#its not a starry au unless its got a read more

[starry-bi-sky]

I am procrastinating homework and finals studying so I'm making another DPxDC au -- or more accurately, I am making an au of an au. or combining two aus to make a third one, because I am Procastinating And thinking about it.

(the part two for my Danny is Jason Todd au is like,,, half-made and I will get around to finishing it, promiiissse)

So the two aus I had in mind were combining, of course, the two clone aus - the Danny Clone and the Damian Clone au. For folks who haven't seen either posts (or saw one but not the other) here are summaries of both:

Damian Clone Au: The LoA make a clone of Damian Wayne specifically to either kill Damian Wayne and have the clone take his place as the heir to the LoA, or to bring him back. At 6 years old though and through magical teleportation mishaps, Baby Damian ends up in the warehouse district of Amity Park and picked up (and later adopted) by Danny Fenton. They develop a brotherly dynamic with one another.

Danny Clone Au: Danny is straight up a clone of Bruce Wayne, doesn't find out until a year after he has his accident. And, for the fun of it, is also mostly-powerless (he retains his ghost sense and a semblance of a ghost core and signature, but no ghost form). His reasoning for becoming Phantom is because he has walked into the lab watching his parents dissecting ghosts post-portal working more times than he can count. And due to this, changes his beliefs from "ghosts are evil" to "ghosts are sentient and sapient beings who don't deserve this treatment". (masterpost pinned on my blog, its currently incomplete) He is also a little GNC, as a treat. Long-haired Danny ftw. Ellie is a halfa because of the ectoplasm that Vlad used, and also the same age as Danny. They call each other twins and she is viciously protective of him. He uses a baseball bat and brass knuckles that I call 'jawbreakers' to fight ghosts.

Now admittedly, not much probably changes with the combination of these aus other than the potential parallels between Damian and Danny, and Bruce and Damian - and of course, I am always a sucker for parallels. Plus Damian's running off would take Danny finding him much longer, since he can no longer fly, but all the more meaningful because he still took so much time to find him.

(It probably also makes their first meeting different as well - Danny wears a ROTTMNT Casey Jones Jr. esq. mask when he goes out, but Damian would recognize lazarus green anywhere. He'd probably try harder to kill him though once he sees his face, since he knows that its not his father but an imposter.)

It also includes what I consider a hilarious conversation: "Since I'm a clone of Bruce Wayne, does this make me your dad or your brother?" "Don't be an idiot, laeazir." "You didn't answer my question."

The biggest change that comes from this is, of course, the fact that Danny now no longer has a leg to stand on with the "you're a human, I am a ghost" excuse in order to prevent Damian to help him with ghost-fighting, because now Danny is also a squishy, fleshy and fragile human just like Damian. And a human who, arguably, has less combat training than Damian and no powers to make up for it.

Now, Danny in both aus are about 16-17-ish in age, so they've had time to adapt to their new vigilante-hero lifestyle, but its still not the same as Damian's training as an assassin. Damian, unlike in the original clone au, remains insistent on his want to help Danny.

And,,, eventually wears him down after weeks or months of sneaking out after him, helping in fights, interfering, arguing, etc. Danny eventually agrees, exhausted, but he makes Damian promise, promise, that he will be careful and to focus on dodging and distraction. At least until Danny can figure out a safer alternative. He wants him as far removed from the fight as he can, he's a child for ancient's sake, after all.

Which is another issue too - if we follow Damian Clone timeline, then Damian is six years old when this happens. I'll be point blank, I do not see Danny ever actually agreeing to let a literal 6 year old go with him. SO, solution, I bump Damian's age to 7 when he arrives in the Fenton Family, and make him freshly eight years old when he finally gets Danny to agree.

It still SUCKS. He is still very much an itty bitty child, but as someone who has seen the difference between a six year old and an eight year old due to working at a daycare, an eight year old is still... slightly feasible. And an 8 year old assassin even more so (even if he hasn't trained properly in nearly a year or so)

So Danny, reluctantly, agrees to let Damian come with him on patrols.

He ghost-proofs Damian's sword (as he has since learned to do with his bat and jawbreakers), makes him a grappling hook and a Fenton thermos, and reluctantly lets Damian come with in his old LoA uniform that he appeared in (with some tailoring and ghost-proofing, because he has since begun to grow out of the uniform).

(and Danny himself also finally starts looking into alternatives to improve his own "suit" - which is all but a hoodie and reinforced jeans and a hockey mask. He needs to set an example to his little brother, goddammit.)

Then, as they're planning for Damian's eventual (dreaded on Danny's part) debut, they sit in their shared room and brainstorm for what to call Damian. "Ellie already uses the name Spirit." Danny says, sitting criss-cross at his desk with the eraser nub of a pencil chewed between his teeth.

(Behind him he has an investigative corkboard set up -- his accident left him with the ability to see ghosts not capable of being seen on the visible plane. 'Stereotypical' ghosts. Between school work, his social life, and ghost fighting, some of his downtime is spent figuring out ways to help them move on. His most recent is a cold case.)

(Bc with Danny, I loove to have him have some sort of trait that ties him in with his original counterpart. Nature vs Nurture and all that. Investigative work can be part of that.)

"What about Wraith?" Damian suggests from the floor, leaning against the bed frame while he goes over one of his english books. They've been practicing his reading and writing.

Danny furrows his brows. "A ghost seen typically shortly after or before someone's death?"

Damian nods. "Yes, it's of a similar cadence to 'Batman and Robin'."

"What's with you and your thing with Batman and Robin?" Danny asks with a playful half-smile, Damian shrugs and looks at his books. Danny sticks the eraser back between his incisors. "Phantom and Wraith... that works, though."

The first night out together, Danny fusses over Damian, making sure every bit of uniform was secured and in place -- something Damian took mild offense over. His outfit was far more reinforced than the juvenile get-up that his older brother wore.

But he let him fuss anyways. It made him loved.

"Now remember, Wraith--"

Damian interrupts him: "Yes, I know, Dany. Avoid and distract. Stay situationally aware. I fear that is something I should be telling you, however. Mother would have your head if she ever saw what your training was like."

(It was, not for the first time, that Damian wondered how his,,, "mother",,, would react if she ever met Danyal. Not good, he knows.)

Danny's shoulders sag, and he sighs. "I believe that, what with that super-secret spy--"

"Assassin."

Danny sends him a half-hearted chagrined look, "Assassin," he corrects, "organization that made you. I'm sure I'd give your mother an aneurysm." When he's finally okay with whatever make-believe issues he found with his suit, Danny reaches for the nearby side table and carefully slips on a black domino mask over Damian's eyes. It was thin, flexible, and made with some kind of material that Danny reassured was environmentally safe.

("Some kind of matieral that Wayne Industries invented awhile ago, Sam bought it for me." Danny told him when he first showed it to him.)

It was also cold. But the chill was made up for, slightly, with Danny's warmer hands smoothing it out over his skin, and ridding of any ridges that could form. Damian isn't sure entirely what Danyal did to keep it stuck onto his face, but when he touches it with his fingers he feels a very faint seam at the edge, and it doesn't budge against his hands. It felt like a second skin.

"There we go." Danny smiles, pulling his hands back. He still looks nervous. "It's not the same as my hockey mask," which sat atop his head, ready to be pulled down, "but I think a domino mask will work better for you considering your background."

He was right, a hockey mask would only hurt Damian's peripheral vision. This mask was thin enough that it didn't.

"Ready to go, Wraith?"

"After you, Phantom."

+++

Damian has much issue with Danny's suit. He can think of a million ways to make it better. It is one of the things he and Samantha Manson can get along with, and the few times they have spent time together they have brainstormed suit ideas. He knows that since Danny took him on as Wraith, he has started to look into better suit alternatives.

However. They are both aware of the same thing:

Danny is not Batman, nor Superman, nor Wonder Woman, nor Aquaman, or the Flash, or Green Arrow, or Nightwing, or any single hero on the public roster. He is also not rich like Lex Luthor or Vlad Masters or Bruce Wayne himself.

He has no money and no contacts, and thus, no way of properly improving his suit to be something even half as safe as the other supers.

And he refuses to let Samantha Manson help him find a way to fix that - even with all that money, Samantha Manson is on an allowance from her parents, and also, despite her other range of abilities, not capable of getting those materials without putting herself on a list of some sort. They are at a standstill.

Damian knows this, because he has asked.

Until one day when Danny is talking about a case he is working on and telling Damian about old adventures he had in the Ghost Zone, does he see his brother get hit with a lightbulb.

He slaps a hand against his forehead and straightens up from his swivel seat. He huffs a laugh, "Of course! Why didn't I think of it sooner?" And he turns on his heel and hurries to his bookshelf, pulling down a notebook and flipping open to an empty page.

Damian frowns, "Laeazir?"

"I know you don't like my suit, Damian," Danny says, striding over to his desk and snatching a pencil out of a cup. He begins jotting something down on the notebook. "And there's nothing I can really do about it because, well, I'm poor in comparison to my facesake, and I don't have the resources to get my hands on someone who would make me a new suit."

"Yes, we have talked about this..." Damian nods slowly, still frowning, and trying to follow his brother's line of reasoning.

Danny shoots him a megawatt, half-tilt smile, his hair tied up into a half-bun. "But! I was thinking about it from the wrong angle. I don't have the living resources to help me get a suit, but..." he trails off, staring at Damian intently.

It dinged in Damian's brain to where he was going, "But you have the undead resources instead." He says, his eyes widening slowly. Of course, of course! Danyal was ridiculously charismatic by accident, and Damian has seen plenty of times where his heart-of-gold had one or two non-hostile ghosts be incredibly grateful to him.

His brother makes a loud, 'ding-ding-ding!' sound, pointing his pencil at Damian as his smile stretches further across his face. In a few quick strides, he was sat down next to Damian and showing him his notebook. "Correct! When I first started out as Phantom a few years ago, I managed to help a ghost who called herself Taylor, and apparently she was a seamstress both in and out of life."

Damian watches as Danny writes the name at the top of the paper, and creates bullet-points down the page. "She said that in return for saving her, I should come find her in the Ghost Zone if I ever need clothes made for me. It's a one-time thing, but I was thinking that she could perhaps help make me a new suit."

Danny turns a bit pink at the ears, and rubs his neck, "I never thought much of it because I didn't think I'd ever go into the Ghost Zone, or ever need ghost clothes, so I forgot about it up until now."

A scoff forces itself out of Damian's mouth, but he is smiling. "Danyal, you are the smartest idiot I have ever met."

For the next hour, both he and Danny make a bullet point list of what both of their suits would need. Reinforcement in certain areas, gauntlets with reinforced knuckles to replace Danyal's jawbreakers. A different weapon than a bat.... a utility belt, reinforced boots. Anything they could think of.

It was Damian's idea to add a cloak to both of their suits, asymmetrical and torn at the edges for a more 'ghostly' look. They have a theme, after all. It's quite fun.

Then Danyal calls up Sam for help in drafting up design ideas. And while Danyal steps mostly to the side when it comes to the design itself, Damian and Sam fill pages with designs until coming up with one they both agreed on and like.

"What about a lightning bolt on the chest?" "Why are we using my traumatic accident as a symbol of my identity?" "Ghosts do it all the time, Danny. Ember sings about her death." "I'm not dead?" "No that won't work, Manson. Shazam already has a giant lighting bolt emblem." "Okay, but I still want to use it somewhere." "How about this?" "...That could work. Okay, now onto your emblem--"

Last was the hard part: getting into the Ghost Zone without the Fenton parents noticing the disappearance of their precious Fenton Specter Speeder. They employed Jazz's help with that. She would get the Fentons out of the house long enough for him and Danny to get into the ghost zone, hopefully find the seamstress, and cash in that favor.

They went through with their plan that following weekend. Danny tossed Damian a small jumpsuit as they both climbed into the specter speeder, but did not grab his own. He had a small duffle bag on him that he threw under the seat.

"What is this?" Damian asks, nose scrunching up at the gaudy picture of Jack Fenton's face square at the center of the chest. He held it far away from it, as if it had a disease.

"Your hazmat suit." Danny replies, settling himself into the driver's seat as the door hissed shut and he began turning it on. He had some sort of gas mask on in his lap, too small to fit Danny's head, but certainly the right size to fit Damian's. "Normally you wouldn't need it since you'd stay in the speeder, but we're both getting out once we find Taylor. It's to protect you from the ectoplasm."

A scowl forces itself across Damian's face, "You don't have one." He points out, finding seat in the passenger chair next to Danny. His arms cross over his chest, and he was not pouting.

Danny looks at him amusedly, "I have enough ectoplasm in my body that I don't need one, you however, do not." He retorts, poking a finger into Damian's ribcage pointedly. "If you don't put it on now, you'll put it on when we find Taylor."

Damian's scowl deepens, feeling petulant as he sunk into his chair. Danny turns back to the console and flips a few more switches. "I will not, it looks ridiculous." He turns it around to show Danny the Jack Fenton Face.

The Specter Speeder hums to life, and there's a moment of turbulence as it lifts off the ground. While it does, Danny turns back to him blankly, stares at the emblem, and then reaches forward and yanks it off with a scriiiiich of the emblem. He crumples it up with one hand, and throws it into a small bin at his feet.

"There, fixed." He smiles. Then turns back to the controls, taking the yoke with both hands. "And I'm calling Dad Rights; you will put it on when we find Taylor or you'll stay in the speeder."

Damian sputters, sitting up incredulously. "You are not my father." He argues.

"Teeechnically, I am." Danny says, "I'm a clone of your father, and since I am fully his clone, that makes you my son by a technicality." He says cheerfully, pushing the specter speeder forward and into the swirling green portal.

Before Damian can retort, they're passing through the portal. This was his first time going into the Ghost Zone, and for a few seconds there was nothing but bright, swirling green filling his vision. His body felt like it was being twisted and pulled, his up and down reversing and returning. It was painless, but dizzying.

It only lasts for a few seconds, but it feels like a minute, and when they exit out the other side, Damian is holding his head while his vision spots and swims. Internally, he felt like those cartoon characters when their eyeballs rolled around in their head.

The dizziness fades away slowly, and as Damian regains his sight, he notices Danny's hand splayed over his sternum, gently keeping him pressed against his seat. It fell away when Danny saw that he was alright.

"Put your seatbelt on," Danny orders, nodding to his chair. Damian listens absently, before remembering their conversation before they went through the portal.

"That is not how it works." He scowls, and, annoyingly, only gets a challenged eyebrow raise from Danny. He could see the words written on his face without Danyal ever having to say it.

Because, dangit, he was technically right. Damian refuses to say this aloud. He screws his jaw shut, and crosses his arms back across his chest.

Danny chuckles under his breath, and turns his eyes back to the ghost zone. "My point still stands, either you wear the suit, or you don't leave the speeder."

"Fine."

+++

They eventually find where the seamstress is. Through quite a lot of Danny stopping to ask questions with any friendly ghost he came across, they eventually locate an island with a strange, urban city bustling with life on it. Massive, rocky stalagmites grew from the ground, and buildings were built on top of it or around it, with strange, warping architecture.

It was oddly beautiful.

Danny parked the speeder on the side of the street with a two hour parking sign on a nearby post. As he turned off the engine, he flipped a switch on the console that darkened the windows. He unbuckles his seat, and stood up, stretching out his back with a deep groan.

"Alright, put your suit on. The windows are tinted, so nobody should be able to see into the speeder." He orders, pulling out the duffle he brought in earlier and unzipping it. He pulls out his hockey mask and the hoodie he wore out for patrol, and the notebook they'd been using to jot down ideas for their suit.

Danny even had the hindsight to write in their respective heights, and with Tucker's help, some of their measurements. While he did that, Damian sourly pulled on his hazmat suit, irritated by the need to wear it.

Unfortunately, he also had to wear the boots and gloves for 'extra precaution'. Damian nearly bites out a grumpy 'you're as paranoid as father', but holds his tongue. He wasn't going to tell Danyal that secret.

Once he was done and Danny has his hockey mask and hoodie on, Danny grabs the gas mask and helps fit it over Damian's face. It was a sleek, simple design, shaped similarly to a regular face mask, with little filters on both sides of the mouth and a clear, protective covering around the eyes and forehead. Danyal improved it from the original his parents made.

He was smarter than he gave himself credit for.

Danny checks, then double checks that it the mask is tight, then smiles. Patting Damian's shoulders before standing up fully. "Taylor's shop should be somewhere nearby." He says, grabbing the notebook and tucking it under his arm.

Damian nods, and follows him out the door and onto the busy streets.

Finding Taylor becomes remarkably quick now that they were inside her city - something that Damian silently wondered was based loosely off NYC. Danny kept a firm arm around Damian's shoulders the entire time they walked down the street, keeping the both of them on the inside sidewalk.

Barely anyone passed them a second glance, spare the few odd looks shot at Damian. Danny whispers to him the first time it happens that it's because he has no ghost core, those more attune to their signatures might've been picking up on it.

They didn't notice Danny, because he had one, albeit a weak one.

Taylor's shop has a big sign on it in logographic writing that Damian has no idea how to read. The text shifts slowly, a jambled squiggle of lines, dots, and connected curves that look like a mix of messy cursive, gibberish, and logographic alphabets. He only knows its Taylor's shop because Danny pulls them towards it, stating that it was the place.

"You can read that?" He asks, incredulous as they draw closer to the door. Danny moves his arm off his shoulder, and wraps his fingers around Damian's instead.

"Yep," He replies, then scrunches his nose up, "sort of. It's - uh--" he stumbles over a word that Damian's ears cannot comprehend, but fills his head with slight static regardless. Danny winces. "It's the written form of ghostspeak, but since I'm not a ghost, I can only read some of it. Like uh, dyslexia."

"...I see." Damian says after a moment of silence, trying to replay the word in his head. His mind can't grasp the sound.

When they enter, the door doesn't ding with the sound of a bell, but rather it makes a low scream. Nobody bats an eye to the sound, keeping to their slow search through the racks of clothes.

At the counter was a woman talking quietly to another woman, one of whom Danny recognizes, as he walks over to her.

He doesn't need to say anything, because the woman behind the counter sees him coming, and her face positively lights up with delight. "Phantom!" She cries, and gestures to come over. "I was wondering when in the high ancients you were going to come see me!"

Danny's face is obscured by his mask, but Damian knows he's smiling sheepishly with the way he tilts his head and the way he tenses his shoulders. "My bad, Miss Taylor," he says, reaching the counter and standing beside the woman she was talking to, "It kinda... slipped my mind."

Taylor waves her hand dismissively, "Well you are here now!" She replies, grinning wide. Then her eyes pop open - literally - and she puts a hand over her chest. "Oh, how rude of me!" She turns and gestures between Phantom and the lady next to him, "Miss Mabam, this is Phantom. I told you about him a couple of years ago. He saved me from humans. Phantom, this is Gigi Mabam, she funds my shop. In return I make clothes for her and her staff."

The 'Gigi' woman turns just as Danny does, and smiles wide at him. Damian narrows his eyes at her, shuffling behind Danny legs as he looked her up and down. She had silvery-white hair and purple skin, and wore a darker purple business suit, a red gem cravat at her collar, and teal cat-eye glasses.

There was a lot of purple.

"So this is the ghost-touched you were telling me about, dear!" The woman, Mabam, said. Her voice was rich and low but she spoke in a whimsical cadence. It made Damian's skin crawl, and his narrowed eyes turned into a glare. "I must thank you for saving my seamstress, it would've been quite a fizzy-wink if she had been lost to those ghosty hunters."

What were those nonsense words? Damian hated it.

"Miss Mabam here runs a five-star hotel nearby," Taylor explains, her body turned to Danny, "she also is in charge of the city's Battle Nexus."

Danny is silent for a moment, and his free hand lifts and places itself on the back of Damian's head, keeping him close. "Battle Nexus...?"

Mabam claps cheerfully, laughing low, "Oh yes! Ghosts from all around the zone come to attend and watch as their fellow haunties are ripped from limbity-limb in a blood-curdling battle!"

Danny is still as stone. "I see." He says, careful. Damian wraps his fingers around his pant leg. "Well, I hate to interrupt your conversation, but I was hoping to cash in that favor, Miss Taylor?"

"Of course! What do you need?"

Danny looks down at Damian, and he looks up at him, locking eyes with the ominous green glowing from the eyeslits of his mask. He nods, and Danny looks back up. "Do you know how to make suits? Of the protective kind?"

+++

The seamstress it turns out, is capable of such a thing. And she ushers the both of them into one of the backrooms, sending off Mabam with a farewell and a promise to continue their conversation soon.

She flips through their design book, and immediately gets to work making their suits. In the end, with the help of her powers, she gets both done over the span of four hours. It's longer than both Danny and Damian want, but neither rush her.

Damian just hopes that Jasmine can keep the Fenton parents distracted for that long. She will have to.

The suits are better in real life than on paper, and Damian preens from the side in his own custom suit as Danny examines his own in front of the three mirrors. They were both dressed in all black, but whatever fabric Taylor used was of a blackest-black, turning Danyal - and Damian's - bodies into a black hole to look at. Both of them were fitted for agility, with reinforced padding around their shoulders and chests, as well as around the joints of their legs. Their boots were reinforced as well.

("It was hard to make your boots shock absorbent," Taylor explains, "since we all fly, but I applied similar stuff to what I did with your shoulders and chestplate.")

On the side of Danyal's legs were raised, black, lichtenberg-like figures that were contained to the seams and disappeared under his boots. There were similar designs going up his sleeves, with spiked gauntlets wrapped around his lower arm and hands. The knuckles were reinforced, just like he wanted.

Damian's favorite parts were their capes, however. Black like the rest of the outfit, but "wrapped" around their shoulders like an apocalyptic shawl with a back that went down to their knees, and at the hems the capes were torn and ripped like a wraith. Danyal's mask had gone through very little change. It was made of a stronger material, and Taylor had gone and made it more skull-like in its shape, with three large grills at the front, and the sides curving inward below the 'cheekbones' of the skull to better fit his face. It was still shock white, the only white part of Danyal's entire costume.

Damian's suit was almost identical. However, rather than having the seams of his suit resemble lichtenberg figures, the seams of his sleeves and upper torso were that of a black skeleton, with bone-y designs over his gauntlets and the fingers an ombre of dark red-to-black. And around his torso were raised lines that looked similar to a ribcage. The edge of his cloak was splatter a dark red as well. And he had a new domino mask that looked similar to the upper half of Danyal's mask, with the outer edges curved downward over his cheekbones. He was briefly allowed to take off the upper part of his gas mask to try on the mask.

The best part however, was that since the suits were made of material native to the ghost zone, they could also be taken off quickly and hidden in a small artifact. It was magic, is what it was. Danyal chose earrings, and Damian chose a ring.

When they got back to the Fenton house, Jazz demands a box of chocolate for her hard work. Damian thinks that's only fair as Danny takes them both out to get candy for Jazz.

+++

But other than vigilante stuff, not else much changes. Danny gets to pull a "Dad By Technicality Rule" card over Damian when he's being a brat. Danny doesn't have his run in with Rift (a ghost who portals him into Gotham) until after he meets Damian/lets Damian join him on patrol and when they get new suits.

My reason? Because I want it to happen after that point in time lol. It also makes the eventual "heyyyyy you have a clone" @ bruce much funnier to me because not only does he have a clone of HIMSELF but also THAT clone has a clone of Damian living with him.

Also when Danny destabilizes for the first time Damian is terrified for his safety. The fentons are surprisingly good at cloning, Danny hasn't had any issues up until this point in time, and that's only because he got hit with a new gun from Skulker that messed up the ectoplasm he had in his dna, which in term fucked with his own DNA.

Danny's destabilization, imo, is not "I cast you with Melt" he's not Ellie, he's not made of 50% ectoplasm. His parents surprisingly knew what they were doing, and he was human. So his destabilization should be unique to himself and different. Thus his destabilization is "I cast you with Compromised Immune System" his body slowly weakens over time as his cells destabilize. He becomes unnaturally frail and sick. Damian calls Ellie for help when Danny doesn't get up after being hit in a fight that he normally, and Ellie helps figure out that he's destabilizing. This is whats gonna happen in OG clone au too, but Ellie is going to be there rather than Damian.

It makes going to Wayne Manor after that slightly more interesting,,,

[baekhvuns]

BREAKING THE WALL once again... I'm AWAKE now (actually barely, but thanxx for yelling lol) aaaand our bird on the thumbnail! If they drop the medley tomorrow at 6 too 🤡 I won't be awake for once, but Friday??? I'll be there 🤗

Alright sooooo this is the ranking *nervous laughter* I'm ready to be cancelled. It was difficult, but I tried to be decisive </333 no hard feelings, most are almost on the same level. But seriously, bear in mind I appreciate all your stories, some just hit more than others, it all depends on various things, but my main point is "which ones did/will I re-read" let me know if you want me to elaborate further and explain myself lol

1. Bodyguard

2. TTWHY

3. Rewrite the Stars

4. LNFILA

5. Duke/Khronos

6. Mr & Mrs Park

7. Just Friends

What do you think, are you shocked 👀 what's your list? I need to think more about Seonghwa's, but I can feel that one will be much different which is hilarious

Absolutely INVU! The album is great, though I don't listen to slower songs that often, but I can play the whole album and be happy <3 I'm usually not the one to bitch about "X is the worst year in kpop" especially since lots of comebacks are coming, but something about this year hits less. We got some gems obviously, but a lot of groups disappoint. I loved the whole Oddinary which is shocking, hopefully same things happens with Movement

London's black taxis are iconic, but that's about it siudusjsjskdhdhshs, yeah expensive af. Other European taxis are just random cars, not so pretty

I know right? Cocomelon...? I'm afraid to ask. And the way they remake some of the shows in 3D like Winnie the Pooh I fucking cried when I randomly saw it once 😭😭😭😭 not my honey bear and his friends. Do you have fave childhood cartoons?

Our coconut head (my dreams of long haired Hwa just keep dying.... sigh) was so precious during that live which I kinda missed despite being at home I was just watching something else, butttt me and my friends bought the succulents set and the bouquet 2 weeks ago! So happy he got the succs too awww, but the fucking Starry Night I NEED. It costs as much as some of Hwa's limited pcs 🥴🥴🥴🥴 but really I thought "hope Lego gifted Hwa the Starry Night" 💗 *cries and dies*

I can't take care of plants and flowers, but if someone gifted me Lego flowers 😌 look at our flower

I chose San, cause he's in my bias line, but you can have whoever, I just think Woodies (is that the name? I keep confusing them) are very deprived 😅

Shittt I remember that AU now 👀 the worst nightmare, some little asshole from school getting rich meh. Unless it's Hwa ofc

I laughed at the random Woo in the sea of Hybe men lmao I got "in another life" aka soulmates, not my fave trope, but it can be well-done. Btw have you watched Makoto Shinkai's movies? Your Name, but Seonghwa AU <3 a new one is coming out this year, can't wait to tear up again. Weathering with You made me cry especially hard - DV 💖

hi hello!!

BREAKING THE WALL once again... I'm AWAKE now (actually barely, but thanxx for yelling lol) aaaand our bird on the thumbnail! If they drop the medley tomorrow at 6 too 🤡 I won't be awake for once, but Friday??? I'll be there 🤗

BFKWJDKE THE SEONGHWA AND BESTIE TODAYS THE FUCKINF SONG HIGHLIGHTS ITS TIME TO CLAIM SONGS 😭😭😭 also to preorder the album 🫠 IM BETSIEHFHWKDHWK CYBERPUNK AND SECTOR 1 AND NEW WORLDv,??????? ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE KPOP MADE AN ALBUM THIS GOOD

Alright sooooo this is the ranking *nervous laughter* I'm ready to be cancelled. It was difficult, but I tried to be decisive </333 no hard feelings, most are almost on the same level. But seriously, bear in mind I appreciate all your stories, some just hit more than others, it all depends on various things, but my main point is "which ones did/will I re-read" let me know if you want me to elaborate further and explain myself lol

LMFAOOOO BDBDHD NO UR NOT GONNA BE CANCELED DUDHD NO THATS PERFECTLY FINE! I LOVE SEEING THE RANKINGS BC SOME SURPRISE ME BY “u lIKE THAT??”

1. Bodyguard

2. TTWHY

3. Rewrite the Stars

4. LNFILA

5. Duke/Khronos

6. Mr & Mrs Park

7. Just Friends

What do you think, are you shocked 👀 what's your list? I need to think more about Seonghwa's, but I can feel that one will be much different which is hilarious


IM SO SURPRISED REWRITE THE STARS IS UP SO HIGH???? it’s like the early days of writing so i know it’s crappy in that terms so iM vv surprised that it’s even on the list fbfbfb LMFAOOOO I FEEL LIKE BB!HWA MIGHT BE NO1 ON UR LIST OTHERWISE I AGREE WITH UR LIST

for me it’s like :

1. mr and mrs park

2. ttwhy

3. let’s not fall in love, again

4. bodyguard

5. just friends

6. khronus

7. rewrite the stars

8. duke

do not ask why duke is there quite self explanatory 🔫

Absolutely INVU! The album is great, though I don't listen to slower songs that often, but I can play the whole album and be happy <3 I'm usually not the one to bitch about "X is the worst year in kpop" especially since lots of comebacks are coming, but something about this year hits less. We got some gems obviously, but a lot of groups disappoint. I loved the whole Oddinary which is shocking, hopefully same things happens with Movement

RIGHT !!!!! sometimes using invu as background noise >>>> d.o’s rose album is truly so comforting! i play it during i work or study or commute and my mood just 🤩🤩 nO i agree as well,, something about the ay ever since late last year to this year the cb’s have been repetitive or extremely experimental to the point it’s not even music anymore 😭😭😭 some groups were absolutely great! POOT MAH SNEAKERS ON FBWMDHEKHDEK GREAT ✊🏼 AMAZING ✊🏼 tbh i,,, for summer i kinda be expecting a full album of just summer genre,, kinda like exo’s kokobop album? it’s been years and i still play it every summer (today as well) and idk if it’s a lot to ask but groups these days don’t make cb’s that are memorable for a long time, it’s like releasing a song is a trend now and everyone’s doing it instead of making some really good music they also like to perform <3

London's black taxis are iconic, but that's about it siudusjsjskdhdhshs, yeah expensive af. Other European taxis are just random cars, not so pretty

LMFAOOOO i will channel my james bond whenever i get out of those black taxis 🔫 there’s some ugly taxi cars here too 😭😭😭

I know right? Cocomelon...? I'm afraid to ask. And the way they remake some of the shows in 3D like Winnie the Pooh I fucking cried when I randomly saw it once 😭😭😭😭 not my honey bear and his friends. Do you have fave childhood cartoons?

LMFAOOOO HDKWHDKW COCOMELON IS SO DUMB 😭😭😭🤚🏼 ???????????????? 3D WINNE THE POOH????? WHAT THE FUCK???? omg my favourites are shinchan, dragon tales, max and ruby, MADELINE, oswald!, clifford, pingu, hey look since im younger than u SOME ARE IN THE LATER YEARS OK anyways angelina ballerina <3

Our coconut head (my dreams of long haired Hwa just keep dying.... sigh) was so precious during that live which I kinda missed despite being at home I was just watching something else, butttt me and my friends bought the succulents set and the bouquet 2 weeks ago! So happy he got the succs too awww, but the fucking Starry Night I NEED. It costs as much as some of Hwa's limited pcs 🥴🥴🥴🥴 but really I thought "hope Lego gifted Hwa the Starry Night" 💗 *cries and dies*

LMFAOOOO 😭😭😭😭😭 no fr he was so cute and his cheeks 😭😭🤚🏼🤚🏼 and his wide eyes 😭😭😭 AAAAAAA DID U GUYS COMPLETE THE SUCCULENTS?? IF LEGO DOESNT MAKE HIM THEIR AMBASSADOR WE DONT WANT IT that starry night looks sO DIFFICULT FBFBF ??????? WHAAAT????? AS MUCH AS PC’S????? omg stopppp 😭😭 buying albums atp is an investment fbfb

I can't take care of plants and flowers, but if someone gifted me Lego flowers 😌 look at our flower /// I chose San, cause he's in my bias line, but you can have whoever, I just think Woodies (is that the name? I keep confusing them) are very deprived 😅

THAT IS SO VERY TRUE ID DISPLAY AND SHOW THEM OFF EVERYWHERE,,, LMFAOOOO WOODIES ARE DEPRIVED?? 😭😭 their smut corner is 🔫🔫

Shittt I remember that AU now 👀 the worst nightmare, some little asshole from school getting rich meh. Unless it's Hwa ofc

JFBWKFJW UHUH EXACTLY THAT BUT ITS A LITTLE ✨✨✨🤌🏼 maybe i’ll write it fully one day 😭😭😭 kai will also make his appearance dhdh

I laughed at the random Woo in the sea of Hybe men lmao I got "in another life" aka soulmates, not my fave trope, but it can be well-done. Btw have you watched Makoto Shinkai's movies? Your Name, but Seonghwa AU <3 a new one is coming out this year, can't wait to tear up again. Weathering with You made me cry especially hard - DV 💖

THE SEA OF HYBE DBDBBVS omg soulmates au??? reminds me of atozfic’s hwa fic! omg but soulmates arENT THAT BAD,,, no maybe they are a little bit, a LITTLE,, YES I HAVE WATCHED YOUR NAME AND I SAW THAT TRAILER IM SO VERY EXCITED !!!! I ALSO RLY LIKE FLAVOURS OF YOUTH!! might go watch it in theatres tbh the visuals would be iNSANE omg i haven’t watched weathering with u,,, hOW IS IT?? i got this btw!

[mirrorforevers]

here, there, and everywhere • graham coxon/reader

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

and

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

tw (?) reader has shitty parents

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

smut. set in the 90s. au.

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

“Hello?” You answer, panting.

“Y/N?”

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

-

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

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

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

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

But anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is tomorrow ok to you?”

“Sure. After our class?”

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

“See you.”

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m the one cleaning your wounds.”

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

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

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

“Okay!” You both turn to answer her.

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

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

-

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

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

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

“What do you think?” is what you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But that’s your--”

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Gra. It’s me.”

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh… the day of your audition?”

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

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

You giggle. “I thought you hated me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What, exactly?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

“No way.”

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

“You’re joking. That’s mean, Gra.”

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

“I’m nothing special.”

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

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

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

“Graham, I’m a grown woman.”

“I know.”

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

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

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

You sigh, defeated. “...Deal.”

-

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

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

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

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

Four beeps. “Hello?”

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

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

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

“Do you still want to…?”

“...Desperately.”

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

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

“We don’t need a dungeon, you know.”

“The basics.” You make your smile heard.

“I do have… I do have the basics.”

“See you in a few minutes then.”

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

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

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Alright then. See you.”

“See you.”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

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

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

“Absolutely.”

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

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

“It’s okay. I’ll get used to it.”

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

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

“As you wish.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[good-rwbyaus]

How does Yang react to the rumors her lil sis has become a professor

Perspective :: Yang // Becoming - mod lilac [ main chapter ] [ P: Weiss ]

logo-comics asked: What about an AU where everyone had somehow been under the mistaken assumption that Ruby was a professor at Beacon? For a laugh, Ozpin rolls with it whenever he's asked about it.

// this perspective piece was harder to write than I thought. also trollpin - lilac

---

“I’ll be sure to set aside an office for you, Professor,” the Headmaster spoke with mirth as he and Ruby spoke at Beacon’s courtyard, watching the students arrive for orientation. 

“Stop calling me that! I just wanted to know if students could have their own private rooms!” Ruby stomped on the ground.

“Students, no. Professors, well...” 

“Argggh!” 

Yang was treated to the sight of her normally shy, bubbly sister hopping up and down angrily, pointing impolitely at the man that’ll soon be their Headmaster. Ruby’s uncharacteristic actions shocked her brain so thoroughly that she needed a moment to reboot.   

“Wait! Yang?!” Ruby exclaimed upon spotting her.

“Hey, Ruby.” Yang replied dazedly before internally wincing at her unenthusiastic-sounding response - too shocked from her sister’s prior actions. 

Luckily though, Ruby didn’t notice anything and was in fact enthusiastic enough for the both of them. Her sister’s eyes lighting up was the only warning she got before she felt Ruby pounce onto her, the other girl wrapping her in a tight hug. 

“You made it!” Ruby happily said, “I missed you!” 

Yang couldn’t help but hug her back smiling, not quite sure what’s made the other girl so affectionate, especially in such a public showy way. 

“I missed you too, sis,” she replied warmly, patting her head. Come to think of it these two months have been the longest they’ve been apart in years. Even when she took mini-missions at Signal to prepare for Beacon, the longest interval was 48 hours. Curious at her sister’s sudden change, she asked, “Yeesh, what happened to you over the past two months?"

"Eh, you know. Landed a blow on my teacher. Got myself blown up a couple times,” Ruby started counting on her fingers, “Got dangled out of a tower. Accidentally made a mess of things when I fought in a real team for the first time. Uhhh, not exactly in that order. “ Ruby scrunched up her face, which made her laugh.

“Sounds like you’ve been having fun,” Yang replied with a grin, though she gave the girl a quick onceover to make she’s truly alright - which it looked like she was.

“Yup. At least when they’re not sticking me in a classroom or hanging out with this old troll here,” Ruby resentfully gave the Headmaster a glare.

Yang choked on her spit at her sister’s audacity.

“What did you say? I’m hard of hearing, Professor Rose,” Ozpin blandly stated, “I think I heard someone asking me that she wanted to have her professorship announced tonight.”

“Don’t you dare!” 

She listened as the two bickered back and forth. Well, more like Ozpin speaking and Ruby reacting. Hearing Ruby talk like this to an authority still frazzled her brain, and it was only Ruby saying something even more unusual that brought her out of her daze.

“And you still won’t tell me their name!” 

“Huh, whose name?” Yang asked reflexively, slightly worried about that little tidbit. Did oblivious-to-everything-but-weapons Ruby find someone she liked? At least someone will share Dad’s overbearingness when she started dating too. Ha. 

“His weapon’s name,” Ruby pointed at the cane Ozpin was holding. “His cane. It’s really something special, but you can’t tell unless you get your hands on it.” She then smugly grinned, “which I managed.”

The Headmaster quirked up an eyebrow before retorting, “you wrapped your hands and legs around it like a sloth and then refused to get off.”

“AND his weapon’s heavier than it looks but in a way I can’t really describe - like something more than physical. And there’s something like a heart ticking away, and it’s been ticking for a long time like an ancient clock,” Ruby said animatedly, her words speeding up with her excitement, “it's like watching one of those films before scroll technology or remembering a long memor-”

Well, at least some things didn’t change - like Ruby’s weapon obsession.

"You know, it’s rude to talk about other people’s weapons without their permission, Prof-” Ozpin cut her off.

“Ah, sorry, Headmaster,” Ruby bowed before lifting her head, “Wait, stop calling me that!” 

She had been so focused on her sister that she missed the Headmaster tightening the grip on his cane and the quickly-hidden shock on his face. 

======================================================

She couldn’t move, her limbs locking under the beady red gaze of the Beowulf in front of her. It lifted its claw into the air, about to deliver its death sentence. 

“Don’t hurt my sis!” A small five year-old ran in front of her, placing herself between the claw and herself.

“Ruby!” 

Somehow, someway, she found the strength to move. She stumbled onto her sister and wrapped her arms tight around her, turning away and preparing to protect the younger girl with her body. To protect her from the consequences of the mess she created. She closed her eyes, prepared for the pain. 

------

Yang groaned and slowly opened her eyes, lifting herself up to look at the other students snoozing around her. Ugh, she would have that nightmare again before Initiation started tomorrow. Or was it today? Crap.  

Sleepy eyes shut closed as she flopped back into her sleeping bag, waiting for oblivion to claim her. And for a minute or two, she managed to be still as a rock. 

“Argh. It’s useless.” She sat back up. 

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” 

The blonde quickly turned her head towards the raven-haired girl sitting by the windowsill, a book in her hands. Blake. 

“Can’t sleep obviously. What about you?”

“I’m used to staying up at night. I’m reading an interesting book after all,” Blake replied cheekily. 

Yang snorted, given that Blake had used that excuse to ignore her when she first tried to strike up a conversation. 

“The Schnee Dust Company’s heir seems to have taken a liking to your sister,” Blake said casually, “If it were me, I’d treat it as a bad thing, but I guess it’s good to have someone's backing.”

“Nah. I was listening in on that conversation. The moment that girl spoke about having an expert maintain her weapon was the moment she lost Ruby entirely,” she laughed. 

The scathing look Ruby gave the Schnee Heiress could’ve peeled paint. If there was an equivalent of a horse whisperer for weapons, it was Ruby. But as much as Ruby had disdain for those who didn’t respect their weapons, she wouldn’t show it - at least the Ruby of two months ago. She would’ve buried it deep inside and just be happy with the fact that someone was talking to her. 

Yang sighed. 

“...Ruby. She’s changed so much.”

“How so?” Blake inquired, closing her book shut. 

“Hmm. Why so curious?” Yang pouted, holding her heart, “Especially when you didn’t want to hear anything about little old me?”

“Well, the opportunity to learn more about Beacon’s youngest professor is hard to pass up,” Blake then added playfully, “don’t worry. You’re still interesting.”  

“I thought the professor thing was a joke,” Yang said in confusion, “Isn’t it?”

Was it though? She never heard Ruby outright deny it, just requested vehemently that the Headmaster not publicly announce it. Huh.

“I thought so too, but Ruby’s a bit special, isn’t she? Early entry to Beacon, taking solo missions, acting super casual with the Headmaster,” Blake replied, looking over at her, “It’s hard not to wonder.”

“I don’t think she is? I mean she would’ve told me, her sister - but...” Yang hesitated, “she’s changed a lot in the past two months. It’s like I don’t recognize my own sister anymore.” She grimaced, running a hand through her blonde bangs, “Ever felt that way about someone you’ve known for a long time and then bam what happened?”

Blake glanced outside the window and into the starry sky. 

“Yeah, I know a bit about that... But what about your sis? Might as well get it off your mind,” Blake sat crosslegged, staring expectantly and sincerely, clearly ready to listen.

With some hesitation, she glanced over at the sleeping girl several tables over with the Schnee girl sleeping a couple sleeping bags over, not quite ready to give up trying to recruit her. Good luck, brat.  

“Well my sis didn’t really have friends at Signal. She’s a loner but not really by choice. She tried so hard to fit in, but she never really clicked with anyone. No one really understood her or made the effort to.” Yang trailed off guiltily, “Maybe that’s why she could make the decision to come to Beacon so easily, because she had no one.” 

“I... I kinda expected I would have to give her a pep talk when I came here,” Yang admitted, “because Beacon required its members to form a team, even more so than Signal. I thought I would have to cheer my sis on about how she’ll find the right team but also telling her that I can’t be her partner and she needs to learn how to work with others.”

“But instead I see a confident girl who no longer seems afraid to let others know who she is. I see a fish in water. I see someone who’s found their place in life and is holding onto it with her own two hands. And also apparently making small talk and arguing with our Headmaster till she’s red in the face. Ugh, I don’t even know if she’s a professor. ” 

“Wait, so you seriously don’t know if your sister’s a professor?”

“Is that the only thing you took out of this?” Yang dropped her jaw, appalled, “I just poured my heart out to you, Blake! You have to take responsibility.”

The ebony-haired girl flushed wonderfully at her choice of words before grumpily rebutting, “W-who asked you to do that?”

A moment of silence passed between them, neither of them knowing what to say. 

It was Blake who broke the silence. “I think...you’re just having complicated feelings on seeing your younger sister grow up. I mean you seem like a good older sister, so you’ve probably protected Ruby all this time. And now that she no longer needs your protection, you probably feel a bit lost but also a bit of pride too.”

“Huh,” Yang blinked several times pondering what Blake said for a couple seconds, and then she smiled, a bittersweet feeling in her heart, “I think you’re right. I’m happy she’s grown up, but I also kinda miss the girl who’d cry when her weapon would go missing. Haha.” 

She then gazed playfully at Blake, “Oh Blake, why are you so wise?”

“Eh, I read it in a fortune cookie once,” Blake deadpanned without missing a beat.

“Ugh, and somehow my reverence for you has been lost,” Yang sighed before smiling, “But seriously, thanks for listening. Do you... Well... I heard you mentioned someone that you feel the same way about?”

Blake paused before shaking her head. 

“Ah, sorry. It’s a long story, and it’s late, and...” Blake said before adding in a dramatic baritone, “you haven’t progressed enough on the Blake Belladonna social link to know about that yet.” She stuck her tongue out before turning over to the side to go to bed.

“Oh come on! Pour your heart out to me now!” Yang said dramatically but upon seeing no response from the other girl, she snorted, “Fine. I’ll get to bed, and I’ll totally unlock more of the Blake storyline in the future. Does it end in romance at least?”

“Ugh. I’m not dignifying that with an answer. Good night, Yang.”

Yang laughed. 

-------

“And now even my sister thinks I’m a professor!” Ruby wailed at Headmaster Ozpin, pointing a finger back at her. Yang could only give the Headmaster an apologetic grin - probably should’ve asked Ruby in a more subtle way - as Ruby ranted on, “And no one else believes me when I deny it. That’s your fault!” Ruby groused.  

“Don’t worry, Miss Rose. I’ll be sure to do something about the rumors this evening,” the Headmaster spoke warmly, “You can walk back to your seat and see how I resolve this.”

As soon as Ruby sat down, Ozpin stood up tapping his glass with the back of his fork. All the students fell into silence upon noticing who was making the commotion, and all the attention quickly fell on him.

“Ah-hem. I have an announcement to make,” Ozpin spoke calmly, “I would just like to say that Ruby Rose is not a professor at Beacon. The fact she is on a first name basis with all your professors or participated in a mysterious extracurricular activity two months prior to her entry to Beacon is completely irrelevant,” Ozpin continued on before pausing briefly, a spark of amusement in his eyes, “And I suppose the fact she graduated from Signal two years early is also not that important. That and her impeccable display with her team during Initiation. Alright, that is all. ”

The man glanced over at Ruby, his gaze clearly asking ‘are you happy?’ to the girl.

Ruby only beamed happily in satisfaction.  

Oh my god. 

Ruby was right. 

Ozpin is a troll. 

And she could only facepalm at Ruby’s complete obliviousness to the fact that Ozpin’s wishy-washy way of explaining things probably made things a lot worse. 

Well, at least no one is going to call Ruby Professor to her face now. 

Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.  

[kacchand]

Request: bookshop!au with doyoung pLS (uhhHHHhhh 2:32 p.m. pls? or 3:59 a.m. lol)

may have gotten carried away

[ 2:32PM ] [ Doyoung + bookshop!au ]

“Funny,” you scoff. You might be in no place to judge due to your own resting b*tch face but, that guy in the blue sweater doesn’t look like he needs guidance from any book titled, ‘The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck.’

With his knitted brows and slight scowl, he looks like he’s got that mastered to a T – unless of course he’s working on making his ‘not giving a f*ck’ subtle, then if so, may he carry on.

You’ve personally thought over whether to buy that book or not, because you yourself could use some letting loose. You’re not one to self-diagnose, but this anxiety feeling is piling up like a penguin’s mating stone pile. It’d be nice to buy a book to read for leisure but, here you are, buying a study guide instead.

Taking the guide in your hands, you queue up to the cashier. And as you get there, you spot the guy in blue again. You scuttle behind him, peaking over his shoulder as he hands his credit card over. Looks like he’s decided to buy it.

“There are more of these on aisle nine if you want one,” he mutters, his voice low and almost demanding. Eyeing your surroundings, your heart quickens its pace when you realize that you’re the one he’s muttering at. “Yes, I’m talking to you.”

You purse your lips and nod, trying to contain your giggle at how stupid you look. “Sorry, I’m just nosy by nature,” you apologize, scrunching your nose.  

The cashier takes his card and scans the cover of the book, giving you enough time to sneak a peek at his face. Now that you’ve gotten a better glance at him, it’s only now that you realize that this boy is quite the eye-candy. You want to continuing staring in a way that won’t bother him but seeing as he had felt your gaze on his book before, you decide on otherwise.

But as fate must have it, the cashier itself malfunctions and leaves you waiting by his side, giving you a few more seconds of admiring to spare. The manager opens another register and those behind you scramble that way. It’s almost like you’re given time alone with the handsome stranger…alone…in a mall, with at least twenty other people in your vicinity…alone.

“Actually, I’ve been wanting to buy that for a while now,” you admit.

He looks to you with a little amused grin, “Well, why don’t you?”

You smirk, raise your wallet. “Money.”

Like a sign for mutual understanding, he chuckles, mouth gaping to go ‘ah’. 
“You go to ___ too, right?”

Nodding, you point to your uni’s symbol on your worn hoodie. “Good guesser?” You ask playfully.

He tilts his pretty head and all the jet-black hair strands fall downward. Leaning over you, he sends you a gentle smirk. “Might’ve seen you around a couple times.”

You try not to let that comment make its mark on you, but your heart can’t help but flutter. It’s not every day a handsome man acknowledges your presence—or remembers you, for that.

The cashier lady still struggles to try and mend the machine, looking to the guy with apologizing eyes. “I’m so sorry for the delay. This machine has been acting up all week.”

Contrary to how you thought he would’ve reacted, he politely nods, mutters an ‘it’s fine’ and turns back to you. “Trying to learn not to give a fuck?”

You shrug and raise your book this time, placing it onto the marble counter. “Trying to learn maths more like it. But not giving a fuck would be nice to pick up along the way too,” you joke.

“I could teach you more than this book ever can.”

Your lips curl into a smile and so does his, revealing his pretty bunny whites. And just like a magic switch, the cashier makes a ding sound and the things get working again.

Right before she’s able to put the book in the bag, however, the boy takes it and scribbles something on the front page before putting it in the paper bag himself. Once finished, the lady hands it over with the receipt and turns her attention to you. Your mind, on the other hand, has still not left the brainstorm chart it has made about the man to your right.

Blue Sweater is about to walk off, and you want to do something about it. And it turns out, so does he, a fact that catches you by surprise as you feel a hesitant tap on your shoulder. You stare, starry-eyed and raise a brow at the extended paper bag at your chest.

“Huh?”

The confidence that was imminent in him before begins to falter as he scratches the nape of his neck, his lips pursed in a nervous attempt to seem cool. “This was actually for a friend of mine, but it looks like you need more ‘not giving a fuck’ than he does. He won’t read this anyways,” he explains, shaking the bag for you to grab it before he changes his mind.

You take it with the biggest smile plastered on your face, your stomach churning slowly into a hot mess as you try to find words to match your feelings. But, again, he beats you to it.

“Besides, I think I like you better than him already.” You gape. 
He waves you goodbye and sends you a cheeky smile before walking off with his wide shoulders turned to you, hands in his pocket to complete the look of bravado.

You’re left in awe as the cashier lady chuckles. “Well, what’s inside? He scribbled something in there, didn’t he?” Her nosy words make you giggle more than scoff, especially when your eyes scan over the careful penmanship on the front page.  

‘I don’t normally do this type of thing, but today, I’ve decided maybe giving a fuck or two wouldn’t hurt. So, call me? xxxx-xxx-xxx – Kim Doyoung’

With not much to lose, you take out your phone. With a stupid smile on your face, you dial it out, not thinking twice when you press your thumb onto the green button. It rings twice.

“Hello?”

“Hey, how’d you like to read this book with me? I mean…it’s the only way for me to really learn the true ways of the art.”

You hear a chuckle. “I think it’s only appropriate that we scrutinize each line together. For proper analysis of course.”

You read his name inked in pen. Kim Doyoung. Doyoung. You’re going to make sure you hear of that name more often.

“But of course.”

[killjoynest]

Danger Days Fic List

(with absolutely no rpf) These are solely from Jan-Feb

It gets pretty long so its going under a read-more

Pre canon:

do you see? (you're the reason I can't sleep!) by wondercurls1917 (wip)

The Fabulous Killjoys, once upon a time, were neither fabulous nor killjoys. There are certain things one must know about how they got there...

Only one chapter, but a fun look into a backstory for the fab four with fun (read: awful) facts about growing up in bat city

Cold Metal by sera_wasnever

Blue comes to work in the lobby for the first time, and catches someone's attention

Ladies and gentlethem its about everyones favourite lesbiandroids what more could you want?

Like There’s No Tomorrow by iggyvoid (wip)

A seemingly perfectly conforming BL/ind employee, Nicolas Guerra, meets his fate when he is "mistakenly" placed inside of an in-mind facility alongside none other than killjoy poster child Party Poison. It's up to them to figure out what they're going to do with themselves with the time they have left.

I mean, if you really need a reason to read this outside of the description there is a Terrible Joke in the 3rd chapter

Living with Ghosts by valvelocity

Ghoul finds an old Ouija board and decides to try it out.

It doesn't go *exactly* as anticipated...

What i learned from this is that if you leave Kobra and Ghoul alone in the diner they immediately try to summon ghosts. Absolutely superb.

With All These Things We Invoke Here by DoubleMstectomy

A routine mission in Zone Two goes badly, forcing Val and Vinyl to reconsider the nature of their relationship.

The Comic Clownsquad but like, soft and gay(er)

Rickety Hands by stumpsucc

Yeah its gay stop scrolling

Constellations by sera_wasnever (wip)

There's a family in the finding. There's kids making it up as they go along. There's a war going on.

[slams hand on table] backstory! Old gangs! What looks to be someone ill-equipped for babysitting! we love to see it

Artificial Heart by Cinnibun_Krysanthemum (wip)

Better Living Industries works to make everything perfect. Emotions not authorized by BL/ind are imperfect. Thoughts and actions that are unapproved by BL/ind are imperfect. Defects in any part of life- a building, a road, even a person- if left unfixed, are imperfect. Imperfections must be fixed. They are threats.

Any small detail or imperfection that could ruin life inside Battery City must be changed or removed, no matter the cost.

Sometimes, that cost is a person; a life.

A different take on the fab fours meeting! Jet Stars no good very bad day contained within!

Cut my Hair by A_Ghost_Called_Boo

The venom brothers make some impulsive decisions and turn their lives upside down

And i feel sibling validation in this chillis tonight… poison&kobra city days, heed the warnings!

Cause I Love All the Poison by ravenphantom

Party Poison discovers what accepting a strange drink at a party gets him.

Sometimes a night out with the lads just has vampires we’ve all been there

all your failures will die starry-eyed by TheElusiveOllie

"When you meet Jet Star, he's already lost two whole crews and has settled for running solo rather than risk losing a third. You learn that Jet Star can shoot a flattened can off the hood of a car at two hundred meters without so much as leaving a scorch mark. You learn that Jet Star can do long division in his head without thinking twice about it, and that he can tie a tourniquet in the middle of a clap without breaking a sweat. You learn that he knows how to prep a needle to draw blood in an emergency, how to flame-sterilize the nearest tool so it can cut away necrosing flesh, how to stitch a wound one-handed. You don't ask him how he knows any of it, and he never says."

Mind the tags! I havent finished reading this one but its a fun origin story

AUs

Once you go hazy, you’ll understand by spellingbee (wip)

Battery City has fallen to ruins, taking Better Living Industries with it. With no one to rebel against any longer, the killjoys have disappeared into the past.

Fifty years later, Party Poison and their crew stumble upon an old, abandoned diner.

None of them expect to find a ghost inside.

All these ghosts… and Party still can’t find a boo (...unless?)

I’ll Never Hurt You by ACatWithManyFandoms (wip)

Andy wakes up hungover after a party at his best friend's, a party which may have been the biggest event in his life.

If your bro doesn't instantly mock you for possibly being a vampire, is he really your bro?

OC centric

Late Dawns and Early Sunsets by Crash_Cat

Four killjoys spend a long night under the stars, experiencing what freedom tastes like.

A short story featuring me and my best friends as killjoys.

Oh to be a killjoy hanging out under the stars with your friends, fresh dye on your hands.

Home by Felix_the_worm

The crew get caught in a sandstorm and discover an abandoned house filled with secrets. But is it really as empty as it seems?

(Part 2 of Late Dawns and Early Sunsets by @killjoy-crash-cat on tumblr.)

Maybe the real friends were the people whose house we broke into along the way

[trafalgarlawsdepression]

Live the Good Omens AU. Related: Sanji threatening somebody with a spray bottle is hilarious, but also Zoro and Sanji having a "you go too fast for me" conversation makes me sad. I'm not if that whole thing would go like it did in canon, but if so 😢

I done wrote a little 😳😳😳 (Edit: it’s on ao3 as well now uwu) 

Ignoring the humans passing him by, Sanji made his way to the Bentley. Its black lacquer reflected the neon lights of the streets and as per usual the impression wasn’t ruined by a single scratch, he noted with pleasure as he opened the door and got in.

He didn’t notice when Zoro appeared, but it didn’t exactly surprise him either. One can’t get thrown off by someone appearing and disappearing as they please as a demon, not unless one wants to be a rather useless one, at least. Thus, Sanji just got straight to the point.

”What are you doing here?” He asked, peering at Zoro through the dark lens of his monocle (He’d been told on numerous occasions that it made him look a little odd, but it did the job of covering up what his hair couldn’t quite nicely. Besides, he thought it made him look dashing).

Zoro didn’t meet his gaze, just stared out at the people passing by the car.

”I needed a word with you” He said, not elaborating further. This, of course, forced Sanji to ask him what said word might be, annoyance seeping into his voice. For once, though, Zoro didn’t seem to react to it.

”I work in Soho, you know. And I hear things” He paused ”Hear that you’re setting up a…caper to rob a church”

Sanji sighed and rolled his eyes, mentally cursing whoever had let slip of the venture (And in his case, mentally cursing someone, actually meant something for that poor sod). Before he could say something pointed to Zoro, he was cut off.

”You know it’s too dangerous. Holy water, I mean, it won’t just kill your body. It’ll destroy you” Zoro’s tone had been casual, but Sanji thought he sensed some worry as the angel added ”Completely”

Too bad he couldn’t enjoy it properly.

”Yeah, you told me what you think” He snapped ”A hundred and five years ago, to be precise-”

”And I haven’t changed my mind” Zoro raised his voice as well ”But I’m not letting you risk your life. Not even for something dangerous, so…”

He reached down to the floor of the passenger seat, retrieving a plastic bottle in a dreadful, neon green with the words ”NATURAL gym” on it. It made a sloshing sound and Sanji’s eyes widened as he realized what he was looking at. Without a word he reached out when Zoro handed it to him.

”You can call off the robbery” Zoro finished, just as Sanji’s hands touched the bottle. For a moment he would’t let go, and Sanji was afraid he was going to change his mind. But finally he let go and finally he looked Sanji in the eye, with an expression too much of a mix of emotions for Sanji to be able to completely read. There was that angelic sternness, of course, but beneath was something else. Almost a plea.

”Don’t go unscrewing the cap”

Sanji swallowed.

”It’s the real thing?” As if the very cells in his fingertips loudly protesting just from holding the plastic wasn’t confirmation enough.

”The holiest you’ll get” Zoro nodded, once again turning to the street. Sanji held onto the bottle for another moment before he carefully put it down on the floor.

”After everything you said” He tried to sound teasing, even tried a smile, but it came out sounding more starry-eyed than he liked. Lucky for him, Zoro didn’t seem to be listening entirely. He just stared at the street in silence.

”Well” Sanji tried after a few minutes of neither of them talking ”Can I drop you off anywhere?”

”No, but thank you” Zoro turned to Sanji again, his voice just barely slipping into a familiar, teasing tone as he continued ”Now don’t look so disappointed. Perhaps we could go for a picnic or something one day, I don’t know. Dine at the Ritz. Now wouldn’t that be something?”

”I’ll give you a lift” Sanji offered ”Anywhere you wanna go”

He held Zoro’s gaze, feeling something hopeful grow in his chest at the lack of an immediate declination. But then, Zoro’s eyes shifted to the floor of the Bentley.

”You go too fast for me, Sanji” He murmured.

And he left the car.

And the moment was over.

[cetaceans-pls]

One Ring That Had To Do It To 'Em (Inktober 2019: Day 1)

It really takes just the One Ring to bind ‘em.

Modern Day LOTR AU, DGM LaviYuu. Inspired by this video by CGPGrey.

-

Three Rings for the Elven Lords under the Sky

Seven for the Dwarf Lords in their halls of Stone

Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die

One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them

-

"You'd think, yeah," Lavi says, "that with everyone goin' absolutely buck wild for this, they'd have sussed it out by now."

The Ring makes a pretty twang as Lavi flips it into the air, and clinks! against a duller, less magical counterpart like a toast of champage glasses as Yuu grabs it out the air.

"What part of offering endless temptation do you not get?" Yuu asks irritatedly, knotting it back into a braid hanging by his face. He used to keep it where he tied off his ponytail, but this made it easier to see 'em coming (and Eru Ilúvatar save us all, do they come). "You talk big cock for a dumbass human who can't hold it for more than, what, 30 seconds, before you talk hot shit about harnessing its power for the human race."

As far as he's read, and Lavi's read an awful lot, elven hair's not any more or less magical than the rest of them, so this close to the One Ring the hum sets his teeth on edge. There is something to be said about exposure training, though.

The call of the damn thing was a damn sight more seductive when they'd first started dating.

30 years, huh. Maybe when he's 60 he can finally hold it for over a minute and then finally some quality research can be done.

"I can't believe, yeah, that of all th'elves 'nd dwarves 'nd humans 'nd hobbits and them that've found th'ring, you're th'one that figured out that th'damned thing's a dirty liar, 'nd none but th'one who made it shall wield it." Even Lavi, a scholar in a long, long line of scholars of the magics of Middle Earth, had had only the barest of ideas that maybe, yeah, maybe the Ring didn't have as much magic as was foretold.

Yuu just stares at him with a thousand yard stare perfected over, ah, 5000 years.

(Age gaps are par for the course in Elvish dating, and this Is Not helped by the dearth of dating apps catering to them, hangups in admitting to being over 3000 and therefore being 'really old', and a general deep-rooted dislike of technology stemming from WiFi and electricity being a bit crap in Elvish lands.)

On any other being, almost, when Yuu grunts and tilts his chin up in defiance and the Ring brushes against his cheek, it would burn them cold, an eternal mark.

Here, there's the gentlest attempt at a flush that fades as quickly as it comes.

"When the fuck have I ever wanted anything someone was trying to force on me?"

There's wisdom and great terrible power and angels and every other week someone swears up and down they really saw a Balrog in the woods behind their house, yes!!

But there's only one Yuu, the Ring Bearer, who wiped out armies when a bunch of hapless volcanologists found remnants of the One Ring in a dead Mount Doom and decided haha, it's impossible!

Unless...

No way!

But maybe....

People never learned to stop thirsting for power, and Yuu never learned to stop instinctively going the exact opposite way the rest of the world does.

What a miracle, this marvelous man! This elegant elf!

This idiot so singularly belligerent and hard-headed that the greatest evil the world's ever seen can't do shit to him.

Lavi, though....

Lavi grins. "Y'say that, darlin', but then, yeah, what's this?"

Reaching over, he grabs Yuu's left hand, and presses a kiss to the simple little gold band on his ring finger. "Sure looks like a thing that my good elf took up 'cos I was forceful in m'affections, yeah."

Unmoved (in the face), Yuu buries his hand in Lavi's hair (now peppered with gray, and he looks stupid handsome, not that he needs to know that) and drags him closer for a messy, deeply unbecoming kiss.

Pulling away, Yuu licks his lips. There's high colour on his cheeks, redder and ruddier than anything the Ring could have managed.

"What," he says most clearly, with a lilt that is a fuckin' adorable accent according to Lavi, "part of that was you forcing me?"

Absolutely starry-eyed and breathing hard, Lavi laughs dreamily. "Babe, deadass hand me th'ring right now, 'm not gonna be even a little bit tempted!"

For that, Lavi gets smacked 'round the back of the head.

Yuu's got the ring of Power, yeah, but the other ring's the real keeper.

-

a/n: i am adrift in meine life lmao here we go

[ersonist]

title: yesterday’s just a memory, tomorrow is never what it’s supposed to be

rating: t

word count: 2k1

summary: It’s not every day someone you know gets kicked in the head and forgets a couple of years of their life or modern AU amnesia fic.

a/n: I was checking my dash the other day and @hurricanedancer​ reblogged  this amazing post and mentioned in the tags wanting a fic. I was already planning to write something for Cassian Andor Appreciation Week (Favourite Relationship(s)) and this inspired me so I combined both. No such thing as too many RebelCaptain fics, right? Anyway hope you enjoy it :)

(I wrote the fic, but Bob Dylan wrote the title.)

Cassian wakes up to the blinding lights and whispers that are way too loud for his pounding headache. He vaguely identifies the place as a hospital but he’s not sure how he got here.

“Welcome back,” he hears a woman’s voice tell him in a British accent and his confusion deepens. Must be one of Kay’s relatives, he decides.

And then there’s a flurry of movement around him, people asking him questions, calling a doctor, squeezing his hand. It’s exhausting so he closes his eyes and lets himself fall asleep again.

The next time he wakes up the room is significantly darker and emptier. He notices a sole figure half sitting, half leaning on a chair next to his bed.

“What happened?” he asks, his hoarse voice slightly breaking over the last word.

“You don’t remember?” the young woman looks at him with a clear concern when he shakes his head no.

“You tried to be a hero, stopping a bunch of guys from stealing a car.”

“They clearly won,” he states, hesitantly smiling at her.

“Yep, you got your ass kicked,” she openly smirks back. She fluffs an extra pillow that doesn’t look hospital issued before helping him to lean back comfortably. She’s cute. Whoever she is, he thinks.

“So what’s your name?”

Her hands start shaking and he figures this was a wrong question to ask.

Amnesia sounds too much like something out of Mexican soap operas he used to watch with his grandmother. The neurologist tries to be optimistic but there are too many we don’t know and we can’t predict that for Cassian to share her positive attitude. His room is crowded again but he can’t really blame anyone. It’s not every day someone you know gets kicked in the head and forgets a couple of years of their life. Still he averts his eyes refusing to witness their pity. The problem is that except for feeling a bit weak, he is fine. The headache is gone, he can stomach solid food again and frankly all he wants to do is go home. Unless...

“Do I still live where I lived back then?” he interrupts impatiently. How much could his life have changed in two years anyway? A new girlfriend does not define his entire existence.

He doesn’t like the anxious looks they all share.

“More or less,” Bodhi finally informs him without actually replying to his question.

He lives with Jyn now. That’s the news everyone, Jyn herself included, was gently trying to break to him. Honestly he would’ve guessed the minute he stepped into his (their?) apartment. Hot pink bunny slippers weren’t exactly his style.

“It was an inside joke,” Jyn mutters defensively when she follows his gaze to the offending items, carelessly thrown near the living room couch. She picks the slippers up and stuffs them into the small closet in the hallway.

It’s the oddest thing in the world. This virtual stranger who has her things all over Cassian’s living space and sometimes watches him with fondness and love he doesn’t understand.

The uncomfortable silence stretches a bit too long for his liking. He did suggest crashing at Kay’s but they all thought he should re-familiarise himself with his usual surroundings. Plus Jyn seemed determined in showing how much this doesn’t bother her.

“You have an unusual name,” he points out, slightly cringing at how terrible he is at small talk.

“Like gin and tonic, right?” she laughs and he joins her.

“Please tell me men don’t use that as a pick-up line!” he jokes with more ease. He plops on the couch now covered with a soft, grey blanket and stretches languidly. Jyn doesn’t say anything for a moment, just plays with the sleeve of her shirt.

“That’s actually what you said when we first met.”

Trying to trigger lost memories is a perfectly acceptable treatment for amnesiacs and Cassian doesn’t mind it at first. That changes by the 10th minute of a powerpoint presentation fully prepared and presented by Kay.

“Halloween party last year. Picture taken at approximately 2 am as judged by your frankly obvious intoxication,” Kay comments the current slide with his usual mixture of amazing detachment and complete disgust. “Is your memory back now?”

“No,” Cassian groans miserably. “Could you please speed this up?”

Kay straightens in his seat, towering over the desk even more.

“I was preparing a shortened version if you wish.”

“How long is that one?”

“47 pages but it’s not proofread yet.”

***

“3 hours, Leia! 3 fucking hours!” he complains later over a cup of coffee. “He even gave me a bound copy!”

“I know you forgot some stuff,” she comments with a grin that was clearly supposed to look innocent but comes out more like a devious smirk. “but I thought you remembered Kay was more like a robot than an actual human.”

He sighs and stirs in a spoonful of sugar. You drink more tea now, Jyn informed him one morning over the breakfast. He knows they have silly matching mugs and one cupboard is full of a specific earl grey blend she apparently can’t function without.

“How are things with Jyn?” Leia asks nonchalantly as if she could read Cassian’s thoughts.

He shrugs because he’s honestly at a loss for words. How to explain to his old friends that it’s like living with a roommate that you never asked for? Except that there used to be an us with that roommate and the more he thinks he can fall for her, the more she probably falls out of love?

“I sleep on the couch in my own apartment and I’m pretty sure my mere presence makes her want to cry,” he admits in the end. “She’s erm... she’s something else though.”

Leia nods and smiles encouragingly at him.

“But I think I get it. I get why he fell in love with her,” he concludes quietly. He never planned on confessing this much especially since he’s pretty sure Leia will blabber it all to Han and one way or another it’ll reach Jyn.

“You talk about yourself in third person,” she settles for a joke instead and he’s immensely grateful for it. “They did recommend you a shrink, right?”

***

“How about you scroll through my instagram and ask me questions if you want?” Bodhi suggests during their lunch the next day.

Cassian agrees more out of politeness than an actual wish to go through yet another “let’s make Cassian remember things” session. He checks one post after another. Birthday parties, a trip to the beach, Christmas drinks at a pub nearby. They all have one thing in common. If Jyn’s present, Cassian looks like a complete dork in every single one of them.

“Seriously you’d think I’d stop with those ridiculous starry eyes!” he exclaims while practically shoving the phone into Bodhi’s face. “Just look at that one, for example! We get it, Cassian, you’re happily in love!”

“Actually that was taken right before you officially met,” Bodhi explains slightly embarrassed and Cassian goes completely red in the face. 

He tries to find a specific document on his laptop when he stumbles upon a folder simply named “porn”. Judging by the creation date this was done by Jyn’s Cassian (as he secretly calls himself) and frankly he’s slightly worried about its content. He knows it’s a bad idea idea to go through it now, especially with Jyn sitting a few feet away from him furiously scribbling something on her work papers, but the curiosity wins. He clicks on one of the files at random and gets a cheesy selfie of both of them outside his apartment. He clicks another. This one has Jyn cooking and frankly looking beyond annoyed. There are hundreds of pics in the folder and Cassian has a feeling they all have a similar subject. He finally clicks on one of the few videos. It’s a terribly cliché shot of a beach sunset that moves slowly to Jyn sitting close to the camera, a cocktail in one hand, her shoulders a bit reddish from the sun. Mi amor, she calls to him laughingly and it suddenly reverberates around the silent room. Cassian desperately shuts his laptop but one glance in Jyn’s direction confirms she’s heard it loud and clear. She stays silent for a few seconds, biting her lip in an obvious attempt to keep a straight face.

“Are you watching porn, Cass?” she asks before finally bursting into laughter.

He realizes he enjoys his new life about 5 weeks after the incident. Sure it’s still awkward when he bumps into Jyn freshly out of shower and he’s still confused by a lot of stories he hears about himself but his new (old) friends turn out to be great and it’s nice not to be so lonely in life. 

Chirrut and Baze, the married couple who lives 2 floors above him, come over with a pizza one evening. Jyn’s working late again and the apartment is a mess but Cassian finds himself liking them a lot more than he thought he would.

“We’d bring Chinese but we don’t like to add to stereotypes,” Chirrut informs him when Baze drops the pizza boxes on the table, shoving aside what looks like Jyn’s white scarf and a brown shoelace.

“Sorry about the mess,” Cassian apologizes, helplessly looking around what used to be his pristine, minimalistic apartment. “Jyn tends to just leave her stuff everywhere.”

Like her toothbrush inexplicably abandoned on the coffee table at least three times this week. Or one of her boots on the kitchen floor. Or her bra casually hanging from the living room chair.

“We know,” Baze chuckles and hands him a slice of pizza. “You mentioned this when she moved in.”

“But things are good between you two?” Chirrut asks shamelessly and Baze just rolls his eyes.

“Yes, all’s good. She’s good. I’m good. It’s all... you know... good.”

Cassian is sure he can’t sink any lower than that. He chews his pizza for a moment before deciding that yes, of course he can: “Do you happen to have any stories about me and Jyn where I’m not making a fool out of myself?”

“Not really,” Baze answers very frankly and Chirrut chuckles at that. “You did learn all the British monarchs in chronological order just to impress her with your knowledge on all things UK.”

“And I suppose she was-”

“Very much not impressed,” Chirrut finishes triumphantly and Cassian just sighs in resignation.

He’s cooking dinner one night when he hears the front door open. Jyn drags herself in, kicking off her shoes and shrugging off her coat  and before he can ask about her zombie-like state she wraps her arms around him and buries her nose between his shoulder blades. He can’t help it - he freezes, his whole body suddenly tense which in turn makes her freeze, her lethargy instantly gone.

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” she mumbles and Cassian grabs her wrists before she can fully pull away. Neither of them dares to move until he can feel her slightly relax, taking a tentative step closer. He lets go of her hands and smiles.

“Any plans for Saturday?” he casually asks her.

She moves then and leans on the kitchen counter, looking at him with suspicion.

“No. Why?”

“I thought we could go out,” he says softly, trying to sound as reassuring as he can. “Dinner, movies. What do you say?”

“Like a date?” There’s still a trace of doubt in her voice. Like it’s a trap or a cruel joke. It hurts him more than he thought it would.

“Yeah, like a date,” he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and their eyes lock.

“Cassian,” she whispers, the tension suddenly overwhelming and he can’t help but wonder if this is it. The perfect moment for a kiss.

It’s not.

“Are you trying to be suave now?” She manages to utter between uncontrollable giggles.

“Laugh all you want,” he declares grumpily, “but one thing that I’ve learned these past weeks is how much of a lovesick fool I was around you.”

She laughs even harder at that.

“No, please, mock me some more,” he continues, turning back to the now slightly burned dinner. “I was like a mix of a total dork, a schoolboy with a crush and a fucking stalker.”

He hears her still howling with laughter and he’s genuinely unsure if he’s more embarrassed by Jyn’s Cassian or the current Cassian. But when she puts her hand on his arm and tenderly kisses his cheek it stops mattering.

He gets his memory back two days after their second first date.

[moricatlibrary]

Chance

Modern American AU in which Armin is a medical student and Eren is an art student and their paths finally cross by “chance”.

For my good friend @armini-man. Happy birthday, you’re wonderful, and I hope you have a wonderful day this year :3 ❤❤❤❤❤ I hope you like this.

Armin sulked around the campus trying to clear his head after a grueling chemistry class. He hated chemistry. He hated every class on his schedule, really. Being a doctor was actually the last career he’d ever wanted, but the rest of the world had this “little” habit of telling him where to go, and what to do, and what his talents should be used for… ‘Smart kids go to school to be a doctor for good pay. Dumb kids work at McDonald’s for the rest of their lives.’ That’s what they always told him… “But who of those kids is actually happy?…” Armin wondered to himself. He felt so empty…

Deciding that grey walls and black tables full of text books, pharmaceutical tools, and endless notes weren’t the world Armin wanted to end the day and start the weekend with, he decided to wander over to the arts building… Breezing through that front door already made a world of difference… It was like a breath of fresh air. The smell of paints and old wooden pianos filled the atmosphere and tickled his excited nose until he sneezed. He walked slowly through the lobby to the mixed sounds of violins and choir practices to reach the stairs. All over the walls were artworks done by students of the school as well as a few purchased pieces done by professionals. A massive quilt depicting a land scape covered the entire right wall. Stitched mountains and patchwork fields… and silky ocean waves… “Ah, the ‘outside world’…” He thought to himself. “The world they pretty much tell you to forget about…” Armin had a secret dream of traveling across the seas, rather than become a capitalist’s pawn in medical school… The image of the open and ever living blue waters that lead to lands unknown with colorful views one could never imagine unless they’d seen it themselves, were a million and one times better than the empty grey view of his program’s classrooms…

He reached the top of the stairs and observed all of the various visual art pieces hanging along the halls, to the sound of either clarinet music or oboe music from the classroom a few doors behind him now. A nude portrait by a Picasso wannabe, a cityscape in the style of Van Gogh, a mixed media page featuring an intricate landscape made entirely out of various pastas… “This is the understated beauty of mankind…” he thought. “These are the heroes of humanity no one praises. Where would we be without the expressive wisdom and vision of each other?”

He turned the corner and strolled down the next hall, now in silence aside from the faint muffled music of a practicing orchestra in the auditorium on the floor below, and the ‘chik chik chik’ of sculptures being hammered behind a closed classroom door. These walls were aligned with sketches on the left wall and photography on the right. Armin walked slow, going back and forth to look at the framed works on each side, one by one… before one framed piece halted him completely… It was a photo of his favorite thinking place back in Shiganshina during his childhood. A little meadow near the suburbs where he lived, with a humble tree that blossomed in the early spring… The tree had no blossoms in this photo and its leaves were reddening, indicating that it was fall when the picture was taken. The spring also brought about endless beds of periwinkle forget-me-nots to the field, a flower that always spoke to Armin. He’d spent a lot of lonely time under that tree tying the stems of those flowers into long garlands that he could pretend were leis from an island or something else more exotic than his boring reality… It was curious that this photo captured such an empty scenery and yet it had a rose colored filter over everything, indicating it was something the photographer held as dear and pure to them… “Did something personal happen to them here on that day? Maybe they climbed that tree as a child and that was their first victory? Maybe they buried a lost pet there? Or maybe they met someone special there… A childhood sweetheart? Is it about the tree itself as a metaphor for something? Maybe it’s about how even though something is empty and forgotten, it’s still living and breathing and full of history, or something…” His eyes got wider with each potential answer to the mystery his mind concocted. He felt like he was conversing with the photographer by himself, and just waiting for them to respond any second now, aching to hear their replies. It was starting to dizzy him in excitement for the possibilities! So he decided he wanted to speak to the photographer in person right away. He read the printed name on the corner of the photo: Eren Yeager…

Armin strolled down the halls before him, searching for a photography class through the classroom door windows to find a professor that could direct him to the photographer student in question… but after an hour of scouring that floor, and even the other 2 floors on the off chance it were there, he found he had no luck. “How tragic… I guess photography is a Tuesday/Thursday class…” he sighed. Mourning the loss of a chance he might’ve met someone interesting to talk to that day, Armin dragged himself back to that empty hallway on the second floor to stare at Eren Yeager’s photo again, imagining himself under that tree and perhaps seeing Eren Yeager come by perchance… What a difference that would’ve made in his life… What a difference…

“You’re staring at this photo?” A low voice suddenly said, hitting Armin’s ears like thunder since he was completely lost in thought, missing even the loud noise of the students clamoring out of the slideshow lecture just down the hall.

“AH!--” He jumped as he turned around to face a dark haired young man behind him. “You scared me… Hah. Yeah, I am.” He chuckled, trying to catch his breath.

“Why?” The stranger asked with a raised eyebrow and confused upper lip, like he had no idea why anyone would look at a woefully simple shot like this for more than a passing glance. Especially when photos of multicolored crystals and starry-reflected lakes were on either side of it…

Armin studied him for a quick second… He was tall, and dark… and handsome. His eyebrows looked a little furry, like they furrowed pretty often, and his dark hair looked like he might cut it himself at home and maybe forgot to this month, (which Armin sure could relate to). And those forresty eyes met his… striking him like lightning as they stared into his own, waiting for Armin to answer his question. Truthfully, this stranger looked a little scary to him. But he answered him honestly. “It’s a photo of a place I used to visit as a kid all the time. And it makes me so curious as to what the photographer sees in it that made them so keen as to snap this photo of it and “preserve” its meaning in a rose tint. Isn’t it intriguing? There’s no telling what this place means to them! Is it nostalgia for childhood? Is it a metaphor for aging? Is it a message about what we forget in our hustle into becoming adults or climbing the ladder? What could “Eren Yeager’s” story be, based on this? It’s a wonder to me!“ He smiled gesturing to the image in his praise. “Don’t you think?”

The stranger raised his eyebrow even further and blushed as a laugh forced its way through his lips. “Pff-- Hahaha! Wow. You got all that from this shitty photo? Incredible. What’s your name?”

“Armin… Arlert.” The blond replied softly, wanting to be offended on Eren Yeager’s behalf but found he couldn’t stop staring at this stranger’s charming smile… It captured him a million and one times more than that photo… His own cheeks were beginning to blush from looking at him and, unbeknownst to him, his eyes were sparkling more than the crystal or starry lake photos to the sides behind him…

The dark haired guy crossed his arms, still grinning and still lightly blushing. “Eren. I took the photo.”

Armin grinned back, bubbling with happiness now that he finally met the photographer. “Oh, I’ve been searching for you since I got here! I-I mean I was-- looking for the photography class to meet you and talk to you but I guessed it was only on Tuesdays and Thursdays…”

“It is. I was in Art History…” he explained, trying not to get lost in this lovely blond fellow’s deep, glimmering, oceanic eyes… “Say… you wanna go to the café by the student center?… Maybe we can talk about it for a while if you’re not busy…”

Armin’s cheeks were all aglow and his widening smile perked them up even higher...

Eren actually had another class and a ceramics studio hour he needed to attend before he was done for the weekend, but something about this blond stranger seemed much more important to the course of his life today…

They’d sat in the student coffee shop for hours talking about not only the photo, but everything else too… It turned out that they’d grown up in the same neighborhood. And while Armin visited that tree in the meadow in the mornings and daytime, Eren had been visiting there in the afternoons and evenings, wishing he had someone to make cloud watching more interesting for him, if possible… What a difference it would’ve made in his life. What a difference…

Neither of them were enjoying school, as it turned out. Eren’s parents insisted he attend, so he took the one major that didn’t seem unbearable or impossible for him after flunking out of the athletics department. Armin could certainly relate, especially with his ever straining grades fluctuating more and more lately as depression began to consume him. This had actually been the most either of them smiled since enrolling…

Armin had a way of thinking that Eren had never seen before. He was so wise, wiser than anyone he’d ever met, and was so understanding of human nature, and so full of inspiration and life… Maybe photography would’ve been a much more fulfilling major if he were taking pictures of this gorgeous guy sitting before him instead of nostalgic trees and his cheap Italian dinners. “Goddamn it…” He thought as he stared at Armin’s pretty little simper while he sat there so meekly before him, sipping ginseng tea and eating a blueberry muffin. “We’re sitting here like it were as simple a matter of bumping into each other next to my photo, but this is fate. This is… this is destiny and a gift from above if such a crazy fucking dream come true could ever happen to an average loser like me…”

They stayed there until the cafe closed and sent them home for the evening…

After exchanging phone numbers, another long meeting for at the coffee shop occurred almost immediately, followed eventually by a fun lunch meeting for pizza… and soon enough, a romantic dinner date in Eren’s dorm… which brought about their first kiss (with each other or ever), then regular study dates where they’d quiz each other (for sweets or body kisses), very intimate “sleepovers”, a thousand ‘I love you’s, promise rings, and everything else but directly asking one another “Will you marry me?…”

The next fall, Eren took Photography 2, much more enthusiastically than Photography 1. Unlike his last minute tree photo he turned in last year, which was the most inspiring image he could muster, this one was very inspired, through and through… and expressed his strongest feelings. It was a photo of a free looking Armin in a ruffled white shirt, with the top buttons undone, smiling at the viewer with dazzling eyes and shiny, wet lips, (courtesy of Eren’s…). Eren desaturated the background of the campus surrounding Armin to mere black and white, leaving only Armin and his gorgeous oceanic eyes in color. Its title: Eren Yeager’s Story.