#next art is NOT centered on these three for once. I think it's about time everyone met some of the nahualtin

[amuromi]

★ ₊ ⊹ ⋆˙ ┈ 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ┈ 11.0k

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ┈ NSFW! actor!au, unprotected sex, pet names (baby), oral (f!receiving), ooc Toji (no, really!!)

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐀!𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ┈ This is very self-indulgent because I was once again infected with brain worms because of this post.

✮ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!! ✮

Toji is a typecast kind of actor. He started out as just a guy they call in when they need some muscle. He’s got the training for all sorts of things. Martial arts, swordplay. If a background character needs to look believably menacing, he’s the one to get on contract. And over time his bit parts as henchman number three and thug with one line slowly evolved into something more involved, because there is no denying that Toji has a face for film. Eyes that come with a vulpine sharpness, like he knows something you don’t, and a scar at the corner of his mouth that’s as marketable as any beauty mark. Really, he looks mean, but that’s exactly what a villain is supposed to look like. He’s all harsh angles that any photographer would kill to work with. So he slowly builds up a filmography from the most insignificant masked goon to a formidable kingpin, front and center. Goes from an uncredited extra to damn near top billing as a main antagonist and that’s just fine with him when the bigger roles come with a paycheck to match. It’s not anything new for him. Toji spent his whole life fighting and training. How else could he make all those stunts look so easy? It’s only right that he makes a career out of all those grueling days of harsh conditioning. And it sweetens the deal when he finally finds his girl. 

Every villain needs arm candy. It’s a constant revolving door of pretty faces standing next to him whenever the director yells “action!” So many that they begin to blend together in his mind and he spends interviews bullshitting his way through any thoughts regarding his female co-stars. “She was fine, I guess.” And of course, he thinks she did a great job in that movie he’s never seen. Empty platitudes to satisfy the interviewer and keep his manager happy that he’s playing nice about the tedious media circuit. Usually his roles don’t require that much attention to detail. He’s coasted this far on his graveled voice and dour expressions, so he never bothers to pay more than the bare minimum of attention. He learns his line and character names. He knows who the blonde character named Amy is but without the blindingly bright platinum hair he couldn’t pick the actress that played her out of a lineup. So it makes his life a lot easier when they find him a girl that works. 

Something about charisma and chemistry. All the buzzwords he’s fed over conference calls boil down to you being his girl. The perfect match for his onscreen persona. Real pretty with just enough training that you can fill in on most of your own stunts. So it makes sense when the two of you start cropping up as a package deal. If there’s an action movie in need of a big bad, Toji’s name is put forward, and if he needs a girl–and, sometimes, even when he doesn’t–his people are quick to toss your name into the ring. He’s not sure on the details, if your agents have worked out some kind of joint agreement or if it’s just coincidence that all the casting directors settle on you as his opposite but he’s not complaining. 

You’re real easy on the eyes in a way that goes beyond basic celebrity standards. You don’t look standard. The other girls he’s worked with were standardized. All coming in the same kind of package, but with you he can pick out true individual features. He can tell when the makeup artists fuck around with your eyebrows and overdoes your lipstick. Maybe it’s ’cause he’s always looking at you nowadays, but it might also just be how gorgeous you are. Of course he wants to know what such a pretty girl looks like. It’s one of the perks of the profession and Toji is nothing if not selfish about almost everything. He’s not acting for the art, it just gives him the biggest payout at the end of the day. He likes his bank account with a ridiculous amount of zeros and it just so happens that you come along with that. 

He can’t see why his manager is suddenly complaining when your names start getting tossed around in tandem more often than not. Why shouldn’t Toji date you if he wants to? And he wants to. But apparently he’s supposed to maintain a certain aura in the media. Mean and unapproachable. Which he is. There’s plenty of videos of him manhandling the paparazzi to attest to that. But that means he’s gotta be something unobtainable, and making heart eyes–he’s definitely not doing anything like that–at his favorite little co-star is certainly the opposite of unobtainable. 

He tries to be pragmatic about it, saying he’s just keeping in character. Mean to everyone but his girl. But his manager isn’t going for that. Something about your people using him for clout since he’s got a few years of experience on you as the new kid on the block. Still Toji can’t see the problem. This whole damn industry is built on connections and favoritism so why can’t he help you a little if he wants to. The mere mention of his lack of concern has Shiu groaning, the sound chopped up and drawn out by a poor connection. 

“You’re my most difficult client, do you know that?” The man sighs like he’s trying to wrangle a toddler into behaving. 

“I’m your only client.” Toji reminds him, earning a scowl through the laptop screen. 

“And whose fault is that?” Shiu sounds so put out that Toji doesn’t bother entertaining the idea that it’s anything other than his fault. Somehow. Even though it was Shiu that approached him after he spent a couple years as a free agent that productions had to play phone tag with to book. Now he’s at least a little serious about this whole acting thing, but Shiu wasn’t there from the start so he gets what he gets. An insanely marketable asset if the only thing you want to be known for is managing the big, scary guy in every action movie out in the past few years. In pigeonholing himself into what he’s good at, Toji has tied Shiu’s hands but that’s not really his issue. Especially not when he’s pissing him off, telling him to stop talking nice to you. 

“All I’m saying is a little discretion would be highly appreciated.” Toji nods like he’s taking his manager’s words to heart but he knows there’s not much the man can do without shooting himself in the foot by pissing off the only person he’s got on contract. 

The people wanna see the two of you together. Toji wants to see the two of you together. And you’re not putting up a fuss about seeing him on every set you show up to. The only person upset with the arrangement is Shiu, and Toji barely listens to anything the man says in the first place. So when you let slip during a break to reset a scene that you’re going through the audition process for some indie thriller starting up production he’s quick to piece together enough information to get himself in the door of an audition without Shiu knowing. You’re new enough that you’ve never had anyone else as your love interest and something cocky and maybe a tad bit possessive in him wants to keep it that way. He likes how the two of you look together, so why ruin a good thing by letting someone else work with you when you already work so well together? And you just have to look so happy to see him when the final cast is announced. 

Here you come, all smiles and newly dyed hair, asking why he didn’t tell you he was trying for a part, too, and he just shrugs to keep from telling a lie. Because the truth is he wasn’t supposed to be trying for a role but like clockwork a villain was needed and he showed up to fill the spot. And it works out in his favor because he’s not here to play some one note guy with a gun. Instead he’s playing a psychopath or sociopath–he’s still not a hundred percent on the difference but you explained that there definitely is a difference–and it just so happens that his character is obsessed with you. Shiu made a snide comment about “a little on the nose, isn’t it,” when the first script came through but Toji elected to ignore him. It’s not some well-guarded secret that he likes working with you so who cares if it seems a bit much that he’s somehow always one step behind you. 

Apparently, the fans care. They care a lot. He’s still trying to wrap his head around people caring so much about what he’s doing. When Shiu gets to throwing around media jargon he usually tunes him out but he hears enough about it from you that he’s starting to recognize certain terms. Fans, stans–two different things, maybe–fansites, and saesaengs–at least that’s what Shiu calls them, and they’re bad fans. Toji would rather call them what they are, which is crazed stalkers, but in the industry there needs to be a code word for everything. He’s caught you scrolling through your own tags on social media more than once, “just to see what they’re saying,” you insist, and then sulk when Toji takes your phone because you don’t need to have an unfiltered experience about how people view you online. It’s a dangerous place for someone so sensitive. You don’t have the same aloofness that he has to how people perceive him and he doesn’t need you getting your feelings hurt. 

Supposed fans like to pick at every little thing people in the spotlight do. An hour on whatever app you’re scrolling that day would pick you apart like buzzards over roadkill and leave you nursing your hurt feelings for days to come. New insecurities you haven’t even considered having would crop up because one person made a comment on your nose. Never mind the fact that it looks perfect just the way it is. At least to Toji. But you’re always quick to remind him that he has something nice to say no matter how you look, which isn’t wrong but he’s never lied or over embellished his thoughts. You are beautiful. It’s not his fault for pointing out the obvious. And his blatant, albeit silent, admiration works towards your newest project together. He hears the crew whispering between takes about how unnerving he is on camera, and how it doesn’t entirely seem like an act when he’s looking at you. 

It isn’t. Although Toji isn’t quite unhinged enough to stalk you or slaughter anyone that gets too close. He doesn’t need to anyway. You offer yourself up so sweetly like you can’t tell how frustratingly tempting you are. He tries to behave. For your benefit. He doesn’t care about Shiu’s constant reminders for “discretion.” And if your agent has anything to say to you about it, you’ve yet to mention it. And you never turn down his offers to go out after work. 

Someone asks for your autograph when you enter the restaurant together, begging for a picture with the two of you before a starry-eyed hostess ushers you to a private table. That picture will cost him another afternoon of Shiu yapping in his ear about tarnishing his reputation but that’s a problem for later because Toji is still thinking about how you rested your hand on his chest and leaned against his shoulder for the photo. There’s probably nothing to it. Intimacy like that comes like muscle memory after so many photoshoots for movie stills and promotional images. There’s a poster somewhere of the two of you posed in just the same position but that had been directed by a photographer. This you did on your own. Toji tries not to dwell on it as you flip through the menu. He knows from experience that you’ll stare blankly at the words printed on the paper, flipping through each page like you’re reading it, just to look up with that deer in headlights face that you get anytime a waiter asks for your order. You can deal with a swarm of paparazzi with a breezy smile but the moment someone asks you what you want to eat you freeze up. 

“I don’t know what to get,” you hum, still looking over all the options. Toji knows what you want. It’s an Italian restaurant and he knows you like pasta. He picks your order before his own, setting the menu aside to watch you pretend to make a choice. It’s cute, because he knows you’re genuinely trying to pick but without fail you start to blank as soon as the waitress saunters over to the table looking far more primped than the others he’s seen milling around. There’s gloss on her lips and her hair is pulled back so neatly it looks freshly done. It almost looks like she’s just clocked in except her cheeks are flushed bright and there’s a slight tremble to her hands. The hostess must’ve spread the word that celebrities were dining at table 17. She smiles real big, eyes fixed on Toji as you frantically flip through your menu, trying to decide on something. He reaches over to take it from you, giving the overeager waitress both your orders before sending her on her way. 

“Thanks,” you smile. Of course, he wants to say, I got you, baby. Instead he keeps his mouth shut, nodding in acknowledgment as he waits for you to start up a new conversation. You’re on about something to do with production, how you’re still not used to being important enough to have your own assistant on set, when the waitress returns with your drinks. Her hand linger on Toji’s glass, condensation dripping over her fingers as if she’s waiting for him to reach for the cup and brush his fingers over hers. It’s like something straight out of a romance movie and he might’ve found the humor in the attempt if it weren’t so annoying. Instead of reaching for his drink he sits back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest as he glowers at the girl. 

She interrupted your story about you assistant messing up your breakfast order yesterday, but you don’t seem bothered as you stick your straw in your drink, humming happily after the first sip. He ordered you one of those Shirley Temples that you always get, candied cherries floating in the soda and grenadine. After a beat longer of Toji’s unflinching glare, the waitress finally retreats with a quiet chirp about your food being out soon. You thank her and Toji wants to tell you not to waste your breath, but that would probably only confuse you. For as intuitive as you can be, you still haven’t grasped the fact that Toji would kill to be your man. It would almost be endearing how oblivious you are if it wasn’t grating on his last nerve. Here you are thanking a girl for flirting with him like it didn’t take every shred of his patience to not tell her to fuck off and leave him alone. 

“So, anyway,” you continue, twirling the straw wrapper between your fingers, “he’s so used to assisting Kyoko”–some other actress Toji’s heard of in passing–“that he never actually asked for my order and just came back with her usual. Apparently she likes tomatoes in her eggs but I had to pick them out. And my omelet still ended up tasting like tomatoes. It was so bad I couldn’t finish it.” You screw your face up like just recalling the story has brought the taste back to your tongue. Toji already knows about your aversion to tomatoes. He always reminds the wait staff to remove it from your order whenever you’re out together. All it took was one time watching you peel a tomato off your burger for him to commit the little quirk to memory. 

“You should get a new one,” he tells you. He’s had his fair share of assistants but they’re a rotating roster of equally intimidated people flinching every time he calls their name like he’s going to tell them to go play in traffic. Usually he just wants a drink or something from the restaurant up the street but something about Toji is just so suffocating that most assistants barely last through filming. There are very few people that can tolerate his terse personality but he’s glad you’re one of them. So pretty and so sweet like you don’t realize that everyone on the production staff avoids him unless it’s absolutely necessary to speak with him. It’s half reputation and half unmitigated judgment. Toji would like to think he’s not all bad. He can be cordial in a distant way when not provoked but so many people seem to have an expert ability to pluck at his nerves. 

“Nah, it’s fine.” You’re laughing like it isn’t a big deal that you weren’t able to eat because some inattentive staff member didn’t do their job correctly. “I told him what happened and he apologized, even asked if he should go and get me my actual order, but by then it was about time for filming to start.” You wave your hand dismissively. “It wasn’t anything serious.” Except it was because you’d had to go hungry because of someone’s incompetence. There’s a reason Toji is always taking you out. Most actresses have a habit of skimping on meals to look as trim as possible and he’s not about to let you starve because that’s what the media thinks looks best. He likes you just the way you are and, as far as Toji is concerned, his opinion is the only one that should matter. Not even your own as your food arrives and you whine about not being able to finish it all. 

“I’ve seen you eat more than that.” It comes out just a hair too harsh and he can see it settle over you as if he meant it as an insult. “It’s just pasta,” he says before you can get too in your head about it. “It looks like more than it is.” You grumble something under your breath, likely something snarky about how he doesn’t have to worry about portion control because you’re always saying how his stomach is a black hole. His physique is a testament to how far the human body can be pushed thanks to his tumultuous upbringing. A chasm of memories that don’t quite fit together, punched with holes like a moth-eaten shirt. Something about trauma and dissociation Shiu had said after a night of drunken oversharing. 

It sounded like he was reading off the first link he found in the search results while he was looking up why Toji was such an abrasive asshole all the time. Realistically, Toji knows he has things to work on just like he knows he doesn’t care enough to put in the effort. It is what it is and as far as he’s concerned the future is far more interesting than the brick wall his brain has built between the present and the past. The future has you and there’s not much he can think of that’s better than that. Not when you’re sitting across from him yapping about whatever pops into your head and happily eating the food he knew you’d like. 

“I mentioned in an interview once that I really liked this one author, and they’re releasing a new book soon. Apparently they sent me a signed advanced copy! There was a little handwritten note and everything!” It’s cute how you’re famous and still getting excited about another public figure acknowledging your existence. There’s something so genuine and humble in your happiness that seems to be missing from most of the big names he’s worked alongside. Toji isn’t always the easiest to work with considering how short his fuse is but he’s not one to take it out on people. He’s more hard stares and gruff one-liners while he’s seen other actors shout at the staff like they’re children needing to be scolded. So far, the egotistical people he’s worked with have enough sense not to snap at Toji directly. The only person that’s ever mouthed off to him is you, and it’s always within reason. He is a dick sometimes and you’re just so preoccupied with pleasing everyone that you’ll bite at him for being a bit too short with a co-star or snapping at a member of the wardrobe staff for taking too long for his liking. You make everything more pleasant for everyone involved. A little ray of sunshine in Toji’s otherwise dreary life. 

He was right about the food. You finish your pasta and two of your cherry drinks before Toji pays the tab, ignoring the waitress’ number written at the bottom of the receipt. He hardly notices the blue scribbles, but you do. It seems to flip a switch in your brain as you stare at it before Toji crumples it and shoves it into his pocket. You’re quiet as you leave the restaurant, going a few paces before you finally find your voice. 

“Are you gonna call her?” Your tone isn’t as playful as it usually is when you tease him about all the attention he draws. He’s gotten free drinks at bars and comped meals at restaurants because some waitress or bartender thought he was handsome. Toji has grown used to women giggling behind their hands as he passes and men peeking at him from the corner of their eye like he won’t notice. There’s a certain allure to his surliness that no one but you seems to be immune to. You and maybe Shiu. Usually the most you’ll give him is a laugh and a sarcastic quip about how he’s a public liability for all the attention he commands. Usually a joke about him stopping traffic. But you seem a bit more serious today, a bit more bothered than usual. For a second, Toji considers that he might be hearing things where you didn’t mean them. But then he catches the slight pout of your lips tinged red from your drink and he knows something’s up. 

“The waitress,” you say when he takes too long to answer, “she gave you her number, right?” It takes Toji a moment to realize this is the first time anyone has been so forward with their flirtations in front of you. Of course there were always the compliments and thinly veiled innuendos, but it never goes too far considering most people just assume the two of you are together like that. This waitress had taken a chance slipping him her number, but it’s not like Toji wants it. He hands you the rumpled receipt without a second thought. There at the bottom, in that same sparkly blue pen she used to take your order, is her name and number. 

“Kanna.” You say, eyes narrowing as you stare at the digits of her phone number. Toji decides to test the waters because there was certainly a hint of disdain in your voice as you read her name. You mumble something about her handwriting being messy and Toji can’t help but laugh. 

“Jealous, baby?” Sunlight dances over your lashes as your eyes snap to his face. He watches you try to hide your expression, your pout disappearing as you hand him back the receipt. He shoves it back in his pocket without a second glance because he knows you’d say something about littering if he dropped it on the ground just to prove a point.

“No.” You say it too quickly for it to be true. 

“Liar.” Toji laughs because you’re so clearly bothered. Usually someone making a pass at him wouldn’t get you so flustered but there’s something different about you today. You’re more openly affectionate. There’s still those moments of hesitation but you’ve been more free with grabbing his hand as you walk and leaning against him when you’re idle. That girl couldn’t have rattled you. She was hardly anything to look at, less so when Toji is constantly surrounded by a plethora of perfectly curated women that fit rigidly into the popular look of the moment. Trendsetting hairstyles and the latest designer clothes. You’re more subdued, less artificial in your style choices, yet he still finds you leagues more beautiful than anyone he’s ever seen before. Certainly more so than that random waitress and her glitter pen. 

Toji has to hold back a smile as you walk ahead of him. Taking three steps for every one of his and still only managing to stay a half step in front of him. He can tell you’re trying to distance yourself, arms crossed and lips pouted as you rush forward. Toji let’s you. It’s not like you’re far ahead and, lucky for him, you’re headed to the same place. The hotel is a few blocks away and Toji takes the time to enjoy the way the sun moves over your hair, golden light settling like a halo around your head. It’s only when you reach the towering silhouette of the hotel that the sun is eclipse and you go dull. Without the shower of gilded light you look more dejected than annoyed. A kicked puppy rather than an angry dog. You make it as far as the elevator before Toji decides he’s had enough of the running. His grip on your arm is as gentle as he can manage while keeping you from slipping away from him. His free hand finds your hip as the floors rush past. Your shuffling lifts your shirt ever so slightly and Toji finds his thumb brushing over the exposed skin above your waistband before he can contemplate the consequences.

Toji touches you all the time. As his on screen love interest, he’s inclined to be physically affectionate when the cameras are rolling. But even off screen he can’t help the way his true desires bleed into his actions. The media eats it up every time a picture of the two of you surfaces, the rumor mills running overtime to concoct a front page story for one tabloid or another. But that’s always been part of the show. The same way you leaned into him when that fan asked for a picture is the way he holds your waist on the red carpet. This is different. There are no cameras. No one to impress or enthrall. This is simply Toji wanting to touch you, and you letting him. The feeling of his fingers dipping beneath the hem of your shirt have gotten you to go still, leaning back into his chest as he watches your reflection in the polished metal of the elevator doors. 

“Let go.” It’s only the two of you in the elevator and yet your voice is no louder than a whisper. Toji scoffs, hands loosening little by little. 

“You want me to?” 

“No.” Your voice is even smaller than before. The quietest admission like you’re unsure of it yourself. Still, Toji lets go and watches you stumble because you were leaning so heavily against him. 

Immediately he can feel the absence of your warmth against his chest, but he’ll let you come back to him. He’s made his intentions clear. From here, the choice is yours. When the doors ding open, you nearly sprint down the hall and Toji assumes you’ve made your choice. He can live with it. He doesn’t blame you for it. The moments you’ve shared together always felt a bit too good to be true, just as perfect as when the cameras are rolling. But you stop in the middle of the hallway. Your room is further down but you don’t move to go any further, as if something has rooted you to that place. Toji sets a leisurely pace in his approach. 

There’s the expectation that you’ll go running off again the moment he gets too close like a rabbit evading a wolf, but you surprise him with your stillness. Even as he recaptures your waist, hands more purposefully dipping under your shirt as he pulls you into his chest. This isn’t the place for it. A picture like this would be a PR nightmare and he’d never hear the end of it from Shiu. But Toji can’t bring himself to worry about that right now. Instead he asks which room you want to go to. His is closer but he doesn’t doubt you’d be more comfortable in your own. You lead the way, swiping your card to unlock the door before pulling him inside. 

After a month of filming, you’ve turned this temporary situation into your own. It smells like you more than any industrial strength cleaner that the housekeepers use. He recognizes the smell of your shampoo and that scented lotion that you love so much. The bed is freshly made and that damn duck that a fan gifted you months ago is propped up against the pillows next to the remote. A bit of tension leaks from your shoulders as you laugh and explain that the housekeepers have been doing this for weeks, setting a cute little scene for you to return to after they’ve straightened up the room. You set the remote and duck on the nightstand as you sit at the edge of the bed, perched as if you don’t want to crease the freshly steamed linens. You look nervous and it stops Toji from wandering further than the little entryway. He’s flanked by a closet and a mirror just like in his room but he can’t take his eyes off you. Your hands are tucked between your thighs and he tries not to focus on the way you’re shifting and squirming, squeezing your legs together. 

He can almost see the heat flooding through your body and he’s more than capable of flushing it out if you’ll just ask him to. He feels like a leashed dog waiting for the command to pounce. He reaches up to brace his arms against the dropped ceiling annexing the entryway from the rest of the room. For all your silence, your body is speaking for itself. Toji’s eyes don’t miss the way your throat bobs as you swallow, eyes focused on the way his arms flex above his head. 

“I can’t tell you what to do,” Toji says even though he really wants to. He knows you’d listen, too. But this isn’t something he can script and direct. You have to decide for yourself, give him the words he’s looking to hear. “You gotta tell me what you want, baby.” He sees the little pet name land, watches how you dip your chin and look up at him through your lashes. Embarrassed and he hasn’t even done anything yet. 

“Don’t make me,” you mumble. It’s so starkly different from the sultry confidence he sees on set, a true testament to your skills as you struggle to find the words to say you want him. Because he knows you do. It’s clear in the way you keep stealing glances at him even as you point your face away, hiding like he can’t see the way your teeth nip nervously at your lip. 

“I won’t.” He agrees. “Won’t make you do anything you don’t want to, so you gotta tell me. What do you want, baby?” 

Toji wants to think he’d be able to turn tail and head back to his own room if you denied him, take a cold shower and forget this ever happened, but he knows it’s a lie. He’s already so swept up in your orbit that denial would feel like a punch to the gut. He’s taken worse, but not from you. It would be like sucking the air from his lungs. It’s gotten so bad that he can’t imagine a day without you. Work was only a pretense. He got to see you everyday because you were contractually obligated. Now you’re far past coworkers hanging around each other because it’s what the job demands. He likes to think you see him as a friend, maybe something more. He could live with just being a friend as long as it means he gets to spend time in your bed. He’s got so few people that he talks to on a day to day basis that Toji imagines it wouldn’t really make a difference what you called him as long as you do call him. 

Finally, you don’t say his name, or anything really, but you extend a hand towards him and he rushes forward like a tsunami swallowing the shoreline. He kneels and tries not to think of how stupid he must look prostrating himself at your feet. You don’t seem to think any less of him for his poorly concealed eagerness. It's a desire grown over years of working alongside you. A sort of desperation that will knock the breath out of your lungs as soon as you give him the go ahead. Because Toji has had women. Countless, faceless. He’s slept with enough people to know this feels different. He wonders if this is what it's like for desire to feel real. Because why else would he be so hung up on you after so long. He’s not a man after a chase. He won’t run after anyone. Unless it’s you. He’s been running so fucking hard that he’s nearly out of breath and here he is so close to the finish line in a marathon he hadn’t realized he was running. And you’re the prize brushing his hair back and touching the scar at the corner of his mouth like he’s something to be gentle with. 

“You scare me.” He hears you say it through waves of blood rushing in his ears. He’s familiar with fear but never from you. From day one you’d been strangely calm around him. Like a deer sitting beside a mountain lion without a care in the world. Toji knows he’s something to be afraid of. He’s lived his life. He knows exactly how dangerous he is, how terrifying he must seem. It was stupid to think you were above that fear just because you smiled at him. 

“I’m scared you’re gonna hurt me.” You say softly. But you’re still touching him. Humans tame predators, he reminds himself. A wolf can be turned into a dog with the proper treatment. He thinks again of how he’s kneeling at your feet. He’s been tamed–whipped as Shiu called it–by you. 

“M’not gonna hurt you.” He tries to work the gravel from his voice, to sound less brooding as he reassures you. It doesn’t work. He’s set in stone. Too old to learn a new trick. If you’ll have him, Toji will be whatever you need, but you gotta take him as he is. Because it’s all he has to give. 

“Promise?” Your tone is so soft he half expects you to stick out your pinky or make him cross his heart. 

“I promise.”

“I’m serious, Toji. I don’t want to be just another girl to you. If we do this, we’re doing this. You can’t use me and leave me. I won’t let you.” He hears the unspoken words. I won’t let you hurt me. So that’s what you meant. Of course you aren’t afraid of him. You’re scared in the way everyone seemed to be of each other. Scared to commit, scared to be vulnerable. Toji loathes to think he feels the same. Rejection would hurt if it came from you. But it hasn’t. You’re still playing with his hair and Toji hears a damning thought surface in his head; I could marry this girl. He shoves it down before it can fully form. It’s too soon, too optimistic. He knows who he is as much as he tries to be better when he’s with you. Toji could hurt you. Get scared and break your heart. He knows if he did he’d never see you again. 

No more stupid videos getting sent to him at 5AM because you’re in the makeup chair at the crack of dawn. No more ordering your food because you can’t ever get the words out yourself. No more shoving you to the inside of the sidewalk because you like balancing along the curb as you walk. He could live without seeing you on set ever again. That had only been a symptom. The root of it was simply you. In any way he could have you. 

It’s pathetic but he’s addicted in a way he never thought possible. Never let himself think it was possible. Not for a guy like him. Movies gave him an outlet for his more violent tendencies. He would’ve done just as well as a boxer or something else where he could get paid to rough people up in a way that was above board. He’d done it the illegal way for years. Got away with it too. You have every right to be scared of him. Every right to leave him. But in this moment you’re here and he’s selfish. He leans up to kiss you. 

It doesn’t feel new. There’s no picturesque fireworks clouding his head. It isn’t new. He’s kissed you a hundred times over by now. It doesn’t feel new, but it feels right. Especially without the motivation of a camera. He isn’t kissing a character, he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him. 

“Stop thinking so hard.” Because Toji can tell by the way your hands flutter over his shoulders with nervous uncertainty that you’re not all here. You’re thinking about this like someone is going to snap at you for messing up an angle or pressing too close and smearing your makeup. He hears you mumble a feeble apology. 

“None of that. We’re doing this, baby. You and me. Don’t think about anything else.” That gets you to loosen up enough for Toji to work you out of your clothes. He’s never had the pleasure. There’s never been a reason for his hands to be pressing underneath your shirt and it feels like his hands are melting into your skin as they push towards your chest, taking your shirt with them. You’re warm and pliant, softening like butter under his touch. Toji gets you out of your shirt with a bit too much eagerness, ruffling your hair as you squeak at his desperation. He can’t even find it in him to care if he looks overeager now because he is. 

He’s been after you for years and he’s not about to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. Beneath your clothes is an endless expanse of skin hidden only by the covering of your underwear. Plain cotton, nothing special, but it has him throbbing in his pants because it’s you. And you have the audacity to mumble about “didn’t know we were doing this, would’ve worn something nicer,” like Toji isn’t practically drooling at the way your pretty blue panties sit on your hips. He thumbs at the elastic, pulling it back just to hear it snap against your skin. It’s like unwrapping a gift and he’s looking to savor it. 

“They’re gonna know,” he says as he kisses along the shape of your breasts peeking out the top of your bra. He could put a mark there. Bite down on the soft skin and leave a print of his teeth in your skin, put a bruise there with his greedy mouth as he licks at the line where skin meets fabric, hiding the rest of you away in the cups of your bra. He could mark you up and they’d know. Everyone would know exactly who did it because Toji isn’t ashamed to admit he’s been after you like a dog, barking at anyone that got even remotely too close for comfort. A co-star could simply be complimenting the outfit wardrobe had chosen for a particular scene and he’d be looming behind them with murder in his eyes. Of course you look gorgeous but only he should get to look that hard at you. 

“Don’t!” You squeak when he noses over your skin, looking for a place to sink his teeth. “Don’t leave any marks!” He almost wants to ignore you and latch his mouth on to you anyway, but Toji resists the urge. You’ve asked him to behave and he wants to be a gentleman for you. Or, at least, the closest a man like him can get to it. He can still tease you about it, though. 

“No?” He mocks you. “You don’t want me to leave any marks? What, you got someone else that gets to see you like this, baby?” You squirm at his patronizing tone, a pout working its way onto your lips. He nips at your bottom lip before smoothing the expression with a kiss. 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” you whine. “Makeup and–” He kisses you again, slipping his tongue between your parted lips, because of course he knows. Makeup would make a fuss if he left marks on your neck, wardrobe would pitch a fit if they found hickeys in a place their designated outfits couldn’t cover. You’d be in the makeup chair even longer as they painted over all the places he’d marked you up. 

“You taste like cherries.” He mumbles against your mouth. The taste has him fumbling for his pants like a fucking virgin because it’s so innate to you. Those little fruity drinks you love so much have him pressing painfully against his zipper. Toji has you leaned up against the pillows as he sits back on his knees to pull his shirt off. He doesn’t miss the way your thighs twitch, pressing tighter together at the sight of him looming over you bare-chested. He doesn’t toss his shirt far because he wants to see you wearing it later. Right now you smell like you. Your lotion, your shampoo. He can’t wait to tired you out and wrap you up in his clothes until you smell like him. 

He wants to mark you up in other ways if he can’t do it with his lips. So everyone knows exactly who you belong to. The idea that you had to make him swear to not let this be a one off kind of thing is utterly laughable when Toji hasn’t wanted to stray away from you since nearly the first time you met. Nothing anyone else has to offer could be better than what you can give him. Although he’s happy that the little waitress tried. You wouldn’t have been so worked up if she hadn’t. He’s been teetering on the edge of insanity being so close to you everyday and it’s nice that he’s finally caught a glimpse of what you’re like when you get so wrapped up in your mind that you start acting out of character. Because Toji hasn’t felt this crazy over anyone and he’s glad he’s not suffering this lovestruck psychosis alone. It’s dumb and childish but he’s got so little in his life that’s sweet and pure that he isn’t about to poison this with toxic hang ups about maintaining his persona.

“Did it make you mad, baby?” He asks as he bullies his way between your legs. You move with him, thighs parting to give him space even as you shrink back into the pillows, brows pinched as you watch him settle his cheek against your thigh. “Did that girl at the restaurant upset you?” He wants to hear you admit it. He smirks at the way you screw up your face, nose scrunching in distaste at the mention of another woman. 

“Don’t say things like that when we’re like this,” you grumble, jerking the leg he’s resting on. He bites at you in retaliation and because he wants to hear you squeak about leaving marks again. 

“You are mad.” He smirks and watches the way your cheeks puff indignantly as you pout at him. He wants to kiss that petulant little expression off your face but Toji can’t bring himself to move even an inch away from where he’s resting. With his face cushioned by the pillowy warmth of your thighs he can see the mess spreading between your legs. A dark spot is forming in your panties, getting bigger with every shift of your hips. Toji slips a finger under the elastic and can practically hear the sound of the fabric sticking to your skin. It makes his mind go blank and all he can think about is getting closer. He blinks and suddenly his face is buried at the apex of your thighs, panting like a dog as he noses against the soiled fabric, tongue chasing the taste of you seeping through the cotton. 

“Wait!” You squeak, and he tries to. He pulls back but only far enough to look up at you. His nose stays nuzzled against the seam of your cunt, brushing against where your clit is throbbing through the fabric. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks even though he can think of a few things as his finger drags through the space between your panties and pussy, making a slick noise that has him grinding against the mattress. So fucking wet. 

“Nothing…” Toji recognizes the face you make in an instant. He’s seen it a hundred times over by now. It always reminds him of a puzzle the way you fix your expression whenever a camera is rolling. It’s always your mouth first. Smile dropped, pout gone, lips pressed into a neutral line. He sees every piece of your face fall into place until it’s perfectly blank. He watches you awhile longer until your composure breaks again and your brows dip into something resembling anxiety. 

“Nervous, baby?” He doesn’t need you to answer but you do anyway, nodding slowly. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. Just lemme take care of you, okay?” You nod again and Toji rewards the loosening of your muscles with a gentle kiss to your stomach. “Behave.” He says and watches the way you tense up again. It’s less nerves, more anticipation as you watch him slink back between your legs. He decides to spare your underwear, pulling them down nice and proper instead of tearing them off of you like he’s so desperate to do. It takes a few seconds longer and gives you a chance to knock your knees together as he sits up to pull the bundle of fabric off your ankles. 

“What did I say?” He asks, loving the way the timbre of his voice seems to send a shiver through your prone body. “Behave.” You don’t resist as he spreads your legs again but you start to squirm the longer he stares. Toji has spent many a night in the privacy of his hotel room fisting his dick to whatever image of you his mind could conjure but nothing could come close to the real thing. 

“S’pretty, baby.” He mumbles, tongue tripping over the words. He’s just lost any semblance of cognitive function. All he can see is you, spread out and dripping on the sheets, and he can’t wait another second to get his mouth on you. 

I’m gonna marry this girl, he can’t help the thought as your lashes flutter and lips part the moment he gets his mouth on your pussy. You’re still nervous, twitching and squirming like you aren’t sure what to do with yourself. Toji decides for you, arms hooking under your legs to hold you still. That still leaves your hands to flutter anxiously, skating over where his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs and brushing across his hair like you’re afraid to touch him. It makes him groan in annoyance, the sound humming against your clit. It makes you go limp, hands falling still. One rests against his head and the other over his hand. Toji loosens his grip on your leg just enough to thread his fingers through yours, pointedly ignoring how intimate the small touch feels even though he has his tongue buried in your pussy. He’s being greedy, tonguing at your hole and nosing against your clit as your cunt makes a mess of his face, but the moment is softened by the way your fingers squeeze around his. 

He feels your nails against his scalp. Not quite gripping, more so petting and it feels like something akin to a reward as he makes a mess between your legs. You don’t tense up again and Toji realizes the idle movement of your hands is grounding you even as your thighs shake around his head. He can barely breathe but he can’t even fathom pulling away when you’re making such pretty noises and trying to grind your hips against his face. You’re slurring something between those soft sighs that sounds an awful lot like “thank you,” and Toji wrenches his mouth away from you because he’s one more head scratch away from cumming in his pants like some virgin. He doesn’t even bother to get his underwear down all the way. He just shoves the waistband low enough to get his dick out and nearly collapses on top of you the second he feels your cunt against his skin. 

Toji braces an arm beside your head, leaning close enough to feel your breath ghosting across his skin. He kisses you to get you to close your eyes, but he keeps his half lidded as he watches you squirm as you taste yourself on his tongue. The mess you’ve left on his face transfers to yours as he rubs his face against your cheek like a needy puppy. It would be more embarrassing if you weren’t acting just as clinging. He can feel the needling sensation of your nails digging into his shoulder. It sends shivers down his spine, lingering just right on the cusp of pain and pleasure. Toji tries to kiss you again but it ends up being more of a heady clashing of teeth and tongue as he presses his parted lips against yours. Still tastes like cherries, he thinks, enjoying the mix between sweet and savory as the taste of your arousal still sticks to his tongue. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he groans as you press a wet kiss to the corner of his mouth, right where his scar is. And because you’re so frustratingly sweet you blink up at him, slow and wide like the little doe eyed beauty that you are, and ask, “Like what?”

“Like that,” Toji groans as you raise your brows and tilt your head, lips pulling into another one of your signature pouts. “Fuck, turn over.” He hooks an arm under your back and flips you fast enough to leave you gasping. Your hand flutters to find him again where it’s settled against your heaving stomach. He can feel your pulse flutter as you catch your breath, body shivering with something softer than anxiety. Anticipation weaves its way through your body. Toji can tell in the way you tense and relax at each minute movement he makes. He decides to tease you as he fists the base of his cock, squeezing hard to keep from cumming on the smooth expanse of your back. His hand moves from your stomach to leave you teetering on quivering arms as he trails his finger up your spine. You bend to match his touch, arching as his fingertip traces over the contours of your back. Goosebumps raises where he touches and you shiver, head falling between your shoulders. 

Toji takes advantage of the vulnerable position. Your hair is usually down during filming and there’s little reason for that to change in the coming days so he feels little guilt about the way his teeth scrape against the nape of your neck. It makes your arms give out and Toji’s teeth tighten on the soft skin as your new position presses you back against his hips. He hadn’t meant to leave a mark but there’s likely to be one now. He pulls away, lapping apologetically at the faint indent of his teeth before grabbing your hips to keep you flush against him. If you move again he’s going to ruin the sheets instead of you, but you’re still squirming like you want him to embarrass himself by coming too soon. It becomes plainly clear that your intention is to kill him as you toss your hair over your shoulder and look up at him through your lashes, mumbling a soft “are you gonna fuck me now?” 

The answer is a resounding yes and Toji can’t bring himself to think of anything else as he guides his dick inside you. This time he does collapse, falling forward before he can catch himself. It pushes him inside in one go and you let out a long whine, grinding against him as Toji rests his forehead against the back of your neck. You’re starting to sweat now with all that wiggling you’ve been doing and he licks along the column of your neck to distract from the way your pussy is choking his dick. He can hear you whining, feel it too with the way his chest is flush against your back. A soft litany of “please,” and “move,” with his name punctuating each little gasp. He can feel you trying to grind against him, held still partially by the weight of his body. He’s got you almost completely pinned and decided to finish the job. You squeak as he presses his knee against yours, spreading your legs until you collapse onto your stomach. 

“Stay there,” he says like you have any hope of moving without him peeling his heavy body off of you. He has no intentions of doing anything remotely close to that as he shoves a pillow under your hips and his arm under your jaw. 

“Comfy?” He asks. He can feel the way your cheeks are squished in the crook of his arm as you try to nod and go back to begging. He nips at the shell of your ear, soothing the sting with his tongue, as he pulls his hips back. You’re close. He can feel it in the way your pussy is desperate to keep him inside, squeezing tight every time he pulls away. It’s got him on the edge, filling the hotel room with the heavy sound of skin against skin. He’s glad the bed is so sturdy. 

There’s no squeaking or knocking headboard as he drives you up the mattress with his desperate rutting. He gets a hand between you and the sheets to pinch at your nipples, rolling the sensitive buds between his fingers. It makes you keen and that’s the only thing Toji can’t be bothered to keep quiet. He wants to hear every little sound you make after giving him so much lip about the waitress. You had so much to say earlier and he’s only too happy to hear you out. Neighbors be damned. It’s likely the floor is mostly if not completely vacant given that two celebrities are boarding here but Toji can’t help but want you to be loud in case there’s anyone to hear. This all feels a bit too much like a dream and he’d relish a noise complaint just to make it all seem real. 

“You feel so good, baby.” Toji grunts in your ear. “So good for me.” Something like a giggle works its way out of your mouth and Toji almost tells you to shut up because the sound goes straight to his dick. His hand leaves your breasts to find that spot between your legs. Your breathing stutters as his calloused fingers find your clit. It’s like lighting a fuse. You start up your squirming again, nails scratching at his arm tucked under your chin like you’re trying to get away. It takes Toji a second to realize that you are. Curling up on yourself, trying to run from the feeling of his body on yours. You’re not saying anything, but you are drooling. He can feel it slicking down his forearm as he loosens his hold just enough to make sure you’re not suffocating under his strength. He can hear those stuttering little breaths and soft mewls that are soon accompanied by a hand pushing blindy at his wrist. 

“Fuck no,” Toji grumbles. His hand leaves your clit just long enough to roll you onto your back. He hears a little sigh of relief as you relax into the sheets for a moment. There are tears sparkling in your eyes and wetting your lashes. Your whole face is shining with sweat and spit and it makes Toji a little prideful to see you so thoroughly ruined because of him. 

“You gonna be good for me, baby? Gonna behave?” He asks once you catch your breath. Before you can answer he’s already gathering your wrists in one hand to press them into the pillows above your head while his other hand slaps his dick against your messy cunt. He grinds the head of his cock against your clit, precum staining your skin as he teases you, asking if it feels good. He huffs out a laugh when you nod. It’s so earnest, so desperate. 

“Yeah it does. You don’t have to run from it, baby. Lemme make you feel good. Want you to feel good for me.” He pants, leaning down until you’re nose to nose as he presses back inside you. The sound you make is lost in the press of your lips as Toji lavishes you with more sloppy kisses. He can feel himself teetering on the edge, balls tightening with each little whine that leaves your lips. His hand finds its way back between your legs and he has your back arching within seconds. He can feel you trying to pull away again, arms tugging at where he has you pinned even as your greedy legs lock around his waist. He can feel your muscles trembling as he draws tight circles on your clit, whole body pulling taut as you get closer to the edge. 

The only words leaving your mouth are his name and soft gasps of “please, please, please,” like Toji is in any position to deny you what you want. He lets go of your wrists if only because he knows you won’t try to run from him now. Instead your arms wrap around him, pulling with enough strength to catch him off guard. Toji nearly collapses on top of you as you pull him into a surprisingly chaste kiss. A shudder runs down his back as your nails drag against his scalp and it’s all just a bit too much. Your pussy milking him like you’re trying to get pregnant–belatedly, he realizes he should’ve worn a condom–and your lips in his ear telling him to let go.

“Wanna feel it. Want it inside,” you whine. It’s so damningly sweet that Toji can’t find it in himself to even attempt to deny you. The thought of pulling out had briefly crossed his mind but your thighs are still locked around his waist and he isn’t above doing something stupid to satisfy himself. The consequences can be dealt with later. He lasted longer than he expected but there’s no mistaking how pent up Toji has been as he cums inside you. He fills you up and then some, feeling it leaking out. The tension bleeds from his body as he curls over you, grip loosening on your wrists enough that you wriggling free to wrap your arms around his shoulders. There’s the prickling heat of your nails scratching at him as you wrap yourself tight around him like you never want him to leave. Toji returns the favor. You shiver, a happy little sigh leaving your lips as he wraps his arms around you. 

“Clingy,” he says quietly, still loud enough for you to hear and he feels the way your arms tense then loosen, trying to pull away like you missed the humor in his voice. “Stop it.” He mutters, sitting back up to pull you into his lap. 

Usually Toji isn’t one to stick around after he’s gotten what he wants out of an encounter but the usual instinct to peel his partner off of him as soon as possible is absent with you. He revels in the way your head rests against his chest, soft breathes ghosting across his skin. Toji’s hands find your waist, fingers sinking into the softness of your skin as he lifts you just enough to pull out. There’s a puddle forming on the sheets from the way he’s leaking out of you and he entertains the thought of plugging his fingers inside you for half a second before remembering how stupid that would be after he already came inside you with no protection. You don’t seem too worried about it and Toji supposes that’s all that matters. He watches the way the mood settles into something less frenzied, more coherent, but the anger never comes. He’s expecting you to snap at him for being so careless but all he gets is a soft smile and even softer kisses. The taste of cherries still lingers. 

“We should do something about that,” he says, eyes still trained on the space between your bodies. Stained white and sticky from how hard he was fucking you. It streaks up your thighs and shines bright on his pelvis, staining the freshly changed sheets. You blink slow, like a kitten, before finally acknowledging the mess between your legs. 

“Should be fine, I’m on the pill. I’ll stop by the store later if you’re worried.” He’s not. Part of him wishes you hadn’t mentioned birth control. He’s selfish when it comes to you and even though it would be the worst outcome, Toji finds himself wondering what it would’ve been like if he did get you pregnant. Then he remembers your careers and lets the thought slip away into the recesses of his mind. It’s a desire for a later date because you’ve already said this isn’t gonna be a one and done kind of thing. There’s time for things to get more serious, to have a proper discussion instead of letting it happen on a whim. He clings to the idea of a future with you because that’s really all he has. As soon as he set eyes on you, you began to infiltrate his every thought like a weed invading his mind. But you’re not a weed, far too pretty for that. And even if you were, he likes the way you cloud his mind. Gives him something sweet to think about when there’s always been such a lack of nice things in his life. He kisses your neck, tasting sweat and perfume. After a while he gathers you up and makes you decent enough to make the trip to his room. 

“I owe Shiu money.” He groans halfway through his shower. You’re sitting just outside the tiny cubicle, perched on the toilet. Freshly washed and wearing his shirt just like he wanted. 

“You made a bet about me with your manager?” He hears the uncertainty in your voice even over the spray of water and realizes how the admission must sound. He shuts off the water and steps out into a cloud of steam to see you looking crestfallen. There’s a hesitance on your face that makes his stomach churn. Anxiety isn’t something Toji is entirely familiar with and he finds that he hates the way the acidic feeling settles in his chest. 

“Not like that, baby. He just knows how much I’ve been wanting you. He called me on my bullshit years ago.” It would be embarrassing admitting that he’s been pining after you for so long if you didn’t smile and try to hide your face. He hears you mumble, “Thought it was just me,” as you tuck your face into the collar of his shirt to cover your smile. There’s a tremble or hesitance in your voice like you can’t believe Toji would pay you the time of day, like he wasn’t just chomping at the bit to get you in bed. It’s a fair assumption given his usually detached disposition that so few people take the time to see past. You’re one of them but he can appreciate the air of unknowns that lingers around him. Toji is just like he seems on camera. 

Rude, abrasive, volatile when provoked. He acts something like a grizzled guard dog but even they have people they’re gentle for. It’s almost sickening how easily he can see himself with you. Made worse by how easily you accept him. You’re giving him that look again, like he’s your favorite person in the world. 

“What’s that look?” He asks as you watch him get dressed. He brought you to his room so you can nap on an unsoiled bed. He wonders if the housekeepers will tuck your duck in again after washing his cum out of your sheets. 

“What look?” You have the nerve to ask like you’re not looking at him with more softness than he’s seen in his entire life. He decides not to mention it. The need for discretion that Shiu has been trying to drill into him will be lost in the wind soon enough. Toji already couldn’t take his eyes off you and now he has more reason to be with you all the time. Media be damned, he’s gonna be all over you now that you’re his, officially. And you seem to share the sentiment as you curl up on top of him as soon as he gets in bed, humming happily when his arms find your waist. He hears a sleepy murmuring of “I’m your girlfriend,” soft and giggly like you couldn’t be more happy about it. It’s like a final nail in the coffin for Toji. He’s always thought of you as his girl and now it’s finally real. No cameras, no audience. Unscripted and real. 

[sidhedust]

~Under His Anxious Gaze~

As a..."friendship," let's call it that, blossoms on the streets of the dazzling capital city, an onlooker, confused and concerned, can only sit back and ponder what this means for the future of the kingdom.

More Arc 1 art! I had this idea in my head for a bit now and had to slap it down real quick.

Here's a version without Vivianus glaring over them.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

You don't need to worry about the ATSV fandom dying. As someone whose been in the Marvel fandom over ten years - I can assure you this is natural.

The ATSV Fandom Isn't Dead: A brief look into the science of fandoms.

[me standing beside Hobie beaming my thoughts of love and adoration into his head like I'm professor x]

A lot of people are afraid of the ATSV dying - and I don't blame them.

In the era of shows releasing all in one day, or movies coming to streaming almost immediately - it's not hard to say we're in an era were content is consumed at ridiculously rapid rates.

I mean, this time last year Wednesday was breaking records on Netflix. Where's the hype now?

I know you see it too, there's less posts everyday in the Hobie tag, less screenshot breakdowns, etc etc etc.

But I'm here to tell you - The ATSV fandom is doing just fine. Better than fine. All of this is meant to happen.

Let me put it into perspective.

ATSV released on June 2nd - it's November.

ATSV released a little over six months ago.

For reference: The Avengers (2012) was released on May 4th.

The Avengers DVD wasn't available for purchase until SEPTEMBER 25th - almost SIX months later.

The time that the Hobie fandom has formed and existed - is the same amount of time people had to wait just to see The Avengers again.

Large periods of time where tags only get three posts a day TOPS was nothing to fear. xReaders and fanfics held the fandom over until the next trailer, the next sneak peek or leak.

Prior to the release of streaming, only a little more than ten years ago - it was NATURAL for a fandom to wait six months before even seeing the movie for a second time.

And mind you - streaming didn't exist. If you wanted to see The Avengers again, you had to go out and BUY it. $26.99.

If you wanted to order it online - you'd have to get it shipped to you. Before Disney plus, we watched on BlueRay Discs.

And the fandom was fine and healthy.

If a fandom that doesn't even have a DVD release can keep up content for six months, I think we'll be fine.

But I'll admit - there's still the question:

If the ATSV fandom is 'doing fine' then where is everyone going? Why are the tags getting slower?

The answer is simple:

FANDOM BIOLOGY

I LOVE social sciences and the systems people create and how they work - even unintentionally.

And I have a theory - one about the natural evolution and regeneration of fandom. Hear me out -

When it comes to ATSV:

We are leaving the Analysation Phase, the phase in which content creation is centered around deciphering and breaking down the most recent installment in the fandom.

During this phase usually see art of newer characters, new ships, meta breakdowns, easter egg point-outs.

We were in that phase.

Once the Analysation Phase dies down, usually main content creators may remain. The intermediate or liminal period.

The intermediate is usually when you'll see more x-reader art pop-up, the levels of fanart evening out as artists return to their favorite characters - usually incorporating any new ones they gained from the last installment.

Shitposts usually also become popular around this time, as the shock and weight of the story wear off, and we're more able to joke about the storyline a lot more light-heartedly.

That's why the intermediate point is often see as the passion 'dying out'.

When in fact, it is the fandom getting comfortable. Resting for the next phase.

And after a few months, the next phase comes:

The Speculation Phase:

The Speculation Phase cannot come until the Analysation Phase is over.

During the Analysation Phase the fandom begins to breakdown and digest the writers intentions. They integrate the new character into the story, and the fandom.

As the audience and fandom talk amongst each other, we get more solid ideas of who the characters are, what their motivations might be, and most important of all-

What they might do.

In the Speculation Phase we turn from the last installment - and start looking towards the future.

Let's take Hobie for example.

Looking at the timeline of the Hobie fandom, we can see a progression.

Originally taken as a punk-rockstar and little more, throughout the months the fandom began posting things about punk culture, the 70's, Hobie's motivation in the comics, and how that all correlates to him.

As the fandom analyzed, the collective zeitgeist and understanding of Hobie grew into something a lot more sound, and telling.

We looked at the parellels he provides in the story, and what kind of person he is.

And because if that we have seen a marked improvement in people's contextual understanding of Hobie - as a punk and a hero.

And now that we can understand him - we can predict him.

The same goes for Miguel - over the months, a lot of us have began to question if we know him as well as we think we do , if we really know the kinda person he is -

And if we really know what he's doing to do.

That's where the Speculation Phase comes in.

The Speculation Phase in fandom is when we see some of the most passion - and instead of tapering off overtime, it builds. More and more until the next release.

The Speculation Phase is when the fandom takes the analysis' and from there, they begin to theorize.

Now that we understand, we can begin to predict.

And this is arguably one of the most interesting parts in a fandoms natural ecosystem.

During the Speculation Phase, we can see a number of diverse opinions appear.

As more and more creators begin to gather their understanding, tips from the writers, new released news, and past comic book arcs, we start to see dozens of triguing paths the writers can take us on.

As more news releases, the more hype people get. I mean - imagine how you'll feel when they release the first new poster of Hobie, or Miles? Or when we get to see Miles.G in the trailer?

And with each new poster, or trailer, we're given clues. The theorizes develop more. And the plot thickens.

It's all natural.

So I can understand the fear. Only getting one or two new posts when you visit the Hobie tag can be a bummer. But it's natural and it's GOOD.

Y'all, we need to conserve our energy. We are in the liminal phase. And they never last long.

With the news of the voice actors back in the studio, and a cliff-hanger like we have - I can assure you, it's only a matter of time before we begin to see the theories, the trailer breakdowns, the people guessing what Miguel might do, or exactly how much tech Hobie is hiding.

And when that time comes we need to be READY. I can already feel it on the horizon.

I really wonder what they'll do with all that left over Hobie concept art.

Plus with explosion of Hobie approval, I wonder if they'll add him in even more. Hobie fan-service anyone?

Hmmm...

But chill y'all, we're on the right track -

-------------------------------------

If you read this far, as always THANK YOU SO MUCH!! And as a token of my appreciation, I hand you this Hobie. Hold him gently please

Bye 💗

[inthe-dark-tonight]

Falling into My Sins

chapter one: back in the alleyway

dbf!joel x fem!reader series- loosely inspired by the song skin by soccer mommy

chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5

summary: it’s your first night out since moving back with your dad after graduating college. while at the bar you meet an attractive mystery man and end up hitting it off. things get heated when you convince him to dance with you.

word count: 2.7k

series rating: E (18+ mdni)

warnings: no outbreak AU, age gap (reader is in their 20s, Joel is in his 40s) alcohol consumption, light swearing, slight dubious consent (things get heated while drunk), pet names (sweetheart, babe, etc.), no use of y/n, no physical description of reader.

notes: this is my first time really writing anything so i’m very nervous to post this , i've also been working on one other fic but i decided to post this first. thank you for taking the time to read and any feed back is welcome & appreciated xo <3

also thank you so much to @shatteredbaby for proof reading ily so much bby, and @pr0ximamidnight for also proof reading, letting me ramble like a maniac and helping me with ideas ilysm. i appreciate you both so so so much <3

It’s your first weekend going out since you’ve moved back home with your dad. You’ve just graduated from the Art institute of Chicago in the spring, but your lease wasn’t up on your apartment until August so you stayed near campus until then. Now that you’re back, some of your old friends from high school offered to take you out as a sort of welcome home. You’re just finishing getting ready when you get a text from your friend Aya.

We’re here!! Hurry up Dee is getting impatient!

You roll your eyes and smile. Typical. You’re a bit nervous since you haven’t seen them in about a year, but you’re sure once you’re out it will feel like you weren’t even gone. You throw on a jacket and run down the stairs, grabbing your keys as you go.

“I’m leaving!” You call out.

“Have fun bud!” Your dad shouts from the other room.

Your parents had recently divorced while you were away, so it’s just you and your dad now. You feel kinda bad leaving him alone when you just got back, but you’ll make up for it.

You close the front door behind you and run down your front porch towards Aya’s car. As you get closer, the passenger window rolls down.

“Ahhhhh you’re back!!!” Your friend, Dee, yells. You laugh at her reaction and open the back door to the car.

“Hey!” You slide in and buckle your seat belt.

Aya turns around with one hand still on the wheel. “Long time no see! Tonight’s gonna be fun,” she says with a smile.

“We’re taking shots as soon as we get there,” Dee says with a sly smile and you laugh, leaning back fully into the seat as Aya drives, heading for downtown.

As soon as the three of you find a bar, Dee keeps her promise and orders you all shots and they send you to find a booth while they wait for the order. There aren’t many people in the bar yet since it’s only nine, but it’s slowly filling up. You look around the place, taking in the large bar that runs across one wall with stools gathered around it and across from it is the booth seating you’ve sat in. There are a few high top tables scattered around the perimeter of the bar, a pool table to the right of the door next to the large dance floor in the center that’s currently empty, and the sounds of eighties and nineties rock hits filling the large room.

As you’re looking around, the door to the bar opens and two men walk in. The first man has long dark curly hair, a patchy beard, and he’s wearing dark jeans paired with a tan jacket and brown boots. The other man has shorter dark hair, a similarly patchy beard streaked with gray, and he’s wearing dark jeans paired with a green flannel and brown boots. He’s quite handsome, you think – broader than the first man, his frame stretching the fabric of the flannel to its limit. Your eyes flick back up to his face, taking in the curve of his nose, the crease between his brows and dark brown eyes. When your eyes meet, he’s looking right at you and you immediately glance away, embarrassed that he caught you checking him out. When you dare to look at him again, his gaze is still locked on you.

“Okay, let’s do this!” Dee says as the girls approach the table with a round of shots and a drink for each of you.

Your eyes snap away from the man’s and you smile at them, grabbing a shot glass.

“To celebrate your return home,” Dee says, raising her glass for you to toast against.

You tilt your head back letting the cold liquid slide down. You close your eyes and wince as the sour flavor with the aftertaste of vodka that burns your throat. When you open your eyes again you’re met with the stranger’s warm brown eyes on you still, a shy smile on his face before he turns towards the bar and leans on the wooden counter. You set the glass down on the table and look back to your friends.

The three of you sip on your drinks for about thirty minutes or so, talking about school and catching up on life. At some point while you were all catching up, the bar switched to playing early 2000s music as more people came in. You find your eyes wandering towards the gorgeous man every few minutes, admiring his side profile, the way his hand is wrapped around his beer bottle and his shirt is rolled up to expose his forearms.

You all finish your drinks and Aya is pulling you and Dee onto the dance floor. “Come on!! I love this song!!!”

You don’t recognize the song, but you follow them onto the floor dancing and smiling as they sing along. You find yourself looking towards the bar again hoping to catch the man’s eye, but he’s gone.

“I’ll be back, I’m going to get another drink.” You say loudly over the music.

The girls just nod and keep singing along. You make your way through the crowd that’s formed in the place and find the bar. Your eyes are still scanning, looking for him, when all of a sudden someone comes up beside you, leaning onto the bar. From the corner of your eye you can tell who it is. You turn your head and it’s the mystery man. He’s even more attractive up close, a dimple on his right cheek as he smiles down at you, slight creases next to his eyes. Your eyes travel down towards his broad shoulders and the skin on his chest that’s showing where his shirt is unbuttoned.

“Hi.” the man says while smiling down at you. His voice is like honey, deep with a southern drawl.

Your lips slightly part as you hesitate for a second “Hi.” you finally say back.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He nods towards the bar.

You shake your head in agreement.

“What are you havin’, sweetheart?” He asks.

You clear your throat. “Whatever you’re having.” You smile.

“Hm.” his lip quirks up as his eyes roam your form. The bartender comes over and he orders two beers, then his eyes are back on you. “You here with friends?”

“Yeah uh, I was out of town, I just got back so we’re celebrating.” You decide to keep it vague.

“Well,” the bartender comes back with your beers and he hands one to you. “Welcome back.” He smirks, then you both take a sip.

You can’t help but watch the way his hand wraps around the bottle as he brings it up to meet his lips. You take a few sips of your beer, eyes still locked on him, then place it back on the counter. You’re feeling a little more confident now.

“What about you,” you place your elbow on the table and rest your chin in your hand, looking up at him. “Who are you here with?”

He looks over his shoulder into the crowd, an amused look on his face. “My brother.” You follow his eyes to see his brother sitting in a booth with a girl, leaning into her as they talk.

You giggle then turn back to the man. You’re noticing some similar features now that you know they’re brothers.

“You two come here every weekend chatting up girls and buying them drinks?” You bite your cheek and give him a teasing look.

He nods his head slowly looking down at the bar where he’s leaning on his forearms and lets out a small laugh. “Every now n’ then.” He looks back at you, a slight flush on his cheeks.

“Mmm bit of a player huh?” You lift your brow, teasing him some more.

He’s laughing again, it’s a deep chested laugh that makes his shoulders slightly bounce. “Wouldn’t say that, haven’t had much luck recently.” He looks from your eyes to your lips, then back to your eyes.

You nod your head taking another swig of your beer “So, what do you do for a living?” You ask nonchalantly.

“Uh,” he rubs the back of his neck. “I’m a contractor.” that explains his broad shoulders.

You bite your thumb and lean a little closer to him, arm brushing up against his. The alcohol is definitely taking an effect now. You’re checking him out again, and it’s not subtle. The way his shirt fits snug around his biceps, and his jeans fit his waist just right. He takes another sip of his beer and your eyes lock again.

Then suddenly a song you recognize comes on, Promiscuous by Nelly Furtado. You hear your friends squealing on the dance floor as the song starts, causing you to whip your head towards them then back to the mystery man.

“I’ll be right back.” You smile at him sweetly, finishing off your beer and setting the empty bottle on the table before leaving to join your friends.

You get out to the floor and they hold their hands out towards you, smiling and singing along to the song. You’re swaying your hips to the beat, mouthing the lyrics as you dance. Your hands are moving up and down your body, over the tights you’re wearing and slightly bunching up the short slip dress you have on. You’re lost in the music, then suddenly your eyes lock with the mystery man’s again, darkening as they watch you move. He’s leaning up against the bar, beer in one hand and the other in his front pocket.

‘Promiscuous boy you already know

That I’m all yours, what you waiting for?’

You’re mouthing the words, eyes never leaving his. You tilt your head to the side and give him a cheeky smile before moving your hands over your hips again. He lifts his hand out of his pocket, beckoning you back to him with his pointer finger. You shake your head no, and mimic his motion telling him to come to you. You turn away from him, back towards your friends, then glance at him over your shoulder and mouth, “Dance with me.”

A few moments later you feel a large warm hand run down your arm, and the back of a hand runs over the nape of your neck and down your shoulder before resting on your hips. You turn your head to look and it’s your mystery man, looking down at you with desire in his eyes. You turn around, still in his grasp, and wrap your arms around his neck, bringing your body flush to his.

You’re swaying with his hands on your hips now, grinding up against him. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he leans his forehead against yours, taking in a deep breath. You tilt your head up, heavy lidded eyes scanning his face and your nose bumping his, your parted lips allowing a shared breath in the scant space between your mouths.

Then he’s kissing you, one hand on your hip lightly squeezing, the other resting on your cheek. He lets out a small groan and slips his tongue into your mouth, a mixture of mint and beer fill your senses. You gently pull the hair at the nape of his neck, causing him to let out a sigh.

“Sweetheart.” His voice sounds gravelly and deeper than before. “I can’t take my eyes off you.”

“Then don’t,” you say, so low it’s almost a whisper, just between the two of you.

You’re so close to him, you can feel his arousal straining against his pants as you press yourself against him.

“Come with me.” he looks down at you while trying to catch his breath.

He kisses you again, hand resting on your cheek. You nod approvingly as he pulls away. He doesn’t hesitate, grabbing you by the hand and dragging you off the dance floor towards the door. You notice his hand is much larger than yours, a little rough and calloused most likely from his job. He looks back at you a few times, and you just stare at his broad frame as you follow him. You look at the way his hair sits so perfectly, eyes wandering to his large forearms as he pulls you along behind him.

Moments later you two are outside and he’s pulling you around the side of the brick building. He backs you up against the wall, lips immediately crashing into yours. His palms rest on either side of your face, thumbs roughly caressing your cheeks like he just can’t get enough.

“You were killing me in there,” He’s towering over you, your hands clinging to his forearms.

“Was I? Couldn’t tell.” you smile slyly.

He laughs and shakes his head. “You’re somethin’ else babe, deadly.” he’s kissing you again, hands moving down your body to your waist.

You grab at the fabric of his shirt near his chest, trying desperately to pull him closer. His large hands find the hem of your dress and move up over your tights clad thighs. You moan into his mouth, heat already starting to build at your core. Moans and heavy breaths filling the air as you claw at his skin. You gently bite at his lower lip then slip your tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss. As you lower your hands towards the waist of his jeans, tucking your fingers into the front and pulling his hips flush against yours, you feel him shudder. You let out a whine as you feel the imprint of his straining cock once again.

Then you hear the door to the bar bursting open and two familiar voices talking. “It’s okay, it’s okay, shhhh.”

You freeze as your lips leave Joel’s, wide eyes meeting his before stepping away from him to peer around the corner. He lets out a groan as he adjusts himself, one hand still on your hip trailing behind you as you near the corner of the building. Then you see Aya with her arm around Dee, rubbing her back. You stand up straight, pulling away from Joel.

“Oh my god?! What happened?” You sprint over to them.

“Oh thank god, we were looking everywhere for you.” Aya looks up at you. “Dee had too much to drink, we need to go.” She loops her arm into Dee’s. “I grabbed your things, where were you?”

Then you see her eyes wander to the broad older man shuffling up behind you and her eyes go wide. She leans in close to you and mouths “Oh my god”. You can feel your face heating up as you turn around to face him.

“You ladies need a ride home?” He looks down at you, concerned look on his face.

“Oh uh.” You turn back to Aya.

“No, we've got it covered-” she smiles at him.

“But thank you,” it comes out louder than intended. “I appreciate it,” taking a step closer to him you whisper “And sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it, Killer.” He flashes a charming smile at you.

“Killer?” You laugh at the nickname and he nods his head.

“We gotta go!” Aya yells out to you.

You whip your head to look at her, then your eyes meet his again. “Well, it was nice meeting you, mystery man.” You give him one last look and go to turn around towards your friends. He gently grabs your shoulder, surprising you.

“Wait,” it comes out soft as he whips you around to face him again. “Can I at least have your number?”

You hesitate for a moment. “What, so you can add me to your roster?” You try to hold back a smile.

“C’mon.” he looks away shaking his head, a boyish smile plastered on his face.

“Give me your phone.��� He looks back at you, relief in his eyes. Then he pulls it out of his pocket and hands it to you.

You type in your number and put your contact name as Killer. You hand him back his phone and quickly get on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. His eyes go slightly wide, and then you’re turning away, running towards the car before he can say anything. As you grab your jacket and purse from your friend and slip into the car, you smile at him before closing the door.

You watch him through the window standing there with his hands in his pockets as the car pulls away. Your mystery man, you hope to see him again.

ty for reading xo

tagging a few moots but np! anyone who wants to be tagged in the next one let me know :)

@nostalxgic @ilovepedro @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @beskarandblasters @jenispunk @tieronecrush @joelsversion @pedrospartner @canseethebrushstrokes @scrambledslut @isitmeulookin4 @tinygarbage <3

[erooca]

daycare

ellie williams x reader

description: ellie williams is forced to take a shift at a daycare. she knows she’s gonna hate it, that is, until she sees you. 1.9k words

this is very self indulgent cuz i work at a daycare. i’d be so down to continue this storyline if it gets any interactions :)

part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/erooca/725335248989208576/daycare-pt-2

why the fuck am i here? is exactly what ellie was thinking, pulling into the small, but cheery daycare. it was 9:30 in the fucking morning. she should still be asleep, not getting prepared to run around with little kids for the next eight hours.

after feeling sorry for herself a bit longer, she turned off the ignition and headed into the double doors.

“good morning, ellie!” maria said with a bright smile. ellie almost rolled her eyes at the enthusiasm. maria was sitting behind the front desk, clicking away on the computer in front of her.

“morning,” ellie responded back, a complete opposite from the way maria had greeted her.

“i know i’ve already thanked you a million times, but seriously. thank you for coming in,” maria thanked.

right. the reason ellie was here in the first place. maria had mentioned how the daycare she owned was extremely understaffed recently and needed all the help she could get. of course, joel offered up ellie as help. he said it would be good for her. ellie would have shut them both down, but maria mentioned how much she’d pay ellie. ellie was sold.

“yeah,” ellie responded, still not happy about the experience.

“listen, ellie, as soon as i get some more workers you’ll be free to go,” maria comforted.

“i know. so what am i gonna be doing?” ellie asked, praying to whatever’s out there that she won’t have to change any diapers.

“i think i’m going to put you in the big three’s. it’s a good group of kids, so don’t stress. it’s just down that hallway. second door on the right.”

ellie nodded her head and set off to the room. she already knew she was about to have the most frustrating and long shift of her entire life.

as she walked down the hallway, she admired the kids’ art that was strung on the walls. she noticed more of it around the big three’s door. she took a deep breath, and then entered through the door.

and then she saw you. you were kneeled down, ground level with a little girl who was crying. she watched as you gave the little girl a big hug, and how you helped her focus on the tower she was building with the colorful blocks.

when you finished calmed down the kid, you spotted ellie. maria told you that you’d be having another teacher today, but she never mentioned that teacher would be fine as fuck.

“hey. ellie, right?” you asked.

“um.. yeah,” she answered.

you introduced yourself to her and the room.

“they’re doing centers right now. you should go around and try to get to know some of the kids. once we have circle time, we can do proper introductions. that sound okay?” you suggested.

“sure..” ellie said. you could sense the nervousness radiating off of her.

“don’t stress. these kids are fun to be around. at least most of the time. let me know if you need anything,” you encouraged.

she nodded her head and looked around the room. from what she could see, the centers included music, blocks, art, math, science, and a play kitchen.

of course, she felt inclined to visit the art table first. there was only about three kids over there, and it was a topic she knew pretty well. was she overthinking this? probably.

she took a seat on the uncomfortably small chair in front of the table. immediately, the three kids looked up at her.

“hi! what’s your name?” a girl with short brown hair asked her.

“ellie,” she answered, then realized she should probably talk a bit more, “um what’s yours?”

“pippa,” she answered, putting away the green crayon in exchange for a red one.

“what are you drawing?” ellie asked, looking at the mound of colors on the girl’s paper.

“my family!” pippa smiled, “that’s my mommy, and that’s my kitty kat, and that’s daddy!”

to ellie, it looked more like scribbles of different colors, but nonetheless she praised the girl for her creativity.

she felt a light tap on her arm and when she turned she was met with a shy looking boy. he had black braids in his hair and wore a toy story themed shirt.

“hi.” ellie said to the boy.

“can you draw me something?” he asked, handing her his blank sheet of paper.

“okay..” she said, taking the paper from him, “what should i draw?”

the boy thought for a minute, “ooo, i know! a dinosaur!!” he said, excitedly.

this request made ellie’s smile grow. of course she could draw him a motherfucking dinosaur.

“what’s your name?” she asked him.

“king!” he replied, awaiting his dinosaur.

as she drew, king watched intently, and once pippa noticed ellie was drawing, she started watching too.

when ellie was finished, she gave it back to king.

“woah!!! it’s a t-rex! i’m gonna color him green!” he said.

“ellie. can you draw me a mermaid?” pippa asked her.

ellie obliged and soon she had a good line of kids asking her to draw things for them.

as she was working on her third princess drawing, she heard you singing the clean up song.

she didn’t have chance to admire how beautiful your voice was before the kids started singing along. the three year olds started cleaning up their messes and ellie helped them out.

you had them gather on the carpet, where you finally introduced ellie as their new teacher (for the time being). you watched as ellie awkwardly smiled and you had to hold in a laugh.

after doing a couple songs and shit with the kids, they all went outside and played on the playground.

you took this opportunity to talk to ellie.

“hey, so, how you liking it so far?” you asked her, curiously.

“i thought i’d hate it, but it’s actually not too bad,” she said, glancing over at you with a smile. you swear you almost passed out right there.

“haha, yeah. it can take a second to get used to. you’re lucky they didn’t put you with the two year olds. those children make me want to quit my job,” you laughed, “so you know maria?”

“yeah. she’s sort of my- aunt-in-law - i guess?” ellie said, trying to find the right words.

“really? tommy must be your uncle then. gonna be honest, maria scares me,” you admitted.

ellie laughed, and your heart skipped a beat.

“pretty sure tommy feels the same way. she’s not bad once you get passed the cold exterior. how long you been working here?” ellie asked, intrigued to know more about you.

“about a year. its just a steady job while i’m in college,” you answered.

“you’re in college. where do you go?” she asked.

“jackson state!”

“no way, me too. you on campus?”

“yeah, campbell north.”

“no fucking way-“ ellie said, but caught herself, “shit-SHOOT, no freaking way. i dorm there too.”

after you laughed at her slip up, you continued your sweet conversation with her. you felt like you’re falling in love with her by the second, and little to your knowledge, she’s was feeling the same way.

“do you have any favorites yet?” you asked.

“um.. i like king. he’s sweet,” ellie answered, thinking back to the dinosaur drawing.

“yeah. he’s really smart too. he’s actually in the foster care system and can be a bit sensitive about it. try not to mention moms or dads around him,” you told her.

this struck a chord in ellie. she had been in foster care a long time before joel came along. she knew exactly what it was like for king. she hopes he will be as fortunate as her in the future.

when the time came, you and ellie corralled all the kids back into the room. there was a cart at the front of their door that had lunch on it. you explained to ellie that you guys will have to make the plates and then hand them out, same with the milk.

you passed out the plates to each kid who was sitting down at the small tables, while ellie came behind with the bowls of food, placing a nice scoop on each child’s paper plate.

you went to start pouring the milk but soon got distracted. you couldn’t help but watch ellie as her lean figure slid around the room. you liked the way she kneeled down when a child was asking her a question, acting as if that child were her equal. you studied how her hair was sticking up a bit on the sides, probably from being outside and running around with the three year olds. most of all, you loved how she was smiling. how it seemed that she was enjoying herself. the beautiful curve up of her lips was enough for your heart to beat at a rapid pace.

you snapped out of your trance when you saw ellie look up at you. you flicked your head away before she could catch you staring (even though she definitely did and you knew it too). you started actually doing your job and pouring the milk for your children.

as the day went on, ellie was very fond of learning more about you. you both spent nap time learning new things. when ellie told you how much she loved space, you told her how you thought you could be the first person to pluto as a kid, since it was your favorite planet. you guys talked about your favorite constellations and which ones you spot first. you told her how much you liked to read and shared your favorite stories with her. you asked what maria was like at thanksgiving dinner.

you were sat together against the wall, just chatting. the lullaby music played on the tv. the lights were off and curtains were closed. the three year olds were all asleep. ellie was all to yourself right now. you were so starstruck with how easily your conversation flowed. she sat with her knees up, resting ur arms on them as she looked at you. you could see glint in her eyes, even in the dark room. it made you like her even more.

once the kids woke up, it was less talking and more working, much to your disappointment. the rest of the day went by smoothly. you did a fun craft with the children that they enjoyed, and ended the day with tv time. once the number of kids got lower, maria came in to let ellie know she could go home.

“well. i hope all these kids didn’t scare you off. will you- be here tomorrow?” you asked with a hopeful look on her face.

ellie chuckled, “some of them are a bit scary, but they didn’t. i think i will be here tomorrow, but only so i can see you again though,” ellie smirked.

once her words sunk in, your cheeks turned a blushy color. no way the new, hot teacher just flirted with you. you stammered a bit but regained your ground.

“looking forward to it, ellie. have a good night,” you smiled brightly.

ellie have you a slight smile and a wave before walking out the door. you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. holy shit were you in deep.

ellie joyfully said bye to maria, earning her a weird look. she felt on cloud nine as she walked to her car. the day went better than she could’ve ever expected. she was already making a mental list on ways she could win you over.

maybe this daycare job won’t be so bad. is exactly what ellie was thinking as she drove away.

[throneofsapphics]

poly!ruhnlidia headcannons (sort of?)

warnings: mild violence, drinking, light sexual content, oral (f!receiving), minors dni!

a/n: I tried to keep this spoiler free for hofas, but read at your own risk! I have so many more ideas, please let me know if you'd like to see a part two!

going on a date

They’d never been on a picnic before, and you decided it was an absolute travesty, a crime, really.

Picking the park closest to your apartment, you filled a wooden basket with everything you could think of. 

Ruhn, of course, was delegated to carrying the snacks. Lidia’s fingers intertwined with your own, her hand warm and steady. You’d chosen to leave before dawn, although they protested getting out of bed, you wanted to avoid as many crowds as possible. 

Finding the area you'd scoped out earlier in the week, half hidden by a few trees, you spread the blanket, placing the basket in the center.

You held a grape between two fingers, glancing at Ruhn sitting opposite you.

"Catch," you grinned, giving him a few moments to process before tossing it in the air, slightly off to the left. His hand darted out, palm closing around - somehow not crushing it. "With your mouth," you clarified.

Lidia observed for a few moments, watching the two of you throw them further and further away from each other, diving across the blanket, knocking over random things. Eventually, she decided to join it. Turns out, she was very good at it - better than the two of you, and held it over your heads. 

“Do you want a trophy?” his tone had a bitter edge, but his mouth curved into a smirk. His fae senses weren’t quick enough to keep the next grape from hitting his temple, courtesy of Lidia.  

As the sun crossed the horizon, Lidia leant back against Ruhn’s chest, your head propped on her lap, her fingers running through your hair, nails putting the perfect amount of pressure into your scalp. 

moving in together

The three of you took things slow, the decision to move in together taking several months. But, once you did, they encouraged you to customize the space, to add your own touch to it. 

You looked at the wall adjacent to the window, still bare - no art or decorations. 

“What are you thinking?” Lidia’s arms wrapped around your waist, her chin propped on your shoulder. You covered her hands with your own., 

“We could add a painting up there,” you murmured, hesitantly, judging her reaction.  

She gave you a light squeeze, “I love that idea.” 

The next day, Lidia came home with an assortment of paints and brushes. You glanced between them and her, eyes wide. “Worst case,” she shrugged, “we cover it up.” 

ruhn taking you to get your first tattoo

“You’re certain about this?” He asked, for the thousandth time. 

“Yes,” you groaned, squeezing his hand. Somehow, he thought he was a bad influence. It made no sense to you - you’d wanted a tattoo for ages. 

‘Calm down,’ you cast out to him. The artist looked a bit on edge, given Ruhn was bristling next to you with each dig of the needle, each slight wince of pain on your face. You watched him force his shoulders to relax. 

“Why don’t you get some food for us?” You said, aloud this time. It wasn’t really a suggestion. His brows flicked up, but he left, with a warning look at the artist. Your eyes rolled. 

‘I saw that,’ his voice flooded your mind.  

‘Good.’ 

A low chuckle came through, hinting at a promise of something else later that night. 

later that night 

Arms wrapped around your legs, warm hands spreading them open.

“Tell me what you want,” he kissed the inside of your thigh. 

You squirmed, ignoring his teasing laugh. “You know,” you breathed. 

“Tell me,” his eyes met yours, a hint of that damn Fae dominance that always sent shivers down your spine. 

“You," your hands tightened around the sheets. "Gods, Ruhn. I want you.” 

“And how do you want me?” 

“Put her out of her misery,” Lidia drawled, “or I'll do it.” 

Ruhn took the challenge, his tongue running slow, painfully slow, strokes, driving you to the point of madness - nearly to the point of begging. You felt the pressure, then two fingers inside of you, curling up to hit that spot, just as his lip ring ran over your clit. 

Fingers threading through his hair, you screamed loud enough the neighbors could probably hear. 

an hour later 

“Official Aux business,” Flynn grinned, eyes darting between the three of you. Lidia leaned against the counter, looking thoroughly unimpressed. 

However, your face turned red - already having an idea of what it was. 

“What is it?” Ruhn grunted. 

“We got a call,” Flynn sounded too pleased by this, “sounded like a female screaming. They called for a welfare check.” 

Ruhn's hands pushed against his chest, shoving him out the door and slamming it in his face. Footsteps and laughter trailed down the hall. He picked up his phone, dialing a familiar number. 

A too-cheery female voice answered, “yes?” 

“Next time, I’m calling the 33rd on you,” he snarled. A beep and he disconnected. 

getting into a fight 

You were pissed. Beyond belief. 

This male wouldn’t leave you the fuck alone, and you knew your temper would start getting the best of you soon. A journalist, probably, given he couldn't stop badgering you with questions about Ruhn and Lidia.

They weren’t exactly overprotective or domineering assholes, they’d taught you how to defend yourself (more than you already knew) and respected that you could handle most situations on your own.

“Leave. Me. Alone,” you snarled, shoving the male's chest. He, rather dramatically, flew back a few steps. Maybe you’d put a bit more force than necessary into it. 

“She hit me,” he yelled, attracting a few glances from people nearby. The bartender looked at him, then you, and rolled his eyes. You shot a tight smile back. His mouth parted, a look of alarm on his face, but the alcohol dulled your senses enough you didn’t see the punch coming in time.

The situation was taken care of rather quickly, the male thrown out of the White Raven none too gently, and you were led upstairs by another one of the bouncers, your friends trailing behind. You shot them an apologetic look when the rope snapped in place, keeping them downstairs.

‘I’m fine,’ you mouthed. 

You slumped into a seat, a different bartender, someone you knew from school, sliding two fingers of whiskey in front of you. 

“I give it five minutes,” he joked. 

“Four,” the female working the other end called. 

You grasped the cold glass, tilting your chin to let the cool liquid burn down your throat, leaving a comfortable warmth in your chest. 

“I’d say three,” you finally added, glancing at the clock. 

Sure enough, about three minutes and seven seconds later, thundering footsteps came up the stairs, preceding both Ruhn and Lidia. 

Riso had probably called both of them before the conflict even occurred, he always had a sixth sense for trouble. 

Lidia’s hands gripped your cheeks gently, turning you to face her. You felt the purple bruise blooming on your temple. “Let’s go,” she murmured, her hand gripping your arm gently, tugging you to your feet. You swayed slightly, gripping the counter for balance. 

“Lidia please,” you pleaded, but her arm wrapped gripped behind your thighs, effortlessly throwing you over her shoulder. 

At least you took the back exit out, Ruhn’s shadows obscuring your group, saving you from some public embarrassment.

“Are you okay?” She asked, after you'd made the few blocks trip home, sitting you down on the couch. Ruhn already had an ice pack wrapped in a towel, holding it up to the side of your face. 

“Fine,” you muttered, avoiding her gaze.

“What happened?” She pushed gently, one hand resting on your thigh. Ruhn moved with you as you threw yourself back, flinging your arms over the back of the couch, and snorted. He responded to Lidia’s glare, indicating she did not find this funny at all, with a shrug. Her lips pressed in a tightline, but she turned her attention back to you. "Tell me," her voice was soft, sweet. A tone she usually only used with you or Ruhn, and one that worked on you every time.

“He wouldn’t stop asking questions about both of you. A journalist probably.” 

On instinct, you switched your gaze to Ruhn, spotting the brief flash of guilt. 

“Don’t start,” you pushed one finger into his chest. He wrapped his own finger around it, tugging your hand to rest in his. “I knew this would happen," you insisted. It was true, as soon as your relationship went public, everyone had questions, and too many people felt entitled to answers. 

He pressed a kiss to your knuckles instead, his other hand still holding the ice pack steady. 

“I won’t. Who was it?” 

“It’s been taken care of,” you said quickly. Sure, he’d annoyed you, but you didn’t want him to bare the results of two overprotective vanir. “He looks worse,” you added. 

“Oh I’m sure,” Lidia caught your attention, a look of approval on her beautiful face.

[shygirl4991]

Chapter 1 Unexpected Meeting

All art belongs to @b-r-i-n-g-x no reposting art! Idea from @itsajjanea Note: im still on break but with how stressful life is i decided to work only on this fic so keep stress levels down! (gotta get the angst out somehow lol)

Next Chapter

Summary: SMG4 world gets shaken when he learns that SMG3 is dating someone, with this news SMG4 starts to learn what these new strange emotions he is feeling are. With a love rival now appearing in the showgrounds can Four win Three heart or will he lose the battle to a mysterious new person?  Tags: Angst, Romance, Action Adventure, jealously, love confessions, SMG4 discovers he is bi, fluff

SMG3 slaps on his cap excited for the day, he got news from Gary that a rare type of powder was on sale. Exactly what he needed to make a new type of bomb for his cafe, he gives Eggdog a kiss before snapping his fingers for the darkweb. The best part of him learning his meme powers is free travel to the dark web, he walks out humming excitedly to grab the powder when someone bumped into him. He fixes his hat and glares at the person that bumped into him, his eyes then go wide seeing a tall male blinking at him “Oh shit sorry, i didn't see you there!” He watches the person move their blonde hair from their face. 

They flash him a charming smile before offering their hand “Names Aster, and you are?” SMG3 checks out the person in front of him, he notices the orange plaid shirt with a pin of the nonbinary flag by the collar of the shirt. He rolls his eyes walking away “Watch where you're walking next time, i have something important to get!” Aster chuckles following “Oh yeah? So important, I can't have your name?” Three rolls his eyes “How about you earn it then we'll talk,” He turns, making sure to walk far away from Aster in order to get his prize. 

Aster hums as they watch SMG3 walk away, he looks around and sees the shopping center with the live auction. He smirks running over to the crowd, he has been saving money for the day the legendary star powder would be up to purchase.  He was confident no one could outbid him after all Three made sure not to spend his cafe and twitch money on things that weren't needed. He walks into the crowd excitedly watching each item go up for sale then taken by the highest bidder, he chuckles watching the losers cry at the fact they lost their prize. That’s when the last item went up “For our last item, Star powder! It's extremely rare that someone is able to crush a star into an explosive material! After all, Stars can be unpredictable and now it can be yours!! ” 

SMG3 smiles brightly holding his sign tightly ready to begin betting, once it starts he lifts his sign “I'M STARTING BIG BABY!” He bets five hundred to scare off the other bidders. He smirks when he sees the crowd slowly leaving only for his eyes to lock with purple ones “Aster?!” They chuckle, lifting their own sign “Cute numbers purple, but I can beat that.” SMG3 glared at the man as he picked up his sign raising the price. They go at this for a while before Three notices he has started to run out of gold, he breaks into a sweat as he watches Aster walking closer to him not breaking eye contact as they hold their sign “What's wrong purple, running a little low?” 

He watches as Aster lifts the sign, Three felt everything freeze as he realizes he lost. He looks at the bid and the countdown in shock, everything he worked for was for nothing as the timer hit zero making Aster the owner of the powder. They take the powder and smile at Three only to get a glare in return, they sigh showing him the bag “You know i find you cute, you seem to really want this powder for some reason so lets make a deal!” Three takes a step back, suspicious of the person in front of him. They chuckle as they take out a slip of paper “My phone number, all i ask is a date with the cute mystery guy i met here. That's all I ask, one date and I give you the powder, think on it will ya?” 

Three stares at the number surprised, he takes it and looks up seeing Aster give him a flirtatious wink. SMG3 felt himself blushing as he held the slip of paper tight watching the mysterious person walk away from him. He looked at the paper and to his surprise there really was a number written on it, this had to be some kind of dream. He snaps his fingers returning to the showgrounds confused about the events that happen, some person came out of nowhere hit on him and gave him their number. How long had it been that anyone showed interest in him, he thought back on all the people he dated. He frowns remembering how they all ended with them meeting SMG4 and leaving him to try and win over the other man's heart. 

He takes a deep breath holding back his anger from those people that lied to his face, telling him they loved him only to leave him the moment a better model walks along. He looked at SMG4 picture and felt his heart flutter “Stupid, this whole thing is stupid!” He deletes the photo from his phone and sighs, why was he putting himself through this? 

He looked at the slip of paper and slowly entered the number, he was sure that it was some pizza place. As he waits he walks over to the counter to start brewing coffee for the day, he jumps when he hears a familiar voice on the other line “Hello?” panicked, he hangs up in shock. They really did give him their number, the phone rings and in a panic threw it across the cafe breathing heavily. The phone keeps ringing until he hears a beep letting him know the song has ended, slowly he walks to his phone and picks it up to see a text “Hello, i got a call from this number who is this?” 

He stood there staring at his phone before putting it away, he had to think over this deal. He grabs his cup of coffee lost in thought about Aster, He didn't notice Four walk in with Mario. Four smiles as he taps the counter “My usual if you don't mind Three?” he frowns seeing the man not moving as he looks into his coffee, he exchanges looks with Mario “HEY SMG3!” he waves his arms still not getting the man's attention. Mario starts to scream next “S M G 3!”

Still seeing the man was lost in thought Four was getting worried he walks up to three and gently touches him. The touch broke him out of his thoughts, startled from the contact he tosses the coffee. Three frowns at his coffee now being on the floor “What the hell SMG4!?” surprised by the anger Four glares at him “I didn't do anything you were spaced out i just wanted my coffee!” Three groans handing Four a mop “Fine, clean the mess you made while I get you the drink!”

SMG4 was about to argue why he had to clean the mess when an alert from Three’s phone gets his attention, he turns to see an unknown number text SMG3. He then notices Three tense up at the sound before grabbing the phone and shoving it in his pocket, Four starts to clean up the mess watching Three. “Hey is everything okay?” SMG3 nods, finishing up the coffee and shoving it at Four “Everything is fine, i don't know why you would even care.” SMG4 grabs his coffee and walks over to Mario who swallowed a painted dynamite that Three gave him to shut him up, Four sighs then smiles softly at him causing those flutters to return “you just seemed out of it so i was worried…if you need help you can come to us after all we are friends now!”

The word friend should make him happy to hear, instead he felt pain “Yeah yeah whatever you done or you want to talk my ear off?” SMG4 shakes his head as he pays for his drink and leaves with Mario behind him demanding more spaghetti. SMG3 takes out his phone and calls the number “It's purple, i will take the deal.”

Moments later SMG3 was waiting outside the restaurant nervously, he had to remind himself that he only accepted at that moment because he really wanted to make bombs and not because of how SMG4 made him feel. Aster smiles brightly at Three “Hey you really did show up!” They take out a bag from their pocket and hand it to SMG3. Confused he takes the bag and looks inside, it was the powder. He looks up confused as his date gives him a smug look “I'm a person of my word, i find you cute and want to know you more nothing wrong with that right?” 

SMG3 blushes as he puts the bag under his hat “uh no nothing wrong with that…its SMG3 by the way.”  Aster purple eyes flashes as he gets the man's name.  Three started to feel strange before he noticed Aster offering their hand “Shall we? The food here is to die for!” They chatted during the dinner getting to know each other, it was strange for Three the more they talked the more he felt drawn to Aster. As the date ended Aster offered to walk him back to the cafe, they held hands as they kept talking “Yeah i am pretty good at building things, back when i was all about killing my neighbor i built all kinds of weapons to kill him.” Aster hums as they listen to Three taking notes on every word said. 

Why was he even telling this person all this, his mind was a mess at the moment, sure Aster was attractive but did Three truly want more with this person? They arrive at the cafe, he knew he had to say goodbye to Aster and end the night, that's when he felt his stomach flip. He didn't want to say goodbye, he turns to ask if Aster wanted to stay but freezes when he notices how close they were. The words wouldn't come out as he watches them take his hand and kiss it causing his heart to speed up and his face go red.  “I had a lovely time, you have my number hope we can do this again cutie~” 

SMG3 was at a loss of words as Aster walked away, slowly touching his face trying to relax. What was going on with him? it was almost as if he was falling for Aster, he shakes his head laughing at the thought as he walks into the cafe. He takes out his phone looking at Aster's number, slowly he shoots them a text before getting the cafe ready for the next day.  Aster chuckles seeing the text “I told you I had this in the bag,” they turn towards a black star “Soon Aster revenge will be ours!” the star laughs as Aster replies to the message “Soon your end will arrive SMG3.” Aster's eyes glow as he puts his phone away.

[vmpiires]

﹆₊ 画家‧₊˚ THE BLOOD PAINTER, KAMO CHOSO

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ﹆₊ 概要 ‧₊˚ art; the painter‘s hidden identity is made known. wc, 3.42K. dark mode recommended.

␥ note. i’m back with this storyyyy. getting near the good part which also means the end but not just yet sooo just keep reading. hope ya enjoyyyy and reblog to support meee.

␥ tags. artist!choso, college AU, possible nsfw, female anatomy, smoking, etc. lmk if i missed anything

␥ misc. masterlist AO3 PART THREE

the art class was bustling with students, the scent of paint and clay wafting through the air. choso sat at his usual spot stealing glances from you. the professor announced a small project; drawing and painting your partners. but there was a twist—only two colors could be used.

choso’s heart raced as ideas began to flood his mind. everyone scattered around to their new seats and the male instantly scooted next to you. he smiled at you. it was something about that shy smile he gave you before he quietly asking if he could draw you.

“let me draw you first,” you smiled. “i don’t want you getting caught up with me and i completely forget to draw you.”

“oh, i don’t know…i’m not really good with posing or anything. and i’m not able to sit still for very long.” choso warned but you only smacked your lips as if the boy was spewing nonsense right out of his teeth.

“quit doubting yourself. you got nice style and your face would literally be perfect on a magazine cover maybe even in the art show that’s coming up.”

“art show?” choso raised a brow. for someone that loved art contests and taking trips to museums just to stare at the portrait hanging on the white walls encased in an embezzled gold frame, he seemed surprised about this information.

“yeah. don’t know how you haven’t heard about it but i was thinking of putting my painting of you in once it was finished.” you looked down at your blank canvas that was resting flat on the table just as it did when you first arrived to class.

“oh, no, you shouldn’t—i mean..you can if you want to it’s your painting but…i really don’t like being the center of attention. i don’t really like being stared at.” choso explained. he bit down on his lower lip and he sighed.

“come on, it’ll be a powerful piece.” you beamed. “i feel like it’ll really make an impact on the audience. and i promise i won’t use your name if you don’t want me to.”

choso hummed, his lips pursed before speaking again. “um…well if you think so highly of the piece then i guess i can’t say no. just promise you won’t tell anybody it’s me.”

“sure. now just hold still for me.” you say with a smile.

classes finally end for the day and the two of you made progress on your art pieces. you decided to ask choso to spend the rest of the day together, to which he agreed to without hesitation.

you both gathered your items and headed out into the bustling city of tokyo. the sun is setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. you and choso arrive at a cozy cafe and settled into a booth by a large window, surrounded by the warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

the two of you had been there for a good thirty minutes talking about whatever came to mind, bouncing from topic to topic and bookmarking whatever part of the conversation you thought was interesting for another time.

“so, choso, you’ve always been into art?”

“yeah, well, i’ve always had a creative side, but i never really pursued it until recently. art helps me express things that are hard to put into words, you know?”

you nod. you never seen his art before and you just wondered how he had done things. your eyes travel over to the tote bag that was sitting flatly beside choso’s thigh. you fixed your lips to speak but a camera flash went off. you were pretty used to his off guard photos ever since the two of you started to hang out more often.

“can i see?” you leaned your body over the polished wood table before choso lowered his camera.

“not yet.” he answered. “mmm…i’ll show you when the project is complete. until then, i’ll have to hold off on showing you.”

you pout but you could understand why choso was being a bit selfish with his crafts. instead of begging to see a photo of yourself, which you prayed you didn’t blink in, you pointed to his bag.

“why don’t you finish your sketch? i mean, we have a lot of privacy right now and we don’t have any classes tomorrow. i also wanna watch you paint. its something about watching an artist in action is just so satisfying.” you say.

choso, lost in the depths of his own world, takes a sip of his green tea when he hears your unexpected statement. he recently started drinking it a bit more since that was the only thing he actually liked besides ice water.

feeling a surge of nervousness and excitement, choso shifts in his seat. painting in front of someone, especially you, made him feel vulnerable in a way he isn’t used to.

“i’m not sure…” choso looks down at his cup half filled with tea, which still had smoke billowing from it because of how hot it was. “i’ve never painted with someone else in the room before. it’s a pretty personal process for me.”

“c’mon, please? just for a minute.” you pleaded, clasping your hands and intertwining your fingers to be dramatic. choso chuckled at your silly behavior and simply sighed.

“let’s head back to the school and you can watch me work in my room, fair?” choso looks at you, awaiting an answer. of course, you agree.

back at jujutsu tech, you and choso were settling in, slipping your shoes off once you entered the room and placing your bags together against the wall.

you were amazed at how much space he had and how organized he was. the books on the bookshelves were all in size and color order and so were the cute little jars of paint that were on another shelf but you noticed that there was no red paint.

the desk was neatly organized also with choso’s laptop and ipad with its stylus side by side, charging. there was a mug with a bunch of pencils and pens and another cylinder item that looked handmade and painted with brushes in them. you assumed choso made it.

there was an easel in the corner of the room by the large windows that had blinds that would be shortly opened to let in some of the remaining light as the sun set. choso grabbed a few brushes and the rolling chair that sat at his desk and pulled it over in front of the easel and sat down. the male then reached for the canvas that had the drawing of you from his bag and placed it onto the easel. he looked pretty prepared now.

“you mind filling me a cup of clean water from the faucet?”

the question snaps you out of your awe-stricken mind and you nod. you went to the kitchen area and grabbed a cup that didn’t look like it would be used any time soon and filled it with water then brought it back to choso. he directs you to place the cup on the desk before thanking you for the simple gesture.

you noticed choso had his eyes closed now, taking a few breaths before removing the bandage on his nose and trashing it. you saw how blood shot from the black mark running over the bridge of his nose and onto the palette that was in his lap.

choso picks up one of the brushes and dipped it into the crimson liquid that had also been running down his face and began to paint. once the brush hits the canvas, all his nerves seem to dissipate, replaced by the familiar focus that comes with creating.

as choso dips his brush into the blood-infused paint, the room falls silent. the only sounds are the soft scrapes of the brush against the canvas and the occasional drips of paint.

you watched as colors of red and black filled the canvas. you weren’t familiar with the meanings of specific colors but the way you were drawn on his canvas as royalty, you could see sophistication and passion. choso put the brush down and rolled up his sleeves and began to use his fingers to paint. smearing the colors together with his knuckles.

your eyes sparkled, entranced, as choso’s knuckles danced across the canvas, blending the deep reds into the black that was present. the male was aware that he was in need of a palette knife but he’s never gotten the time to buy any.

“the way you use blood for your art is actually unique.” you spoke, breaking the silence. “i guess it adds depth and richness that’s hard to describe. it looks like the painting is alive almost.”

you were seeing it with your own eyes, his art style was hauntingly beautiful. you never seen anything like it. this whole scenario made you wonder if blood was often used when he painted or was this just a perfect coincidence. you slouch in your chair, in thought once again.

“blood has always been a part of me. a part of everyone, i should say. but mine is a curse and a blessing. incorporating it into my art feels natural to me. it’s like i’m putting a part of myself into each piece.” choso murmured.

“um…you know, i never heard you talk about your parents much, only your brothers. they must be really proud of you…you being all smart and artistic and such.” you say softly.

choso’s hand freezes mid stroke, his expression darkening. he sets down his brush and turns to face you. you see how that empty expression of his appeared onto his face again.

“my parents…they’re not in the picture. my mom isn’t alive and my dad was never proud of me. he only saw me as a tool, a weapon to be wielded. i’m happy he left me behind…”

your expression softens. on the outside, choso looked like he had it all. he was attractive, smart, talented, hell if he wasn’t the smartest guy around he probably would’ve gotten in just for being attractive and talented. he seemed perfect. but in reality, he was living in a fucked up world holding on to his creations for comfort.

“i’m so sorry, choso. i probably shouldn’t have brought that up and make you relive painful memories. but despite your past, you managed to create something beautiful out of the darkness. that takes a lot of courage and strength.”

choso nods, his gaze returning to the painting. he picks up his brush once again, lost in thought. he exhaled from his nose. though the topic did hit a nerve, he felt like he could trust you.

“it’s…fine i guess. it was a while ago. my brothers were the ones who helped me escape that life. we all live for each other and nothing can make me change that narrative. they’re my family and we’ve been through a lot together.”

“they must be really important to you, huh? you see them often?” you query. choso nodded again.

“as much as i can. i don’t really have the funds to constantly take train rides back and forth from my house to here and vice versa. we try to stay in touch, the most i can do is call them each night. yuji and eso are busy with their own business and you know they have to keep kechizu close because he’s pretty childlike and clings to eso like he’s his savior.”

you noticed the small smile on his face as he spoke of his brothers. him being the eldest, you would’ve expected him to severely despise his brothers but it seemed like he couldn’t even say the word ‘hate’ when talking about them. it was actually pretty sweet.

as the evening comes to an end, you find yourself standing outside of choso’s room and he’s leaning against the doorframe, his sleeves still rolled up, revealing thin strips of stitches along his forearm.

“what happened to your arm?” you point, making choso break his gaze and follow your finger to where you had been pointing. he only shrugged.

“a stupid accident. nothing too much to worry about.” he answered, rubbing the brand new bandage he had over his nose. his cheeks were still a little red from the blood that had been running down his face earlier.

“you should keep your bandage off. that mark is a part of who you are, and you know i accept that.” you say. choso is taken aback by your words, his hand instinctively touching the bandage again.

“it’s…not easy. people have always been afraid of me because of what what i am. it’s just easier to keep it hidden.”

“but you don’t have to hide from me. i see you, choso, for who you are, not what you are. you’re a human just like any other person here. and i think your mark is pretty cool, actually.”

choso couldn’t help but smile at your words. maybe—just maybe you had a point. maybe it was time for him to change his ways. get out of his comfort zone a little.

“um…yeah, thanks. i’ll think about it. goodnight.”

“goodnight, choso.”

“and this one would be called ‘the blood painter’.” the announcer spoke as the crowd followed around. it was perfect. better than anything else being displayed. choso stood in front of the painted canvas, staring at his own face looking down at his own partially painted portrait with a crimson liquid dripping from his nose and onto the canvas. there was a white cup filled with tea, which had been leaking from the sides as if it were overfilled.

his hair flopped down into his face before lifting a hand to brush it back with his fingers. he was awestruck. how could you have painted something like this with almost no experience. he could’ve sworn you said you were horrible at this kind of thing…maybe his memory was faulty.

“it’s perfect….” you hear him mumble as he stepped closer to the portrait. he was so tempted to touch it but he abided by the rules of not touching or taking any photos of the paintings being displayed. “how did you do this? you couldn’t have—no, you did…but this is so different from your drawing.”

“it was only a sketch. a way to get your features and everything properly. but a few days ago when we hung out, i thought i’d make something more expressive.” you grinned.

“i’m impressed.” choso’s eyes sparkled. “it’s like you captured my soul onto the canvas. i mean, i’ve seen art that expresses the soul of another person but this one is—wow.”

the male looked at you and his cheeks flushed a little. “maybe i got a little too excited. you did a nice job on your painting. hopefully you got a passing grade on it.”

you smiled at choso’s excitement and love for the art you made of him. you both knew it was simply for an assignment that would be graded then tucked away forever or thrown into a nearby dumpster but this was a sentimental thing. it was like a piece that needed to be preserved.

as you both stood in the middle of the large crowds, you two could hear people praising the painting for its raw emotion and style. one patron mentioned that it gave off a bit of a edgy feeling despite the cozy looking background.

choso was a bit surprised and delighted by the positive reactions, he felt a sense of pride in his portrait and the artist that created it—you. he turned to you with a smile on his face.

“i never thought my own portrait would have an impact like this.” choso said shifting his weight onto one leg. “see, now i kinda regret not letting you reveal my name.”

“you’re okay. it’ll make you a mystery man like the mona lisa…well she’s a real person but you get it, don’t you?” you chuckle lightly and choso does just that right along with you.

“i get it. but i’ll never be as known as she is. i’ll only be a mystery man that’s occasionally seen in shibuya.” he said. you threw your arm over choso’s shoulder and waved your hand dismissively.

“sure you will. one thing will lead to another. when you start seriously pursuing art and get your name out there, people will realize that you’re this man in the picture.” you pointed to the portrait, lightly tapping your nail against it as it created a hollow sound. you knew that you weren’t supposed to touch anything but you didn’t seem to care that much. you even went out your way to take a quick picture of it—it was surprisingly clear.

“they’ll call you signore kamo.” you added.

“you know italian?” choso raised a brow, a bit surprised by your pronunciation and how casually you said that word.

“nope, i googled it.” you smile innocently. choso released a breath as if he had been holding it for a while and returned a soft smile to you.

the art show ends and you and choso found yourselves walking close by each other on the sidewalk. the streetlights and neon lights from buildings illuminating your way as you walked back to the university. choso saw that you were on the left of him, closer to the street so he stoped to trade places with you.

“what was that for?” you ask as you put your hands down into your pocket. you had a feeling on exactly why choso did what he did but you just wanted to hear it from his mouth.

“well, just in case something happens, i’ll be hit first and you won’t have to worry about getting hurt.” choso stated, glancing at the street littered with parked cars. your instincts seemed to be correct but your lips involuntarily stretched into a smile anyway and you felt your face heat up a bit.

upon arriving back to the dorms, the two of you stood in the commons, your shadows stretching long in the dim light. since quiet hours were approaching, it was about time the two of you part ways once again until tomorrow. you turn to face each other, a mixture of contentment and longing in your eyes.

“i guess this is where we call it a day. thank you again for everything.” choso says and you nod.

“of course.” you beamed. “i had a really nice time with you today. and don’t forget that you don’t have to hide who you are around me. your true self is beautiful.”

“i’ll remember it.” choso replied before being caught off guard by your sudden hug. you flung your body into him and squeezed his sides a bit. his violet eyes widened as he contemplated on leaving you to cling onto him or hug you back. no one besides his brothers had ever given him a hug.

slowly and awkwardly his arms snaked around your body, finally returning a hug back to you. you both lingered there for a moment, holding on to each other before breaking away.

“hey, dinner on friday?” you ask.

“it’s a date.” choso replied, only making your smile grow. you both say your goodbyes and wave to each other before walking off in the opposite direction to head off to your rooms for the night.

but then another guy came along.

“hey, you got a second?” kashimo whispered. choso never interacted with the guy much but they’ve spoken enough to know how one another looked and each other’s names. sighing, choso obliged.

“i noticed the way you talked to that girl over there just a few seconds ago. you seriously scored.” the cyan haired male smirked at choso. “obviously, there’s something special between you two. maybe i could offer you some advice on that front?”

choso’s eyes narrowed, and as usual, his defensive walls go back up. he was never really comfortable with talking about his personal life, especially with someone he didn’t know all that well.

“i don’t need help with my love life, kashimo. i’m handling it perfectly fine.” choso crossed his arms. kashimo would put his hands up in a placating gesture.

“no pressure. i’m just saying that sometimes it’s easier to open up to someone who isn’t directly involved, you know? sit with me at lunch tomorrow. we can discuss this later.” the other lightly punches choso’s shoulder before heading out of the entrance doors.

“he’s weird.” choso muttered.

⠀© vmpiires | like, reblog & follow.

[angelofthenight]

What Doesn’t Kill Me Pt.1

(Yandere!Alex Delarge x Fem!Reader)

Summary: You were finally free from your abusive and obsessive “boyfriend” when he was arrested with a long sentence. But when he comes back to you on his knees in tears after the Ludovico's Technique, you can’t help but welcome him back into your arms once learning that he is literally incapable of harming you ever again. Yet you begin to question your own morals.

Warnings: Yandere, Dark themes, Ladstat, Swearing/Language, Unhealthy/Abusive relationship, Sexual context/themes, Non-Con (off screen rape), Gangs, Obsessiveness, Home invasion, Sexual sadism, Physical abuse/Violence, Knife threat, Blood, Spitting, Brief pussy slapping, Alex is his own warning, You are responsible for your own content consumption

Word Count: 4.2k

( Fun Fact: I fucking hate Alex so much but I wrote a very long essay about A Clockwork Orange’s moral of redemption for my senior year of film studies class and I got an interesting idea for a yandere fic. Like how would the darling react if the yandere was “cured into being a good person”? )

Table of Contents

~

You hated Alex Delarge. You hated him. You loathed him. You despised him. But most of all, you were terrified of him.

On the contrary, Alex was head over heels in love with you. He was absolutely smitten with you and you were the center of his world.

You were practically forced to be his girlfriend. He just one day walked up to you and declared that you were his girlfriend now. And every day since that day was hell for you, the torturous part of hell that you are chained to.

Your soon to be nightmare all started when you two were just standing next to each other at the record store flipping through rows of records that were next to each other. He pulled out a record that caught your eye, it was one of your favorites, you thought you were the only one in town who listened to that band. Your passion for that specific artist made you smile and say aloud, “I love that record.”

He looked up at you with surprise in his eyes. He didn’t think anyone in town knew the record.

His silence made you awkwardly rant. “I honestly thought I was the only one in town who liked them. No one knew who the hell I was talking about when I would bring it up.” You gave a lighthearted laugh. “I love how the order of the songs makes a story and how each melody can, like, control what you feel. It’s a work of art. Gives me chills every time I listen to it.” You said all of this with your grin growing bigger, so happy you could talk to someone with taste.

The corner of Alex’s lips lifted up and his eyes gleamed with genuine joy, thrilled to meet someone who understands the brilliance of his favorite record. The two of you had a very long conversation about the record which extended to talking about other kinds of music. You both would drag each other around the shop to show the other some of your other favorite records.

You two instantly clicked and got along. Alex felt so comfortable with you, his mind felt at ease, and he enjoyed just simply talking with you. He’s never felt that way about anyone before. He actually enjoyed listening to you. You were so understanding, so open minded, so fascinating.

You two met in the record shop about three more times after that and would hang out for the rest of the day. You liked being around Alex. He was very funny and always put you in a good mood with his positivity. He was a very easygoing and eccentric guy; a rarity in this town full of people with sticks up their asses.

You thought nothing but good things about Alex. You really enjoyed having him as a friend. That is, until he fell for you.

In his own defense, how could he possibly not?

You were so kind and gentle with him, treating him as if he were your priority. You could get so feisty, like a house cat. As much as he loved his women defenseless and frail, your straightforward approach and no-nonsense attitude in situations that called for it really riled him up. You made him laugh and always had knowledgeable opinions. You were so smart and had an ability to be unashamedly open. And you had some real horrorshow groodies.

It was as if you were specifically and meticulously and personally made for just him. You had the same music interests as him, your exact physique was his dream girl body, your jokes always landed perfectly with him, your eyes were coincidentally his favorite color, and your breasts were the perfect size for his hands.

Alex didn’t believe in love, nor believe in wasting time seeking it. But you… you had just infected him with a fever no ice pack could soothe. Your ivy vines laced and intertwined around the wrinkles of his brain making you his constant thought. And those leaves left behind a poison ivy rash he couldn’t scratch away.

You were everything he had ever wanted. Everything he would never be… but still wanted to own.

After a night of exhilarating ultraviolence, terrorization, and vandalism with the gang, he felt such a rush. And because of that rush it was that moment where he realized he had to tell you the truth. He must have you. So he left his pals a little early to make his way straight to your apartment. He knew where you hid your spare key so it was easy storming into your living room and finding you cleaning up after yourself of your dinner.

Alex was too caught up in his adrenaline to take notice that he only took off his mask and hadn’t changed out of his gang-related wardrobe, far too focused on getting to you. But you had noticed. It was the very first thing you noticed as he stood in front of you with a breathless grin. And it was all you could focus on even as Alex declared with a cane in his hand that the reason as to why he’s been acting so strange lately was because he was in love with you.

Your iris’ were shaking and your breath was heavy within your chest as you took in the clothing from his bowler hat down to the visible codpiece. What he was wearing looked exactly like what one specific violent gang wore in the papers next to the article explaining the increase in gang terrorism due to the reduction in policing effectiveness. Juvenile delinquent gangs populated the streets because of how understaffed the police force was, most people barely even went out these days. But, for a reason you now understood, you always felt safe yourself when you went out into public, especially with Alex. But now you understood why you were safe when seen with him.

“Alex… what are you wearing? Is this a joke?” You shakingly spoke out, not responding to his confession which appeared to irk him. He took a step toward you which prompted you to take one back. Alex glanced down at his clothes and in honesty… he didn’t really care if you knew. He was creative with ways he could keep you quiet. He honestly kind of liked it if you knew.

"These here are just my nochy on the town duds with my droogs.” He announced with a sharp grin, gesturing towards his white clothes. “You won't dob me in, won't you, devotchka?” He said with a joking tone despite the threatening look in his eyes.

Your frown sunk down, your lungs feeling as if they were closing in on your heart making it harder to breathe steadily. Your hands wrung together in a nervous fashion as you seemed to cower away from someone you considered a friend. “Alex, you’re scaring me. I… I think you should leave.” You said with the delusional hope that he would respect your wish and exit the way he came.

But Alex wasn’t having it. “Leave without your answer?” He exclaimed as he held out his cane then slammed it down against your floor with one hand on his hip, tilting his head up with a sense of pride. “I think not.”

He wasn’t going to leave until he got your answer to his confession. You felt sick to the pit of your stomach. Your lips parted but no words were released. You didn’t know what to say, too caught up in the chilling realization of Alex’s secret life.

You’d be lying if you said you never really thought of him in that way, because you have once in a blue moon. How could you not with your handsome and funny male friend who always made time for you? You always teased the idea of dating him in your mind, experimented with the thought of being in a relationship with him. But it was never more than that though. More of curiosity and craving a partner rather than a crush.

You struggled to find the right words. “I… I… I feel… I-” You were torn between not wanting to encourage or provoke him yet also fearing your safety. “Spit it out, devotchka. Koshka got your tongue?” He giggled with a devilish smirk.

“I just…” You swallowed the growing lump in your throat, as if trying to swallow your fear, before it got too big that it would render you mute. “I really like you as a friend.” You fully expected him to lash out, scream at you, anything of the sort. But he simply cackled like a child.

“Nonsense, dearie!” He said in between the chuckles. “You’re just taken by surprise, is all! You’ll surely change your mind after some lubbilubbing.”

Your eyes widened in shock and horror and offense. You thrashed your arm up to point at your front door with a face full of upset anger. “Get out, Alex! I mean it!” You demanded, not believing this was all coming from someone you used to respect and think kindly of.

He, however, wasn’t phased by your raised voice and demand as he began to take swinging steps toward you, his cane lifting up to rest over his shoulder. “You’re not just gonna send me off without any sweet treat, are ya, love?” He said with a sick smile, his eyes going hooded with a predatorial shadow over his blue orbs that began to travel your body.

Your blood went cold, stinging your bones like frostbite, as you took notice of your nighttime wear. You didn’t plan for company and due to living alone you had the habit of dressing a little more indecently, as well as because you planned to go to bed right after finishing cleaning your dinner dishes. Your goosebumped skin hardly had the safety of coverage from your silk one-piece pajamas that consisted of thin tank top straps and shorts.

Your bottom lip grew so unbearably heavy that it began to shake, you taking a slow step back despite how close he’s gotten already. Your frighteningly alarmed eyes kept themselves trained on Alex’s as he stalked forward like a lion cornering an antelope, that shit-eating grin still intact.

“Y’know,” he started while he slowly began to close in on you as you walked backwards, “I think, deep down, you’re a bit of a bad girl.” He said, a tone a tad darker than before which only made your heartbeat pump painfully in your pulse. Your terror was slowly swallowing you whole like a drain.

“I think you might get a kick of it if I come on strong, just a bit rough.” He said, and before you could react in fearful panic to what he was implying, he held both ends of his cane in his hands and swung it over your head to land on your lower back. He used the position of his horizontal cane to roughly pull you closer to close the gap, sending you straight into his chest.

You gasped at the action and instantly began to struggle, throwing your hands up in an attempt to push him away by his shoulders or to at least grant some distance between the two of you. But he kept you tightly against him. “Excited now are we, eh?” He chuckled down at you, your resistance getting him all hot and bothered.

Before he confessed how he felt about you, Alex had already assumed that you felt the same way. He had an intense belief in his own perception of reality and didn’t really consider the possibility that you may not share the same feelings. His view of love was distorted and interpreted any signs of kindness or attention as your reciprocation.

But Alex was a self-aware guy. He wasn’t blind and deaf to how you clearly did not want him by how you panicked and struggled within his hold. But now that he thought about it… he didn’t really care about how you felt. Your rejection surprisingly affected him a lot less than he would’ve guessed, it actually didn’t really hurt that much.

He was naturally driven by his own twisted desires and impulses. He just wanted to exert control and power over you, rather than to seek your genuine love and affection, even though he had to admit that those would be nice to have. It was like he was in his own world, detached from the reality of reciprocal love.

He loved you. And that was all that mattered. He could still do whatever he wanted to you. And with the right tactics, he could make you do whatever he wanted. So what exact difference would your feelings make?

Alex’s cane dug into your lumbar spine, springing a pained wince past your teeth. Your attention was so focused on the pain on your skin that you gasped in unpleasant surprise at one specific tug on your body that made your pelvis grind right into the bulge of the codpiece. You stifled your whimper behind your teeth, the hard pad rubbing a sensitive part of your clit as Alex continued this action with a malicious grin.

When he got you distracted enough he took the opportunity to quickly pivot around you, rotating his cane around your body from your lower back to against your neck. The sudden harsh pressure on your throat instantly made you wheeze, your hands flying up to grasp onto the stick to try to grant you some air but to no avail due to the imbalance of strength between you and Alex.

You felt his chin rest in the crook of your neck and shoulder, his cheek also pressed against the side of your neck. You felt his smile and heard his pleasurable inhale through his nose. He was enjoying your struggle. He lifted his head so that his lips touched the shell of your ear, prompting you to make an effort to squirm away from his touch. But the grip he had on the cane across your frail throat made it easy to keep you as close as possible.

“Very well tomorrow’s your laundry day,” he practically purred into your eardrum which only created nausea that spread throughout your gut, “because those sheets of yours are about to get very merzky.”

If his innuendo hadn’t paralyzed you to absolute terror, you would’ve paid more fearful mind to the question on how he knew when you did your laundry.

You whimpered in powerless fear when he jerked you with the cane to force you to walk backwards. Well it was mostly him walking and your feet practically being dragged; your hands still remained on the cane to try to loosen its pressure on your cartilage. He led the two of you into your bedroom, jabbing his foot back to kick your door open in a wider frame. Once you were in he had tossed you onto the mattress with little care.

Tears began to prickle your eyes once you had collided into your bed, coughs following from the stinging pain on your throat as you gently touched where it hurt. You weren’t allowed much relief of personal space when Alex threw his hat to the side before crawling onto the mattress to reach you. He tightly grasped your biceps to flip you onto your back, him taking a comfortable seat on your waist.

He angled his torso above you and rocked his hips, grinding his clothed erection against your pelvis just once before he placed one hand next to your head. His other hand slowly wrapped itself around your face to force your shaking, watering eyes onto his carnivorous ones. He stared at you for a moment, a moment too long for your comfort. He stared at you and you could practically see the feverish twisted and covetous thoughts stream behind those bright blue eyes. And then a Cheshire Cat grin spread his lips after realizations awoke in his mind.

“Thou art such a beauty when you platch.” He said. The feeling of sadistic fervor and his far-too-long repressed lustful temptations were morphed together into bedroom eyes.

You went owl-eyed around your petrified pupils. Finally, you couldn’t hold the weight any longer as the situation became much too real to you and the heavy tears spilled out of your eyes. Alex’s smile widened before he pushed himself back up to straight posture, both of his hands reaching behind his back to unsheathe a dagger from his cane.

The sight of the long and sharp blade made your deep frowning lips part, a faint yelp weak in your throat. It was as if your horror stole all the words from you and left you far too terrified and weak to say anything. And your ears felt nearly deaf from the violent beating of your heart that rang in your eardrums. The only sounds you could hear were your scared sobbing wails and the sound of your pajamas ripping as he dragged the dagger down the clothing like a zipper.

Once sliced open enough, Alex placed the knife in his mouth to hold it with his teeth as he used his hands to tear it open the rest of the way. You were left in nothing but your panties, no bra due to the fact you had planned for independent slumber. But now you wished your sleeping customs were different as you laid exposed and helplessly vulnerable underneath the wicked monster you once felt joyful to call your dear friend.

And that monster’s eyes took in your vulnerability with a deranged infatuation; eyes that ravished the sight so hungrily. With the dagger still clenched between his white teeth, Alex’s hands were free to reach down and grope your breasts like dough. You whimpered with a feeble tremble, your leaking eyes squeezed shut in severe discomfort as you tightly gripped the sheets with white knuckles.

He grasped the side cups of your chest to push your bust together, giving him a better view of both of them at the same time. The action made you sharply inhale from the sensitivity, but it was as if that woke you up because you then felt the protective courage to snatch his wrists in an attempt to claw his unwanted touch off you; furious and disgusted by his animalistic audacity.

Your attempt of defense was rendered as nothing but a detriment to yourself as it was simple for Alex to free himself from your hold. One hand slammed onto your elbow to cage it to the mattress and his other hand retracted the dagger from his mouth to push it horizontally against your still hurt throat. Not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough to make you cower away from him and attempt to push yourself deeper into the mattress to escape the touch of the blade.

“Now, now, now, my dear darling.” He spoke with a sharp smile and pupils dilated in insanity. “Don’t do anything you will regret. Best to just lay back, relax, and enjoy the show. Maybe a couple of tears here and there for sweetness. But be the noble girl you always are and behave while I ravage your cunt.”

He turned the dagger diagonally to rest the tip atop the center of your collarbone. His grip on the handle was tight and you knew one wrong move on either of your ends would end with your blood gushing down your naked body. “I’d hate to carve up such elegant plott. It’d be a sin!” He tapped and glided the blade against your neck teasingly.

He leaned down to position his lips next to your ear. “But it’s a good thing I’m not a gloopy malenky dobby church boy.” He breathed out, causing your limbs to shiver in sickened fear. “I’m not afraid to get a little sinful.” He husked before he opened his mouth to drag his wet, warm tongue from your jawline up to your ear. Your joyless frown involuntary trembled.

Alex angled his face above yours, taking in your visibly terrified features and your salty rivers of tears and nearly salivating at the sight. “Now… Do you promise to behave?” He asked you with a cruel, mocking tone. The breathy, agonized sob you were holding occupied your throat so all you could do was reply with a twitchy yet compliant nod.

His smile practically lit up. “That’s my devotchka!” He exclaimed proudly before parting the dagger from your chest and instead moving it to rest against your jawline, allowing his thumb to caress your tearfully wet cheekbone. He dipped his head down to capture your lips within his for a sweet and simple kiss. He separated himself after he was satisfied with the taste to look up into your immensely glossy eyes with unfiltered fondness.

Your intoxicating lips tempted him to return for another, but quicker, deep kiss before his hands slid down your waist to hook his long fingers around the hem of your panties. He kept them there as he moved himself to come face to face with your sheltered cunt. Your frowning lips quivered as you bit them to ease your pounding heart. But not even your mind that tried to make you recite an entire work day in your head to distance yourself from your reality could distract you from Alex lifting your hips high up into the air so that he could straighten his back.

He smiled devilishly down at your forbidden flower with unhinged admiration laced within his features and eyes, your legs dangling over his shoulders. And without a hint he had shoved his nose straight into your clothed clit and took a deep, dirty inhale. You whined at the contact. He removed his nose to look down at you. “My, oh my. Your sladky von of strack is quite to die for, my dear.” He chuckled sardonically in his throat to himself before jokingly pecking a kiss to your clothed folds, creating a ‘mwah’ sound, and chuckling again at your second whine. He truly found your meek fear amusing.

He released the hold he had on your hips, letting your lower body plop back onto the bed with a bounce. Then he jumped the gun, his hands back onto the band of your panties and tugging them off down your shivering legs. Clasping his hands tightly onto your inner thighs, he pushed them apart to spread your legs wide open to put your cunt on full display for his ravishing eyes.

Breathy sobs began to invade your voice despite your desperate resistance to such. You just couldn’t believe this was happening. Your body shook as if you were freezing yet you felt your humid sweat as if you were boiling, it was a sickening feeling as your once sanguine world crumbled around you.

Alex retched inward to spit onto your clitoris, gave it a second to let his thick saliva ooze down your folds before using his fingers to rub in the slimy substance. He used an up and down then circular motion before giving it a slap, creating a wet, lewd sound.

You barely even registered Alex removing his codpiece then pants and boxers until he positioned his erection near your now wet hole and climbed on top of you, leaning his face awfully close to yours with his hands pinning your wrists. He relished the sight of your bloodshot eyes coated with hot tears and the sound of your distressed sobbing begs. A sense of sick euphoria swelled up within him.

Oh god how he adored you; his severe psychopathic obsession. Truthfully, Alex would’ve done whatever it took to have you.

He held a predatory gaze. “You’re my world, darling.” He purred to you before thrusting himself into you with a possessive claim and lustful selfishness fueling him.

Alex was right about your sheets. After a very long night of the old in-out-in-out, multiple rounds and positions and orgasms later, he finally left you on your bed and made his exit. Not without promising that he'd be back and proclaiming that you were now his and his alone though. And threatening you as well about tattling.

He was right, your sheets became filthy. They were vandalized with both of your climax’s and your blood, as well as your tears and a few rips that had been made with your gripping nails and his dagger. Your body was as vandalized as your sheets. The elegant skin of yours he seemed so fond of was now littered with bruises, hickey’s, bite marks, nail scratches, and small blade wounds (you just couldn’t stop yourself from resisting and fighting back so many times). But it seemed like he loved the sight and color of your blood as he had lapped it up every time his dagger and his teeth punctured into you.

You laid in the mess and weeped. Your mind was vandalized worse than both your sheets and body. Vandalized with betrayal, trauma, violation, dread, and a mortified horror. All of what Alex was deep down this entire time.

That was when your life became the torturous hell you had to live with.

[fuckingyrs]

The sound of a body throwing itself onto one of the infirmary cots echoed through the mostly empty room, followed closely behind with a dramatic, but melodic sigh. “Can I say something mean?” 

“Probably not in front of the baby.”

Will groaned, looking up from his pile of patient reports he had been sorting for the past… year. “I hardly think eleven still counts as being a baby.”

Lee, who had been refilling first aid kits for the past two hours, contemplated this for a moment. “Maybe, but that’s besides the point. I’m six years older than you. You’ll always be a baby.”

“I’m going to say something mean. Will, cover your ears.”

“I’m not covering my ears, Taylor. Unlike you, I’m working right now and I need my hands.”

“Oh,” Taylor dragged, a taunt evident in her voice, "someone's grumpy.”

“He’s mad I put him on infirmary duty during arts and crafts.”

“Will, you aren’t good at arts and crafts.” Lee slapped her arm. “And you like working in the infirmary, you are constantly taking my shifts. It’s why I love you.”

Lee slapped her arm again. “Taylor, what the heck.”

Taylor groaned, “Fuck. Just say fuck. I’m begging you.”

“That’s besides the point. I had it with Cecil. We were going to finish our board game.” Will turned to Lee, pointing an accusing finger at him, “You knew this.”

Lee let out a long-suffering sigh and Will almost felt bad for causing a fuss, but really, Lee brought this upon himself. “Taylor, stop pawning off your shifts to Will. Will, stop letting Taylor’s pawn off her shifts to you. Also: I’m sorry about arts and crafts. The last few days have been hectic and I needed your help. I’ll make sure to not schedule you over arts and crafts next week.”

“I’m going to be home next week! Mama is picking me up, remember?”

Lee had the decency to look ashamed when he said, “Heck. I forgot. I’m sorry, Will.”

Taylor got up from her self-designated cot and walked over to Will, ruffling his hair once she was close enough. “I’ll take over the rest of your shift, buddy. You go have fun.”

Will shook his head, “No, it’s okay. I’m already here. Arts and crafts is half-way done anyway. We wouldn’t be able to finish.”

“If you’re sure,” Taylor sighed as she pressed a kiss to his forehead and Will let out a cry of protest because he could feel the lipstick stain there. He tried rubbing it away with his fingers but by the look on Lee’s face and the snickers Taylor was making behind him, he only made it worse.

Lee graciously handed Will a wipe before glaring at their sister. “Taylor, what are you even doing here?”

“I think I made that pretty obvious when I threw myself onto a bed and stated I was gonna say something mean. I came to gossip.”

“You should be at archery right now.”

“Mike was being a piss-baby. He wouldn’t let Josh and I try to hit one another. What’s the point of being in advanced archery if you can’t shoot at your brother? Moving targets!”

“So you left?”

“Yep. I found Silena and she offered to do my nails before I came by.”

Lee pinched the bridge of his nose in a way that resembled an old man at the end of his rope. Will suppressed a giggle at his brother’s anguish as Lee said, “You can’t do that.”

“Do what? My nails?”

“Leave Michael like that.”

“Why? He’s not in charge of me.”

“But I am. And he’s my second in command, so yes he is.”

Taylor groaned, flopping back onto her cot. “One, he’s like three weeks older than me, unfair. And two, none of that is important right now. What is important is that our father was here and didn’t say hi to any of us. Who does that?”

“Our father, apparently.”

Taylor flipped Lee off, showing off her new manicure. It was baby pink, like her lipstick, with a little sun in the center. “He gives those kids a ride, none of them his, and has the audacity to leave before saying hi? Hell, Will over here has never met him. He has time to bring a group of kids to camp, but can’t spare a lousy minute to check in on us? And I can’t say this to Michael or he’ll claim I’m “on the other side”.” Taylor sighed, a faraway look in her eyes. Will had only seen this look on her face a few times before: every time Luke was mentioned. “I’m just tired of feeling abandoned and I’m sick of feeling like it’s bad to think that.”

Lee stepped towards her, a soft, “Tay–” passing through his lips, before she sat up and shook herself out of her stupor.

“Instead of saying hi, he just causes chaos and disappears! He brings Percy back, which is never a good sign. Thalia is driving the sun chariot, and crashes it! Oh, and he brought that new weird kid that keeps bombarding everyone with questions.”

Will saw through the change of topic, and Lee clearly had to as well, but he allowed it to happen. He slapped her on the arm for the third time, “He’s not weird. He’s, like, eight. The kid is just excited. You were excited about camp once upon a time.”

Taylor turned to Will, jerking her head at Lee, “I think he’s finally lost it. When have I ever been excited by anything ever?”

Will grinned, “Yesterday, you beat Madi at Josh’s song quiz and you danced around the cabin for ten minutes.”

Taylor gasped loud and dramatic, clutching at her chest as she fell back onto her cot, chestnut hair falling all over her face in her fall. “William! How dare you accuse me of such things!”

[undermine-the-instinct]

Crush or Chance?

● Bard!reader masterlist ● Next part.... ●Warnings: None ● Wc: 5.9K

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times and shame on the both of us. So what be said for a fourth time?

(Or in other words, Kaveh met you long before you knew him.)

If he's being a little honest, Kaveh has a bit of a crush on you. 

Or maybe it's something more like a bittersweet admiration, the same way you'd look at phoenix and think, this will end in flames.

The more he worked, the more clients he contracted the more dissatisfied he became. Functionality over art, structure over beauty, efficiency over soul. He felt like life was being drained out of him. And after a while, he started thinking; Why should I? What was the point? However great he was in the eyes of others, no matter what praises they heap onto him, he is but one person. What could he do on his own?

And how arrogant of him to hope to even try! What has he ever truly done? Even his Magnum opus; A palace that doesn't even belong to him and has buried him in a lifelong debt. He was never really ever going to amount to much.

 It was during one of these depressing bouts of his that he met you.

Bars are cesspools, collecting tears and drunken spurs, but also joy. Like his polar opposite you lit up the room, and he couldn't help but feel drawn. Your voice resounded throughout the space, and it stirred something deep in his heart. He felt like he had just found the answer to a puzzle he was grilling over for so long, and seemingly, for no reason at all. He was alive! He was in a bar! Shouldn't he be joining in on the merry?

And so he danced the night away. He sang and greeted old friends and he paid for all his drinks that night. It wasn't until the place was closing that he thought about the bard that stirred his heart and feet into action. But by then you were long gone. If it's meant to be I'll find them again, he thought, and began the trek home.

He didn’t get to meet you that night. He found you again though another day, dancing in the center of a crowd that had surrounded you. There was a man playing a fiddle, while another played on a flute. You were barefoot, a scarf around your waist trailing behind you in a ribbon of silk, a smile on your face. You weren't afraid to get too close to the crowd, you snapped fingers and captured a delighted stranger in your scarf, taking a child by the hand and twirling them around and around.

Mentioning art is the quickest way to end a conversation, is something that is generally known in Sumeru. But there was no conversation to be had here, there was only music and laughter, for the simple joy of being able to move. He felt like a bystander watching a moving painting.

Shouts sounded behind him, and as one the crowd turned back to see. Matra were approaching with scowls, a collective thunderstorm to usher the people on and disperse the crowd.

“Hey! You folks! You're under arrest for public misconduct and unsanctioned musical performance!”

“Uh, no we’re not!” with a last bow to the crowd, and a trilling sound from the flutist, you and your companions ran in opposite directions, gone like magpies in the wind. One second you're there and then you're gone. 

Kaveh wants to know what your name is. Who are you? 

“Oh, that pest? Just some runt from all the way in Monstadt,” a client frowns, deep and fissured.

“One of those traveling sorts, so let's hope that they pack up and get moving soon.”

“Have they been especially troublesome?” He scoffs at this and looks at Kaveh with wide disbelieving eyes.

“‘Especially trouble?’ Like you wouldn’t believe! You and I both know how the Akademiya hates those artsy types, and then this person shows up and decides to make a whole mockery of that. And for what? Out of spite? How childish.”

“I might have seen them around actually, at a few bars I've visited with some colleagues,” Kaveh supplies, refilling the man’s drink.

“They didn’t look like the sort to cause much trouble.” He’s a liar. As a matter of fact, that smile you wore back then spoke nothing but mystique and mischief. 

“Those Monstadt types always like to cause trouble. They had one revolution and think themselves all martyrs and rebels. Trust me, I’m older than you and I know. Remember that one girl who graduated from the Akademiya in two years? I even offered to sponsor that girl and look where she is now; working as a librarian in that grass field of all places,” he scowled.

“What a waste of talent. I’ve had enough of them, so let's hope this one hops over to Fontaine or something, they'd be welcomed over there I bet. Now, didn't we come here for something? The plans for my building, you got them?”

“Of course sir, right here…” This isn't the first time he's heard something like this, especially amongst his oldest clients. It's a shared sentiment, and it feels like something bitter and vindictive. He knocks back his own glass.

Kaveh doesn't know who you are, but he wonders; if you ever went to Fontaine, would his mother like you?

The next time he sees you is in a public garden. And he's late, he was supposed to be at a meeting with another client at least forty five minutes ago, but rushing along, the way you were just standing there caught his eye.

He can hardly see you above all the rolled blueprints and stuffed folders he's carrying, he forgot his bag and it was too late to go back and get it, but he could tilt his head back and get a clearer look at your form in the grass.

Standing in the shade and dappled sunlight of a great tree, barefoot and…posing. He followed your gaze to a book you had lying open in the grass, and saw a few poses and stands he half recognized, all hand drawn with notes in the margins.

You paid no mind to the odd looks or stares you were getting, the way that people gave you a wide berth of space, how some shook their heads and scurried their children on, the way that others would stop and stare before shaking themselves out of their reverie. Kaveh wasn’t part of either group, but he was still…watching you.

He must have been more obvious than most because you lifted your head just as you were stretching, tilting your head in question like a bird, an automatic smile on your face. Quizzical but warm. He tilted his head back at you, like the idiot he was, and your smile broke out wider. 

“Good morning to you too, stranger! What are you up to this fine morning?”

Him? You were speaking with him? He lifted up the filled blueprints he had in his arms, obscuring his face more. “Off to work. And, um, how about you?”

“Stretching! Or at least, pretending to.” You twirled a bit into your next position, so that you had your back to him now.

“You're not doing a very good job pretending.”

“Oh? Am I being too obvious?” There was mirth in your voice, amusement.

“You're doing an arabesque in a demi-plie, I think it's obvious.” You stumbled a little and whirled so fast to look at him that he wondered for a second if you could get whiplash. He was holding too many blueprints he could imagine it was hard to see anything other than his bob of his hair and his brows.

“...You know what an Arabesque is?” He shrugged carefully.

”My mother lives in Fontaine, and they are fond of performances there. I know a few terms.” He saw your expression fall a bit through the peeps of his papers, but you brightened up before he could say anything more.

“That's still more than most people I've talked to. What else do you know?”

Kaveh could see you, eager and open to a stranger like himself. He recalled the way the crowd clapped along with you when you were dancing in the street. The way you sang, loud and unabashed, like a thunderbird whose only job it was was to wake the world, to a prophecy now foretold. But he couldn’t tell the future, and he thought neither could you.

How naively brazen you are. How unapologetically bold. How lovely.

“...Aren't you afraid?”

“What?” Your face shuttered off into confusion but he went on.

“Sumeru isn't the most ideal place for musicians and artists. I’m sure you've felt the general attitude and atmosphere, so, what are you doing? Aren't you scared of the repercussions?”

“Repercussions?”

“The sages have the matra set on you. That's not a rumor-it's fact. Aren't you scared of what else they could do to you?’’

“Well yeah, of course I am? But what else am I supposed to do, change the way I live?” His eyes widen, while you scoff, kicking up your feet.

“I’ve said it before and I'll say it again, they’re frightened of us.”

“Frightened? Frightened of what?” What could the sages, the governing force and face of Sumeru, have to fear from the populace?

“Frightened of what we can do? What has humanity done when pushed against the corner, or forced inside the cave? What have we done when the night falls and the rain pours?” You spread out your arms and tilt your head towards the sky.

“We sing! We gather together to tell stories over our work, we dance around the fire, we paint the tales of our passages onto the cavern walls, all things we have done before the written word. Even then, when we learned to write and record our stories, we created fables and tall tales to tell one another.”

“After humans discovered how to read and write, civilization did start to advance, at a before unprecedented rate.,” He admits.

“Art is what pushed civilizations to prosperity. It continues to.  The only reason The Akademiya doesn't acknowledge this is because they don't see nor recognize everything as a form of art.”

“Isn’t that a bit naive though?” He shuffles the load in his arms.

“That sounds like romanticism to me.”

“It is. And what's wrong with that?” You shrug.

"Tell me, who embroiders those elegant robes they all wear? Who tills and plants their outdoor gardens? Who builds their offices and homes and buildings? Who cooks their food or carves their furniture? Art is intrinsic to humanity. It is inevitable, irrefutable. Are they trying to deny that?" You scowled.

"Do they not find these things lovely, and necessary? Do they think themselves above the divine craft of creation? Do theyhink themselves as Gods?" You scowled harder, but then sighed, letting your breath out in a single push.

"Hm. But, that's not the question you asked me, right?"

“....No.” Then you thought, tilted your head up to the sky and huffed out a laugh.

“Well, actually, yes I am. But what else can I do, change the way I live?...No. I’m going to continue as I've always have, and if that’s something that makes me a target, then that’s just what comes with the territory of being a star.” You grinned, bright.

“....There are rumors that the Akademyia will deploy the General Mahamatra to subdue you if you make any sort of big fuss.”

“Well, what kind of star doesn't have a scandal or two under their belt?” You grinned again, but wobbly at the corners, and take a good look at all the papers he's carrying.

‘I…hope I'm not keeping you up? You seemed to be in a bit of a hurry before–” He gasped, cutting you off.

"Oh Archons, yes! Damn it, I'm going to be so late!!” He got completely sidetracked!! He gave you a nod that he hoped you saw and ran off to his appointment. Hopefully the client was still there.

Life is art, and art is intrinsic to life, basically, right? If that's the way someone like you sees the world, maybe he can adopt that mindset.

And hopefully he'd find you again, and greet you properly this time, no matter what rumors you were embroiled in. He’ll leave it up to fate this time as well.  it's already led him to you twice before.

You're so pretty. Kaveh has a bit of a crush on you already.

He woke up to a dark familiar room, and a dull throbbing in his head.

This was familiar, and normal. He wasn't kidnapped, or anything. He must have gone drinking again, and stumbled his way back home. The question was how he got inside. He’s pretty sure that he lost his keys several days ago and hasn't yet found the time to go get a new pair made. So the question stands…

Actually, the question can wait. His mouth feels like it's full of dust and cotton, and he needs water. That's his first priority.

His feet are bare and the floor cool as he pads his way over to the kitchen, trying to rub the heaviness out of his eyes. 

When he reaches the kitchen he stops, and rubs at them again because what are you doing sitting at the kitchen island talking to his jerk of a roommate?

“Oh, you're up.” You stand and walk over to him, reaching out like he needs steadying.

“What are you doing here?”

“We went out drinking and I carried you home, remember?”

“Oh, I remember of course, I wasn't talking to you though dear, I was talking to the man standing there like a mother ready to catch her kid sneaking back inside.”

“Because that's exactly what you did.” The bastard had a steaming cup up to his face, not even bothering to look at him. “How did you get in without your keys?”

“We used the key under the mat. I lost my keys, so how else?”

“I had taken the key and hidden it somewhere else.”

“What? Why would you hide the key?!”

“Because then you'd lose that one too, obviously.”

“Tch. Wait, then how did…” You laugh and shuffle a little, culprit.

“Yeah, sorry, this is my fault. I really wanted to get Kaveh into his bed so I kinda…picked the lock? It’s not broken or anything but still…” You lower your head in apology.

“I wasn’t willing to be patient, I’m sorry.”

“Yes, I'm sure you were in a hurry.” Al haitham sighs in reply and Kaveh bristles.

“What was that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. What do you think I meant?”

“I think you know exactly what you were insinuating.”

“Then why don't you spell it out for me?” He finally looked at him, tri-colored eyes gleaming oddly in the light. He looked…Apprehensive? No, that was just irritation, as usual.

Kaveh clicks his tongue in annoyance and turns back to you.

“See? What did I tell you about this guy? You don't need to apologize to this jerk, alright? You’re perfectly fine.”

“Oh? Talking behind my back now are you.”

Kaveh scoffs, heat curling in his chest. Or maybe just the leftover alcohol.  “It's nothing you wouldn't outright say yourself, so no need to ponder what I’ve said directly. I only spoke the truth, which is even sadder if you ask me.”

“Okay, stop it, that's enough,” You step between the two of them, frowning.

“There is no need for this petty back and forth. It’s late and we should all be in bed already. In fact,” You turn to him, “You were sleeping when I left you, do you need something?”

“...Were you two talking?”

“Just…greeting each other. He came in not too long after we did.”

Another cup sits on the table, softly steaming and obviously yours. It hasn't been long, but you’ve been here for more than a few minutes at least.

You scratch the back of your head with a sheepish grin. “Maybe I should have waited, then I wouldn’t have needed to break in.”

“No harm no foul.” Kaveh’s mouth gapes open when Alhaitham waves you off.

“‘No harm no foul?’ Have you lost your mind?! Are you sick?!”

“I'm perfectly fine you fool,” He sighs through his nose.

“I just expect as much behavior from any of your companions. Nothing was harmed in the end so its fine, I’ll just have the locks changed tomorrow.” He drinks from the cup, and looks up at him.

“I hope you know I’m not paying for your own set of keys.”

“What?! Why not–”

“Kaveh,” You interject. “Are you alright? You were dead asleep when I set you down.”

He groans, rubbing his forehead.

“About that, Thanks for carrying me all the way back here. I was the one who invited you out but you ended up taking care of me.”

“Well, you let me pick the place so I guess it's even between us. Did you get thirsty or something?”

He nods. “Then go lay back down, I'll bring it to you.”

“What? I can't have you serve me under my roof.”

Alhaitham snorts. “‘Your roof?’ Technically its–”

“Ah ah ah!” You cut him off with a raise of your voice and a sharp look, Kaveh grins from behind your shoulder. Alhaitham’s eyes widen by your audacity, and by the archons are you lovely. You turn back to him.

“It's fine. You're the one who needs to rest so let me help you out. Go lay down.”

“Well. if you insist.” He turns and starts the trek back to the room, and the house is quiet enough that he can hear your lowered voices as he walks off. He can't help but feel that you sent him away so that you could say something, or finish talking with Alhaitham. But why would you?

He has a hand on the knob, shutting his door when the thought strikes him, Why is Alhaitham even up at this hour? Sure, sometimes he'd get back late from his scribe duties or whatever, but that was rare. And it's not like he went drinking out late that often (as if he had people to go with him).

And beyond that, why was he talking with you? Of course you were amazing and charming in your own right but people like the both of you don't mesh very well, and with your reputation, it was best to avoid him. As The Scribe, he was technically a Matra, after all.

Oh fuck he’s a matra.

He's just about to go swing the door open to dash to your rescue when it swings open of its own accord, and there you were with a glass of water, wide eyed to see him there.

He grabs your shoulders and tries to turn you to steer you back, but damn it you’re strong. You don’t budge.

“Uh, buddy? Are you alright? What's going on?”

“You have to get out of here, like right now.”

“What, why? Can we calm down for a second?” 

“Nonono, you can’t, you have to go now–” He tries to grab you and pick you up around the waist, but you spin around behind him, grab him by his collar and drag him inside the room.

“I’m being serious!” You shut the door, a laugh under your breath.

“I’m sure you are, so explain yourself first.”

“My roommate, he’s the Grand Scribe.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So he’s technically a Matra. And I wouldn’t put it behind him to do something so you need to… like, go, before he reports you or something! One word and the matra would come swarming in here like flies to honey.”

“But he won’t.”

“Darling listen–”

“But he won’t. Not only have I already done my community service, paid my fines, did my time and stayed out of trouble, he actually wanted to thank me.”

What? “Thank you for what?”

“For getting you inside quietly. He just came back from work he said, and didn’t want to deal with any of your drunken shenanigans. So he said it's alright that I picked the lock.”

“He told you it's alright?”

“Yeah, as long as I use the extra key next time.”

“What?!” He threw his hands up in the air.

“He told you where the secret key is?”

“Yep. And he said that he's gonna give me a copy of the new one.” You pop the ‘p’.

“And sorry, the stipulation that I can use it is that I’m not allowed to let you know where it is.” He sucks his teeth and they laugh, reaching out to tug the sleeve of his shirt.

“Sorry love. But come now, take off those scarves so you can lay down, alright? It's late.” And something goes warm and gooey when you use that soft tone of voice, so Kaveh does exactly that, and takes the glass from you with a grateful look when you hand it to him.

“Does your head hurt?” 

“Just a little. Not as bad as it usually does.”

“See? That's why you drink water before you pregame.”

“Well now I know for the next time.” He takes a big gulp and hands the rest of the glass to you, waving it away when you try to put it back in his hands.

“Oh, fine.” You finish it yourself then, and Kaveh falls back into the sheets, heavy lidded once more.

“How come you’re not drunk or stumbling, hm? It’s not fair.”

“Oh, I am drunk,” you giggle, “I just know how to hide it really well.”

“It's not fair.”

“That’s because I'm from Monstadt dear, my blood has at least a 10% alcohol content.” Kaveh sighs and covers his eyes, drinking in the quiet. You’re sitting next to him, humming softly under your breath, a brush away from fully singing.

“Hey, why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Call me those pet names. Like honey or dear or love. Why do you do that?” He looks and catches the tail end of your shrug.

“Because you're my friend. You’re like, the only real friend I've made in this entire damn nation, so I gotta be a little sweet with you, yeah?"

“Sweet with me?” He turns so he's facing you.

“Yeah! You make syrup with honey and not salt, right?” You smile, gold flashing at your throat in the low lamp light.

This close he can see the warm flush that the alcohol has given you, the way you give your smiles even more easily than you normally do, eyes soft and direct.

If he’s being a little honest, Kaveh has a bit of a crush on you. There's no other way to put it. He's so excited to see you, whenever he can, whenever you can, and he wants to see you now more than ever. He wishes you didn’t have to hide so often because he wants to be seen out in public with you, not sneaking like teenagers to some seedy bar, where people are too drunk or too downtrodden to care who comes in.

You…like those kinds of places though, odd as you are. You order a drink, and as soon as you down it you're tuning up an instrument and springing into song. By the third song the whole bar or tavern is joining in, and tears are replaced with smiles, at least for that night.

“Will you stay the night?”

You laugh, again. “And where would I sleep, silly?”  

“Right here. Right next to me.”

“Oh, I could never.”

“But you could.”

“I could. But I won't.” You move to get off the bed and Kaveh shoots up, grabbing onto your sleeve.

“Then you can have the bed. Just, stay here. For now. Until morning.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, and his heart while you're at it, while he waits for your answer. Maybe it's because of the way he implores you, or this quiet moment of the night, but you sigh and he knows you’ve given in.

“The bed is big enough for the both of us. Scoot over.” He does as he's told and hopes his face isn't giving his excitement away. He slides under the covers while you slip off your outer layers, and soon enough he can feel you slither beneath the sheets next to him.

“You want to keep the lamp on?”

“No, turn it off.”

“Alright.” The room floods in darkness, and you settle back down.

He’s had a couple sleepovers before. Although, the majority of these were before his father’s…incident, while he was still a very young boy. The others were during his Akademiya days, and were most often just him and his colleagues passing out after days of working on a project non-stop.

So this was new. He’s perfectly aware of his and your bodies; every shift, every position, the way your breathing sounds. He wonders how he’s gonna fall asleep like this.

“Kaveh?”

“Yes?”

“Are you up?”

“Yeah. How else could I answer you?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” You giggle. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did love.”

“Another question, silly.”

“Of course.” You wriggle a bit till you're laying on your stomach, face towards him.

“Why didn't you come to the anniversary performance? The one with me and Miss Nilou?” He winces, and turns to face you too.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you come?”

“Would you believe me if I said it was work?” He sighs.

“Really. I had to meet some bigshot client and I tried but I couldn’t reschedule.

“I really wanted to go.”

“...Yeah, I wanted you to go too.” The guilt twists and churns inside him, and he sits up in bed.

“I'm sorry, truly. Tell me when the next one is and I'll be there, I promise. I’ll even miss an appointment if I have to.”

The silence reigns heavy, you don't speak. He's about to repeat his words, swear on them, when you answer him. 

“Cyno came and interrogated Zubayr and his son. He then had the members takes a few days leave of absence so that he could interrogate us each. So, Zubayr decided that I shouldn't have any more performances, for the time being. The whole thing with Cyno put the theater on blast, so no more future performances.” Your voice is somber and dull, like a worn knife, disappointment sour.

“And no more public performances either, huh?” 

“Not for a while. Cyno is keeping a closer eye out on me. The only reason I could go out with you today was because he had to go out on an excursion, and I know how to avoid the lower Matra.’ You sigh and roll over onto your back.

“So maybe its better if you didn’t come. You would have been targeted too if you were seen with me.”

“...Well, you might not be able to perform publicly, but The Akademiya has no say in what goes on in private property.”

“So?”

“If you…ever want to sing or dance or anything really, you can come find me. This place was given to Alhaitham and I to be refurbished as living quarters, or you can even find me at the Architects Guild, since that building isn’t government owned.”

“Kaveh,” and now it's your turn to sit up. “I can’t put you in danger like that.”

“I won't be in danger.”

“You know, better than I probably do, that the Akademiya don't like outliers. I’m an outlier. If they come to know that you’re friends with me, what do you think will happen to you?”

“It’s not like you’ve done anything wrong. Not really.”

“I’ve undermined them and they really don’t like that. It's hard enough for you, the light of the Kshahrewar, to get clients and make ends meet. I don't want to make things any harder.”

“Things are already hard and I'm doing fine enough, so you don't need to worry about me. The worst I’ll have to deal with is a couple of rumors, and those are everywhere in Sumeru.

"If my reputation is as good as people proclaim I can survive a few rumors.. Furthermore,” He cuts you off as you open your mouth to speak.

“I know how hard it is for you to be here. I know you feel like you have something to prove but that doesn't mean I don't want to make things easier for you, even at my own slight expense. You can't change my mind, love, so don’t try.” Silence returns to the room in a wave, while you two stay poised, tense. Kaveh doesn’t know if you can see him in the darkness; he stares into the room until the dark takes over his vision, blinding him until he blinks it back again. 

“I used to be a knight you know,” You speak.” Back home in Monstadt, I was a part of the Knights of Favonius.”

“Oh, wow, that’s amazing.”

“I quit,” You continue without fanfare.

“I started to hate my life, and hate myself. I was young too, and I was in a relationship that was falling apart and my whole life felt like it was ending.” You laugh.

“Goes to show how naive I was then. But I quit, and I left, and I just decided to do the things that made me happy, and went along with my morals. I never wanted to feel so miserable and hopeless ever again. Those feelings still sometimes come back, but what I do then is go to where the people were, and sing, make them smile and laugh.

“I don't have that option in Sumeru. I mean I do but, it's never been a choice I’ve ever been actively punished for, before. I'm going to keep doing it of course. I’ll be damned if I ever let a government silence me, but…

“But it still hurts a little, you know?” He reaches out and drags you closer till you're resting in his arms. You've hugged one another before, but this time he wraps his arms fully around you till your brow rests on his collarbone, his cheek against your hair.

“Well, my offer is open for you anytime, at least. I’m sorry my home hasn’t been exactly welcoming to you.”

“Mhm.”

“It must have been hard for you. I’m sorry.”

“You don't need to apologize,” You breathe, reaching to hold him back.

“You've been perfectly wonderful. I don't know what I would have done without you.”

“Well, we are both fellow artists on the brink of homelessness, so we ought to stick together.”

“If your roommate ever kicks you out you can stay with me. And if I'm ever kicked out we can roam the streets together.” He chuckles, and he's sure you can feel it where you're pressed to him.

“Well, I can play an instrument, so maybe we can be traveling bards. We can go to Fontaine and meet my mother.”

“Oh, that would be a shock, I bet. I met a girl in Liyue once who plays that Fontaine rock music. I could send her back something. Is your mother a nice lady?”

His chest twinges, remembering tears,  heavy silences and dull eyes, The memory of sunshine.

“She's a rather shy woman, and she’s just gotten over some adversary. She's perfectly lovely.”

“What does she look like?"

“Well, I suppose you can look at me and figure it out,” He shrugs. “I've been told I look remarkably like her.”

“Oh, so she's beautiful then.” He starts, and he feels a flush crawl over his face, warm and slow.

“Oh, you sweet talker, you.” You tilt your face up and he's sure you have that sweet smile on your face, that cat's curl.

“I speak only the truth, my dear, I swear it. Anywho, how else am I supposed to keep you by my side, if not with my wily words?”

“Perhaps your fiery temperament? Your musical skill? Your graceful figure? Your sweet kisses?” And you reach up and kiss him, taking the bait.

And yes, you’ve done this before as well, nothing further, but Kaveh’s heart never fails to race. Your mouth is skilled in more than just song, and your tongue is sinfully soft.

You definitely feel the heat of his face when you pull away and rub your cheek against his.

“You’re absolutely precious Kaveh.”

‘Oh, don't patronize me,” He grumbles, and pulls you in even tighter, shoulder to hip aligned, legs entangled. “We have to sleep now. It’s late enough.”

“Why should we?” You flirt. You brush your mouth against his once more and snuggle yourself closer. 

“”I'm afraid your kiss has sent my blood racing. It will be hard enough to go to sleep now.”

“Hm. Well, why don’t you sing then? Maybe something calming, a lullaby your mother would sing to you before bed.”

“Hm…I spoil you too much already.”

“But you'll do it, right?” He chuckles when you bonk your head against his. But you settle down, and it's not long till your voice comes hither, soft and lilting. It's hardly more than a tune under your breath, a hum in your throat, but it is soothing, and soon enough he’s actually asleep.

When he wakes up in the morning, the dull throb lessened but persistent in his head, you are not in his bed, or his home. There's only a single note, a badly drawn winking rabbit, but he smiles and pockets it, getting ready for another day. He’ll run into you again soon enough. And if not, then he’ll simply find you.

There seems to be a commotion a few streets away, from what he could hear. Kaveh sighs, harsh and loud, and pushes himself off the wall that he's been leaning against. He came out for some fresh air, and the promise of some spectacle does not entice him. He starts making the trek back to the Architects guild.

Pounding footsteps slap the ground behind him, and he turns just in time for a figure to dash into him. He barely shakes off his shock before he reaches out to half catch the person, but the weight drags him down and he falls too.

“What the hell…? Archons, are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry for being in the way.” And its the way you turn your head to check behind you that gives him a clear look at your face, familIar and shocking. He barely has the sense of mind to reply back, struck like hammer against a molten steel.

He…hadn’t been looking for you, to be honest. It’s been three times already, that you’ve met but never properly seen nor greeted each other, and he had hoped another opportunity would just…come. Fall into his lap, luck be damned. 

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times and shame on the both of us.

So what could be said for a fourth time?

“....the General Mahamatra.”

“The what now?” the General Mahamatra? He heard the rumors, but he never thought that you would prove yourself trouble enough for the sages to deploy him. Against you?

You must have done something reckless, like dancing in the streets again. Or singing in the taverns or just being too you. You were lovely, but sumeru likes its lovely things in glass cases, not prancing in bars or dashing down alleyways.

You speak quickly, and the words just register in his brain before he hears the commotion in the plaza, nearer now, the wince on your face and the way you jolt, ready to flee. He makes a decision.

He grabs at the hand fate and has dealt him, and pulls you further inside the commercial alleyways, knowing exactly where he wants to take you and nothing of what he wants to say to you.

But he can start with this. “ I have heard of you! I’ve been wanting to meet you!” He grins, bright like a star.

“I’m Kaveh. You are?

Taglist

@jjkclub, @jaguarthecat, @swivy123, @seajellyx, @ash-in-lavender, @pepithe3rd, @uchihaeirin .

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.72 The ambassador

On our way to the Arboretum, I highlighted a few noteworthy features of the neighborhood, including a shameless plug for my yoga classes at the Celebration Center. Clear skies and warm sun made it the perfect day for this tour. Though, there was never a wrong time to visit San Sequoia. Every day was perfect.

"This is Gilbert Gardens," I said, vaguely gesturing around us. "It's my favorite place in San Sequoia because it has so much to do for all ages."

"I can't get over this weather. Is it always this nice?"

"Amazing, right? That's one of the best parts about San Sequoia."

The warm rays beamed down on us while a cool breeze whisked back and forth, ensuring we remained comfortable. Dub glanced around, shaking his head in disbelief at the gorgeous weather.

"Henford is usually covered in snow right about now," he said with a hint of snark.

I chuckled at a memory that popped into my head.

"I've seen snow exactly twice in my life. It doesn't snow much in Willow Creek. That's where I've spent the most time."

"I think snow is overrated," Dub huffed, waving dismissively again.

"You might be right. I mean, it's super cold...you can't see if it's too thick...and you have to clean it up!"

He slapped my arm.

"See? I knew we were in sync."

"Playing in it looks fun, though."

"That's overrated too! I don't like my hands being cold. There's no fun in that!"

He was hilarious and I know he wasn't trying to be, but the fake outrage amused me.

"I might have to agree with you there," I said.

We got halfway around the lake before I realized I hadn't shown him much. I made a terrible tour guide, but I think we both enjoyed the company more; I know I did.

"I teach at that spa over there sometimes," I said.

"What do you teach?"

"Yoga. I also lead guided meditations."

"So, yoga videos and classes? You must really love it."

"I do."

His eyes squinted a bit, like he was processing my words or something. I hadn't said anything too deep. Was he one of those yogi haters?

"A good friend of mine just told me she's into it too," he said. "She says it's for therapeutic reasons."

"Good for her. I think everyone should be into yoga."

"Why do you say that?"

"It's great therapy. I think everyone should learn healthier ways to deal with stress. Sims turn to so many self-destructive ways of dealing with their problems, only to make it worse. Having a healthy body leads to a healthy mind."

"I'm sure Maia would agree. She made me promise to try it with her."

"I hope you do."

I hadn't heard of many men who had platonic relationships with women. Even I had some sort of physical attraction and a bit of lust for my female friends. What was his relationship with this friend?

"So...Maia, huh?"

"Yeah, she's my friend I mentioned."

"I see... Well, I'm glad you'll try it. I think you'll find it helps a lot.

He didn't catch it that time, but I wouldn't let him miss it the next time, and there would be a next time. I was sure of it.

"Over there, you have the splash park. Mostly kids hang out there. We can swim in this lake."

"It's huge!"

"Tell me about it. My dad and I jogged around it once. I think I nearly killed him. There's all kinds of trails around here, but this is my favorite."

As we approached the trailhead, Dub looked around in awe, exactly like I did the first time I visited. The garden was what made it exceptionally beautiful. The way they expertly arranged the flowers and creatively teased the topiaries, it truly was a work of art.

"Woooow. I never would have seen all this back here."

"They call it the Arboretum. You ready to go?"

"Always."

We stretched, and I recommended we take it easy and pace ourselves, but Mr. Funny Man had other ideas. Good thing I was also athletic. I accepted the challenge, but of course, I had to flex on him a few times.

I asked about his family. The fact that he was the oldest of three boys amazed me. With no brotherly figure or close friends in my life, I found it difficult to imagine the dynamics of such a relationship. Would I enjoy little brothers? Would they annoy me? Maybe both because little sisters could be fun and annoying. Dub and his brothers grew up on a farm, and he hated it. Memories of the sights and smells of cleaning out chicken coops and milking cows disgusted him all over again. I would never laugh at anyone's pain, but he was so easily grossed out. I almost wanted to try it to see if it was really that bad.

Naturally, he returned the same questions, and I told him about our family dynamics and how my sister and I bounced between Willow Creek and Evergreen Harbor our entire childhood. I kept it casual and didn't say anything emotional, but he remained silent. Maybe he was contemplating my situation just like I was considering farm life with a bunch of brothers.

We took a few breaks, and he guzzled his water as if he were on fire. I shook my head, secretly laughing at him for dashing off like it was a race. Eventually we arrived back at our starting point, winded but feeling like a million simoleons.

"That was a good run," he said. "Maybe the longest I've done so far."

"Yeah, before I ran around the lake it was my longest too."

"And it was very scenic, like you said."

"You should see it in the summer! It's amazing."

I could tell by how golden the sky was, and the emptiness in my stomach, dinnertime was near. I had another idea I hoped he'd be keen on.

"I'm usually having dinner about now. If you have more time, you wanna go to the best restaurant in San Sequoia?"

"Yeah! Uhh, actually, let me check with Maia first."

See? I knew he'd bring her up again. This dude was in love and didn't even know it, and it was so fun to watch. Even the way he said her name had hearts all over it.

"Of course. I wouldn't want to get you in trouble or anything," I said in a cheeky way.

"Whatever, man!"

He may have sounded offended, but I did not forget that grin. One way or another, I'd get their story out of him. Ugh...I was unquestionably my mother's child.

Wade Banks by @mysimsloveaffair

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Trigun Stampede Character Thoughts: Vash

I've been putting off this write-up since I finished the show if for no other reason than whenever I go to analyze this funky little dude my entire brain just stalls and goes

✨ Hi, Vash. Hi. :) ✨

...anyways.

Here's a quick collection of thoughts on him now that I am finally more coherent! The hardest part of this was trying to make something readable with the sheer amount of things I could say about him. Geez.

(Please note that I have only watched Trigun Stampede! As of this moment, I am starting the manga and have not seen 98 Trigun. I thought it might be interesting to compare and contrast once I've read the manga. Bear with me in the meantime!)

Right off the bat, the show introduces us to who Vash is as a character - a pacifistic gunman who, while incredibly skilled, avoids confrontation when at all possible. When Meryl accuses him of running away out of fear, it's pretty quickly made apparent that, while it is out of some semblance of fear, it is not fear for himself. Rather, his concerns lie with other people's well-being first and foremost.

Or, really, his concerns lie near completely with other people's well-being. What happens to him is of very little consequence if it means everyone else is okay.

I want to talk about three different things when it comes to Vash, namely:

His incredible skill and competence

His terrible self-image

His solidly held pacifistic convictions

Skill and Competence

Ohhhh ok. So, I can't really comment on exact positions or maneuvers (I used to do martial arts pretty extensively, but it's obviously not the same kind and I know absolutely nothing about guns or marksmanship sorry), but I can sure tell you that I loved the way the animators had Vash move in episode 1 right before he pulls out his gun for the first time. I wish I knew how to make gifs properly because I would totally make one of that part. Even before Roberto's line that "acting brave is foolish" and "he's not long for this world" had finished, I was already convinced of the exact opposite. As someone who's done martial arts. Guys. The way he moves here.

It's a three step movement - he steps to the right, then to the left in an almost meandering way, shifting his body weight as he goes, before he grounds himself in a wide stance. It's slow, fluid, and calculated - a distinct contrast from his often jerky, exaggerated motions that we saw earlier. God I wish I had a gif. I don't think I can simply explain how insane it makes me. The animators could've just had him approach directly or run up to it - a lot of the times, with action heroes, there's a lot of flashy motion or jumping around, etc., which looks cool but isn't exactly something to be role modelling in an actual fight lol. But here? In the next episode, Nebraska mockingly says "this isn't the ballet" with regards to the dodging and spinning Vash does, but a lot of his motions... really are dance-like. He's damn near effortlessly shifting his center of gravity while remaining fluid in motion and completely balanced. No novice moves like that. He clearly has a lot of experience. For me watching, Roberto's line was refuted before he even finished it.

...which of course makes it even funnier when he realizes he's out of bullets. Oh, buddy. You looked so cool for a second there. Hjhdfnv

Really though, pay attention to the way he moves while fighting or shooting. He's always well-grounded, and the more serious the situation, the more fluidly and less exaggeratedly he moves. It's so, so cool. I don't know if I've quite seen that kind of motion in animation before, especially cgi (though it is possible I just haven't seen enough too...hehe...).

The episode 12 fight too! Again, Vash is balanced, even as he's being knocked backwards. He falls correctly, and allows his body to move with the gun. All his motions are precise and fluid. Contrast that to Nai, who is, uh... totally unbalanced lmao.

And then the way he tucks before he jumps out the window! The animation actually convinced me of this guy's over 100 years of experience. I actually believe it.

What's nice is that Vash, too, is aware of his own skill. He moves with a lot of confidence, and he clearly has a great degree of trust in his own ability to fight and shoot without seriously harming anyone - not once does he show the slightest bit of doubt in his abilities. One might expect, given Vash's refusal to kill, that he might be worried about accidental injuries when in the middle of a gunfight - but he isn't. Ever. The only way I can interpret this is complete confidence in his own abilities, and he most likely trained hard to specifically ensure that this would never be a concern. The trope of "character who doesn't want to fight or hurt people turns out to be really insanely skilled/strong" is always cool and fun, but in this context it's really a neat take on it, since I feel it is only because he refuses to kill that he intentionally developed such god-tier level marksmanship - I am going to go out on a limb here and assume it is much easier to accidentally inflict serious injury with a gun than it is to actively avoid doing so lol. He probably worked at being a really good fighter and gunman specifically so he could avoid killing.

I also find it kind of refreshing that he never calls his skills into question, since that does tend to happen with characters who have a poor self-image or low esteem. Which, uh, takes me to the next point.

Self-Image

Yeah, Vash's self-image is kind of in the gutter. He places the blame for all the tragedies that follow him on himself, despite the fact that he always puts in his full effort to prevent them from happening.

The majority of this ties back to his feelings of culpability for the fall. I want to direct your attention to the scene where Vash is digging the tally marks into the wall in episode 8 - it can't possibly be the number of days that have passed since we see the transition of the sun only twice and Brad looks shocked when he sees the all the tallies (which he wouldn't be if they had been there for that many days). With the way Vash's tallies look a bit like crosses and the fact that he greeted the people in cryosleep on Ship 5 by name in the first episode, suffice to say, he is probably making a tally of all the people who didn't make it through the crash - people whose deaths he feels personally responsible for.

Really, I wouldn't consider Vash even remotely responsible for any of that - he had the access codes but like. Zero intent or knowledge of what Nai was about to do with them. Regardless, Vash carries the guilt from it in the way Nai won't, because in his mind, someone needs to take accountability. Also important to remember is that the only reason any human being still lives on No Man's Land is because of Rem's sacrifice. Vash needs to maintain his belief in the capacity for human kindness and his no-killing code, because if he doesn't, her sacrifice would be in vain. He keeps her values and beliefs alive. She's in everything he does. Even hollowed out and stripped of his memories and identity, the mass of roots and flowers that engulf July take on her likeness.

So, really, in addition to Vash just being a generally compassionate soul, his staunch pacifism is a refusal to betray her beliefs and let his mother figure die a second time. I need to fucking lie down.

With all this strain he puts on himself, it's really not surprising that when tragedy inevitably strikes, he is very hard on himself, and from what we've seen this actually manifests in a set of consistent self-punishing behaviours - I am of course referring to episode 3's "I don't deserve to cry" and his refusal to eat in episode 4 (despite apparently needing to, unlike Nai). This is very similar to what we see in episode 8 with him as a kid, where he goes somewhat blank (no crying, no anger, all his negativity directed inwards and at himself) and refusing all food except what little he needs to survive because "it's a waste".

The worst part of this though, to me, is that we see from certain throwaway bits ("one bullet is two slices of pizza/two dozen donuts!", his kid self's eagerness at the sight of the birthday cake and the spread of food, his first question on seeing the geranium being to wonder if it is edible) that he not only needs to eat but also seems to enjoy eating - so his refusal to eat is not only a denial of a basic necessity but also of one of the few things he genuinely likes that he will allow himself to partake in. In the context of Rem framing food as something to share with everyone, it also makes me wonder if his self-denial is something along the lines of "I don't deserve to share this with them". In that sense, it's really important that Luida echoes a similar sentiment as Rem (implying she wants to share this food/include him, and that some of Rem's views survive in these remaining people).

I do wonder if, because food is associated with sharing to him, that it has something to do with needing to "earn a place at the table" in a way. While I think Luida was trying her best to juggle a lot on Ship 3 behind the scenes after the fall and clearly didn't want to keep Vash locked up like that, the crew only started treating him better and trusting him after he found a way to help them. The unfortunate view that Vash receives then is: "I need to earn their trust by being helpful." Vash is a chronic people pleaser - I can't think of a single point where he does something solely for his own benefit. He has no desire to scare or harm anyone (quite the opposite!) so he goes out of his way to be as helpful and non-threatening as possible - hiding his true nature as a Plant (to such an extent that he doesn't know anything about his powers and has effectively sealed them away - he's practically human), masking his facial expressions by cleverly hiding his face or letting the light reflect off his glasses, trying to laugh off his competence as luck and his scars as embarrassing.

Is it because he doesn't want to scare people? Is it because he doesn't want to feel othered from them? It's hard to say. It's probably a bit of both.

Nai accuses Vash of loneliness and desiring love, and of seeking to fill that gap by appeasing humans. While I don't think this is necessarily wrong, it can't possibly be accurate as a core motivation, since Vash doesn't seem to really... accept a lot of positive interaction. Whether out of concern for others' safety, a lack of feeling like he deserves it, being secretive about his past and identity, or some combination of the above, Vash tends to leave a lot. He leaves Jeneora Rock's celebration early, tries to walk away from Meryl even as she's calling out to him, runs away from Home when Brad and Luida listen to the recording. He throws walls up and distances himself by laughing things off, or smiling, or simply not explaining anything.

I mentioned this during my live blogging while watching episode 9, but as Independents, it's intriguing to me that both Vash and Nai exist outside the cycle of dependence we see between the Plants and the humans - both of which cannot survive without the other. Nai appears to revel in this detachment, but Vash also seems to self-impose a certain distance between himself and everyone else - for all his friendliness and inability to leave someone hanging who needs help, he practices a lot of recognizably avoidant strategies. He exists on the periphery, never staying in one place too long (he can't), and treating every interaction with a certain kind of resignation - an understanding that it is temporary. He seems to expect the inevitability of being chased out over and over. The slightest of kindnesses given to him he always feels incredibly grateful for. Perhaps he feels that kindness is more than he deserves.

I honestly dread to think how he'll react once he regains his memories of what happened to July. I trust that he'll keep pushing on, as he always does, but is he going to remember that he deserves to eat and smile?

I really hope so. Otherwise I will need Meryl and Wolfwood to bonk him on the head.

Pacifism and Conviction

The thing about Vash's pacifism is that it's very difficult to tell whether it is primarily motivated by love or guilt. Vash carries an incredible amount of survivor's guilt with him and he absolutely is doing his best to keep Rem's memory alive, but I don't think it can be denied that he isn't just acting out Rem's beliefs - he really does believe in them himself. He's also genuinely compassionate and does care and become invested in the well-being of others. In the end, I'm not sure it really matters. I don't think the guilt or love can be easily extricated from each other at this point; they are both powerful drivers of his actions and core to his identity as a person, and while this is not exactly ideal for getting him to be kind to himself, they both strongly feed into his continuous choice to be kind to others.

And it is a choice, not naivety, as pacifism is so often brushed off as. Vash's compassion is something he chooses over and over again, in spite of the way he is often treated, and the way his powers hold far more potential for destruction than even Knives. Wolfwood thinks that Vash doesn't understand harsh realities and is going to receive a rude awakening but he does understand - Vash just chooses not to accept violence as the only way forward and believes that things can change and improve, and is willing to expend that energy and extra hurt into making that a reality. Nai thinks Vash is helpless and brainwashed into his belief - note the way Vash frequently appears as his child self when Nai tampers with his Gate or his memories; the implication here is that Nai sees Vash as incapable of making choices for himself and in need of protection - but not only is this horribly demeaning to Vash's personhood, it simply isn't true. Even Meryl chews him out for what looked like running away to her early on, and Roberto thinks he's going to get himself killed sooner or later. Everyone underestimates Vash, at least at first. And well, it's easy to. He's just a silly little guy! He's a bleeding heart who tries to help everyone he comes across! He talks about nobody needing to die in a world where most everyone is starving and desperate! To the people in-universe, he would look like a total fool, and far too idealistic to last long.

Except, he has. He's around 150 years old, he's scarred to hell and back, but he's still alive and he still chooses kindness. That takes a special kind of improbable mental resilience and stubborn conviction - and that's what most of the other characters overlook. Vash is, indeed, very sensitive and emotional and an idealist - he's also much tougher and more rational than hardly anyone gives him credit for. He's an excellent judge of character too!

His ideals and that stubborn faith are everything that makes Vash who he is.

This scene in episode 12 is the only true moment of triumph in what is otherwise a tragedy all around. Nai would go as far as to destroy Vash’s very identity to get his brother back, but at the cost of losing everything that makes him Vash. These ideals are the core of “Vash the Stampede”, and no matter how foolish they may seem or how little others understand his conviction, this is an identity he has chosen for himself. It’s who he is. And this assertion, coming directly on the heels of Nai trying to erase him and remove that autonomy, is an undeniable brief triumph in the midst of it all. Nai will always be Vash’s brother, and he will always love him I’m sure, but they diverged in their persons a long, long time ago, and Vash adamantly refuses to be an extension of or accomplice to his brother’s crusade of hatred… even if that means going against him.

Vash’s kindness is so necessary to a world like the one we see in the series, on the verge of extinction and giving up. Approaching situations with understanding and communication is really the only way to help improve understanding amongst others - and this is one of his biggest strengths; it's even reflected in his use of his Plant abilities (communicating between himself and the other Plants, the way he can open a path both to and from the higher dimension unlike anyone else). In this way, Vash is something of a necessary conduit. I just wish he'd let himself feel a little more tbh. He represses a lot - he canonically won't allow himself to cry if he feels responsible, any flashes of anger are brief, he doesn't stick around to have fun really. Personally, I'd like to see him allow himself grief through tears, a little bit of genuine letting loose and celebrating, and actually expressing things like irritation and annoyance next season. Perhaps that's wishful thinking.

I don't know how to accurately summarize my thoughts on Vash well enough other than to say, in keeping with the whole Plant thing, he reminds me strongly of dandelions. Bright, cheery, grow through cracks and root where you don't expect them to ever be able to eke out a living. Regarded as a weed by many but very difficult to get rid of. Hardy, resilient, and pop back up after being beaten down. Kids make wishes on them.

Anyways. Hugs him hugs him hugs him x 60,000,000,000

[class1akids]

I can’t say I agree. This could’ve been a nice inside or back cover. Ultimately, ochako was slighted once more. Instead of being featured on her own, she’s with two male characters we rarely see her interact with in the manga. I don’t think she has actually I don’t remember. While her villain counterpart is treated with much more care and consideration. That’s plain sad for the main female lead.

I understand the anger of Ochako fans. The Toga solo cover created an expectation of an Ochako solo cover too. In the end, I think it would have been better to put the Togachako color page as volume cover (in line with all the other duo covers of this arc) and keep the Toga solo for a color page.

I don't really think it's a "male characters" issue though. Not when Toga (a female character) got her own cover just last volume and so did SnS (and Nagant's is also almost solo). In the end, I don't think Solo covers are a main character issue - because SnS and Mirio clearly aren't main character, while others who are - like Endeavor -never got a solo cover.

Right now, Hori had a hard choice. The volume is the climax for 3 really major story-lines. All of them would have deserved a solo art, but it got crammed into the same volume - so Hori wanted to clearly honor all three on the cover. I don't think it's a male vs female issue - it's about him not being able to choose and want to appease all fans.

You know, with the endgame as we run out of pages, we all wish we could get more for our faves and it's sad when they don't get it. Do I wish Shouto got his own "Rising" volume with him front and center of the cover like Bakugou did or even Yaoyorozou? I sure do.

But I knew we are unlikely to get that because TogaChako and All Might vs AFO also needed something. I can't be angry about Shouto being put next to All Might, who is arguably the hero ideal this manga paints. And to me, the cover has a great vibe - it's very royalty, but also a bit like a Mafia AU. I can't quite put my finger on it, but it's cool and different and feels like something you'd hang in a museum. I love it more than Shouto's solo cover.

And you know, Ochako was maybe slighted on the cover, but Todo-family fans were slighted on the art execution of the climax chapter, getting much less in terms of pages and high quality double spreads than what TogaChako got. We also still don't have a full Todoroki family illustration anywhere. The color page in the Todoroki chapter went to TogaChako. Ochako had tons of WSJ covers with Deku, while Shoto's last time was in like 2017 and never had a double cover with him.

Everyone has reasons to feel discontent and slighted - the manga is ending and there will be things that won't ever be done. I think Vol 33 was the right time for the Ochako solo cover - but I also can't be angry with what Horikoshi went with. In the end, solo covers are not more high quality than some of the duo - trio covers. (Like if you think about it, Deku only has one solo cover and it's a really bad one).

[skinzchoerim]

The unsettling longing of OnlyOneOf's nabi

This post is partially a repetition of what I said in my seOul cOllectiOn video a few months back, but as I haven't gotten much feedback on this beyond one person who read the song the same way I did, I want to present my theory about the song's content and message again.

To be clear, I don't believe there is a correct or incorrect interpretation, and I don't know what the songwriters intended. I just want to shed light on one of the possible ways to view it.

On the surface, nothing about nabi is sinister. Be it the music, the vocals or the lyrics, everything paints a lonesome, tender, earnest picture. It's a personal story of the narrator who misses his lover, and believes these feelings to be pure. We aren't given any hints as to why the relationship ended, what led to him having to wake up alone. By contrast, the two other b-sides from this album that talk about a parting, mirage and blueblueseOul, both reflect on the past and what led to the relationship's end. If there is a larger story in nabi, it sneakily hid itself in the references.

It strikes me that a song like nabi, seemingly so simple and delicate, makes references to not one, not two, but three songs about relationships that aren't very loving and wholesome: chrOme hearts, byredO and picassO. Coincidentally, all three of these songs seem to be from the perspective of artists. Considering that the English version of dOra maar follows nabi on the album, I'll be treating nabi as if it was the next installment in the art pop series.

"If you feel me just call my name" is a line that nabi shares with chrOme hearts, where the narrator says his love is unbreakable, and even though they keep trying to get away from each other, the relationship keeps replaying in front of their eyes again and again. "She left the perfume from the moment" - is there anyone who didn't immediately think of byredO, the song described as being about a love that becomes an unhealthy obsession? And in picassO, there's a line "Baby, I'll brush up on your wings". In nabi, the lines about wings, and simultaneously the two lines most crucial to my reading are: "I'm drunk on the color of your wings, come to me, don't ever change this color," and "Please don't spread your wings and stay still, don't fly away."

I find it interesting that dOra maar, while from the perspective of the abuser, doesn't try to hide how toxic the relationship it portrays is. You hear the lines "You're just my grieving model" and "You're just a weeping woman," and you understand there's something bad going on there. In my opinion, this comes from the fact that the narrator of picassO and dOra maar is a narcissist. He doesn't realise the things he says are cruel, he thinks he's doing her a favor by reminding her of who she really is. To paraphrase his intentions: "I like you the way you are and I want you to be yourself around me, but the way you are right now isn't actually you, so I don't like it. I know your true colors better than you know yourself, because I have the ability to see and draw your inside."

Both picassO and dOra maar are filtered through picassO's perspective, and what this results in is a picture of a toxic relationship obvious to the listener. We sit in the same room as dOra and picassO as he paints her, we see his creative process, his self-centered pursuit of inspiration, his lack of self-reflection over how he views his lover, what words he uses to describe her to her face, and we understand she's being mistreated. Once he's left alone, though, all we have is a singular perspective of one half of the couple who isn't self-aware enough to realise why this happened. He's just missing the times that passed and wishes to go back.

nabi doesn't contain any of the roughness exhibited by the other songs. The narrator doesn't use any harsh words towards his lover, he's not angry at her for leaving, but rather quietly desperate for her to come back. He's neither taking the blame for what led to the breakup nor blaming his lover. To contrast that once again, mirage and blueblueseOul show that the narrators acknowledge their own flaws and actions contributed to their loneliness. The narrator of nabi doesn't seem to realise he's the reason for his own loneliness.

What nabi shows us is a fantasy of a peaceful morning with his lover after the narrator woke up from a dream in which they were flying together like flower petals. He's laying in bed, appreciating the sunlight coming in through his window, imagining she's there to tell him that the view looks dreamy. The song shows his gentle artistic soul, his ability to appreciate the little things in life, and that he holds his lover in his memory as a butterfly with beautifully colored wings. These are the wings he painted with a brush, adding whatever color he wanted to reflect his perception of her and create a masterpiece. It was the masterpiece which received all of his love and affection, leaving none for the person behind the canvas. Now that the subject of the painting realised she can find the color of her wings of her own, she spread them and flew to freedom, and he misses the times when she was contained in his vision.

He doesn't reflect on the fact that he continues to be dismissive of her emotions and self-expression, and he has no regard for how she might be feeling now that she's finally free. He feels like his hands are tied in this new, scary reality, so he's waiting for her to reach out and fall asleep by his side again. At the same time, though, he says he feels like he's blooming on his own. He's sad, a little discouraged, but for the first time since picassO, he's calm, gentle, and he's finding his inner peace. Rather than come to the conclusion that he was miserable in the relationship and that he could create happiness for himself once he pushes through this initial period of sadness, he just wants her to call his name again so they can return to what's familiar.

And who's to say she won't come back if he just continues to patiently wait? For all that we know, her side of the story could be something like hidOi OtOkO - once they take a break from each other and he starts to soften, once again embodying his utmost romantic self, she lets herself hope this time will be different. And, inevitably, everything will replay in front of their eyes again.

[pb-dot]

Past/Current/Next Tag

Don't think I've seen this tag yet, well, before @dyrewrites tagged me in it at any rate.

Rules: Write about three WIPs, past is a WIP you stopped working on/finished; current is a WIP you're currently working on; next is a WIP you want to write

I tag: @bard-coded @lordfenric-writes @stesierra aaaaaand @cat-esper

Past

There'll probably be more work to do on it as I move toward publishing, but for now my work at The Clockwork Boy is done. TCB is a Clockpunk Queer Romance story about Love, Belonging and Revolution. The story follows Jake, a gearcrafter journeyman in a city stuck in a peculiar anarcho-capitalist stasis. Jake's tedious yet stressful life is upended as he (quite literally) runs into 13, a former assassin with a clockwork-powered body who seeks desperate sanctuary from the pursuit of his former employers.

Jake and 13 flee, both from the clockwork assassins and from the local brute squads, until they find themselves under the auspices of a worker's coop known as The Northwest. Their new allies prove vital shelter and help as Jake works to repair 13's clockwork body, but the heat it attracts to the organization has the two questioning whether they need to flee while they can or rise up to fight for their new friends.

A snippet:

“I suppose we should turn in for the night,” Jake said after a while. “I’ve got some gears I’d like to try carving tomorrow, and if you’re not doing anything else, I’d love to see if they fit the way they’re supposed to.” 13 yawned. “That does sound like a good idea.” “Oh, I got loads of those,” “Oh yeah, like?” 13 asked, a slight teasing note in his voice. “For one, I once got the idea to throw away my shitty job and terrible apartment to go chasing after this clockwork cutie. Best career decision I’ve ever made if you ask me.”

Current

My current tormentor obsession maddening descent WIP is a Queer Horror story about Art, Obsession, Madness, and Love. Our protagonist is an obsessive San Francisco art critic by the name of Oscar Skerry. Oscar's obsession centers on the works of one Tomasz Gildebrant, a reclusive artist whose bleak, rough paintings go for exorbitant prices due to their sheer cult appeal. As Oscar follows up on the thread of the urban legend known as Gildebrant Psychosis, how the paintings can provoke behavior in certain viewers that is either disturbingly violent or merely extremely odd, Oscar finds himself invited to Gildebrant's home. Warning bells should ring, but Oscar pays them no heed and wastes no time traveling to the secluded spot in the Carpathian Alps where he meets the artist he sometimes sees in his dreams. Tomasz seems almost too gregarious and welcoming at first, hardly the dark soul Oscar expected at all, but the things that don't quite add up keep piling on. Gildebrant lives alone, so who owns all the shoes that litter his entryway, why does every door in the house lock automatically at midnight, and why does Oscar keep dreaming about colors that don't exist?

This and much more will be revealed in His Impossible Brushstrokes, a standalone novel that asks you to consider what would happen in the opening of Dracula if the titular character and his victim Jonathan Harker fell in love, or if the master the Beast from Beauty and The Beast served was entirely less comprehensible than a magical rose.

Snippet:

At one point that night, I had fallen asleep. I couldn’t be certain it had happened before the gray hours of morning, but I had fallen asleep and I had slept. I knew this because I woke up, which traditionally required one to be asleep at some point. My body was stiff after the strenuous hike the day before, my brain was foggy from the jetlag, and my heart was certainly feeling in need of some sort of maintenance on account of the situation being somewhat confusing. That did, however not change that I was alive, I was in the home of who I considered to be the premier artist of our time, and he seemed genuinely happy to have me here. Granted, he also had some hair-trigger mood changes I’d need to work around and I had conflicting emotions about the whole setup.

In a way, none of this was entirely unexpected, I told myself. Gildebrant considering himself a fan of mine threw me quite a bit, but it was a nice sort of surprise so I wasn’t going to complain about that. The question, however, remained. How were I to proceed. Did I, strictly speaking, have a plan? In a way, I did not. I had wanted to meet Gildebrant, but I had assumed it’d take a long time, that I’d have a lot of time to figure out how to act, what to ask about, and ask for. Then there was the question of Gildebrant’s occasional brusqueness meant I had to be careful.

Some care, I decided as I sat up in bed and scooted my legs off the side of the bed, was perhaps called for. Gildebrant seemed quite comfortable with my company as long as the topic of his art wasn’t brought up, although I would concede that my sample size was rather limited. For now, it would be smart to keep things personal, develop some sort of baseline. If nothing else, it’d allow me to chart out the waters a little, figure out what it was that made this odd artist tick. I could work my way into the more academically valuable stuff later, and if not, securing some autobiographical details would certainly be something I could use in my works. I certainly wasn’t going to bring up xenosemiotics anytime soon, that seemed foolhardy in light of last night.

Next

I haven't yet decided on what my next project should be, but I do have some strong candidates. The Clockwork Guardian, the sequel to The Clockwork Boy, is on there for sure, but I may postpone that if my efforts to publish go nowhere. I also feel like writing more horror, so the socially conscious folk horror Draugr (working title) or the horror-fantasy Monsters, Slayers (working title) might also be good alternatives. I also have a bureaucracy-fairytale procedural with the title Department of Troll Affairs that I might pull the trigger on.

My strongest candidate, though, is the "30s-punk" deconstructionist postapocalyptic fantasy novel The Town Called After. It's about a group of people that, as kids, went on adventures in faraway magical realms. Now, 20 years later they're all adults, and finding themselves longing for the simplicity and potential of those magical adventures. One should, however, be careful what one wishes for, as our heroes find themselves pulled back into the magical realms, only to be told they are all destroyed.

Something incomprehensible shattered the magical realms and the few survivors have bandied together to create the city of After, a ramshackle town and community from salvaged parts of their old world. These survivors now plead for the help of these, the heroes of their legends. Our protagonists seize the task in the hope of reclaiming their lost glory, but find that things aren't as simple as they remember. Politics and corruption suffuse every level of this fledgling society, and crime born both of desperation and greed intertwine and intermingle in a way that makes it nearly impossible to separate one from the other. In addition to these moral qualms and finding out what being a hero even means in such times of toil and hardship, our heroes must uncover the truth of the calamity that shattered the worlds, lest this new home share their fate.