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words-writ-in-starlight · 4 years

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I've always thought that LWJ didn't really spend 16 years hunting to find WWX. I'm sure he kept his eyes open and looked for any sign of demonic cultivation, sure. But I also think he spent 16 years looking for danger so that he could increase his chance of dying young. Trouble is, he's too skilled to die easy. I headcanon that Lan Xichen made LWJ take the juniors with him on night hunts because he knew his brother wouldn't put /other/ people in clear danger, & he just wanted to keep LWJ alive.

ANGST! No dialogue, noplot, just ANGST! This is who I havealways been!

It’s not—Xichenknows that his brother isn’t likely to die on a night hunt. It’s not thatsimple. In a way, he’s not even worried for him. No matter whatelse he is or may be, Xichen’s brother is still Hanguang-jun, the bearer oflight, who stormed Wen supervisory strongholds and who stood against most ofthe cultivation world and whose skill as a warrior is very arguablyunparalleled. The only one who could match him—

Well. Xichen doesn’t worry about his brotherbeing beaten in battle, these days.

And he doesn’t worry about Wangji allowing himselfto be killed, either, although that’s a closer way to define it. There islittle A-Yuan, sweet-eyed Lan Sizhui, to think about, who Wangji loves with adesperate ferocity Xichen has only seen in him once before. Sizhui is twelve and the best son any father could hope for, in Xichen’sadmittedly biased opinion, talented and kind and earnest, easy to love andquick to love in return. Xichen loves him almost as recklessly as heloves his brother. He can do nothing less for the only person who seemsto bring his solemn didi joy anymore.

He is utterly confident that Wangji would neverleave his son, never, not for all the peace that might be found on the otherside of a sword.

This absolute truth,this wholehearted confidence that Wangji will always return, no matter thechallenge, no matter the risk, makes it difficult to explain why Xichenworries.

The thing is, Lan Wangji, Hanguang-jun, A-Zhan, is dimmed, in away that tears at Xichen to see it. He is less, as if he abandoned more than just color when hestopped wearing blue. There were days, when Xichen would visit duringWangji’s seclusion—and the elders be damned, for trying to stop him, for tryingto keep A-Yuan away, he is Sect Leader and he was not having it—when he wouldhave sworn that he might have seen straight through his brother. Wangjihas always been quiet, he was a quiet baby, but since—since, he’s been aghost of himself. Even after three years in seclusion and nearly a decadeto heal, Xichen still barely recognizes him. A thick shade has settledover the light in Xichen’s brother, and he is afraid that someday, whileHanguang-jun will come back from a night hunt, that faint light will not.

Xichen is supposed to be wise, he’s supposed to beZewu-jun, he’s supposed to be the calm, enlightened Sect Leader of GusuLan, buthe doesn’t know how to help his brother. He hasn’t found a good answer inall this time. He knows that the wound of—that the wound won’t heal becauseWangji won’t let it heal, and he doesn’t know where to go fromhere.

He remembers when Sizhui first began to learn toplay the guqin, and brought a piece to Xichen in childlike pride. Hislullaby, he had called it as he plucked out a careful melody, learned by heart. Without spiritual energy directed and channeled, without the complexities of anexperienced hand, it was only music, but Xichen had listened to Inquiry toomany times not to be able to translate it.

Are you there?

Are you lost?

Are you at peace?

Are you with your sister? Your parents? Your people?

Are you waiting?

I miss you.

It’s not—it’s not a search, not anymore, Xichendoesn’t think. It’s been too long to expect an answer, and Wangji hasnever been a fool. But Wangji can do nothing else. There’s nowherefor him to bow, there was no vigil to keep, there will never be anyone whoburns paper money or grieves with him. So Wangji plays Inquiry, over andover again, to a spirit that doesn’t answer, and someday Sizhui will learnInquiry himself, and know that his lullaby was always a eulogy spoken insecret.

Once, Xichen tried to make his brother stop. Tried to make him leave off his long, slow grief, to shakehim out of his ghost-self and back to life and light. He hadn’t been ableto think of anything except to take Wangji’s guqin, an attempt to force him tostop, stop, playing that damned unanswered query. Andit had worked, in a way. The cold, blinding flare of rage, when Wangjiswept uninvited into Xichen’s rooms and demanded flatly that his instrument bereturned, please, Sect Leader Lan—it had been good to see. Proof that,even if the embers were banked and dull-glowing, there was still a fire to bewoken in Xichen’s brother. But the days of bitter silence, afterward,wasn’t worth the short-lived victory.

Sizhui had sided with his father, of course, even ifhe didn’t then understand what the point of contention was. He had given Xichen affronted looks andorbited closer to Wangji than usual for weeks. Sizhui had always knownthat there was a wound somewhere in his adopted father, in that sharpperceptive way that’s entirely too unlike Wangji, entirely too himself to beanything but a relic of before Cloud Recesses, the time that he doesn’tremember and Wangji won’t discuss.

Xichen has his theories. But Lan Sizhui is thepride of GusuLan Sect, the brightest light in his father’s life, and Xichen isgrateful that someone else loves his brother enough to be angry on hisbehalf. Xichen’s theories have been buried in a shallow grave for manyyears.

And Wangji is only himself, in any way thatXichen can recognize, with Sizhui. It’sbeen like that ever since he first brought the boy back, when A-Yuan, feverishand delirious and calling for people none of them knew, crept into hissickbed. Wangji had been barely responsive,had allowed the physicians to tend his scourged back and had stared at the wall,not sleeping, not meditating, not speaking, just waiting. When Xichen got word that his brother hadspoken, to call the weeping A-Yuan over and tell him, quietly, that the man hecalled for was not going to come back, he’d felt a rush of relief like hislungs trying to jump out of his mouth. But he hadn’t spoken to Xichen, not that day, nor for several more, onlyholding A-Yuan close while the boy slept.

Xichen hadn’t gotten a word out of his brother foreight days after he was whipped, and then, when he finally did, it was only toclaim A-Yuan as his son in a tone that broke Xichen’s heart. He had forced the elders to accept the child withoutarguing or demanding details from Wangji, had simply put him in the sectrecords as Lan Yuan and stared down anyone who questioned his actions. Xichen would have done anything Wangji askedof him, in that moment, anything to keep him talking, anything to keep A-Yuan nearhim. Wangji had been nearly a corpsehimself, in those early days, lightless even in the presence of A-Yuan’s tinysun, but he had moved and spoken and lived when A-Yuan was near. The effect should have grown less pronouncedas Wangji returned to himself, but instead it has only made the difference moreapparent.

Maybe that’s what he’s worried about, when Wangjileaves on night hunts. Some part ofXichen never got over the fear of it, of seeing his solemnly brilliant diditransformed into a shell, silent and detached, the heart of him carved out. Some part of him is terrified still, thatbeing away from Sizhui for too long will let Wangji slip back into thatnumbness, that corpse-cold stillness, so different from his familiar reserve.

Hanguang-jun would never die on a night hunt, notthrough anything but dire misfortune. Heis still the best of the Lan, their bearer of light. But Xichen is secretly, desperately afraidthat, someday, one of the reports they receive of resentful spirits and demoniccultivation will be true, and he will not get his brother back.

Wangji never allows anyone else to investigate thosereports, the ones that claim in half-hysterics to be the Yiling Patriarchreborn, or trapped as a spirit, or the dramatics of the day. He always comes back with flat unfeelingreports of frightened villagers and exaggerations and resentful spirits easilydispatched. And when Xichen gets down tothe bone of it, the living core of his fear for his brother, Xichen is horriblysure that someday, someday, Wangji will come back from one of those nighthunts and say nothing at all and shimmer out of existence at last, a heatmirage under a cold wind.

It isn’t suitable for Zewu-jun, Sect Leader Lan, tohate someone. Xichen thinks about itsometimes during meditation, about how foreign it feels, this hard hot chip ofloathing, and worries at it like a loose tooth, tries to pry it out of place tobe discarded. He can’t manage it.

He hates Wei Wuxian, for what his death has doneto Xichen’s brother.

For standing up when everyone else knelt down, eventhough it cost him everything, life and family and sanity all gone in a merehandful of months.

For what finding his resentful spirit would do tothe last light in Hanguang-jun.

So. He just—hehas to find a way to keep Wangji from following these leads. It isn’t healthy for Wangji, and none of themever have any sign of the man himself anyway, dead or otherwise. Xichen has to find an excuse to send othercultivators after fantasies of the Yiling Patriarch, and that means findingsomething to keep Wangji busy.

Wangji is only himself around Sizhui—a quieter,sadder self, to be sure, but the honest adoring boy that Xichen half-raisednonetheless. Sizhui, while a prodigy, istoo young for night hunting.

The junior disciples are promising and bright, andWangji needs a—a check, for lack of a better word. Something that will force him to speak, tointeract, to think of safety and security rather than only results.

He will not appreciate what Xichen is going to do,but someday, Sizhui will be on night hunts too. This is—this is practice. Maybe then Wangji will brighten again, traveling with the son headores. Maybe then Xichen will be ableto sleep while his brother is gone.

#the untamed #mdzs #lan xichen #lan wangji #the untamed fic #starlight writes stuff #hellooooo friends!!!!!!!#i hear you wanted angst??????#i have angst #my case for the name usage here is lxc calls lwj by courtesy name pretty much exclusively BUT only calls him lan wangji in formal context #otherwise it's just wangji. i assume that he extends this to other people to whom he is close #anyway i did a bunch of research today on name meanings and um #it hurts me that a different 'yuan' is used in 'wen yuan' than in 'lan yuan'#('lan yuan' the character used means like...'to wish' or 'to hope' and also 'sizhui' means 'to remember and long for' so! that's fine!)#i'm writing a fic about that also! actually it's just...lwj's perspective of that eight days #it's ALSO only angst!#but yeah #*sits down with a powerpoint and fifteen pages of conference notes* y'all wanna talk about sizhui growing up hearing inquiry every night?#he worries a LOT about his father after young master mo shows up because suddenly there's no music at night #and like. he understands that playing inquiry over and over again isn't the healthiest coping mechanism in the world.#but the only time he's known his father NOT to play every night is when lwj is hurt or that one day that lxc took his guqin #sizhui is WORRIED until he figures out what's up #a queue we will keep and our honor someday avenge #Anonymous #asked and answered

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houseki-no-suffering · 5 years

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Notes: Cinnaphos, 1960s AU, slowburn. burning slow. picture snails. picture slugs. not the admirabilis kind. also angst.

Chap summary: socializing? what's this, a threat? also, look: more angst ty @lapishead for betaeing this, enjoy!

Cinnabar couldn’t quite put their finger on what prompted them to accept Phos’ invitation. Let alone what force had pushed Cinnabar to suggest a time and place. The only thing they knew was that they could hardly get any sleep the night before, their brain keeping them awake picturing scenarios and possibilities, each one more catastrophic than the next.

Now that they thought about it, the café behind the library had been a terrible choice. It was one of the few places in town that Cinnabar frequented with some regularity, when the coffee machine refused to cooperate or when they were running late for work. The workers, the owners, maybe a couple of customers would recognize Cinnabar, they would know who they were no matter how low a profile they managed to keep, and that applied to Phos as well. The people there would know that Cinnabar had company, they would rumor about it, maybe tell other people as well. Stupid town, where everyone knew everyone else.

It was okay. Cinnabar tried to calm down. It was okay to be recognized, nothing bad would come out of it, people talked about other people all the time, their opinion didn’t count. But Cinnabar’s heartbeat was stubborn and it refused to slow down. It was like a fever that broke Cinnabar in a cold sweat as they hurried to the meeting place.

They had started rushing, their feet taking up the rhythm of their thoughts and their heartbeat. At this rate, they would be early, pacing in front of the café with nothing to do and people staring at them. Cinnabar would be earlier than Phos; it would be like admitting how tense they were about seeing them. Phos might think they had been looking forward to it. Cinnabar’s insides twisted in a knot at the thought and they were glad to be doing this meeting on an empty stomach.

They forced themselves to stop. To breathe. In and out, counting the seconds. They clenched and unclenched their fists, letting one thought go each time they opened their palm. It would be okay. It was just a talk. It was just a common meeting place. Normal things normal people did all the time. It was just Phos.

With a brusque gesture, Cinnabar swept a lock of hair from of their face. Consciously slow this time, they resumed walking.

It would be fine, most people were at work or at home at 10 am, the morning frenzy of 7 and 8 had died out. It meant Cinnabar could not hope to go unnoticed amongst a crowd of customers, but also that they would hardly stumble into an acquaintance. And if Phos was late, it would give Cinnabar the perfect excuse to turn on their steps and go home, never to face whatever this conversation turned out to be.

When the glass walls of the café finally appeared in the distance, it was with a mixture of relief and frustration that Cinnabar welcomed the sight of a familiar figure.

Phos was pacing restlessly in front of the small store, catching the attention of more than a few passersby. For the first time in their life, they were early. Earlier than Cinnabar.

Cinnabar allowed themselves to stop walking for a second and absorb the sight of a nervous Phos rehearsing undecipherable words under their breath. They were so absorbed in their world that it took a minute before they even noticed Cinnabar’s presence.

In that precise moment, Cinnabar turned away and started walking towards the entrance without a word, hoping that Phos would tag along. They dragged their feet to the most isolated corner of the café, away from the counter, the clients and the entrance, and took a seat with their back to the rest of the shop. They were still hoping that Phos would walk away but they had no courage to turn their head and check for themselves, so they remained there, immobile, waiting for some kind of sign.

Phos joined them a couple of minutes later, interrupting Cinnabar’s escape plans. They were holding out a steaming cup for Cinnabar, whose arms had been glued to their sides. Phos ended up placing it in front of them with an awkward smile and Cinnabar felt bad about having them pay for their breakfast.

“I think I got it wrong,” Phos began apologizing, “maybe you wanted tea, but I don’t know, it’s still morning, I thought coffee’d be better, but then I thought you maybe had yours already so yeah, uh, hope a cappuccino is still okay?”

It was. The larger cup offered Cinnabar’s hands something to hold themselves to and a warm place to rest. Not to mention how much of their face Cinnabar could hide just by taking one sip. And how many sips a larger cup allowed them to take.

As a sign of appreciation, Cinnabar offered Phos a curt nod. It must have been the correct response because the smile that lighted up Phos’ face was genuine.

“So, you’re working with the kids! That’s so cute, I thought you hated children.”

Cinnabar frowned, holding the cup to their lips.

“N-not that I’d be spying on you or anything! Lexi told me, I talked with them. They say you’re great, I mean, you’re a great teacher, the kids adore you,” Phos chuckled, “that’s… nice. To be honest, I didn’t think I’d still find you here.”

Cinnabar averted their eyes, embarrassed. This wasn’t how they had imagined their conversation to go, they didn’t want to be the recipient of attention. Their chest started thumping again.

“This is awkward,” they mumbled.

Phos started playing with the hem of their sleeves again, twisting their fingers.

“Yeah,” they agreed, “I know. I’m sorry. But I’m glad, really, you seem okay. Makes me happy.”

“What, now you care?”

“No-no, I mean- I know, you’re right. I just- I’m sorry. This is messed up.”

“Not my fault.”

It was the right moment to exploit the size of the cup Phos had brought them. Cinnabar brought it to their lips without drinking any of it, finding respite in the sensation of warmth against their fingers. Phos always had a talent for addressing the elephant in the room but they looked almost as tense as Cinnabar. It made them feel guilty even if Cinnabar knew it was not their fault: Phos had insisted the two of them talk. Still, Cinnabar forced themselves to offer a temporary peace offering.

“How have you been doing?” they ventured.

Surprisingly, Phos was taken aback. They recovered quickly with a curt shrug.

“Good,” they mumbled.

“Alright,” Cinnabar tried to venture further, curious, “how’s Antarc?”

This time Phos’ eyes lowered to the table, avoiding Cinnabar’s gaze. Their face was surprisingly serene as they answered.

“Antarc died three years ago.”

“What?” Cinnabar breathed out.

“Car crash. It’ll be four years on January 14th. But hey it’s fine, I’m fine. It’s been a while,” they let out a breathless laugh.

“Actually, this is the thing I meant to tell you,” Phos went on, “Thanks, guess I was beating around the bush like an idiot. I’m sorry for not telling you guys sooner, I just… I wasn’t in the right place to, I guess. You all deserved to know. I apologize.”

A cacophony of thoughts and theories were storming through Cinnabar’s mind. Focusing on just one of them or formulating a coherent reply was impossible. Shreds of words and sentences kept twisting and coming undone and Cinnabar felt like they were trying to put together a puzzle that was missing a thousand pieces, unable to find the right one.

They had to say something. Silence would just be cruel at this point, but if it had really been four years how could they offer condolences or sympathy? And why had Phos never told anyone? What did they mean they weren’t “in the right place?”

It must have been excruciating. Phos had adored Antarc. As far as Cinnabar knew, they had been living happily together for five years and now it turned out that it had all been a lie. Antarc had died almost four years ago. Who had been by Phos’ side? Cinnabar could have helped, they should have. Had Phos been alone? Were they alone now? Why didn’t they come back right away but waited all this time?

A small part of Cinnabar was relieved that Phos was finally telling them, letting Cinnabar see their face as they recalled that Antarcticite had passed away. All of a sudden, Cinnabar thought they had already seen that same expression when they stumbled upon Phos the day before.

“You were speaking with Alex,” they realized.

“They were Chryso’s cousin, they were close,” Phos’ lips twitched in resignation, “should have told ‘em sooner, way sooner. They didn’t take it well. It’s all my fault. I told them I was sorry, they… I think they saw Chryso in them. I just made it worse for them.”

“I’m sorry,” Cinnabar managed to mumble, it felt like something they should have said ages ago.

“No, don’t be. I did it all by myself.”

“Still-“

“I wanted to tell you in person,” Phos interrupted them, “’twas the least I could do after everything. I didn’t want you to know from Alex or the others. I… wanted to tell you myself. You deserve it. And maybe you can be with Alex, just- be there for them, they’ll need it.”

Phos was right, but there were a lot of things Cinnabar still needed to know.

“How are you?” they inquired again.

“I’m fine, I told you, it’s been a long time.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“What? I’m fine as ever. Phos-level fine. Cracking jokes like this town’s best moron. Please tell me the title is still vacant, I’d be sorry to beat up any new kid with the sheer awesomeness of my personality.”

“Moron.”

“Yup, that’s me. A moron who’s totally fine and back in the game,” Phos joked, “cause this moron has been a complete and utter asshole and they want to make up for it… if they can.”

Cinnabar scoffed.

Phos reverted to their new, serious persona, looking at their hands to avoid their gaze.

“Thing is, I’m much more concerned about how you’ve been doing. Cause I had a lot of time to think about it and after Antarc- after everything and stuff… I- what I did wasn’t right. How I up and left, how I disappeared… how I treated you. I’m sorry. God. I’ve fucked up so much, must’ve won myself a prize or something, uh?” Phos’ smile was bitter, “not a nice prize. But yeah. I guess this is another thing I wanted to tell you. I don’t know if it’s possible, I don’t know if you’ll want me, but I wanna make things right. I need to try.”

Cinnabar frowned. This entire conversation was way too much to absorb in a single day. Even the simple fact that they were sitting at the same table again had been a lot to process. It was irritating, surreal, exhausting. Cinnabar was so overwhelmed that they wished they could go back to bed again, and it wasn’t even midday.

“Phos?”

They were so trapped in their thoughts that they did not see Diamond approaching until the latter started talking. At that point, Cinnabar was too relieved by the diversion to elaborate on what Dia would make of a breakfast with Phos.

“Hey! D-Dia, hi! Wow, it’s been a while,” Phos stuttered.

Diamond looked hesitant for a second, as if they too couldn’t believe that Phos was right there. Then they shoved their doubts aside and launched themselves at their old friend, hugging them with desperate force. It made Cinnabar wish it was that easy.

“God, I’ve been so worried, I’ve missed you,” they mumbled over and over as they tightened their arms around Phos’ back, “I’ve missed you so much. We were so worried. You’re okay, I’m so happy.” It took Phos off guard too and their arms lay helpless by their sides before they found the strength to wrap them around Dia’s torso in return, patting their shoulders awkwardly.

“Yeah, uhm, sorry about that?”

When Diamond finally pulled back, their cheeks were lined with tears. They brought a finger to their eyes to wipe them away with grace.

“Don’t ever do that again,” they murmured and if it hadn’t been Dia, it would sound like a threat. As they recomposed themselves, Diamond remembered to notice Cinnabar’s presence and their lips twitched in a small, familiar smile.

“Why, what are the two of you doing here together?” they cooed, all too amused.

“What’re you doing here?” Cinnabar replied.

“I stopped by for a coffee and then I saw you from the counter and I thought I could come to tell you about Bort’s party. But then I saw Phos and- Phos!” Dia looked at them, unaware of how Phos was looking increasingly lost, “Bortie is coming back too in a few days and Euc was thinking we could organize a nice party. Wouldn’t it be cute now that we’re all together again?”

“Bort left too?” Phos asked.

“That cutie is studying in a military academy in the north but they have a leave for their birthday. Aren’t they adorable? Always thinking about their family so we can celebrate together, even when they’re so busy with school. I’m so proud of them. You’re coming too, right Phosie?”

“I don’t think Bort’ll be very happy to see me…”

“Of course not! They may come off as rude but the truth is they’re such a softie and they missed you a lot, just like all of us. It’ll make for a great surprise. Oh, it’s going to be so much fun. I can’t believe we’ll be all together again. It’s so great. But speaking of which, I came to ask Shinsha if they could help us with the arrangements, do you want to help too? Pretty please?”

“I’m not coming,” Cinnabar pointed out.

“But we need your artistic eye for the decorations. Please?”

“No.”

“It’s Bortie’s party, how will they feel knowing you didn’t help?”

Cinnabar scoffed, crossing their arms over their chest.

“It could be nice?” Phos murmured, unexpectedly. Cinnabar’s eyes shot them a murderous glance. “I-if you want, of course,” they specified, but Dia was already ecstatic. They clung to Cinnabar’s shoulders with surprising strength.

“Pretty please?” they pleaded.

It was a mystery, truly, because when Cinnabar’s lips parted they had been meaning to say the exact opposite of what came out of them. But they made the mistake of looking at Phos as they spoke and at the way they were looking at Cinnabar.

“Alright,” Cinnabar heard themselves say.

#houseki no kuni #land of the lustrous #hnk #cinnaphos #fic tag #1960s au

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thedeevirus · 6 years

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Vampire Oswald finding out how his bite effects ed? Maybe he catches Ed jerking off after?

Anonymous said:NSFW Vampire!Oswald please!!

Anonymous said:okay so I’m up for either nsfw or angst for vampire!oswald (bonus I guess if Ed offers his neck/blood to Oswald or if Oswald hungers/is desperate)!! also I’m? so happy you’re still writing ficlets for this au?? I adore your writing so much

Anonymous said:I need more Vampire!Oswald, STAT!

Here you all go! WARNING: NSFW! (HENCE THE KEEP READING TAG)Also uploaded to my Nygmobblepot Ficlet Collection on AO3

Oswaldleant his head against the side of the pigeon coop and sighed heavily, shameprickling along his clammy skin. Overhead thunder clouds rumbled, the night airfeeling close and thick due to the gathering storm. The streets of the Narrowswere empty, the denizens already sheltering from the imminent downpour. Oswaldwould have to go back inside as well to avoid getting soaked.He hoped Ed would be tending to the wound on his arm. The wound Oswald had caused.

Oswaldstill wasn’t quite sure what had happened.One moment he and Ed had just been kissing: gentle pecks as usual whilesnuggling together in bed. Their courtship had not progressed beyond chastekisses and Oswald was grateful for Ed’s consideration of his inexperience. Theyhad seen each other naked (after all Ed had seen Oswald naked all those monthsbefore when he had rescued him from the woods) and enjoyed sleeping in the nudetogether but Oswald was not in a rush to escalate things. But for some reason, during their make out session, Oswald had remembered thesight of Ed’s bloody mouth that day on the docks. The way it had glistened on Ed’steeth when he had smiled and the tang of it on Oswald’s tongue as they hadshared their first halting kiss on the pier after he had saved Ed from Sofia’sthugs. He wondered if that was how Ed would look if he were a vampire?The image had ramped up the pleasurable warmth that had been building insideOswald to a rampant, throbbing heat and he had deepened the kiss automatically,moaning as he felt his length begin to tent his trousers.Ed had responded enthusiastically, his fingers entwining in Oswald’s hair,dragging him closer and closer.Oswald had chased the sensations, luxuriating in this new, deeper and somehowmore meaningful kind of hunger than what he usually experienced. It felt goodto indulge, to be rough, to let go…The next thing he knew he was holding Ed down, fingers clamped on Ed’sshoulders as he ravished his mouth, their tongues dancing in the wet heat, sendingthunderbolts through Oswald’s body and-Then Ed had given a startled cry of painand Oswald had halted immediately. Looking down, he had seen that his nails had transformed into curved claws andpierced Ed’s arm. Blood pooled beneath the points and Oswald had let goimmediately.As he had looked around for something to help with the wound, Oswald had caughta glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. It was an old wife’s tale thatvampires had no reflections at all and what Oswald had seen in the glass hadsmashed through the pleasant haze dragging him immediately back to cold reality.In the midst of his delirium, he had accidentally dropped his human glamourrevealing his real vampiric face.Seeing his monstrous face revealed and Ed’s widened eyes beneath him, Oswaldhad leapt from the bed and instantly fled the room. He had run out into thedarkness where monsters like him belonged.

Oswaldhad reached the roof before his panic had receded and he realised that he hadbeen wrong to flee. Ed’s welfare mattered, not Oswald’s panicked indulgence ofhis shame. So, Oswald had tried to calm down by counting to ten with deepbreaths inhaled through the nose and exhaled through the mouth before returninginside to face Ed. In the process, he had come to a startling revelation.He was in heat. Oswald knew there was no other reason for the severity of the reaction he hadjust experienced. The predatory fixation on domination and drive to mate hadbeen nearly overpowering. Oswald had never experienced such desire before as ahuman or a vampire. When his heat period had come around previously it had beenakin to a nagging itch to be scratched, not something to be enjoyed. Oswald hadalways satisfied himself in the past, feeling uncomfortable yet relieved whenhe climaxed. Was the sensation he had felt earlier what humans and vampiresfelt every time they were sexually aroused? It seemed exhausting! Unsure what to think about this, he focused his preternatural senses to checkif Ed was alright before heading back inside.Only to detect Ed’s heartbeat pounding like the hammers of Hell.

Worried,Oswald instantly transformed into a cloud of mist and flew down the side of thebuilding and in through Ed’s open bedroom window. As he drifted past thecurtains billowing in the warm night air, he was startled at the sight thatgreeted him.

Edwas naked amidst the mussed blankets, pyjamas discarded on the floor and legsakimbo, his pale flesh illuminated by the neon green sign outside his apartmentwindow. He was thrusting two glistening fingers in and out of his ass, his cockpainfully erect as he bucked his hips, groaning. Ed raised his injured arm and Oswaldwatched, enraptured as Ed licked the bloody trail like a cat grooming, hislithe arm outstretched and fingers spread. Ed’s Adam’s apple bobbed as heswallowed the few droplets he had taken and Oswald swallowed hard in unison.He knew for certain now.The hunger he had felt earlier was nothing to do with blood. It was everything to do with Ed.Oswald wanted Ed. Wanted him in a way he had never wanted anyone else.

‘Holdme’, Ed said, staring right at Oswald’s miasmic form.

Oswaldwas so surprised at Ed addressing him that he lost focus and resumed his normalshape automatically.

‘Oswald,hold me’, Ed repeated, his pleading audible even over the rumbling thunderoverhead.

Oswaldmoved towards the bed as if hypnotised.

‘Please…helpme finish’, Ed whispered desperately as Oswald crawled onto the bed, ‘Please’.

Edtilted his head back onto the pillow, a dark blue vein livid against the whiteflesh illuminated as lightning flashed outside and, removing his fingers fromhis entrance, took hold of his cock. Oswald obeyed. The way Ed was gazing up at him, he couldn’t help it. To have someonepractically beg for his caress, plead for him to indulge his hunger, was toomuch to resist.As he sank his teeth into Ed’s waiting neck and felt Ed spasm, milky cum shiningin the moonlight as he ejaculated, Oswald closed his eyes, trying desperatelyto reconcile the drive to feed with the much deeper desire awakening insidehim.

A fewmoments later, they were lying in bed side by side, fully clothed and Edbearing a fresh bandage on his neck. Rain hammered down outside, only servingto highlight how comfortable and safe the bed seemed. Oswald lay with his headresting on Ed’s chest, listening to Ed’s heartbeat. It was calmer now. Content.Peaceful.

‘How’dyou know I was there?’ Oswald asked.His voice sounded loud in the mellow darkness.

‘Ialways know’, Ed replied, the trace of a smile in his words, ‘I wanted you tosee’.

‘Seewhat?’

‘Howmuch I want you’.

Oswaldtouched Ed’s arm wound meaningfully. Ed smiled and placed a hand over Oswald’ssqueezing it reassuringly.

‘You’resure?’ Oswald asked quietly.

‘Itrust you Oswald’, Ed said softly, ‘Fear is no excuse not to try. That is, ifyou want me the same way? Because if you don’t it’s okay-’

‘Ido! I know I do. I just want you to be safe’.

‘Don’tworry’, Ed said.

Hesteepled his fingers and lay on his back, gazing at the ceiling as he set hisformidable brain to the task.

‘Ihave some ideas’, he mused.

Thus,a date was set and preparations began. Ed drew up a rigorous diet plan of red meat, kidney, liver, leafy greenvegetables, eggs and legumes for himself to increase his red blood count. Theyhad decided to include a bite and a small feeding session for Oswald in their lovemaking.Both because Ed genuinely enjoyed the sensation and because of Ed’s theory thatOswald trying to suppress his instincts was a worse idea than allowing him tomate the way vampires were supposed to. Vampires were fundamentally predatorsand as such mated enthusiastically with an emphasis on dominance and displaysof strength. Whilst Ed trusted Oswald implicitly, he also didn’t want theirdesire for safe coitus to completely override the atmosphere and specialsignificance of the act. He didn’t want it to be akin to a chore. Ed also visited his doctor for a physical to ensure his body would be healthyenough to take whatever Oswald could dish out and received a clean bill ofhealth.Meanwhile, Oswald got into the habit of clipping his claws daily to avoidfurther accidents and made sure he fed well on human blood purchasedsurreptitiously from blood banks in the month leading up to the date they hadagreed for their first time to help dampen his hunger. He also researched humanmating positions and etiquette: after all he had not bothered with them when hehad been human and had been even less concerned with them as a vampire beforemeeting Ed. He familiarised himself with them quickly and hoped he would beable to perform when the time came without getting carried away. He also hopedhe would feel something akin to the strong instinctual pull he had felt before withEd rather than the polite disinterest he unfailingly felt while researching themechanics of mating. He didn’t understand how pornography films and magazinesexcited human males when Oswald just felt as if he were studying for a test.Nevertheless, he persevered. Ed’s happiness and sexual satisfaction were worth the hours of watching monotonous,vulgar, gyrating flesh in varying positions.

‘Remember,the safe word is ‘umbrella’’, Ed said, throwing his briefs outside of theblanket.

‘Iremember’, Oswald confirmed, getting into position so he and Ed were lyingbeside each other.

DespiteOswald’s nervousness, as soon as he felt Ed’s warm hand on his skin, he felthimself melting into Ed’s touch.

‘Justbefore we start’, Ed said, ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Always’.

‘Beforewe start, can I see you? Like you were the other night?’

‘Why?’

‘Iwant you to know you don’t ever have to hide from me’.

‘Just-justfor a moment, alright? Don’t want my teeth getting in the way once we…get going’.

‘Iunderstand’.

‘Itrust you Ed’, Oswald said.

Ednodded solemnly, and, with a final squeeze of Ed’s hand, Oswald dropped hisglamour.

‘Fascinating’,Ed breathed, his analytical mind committing every one of Oswald’s unveiled physicaltraits to memory, ‘May I?’

Oswaldnodded and Ed reached out a hand to stroke Oswald’s cheek. He smiled fondly ashe saw the porcelain skin blush beneath his fingertips. Despite the warmth ofthe blood Oswald had consumed, Oswald’s skin felt cooler and harder than humanskin, like marble hidden beneath a soft, velvet like veneer. His eyes werestill the same colour but his pupils had narrowed to those of a cat’s, an obvioussign of his superior dark vision. Ed marvelled at the lethality in Oswald’snatural face. His eyes were as fierce as a bird of prey’s and his claws shonein the dim light from where his hands were resting in his lap. His sharp canineteeth barely poked beneath his top lip, akin to a tantalising peek at the perfectpredator Oswald truly was inside.Ed thought he was beautiful. Then again, he had always thought that.

Ed usedboth hands to caress Oswald’s face and was rewarded with a small hiss as Oswaldleant into his touch, rubbing his face against the heels of Ed’s open palms asEd ruffled his hair. Ed, gratified that his strategy had successfully helpedOswald relax, leant in for a gentle kiss. Just as Oswald had said, he resumedhis glamour, his teeth shrinking away behind his parting lips.

Justlike the night when Oswald had lost control, the kiss swiftly deepened into amore savage kiss. Both fought for dominance as Ed nibbled Oswald’s lips andOswald sucked hard on Ed’s tongue. After a few minutes, they broke the kiss,breathing hard, pupils blown and mouths bruised.

‘You’redelicious’, Oswald purred, running his tongue along Ed’s jawline.

‘Youhaven’t sampled the best parts of me yet’, Ed whispered into Oswald’s ear.

Helaid his head against the pillow and tilted his chin up, feeling the usualshiver of anticipation as Oswald’s eyes alighted on his exposed, vulnerableneck.Oswald’s lips caressed the vein with a tender kiss and Ed felt as much as heardthe whispered words ‘I love you’ before the pain of penetration by Oswald’steeth.The pain vanished almost immediately, replaced by the usual, mindless bliss Edalways felt when Oswald fed on him. He felt as if he were floating on a warmwave that built and built as Oswald’s ‘attentions’ deepened. It was likegetting drunk without any of the unpleasant side effects: a relaxing haze thatalso sent shivers down your spine and electrified the pleasure centres. Ed couldfeel his cock pulse in time with the heartbeat growing louder in his ears.Oswald’s hands were gentle as they held him in place, his fingers combingthrough Ed’s hair comfortingly, cradling him in a deep embrace. Ed’s own handstrayed to his cock, barely pumping it: just enough friction to make him hungryfor more.Regardless of his self imposed restrictions, when Ed could feel a familiarcoiling sensation beginning in his stomach, he hurriedly patted Oswald’sshoulder.

‘Ah! Umbrella!’Ed gasped, shuddering at the sudden rush of cool air on his skin as Oswaldstopped feeding immediately.

‘DidI hurt you?’ Oswald asked, his concern obvious despite his deliberately casualtone.

Edkissed Oswald’s cheek, catching a glimpse of his reflection in Oswald’s bright,blood red eyes. He tasted blood in his mouth and realised he had accidentally gotsome of the blood from the corner of Oswald’s mouth in his own. Ed smiled: itlooked as if Oswald had clumsily applied bright red lipstick.

‘No’,Ed said, stroking Oswald’s face, ‘I just don’t want to spend it all at once’.

‘I’mglad’, Oswald said with a wicked smile that showed his bloody teeth, ‘I’m readyto move on to the main course’.

Edfelt his heart flutter as Oswald’s eyes changed back to their familiar palegreen in a strange form of reverse bleeding. It made his stare all the more intense.Like a snake staring down a mouse. As he felt Oswald force him down, Ed understoodwhy mice stood still while the snake swallowed them whole. Those eyes were… enthralling.

Edthrilled as Oswald pinned his wrists down, the iron strength in Oswald’s grip atelectrifying odds with the gentle, attentive kisses he was placing along Ed’s collarbone.His tongue flicked delicately over the skin like a butterfly’s wing and beforelong, Ed was practically writhing beneath him. Ed was so busy luxuriating inthe feather light caresses that he didn’t notice Oswald drifting lower andlower, so much so that he kept his wrists pinned even though Oswald had let go.

Oswald’stongue flicking over the head of his erection was a different story. Ed’s eyessnapped open and he looked down to see Oswald gazing up at him, an expressionof almost perverse innocence on his face as he lathed Ed’s cock with histongue, pink still tinging his saliva. At the same time, Oswald’s long fingers cuppedEd’s ballsack, the tips of his nails tickling the skin and making Ed’s hips buck.Ed mewled like an animal, silently begging Oswald to take his cock into hismouth. Oswald feigned curiosity, tilting his head but then smirked and wrappedhis fingers around it instead. Ed quivered at Oswald’s cold fingers around theimpossible heat of his member but these tremors segued into pleasurable,languid thrusts as Oswald began to pump slowly. A few (all too short) secondslater, Oswald let go, holding up his fingers glistening with Ed’s precum intriumph.

‘Ifyou need lube-‘ Ed began but gasped.

Oswald sucked obscenely on his fingers and withdrew them from his mouth. A thick mix of saliva and blood mingled on his digits. Oswaldlowered his hand so his fingertips were pointing at Ed’s entrance. Ed’s breath hitchedand he parted his legs to grant Oswald better access. Oswald, sensing Ed’ssilent consent, traced a fingertip around Ed’s hole, the blood painting it avibrant red, it’s smell and the smell of Ed’s lust making the hairs on the backof Oswald’s neck stand on end.

Ohdear’, Ed said breathlessly, the ticklish sensation incredibly erotic and simultaneouslymaddening.It was better than any lube!Ed repeated the phrase like a mantra and Oswald’s ministrations sped up until(after what seemed like an eternity), the first of Oswald’s fingers penetratedhis entrance. Ed’s back arched against the bed but before he could recover,Oswald added a second finger making Ed cry out in pleasure as his toes clenchedand his fingers curled into claws as they gripped the bedsheet.

‘Areyou going to keep saying that all night?’ Oswald teased.

‘N-no’.

‘Thentell me what I want to hear’.

‘Fuckme Oswald’.

‘Begyour pardon?’

‘Pleasefuck me! For the love of God, fuck me!’

Oswaldplunged inside without further ceremony, giving a savage snarl of satisfaction thatmade Ed’s heart sing even as it made his heart hammer. Oswald began to thrustand the world fell away for Ed, his mouth agape at the sheer enormity of beingfilled by another person. His own fingers had been a means to an end but heknew they would never satisfy him again. Ed felt Oswald physically lifting him up from the bed, either not noticing orcaring about his injured leg. Perhaps he was too caught up in fucking Ed tocare about anything else? The thought made Ed moan and Oswald lifted himhigher, impaling him on his cock, Ed felt as if he were ascending to heaven.

Oswald’sthrusts shocked him to his core, the impacts against his pleasure centre likelightning bolts in his soul, bouncing around its cage of nerves and bone. Ed,frenzied by the shockwaves of pleasure, bit down hard on Oswald’s shoulder in adisplay of sheer, animalistic need. He heard Oswald give a growl followed by adark, appreciative chuckle at the irony of a human biting a vampire.

Ed,somehow still capable of some degree of rational thought despite being fuckedwithin an inch of his life, reached down with a trembling hand for his cock.Only for Oswald to beat him to it.But there was no teasing this time as Oswald began to pump and Ed gave astrangled cry as Oswald matched pace with his thrusts, stimulating Ed from thefront and the back. Oswald was all around Ed like an all-encompassing shadowand Ed fucking loved it!

Oswald’snerve endings were on fire: he felt like he was chasing something wonderful justout of reach. An addict surging after a craving that would fix everything. Hecraved Ed. Ed was everything. As his rational train of thought was finallyderailed, he gave an inhuman cry of exultation as the horizon reared up beforehim like dawn breaking.

Edmatched Oswald’s cry with a guttural roar of sheer ecstasy as his back archedand he came, rocking violently as he rode out the greatest orgasm he had everexperienced.

Feelinghis mate cum was too much for Oswald and his back arched as he painted Ed’sinsides with his seed, truly marking him as his own. He bared his formidable teeth,mouth agape in an instinctive display of primal strength as he held Ed close tohim, listening for the rhythm of his heart in the aftermath of the crescendothey had created together.

Theycollapsed together onto the soft sheets, breathing heavily with delirioussmiles as they gazed at each other. Ed impishly licked a stray droplet of bloodfrom the corner of Oswald’s mouth and drew his tongue across Oswald’s lips,making them glisten. Oswald blew him a kiss in response as if he had justapplied fresh lipstick.

‘So,how are you planning to top that?’ Ed asked mischievously.

Oswaldinhaled and exhaled deeply, surrounded by the heady scent of Ed’s sweat, bloodand the fruity aroma of the lube. It smelt like love. Powerful, all-consumingand utterly addictive.

‘Thenight’s still young’, Oswald promised.

#nygmobblepot ficlet #nygmobblepot #vampire!oswald #edward nygma #Oswald Cobblepot

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scenarios-on-ice · 7 years

Text

“…I’m sorry, what?”

Time to move on to a new song

“LUNA

If only you had heard the shit he said about you, I doubt you would have let it slide, and I was not about to! I came to ask you for advice, this is my very first duel…they don’t exactly cover this subject in fandom school…”

(Yes I know this is actually worse than One Last Time)

You know somebody is a cinnamon roll when you know literally nothing about them but then you read a comment they make on a manga or a random tweet of theirs and you automatically go “awww how adorable”. Ishida is apparently one of those ‘Looks like a cinnamon roll but could actually kill you’ types.

I don’t watch the AoT anime anymore because I don’t really like how it handles the characters (namely Mikasa, Annie and Eren; plus there wasn’t much of a point in watching it since it never advanced beyond the Female Titan arc until now) but I saw S2’s trailer and it does look amazing! The animation is as beautiful as ever :) maybe I’ll give it a chance if I have the time!

So…here’s more TG/Ham angst ^^ I have no idea how to make AMVs or MMVs but for some reason I decided it would be fun to write this little plan for a Wait for It MMV for TG. Here’s a snippet of the mess I ended up creating (the lyrics are in italics and everything in parentheses is the scene/panel I would like to appear during that lyric):

Love doesn’t discriminate

(Nishiki & Kimi or Yoshimura & Ukina)

Between the sinners

(Kureo Mado)

And the saints

(Hinami)

It takes

(the scene with Mado’s wedding ring)

And it takes

(Tsukiyama lying on the rooftop after Kaneki leaves him)

And it takes

(Kurona reaching out for Nashiro before Juuzou kills her)

And we keep loving anyway

(Kanae falling with Shuu)

We laugh

(Yoriko & Touka)

And we cry

(Akira crying after Amon and Takizawa’s ‘deaths’)

And we break

(Mutsuki comforting Urie in the auction arc)

And we make our mistakes

(Touka lashing out at Kaneki on the bridge in the first series)

I might regret sending this because it’s so messy XD Sorry just ignore it

Aww, thank you! I love anaylzing characters and scenes when I’m not too lazy to do so.

It’s interesting to compare characters too, how they can be similar and different at the same time- character relationships are also a lot of fun to analyze.

Speaking of that, though…

SPOILERS AND RAMBLING ABOUT TG’S RECENT CHAPTERS; BEWARE

(So, we got that Amon/Kaneki convo.

Amon: “The people you thought you lost…your friends and acquaintances…what if they somehow returned to you? How would that make you feel?”

Kaneki: “It’d be frightening. Because I’ll have forgotten their names.”

Maybe I’m being weird but I seem to recall the White Suits telling Miza that they followed Naki because no matter how thick he seems, he never forgets a friend and he has never forgotten the names of the people he fought with (he keeps apologizing to the dead members of his group every night). Kaneki’s statement that he’s 'forgotten’ the names of his lost loved ones seems to contrast with Naki’s behavior. Don’t know if this was on purpose or not but if it was, that would be cool.

We also got a Touka/Akira convo, which was really interesting.

Touka and Akira reached a tentative sort-of beginning of an understanding through their less-than-ideal fathers: When Akira claimed she was never ashamed or remorseful for the ghouls she hunted and that she was proud of her father’s legacy, Touka asked Akira if she’d never considered how things might have been if Kureo Mado hadn’t been so bent on revenge. She then admitted that she wasn’t proud of her own father either; that she’d resented him for being so obsessed with avenging her mother and that she’d been angry with herself for being unable to comfort him or make him stay with her or Ayato.

Judging from Akira’s expression and the way she said 'don’t you dare’, she probably did think of 'what if father hadn’t…’ before.

I also like how things are being represented. While Akira still has a long way to go compared to people like Kaneki, Touka, Nishiki, Hinami, or even Amon and Shuu, she’s not shown as being entirely in the wrong here. An interesting scene is when Touka leads Akira outside and shows her three young children playing together; Akira’s confused for a moment before Touka tells her that the children are ghouls.

Akira remarks that no matter if they’ve been orphaned, no matter the trauma they’ve gone through, these children are still going to grow up to hunt and devour humans and that is just a fact of life that can’t be helped. Later on, when Touka convinces the children to give Akira a hug, their first instincts are to remark that she(Akira) smells nice and that they’re getting hungry.

It’s a completely innocent statement with no harmful intention behind it, but it reminds us once again that peace isn’t going to be easy and that in different circumstances, Akira would be food to these children. Or they would be her victims.

Hinami also met Akira. Those two haven’t talked yet but they’ve hugged…?

Last note:

Furuta’s got his hands on Rize.

Did Shachi take her. That might explain it since he died at Arima’s hands so the CCG could have gotten Rize after that. If that’s the case…

Shachi, you’re a good dad but leaving her with Yomo might, MIGHT have been better for everybody in the long run.

Except Furuta, but nobody cares about him.)

OMG THE COLORS ARE SO PRETTY I’ve got to watch that now, if only for the visuals (I mean, I’m sure it’s got good characters and/or a sound plot too, I just think the art is lovely)

Thanks :D I’ve heard of Boku no Hero Academia too, time to look up the plot for that one…

I think the problem with me is that I usually join the most mainstream fandoms because I like to have a lot of fics to read and a lot of people with different opinions to discuss things with. That’s kind of why I dropped out of the Vocaloid and Evillious Chronicles fandoms…

Anyway, I’ll try to check out all your recs! Thank you again!

"Okay, Evans, my sweet cinnamon roll, here’s what you’re gonna do. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO ENTER THAT DUEL AT ALL, YA HEAR ME??”

Yes, it is much, much worse.

Yeah, he does seem like one of those hahah Honestly, for some reason my favorite 'cinnamon roll types’ are 'looks like he could kill you, but is actually a cinnamon roll’ and 'looks like a cinnamon roll, but could actually kill you’. Aaaand, I’m gonna take a wild quess and say that you’re either a cinnamon roll who’s actually a cinnaom roll or a cinnamon roll who could actually kill you.

Ah, I remember spoiling the basement thing to you (really sorry again ^^;;)! And, to be completely honest, I’m not sure how much you’d like what’s currently going on in the manga :/ It kinda seems like Isayama took the 'easy way out’ of the whole 'let’s explain titans’ thing… not to mention it’s become as complicated as TG:Re, if not more ;-; But, hey, Armin, my sweet cinnamon roll, is still alive, so it’s comething!

That’s actually a very good idea! I’ve fooled around with making amvs before, so if you want, I can attempt to make this when I have time! It really does sound like it could break your heart if done properly. I take my earlier assumption back. You’re definitely a cinnamon roll who’d actually kill, because you kill my feelings on a regular basis :)))

Yeeah, I also love making up theories/headcanons about characters, but I’ll never get as detailed as you. As I said, I usually keep away from complicated things, like potential character pasts, I keep to the lighthearted things ^^;;

Whaaaaaat?? Kaneki forgot names of all the dead people?? When Naki, Naki who’s kind of an idiot (but actually a really good person), never forgot a single name?? I’m starting to dislike Kaneki more and more… I mean, it started after the Tsukiyama extermination mission, to be honest, but this is just… Ishida is E V I L Also, I think it might’ve been done to create a contrast to Naki, since Ishida is quite big on hidden meanings.

Excuse me while I go cry in the corner. WHY IS ISHIDA SO HELLBENT ON KILLING OUR FEELINGS WITH A CHAINSAW OR SOMETHING?! I mean, Akira’s no closer to forgiving ghouls, it would seem (from what you’ve written, at least). And Furuta has Rize. Ooooh boy, I wonder how that’ll develop. Can’t be good anyway. But, hey, Hinami and Akira hugged, so that’s something.

Yup, Love Live has lots of nice colours and it’s a really cheerful anime, so it might serve as a break after TG hahah And the sequel, Love Live! Sunshine!! is even better, if you ask me, but that’s probably because one of my favorite characters of all times appeares there ^^;; Also, the songs are pretty good as well, in my opinion. They can have really weird titles, though, like 'Happy Party Train’ or 'Storm in Lover’ or 'Cutie Panther’. But they really are good songs ^^;;

My friend, who recommended BnHA to me said at one point 'but beware, it gets really dark’. Now, it’s impossible he was talking about the manga since he refuses to read it (in general) and the second season wasn’t out yet, so he was obviously talking about the first season. So I’m like 'okay, I’ll prepare myself’ And I watch the anime… and there’s not even a d of the dark in there. Apparently, TG and AoT have greatly altered my viewing of the term 'dark anime’, since I’ll find a lot of things not dark, even though other people will find it very dark.

Ah, that makes sense! When I watch an anime that’s not 'in’, I’ll usually be a tiny bit depressed over not having anyone to talk to about it, since everyone’s forgotten about it :/ So I understand your reasoning ^^

One last thing, you’ll never believe when I typed this reply! Hint: we’re geographically closer than ever! Because I, the biggest weeb of all times, am flying to Japan! And I typed this in the plane huehuehue

#tokyo ghoul anon #evans #submission

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