had two: the large flashing lavender gemstone encrusted in a gold casing from Stevie Nicks on his middle finger and then a clean gold signet ring with little crosses on the sides on the adjacent ring finger. Every other finger was noticeably empty. So when he picks up the glass there is no familiar clink which draws the attention of himself.

The woman doesn’t pay any attention to his hand, she’s still waiting for him to respond to her question, as well as waiting for her other drink to be made. She was taking advantage of the two drink system and getting two for herself right now, so she didn’t have to come back until much later.

“You have no idea,” is how Harry decides to respond and then turns to leave. He forgets about the woman and sits at his assigned table for his entire drink, talking casually with the people who come to speak with him.

When he's finished, he goes back to the bar to order a second tequila. He thinks about the girl who had stared at him with her big brown eyes. How she had seen him and thought to ask how his night was when it seemed to be going to shit. And how he had blown her off with barely a glance. God, he could be such a prick. After he receives his drink, he forgets yet again and continues to drown his sorrows in the golden liquid that helps him numb the pain that he had once again missed out on his fairytale love story.

The girl Harry had run into sat in the corner of the ballroom for the majority of the night. She settled on just having that first round of drinks for herself and one glass of obligatory champagne during the toasts. Other than that, she had promised herself she wouldn’t get drunk and go off with a random stranger. This was not a wedding for that. This wedding couldn’t be for that. She just needed to keep her head low and try to have a semi-pleasant time.

When she was nursing her champagne through the toasts, the man at the bar caught her eye again. She knew who he was. He was the Best Man after all. Sarah talked about him a lot, even Renee after the past few days, but seeing him at the bar had been the first time she’d ever seen him up that close. It was strange, he was so human. So tangible in that moment. His shoulders shook with each breath he took. His fingers tapped as they waited for his drink. His green eyes blinked and darted around as he took in his surroundings and even looked at her. He simply was and it had startled her to see him in a slightly bewildered state at the bar, but again, she wasn’t one to judge.

Get through the wedding. Try to have a semi-pleasant time.

It was time for the Best Man’s speech. Renee had just given the Maid of Honor’s and now Harry was up. He stood up and wavered a little as he tried to stand up straight. The neat tequila likely makes his stance a little harder to maintain. Mitch looks up at Harry at his side and smiles fondly.

Harry raises one hand in an awkward wave while the other is planted firmly on the table.

“Hullo,” he starts, “I’m Harry and I’m the Best Man, but I’m sure you knew that already.”

The entire group of guests laugh wholeheartedly, taken by the talented young man.

“To start,” he stutters, his words slurring slightly from the alcohol he’s had, and his smile slithers into a smirk. “Let’s hear it for the bride and groom, the lovely Sarah and Mitch Jones!”

Queue the laughter again. Harry laughs too when Mitch slaps his arm playfully, he turns to look at him with a mock ‘what did I do wrong’ expression.

“I had a speech written out, took a week to write, made it nice and poetic for these two lovebirds, but it seems I’ve misplaced it,” he pats at his pockets and sighs before rubbing his forefinger at his bottom lip. “I hate weddings.”

Everyone laughs again, thinking he’s joking. Harry grimaces but it passes as a smile even though she can tell it doesn’t meet his eyes.

He rambles on for a few minutes about love and commitment, how this is just the beginning for Sarah and Mitch and everyone laughs at the appropriate times and just when he’s wrapping up, successfully stumbling through his messy mind, everyone begins to clap.

“To the happy couple…” queue applause, but she sees him say something else, it’s drowned out by the crowd cheering and clinking glasses again.

He sits back down, downing his champagne glass that’s been refilled twice already during the speeches. Mitch leans over and whispers something in Harry’s ear as he twists a hand through his hair. Harry shifts away from Mitch and gives him a look, telling Mitch that he’s fine.

The party goes on, a few more speeches, a few more glasses of champagne for Harry, a few more sighs from the girl in the back of the room.

She watches the first dance of Mitch and Sarah but once that part is over she slinks off. She’s got half a drink left and all she wants is to be alone. Tired of the party, tired of the people, tired of having to try to have a good time. The Rowland-Jones Party had rented the entire place out, so she wanders out of the main room and down a hallway until the music is a faint buzz in her ear. The air grows colder as the amount of people dwindles from over a hundred to one.

There’s a door to her right that has an intricate golden handle that she pulls down on. It opens quietly onto a similar ballroom that is slightly smaller than the one the party was going on in. It’s quiet and spacious, her steps echo as she enters on heeled feet. The clicking of her satin stilettos resonate against the linoleum. She walks to the center of the room and turns around herself, lifting her head to the light in the room. An ornate chandelier is still above her, it’s the same gold as the handle that let her in. Her eyes travel to the walls that contain swirls of gold as well, everything was encrusted in gold and splotchy vintage mirrors. It was beautiful and she saw herself in the reflection of one of those splotchy vintage mirrors and actually felt beautiful in that moment.

No one else saw her but herself and she thought she was beautiful, a fleeting thought as she watched her body move. No one to watch as her reflection swayed with her. Her lavender dress swished back and forth, the end of it brushing around her ankles. The tulle fabric climbed her torso, cinching at her waist and draping over her breasts. The sleeves fluttered over her shoulders and ended midway down her upper arm. The somewhat sheer material made her tan skin look all the more carmely in the golden light of the chandelier. Her pendant necklace was silver and glinted in the light as it sat evenly over her exposed clavicle and decolletage.

In the corner opposite of the door there was a single table with three chairs. It seemed whoever was meant to put things away had grown tired and left these out. She wasn’t complaining as she crossed the floor to take a seat. It was the perfect escape. It was quiet and not too cold in the room, which was especially nice since she had left her jacket in the coat room. What wasn’t so nice is that her phone had died and she had nothing to do in the room. It wasn’t horrible though, she had wanted to be alone with her thoughts. She just feared what would happen if she sat alone too long with no escape of the internet to drown those thoughts.

That contemplation was squashed with an unwitting solution not ten minutes later. She had been sitting at the table, sipping her drink occasionally and staring at the chandelier. Sighing with content that it was finally silent beside the clink of her melting ice cubes. The house mixed drink was strong, but with each passing second it grew more and more diluted. She considered herself completely sober.

She only questioned that when she noticed a second person in the room. She hadn’t heard them open the door, but she heard their loud footsteps shortly after.

He all but stumbled in and was entranced by the chandelier like she had been. He walks to the center in a similar fashion and twists around, only this time his balance isn’t as good as hers. He ends up on his ass, legs splayed in front of him and hands behind him only cushioning his fall a little. He lets out a huff, “Fuck.” He runs a hand over his face before bringing it down to look around the room again. His eyes are foggy with alcohol, everything hazy and slightly blurry. It feels like he’s moving with superspeed but as she watches him with a tilted head she wonders why he’s moving so slowly.  

He squints while looking around after a moment, running a hand through his thoroughly tousled hair. His tongue comes to wet his lips, but this time it's for a touch too long like he’s genuinely tasting the liquor on them. She raises her brows, observing him, her presence seemingly unknown.

“Oi, you!” He slurs the words and points lazily at her reclined in her chair. “Are you real?”

She half smiles and replies with a simple ‘yes’.

“I like your dress,” he says merely like he was stating a fact rather than giving a compliment. His hair falling into his eyes again despite him just pushing it back.

“Thanks.”

He makes his way to standing, his process rather ungraceful. He twists onto his hands and knees and begins to push himself up. He slips once before making it to full standing, he sways slightly and looks around again like he’s forgotten why he stood up. His eyes land on her again and he decides to make his way over to the table.

“You should probably sit,” she says, watching him splay his arms around him to keep his balance. She had seen him an hour and a half ago and he seemed fine, but now he seemed absolutely and utterly pissed.

“Thanks, mum,” he says as he thunks into the seat beside her, his hand waving off her suggestion.

Her brows raise at the slightly rude comment, but she leans back in her seat still observing him.

“Why do you hate weddings?” She asks once he’s settled and has his head propped up with one of his hands. She takes a sip of her drink as she watches him scan her face again, trying to see if he recognizes her.

His mind must come up empty, a vague memory of the bar slipping away without a second thought.

“It was a joke,” he shrugs.

“No it wasn’t,” she replies easily.

His eyes narrow and he leans forward a little shakily, “Who are you?”

“Aurora.” She licks at her own lips, a stray bit of liquid lingering on her lips.

“That’s a Disney princess name,” he says, unconvinced, how most drunk people were when you told them the truth.

“And my great-grandmother’s and mine,” she responds, a grin playing on her lips as she watches him think it over. “It’s wild how multiple people can have the same name. Did you know people can share a last name as well?”

He leans back in his chair now, unhappy with her snarky response.

“Isn’t that why we’re here, two people joining together and sharing the same last name now?” He threads his fingers as he speaks, mimicking something coming together.

“Yep,” She perks at the question he poses. “You still didn’t answer my question.” Her brows raise once playfully.

“What?” Harry seemed to have lost the plot, his fuzzy drunken brain choosing to forget the first thing she asked him while in this private ballroom of theirs.

“Why do you hate weddings?” She repeats, louder and with emphasis, the words echoing this time.

“Oh,” he looks up to the ceiling and blows air past his lips harshly, “S’ a long story.”

“We got all night,” she offers, and raises her glass to her lips once again.

“A night wouldn’t even cover half of it,” he ponders seriously, his mind reeling. “I’d rather talk about you.”

“Why me?”  She laughs like she’s just received the most delightful surprise.

“Because,” He starts and then sits quiet for a moment before leaning forward, elbows on the table as he peers at her, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“You only just met me,” she responds. “Not to mention, you’re drunk as fuck, Best Man. Just minutes ago I watched you stumble in here and truly fall on your ass.”

“Then tell me about yourself and I’ll explain my hatred for weddings.”

“You’re awfully good at bargaining for being this inebriated.”

“I never lose my charm, no matter how pissed I may be,” he smirks and gives a sloppy wink, hair falling in his face yet again.

She scoffs, but she is rather amused and intrigued by the man beside her. His tie now completely loosened, hair falling every which way, and his green eyes set on her. The shiny shoes he wore slipped around on the ground as he shuffled his feet below him like a child wanting to go play. She figured it was just his drunk brain trying to amuse himself or something. How could she deny a man who had just drunkenly confessed his love for her at a wedding? Even if it was completely and totally untrue. She at least had to entertain the foolish notion that maybe he actually was interested in getting to know her. If anything, it would help pass the time until she could go home.

“I’ll bite,” she relents.

The smirk doesn’t leave his face, it only widens, “Only if I can, too.”

“I wasn’t saying-”

“Shush, sh-sh-shush. I know that,” he holds a hand up at her, trying to get her to be quiet. He sways again, even in his seat he looks as if he could fall over at any moment. She wondered if he might not remember this tomorrow. “I was bein’...” he licks his lips in a pause, “suggestive.”

She laughs again, knowing his sober brain probably would have chosen a more articulate and suave word since ‘suggestive’ was rather tactless and more straight to the point. If she learned anything from all the conversations she overhead about him, Harry was definitely one for tact.

“You were something, that’s for sure,” she wraps a hand around Harry’s wrist, she draws the hand down from its hovering state and lays it against the table again. She withdraws her own hand back to her glass, her drink almost completely gone now.

He smiles, pleased with himself, but unaware that his charms had worn off with his exorbitant amount of alcohol consumed. At least on this girl they weren’t working. She had never been attracted to people who were too drunk to help themselves and she always hoped that’s how others felt too. She was thankful he had stumbled in on her rather than someone who didn’t feel the same way. It made her sick to think of what someone with evil intentions might do if they came across a babbling drunken version of Harry. Pushing those thoughts away since that wasn’t the case, she decided to pat his hand once just in reassurance to herself and him that this was really happening.

“I’m twenty-five.” She states.

Harry nods, a small smile on his lips now rather than a smirk as he watches her again. He liked how smoothly she moved rather than the rest of the world in his drunken eyes, everything else was choppy and fast. She was elegant and fluid, calming even.

“I love love,” Harry says, eyes remaining on hers, no trace of a joke in his tone, “And it hates me.”

“That can’t be true,” she squints at him, a frown gracing her face for a moment at the sadness she sees in his watery eyes. Not crying watery, just watery from his drunken state.

He says nothing, waiting for her to offer more information about herself before he says anything else. This was the deal after all. She quickly realizes why he isn’t responding and sighs, conversation with drunks was tedious already, but Harry seemed determined to make it even harder.

“I’m from California.”

“They always are,” Harry mutters to himself. He ignores her hum of a question, asking what he just said with a simple sound. “All my friends, they’re either getting married or they’re already married and got kids on the way or whatever. They all found love and I’m just here with fuck all.”

She sincerely doubts what the drunken man is telling her right now, but she knows how to play the game now to get more information. “I hate my job,” she states.

“Sometimes I feel like I'm cursed, like I fucked up one too many times and now I’m doomed to never find love.”

Her eyes widen at this, he sounds so damn sad and she wishes she could take his pain away. She knew what a good guy and she couldn’t imagine why he would deserve to feel this way. No one deserved to feel like they weren’t worthy of love. His sad state truly almost brought her to tears. She’s there in a stunned silence and Harry is confused why she hasn’t said anything more about herself. It was her turn.

“What’s something else about you?” He asks, his hand fiddling with itself on the table. She notices once again that there aren’t as many rings on his fingers as what she thought was usual.

She licks her lips and reaches her hand forward. She grasps Harry’s fiddling hand and stops his movement. “I feel sorry that you feel this way, no one deserves the kind of pain you’re inflicting on yourself. I’m very very sorry for you, Harry.”

“That’s not really…” He trails off, losing his focus on her face and instead looking at their hands touching. The feeling is so intense in his buzzing body. Her touch was so calming compared to the electric feeling in his body. It felt nice.

“Can I ask you a different question and then I’ll tell you something no one knows about me?”

He nods eagerly.

“And you can’t dodge the question, you really have to answer it, okay?”

“Okay.”

“What did you say at the end of your speech? It got drowned out by applause, but I saw you say something.”

“You noticed?” He asks kind of surprised, then scratches at his eyebrow. He sees her slight glare and knows to get to his answer. “Asked when it’d be my turn…like to fall in love, y’know.”

She sighs, saddened yet again by his words. “Okay, well, here’s my secret... I hate weddings, too.”

Harry’s eyes light up, maybe he really was in love. She purses her lips and pulls back from him.

“I think you’re my soulmate,” he breathes out, again making a false confession. His drunken brain wants it to be true. He’s desperate for his search to be over, for her to be his person.

She smiles that same sad smile that she keeps getting when he says these sad things to her.

“I assure you, I am not, Best Man.”

He looks at her confusedly. She was beautiful, she was clarity to him. Her brown hair was straight with a little wave in it, like it was straightened for the occasion but never truly that way otherwise. It flowed around her head and shoulders, but she had it tucked behind both ears. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone, she just simply was beautiful. Her sun tanned skin looked soft under the golden glow and Harry was sure she was an angel or something.

“Why not?” He insists, leaning forward.

She stands up from her seat. He follows clumsily behind her, standing as well. He was still taller than her even in her high heels. He smiled like a lovesick child down at her, his eyes as big as the moon. She bites at her lip as she sees him look at her so lovingly, so misguidedly. Then she leans up towards his face, up on her tiptoes and past his lips. Her hands hold him straight with them curled in his suit’s lapels. She presses a sweet and gentle kiss to his cheek, closer to his jaw than anything.

“Good night, Harry,” she whispers against his skin before pulling away.

His eyes flutter open, his looks at her confusedly, slightly unaware that he had closed his eyes at all.

“Good night…” He had already forgotten her name, something with an A...or was it an O? He’d have to ask Sarah and Mitch about the girl who had talked to him in the empty golden ballroom, the girl he had fallen in love with. He was certain. She was the one - if only he could find out her name. If he remembered this at all or if he just thought it was a dream.

She leaves the room before him and as she leaves she wonders if she maybe should have made sure he was alright, but she figured their talk was sobering enough. The night was ending and she had a sneaking suspicion that there were plenty of people here tonight looking out for him.

-

Harry forgot about the girl in the ballroom. Or at least he wasn’t sure if it was a dream or reality. He had woken up at Tom’s place where he had said he would stay after the wedding reception so he hadn’t gone home with a girl. He couldn’t remember her name so he couldn’t really ask anyone about her and he didn’t exactly have a lot of people he could ask. He wanted to ask Sarah and Mitch, but they were already off on their honeymoon and he was one of those people who would never bother a couple on their honeymoon. He was too embarrassed to ask Renee and anyone else for that matter.

So, instead, he forgot. Harry forgot about her for three weeks until Sarah and Mitch returned. He had called them for a hike and lunch the moment their plane had landed. He had missed some of his best friends. It was a lull in the year, where he wasn’t touring or in the studio, just living and writing when he felt like it. So maybe he was in need of some inspiration.

“Ah! The Jones’!” He exclaims as he walks up to their parked car at the head of the trail.

Sarah laughs and Mitch rolls his eyes, half-heartedly since he’s just as happy to see Harry as Harry is to see him.

“I missed you,” Mitch says as he brings Harry in for a hug.

“Don’t let the missus hear that,” Harry tuts while he sends a wink over Mitch’s shoulder to Sarah.

“It’s all he could talk about for the past few weeks,” Sarah jokes as she goes in for a hug with Harry. “How do you think Harry is? Hope he’s eating? I miss Harry.” She mimics Mitch’s voice.

Mitch shakes his head shyly, a smile spreading on his face after a moment. “That. Is not true at all,” he assures Harry, “But you do look a little thinner. What have you been eating?”

Harry elbows him with a grin, “I’m fine. Been bored so I’ve just been filling the time with working out.”

They start their ascent up the hill and into the canyon. Mitch nods, his worry for his friend subsiding momentarily before he says something strange.

“I’ve been wanting to ask, but you’ve been gone, about a girl at the wedding.”

“Oh?” Sarah gives Mitch a knowing look.

“Yeah, well the thing is, I’m not sure if she was real or not. I think she was real, but I was so drunk, there’s so many bits missing in my memory.”

Sarah and Mitch both laugh. “You were very drunk, H,” Mitch confirms.

Harry ignores him, “I even asked her if she was real and she said yes, but y’know people can lie in dreams. All I remember is she was amazing and she had a princess name, I think.”

Sarah thinks about the guest list. “No princess names that I can think of. What did she look like?”

Harry squints ahead of them, his sunglasses pushing his curls back on the top of his head. “She had straight brown hair, not long or short. She said she was, uh, twenty-five. She was in lavender, I think.”

“You think a lot,” Mitch interjects which earns him a glare from Harry.

Harry thinks about this part that he remembered vividly, how she had been so confident that he wasn’t. He adds, “...And I told her I was in love with her.”

“Oh god, Harry,” Sarah sighs.

Mitch gives Harry an apologetic smile.

“She didn’t buy it, but she didn’t run off either. We talked for awhile.”

“Maybe it was a dream,” Sarah says.

“Okay, let’s see,” Mitch grows to be the leader of the investigation, wanting everything for his best friend to find the love he knew he deserved. “Twenty-five year old brunettes at our wedding who are single. C’mon there weren't that many people there.”

Sarah thinks about it again. “Renee’s sister is twenty-five. I don’t remember what she was wearing, I hardly saw her all night,” she pauses, “Which is strange since she wasn’t on the job for once.”

“What do you mean ‘on the job’?” Harry asks curiously, remembering his girl saying she hated her job.”

“She’s a wedding planner,” Sarah says, glancing at him because she was almost sure that Renee’s sister was not who Harry was talking about. “But she had referred me to someone else for the wedding, she consulted sometimes and got us a discount, but said she didn’t like working with people she knew personally.”

Harry nodded, how could Renee’s sister be his girl? How could a wedding planner hate weddings? And wouldn’t it be all the more awkward if the girl was Renee’s sister? Renee’s little sister, could it be? He had no clue.

“I don’t think it’s her, though,” Sarah gives a half-smile, “She’s not super...uh, how do I say this?”

As Sarah says “touchy-feely,” Mitch interjects.

“She’s pretty cold-hearted. She’s relatively nice, but what makes her such a good wedding planner is she doesn’t get caught up in the sentimentality of it, she just understands other people’s emotions and knows how to make them feel amazing.”

“That’s a little harsh,” Sarah looks at Mitch with a strong glare. After all, he was talking about her best friend’s little sister.

“Well, what’s her name?” Harry insists, semi-off put, but knowing her secret made him think it was possible for Renee’s sister and his ballroom girl to be the very same.

“Rori Williams, think it’s short for something else, but I don’t know, as long as I’ve known her she goes by Rori.” Sarah gives Harry a sad smile and it reminds him of his mystery girl.

“Do you think I could meet her or something? I just want to know if it’s her.” Harry says as they reach the first peak on their hike. He looks out at the view from there, Los Angeles was green for once, but he knew it would quickly fade to brown and tan as the spring plants died off again from the summer heat.

“Pretty sure she’s off working on some destination wedding right now. She doesn’t like being bothered when she’s working,” Sarah gives Harry a look for two reasons as she says that. One, because she knows his next question would be to contact her anyway. And two, she’s saying how he is exactly the same, hates being contacted when he’s busy with work. “I can text Renee to see what’s up.”

Harry nods, “Please…” He begins to imagine Rori as his ballroom girl and mutters to himself, “A June Wedding…” getting lost in a silly little daydream.

-

“Harry Styles is asking after you,” Renee snickers over the cellphone line.

“What is this? The 1800s?” Rori sighs, as she holds the phone to her ear with her shoulder. She tries to brush her hair from her face with a flick of her head, which makes for a rather silly sight as her head and shoulder move awkwardly. “People don’t ‘ask after’ anyone anymore.”

She was in Hawaii, Maui specifically, steaming a sneaky last crinkle out of the latest bride’s wedding veil.

“Well, he still is doing it. You know how he is.”

“I actually don’t,” Rori responds, easily, ignoring the memories of her two encounters with him. “What does he want?”

“Wants to meet you or something,” Renee says easily. “Thinks he met you at Sarah’s wedding, obviously impossible since I know you scampered off half way through the reception and he was falling down drunk at the half way marker as well…” she trails off.

Rori knows her sister well and expects the next thing to come out of Renee’s mouth.

“Oh my god! Did you hook up with him?!”

Expecting this, Rori responds quickly and calmly, “No, we did not hook up, I would never... I did watch him fall on his ass, though.”

“So it was you!”

“What was me?” Rori squints her eyes at her sister over the phone and finally straightens from her steaming task. She feels like she’s only half paying attention to the conversation, especially since she had no intention of meeting up with Harry. He had been so sweet and sad, and she truly wished him the best, but she knew she wasn’t the answer to his problem.

“You!” Renee all but yells into the phone, “Are his dream girl! He’s been wondering if you were even real for weeks.”

“I’m real,” Rori sighs and crosses the room she’s in to sit at the desk she was using as a work space. She flicks through the planner she was using for the Hearst wedding, set to take place tomorrow. “But I’m certainly not his dream girl...I told him that when he said he was in love with me.”

“He what?!” Renee exclaims and hears her sister sigh once again, she knows Rori is growing tired of the conversation and is ready to offer an excuse to hang up any moment now. “Nevermind that, I’m going to tell Sarah to give him your number and the date you get back to Los Angeles. Keep next weekend clear.”

Before Rori can open her strawberry pink lips to reply, Renee is squealing a goodbye and hanging up. She felt her shoulders sag with the empty line, she reclined into the nicely plush swivel chair. This is why she stayed out of love and relationships when they didn’t relate to work, they were exhausting. Too much ‘he said, she said’ going on at all times. Color palettes, seating arrangements and menus were simple, they made sense, they could be arranged and put into place. Relationships were messy, the actual event of a wedding could even be messy, but when she planned them out, for a single moment everything was orderly and simple. She was in control. She knew she couldn’t be Harry’s dream girl because she knew she couldn’t control that situation.

-

Upon arriving back in the continental United States, at the end of June, Rori ubered immediately to her apartment in Silverlake. Well, it was a converted garage behind a house of a friend of Renee’s. Like most apartments in Los Angeles, it was funky, but it was Rori’s until she decided where she wanted to move. She never wanted to buy in LA and she never wanted to upgrade from the place she had called home for the past four years.

Almost immediately after dropping her pink work tote bag and worn backpack on the floor next to her medium sized navy suitcase, her phone rang through the ‘Do Not Disturb’ setting with an unknown number. A New York number. Possibly a new client, she picks up quickly and shuts the window-paned door behind her. The days were long, the longest day of the year had almost arrived, yet the sun was still beginning to set in the sky and turn the light blue into a painting of oranges pinks and purples.

“Hello?”

“Is Rori Williams there?” A British voice asks, almost timidly.

“Who’s asking?”

“...Harry.”

“I was told you’d be calling or something along those lines,” she smiles to herself.

Harry sat in his room, chewing at his lip, still unsure if the voice on the other side of the phone call was the woman he had talked to previously.

“Can we go for a drink sometime? How’s tomorrow?”

“Someone is quite enthusiastic.”

“It’s just...I’m trying to figure something out.”

“So I’ve heard,” she chuckles slightly.

“So you won’t tell me whether you’re the girl I talked to at Sarah and Mitch’s wedding will you?”

“What would be the fun in that?”

“So it’s a right Cinderella, if the shoe fits situation,” he mumbles, slightly to himself, but she hears him clearly.

She laughs.

“I don’t really care for Cinderella, I’m not really one for Disney princesses at all, actually.”

His breath catches, a foggy memory of something having to do with princesses tries to break into his mind. He couldn’t remember still and he vowed time and time again that he would never get that drunk again. Too much time lost.

“Alright, Harry. I’ve just gotten home from a work trip so I’m planning on a bath, some wine, and some terribly raunchy TV to get my mind off of my life. How about you pick a time and a place for drinks and hopefully I will show up? Great! Goodnight.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, just clicks the red button that hangs up the phone and goes on with her professed plans. Harry sits in stunned silence for a few moments, whatever he had gotten himself into was going to be a ride of a lifetime.

-

At a quarter past six, Harry sits anxiously at the bar top of a semi casual, semi fancy, totally cool bar he loved. It was private so he wouldn’t be bombarded with people, but it was still lively enough that it wouldn’t be dead silent if conversation lulled between him and Rori. That is, if she showed up.

His foot begins to tap, ever so persistently against the silver footrest at the bottom of the bar. His eyes shift from right to left, not wanting to order a drink before she arrives, but also not wanting to wait much longer and not order a drink. He’d waived off the bartender twice already.

She walks in, right on time, Harry had just arrived early. Her lips part into a happy smile at his anxious stance at the bar, he mirrors her expression at the sight of her.

She’s wearing a billowy white button down, the sleeves cinching perfectly at her petite wrists, cinched beneath a brown corset-like tank top. Her breasts showed their true size today in this outfit. She had the collar pulled out and the corset made it so that her cleavage was perfectly sculpted just beneath the crisp white cloth. Her pants were sleek and black, understated to draw more of a focus to her top as well as the lavender jewel inlaid pendant hanging just above the swells of her breast. Harry’s eyes dipped to that level for a moment, but quickly recovered to focus on her face. The night of the wedding had been blurry, but he was sure Rori’s face was the one of his mystery girl.

He’s shy tonight and a little more reserved than last time. He’s out of his comfortable bubble, what could anyone expect from a man so constantly watched. He fidgets with the top most button of his shirt that was buttoned and thinks about unbuttoning it to reveal a little more of his chest, but he refrains. At a friend’s wedding he feels safe, but in public he’s always watching, always aware of the possible prying eye. But like he had said drunkenly to Rori, he always maintained his charm, no matter the circumstances.

“Lavender was gorgeous on you, but this…” he gives a graceful sweep of his hand to gesture at her outfit tonight, “is extremely enchanting.”

“So you remember me in lavender? I thought you couldn’t remember me at all.” She grins as she stands directly beside him, similar to the first time they had chatted at a bartop.

Harry clears his throat at her tease, “I knew once I laid eyes on you, I would know. So now I know.”

She smirks at his reasoning and orders a vodka cranberry, both not wanting to get off her ass or look any certain way. Vodka cranberries were acceptable mature drinks, but not overly pretentious in any way. Harry tells the bartender to make it two. She looks at him with a discerning eye.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” She asks as she slides into the bar seat that seems to be trying to look vintage but was likely made no less than five years ago.

Harry sits too, more easily since his legs are longer than hers. “We met in the ballroom for the first time, did we not?”

“No...we met at the bar in the reception room.” Her hand splays to feel the stone of this counter, cold unlike the wood of the previous one. “We were about this close after you’d rudely stepped ahead of me and ordered before I could...not that you noticed. I asked if you were having a rough night and you pretty much dismissed me.” She bites her lip as she tells him the story, her eyes widen as she watches the distress roll over his features at what she says.

“Oh god,” One of his hands reaches to grab her hand to emphasize his apology, “I’m so sorry, that’s so rude. I was having quite a rough night as you would eventually see.”

He stares at her face, trying to meet her eyes, but she’s glued to the sight of their hands intertwined. He was so smooth and it was making her melt, making the walls she had purposefully put up for this date weak. She had rules, especially for guys like Harry - not that there was anyone that compared to him in her life, but she had them and she knew she couldn’t just be swept off her feet by his sweet voice and gorgeous face that has the most puppy-dog look on it.

She knows she shouldn’t but the extra ice she had added to her personality melts away, her eyes going slightly moony as she watches him visibly relax again. “No worries, I enjoyed your company upon the second meeting, even if you didn’t even remember my name after it.”

“Well,” he finally catches her eye, “That’s where I have a bit of a bone to pick.”

“Oh?”

“You didn’t tell me your real name...gave me some fake name I can’t even remember, but it certainly wasn’t…” His eyes shift to her pendant again and he looks back at her brassy eyes in the bar’s lighting. “If your name is Rori Williams, why is your pendant an ‘A’?” He says slowly, another foggy memory trying to break the surface of his knowledge but still failing.

She finally feels in control of the situation, calm and assured of herself, which was maybe unfair since it seemed Harry really had a hard time remembering that night and she could really fuck with him if she wanted to, but she wouldn’t - couldn’t - with those earnest eyes looking at her.

“I told you my real name the first time we talked, Harry. It’s Aurora,” she retracts her hand from beneath his grasp and touches at the necklace, “I go by Rori both socially and professionally, but officially it’s Aurora and this had been my great-grandmother’s. I don’t go anywhere without it.”

“Almost as beautiful as its wearer,” he smirks, his gaze stuck on her face, attempting to convey something specific. She thinks she knows what he’s saying with his look.

“You’re quite the flirt,” she rolls her eyes playfully before specifically choosing to take a sip of her drink through the little straw the bartender had put in it. It draws Harry’s attention to her lips, and after a moment they were wet with a bit of excess vodka cranberry and Harry felt himself grow a little hot at the tips of his ears when her eyes meet with his. She had caught him staring, but he recovers easily.

“I remember telling you I never lose my charm, it’s true is it not?” Harry inquires, head leaning closer to her as he takes a sip of his own drink, making a show to lick his lips after removing them from the edge of the lowball glass.

Her laughter is loud but not overbearing, Harry thinks it’s the best laugh he’s ever heard even if she’s laughing at him. She’s true in that laugh, she’s not trying to make him fall for her with that laugh, it’s just her enjoying herself.

She responds with something sweet and the two begin the back and forth of a successful date. They both drink around three drinks as the night persists, but it’s enough for her to feel the burning pull inside the pit of her belly for Harry. His hands stay relatively to himself besides a few subtle touches at her hair and hands every so often, his feet are the ones to blame. At one point in the night, he hooks his loafer covered foot around her ankle and she is quick to lean into it, reciprocating the footsie with ease. Each brush of his leg against hers is electrifying, every nerve in her body was beginning to go crazy. She was buzzing in a way that she hadn’t when she had first encountered Harry. Tonight he was more suave, but with a tinge of timidness that made him irresistible.

Harry made sure he wouldn’t get drunk tonight, ordering only as much as Rori. He didn’t want to be the fool who couldn’t remember their time together, again. Plus, he didn’t want to forget any of their time together, he wanted to remember it all. Everything about her was amazing, the feeling he had about her, the nagging desire to meet her was for a reason, he was sure of it. If her voice was a melody, then she was the most beautiful love song he had ever heard.

At 11:30, he leans in close to Rori, his nose brushing at the hair tucked at her ear and asks her if she wants to leave. She looks at him confused, the warm feeling in her stomach falls because she thinks he wants to end the night.

“Oh,” she says dejected, she swore it was going well. “Right..That’s it.”

Harry’s brows crinkle at her sad face.

“No, love, I was saying,” he raises his brows, “Y’know.”

“Oh! Right! You just sounded so...I don’t know, serious.” She sinks in her seat, realizing her presumptions had been wrong.

“I was trying to be,” he twists his lips trying to find the word, as blush rises on his cheeks. “Seductive.”

The two of them are quickly realizing they can’t pretend with each other. Rori can’t keep up the harsh facade against love with him, he sees right through it. Harry can’t play his old tricks with her, she sees right through them.

She laughs again, “Well, it just sounded like you were bored. Sometimes your moves fall really flat.” She offers a sweet wink in consolation for his failed attempt at trying to really get her weak in the knees.

They were a lovesick mess together as they clambered off their bar seats and exit the bar that had gotten increasingly loud.

“So what’s next?” She asks on the warm summer night.

He steps closer and takes the liberty of fiddling with the strap of the corset she has on. His head is tilted down as he towers over her. “You know me Rori, I’m a hopeless romantic so I desperately want to take you out for dinner sometime and slow dance with you until the sun comes up, but,” his breath fans over her face now as he shifts impossibly closer, “I also want to grip your hair as I watch you writhing underneath me. Just tell me what you’d prefer and it’s all yours.”

Her breathing has become a slight pant as his words wash over her. His nose brushes over the ridge of hers and she takes the moment to put her hands on his shoulders and pull him onto her. They were in the alleyway beside the bar, away from prying eyes except a few people too drunk to recognize Harry's face that is all but hidden in Rori.

“Harry,” she breathes, her eyes fluttering shut as she makes the decision to cross them into the point of no return. She wants this too much. She hadn’t thought this would be how her night would go, thought she would brush him off and never see him again, but god, she needed his warm body everywhere. Needed him to touch every part of her.

“Rori,” he responds.

“I want the second one first,” she whispers, feeling a little too eager, but feeling Harry press excitedly against her reassures her.

His lips press a searing kiss to her and she makes a sound of happiness at the contact. Her hands fist at the fabric of his shirt as she presses her lips feverishly back onto his. Harry’s quick to grip at the back of her neck and the small of her back, keeping her tight to him as he licks into her mouth.

“Can still taste that last vodka cran,” he notes before kissing her again.

Their tongues rub against each other, sloppily but with a tenderness hidden there as well. She snorts at his words which makes him smile and they’re kissing is becoming more silly as they try to contain their laughter. He pulls away, finally giving up trying to maintain the kiss while they both laughed.

“Would you like to come back to mine?” Harry asks as he leans his forehead against hers.

Rori’s eyes flicker open and stare into his, the focus only on his eyes and the sprinkle of light freckles and beauty marks below them. She nods her head, making his move with it. They both smile, trying to contain their laughter once more.

She presses her lips against his once more for a small peck and then lowers her head into the crook of his neck. The skin warm and smooth against hers as she whispers happily to him.

“It’s your turn now, Harry,” Rori says blissfully.

She had been the answer to all his questions.

-

[snootsnoot-fiction]

Your Gentleman

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: None really

A/n: My first marvel fic yay!!! I love that it’s Bucky as well☺️ This is a birthday gift for my dear friend who I love @inthatmomentwewereinfinite 🎉🎉🎉 you’re honestly one of the nicest people on the planet, I hope you have the best day you can ❤️

Summary: You haven’t seen Bucky in years…

The life of one James Buchanan Barnes was quite the tragedy. At least for the most part.It was a long, involuntary life, but to say he wouldn’t be the least bit grateful for the majority time skip would be a lie. Oh, there were things “Bucky” Barnes missed of course, but there was plenty to make up for it.

The man thought he would lead a simple life; serve in the war, get married with Steve as his best man, maybe even die of old age. A far cry from the fate that really awaited him, for he found himself being part of the Red Skull’s experiment. An experiment that began his journey as who would infamously be known as The Winter Soldier. 

~~~~~

You were quite the artist to say the least. You lived and enjoyed a fairly quiet life as well. That’s not to say your talents weren’t sought out, for you were also quite the fashion designer. Sometimes you would simply consult. Create and draw up a design for someone else to make. Occasionally you would make the pieces yourself. It was an interesting way of making money, and you were happy to keep living your quiet life - your involvement usually kept secret in some way at your request.

Needless to say, one of the biggest things you ever worked on was the new suit for Captain America. You found his tale fascinating. You knew of the man, but it wasn’t until you heard he was back that you looked into him a little more. Strange things seemed to be happening more often.

The detail of his best friend’s supposed ‘death’ was another thing that interested you, but all anyone could assume was he actually was dead now. It didn’t stop you from wondering though.

You did work on occasion for people such as The Avengers, but aside from that, you were a normal citizen. So to say you were surprised when you caught the eye of Mr Barnes in modern day was an understatement.

Recognising him immediately, you weren’t sure what to do. He looked beyond exhausted, and it was clear to you he was trying to keep his head down. The man carried on, and despite thinking you probably shouldn’t, you followed. The next thing you knew, a cold arm was pinning you against a wall as the one and only James Barnes stared at you. Up close, his eyes looked even tireder, and you could see just how rough a state he was in.

“Why are you following me?” He huffed out. Anyone could see how tense he was. Almost afraid.

“I’m no-one I swear! I just recognised you and got curious… you’re Bucky?” He slowly let you go, but remained tense. “I don’t even know what happened… you look awful…” you frowned slightly as you gave him a proper look. You really had no idea what was going on, but you felt bad for him. Whatever happened to this man, you were glad to not know right now. 

~~ a few months later ~~

You wondered how people would react to finding out about you helping ‘The Winter Soldier’. The thought made you nervous sometimes, but you knew what you were doing to be right. Something in you from the moment you met him told you he himself was at no fault, but of course, not everyone would see it that way.

The day you met him, you had ended up giving him a fresh change of clothes that would help him to blend in more. You had offered more, even a meal, but trust would take time to build, and he didn’t want to stick around you too long. 

‘Too many innocent people…’ was all he muttered before giving thanks and leaving without a word.

‘I’m happy to help…’ you hadn’t been sure if he even heard you, but surprisingly it wasn't long before you saw him again; with time, the two of you built a sense of trust. Bucky would never stay too long, but when he did you would allow him to use your own facilities if he needed, You would make him a warm meal almost every time, and give him another fresh change of clothes if he needed them.

Trust takes time though, and you didn’t know much of the story of why he was even here. You didn’t want to push or pry, but you couldn’t help but wonder sometimes. 

Today was the day you’d learn.

The old soldier hesitantly stepped into your home. It always made you frown a little to see just how hesitant he was; whatever it was he was hiding from, you wish he didn’t have to.

“I know you don’t like to, but I made my sofa up for you just in case-”

“Sofa? The couch?” You went a little red and chuckled nervously.

“Yeah sorry, I didn’t grow up here..” and for the first time, you saw him smile. It was little, but it was there. It made your heart flutter just a bit, causing you to smile.

“I might take you up on that.” His words were quiet as he walked in to see the couch. You had set a single, plump pillow on one end, and laid your biggest blanket over the piece of furniture. Bucky had been so hesitant to talk even one word to anyone, nevermind taking refuge from someone, but he couldn’t even remember the last time he had a nice place or spot to sleep. Not only that, but you seemed genuine to him. Deep down he knew he could trust you. Your smile widened.

“Are you hungry?” At your question, he looked back at you with a small nod. The tired look in his eyes made you want to really look after him, but there was only so much you could do and you didn’t want to startle him.

That night, you sat on opposite ends of the couch as you ate a freshly cooked meal, some sitcom on the TV. Eventually you decided to ask him what had happened to land him here. There was no pressure to answer of course, and you were more than willing to forget you asked if he didn’t yet feel comfortable to tell his story… but he did. You listened patiently and quietly as Bucky talked about The Winter Soldier.

Little did you know just how far you had already fallen for this man.

~~ Avengers Civil War ~~

After hiding for so long, Bucky had to admit there was something refreshing about now being out in the open.Of course, the circumstances were most unfortunate, but whatever happened, he would no longer be in hiding. Therefore he wouldn’t be putting you in any more potential danger. The two of you had grown quite close, and if anything happened to you because of him, well.. he didn’t like to think about it.

People like himself existed and had been used to assassinate King T’Chaka, and now the group his best friend Steve had put together were trying to get to the guy behind all of this. Unfortunately Tony Stark had created an obstacle for them. The old soldier could see that both men were somewhat regretful, but firm in their beliefs. Before he knew it, the fighting had begun.

Bucky and Sam Wilson had hidden in the airport terminal to start when this kid in a red and blue costume came at them. Sam knocked the kid away, so Bucky ran after them, and when he reached them, he saw an opening and threw a chunk of metal at the weirdly flexible kid. Naturally this kid was able to throw it right on back before being tackled by Wilson again.

Reaching the both of them just in time, Bucky ran between them as the spider kid flung himself at Sam, landing both the men in the floor below and his metal arm in some sort of.. webbing. The old soldier hated the fact they ended up in this position because of a child who didn’t even sound as though he had hit puberty yet. That’s when the kid was thrown out the window by the little robot bird.

“You couldn’t have done that earlier?” he growled at Sam, genuinely annoyed with the guy.

“I hate you.” Bucky merely scoffed at the response. They were in the middle of something big, but for a brief moment he found it funny that Steve’s new friend was this guy of all people.

Despite all this, you were still there. In his mind. With everything now in the open, he hoped your part in all of this was still in the dark. He just wanted you safe. To live your life.

~~ present time ~~

To Bucky, it almost felt like his past had repeated somewhat; to skip from one time to the other was confusing and frustrating. At least this time around it wasn’t as far into the future as the last time.

For you, however, it was a lonely experience. With The Snap, you had stayed behind. You lived out those five years. You had found a connection with this older guy you absolutely adored, and then you find out he was snapped out of existence along with half the planet. Lonely was an understatement, especially at the start.

At least he didn’t physically die - a fact you turned out to be grateful for when suddenly all those who had been Snapped were back. Of course, you knew the type of life Bucky led beforehand, so you were still worried, but you hoped with time he would contact you again. That hopefully things had finally calmed down at least somewhat in the world now. 

Meanwhile, in the last five years you had moved to New York. With half the world gone, work had been a difficult adjustment for everyone, and you decided to start your own little business in The Big Apple; a prime area for you. It was just a little fashion/clothing business, but it turned out well enough to keep you afloat. Business got quite busy when everyone reappeared. It was stressful at first, but you managed to hire a few other people that helped. You were even able to start taking a little time to yourself occasionally in all due time. Eventually it became the norm.

With business and the world calming down, Bucky Barnes had been on your mind recently. You wondered where he was, if he was alright.

You were in your store. It was a weirdly calm day today, so you sat on a chair behind the main cash register. You heard the door open, but by the time you looked up, the person had disappeared behind one of the clothing racks. You thought about keeping an eye on them, ready to get up if it looked like they needed assistance.

“I got ‘im.” One of your workers said from behind you, offering a smile as she walked past you.

“Thanks.” You smiled back, watching her hover near whoever the customer was before looking back down at the book in your hands. You seemed to get quite into the book, because before you knew  it, a shadow stood over you, but you didn’t notice until he spoke.

“Hey..” the voice caused your heart to stop as your ears perked and a weird yet pleasant shiver flew down your spine. You knew that voice. You knew eventually you would see him again, but it was still a surprise.

Slowly, you closed the book, and your eyes dragged up until they were on that same face you had last seen way over five years ago now. His hair was short now, but it was him alright. It was Bucky.

The man offered a small smile and wave as you stared at him. You had no idea what to do.

“Uh.. this your place?”

“Yeah…”

“You’ve done well.”

“I’ve had a lot of time.” Your responses were automatic. Your mind was blank.

“Uuhh..”

“Bucky?” You stared at him with wide eyes, your voice triggered a slightly wider smile on his lips as he nodded.

“It’s been a while.” His words made you scoff loudly.

“You’re telling me!” The both of you chuckled. The last five years had felt so long for you, but the two of you were already falling back into your old dynamic.

“... Listen Y/N.. all that old stuff.. The Winter Soldier stuff… it’s gone now.” His words made you smile for him. You knew how much his past had troubled him. You doubted it was completely out of the way, but you knew what he meant.

“No more hiding?”

“No more hiding.” Bucky smiled, a look of genuine relief on his face.

Just then, a group of teen girls walked in and your smile disappeared for a moment.

“I’m at work. I’m the boss but I still gotta work, we can’t..”

“I know a place we can go to later if you want? Catch up?”

“I’d love to! I close up around six today, we can go after then.”

“Perfect! I’ll come back and we can walk there together.” You smiled and nodded, too shy to say anything else right now. Bucky smiled before turning around, looking back at you as he opened the door to leave. You gave him a little shy wave.

You spent the next few hours constantly thinking about Bucky and finally being able to see and talk to him again. Excited was an understatement. You were happy. Bucky was back. You were always too shy to say anything about what you felt, but absolute adoration was another understatement when it came to that man.

The clock had finally struck six. Your employees were now leaving, and you decided to check the store, make sure everything was alright before closing up. The same employee that had helped out earlier that day came up to you as you picked up your things.

“Your gentleman caller is waiting outside.” She had a knowing smile on her face. She even seemed kind of excited and she stood there and waited as you blushed.

“Thank you..” you attempted to avoid her gaze as you packed the rest of your things in your bag.

“I’ll tell him you won’t be long.” At that, you offered her a smile before she left and you took a moment to relax before following.

Bucky wasn’t right there as you left through the front, but when you turned back around after shutting and locking the place, there he was just a couple feet away from you. A small flower bouquet in his hand. Your heart melted at the sight.

“I know you’re not much of a flower person, but I wasn’t sure what else to do.. You know… with the time gap and all.. But these are your favourites.” Bucky looked almost nervous. You shyly stuck your hand out to take the bouquet, your fingers brushing against his as you did.

“They’re perfect, thank you.” A small smile tugged at your lips again as you looked at them before looking back to the man in front of you.

“I’ve missed you Y/N.”

“Me too.. You that is! I’ve missed you, not myself.” You blushed as Bucky chuckled at your flustered self. He then held out an arm.

“Shall we?” You hesitated before taking hold of his arm with your free hand, a feeling of happy warmth washing over you.

“We shall.”

Tagging; @blondekel77 @book-hoardingdragon @mandosmimi

[glassydiatom]

fuck it oc rambling time!!

Polaris and Vega grew up together since they’re the same age!! they’re both 30 years old (which is VERY young for them, in fact wizards and witches can get very old!! some can grow up to a thousand years of age if they take care of themselves well enough)

Polaris met the priestess not during church or anything, but because Vega’s familiar- a large moth rabbit- was sitting on top of the High Wizard tower and Polaris was in the middle of her studies with Antony. Vega came over to retrieve her familiar and met the apprentice, and they hit it off!! Often they’d have tea time together either in the clergy house or at Mystic Mauve with Zephyr

SPEAKING OF... Zephyr is the temple keeper and head of the Amethyst temple at Mystic Mauve :0 He and Vega met one time when Vega was exploring the shores of Maelstrom (part of the Mushlands) for the first time in her life at night. The two continued to hang out when they weren’t busy- often during wednesday afternoons- to have tea and gossip about their own lives. Polaris joined later but doesn’t show up as often as she’d like to since she’s busy with her own life

ohh... also, Zephyr, while they’re not exactly a wizard or witch or anything, they still use/channel magic to heal so maaaybe he’d live longer too? but it’d be limited to probably... ermm, let’s say more than 100 years :P

damn i forgot to draw neifion but im not too confident in drawing older men still NAJKSNDKLAJNSD OH WELL

neifion, like polaris, used to live in the same village on old Maelstrom. he was away for the flooding event and assisting a far away kingdom during their time of war. when he came back his home was flooded. he then refused to live in mystic mauve and opted to live on Maelstrom by himself. eveeeentually, he helped repair the roofs of mystic mauve after a bad storm and met zephyr that way :]

oughghhg should i put this on my art blog??? yeah screw it i’ll post it there instead of my main acct. LMAO

[aprito]

hello <3 since i got these asks at the same time i decided to combine my thoughts on them in this post. yet another annoying sjw essay from yours truly on this blog 

before i get into these i think i need to preface why im like. i guess overly hyperfocused on a certain unproblematic base (same age au / platonic canon) for them and avoid the ped0philic content like the plague lol

tw for pedophilia ment, rape ment if that makes you squicky. ALSO THIS IS LONG AND RAMBLY

as i’ve mentioned a couple times already, ive been into the ship since i was 12, back when it was very very common to not only post untagged (nsfw) canonverse content of the two in writing and in drawing but also non con and the like, so you can imagine how bad my first impression online was. thinking back on it ...as a child i found it disturbing but didnt really register how problematic it really was?? (i know, but i also lived in the middle of nowhere and had no one explain this to me) 

skip to 2014 aka me coming back to naruto at 17ish and i had kinda become hyper aware of the fact that there was an increasing amount of people online who had come forward with explaining how fictional problematic content, mostly pedophilia, had been used to groom them into starting relationships with adullts. it was also a time where a lot of people didnt believe these victims, not registering how common it was for minors to be online friends with adults who had no boundaries and no qualms exposing them such content. not gonna get into my personal life here but i was lucky to not having gone through this myself. like... it kinda was my first time truly realising how fiction can EASILY be used to manipulate others irl (and yes i will not argue this, if you dont think fictional media can form and manipulate people’s opinions on attitudes, countries, cultures and virtues, pick up a book about the effects of propaganda media at least once please) 

i, being young, still liking the dynamic but not really the romance, would point this out here and there in the fandom and get into fights with grown adults in their mid 20s who assumed i automatically hated the ship(s) and tried to restrict their freedom of speech or whatever, heard everything from the “age of consent doesnt exist in naruto” to the “sasori looks like a child what does it matter” despite people clearly playing on him being older and experienced. it made me so upset that people were just consuming all this content uncritically and exposing children to it tbh?? not really just sos but a lot of minor/adult ships in naruto in general. and thats where i sat down and thought, i do not want to be a grown adult talking down to children that point out how unsafe the fandom is. theyre absolutely right in drawing these boundaries and calling out adults who defend the uncritical consumption and creation of this content. i do not want to consume or create content that predators could use to groom minors, and i absolutely do want to let younger people in fandom know that i am respecting their comfort zones and want them to have a safe and fun experience. after all, naruto is not an adult show and i think a lot of people forget that!!!! i am not perfect in that regard but its something that i, at the age of 23, am very passionate about and strive towards to.

and i guess thats where same age au was born for me and i have been sticking to it ever since. 

so finally we can move to the first question 

aside from the fact that we both dont like canon sos, i dont think it would work out even if i wasnt prejudiced to it anyways. in all honesty, 35 year old canon sasori is not a redeemable character to me, given the fact that he’s easily amongst the cruelest villains in naruto (torturing and killing and taxiderming people for his own fun personal gain, never for a goal that served anyone but himself. how do you redeem having over 300 corpses in your backpack that you felt absolutely no remorse for killing). sasori was legit one of the only cruel villains that didnt had someone else pull the strings, which sends a clear message on kishi’s part, who absolutely loves to redeem villains LOL.

being that old, he obviously had already been very manifested in what he believed in, even if it was shakey, to the point where the first crack in that world view (sakura and chiyo protecting each other) immediately had him give up on his life all together. that, in my opinion, is not a man who’s going to know what healthy relationships would look like, regardless of it being romantic or not. 35 year old sasori to me has the same appeal as an expired can of tuna and he’s probably very happy 6 feet under. he’s supposed to be a failed gaara in that sense that he had no one to look out for him and therefore was never going to experience anything but a bad ending in life. its fine that hes dead honestly, it wraps up his short character development the best IMO.

adding to that, seriously, sakura was obviously interested in knowing why he was that way, and called him out for being seriously fucked in the head, but it’s weird to me that people assume she had any interest in actively rehabilitating him, let alone starting a serious romantic relationship with him. sakura who’s not only very, uhm, immature and straight forward when it comes to her romantic viewpoints also, as a big bootlicker, wouldnt soil her standing in the village by starting anything with a disgraced and far too gone criminal like sasori. shipping that version of sasori with sakura intimately is still going to set her up for a huge power imbalance that would be difficult to handle imo, even if she was the one in the fight ultimately exerting her power over him. i would still look at it and think damn she deserves better than having to play therapist for man like that lol.

additionally, even if you ignored all of this, you cant really ignore that sasori had already known her as a child, and that had been his first and most impactful impression of her. i dont think that sasori would look at 35 year old sakura and see her as a grown woman and not the little green girl she was in the fight. plus, you easily fall into predatory comparison territory between the “childish” and “womanly” and i have seen way too often in fic just being boiled down to her now being fuckable. a lot of of ships do this and i would just like to remind yall thats it not normal for adults to want to start relationships with children they have seen grown up or known as a child when they themselves were fully grown adults. therefore, maybe if sakura hadnt met sasori before it would be less of a problem? but that also obviously defeats the point of the dynamic and the reason he died in the first place. so yeah, it sounds kind of doomed especially if you were to make it romantic. 

WHICH BRINGS ME TO THE SECOND QUESTION

let me preface this that im not fundamentally against age gaps, even if im not super interested in it. after all, colorblind had a 5 yr age gap (with sakura being 21), even if, say, i wrote similar fics today i probably would make it smaller lol. i think it can be handled well if both parties have enough life experience to deal with it, and the author is cautious of where the age gap starts, i think a 10+ year age gap would be fine in a scenario where the younger party (i guess sakura) was at least 25-27ish, meaning she has completed most of her most formative life stages and probably had been in relationships before, meaning she would be able to handle it without having to fear a huge power imbalance. the older the younger party is the less the age gap is going to matter tbh .TsukiHoshino and AngelOfDeath10 both handle age gaps in their fics really well imo, so i do not mind reading about them.

unfortunately, a lot of people in this fandom think making sakura barely "”””legal””””” (18, not even 20 which is hilarious to me because the source material is obviously japanese) because they both cannot stand her being past her “prime years” of being young fertile and fuckable to much older men as well as thinking a 20 year old is automatically old enough to handle that type of relationship. ive seen a lot of unironic takes that believe it will absolve them of callout posts if they throw around age of consent and “shes 18 now suckers!!!” enough lmfao. absolutely hilarious. aging a minor up without aging the adult down seriously reeks of predatory “cant wait until youre 18″ narratives and thats why i find it similarly disturbing as straight up pedo shipping.

ultimately, sasosaku is and will always be a inherently problematic ship in canon, which is why i think it should always be handled a little more responsibly in fandom spaces, ignoring or outright excusing the main problem factor, which is sasori, isnt going to convince anyone that the dynamic in itself is well written and interesting enough to explore in aus, like giving sasori the redemption most of us wanted him to have by aging him down to a point in time where he was still realistically going to allow being positively influenced, similar to gaara. 

so really, what i think is well handled age gap and how most people handle age gap in the naruto fandom are two different worlds at times lol 

tl;dr

canon shippers have never been anything but gross when i was younger and i didnt wanna be like that, even if youre “smart”enough to differenate, actual creeps dont really care and might use your content to blur the lines, sasori isnt rly redeemable so romantic canonverse realistically wouldnt make much sense and is still iffy, age gaps are fine if they are handled well, but given that the dynamic doesnt really need the age gap to still work im not that invested on making that an essential part of my shipping experience.  

thank you for reading and hope this makes sense!