#sometimes you have something to say to a wider audience than your friends and family and tumblr is the place and people i choose

[excalibur-gone-missing]

Paring: The8x fem!reader 

Requested: no

Genre:  angst, established relationship, hint of fluff

Warning(s): themes of grief, loss, mourning and hospitalization (im not a doctor so please excuse my medical knowledge)

Summary: You never thought of your husbands life as fleeting. But time did its dutiful job of reminding you so.

Word count: 1.1k

Other works 

Beta reader: none

disclaimer: this is not the exact representation of the subjects in real life. I just use them for my inspiration. 

a/n: I would greatly appreciate it if all of you could take a moment to comment on this fic. As an author, I find great value in your feedback, as it allows me to better comprehend my readers, and I thoroughly enjoy interacting with all of you. Constructive criticism is always welcome, so don't hesitate to talk about this fic or send me an ask. Moreover, if you loved it, don't forget to reblog and help me reach a wider audience. So please dont be a silent reader.

[permanent taglist] [only for those interested, don’t fill the form otherwise] 

You wore the baby blue dress, adorned your eyes with waterproof mascara, and got ready to go out. Your son shouted from the kitchen, “Mom, I packed one more hotteok for you. Have it with Dad. He will love it.”

Smiling at how thoughtful of a young man your son had grown up to be, you walked out of the bedroom to caress his head. “I will eat it. Don’t worry so much.”

The boy gave you a hug in return, promising to visit you with his wife sometime soon. After all, the girl was pregnant and would need as much care from you as possible during her pregnancy.

With that, you walked out, ready to meet your husband for his birthday lunch, which was packed in the heat-retaining bag with you. It was almost an hour’s drive to the place from where you lived. The commute never got easier, no matter the time or the day.

You got into the taxi; you were never one to learn driving. It was just not needed, as someone at your house was always there to help you commute, be it your husband or your son. So at times like this, you felt the absence of the skill.

But it was not like life didn’t go on. It was not something you wanted to change at this age. You were scared of banging the car into some random tree and feeling the wrath of your husband for causing damage to the love of his life, Vivian. Yes, that indeed was the name of the car. And yes, it was the great idea of your husband to name it so. Some might say you both didn’t have a daughter, but he would like to disagree with them, because you both obviously had Vivian. You sometimes suspected he loved that godforsaken car more than you.

The man was shameless enough to agree with those accusations, but he was too cute to argue with, so you let him be.

The time passed inside the car thinking about your husband, the times you both had spent together, all those rocky yet satisfying moments, and all those nights you both ditched all your friends and family to stay in together, basking in each other’s presence. It was one of those feelings that made you warm and mushy inside, no matter what.

----

“Do you think we will be together forever?” Minghao asks you. It's been a year since you both tied the knot after dating for two, and yet you still feel like your breath stops every time you see him. He just has that effect on you; it's not reasonable, but it's true.

“What do you mean? You are stuck with me. I will hold onto you no matter how much you try to escape!” you say as you pull him in for a kiss.

Satisfied with your answer, he happily goes back to doodling in his diary.

----

As you walked into the hospital, you gave the guard a kind smile, which he returned. After all, when you frequent a place long enough, you end up becoming acquainted with almost everyone who works there.

Quickly, you walked to your husband's cabin. As you entered the room, you could hear your lover whining at the nurse about something, a sound that immediately ceased as his eyes found you.

Without wasting any time, he stretched his arm towards you, his eyes asking for you to hold him. As you embraced him, the nurse walked out, giving you both privacy.

“Happy birthday, my love,” you said quietly, as he rested his head on your chest.

“What did you bring me?” came a quiet whine from underneath you. Laughing, you let go of the man and began to show him, one by one, the feast you had prepared for him.

The minute he laid his eyes upon them, his face broke into a childlike smile, waiting for you to complete plating his food so he could enjoy them.

After all, it had been a long time since his doctors allowed him to have something you brought for him. Within seconds of putting the food on the plate, it was gone. Not that you were complaining, but it was still a record for the man. Never had you seen him devour your cooking this fast.

“Slow down,” you had told him, but the man had all his attention focused on the food, too much to care for his wife.

The nurse didn’t let you stay in the room long after that. The authorities were a bit too strict about maintaining the rules for your liking, but it was okay.

With a last meaningful glance at each other, you exited the room to meet his doctor to complete the procedures for his discharge.

----

“I can’t do this anymore, Y/N,” your husband cries out loud from your embrace, and you hold him, rocking gently.

“But you promised you would hold on. What will I do without you?” you say, trying to hold back your tears.

Looking at you, he wipes the stray tears that have escaped. “I can’t live like this. It’s too much. I’m three surgeries in already, and I don’t see any hope anymore. Maybe this is how it was supposed to be. Plus, this place feels too suffocating for me to be in.”

Not being able to come up with a rebuttal, you just stay as you are, trying to understand why it has to be him who goes through so much pain while simultaneously pleading with some supernatural being to give you all his pain.

That night you both spend crying. But what has to be done will be done.

----

 Minghao had been dancing most of his life. Even after he stopped being a professional dancer, he was a dancer at heart. The constant heart attacks that resulted in him being permanently attached to life support, along with the surgeries, killed him inside. They slowly murdered the dancer in him. He lost his sense of freedom, something he treasured the most.

It was then he realized nothing was worth his freedom, not even his life. So there you were, arguing with the doctor to let him be discharged, even though he was at high risk of having another heart attack and should be constantly monitored.

“I understand that, sir, but this is what my husband wants, so I would like you to prepare his discharge papers,” you said, persistent.

“Sure, ma’am. It will be done by tomorrow,” the doctor said reluctantly after realizing there was no winning with you.

After completing the procedure, you went back to your husband to give him the good news about going back home the next day. He looked happy. You could see it in his eyes, and you were happy for him.

If only you had known that the next day you would take your husband away from that hospital for good, but not in the way you had hoped to.

That night, Minghao suffered another attack, one that was hellbent on taking him away from you. It ended up succeeding.

As you sat there at the funeral home, beside the beautiful picture of your smiling husband, and with your son greeting the guests coming to pay their respects, you couldn’t help the tears from falling as you thought of the happy memories you both had shared and how even eternity was too little time for you to spend with him.

The End

#Seventeen #seventeen fic #caratsland #seventeen x reader #seventeen angst #the8 #minghao #xu minghao #seventeen #seventeen minghao #angst #seventeen fanfic #oneshot #seventeen xu minghao #seventeen x you #svt reactions #svt #svt imagines #svt fic #svt x y/n #svt x reader #svt x you #svt au #svt angst #minghao angst #minghao scenarios #minghao seventeen #minghao x y/n #the8 seventeen #minghao fluff

[thegirlwholied]

fellow period-piece swooners, I have a movie rec for you and I am downright flexing my hand about it. and I am sorry, so sorry, that you cannot watch it right now- because I attended the world premiere at TIFF last night and apparently it's still seeking distribution which means unfortunately there are no gifs yet for me to reblog - but this is your notice to keep a weather eye:

the movie is the Widow Clicquot. the plot is champagne!

...not the celebratory spritz and spray of it all, but the dedication and innovation and passion and knowing-your-taste-and-insisting-on-it of getting bubbles to be just the right size and fuck Napoleon's embargos actually...

also, the people expressing opinions about Napoleon are a British cast pretending to be French - which I guess appeals to the piece of my soul that is Les Mis.

it's beautifully filmed in a way I specifically associate with Pride & Prejudice 2005... which makes sense given the director, Thomas Napper, directed the second camera unit on P&P 2005 & Atonement & Anna Karenina & etc. Joe Wright, who directed those, is a producer here (and was on stage last night & I had no idea who he was whoops).

there's a scene of exploding champagne bottles that may haunt me forever the way the floating cotton in North & South 2004 does. that & the vines.

to quote Taylor Swift, "it's giving cinematography."

the Widow Clicquot herself is played by Haley Bennett (who has been in many things I haven't seen...yes I had to imdb Haley while sitting in the row right behind her but) who I have seen before in Music & Lyrics! As Cora Corman! "Way Back Into Love"! & "Buddha's Delight"- I believe in karma (la, la, la)

anyway she's great in this - the Q&A host after called her performance "transcendant", not wrong - she had a SAG-AFTRA waiver to be there, and thankfully because this was very apparently a passion project throw-everything-you-are-into-it role for her. And her post-movie quotes speaking both about the character's passion and her own- "do something that makes you feel like a goddess!"; "do what you love and let it kill you"- made me a fan.

the Widow Clicquot's dead husband? Tom Sturridge, The Sandman himself and playing just as much a dream as Dream (note: I do not promise "dreamy" I promise "dream" which can also have adjectives like "wild" and "fever" applied). You need a good voice when leaning on some voiceover from letters/memory for a character; he sure has it.

but. Sam Riley. aka Mr Darcy from Pride & Prejudice & Zombies, and Maleficent's hot raven (and looks even better in this imho)- his character is Louis Bohne, Veuve Clicquot's wine merchant, and as much as the Widow herself, his character made me go, "I need to read the book" to learn how much was history v fiction there.

the character dynamic was: damn, of course you're cool with your husband's libertine BFF/possibly-lover, you're secure and he's such fun company.... your husband's tragically gone but his friend helps you out & appreciates your true love of the vineyard without overstepping... well. get yourself a friend you can both giggle with over how hot the new foreman is (Leo Suter filling a historical-eye-candy role) ... AND hook up with yourself. you go girl, & bless your hot bisexual heart fictionalized Louis Bohne.

(hottest kiss in cinema off the top of my head is always the Timothy Olyphant & Jennifer Garner first kiss in Catch & Release. But some scenes here flirt with that level, & it was the Widow/Louis scenes for me).

the sound alone made this one worth seeing in theaters; sounds were so well used (maybe when a movie is so much about taste, & you can't convey taste through a screen, you double down on the senses you can) and it was scored by Bryce Dessner from The National (whose brother has been collaborating on Taylor Swift's recent best tunes)-

the Widow's name is Barbe-Nicole and not to make a Champagne Barbie reference but this hit in the spot Barbie also reached for, in a subtle way, with the effortlessly close relationship she has with her maid (Lizzie from Peaky Blinders! thanks imdb, knew I knew that face) and the woman in a man's world of it all - obviously one who created a successful dynasty of champagne and how did I never know how instrumental women have been in creating champagne as we know it, about to jump down a historical rabbit hole here-

+ also. grief. "you don't understand. he wasn't just someone's first love". an early line + the one that stuck with me.

anyway. not to say I think it's a perfect movie (there were a few "wait I need more information" beats that left me feeling like I *need* and not just want to read the book)... and it didn't make me think "this better be up for an Oscar" (One Life, with Johnny Flynn & Anthony Hopkins which I saw Saturday: made me cry & should be)- though I think it could be for sound!... and I don't know if I'd say it's the movie I enjoyed the most (Flora & Son, out Sept 29) or learned the most from (Paul Simon documentary, all 209 minutes of it, probably takes that of the 4 films I saw)-

But it's the one I'm writing this post about. & I'm going to get the book. It made me want a bottle of Veuve Clicquot champagne. & to go to the champagne region. & to see gifs of it on my dash, immediately. & I would read fan fic if there was some- it built the characters and its own movie world enough for that, with enough space left to wonder- and when a movie can do that, it thrills me.

anyway Tumblr, or at least the side I always land on. I think you'd like it. I think it's your kind of movie too. and it's filled with a lot of love from people who clearly loved making it. here's to independent productions and the unions fighting for fair deals to make a living doing what they love, here's to feeling like a goddess, here's to gorgeous period pieces and gif makers of scenes to come, here's to the author in the audience who got to see her book on screen- and the movie star who got it made and all of us still working on making our own art into something that can be seen someday. Here's to the passion of creativity in whatever shape it takes, pour the champagne 🍾🥂

#movies #films #widow clicquot #period pieces #movie recs #tag or no tag if you're meant to find this post I think you will #(not to sound like one of those tiktok pseudo psychics ye gods but that's just the tumblr way and why i love it here) #nowhere in this post did i manage to mention the young accountant who shows up looking like he could be one of the Les Amis #and playing a great minor role in the part #but also that #this got long but 🤷🏻‍♀️ #sometimes you have something to say to a wider audience than your friends and family and tumblr is the place and people i choose

[yeehawbvby]

Their Greatest Treasures | Arven & GN!Reader

Rating: G 

Summary: You're about to compete in one of your first public matches as Paldea's newest champion. With such a large audience, you’re terrified — but your worries instantly dissipate when one of your favorite people meet you on the court.

Author’s Note: There will be end- and post-game spoilers in this, so read at your own risk!

Also, while I headcanon Arven as an adult, this fic can be 100% platonic, for those of you who don't. I just wanted to write something cute about besties being reunited :) Enjoy and take care! x

Check it out on ao3!

You stand in the center of Mesagoza, about to compete in the first ever School Battle Brawl Academy Ace Tournament. You know you’ll probably win the whole thing, having recently become a champion, but you can’t help but feel nervous with all these eyes on you. 

With the exception of being on Iono’s streams a few times, your audiences have been relatively small. But right now, nearly everyone you go to school with — teachers included — and even random passersby of Mesagoza are waiting eagerly to see their region’s newest champion in action.

On your side of the court, you fiddle with a Pokéball, tapping your feet against one another, trying to steady your breathing as you patiently await the battles that are to come. Your heart jumps to your throat as Clavell begins announcing your first opponent, and ripping the metaphorical bandaid off, you finally look up. Before the chairman can say your challenger’s name, though, you’re whispering it to yourself. Grinning wider than you have in weeks, nerves melting away. 

You haven’t seen Arven much since the whole incident at Area Zero, having been bombarded with your new champion duties so shortly after. You hadn’t realized how much you truly missed seeing those piercing teal eyes; or the streaky, puffy hair; or naturally pouty, almost angry-looking face, until now.

More importantly, you’ve missed his voice. You feel comfortable and warm as he gives a whole spiel about how it’s “just his luck” to be paired against his “little champion.” He assumes you’d be surprised to see him at an event like this, but at the accusation, you shake your head ‘no,’ knowing fully how passionate he can become when he sets his mind to something. It throws him for a loop, but only gives him more encouragement to do his best – for himself, and for you.

You begin battling no more than a minute after the exchange, and the grin doesn’t leave your eyes or lips. To others, it probably just looks like you really enjoy battling. 

To Arven, you look nuts. 

He’s seen you battle plenty. He knows that, more often than not, you look determined, sometimes even scary, when you compete. What’s different this time? Has La Primera really gotten to you that quickly?

As he's lost in thought, a second member of Arven’s team goes down. You still have that look as you return your own Pokémon to its ball, letting it rest while another comes out to play. He begins to feel self-conscious, and it turns quickly into frustration. 

Is he a joke to you? Are you on the verge of laughter because you’re kicking his butt so hard? What's going on?

Arven knows that those things wouldn’t be characteristic of you, considering how supportive you’ve always been of him… but what if that’s changed? Needing answers, he speaks up about it. 

“What’s up with that dumb face?” he shouts before the two of you can begin the next round.

Your eyes widen, and then soften. After that, a giggle comes out of you that makes Arven’s breath hitch. Arceus, he missed his little buddy’s laugh.

“I’m just… really happy to see you!”

Oh.

Oh, nothing could have prepared him for that. 

Arven’s own eyes widen, his face flushes, and your smile contagiously spreads to his features. He’s never really had anyone who’s happy just to be around him, at least to his knowledge. His own parents neglected him, leaving him without family, and he’s always struggled to make friends, leaving him without any form of kinship. 

And yet here you are. 

You helped Arven bring his partner back from what was basically the brink of death, and barely needed to be convinced to do so. You were there to console him when he found out his real parents are gone forever, with only AI in their stead, who also left him. You brought him closer to Nemona and Penny, and even if they’re insufferable at times, they’re some of the best friends he’s ever had.

Deep down, Arven thought that maybe you’re just a really kind person. A true, textbook-definition of a hero. There’s no way someone could care that much about him, surely.

…Yet here you are! Genuinely happy just to be reunited with your buddy.

You’re the greatest treasure he could’ve asked for.

#arven pokemon #trainer arven #rival arven #arven #arven x reader #fanfiction #pokemon fanfiction #pokemon arven #pokemon sv #pokemon scarvi #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon spoilers #friend fic #platonic love #or romantic if you want it to be #ungendered reader #reader insert #no use of y/n #unnamed reader #gender neutral reader

[momolady]

Jolly Jay the Demon: Part Two

Are you smiling yet?

Female Main Character x Male Reader

The Jolly Jay Smile Hour is one of the highest-rated programs on the radio, and Jay’s soothing voice is a welcome presence in most people’s lives. I know there are even GIU cabinet members who listen to the show, and in fact, I’ve been made very aware of which ones they are. Thanks to the new equipment that Jay was updated with quite regularly, he’s reaching a wider audience, and more GIU loyalists are tuning in to listen to his messages of happiness.

Jolly Jay is your friendly neighbor, and he always starts and ends his shows by saying that. But as someone who does live in close proximity to Jay, even if I do like him, I am aware of the less savory nature of him and his cohorts. They don’t seem to really want to spread the message that Jay puts out every day, hence the scripts he’s sent in his packages every morning, but the cynic buried beneath my fake smiles loves this. The lilac-and-yellow suits have brought me into their world, and I like it. I try to keep my head above their murky waters for my own sake, but because I am ‘the Keeper’, I wield authority over them as well. I just try to keep my nose out of whatever business they are up to.

I still enjoy my friendship with Jay, and we have long conversations after his broadcasts. I even have a table set up near his door so I can have meals with him. He’s told me that, out of all the keepers he’s had, the bond he feels with me is deeper than all the others. The lilac-and-yellow suits have moved him around over the years, experimenting with who best suits him should he ever need to be held, as he terms it. He said in the beginning, back when the GIU was amassing power, he was often placed with men who barely spoke to him. After war broke out, he was placed with a female secretary under his old keeper, and they formed a bond. He was also placed with a young girl at one point as an experiment, and it was finally determined that he bonded well with women, although he was still mostly looked after by men

Why I was chosen was still a mystery to me. Perhaps it was because of my home and massive basement, or maybe my family has connections to this lilac-and-yellow suit organization. Like I said, I’m going to put my nose too far into this. I just want to see the surface level of everything.

One afternoon, I’m working with Matilda on fixing up one of the rooms. I rented it to a lovely couple and a few of their friends, but they left it in such a state that they purchased me a new mattress and frame before they checked out. I’m helping Matilda with that while listening to Jay’s show.

“Now, for today’s poetry reading.” Jay always does a poetry reading during his broadcasts, as part of the mental wellness regime required by GIU law. “I’ve never seen my lover’s gaze, as she weeps with…” The broadcast cuts out, and Jay’s voice crackles and vanishes into a blur of static and feedback. Between the squeals, I think I hear Jay reciting on. Matilda turns it off and sniffs. “It happens. Sometimes a drone just flies into things,” she scoffs.

I try to focus so I can hear Jay downstairs, but between Matilda sweeping and the creaking of the old hardwood floors, everything is silent. I go back to putting the bed together, and Matilda dumps disinfectant onto the floor.

After we’re done, I go to my room to clean up from the sweaty work. I turn on the radio to hear Jay purring into the mic. “Thank you all for your lovely mail this week. I do enjoy reading your letters, and I love seeing how happy you all are with the show. I’m thrilled that I can pass that joy back to you through my broadcasts. But I must speak of something serious right now.”

I glance at the radio as I mop my face with a cold, damp cloth. Something serious?

“As some of you may be aware, this coming Sunday is the anniversary of the first broadcast of my program! All this week, I have some very special things planned to show my appreciation to you. Hopefully, we’ll all be better people by the end of the week. I’m very grateful to you for letting me be your neighbor.”

That evening, when I go down for our meal together, he’s already waiting for me. The latch is open and he waves his long, strange fingers at me. “Good evening, Imelda.”

“Good evening to you.” I hand him his plate of food. “I wasn’t aware it was your anniversary this week. You’ve never announced that before.”

“So you heard.” He pulls in his plate.

“I did! Congratulations, how many years has it been?” I sit down at my little table with my plate.

“As Jolly Jay? Far too long,” he chuckles.

My brow purses. I wonder if he’s used another persona before. “I never got to hear the poem today, and that’s usually my favorite part. What happened? It sounded like something went wrong with the equipment.”

I can hear Jay’s tray clatter inside his room. “I can read it to you now, if you like.”

“The poem? Yeah, that would be nice.” I’m more curious about the technical difficulty, as it’s the first I’d heard during his show. But the poem would probably be better.

Jay clears his throat. “I’ve never seen my lover’s gaze, as she weeps with joy from summer days. Although she brings me thoughts I love, she’ll never…” He stops suddenly and sighs. “This is trite.”

“What? No, go on!”

“I’m serious.” There goes that heavy tone again. “You know there’s better poetry out there than this shit.” He chuckles. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to share something with you.”

“Really?” I get up to approach the door where his empty plate and tray sit. I always wonder how he eats so fast. He holds out a small book to me. “Have you ever heard of Keats?”

I take the book, seeing that the cover is faded from years of use and the spine frayed at the top and bottom. Inside some pages have been taped back together, and many pages are marked and dog-eared. “He’s on the banned list.” All my life, all I ever wanted was books to line my walls. But over the years, more and more books have been banned and placed onto the registry by the GIU. I only have a few, and most of them have been written by GIU loyalists.

“Who isn’t?” Jay chuckles. “In there, you’ll find real poetry. Poetry I love. Words that have meaning.”

“How long have you had this?” I ask.

“Too long,” Jay sighs. “Far too long.”

I glance through the pages until I see a date printed near the back. “That’s strange,” I murmur. “This book was printed ten years after the ban registry was created. That would be impossible.”

“What makes you say that?”

“This book couldn’t have been printed,” I murmur. “All works were destroyed, so there’s no way…” I stop and close the book so I no longer have to focus upon the date. “How did you get this?”

“I brought it from home.”

I use my key to open the top window of the door and already Jay bent down looking through it. That bright yellow mask with that garish grin painted on it leers at me. “You know I hate prying, Jay.”

“I do. You’ve kept your nose clean for a keeper. Most usually succumb to the mystery,” he chuckles. “Read that book, though. Ignore the date. Just imagine what it would have been like to read this in school.”

“What else do you have in there?” I ask.

“Whatever I need.” He reaches through the bottom window and touches my hand. “Except for you.”

I give him a harsh look. “You can do better than that.”

He breaks into a laugh. “I thought it would be romantic!”

I smile softly at him, taking his hand and brushing my fingers against his palm. “I have the keys to open this door anytime, Jay.”

“I know, and that gives me hope. But that’s just the Pandora's box I do not want to open, my Imelda.”

I frown. “Who’s Pandora?”

Jay sighs heavily. “One second.” He leaves briefly, returning with another book for me. “It’s in the third chapter, and I suggest you indulge in mythology as much as the poetry. Both are full of multiple meanings.”

“I know that you’re full of them, that’s for certain.” I take the book and smile at him. “Thank you. Hopefully I’ll enjoy this.”

“I know you will.”

That evening I lie in bed with the books. I check the print date of the mythology book and find it was also printed long after the ban registry. Is there an illegal press somewhere run by the lilac-and-yellow suits? That would be logical. But why print the dates? It makes no sense to me. It’s like these objects come from some other place. Jay is so strange, what if this isn’t his world exactly?

I decide that reading it is better than ruminating. I find the Pandora’s Box myth, in which a young woman is given a jar containing sickness, death, and all the other evils of the world. She is convinced to open the jar, plagued by the mystery of what’s inside, and when she opens it all the contents spill out, save one. Hope remains inside - although the word has been scratched out and written above it is ‘deceptive expectation’. I flip through the book and come upon a page covered in eyes. The chapter is titled ‘Argus Pantopes’. Eyes are drawn all over every page. They’re quite distressing to look at after a while, so I close the book again.

I fall asleep that night, but the eyes follow me into my dreams. They’re all around me, unblinking, and they form a long hallway for me to go down. I walk slowly and the pupils dilate, fixed upon me as I walk. They squint and roll around, but never close. I can sometimes hear their wet sockets squelching as they turn to follow me. I grit my teeth and stiffen my jaw like always. They can’t see me frown, but I don’t wish to smile. I reach the end of the hall, and a giant eye opens before me. I feel sick looking at it. The pupil opens up, and a jar falls out and rolls to my feet. The jar rattles and whispers to me with many voices, asking me to pick it up. The giant eyes stare back at me and I hear something breathe all around me.

I wake with a start, hearing the emergency intercoms blaring outside. The GIU Majority cabinet leader, Samuel Greene, has died and mourning hours are being established to honor his passing. I slouch back into bed, taking a deep breath. Good riddance, I think. If more of those GIU people die, the better.

It isn’t long before the world is whispering about his death. Some suspect he has gone into hiding, and others claim that he was murdered. I know it’s easy to fall into the trap of believing such things, but there is no way he could have been murdered. He’s far too protected. He was one of the most unreachable men on the planet. Hiding was plausible, but that begs more questions.

I deliver Jay his meal, and place the book of mythology on the tray at the base of the food slot. “Did you enjoy reading it last night?” he asks

“I liked understanding what you were telling me, but the stories gave me nightmares,” I confess.

“Really?”

I frown, not liking to admit this. “The chapter covered in eyes bothered me.”

“I see.” He takes the book. “I am sorry it reached you in an unfavorable way. Perhaps you can try it another time.”

“I’m still reading the poetry. I’d prefer to focus on that.” I decide to bring up the news about GIU leader Greene. “Did you hear who died?”

“I did,” Jay says dismissively. “I’m surprised they announced it so soon.”

“So soon?” I repeat. “What do you mean?”

He chuckles. “Nothing. I just thought they liked to keep these things under their hats until they could proceed. I suppose I’ll be dedicating a block of my broadcast to him,” he sighs. “Pity. I do so hate talking about dead old men.”

“Who doesn’t?” I watch the door, almost expecting eyes to open up behind the window.

“Is there anything else, Imelda?” Jay asks.

“Lots of things,” I murmur. “But the water is too deep for me right now.”

“I’m always here for you,” he says. “You don’t need to worry about drowning. You are my keeper.”

I walk away silently, still bothered by my dream and haunted by the eyes. I go back upstairs, where I can hear funereal music playing through the intercoms outside. At least I don’t have to smile while they play. That’s probably the best thing to come out of today. I close down for the day in a show of respect, but really I don’t feel like talking to anyone. I sit in my room and turn on the radio, hoping to drown out the sound of the music.

“... and taking that into account, let us begin our day, dear neighbors. I know we have all been made aware of the sad news early this morning. My heart goes out to the family and colleagues of Leader Greene. His hard work and dedication to the Government of Immaculate Unity has been nothing but inspirational. His presence will be sorely missed, as will his…”' The radio crackles again, popping and clicking as the signal fades in and out. Jay’s voice becomes distorted. There’s a sound like screaming in the background, some interference, I’m sure.

I go downstairs to see if there’s something wrong, perhaps something I can help fix outside. As I come to Jay’s door, though, it’s silent. I can sometimes hear him talking during his broadcasts, even through the floor. Yet there’s no sound from his room. I open the top window with my keys and when I peer inside, his room is empty. I hear the static of the radio hissing, burbles of frequencies. I stand on tiptoe so I can see into the room better. Turning my head, I can see part of his work area, the foot of his bed, with the blankets falling off the end. I see Jay’s yellow suit hanging on the back wall as if he’s standing there. “Hello?” I call softly. “Jay?”

The radio hisses. I take my keys and unlock the rest of the locks for the very first time. The door opens with a gentle push, and I step inside his room. I hold my breath as I stand in the doorway. His workstation, which I couldn’t see through the window, is empty. All the equipment is against the far wall, the mic, the recording setup, and his mask.

His bed is destroyed. Blankets and pillows are strewn about on top of it, while the mattress looks clawed and shredded. There is a chest beside it, with books strewn around the base. His suit hanging on the wall is undamaged, bright yellow against the dark gray walls. It reminds me of the sun rising from the sea. My chest is trembling, fearful of being caught. But where is Jay? There was no possible way for him to leave this room.

I approach his desk, moving aside his chair as I stand over it. His mask smiles up at me with that wicked grin. His script is under it, but I’m afraid to touch the mask. I pull the script out from underneath, letting the mask clatter onto the desk. The front page looks normal, although there is some writing on it I can’t read. Inside, I see eyes scribbled along the margins. The script reads exactly as he had spoken it, even the impromptu announcement of Leader Greene’s death. But it was only announced this morning, and the script had been delivered earlier than that.

Underneath the announcement is a few lines of code, and looking at the keyboard on his desk, I see that the code matches buttons there. I set the script down, placing it back while moving the mask back over it. I’ve gotten too deep, I warn myself. Go now, get out of the water. I turn to leave when the radio crackles and pops again.

“Sorry for the disruption, ladies and gentleman and everything in between. We’re going to take a small break to fix it, and we’ll be right back to finish our tribute to Leader Greene. Thank you for your understanding.”

I stand between the door and his voice, unable to turn and look back. There’s a click, and Jay’s chair squeaks as he moves it back. I count each footstep as it approaches before Jay’s hands come to rest on my shoulders. “You’re drowning,” he whispers into my ear.

I’m  here already, I think, so might as well. I look over my shoulder to see the eyes staring at me. “Thank god you’re here.”

Jay’s hands squeeze down on my shoulders. “Where else would I go?”

#monsterxhuman #monster boyfriend #monster romance #demon #demon boyfriend #my writing #momolady monsters #monster fudger

[secondhand-trash]

Family Matters

Kinktober 2020 — stepcest

A/N: This idea had been sitting in my brain for months and getting to write it out AND be on time for the last day of kinktober is the perfect wrap up for this crazy month.

Description: You would do anything to get yourself a place in this family.

Pairing: Todoroki siblings (Touya, Fuyumi, Natsuo, Shouto)x reader

Warning: stepcest/pseudo-incest (absolutely do not proceed if this isn’t something you’re comfortable reading), no relationships portrayed in this fic is healthy, toxic family dynamics, reader is bit of a manipulative bitch, consensual but not exactly the traditional sense of consent, Rei died, brief mention of cheating, nee san/nii san kink, vaginal penetration, oral (giving), choking, face fucking, creampie, marking, voyeurism, threesome, spitting, degradation, thigh riding, fingering

Word count: 16025 (wtfwtfwtf-)

**please read the warnings through before clicking the read more, very important**

-

You attended your mother’s wedding with the sweetest smile you could manage and a painful ring in your ear the moment she said: “I do”.

It was a small ceremony with only close friends and family, which also meant that there was little to no one in the audience as your mother walked down the aisle to meet the man at the other end. 

You would think that marrying the reigning no 1 pro-hero would finally bring your mother the fantasy of being part of a fortunate family she never got to have, but we couldn’t always get what we want, could we?

You and your mother were the family underdog, the number of your relatives you had met up with the last several years since your birth father passed away and left a huge loan on your back waiting to be cleared up could be counted with less than the fingers on one hand. The first time someone showed up at your doorsteps screaming murder was a blur to you. You were around 17 at the time, not young enough to forge ignorance to what was going on but not mature enough to push the foul words seeping into your ears away, all you could remember was the way your mother clutching you close to her chest like it wasn’t her that was sobbing until the banging at the door finally ceased. 

You switched schools, having no way to afford the tuition of the one you were attending when your family was struggling to stay under a proper roof, essentially disappearing from the circle you used to exist within in a matter of days. Sometimes, you would feel the impulse to cackle at the thought that there was a time when you thought you were so brilliant and you had a whole life ahead. You got into the hero course of one of the best schools in the country, you were not the best but you did think there was something in you that people must not be willing to let go of this easily. You truly did think the world wouldn’t just let you sunk down like that, but it turned out that dropping out of the spotlight was enough for people to forget about you when there were hundreds and thousands of other equally brilliant people stepping under the public eye each day. 

You realised at the point in your life that some days you were simply alone, and no one would help you without a good enough reason for them to do so, something that your mother seemed to have either genuinely or deliberately chose to ignore. She went from person to person, hoping that one of them would be the answer but it was a fruitless journey. When you needed someone, people would pick it up, and it was a dangerous thing to be the one that was in need and couldn’t get away. You had witnessed countless of arguments, a scary amount of things crashing and frantic sobbing late at night when the crying echoed in the darkness you tried to surround yourself with by burying your face deeper and deeper into your pillow like it blacking out could make things go away.

This went on for years, and at some point you chose to turn your head away from it like not going home meant you could run away from the broken family you were bound to. Until one day, your mother crashed into you with a suffocating hug the moment you stepped into those doors you had so dreaded returning to every day, her voice barely coherent as she choked her words out through broken sobs and hiccups.

“We’re free... we’re finally free!”

She said it with such relief that you couldn’t even process the emptiness in your heart when she held your face in her hands before pulling you close to her again.

You figured out from bits and pieces that she let slip through her giddy words that someone had paid up the rest of the loan and interests that was left, and from the way her voice got just a little louder when she talked about that someone and the flush on her face, you knew it wasn’t just some chivalrous stranger that stepped in during a time of need like she had wanted to mask it up to be.

You had never met Todoroki Enji until your mother announced at the dining table one night with an expression so sheepish and girly that she was to marry this man you had only ever heard the name of. But even with the lack of exchanges before you sat down opposite to him the first time when you accompanied her to discuss the details of the wedding, you would expect that someone of his status and respect would at least have someone other than his own kids at his wedding.

His kids. You knew things wouldn’t go as easily as your mother had made it out to be. She had acted like you were finally out of the hot waters and secured comfort for the rest of your life just because she married a wealthy man but you knew the moment you met the eyes of the four Todoroki children, sitting side by side in one straight row opposite to you, that it wasn’t just the man of the house that had a say in what would become of you. 

Touya was the eldest and the least bothered to pretend like he was pleased about this arrangement. He was leaning back against the chair with one leg propped up when you walked in, his eyes scanning you from top to bottom in a scruntinising stare until he was given a hiss in warning from his sister, to which he replied with a snort and a very showing eye roll as you sat down. There was no hiding the sneer in his voice whenever he spoke up, each word lacing with an evidential edge and the clear distaste he was showing towards his new stepfamily. The way he looked down at you when he bumped against your shoulder before walking out the door was nearly uncomfortable, but he seemed to be somewhat pleased when you didn’t shy away from his gaze, walking out with his hands in his pockets and a smirk toying against his features as his father sighed.

The sister, Fuyumi, had apologised when Touya offhandedly pointed out that his father didn’t even wait until his mother’s corpse was cold before finding another woman. Her smile was empathetic and the way she carefully picked up your hand when she greeted you should have been enough to make up for the hostility her brother had showcased but if you had paid attention enough, you would pick up that despite the apology, she didn’t exactly disagree with the statement either. She was always friendly, her eyes curling into two thin strands behind her glasses as she walked you through each step of the ceremony without a chance for you to interrupt. She was nice enough, but also just enough and the distance she kept from you was something that you picked up on in your initial encounter. It was also through her that you found out what happened to Enji’s last wife, and the practiced look on Fuyumi’s face when she recalled how her mother died after a long battle against her illness sent chills creeping up your back far more than any mean remarks could.

Which explained why the wedding venue looked eerily empty as the march played. After all, what would the world say about how little it took for the man to step out of mourning for his dead wife and found himself another one?

Todoroki Natsuo gave you nothing but a hasty nod when you sat down opposite to him, staying quiet for the most parts of the meeting except for a short word of reply here and there when Fuyumi cued him. He had his arms crossed in front of his broad chest all during the process, his eyes looking down at the document but clearly not focused on any of the things that his sister was explaining. There were a few times when you caught him glancing at you for the brief moment when you looked up, flicking his gaze away from you almost immediately with your eyes barely meeting. Of the four siblings, he seemed the most... normal, if you would. The way he acted almost a bit awkward around the new sister that he suddenly had around when he was well into his twenties and gave nothing but bare minimal answers whenever you even tried to initiate a conversation was what you thought would happen.

Then there was Shouto. Oh, sweet Shouto. You had never expected that this was the way you met your formal underclassmen once again after you dropped off of your road in being a hero completely without so much as a proper announcement. There was no mistaking the way his eyes widened and shoulders tensed up when you walked into the room that he remembered you well which came as quite the surprise to you. You had heard of him even after leaving Yuuei, of course. A real star, so talented and came from such a background, already climbing up near the top even though it had only been a good year since his real debut into the professional world. You simply found the boy one year your junior endearing when you were still his senpai, the way he was so serious about every little tease and remark you made could only be described as adorable.  

But certainly, he had changed so much since you last saw him years ago. His back just a little wider, his jaw stronger, the look in his eyes did not belong to the same boy who did not shy away from staring when you walked past but of a man who had seen his handful of the world to know what you being there meant. You had a strong feeling that he would have acted way more hostile than he did have you been anyone else, his lips pursing tightly together like he was forcing himself to hold back as he stared straight at you.

All in all, sneers or polite chuckles or skittering glances or straightened backs, it did not take much to know that none of them was particularly pleased about their father’s remarriage and if the empty wedding was any sign, you and your mother were still utterly outsiders despite the documents with your changed names claiming otherwise.

The tall wall they had built was all the more apparent when you moved into the Todoroki residence, feeling more like you were mouse scrambling to find a gap you could hide into under this roof that had taken you in than anything else. If the four had gave your mother a cold shoulder or straight up pretend like she wasn’t there, then each and every single little gesture they made towards you reminded you time and time again that you did not belong. 

Touya always bumped against your side just a little bit too hard for it to be an accident when he walked past you into the dining room, the “apology” he threw down sounding almost like a cackle as you were nearly knocked off your feet. Fuyumi always bringing up childhood memories or family traditions that you wouldn’t know of, only to brush it off with a smile and explaining it to you like she was the silly one for assuming that you would know about these things when you “only just moved in”. Natsuo was rarely around due to his job at the hospital as a whole, but when he did he made sure that his interactions with you remained to be limited to standard small talk. Each mundane topic always ending on a dead end and both of you looking away. Shoto was decent to you, but there was still an evidential wariness in his gaze as he walked past you and somehow it was the deliberate distance from him that acted like a stake right through your heart, a constant reminder that you took up a space that was never yours to begin with.

There was hurt, but then it was the unwavering fear of being isolated that sent chills down your spine at the cold stare from your supposed family. 

Your mother was convinced that she unlocked the key to a life of security by marrying Todoroki Enji, but you knew better than to be fooled by the current state of you getting a pass because of the one mountain this shaking wall called family was leaning against.

Once he was out of the picture, it was his four children that would get to have a say on what they were to do with you, and you swore you could already see how that would go for you.

You were not going back to that low point in your life, not ever again, and you would do anything to make sure you secured a place for yourself within the family one way or another.

-

Jerking up awake at night in cold sweat was not fun, especially when it still took your brain a good few moments before registering where you were when your eyes shot open to see the high ceiling that you still hadn’t gotten used to yet.

You wonder if you would ever get used to it.

You groaned inwardly as you rolled to your side, wincing at how tight your throat felt at each swallow of the burning liquid that pooled in your mouth. You dreamt of your old life again, one when you still hadn’t gone to living under someone else’s roof. You had thought that you were over it by now but the hollowness left in your chest somehow irritated you even more than the dream itself. 

Fucking hell, it felt like every muscle in your back was hurting.

Slowly stretching your limbs out, you held your head in your palm as you suffered through the dizziness in your head when you sat upright at the edge of your bed. A string of shivers crept up your spine when your toe touched the cold floor, the tatami rough under the tip as you fumbled to find your room slippers. It took some adjusting for you to find your way out of the pitch black room, trying your hardest to slide the door open as lightly as you could as you clutched your arms closed to your body under the chill on your exposed arms.

The house was in radio silence and you were cautious of the drag of your slippers as you made way down to the kitchen, careful to lower the volume of your steps with your feet arched and holding the slipper tight to the heel.

You let out a shaky breath when you finally got downstairs. Your hand felt around the side of the door to find the switch, pressing your eyes tightly together as the light pained you the moment you flicked the switch and light blazed in the kitchen.

The clink of the ceramic made you feel alive again as the water ran down your throat, the cold soothing the tautness at the back as you gulped down. A content sigh slipped out of your lips as you put the mug down, a droplet threatening to roll down your chin and you brought the tip of your finger up to wipe it away.

“Look what we have here...”

You jumped at the sudden voice, earning you a wolfish chuckle from the man who was leaning against the door frame. Touya looked a lot more at ease than he usually was when he was around his family, the sweatpants that were almost a bit too big for his lean frame hanging loosely around his waist as his back arched, pushing himself off the wooden frame before sauntering to your side.

You straightened your back, feeling tensed as he seemingly ignored your presence as he got his own cup and poured it full of water with his other hand on his waist. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to look as he tilted the cup up, his slender neck arching back as his throat bobbed, the muscles at his stomach flexing with each swallow.

Your fingers clutched tightly around the mug you were holding when he let out a muffled cough, piercing up at you from the back of his hand when he saw that you were not moving away.

You were taken aback when he snorted, throwing his head back a little before fixing his gaze on you again with an amused smirk lingering his pierced lips.

“Oh, relax,” your eyebrows locked together at the dismissive huff from your usually sneering stepbrother, “it’s too early for me to start making your life miserable, save the defense for after 8.”

His stare was almost invasive as he grinned at you but despite the twist in your stomach at being alone with arguably the most unbearable of the siblings, you did not move your own eyes away as you put down the cup in your hand. “So you do it on purpose,” you said, trying to make yourself sound sterner as you crossed your arms in front of your chest. 

You did not think anyone else other than you would be up at this hour, or else you would have grabbed a jacket before slipping out of your room. If his gaze was already uncomfortable to be under, than the fact that your body was covered by nothing but a thin spaghetti strap and cotton shorts did not help how exposed you feel. 

Touya laughed and it took all the will in you to not shrink your form down even more at the cackle. “Why else would I bother?” he said matter-of-factly, "Someone has got to tell the old man that none of us is happy with what he did.” He paused, “It isn’t really about you, if that’s something you want to hear.”

“I’m not interested in your family drama.”

“Well, too bad you’re part of the family now,” he mused, his eyes still following you as he slowly strided towards the door. “Remember to look just as pissed as you are now when I poke fun at you in the morning.”

The swaying of his frame stopped when you opened your mouth.

“What do I have to do for you to leave me alone?”

Your heart was pounding in your chest when he stopped in his tracks before slowly, very slowly turning around to face you again. 

“Leave you alone?” he repeated, accentuating each syllable that rolled off his tongue as he stepped closer and closer to you.

“I’m just trying to get by,” you looked straight at him when he stopped right in front of you, towering over you slightly as he stared down, “if you want to stir shit up then I can help as long as you leave me a piece of what’s left.”

“Hm... a fighter, aren’t you?” his voice came out as a purr, the rumbling in his chest almost transferring to you with how close he was. His eyes raked across your form when he saw that you didn’t back away, the defined dent of your collar bone and the supple skin that was pressing against the elastic of your low collar.

He could allow a change of plans if it meant he could get a piece of a little something for himself.

“Then tell me,” he licked his lips, “what are you willing to do for my help?”

“Anything.”

The glint in his eyes grew at how you didn’t hesitate with your words. 

“Anything?” he asked with a crock of his head to the side, his fingers barely trailing along your bare arms as he drank in the way you were fighting against the shivers rising on your skin, “because I can think of a few ways for cute little sisters to get on their big brother’s good graces..."

His touch on your arm was distracting but your mouth still ran dry at the implication of his offer. You could not deny that when you lie awake on your bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking of how you could possibly slither your way through in this house that you had briefly contemplated if you could get intimate with your siblings in a less morally-accepted way but you brushed it off as a silly thought almost as quick as you came up with it when you felt how hostile they were towards you.

You were convinced that they would not wait until Enji was gone to kick you out if you made a move on them, but the fixed stare and gravel in Touya’s voice was telling you a whole other truth.

The chills on your spine settled into the pit of your stomach as excitement when you made the realisation that he wanted you, and it meant the others could too.

His grin looked like it was spilling his face in half when you pushed yourself against his chest, your thinly clad breast pressed up against his bare skin when the light touch on your arms turned into full blown caresses as his hand got bolder. He could feel the slight pebble of your nipples taunt against the fabric and the thrill sent his blood boiling.

“Anything.”

His palm was burning against your skin as he got rougher and rougher, the press of his fingers turning into gropes when he reached the swell of your waist and down to your hips. The sudden dug of his nails into your flesh took you by surprise when he shoved you away from him, smiling from ear to ear like the chesire cat when he hooked his hand at the elastic of his sweats where a print was starting to strain against the fabric.

“Then get on your knees, baby sister.”

The tiles were not forgiving on your skin when you sunk down, looking up at the man who was palming himself from under his pants with his eyes slanted and fixed on your kneeling form. You winced when he fisted your hair in his hand, pulling your head back a bit too forcefully when he pulled his half-hard cock out of its constraints. The pain on your scalp seeped through your head until it was nothing but a tingle on your skin when his slender fingers wrapped around the base of his length that was right at your eye level, drinking in the way you could only stare at him from behind your lashes as he held you still.

He hummed in approval when you parted your lips, your tongue lolling out almost performatively when he gave a firm tuck to his cock. The silver bud at the crown of his cock left a strange numbness on your lips as he traced his tip along the rim of your mouth, leaving a slight sting on your tongue when he brushed against the muscle.

“Make sure to get all of it...” he whispered, releasing the tension of his pull on your scalp when he pushed his cock in with a languish surge of his hips. You bit back a whine when you felt the many more piercings at the underside as it brushed against your tongue, your hands flying up to grip at his thighs when he gave a slight pat to the back of your head.

He groaned when you took more of him in, hollowing your cheeks out as you set a pace for the bobbing of your head. The piercings were rigid against your tongue and you made sure to give each nub equal attention while your hand fisted around where you could not fit into your mouth. He kept one hand in your hair while the other found support on the kitchen counter, eyeing the way your lips wrapped around his cock as you tried to please him.

His head tilted back with a sigh when you cupped his balls, your palm warm on his sack when you sucked in a deep breath and sunk in all the way. Tears prickled at the corner of your eyes when his hard tip hit the back of your throat, the burn shooting up to your nose as its tip brushed against his pubic hair. Touya felt the pulse at the side of his neck as your throat contracted around him, the tightness making his hand clutch at the back of your head as his length throbbed in your mouth. He snapped down to look at you when you pulled away with a cough, sucking in a deep breath as your chest heaved and your hand pumped his cock sloppily with your spit that was coating him.

You could sense his muscles taut under his skin as you let him go, his thighs flexing under your hands while you jerked him off like he was holding himself back deliberately.

To have someone that was just mocking you earlier today now stiff in your hand, lips parted and biting back a moan felt really, really good.

You were staring up at him, almost in challenge as you run your tongue along his shaft. “Someone’s good at this,” he cooed, sounding a little breathless when he laughed. The sound was replaced by a chocked moan when you took him in again, a soft hum from the back of your throat in reply had him nearly losing control when the vibration sent shocks down his core. 

You gagged when he pulled you off his cock, the string of saliva that connected your lips and his leaking tip sending him into an overdrive as he decided that he could not wait any longer. A yelp was ripped from the back of your throat when he pulled you up, shoving you against the counter with your face facing down.

Your hand fumbled to prop your body up with your palms flat on the marble surface, a silent whimper leaking pass your lips when you felt your shorts and underwear being peeled off of you with a swift pull. He pressed on your back with the tips of his fingers, each knuckle of his digits propping up as he arched your ass up with the help of his hand. Your face heated up at the way you perched up, bare cunt exposed for him to see as you clenched around nothing in reflex with the cold air that fanned against your folds.

Your body shifted with each exhale, the warm breaths spreading over your face as your cheek squished against the marble that was growing hotter and hotter from the heat on your face. Touya gripped onto the side of your hips, fingers digging into the flesh as he pulled the cheeks apart, licking his lips at the sight of the light sheen on your slit.

You whimpered when he ran a finger along your folds and the uncontrollable gush of wetness as the calloused pad pressed down on your hooded clit. His eyes were fixed on your cunt and how you immediately pushed your hips back for more friction when he positioned his tip at your opening, rubbing the bead of pre along the slit as your folds parted around him.

“Who knew our new sister is such a whore...” 

His hand was fast to clasp around your mouth when he sheathed in you without a warning, the stretch leaving a burn in your core and threatening to make the cry slip past your lips when he held himself still. His cock was hot inside your walls, like he was melting in with your guts until all that was left of you was a puddle. 

You moaned into his palm when he started thrusting up. His hand might be able to muffle the lewd noises you made but there was no way to hide the sounds of skin slapping against skin that bounced off the walls. The position you were in made each slam of his pelvis against your ass hilting his cock deep in you until you could feel him leaving a print in your womb, the piercings adorning his length dredging along your insides with each snap of his hips. The nubs rubbing against you made your back arched and your knees weakened, leaving a permanent feeling in you even as he bottomed out.

“To- Touya!” 

His hand ran down your neck at the panting call of his name, fumbling with the elastic of your top before yanking it down and spilling your tits. You turned your head back with a struggle, his hand that was groping your chest pulling you up against his back until he could meet your lips in a sloppy kiss.

“Nu-uh, that’s not how you should call me,” he growled into your mouth, a mean-spirited pinch at your nipple had you squeaking against his hot touch.

“Touya nii-”

The mewl earned you a forceful plow of his length in you, the coil in you tightening when he drilled into you at a much more vicious speed.

“That’s a good little sister...” he mumbled in your ear, his hand now right below your chest while the other held tightly onto your ass. You threw your head back, pushing yourself deeper on his cock as he grunted, pulsing in you as he fug his nails into your skin.

Your lips fell open but nothing came out when he wrapped his free hand around your exposed throat, pressing down just enough for you to feel a rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins into your head when he hilted in you one more time before shooting ropes of his release deep into your core. His breath was shaky and warm at your earlobe as he cum in you, his load filling you up as he squeezed down on your neck to rip a breathless gag from you.

You could feel his cock going limp inside of you while he held you still, his cum threatening to leak out of your fluttering folds but was stopped by his cock still pressing snugly against your sex. You could smell the sweat on his body when he leaned down, heaving chest right at your back as he brought his hands up to cup your tits. His breath tickled against your skin, the piercing at the corner of his lip brushing at the sensitive area as he spoke lowly and slowly.

“Let’s have a lot of fun helping each other.”

-

Touya was always the latest to show up for breakfast each morning and this morning was no exception, but the entire table fell into deadly silence when he looked at you first before he did everyone else as he slammed himself down on his chair.

“Good morning, sis.”

The silence was almost uncomfortable and the sickly sweet tone of his voice echoed in the room before vanishing into thin air. You were facing him directly but your eyes did a brief glance around the room. Your mother and Enji were dumbfounded, Natsuo had his mouth agape, Shouto’s eyes were as big as the moon and Fuyumi’s eyebrows locked together slowly but visibly.

A lot of fun indeed.

You smiled, and the crisp ring of your voice shocked everyone when you parted your lips.

“Good morning, nii san.”

-

The mutually beneficial relationship with Touya continued. Some nights, you would feel a slight brush against your calf under the dining table and you knew he was to pay you a visit. He slipped into your room when everyone else was asleep, jackhammered you onto the mattress and make you scream into your pillow before whispering things about the family that you would otherwise never know of against your lips as his cum spilled out of your abused hole.

He was rough with his hands, especially when he was taking out his frustration on you, but there was no denying that the fucking was good and the information was valuable. He told you about how he had three siblings instead of being an only child because he was a disappointment and why his mother was sent away. The snort he let out was chilling as he told you how his sister was desperately holding the family together through the years and that the second son of the Todoroki family could be worse than him in terms of temper once the right buttons were pushed.

And they knew, they had to know or had made a guess at the very least, because there’s no other way you could explain why there were bruises littering all across your inner thighs when the skin just showing below the edge of your shorts was clean the night before. Occasionally, you would catch the boys staring at the barely visible mark right at your collar at the table, Natsuo a little bit more subtle with his eyes flickering away the moment you looked up and Shoto not hiding the fact that he was looking as he pressed his eyebrows together. Fuyumi was a whole lot more nonchalant about it, either she really didn’t know or she was very good at staying away from things that weren’t her business. Your guess leaned towards the latter. 

You were waiting to see which one of them would finally let their concern snap first and approach you about it, and it seemed like what Touya told you about his siblings was rather accurate when you were left along the house with your second stepbrother one weekday afternoon.

You were rarely left alone at the house with any of your step siblings, much less Natsuo. Doctor Todoroki was always the first one out the door and the last one to come back each day, slipping into his room by the time he got back in the early mornings from the hospital and not appearing until he had to go back again. 

Today was a bit different. Today, Todoroki Natsuo got to sleep past his alarm and sat in the living room as the sun shined through the window while the rest of his family was out doing their own thing. Except you, who coincidentally had nowhere to do during his precious day off and was staring absentmindedly at the tv while he tried to not pay too much attention to the limp in your walk and the hickey that was very much so not hidden by your loose shirt.

Natsuo gulped down the words that were stuck at the back of his throat, feeling his tongue laying flatly against his mouth as he felt the air around him thicken. 

No one had said anything about the clear elephant in the room when the rest of the family was around. His father and your mother were clearly oblivious, but he was sure the same question definitely appeared in his siblings’ heads. It frustrated him that Fuyumi only brushed it off as him being overly suspicious when he tried to hint that something but be going on between the new stepsister and the oldest Todoroki, even more so when Shouto was straight up in denial about how obvious it was. 

If anything, he was more concerned than anything else. He was sure Touya couldn’t be the nicest man to be involved with especially when he recalled all the malicious things his brother had said about how much he loathed the idea of a new stepsibling before his father got married.

“Did he hurt you?”

You froze in place at the abrupt question. Turning your head to the side, you saw Natsuo with his jaw clenched and lips pursed together at the other end of the coffee table. “He?”

“Touya,” he repeated, this time sounding a little firmer than before, “he is taking advantage of you, isn’t he?”

Oh.

Oh.

You glanced to the side, lowering your head a little as you toyed with the hem of your shorts. A slight thrill welled up in your chest when you heard him scooching closer to where you sat at your timid posture. He looked so concerned, like he was truly believing that you were in a compromisable position that you couldn’t tell anyone about.

What a good man he was, Todoroki Natsuo, you almost feel bad for pretending to hesitate before you slowly hook your finger under your shirt and lifted it over your head.

Natsuo’s breath hitched when he saw the bruises that covered your chest in the areas that weren’t covered by your bra. Bite marks darted along your skin, the subtle scars in the shape of finer prints burnt into the side of your waist. Touya got into a particularly fiery argument with Enji last night, and the aftermath was what Natsuo was now seeing as you stripped of your top in front of him. You had winced when you woke up that morning to see how fucked up you looked, fully planning to get Touya back for bruising you up this badly next time he touched you but you didn’t expect that his lost of control would be of use later on.

You looked battered, and you didn’t miss the gasp that left his lips as you folded your arms in front of your chest to make yourself smaller, pressing the marked skin of your chest together and pushing your cleavage out in the process.

“He’s so rough with me, Natsu nii...”

You sounded like you wanted to cry as you shy away from him, and his heart broke when you flinched away from his touch as he gently held onto your forearm. 

You were so delicate and fragile, how could anyone treat you as horribly as this? 

He let out a shaky breath when you latched onto his broad chest the moment he pulled you onto his lap. “Poor baby...” he whispered against your skin as he dipped his head down caging over you as he gingerly pulled your folded arms away. His throat bobbed at the sight of your curves and the many bruises dotting on your supple skin. You whimpered when he planted a soft peck on your neck, tilting your head back to allow him more access as his hand fumbled with the hook of your bra. 

You whimpered when he took it off of you, the strap sliding off your arms until it was thrown to the side. He could see all the marks and scars on your skin much more clearly now and it only fueled his urge to touch you all over and make sure he drowned you in affection even more. 

You whimpered when he rubbed circles against the side of your hips, his lips pressing against a particularly gruesome bruise below your collar bone.

“Natsu nii-

“Shh... it’s ok,” he hushed you with a peck on your pouting lips, pulling at your bottom lip softly when he pulled away, “nii chan will take care of you.”

His hand was cautious as he caressed your skin, soft lips trailing down your neck and darting his tongue out to swipe across each bruise and mark along the way. The brush of the tip tickled, leaving a spark of numbing tingles down your spine as his miniatures took over your head. Natsuo took his time, reducing you into mush with each press of his thumb at the side of your thighs and nibble of his teeth. A breathy moan slipped past your lips when he traced your pebbled nipple with his tongue, the air fanning against your skin making you all the more sensitive as he rolled the perked bud between his fingers. He treaded against the clouds of purple at the underside of your chest lightly, placing open kisses at each bruise like he was trying to erase the trails of what his brother had left on you.

Your hands held onto his shoulders when he buried his face in your chest, cupping the soft mounds in his palm as he licked each swell and dent on your torso. You whimpered as his large hands slipped past the elastic of your shorts, groping your ass as he lifted you off his lap just enough to pull the article off of your limbs. You felt a strange bashfulness when he eyed your naked form, almost looking like he was in awe when he slid his arms around your waist. 

Perhaps you were getting too into the mindset of a sweet baby sister wanting their brother’s attention that your body was starting to adopt the role a little bit too well.

“Lay down.”

His hand supported you at the small of your back, his much larger frame shadowing over you almost immediately at you touched the cold surface of the floor. The textured front of the tatami rubbed against your skin as he planted a firm kiss on your lips and you hissed into his mouth when the scratches down your back from last night by one very impatient Touya burned on your senses. 

Natsuo noticed your discomfort, cooing into your lips as his tongue slipped past your teeth and explored the warm cavity greedily. Your eyes were glassy when he pulled away, looking like a veil had draped over your vision hastily as you stared at him blankly and your lips parted. 

If he thought the marks on your upper body was bad, then seeing your naked form proved that he had severely underestimated what you had gone through before he took notice. You looked dazed as he perched on top of you, his eyes raking all over your body as he took count of the many bite marks and bruises that dipped down the v that led to your sex and your thighs that were pressed together tightly. There were clear marks of fingerprints littered over the plump flesh of your legs, evidential of how exactly did Touya take you last night.

You shuddered underneath Natsuo when he gripped onto your knees and parted your legs, arching your back off the ground and looking to the side to hide your face when he stared straight at your bare cunt. Your folds clenched with each heave of your chest, looking all the more inviting with the sheer shine that coated your core from his earlier touches. But he found himself immediately noticing the faded marks at the back of your thighs where they were connected to your hips, the prints permanent on your skin and whispering to him exactly what you had been doing with his brother when no one was around.

The image of Touya digging his fingers into your thighs as he folded your legs up despite your whines burned into his head, his vision growing redder and redder at the thought of your tight hole being railed so hard you tear up in pleas but to no avail.

He was supposed to be the nice brother, the gentle one who kiss you all over and holds you in the center of his palm before putting you back into one piece after the other had shattered you, but all he could think of was how much he wanted to replace the same tears with his own marks right now when he was looking right at the tiny body that his brother had messed with.

“Natsuo...? Ah-” you squeaked when his previously soft hold was replaced with a sudden squeeze at your inner thigh, your limbs being manhandled into a position that was challenging your flexibility. You could not help but throw your head back when he pushed your legs all the way up until they were hooked over his shoulders, the back of your knees almost touching your chest when he leaned down once again.

His tongue tangling with yours distracted you from the sounds of belt buckles rattling for a second, until the feeling of something prodding at your entrance brought your eyes snapping open. 

“Don’t worry about a thing...” he muttered against your lips as he dragged his leaking tip along your folds, his hand pulling the hood of your clit back and rubbing at the sensitive nub to ease more of your wetness out until his cock threatened to glide past your fluttering folds with the lubrication. His eyes were fixed on your face, but your reflection appearing on his blown out eyes seemed almost empty as he talked but more like to himself than to you.

His length felt heavy as the tip pushed past the muscle of your walls, earning him a breathless sigh from you as you took his hot inch bit by bit until it settled at the pit of your stomach. You could feel every part of his pressing against you in this position, your core flexing to accommodate his girth but still felt a white burn at the back of your head when he rolled his hips before slamming down again.

He was much... thicker than Touya, and the vein that was throbbing at the side of his shaft left a phantoming feeling in your walls with every thrust. His face was buried at the crook of your neck, each grunt and pant warm on your skin and seeping into your core as vibrations from his chest. There was no space between your bodies as he drilled into you, his plows short and rapid like he did not even want to have a second of his body not touching yours. 

Your voice sounded foreign to your ears as you gripped onto his hair for leverage, the broken notes of each mewl and the pathetic cries making you feel possessed as your knees shook with each hilt of his tip in that spongey spot deep inside of you.

“Na- Natsuo nii...”

He groaned at the sweet moans of his name rolling off your tongue, his hand running up and down at the back of your thigh in encouragement when you clamped down strongly around him with each slap of his balls against your ass.

“Fuck-” he gritted in your ear, his thrusts growing sloppy as you tried to lift your hips up to meet him and pushing his cock deeper into you, “you’re so pretty like this... so pretty taking your nii chan’s cock-”

You whined at the compliment, even though the reaction felt so off for the mindset you went into this with. There was something about how differently demanding he was when he was fucking into your tight cunt, the way he wanted to drink in all of your attention and send you into a spiral making thrills boil up in the waves of pleasure that crashed onto you.

He thought he was the one with the power, but we all take what we need from who we want it from.

“Cum around me- that’s it... that’s it...”

He let out a choked moan as your walls spasmed around his aching cock, his hands holding your legs firmly as he held himself still with his hips pressed up snugly against your hips. Your head fell back as your lips parted when you felt the warmth of each spurt of his cum painting your insides, each pulse and throb of his length printing against your walls. A soft whimper was pulled from the back of your throat when he pulled out, the last few drops of his load darting across your lower stomach as he remained his hold on your legs. Natsuo felt breathless at the beads of white that was seeping past your slit, his hands moving before he could think to push the leaking substance back into your hole despite the weak moans you made as you shook under his touch.

Natsuo pressed his palm flat against your sex like he was blocking the mixture of your arousal and his released from slipping out when he brought his hand under your arm. You couldn’t do anything but laid soundly in his arms when he lifted you up, your legs felt like jelly as he held you close to his chest.

“Get some rest, baby, I’ll tuck you in after cleaning you up...”

-

The arrangement continued, but this time with one more man into the mix.

Every night after Touya arrange your guts, Natsuo would put you back together with languish thrusts and not an inch of your skin untouched the next day. Where the eldest burned, the other would soothe over with icy breaths and gentle coos. All Natsu nii asked for return was the loving stare you gave him from behind your fluttering lashes and sheepish nods when he asked you if you feel good from your nii chan’s touch.

What you nearly forgot about, however, was that every night there was another Todoroki you had pushed to the back of your head just a wall next to you while you were getting your brains fucked out.

Todoroki Shouto was probably the most conflicted of the bunch when you walked into the meeting room for the first time. If anyone had asked, he would not deny that back when you were still his upperclassman by a year, before you suddenly dropped off his horizons one day out of nowhere, he was head over heels smitten with you. He was not the only one, if the way you surround yourself with others that gave a sickly sweet grin as they came up to you was any sign, but he liked to believe that he was the only one that really caught your eye. How could you not? If anything, it sufficiently flattered you that someone like Todoroki Shouto would eye you like a dumbfounded puppy when you came down to his year. You made sure to be extra nice to him too, smiling widely and laughing louder than you did for anyone else when he replied to each of your teasing questions with a degree of seriousness that you could not help but found yourself cooing at. 

(You never liked him the way he hoped you had, not that he would know or you would ever hint at it. It was just fun for you to have his attention and you would be the first one to say that you could not be blamed. Anyone else would have said the same thing had they been in your place.) 

By the spring he was about to move into your second year, you were gone. He had tried to ask around about your whereabouts but no one could give an answer. There were rumours, but all of them were so drastically different that it was near impossible to narrow down the possibilities. And so his innocent, bittersweet school crush was shattered into dust without even a proper heartbreak or revelation.

Now imagine how he felt when he saw his dead crush appearing in front of him years after he last saw them, now as his new stepsister that he never asked for.

You seemed to have latched onto him at first, striking up a conversation with him when everyone else made it clear that you were not welcomed. He felt an overbearing weight in his chest every time you flashed him a wide smile that was so nostalgic but also felt oddly different, like it was you had the same shell as before but the contents in it were missing. He told himself again and again that he had been over you for years now, but the pounding in his chest whenever you laughed around him was a brutal reminder that this could be the chance for him to finally get his hands on what was never his.

The thoughts that clouded his head when he thought of how you were just a room away from him at night was terrifying, and he wasn’t sure what to do with the realisation that there was something as ugly as that stirring deep in his mind. So he took the complete opposite approach to what his yearning was whispering at the back of his head and stayed away from you as far as possible, even when the center of his palms felt like they were about to start seeping blood at how deep his nails dug in at the sight of his brothers getting friendlier and friendlier with you.

Then one day, at the unholy hour when he had to lower each step he took striding back to his room after a late patrol, he heard a soft noise coming from the back of your door that could not be anything other than a moan.

He froze, his eyes widening as he questioned his own hearing when the same sweet sound rang again. It was subtle and he would not have caught on unless he was expecting it, but it sounded almost mocking in his ear as his leg moved on their own until his ear was pressing right at the wooden board that blocked him from seeing what you were doing inside that drew those tempting notes out of your lips. 

This was wrong, he swallowed the bitterness in his mouth as the stir in his stomach sunk in, very wrong, but he could not stop himself from wondering how good you must be looking at that moment with your legs parted and fingers pumping in your cunt, your back arching as you tried to bury your face in your pillow as you imagined that it was someone else touching you.

The wire in his head snapped into half when he heard a voice so familiar but yet so strange that mixed into the incoherent string of lewd noises.

“Stay quiet, or do you want people to hear how much of a whore you are?”

His head went blank, and then he turned almost robotically stiff towards his own room when he finally connected the dots of what was going on.

He did not look any bit suspicious when you greeted him the next morning, but he swore he was seeing white when he spotted the way Touya’s hand lingered at your forearm just too long for it to be friendly when he was asking you to pass him the milk.

It got incredibly hard for him to ignore everything that was going on once he found out what happened every night when the house was supposed to be asleep. It was Touya most of the time, but occasionally he would hear the muffled voice of his other brother seeping into his ears through the thin walls too. He should not have listened, especially with how clearly he knew the burn in his chest was a result of anger. How could they just fuck around with you like this when he was there, suffering because you were so close but he could not reach out? 

Yet when his hand ghosted over the bulge in his pants as he listened to the broken cries of someone else’s name from the back of your throat, it was jealousy that made him tug at his length almost violently as the squelching and panting died down until there was nothing left but the stickiness lacing his fingers as an evidence of what happened.

He listened with intent, wondering if you would eventually come onto him too. He heard the way you call his brothers’ “nii san” and found it harder and harder for him to even look at you straight without imagining the way you would look coming undone underneath him when he heard the same words dripping off your tongue in a seemingly innocent manner in the day. 

But you never did, and he was starting to lose patience from waiting.

Why his brothers but not him when he was the one that had wanted you for so long? What was it that his nee san never wanted to fall into his bed when you so gladly let other men crash into yours?

You did not hear the door creaked open as you laid with your stomach on the bed, your legs arching from the knees onwards as you lounge around with a book in hand. You jumped with a gasp when you saw Shoto standing at the side of your bed, putting your book down carefully with the page you stopped at facing down as you looked up.

“Why are you here, Shouto kun?”

You called him “Shouto kun” when it was “nii chan” for Touya and Natsuo. 

He furrowed his eyebrows at how clueless you looked as you stared at him. Your chest were pushed together against the mattress as you rolled to your side, the exposed skin of your legs ticking him off as a reminder of how different you sounded from when he eavesdropped at your little rendezvous every night.

He took your by surprise when he leaped onto the bed, his knees causing a dent at each side of your body when you could not react except allowing your mouth to fall apart at his sudden and strange behaviour.

“Shouto! What are you- mhp-”

You were taken back by the force at which he crashed down on you. You could not process what was going on until the feeling of his burning lips kissing and nibbling at your own settle in as a numbing pain, his tongue forcing it’s way past your teeth as he trapped you underneath his frame.

You took a hasty breath when he pulled away, his eyes staring you down like he was waiting for a reaction as you looked at him with wide eyes.

“Do you not like it when I kiss you, nee san?”

All the words got caught at the back of your throat when his voice rang in your ear, almost eerily calm considering how his teeth were just clashing against yours moments ago. You did not put as much thought into buying your way into Shouto’s side as much as you did the rest of the family, knowing that no matter how small, there had got to be a certain place for you in his heart from the melancholy of an old crush somewhere. 

“Even though you like it when it was Touya nii and Natsu nii touching you?”

But now he was on top of you, his eyes quirking up as his hand gripped onto the sheets at the side of your head, his lips almost like he was pouting as he trapped you there.

Nee san...

Right, how foolish of you to forget. 

He was your brother too.

“Come here,” he leaned into your touch almost immediately when you reached out for him. His breath was shaky as you sat up, your lips ghosting against his before you whispered all while looking into his eyes. “let nee san show you how to do it...”

He did not react at first when you kissed him, your fingers threading into where the white met the red at the back of his head as you deepened the kiss. The little whimper he made when you moved his hand onto the side of your waist did something to you, and suddenly you wondered why you waited so long before doing this. 

You chuckled into his mouth when he clumsily held onto your jaw, his tongue swiping at your bottom lip before slipping past. You made sure to moan almost a bit exaggeratedly when you felt his hand running up your abdomen and stopping at your tits, pressing down encouragingly when he fondled with the soft mound. 

He got bolder and bolder as you replied to each miniature, the years of longing erupting in him as he gripped onto your thigh and hooked it at the side of his hip. You yelped at the sudden shake of your vision when he flipped you so that you were straddling his lap. You whimpered when you felt the hardness that was poking against you, his hand now sliding underneath your shirt to toy with your perked nipples as your hand planted firmly on hid toned stomach.

“I’ve wanted to touch you for so long...”

His breath was feverish on your skin when he peeled your shirt off, his lips latching onto your chest almost immediately once you were bare as his fingers dug deeper into your skin like he wanted to leave a bruise. You moaned when he flicked his tongue against the hard bud, licking and nibbling as he stared at your face while holding onto your ribcage. 

“Wanted to kiss you for so long...”

You mewled when he bit down a little too hard on your collarbone, his tongue swiping across the dents of the mark as his hand continued to knead your soft flesh. 

“Now you’re finally here- with me...”

A roll of his hips had his hard one pressing against your thinly covered pussy, the friction and the heat that was burning against you making you bit down on your lips to stop the moan from slipping past your lips. He gave a dissatisfied pinch to your breast when he saw the action, humming in content when the sudden shock of pain made you hiss.

“No, no, don’t hold it in,” his two toned eyes sent a chilling shiver down your spine as he glared at you in warning, one hand finding grip on the base of your thigh while the other slid into the band of your shorts before pulling it down the curve of your ass, “I want to hear every sound you makes while you get fuck by your little brother...”

His skin heated up when your face contorted together in pleasure when his hands gripped onto the cheeks of your ass and parted them roughly, the flesh jiggling when he released it from his hold with a pull. 

“Hm!” you whimpered when he felt his palm rubbing at your folds, the tip of his fingers pressing down on your clit before he dragged each digit up along your slit to gather the wetness that was starting to form from his stimulation. Your lips fell apart when he slipped the first finger in, then added another, and the third. He watched in amazement at each pull of the muscle of your face as he stretched you out around his slender fingers, feeling your cunt sucking him in as he slowly pumped them in and out of your hole.

It was almost unreal, the person that had lingered in his dreams for years on end now naked in his lap and moaning because of his fingers scissoring inside of her. His cock felt painful straining against his pants when you rolled your hips back, impatient for how he moved agonisingly slow inside of you in order to draw out each reaction you gave him. His chest swelled at the sight of you slamming yourself down on his fingers as you laid on his body, your hands gripping at the cotton of his shirt all while arching your ass up so he could rub every inch of your walls.

“You look so pretty fucking yourself on my fingers, nee san...” Shouto whispered against your lips, his free hand bringing you close to him to kiss your quivering lips as he crocked his fingers inside of you and ripping a sharp mewl from the back of your throat.

“Sho- Shoto-” the syllables of his name chocked out of your tongue that felt heavy in your mouth, your knees that prop you up on his lap feeling weak as you alternated the speed at which you threw yourself back at him to chase the tightening of your core.

The drop yanked you back by the seams when you were greeted with a sudden emptiness as you were close to snapping, a squeak spilled out from the back of your throat when you clenched around nothing. Your instinct was to press your legs together to stop the running arousal from dripping down your thighs from the flex of your walls but Shouto held you still with his hands, the wetness that was coating his fingers smearing over your skin as he brushed against your thighs before bringing them to his face.

Your face was burning when he moved his digits apart, showing you the string of your essence that was sticking to his skin before he brought it to his lips. Your stomach flipped when he darted his tongue out, licking his fingers clean like a kitten as he groaned.

“You taste so sweet...” he pulled you close to him like he wanted to give you a taste of it too, the saltiness of yourself tickling your cavity as his words were muffled by his lips on you, “I would have gotten a taste for myself directly much earlier if I knew this is how you taste, but right now...”

He brought your hand to his bulge, the hardness filling under your palm as you cupped his erection. Your hand wrapped around the base of his girth the moment you pulled it out of the band of his sweats and it pressed against his lower stomach, the vein that climbed up the side pulsing under your touch as you ran your finger along his cock. 

Your breath hitched at the back of your throat when he lifted you up, your cunt hovering above his tip as he muttered against your neck.

“I want to be in you, nee san.”

It took every fiber in your being to stop yourself from screaming out when he let go of you, slamming you down all the way until he was balls deep inside of you. He sighed at how warm you were all wrapped up around him, his arms snaking around your waist as he started bouncing you on his cock.

You scratched down on his chest through his shirt with each hilt of his length in you, your eyes pressing tightly into thin lines as you fought against the shocks that ran down your spine. He bit down on your skin in discontent, glaring at you like he was warning you to keep your focus on him as he railed in you.

It was fear that made your eyes snapped wide open when you heard a click of someone’s tongue from your back.

“Take this as a lesson to lock your door.” 

Shouto’s nails on your skin felt like they could draw blood when he shot up to see the grinning face of his eldest brother, his blood curling when you clamped down around him at a moment of panic. 

“Touya!"

He hated the way your eyes moved away from him onto the man leaning against the door, the name that wasn’t his sounding so breathless as it rolled off your tongue.

Touya had already gotten his fair share of your time, now he wanted to interrupt when it was finally his turn?

“Fuck off,” Shouto sneered but the other Todoroki only let out a dry chuckle at his defensive state as he walked towards where you were. His eyed you up and down, how tense you were as you froze under the intrusion evidential as the muscles of your legs pulled taut against your skin.

“Aw, don’t shut me out so quickly, I’m sure she doesn’t mind,” Touya mused, seeming to be egged on even more when he saw his brother tightening his hold on your hips when he shamelessly gripped himself on the crotch over his sweats. “You’re at it already,” you let out a soundless hiss when he pulled your head back just the way he liked it as he yanked his pants down, eyeing his little brother that was staring daggers at him out of the corner of his eyes as he pulled his cock out, “why not take another one?”

Almost like he was asserting his claim, Shouto snapped you out of your trance with a thrust up into your cunt. The sudden friction made your mouth fell apart as a moan was ripped from the back of your throat but it was quickly muffled into a gag when Touya took the chance to shove his cock in your mouth. He hardened and filled inside of you as he held your head still, pulling you to the side so that you were staring helplessly at the man who was slamming into you as he pushed his cock deep at the back of your throat with each surge of his hips.

This was nowhere near the same time Touya treated your mouth as nothing but another hole to fuck but the hilt of his tip at the back of your cavity still made your eyes tear up immediately as the burn settled into the pit of your stomach. Shouto did not give up easily, determined to make sure that his brother’s cock drilling in your mouth was not enough to divide your attention away from him as he threw you up and down on his length vigorously as the lewd squelches and slapping noises echoed off the walls. 

Touya’s laugh came out like a howl when he felt the vibrations of your moans around his girth, loving the way you had drool leaking from the corner of your lips as he gripped your head with both hands and pivoted in you. He was laughing, but the stare he cast his brother was no less competitive than the younger boy who was clearly not happy about sharing. 

The tension was thick in the air, like they were taking out whatever rivalry that had rooted between them out on you as they treated you like nothing but a toy that they could break if they fight over it hard enough. You had never seen Shouto this visibly angered before, his handsome face twisted together as the scowl tugging at his lips stayed permanent. Your muffled pants and gags as well as the sound of skin against skin was all that could be heard as the two men bared their teeth at each other, Touya in a menacing grin and Shouto like he was ready to tear the other’s smile off his face.

You felt like you were being pulled apart by the threads, with Touya pulling your hair until your scalp felt numb from the pain and Shouto digging his fingers in your ass a little bit too forcefully. The way Touya forced your face away was enough to get under his skin but Shouto could not look away as tears tainted your cheeks as his brother held you still at the base of his cock, your nose brushing against his pubic hair while your nostrails flared in a desperate attempt to breathe. Each thrust of his hips sent both cocks deeper inside you, the burn pulsing all through your body as your toes curled.

“Hnpm-”

“Go on,” Touya gave a tug at your scalp, pulling at the side of your eyes and forcing you to look right at Shouto, “stare into his eyes while you swallow my cum.”

And you did, the bitter and salty mixture pouring down your throat and almost scorching where it touched as you gulped down his load as he held you still, almost choking on your own spit as you stared at the younger boy from behind your glassy eyes. His pupils were blown out as he fixated on the sight of your throat bobbing and white leaking out of the corner of your lips which were wrapped around his brother’s cock, your jaw almost slack as Touya pulled out and pressed your jugulars tight to make sure you drank everything he had to give you.

You did not dare to move as Touya tucked his limp cock back into his pants, still smiling ear to ear before he turned around but not without throwing down another snarky remark.

“Treat her rougher,” his glance darted towards you for a second before looking back at his brother, “she likes it that way.”

The acidity welled up in your mouth as Shouto stayed put, the lack of even a sound or movement somehow stirring in your stomach until it was all tied up as a knot. Your skin felt clammy with your sweat when he shifted under you, his cock very much so still pressing hard against your gut as he moved and sending sparks all the way to the tip of your toes.

“Open your mouth."

His voice was scary calm as he commanded and you reacted before even processing his words. Shouto gripped onto your jaw, his teeth hurting from how hard he was clenching down as he looked at the trails of white along your chin and the residues of cum on your tongue. 

You shivered when something cold landed in your open mouth, a silver string connected his lips and dripping down your tongue.

“Swallow.”

The last bit of cum mixed together with his spit slid down your throat as you felt small under his gaze. It was like a switch was flipped inside of him when he slammed you on the bed, him now taking full control as he perched on top of you much like when he initially came onto you tonight and thrusting up hard, fast, deep into your cunt.

Your mind was too muddled for you to think straight at the shocks of electricity spiking across your skin when the tip of his cock rubbed along your walls furiously, your pants and moans coming out as slurred strings of incomprehensible noises. He sounded animalistic as his teeth graced past your pulse point at the side of his neck, the muscles in his stomach tensing up both from getting close to his edge and the scene from earlier of you getting face fucked by his brother right in front of his eyes replaying in his head again and again.

“When I’m done,” you could barely make out what he said as you slammed your head back, “my cock will be all you can think of- all you need...”

You whined when his cock sheathed against the spongey spot right below your pelvis, a sharp cramp creeping onto your legs that were already close to giving in at the melting pleasure. 

“I’ll fuck you again and again if that’s what it takes,” he grunted. 

Again and again, until all the traces of other people’s hand tainting your skin was wiped off with his mark instead.

“Starting-” his shoulders shook as his hips surged forward, his cock throbbing in you as he dipped his head down, your legs threw weakly around his waist as you felt the heat from his chest blazing against your skin.

“Now.”

You arched yourself off the mattress at the feeling of his cum filling you up, his body stiff on top of you as he pumped his load in you. He gripped onto your knees almost immediately when you wanted to put your legs down, giving a few more thrust before finally pulling out of you but still not letting go. 

He tried to go a few rounds more that night, but you managed to settle him at your side in your bed with a soft whine and your arms latching onto his waist tightly as you buried your face in his chest.

Shouto was the only person who had fallen asleep next to you of all the ones that had gotten into your bed at night, looking almost angelically serene as he drifted into slumber that you didn’t have the heart to wake him up even though the fear of someone catching him sneaking out at daybreak next morning scared you.

No one did, of course, and even if they do, they all did a very good job not saying a word about it.

-

Todoroki Fuyumi did nothing but furrow her eyebrows and sighed when she saw her own brother slipping out from your room at the crack of dawn, before going back to her normal day-to-day routine like she did not just witness the confirmation that she could no longer pretend she did not sense things stirring under the roof she called home as she did ever since you moved into the house.

If anyone asked, Fuyumi would be very honest with the fact that while less obvious about her dismay, she was about as keen on the prospect of a woman no one had met before marrying into the family and bringing an adult child with her as the rest of her siblings. The family was messed up enough as it was, no need to bring an outsider into the mix to further complicate the matter. There was also the convenient fact that the buffer period between her birth mother’s death and the announcement of the engagement was far too short for anyone’s comfort, and the speculation of an overlaps in the timeline where Enji started seeing his new wife while his now deceased wife was hanging onto the last breath of her life by a thread.

But she hid the urge to scrunch her face up the first time she met her new stepsister and stepmother and smiled, knowing full well that the others would take up the role of pushing you away until eventually you would have to break under their scrutinising gaze.

Fuyumi had always been the one trying to hold the family together, even if it meant turning a blind eye on the cracks that were starting to form.

The first siren call was when Touya came downstairs one morning acting like a completely different person around you then he was the night before. She felt her guts twisting together at how sickly sweet his voice was as he passed by you, his arms draping over your shoulder slightly before he slumped down on his own seat. Touya was supposed to be the one that was the least likely to wield out of the four, god knows how much of a tantrum he threw when he learnt of the engagement. Something must have happened over night for him to go from sneering at you to cooing at you in the matter of hours, and what the something might be was not a pleasant thing to guess around on.

Still, Fuyumi didn’t confront her brother on his strange antics. Even after she became rather certain on how accurate her guess was regarding your relationship as the bruises on your thigh and offhanded teases got more and more blatant each day. Touya had always been one to play around, she had sent many pretty young things off in the mornings when she came to the living room to find them sitting there with their clothes very wrinkled and legs very much so wobbling with each step. 

He was probably doing it as a protest like most other things he had done and it would take no time for him to get bored of you. 

But one morning turned into a week, and Todoroki Touya only seemed to grow closer and closer to you as each day passed.

Natsuo was much worse when it came to playing things off compared to his older brother and Fuyumi noticed almost immediately when he started getting involved with you too. It should not have come as a surprised, it certainly was not to her. Sentimentally, the two older Todoroki boys were often similar but expressing it in different ways. Fuyumi was aware of how a yearning for being needed was in place of his head where the desire for chaos was cemented in Touya’s. 

It took her a while to see how tightly you had Natsuo wrapped around your fingers, how he very much so ignored the way you amped up your helplessness and dependence when he was around that seemed almost painfully blatant to her. But it didn’t unsettle her as much as it did when the dynamic between you and the siblings switched the first time. If anything, this was the more logical progression. Natsuo had always been the more passive one with his attitude towards you, and him shifting stances would not do much to the scene.

It got harder and harder to bite on her tongue and stay quiet ever since she caught Shouto walking out of your room. She was the most concerned about the youngest Todoroki and his almost dangerous affection towards you. She had connected the dots herself after some baiting fished out that you two were already acquainted before the untimely marriage. She saw the way Shouto watched you with so much fever in his eyes when the other two even inched close to you, the unhidden teeth marks on your arms and legs almost too deliberate for her to not think too much about it. It was the self-righteousness of finally getting something that was lost, and Fuyumi found this one particular budding flame to burn hotter and more destructive than the rest.

You were playing a very dangerous game here, and she was the only one that was left out of it until right now.

Right now, it was a heavy silence in the room at the far end of the house where no one would go to. Fuyumi was sitting right opposite you, both of your postures looking extremely formal with your feet tucked under your legs, hands planed flat on both thighs as you waited for her to say something.

You had a dreadful feeling you knew what this was about when she asked you to go with her for something important with a face so expressionless it scared you.

She had not said a word after she motioned you to sit down on the tatami, looking blankly at the empty floor in front of you like she was deep in thought. All you could hear was the pounding in your eardrum and the steady breaths the left your own nostrils, your hands wanting to claw at the fabric of your shorts to ease the shaking nerves but your head fighting it back with an unwillingness to look like you did not have the upper hand.

You did not, and you were genuinely horrid by the direct confrontation that you did not have to go through with the rest of the family.

“I know you’re sleeping with my brothers.”

Her voice came out like the notes of a lullaby, ghosting in the air but knocking you right in the lungs. She said it like it was nothing but a trivial fact, not a question but a statement that she knew you could not deny.

Fuyumi looked right at you now, like she could see right through your soul and all the gears running in your head as they spun like mad while thoughts trampled your head. Her eyes were clear, so clear behind the frame of her glasses and at the moment you knew she did not leave room for you to lie or try to get your way out of it.

"I am,” you replied. 

It felt almost cathartic to say out loud. There was no need for you to pretend or lie or appease towards someone who already had your game figured out, and there was something about being on the same page that anchored you on your footing.

“Why?”

Yes, why?

“I need to find my place in this house,” you answered, feeling your mind go blank as you reached to the pit of your core and dragged out the words you were searching for, “and they wanted me.”

They wanted you.

You gave them what they wanted in exchange for what you needed, the simple equation that formed the beauty, the complexity and the rotting of human desires.

Your breathing shifted to go with her rhythm without even knowing as she sighed, long and shaky as she dropped her head.

She went into this with the determination that one way or another, she would get you to stop with whatever you were doing with her brothers so things would go back to normal once and for all without lingering glances and hints that weren’t so subtle and glares at the dining table, but now she wasn’t so determined anymore. Fuyumi now realised that things had never been normal, the cracks gad always been here and you simply found a way to slip through.

They wanted you, but what did she want? 

Todoroki Fuyumi was the one who desperately tried to hold the family together through the years when her siblings were deep in resentment and her father obsessed with making a legacy out of what was left, even if it took filling up the growing cracks bit by bit until she didn’t even know who she was doing it for anymore. 

If the cracks had managed to close because they all wanted the same thing, then so be it.

You did not flinch away when Fuyumi leaned forward, her lips stilled on yours as she held herself up with her palms on the floor. Her lips were cold, like the first rain drop that fell into the calm ocean before the surface started to ripple into many, many silver rings, until it melted into the heat on your skin and seeped right under.

You felt a tingle unlike any you had experienced when you snapped out of your shock and kissed her back, subtle closing and opening of lips turned into gentle nibbling as you gravitated towards her body. Her skin was so soft, and the way she held onto your jaw with the tips of her finger as she made you parted your mouth wider was almost tender in a way. 

You couldn’t stop the whimper from slipping out when she sucked on your tongue, hand placed at the base of your spine to press your body closer to hers. Her chest squished against yours and you whined when she shoved her knee between your legs. Her palm smoothed over your curves and down to the swell of your hips as she cradled your face, gripping on the doughy flesh encouragingly as she guided you to hump against her thigh. 

Her breath was shaky when she pulled away, the one drum in her heart particularly loud when her eyes landed on your misted stare behind hooded lids.

So this was why they were all so crazy about you.

One tilt of her head was enough of a sign as you latched onto her, your lips trailing along her exposed neck and down to the collar of her shirt. She sighed when you rolled it up from the hem, your hands cupping her tits before placing open kisses on the delicate skin. The way her skin flushed under your touch was an intoxicating sight and you found yourself wanting more as you pushed the cup of her bra down to wrap your lips around her nipple. It was the moan she made when you sucked on the bud that set you off, the way it hardened in your mouth as you swirled your tongue around it had you bucking your hips against her legs uncontrollably. 

The saltiness that lingered on her skin provoked your senses as you trailed down, making sure to kiss every soft curve and dent of her body before settling at the waistband of her pants. Her legs were tight around your head when you pulled it down, the muscles of her thighs flexing when your mouth hovered right above her sex. She laid back to allow you better access and you could see her breasts heaving with each heavy exhale above you as she leaned against the tatami. You tested the waters with a kitten lick along her folds, getting a little bolder when her legs clenched around your shoulders and she let her head fell back with a hum. Her cunt clenched around nothing when you pulled away, the silver string of your saliva connecting her folds and your lips was sinful as you took in the clear essence that was starting to form. 

She mewled when you dipped back down, your hand kneading her soft thighs as your tongue parted her folds and savoured the taste of her arousal. Your finger brushed past her pubic hair as you pulled back the hood of her clit, the shudder of her legs hitting you in full force when you flicked your tongue against the engorged bud. Fuyumi brought her hand to the back of your head, her fingers lacing into your hair to shove your face closer against her pussy as she rolled her hips, pressing herself on your face for more friction.

Her lips fell open when you eased a finger into her tight hole, the velvet walls gushing with wetness sucking your digit in as you pumped it in her cunt. Toes curling under the pleasure when you added in another one while your lips focused on her clit.

“Hm- right there!” she panted when you scissored your fingers in her, stretching her out as you slurped up her juices that were trailing down your wrist and seeping with each flick of your wrist. You could feel her tightening around your fingers and you looked up only to feel a rush of heat down your core when you saw her face. 

Her glasses had fallen half way down the bridge of her nose, the lenses were not enough to hide her blown out pupils that were hazy with lust. A furious flush dusted across her cheek and reached the tip of her ear, plump lips parted as her tits bounced with each heave of her chest. Her throat bobbed when you arched your fingers inside of her, strumming along her clenching walls encouragingly as meek moans rolled off her tongue. 

The musky scent overwhelmed you when you sucked down hard on her clit, her legs kicking mid-air as a lewd moan rippled out from her lungs while you held her still. The pad of your fingers dragging along her insides rang tingles on her scalp as she came on your mouth, the squelch from her wet cunt loud in your ear when you pulled your hand away and earning you a whimper. 

Fuyumi’s vision was still clouded over by the aftershocks of her orgasm but she found herself unable to look away when you darted your tongue out to lick your fingers clean between her legs. The grip on your shoulder as she ushered you up was almost painful before it was replaced by the feeling of her fumbling hands trying to stripe you down, her whining into your mouth at the taste of her arousal on your tongue as she cupped your ass.

Your moan as she pulled you to straddle her thigh was muffled when she pushed your head down against her chest, the soft mounds pillowing you as she dug her fingers into your hips and pressed down. Your cunt throbbed when it rubbed against the smooth skin of her leg, the muscle beneath flexing and coaxing out numbing shivers along your spine. Your hands flew to find hold on her arm as she bounced the leg you were riding, your back arching and pushing you closer to her as your eyes shut tight. 

The coil in the pit of your stomach tightened with each drag of your folds along her thigh, feeling her hot skin under your touch as your hands roamed all over her body. Your breath fanned against her skin, each moan and pant rumbling against her in weak vibrations. She kept one arm around your waist as the other slid down her stomach and stopping at her slit. Every hair on her skin stood up at the sight of your shoulders tensing up, slipping her fingers in as the speed at which you rolled your hips against her flesh increased and setting a feverish pace like she was rushing to tip over.

You tried to follow the rhythm of her fingers jamming in her cunt with the thrust of your hips, your legs almost cramping up as your toes curled and uncurled. She thumped her leg up and down more vigorously as muscles pulled taut under her skin, fighting back the urge to roll her eyes back so she wouldn’t miss the miniatures on your expression as you came undone.

“Are you close?” she let out a hasty chuckle when you nodded rapidly, her hand that was on your torso gripping down encouragingly as she aimed her fingers at the spot that had shocks pulsing through her veins, “then cum on me- cum on nee chan-”

The band in you snapped at the coo, your nails leaving white lines on her skin as you scratched down. Your hips dragged sloppily along her skin as you rode out your high, lying weakly on her shoulder as you looked up at her. Fuyumi threw her head back as her arm tensed, the joint of her wrist popping out as a sharp moan spilled from her mouth. 

All that could be heard in the room was the pants that were under your ear as you leaned on her chest, the steady rise and fall under your cheek luring you into a state of serenity. A mellow heat slowly imploded from your core, spreading through your skin and planting at the back of your head. 

Fuyumi’s arm draped over your frame loosely, her breaths slowly calming down as she drummed a soothing rhythm against your skin, the tempo synching with the pounding under your ear.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your eyelids felt heavier and heavier as the warmth seeped in, your shoulders almost weightless for the first time in a while.

So you closed your eyes, and listened to the steady beats of your sister’s heart, until you could hear nothing at all.

-

“Sometimes I feel bad for always leaving you at the house on your own.”

Your mother’s smile was apologetic as she rummaged her bag for her keys as she shoved her feet in her heels. You leaned against the frame of the door, tilting your head as you tap your feet against the ground.

“It’s alright, I have company around,” you said with a hum, “leave it, I’ll lock the door for you.”

Your mother paused, looking up from her bag with an almost sheepish sounding chuckle as you leaned over for the knob. She had been worried about whether you would get alienated by the Todoroki children when she married into the family, but it seemed like her worries were unneeded after all.

Sometimes she would walk in on you with the rest of Enji’s children and laugh to herself at how silly she was for even thinking that you would have an issue blending in.

You were a strong girl, you could always find a way to manage yourself through anything.

Your throat felt dry when your mother suddenly gripped your hands in her palm, the calloused pad of her fingers rubbing against your wrist as she looked at you, looking almost teary eyed as she shook her head with a laugh.

“I’m so glad that you are happy here,” she said, the wrinkles at the corner of her eye crinkling up as she smiled, “I really am.”

The tug at the corner of your lips felt almost stiff as you squeezed her hand, nodding to the way she shook your clasped hands like words could not do her thoughts justice. Her touch lingered, even after you gave her a light chuckle and reminded her that she would be late if she doesn’t head out soon. 

She gave you one last look before stepping out the door, the beaming grin on her face not once faltering before she was gone from your sight.

She did not need to know. You thought to yourself as you turned around, your hand rubbing at where your mother’s emotionally tight grip had left a warm sting on your skin as you headed back upstairs.

Your family was waiting for you, after all.

#bnha imagines #bnha x reader #bnha smut #todoroki x reader #todoroki smut #kinktober 2020 #tw: stepcest #tw: pseudo-incest

[uelden]

Vanity Fair interview translated

Just a side note before the actual translation; I don't know why, but instead of reporting the full questions and answers in full as she should, the journalist decided to report only summarized fragments of what Måneskin said and patch these fragments up into messy clusters. She also worded a couple phrases in a very confusing way (and yes, she's fully Italian). In short, she did quite a poor job, so the final shape of the interview is not that good. I didn't expect top-tier journalism from Vanity Fair but ffs. You'll see what I mean.

I translated it as it is, adding just a couple footnotes to give you insight on Italian pop culture references.

Translation under the cut

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

by Lavinia Farnese, 09 June 2021

"True justice is being judged for what you do and not for what you are." The ones who are convinced of this are Damiano, Victoria, Ethan and Thomas who, by being the emblem of a generation that is finally free, refuse labels and conformism. In life, in love and on the stage. Where, maybe precisely because of this, they're winning everything

With the still unexpected (first place at Sanremo Festival) and the incredible (triumph at Eurovision) in their eyes, Måneskin are on the sofa of the house-studio they rented - to resume writing songs and rehearsing them - like you are after a won battle: lying in a calm and unreal silence, alert and a bit irreverent, happy.

In the garden there's the tennis table and the pool, the light of summer when it's starting and calming the country all around, and it filters inside from the large windows, and it goes onto the shining black of Ethan's hair, which blends with Thomas' eye shadow and the butterfly he has tattooed oh his naked forearm, which completes the picture of Victoria's golden crucifix hanging between neck and tank top and ends on the black nail polish of Damiano's stretched hands.

It's a human fresco, a Theatre of wrath [translator's note: "Teatro d'ira"] - to call it with the title of their latest album, a platinum record already - where their flaunted 20 years of age, their irregular femininity and virility are grown into proud and challenging custom, a pop glam rock generational manifesto of hard-earned liberties in a finally-unconditional expression of the self.

To watch them from any angle and from another age is to think that a great love will be born in those who'll understand: this new way of being in the world, the true and sovereign realm they hold where "diversity=exceptionality", the power of the artistic and cultural revolution of which they are healthy carriers in establishing in all lyrics and gestures the right to live according to one's own nature past the "people (who) talk, the people (who) unfortunately talk, and don't know what the fuck they're talking about." [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

We go where we're afloat, where the air isn't gone. [tn: journalist's own variation on "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

Miley Cyrus says hi – The numbers of a phenomenon

"The streams of Zitti e buoni are growing by the second, and they bring us above Muse, at the top of English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. Followers almost tripled, in the post-Rotterdam period (from 1,4 to 3,3 millions, ed.) Contagious and universal folly: t-shirts and merchandising sold out in 10 minutes. Like the records, the tickets for a tour that keeps adding dates and expanding over geographic maps. They're contacting us even from some festivals were The Rolling Stones went." Thomas

"After the pretextual controversy over cocaine that France built against us, later disproven by my drug test, some graffiti popped up in Spain depicting me as a “No drugs” poster guy. Some tweets made us laugh: "Congratulations, Italy! I've never been more certain that four people have had sex with each other." Miley Cyrus started following us -You're great. -You guys are greater." Damiano

From the garage to the stars – Story of a flight

"It was only 2016, and we played in restaurants, in the streets, in via del Corso. Damiano without even a microphone, Thomas' guitar with wonky strings, Ethan was drumming on a cajón. During Rome highschools' sit-ins (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first confirmations and half-hours of celebrity, playing among those who criticized us and those who went "wow they're really cool." One of the rare times when they would have paid us – 50 euros each – we gave the money to the next band in the lineup so that they would make us play in their spot, later in the day, when there would have been more people. We had already realized how things worked. Visibility mattered more than money. And we still think that." Victoria

The intimacy of rock – Choice of a genre

"Music allows us the miracle of extending to others some very personal and private topics, sometimes even difficult and thorny ones. They are and they remain deeply your own, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage that is alike a delivery, they find a place in you as well, a processing of them. You overcome them, you accept them. One second it's something aggressive, the next it's a ballad. Cathartic». Damiano

Against panic – The stage as therapy

"I've suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it's an issue I've worked on thanks to a psychotherapy course, my friends and my family. Playing helped me in not letting myself be paralyzed by my fears, not making myself limited in my private and professional life. I've learned to accept, to live with this side of myself. I don't hide it. I don't feel ashamed of it." Victoria

Analysis as necessity – Relying on someone saves you

"This belief that only madmen go to the psychologist is a widespread ignorance. No-one's born learned. [tn: common Italian saying] And it's often hard to understand the very reason why we're here, let alone the origin and direction of our desires. It's a long and legitimate journey towards lucidity, a kind of backing to become transparent." Damiano

Being out of our minds – But different from them [tn: "Zitti e buoni" lyrics]

"When you feel a strong passion towards something that is not a canonical job but an artistic language, that already puts you on a level of anomaly, which is not superior or inferior to other people, but it puts you in the position of the one who breaks the mold and also works at a loss, the one who sustains great risks while trying to do something that who knows if it will take you anywhere. "Why do it if it doesn't pay?". You want to give this dream of yours an aesthetic, but it becomes "You're dressing so weird! You must be gay!" - now that I'm 22 I laugh about it, but when I was 17 it had an effect on me, too." Damiano

The beauty of uniqueness – Of believing in it and defending it

"And I mean, at the end of the day if we're all different it's not because we want be alternative but because, really, no-one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty." Ethan

Fluid sexuality – Pride is freedom

"Heels for men that like themselves in them, kisses among ourselves, we have an open, extended mind, and we're proud of it. The horizons become vast, past the oppression of conservative families. With the information on the web knowledge becomes greater and with it the possibility that minorities will be less and less minorities, because the majority will be less of a majority. This way we'll make insults and bullying grow quieter. If social media get to a village of 50 souls and reveal to a girl who's afraid of the dark that someone has felt her same fear, then there's no reason to give a name to that fear, to mark it with labels which also limit and restrict. Definitions always had this effect on me. You shouldn't even consider the gender when judging someone, let alone their orientation." Victoria

Sexism – A culture to be dismantled

"Emma [tn: Emma Marrone, Italian singer] drops the bomb: “At Eurovision when I was there they massacred me for a pair of shorts, while they said nothing to Damiano – bare-chested and in heels.” The easy judgment against women is more fierce, constant, debasing (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool while Vic is a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader while Vic is despotic and a pain in the ass who reached success because she's hot.) As a male I'm privileged, the abuse I get is not comparable to those a woman has to live through, the comments over my aesthetic are centered only on my aesthetic and don't insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thought in a systematic way. It happened though to find myself standing with a woman who while pulling me to herself to take a selfie, started licking my face out of the blue... I mean, what the hell do you want? Who asked you? Consent exists, and it's due." Damiano

Grow yourself – The only commandment

"To me conformism is the opposite of education [tn: could also mean "politeness"] and is the asphyxia of expression. I fortunately never endured heavy bullying, heavy enough for the the judgement of others to change me. But the mold of the small crumbs of bullying I got and of the kind of aggression that scars is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and likes dolls you have to let me do what I like. I was a kid who wanted to keep his hair long and played with Barbie. As a teen, my friends looked at my hair: " You have to find a girl with short hair to be at your side." My grandparents took away my dolls: "Stop it, they're not for you." Ethan

"When I was six I was already sick of them, the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things that were typically defined as girly, and all around me they mocked me because I went skateboarding, I played soccer, I didn't wear skirts, I was giving myself the chance to be as I wished. I endured it a little, I suffered a little, but I had courage, and now thanks to that courage I know that I could have gotten even much more hurt, otherwise I would have left to others the most important choice: the one about myself." Victoria

Love in progress – Music, girlfriends

"I've been married to music for the last 20 years. I can't wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary." Ethan

"Everyone makes their own experiences, sometimes it goes well, sometimes it goes wrong, but it's always not anybody's business." Thomas

"When I first felt feelings and attraction towards a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage of going beyond the limitations I had put for myself. For society being heterosexual is the norm and so you often define yourself in that way automatically, depriving yourself of the freedom to live many shades and faces of love. Once I overcame the initial insecurity of having to call into question my certainties I've lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone." Victoria

"I had paparazzi at my door every day and night. So, after four years of relationship, I revealed her name. I still have paparazzi at my door every day and nigh, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore." Damiano

The worth of the group – Phenomenology of protection

"The true engagement though, the true family is among ourselves, our band. We've believed in it since day zero, even before we called ourselves Måneskin (Moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon on the flier for the first concert we ever did. We share everything, even the pain for the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because of racism. [tn: I think the journalist asked them their opinion about Seid Visin's death, which was a current events topic in Italy, and then pasted it syntaxically in the middle of Thomas' answer, which was not a great move] A group is what we all should be: stay united and not back down an inch in the face of oppression that is generated by a distorted view of diversity." Thomas

I'm not of the right age – Like Gigliola [tn: Gigliola Cinquetti won Eurovision with her song "Non ho l'età", which means "I'm not of the right age"]

"Before you the only one who won both Sanremo and Eurovision on the same year was Cinquetti (1964). If there's anything I feel I'm not of the right age for? No, honestly no. Maybe having children. Regarding children I'll be honest: I'm not of the right age." Damiano

Having touched the sky – The fears that remain

"We're more than inside the dream, we're in the conquered dream. When you fly high there's the risk of plummeting and hurting yourself, but we'll work hard not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - a bit pretentiously - reassures us rather than scaring us." Damiano

#maneskin #måneskin #vanity fair #italian #translation

[thevalleyisjolly]

Hi there! If you feel up to it, would you be willing to expand a bit more on the idea of white creators creating poc characters who are ‘internally white’, especially in a post-racialized or racism-free setting & how to avoid it? It’s something I’m very concerned about but I haven’t encountered a lot of info about it outside of stories set in real world settings. Thanks & have a good day!

Hey, thanks for asking, anon!  It’s a pretty nuanced topic, and different people will have different takes on it.  I’ll share my thoughts on it, but do keep in mind that other people of colour may have different thoughts on the matter, and this is by no means definitive!  These are things I’ve observed through research, trial and error, my own experiences, or just learning from other writers.

The first thing I guess I want to clarify is that I personally am not opposed to a society without racism in fiction.  It’s exhausting and frankly boring when the only stories that characters of colour get are about racism!  So it’s a relief sometimes to just get to see characters of colour exist in a story without dealing with racism.  That being said, I feel like a lot of the time when creators establish their settings as “post-racial,” they avoid racism but they also avoid race altogether.  Not aesthetically -they may have a few or even many characters with dark skin- but the way the characters act and talk and relate to the world are “race-less” (which tends to end up as default white American/British or whatever place the creator comes from).  Which I have complicated thoughts on, but the most obvious thing that springs to mind is how such an approach implies (deliberately or not) that racism is all there is to the way POC navigate the world.  It’s definitely a significant factor, particularly for POC in Western countries, but it’s not the only thing!  There’s so much more to our experiences than just racial discrimination, and it’s a shame that a lot of “post-racial” or “racism-free” settings seem to overlook that in their eagerness to not have racism (or race) in their stories.

A quick go-to question I ask when I look at characters of colour written/played by white creators is: if this was a story or transcript I was reading, with no art or actors or what have you, would I be able to tell that this character is a character of colour?  How does the creator signal to the audience that this is a character of colour?  A lot of the time, this signal stops after the physical description - “X has dark skin” and then that’s all!  (We will not discuss the issue of racial stereotypes in depth, but it should be clear that those are absolutely the wrong way to indicate a character of colour).

This expands to a wider issue of using dark skin as a be-all-end-all indication of diversity, which is what I mean by “aesthetic” characters of colour (I used the term “internally white” originally but upon further reflection, it has some very loaded implications, many of which I’m personally familiar with, so I apologize for the usage).  Yes, the character may not “look” white, but how do they interact with the world?  Where do they come from?  What is their background, their family?  A note: this can be challenging with diaspora stories in the real world and people being disconnected (forcibly or otherwise) from their heritage (in which case, those are definitely stories that outsiders should not tell).  So let’s look at fantasy.  Even the most original writer in the world bases their world building off existing things in the real world.  So what cultures are you basing your races off of?  If you have a dark skinned character in your fantasy story, what are the real world inspirations and equivalents that you drew from, and how do you acknowledge that in a respectful, non-stereotyped way?

(Gonna quickly digress here and say that there are already so many stories about characters of colour disconnected from their heritage because ‘They didn’t grow up around other people from that culture’ or ‘They moved somewhere else and grew up in that dominant culture’ or ‘It just wasn’t important to them growing up’ and so on.  These are valid stories, and important to many people!  But when told by (usually) white creators, they’re also used, intentionally or not, as a sort of cop-out to avoid having to research or think about the character’s ethnicity and how that influences who they are.  So another point of advice: avoid always situating characters outside of their heritage.  Once or twice explored with enough nuance and it can be an interesting narrative, all the time and it starts being a problem)

Another thing I want to clarify at this point is that it’s a contentious issue about whether creators should tell stories that aren’t theirs, and different people will have different opinions.  For me personally, I definitely don’t think it’s inherently bad for creators to have diverse characters in their work, and no creator can live every experience there is.  That being said, there are caveats for how such characters are handled.  For me personally, I follow a few rules of thumb which are:

Is this story one that is appropriate for this creator to tell?  Some experiences are unique and lived with a meaningful or complex history and context behind them and the people to whom those experiences belong do not want outsiders to tell those stories.

To what extent is the creator telling this story?  Is it something mentioned as part of the narrative but not significantly explored or developed upon?  Does it form a core part of the story or character?  There are some stories that translate across cultures and it’s (tentatively) ok to explore more in depth, like immigration or intergenerational differences.  There are some stories that don’t, and shouldn’t be explored in detail (or even at all) by people outside those cultures.

How is the creator approaching this story and the people who live it?  To what extent have they done their research?  What discussions have they had with sensitivity consultants/readers?  What kind of respect are they bringing to their work?  Do they default to stereotypes and folk knowledge when they reach the limits of their research?  How do they respond to feedback or criticism when audiences point things that they will inevitably get wrong?

Going back to the “race-less” point, I think that creators need to be careful that they’re (respectfully) portraying characters of colour as obvious persons of colour.  With a very definite ‘no’ on stereotyping, of course, so that’s where the research comes in (which should comprise of more than a ten minute Google search).  If your setting is in the real world, what is the background your character comes from and how might that influence the way they act or talk or see the world?  If your setting is in a fantasy world, same question!  Obviously, avoid depicting things which are closed/exclusive to that culture (such as religious beliefs, practices, etc) and again, avoid stereotyping (which I cannot stress enough), but think about how characters might live their lives and experience the world differently based on the culture or the background they come from.

As an example of a POC character written/played well by a white person, I personally like Jackson Wei and Cindy Wong from Dimension 20’s The Unsleeping City, an urban fantasy D&D campaign.  Jackson and Cindy are NPCs played by the DM, Brennan Lee Mulligan, who did a good job acknowledging their ethnicity without resorting to stereotypes and while giving them their own unique characters and personalities.  The first time he acted as Cindy, I leapt up from my chair because she was exactly like so many old Chinese aunties and grandmothers I’ve met.  The way Jackson and Cindy speak and act and think is very Chinese (without being stereotyped), but at the same time, there’s more to their characters than being Chinese, they have unique and important roles in the story that have nothing to do with their ethnicity.  So it’s obvious that they’re people of colour, that they’re Chinese, but at the same time, the DM isn’t overstepping and trying to tell stories that aren’t his to tell.  All while not having the characters face any racism, as so many “post-racialized” settings aim for, because there are quite enough stories about that!

There a couple factors that contribute to the positive example I gave above.  The DM is particularly conscientious about representation and doing his research (not to say that he never messes up, but he puts in a lot more effort than the average creator), and the show also works with a lot of sensitivity consultants.  Which takes me to the next point - the best way to portray characters of colour in your story is to interact with people from that community.  Make some new friends, reach out to people!  Consume media by creators of colour!  In my experience so far, the most authentic Chinese characters have almost universally been created/written/played by Chinese creators.  Read books, listen to podcasts, watch shows created by people of colour.  Apart from supporting marginalized creators, you also start to pick up how people from that culture or heritage see themselves and the world, what kind of stories they have to tell, and just as importantly, what kind of stories they want being told or shared.  In other words, the best way to portray an authentic character of colour that is more than just the colour of their skin is to learn from actual people of colour (without, of course, treating them just as a resource and, of course, with proper credit and acknowledgement).

Most importantly, this isn’t easy, and you will absolutely make mistakes.  I think the most important thing to keep in mind is that you will mess up.  No matter how well researched you are, how much respect you have for other cultures, how earnestly you want to do this right, you will at some point do something that makes your POC audience uncomfortable or even offends them.  Then, your responsibility comes with your response.  Yes, you’ve done something wrong.  How do you respond to the people who are hurt or disappointed?  Do you ignore them, or double down on your words, or try to defend yourself?  Just as importantly, what are you planning to do about it in the future?  If you have a second chance, what are you going to do differently?  You will make mistakes at some point.  So what are you going to do about them?  That, I think, is an even more important question than “How can I do this right?”  You may or may not portray something accurately, but when you get something wrong, how are you going to respond?

Essentially, it all comes down to your responsibility as a creator.  As a creator, you have a responsibility to do your due diligence in research, to remain respectful to your work and to your audience, and to be careful and conscientious about how you choose to create things.  It’s not about getting things absolutely perfect or being the most socially conscious creator out there, it’s about recognizing your responsibilities as a creator with a platform, no matter how big or small, and taking responsibility for your work. 

In summary:

Research, research, research

Avoid the obvious no-no’s (stereotypes, tokenization, fetishization, straight up stealing from other cultures, etc) and think critically about what creative choices you’re making and why

Do what you’re doing now, and reach out to people (who have put themselves out there as a resource).  There are tons of resources out there by people of colour, reach out when you’re not sure about something or would like some advice!

Responsibility, responsibility, responsibility

Thank you for reaching out!  Good luck with your work!

#the valley is posting #thanks anon! #writing advice #hope this helps! if another POC has something to add - please go ahead!

[mistressemmedi]

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

Greetings from Miley Cyrus - phenomenal numbers.

The streams of Zitti e Buoni are growing by the second, and ahead of Muse, on the top of the English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. We almost tripled followers after Rotterdam (from 1.4 to 3.3 million, ed). Contagious and universal madness: T-shirts and merchandise sold out in 10 minutes. Like records, tickets for a tour that adds dates and expands on maps. They are even looking for us in festivals where the Rolling Stones have played. - Thomas

After the whole cocaine scandal that was started against us from France, which was later denied by my drug test, in Spain there people have been making murals with my face saying "No drugs". Some tweets made us laugh: «Congratulations, Italy! I have never been so sure that four people have fucked each other ". Miley Cyrus started following us. "You are great". “You are more” . - Damiano

From rags to riches - what a story

It was only 2016, and we were playing in restaurants, on the streets, in via del Corso (famous street in Rome). Damiano without a microphone, Thomas's guitar with broken strings, Ethan drummed on a cajón. At the occupations of the high schools in Rome (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first gigs and half an hour of fame, between those who criticized us and those who said "these guys are so cool". One of the rare times in which they offered to pay us to play - 50 euros each - we offered that money to those after us, in exchange for the chance to play during their time slow, as we knew there would have been a bigger crowd. We already understood then how it worked. That visibility was worth more than the money. We still think so ». - Victoria

The intimacy of rock - Choice of a genre

Music allows is this miracle which allows one to talk about very personal and private topics, even difficult and delicate ones. They are and remain deeply yours, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage which is like a delivery, they also find their place in you, their elaboration. They are overcome, they are accepted. One moment it feels aggressive, one moment later a (soft) ballad. It's very cathartic. - Damiano

Against panic - The stage as therapy

I have suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it is a problem that I have worked on thanks to a course of psychotherapy, to my friends and family. Playing has helped me not to let myself be paralyzed by my fears, not to be limited in my private and professional life. I have learned to accept, to live with this side of me. I don't hide it. I no longer feel ashamed. - Victoria

This belief that only crazy people go to the psychologist is widespread ignorance. Nobody is born learned. And it is often difficult to understand why we are here, let alone the derivation and direction of our desires. It is a long and legitimate journey towards one's clarity. - Damiano

Essere fuori di testa – Ma diversi da loro (Be out of your mind - But different from them)

Already feeling a strong passion for something that is not a 'regular' profession but an artistic language, it puts you on a level where you're an anomaly, and while you're neither superior nor inferior to others, it places you in the condition of what breaks the mold but you're also being at a loss, leaving it to you to be bold and to take risks, hoping that they will pay off and land you somewhere. "What good is it if you don't stand out on your own?". You want to give it an aesthetic to your artistic dream, but to others it boils down to " You dress differently! You must be gay! ”, I'm 22 now and it makes me laugh, but at 17 it had an effect on me too. - Damiano

The beauty of being unique - Of believing in that and defending it

After all, we are all different not because we want to be alternative but because really no one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty. - Ethan

Fluid sexuality - Pride is freedom

We appreciate heels on men, we kiss each other, we have an open, extended mind, and we are proud of it. The horizons become vast, beyond the oppression of conservative families. With information on the web, knowledge is enriched and with it the possibility that minorities will be fewer and fewer, because majorities will be fewer and fewer. This will lower the volume to insults and bullying. If social networks can reach a village of 50 souls to reveal to someone, who is afraid of the darkness, that someone has felt that same fear.. There is no longer the need to give it a name, to define that "something" to fear, to brand it with labels that only limit you. Definitions have always had this effect on me. Gender should not even be considered in a person's judgment. Let alone orientation ". - Victoria

Sexism - A culture to be dismantled

Emma (Italian singer) dropped the bomb:" When I went to Eurovision, they insulted me over a pair of shorts. Damiano - half naked and in heels - was never criticized ". The judgment against women is constant, ferocious, and demeaning (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool but Vic a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader she is domineering and pain in the ass, who is successful because only because of her looks [and not the hard work she puts in]). As a male I am privileged, the harassment I suffer is not comparable to that experienced by a woman, the comments on my aesthetics are focused only on my aesthetics and do not insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thinking in a systemic way. But I did find myself in a situation, out of nowhere, with someone who, pulling close to her for a selfie, started licking my face ... "What do you want, did you ask me?" Consent exists, and it is a must ». - Damiano

To grow as a person - The only rule to follow

For me, to conform is the total opposite of educating oneself, and the asphyxiation of one's expression (of freedom). Fortunately, I did not suffer heavy bullying, to the point where I felt I needed to change to adapt to how others saw me. But the matrix of who I am and the aggression that marks me is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and loves dolls, then allow me the freedom to do so. I used to be a kid who wanted long hair and played with Barbies. My friends, as a teenager, looked my long hair and teased me: "You have to find yourself a girl with a short hair to make up for it". My grandparents took the dolls away from me and said: “Stop it, they're not for you” ». - Ethan

“I was six and I already could not tolerate the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things typically defined as feminine as a child, and they made fun of me for skating, for playing soccer, for not wearing skirts, for giving myself the chance to be as I wanted to be. I suffered a little, as I was bullied, but I had courage to stay true to myself, and today thanks to that courage I know that I could have been much more hurt, or I would have risked leaving the most important decision to others: the one about being just me". - Victoria

Love - music and girlfriends

I've been married to music for the past 20 years. I cannot wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary. - Ethan

Everyone goes through their own experiences, sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, but it's never other people's business." - Thomas

When, for the first time, I developed feelings and attraction for a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage to go beyond the limitations I had imposed on myself. For society, being heterosexual is the norm and therefore often one automatically pegs himself in that way, giving up the freedom to experience many different shades and facets of love. Once I got over the initial insecurity of having to question one's own certainties, I lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone. - Victoria

I had paparazzi under my house morning and night. So, after four years of relationship, I finally revealed her name. I still have the paparazzi under my house morning and night, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore. - Damiano

The value of the group - Protecting each other

But the real relationship, the real family, is between us. Our band. We believed in it from the first day, even before calling ourselves Måneskin (moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon, on the poster for our first concert. We share everything, even the pain of the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because he was a victim of racism. Being a group is what we should all do together: stay united and not retreat in the slightest in the face of abuses generated by a distorted vision of someone "being different|. - Thomas

Non ho l’età – like Gigliola (It references Gigliola Cinquetti who won both Sanremo and Eurovision with her song "Non ho l’età" which translates to Not old enough)

Before us, the only one to win Sanremo and Eurovision together was Gigliola Cinquetti (in 1964). Is there is something for which I feel I am not yet old enough for? No, honestly no. Maybe for kids. I'll be honest, I'm not enough to be a dad. - Damiano

Reached the sky - What fears still remain

We are more than in the dream, we have conquered the dream. To fly high this high, there is the risk is to fall and get hurt, but we will try not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - somewhat presumptuously - reassures us rather than frighten us ". - Damiano

(ORIGINAL INTERVIEW IN ITALIAN)

[Please note that I have changed some words or structure sentence, trying to make it so that the interview made more sense lol - I skipped the first two paragraphs, which was basically the interviewer gushing over how pretty the band is lmao (relatable).

Any mistakes in the translation are sorely mine, nothing was proofread, so apologies in advance]

#maneskin #ethan torchio #damiano david #victoria de angelis #thomas raggi #i'm off to drink some wine lol

[seriouslysam8]

For the ask game, would you please answer questions numbered 2, 8, 14 (all of your titles have such cool names), 18 (I hope Abditory isn't one of them as that story rocks), 21, 24, 29, 30, 33, 34, 44, 51, 62, 76, 82, 85, 88, 90, and 98.

Sorry for asking so many, but I love your work! Entombed gave me so many feels! I found your stories because author Breanie said to read them in her author's notes. Best rec ever! Thank you for answering.

Wow, that is a lot of asks! Thank you so much for wanting to know so much about little ole me. I think I hit them all in this and my apologies if I missed one. Let me know if I missed one. @breaniebree is awesome and my writing BFF. She is amazing, and I love her.

2) What fandoms do you write for and do you have a particular favourite if you write for more than one?

So, I’ve written for The X-Files, Supernatural, and Harry Potter. I currently only write for Harry Potter. I would say Harry Potter has always been the most fun.

8) Where do you take your inspiration from?

Random shit. Brontide came to me because I was browsing the HPFanfiction subreddit looking for a story suggestion and someone asked for a story where Harry was addicted to Felix. Only one unfinished dimensional time travel story was listed. It idea sparked me to write my own version. Entombed came to me because I was rewatching Buffy the Vampire Slayer where Buffy was buried alive. I knew I wanted to bury Ginny alive. As I stated in the author’s notes of last Kalopsia chapter, I drew inspiration from the Djinn storyline in Supernatural. I write about things I know, too. I have young kids at home so I like writing the Potter children as young because I can mimic their mannerisms in my writing. I’ve even asked my kids to say certain words to emulate their speech pattern in my writing if I’m writing that age group.

14) How did you come up with the title for the XXX? You can ask about multiple stories.

I HATE coming up with titles. My newest trend has been to literally Google “unique words”. There are a ton of Pinterest accounts who make fancy word and definition pictures. I scroll through all these little unique words and pick out ones I think fit a story. Sometimes I Google a unique word for BLANK and see if I can get a cool version of that name. @breaniebree actually helped me with Entombed.

18) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

Sadly, I would put Abditory in this category. Never say never though. I think about it from time to time. Honestly, I abandoned it due to such a negative response I was receiving and the lack of positive response. I became discouraged. It wasn’t even negative response due to my writing, it was literally a bunch of “why would you waste your time writing a story about the biggest plot hole in the books? JKR butchered the whole SK storyline and it’s unbearable to read.” So, basically, my reviews and PMs were filled with JKR hate over that plot point in the books. They heavily outweighed the positive reviews I received. Honestly, I think that’s why a bulk of stories get abandoned - lack of positive reviews or enthusiasm for a story. If I didn’t get so many great reviews for my stories, I don’t know if I’d be able to finish them or continuing writing new ones. Fanfiction is free, (as it should be) but it’s a lot of time and hard work. A little appreciation goes a LONG way. So, my advice, review everything you love reading and encourage writers to keep writing. I always say in my authors notes that reviews make me want to write and inspire me. That’s the truth. The moment I stop getting reviews will probably be the time I take a writing break again.

21) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

@breaniebree. I mean she’s dedicated years to a single story with so many plot lines and characters that I’m amazed she did it. She’s a fantastic writer, and I definitely consider her my writing BFF. I feel like I’ve learned a lot from her and enjoy talking about writing with her so much. I’m so glad we’ve become friends.

24) How do you feel about writing smutty scenes?

Horrified. Anytime I get a little steamy in my stories, it goes immediately to @breaniebree who usually adds way too much smut and then I cut it down to still be somewhat PG-13 in order to appeal to a wider audience.

29) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

I feel like Kalopsia isn’t getting as much love as my other stories. I’m way behind in my normal review count per chapter. I wonder if it’s just the confusing storyline or if it’s just not as fun to read? But I was definitely worried it wouldn’t get the love I thought it deserved when I started writing it and it’s lived up to that expectation.

30) In contrast to 29, is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?

Cronus Rising. People still recommend it occasionally and I still get random reviews. I’m like, “why????” Its horribly written and a stupid plot line. I literally was getting back into writing after not writing for a good five years, so it’s abysmal. I’ve often wanted to rage delete it.

33) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?

When someone tells me I should write an original novel and they’d buy the hell out of it. I do have some original novel ideas floating around (one I’ve been writing since I was like 15), but crippling fear of rejection from publishers have stopped me from ever actually finish an original novel.

34) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten?

I got some criticism in Brontide for having drama for drama’s sake with no real purpose or goal for said drama. I felt my drama served a purpose, drove the story along, and I add a lot of fluffy and cute family moments. I feel like in real life, when you to your loved one is going through sometime, it feels like nonstop drama and bad news and like a dark cloud just follows you. I wanted to emulate that in real life. So Harry’s POV was often drab because HE was the one going through something horrific and it was all doom and gloom for him.

44) What is the last line you wrote?

“You never think I listen to your ramblings, but it’s kind of hard to block out, mate.”

51) From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

Um... I’d say a 3. I think I have some good and unique plots for stories but sometimes I struggle on how to execute those on paper effectively. I struggle with descriptions, action, and showing rather than telling. But I do think I’m good at dialogue and capturing a character’s personality. So, 3.

62) Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about.

A lot! I have a Teddy/Victoire stalker story in the works that I’m excited about. I have (this is going to sound weird) but an outsider rom-com planned where Ron/Hermione breakup right before Hinny’s wedding and Hinny struggles to get them back together before the big day. I have a Potter family vacation fluff/comedy story planned. I have a game night one-shot planned. I have a short story about Luna’s wedding. So many that I want to write and don’t know which one to write first!!

76) Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

I’d say no. I’ve always tried to write my ideas down. Some I’ve never finished because inspiration peters off and some I plan on finishing once my newest big project is done.

82) Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less.

Harry goes through some shit, and Ginny is his soulmate.

85) Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

I don’t understand why people don’t ship Harry/Ginny more. I don’t understand the Harry/Daphne obsessions (like just why???) or the Harry/Hermione ship at all. I always see people asking for story recommendation and they specific say “no Harry/Ginny”. They are literally perfect for one another and they are soulmates.

88) If you could ask one other fanfic author three questions about their writing, writing process, or works, what would they be and who would you ask?

@breaniebree .

1.) How do you organize all your charts? Send me the ALL the charts. Because I don’t understand how you keep everything straight!

2.) How do you write so much? You’re like a little writing machine in a cute little package.

3.) Where do all the ideas come from? In a dream? Just thinking? Driving? Do you write everything out in your head like meeee? Can I have some of your writing mojo?

90) How do you process and deal with negative reviews?

I obsess over them. I analyze them. I may get bummed out and not write for a few days. If you don’t like what I write, then don’t read or review. It’s a hobby. I do this for free. I’m not asking you to critique me. Give me a nice review or ask me a question, but don’t be cruel or mean because you can hide behind a keyboard and be a bully to make yourself feel superior.

98) If you had to give up either snacks and drinks during writing sessions, or music, which would you find more difficult to say goodbye to and why?

Music. I grew up with three older brothers. My house was always rowdy and loud and obnoxious. I need it to be loud. I can’t stand the silence or focus when it’s silent. I need music to help me think and write. When I’m home alone, I always turn on the TV or music, because I can’t stand when it’s silent. I think I’d go insane.

[alwaysthesideofwonder]

A slightly different take on Shouto’s response to Fuyumi dating/getting married (though the Todoroki brothers going into over-protective mode over their sister remains one of my favorite set of fics), given that she’s been his surrogate mother for most of his life and assuming that he doesn’t have his brothers around to guide him on what the normal response would be to this (and of course his not very good frame of reference for normal and some underlying abandonment issues...)

***

It comes up during one of the visits Shouto has been able to make to his mother since all the students had been moved onto the campus. Usually they send letters back and forth but he does like to try to see her in-person after they had spent so many years apart.

The visit starts the usual way, where his mother tells him some of the activities that her doctors and therapists have her doing (this week had been painting vases, including the light yellow one that she now has brightening up her room holding the paperwhites that he brought her). Then he fills her in on how school has been going with some light (and sometimes not so light) fudging of the details. One of the downsides of being in the hero course at UA is the amount of media coverage of some of the incidents that generally do not make mothers feel better about their sons becoming heroes. On the upside, Midoriya is his classmate so when pressed he can always tell her about what happened to him and how at least her son hasn’t broken most of the bones in his arm.

Lately though, they’ve added on a new segment where his mother gets the chance to reveal the recent ongoings of his siblings’ lives. While Fuyumi usually has already shared most of the news with him by text or their weekly phone call, there’s this little spark of happiness that runs through him as his mother moves to the edge of her seat, her eyes becoming brighter and even her hands becoming expressive as she shares each story. For so long she had remained at the periphery of her children’s lives that she is understandably thrilled to finally get to be a messenger between them.

After the announcement of Natsuo possibly (which definitely is the key word there) bringing his girlfriend to meet her, she starts to wonder.

“Soon enough it will be Fuyumi bringing her husband and starting a family of her own! Oh, and grandchildren!”

He feels something starting to grow inside his throat, closing it up, quickly joined by his stomach that starts churning without explanation. His body feels untethered, as if the slightest breeze is going to knock him out of his chair, and a tingling sensation runs up his hands and feet as well. At least he has enough strength to nod in response as his mother drifts off to her own musings on the grandchildren she would have someday. Talking simply is not an option with every breath taking extra effort to take in while trying to appear normal.

It takes her a minute to come back to herself, which is thankfully enough time for his body to calm down from whatever it is that happened. She switches off instead to tell him about a new recipe Fuyumi had brought for her to try and with that the conversation is carried away as if she never brought up that particular hypothetical.

It’s only after bidding his mother goodbye that he has the time to try to figure out what had just happened.

Perhaps it had simply been surprise? It wasn’t exactly a topic that was ever broached in their household, though he wasn’t entirely sure whether that was simply neglect on Endeavor’s part regarding his weak daughter or because it was simply a topic that no one felt Shouto needed to be present during the discussion of. Given his father’s own part in a Quirk marriage though, he felt he would have heard of it by now if he had the idea to set up an arranged marriage meeting for Fuyumi. They had lived in the same house after all and most recently it had just been the 3 of them. More likely, his father had deemed his sister’s Quirk to be too weak and didn’t have the patience to wait for a grandchild who was more than likely to have an even more diluted Quirk, especially when he had a son with the ideal Quirk already, and so didn’t care what happened in that particular arena.

Still…if it was just surprise, why is the uneasiness coming back again?

***

A few minutes sitting in the hospital lobby is enough time for his body to settle again and to determine that he needs to talk to someone who can understand this better than him. And really, who better to ask than Yaoyorozu?

Unfortunately, he doesn’t bank on how popular Yaoyorozu is and thus how difficult it would be to find her alone to talk to since they were all living on campus. In the meantime, he settles on the temporary solution of not thinking about the actual reason why he needs to talk to her since that seems to make him feel ill, instead focusing on figuring out when he could talk to her without an audience of some of the nosiest classmates one could ever ask for.

After a week and multiple failed interceptions, he has the good luck to be bringing down his laundry right when she is emptying the dryer of hers.

“Yaoyorozu!”

She looks up and smiles, “Todoroki, are you doing your laundry today too?”

Of course, with all the effort he’s put into trying to find her, he hasn’t considered what exactly to say to her.

“Yes?” he answers, not sure if this is one of those times that he should elaborate further because he figures that was obvious given the basket of clothing he’s carrying.

Also, how much small talk is necessary before getting into an awkward conversation about your really dysfunctional family?

“That washer should be empty. Uraraka just started a load in the other one,” she shares, gesturing at the one at the end of the row. He walks past her towards it but comes to an abrupt stop halfway, finally coming to a decision on what to do say next.

“Could I…ask your advice about something?” He glances at her from the corner of his eye before looking back down at his laundry basket.

She pauses, putting down a neatly folded blouse, before practically bouncing over to him, stopping just inches from him with an enthusiastic “Of course!”

He turns and stares at her expression of pure focus for a moment before realizing that she’s waiting to hear what he has a question about.

Taking a deep breath and forcing himself to keep looking at her, he starts.

“I was talking with my mother…and she mentioned something about my sister getting married…” The uneasiness starts but he’s aware of it now and it’s easier to keep it tamped down.

“That’s so exciting! Have they set a date already? Have you met her fiancé yet?” He feels his eyes growing wider with every question. He really should have rehearsed this before he found her…

“Oh no, it was more hypothetical,” he clarifies, “I think, at least? She said someday.”

Yaoyorozu tilts her head to the side, pondering what he said.

“So your sister isn’t seeing someone? Or she is but they’re not at the point of marriage yet?”

An excellent question really. He doesn’t really know all that much about his sister’s social life but if there was one thing that was guaranteed in his life (other than his father being so focused on becoming number 1, he didn’t care how badly he destroyed his family on the way there), it was that come 8 pm on any night, Fuyumi would be at home, grading papers, packing up leftovers from dinner or coming to check on him, especially if he hadn’t made it out of the training rooms by then. He doesn’t think that Endeavor had been making her do this given how surprised he’d look whenever she showed up, softly calling out that dinner was starting to get cold, but for all he knows a rule was put in place when he was young that no one remembered to rescind.

That isn’t to say that she never goes out with friends. It’s just that she always schedules her outings in the morning or afternoon so she’s home by evening. And while he thinks she has both girl and guy friends, he figures a boyfriend would want to take her out to dinner or other activities that generally don’t mesh well with an 8 pm curfew (but most of what he knows about dating comes from shounen manga so he’s not sure how reliable that is).

“I don’t think she has a boyfriend?”

Although that begs the more important question that’s been mulling in the back of his mind.

“The getting married thing…is that something girls typically think about?” Is that something she would be thinking of? Has she been thinking about it this whole time?

He’s never entirely sure what exactly is normal when it comes to girls and honestly, he really hopes that Hagakure’s giggling is an anomaly rather than the norm, at least for the nice, logical girls like his sister and Yaoyorozu.

The energy in the room seems to calm down as Yaoyorozu considers him quietly (likely because this is one of those stupid questions that he should know the answer to), before she finally answers.

“Most girls do from when they’re young, you know? They start planning out what their wedding looks like, who their husband will be, kids,” she drifts off.

Husband? He’s already starting to get an idea of what the guy would look like – average in every way, not the sort to stand out at least. Definitely a civilian, with some sort of harmless Quirk if he even had one. Even-tempered. The sort of guy who puts Fuyumi’s needs first and always dotes on her.

And the children – there would be 2 (though maybe…maybe she would want 3 or even 4?), a boy and a girl. They would be a perfect mix in looks to their parents, one with each parent’s Quirks.

Dinnertime would be a cozy affair with plenty of praise for his sister’s cooking, everyone sharing how their day went, ceaseless encouragement for the children while gently scolding them for their antics at the dinner table.

No yelling, no glares, no insults, no tension so thick you could cut it with a knife mixed with an almost painful silence filled with the unique terror of even allowing the slightest break in it.

The uneasiness explodes and his stomach starts to churn bad enough that he finds himself pressing his basket against it and leaning forward. Yaoyorozu starts to reach for him, asking what’s wrong, and that triggers him to shout a quick “Thank you! I’m fine!”, racing back up to his room with his undone laundry, whatever she has to say next fading down the hallway.

Well, he finally has some answers. They just happened to make everything worse.

***

It takes another couple of weeks before he decides on the next step.

Yaoyorozu tries to check in on him after his abrupt departure, which he blames on fish going bad that he had for lunch. It only sort of works though, so he’s glad to finally tell her that he got permission to visit his sister, if only to stop the worried glances she kept sending him in class. Midoriya has definitely intercepted a few of them and it’s only a matter of time before Iida catches onto one, after which he’s pretty sure he has no hope of keeping this all quiet. Iida in class representative mode is no laughing matter.

It’s awkward enough asking his sister if he could visit. He almost types the request into the family group chat (which mostly consists of messages from Fuyumi and some funny video links from Natsuo. Shouto’s primary contribution is pictures of what he thinks is some of the nice scenery on campus mixed with a rare picture here and there of his classmates not doing hero-related activities, which he’s pretty sure makes a rather pathetic showing on his part but both of his siblings still send appreciative replies, so he hasn’t stopped sending them yet).

He briefly considers talking to Natsuo about it but he’s not sure if it’s the sort of conversation that they would have when their relationship mostly consists of erratic text messages and sighs and shared rolled eyes whenever Fuyumi drags them into some sort of family bonding activity. They’re not quite to the phone call stage and he’s pretty sure that this isn’t something to be shared by text given how the talk with Yaoyorozu went.

Thankfully Fuyumi doesn’t think too much about him wanting to visit home. She offers to come to UA so he doesn’t have to request permission to leave but ever since Bakugou had started talking up Fuyumi’s cooking in front of everyone, she’s become a little too much of a curiosity to his classmates for him to want her to actually meet all of them.

She’s perceptive enough to know that this is a visit where he doesn’t want Endeavor around and manages to time it with a weekend where he is out of town on a team up. She does try to turn it into a sibling bonding night with Natsuo, which he should have expected, and so that does take a little more work for him to talk her out of. Thankfully Natsuo’s thriving social life (love life?) would have made it complicated to find a date to meet and there is of course the fact that Natsuo generally avoids the house like the plague to help him out there.

He still ends up having to promise that they will have a sibling bonding night with food and activities of her choosing. However, he at least manages to negotiate one veto for him and Natsuo each so they can survive the night in general peace.

Fortunately (he thinks), Aizawa seemed to have also managed to pick up on Yaoyorozu’s worried looks and so getting the permission itself to visit was not as hard as he thought it would be, even without Endeavor there to supervise. Thankfully his teacher did not seem to want to delve into the question of what was bothering him any further than an oblique mention about “worried classmates” and simply set up a plan for Aizawa to wait outside while he visited with the requirement that his teacher enjoy some of his sister’s home cooking during the wait (even Aizawa was learning that there were certain battles you simply do not fight, especially with Fuyumi).

Setting foot in the entryway, Shouto can feel the warmer atmosphere that comes along with Endeavor’s absence. Funnily enough, no one manages to win against Endeavor in this house. Everyone has to leave to gain some sort of victory, to become themself – Natsuo to college, himself to UA.

Touya to death, though it’s a pyrrhic victory if anything.

Fuyumi is the only one to be able to stand her ground here and he can’t tell if that’s because her goal was completely different from theirs in her demands for a normal family or if she’s able to hit a level of stubborn that none of her brothers ever could.

He finds her in the kitchen, just finishing up the soba (and the many additional side dishes she’s prepared. No matter what he tells her every week, she remains certain that he’s trying to live off of only cold soba without someone watching to make sure he eats everything else on his plate).

He moves to the sink to start cleaning up. Fuyumi’s particular (or maybe Endeavor is) that the kitchen is cleared up before she starts to eat and he’s lost count of the number of times when she’ll come join them for dinner after he’s already halfway through because of it.

She asks him how school has been, how Midoriya, Bakugou and the rest of his friends are doing and the replies come as easily as they do every week during their phone calls. It’s nothing like those times when they first used to have these sorts of chats, back during his later years of elementary school and Endeavor was gone for the night and she would invite him to come sit with her to watch a show as she did the last of her homework and later on her marking. Back when he didn’t know what to tell her when she would ask these questions and he would have to sit there as she gave him that pitying look he hated while she scrambled to find easier questions for him to answer.

Now he has a running list of his classmates’ antics to share (and even some of his own) that always seem to please her with a smile crinkling her eyes. There are still the handful of ones that make her worried (unfortunately she does watch the news) but he’s learned how to tuck them into a series of other harmless stories to try to distract her (being a teacher also unfortunately means the fudging details plan doesn’t work as well).

She disappears briefly to move the food to the table and the conversation lapses with this. He starts working on trying to figure out how to broach the conversation he needs to have at dinner when she suddenly appears beside him, grabbing a towel and starting to dry his neatly washed dishes. He jumps a little at this and almost drops the dish he’s washing as it starts to slip from his hands but he’s quick to catch it, trying to act as if it was an issue of too much soap more than anything else.

“Is something bothering you?” This time the wooden spoon he picked up does clatter into the sink as she continues to carefully work around the edges of a glass dish with a towel, never looking up at him, barely a question in her voice.

He really shouldn’t have expected that he’d get away with it.

She lets the silence sit. They’ve grown from those early days of fumbled questions and with each second he feels everything that has been building since that day in his mother’s hospital room bubbling up to the surface.

“Mother was talking about you getting married the other day…” Suddenly the little flecks of vegetables trapped in the well-worn grooves of the spoon are the most interesting thing in the room.

He sees her turn to look at him through the corner of his eye as he continues his inspection, nodding in encouragement.

“And…and Yaoyorozu said that it’s something that all girls think about…the whole getting married and having a family thing…” he drifts off, not entirely sure how to voice what his actual question is.

He is not one for praying but he finds himself coming close, hoping that she’ll understand what he really wants to ask, the real reason for why his stomach is churning like a whirlpool is in there no matter how hard he presses it against the counter to make it stop.

Do you want to get married and have a family of your own?

And when you do…what happens to me?

Because that was the new fear he had discovered that day as his mother was becoming overjoyed at the thought of Fuyumi’s husband and children.

Mother leaves. Touya leaves. Natsuo leaves. But Fuyumi? Fuyumi is always there. Even with him now at the UA dorms, here she is, right at home, waiting for him with open arms. Yes, she wants a normal family, but it’s their family that she wants to be normal. Endeavor, Mother, Natsuo, him- there was never a moment when it occurred to him that if they failed to fix themselves that she could give up on them and make herself a new family, a better family. He hadn’t really considered that society had already had an alternative in place for her, and in fact, even expected her to go ahead with it.  

And if she gave up on them…if she found herself the nice average husband and the two darling children…why would she want him around? She knows perfectly well what having a hero in the family can do to it. And they’re all dysfunctional, hell, he had to go ask a classmate to figure out if girls wanting to get married were normal. Why would she want him tainting her perfect new family?

If there is anyone who deserves happiness, it’s Fuyumi. The one who made sure that he was eating, that his homework was getting done, that his bruises were iced after their mother was taken away. The one who would record his favorite shows and sit and watch them with him even though she was too old for them the second their father was away. The one who cared if he got to experience the normal aspects of teenage life, who patiently tried again and again to understand him, to connect with him. How could he ever want to stand in the way of her dreams if in the end, they didn’t include him?

He’s not sure how much time passes as he spirals. It breaks as he hears her put down the dish, the rustle of her sweater as she turns towards him and his mind goes blank because what else was he supposed to expect it to do when one of the very few certainties of his life has been turned on its head?

“Shouto…” She tries to catch his eyes but he continues to stare at the handful of remaining dishes and utensils at the bottom of the sink. She sighs but she doesn’t stop looking at him as she continues.

“I have thought about it a bit…like your friend said, a lot of girls think about getting married, especially as they get older.”

He starts biting on the inside of his cheek. He’s certain at this point that he doesn’t want to hear what she’s going to say next and that he’s going to feel a whole lot worse.

“I was thinking…it would be nice to have a husband…a nice one I promise! He won’t be like our father, especially the way he was when we were younger!”

His stomach starts going into overdrive because, in all of his worrying, Fuyumi ending up like Mother, trapped in an abusive marriage, hadn’t really occurred to him and now he has one more thing to worry about in addition to his existential crisis.

She reaches towards him and gently holds onto his right shoulder. She seems about to start to turn him towards her but stops, letting him look away.

“Shouto, I promise, I won’t end up like our mother. The way we grew up…that’s not normal and it doesn’t mean that we’re going to go the same way. We know better.

“When I get married it will be to a good man, who will be a good husband and a good father to our children. They’ll have a better childhood than ours was, we’ll make sure of it.”

He nods along, his stomach loosening up a bit at the promise.

“They’ll get to be kids. To be friends with each other and have friends of their own.” She smiles at the thought of this and he starts to think that she is going to be lost to her own daydreams soon enough.

“And of course, they’re going to love their favorite hero uncle who comes every week for dinner. Though of course then they’re liable to also decide that soba is their favorite food and I’ll have no chance of ever winning that fight ever again!” The smile becomes a grin as she strokes her thumb over his shoulder, giving him a moment to think about this new future, this one that he had never thought of existing.

It’s a struggle. He still has trouble placing himself in that house, at that dinner table.

“Are you…are you sure…” He finds the words hard to get out still, lodging in his throat no matter how hard he tries to force them out.

She does turn him towards her at this and he goes without resistance. There’s a gentleness over her face that is pure Fuyumi and that alone starts to set him at ease as he finally meets her eyes.

“Of course. You are going to be the fun hero uncle who plays all the best games with them. Natsuo is going to the favorite doctor uncle who lets them mess with his tools and fixes up all their cuts and bruises. And T…and they are going to love you both to pieces. Just watch, I’m going to have you on speed-dial for babysitting requests!” The edges of her mouth draw higher while her eyes crinkle with a different emotion that he can’t quite place.

Still, he tries to imagine it. Imagines those two children (they’ve become almost terrifyingly life-like in his mind, dark haired with flecks of white and red, at least one with glasses and both sporting Fuyumi’s grin and a scary good impression of her puppy dog eyes) running up to him, grabbing each of his hands to drag him inside, babbling on about all the games they were waiting on his arrival to play.

And he pauses, finding himself looking at his left hand. He remembers the special exercise from his supplemental classes, using his ice quirk mostly to create the play structure. The fire had been more for special effects and he had made a point to be careful that it stayed far away from the children. But a child holding onto that left hand…

“You know, when you were born, you loved it when…when Touya held you.”

He looks back up to her, uncertain about where this is going. He’s not sure if Fuyumi and Natsuo have an agreement but he can probably count on both hands the number of times either of them have talked about Touya with him outside of mentioning his death day anniversary. They were both much closer to him than he was and he can’t imagine what losing him must have been like, especially for Fuyumi who had lost the only older sibling she had. Whatever pain she felt, she kept locked up with all of her memories of him, sharing only the crumbs when she could seem to bear it.

“Sometimes you would be crying so hard we thought the roof would come down on our heads and it seemed to be for no reason. And then Touya just had to come near and you would get quieter and then we’d get him to hold you and you were suddenly the happiest baby in the world. We figured it was because of the heat he gave off since all the rest of us run cold. You would just be so happy snuggling up against him…

“So…that fire side of you…you don’t need to be afraid of it with the kids. If anything, I’m going to be calling you even more than Natsuo to help me with them because of it!”

And then…it becomes a little easier to think of them, these two children beaming up at him, trying to swing on his arms as he heads for the dining room, Fuyumi and her husband setting the table, her husband helping to extricate the kids from him while insisting that he sit down and drink something at least before Fuyumi has both their heads, Fuyumi sighing and laughing at all their antics.

It leaves him feeling a little warm inside and he finds himself smiling at the thought of it as well.

“And Shouto,” she locks eyes with him and there is something fierce lurking in them as she says in a voice of absolute certainty, “someday, we are going to have this. But not yet. We all have things we need to take care of first. And I promise, I will let you know when that time comes.” Her voice softens, “I think you’ve enough surprises with this, don’t you agree?”

They’re not a particularly tactile family but he doesn’t know what else to do with himself than pitch forward towards his sister and let her sweep him up in a tight embrace. He feels too many emotions welling up inside of him but Fuyumi is there and somehow she figures it out the way she figured everything else out and things finally settle down as she strokes his hair, murmuring that it’s alright, that everything will be okay.

He’s still not sure what his hero name should be in the end but he know that he’s working his way towards becoming the sort of hero that would do proper justice to all that was All Might. He definitely hasn’t thought about what his life outside of hero work will look like though he’s sure that Midoriya, Iida, Uraraka, Yaoyorozu and even Bakugou will be a part of it.

And now he has a new puzzle piece to fit into the picture and he finds himself looking forward just a little more to seeing what the finished product will look like someday.

And of course, no matter what, no matter where either of them is, he knows his sister will be there and ready to help him realize it, even the parts he hasn’t figured out yet.

Notes:

A few assumptions made: -Rei is getting to know her children again and doesn't necessarily know what all they're talking about with each other. So she wouldn't have thought that Shouto would be surprised by the idea of Fuyumi dating/getting married, especially since Natsuo dating is common news, or that he might react differently between the two -Regarding Fuyumi and the 8 pm curfew - this is more my head canon that Fuyumi self-imposes it on herself more to be there in case something goes really wrong when Endeavor is training Shouto. She's well aware there is very little she can do but at least if she's there then maybe she can come up with something and at the very least use dinner as an excuse to keep training from going long - being an elder sister can sometimes involve having very unrealistic expectations for your ability to keep your younger siblings safe. -Fuyumi also has a knack for fudging details that Shouto hasn't figured out yet - he's seen a lot of the worst of his family but she isn't going to let him discover all of it, so this could be considered canon compliant in regards to what all has come out about Touya/Dabi in the more recent chapters (or we can go with a different version of Touya not wanting to hold his super squirmy brother that he's pretty sure he's going to drop and everyone making him so they can have some peace and quiet)

#todoroki shouto #todoroki fuyumi #bnha #pre-PLF battle #shouto is a teenager and is allowed to panic like one #especially when it's more like getting a stepdad trying to take your surrogate mother away #thankfully fuyumi is understanding and well-versed in shouto-speak by now

[elsanna-shenanigans]

June Contest Submission #1: Hunker Down

Words: ca. 2,500 Setting: Modern AU Lemon: lime CW: language, angst, talk of sex

AN: This isn’t the full story, but the rest hasn’t been written yet.

—

What am I doing?

Anna stuck the six pack of craft beer in the rusty metal basket on the front of her bike.

You have no power, dummy. The house is gonna get hot, and she invited you. Maybe it won’t be so bad.

Anna sighed and looked up at the orange-gray sky. “So eerie,” she mumbled as she got on her bike and began peddling. Kind of ominous of how I think this is gonna go, she thought. How many years has it been since we’ve even talked?

An hour ago, during a particularly nasty bit of hurricane weather, she lost power at her house. No surprise there, really. She almost always lost power when it rained. And Anna didn’t like rain. Or, more appropriately, Anna didn’t like being alone during rain.

Just as she began texting friends to see whose place she could crash at, she received a text from her estranged older sister.

“Hey, it’s Elsa. I know it’s been a while, but if you need company during this storm, I’m at the house.”

Something inside tugged at Anna’s heartstrings. She wanted a relationship with Elsa. She wanted to have her sister back in her life. She wanted to talk about the fight that drove a wedge between them. So she texted back that she’d be over shortly.

As she biked towards her destination- her childhood home now occupied by her sister, Anna nodded at the few people out assessing their property. The eye of a hurricane was always an interesting time. The winds died down and the rain stopped, but experience told Anna that this storm wasn’t over yet. It was nowhere near over.

She easily crossed the road that separated her neighborhood from her sister’s. Funny, we live close, but we’re so far apart, she mused as a few drops of rain fell on her.

Shit.

She peddled faster, praying she’d make it before the heavens opened up again. Luckily, she spotted the familiar white house ahead.

Come on, come on, come on. Made it!

Anna braked in front of the black door with the brass knocker and waited. Should she let herself in? She had a key. Should she knock? Was she a guest or was it still her home too?

As Anna contemplated, the door opened, and she was shaken from her thoughts. Her older sister stood in the doorway in loungewear that fit her perfectly. Anna had always been a little jealous of Elsa’s figure. She was taller, leaner from years of running, and had slightly bigger boobs that Anna envied. Her white gold hair was voluminous, and her complexion was flawless. In short, Anna thought her sister was gorgeous. God, she looks the same as she did three years ago.

“Some things never change,” Elsa chuckled. “Still lost in that big, imaginative mind, huh?”

Anna chuckled nervously. “I wasn’t sure if I should just come in or not.” She got off her bike. “Can I bring this in?”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Elsa responded and opened the door wider to let Anna in. She regarded her younger sister as she walked in. Anna looked healthy and well, if not a bit wet from the rain. Her bright yellow raincoat and black rain boots kept her mostly dry. 

“I brought beer,” Anna said as she kicked the stand on her bike and picked up the six pack from out of the basket. She held it up for Elsa to inspect. 

Elsa crinkled her nose. “I’m not much of a beer drinker.”

“More for me then,” Anna shrugged. Though it had been a few years since she last stepped foot in the house, muscle memory took over and she walked to the kitchen. “But you do like booze.”

Elsa followed her sister and peered over her shoulder at the wine she set out after Anna’s text confirmed she’d come over. Three wine bottles sat on the large island in the middle of the space.

Anna picked up a bottle of rosé. “You a wine mom now?”

Elsa lightly laughed. “I guess so. I never learned how to drink beer. I couldn’t stand the taste, but I like wine. Besides, what’s a hurrication without a little alcohol?”

“I’ll cheers to that,” Anna grinned. She handed Elsa the bottle and sat at the island. Taking her own bottle out of the cardboard pack, she attempted to twist the cap off. “Dammit,” she muttered.

“Need a bottle opener?” Elsa fished one out of a drawer and tossed it to Anna. Then she pulled a wine glass from a glass-paneled cabinet and placed it on the island.

Anna watched as Elsa uncorked the wine bottle and sniffed the cork. Then she poured a small bit into her glass and swirled it around before taking a dainty sip. Satisfied, she poured more.

Ever the classy one, Anna thought.

Elsa noticed Anna watching with a raised brow and blushed. “I took a class,” she explained. “Wine is a fascinating subject.“ 

“Hey, no judgment here,” Anna grinned. “It’s cool that you took a class. Maybe I could take a beer brewing class. I’m sure they have them around town. There’s so many local breweries now. I feel like I’m at one at least once a week with friends.”

Elsa hummed as she took a sip and looked out of the kitchen window. The rain was in full swing and she could see tree branches swaying violently in the wind.

Dammit, Anna. Don’t talk about your friends with your estranged sister.

“So, what el-” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Elsa laughed lightly. “You don’t need to be sorry, Anna. You have a life. Which is what I wanted to ask you about. What have you been up to lately?”

Anna took a swig of beer and set her bottle down. Her sister wasn’t going to like the answer.

“I’ve been working at a souvenir shop. It’s actually really fun too because we also do tarot and palm readings and fortune telling, and tourists are so stupid they believe what we say.” She chuckled and took another sip of beer. When she looked at her sister again, Elsa didn’t look amused. “What?”

Elsa blinked. “What?”

“What’s that face?” Anna crossed her arms. Here we go.

“I’m not making a face,” Elsa defended. Outside, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, causing the house to shake.

“Yes, you are, Elsa. You’re making a snobby face, like my job isn’t good enough for you. We can’t all live in our parents’ house and have tons of money from our fancy museum job or whatever you’re doing these days.”

Anna’s tone was brusque, but she didn’t care. Things had been bad between them ever since the fight.

The fight was three years ago after Elsa walked in on Anna having sex with her at-the-time boyfriend/current-and-forever ex. It’d been Anna’s idea. There had been a big party, and her whole family had been dressed to the nines. A perfect night for something special. She had wanted to lose her virginity that night, and- despite it being with Hans- it had been pretty good. At least he knew how to eat a girl out. Well, not as good as the girls Anna had since been with, but he had been good enough for her first time.

But Elsa just had to walk into Anna’s room to ask her something about… she didn’t even remember what Elsa wanted. Elsa had frozen in place, staring at the two of them for what had seemed like 20 minutes, when it was actually only a few seconds. 

“Get out,” Anna had screamed. Thankfully, that had gotten Elsa to run out of the room, slamming the door behind her. 

The fight had taken place the next day after her parents had a chat with her about sex. She’d been mortified. She had been 18 after all, and she had consented. Her parents hadn’t cared and forbid her from seeing Hans again. Looking back, Anna didn’t mind that part. Hans had turned out to be a manipulative ass. At the time, however, she had been angry at Elsa. She’d called Elsa a prude and old-fashioned and said that no one would ever want to have sex with a pasty virgin. Elsa had called her trash and an embarrassment to the family.

In essence, they had hurt each other deeply that morning, and their relationship never recovered. They had gone their separate ways in life, only coming back together 8 months after that to say goodbye to their parents who had passed away in a car accident just outside of the city.

Remembering how Elsa had called her a whore that day, Anna grinned wickedly and stood up. Her puritan sister might as well know what else she did with her free time. “You’d really hate my favorite job though.”

Elsa opened and closed her mouth before sighing. “What job?”

“Camming,” Anna said. “That’s right, dear sister, your younger sister gets naked online for money. Sometimes I even have sex with my female roommate for my audience.”

“Anna-” Elsa’s eyes darted around the room, and she looked very uncomfortable, her face beet red.

“Still such a prude,” Anna shook her head as she grabbed the cardboard case that held her unfinished beers. “Jesus, Elsa. Get out from the rock you’ve been living under. Who knows, maybe you’ll even find someone to fuck.”

She turned to leave, deciding that taking her chances in the hurricane was better than staying here. When she got to the foyer, however, the lights went out. “Shit.” At least it’s still daytime. There’ll be some light outside to get home.

“Anna,” Elsa whimpered from somewhere behind her.

Anna took a deep breath and let it out. Without turning, she addressed her sister. “What?”

“I’m sorry. I… please don’t leave. There’s a hurricane,” Elsa sniffled.

Anna finally turned. In what little light was coming from the windows, she saw that Elsa had tears in her eyes. She immediately felt like a bitch for being so mean to Elsa. Elsa had always been the more sensitive and skittish of the sisters. Anna could remember times when touching Elsa would scare her so much that she jumped.

“Please. I want- no, I need you. To stay. Please,” Elsa said desperately. “I can’t lose you.”

“Elsa-”

“I know we haven’t talked in years, but you’re my fa-family, and I don’t want to l- lose you again.” Tears fell down Elsa’s face as she spoke. “I’m sorry I was jealous of Hans and told on you. I shouldn’t have done that, and I-” 

“Wait, what did you just say?” Anna’s brows knit together as she held onto a thought.

Elsa wiped her eyes. “I said I was sorry.”

“No, not that. You said you were jealous of Hans.”

“N-no. I didn’t.” Elsa’s voice was shaky, and her arms wrapped around her midsection, something Anna remembered her doing a lot during their childhood when Elsa was anxious or frightened. When Anna stepped forward, Elsa stepped back.

“Elsa.”

“I didn’t- I didn’t,” Elsa shut her eyes tightly, unable to continue. She was sure she was about to have a panic attack when two arms wrapped around her waist. 

Anna drew her into a hug and spoke softly, “Elsa, it’s okay. It’s okay to be jealous.”

Elsa’s body shook. “Not like this.”

“Like what?” Anna sounded so maternal in that moment that she could hardly believe that she was so cruel to her sister a few minutes ago.

“I can’t tell you. You… you’ll hate me, and I can’t lose you. I can’t,” Elsa cried, soaking Anna’s raincoat-clad shoulder. 

The cogs in Anna’s brain started turning as she realized what Elsa wasn’t saying. “Elsa, you were jealous of Hans… because he had sex with me?” 

Anna could feel Elsa shaking harder with that question, but she had to know. “Did you wish you could…?” 

Elsa tried to pull away, but Anna held tight.

“Elsa, tell me. Please.” 

She felt the slightest of nods and took that as confirmation. Her sister had told her parents about her and Hans because she was jealous that Hans got to have sex with Anna. Elsa was jealous of Hans because he got to have sex with Anna and she didn’t. Elsa wanted to have sex with Anna.

Not as creeped out by that as I could be.

While the thought was a little weird, Anna was more flattered than anything. And it made sense that Elsa had deflected during the fight. She had had a secret to keep- a secret that was, societally speaking, more morally wrong than having a whore for a sister. The more Anna thought about it, the more she was actually turned on by the fact that, of all the people in the world, Elsa wanted her. She contemplated her next move as she rubbed Elsa’s back. 

Elsa’s back still shook from crying, but she finally returned the hug. After a few minutes, Anna pulled back slightly and noticed that Elsa couldn’t look at her. She cupped her older sister’s cheeks tenderly. “Elsa, I won’t leave you, okay?”

“Why,” Elsa questioned. Her eyes begged Anna to tell her why she wouldn’t leave an incestuous monster. 

Anna stroked Elsa’s cheeks with her thumbs and smiled before closing her eyes, leaning in, and brushing her lips against Elsa’s. 

Elsa froze but didn’t back away. Her eyes were wide when Anna’s opened. 

“Because I think… maybe I want to have sex with you too.”

Elsa squeaked and finally withdrew herself from Anna. “No, you… you don’t want that.” 

“But what if I do? You want it, so why can’t I?” Anna’s eyebrows furrowed. Isn’t this what Elsa wanted? Isn’t this what could finally end their estrangement?

“It’s wrong, Anna,” Elsa said.

“I know it’s wrong, but… oh god, I’m… give me a minute.” Anna tried to search her feelings because, despite feeling right, this was new and she needed to talk through things. “I think I’ve always been attracted to you, Elsa. I just shrugged it off as envy. I mean, you’re gorgeous as hell and smart and fun to be around.” A skeptical look from her older sister had Anna backtracking a bit. “I know we had the fight; but, before that, you were fun to be around. And, now that I know why we had the fight, I understand. You were trying to protect me, Elsa. And I love that you’ve always been protective of me. I love you. As a sister and as maybe more. So, please, let me show you.”

For the next several minutes, they just looked at each other. Like the hurricane outside, there seemed to be a storm brewing behind Elsa’s eyes. Anna wasn’t sure if her impassioned speech would change anything, but she knew she was not leaving the house anymore. 

“I can’t lose you either, Elsa.”

Elsa seemed to stand a little straighter with Anna’s admission, and her eyes locked on Anna’s. She surged forward to pull Anna into a kiss that sent bolts of pleasure down to Anna’s core. Anna’s yellow raincoat was quickly removed as their tongues moved in harmonious synchronicity, and Elsa guided her up to her bedroom.

While the hurricane raged on, the two sisters gave into their desires, finding both themselves and each other. 

The next morning was silent and still. People began the process of cleaning up and assessing the damage. Crews were already starting to work on restoring power. News anchors interviewed street flood kayakers and business owners.

In the white house with the black door, Anna woke with a start. Her sister’s naked back was to her, and her hair cascaded onto the mattress. Remembering last night, Anna wiped the sleep from her eyes. 

What have we done?

#elsanna #submission #June 2021 contest #prompt: storm #lime #cw: angst

[vacation-grif]

What kinda feelings?

A LOT, ACTUALLY. Like I said before, the RTNY group was telling me to skip it because it wasn’t a good season, and I want to express how much I wanted to just form my own opinion, only to end up agreeing with them in the end. Let me break this down as best as I can now that I am on my PC. I mean no disrespect to the director and writer, as well as the cast and crew. Honestly, I’m worried that my opinion makes me feel like a boomer at this point.

First off, if anyone was going to tell me that I’m going to have headaches over bright flashing lights and colors over a Red vs Blue series, I wouldn’t have believed you. As I said before, they should’ve just called this “Red vs Blue: Epilepsy Warning THE M0VIE”. I understand that they are using the Unreal Engine, because my god the graphics on this is INSANE. But everything is...too bright. TOO. BRIGHT. Everything has a lens flare no matter where the camera turns, and with the high paced action, all the lights and colors, it HURTS.

-

Next, this is a fully CG-animated season. We haven’t had one like that in SUCH a long time, and this is the first in the 20-ish years of Red vs BLue. When I was a kid who didn’t have a cellphone, I could only imagine what Red vs Blue was like when my best friend would play it over our landline on a weeknight before we would go to school the next day. And I would come over and be like, HOLY SHIT. IS THIS FUCKING HALO?! So imagine my excitement when after 8 years of Red vs Blue using Halo 1 to Halo 3 assets, you see a Warthog just crash through the walls of Valhalla, something you’d never see in a Halo game. A fully animated scene of Grif running over Washington (hell yeah), and an angry Washington outside of his game model just climbing onto the hood of the car and shooting at Grif through the windshield at pointblank range. Then cut to episode 10 of the same season, Tex makes her triumphant return, fully animated instead of her Halo 3 game model. And in the last two episodes of the season, you get OUR VERY FIRST FREELANCER VS FREELANCER FIGHT. You find out this was the work of the late Monty Oum (rest in peace), and until Season 10, Red vs Blue was THE HIGHEST POINT OF YOUR FUCKING LIFE.

Then we go to Season 12 where the animation post Oum (he was working on RWBY at this point but iirc this was just before he died) was choppy at best and didn’t feel right until Season 13, where within the one year the animation team REALLY stepped up. And this actually carries over into Season 17, Singularity, where it became more animation and less game effects, or rather it was balanced. It wasn’t extravegant like Oum’s works, but given that these are the Simtroopers, some Freelancers, some Mercs, and time gods, it felt par for the course. It felt right.

We cut now to these upgraded graphics, which felt like when you were playing on your Xbox 360 and you jsut FUCKING SHOT into the Xbox One. It was, as you would say, unreal (lol). But it felt...off. The first two episodes, the entire action didn’t feel like what you spent 16 seasons watching. It felt like a whole another beast entirely. With the use of super powers, you would think oh the Freelancers had that! Yes, but those were all suit enhancements. These...didn’t feel like it. Zero’s and Phase’s teleportation didn’t feel like something that Fragmented AI can control. Shatter Squad’s at least felt more at home. 

The models themselves were a bit off too. Choppy at best, but understandable given that they were using the Unreal Engine. But you notice that they do a lot of hand on hip pushed out to the side type of thing a lot? Everyone does it. Except Raymond, West, and the big dude. Like the SASSY STANCE. Also, there was way too much power stance. Where if your feet were shoulder width apart, it was a bit wider, and also the pelvis was out a little more. A bit weird. Finally, everyone has an ass. Everyone. Even West. West has an ass, it was like, everyone was dummy thicc and the clap of their ass cheeks was alerting Viper.

-

Next, voice acting. I...absoultely could not stand the voice acting. It was completely over the top, overdramatic, over exaggerated. Granted, I’m a singer, a perform, but I’m not exactly a good actor myself in the few shows I’ve actually done. It felt like watching an anime. When you wtach something with dialogue of your own language, you can tell when you feel something is to over the top. If you watch something of a language you don’t speak, it’ll go over your head, unless you start to speak that language, and you speak to people who speak that language, then you start to pick up what is regular speaking and what is acting. When an anime gets dubbed, most times, the voice actors tend to over dramatacize in the same way the Japanese due, and some times it works, most times it doesn’t. This is because the Japanese way of acting comes from kabuki theater. When English dubbers do that with this weird over emphasized emotions, it is extremely offputting.

In some places, the voice acting is poorly done. Jen Brown’s performance from just getting out of a hospital to giving an expositional lecture about the new cast in literally 5 seconds of time was...off. Carolina should’ve had more time to recover, especailly after losing Washington, one of her closest surrogate family, she felt...a little too calm and normal. Not like the Carolina who was hesitant but trying her best to be a whole better person (see the Paradox Arc, S15-17). It was jsut quick shift, and now she’s making snarky remarks in that Jen Brown voice she does (my god step on me please) and also being a mother hen. Also, she really calls Washington David way more this season than she ever did before that.

Fiona’s performance was shaky at best in my opinion, I don’t know her very well outside of what everyone says. All I know is that sometimes, the way she emphasizes some of her lines don’t fit the situation very well. I think East/Phase was a lot better done than One imo. But she was mostly angry and competitive.

Raymond is the textbook definition of what I hate about taking a character’s role and making it their entire personality. Think of it like watching Power Rangers, and all of their roles is just defined by the shit they say. Jason is the jock, Kimberly is the pretty girl, Trini is......I’m not gonna lie, I don’t...know what to classify Trini, Zack was the cool guy, and Billy was the nerd (Tommy was Jock II also the rebel/loner). Raymond reminded me a lot like Billy, where Billy was defined by being so smart, half of his dialogue was just look at me, i’m fucking smart, let me use all of these big words. Half of Raymond’s dialogue was, look at me, i’m the tech guy, I’m nerdy and loveable, it felt like it was too over the top of trying to stand out. By the end of the season, after East’s big reveal, I started to like him a lot more because he knew what was more at stake. I want to say that my initial impression of him was immature at best.

West was too stiff. Just.. Too stiff. I get he’s old. But show some emotion, please.

Why am I emphasizing on this more? When you listen to the dialogue of RvB, and then you listen at this, even with the return cast of Carolina, Washington, and Tucker, the direction was different. I think it’s because of the new medium with Zero being all super animated like an action, where RvB was just a bunch of net videos that you’re gonna laugh at with well timed jokes. It was super casual, but also super real. Geoff and Gus and everyone else aren’t big actors or anything, but that’s what made it feel real. That’s what made RvB feel like its own thing.

-

In terms of writing, I get that this is RvB meets FnF (Fast and Furious). But I honestly feel that it doens’t belong. The story of Shatter Squad vs Viper would have been a lot better if it didn’t have the RvB name tacked on. It’s such a cool concept, but given what RvB was before, the tonal shift is jsut too great, especially when you only have 3 of the previous cast returning.

Speaking of, what happened to Tucker?! What happened to the guy who became a leader? Responsible? Not as arrogant? Maybe playfully arrogant at best, but not stroking his ego? What happened to HIS SWORD? Did they forget how Tucker’s sword works? That it only works IF HE DIES? Tucker didn’t die, and yet Phase was able to use his sword (which by the way is now hers). One of the earliest stories/gags of RvB and they just...retconned it and threw it away! Also, Tucker’s voice acting did NOT match the scene at all. It’s like watching a video game that was localized from Japanese, and the dubbers spoke too fast before the character could finish. Tucker moves outside of his dialogue and there is this weird seconds of silence. That...that was just a BAD return for him.

-

My final thought is that, if RvB Zero is not...the RvB I grew up with. Maybe the jokes are dated, but the memories of what RvB was is still real. This just...doesn’t feel like RvB anymore. This should have just been it’s own show, it’s own story, replace Wash and Carolina and Tucker with new characters, it just wasn’t their place to be in this.

The only thing I liked about this? I’m glad Danielle (I’m assuming this is how you would spell her name) didn’t go AWOL and returned to the team. I actually really liked her the most next to Axel. She was done dirty, but she still held on to that one bond she had as East that Zero didn’t give her as Phase.

-

I know this is probably not a great opinion, and I really hope that Rooster Teeth finds the ground they want this series to go in. Sometimes, you have to try new things, or else staying stagnant will make it go stale. It’s all about trial and error. I don’t know how everyone else feels about Zero, how the new audience and the old audience feels. RvB as a whole wasn’t perfect. They had their down moments. But when you feel that way for an entire season...it’s a problem.

#grif liveblogs #grif liveblogs rvb #rvb #red vs blue #red vs blue zero #Anonymous #spoilers #rvb negativity

[guardianofrivendell]

PERFECT SECRETS - CHAPTER 4

Legolas x OC

Requested: Nope

Summary:  Mira. A short and unusual name for a short and unusual Elf. After an audience with Galadriel goes sideways, she leaves her birthplace Lóthlorien and the Elves for good.  That is until a certain Gandalf asks for a favor. Come along on her journey, as she reluctantly agrees to accompany Gandalf on the quest to destroy the One Ring.  She befriends every Fellowship member, except one. Legolas and Mira are water and fire from the very first moment they laid eyes on each other. Will this be an obstacle during the quest or is it going to make everything just a little more interesting?

Warnings: none in this chapter, just a stubborn Elf 

Masterlist Perfect Secrets

Guardianofrivendell’s Masterlist

Everyone started to leave after the remaining Council Members had wished them a safe trip. Mira was still trying to wrap her head around it all. It slowly started to dawn on her that she was going to Mordor. Mordor.  It’s not that she was afraid. She was brave enough, she had killed her fair share of Orcs. But this quest was nothing like she had ever done before. She had mostly been on her own, and now had to travel with nine others. Two of them being major dickheads.

“What is clouding your thoughts, my dear?” Gandalf’s voice sounded behind her. 

“Why, Gandalf?” She immediately shot back. 

“Because I was hungry, because I felt like it, it was the right time and because you wanted to. All answers to questions, but none to the one you just asked me. Let me ask you a question in return, Mira. Why not?”

Mira sighed, looking at the other members of the newly founded fellowship. Even though they had volunteered only a few moments before, they all looked so… prepared. 

“Because I’m not ready. This is nothing like the quests we’ve done in the past, Gandalf. I’m sure they all have something to contribute like strength and skills. Filled to the brink with courage, all of them…”

She paused before she added, “Well, of one of them I’m quite certain it’s more stupidity and arrogance than courage but that’s not the point right now. Remember that I did not volunteer myself. You dragged me into this.” She poked his chest to back up her words.  Gandalf wanted to say something, but she interrupted him immediately. “Don’t even think about bringing Galadriel’s words into this!”  He raised his hands in defeat, chuckling lightly. “I was not planning to. Come, child, join me on a walk around the gardens.”

Legolas was talking to Aragorn, briefing him of the escape of Gollum. The reason he came to Rivendell in the first place. Not that he regretted his decision to join the Fellowship, it was the right thing to do and he would do anything in his power to protect the little Hobbit and help destroy the Ring. 

He saw Gandalf talking to the hooded lady. Mira, was it? Everyone could see that she didn’t want to go, and he could hear her complaining about it to the Grey Wizard. Why was Gandalf so keen on bringing her along? What was so special about her? Legolas didn’t like her and that was nothing like him. Somehow she annoyed him terribly. 

“Legolas?” Aragorn repeated. He looked at him in surprise. 

“Welcome back, mellon nin. You were deep in thought! What troubles you?” (My friend)

“Lady Mira. I can not help but have a bad feeling about her,” he stated. 

“And why is that?” 

Legolas watched them descend the stairs, Gandalf a few steps ahead and Mira trudging after him. Even now she still kept her hood up.

“She is constantly hiding underneath her hood. Clearly she does not want to join us. Yet Gandalf insists. I can’t help but wonder why.”

Aragorn smiled. “It’s Gandalf. He always has his reasons.”

“I hope you’re right,” Legolas sighed. He was going to keep an eye on her, until she proved him wrong. 

Mira walked alongside Gandalf through the many little garden paths of Rivendell. She had to admit it was very beautiful and it brought a certain peace to her. She felt almost comfortable being here. Almost. 

“You have skills that will be very useful during our journey, my dear. Do not belittle yourself,” Gandalf began. “Your visions are growing stronger.”

She nodded. “They are, but I can’t control them. I’m vulnerable when I have them, they’re blocking my sight. It’s not something you want to happen mid-fight.”

“There are nine others including myself who can keep an eye on you if that were to happen. You have excellent fighting skills. I cannot see a reason for you not to join.”

She looked at the old Wizard, studying the many wrinkles across his kind face. They went through a lot together, and she suddenly felt the need to protect him overcome her. She thought about all the times she saved him and when he returned the favor. Maybe it was for the best she went with him, if only to keep an eye on him. 

But then she noticed the twinkle in his eyes. 

“Gandalf?”

“Hm?”

“What are you not telling me?”

“These gardens are extraordinary, don’t you think? Let us find Lord Elrond so I can compliment him,” he said with a knowing smile and walked away. Mira stood with her hands down, lost for words. He only did this when he tried to hide something. 

“Gandalf!” she yelled before running after him.

*

Gandalf never told her what he was hiding and after a few days she gave up trying.

He did give her the advice to start getting to know the others before their journey began. Mira agreed, although reluctantly. She didn’t like talking all that much, afraid she would say something that would give her away. But then she realised they probably weren’t even alive back then - well, maybe the Elf was - and she started to feel more comfortable around them. 

She slowly warmed up to Aragorn and Gimli, making her feel a little more at ease. She hadn’t lowered her hood, and they didn’t ask her about it. Yet. 

During meals she preferred to sit with the Hobbits. Their kind and animated personalities made them ideal companions. She especially got along with Merry and Pippin, since Frodo kept mostly to himself and Sam was too busy worrying about Frodo’s wellbeing. It was nice to see how strong their friendship was.  The only two members she tried to avoid as much as she could were Boromir and Legolas and she had the impression they were doing the same. 

She sometimes caught them staring at her during meals, but it wasn’t out of curiosity or even boredom. She knew both men didn’t trust her. Legolas’ electric blue eyes turned cold and distant every time they met hers. If looks could kill, Mira would be slaughtered at least twice a day. 

So to say the fellowship was one tight big family when they left a few weeks later… that would be part truth, and part lies.

Gandalf kept himself close to Frodo so Mira chose to walk with Merry and Pippin instead, sometimes accompanied by Gimli. The Dwarf took a particular liking towards her humor and sarcasm and sometimes the others could hear his booming laughter echoing over the fields.

Legolas kept walking around the group, sometimes going ahead to scout and report to Gandalf and Aragorn on his return. He never stayed with the group and for some reason that irritated Mira immensely. 

She could hear and see everything just as well from her spot in the group, he had no reason to hop around like he was doing right now. He was just showing off. 

When they came to their stop for the night on the 6th day, the Hobbits were exhausted. Gandalf and Aragorn hadn’t allowed them to stop during the day, not even for a meal. The days of constant walking without breaks started to take their toll. And she suspected they finally realized this wasn’t just some fun trip to Mordor and back in a few days. They hadn’t spoken a word for hours.

Sam unpacked his trusty pan and started cooking, but not even the foresight of food could lift the other Hobbit’s spirits up. 

She let herself drop between Merry and Pippin. They hardly acknowledged her presence.

“Hey, it’s okay to be a little scared you know,” she whispered to them. 

“We’re not scared,” Merry said proudly. 

“Course not, and Gimli’s beard isn’t even real!” she laughed. When their eyes widened, she assured them that it was only a joke and she begged them not to go test the authenticity of his beard. 

“I only said that to let you know that I know you’re lying, Merry. But like I said, it’s okay to be scared. I used to be scared all the time.”

She put her hand in her pocket. “Until I got this…”

She opened her palm and showed them what was inside: a blue-green gem stone, shaped like a small rock.

“What is that, my lady?” Merry asked her, looking at the stone in her hand. 

She showed it to them, the blue-green shine reflecting in their eyes. 

“It’s my good luck charm. It was a gift from my father when I was only a child. When I have this with me, I know it will all be okay.” 

“Does it help you win fights?” Pippin wondered.

“It always does, I never lost one since,” she smiled at him. Pippin’s smile grew wider and it warmed her heart, glad to see her trick had helped. 

She took his little hand and placed the stone in it. “Keep this with you,” she whispered to him.  It wasn’t easy for her to part with the gemstone, it was the last thing she had that reminded her of her parents. But when she saw his face light up she knew she’d done the right thing.

“Luck has nothing to do with it, only courage, skills and experience can help you win a fight,” Legolas said to Pippin, before he headed towards the other side of the camp. 

Mira saw Pippin’s smile falter and it made her angry. Who the hell did he think he was?

She stood up and went his way. Legolas stood tall on the top of a large boulder, scanning the surroundings for possible threats. He didn’t even look down when she reached him. 

“What is your problem?”

His eyes met hers briefly, before he continued staring in the distance. 

“You should not give them false hope.”

Mira scoffed. “I’m not giving them false hope! They’re capable of a lot more than you give them credit for!”

He didn’t react to that. In fact, he ignored her completely, his eyes locked to a point somewhere in the distance. Completely fed up with his attitude, she climbed the rock he was standing on and stood right in front of him. 

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” she snapped, poking his chest. 

“I heard you,” he answered.

“They joined the fellowship to help us destroy the Ring, the least you could do is help them in return. Yes, they aren’t warriors or experienced fighters like you and me.” He snorted at that, but she let it slide. “But they want to learn. And you talking them down like that is not helping!”

She turned around, leaving a confused Legolas behind, not sure how he should react. 

When she wanted to jump off the rock, her foot slipped and she would’ve hit her head or made a nasty fall if Legolas hadn’t grabbed her under her arms. 

“It seems like your luck has run out,” he challenged, easily slipping back in his previous attitude. “You might want to ask your stone back.”

“You’re impossible!” she grunted, pulling her arm out of his grasp. 

When she stomped back to Merry and Pippin, she failed to notice the twinkles in Gandalf’s eyes had returned and the suppressed snickers from the others who had watched their interaction with mirth...

A/N: Let me know what you think! Or if you want to take a guess on what will happen next, be my guest :) 

Taglist  @ayo-cowbelly​ @fried-potato-balloon @galileostyles 

#perfect secrets #lord of the rings #lotr #legolas #legolas x oc #legolas greenleaf #fellowship #lotr fanfiction #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings fanfiction #lotr imagine #guardianofrivendell

[thesunnyshow]

Name: Kim Age: 26 (27 in September) Writing Blog URL(s): @jinterlude​   

Nationality: Filipino-American Languages: English  Star Sign: Virgo MBTI: ISFJ-T Favorite color: Any shade of blue  Favorite food: Ah, I have so many, but I really do love ramen & this Filipino noodle dish my grandma makes. Favorite movie: West Side Story. A close second is Pride & Prejudice (2005) Favorite ice cream flavor: Rocky Road  Favorite animal: Pandas Go-to karaoke song: Upside Down by A*Teens (I think I just dated myself) 

What fandom(s) do you write for? Mainly BTS, but I have written for SVT, EXO, GOT7, Monsta X, B.A.P, & NCT

When did you post your first piece? Oh dang, when? Hmm… I want to say Oct. 2016 (?) on my first blog (I had deleted and came back to Tumblr).

Do you write fluff/angst/crack/general/smut, combo, etc? Why? I mostly write a combo because it just happens that way! My main genres are: fluff, romance, & humor/crack. 

Do you write OCs, X Readers, Ships...etc? I mainly write OCs stories because that’s what makes me the happiest when it comes to writing, but I still write x reader fics for drabbles and oneshots. 

Why did you decide to write for Tumblr? Funny story. The reason why I started writing for Tumblr is because an old group of friends said that I should write a funny story based on a college class of mine, so I did and here we are. 

What inspires you to write? Usually, it’s my imagination, but other times it’s either the song I’m listening to or even the show I’m currently watching. Right now, my inspiration draws from anime. 

What genres/AUs do you enjoy writing the most? Genre wise, I love writing fluff & romance. AUs wise, I’m a sucker for Royal/Royalty. Mafia/Gang & Soulmate AUs would be a close second. 

What do you hope your readers take away from your work? Oh, wow. I honestly never thought about that before. I think for me, the one thing I hope my readers get from my stories is at the end of the day, please do something that will make you happy. Your own happiness should always be a top priority for you. 

What do you do when you hit a rough spot creatively? I take a break! Instead of forcing myself out of the creativity slump, I just take a break and let my mind recharge. Then, I go back to my outline and look over while listening to music that I know will spark some creativity juices. 

What is your favorite work and why? Your most successful? My favorite works (yes, I couldn’t pick just one) are my Royal!AU Seokjin series (Fight for Me & Our Second Chance). I love the amount of time and effort I put into those two stories, and I’m simply in awe at the world and characters I created. My second favorite is my latest Seokjin oneshot, Protecting Each Other. It’s my first story that exceeded 10,000 words, and I’m just proud of how that turned out. Successful wise, I would say it’s, This Little String. It’s a Soulmate!Taehyung oneshot based around the red-string of fate, and every other month, I see someone like and/or reblog it, so I say that’s pretty successful!

Who is your favorite person to write about? Seokjin hands down. I mean, not only is he one of my ultimate biases, but for some reason my creative banks dishes out ideas and inspiration for him like it’s nothing. 

Do you think there’s a difference between writing fanfiction vs. completely original prose? I personally don’t think so. You are still writing original content that derails from the source material (or adds to it), all you have to do is just replace your idols’ name with an original character name, and there you go. What do you think makes a good story? For me, I’d say that if you’re honestly proud of the end product, then that story is good, and your readers will see that. What is your writing process like? First I get an idea, or I like to call it, “it appeared to me in a vision,” then I outline it (if the idea lingers in my brain), and then I start writing and editing. Sometimes I’d sprint with my fellow writers on a server I’m in, and other times, I’d put on music and just let my brain go wild. Most of the time, I’m sprinting with friends. 

Would you ever repurpose a fic into a completely original story? If I had the time, probably. I can see my Royal!AU series becoming an original story with different characters and an expanded plotline. What tropes do you love, and what tropes can’t you stand? I am a sucker for F2L I (friends to lovers)! I just love the idea of dating someone who’s your best friend, so why not date your best friend, if the feelings are mutual of course! As for tropes, I dislike, I can’t say that I have any. I think it’s because (and I feel so bad for this), I don’t really read much stories other than what my mutual friends have written. 

How much would you say audience feedback/engagement means to you? It means the world to me because I do like knowing if I’m doing something right or if I need to go back and edit something for clarity. Mainly, I get likes and reblogs (with no feedback), and while it’s still nice of someone for taking the time to like and reblog something, I would like some feedback, please. I’m still grateful no matter what, though!

What has been one of the biggest factors of your success (of any size)? I think it’s the support of my amazing group of friends/mutuals! It’s thanks to their support that my work is reaching a wider audience, and it just means the world to me that they read my blood, sweat, and tears. I love them so much, especially my close friend, Jey (softjeon on Tumblr)!

Coffee or tea? What are you ordering? For coffee, my go-to is a Caramel Macchiato with Soy Milk (from Starbucks), but lately I’ve been using my Keurig, so I just Peppermint Mocha and 3 tsps of Sugar (I can’t stand bitter coffee lol). For tea, I really like Mango green tea from Gongcha (another boba place chain). 

Dream job (whether you have a job or not)? My dream job is to be an elementary school teacher, however, I am currently working on becoming a social worker where my population will still focus on children/students. So, it’s a good compromise!

If you could have one superpower, what would you choose?  If I could have one superpower, it would be cryokinesis aka ice manipulation!  

If you could visit a historical era, which would you choose? Oh, that’s a tough one, but if I had to choose one, I would go for the 1960s so I can see the Beatles live!

If you could restart your life, knowing what you do now, would you? No, because it’s thanks to those life lessons that I grow up to be who I currently am. Sometimes you have to go through those harsh experiences to be a better version of yourself!

Would you rather fight 100 chicken-sized horses or one horse-sized chicken? One horse-sized chicken, then I can feed my family for months. 

If you were a trope in a teen high school movie, what would you have been? Oh, hands down, I would be the stereotypical geek/nerd. Though, I was called a “preppy” in 9th grade, so that was a first. 

Do you believe in aliens/supernatural creatures? Yup, especially ghosts! 

Fun fact about yourself that not everyone would know? I can say the alphabet backwards! 

Do you think fanfic writers get unfairly judged? Oh, hands down, especially when it comes to writing smut. I’ve seen other blogs condemn writers who write smut about real people, but my thing is that these idols are merely face claims for a character that the author is writing about. 

Do you think art can be a medium for change? I think so! Every artist has a voice, especially with what’s going on recently, we need to be able to use our voices to spread light on certain issues. 

Do you ever feel there are times when you’re writing for others, rather than yourself? I used to think that way, especially when it came to writing x reader inserts since I know that’s what “sells” to the Tumblr audience. Now, I’m perfectly happy with writing x OC stories, and I’m content with my stories getting at least 5 notes. If it breaks 10 notes, then that’s a success!

Do you ever feel like people have misunderstood you or your writing at times? If they did, then I wouldn’t know. Most of the time, I think my writing is okay with people. 

Do your offline friends/loved ones know you write for Tumblr? Yes, my soul friend managed my old blog once upon a time and actually read one of my smuts. I was so embarrassed! But at least he said it was tastefully written, so that’s a bonus? 

What is one thing you wish you could tell your followers? Always remember that it is okay to take breaks/go on hiatus! 

Do you have any advice for aspiring writers who might be too scared to put themselves out there? My advice to those who want to start writing but are too afraid put themselves out there is to simply go for it. I was that person who was afraid to put their writing out there for the world to see, especially with some already established BTS writers on Tumblr, but I went for it. At first, it might be discouraging but know that your mutuals/friends will always be your number one supporter! Use their support as a motivator to keep writing and finding your groove! Then, eventually, all of your readers will start trickling in and showering you with the love and support you deserve!

Are there any times when you regret joining Tumblr? I wouldn’t say regret joining but more like allowing my life to be revolved around it. At one point in my life, it felt like a second job/chore for me, and Tumblr should never be that type of site! 

Do you have any mutuals who have been particularly formative/supportive in your Tumblr journey? Oh, I have so many! The ones that come to mind are definitely Jey (softjeon), Beanie (jinned), Nina (j-sope), Kenz (parksfilter), Renae (mygsii), Atlas (astraljoon), & Niah (randomkoalablog) to name a few! I love these amazing people so much and cherish their friendship to the moon and back!

Pick a quote to end your interview with: "Around here, however, we don’t look backwards for very long. We keep moving forward, opening up new doors and doing new things, because we're curious … and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths." - Walt Disney

#@jinterlude #thesunnyshow #featuredauthor #episode 24 #bts #seventeen #exo #got7 #monsta x #b.a.p. #nct

[kendrixtermina]

One thing that felt uncomfortable to go along with in the CF route for me was when Edelgard lies about what happened at Arianrhod to her closest allies (Black Eagle Strike Force) and blames it on the church. Can you give some insight as to why she does this? Especially when Edelgard criticizes the church for lying to the people of Fodlan, but isn’t she doing it here?

That’s certainly a moment that is genuinely ambiguous / a valid point of criticism and something I’d laud a whistleblower for exposing if it were a RL politician, but also the sort of realpolitik / appearance management that has taken place in most RL wars. 

Once you’re the leader of anything, allowing panic, division, etc. at bad moments comes with its costs. Of course this is hardly a carte blanche (see: Beating down legit protesters for superficial “order”), but neither is it a factor that can be ignored completely.

At the point of the Arianrhod attack Edelgard was one month away from seizing control of the landmass and ending the large-scale fighting, having one enemy taken out (the Church) and being able to turn all her resources on the other (the Agarthans)

The agarthans at this point know they’re losing control of Edelgard and they’re not stupid enough to have any illusions about her loyalty. So they fire a warning shot to demonstrate their superior weaponry. Arundel makes a thinly veiled threat to fire it on Enbarr. 

Of course at this point he basically gave away his location and allowed Edelgard & Hubert to come up with countermeasures, but they don’t want him to know that yet, their strategy involves that they keep being underestimated, let the Agarthans keep thinking that the “beasts” have no counter for the nukes pointed at their heads. 

But they still destroyed half a fortress killing the ppl inside. If she reveals that she’s got a rogue faction infiltrating her ranks that’s firing frightening superweapons nilly willy, there will be chaos outrage and disunity right before the final battle. If she doesn’t make a statement at all and declares it a mystery, no one will believe it and her own faction will get the blame throughout the country. So what does she do? Pin it on the enemy she is currently fighting anyways. The purpose here is not to reveal the Agarthan situation too early so they can focus on the church for now. 

It’s unclear if this was ever revealed to the public (probably not, I don’t think she’d cause a stir on principle alone) but the ending cards make it quite clear that the Strike Force was let in on the Agarthan situation later and helped her mop them up. 

Yeah, it’s defamation, an indisputable  textbook government cover up and maybe even technically a kind of propaganda, but her casus belli existed before it’s not like she’s basing it on the lie, and in most wars throughout history the factions have hidden or made a spin of failures & mishaps and made the enemy look bad. 

There are certainly many historical examples of such actions creating problems, such as fueling lingering resentments or creating general mistrust that can led to real information not being believed etc. so it’s by no means a safe action that is no big deal and I can see how it could be a legit dealbreaker for some, you certainly weren’t supposed to be 100% comfortable with it, or anything on the CF route, everyone involves is well aware that they’re doing ugly, costly things because (or so they see it) the alternatives are all worse. In that sense it’s the most self-aware one. It’s about actually looking at the bottom line of consequences, not what makes you feel like a hero. 

At the same time, doing things like that that squander her moral credibility genuinely IS a flaw in Edelgard’s leadership style - it’s probably why more ppl didn’t believe her manifesto, “she already lied to us cooperating with these shady guys”, making it look like a ‘he said she said’ situation to the wider public that can’t go & confirm the evidence for themselves. This is why Claude thinks he has a better shot at winning& implementing reforms in VW (”too shady for the ppl to get behind”) - just like Dimitri has no plans and Claude’s secrecy creating mistrust even when his secret plan is utterly benevolent.  Doesn’t matter how altruistic you are if you look suspicious it will have consequences I mean that’s how she loses on the other rouses, everyone ganks up on her cause she antagonized them all with suspicious actions. I’m not saying she’s any more perfect than the other 2. 

but putting that on the same scale as what Rhea did is comparing a candle to the sun. 

And maybe the Kantians in the audience will disagree with me but it can be a bit unhelpful to classify different actions of vastly different consequence and magnitude as “Lies”. There is a common principle (telling things that aren’t exactly true) but different magnitude. Clearly “The Confederacy was all great and glorious” and “I totally didn’t eat my little sister’s share of toffees” aren’t on the same level of immorality. 

Neither is below the “everythings fine and dandy” line but one is a lie about one incident for one clear purpose, and the other is creating a whole fake world view for the express purpose of control, maintaining harmful systems, suppressing any advancement of science & technology... for 1000 years. 

Scale, purpose and consequences are totally different. The arianrhod coverup coming to light would spark controversy & discussion on wether she should have done it under those circumstances; Some might change their opinion about her but overall everyone already knew that she’s not above dirty methods. If you told the average citizen of Fodland about all of Rhea’s lies, everything they know would be wrong. They would go from Adoring & worshipping her to being very confused about what’s true. 

It’s the difference between your average modern-day politician doing backroom deals with diverse industry lobbies to accomplish their other goals, and a place like Saudi Arabia. 

To get perspective here, let’s look at another example: Claude’s deceptions. 

He, too, ultimately wants what’s best for everyone and a lot of the time he decides to fool people to avoid fighting them, I don’t mean to bash him at all, but let’s look at his actions in and of themselves: 

Look at the sequence where he, Hilda & Byleth rope the church into helping them - that’s even more outright with the slimy politician tactics: He tries to downplay alliance involvement though he is totally in control, he says that “getting the church on our side will make fighting the empire look like a moral cause” implying that he doesn’t think it is one but wants to portray it as one to get ppl’s support, we’re told he made lots of promises to the merchants to get them on his side (so like that’s literal lobbyists), he installs Byleth as a figurehead, he tells the church ppl he wants to help them get back their old power when he really wants it to diminish and to drastically reorder the society.

He tells everyone he’ll help them save Rhea but while he still has basic human empathy for her & what happened to her he makes it clear he doesn’t want her to go back to being archbishop... at all. He even does this with Byleth: “Yeah, sure, teach we’re totally gonna save her”  though in their case he tries to hint that she’s not to be trusted for their own good. Despite his dishonesty, he’s actually a very good friend to them imho. (#broTP)

In the end the power struggle between Claude and Edelgard isn’t personal nor a righteous struggle - he’s just taking advantage of the chaos she caused and he needs the seat of power to reach his own goal. He thinks he can do it better and she’s in the way (and to be fair, she thinks the same about him) 

It’s your classic slimy politician: “he’s pretending to be for family values etc thing but really he wants power & is in cahoots with economic interests and he won’t do what he promised” etc. ... except with the plot twist that he’s deeply good and not actually all that ruthless.   In a sense he’s as much a total subverted trope as Edelgard.

So doesn’t he have the right to criticise Rhea either? Or do you see how, while not per perfect, he’s miles better and not remotely the same?

Edelgard isn’t 100% truthful, but by and large, she made her intentions very clear with the pamphlets and stuff (even if it meant antagonizing ppl who were against that) and all her soldiers generally know what they’re fighting for and are going to get out of it if they support her, or what the consequences will be if they fail, even if she kept some of the “how” to herself. 

Which isn’t to say that Claude ever makes ppl act against their interests even if it’s sometimes what he sees as their interests.

Under Rhea’s rule no one knew what the government’s doing, why it’s doing it, or to some degree, even that she IS the government... for 1000 years. There’s some cult of personality going on. She probably genuinely believes that it does benefit the sheeple to be “guided” by her, but she hasn’t even told Seteth about all she’s doing, she’s pretty much accountable to no one.

In terms of honesty, we could probably rank the lords like this: 

Dimitri (a few omissions at worst)

Seteth (lies mostly out of self-preservation)

Edelgard (some convenient secrecy here & there)

Yuri (about the same as El but I’d put him slightly higher for the fake betrayal) 

Claude (no one rly knows what he’s up to, but he gets ppl what he promised them and doesn’t outright betray them)

(very)

(big)

(gap)

Rhea (fake history, isolationist bubble, abuse of power left & right, manipulation, will smile in your face while planning to make you a meat puppet for her mom)

#fe3h #fire emblem: three houses #fire emblem three houses #three houses #edelgard von hresvelg #edelgard

[queenraiden]

Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga (Film Review)

While the 2020 edition of the contest was cancelled, it still went on in this movie, sorta

Also, don’t count on me to not spoil anything. You have been warned.

So my impressions will come from having seen the movie in whole once, and possibly looking over certain segments of movie (it’s two hours, so if I have to analyze every bit of it, it’s gonna take more than two hours).

So from the trailer I initially thought it might be a spoof of the contest, and it does spoof it a bit, but the overall story and movie plot is your average musical rom-com underdog story. Will Ferrell stars as Lars Ericksong, a character who feels underappreciated and wants to win the Eurovision Song Contest to prove something. Rachel McAdams stars as Lars’ partner in crime/band mate/childhood friend Sigrit Ericksdottir, a character who is very loyal to Lars but at the same time is struggling to find her voice. Lars is a character who wants to win at any cost, even if it makes him lose vision of what’s important to others, and this alienates and Sigrit (if you’ve seen movies or stories or maybe it’s real life where a band makes it big or wants to go big but throws others under a bus, you’d probably predict something like this happening)

And it wouldn’t be a rom-com if there weren’t someone or something to test the couple. Aside from band dynamics enter in Dan Stevens who stars as Russian entrant Alexander Lemtov. He has the looks, he has the voice, hell, he has the palace too, but he also has his sights on Sigrit (mainly her hidden talent). I guess I can throw in Mita who has her sights somewhat set on Lars. There is of course strain between Lars and Sigrit, but if you’ve seen one too many rom-coms you can probably guess whether their relationship is resolved.

As for the underdog part, while it’s usually the underdog winning the competition in the end, it’s not 100% true here. One thing about Eurovision is sometimes the winner of one year’s contest isn’t the most memorable act of the grand final, and may fade out of existence, or not gain enough traction to become international superstars. It’s not often that I hear of Eurovision songs outside of Eurovision apart from a retro station playing “Waterloo” or the English version of “Volare”. Can’t forget about Celine Dion but I believe few know she participated. Then again, I don’t listen to the radio much and often go with Spotify algorithm suggestions. Anyway, instead of underdogs Fire Saga winning the competition, they won the hearts of many across Europe, and their home country of Iceland (except for Olaf maybe). So in the end, the message here, while done many times before, is winning isn’t everything.

But I’m not done yet!

It’s a musical, so can’t forget about the songs and musical numbers. The best number in the entire movie, apart from the actual spoof of the contest, is the song-along.

There’s something about seeing Eurovision winners and contestants of past and present (albeit they’re all from the past 10 years) come together for a musical number. As for the songs used in this medley, only 2 were actual Eurovision songs (Abba’s “Waterloo” and Celine Dion’s “Ne Partez Pas Sans Moi”). It’s possible the song choice could be to appeal to a wider audience with recognizable songs amidst what may be unrecognizable faces (but recognizable to those who have seen the Contest). Maybe there’s a licensing issue that could be factored too. Anyway, I’d like to see something like this happen in the actual contest. Maybe the 26 competitors of the grand final coming together singing a host country’s famous entries?

And as for the contest segment itself, it was more referential to actual contestants and their performances rather than spoofing them. Ones that stick out me are Belarus’ entry more reminiscent of Finland’s Lordi

While Belarus did have a rock act in Eurovision 2009, in 2016 the country had an entry that ran with the wolves, sort of.

Another element that stood out for me was the hamster wheel used in Fire Saga’s semi-final performance, which was a crazy element in Ukraine’s 2014 entry.

The songs for sure are definitely what you’d hear in Eurovision as well. There have been rap songs featured so “Coolin’ With Da Homies” would be a possible entry you’d hear. Operatic love ballads like “Lion of Love”? Tons of them, or by themselves as operatic, love ballads, and flamenco elements.

Last but not least, Husavik - My Hometown.

There are plenty of songs that combine English’s with the singer’s native language or another language they sing in. There are also songs that are odes to their hometown, home country (namely “I Love Belarus”), or even just a region of their home country (“Horehronie” should have made the final in 2010). What makes this one of the most Eurovision songs in a movie that’s set to Eurovision is: - it’s universal with the parts sung in English but also in the singer’s/country’s native language which counts a showing off their country’s culture - it’s an emotional power ballad which is typical to Eurovision. You hear these every year as there’s usually at least one if not two or three.

Of course there are discrepancies that aren’t actually part of the contest. The scoreboard is one as points are usually counted in the grand final, and the countries of Spain, UK, France, Germany, and Italy only compete in the grand final. The other is the lack of security. I doubt Lars would be able to freely run around and nearly miss his performance at the national final, or fly back to Iceland unless it was a family emergency (I’d assume). Only reason for it to be this lax is for story tension and plot.

Overall, while it’s not a horrible movie, I wouldn’t say it’s that great of a movie as well. It is watchable and has great songs, but the plot is just average.

#eurovision #eurovision moive #movie #movie review #review #the story of fire saga #fire saga #musical #romantic comedy #rom-com #comedy #underdog #will ferrell #rachel mcadams #dan stevens