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bugs1nmybrain · 8 months

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Give Your Heart a Break - Chapter 3: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader series

Notes: This series is going to be released slowly due to my workload from school and jobs. That said, it may be sloppy and inconsistent. I will try my best to make it all mesh together! I reread Chapter 2 and will admit it was weak, but I was kind of just trying to gear up for them to meet in person.

ALSO! I am going to try to include songs that inspire my fics at the top of them! I hope it helps convey the mood of my stories.

Summary: Tomura and the reader finally meet in person after their discord call from last chapter.

Warnings: 18+ content (minors don't interact), shigaraki has a psychotic disorder and his voices act up violently when he's stressed, substance use (weed), POV swings, repressed Tenko Shimura themes, Dabi shows up but doesn't do much, long chapter, reader and Tomura are moving fast tbh, not fully proofread

Word Count: 4568

Notes About Y/N?:

anything from ch 1 and 2 applies here

she's a stoner

reader is actually hella shy

autistic coded

she has an interesting quirk<3

reader is the child of people who use substances, but she herself doesn't use anything past the holy trinity of "okay" substances: alcohol, weed, and nicotine

she's a virgin

Shigaraki was about to jump out of his skin. He could see your silhouette through your window as he stood outside your house. Even through the window, he could see how curvy you were. It made his mouth water. Fuck, you aren't even out the door and he's already being a pervert.

He was so anxious yet very excited. He was confident that you somewhat liked him, too. You wouldn't have agreed to come out with him at almost midnight if you didn't. His mission tonight was to be as not-scary as he could be, which he didn't think he'd ever want to do.

The sound of your front door opening made his heart pound viciously, and he stood where he was across the road with a shit-eating grin on his face and a fruit punch rockstar (pinky up!). You looked at him with a blushy smile and began stepping close to him, stomping heavily in your platform-heeled black boots. When you got up close to him, he couldn't help but laugh softly when he realized that you were still so short even with the shoes, though you didn't seem to pick up on his laughter.

"Hey," Tomura said with a crack in his voice, as if his voice couldn't get any more raspy.

"Heyy," you replied nervously, but forcing a smile.

"Howyadoing?"

"I had a long day at work before we started talking."

"Sounds like shit. I got you this," he looked at you like an excited puppy and held you the energy drink. "This is the kind you like, right?"

"Yeah," you smile kindly, taking the can. "Thank you for getting this."

"Of course, hehe. Have you been dressed like that all day?"

"No, I only got dressed like, 20 minutes ago?"

"You look pretty," Tomura smiled, looking visibly turned on by your fitting clothes, though he tried very hard to keep eye contact. He noticed you look down at yourself briefly whenever he snuck a look and you were clearly uncomfortable. Fuck, that's the last thing he wanted. Has he already fucked this up?

You fucking monster

Take her

Tomura began itching his neck in frustration, though he took a deep inhale through his nose and tried to pay attention to you instead.

"Whatcha wanna do?" He asked, huffing out his words anxiously.

"I don't know. To be honest, I don't hang out with people often," she shared.

"That's good, it means you realize how shitty most people are, right?" he laughs.

"Yea, that's true. I'm also new around here."

"It's my pleasure to be your new best friend, then," Shigaraki chuckled. "Or no?"

"You move fast."

"What's moving, exactly?" He retorted with a cocky face.

damn,,

Your laughter was like bubbles popping to him when he heard you giggle in response. He's got you, he knows it. You kept holding your head down at your feet, a habit Tomura noticed while you were talking. It frustrated him because he wanted to see your pretty face and the spooky makeup you put on it.

On the other hand, he understood what it was like to not want to flaunt your face. If you didn't happen to be a normal civilian he would've shown up with father on his face and maybe some of the others. Instead, he wore a hoodie, though his hood was up. He hardly ever left it down in public.

Now that he thought of it, he remembered you saying you liked his hair. Tomura let his hoodie down, falling to his shoulders and exposing his dry, tangled blue hair. Your face froze as you admired his baby-blue pigment. You also began to take in his ruby-red eyes and dehydrated appearance, with scars on his neck and face. He looked like a beaten-up kitten and a strange part of you instantly wanted to take care of him.

Shigaraki took your appearance in as well because now he could properly see your face. You looked at him with curious eyes, perky and alert. At the top of your shoulder, though, he saw what looked like an animated red heart beside you. Then it faded away.

Was he hallucinating again?

He shook the thought off and started noticing your face, instead. Your black eyeliner smudged your eyes, making them look intimidating, though to him you were no threat whatsoever. He admired your lips, as well. They looked softer than his, and he wondered how they'd feel. Even at 20, he had never kissed anyone. He had gotten one blowjob, but it was a hooker that he had paid for, and he couldn't shake the thought that the one sucking his cock was only doing it for money. Not that there was anything wrong with that at all, Tomura was just more romantic than he thought. They never kissed, and it felt empty for him.

"We could just take a walk," y/n suggested. He noticed your face back down facing your feet.

"Do you want to come to my place?" Tomura suggested back. Though bringing you around his roommates might be a challenge. You're cute.

He saw your hesitant face, a little offended by your quick distrust, at least from what he could tell. "I promise, I don't bite." Oh, the irony. The only thing roaming around in your head was what his intentions were. Tomura didn't exactly know himself.

"Where's your place? I'm not sure if I can stay the night."

"When did I say you could?" He retorted sarcastically.

"Oh, sorry."

"I'm teasing. I live about a 15 minute walk from here, is that okay?"

"Yea."

On your way to his place, you took in the fresh air and calming night scenery. There was a strange nostalgic feeling, though for no particular reason that you could think of. There were moments between you two when you wouldn't talk at all, but when you did, you came to notice that Tenko was a geeky, yet feisty guy. He had an interest in games, and had admitted to playing League of Legends, DOOM, some shit on the Switch, and occasionally GTA but he said that "the fun stopped years ago."

The two of you fumbled a bit, more you than him. Your socially awkward composure made it hard for you to not be jittery, but he seemed like a harmless guy thus far (haha, you had no idea). He was awkward, too, but had more guts to speak up.

Tomura would discover how truly shy you were. Your body shook when you talked, and your voice cracked in sheepish fear (he knew well what that looked like). He could tell you were socially anxious and that it probably wasn't just because he was scary, but he had a deep feeling that you thought he was. However, when he managed to get you to talk, you were quite funny and unique. It was cute to him, freakily enough, turning him on a little. He's had a semi for a bit, but the hoodie covered his crotch, thankfully.

His libido got the best of him sometimes, because the ass on you was a distraction. You were walking a little in front of him, so he could get a look without feeling like too much of a pervert. You looked cozy and huggable.

"fuck," Shigaraki thought abruptly.

He thankfully had a pair of gloves from Dr. Ujiko, ones that combated his quirk. He only really used them when he was sleeping or when he couldn't possibly avoid disintegrating something. He'd been careless, not even realizing how his quirk could easily fuck this up until now. Maybe he was being a bit entitled to already think that you'll automatically let him get close enough to touch you.

Still, explaining his quirk to you was going to be interesting. It would probably break his heart if you didn't want him, fuck, even want to be friends with him because of his quirk.

grab her, she is yours

Tomura ignored his aggravating voices and you and him continued to walk, laugh together, and drink your energy drinks like punkass kids. You finally came up on an apartment complex. It looked run down from the outside, most of the nearby apartments did, too.

His place was a few floors up. As soon as Tenko opened the doors, there was a whiff of a musky, dusty smell. A linger of cigarette smoke, maybe a little weed. For you, there was some level of familiarity with the smell because of your upbringing. The time was about 12:11am, so the apartment wasn't loud, although there was a faint sound of rap music playing in someone's room, and they were clearly smoking, based on how fresh the odor was.

"So, let me address this now," Tenko began. "Are you comfortable being in my room?"

You cocked an eyebrow.

"I mean, like, I know it's awkward being in a guy's room. We can hang out in the living room, if ya want," he pressed his lips together, sort of wishing you said yes to his room.

"Can we hang out-out here?"

"Nooo," Tomura thought internally.

"Aight," he said aloud.

Tomura plopped down on the couch, looking in your direction to indicate that you could sit there too. You sat some space away from him, making him a bit sad.

Shigaraki had never had a girl in his place before, not one that wasn't Toga or Magne. Not one he wanted. He was kind of nervous, but excited! He saw this as a good opportunity to try to get to know you, and maybe rizz you up a lil. Though, he'd never done that to anyone who wasn't a person on Discord, so he wasn't sure how to establish a bond.

Honestly, he was taking a bit of a chance with you. You didn't really do much to impress him yet, but your warmness to him made him feel important. In a different way than being his master's successor.

"Do you want to play video games? That's kind of the only thing we have to do here. And smoke weed, but I don't know if you do drugs."

"That's kind of an intense way to refer to weed," you comment.

"Then you smoke?"

"Yea."

"Awesome. Let me grab some shit and we can smoke. Maybe game at the same time??"

You laugh softly, "sure, sounds fun."

He could see a restless tremor in you, though, he felt that you liked him. That you enjoyed him, thus far. You were probably just shy because you had a crush on him :)

You had taken note at his neck when Tenko took off his hoodie, noticing how slender he was under it. You only saw him with his sweatshirt on so far. He was kind of...sexy? Your body radiated a few small hearts, dark red in color. Tenko was already out of the room before he could see, you thanked.

Little did Tenko know, you were also an inexperienced person when it came to girl and guy interaction. You were attracted to him, definitely. You were a virgin, though, and were worried to get too close to the "wrong person." You didn't know much about him yet. You sat patiently in the living room, tired from the day behind you. Thanks to Tenko, you now had caffeine, helping you fight the eepy.

It didn't take Tenko long before he reemerged with a pipe and a bag of pot. You got an instant waff of the flower when he opened the bag and took some out. He sat down, close beside you. You were a little nervous and startled, but you now got to smell his scent. He was a little smelly, but in a way that you hadn't known before. It was masculine and acted as pheromones for you right now.

Your hearts started popping out, this time colored a tangerine orange shade.

Tenko swung his head in your direction, instantly seeing them. He squinted at you and looked confused. You recalled that he heard voices, so maybe he thought that he was seeing things. You averted eye contact very quick and started mumbling.

"Uh..I'm sorry.."

"Huh?"

"Oh..um..tch..."

"Huh? I can't hear you."

"My quirk."

Tenko began picking out the stems in the weed, and you noticed he was wearing black gloves, but they were only covering he ring finger, pinky, and thumbs. You hadn't seen them on him before. Did he have a germ phobia? He didn't smell like he did.

He turned to face you every now and then, "I'm listening."

"I..uh.."

"You sure stutter a lot."

"Yea, I do."

"Are..the hearts your quirk? Or am I seeing things. In that case, this must be confusing as fuck to hear. Sorry."

"No! It's okay. No, you're not seeing things."

"Huh..What does it mea-."

Separate foot steps came up to the living room. You and Tenko looked up to see an average height man with black hair and burn marks all over him, staples keeping himself in place. He had piercings on his ears and his nose, and he had a cocky demeanor to him. You recognized this guy, you thought, but were having trouble thinking where from.

"You smoking?" He drawn out in a tired yawn.

"Uh..yea," Tomura replied.

"Who's this?" Dabi said, eyeing you down. Tomura had a millisecond instinct of possession. If Dabi swooned you, which wouldn't be a surprise, he'd be very pissed. Furious, even. He shot Dabi a look of "don't try anything," and Dabi knew full well what his face was telling him.

"I'm y/n," you said.

"Ah. I've never seen you. Are you and Shigaraki together?"

Tomura froze.

Not this quick, he thought. He thought he could pull some Aladdin shit and roll with a fake identity for a bit.

DABI YOU FUCKING IDIOT he thought, starting to panic internally.

K-kill he-

"Jesuss..." Tomura groaned, trying to drown out his voices. He held his hands at the back of his neck and leaned back.

Fuck

Destroy her, destroy, kill

You furrowed your brows and now it was coming together on your end.

The League of Villains were infamous, of course you knew the name "Shigaraki." The most wanted criminal around and notorious for rather..inhumane crimes. You tried telling yourself that he could be a different Shigaraki, but you now figured out the guy with patches on himself. Dabi, who stood out like a sore thumb in the photos that were taken of their gang. Shigaraki did, too. But he had a dead hand on his face whenever you saw pictures, so you didn't recognize him.

Tomura could sense your own panic from planets away. He saw you trembling, and he was trying to come up with a quick lie in his head, but you were already speaking.

"Are you Dabi?" you said in a neutral tone.

"Yeuh. How'd you know?"

"Uh.Ten...Tomura?" you said his name as if you were asking him a question, but continued. "He's talked about you."

He was confused now. Were you playing along? The fuck? Or did you feel like you had to? You could've felt in danger, he considered.

"Good things, I hope," Dabi slurred.

Tomura wanted to question you, but didn't want to cause tension about the fact that you now both knew he was manipulating you into thinking he was some ordinary guy. He also didn't want to have this conversation around Dabi. You didn't say anything else.

Dabi crouched on the floor. "Give me some."

"Invite Spinner, too, I don't want to look at only your ugly face."

"He's sleeping. Don't you have eye candy next to you?"

Oh right. He thinks you and Tomura are dating. And he called you "eye candy." So many angry thoughts were racing through Tomura's head. You were probably terrified right now, and he knew this whole situation was fucked. He had no idea what to say.

But he tried, turning to you shamefully and mumbled out, "do you still wanna smoke?"

You paused, unsure what the answer should be. You should be trying to find a way to leave and soon. These guys are...well. The League of Villains. Though, you found yourself agreeing with their mission, even if murder, abducting a high schooler, and assaulting people weren't anything you necessarily felt comfortable with.

Tenko- or Tomura, had made you feel seen up to this point. You didn't feel that way, ever. He took interest in you while also wanting to listen to you. You shared interests, and personality traits even if yours were more sheltered away. When you knew someone closely, you were talkative and feisty, too. You felt understood, somehow. And maybe that shouldn't excuse him being a horrible person, but your need for validation and attention took over you.

"Light that shit up," you declared.

You saw a smile crack on his face, which was admittedly very cute. He was scary looking, but not to you. He looked run down and scrunkly, with his pale skin and tinted sharp teeth. Itch marks all over him and dry wrinkles at his forehead and eyes. He also had a beauty mark below the edge of his dry lips.

But he looked adorable, and you had a desire to just have him hold you. You knew of his quirk, of course. But you were guessing that his gloves were because of his quirk. He was protecting you.

Your hearts fluttered rapidly, and Dabi raised an eyebrow. He didn't care to ask anything, figuring it was your quirk. He could tell it was in response to Shigaraki, which was easy to deduce. Tomura started to get it, too.

Tomura, you and Dabi all passed around the bowl, not saying much. You'd cough viciously, trying to hold it back. Shigaraki saw your eyeliner mess up from the tears you made from coughing. He wanted to snatch you up, absolutely infatuated with your girlish charm.

"You alive?" He asked.

"What strain is this??" You asked with slurred speech and dozed off red eyes.

"Uh, weed. I don't know. Dabi, what's this shit?" He asked, as Dabi usually was the one who acquired the League's stash of pot.

"Probably GMO."

"Probably? If you lace my company I'll knock you out."

You giggled out. Tomura's sense of humor was one of your favorite things about him so far. And maybe you should be scared, but you felt comfortable around him whenever he cracked jokes and smiled at you.

"Jesus, it's not laced. If I wanted to do coke or something, I'd do the actual thing," Dabi joked.

"It's okay. I'm just really stoned," you laughed.

"A lightweight, huh?" Tomura snickered. "It's cuz you're so little."

"Am not."

"You're like, 5 foot nothing."

"I'm (your height)!" You retaliated.

"Uh-huh. I could put you in my pocket, if I wanted. Do you wanna game?"

"Yeaa."

Tomura turned on his console, giving you the option to pick a game. You chose your favorite video game, as it was already owned by Shigaraki. He and Dabi watched you play badly, with Dabi chuckling and Tomura groaning at the sight.

"Let me try," he said.

"You'll just steal it from me," you assumed.

"Well, you've tried this mission like 6 times," he pointed out.

"Three."

"Oooo okay smart ass," Tomura said in a flirty tone. "Let me show you then, hm?"

Tomura scooched closer to you, holding his controller with his hands perched on against the top of your thigh. He was trying to show you what moves to play, telling you all his strategies. He was also testing you and paid close attention to how you responded to his close proximity. You had to now know what his quirk was. You didn't pull back from him to his satisfaction, but he was still confused.

"Here, you see how I'm doing this? Now you try."

Every time he talked to you, he had a sort of softness to his voice. A raspy yet nurturing tone, even when you messed up your game repeatedly. And you'd respond with a blushy and embarrassed tone, but obviously swooned by Tomura's charisma.

Dabi could sense the horny from Tomura and got up, not wanting to see this shit. "You two have fun."

Shiggy felt like he could breathe with Dabi leaving. Now he had you all to himself, which might work in his favor. You still seemed uneasy, but at the same time he saw that your body had relaxed more. He was a little shocked, and wondered what the ulterior meaning was for it.

"So.."y/n started. "You're..not Tenko? Or is that a nickname?"

"Uh..jesus," He sighed, cupping his forehead anxiously. "No. No, I'm not. You know who I am, right? I'm sorry."

"I, um. Yea, I think so. I knew who he was, too. You're Tomura Shigaraki?"

"That's meee. Are you gonna leave? Tell someone?" He sad in a worried and sharp voice.

What? No. I won't, it's just, I guess I'm taken aback."

"I couldn't just tell you who I was that quick, d'ya get it? Especially online."

"Yea, I know."

You and him turned and faced each other, both of you breathing hard. Your hearts turned blue, but appeared in slow succession. Tomura cocked a brow, and finally was able to inquire about your quirk now that Dabi was gone.

"What are those hearts about? I have a guess, but.."

"mmmnNN," you grunted in embarrassment. "It's nothing.."

"Liar," he chuckled. "Is it cuz you like me?"

He was taking a bold risk to ask that, but so much was already on the table. Asking you if you wanted him wasn't much more intimidating, unless it added to the mess. His eyes were lidded and he smirked when he questioned you. You could tell he liked you, himself. There was a hint of desire and arousal that you could sense from him, as well.

You blushed a deep rose color and looked away from him. "K-kind of..."

"Mm, and is the Shigaraki thing a dealbreaker?"

"I..I don't want it to be," you smiled, and he saw your eyes shine at him.

"I promise I'll be nice to you," he joked, leaning closer to you.

"I...okay. I trust that, and honestly, I kind of don't care? That you're Shigaraki, that is. Well! Of course I care. But I like you, and you've made me feel like my company is wanted. People see me as weird, and offputting. You don't, at least I don't think. Why me, though? I mean, why do you like me?"

"Uh, cuz you're cute?" wow Tomura. "Shit, that was creepy. Uh, you're nice. Nicer to me than most people, and you like my hair and stuff. You also seem to find me quite funny, yea? You're also unique, and you dress spooky. You're a funny girl, and you play games with me!! I can tell you're an anxious mess, but you seem to want to be around me, and even when you found out about me being who I am, you didn't try to leave or treat me differently. I don't know, I just think you and I would be good together. And what's not to like? You're kind of my dream girl."

You laugh, flustered and feeling undeserving of all the praise. "You don't know me much."

"Can I get to know you, then?"

"I mean..yes..can I get to know you too? I don't know if what I hear on the news is all that you are,"you smiled widely while looking away from him. It pissed him off a little when you'd avoid him. He brought his gloved fingers to hold your jaw, and gently turned you to look at him.

"I can see you better when you look at me," he said in a seductive tone. He stroked the side of your jaw with his thumb while he ran his tongue along the roof of his mouth. The risk of decay scared you, but you trusted the gloves would be okay, and if your quirk did the right thing, you two may not need them soon...The hearts you produced had many colors now, all red, dark red, and white.

He snickered. "Do the different colors mean different things?" Tomura asked.

"Y-yea..The standard color is red, but different colors mean different emotions."

"So," Tomura rang his hand to pet your hair for a brief moment before setting it at your side. Rapid dark red, white, and red hearts continued to flutter out of you. "What do those ones mean?"

You tensed up, knowing full well the meanings, but admitting to two of them was embarrassing. Vulnerable, even. Was this all going too quick? Frankly, the adrenaline and attraction were entirely operating you at the moment.

"Spit it out," he jabbed.

"The red ones..they're standard hearts that say, "I think you're attractive.""

"Thanks. I think I'm ugly as shit, but-"

"You aren't. I think you're very cute, hehehe!!"

"Oh really?" He teased. "Ehah..what do the burgandy colors mean? And..the white ones?"

"Mrnrnjdsn..."

"What?" He laughed, getting the feeling that they had a not-so-innocent meaning to them.

"They, uh..they mean that-that I'm..that I'm turned on."

Satisfaction grew in Shiggy's eyes, his eyes the color of a scorching fire. He clenched his grin into an excited and relieved expression.

"So I turn you on?"

You nodded your head bashfully.

"And the white ones?" Shigaraki pestered.

"urrrnnnnn, I can't say it!!"

"Come on! Out! I wanna know..."he said with a yearn in his voice.

"They, they mean my body is responding. You know..that I'm wet, and that my horny-ness is spiking."

"Cum colored, haha. That's not surprising."

You and Tomura sat in a quiet tension for a bit, and he looked like he was hungry and trying to hunt his prey silently. His lips parted a little, and you saw his tongue run against his teeth as he leaned his face closer to you discreetly. You pressed your lips together tight and tilted your head up slowly, your eyes darting all across Tomura's handsome face and instinctively moved closer, as well. Your body knew exactly what it wanted and what was natural. Tomura became daring, and pressed his lips on yours without much warning, wrapping his lips in between yours.

You instantly hummed, unsure what to do. You moved your lips to dance with his as well as you could, and you started with passionate and sweet kisses. The whole act was uncoordinated, and you both weren't sure how to keep going. He kissed you for a long time, holding your neck while he leaned closer than you thought possible. His smell clouded your thinking, and built your arousal little by little.

He finally pulled away, taking a deep breathe and looked at you with a seduced flushed face. "Do you wanna go to my room now?" He scoffed, knowing his intentions, and you did too. He wanted you. It was fast, but he didn't really care. He just wanted to claim you, and make you his.

"Mhmm," you mumbled in approval.

Taking your hand in his protected ones, he guided you off the couch.

"Lets do that then, yea? I want to get to know you, like we talked about. I gotta know all about you."

#shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x fem!reader #tenko shimura #shigaraki fic #Spotify

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whatacaitastrophe · 7 months

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Is It Over Now - Chapter 12

Previous Chapter

Chapter Song Inspiration: "The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot" - Brand New

Chapter Warnings: Mystra

Spotify Playlist: Here

Chapter Notes: this is the last chapter of "Is It Over Now!" thank you so much to everyone who has read this fic and liked it, reblogged it, left comments etc. the next installment, "Everything Has Changed" is already on AO3, and i'll start uploading chapters here soon <3

also!! i have a discord server!! it was made to coincide with the twitch channel, but i need more friends to talk about bg3 with so pls come hang. link is above!

Chapter 12: Call Me A Safe Bet, I'm Betting I'm Not

“Astarion, we’re supposed to be packing.” Fallon giggles.

Astarion is also supposed to be in the kitchen, taking stock of what food they have left and how much of it is worth taking with them. Instead, he’s in their bedroom with his arms wrapped around Fallon’s waist from behind, peppering kisses across her neck and shoulders. “We’ve done enough packing for today, I think it’s time we take a well-deserved break.”

“We just started!” Fallon argues, but she also does nothing to stop Astarion’s hands from slipping beneath the hem of her shirt.

“We started yesterday.” His fingertips dance lightly over the skin above her trousers underneath her shirt.

Fallon looks at the clock on the wall and giggles again. “You cheeky fucker, just because we started at half-ten in the evening and it’s now one in the morning does not count as starting to pack yesterday. It’s been two and a half hours!”

“Fallon, darling, I’m starting to think you don’t want to have sex with me. It’s going to give me a complex.” Astarion chuckles and he brushes her hair to the side to nip at the nape of her neck.

She snorts with laughter when he says that. “Yes, because Ao forbid I try to actually make sure we’re prepared to leave for Velrea in four days,” she says drily, leaning into his touch and tilting her head further to the side to give him better access. “Nevermind that we’ve not gone a single day without having sex since the Winter Solstice.”

Astarion pauses for a moment, and Fallon does not need to look at him to know that her partner is digging through his memory to try and prove Fallon wrong. The dramatic huff following the silence is also telling: he knows she’s right. Not that this deters him at all. Instead the vampire changes tactics. “Well, when I live with the most beautiful woman in all of Faerun, how can I be blamed for wanting her constantly? I mean, what would you do if you were in my position?” His fingers deftly slip beneath the very top of her trousers, skimming over her hips.

A shiver rolls across Fallon’s body, and she almost, almost, gives in. It’s been two months since the Winter Solstice, and Fallon and Astarion have been insatiable ever since. It’s like finally admitting how much they love each other woke up something inside of the them, and with it came a new level of virility that Lae’zel claimed makes them “impossible to be around for longer than an hour.” Truthfully, Fallon would love nothing more than to stop folding clothes and let Astarion take her right there on top of the freshly laundered pile but they have a deadline to meet. If they want to reach Velrea before the Spring Equinox, they absolutely must leave in four days’ time.

“If I were in your position, I’d take a cold bath then go back to the kitchen.” She giggles. It is only then that Fallon turns around to face Astarion, and she plants a soft kiss on his lips, then pats his cheek when he pouts. “I promise to make it up to you, my love. I’ll even show you what I bought at Figaro’s when I went shopping with Shadowheart a couple days ago. It’s lacy and pretty, positively sinful and completely impractical for traveling.” Fallon teases him, biting her lip and batting her eyelashes.

“Wicked woman. Absolutely wicked.” Astarion smirks, kissing her once more. “I’m holding you to that.”

“I expect nothing less. Now go.” Fallon gently pushes him away from her, playfully smacking his backside as he leaves the room.

The last time the two of them traveled together it was about as unplanned as it could get, considering they’d both been kidnapped and forced to make due with whatever happened to be on their person at first. Now that they have the time to plan and prepare, Fallon wants to do so. Even with it only being the two of them this time, Fallon easily resumed the leadership role she naturally took on during their adventures from the nautiloid to Baldur’s Gate, and Astarion was happy to let her. He’d even admitted to Fallon that was initially part of why he wanted her to come with him in the first place. “You’re better at making tough decisions than I am. Better at taking the emotions out of it, if you will.” He’d explained.

Fallon could only hope that she is still able to think that logically in the event they are faced with danger. Things are different now, and there is far more at stake; namely, how far she would be willing to go to keep Astarion safe and to help him get what he wants. Fallon would never say she didn’t love Gale, but she certainly did not love Gale in the way she loves Astarion now. The way she feels about the vampire is soul-deep and all-encompassing. If anything ever happened to Astarion, she would scorch the entire world to save him.

How is it possible that the two of them had so many clothes? It’s not like they were constantly leaving the suite. Astarion couldn’t unless it was dark outside, and Fallon’s sleep schedule was slightly closer to his these days because of it. When they did leave, it was only to go downstairs to the tavern, or occasionally to Wyll’s. Lae’zel and Shadowheart had returned to Creche K’liir, promising to visit more often, same with Karlach and Halsin back to The Grove. On top of that, when Astarion and Fallon were at home they were naked more than half the time because of their inability to keep their hands off of each other.

Thank the gods they were clothed this evening, however, because the easy silence that filled the suite was interrupted by the sound of somebody opening a portal in the sitting room. “What the–”

“I seek an audience with Fallon of Baldur’s Gate.” An ominous female voice echoes through the suite, and Fallon freezes. She knows that voice. It’s a voice she’s only ever heard once before, but once was enough for her to know enough. Fallon grabs her sword on her way out of the bedroom, despite knowing that it will likely do little should the owner of the voice pick a fight. Astarion apparently had the same idea, for when they meet in the hallway, Astarion is holding a dagger. Quickly, Astarion kisses Fallon and whispers, “I love you,” before taking a step in front of her protectively as they enter the sitting room.

At the sight of Mystra, Goddess of Magic, Fallon’s heart rate increases exponentially. She’s even more beautiful than Gale’s memories of her depicted, and on that alone, Fallon understands why Gale walked directly into her trap time and time again. Why in the nine hells is Mystra in her home? She quickly scans the sitting room for Gale, but the demi-god is not present. Fallon looks Mystra in the eyes and swallows as she desperately tries to keep her cool.

“I can’t say I know what the protocol is when a goddess comes to visit. Am I to bow? Offer you tea? Drop to my knees and pray? Then again, you’re not my goddess, so I suppose I don’t need to do any of those things.” Fallon says cooly, and her grip tightens on her sword.

“Put your weapons away, I did not come here to harm you.” Mystra demands.

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” Astarion snarls back at her, dagger raised.

“You will not threaten me, vampire.” Mystra snaps.

“You’re the one who entered my home without an invitation, not the other way around,” He snaps back. “What do you want with Fallon?”

Mystra does not recoil when Astarion refuses to back down, but her presence seems to become less…overbearing, somehow. “I came to congratulate her.”

Astarion and Fallon look at each other in confusion. “Congratulate me for what?”

“For ruining Gale of Waterdeep’s life.”

Fallon’s blood goes cold, and her grip on her sword loosens. “What have you done to Gale?”

Mystra lets out a cold laugh. “Oh, it’s not a question of what I’ve done, Fallon of Baldur’s Gate, but a question of what Gale of Waterdeep has done. For you, because of you, however you wish to interpret it.”

Even Astarion is lowering his weapons now, and he takes a step back to hold Fallon’s free hand. Whatever Mystra is about to reveal, it’s definitely not good, and Gale is definitely not okay. “What did he do?” Astarion asks.

Mystra smirks. “Gale of Waterdeep has decided that he no longer wishes to become a god. He claims that if being a god means spending eternity without you in it, then he doesn’t want it.”

Oh no. Fallon’s heart drops into her stomach as she slowly puts the pieces together in her mind. She remembers what Gale said of his bargain with Mystra in order to achieve godhood, and what the stakes were. What the cost would be if he denied Mystra. Astarion must remember, too, because his grip on her hand tightens.

“I told Gale of Waterdeep the consequences of his choice would be the same now as they were when I first offered him a chance to ascend to godhood. He chose you still. I simply needed to meet the woman who turned my chosen against me so thoroughly face-to-face, and to bring her a gift.”

Whatever this gift is, Fallon is already certain it’s not much of a gift at all. Not for her, not for Astarion, and most certainly not for Gale.

Mystra snaps her fingers, and Gale Dekarios is suddenly on the ground at Fallon and Astarion’s feet. He looks up at her weakly, and when he reaches for her, his entire body is shaking. Fallon’s sword hits the ground with a clang and lets go of Astarion’s hand, dropping to her knees in front of Gale.

“What have you done to him, you wretched bitch?!” Fallon screams at Mystra. Fallon reaches for Gale’s body and Astarion is almost immediately at her side, helping her pull Gale closer to them both, wrapping their bodies around Gale to protect him from Mystra. If that’s even possible at this point, as it seems the damage is already done.

“I have not done anything Gale of Waterdeep has not asked for,” Mystra says coldly. “He knew the consequences of defying me, turning his back on me, and chose you anyway, so I bring him to you, Fallon of Baldur’s Gate. For he is your problem now, in all his imperfect, entirely and ordinarily human disgrace.”

Mystra says nothing else before stepping back through her portal, and Fallon and Astarion watch in shock as it closes. It is only once Mystra is gone that either of them realize Gale is inconsolable.

“She– she took my magic. Fallon– it’s gone. I can’t feel The Weave anymore. Oh gods. It’s gone!” Fallon pulls as much of Gale into her lap as she can and holds him there as the man she once loved so fiercely completely breaks down. Even after everything Gale has done, he didn’t deserve this punishment. Taking away his access to The Weave was already cruel, but dropping him on his ex-lover’s doorstep? That was especially malicious.

“It’s gone.” Gale continues to repeat, and Fallon just looks at Astarion desperately. For once, she does not know what to do.

“Well,” Astarion sighs, and reaches for Fallon’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “I guess I’d better make sure we’ve got enough food for three, then.”

There’s no hesitancy in his voice and Fallon nods in agreement: Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep, mortal, non-magical, and human, is coming with them to Velrea, whether he likes it or not.

Masterlist

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale #astarion #bg3 fanfic #female tav #astarion x tav #gale x tav #bg3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 fanfic

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a-lonely-dunedain · 2 months

Note

'hey, I'm not your pillow,' for character(s) of choice? :D

oh gosh I forgot about this one! I think I'll do this with Ethedis&Tossdir bc I've been very mean to Ethe in my discord lately so she deserves some cuddles with her bestie <3

...........after I chuck her down a minor plinko offscreen. Look, listen, how else am I going to get that sweet sweet hurt/comfort? she's FINE everything is FINE this is FLUFF

--------

“I think this is supposed to go the other way around...” Tossdir says quietly, wiping the dried blood and dirt from a small cut on Ethedis’ cheek with a damp cloth. He’d already finished patching up her more serious wound, thankful that Ethedis was conscious enough to guide him through most of it, and now all that's left is to tend to some minor cuts and scrapes.

Ethedis scoffs weakly "You're hardly the only one here the Iron Crown wants dead."

"No, but between the two of us, running headlong into danger is usually my job," he flashes a halfhearted smile, but it fades quickly as he returns his focus to her bandages, readjusting the ones on her arm that he had hastily tied earlier "and you’re far better at this part than I am…"

"You’re doing fine, Pîn-Toss." Ethedis gently assured, though Tossdir knew well that 'fine' was hardly comparable to what someone trained under Lord Elrond was capable of. He felt clumsy and out of place with such delicate work, only made worse by his nerves at the fact that his friend's life was in his hands at the time. He hoped Ethedis hadn't noticed how much his hands shook earlier.

"You’re usually just so careful… I never expected you to…" He trails off, too preoccupied in his worry to be annoyed at the nickname 'little-shrub' she had given him. He couldn't help but still be shaken by what happened. She was fine one moment, launching storms of embers and lightning at their foes, and then the next she was collapsed on the ground with an orcish blade in her side. She was barely responsive when he finally fought his way to her, only fully coming back to her senses after he managed to drag her back to their camp. The wound was, thankfully, not as deep as he initially feared, but ideally she should not be wounded at all.

"I try to be, though I’m unaccustomed to fighting so frequently. I overextended myself and paid the price, a mistake I do not plan to make again." Though admittedly, she didn't plan to make it this time, either. Calling upon natural powers would be taxing anywhere, and doubly so in a place like Angmar, but she had not yet learned how to accurately sense when she was at her limit. Until recently, she was a stranger the necessity. "I'm lucky you were with me, to think of what might have happened if I was alone…"

"Don't-" Tossdir winces at the thought, looking away "don’t even talk about that. Please."

"All right, I won't. But thank you all for saving me all the same"

"Not as if I had a choice, you know Corunir would have killed me if I let something happen to you." he says half-jokingly.

Ethedis snorts an almost-laugh "He wouldn't."

"He might."

"I think he's far too gentle for that," she says with a weary smile. "But in any case, you said we should not speak of such grim things..." Her head nodded slightly, as if she was having trouble keeping upright.

"Right," he gives her bandages one last look over, making certain he hadn't missed anything. "It looks like I've done all I can for now," he says after some hesitation "you should try to get some rest, I don't want you scaring me like that again any time soon..."

Ethedis nods again, this time in agreement, but instead of laying on her bedroll she leans forward and rests her head on his shoulder, her face nestled in the warm wool of his scarf.

"Hey, I'm not your-" Tossdir halfheartedly protests, but the words die on his lips. He hesitates a moment before gingerly putting an arm around her "...Alright, fine." Ethedis says nothing in response, but wears a small contented smile.

He carefully adjusted to a more comfortable position, with his back against the cliff their camp was set under, keeping his cloak wrapped snugly around the two of them. Soon enough, it seemed that Ethedis had fallen into sound sleep, the corners of her lips still turned in a slight smile. Tossdir just breathed a quiet sigh of relief, at least her injury didn't seem to be bothering her much. Maybe he had done a better job tending it than he'd given himself credit for.

Tossdir didn't sleep much that night, instead dutifully keeping watch over his friend, although it was probably unnecessary as Ethedis' raven friends were already tasked with guarding the camp and waking them if anyone came near. Still, Tossdir felt better keeping watch himself, maybe he was unable to protect her earlier today, but at least like this, he felt as if he could.

And besides, he never really trusted those birds anyway.

#Ethedis should get to cuddle with her best friend. as a treat <3 #Tossdir is understandably Worried but hey! he's usually the one making his friends worry half to death. it's time he got a taste of it lol #I swear it seems like getting my brain to write anything is like pulling teeth sometimes #just gotta keep going 'it doesn't have to be perfect it just has to be done' over and over lol #lotro #lotro fic #lotro oc #Ethedis #Tossdir #hurt/comfort #I feel like Tossdir might occasionally make eye contact with Ethedis' ravens and they just glare at each other half the night

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themushroomgoesyeet · 8 months

Text

It's time ladies and gentlemen

Arcana characters as Disney's Hercules

I promise not all of these are gonna be Disney themed lol I'm just a Muriel simp (if you couldn't tell) and when I originally came up with the Disney princess idea Muriel as Hercules started rotting a hole through my brain so here we are! Also, we're gonna get some side character/familiar action here as well, yay!

Asra, Nadia, Julian, & Portia - the muses

Are there other characters that these four could fit? Probably

Am I going to fit them there? No

Someone needs to be the muses, and I choose these 4

From left to right (since none of the muses are named) Portia, Julian, Nadia, & the last two get subsumed into Asra

Idk I think they'd have fun jamming out & watching Muriel do his thing

Lucio - Hades

Oh god I can hear the Lucio simps screeching at me in the comments already

But consider: am I wrong tho

Let's face it bro is the villain in every route but his own and the cynical, "better than thou" personality that they both share just fits so well

Plus this version of Hades is a Satan analog who makes binding deals with others for his own benefit, and doesn't that sound like a certain devil we all know?

Not to mention both of them are trying to escape the realms they've been assigned & make themselves god king of everything

Two words: ✨anger issues✨

Morga - Phil

And now we get to the fun characters outside the M6

I will admit, Phil is a lot nicer than Morga, but jaded older mentor figure trying to make up for failed prodigies fits

Plus, Morga was Muriel's mentor in his route

I feel like both also fit into the role of proud parent figure by the end of their respective stories

And both are disapproving of their pupil's romances lol

Inanna - Pegasus

Admittedly Inanna is a bit more no-nonsense than Pegasus is, but she can still be goofy and fun when she wants to

Incredibly supportive of their human companions, important assets in battle, their appearance started the main character on a path for a better and more fulfilling life

Not much else to say here it just works

Vlastomil and Volta - Pain & Panic

Honestly idk if I can fit Vulgora and Valdemar into the Hercules narrative, but at least I could get these two in here

Vlastomil is Pain and Volta is Panic; I realize both could probably fit into Panic's role as they are the more timid and mild mannered courtiers, but I've chosen things this way because Volta is a little bit more flighty and afraid to commit crimes like Panic, where as Vlastomil is a bit more bold (when he's allowed to be) and better fits Pain

There's also the whole shape shifting deal they can all do

Khamgalai - Zeus

This one.....is a bit weird ngl, I'm still not quite sure about it

Honestly this is the ONLY time I will conflate someone so near & dear to my heart with Zeus

Mostly this all fits into the "detached/secret family member" archetype

And....I mean Zeus in this narrative at least is actually very kind & caring, as well as a proud dad which is similar enough to Khamgalai to work ok

Plus they both act as a guide for the main character when they're trying to find/drifting away from the plot a little bit

Merf (my MC) - Meg

I know what you're thinking

And I'm going to state once again that I am a huge Muriel simp

My MC is also a self insert, and for as long as I can remember I've always identified the most with Meg, more than any of the other Disney women

Anyone who has read my fic, seen the stuff I've posted about my character either on this blog or others, or even just talked to me on the arcana discord started by @iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia can probably see that our personalities are very similar

Meg is very special to me as a character and I'm literally writing a post about mashing together my beloved and one of my favorite Disney movies, I'm not apologizing for conflating her with myself

#the arcana #the arcana game #arcana #muriel of the kokhuri #arcana mc #count lucio #portia devorak #julian devorak #asra alnazar #nadia satrinava #arcana as _

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archtroop · 7 months

Note

No, Israeli kids are innocent of any crimes. The same as Palestinian kids. The problem is the crazy people like you. It's funny to think that your people suffered from a Genocide once and you're now the Nazis committing Genocide. You can say to yourself whatever you want to sleep at night but the truth is what it is: it's not a war, it's not suicide (what a fucking ridiculous notion). It's genocide. Shame you're so brainwashed you can't see what's in front of you.

And yet again, no.

The only Nazis in this equation are HAMAS and their infrastructure.

Anon, you have no leg to stand on this.

Attacking a well armed state, massacring 1200+ people in one day and, what? What do you call this? What you expect to happen next?

Here is the thing. You want the big picture, I'll give you the big picture.

The Islamic Republic of Iran wants to control the Middle East. They fund proxies to ankle-bite those who threaten their supremacy in the region. Like SaudiArabia, Israel and so on by employing: HAMAS, Hezbollah, Houthies etc. They settle roots in places of discord and disarray (Lebanon, Syria...Yemen. West Bank and Gaza. Places with no functional government).

They use Israel as a scapegoat to unite under (Fascism 1.01). They call upon "The Zionist Regime" rhetoric whenever shit hits the fan and they need to blame someone with something. Oldest trick in the book.

The Abraham Accorda are designed so that USA could finally leave the Middle East. UAE and others, had already signed the accords with Isrsel to manifest a solid treaty that would hold the Jihad at bay and will eventually stabilize the region (against threats like IRI and ISIS) by means of finance, strategy and military. Two weeks or so prior to Saudi Arabia signing the accords, Iran gives a nod of approval to HAMAS. The attack on the 7th was premeditated. It was planned for years. The idea is simple: make Israel look bad so that Saudi Arabia won't be happy to sign an agreement with a "weak" country (Israel is the security part in the agreement. SA enjoyed up till recently the security US provided. With deglobalization, this deal is off), and then drag Isrsel into a bloody war in urban terrain in Gaza to make Israel look very bad so Saudi Arabia won't sign with Israel in defense of the Palestinian Cause.

Yes, it was a premeditated suicide. And all of this is a geopolitical known knowledge. Nothing in what I wrote above is new or groundbreaking.

It was never about Palestinians. Or Palestine. It was all just an excuse. All of this, we all are just pawns.

On the world scale, Gaza doesn't matter. That's the sad truth. They were used and thrown away by their leaders. Israel is holding talks with both Egypt and Saudis over how to extract the civilians from this death trap, believe it or not. Both HATE HAMAS and watch all of this unfold and waiting for Israel to declare HAMAS IS NO MORE. Egypt hates HAMAS, a tie in to the Muslim Brotherhood, that has the power to topple the Egyptian secular government (funny how the most affected by Houthies attacks are Egypt, but no one gives a crap).

Gaza is a funnel for aid money. It produces nothing, it exports nothing. They are meaningless on the world map. That's the sad truth. By making Gaza absolutely dependent on UN aid (that never actually used for aid, but to cushion up HAMAS leaders), you have a society that cannot support itself in any way. They don't even have political allies. They are pawns.

Hate HAMAS. Hate IRI.

Or you can hate Israel, the only place where Palestinians from West Bank and Gaza could actually work and get paid. Now they don't have even that.

You know what's the cruelest joke? The accords are on talks and are progressing. There is a route of merchandise that goes right through Saudi Arabia and to Israel and Egypt, by trucks.

All of this. Was for nothing.

It's called Terrorism for a reason.

So, I guess whatever makes you sleep better. Jews did not survive the Holocaust to lie down and take it when another one is knocking on the door.

After the 7th, my emphaty dulled by a huge margin. That you cannot take back. Even symphaty has an expiration date.

There is no Genocide in Gaza. There is a Suicide on a national scale, and that's the harsh truth. And it didn't even make a lick of difference.

The only hope people in Gaza have, is to wake up without HAMAS. And it WILL happen.

Whether you like it or not.

#hamas war crimes #abraham accords #islamic republic of iran #proxy war #anon you have a lot to learn about how the world works #israel

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genericpuff · 1 year

Note

hey! I’m not sure if you’ve seen this yet, but in regards to RS’s awful layer management, I bring you this from the waybacksmythe insta account!

I’m 99% sure that she’s taught herself to work in this manner for a VERY long time. I mean, there’s barely anything in the main layers that have even MORE layers clipped to them

insanity

yooo thank you for this!

Honestly, I don't think it's that bad when it comes to illustration work, it comes down to just being "use whatever amount of layers you need", and it's clear it worked for her older art. It would be fine for comics as well, but most people naturally opt to reduce the layers they use because it just makes things, well, faster, and less complicated. Not to mention if her layer management is part of the reason her file sizes are ending up absurdly huge, then ??? It seems like a no brainer to reduce them. Esp considering so many of the layers in LO from what I've seen in screenshots just seem so pointless, like hyper-micromanaging levels of pointless.

That said, I think there are a lot of things she's taught herself to do that she just hasn't bothered to unlearn, like she thinks she works "better" doing things this way. Her "time management techniques" that result in her and her team always crunching through the weight of the next deadline, her layering structure, how she manages her assistants, the list goes on. It's like when you're so used to doing something one way, you're convinced it has to be working because otherwise, why would you be doing it that way? It's always "worked" for you up until now, so why change? It's why it's hounded into art students especially to step outside of their comfort zone and try new things because it's only through trying new things that you may learn you've been making things way harder for yourself than you need to.

This might be a bit too psychoanalytical, but we were talking about this very subject in the Discord the other day, and it came up that it's like when someone who's struggling with untreated depression or ADHD says, "I don't want to be medicated, it'll take away my spark!" but their spark is literally not showering for a week and eating nothing but toast and mold growing on the dishes in the sink.

In this case, it feels like Rachel's going "I don't want to change, it'll ruin my work!" but her work is literally already falling apart because she's been sticking to these same work methods that are clearly not working for her.

It makes me think of that one old reel where she talks about how she tried something new that didn't work out and became frustrated over the "lost time".

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Rachel Smythe (@usedbandaid)

instagram

And I do agree with the advice that she's giving in this video, artists should give themselves the space and time to figure things out, to make mistakes, because it's not lost time, it's time you're spending to try. That time will pass anyways, so use it how you like.

But unfortunately I don't think Rachel is actually good at applying this advice because she hasn't set herself up for success. She's always constantly on an immediate deadline because she never sets herself up with proper buffers. She never made herself a plan in the narrative to get this far so she's constantly jumping between plot points to give herself time to figure out how to resolve them. She can't give herself that free time to figure her shit out because she's constantly wringing out the time she has available to her. Look no further than how much time she traditionally spends on social media, AFAIK it's just her running it meaning she's spending all this time browsing and retweeting that she could be spending getting her ducks in a row.

None of this is to say she isn't allowed to have free time, I think it would be great if she could be an Originals creator who could also manage having a healthy work life balance, god knows so many creators don't get to do that. But it's not free time if you're spending it under the weight of deadlines that are literally a week away. It's just distracting yourself.

Of course, that's all speculative, so I'm not gonna continue on much longer with this train of thought, it's just the impression I get because it's clear she values her time but doesn't know how to manage it properly. I feel that all too well as someone who also struggles with ADHD.

#lore olympus critical #lo critical #antiloreolympus #anti lore olympus #ama #ask me anything #anon ama #anon ask me anything

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gaspshichat · 7 months

Text

we have a very long post again so i can bet y'all know who this is about. that's right. pearl appreciation post

it's a little more vent-y than i wanted bc i do talk about what's wrong with me and the things going on with my weird messed up body so please be careful of that. if you want to skip all of that, there is a big bolded red label titled "appreciation part"

i talked about my sun allergy on pearl's stream today and she asked what happened to me in the sun. i've spoken a little on the things wrong with me [although i don't go into too much detail bc i don't want to burden or worry pearl/chat more than i already do] so she does know a thing or two about me

(transcription: um, thank you for the ten bitties, gasps! "i get really bad sunburns that blister with severe rashes." *pained* ooh. "can't be outside for more than five to ten minutes without severe pain. that's why i work nights and have a night schedule." oh my gosh. that must be super difficult, gasps. i'm sorry that you have to deal with that! wow. you- you've got like- the world is not kind to you, i feel like. um. there's- there's so many things that you go through and- my gosh. i hope- i hope- i hope you're doing okay. that's a lot to deal with, though. that is a lot to deal with)

[also, side note. every time pearl calls me gasps i half expect her to call me vyren aka my name even though it would startle me if she randomly did one day. i forget she most likely doesn't know it or how to pronounce it lmao. it's vie-ren, not veer-in]

there's a line from that that keeps replaying in my mind just over and over again

"the world is not kind to you, i feel like"

i just keep repeating it because it's true. the world is not kind to me and i've spoken a little about this. i'll never be healthy or okay and never even had the chance. i was destined the life i live

watching pearl's streams and videos and chatting in her discord server help me forget all of that. i can pretend i'm not sick, that my bones don't scrap together, that the fever is gone [hell, sometimes i can pretend it was never there]. for four hours three times a week, i can pretend

every time i have a health update, pearl always tells me she hopes i get better or at least get an improvement. i always appreciate these moments and hold them close bc despite the fact that i cannot get better, they mean a lot

i'm getting blood tests hopefully in three months to see if i have one disorder. the disorder is incurable and genetic unfortunately. if i do have the disorder [almost 100% likely], we'll see if the meds help with me being sick

[APPRECIATION PART]

pearl, if you end up seeing this, thank you so much for everything. thank you for reading every bits message people send, thank you for spreading positivity, thank you for having a true safe space, thank you for your get well wishes, thank you for being genuinely kind, thank you for just being a good person, thank you for caring, thank you for remembering, thank you for being you

it's hard to come by someone who's a good person, especially in the world we live in today. i'm so happy and proud to be apart of your community that you've created. everyone here is so kind and it's genuinely refreshing

i hope these appreciation posts help you and seeing everything people say in the reblogs, especially on my last one. i'm still getting a lot of notifications from that post

[sometimes i wonder if these posts are too much. if you have an issue with them, pearl, please tell me! i'll stop/tone it down in a heartbeat]

sorry for a long post but at this point y'all know that i have long lost the ability to shut up

#pearlescentmoon #appreciation post #maintagging bc i want her to see this but if she doesn't want to reply that's okay #i just needed to say this #i am once again asking for pearl positivity in the reblogs

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ryuichirou · 4 months

Text

Replies

Some replies! And talking about Fellow some more~

blitzdragonking asked:

Do you perhaps have a discord group?

We don’t really see a point, to be honest. Knowing me, I’m just going to stop by and apologise for not replying to anyone every 6 months or so :(

Anonymous asked:

Hiiiii <3

So I just finished up to the Book Of Circus in Black Butler.

And I am obsessed with it right now, maybe because it's made by Yana -

And I know you have drawn Black Butler before

Do you have a list of who is a top and who is a bottom?

Like who is for twst characters?

And before I end, FINNSNAKE

I saw Finny and Snake here

My two favs, together!! I love them so much!!

Hi Anon! Sorry for the late reply :) This is very good arc, we love it very much! I’m happy you enjoyed it as well.

Finny and Snake are so good!<3 There isn’t a lot of them in Book of Circus (and they haven’t met yet…), but every time we see them we are happy hehe.

When it comes to tops and bottoms, hmmm… not really? To be completely honest, we aren’t super invested in other characters from this arc in terms of shipping, but! I would say Dagger is a top because of that one scene where Snake, I mean EMILY flirted with him. It was a tiny little spark, but I wouldn’t mind seeing them together. I really like the idea of Emily flirting only with guys that Snake himself likes, and Dagger has some similarities to Finny too, so… makes sense in my head >:3

Anonymous asked:

Oh, Fellow, you poor fox…😔

These are the consequences of his own actions…

eh-nonnie-mouse asked:

Gidel just has a way with words Fellow! Looks at his blush complimenting his pretty orange hair and fur. Does Fellow feel loyal to Gidel and does he 'love*' him? Or is it another survival thing? I haven't seen the event yet so I'm speculating and brainstorming.

*love in the case of I take care of you and protect you because I want what's best for us. We've been through some shit but we do it together. Kinda like trauma bond?

(this one is related to this drawing)

Gidel surely knows how to make Fellow blush! Fellow can never get used to it~

You’ve sent this ask a couple of days ago, and I’ve written a post about the event since then, so I am sorry if I repeat myself, but…

We don’t know a lot about their backstory, but I think it’s very fair to say that they have trauma bond. Their connection and care for each other is genuine, and I think Fellow really wants what’s best for both Gidel and himself. Some of NRC boys commented on how their relationship feel very family-like, and you know how it is with us and family-like connections lol I say it every time I talk about the Shrouds, and these have this theme too: it’s you and I against the entire world. It’s beautiful :”)

eh-nonnie-mouse asked:

I am foaming at the mouth!!!! Fellow looks so yummy, his cute little ass gaping, how the curtains match the drapes so so so well. And how he's dripping! Was Lilia the one who got him ready? Because he looks like he can take anything at this point.... even multiple at the same time....🫣

What if this is what Gidel was talking about in your previous post with Fellow and Gidel! As a way to repay these students for what he put them through. Just using his body as payment like usual.

(and this one is about the yesterday’s drawing!)

Thank you so much!! <3 I am very happy you liked it~

Maybe it was Lilia who got him ready, he is the most experienced one, after all. He took one look at the rest of the boys and just figured that the wider the better, cause yeah, some of them might want to share…

But in actuality, what I had in mind is that this is just Fellow’s “natural state” due to his possible other jobs and stuff. The NRC boys barely undressed him, bullied him a little bit and lifted his legs – and he is already at this state. I guess this version is even more cursed.

Oh, for Gidel to suggest such a thing! >:( How very naughty of him.

Anonymous asked:

Idia's kinda got a type...?

Ref, this post: https://www.tumblr.com/ggrocks/751468561403363328/sebek-zigvolt-and-azul-ashengrotto-are-the-same

Just saying, there's something to this...

Oh no… Oh no, these two really do have similarities!!

I guess this is an unintentional type; Idia just keeps stumbling upon stubborn nerds who yell at him and demand him to be obedient.

They’re annoying in the best way possible…

Anonymous asked:

Sorry in advance:

First of all, you should be sorry, second of all, the more I think about it the more it makes sense NOOOOO THIS IS PERFECT

Sebek = Azul? How about Sebek = Shrek…

#replies

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youremyheaven · 1 month

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https://www.tumblr.com/youremyheaven/758348325724585984/princess-here-and-i-have-a-7th-and-8th-house

Not the same person obv but I have moon 7H atmk so I’ll just say my experience

I spend a lot of time thinking about my friends, although it’s hard to tell what the normal amount is bc I can only speak for myself. I’m not someone who comes off as really relationship dependent and I wouldn’t say I’m a doormat or anything like that, but I am quite emotionally invested in my friends/peers. Everything I see reminds me of someone I know and I’m the type to message them about it even if we haven’t spoken in a long time.

Something I have in common with my cap moon 7H bestie is that we spend a LOT of time on Instagram/tumblr/discord/etc talking to people. We used to joke about how she literally didn’t have any hobbies aside texting her friends 😭

If you haven’t already noticed🤪 I also spend a lot of time talking to people online partially because I struggle to do things without guidance. At school I was always that person who would ask their friends for help with homework because I needed to have stuff reexplained to me personally before I understood. As a result, if I’m in a situation where I’m not close with anyone I can have a really hard time. A lot of the time it’s just awkward to not have someone to confide in, but it’s also has been really detrimental to my mental health in the past. Idk if that’s a 7H thing or I’m just a dumbass though😭

Although I will say that we have the ability to have a very varied social group since we are very adaptive to the people around us. Usually not in a massive social group (which I think is more 11H territory) but moreso besties from many different places we’ve picked up along the way. One-on-one relationships are wayyy more important than what the general masses think or other non-social stuff like career ambitions. Kind of like being people oriented without being that society oriented? (Unless there are other 11H placements) I mean society in terms of people your age in your area rather than humanitarian stuff btw

We’re also the type to be really subconsciously influenced by our friends, which I guess applies to everyone to an extent but the idea of “you are who you surround yourself with” does make me think of 7Hers more than anyone else.

I think when they get into relationships (writing this message has made me realise the shear amount of 7H moons I know) they are very devoted even if they’re otherwise a casual non-clingy person. I have a Uttaraashada sun, Purvaashada moon, Ardra asc friend who was always more of a casual independent person who could have sex without getting attached, but now she has a bf, she spends most of her time with him and it’s clear that she’s very caring towards him, even if she doesn’t explicitly say it to us. She even wears a necklace with his initial on it everyday😭 (she’s way out of his league too but that’s a story for another time)

As for 8Hers, I’m not one myself but all the ones I’ve come across are really intense. A lot of them suffer from substance abuse, depression and/or have experienced some weird sexual stuff (I made an ask ageeesss ago talking about my hasta 8H friend who slept with her teacher at 17~18 and was groomed at a young age on a separate occasion- just to name a couple of the things she’s been through). Obv not every 8Her is going to be such an extreme case esp if they don’t have nodal influence, but universally I feel like these people def go through it on some level. Who knows maybe arm guy is hiding some serious lore👀

Omg girlie tysm for sending this ask, it's been very illuminating 😳😳😳😳

I know he's obsessed with his friends 😮‍💨 there's like 10 of them who he grew up with and they're all extremely close and whenever I'm with him, his phone is blowing up with messages from like 20 different group chats 😭 but he's also a complete social butterfly and has like 12 different friend groups 😮‍💨 from completely different areas of life (he has apartment friends, as in, they all live in the same apartment complex and party together??? 😭 granted that he lives in a bougie apartment and this is probably just how moneyed people operate but when I heard it, I was kinda shook, like here's a 24yr old guy hanging out with a bunch of people in their late 20s, 30s and older and just having a good time??) I love how resourceful it makes him because he just always knows who to call and is one of those guys who always knows a guy 👀 but like his schedule is jam packed with people 😩

The worst part is that he's extremely likeable as a person and very popular. No matter the context (like living in an apartment, going to school etc) he's always very well liked by absolutely everyone from teachers to peers. I always thought I was likeable and popular 🤪and then I met him and realised he's on another level 😭😮‍💨

The necklace detail is so cute 🥺🫶🏻

The 8housers ik are also very intense 😵‍💫which is why I feel like I don't know arm guy well enough yet because he's such a laid back chilled out dude with me but I know he carries himself differently with others. I do feel like he's hiding parts of himself 😳 and I know it'll take me a loooong time to fully comprehend what it is 😳 but it doesn't give me fcked up vibes just yet 🏃🏻‍♀️

🤞🏻 hopefully everything will be fine 😭

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aribluart · 5 months

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Obito and Kakashi, and the "topos" of journey- part 1: Obito

(An I-tried-analysis-sorta-meta inspired by literature. Mostly, there will be references to the "Orlando furioso", and only when I finished to write this on Word I noticed that there are even more common elements. Never thought that one day I could find connections between a manga and an Italian chivalric poem, but there it is.) Note: this is very long and I had to divide it in two. Also, Kakashi's part probably makes no sense. Sorry for that. Something that I have always find intriguing, it's the relevance of "topoi". "Topoi" it's the plural form of "topos" (from ancient greek "τοπος", with the meaning of "place"); a "topos" is an element of rethoric, used when talking about "clichés"; more precisely, a "topos" is a recurring narrative theme. A "classic" example is the "locus amouenus", a recurring theme in Latin literature: an ideal place characterized by calm and peace, usually used as setting for poems (i.e: "Eclogues" by Virgil); those were places immersed in the wild nature, most of the time a clearing and were viewed as the only places where one could find true peace and their own"true self". Naturally, the "topoi" can be found in every type of arts, especially in painting. After this harangue of an introduction, let's get to the real analysis. In one of my previous post, I wrote that Obito and Kakashi are human characters. Other than that they are, also, characters who symbolize two different kind of living or, rather, two way to think, apparently discordant together but that can coexist without any problems; in fact, it's not strange that one and the same person agrees with both ways. How many said before, Obito and Kakashi are "the two sides of the same coin". Anyone can have the "gut response" as Obito and the "internalization" as Kakashi. Both reactions can coexist: for example, how many times happens to reply in a rage while, inside, we feel the opposite and hide it?

[Now, let's go back to the "topoi" for a moment: they are too many to keep track and it's impossible to try and make a complete list. This analysis is about the topos of "journey", which include inner, physical and the search for something (i.e: Odysseus's return journey back to Ithaca, Orlando's journey to the moon to retrieve the bottle with his wits)].

Both Obito and Kakashi are characters shaped by an inner journey. With Obito we have a character who, in spite of what's happening around him, he try to bent the world and its events at his will, but always following his initial dreams: bringing peace to the ninja world and rebuilding the society with a new system (like he himself implied in his "talk" with Kakashi when they were kids).

The not insignificant change from when he was a kid, it's the method to fulfill his once dreams. Like I wrote in a previous post, his are understandable reactions. I don't condone in any way his actions and, personally, I don't like how his redemption was done (yes, I'm against capital punishment), he should have had the chance to remedy to his crimes in another way. We readers have the privileged position of an outsider, which let us see the story in its entirety. It's should not be forgotten that the crucial moment that have dyed with darkness his initial dreams happened when Obito was young. At the tender age of thirteen/fourteen, Obito saw his entire world flipped and crumble right before his eyes. To him, Rin's suicide through Kakashi was, indeed, a "wake up to reality" as Madara planned. Obito and Naruto are extremely similar, we all know that, and Obito's reaction its levels far superior to any reactions Naruto has in the manga. Not even a minute after awakening his Mangekyou, Obito use his new abilities with frightening accuracy and instinct, both originated from the understanding that he has nothing left to lose, because he already lost everything: and from here, his obsessive view of the reality it's born. All that initial rage, dismay and loss developed with the years, culminating in the final understanding of the fallacy of the entire world. But, despise having lost everything because of Madara plan (and Obito even exceeded Madara's expectations), Obito has not lost his dreams. Obito is so engrossed by the "infinite Tsukuyomi" project because it's now the only way and method he has to achieve those dreams. There's something that it's not talked about enough, and it's that even dreams have two face. The world isn't and has never been totally good or bad, but is both; and everything has its pro and cons. Obviously, to Obito the cons of the project "infinite Tsukuyomi" are nothing in comparison to the pros. Naruto defined his actions, justifiably, as selfish and egocentric. But this selfishness and egotism are nothing more than a brew of a "negative" journey. Okay, so, how I wrote above, the "journey" it's a typical theme in literature. A "journey" bring change, inner and external, and there are countless examples of this. In this post, the focus is on the "inner journey" which, usually, involves the search for something, a recurring theme in "chivalric romance". Mostly, the "inner journey" it's always "positive": the main character is searching for something that could help them, or something that can be useful for the common good. Obito's journey is the opposite: the start has a good purpose as goal, but his journey has a rocky "middle" and soon it dismantles what make him Obito. It's no coincidence if his journey is portrayed with the assuming of different identities: the "leader", conferred by Madara (and we could easily define that scene as a "knighting ceremony") and the "Harlequin" (yes, I called Tobi "Harlequin" for a specific reason). But, maybe there is a third identity, the "maestro", that we could consider the closest to the real Obito. His journey bring Obito to an annihilation of his "ego" (I'm sorry, I swear I don't want to talk about philosophy and psychology. From now on in this analysis, I'll use "self" instead of "ego"), an attempt to "destroy" himself and that bring him to later identify himself as "nobody" (and I realize that I made a prior reference to Odysseus...again, not my initial intent). But, as I wrote above, the dreams and wishes of Obito remained the same after the years, it's the method to achive them that has changed. He is still the same old Obito, even though Kakashi doesn't think so (at first). Obito it's the same Obito of the past because his "self" has remained the same. Obito's journey starts as "negative" and it ends "positive"; its a journey that took him to the understanding of what is the growth of a person, the awareness that we change physically but our core (i.e: our emotions and our ideals) it's the same, just "matured", even if we hide it.

#naruto #obito uchiha #kakashi hatake #obikaka #obkk #aribluart's meta #kakaobi #kkob #I just find out that tumblr has a words's limit to...#will probably edit this/especially for the grammar

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eternitylarva · 29 days

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okay, so uh. danbooru anon. deciding not to be anon now. it's me! here's the full story, as much as I think I can remember and tell, at least. buckle up?

so this all started, I think, back in like... I wanna say 2018? we were having a hell of a bad time in our life because of being trapped in Mexico by our parents who were very insistent upon us learning Spanish and refused to recognize that we were horribly mentally ill (their fault mostly) and that spending months in an unfamiliar country when we were already scared to talk to people in the language we already knew, was, like, not helping anything, at all... Long story for some other time.

so while being there, lonely and shit, we started looking at various anime images when not, like, watching anime. Partially on twitter, partially on pixiv, and partially on deviantart. We were, for the record, like, 19, not yet egg cracked, not plural cracked, not any of these things yet. Nonetheless all these things were making us very hyperaware of our kinks and making us wonder what the fuck we even were. Our egg cracked after about a year of exposure, to which I credit a lot of things in hindsight, but they're all of or related to anime. Monogatari, houseki no kuni, Madoka, FLCL Progressive, that one scene from the second-to-last chapter of Bloom Into You being circulated online with a fan coloring and extremely confusing us and making us dysphoric, and the nail in the eggshell was joining The Pedantic Romantic's discord server and the many other trans people there making us wonder if maybe this trans of gender thing was how everything could be made some fucking sense of.

But also one other very important contribution to our Extreme Aaah Gender Feelings was one specific image of Nagisa Madoka Magica groping Mami's breast and nomfing her hair. We found this on deviantart, and, at some point, it went missing, the artist's account got nuked, and we were not able to find it again.

Except we were! thanks to danbooru! someone had saved it there. Here it is.

So, this particular experience convinced us that danbooru was instrumental in archiving anime fanart. Eventually we came across some different more active artists whose yuri shipping works were giving us more different gender euphoria, but no one was uploading it there, so I decided we'd best be the change we want to see. etc

Anyway this is where the problems start. Because it turns out danbooru is not an archival site. It's not run like one, it's not intended to be one. (or if it is intended to be one, then it fucking sucks at doing that.) It's a closed community of people (seemingly mostly lonely cis men) who want to maintain an ongoing gallery of the hot anime girls they like.

Consistent with this apparent aim is their (frankly fucking stupid) system of upload limits. You can read how that works for yourself, if you want, but in a nutshell, it means that as a new user you have to get your posts approved in the moderation queue before they're visible, and you can only have so many uploaded to the queue at a time. The more pictures you get approved, the more you get to keep uploading, and if your uploads go unapproved by the moderators, you get penalized with less permitted uploads. If enough of your images get approved and few enough of them are deleted (they're not really deleted per se, just, banished to invisibility in the site's search unless you specifically search for the deleted images), then, eventually you become a "Contributor" which basically means you can bypass this nonsense system and upload however much of whatever you like whenever.

They claim that this system is to prevent people from spamming the site with too many low quality images. But the thing is, the moderators aren't actually obligated to approve images, and most of them only approve an image if they like it. So, this results in a dynamic where, rather than uploading something that meets a reasonable standard of quality and being sure it'll go through, you have to guess what the moderators personally like, and hope to god that you're correct. If your tastes align with the mods, this is probably a cakewalk. If not, then, well, you have to fuck around.

I eventually noticed that there's a discord server, so, in an effort to get an edge in this piece-of-shit mind game, I joined there and got friendly with the regulars. Asking them and the admins for help helped me figure out what to put up there, and, it turns out, that if you're willing to talk there, you can just, like, share the image you want to upload and ask if it's likely to make it through approval. Sometimes you get lucky enough for a moderator to say "go ahead, I'll approve that". Easy win! kinda. if you ignore the having to join another goddamned discord server.

...still, for a little bit, it went fine, they seemed nice enough, I was open about my queer identity and none of them gave me shit about it, so I was like... this is fine, right? they're fine. they seem fine. There were at least a couple who seemed like good people, and I thought, yeah. Fine.

It was all going just fine and dandy, except that I didn't like having to talk to people, I found the whole process of getting approved tedious, and I was also noticing some of the site admins talking about how the immense backlog created by the general inaction of most of the mods was causing problems for like, the one or two moderators who actually try to keep up with the backlog and approve everything that's basically fine, and also even the regulars really don't seem to like this system, but not one person questioned... the need for the upload limit system in the first place? or why they couldn't just... delete spam on a case by case basis (I've looked time and again; it's really not that common, most of the shit that gets uploaded is just, fine), instead of screening everything for possible subjective spaminess?

Like, if Wikipedia, instead of reacting to vandals after they've done things (like they do here in reality) went and manually reviewed EVERY SINGLE EDIT for possible vandalism, and then y'know, a bunch of the Wikipedia admins took this as license to just, delete edits that say true things they don't like? And then everyone had to like, carefully police their edits to ensure that they fit with the personal views of the admins most likely to approve them? Like... that would suck for editors, and also would not fucking work and make a lot of unnecessary bullshit busywork for everyone involved, and also is basically exactly how danbooru works.

Honestly I am still flabbergasted that they just run the site this way. Like how has no one stopped and questioned this. Why the fuck are they still doing this. Sincerely: danbooru admins, what the fuck is wrong with you? You don't have to do this! I-agh. I didn't even get to the transphobia. Okay. uh

So anyway at some point in the discord server I took a swing at suggesting a more inclusive approach to tagging the genders of characters who appear in images (another questionable system that maybe doesn't need to exist, but whatever), Bridget Guilty Gear came up, many of the regulars openly complained about how a flame war over her gender tag starts any time anyone uploads a picture of her, and eventually, one of the admins responded to me like this:

I saw right then that there was no way I was winning this discussion, so I left an :| emoji on the message to express my disapproval and promptly exited the discord server. I then spiraled a bit for a few days, had an internalized transphobia panic attack that I manifested in a vent thread on bluesky, and then talked over my feelings on the situation with our girlfriend who expressed sympathy but also said "i told you so, y'know" and also emphasized to me, "you need to accept it's not an archival site. it's a closed circle of assholes" and I said, "yeah, I know"

Anyway, I uploaded a little bit more after that, and eventually got promoted to "Contributor" status, after which point (this was back in November of last year) I have uploaded a total of... maybe 60 times? give or take. The fact that I no longer need to go through the approval queue means that I do not need to fuck with the mods in any way shape or form, and, y'know, I prefer that. I do not like the site's community, but like, it's a thing I use, and I'm gonna keep making use of their servers to host my particular special little girls for as long as they keep the servers online, I guess. And I mean, also, I guess everything I post there is inevitably getting mirrored on some other site, so. Yeah

...I mean I guess it also helps that I know nothing about guilty gear and don't follow any artists who draw Bridget. At least not currently. so

I hope this has answered all of your questions!

Thank you very much for writing all of this up. It was a fascinating read! I've been a casual Danbooru user for over a decade at this point, just using it to search for art of characters I liked or posing/framing inspiration for my own creative outlets. I too treat it like an archival site, but I've always got the vibe that it was mostly run by what I can most charitably describe as weirdos -- and it's eye-opening to hear just how backwards their systems are. I'm sorry you had to endure all of that over the years.

As for Bridget, I was pretty dialed in to the discourse on the site when it cropped up. Though I don't ever interact with the community, there was so much debate about her on the comments of some pieces that I was compelled to seek out the forums to see what they were talking about. It was largely the same as the experience you had with that Discord mod, I'm afraid. Supposedly, you tag what you see, unless you know the character is a "trap", then you tag what you know, unless that character is Bridget and she doesn't have visible breasts, vagina, or trans colours/themeing in the art. Yes, that seems to be the current compromise as of time of writing. The 1girl/1boy/2girls/etc. tagging scheme is really bizarre and they really need better solutions. Penises are considered a boy-only feature in their tagging system, but "futanari" exists and it gets the girl tag still. Is that tagging what they see or what they know? But every so often the discussion comes up on the forums again and the regulars defend the status quo because, well, to them it's a "ain't broke don't fix it" sort of situation.

Anyway, thank you again for this. It's not a website I get to discuss often or think about much, but since it's been in my life for so long, it's been rather interesting to get another side of it. Keep up the good work on archiving your special blorbos! o7

#danbooru #she speaks #I am tagging this for my own archival purposes but hm I guess the tag means it becomes searchable #EDIT: ALSO PEDANTIC ROMANTIC AAAA that takes me back I wonder how she's doin these days

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philliam-writes · 1 year

Text

on that tree i'll carve our names (02)

pairing: Omins Gaunt x fem! Hufflepuff Reader / Sebastian Sallow x Male MC

summary: Call lowers his eyes to Sebastian’s, and they trade a look that feels like a dare. He realises he enjoys the challenge hidden behind those words; this little game of cat and mouse, except they both think they are the cat. Sebastian is sharp as a whip—but Call has lived the first decade of his life in a house divided where walls are thin and dealing with secrets becomes a delicate business of life and death.

notes: [01] | [03]

words: 4.9k

a/n: thank you so much everybody who left a like and a little comment!! the brainrot goes so hard, there hasn't been a day where i wasn't thinking of HL or jotting thoughts about the fanfic. also reading A LOT so if you can recommend me good fanfics, i WILL EAT

02: blackthorn makes the soul yearn

The room still spins when you climb to your feet, eyes fixed on anything but the Slytherin boy. Lucan Brattleby, for the first time since you have known him, seems to be at a loss for words. The other students have already begun casting Reparo on the destroyed objects, the giant pendulum swinging at an ankle as though barely hanging on by a thread, setting things back into order before a teacher comes up and sees the havoc you have caused.

“Does this mean we have a draw?” Lucan thinks aloud, holding tightly onto his little ledger with the bets written inside. His voice almost drowns under the turmoil of other voices.

“What was that?”

“Did you see the power of that spell?”

“Felt like some really advanced magic.”

Advanced magic? No, this felt like magic at its deepest, its most impenetrable. Old, very old.

Involuntarily, your eyes move to St. Jude. From across the room, he’s staring at you, wide-eyed and breathing hard. It frightens you how easily you can read his expression now, and it scares you more that some part of it might be mirrored on your own face before you can guard yourself against that emotion.

He looks at you as if you are the answer. As if should he trace your name, it would spell home. As though he has been waiting for you all his life. You feel sick.

“Once we’ve cleared the place, we’ll resume the duel!” Lucan announces to the crowd, trying to appease them before they pounce onto him and demand their money back.

You feel your stomach churn, cold sweat running down your back. The cheering crowd is the last drop falling into the overflowing cauldron, spilling its toxic concoction.

“I forfeit!” you bellow. A deathlike hush falls over the room. “I forfeit the match!”

The silence lasts for about a second before the crowd explodes with discord. You push Lucan to the side, who sticks to you like a tick trying to persuade you to continue. Those who have bet on you are even less happy. You duck away from their glares, marching towards Javi who’s thrown your robe over his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. You don’t even know where to begin. How to begin to explain something you don’t understand yourself, your head a spinning container for wildly running thoughts you can’t get a hold of. For now you need to get out of here, into the Hufflepuff common room because that’s where he can’t follow—

In a flash, someone’s hand snakes out and seizes your wrist. The room comes into sudden focus. St. Jude has a wild, expecting gaze, hungry in a way that makes you immediately want to redraw your wand and throw him to the other side of the room.

“We need to talk,” he says, his voice hoarse. He holds his head slightly lowered and looks at you with his grey eyes from under thick, dark lashes.

You pry your wrist from his hold. “We have nothing to talk about.” You tear your robe from Javi’s hold, cramming your arms through the robe’s sleeves as though you’re putting on an armour. Out of the corner of your eyes you notice Javi rising to his feet, ready to step in.

St. Jude doesn’t spare him a glance. He lowers his voice, and you can her the tremble in it, how much effort it takes him to form this one little word. “Please.”

So there is reason one why you agree; or rather you convince yourself it is one of the reasons why you agree: he does something so uncharacteristically for a Slytherin; he asks. But secondly, and most important, you have to destroy this feeling by its roots; cut it off, burn it. Tear down the walls, don’t keep it in. You will not be afraid of him, of any man as long as you breathe.

Drawing your shoulders up, you jut your chin towards the Clock Tower Courtyard. “Five minutes.” Leaving no room for protests or complaints, you lead the way, swiftly dodging a floating wooden plank on its way to reattach to a bench. Quick steps hurry after you, tripping over themselves in their haste to catch up. The Clock Tower Courtyard is deserted this late in the evening, most students are still gathered inside the tower, cleaning up after the fight. The first stars twinkle through a wispy cloud cover, impatient to be the witnesses to your conversation.

St. Jude slumps onto the fountain at the centre, rubbing at his eyes as though he can force whatever exhaustion he’s feeling from the battle away. Yet there’s an energy you feel strumming in his bones as though he’s a high-strung fuse ready to blow. When he looks back at you expectantly, you make sure there’s an arm’s length of space between you when settle against the fountain.

“That’s it.” When you glance his way, he’s nodding at your wand as he speaks. “That’s the other wand, isn’t it?”

You have the urge to hide it away inside your pocket, away from his prying eyes. “So?”

“Mr. Ollivander only said—”

“Mr. Ollivander’s got a few screws loose, it doesn’t matter what he said.” It comes out harsher than intended, followed by a sharp twinge of guilt towards the old man who has been nothing but kind.

St. Jude takes a deep breath. Maybe his patience with you will run out first and he’ll leave you alone, realising whatever it is that he wants from you, you can’t give him. “All he said was I would meet someone connected to my wand.” He twirls it between his long, slender fingers. He’s wearing a ring which glints whenever it catches the light from the castle, winking at you. “And once I’d meet them—her, the Hawthorn girl he’d said, then I would get an explanation.”

“That’s a great way to leave the responsibility to someone else,” you grumble. St. Jude huffs as though saying Tell me about it. And it’s true, you’ve seen him run errands for a couple other students—for money, which you can’t really hold against him with your own little side business. But you also don’t understand why he bothers at all. He doesn’t strike you as someone who’s suffering from chronic People Pleasing. Knowing you have something common with him leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. “It’s not as though I know everything about it,” you continue. “Apart from a story Mr. Ollivander told me when he first handed me my wand five years ago.”

Now St. Jude fully turns to you, waiting. Just watching. His silver yes glint like the stars above.

“A long time ago, there was a kingdom. The king and his wife were generous, benevolent rulers beloved by their people. They could have anything they wanted, yet what their heart yearned for the most, they could not have.”

You pause, frowning. Up until now, you couldn’t even remember small details from the story. But now, next to St. Jude, it’s like a stone cracking a dam. Words pour out, a spray of water backed with the force of a river. You stare down at your wand in your hand. Maybe it’s not really you telling the story.

“No matter how often they tried, the queen could not conceive a child. In their desperation, they sought out a witch. She agreed to help, as long as they promised that should they at any point conceive a second child, that child would belong to the witch, for she was alone and lonely, and wanted nothing more than a child herself. To love and nourish, to pass on her secrets from the bog, of the rockroses and thistles. In their desperation the king and queen agreed, thinking that with one child only, their happiness would be fulfilled and therefore they would not have to keep their promise to the witch.

“So when the time came, the queen gave birth to not one, but two children. Beautiful twin boys. The kingdom celebrated for weeks and during those few days, the king and queen were the happiest people. They forgot their vow to the witch, so when she came to claim one boy, the king refused. He would go so far as to take up arms to protect his family. Of course that could not stop the witch. Angered by the broken vow she swore that she would return and stole one of the twin boys to her bog.

“The witch loved the boy as if he was her own, and he grew up to be a handsome man, kind and with a natural talent to her craft. The witch never kept from him the truth that he was the king and queen’s son. That he was heir to the throne. That he has a brother, and that one day, all that could belong to him. That he could return to his family any time if he wished so, for she wasn’t cruel. She loved him, and she wanted him happy. But the boy never wished for any of it. He was content with his surrogate mother, loved their humble home out in the wild. He had heard from the foxes and crows of how cruel the king had become, greedy and ruling with a cold iron-fist. No, he wanted no part of a cursed kingdom like that.

“One day, when he was out to collect herbs for a potion, his brother came to his home, for he was told that his brother was taken by an evil witch who steals children and eats them. He slew the witch who would never have harmed her son’s brother. When her son come home and found her dead, the pain of her loss tore him apart. He swore vengeance. He rode out and challenged his own brother, and they fought for days and days until finally, their swords pierced each other’s hearts. And where they slew each other, the earth drank their blood, and there, from one seed, grew a hawthorn and blackthorn tree.” Your mouth is dry, your lips parched from so much talking. “Our wands are made from that tree. One hawthorn, one blackthorn. Or so the story goes.”

The silence that falls is deafening. You feel a little light-headed after recounting that tale, confused and weirdly shaking with anticipation as though after speaking these words aloud, a century-long closed vault has been unlocked and the hidden contents set free.

Beside you, St. Jude is very quiet. He’s staring out at the courtyard, unblinking. He seems as far away as the stars twinkling above you in the black sky as though laughing at whatever strange tale is unfolding; as though already knowing how the story will end yet undecided if to call it a comedy or tragedy.

Finally, St. Jude exhales very, very slowly. “What exactly does this mean for us?”

You sit up a little straighter. “Nothing. It’s just an old tale. There is no us.” The word scrapes along your spine like a jagged knife.

“You felt that,” he says, his voice urgent. “There’s more to this than just a story.”

“You want to believe that, don’t you?” You try swallowing down the irritation, but you have never been good at keeping down your scorn when it comes to believing old tales. The paper cut that kills one, the priest that one ignores; listening to voices of the deep, joining the wolves that circle around the sheep. Don’t point at the moon or your ears get cut off, don’t whistle at night or wandering spirits will carry you off. Your mother’s voice is a raging cacophony thrumming in your head, stirring and probing in a flesh wound that hides your heart. “In a blood feud? Fratricide, by Merlin’s beard.” You unhitch yourself from the fountain and start pacing. “Someone must have come up with the story to make the wands more exciting, that’s all there is.”

“And if it’s not? What if it’s real?” St. Jude’s voice is calm in comparison to your agitation. It makes you even angrier to see him this composed, so full of himself. To believe in superstition and words that have lied dead for so long speaking them now kicks up age-old dust that makes you choke. “I don’t think we are meant to follow in their steps and duel each other to death. But there is more to the connection. Maybe an end to the feud.”

You roll your eyes so hard you get a headache. He gives you a headache. “Rubbish. Why us? We’re just kids.”

St. Jude’s eyelashes flutter as he lowers his eyelids, looking like a martyr put on the cross. Infuriatingly, transcendently beautiful; you don’t know what to do with something so naturally beautiful except maybe corrupt it.

“Providence,” he then whispers. “The wand chooses its owner.”

You bark out a hollow laugh, ghastly and horrible in the growing night. “You think this is a prophecy? You think we are meant to do something?” You stop pacing, shaking your head wildly as though trying to snap your own neck. Paying attention to prophecy is like tossing real diamonds in the air mixed with shards of broken glass. The grab is rarely worth the injury. “You’re wrong.”

Finally, St. Jude looks up. There’s a blaze in his eyes, a roaring fire, threatening to consume you. “You are afraid,” he says slowly, understanding dawning. “Of what? Fate?” He leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and intertwining his long fingers. “Me?”

“I’m afraid your ego might be a little too big for you to handle.” You brush dirt from your robes, meticulously taking care that no crease sits in the wrong spot just so you don’t have to look at him. You fear all your secrets will be plain on your face for him to read. “This conversation is over, St. Jude. I’m wasting my time here.”

You really should have known better than to allow him to step inside your life. This was a mistake, one you don’t intend to repeat. You turn towards the Clock Tower, ready to leave when you hear him stand up behind you.

“You’re going to ignore it? Just like that?” St. Jude calls after your, and he has the gall to sound accusatory—where has his calm gone? Nothing of the composed boy remains, he looks furious. Betrayed, even. He looks like he is one argument away from a scream.

You whirl around, your tone taunt like a bowstring drawing back a poison-tipped arrow. “What did you expect? Do you think you’re the main character of some story? That we’re on a big, great adventure? Grow up, St. Jude! Stop bothering me because you wish any of this was real!”

Before he can say anything, you go—flee, almost, and make sure to bump bodily into Sebastian Sallow’s shoulder who’s standing in the shadows of the Clock Tower’s passageway, waiting for St. Jude. It feels good to lash out, to do something with that raging anger thrumming under your skin, always kept on a leash, and nothing gets your blood quite boiling like the sight of Sallow parading around as though he owns the place.

You can’t deal with these expectations, all based on nothing but a tale. If Callum St. Jude wants to play hero, you don’t want to get involved.

With your nerves on fire and raw, you don’t notice the boy until it’s too late—you walk right into a Slytherin who has his back to you. After what just happened, seeing the colour green only stokes the raging fire in your chest. “Watch where you’re going,” you snap at him, voice loud enough it draws the attention of a few other students.

The boy turns. You immediately recognise him and feel the ground give way under your feet. “As you can see,” the boy—not just a boy, Ominis Gaunt, says calmly, his voice colder than the Black Lake in winter, “I can’t.”

A burst of laughter explodes around you. Of course with all your luck today, you had to encounter the third of the infamous Silver Trio. There’s not a single soul at Hogwarts that doesn’t know the name of Ominis Gaunt, heir to the House of Gaunt and descendant of one of Hogwarts’ founders: Salazar Slytherin.

Heat rushes to your cheeks. You’re painfully aware you’re standing too close to him, right at the centre of a Slytherin group that stalks around you like hungry hyenas ready to pounce on their prey—and that’s new, since when are snakes pack hunters?

Gaunt tilts his head towards the crowd only so slightly, his brow slightly furrowed as if he doesn’t quite understand the joke everybody is laughing about. His unseeing eyes are set ahead of him, unblinking, like a silver coin glinting off moonlight.

You can’t even bring up a half-hearted apology, feeling like you’re drowning in the turmoil swirling inside you. You’re not sure what it is you’re feeling. Something like anger, but with far more shame attached. Anger as a means of defence, anger you know is completely misplaced. But still you sneer at him, “All that pure-blood you Slytherins pride yourself on and you can’t even find your way around without being on Sallow’s leash like a dog?”

He halts. For a moment, you think his eyes settle on you, but then they graze over your head and he moves—fluid, abrupt, and far too close. You can practically—no, definitely smell him. Earl Gray tea, the breeze of the black lake, and something else, something sweet you can’t place. You grow very still, as though despite being unable to see, he might sense your slightest move. “Careful.” His voice is quiet. Lethal. Just a drop of poison in a tea cup left to do its work. “Dogs on a leash have the most vicious bites.”

Ominis steps away, as though nothing has happened. You expel air very, very slowly. What is that intoxicating sweet smell on him? Subtle, but fogging up your brain and making it hard to think.

Javi appears at your side, nudging your elbow. The crowd is dispersing, everybody is returning to their common rooms.

“Come one, Gaunt, let’s go before more rats from that piss-yellow house show up,” a Slytherin boy says—none other than one of the Malfoy siblings you have the misfortune to be in the same year, Tiberius Malfoy. He and his sister, Drusilla, are both Chasers for the Syltherin team, playing dirty at every opportunity and cheating through every test. They’re cruel, think their good looks and family name can excuse anything, and have no shame or conscience setting Muggle-born students’ robes on fire whenever they feel like it.

Ominis pulls out his wand, its pointy tip flashing red as he moves—seemingly ignoring his fellow housemate, he manoeuvres smoothly through the web of passing students towards the Clock Tower Courtyard, undoubtedly in search of his surrogate pair of eyes, Sallow.

You don’t miss Malfoy struggling, face flushed, to keep his anger under control at being ignored, dismissed, like that. When he notices your eyes on him, he snarls, “What are you looking at, filthy half-breed?” Boiling with anger, he can’t even think of a more creative way to insult you.

With the adrenaline still coursing through your body, and everyone’s hunger for a proper fight, maybe you should continue right where you left off and blast Malfoy a new second hole between his legs.

Javi, sensing you’re a walking landmine ready to maim Malfoy with the next wrong step, he swings a broad arm around your shoulder and leads you towards the exit. “See you on the field, Malfoy,” he beams at the Slytherin, if only to relish at his repulsed expression.

Javi has stopped caring about being called Mudblood or whatever other slur other students fixated on pure-blood supremacy call him. You’re proud of him for that, remembering his weeping, small form during the first year before he grew a thick skin—and big hands strong enough to break Malfoy’s neck.

“We’re going to put them into the hospital wing, right?” you say, turning your head up to Javi and smiling at him as you make your way through the narrow hallway towards (place away from Clock Tower).

Javi grin up at the starlit sky. “Oh, for sure.”

~ ⋆｡°✩ ~

Callum drops into the warm, cushioned armchair, long legs stretched out in front of the fireplace. Most students from his house have retreated inside their bed chambers, leaving the common room empty safe for a few in a last desperate effort to finish their homework.

The sound of quills scratching against parchment and the quiet crackling of the fire turn Call’s eyes heavy as lead. His head keeps lolling forward as though he doesn’t have the strength to keep it up anymore. The sparks flickering inside the fireplace remind him of the battle, of vicious Confringos and the last one, an Expulso that surely would have blasted him to bits. He still smells the char from the blown up furniture, the smoke and fire.

With your moods as changeable as sparks, he had expected a challenging fight. He did not expect to blow up the Clock Tower. Or that his wand would conjure a magic stranger than the ancient magic that would bind him to a person so clearly despising the mere idea of a secret that begs to be unveiled and solved.

He’s had six years growing used to it, and still it is the strangest feeling when magic starts to work on one. And this one, unlike the ancient magic that feels like a clear spring welling up after a long cold winter, feels like a hook in his stomach. Pulling him towards you, the need to touch and hold. To rip your ribcage open and fall into you.

Rubbing the spot on his chest above his heart, Call thinks back on your expression when your wands connected, on your harsh words after you finished the story of the hawthorn and blackthorn brothers.

Growing up in a place where surviving every day relied on growing acutely attuned to the moods of other people, Call knows what he saw in your defiant eyes: fear. Of him? Of the truth?

If anyone had told Call six years ago that he would not only be the only one to see and wield ancient magic, but also own a century old wand with such a special story, he’d laughed in their face.

The St. Jude Orphanage does not produce special children. Those leaving the institute are never meant for great things. Usually thrown out at the age of eighteen with little to no education, they become society’s scapegoats. Newsboys, shoe polishers, the work house. Thieves, drug addicts, prostitutes, criminals.

Call knows he would have met the same fate were it not for Professor Fig who had saved him from a life of diseases and unspeakable atrocities. Even today, Call still remembers every orphan from his home that died to fever, who ran away trying their luck out on the street only to be found swimming face-down along the Thames—if they were found at all. Who were beat to death by their caretakers for disobedience.

Without Professor Fig appearing at the orphanage’s door one day, Call would have followed that same fate. Instead, he was allowed to step into a life full of wonder and magic, of everything he once thought impossible suddenly within reach. Six years later, and Call still has not eaten his fill of the Wizarding world, waking up every morning feeling even hungrier for all the marvel waiting for him.

“Knut for your thoughts?” comes a drawling voice from his left. Callum, his eyes half closed from exhaustion, barely moves to acknowledge Sebastian Sallow’s presence, which in turn is rewarded by a slap to his legs to pull them back and make room for Sebastian on the rug in front of the fireplace. “You’ve been awfully quiet since the duel.” Sebastian makes himself comfortable on the rug right in front of the fire. Call can’t imagine it’s that comfortable. The stones of the Slytherin dungeons seem impenetrably cold, as if housing centuries worth of its inhabitants’ seclusion—a den of snakes shedding their skin for the new day to come.

“Just a lot on my mind.” Call stretches his limbs like a cat, sinking further into the cushions. If he doesn’t move to his bed soon, he might as well just fall asleep right here. “We’re still missing a Crossed Wands Champion.”

Sebastian hums thoughtfully. He’s sitting cross-legged before the fire, having taken off his robe sometime along the evening. Call watches the flame’s light dance over his face, drawing soft shadows over Sebastian’s handsome features. “I think you had a good chance. I should teach you Confringo some time so you can start dealing some serious damage.” He braces his elbow on one knee and puts his chin into his palm. “A shame the Hufflepuff turned tail and ran.”

Call gives a non-committal hum. He doesn’t really think you’ve run away; he thinks you’ve saved up the actual fight for a later time judging by the way you wear your strange, rough beauty like war paint.

“So,” Sebastian continues, “what did you two talk about?” He makes it sound so casual, just a polite question among friends, but Call has already figured out that nothing about Sebastian Sallow is casual. Just like when he smiles, it seems that it hides something beneath it that belies his composure.

Sebastian Sallow is . . . intriguing, to say the least. When they duelled on Call’s first day, it wasn’t as though he had flawlessly given Sebastian his Galleons for the run—even though the whole of Hogwarts begs to differ. But there was an immediate connection, an easy back and forth that felt almost familiar. When Sebastian managed to hit Call with Levioso, and instead of unleashing a flurry of spells, he had said, “What are you doing up there?” in a playful voice tinged with mirth as if they were both in on a joke and he’d found himself up there rather due to unfortunate circumstances than at the hands of Sebastian.

Travelling with Professor Fig has always been a great joy for Call, but now with Sebastian, he’s for the first time surrounded by a boy his own age. A charming, handsome boy with a tongue richer than honey and gilded words easily potting Call to follow him into any mischief.

He wonders how many secrets he’ll have to keep by the end of this year, his own and others. To Sebastian, he only says, “She wasn’t feeling well.”

Sebastian considers him for a long moment, then throws his head back and laughs out loud, a rich and alluring sound in the dark that has Call leaning forward as though he could put it in a bottle. He has a hard time looking away from Sebastian’s neck, from the chords of his muscles tensing as he leans back and props himself up on his arms.

“Wasn’t feeling well?” Sebastian chortles. “I’ve seen that blasted girl hang onto her broom in a game after getting her nose broken by an opposing player’s foot. All just to win the game. Trust me, she doesn’t just quit because she feels unwell.”

Splaying across the couch, fingers intertwining, Callum asks with a smile, “Do my ears deceive me? Is that admiration I hear?”

Sebastian scoffs. “It was our team that lost the game. Someone ought to teach her when it’s best to quit.”

Callum seriously doubts quitting exists in your vocabulary. Judging from the way you fight, you’re a hurricane, and no natural force simply stops without causing havoc and fatalities in its wake, nor does it yield to man’s pleas.

“That means,” Sebastian continues leisurely, flicking his gaze at the flowering embers in the fireplace, “either she lied to you.” His eyes flicker towards Call, his gaze sharpens like a hound on the scent, sending Call’s heart into his throat. “Or you are lying to me.”

Call lowers his eyes to Sebastian’s, and they trade a look that feels like a dare. He realises he enjoys the challenge hidden behind those words; this little game of cat and mouse, except they both think they are the cat. Sebastian is sharp as a whip—but Call has lived the first decade of his life in a house divided where walls are thin and dealing with secrets becomes a delicate business of life and death.

One would think because he grew up with nothing, Callum would want everything. But he doesn’t. He’s always been fine with settling for less. Just this one time though, he’ll allow himself to be selfish.

He wonders if it’s the magic or something sitting far beneath his ribcage, fragile like a bird’s wings and just as easily destructible, but he knows two souls don’t find each other by simple accident.

a/n: that was a lot of exposition, so with the next chapter we'll finally tackle the characters and their dynamics and i can't wait

#hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x male mc #sebastian x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x y/n #ominis x reader #ominis x you #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #phill.hc #sebastian sallow x oc

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