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#i love this little nugget more than life itself
hitlikehammers · 2 months
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intimately entwined
rating: e (but not how you think) ♥️ cw: the deepest intimacies in the most unexpected places knocking someone on their ass  ♥️ tags: established relationship, care-taking, casual intimacy, fluff, relationship development, slice of life, idiots in love
for @steddielovemonth day three: Love is wanting to do everything with someone, even if its nothing special
and yes, again: these boys probably grow up to star in the rockstar-husbands-with-the-sex-toys fic je ne regrette rien which will have a sequel flavoured revival via @subeddieweek in April whaaaaaatttt
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“Another.”
And the way it’s said: it’s almost fucking expectant too, Jesus Christ, this man.
“You’re sure this is okay?”
Because, like, Eddie needs to know it is. He needs to check, then double check, then triple check because…because this feels like a wholly different step, y’know? This feels like crossing a kind of line they haven’t even dared to tiptoe near just yet, wholly different from all the other lines they’ve navigated, both reckless and careless but together, always, and that helps, in theory. It helps to know that no matter how they’ve fumbled or triumphed in this, between them: it’s been hand in hand. Before, and during, and after.
Still, though. This is…this just feels very fucking different. The kind of boundary with implications that feel heavy and expansive under Eddie’s ribs. Maybe it should seem less monumental compared to other shit they’ve done, and most of that with far less deliberation and hesitation for them, at that. But this does, it…Eddie genuinely believes this pumps weird and novel through his veins, because it is different; and incredible for it, no question. Terrifying. Wholly beggars belief, honestly, and Eddie never really understood that phrase meant but.
He thinks this thing fits it, to a T.
“I said it was, didn’t I?”
Eddie blinks, recenters: was it okay?
And this, this…brilliant perfect little shit: Eddie can hear the smirk in his voice without even looking. He can hear the amusement as much as the loose-ends of frustration. Like Eddie is being absurd here.
Which: what the actual fuck; seriously.
Like, like: goddamn seriously.
“Yeah,” Eddie answers, a little hesitant, a lot fucking dazed; “yeah you did,” because…he did. From the beginning, from even before they settled int to start this: Steve had been…vocally enthusiastic. Not that Eddie hadn’t been! He’d mostly just, he’d just been—
“You think I’m fucking with you?”
Again: without having to see Eddie clocks the eye roll, the not-even-subtle challenge in it.
Alongside the nugget of genuine hurt held for if it turns out true and that: no.
No, Eddie will not fucking have that, so.
Okay, he won’t have that, but also first:
“I mean, yeah—“ because umm…their sex life is a little undeniable.
Steve snorts; how. How
“Here and now, jackass,” he snipes back and Eddie…Eddie really and truly doesn’t fucking know what to do with this. How cal, Steve is. How focused and dedicated to the task. How monumentally and profoundly, just…
How this is sitting in his chest as so much more than the rest of it somehow in a way Eddie cannot wrap his mind around to understand and it’s frightening. Not understanding something so clearly and intimately important; so clearly fucking intimate.
“Not exactly,” Eddie ultimately settles on speaking rather than continuing to gape, continuing to stew in his terror as his heartbeat picks up but speed, it comes out more choked than he’d been hoping; less convincing by a mile as a result. “I don’t think you’re fucking with me like, like it’s something intentional,” and Eddie seeks out Steve’s gaze directly then because that’s it, that’s the hurt part he needs to root out and not crush to bits because he doesn’t crush any part of the man he loves, ever; no.
No, Eddie needs to root that out so he can draw it into the pounding in his chest warm and safe to be cradled and adored until it snuffs itself out in contented fucking joy, for being loved right. Like it deserves.
Which might be part of the problem in the present case just: this time it’s a problem for Eddie.
“Like not mean or anything,” he reiterates, to make absolute sure of this part too; “I just…”
Steve watches him as he struggles to put any part of it into words, can’t even move, or fidget like this: caught, and kinda giddily so underneath everything else, and maybe he needs to lean into that base sensation, see if he can chart his way out from the center versus stumbling around the sides:
“It can’t be, like, enjoyable,” is what he ultimately settles on saying as clear as he came because honestly, that sums up the bulk of it.
Plus he’s learned by now to trust Steve to reach around his rougher edges and find the heart of his meaning, or else, and probably more often: hold his hand as the send out a search party between them for the right words.
Because that’s still it, isn’t it: together.
And of everything else, Eddie doesn’t have to even pysch himself up to trust in that; it just it. It comes natural like breathing.
“Umm,” Steve draws out, a little incredulous; “why not?”
Why not? Why isn’t this exchange clearly one-sided?
“Because,” Eddie tries to find his words, or at least some of them: “I guess, what do you get out of it?”
Steve’s the one glancing to lock their gazes and Eddie…Eddie doesn’t feel ashamed where he might have early on. But he recognises the similar dive where it still lives in his stomach for the gentle warmth that Steve stares into him. Like he sees Eddie’s question, and loves Eddie enough that he won’t dismiss it.
“One more,” Steve instructs confidently, just-shy-of-demands.
“Steve—“
“If you hate it we never have to do it again,” Steve counters; a compromise; “promise.”
“That’s not—“ because fucking hell, as if Eddie could ever hate it.
“One more,” Steve reminds him with the patience of a saint and…Eddie’s moving almost without any thought for it at all, like his body runs the way of his heart and moves for Steve be rote, which.
Kinda, yeah.
“Blow,” Steve’s instructing and Eddie’s doing the moving-by-instinct-because-Steve-says thing again; knows he’s blinking owlishly as he purses his lips and does as he’s asked.
Blows. Ever-so-gentle.
“Okay,” Steve assesses and then grins: “okay, that’s it. Perfect.”
Eddie won’t fucking argue. Not least because it’s true.
Though he��s more invested in the perfection looking up at him like this.
“Verdict?”
And okay, Eddie thinks maybe he has words now, at least inside his head: intimacy wasn’t something he’d ever had before Steve, and frankly was never something he was hanging hopes on ever getting, again—before Steve.
But it wasn’t just because he didn’t have other options that Eddie banked on intimacy equalling sex, either. Because once he did have Steve, it just shifted to the idea of sex as a way of showing love. The more of himself he could give to Steve, the more intimate they’d become: the more of him that was Steve’s for the taking, the more of Steve he look reverent into himself, body to body: that was intimate. That was a relationship, how it looked as it grew. First time Steve came inside him. First time Eddie licked him open. First time he fucked Steve’s gorgeous goddamn thighs.
That kind of thing.
But Eddie’s not sure even the heaviest, headiest sex has ever left his heart as much of a thumping, fluttery mess as just this, which doesn’t feel like just anything: Steve. Sitting in front of him. With a bottle he drove out to Indy to get just for Eddie. Because Eddie wanted it. Because Eddie would like it. Because it might make Eddie happy and it did, it really really did, and—
Steve’s just painted his fucking nails the most gorgeous shiny black, only the slightest bit straying off on the skin, too, and it’s somehow hitting Eddie deeper than the first time they fucked, the first time they stretched each other open, the first time they 69’d in the sheets.
This is apparently what knocks Eddie on his ass for just how deep the love goddamn goes.
“That.”
“Hmm,” Eddie hums, blinking back to the moment where he was busy getting caught up in the new revelation of what intimacy looked like, not to mention caught up in admiring his nails: “what’s ‘that’?”
And Steve’s smiling beatific, incandescent, as he pokes Eddie’s cheek, no, more specifically: as he pokes Eddie’s dimple.
“What I get out of it.”
And Eddie flushes hot under Steve’s touch, then, as it all adds up and seeps in strong enough to shake his core before reshaping him from the inside out as Steve taps the little divot in his skin playfully:
“That.”
Which is how Eddie realizes full on and forever, probably something he already knew, just somewhere under the surface: the intimacy was the sharing of the joy. And in love, especially a love like this one: joy itself is the payoff.
Joy, like everything, is shared by default.
Eddie lifts his eyes, meets Steve’s smile so wide, and relishes the color on his nails as a sign of it for seeing; relishes the dizzy cadence pumping in his chest as proof for the rest of him, to feed and nurture this depth of loving for all the simple things, undimmed and forever until his heart stops doing anything at all. Because there is no pay off, even if there is always something to get out of it. Out of all of it.
Because love is them; together.
Intimately entwined to the goddamn cells.
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tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland
♥️
divider credit here
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neonacity · 3 months
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Elysium Ch.1: The Beginning of the End
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Summary: What do you get when demigods are sent to the human realm as punishment for wreaking havoc on Olympus? Chaos. And a whole lot of trouble the mundane world is probably not ready to face, ever.
PROLOGUE: The Beginning
DRABBLES: Son of Shadows (JENO) | Of Love & Lust (JAEMIN)
NOTE: I know Percy Jackson has picked up again with its new series, but despite some similarities, this fic is not inspired by the lore. I have never read any of the books. All real people mentioned in the story are only my uses. I do not imply any likeness between them and my characters. A lot of the concepts from the original mythology might also be changed to fit the plot. I do not allow any of my works to be shared anywhere else. I only have Tumblr.
© neonacity 2023 - 2024
*******
“Say you’re given a chance to sit down with any deity and just talk to them for five minutes, who would you choose?”
You crinkled your nose and peered at your best friend from the comfort of the faded bean bag you are slumped on. The room was warm and the weather was making your eyelids droop, but you managed to shift a little on your seat to look at the boy who was currently playing self-catch by throwing a baseball against the wall. Yangyang looked equally bored as he flicked his wrist lazily with ease.
“Should it be a deity?”
“Well, yeah. It’s not like you see them every day.”
“You don’t get to see Princess Diana every day. Or Beyonce.”
Yangyang gave a snort. 
“Beyonce’s still alive, Nugget.” 
You reached out for the closest cushion pillow and threw it at the boy who effortlessly ducked to avoid it. You glared, but he simply laughed to brush you off.
“My point is that, why ask for a deity if there are aspiring people who I can get a chance to talk to?”
“Do you really hate the gods that much,” Yangyang asked with a slight frown creasing the top of his nose. 
“Do you really love them that much, Beep?” 
Now, it was his turn to scoff at the mention of his childhood nickname. Yangyang rolled his eyes before fully turning on his seat to face you. 
“For someone who studies at Rosewood, you treat the celestial world with so much irony.”
That made you pause. Rosewood Institute… An academy that had centuries of history riding on its back. In the eyes of the world, it is a regular boarding school, albeit a shadowy one. For the chosen—or as what they call it—it is a fort that means so much more than any earthly concept. 
Rosewood Institute is the frontier in the mortal world that serves as the learning nest of demigods and half-bloods.
Half-deities and children of anyone connected to the world beyond all pass through the halls of the school. While humanity has since moved on and cut ties with their connection to the gods, their legacy remains and walks among them secretly under shadows. The only exception from the half-bloods housed within the academy were the 'darlings of Olympus,' namely the children of the big honchos residing in Elysium itself. 
For many, being a part of the community of demigods is a badge they wear with pride.
Well, except for you. 
You don’t want to call it hatred, but as the daughter of a humble forest nymph, you stand in a place that still puts you in the viewpoint of someone destined to look up to those with ‘bigger lineages.’ Alas, big names can come with big egos, and so it has tarnished the way you live your life at the Institute every single day.
You slumped back in your seat now and stared at the dusty, aged ceiling of the room you and Yangyang call the Journalism Club. You wished his question was rhetoric, but the hanging silence told you that he is actually expecting an answer. 
“I am just not all hot and excited about it. You already know why.”
Your best friend sighed. The sound of a ball bouncing against the wall started again from his side.
“Not all of them are bad, you know.”
“I’m not saying anyone is ba—”
The crashing sound of something heavy, followed by the shattering boom of breaking glass made you stop. Pulling yourself up from your seat in panic, you stared in shock at Yangyang who also looked frozen from surprise. It didn’t take long for the both of you to get what was happening, and soon enough, you were both scrambling out of the room without another word.
Scratch that. Every single one of these demigods ARE trouble.
*******
“What on earth is going on here?!” The billowing smoke from the room made you cough out your words as you barged through the door. You couldn’t see way past a few feet from the dust that was still settling, but you could make out moving shapes from behind the smoke screen. You squinted hard to make out what was happening when you saw an arm shoot out of nowhere to grab at something.
“What the hell, Haechan. You said you knew what you were doing!” 
A few coughs came a little ways from your right.
“I was, I swear! I followed everything that was written in the book.”
“If you did, then how come you blew up half of the room?!”
“I might have read one of the words wrong—”
“You what?!”
“I'm dyslexic, okay!” 
You blinked away the sting that was already making you start to tear up to properly make out what was in front of you. Now with more of the dust settled, you could finally put a face on the voices. 
Huang Renjun, son of Ares, the God of War. 
And Lee Haechan, child of Athena, the Goddess of Wisdom and Warfare. 
Both locked up in what seemed to be a deathly grip—well, with more of the latter being strangled by the former.
“I am going to kick your a—”
“Hey. Stop. Is everyone okay?” 
You jumped a little as a sudden creak came off from the corner followed by the sudden burst of light into the room. Somebody had enough sense to open a window, which made the rest of the smoke finally escape outside. Standing beside it was a boy with blonde hair that almost glowed like the sunlight. 
Mark Lee. The heir of Zeus, ruler of the sky… and the God of all Gods.
“We’re good. But I don’t think the room is,” a dark-haired boy answered on behalf of the group as he toed a fallen chunk of plank from the ceiling. He turned it over with his booted foot, which only made the wood break into pieces again.
“You think? Everything is scorched off. I liked this room. Now we have to—oh… hello there, Princess.” 
“Uh-oh…” Haechan whispered under his breath as he pushed back his skewed glasses up his nose bridge. Renjun, despite himself, finally let go of the other’s collar as his eyes shifted towards the other three. Mark cleared his throat and reached out to scratch the back of his neck, so instead you turned to the only two boys who are yet to avoid your withering look. 
You froze in your place and glared at the other boy with silver platinum hair who smiled sweetly at you from where he stood. Upon his greeting, everyone in the group turned to look at you, as if it was their first time to notice you there.
Lee Jeno, son of Hades, God of the Underworld; and Na Jaemin, beloved child of Aphrodite, Goddess of Love and Beauty; looked like the poster children of light and shadows. Their current expressions drove the imagery well, too. 
“Can somebody tell me why half the room melted off?” You asked through gritted teeth, your eyes boring holes at Jaemin who was still smiling so pleasantly at you—a fact that, to be honest, only made your blood boil more. 
“Haechan tried to make a spell that he got from one of the books in the library. He… wanted to make the room cooler,” Jeno answered. 
“What do you mean ‘he’? You were all in on the act too! Didn’t you say the heat here was much worse than Uncle Hades’ second circle of the Underworld?!” The brown-haired boy in question bristled. 
“Book? What book?” Yangyang, who had run after you, but was too shocked to speak before, echoed from behind. Renjun shifted a little guiltily on his feet. 
“Well about that…”
“He got it from the Restricted Section,” Jaemin said, still looking unbothered about everything. 
You felt seconds away from an aneurysm. 
“You mean he stole it?” You emphasized the word as you shifted your gaze to the thief in question. Haechan slightly frowned and looked away.
“I just borrowed it.. “
“You are not allowed to borrow it, let alone touch it. That’s why it is in the Restricted Section!” 
“We weren’t even supposed to use it, but Renjun and the rest—”
“Me?!” 
“Is it really not possible to have any of you stay out of trouble for at least one day?!”
You wish you were overreacting, but you couldn't really be as close to the truth as you are. In fact, you are almost ready to sacrifice Yangyang's blood just to go back to the time before the 'golden heirs' of Olympus stepped foot into your life.
It had almost been a month since the boys arrived in Rosewood. As the chosen heirs of their godly parents, they stayed in their respective domains to be trained and raised differently from the rest. When news broke that they were banished temporarily to the mortal realm as punishment for a gaffe, the Academy was thrown into excitement and chaos—well, mostly chaos from your perspective. 
You’ve been wanting to know what it is exactly that these men did to be exiled from Olympus, but to be honest, they have also been keeping you up almost every single day with their antics. It’s almost like trouble is always hovering around them, and since then, you have never known peace.
“We apologize. We really didn’t mean it this time. We were just trying to learn new things,” Mark, the eldest of the group, told you placatingly. You turned to look at him with your lips in a tight line. 
“This is a school for the demigods, Mr. Lee. Not Hogwarts. You can’t try spells here.”
Jaemin frowned, his curiosity genuine. 
“What’s Hogwarts?”
“You can try spells there?” Haechan seconded. 
“To the office, all of you,” you said as you pinched the bridge of your nose. You have just turned on your heel when someone else stepped into the room, his eyes silently roaming the mess stretched out in front of him. 
Mark straightened at the sight of the man. You did the same, slight surprise marking your features.
“Headmaster.”
“Papa?”
Your father, looking the least bit troubled by the mess, turned to give all of you a smile. 
“Hello kids, it seems like you are having quite an interesting afternoon.”
“Sir, we can explain—”
“They used a spell to—!”
Both you and Mark stopped mid-sentence as he raised a hand.
“I’d love to know the full story, but for now I need to talk to all of you. Can you all please come to my office?”
*******
The boys looked around silently as they settled on their seats at the Headmaster’s office. You, not being a stranger to the place anymore, sat on the closest one to your father’s table, your fingers fidgeting slightly on your side. The man in front was peacefully making coffee as if he has not a care in the world, but you could sense in the air in the room that something was up. That was the thing about your father. Nothing ever seems to ruffle him up.
You know, having been raised by him in the walls of the Institute himself since you were a kid. Even before you officially became a student here, you have seen the way he had handled all kinds of matters in Rosewood. After all, being the Headmaster of one of the select places in the mortal world where the offspring of gods and otherworldly creatures reside does come with its fair share of trouble. 
“Is something the matter?” You braved to ask the question that everyone in the room was itching to voice out. He turned to all of you with a smile and lifted the coffee pot he just finished brewing. 
“Coffee, anyone?” 
You and Mark caught each other’s gazes before slightly shaking your heads. The rest did the same.
“Mm. More for me then,” your father murmured more to himself with a chuckle as he settled behind the ancient-looking oak table. You all watched nervously as he took his time to sip on his drink. The whole room seemed to be holding its breath. Off on your other side, Haechan seems on the verge of chewing his fingers off.
“Papa—”
“We might have to temporarily close off Rosewood,” the Headmaster said to gently cut you off. You froze, processing what he just said for a few seconds. You expected everything, except for this. 
“What??”
“There has been a little bit of trouble brewing in the borders of our world and Elysium. Today, I am going to make an announcement that students and their families have the choice to go home or stay here if they want.”
None of what he is saying makes sense. Beside you, the boys looked paler under the light.
“What do you mean we are closing down Rosewood? We never close the Institute ever!” You blurted out, unable to keep yourself quiet anymore. 
“We have never done it, yes, darling. But this time, the case is a little bit different,” the man replied to you kindly and under control still. He then turned to his other visitors with the same even temperament.
“I have been in touch with all of your parents to tell them about the changes in the Academy. They are yet to give me their answer as to when you will go back to Olympus.” 
Mark fidgeted a little on his seat and gave the boys beside him a quick look. 
“Uhm… About that…”
“Can you at least tell us what’s happening?” You said through gritted teeth as you turned to your father again. The man in question paused a little as if to study you… weighing whether to answer your question or not. Finally, he leaned back against his seat and removed his wire-framed glasses.
“Several places in the mortal world had been under attack. Monsters and beasts have been roaming the place. The celestial army has been keeping the cases down, but we expect the events to… grow.” 
That is the second time you were speechless today. You felt your palms turn cold as you stared at him, mouth open. The headmaster met all of your gazes evenly, his usually warm facade finally showing a glimpse of the seriousness of the situation. 
“What…”
“Tartarus is collapsing on itself and the world, I’m afraid, is not ready for it.” 
Your heart dropped to your stomach. 
Tartarus, the deepest place of the Underworld. 
Tartarus…
The prison of the gods’ greatest enemies. 
You stared breathlessly at your father until something clicked. Slowly, you turned to the boys sitting beside you who seemed to have turned to stone. One look and you knew. One look and the question was drawn automatically from your lips. 
A/N: Look who's back... I know I haven't been active in this account for months, but 2024 is literally just a few hours away and I wanted to close the year (and hopefully start the new one) by picking up writing again. I have no promises, but I hope this little chapter can do its magic. Happy New Year, everyone!
“You… What have you all done?” 
*******
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weirdmarioenemies · 7 months
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Name: Snailspace
Debut: Yo-Kai Watch 3
Wow. A regular, cartoon snail, huh? No frills, nothing? There is no clever concept on display here. I mean, a snail itself is a clever concept! A squishy, vulnerable creature that carries its own armor to retract into? That's awesome! But Yo-Kai Watch 3 did not make this concept. Animals made this concept. This is pretty much nothing but a cartoon snail.
And I love those!!! Yippee!!! You're telling me this monster collecting game lets me befriend a regular cartoon snail and train it to be a STRONG snail? And lets it follow me around town wherever I go? And lets me PLAY as it? Yowza! There must be a catch here... but there isn't!
Perhaps I am just very easy to impress in some regards, but I am very happy that Snailspace is JUST a snail, with no funny business going on. Nothing to detract from it. I can't think of an example of something that would detract. I'm tired. But Snailspace is perfect the way it is, is what I'm saying. ESPECIALLY because it has eyestalks! My favorite feature on a creature!
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I would like to talk about a different collectible snail monster for a moment. Hello Magcargo! You are a wonderful snail monster! A snail made of lava with a rock shell is an extremely awesome concept, and executed well! Magcargo even has big drippy mouth drips, reminiscent of a gastropod's tentacles! But it just doesn't have eyestalks, and to me, that is a very big deal. Magcargo's face looks like a frog's, and I love frogs, we all do, but this is a snail monster! I just always think that an animal-based design should take advantage of the unique features of the animal.
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In fact, I once did this little edit of Magcargo's original sprite to give it eyestalks, and I instantly love it so much more! Eye positioning does so much for a design's overall personality! Eyestalks are really just one of the coolest anatomical features a creature can have, and I don't know why, so often, they will be completely ignored in fictional snail designs, inevitably making the design LESS striking than it would otherwise be. I know not all snails in real life have eyestalks, of course, but they are really such an iconic feature, absolutely perfect for exaggerating in a design.
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Maybe it's not fair to spend so much of Snailspace's post talking about a different, much more known snail monster. There is stuff to love about Snailspace itself! I love its sleepy eyelids, I love its weird tall mouth, I love its color scheme! I guess it's not just ANY cartoon snail. You know... maybe there's not a such thing as just a cartoon snail. Whether intentional or not, any given person drawing a snail will put their own spin on it, however subtle. And isn't that wonderful? No one draws a snail quite like you do!
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If you are not familiar with Yo-Kai Watch, I would like to delight you with some Funny Facts. Firstly, Yo-Kai are organized into "tribes" that each tend to excel in certain battle attributes. Snailspace is a member of my favorite tribe, which is Slippery! A whole official category of slimy and/or wiggly creatures! Snailspace is right at home with snakes, fish, frogs, bananas, and even a bungee jumping teapot!
Snailspace is also classified as a 'Merican Yo-Kai. The third game features the protagonist moving from Japan to America, and meeting American Yo-Kai! The localization, however, had previously tried to convince he had been in America the whole time. How did they get around this? Instead of moving overseas to the USA, he moves further south to a different region, called BBQ! It is so stupid. I love it.
'Merican Yo-Kai are a weird category. Sometimes they're based on American stereotypes, but often it feels kind of like a meaningless title. I don't know why a Snail is specifically an American concept. I mean, I have certainly encountered many snails in America! I guess they're not wrong! But not every 'Merican Yo-Kai can be as iconic for the role as, for example, a baseball-playing chicken nugget.
Anyway, Snailspace is an excellent snail! It does not take much for a snail to make me smile! I hope this is true for you, too! Have you looked at a snail lately? Check under your local rocks in the dirt and maybe you just might find a marvelous mollusk to behold!
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littleeyesofpallas · 5 months
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As much as I've always been pretty critical of the Lost Agent arc, and the Fullbringers as a concept, and the way their individual powers were handled... There really were a few little nuggets worth exploring that I wish there had been better plot accomodations to do so with.
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I love the whole animist idea, I just don't know that it fit very well into the Bleach world building. The idea of imbuing spirit and power and indeed a Heart into inanimate objects, especially in the context of Ichigo and Ginjo having lost shinigami powers in different ways, COULD have made for a really fascinating parallel with zanpakutou if it had been even lightly explored.
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And while the idea of the Fullbringers getting their innate powers as a consequence of hollow attacks on their mothers was wildly and needlessly arbitrary, I DO wish they'd interrogated the Hollow-like nature of those powers. We got a few back stories more or less just establishing that they were all a little toxic, but not all in ways that reflected the Hollow M.O. it didn't come as a conflict of powerful desire and overindulgence. It didn't manifest as a need to consume and destroy those close to them.
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It could have been really interesting to see more of how a human can have an innately hollow like personality or impulse problems. It could have been cool to see how a familiarity with hollows spiritually could have resulted in a natural need to manifest a mask, but the mask is the Fullbring, but the Fullbring is more like a zanpakutou and its shikai than like a hollow mask. So instead of putting the best of yourself into a sword that can look you in the eye and offer you power in exchange for self respect and understanding you put the worst of yourself into an object and it gives you power in exchange for indulging in your compulsions and fixations.
Really the best version of this that we got was Riruka, where her "love" is literally possessive and manifests that first time as her abducting the boy she's basically stalking. And basically no one else got this kind of relationship with their Fullbring
Arguably Yukio replacing his negligent parents with his videogame world sort of touches on a version of it as well, but he's given such a passive role in that dynamic that it doesn't quite reflect on him so much as on his parents. If anything it could have been interesting to see his life as not as bad as he'd convinced himself it was, but that he actively chose fantasy over reality, rather than being pushed towards it by circumstance.
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Alternatively it could have been cool to see how the Fullbring itself could've been hollow-like. In the way a hollow puts itself into its mask, a Fullbringer puts themselves into their objects. Is the spirit given to that special object benevolent, or even ambivalent, or is it a repository for all its user's negative thoughts and feelings? Does it grow stronger only as it serves to mask more and more of their self hatred and identity issues? Like the initial threat of the inner hollow swallowing and consuming an identity that Hirako threatens Ichigo with, could the Fullbring itself have threatened to consume its user? If you put enough of yourself into the object, and the object gains power and identity, is it possible that one day the object contains more of "you" than you do? Does it begin to want power on its own? Does it start to take more of that power, that emotional investment, that connection, that heart from its human user?
It would have been an interesting vehicle for Ichigo's arc if the Fullbring has explicitly been powered by unhealthy obsession and the substitution of a fetish totem in place of real interpersonal connections: if Ichigo's implicit flaw had been his attachment to his powers as an extension of his need to protect others. The way Riruka's flaw was in how she loved people onesidedly, literally objectifying them. The way Yukio's flaw was in how he retreated into a fake reality while neglecting the real one in a desperate need for control.
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wordy-little-witch · 1 month
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It may not come as a surprise that I am OBSESSED with the paranormal, and thus I posit a silly little thought nugget-
Devil Fruit eaters in general being No Longer Human. Like. Not even just Zoan users, but ALL of them.
The Fruits were created by the Sea Devil, offering odd and incredible powers in exchange for a weakness to water, a tomb of seasalt. The abilities are varied and dynamic, but they are still, by definition, an exchange - a Deal. It is Give and Take, a contract forged with the life-span of the eater as the signature. The Fruit braids itself into their genome, into their Soul, and makes them Other.
More beneath the cut, I just have so many thoughts send help
For some, this is an instinctive change. They Know things, information fed from the magic in their veins and marrow to their brain, all that the Fruit has learned from previous users in an abstract way. For some, the information from their Fruit is Locked, tidbits bleeding through the cracks and grooves of the chest which contains the treasure trove of knowledge which they are not equipped to handle. The Fruits are only truly Conscious when they are Bound, Eaten, Active, after all. To needlessly overwhelm and kill their hosts would be unfortunate.
In that vein, one could argue that the eaters are something of a sacrifice, a symbiotic relationship between our world and the one beyond it.
Some Fruits however simply do not HAVE the knowledge to pass on. Some have not been active in a very long time. Some have not had the experience in thriving with their Host. Some just simply rarely get eaten for whatever reason.
Some simply protect their Host from the Truth.
What all Devil Fruit eaters have in common, loosely though it is, is an innate ability to recognize one another, to identify each other, and to toe the line between the mortal world and the Other. The sharpness of the awareness varies person to person, soul to soul, but all Notice in their own ways, can reach beyond the veil to varying degrees and with varies intentions.
Luffy can See into others, an ability he's had always, but after eating his Fruit, it sharpened. His gaze cut deeper, his sight clearer, and he could read a person as easily as a scholar with a juvenile practice book would read the text therein. His gaze is clearest beneath the skin of others.
Luffy, inhuman as parts are, must feed both aspects:
The body he has, and the form which his Devil Fruit has woven itself into, must eat. He loves meat, a trait often found in Ds, but his appetite is voracious even then, feeding and feeding and feeding. What few realize is that his hunger is both mortal and not, a craving for meat of any variety. He will eat anything. Anything. His natural defaults mesh well with his Fruit, and he simply catalogues it easily within his existing paradigm
The soul he carries is fueled by love, freedom, expression. He is emotional and unhindered by expectations because he chooses not to be. He gives himself the freedom to do so. He wants to be untethered and to feel and experience and BE. He wants for others to have much the same. He finds people who are Chained and he takes their shackles in hand, asks them why they are there, and then he shatters them beneath the force of his Care and Ambition and Temptation. He opens the doors of change and growth and liberation, and then he lays the choices before those he can. It's a subconscious thing, mostly, but he Feeds the carnal, bare bones Drive of his Fruit in the same breath as him feeding his own freedom and thus his own soul.
<>
Buggy on the other hand does not have the same basis to work from. Whereas Luffy's Fruit is Other Than and thus not as impacted by its infrequency in circulation, Buggy's is not so blessed. The Bara Bara no mi is not a common Fruit to be eaten. It has had precious few holders who survived long enough to learn much of anything regarding its properties. As it stands, Buggy himself is the longest survivor of this power. Not only does it initial stage impact the nervous system in unique and bizarre ways but it also changes the musculoskeletal structures and the host's brain. In order to be able to split and still function, your spatial awareness needs to be far higher than average, and the synapses in your brain must be able to handle the strain.
Many holders of the Chop Chop Fruit were driven mad by this. Be it the influx of information or the psychosomatic pain of a limb loss or worse, it would often lad to death - and not always by the hands of another.
Buggy was always more cerebral than his crewmates, than Shanks and the others. He was a thinker, and his specialty was operating outside of normal conventions - it was how his weapons making skills improved leaps and bounds. Chemistry, physics and mechanics were his biggest passions, followed closely by some dabbling in medicine and botany. There were no limits in his mind, on questions and redirected pathways. Where one path did not lead to an expected result, another would open, would branch off, and the yield of these actions would be cataloged and coveted.
The Bara Bara no mi was not much different in this. That Devil Fruit was perfect for Buggy, for his natural processes and his demeanor. Buggy already toed the line of fragmented, puzzle thinking, and his Fruit simply exacerbated this.
He feeds his mind with the options and dynamicism he exhibits with his body.
He does not however feed his BODY with the same. Oh, he eats when he remembers or someone reminds him. He has noticed some things taste better, make him FEEL better than others. But he doesn't seek them out.
This is partly due to mental health issues, and an unidentified food aversion which began in his childhood. Food was often used as a punishment/reward system, and things, unattended to, spiraled from there. Buggy doesn't even realize it.
Another problem is that his tastes in foods he has had the best responses with remind him of things he would rather not think on. Specifically, they remind him of his late captain. Roger always preferred his steaks rare and juicy. Buggy adores his much the same.
And a final issue is that the few times Buggy DID act on the Hunger, the Drive for something, he was punished for it, told it was bad and not okay. In their defense, he was a child, and raw meat is not safe for consumption, especially in one who has such a problematic immune system as Buggy. He always draws the short end of the stick in things.
He subsides loosely on intimidation tactics, licking the blood from his knives, a habit which began after the loss of his family. He does not acknowledge the baying hunger in his chest when he does this. He has buried it along with so many other things.
Buggy is good with his Devil Fruit, but he is good with it while starved and unwell.
It truly would be beneficial for another Devil Fruit User with long term experience to ask him what he Feeds on, wouldn't it?
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shopcat · 1 year
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i've definitely said this before but no harm in repeating like i think... beyond what the writers intend or what they're actually attempting to aim for (if anything) i can see the stupid steve nancy "love triangle" Thing in many entirely reasonable lights and not one of them end in it actually being a love triangle. it's not a love triangle. and MAYBE!!!! i'm just tired of the steve haters of the world being like "season 4 steve sucks he's just so into nancy" FUCK OFF!!!! MAYBE YOU TRY AND HANG AROUND YOUR EX IN A STRESSFUL SITUATION AND SEE HOW YOU COPE. BITCH. anyway i think it's a testament to um character empathy and a love for their part in their narrative to view things not only kindly but ... logically and not just dismiss what could be happening either out of like panic or despair bc that's just not as fun at the end of the day and i am maybe naively hopeful. and instead it's just SO easy to contextualise and a story is only what it's telling YOU etc etc.
like how okay to me the 6 little nuggets speech coalesces all at once like, 1. steve and nancy got together in a period of their lives where the only problem in their lives was meant to be like. which college they're getting into. to each other they represent the like literal halcyon days of normalcy in an incredibly depressing twist on it where the nostalgic times they wish they could go back to was just Average Life. just Highschool. with the knowledge monsters don't exist and their friends aren't dead. in the continued battering ram of the upside down's particular brand of trauma year in and out wearing them down i think being around each other will always bring out that part of themselves that remembers what it was like When They Were Happy and i think the entire reason they seemed to revert so much to their roots this season in those little glimpses we see is because of this and this particular like, go of it the stakes were higher and their involvement was far more concentrated so um. when every move you make has weight it's not CRAZY that he wanted to let a little bit of it off and i think he sees nancy as this shining beacon of What Once Was, so YEAH in the fucking throes of the beginning of the apocalypse he latched onto her again a little. entirely understandable and not a VILLAINOUS TRAIT on either of their parts
this goes hand in hand with 2. steve himself is a notoriously avoidant incredibly actually NEUROTIC person. he wants SO badly to just cling on to what he once had he will unintentionally dig his nails in to it and we see this a LOT in the context of nancy especially during season one and like the first half of season two. he wants to Let The Bad Things Go and just go to the movies and be a couple normal kids again. whenever the upside down rears it's head again he doesn't react with like, preparedness or even fear he just goes straight to NO NO NO NO NO which is like. literally. but it's because he doesn't WANT to deal with it like at All. and i find that actually interesting juxtaposed with how nancy actively seeks out and cannot let the upside down go... maybe for what it did to her or maybe because she just feels she has to. who else is going to. and the initial reason she even bonded with jonathan or if you like to think so developed proper feelings for him is because jonathan ALSO sought it out. the upside down is a mystery to them that they want to solve and the upside down is a PROBLEM to get away from for steve and i think this is significant. so i think them experiencing something that feels bigger than it ever has in a context where it's all on them and where the kids they're taking care of are in genuine danger as well as themselves, coming right off the back of having to ESCAPE the dimensional hell they were this time not even metaphorically dragged into it's totally reasonable to look at one another and go GOD. it was so simple with you!!!!!
and while also 3. the speech itself was ... a death speech to be later quoted and reminisced upon a la "but you need to go on your rv trip!!! you can't die here!!!" and he'll go "you idiot... the six little nuggets were you guys all along" and 4. within the Literal speech itself he SAID the kids were "practice" and it was probably only ever intended to be a way to show his genuine connection to them and was never meant to be taken quite so literally as "i actually want 6 real life children that you my future wife will birth", it's also tied into 5. i am so fucking scared right now. and we used to be in love. and you're sitting next to me while my throat hurts from the ligature wounds given to me by a monster and you appreciate how i also represent a sense of typicality and grounded preparedness that you sometimes feel you need. and you're also scared. and i want to be normal and i want to be happy and i want us to be safe in the end and i want something to look forward to. and it's the simplest thing on earth -> i want to get the FUCK out of here. but we can't get the fuck out of here because we're driving towards our doom and i'm the one in the driver's seat. and i'm scared. and i want to say it because if i don't say it no one else is going to know. and she says that sounds nice because it sounds nice...
and finally 6. i think steve is like. mourning. i think he's looking at her and going i loved you once and i miss it but, integrally, it's past the point of return. we've grown and we've changed and maybe you're finally realising how much and she is so important to him and he loved her and he LOVES her but he doesn't Love her. she is the reason his life changed and maybe he never got to put to rest that he could never go back to the way it once was but he doesn't WANT to go back and he's SAYING this. he's going thank GOD you gave me the bump on the head and woke me up because i feel like i'm finally moving forwards now and i wish it could be normal but it can't and thank god for that. i am so scared of change but knowing you is what changed me and i am so happy for it. she introduced him to it all through one way or another and he never once even considered that a bad thing (though i do think he doesn't give himself enough credit etc etc). their talk in the woods before it is SO important to me because he's saying Thank you. and he's saying GOODBYE!!! he's saying yeah the person i picture next to me in this pipe dream is you because in a way it probably always will be you and because it Was always you back then. but i don't want to marry you. i want a place to settle down and have some kids even metaphorical and i know YOU don't want that. it's an acknowledgement of how much they've changed it's a conversation behind the conversation of looking into someone's eyes and telling them what you want and knowing they don't want the same and letting go of what once was even though like YEAH it's not the end of the world if there's still some sort of stirred up feelings. but it's not a love confession and it's not a man desperately trying to cling onto his ex while she (grown woman that she is) sits there and smiles at him for it and therefore turns her into a doormat and him into a creep or whatever the fuck the braindead masses are squawking about...
AND THAT IS THE REAL 6 LITTLE NUGGETS!!!! also i think to reduce two great characters independently to who they are To Each other is a disservice and there is no hidden plot within the plot dedicated to their romance in any deliberate way imo. or whatever. steve is not just Nancy's Ex and nancy is not just one half of a love interest bouncing back and forth in the worlds most tired misogyny ping pong of steve v jonathan. i think all the stuff this season it's the show's way of letting us see that nancy can see how much he's developed as a person and how even after all the hard work he himself put in for it and it's his own genuine kindness and literal body he puts in the line he still believes it's all because of her and he's grateful and while i have Low Hope i also must also have Hope that it will end... kindly. they both deserve an Ending and not just a massacre of characterisation.
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retphienix · 5 months
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Many unpictured things as well, but doing all the construction terminal base stuff has some fun moments here and there.
Mech boy is a criminal who had his family killed which wasn't built up for like, emotional payoff, but was interesting to read especially in the following reveal that he washes his memory clean with nanites in order to either A: Better serve you or B: Live with himself after what his actions caused to his loved ones.
Even drops a nice bomb of "My old self dies here and now with my family, when we next meet I will be someone entirely different."
All in all his story has some nicely written pieces; In isolation it's pleasantly melancholic- plays with some sci fi stuff in a fun way, and even ends ambiguously in an interesting way where there are implications that part of him remembers (he is caught staring at old family photos) while still implying that his new life is downing nanites to prevent those memories from resurfacing and commiting petty crimes with us for units.
As a whole it's as I said, not really built up for a grand payoff- but it's a small side quest in the tutorial section of the game so like, that's okay?
I much prefer reading/playing stories that build up and pay off, but this is a small side quest that introduces cars so like, the fact this bit of interesting prose is here is in itself a net gain even if it didn't really get the chance to kick me in the gut with its heavy themes since it's effectively "Random alien I just met is a little rude and then in the same scene we find out his family is dead and he 'drinks' to forget".
I admittedly already forget some of farm boys, but I do remember he felt alienated from his people for his interest in creating life vs profits- he wasn't happy with being asked to kill animals if I recall (I might not)- he was told to return to the Gek and freaked out saying the leader was "Not who he appears to be" and maybe "not even a Gek" and claiming he was poisoned (intense paranoia) but then he just. Doesn't go back, and that's the payoff.
Another moment where some nuggets of interesting (or even present) writing is there and then because they wanted me to have an NPC to hang around my home he just goes "Well that's done, I'm hanging out here now."
I do rather like his slightly solemn mood about it though. He says he's staying and has nowhere to go, and nodding to him about this has him quietly smile and nod back, like a quiet acceptance/support being put his way.
Gun lad gets riled up for "one last murder job", his age kicks in pretty badly, and then he comes to terms with life in a way that grants him new perspective- namely he says he'll stop focusing on the dead (I forget the word he used- worshiping? fighting for?) and start focusing on the living.
I can't recall if he's the one that revealed more of his species lore to me, or if it was someone else, so I won't attribute it directly here and instead the parts of his story that were about him pretty much just said "I'm old now. Being close to dying is making me appreciate life more." in so many words.
Bot boy got broken off from the convergence hive mind and is now stuck in an infinite loop of recognizing this fact and freaking out about the loneliness this causes and asking to be reconnected.
His story structure is fun for me because it's a horrifying time loop involving AI- and his story had fun touching on the greater narrative more than most of the camp buds because both the convergence and Atlas talk about our significance which was fun.
And the most but also in many ways least interesting is the main construction lad because he kinda just doesn't have a story- he just becomes more and more cryptic and his mood shifts lower and lower as you progress until he's basically (and I'm assuming) spells out what the story of this game is in a petty voice like some spoiler gremlin on an old gamefaq thread lol
He starts out all nice and excited to help us- claiming they have helped us countless times and must do so again!
And I initially read that as a funny play on manipulation tactics some space cult might do- but no- he's for real.
As his dialogue changes he basically just starts saying outright "You're going to reset everything. Fuck you." so now I'm lead to believe getting to the center of the universe has us meet Atlas (again, because I've met once after these screenshots) and reset everything to start somewhere else in the universe.
It's weird to me just how heavy handed his dialogue gets when this is like, tutorial land.
I know I'm super deep in hour wise, but this is the "How a base works" quest and he's like "You're going to get to the end of the game and it's going to be like this." which is a bit much when most other hints towards the end are much more vague and cryptic and less blatant lol
Maybe I'm wrong though, hell if I know, I'll get there.
The writing in no man's sky is more often than not a bit heavy handed but since the entire game's mythos relishes in that tone, it works enough.
It's sometimes hard to take too seriously since 99% of the game is survival game collecting and building and then they drop like
"Cycles continue ad infinitum, death and pain become all you know as your flesh becomes entwined with the sting of cutting glass; Your friend was never alive, but are any of us? You ponder this question, attempting to convince yourself that surely that isn't so, but you know it to be true."
because you collected 150 chromatic metal and turned it in to try and save your traveller buddy.
The tone of the writing feels pretty consistent in the quests/big NPC talks, but it's alongside 9 billion randomly generated NPCs who all say "I'm gonna trade today." "Fight those sentinels" "I've been studying something you couldn't possibly understand." so it's hit or miss for when those nicely written lines actually get to carry their intended gravitas or if they come off a bit harsh or serious for a quest that had me open a door and hold E on a terminal.
And as implied above, sometimes entire mini-arcs are written... but attached to parts of the game where they aren't allowed to shine like at all.
None of these individual narratives for the camp crew are explored enough or emphasized enough to feel significant or impactful- they mostly just bring up well written 'ideas' that feel like drafts of what could be impactful stuff- and they all feel very.... "Mash through the text to get my reward"-able.
But~
I do like that they are there. Better than not, and I do like aspects here and there.
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Still think this guy is too heavy handed in just outright saying "All the weird hints you keep seeing seep into the narrative on your travels- yeah here's the exact thing. Just gonna say it. Anyways welcome to No Man's Sky- congrats on beating the base tutorial."
I wonder if I'm wrong and all this INTENSE AND BOLD LETTERED foreshadowing is misdirection/misinterpretation by either me or the characters in the narrative.
I'm pretty sure when you get to the center you get chucked back out to do it all over again, but until now with this guy I hadn't too much of a guess on the story significance of the action- now I'm left to assume I'm factory resetting a simulation (another name dropped in some text), so I'll go forward with that assumption until I reach the core.
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jacksprostate · 2 months
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Love, love, love your beautiful writing, all my soapshipping fics sound exactly the same 😭 (at least to me) any tips on how to avoid this? I think the more I follow along to a similar style as Palahniuk it gets so much more repetitive
Aw thank you :)
The question of sameness is a daunting one... I am assuming you mean the same between separate fics, but if you mean that they sound too similar/repetitive within the same fic, just let me know and I'll try to give advice for that;
First, I WILL say that this problem is probably more apparent to you than to others. You spend way more time with the work and carefully considering them. So it's probably not as bad as you think. Plus, things will sound the same because you wrote them. Natural effect of authorship, especially if you're consciously trying to maintain any one style.
That said, I do get it can also become a big enough effect that it's a problem — hell, my friends who've read more of Chuck's stuff say Chuck arguably has the issue, which is funny to me. There's a few things you can keep in mind to help create more differentiated fics.
Mostly, it's about taking different angles and moods. Especially focusing just on soapshipping you may find yourself falling into similar themes because you quite like them and you know how to write them. This isn't necessarily bad — it's a good skill to have if you want to write something long, for example — but again if your goal itself is more variety, you may want to take a step back and look at your ideas a little.
Lots of my ficlets are essentially just "the narrator thinks about or has a small interaction with Tyler". But variety — why is he thinking about him? What point of the story are they at? That really influences the degree of bitterness, loyalty, etc. What's the actual situation going on? What's the specifics of the themes and their character dynamics?
I often like to deal with little hypothericals. You don't have to do that. But my advice; either purposefully develop the little different paths these characters can take, or, if you're a firm believer in having One Story that overarchingly they follow unilaterally, pick different spots in that story to write from.
Finally, I think it can also really help to diversify where you're getting your inspiration from. If you're coming into tryint to write something but you're starting from a very generic ideapoint such as wanting them to kiss or fuck or confess or something, you may struggle to get those interesting story nodes and flavors that make it more unique. You want specificity. The easiest thing to do obviously is watch the movie or read the book and go 'wow but what if this happened'. That grounds you right in a specific spot and lets you write in a way that reflects what 'had' happened. But say you want to break from being that close to canon, you want some of that mysterious inbetween time — try and pick up inspiration from irl. That's where a lot of my little ficlets come from. The key with that is you need to meter it and make sure it makes sense for the characters. You CAN go all wacky but then you have to sort of approach it like a crack story, which involves Full Commitment but also awareness.
Of course, taking inspiration from irl may be easier or harder for you. You may have less stuff in your life that's easily applied, stuff that may require way more translation for the idea to be relevant — but the idea is essentially, use things as little nuggets you can sort of grow upon. This process naturally results in a decent amount of variation.
Otherwise, becoming very focused on one aspect and distilling the specific themes involved also can serve as a good jumping point.
Tl;dr, the best way to create more differentiated fics is to have a higher degree of specificity to your ideas and to the themes and imagery (didn't really mention that but that's part of where where your inspiration comes from will flavor the fic, in your comparisons and focuses) you're writing. Not all of them have to be super specific and Different! But those are the things you'll want to try and work with. It's easy when writing fic, I think, to accidentally get a bit too generic because the material is already largely written; it's a sandbox. But you can consciously do much more in depth stuff with that sandbox, you just have to approach it with more specificity. Anyway hope all that makes sense!
edit: wrote all this and realized you may mean literally on a sentence level of scale. If so send another ask and I'll try to write out some advice for that though essentially for me it boils down to the same thing of keeping your writing focus different and not falling too repeatedly into using words and phrases as crutches. I'll be the first to admit I love to have people cradle the narrator's head lol
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aestherians · 2 years
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I'm Ben, But Call Me Poppy
Preface: I would like for this essay to not just be an exploration of my own fictionkinity (though that is its main purpose) but also an introduction to the fictionkind experience in general, and to the experience of parallel lives. Of course, I am just one person and none of my experiences can be universal, but I nonetheless hope they can shed some light on fictionkinity and lead to further understanding and tolerance of these identities. And I hope it will lead to parallel lives becoming a more widely known and understood phenomenon. Feedback is greatly appreciated.
Word count: 4479
Estimated reading time: 20-25 minutes
On the 6th of December 2019 I had a weird dream. I was standing on the edge of a cliff. The wind played with my hair, long grass tickled my ankles, and high above, seabirds called out to each other. As I looked to the sky, a being made of blinding white light appeared before me. She was beautiful and graceful and older than time itself. She gently took my hand and pointed towards the horizon. My eyes followed her finger and the sky itself tore apart to reveal an inky black nothingness. But as I looked, little specks of something began to appear. Dots and lines, swirls and stars, and colors I'd never seen before. I understood then that this primordial being was showing me the beginning of this universe. And as I stared in awe, she turned to look down at me, and she told me... that I was Ben 1O fictionkind.
I don't think I've ever been as confused as I was that morning. It felt like I was still dreaming as I went through my routine, like at any moment I might wake up again. All the while, my reflection puzzled me. It was the same face I've seen every day for two decades, and yet today it just felt... wrong. I was supposed to have a human face. This wasn't the species dysphoria I'd gotten so used to. And I knew exactly which human face I was expecting to see in the mirror - it just seemed too ridiculous for me to accept.
My cameo shifts have rarely, if ever, lasted more than a few hours, and at this point they'd never been of specific characters. Sure, I had my weird relationship with Emily Jones from the now-forgotten Le//go Elv//es franchise, where I feel like I once was her but now aren't. But I never expected to see her face in the mirror. I never felt confused when I woke up in Copenhagen instead of Elven//dale. Feeling this way about Benjamin Kirby T//ennyson, of all characters, when I hadn't even watched the whole show, was weird and, for some reason, embarrassing. And it just refused to go away. In total the shift lasted around 5 days. I went to classes feeling like this guy. Grocery shopping. Hung out with my dorm buddies. I went to a Christmas market with my mom, all the while distracted because I couldn't shake the feeling that, somehow, in some way, I was a fictional character from a 2005 Cartoon Network cash cow.
It didn't come completely out of the blue. Three things were happening here that probably led to this: 1) I was binging Ben 1O with my dormmate. We hadn't finished the show yet, but we'd worked our way through almost 200 episodes, so we were in deep. 2) I'd just broken it off with a girlfriend of one year. She was extremely supportive of my alterhumanity – even read a 100 page study by Devin Proctor to understand the community – so our break-up had nothing to do with that. We just realized we needed different things from a relationship. But still, it was a huge stress factor and, despite my friends' love and support, I was struggling to cope. And 3) it was finals season. The less said about that, the better. I guess what happened is that my brain latched onto one of the few simple joys I had in my life and somehow began creating an identity around that to... cope...? I guess...?
Listen, I don't know how it happened and I can only make guesses as to why. Regardless of what caused it, the effect was undeniable. After the 5 day long shift subsided, I still had a nugget of "Ben" somewhere within me that I couldn't (and, in hindsight, didn't want to) get rid of. I was ready to make a kinfirmation announcement right then and there. But, as is customary, I held off for a couple of weeks. I think my plan was to wait 3 months, but by the end of January, I made my announcement in the most gutless way possible: With a text post that read "It's okay to have 'cringy' kintypes," in the tags of which I explained that I'd kinfirmed my Ben 1O fictotype. I was still dealing with a lot of internalized shame about, not just being fictionkind, but having such a childish source material.
And yet... there was something exhilarating about it. Though my initial Ben-related feelings appeared on their own, and I felt annoyed and conflicted about them, I clearly remember reinforcing them. The socially aware side of my brain resisted – having an identity like this would be weird, it would be frowned upon, it would make it even more difficult for me to communicate who and what I am than it already is – while the self-aware side of my brain was very much in favor of forming the identity – for some reason it just felt good to experience all these fictionkin traits. More accurately, it felt right. For reasons I can't explain, I didn't want it to end. I wanted more.
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The envisage shifts (where you appear a certain way in your mind/inner world, and where you perhaps expect to look that way in the mirror) weren't the only 'kin trait that was apparent from the start. They were just the most striking and the easiest to get others to understand. No, the most pervasive trait had to be the "parallel life flashes." I'm not sure what else to call them. They felt different from daydreams, somehow. More spontaneous and out of my control. And a lot more tangible. They've since become one of the hallmarks of my fictionkinity. They present themselves as flashbacks: For a less than a second, it'll feel like I'm "back" to living my life as Ben, then before I can fully grasp what happened it's over. Like an out-of-body experience (or, rather, an into-my-mindscape experience, since I believe all of this originates in my own psyche). I always get the sense that these flashes are somehow current, as opposed to being past or future. Perhaps because of their dream-like qualities, I often "just know" many details of what's going on in these flashes, just like I knew the alien in my awakening dream was older than time, despite her not telling me. Dreams (nightly or daily) are just like that. I just know that my life as Ben is happening parallel to my life as Poppy.
When talking to others (especially non-kin who can't be bothered to sit through 100 pages of Devin Proctor) I do tend to describe it as a daydream scenario, despite how different it feels from regular daydreams. The flashes tend to have dream-like qualities. And it's easier to say "in my go-to daydream scenario I'm a space traveler, which is a big part of my personality" than "I feel like I'm literally living a parallel life as Ben 1O and this affects my very sense of self." I suppose a big part of it is also the embarrassment I mentioned earlier - notice I vaguely called myself a space traveler instead of mentioning my fictotype by name. Ease of communication is part of it, but, undeniably, so is the masking of my true self to give a more appealing first impression. It's blatant self-suppression.
But – perhaps like Ben T//ennyson himself – wearing masks is what I do. It's what I've done since I was 1O. I craft identities for different scenarios and just flip the switch (or hit the watch) when necessary. I've learned how to contain the autism creature within, to appear normal when necessary, and I've learned how to to blend in with the background. Self-suppression has been vital to me, even if it's frustrating to have to do.
What I'm getting at is that, though this awakening was unexpected, it wasn't out of character for me. And in hindsight there really are a lot of things in my life that, combined, seem to have led to this.
Before I go into further detail, I feel like a disclaimer is in order: My upbringing wasn't abusive, but that doesn't mean it was perfect. I was raised by a single mother who gave most of her attention to my older brother due to various difficulties he had. I don't know if I blame her for the issues I have. It doesn't feel right to place blame on other struggling people, but I can't blame everything on circumstance either. I don't think anyone comes out of childhood unscathed. Generations of trauma have been built up and, even if our parents treat us better than they were treated, they're still marked by their own childhoods, which will reflect in their parenting. My upbringing was a million times better than my own mom's and she worked hard to accomplish that. That said... I can draw a very clear parallel between my childhood experiences and my current identity: I had to be the "good child" to make up for my brother's issues, I had to carry part of my mom's stress, and I couldn't let out my own frustrations, lest my mom become even more stressed. In my parallel life I'm dealing with the same problems, but magnified to a scale where they're actually taken seriously. Instead of carrying the weight of a parent, I carry the weight of the world. I become less of a person and more of a symbol for others to look towards, whether for support, reassurance, or something else. In that sense, it doesn't seem unlikely that my fictionkinity is some kind of subconscious coping mechanism. Though I have to add, I only became aware fully aware of how this passive emotional neglect had affected me – how this is the reason I can't ask for help and constantly take on bigger burdens than I should – several months after my awakening, and even then only after some really intense self-analysis.
I've been trying to come up with more reasons I happened to awaken as Ben 1O, of all characters, but it all feels so... fabricated. I was obsessed with ufology as a kid and this character is involved with aliens. But I was obsessed with ancient Egypt and with horses too, why didn't I awaken as Tutankhamun or Black Beauty? I religiously watched Ben 1O every time I visited my grandparents, who had cable tv, but I watched Da//nny Pha//ntom with the same intensity. I don't think there really is a perfect recipe for what causes a fictionkind identity. All these attempts at rationalizing it are probably a distraction – [which I've spoken about at length before]. But it's hard to really internalize the idea that 'kinity is about what you are, when you've been "gifted" with a human brain that relentlessly asks why, why, why. It's hard to look at the cold hard facts when your mind keeps wandering to theories and hypotheses.
And in all this, you forget to even examine what cold hard facts you know.
What are the cold hard facts?
Facts...
My name is [redacted]. I go by Poppy online. At this point it might as well be my name. And recently I've felt an urge to call myself Ben. When I close my eyes and try to picture myself, the image is ever changing. Sometimes I see a bipedal bison. Sometimes a gnoll. Often a mix of the two. And sometimes I see a young man with brown hair, green eyes, and a watch-like device stuck to his arm. Then I open my eyes, look in the mirror, and see something entirely different. Lighter hair, eyes more hazel than green, and something that decidedly doesn't look like a man. Or a bison or gnoll, for that matter.
I have daydream scenarios I keep returning to – stories I want to tell, the garden I wish I had, scientific advancements I dream of achieving, fanfics I'll never write. And then I have these scenarios that share many qualia with daydreams, but are altogether different. In these scenarios, I am a different person. I am living a different life, surrounded by different people, making different choices, subjected to different trials. I have two of these lives: One in which I'm a gnoll named Ɐwhrayɐ and one in which I'm a man named Ben. I did not set out to create these lives. I can't purposefully change what's happening in them – even with my belief that it all has a psychological cause, something is preventing me from changing anything. And yet, I almost always know what my alternate selves are doing, right in this moment. I can't affect their actions, I can just be aware of them. And despite this apparent wall, separating my present self from them, in some way I feel - or perhaps rather I know - that I am them. It's like... I can't affect what my past self did or said either, but I still am raer. I am still roughly the same person I was yesterday, even if today I might have made different choices. My parallel/alternate selves work in a similar way, but separated by physicality instead of time.
I'm not consciously aware of every waking moment of my parallel selves. When I say I "know" what they're doing, it's less that their thoughts and actions are beamed into my brain 24/7, and more that I can at any moment sit down, breathe, let my mind go blank, and view their world through their eyes. Like I'm possessing their bodies (though, again, my present self is not in control – my alternate selves are). Even if I don't intend to, I often end up "possessing" them during quiet moments – when I'm about to fall asleep, when I'm in transit, when I'm cleaning, and so on. What happens during quiet moments is rarely a "full body possession," though. More often, I'll just experience the thoughts or feelings of my parallel selves (alongside my present-self thoughts or feelings) and have to parse it out. I can be vacuuming the floor, having a normal one, and then suddenly I'll be intimately aware the Ben!Me is bored or that Ɐwhrayɐ!Me is in danger. I then have to extrapolate as much information as possible from this quick flash (like a flashback, but current, not past... a flashsideways? flashadjacent? flashalong? Let's go with that). If the "flashalong" was accompanied by an image, which they often are, it's not too difficult to figure out what my alternate self is doing. If it's just an emotion and nothing else, I can try to piece it together with the other flashalongs I've had recently - if yesterday my parallel self got lost and today I sense despair, it's not too difficult to put two and two together and know that they haven't found their way out yet.
But Ben is different from Ɐwhrayɐ in one major way: He has source material. Though I've been aware of my life as Ben – my Ben fictotype – for much shorter than my life as Ɐwhrayɐ, I know a lot more about my Ben life. I have more noemata, more frequent flashalongs, and my memories of Ben's childhood are much clearer than my memories of Ɐwhrayɐ's childhood. This is undoubtedly because I can just watch an episode of any Ben 1O series and immediately become aware of new things in that life. Whereas Ɐwhrayɐ is more like an original character – rair origins are in tabletop RPGs, but I can't just open up a book and know rair life history. Which is not to say I can know Ben's entire history from just watching the show either. For starters, the show is a mess of time travel and retcons and alternate universes. Secondly: I'm not the Ben depicted on the show.
The Ben 1O cartoons (with the exception of the 2016 reboot) all follow one character who has been dubbed Ben Prime by the fandom. If we view time as a tree with different timelines branching off, Prime is the tree's trunk. We're shown other branches of the tree – No Watch Ben, Bad Ben, Ben 23, Benzarro, and so on – who are all Ben, no matter how differently their lives turned out compared to Prime's. What happens when I watch the show is either nothing (most common; I simply get no indication whether the episode I'm watching is part of my canon), divergence (uncommon; I don't necessarily know how the events happened but I know for sure they didn't happen like they're depicted), or recognition (rare; realizing that things happened pretty much like they're depicted). The most apparent difference between my own timeline and the Prime timeline is that I found the Omnitrix when I was 13 and that I didn't get a break in-between the events of the original series and Alien F//orce. My first 1O aliens were also different from those of Prime and included at least one alien that hasn't appeared on the show (yet). There are many more differences, but most of them are subtle: I still have a relationship with Kai, but it's aromantic. I'm still friends with Rook, but we argue a lot. Azmuth is still the creator of the watch, but I have a sort of coworker relationship with him, more than a mentor/student relationship. And speaking of the watch, the Omnitrix is completely fused to me. My mind has affected its AI and its AI has affected my mind. We function more like a median system than two separate entities. We aren't ourselves without each other. I suppose my true fictotype is the fusion of Ben and the Omnitrix, rather than just Ben T//ennyson. [Here's something I wrote about it not too long ago.] As far as I'm aware, this also isn't a part of the Prime canon.
But this essay isn't supposed to just be about my canon. I'll have plenty of other opportunities to explore that. These pages are devoted to just exploring what it means to me to be fictionkind.
I've already mentioned envisage shifts and "possession" shifts (not a name I'm fond of, but there's so little terminology to describe parallel life experiences, let's just go with that for now). I also frequently experience phantom shifts, where it feels like I'm still wearing the Omnitrix. Those are easy to handle, though. I just put on a bracelet or cuff so there's a physical correspondence to the phantom sensation and go about my day. I also get the occasional chest/bottom phantom sensations, but I can't tell if those are Ben-related since I already experienced them prior to my awakening (and it's a very important part of my beliefs and worldview that all my Ben-feelings only began to appear after my awakening). I also get dream shifts, but since my dreams are pure nonsense, all they tend to involve is me being in Ben's body while going through wacky dream scenarios. If I'm making these shifts sound mundane, it's because they are. At least in comparison the envisage shifts and... by far the strangest and most disorienting shifts I've experienced: The mental shifts. In a mild mental shift I'll just take on a few mannerisms of the character, which can include anything from a chiller/more confident mood, to an inclination to play fighting games instead of my usual RPGs, to an urge to help others more than I'd usually do. Make the shift a bit stronger and I might want to go by Ben's name instead of my own or dress in clothes more similar to his. Turn it up even more, though, and we enter the weird territory. Something more akin to a berserker shift than a mental shift, using therian terminology. I've only experienced this once and it can't have lasted more than 5 seconds, but for those seconds I was fully convinced that I was Ben and I couldn't understand why I was in this foreign body and place. I've taken to calling it an "eclipse shift," since "berserker shift" implies a rabid or feral state of mind, which is not something you can really apply to a human(ish) fictotype, and the shift essentially involves my fictotype's state of mind eclipsing my regular state of mind. Here are some of the discussions we had in the community surrounding it: [link] [link] [link].
My fictionkinity is mainly marked by the aforementioned shifts and "flashalongs," but another trait (perhaps something that exists as a result of those two?) is dysphoria and euphoria. Typically when people think of dys-/euphoria, they think of it as something bodily. And I can't argue that that's not a thing for me too. I'm bigender and genderfluid, which in my case means that I have one static baseline gender identity (female hyena) and one fluid gender, which is most often bison bull, but can be anything – including Just Some Guy, which is basically Ben's gender identity. And when I feel like Just Some Guy, I, of course, experience dysphoria about my very feminine appearance. But that's a thankfully rare thing.
No, most of my Ben-related dysphoria is caused by the restrictions of my present body and mind. Did you know the nearly all versions of Ben T//ennyson have eidetic memory? Or that they have an inherent ability to understand astrophysics? Or that they're adept at half a dozen different fighting styles? I've got none of that. Sure, I could practice memory improvement techniques. I could learn the basics of astrophysics. I could take up martial arts. But every time I've tried, my own frustrations about being a beginner have prevented me from practicing. It's not that I'm a perfectionist and think I should be instantly good at every new skill. I've sucked (or still suck) at a lot of stuff that I do every day – singing, plant care, video games, you name it – but it's not an issue. As the saying goes, sucking at something is the first step to being sorta good at something. But with the talents Ben has... it feels less like learning a new skill and more like having to relearn something I used to be great at. With those subjects, it's like I loose my ability to understand or rationalize why I still suck, so instead of pushing on, I drop it all in frustration. I had just enough patience to understand the surface cause of gravitational time dilation, but once the lectures turned to the theory of relativity, I lost it. I've begrudgingly concluded that my present brain isn't built for that stuff. Until I develop a natural understanding of quantum mechanics, like I'm supposed to have, I'll just stick to my not-Ben-related studies in entomology.
Another thing I struggle with is the limitations of my present body. I feel like it's literally weighing me down. In my Ben life, my body is a construct of the Omnitrix that can be modified, dismantled, and recreated at any time. My consciousness isn't connected to my body; everything that's "me" is stored within the Omnitrix. My body is just a temporary vessel we – the watch and I – have created to interact with the world. It is possible to "upload" my consciousness to the body and for the Omnitrix to completely detach itself, but it's only been done a handful of times and only in life or death situations. And from what I can pericall it's deeply uncomfortably. Only with the Omnitrix gone do I notice how heavy the human body is. Without the watch I feel slow and sluggish and weak. And, in my present life, being able to pericall how I'm supposed to feel – lighter, quicker, stronger – and being unable to do anything about it because nothing can get rid of the heaviness of this body... it's exhausting. It's maddening. And it's not just the heaviness, its staticness is driving me crazy too. I'm meant to be a shapeshifter, and not just in my Ben life, but in my Ɐwhrayɐ life too. Whether due to the Omnitrix happening to attach itself to me, or because I was born with druid powers, I'm a shapeshifter in 2/3 of my lives. And to primarily exist in the life where I'm not a shapeshifter is torture.
But I have to live here. In the present world. I can't spend my life wishing I existed somewhere else. I have to be present; I have to make this life as good as it can be. Anything else would be wasteful. I can't fully get rid of the uncomfortableness of belonging to another world, but I can make this world more comfortable. Make it more like the world I belong in.
Part of me is grateful to have awakened as a character who is, in many ways, just incredibly mundane. The hero archetype is an exaggerated version of a trait I believe everyone is born with: A basic desire to help. Though his circumstances are extraordinary, Ben's motivations could not be more ordinary. So while there is some kind of disconnect between my present life and my Ben life, like our bodies and abilities and relationships, the melding of our minds has been quite harmonic. I feel like this awakening has helped me actualize some desires I already had by turning them into outright urges, and by dialing them up to 100. So, for example, instead of just giving money to the unhoused, I strike up a conversation with them now because it's what he/I/we're supposed to do. Helping my dormmate dry her dishes before she's even asked me to. Always asking others what I can do to help. And it doesn't just extend to people. I find myself, more often than I used to, helping a snail across the road or giving a neglected plant a second chance at life. Taking that extra step is slowly becoming second nature in a lot of my daily interactions. And I find that I do good more for goodness sake, where, in the past, I might've been prone to humble-bragging. (And it pains me to talk about my "good deeds" right now because it actually makes me really embarrassed to get attention for something I feel is the bare minimum of human decency). My awakening wasn't a total life changer. But it did reinforce my desire to be a helper and a caretaker.. a supporting character, I guess you could say. And it instilled in me an idealistic and unwavering belief that people are overall good, despite everything. That pain and suffering are accidents and that kindness is intentional.
I'm Ben. I carry that with me for the foreseeable future – possibly until I die. But I'm also Ɐwhrayɐ. And, most importantly, I'm Poppy. I'm multifaceted, like every other person on Earth. One of my facets just happens to be a fictional character.
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feleshero · 18 days
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✦✦✦
Something for that ass: @redhead-reporter
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WRITING:
Love the way you write! It's this very easy to follow series of events that always leads itself to the turn of the wheel. I've gotten into how I adore your approach to the collaborative efforts, but that was more than a week ago so! Every thread I've ever seen you writing has always been easy to transpose over a storyboard in my head. I can see where the action starts, I can follow the camera's movements, follow MJ's blocking & antics, and then get to the end of the scene easy each and every time.
I positively adore your ability to structure, because I can't structure a story for shit, and seeing it done well and with someones I adore both in and out of character? You've got it.
BLOG VIBE:
Shaye you run your blog like its FAO Schwartz. (I'm still in early 90s mode, I need you to walk with me here.) Its HAPPINESS when you're on the timeline. People show up, they see Shaye posts and the general energy is "Great! It's a sunny day, I can get into my little tumblr blog posts knowing I won't be in the shade."
Everyone and their Zauntie (Zaddy Auntie) drops what they're doing to give you your 'attagirls' because we feel [and I am speaking for everyone here, come check me if you disagree] that you need to be reminded, you need to be told, you need to be kept aware that we fuck with you HEAVILY and want only for you to be respected, uplifted and adored the way you seem to want to respect, uplift and adore the rest of the community.
THIRD BULLET POINT:
I actually don't know what to put here. Chatting about you is easy, I can riff on all the little positive memory nuggets in my head forever, that's not a struggle, but like... saying something that hasn't been said before? Something you need to hear to let you know I care big time about what it is and what you're bringing to the table.
... ... ...
OH! Dude, congrats, shaadi mubarak and BIG FUCKING UPS on your oncoming marriage!! I don't know HOW you writing Mary Jane has domino'd into a life of matrimony, but I don't need to know the 'HOW' I only need to feel the 'WHAT' and the WHAT that I am feeling is 'What a fucking joyous occasion!!' May happiness fucking surround you for the rest of your schedule, and may prosperity rear its head in every chaos you endure.
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thevulturesquadron · 2 years
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Stranger Things soft found-family headcanons:
Steve, Eddie & and the six nuggets adopted along the way: 
Dustin:  Dustin loves the both of them in the most genuine and open way. They both filled an empty place in his life, one that always ached, but that he never dared to dwell on, because he was afraid that if he was not strong enough and self-sufficient enough his mother would have felt like she had failed him as a parent. With them around, he learns that he doesn’t have to constantly prove himself, that being vulnerable is ok, and that it’s a necessary part of growing up. After Steve and Eddie sort out their feelings, the most important approval and acceptance for them is Dustin’s. Neither wants to lose or change the way the boy is part of their lives and they don’t want to make him feel less comfortable around them. When they tell him, one late evening after the usual D&D game, Dustin admits he doesn’t fully understand it yet. Instead he stares at both from across the table - maps, dice, fallen figurines and scattered bowls and bottles forgotten - with the seriousness of an old man: ‘But you’re happy, right?’ Their immediate reassurances and smiles are not enough to chase all the worries from his brow, not until he finds the courage to ask what’s on his mind ‘That... doesn’t change anything, does it? Like... you won’t end up spending more time with each other and forgetting about me or, I don’t know, making up excuses for not being around?’ In the brief silence between the three of them, the duo realizes that Dustin was just as afraid of losing them as they were of losing him. And they cry. Eddie is the first. Oh, how he tried to smile and joke and reassure, but his voice is shaky and choked and there is no stopping the tears. Because he thought this type of love and acceptance was reserved for other people that were not... him. He was never that lucky. Dustin cries under the overwhelming relief that nothing was going to change. And Steve holds them both, arms wrapped around them like life itself was depending on it and he lets his tears soak the hair on top of Eddie’s head. For the first time he felt loved within the walls of his own house. ‘And you’re not allowed to fight! Cause I am not taking sides and neither of you gets to walk away!’. Dustin sees the best in them, past their flaws, and constantly reminds them of that, which, in return, makes both of them want to grow and be better people. For Dustin. They both owe him so much more than he thinks he owes them. 
Max:  Steve is the big brother she chooses. They share an unspoken trauma, they’d pushed and pulled at each other’s seams through past events, tiptoeing around feelings of a ghost family they never had, that they’d been yearning for subconsciously, until they’d grown into it. And it came so naturally. It just happened slowly and steadily, creeped into their everyday interactions until it became the norm. There’s unspoken love between them, and it makes room for teasing and poking and bickering and big brother energy - because that’s what siblings do at their age. With Eddie, she always likes to play smart-ass. If him and Steve are having an argument about a thing or another, she always picks Steve’s side even if everyone knows that she probably agrees with the other. ‘It’s about loyalty’ she once admitted with a shrug. But when it comes to serious, life-related questions, she always goes to the metalhead because she knows Eddie has life figured out better than Steve, even if by a little bit. Their conversations are always private and he respects that. Eddie provides her with a safe space to express/experiment with things that would make Steve go into his 'no means no’ pose. She likes them both a lot, and they both fit well in her carefully picked family, but in her own ways she’ll always be protective of Steve. One time, when she asked Eddie if she could try smoking with him, late one night on his porch, she flat-voiced threatened to shave his hair if he ever ended up hurting Steve. 
Will: Will falls under Eddie's wing - he has a big special place in Eddie's heart, and his attention, because of their life experiences as nerds that are passionate about the things they do, and just because of their sheer existence as young gay men growing up in a small town in the 80s. But for some reason Will ends up having an easier time asking Steve about relationships and matters of the heart. Things like ‘How do you do this or that?’ or ‘When you said that to Eddie what did you mean?’.  With Eddie it’s more of a silent conversation; he doesn't need to ask or look for much because Eddie can read him well and knows exactly what he needs to hear; things he wishes someone would have told him when he was the boy’s age. Will loves talking to Steve because he’s always acting first and thinking later. Most of Will’s questions take him by surprise, as if he’s never considered them before and he takes the time to answer each and every one of them. The teenager finds comfort in seeing that things aren't meant to be figured out from the start and he likes the way Steve doesn’t treat him as a kid in those moments, but instead creates the space for him to process these thoughts. Also Will develops a bit of a teenager crush on Steve; the one you get on people you admire, one that brings him comfort and hope. Eddie knows and gently smiles every time he catches the slight tint in Will’s cheeks and the way his face brightens up when Steve is around. He also loves to tease Steve about it.
Lucas: He is under Steve's wing; he's the athletic one, the more social one. Steve always hypes him up and supports his dreams of becoming a professional basketball player. He’s always there for him for practice and during matches. Sometimes they train together, sometimes Steve takes Lucas for a run and sometimes they just spend time together - on a couple of occasions Steve asks him if he wants to try bowling or learn how to play pool. One time he got them tickets to a game in Indianapolis when Lucas’ favourite team was playing. They team up a lot, they get competitive a lot with other people. And Lucas is just... happy Steve is there for everyone, that he is part of Max’s life. He looks up to him and, ever since he stood between him and Billy, Steve has become a bit of a role model for him. The way Lucas was ready to face Jason that night in Creel’s house was in some parts something he had learned from Steve - it wasn't about winning, it wasn’t about coming out on top or being the hero, it was about being the shield the person he loved needed him to be. 
Mike: well Mike is under both of their wings. Mike is always giving Steve a hard time, more than any of the other teenagers, and Steve is always complaining about what a little shit he is. It gets worse when they take the kids on road trips. Most incidents end up with Steve looking at Eddie in the most ‘you deal with it or so help me god I’ll hang him in a tree by his underwear and drive away’ way.  Eddie finds their history and conflicts endearing, knowing that in spite of all the bravado Steve would jump through fire for Mike if he had to. So he always... finds himself in the middle, soothing the conflict; Eddie pulls Steve aside and tells him Mike is just a kid, that he’s just riling him up because he can and because Steve falls so easily for it. He also asks Steve to give him a break; ‘Mike is wired differently; he’s confused, needs time to figure himself out. Not his fault.’  But when Steve’s not around he teases Mike and pushes all the right buttons to give him a taste of his own medicine because he's not about to let a half-baked shrimp get under his boyfriend's skin and get away with it. They both care about him, a care that is rooted in different places. All the while, Mike is not really aware of how much they actually mean to him or how much he relies on them because he never stops to think about it. Sometimes Eddie points out that the two of them have a lot in common and Steve absolutely hates it, but he knows. He knows he needs to and wants to give the kid the space and time to figure himself out cause uh boy, when he was his age he was waaaay worse and he doesn’t want to think about the sort of person he would have turned out to be if people hadn't given him a chance.  
El: It takes some time for the girl to figure out what the duo means to her. Steve, for some reason, is just smitten with her. In his eyes she’s a badass and he takes every chance he has to ramble about how impressive she is. That feeling only grows stronger over time, and it becomes obvious that it has less to do with her powers and more to do with just El being El. He can’t help but feel proud of her even if he had nothing to do with it. Eventually she gets really close to Eddie. He’s like no one she has ever met before, someone with so much personality, with no interest in fitting in anywhere and so comfortably loud about being himself. She wants to learn how all of that works because she’d like that for herself. In the beginning, Eddie feels awkward around her. It’s unnerving, the way she stares at him, as if she can see right through his soul, through every lie he jokingly tells to protect his emotions. Then, as they become closer, the questions start pouring. The most awkward, curious and unfiltered questions at the most inappropriate times. He’ll never forget (not that people would allow him to) that one morning when the Byer-Hopper family invited everyone over for breakfast, and, after intently staring at both him and Steve for the longest time, she ended up asking, mouth full of scrambled eggs and bacon, if they’d gotten into a fight or had been caught by the police doing something bad because of Steve’s bruised wrists. Yep, because of moments like these Eddie finds himself conflicted, torn between the warning signs that tell him to keep his stupid mouth shut, and just falling in love with her; because she is the most raw and unhinged person he’s ever met. She reminds him of a simpler time, reminds him there’s no need for complicated thoughts and convoluted ways to express his feelings. And in turn, he pours all that honesty in the way he loves Steve. Because El reminds him there’s nothing more powerful and courageous than making yourself vulnerable in the arms of the people you love and trust.  
Bonus: 
Erica: You can count on her to keep them humble and she makes no exceptions, or at least it takes people a very long time to figure out that she does, in fact, play favourites. She loses not one beat when it comes to taking Eddie off of his high horses. Steve, however is another story. When Eddie eventually calls her out on it, because he’s her ‘goddam DM and dice provider, what has Harrington ever done for you?’ she nonchalantly enunciates that she and Steve go waaaay back, he did his time in sailor shorts, trial by fire and all of that. Also free ice cream. Ever since, Eddie wouldn’t be caught admitting it, but he’s been trying to get in her good graces, a tint bothered and jealous over how Steve was managing what no one else could, and he wasn’t even aware of it. In spite of her constant nagging and endless well of judgmental opinions, over time, Erica becomes more and more present in their lives. They don’t point it out because they’ve grown fond of her; and because, even if Erica never asked if she could stick around, she always finds ways of showing how much she appreciates it.
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quinloki · 6 months
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(I-uh-I saw the Reverse Self-Ship post you made via a mutual and I noticed you were cool and also an adult One Piece fan so-uh-I'mma leave my lil infodump if you don't mind. Also if you have any pronouns you prefer let me know so I can use the proper ones!)
So as of last week I'm now holding hands with the entire Monster Trio from One Piece. Zoro was an immediate infatuation (and the reason I started watching it aside from just finally having time to invest), meanwhile Sanji and especially Luffy I thought were platonic but I was proven wrong pretty quick.
Uh-I headcanon Sanji as a closeted bisexual and in my little self-insert AU I end up being his kind of "bi-awakening" I guess or at least the first thing that makes him ask the important questions. Uh-I have one self-insert that has a good amount of plotting but I've been primarily using an isekai trope for self-inserting. And since it's already an AU for the isekai and the self-inserting itself-and because I'm really attached to the concept of magic(*cough*andimstillnotoverowlhouseending*cough*)-I made my self insert a descendant of the nearly extinct species of magic users aka witches. So I'd have to figure all that out along with the universe itself and Bi panic.
I think the isekai concept came along as I got a lot more attached to the Straw Hats in general since I'm always a sucker for friendship and found family tropes. And when I got into One Piece life had been taking a bad turn so this is kind of an escape for me.
Back to the self-ship though-I'm still not sure how the relationship would start-but I'd end up being just this 5'4 pink-haired autistic male who ended up being the boyfriend to 3 big strong (but also lovable) pirates. And since I'm shorter and they're also a lot stronger than me, they pick me up a lot out of nowhere just because I was there. I'd take cooking lessons from Sanji, I'd nap with Zoro, and I'd teach Luffy some drawing. But I can't have one without the others now, I love them too much now.
I have little nicknames I'd have them call me, some even pre-relationship. Sanji would call me "Cotton-Candy Head" because of the pink hair (but with a lot more affection than when he started calling Zoro Moss-Head) and then "Little Prince". Zoro would call me "Pinky" for the hair and then after I broke out of my shell a bit he'd call me "Puppy" because once I get comfortable around people I got big ol' golden-retriever energy. Luffy would probably call me "Nugget" and "Squishy" (I have a round face and also I can see Luffy looking at me and having a moment kinda like that one of Dory from Finding Nemo where she goes "I Shall Call Him Squishy And He Shall Be Mine. And He Shall Be My Squishy")
And then I have nicknames for them:
Zoro- Matcha Boy/Man, Teddy Bear (I feel like considering the naps and stuff, he would give good snuggles. I mean-the plush I have of him is nice to snuggle with.)
Sanji- Honey Bun, Sweetums (Because he's the biggest sweetie, his hair is a shade of yellow like honey, and honey buns are good!)
Luffy- Sunshine, Cap' (He's the captain of the thousand SUNNY and he's a bright ray of sunshine in my day and Cap sounds cute to say for him as the Captain of the crew)
And I'mma leave it at that. Uh-thanks for the opportunity to talk about my selfships! Take care of yourself and drink water!
ah! \o/ I love this - my friend has an OC story where the OC is a witch - but not an isekai style. I love isekais. LOVE them, I don't give a heck what anyone else thinks of them, I love them. (I mention this because I love the witch idea, and you both did it very differently too! Similar concepts don't bother me because people always end up with different details and that Delights Me <3 )
I've got notes for my own self-insert via isekai for a few different titles cause my blorbos don't mesh well. It was quite a good idea to fall for the monster trio cause they're all already all there and together XD
The pet names are sending me \o/ they're so cute xD I love little pink-haired masc witch from another world!
Thank you very much for sharing ❤️
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Harley Quinn X FemWerewolf!Reader Angsty and Cute Comfort Revelation Prompt
• Takes place before the events of the first film (Suicide Squad - 2016) + Linked to previous prompts
!TW: Mention of a previous break-up + previously being in an abusive and controlling relationship, anxious thinking/anxiety, self-doubt, implied suffering from depression, implied abuse by family/parent, blood, injury detail, sexuality being disagreed upon, mention of death/family members passing away, swearing, murder + thoughts of violent intentions, mention of previously being threatened!
“So kiss me, Nugget,” Harley encouraged, and you faltered, not expecting her to want you to, after everything that had happened recently; you’d disappeared for a couple of weeks upon finding out that you were a werewolf, and she’d recently broken up with Max, her abusive and controlling ex, who you’d made sure you would deal with, in private, at some point. “C’mon, you heard me,” she cooed, and you appeared to tense up a little, nervous; you were afraid of accidentally hurting her, as you’d never kissed anyone before, and weren’t sure if you’d be able to control yourself, without lashing out at her, something you would never forgive yourself for doing if you did, “I love you, Y/n, a-and-.. I don’t care if you can turn into some big dog, because you mean everything to me; you mean more than life itself, and I don’t wanna lose you, so please stay; don’t run away again, because-.. It was painful without you, a-and I’m sure if you were there, it would have been a little less painful, maybe not even painful at all, but you weren’t.”
“You actually-.. want me to stay? To kiss you, after everything?” You questioned, after you’d both stopped slow dancing together; it was the night of the prom, and she’d told you, upon your request to go with her, about her feelings for you, and you then managed to confess to her that you’d felt the same way, ever since you’d first met her, and that was why you’d given her your stone wolf the day after you’d first spoken to her. “I’m a killer, Harley,” you reminded her, a pained expression on your face, and she shook her head quickly, not wanting you to try and scare her away from you, when she knew that your attempts would all be as useless as this one, “I’m not good for you-”
“That’s not true,” she contradicted, “you’re more than good for me, Nugget - I love you so much, and nothing’s ever gonna change that, because - it’s you, it’s always been you for me, a-and - I should have realised that before, but-.. I don’t know - All I know right now is - is that I’ve loved you ever since I bumped into you in the hallway.” You would be surprised, as you’d had the same experience with her, and wasn’t expecting her to believe that she had developed feelings for you as fast as you had, for her, on the day you’d both first met. “Please, Y/n, give me a chance to show you that we belong together,” she begged, and you hesitated, not sure, at first, until she shyly stepped closer to you to connect her forehead to your’s affectionately, “otherwise I’ll just have to keep following you around saying ‘I love you’ repeatedly until you do, just to shut me up.”
You couldn’t help, but giggle, alongside her, whilst a smile began to play on your lips. “I wouldn’t stop you,” you claimed, “because I wouldn’t want you to; I’ve wanted to - to hear that you feel the same way for.. for what feels like - a lifetime, now - I love you so much, Quinzels.”
“I love you, too,” she returned, before lifting her right hand up to your left cheek, and you subconsciously melted into her touch, your eyes swiftly getting lost in her’s shortly after you had, “may I-?” She drew her thumb over your lips delicately, and you faltered, nervous; you’d never kissed anyone before, and were terrified that you might lose control, and accidentally hurt her, if you did.
“I - I’d love to, Quinzels, b-but.. I’ve never.. never kissed anyone before,” you admitted, “I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself; I could hurt you-”
“You won’t,” she assured, desperate, “please, Y/n, I’ll go slow, I promise!”
You would sigh, before nodding gravely, not wanting to upset her. “Fine,” you replied, and she suddenly appeared to light up, her eyes glinting, and smile wider than it was before, making your heart skip a beat; you found everything she did magical, as well as perfect, “I do belong to you, after all; you’re my mate, and soulmate, and the wielder of my stone wolf; the other half of my life.”
“So that’s why you gave it to me,” she mused, and you nodded, smiling lovingly over at her whilst you did, wrapping your arms around her waist carefully, as if she were a flower which could easily be crushed.
“It’s a custom,” you explained, “I didn’t know that, before, until my aunt told me, a couple of weeks or so ago. It just felt - right, to give it to you, even before I knew what I was, because I want everything with you, Quinzels, everything; I want you to control me; to have my entire life, because I don’t deserve the other half - only you do. You’ve made me - made me so much happier than I used to be, a-and.. A much better person than I was, before. I don’t even - even care about - about the beatings anymore; I could even forgive my father after the next of them, if he continues with them-”
Her smile then began to fade, and you frowned when you noticed, feeling guilty for bringing up your father; she despised him for hurting you, the way he had been recently. “You can’t forgive him,” she interjected, “Y/n-”
“I-.. I know, I’m sorry, I just-..” You fell quiet, a pained expression on your face, and she shook her head, smiling lovingly over at you again.
“It’s okay,” she cooed, “don’t worry, I get what you were trying to say, a-and.. and I’m glad you feel that way, Nugget.” She then leaned forward again, and briefly brushed her lips against your’s, but the spark overwhelmed you, to the point you found you had to quickly pull away, whilst your fangs began to unfold, a whine emitting from your throat, and she noticed that you’d begun to tremble a little, your eyes appearing to darken a little whilst you did. “It’s okay,” she spoke gently, and you nodded, trying to stay calm, “you’re doing good, Y/n, don’t worry; I’ll take care of you.” You nodded again, knowing she would; you were just terrified of hurting her, and scaring her away from you. She then slowly connected her lips to your’s again, and you melted into the kiss, whimpering quietly whilst you did; you were feeling overwhelmed again, and she held you close to her, trying to provide comfort to you.
You then found yourself subconsciously deepening the kiss, and not thinking whilst you did, accidentally catching her bottom lip on your fangs, making her falter, and pull away, lifting her right hand up to her lip, which was now bleeding a little, prompting you to tense up, a hurt look on your face; you couldn’t believe you’d hurt her. “I.. I hurt you,” you whispered shakily, and she winced, shaking her head quickly, afraid that you might run away, but you found that you couldn’t, paralysed on the spot; you didn’t want to have to be away from her again, like you had been for those dark couple of weeks, after you’d found out about your being a werewolf.
“You didn’t mean to, it - it’s okay,” she assured, trying to step closer to you, but you stepped back, before she could reach out and wrap her arms around you, “Y/n-”
“I’m so sorry,” you interrupted, your voice briefly trembling, and she shook her head quickly, a pained expression on her face, “I.. I shouldn’t have.. have tried-”
“No,” she contradicted, “Y/n, you - you didn’t know it would happen, and don’t worry - things will get better, I promise; it’ll get easier, we just need to work on it.” Harley then hooked her arms over your shoulders, before booping the tip of your nose with her’s. “Besides, I’m your’s to mark, Nugget,” she added, surprising you, as well as prompting you to smirk, before tilting your head partially, your eyes glinting whilst you did, “I don’t mind you biting me.”
“That’s good,” you replied, “because I’m all your’s to mark, too.”
She lifted an eyebrow, before grinning over at you, glad to hear that you were. “You’re right,” she corroborated, before playfully nibbling a little bit at the left side of your neck, prompting you to giggle, finding it felt funny, and that your neck was ticklish, “good, you clearly liked me doing that, so I’ll do it more often.” She then connected her forehead to your’s again lovingly, whilst her eyes locked with your’s in the best way possible. “I’m surprised you’ve not run away yet,” she admitted, “I was afraid you would, after.. Y’know - My lip.”
You frowned, nodding gravely, whilst you lifted your left hand up to her right cheek so you could delicately brush your thumb over her bleeding bottom lip, and she smiled reassuringly over at you, not wanting you to feel guilty for accidentally catching it on your fangs. “I thought I would, too,” you expressed, “but-.. I can’t. It’s like I’m - drawn to you; stuck to you, I can’t, and don’t want to be away from you; you’re the only reason I’m still here, a-and-.. I think I’m.. I’m falling in love with you more and more with every passing day.”
She smirked, before briefly connecting her lips to yours again, prompting you to tense up, for a moment, until you felt as if you could relax, and could control yourself more; keep yourself calm, and not hurt her again, like you accidentally had a brief moment ago. “Good, because I think I am, too, with you, and I’m okay with that; I want only to feel this way for you.”
She then got an idea, and looked around skeptically, before she rushed you away from the crowd, clearly wanting to mess around with you for a little bit. “I’m.. I’m not sure about this, Harley,” you murmured, “I don’t want-.. I don’t want to hurt you - I can’t even - even kiss you properly without-.. without wanting to..” You faltered, and she carefully lifted your face up to her’s, so she could delicately kiss you, and you whimpered quietly whilst she did, before subconsciously pinning her to the wall behind her, startling her, but she welcomed your action. You then quickly pulled away, burying your face into the crook of her neck, and she would silently beg for you to do something, lifting her right hand up to the back of your head, so she could tangle her fingers within your hair, soothing you as you began to breathe normally again; your breathing pattern had previously become staggered and uneven, whilst your heart had been racing. “Oh my god,” you whispered, whilst trying not to sink your fangs into her neck; you wanted to change her; to claim her as your mate, but found that you couldn’t, not wanting her to have to live like you’d been living, recently - Having a lack of control, and living in fear of being discovered; if anyone else found out about you, they might react differently to you - hunt you down, and try to kill you, “you-.. you smell so good; too good, s-stop-.. I don’t wanna hurt you again.”
“You won’t hurt me,” she assured, “you’d never hurt me, Y/n-”
“I - I caught your lip, Harley,” you reminded her, before stepping back, resulting in her feeling empty, and prompting her to shake her head quickly, desperate, “I can’t-.. I can’t let it happen again; I could do even worse to you, a-and I don’t think I could ever live with myself, knowing that-.. that I hurt you again.”
“Please, Nugget, just - just trust me,” she pleaded, slowly inching closer to you, “you won’t hurt me, I know you won’t, and even if you did, and didn’t mean for it to happen, I wouldn’t love you any less than I do, now, I promise - C’mere.”
She then managed to pull you into a hug, before you could move away again, and you subconsciously melted into her embrace, before throwing your arms around her, and burying your face into the crook of her neck. “I’m scared, Quinzels,” you admitted, your voice close to a whisper, and she frowned, nodding; she knew that it was hard for you, being completely new to you, especially when you were a werewolf, and had enhanced senses, emotions, and different customs, “I’ve never-.. never cared about somebody so much before, l-like I care about you, and - and I’ve never wanted so badly for someone to stay with me; to do anything for them; to - to risk my life for them, like I do, whenever I’m with you.”
“Wait, you.. you’d risk your life, just - just for me?” She mused, holding you at arm’s length, and you nodded, certain of yourself. “Why?” She inquired, and you would be surprised by the question, tilting your head partially; you thought she already knew why you would, or could even guess why.
“Because I love you,” you answered, and she couldn’t help, but smile warmly over at you, flattered; nobody had ever told her that they’d actually risk, or sacrifice their life for her’s before, like you had, less than a minute ago, “a-and would do anything, as well as everything, just to make you happy, keep you safe, love you like you should be loved, and treat you like the princess you truly are; you deserve more than the universe, Quinzels, not just for doing everything that you have, for someone as unworthy as me, but for just being the amazing person you naturally are.”
“Hey,” she whined, “you aren’t unworthy of everything that I do for you - You’re more than worthy, and more than deserve my love, in fact.” You would force a smile up at her, doubting that you were, but you wouldn’t voice your concern, not wanting to upset her, like you knew you would, if you did tell her that you thought you weren’t. You then winced upon feeling the wind beginning to pick up, and Harley would soon notice that you were shivering, worrying her as she hurriedly made to remove her jacket. “Are you cold? Do - Do you want my jacket?” She offered, and you shook your head quickly, not wanting her to be cold, too.
“N-No, Quinzels, I’m fine,” you claimed, “you need it more than I do; I’ll start warming up, soon, don’t worry.”
“No way,” she responded, amazed, “you’re like - you’re own personal furnace, too?”
“Not just mine,” you replied, before wrapping your arms around her again, and she would be surprised to feel that you were beginning to get warmer, “I’m your’s, too, like my heart has always been your’s, ever since we first met; your name has been all it’s known, and been calling, since that day.”
“You’re gonna make me blush, stop,” she pleaded, whilst giggling, and trying to hide her face from you, “wanna know something?”
“Of course; I wanna know everything you know,” you stated, and she smiled softly again, before holding both of your hands in her’s, prompting you to smile lovingly down at them, for a moment, whilst wondering what you’d done to deserve someone as good as her.
“I wish I’d told you before, about - about my feelings for you,” she confessed, “all that time, my - my heart was calling for you, too, but.. I guess I just - didn’t realise, before - what it meant, and - I was too scared to explore my feelings because - I thought I’d lose you, if I did, and I don’t ever wanna have to live without you, Y/n, whether you’re my soulmate, or my best friend, or maybe even both; I can’t, because you’re everything to me, and you somehow always seem to make things - better, whenever you’re here with me - like you are, now.”
“Let me promise you something,” you began gently, and she nodded, listening, whilst her eyes locked with your’s again, blood rushing to her cheeks whilst they did, “I’m always gonna be here, always, as long as you want me to be; I love you so much, and I always will, even if, or when you decide you don’t want me anymore, so-.. you’ll.. you’ll always have me, Harley, if.. if you need me, a-and-.. I’ll always be protecting you, no matter what.”
“That’s flattering, Nugget, but,” she spoke slowly, whilst hooking her arms over your shoulders again, her face now inches from your’s, “there’s never gonna be a time when I wake up, and decide that I don’t want you anymore, because I will always want, and choose you, I promise. Now tell me something that I don’t know already, I’m curious to see if there is anything.”
You would think about your answer for a moment, and your smile seemed to weaken a little, whilst you did. “There is one thing,” you stated, and she would tilt her head partially, intrigued as to what it could be, “I still.. still feel guilty, for how I reacted, when you came to see me at my father’s house, after I disappeared for a couple of weeks.” You then sighed, and pried your gaze away from her’s, and she would express concern for you; she hated seeing you upset, and even began to wish that she’d not requested for you to tell her. You found yourself thinking back to that moment, and would wonder why you’d been so dismissive with her, until you remembered that you’d been trying to dissuade her from you, after you’d found out that you were a werewolf, and were afraid of hurting her.
“Quinzels-?” You murmured, upon opening the front door, and finding that it was Harley who was stood behind it, but you had known that, already; you’d picked up her scent before she’d arrived, and therefore had had to quickly change back, get dressed, and run back toward your father’s house, so you could open the door for her, as your father wasn’t home, though even if he was, you wouldn’t let him open the door to her, afraid that he would hurt her, if he did; he knew about you both; that you had feelings for her, and didn’t exactly - approve - of you being a lesbian. You frowned when you noticed that she seemed upset, and would wonder why; you weren’t yet aware that Harley had broken up with Max, after he’d started hurting her during arguments they’d recently been having. “What - What are you doing here?” You inquired, wincing when you could feel that your fangs were beginning to unfold, whilst her sweet scent began to fill your nostrils again, prompting you to have to fight back a whimper, and your body to begin heating up.
“I - I’m.. I’m so sorry, I know I should have called you first, I just,” she began, her voice briefly trembling, before her face contorted; she’d begun to cry, and you faltered as soon as she had; you hated seeing her upset like she was, now, and wished you could just wrap your arms around her, and hold her close to you, but you didn’t trust yourself, worried that you might accidentally lose control, and hurt her, if you did.
“It’s okay,” you tried to reassure her, “do - do you wanna - come inside?”
“Only if it’s - if it’s alright with you,” she answered, and you nodded, before stepping aside so she could walk into the hallway of your father’s house, and closing the door behind you. “I guess I just wanted - w-wanted to make sure that you were okay,” she claimed, “things haven’t been-.. great - since.. since you stopped showing, and.. Look, me and Max broke up, if - if that’s the reason why you did-”
“You broke up with him?” You mused, and she nodded, before shyly inching closer to you, and you began to tense up, a pained expression on your face; you just wanted to tell her how you felt about her, and to feel her lips against your’s, but you knew you would lose control, if you did.
“He was hurting me,” she admitted, and your breath hitched in your throat, whilst your irises began to flicker between their normal colour, and orange, prompting you to quickly turn your face away, worried about her seeing the change, and about how she would react, if she did, “a-and - I don’t love him, Y/n, because-.. I think, all this time, I’ve been-.. falling in love with you, ever since I first met you.”
You would be surprised; you clearly hadn’t been expecting her to feel the same way for you. “Harley-..” You responded, your voice close to a whisper, and she stepped even closer to you, prompting your heart to begin to race, and a quiet whimper to escape your lips. “You - You can’t-.. I’m not good for you,” you mustered, your voice sounding strained, as well as choked; you were having to fight back the wolf within you, which was currently scratching at the surface, desperate to claim her, and change her, so she could be your mate, as well as wanting to find Max, and kill him for hurting her the way he had been recently.
“That’s not true,” she contradicted, “you’re more than good for me, Nugget, just give us a chance, and I can prove that you are-”
“I can’t,” you interjected gently in a crestfallen manner, “please, Quinzels, you - you don’t understand.”
She would fall quiet, a hurt look on her face after you’d moved away from her again. “You’re right, I don’t think I do,” she uttered, “because you clearly don’t feel the same way, and must have just been avoiding me this whole time, for no reason.”
She then stormed toward the door, and you watched, shaking your head quickly whilst you did. “N-No, Harley, wait-”
“I never wanna talk to you, or hear your s-stupid-.. soft, a-and adorable voice ever again!” She then rushed out, and you found yourself beginning to hate yourself even more for what you had just done, struggling to fight back your anger and sadness as you rushed up the stairs to your bedroom, and leaped out of your window, changing into your wolf form mid-air, not caring that you’d torn the clothes that you had previously been wearing, before you sprinted back toward Apocalypse Forest, knowing you’d have to take your anger and distress out on something within it; you knew you couldn’t howl, because it would cause suspicion, and might result in you being hunted down, and killed. You also knew that Harley might hear it, and you didn’t want her to know about what you were, yet, afraid of how she might react, if she found out.
You then timidly connected your forehead to her’s, whilst delicately easing her closer to you. “Could you ever-.. find it within yourself to - maybe-.. forgive me?” You inquired, and she nodded quickly, surprised that you were even asking her if she could.
“Of course I forgive you,” she answered, and you expressed relief, your eyes glinting whilst you did, and she smiled lovingly over at you, glad that you were happy again; she loved to see you happy, after everything you’d been through before, with your mother’s passing, and your father’s abusive habits, “I’ll always forgive you, Nugget, I promise.”
You smiled lovingly over at her, wondering, like you always found yourself doing, what you had done to deserve someone as amazing as her. “I love you so much,” you expressed, before leaning forward slightly to briefly connect your lips to her’s, managing to control yourself, just about, until your fangs unfolded again, and you had to quickly pull away, a pained expression on your face, but she didn’t seem to mind, smiling back at you, making your heart skip a beat, before it began to race alongside her’s.
“I love you, too,” she returned, “and I always will.”
She then found herself feeling drowsy all of a sudden, yawning, whilst she leaned heavily against you, and you guessed that she was tired; it had been quite a long night, after all. “You’re tired,” you mused, and she winced, shaking her head, as if she weren’t; she didn’t want the night to end, yet, as she had been enjoying her time with you, “come here - I’ll carry you back to that place-”
“No,” she whined, “if you’re gonna take me anywhere, I want it to be back to your house, or back to where the others are dancing.”
You appeared disheartened for a moment, worrying her; she didn’t want to have to be alone again, wanting, rather, to stay with you. “I can’t take you back to my father’s house, Quinzels, you - you know that,” you murmured, and she would groan in reply, desperate for you to change your mind, “he - he could hurt you-”
“He won’t,” she contradicted, “he won’t even know I’m there, I promise, please.”
You sighed, before nodding gravely, though you were worried about what he might do if he did find out about her being there with you. “Fine, I’ll carry you back there, just-.. If he gets up, or isn’t home, yet - hide, because I don’t want him to hurt you, too,” you stated, and she frowned, nodding gravely, though she’d rather try and save you from being beaten by him; she hated having to live with the fact that she knew he was beating you, and that she couldn’t do anything about it to try and help you.
“I will,” she claimed, “as.. as long as I can stay with you.” You nodded, managing a weak smile over at her, before you carefully lifted her up off of the ground, and she giggled whilst you did, clinging to your shoulders, though she trusted you with her entire being to not drop her.
“Let’s get you back home,” you replied, whilst carrying her back slowly toward your father’s house, which wasn’t too far away from the college you both were currently attending together, “you deserve some rest; it’s been a long and surprising night - In my opinion, I think it’s been the best night I’ve ever had.”
“I think it’s been the best night I’ve ever had, too,” she admitted, and you would smile lovingly down at her, glad to hear that it had, even silently vowing that every night, from now on, would be one of the best nights for the both of you, because you believed she deserved nothing less, but the best treatment you could give her.
🜸🜚🜸
“Can you believe they’re making us do this shit?” She inquired; the College you both were attending together had put together a team building activity for the entirety of your and her year group, and you both evidently hated the idea of it. “I mean - who even needs team building exercises?” She pried, and you shrugged, whilst appearing nervous, worrying her. She hooked her left arm around you, trying to provide comfort to you. “Hey, what’s wrong, Nugget?” She asked, and you winced, embarrassed at yourself as you glanced over at her timidly, managing a faint smile, before you quickly lowered your gaze again.
“I’m just - worried I’ll do something wrong,” you admitted, “mess up, in front of my all time favourite person, and biggest crush.”
Harley smirked, amused, before she carefully turned you around to face her, holding you at arm’s length whilst she did. “Don’t worry, I’m sure it won’t change the way she sees you,” she replied, “I’m sure she’s feeling pretty nervous herself, too.”
You scoffed, evidently doubting that she would. “Why would she? She’s perfect-”
“Hey,” she interjected gently, a hurt look on her face, “you are perfect, too, and she’ll always love you, even though you can sometimes be goofy, I promise.”
You smiled lovingly over at her, before you shyly stepped closer to her, and leaned forward to delicately connect your lips to her’s, and she melted into the kiss subconsciously, holding you close to her whilst she did, an action you welcomed without hesitation. “I love you so much, Quinzels,” you expressed, and she would smile toothily back at you, before affectionately booping the tip of your nose with the tip of her’s, “you honestly make me nervous, somehow, in the best way possible, and I love it; I don’t know what I’d do without you, or if I’d - if I’d even still be alive-”
“Don’t - Don’t say that,” she whined, lifting her right hand up to your left cheek, and you subconsciously leaned into her touch, whilst getting lost in her eyes again, wishing you’d told her about your feelings for her before; everything seemed to be perfect, now, and if you had, she might not have been with her abusive ex, Max, who you were still planning on dealing with, for treating her poorly like he had, before she’d broken up with him, “of course you would be.”
“For God’s sake, girls, hurry up!” One of the tutors hissed, and you both begrudgingly followed them out of the changing room, after smiling sadly at one another, not wanting to get into trouble again, after your father had beaten you one time after getting a call from the head to say that you had been misbehaving.
🜸🜚🜸
“No,” Harley whined, whilst she cradled your limp, and somewhat-blood stained body close to her whilst you were in your wolf-form; you’d returned to save her life, after finding that an Omega had been threatening her, and could have killed her, if you hadn’t been nearby. You’d run away again, after she’d found out, and was upset by, how you’d ended up killing Max, despite what he had done to her, and you thought she hated you after the fight you’d both had, resulting in you deciding she’d be better off without you, though she’d not told you that she wanted you to go, or that she didn’t want to see you again, even after what you’d done. “Just - Just stay with me a moment longer, please,” she begged, knowing, now, that you couldn’t heal yourself; you’d destroyed your crystal, not wanting to get in her way, or upset her, anymore, like you had been recently, “I love you, Nugget, m-more than anything; I can’t live without you, I love you, please!”
You managed a weak smile up at her, whilst your eyes were glistening; tears had been constantly invading them, ever since you’d destroyed the crystal, knowing you’d probably never see her again, now that you had. ‘Could you - Could you say that again?’ You phased weakly, and she faltered upon hearing your voice, a couple of stray tears managing to escape her eyes, and run down her cheeks; she couldn’t imagine never hearing your voice, or seeing you ever again, and was terrified by this fact, desperate for you to stay with her.
“Why? Weren’t you listening?” She inquired, and you nodded quickly - Of course you had been listening; you could only ever really listen to her, and only ever want to listen to her, and her only, always.
‘I was,’ you answered, ‘of course I was, I just-.. I like hearing your voice, it - it soothes me, more - more than anything, other than your presence, ever could, and I’m so sorry, Quinzels, for - for everything; for Max, everything. I love you so much, a-and I-’
“It’s okay,” she cooed, leaning down to connect her forehead to your’s lovingly, “I - I know; you - you didn’t mean it, just-.. just please tell me there’s another way; it can’t - it can’t end like this - I love you, you idiot - You can’t leave me! At least - At least stay with me tonight, after we find a way to save you, a-and.. and then.. you can leave me, if you - if you still wish to.”
‘I thought you’d be happy to see the back of me,’ you mused, and she shook her head quickly, making you feel worse, and even making you regret smashing your crystal, which you could have done with in terms of having to heal yourself.
“Of course not,” she replied, “you’re my soulmate, Y/n, a-and.. You’ve made me happier than I’ve ever been, and you’ve honestly got to be the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, and I can’t live without you, I just - can’t, so please don’t make me try.”
You faltered, wishing you could heal yourself for her, but you knew there was nothing you could do, now. ‘Quinzels-’
She sniffled, before shaking her head again, and lifting her right hand to cover your mouth; she didn’t want to believe that this was the end for you both. “We should get married,” she suggested, and you would be surprised, “as soon as - as soon as this is over, and we’re back home.”
‘Very funny, Harley,’ you murmured; you didn’t think she would still want to marry you, after what had happened, and she frowned, shaking her head.
“I’m serious,” she assured, “we could, as long as you tell me there’s a way that - that I can save you-”
‘No, we can’t,’ you contradicted feebly, ‘and it’s too late now, Harley, there’s nothing that can be done.’
She grimaced, whilst trying not to break down again; she couldn’t believe you. “How - How could you?” She questioned, and you frowned, before turning your face away from her, not wanting her to see that you were trying not to cry, alongside her. “Why - Why are you even here, if you don’t still love me, and want to marry me? Y/n-”
‘I’m here,’ you interjected weakly, glancing up at her again when you felt able, ‘because I care about you, Harley - I do still love you, m-more than anything.. And I want nothing more, but to marry you, t-today, yesterday, tomorrow - And then marry you again, and again, but-.. I’m not good enough for you, a-and I destroyed the crystal, because I want you to be happy; to find someone better than me, someone who could - give you the life that you deserve; a better one; better than any life I could ever give you. Please, Quinzels, reconsider-’
“No,” she retorted, “I’ll never change my mind, Y/n - The only life that I want to live, is the life that I can spend by your side - Please, stay with me!”
You winced; the pain was verging on becoming excruciating, but you tried to focus on her, wanting only to be thinking of her, throughout your supposed final moments. ‘Did you really - really mean what you said - about-.. about - still wanting to marry me?’ You asked, and she nodded quickly, certain that she did; she had always wanted to be married to you; to be even closer to you than she was, now. ‘At least - I’ll remember that in the afterlife, alongside just - you, in general-'
“You’re not dying,” she interrupted sharply, “I won’t let you; I can’t.”
‘There’s nothing that either of us can do now,’ you reminded her, ‘the crystal is gone; I can’t be healed - The nearest hospital is what - half an hour away?’ A strained sob managed to escape her lips, and it pained you to hear it; to hear her so upset over the possibility of her losing you; she’d never thought of finding someone else, like you’d been hoping she would. ‘I’m so sorry, Quinzels,’ you continued, ‘just-.. think about how.. You’ll be free of me, now.. You’ll be able to find someone better than me, someone - normal, who isn’t constantly living in fear of being hunted down, or discovered, and - and treated like - like an animal, in a zoo; being threatened with - with being experimented on, just.. just for some - pointless chart, on a piece of paper, and a clipboard. Just - Just promise me one thing, Harley.’
“Anything,” she replied, whilst brushing away the tears that were running slowly down your cheeks, “what - what is it?”
‘Promise me you’ll never forget about me,’ you clarified, ‘and that - that you’ll remember that I will always love you, Quinzels, even if - if I can’t be with you physically; my feelings will never change, no matter where I end up.’
You then whimpered, upon feeling as if you were growing even weaker, and she frowned when she noticed, not wanting you to leave her so soon. “I’ll never forget about you, or that you’ll always love me, I promise,” she whispered, “now let me promise you something, too.”
You shook your head gravely, a pained expression on your face. ‘Harley, no-’
“I insist,” she persisted, “you owe me, Nugget, so - can I?”
‘Of course you can,’ you answered, hesitantly, ‘you’re right; I do owe you, Quinzels.. I owe you - more than my life.’
“You’re right,” she corroborated playfully, her voice briefly trembling whilst she did, “you do owe me more than your life, so-.. Nugget, I-.. I promise you that - that no matter what happens, I will always love you - always, because you mean more than the world to me, and that will never change. Even if I do-.. Find someone else, I will never love them as much as I love you, that’s for sure - Please don’t ever forget that, a-and - we’ll see each other again, I know we will, no matter where we both end up, we will see each other again, because we belong together; we always have, ever since we first met, and maybe even before then, because we’re soulmates, and were made for each other.”
You nodded, smiling feebly up at her. ‘Soulmates,’ you agreed, ‘a-always, and-.. When we do meet again, we’ll be able to - if you’ll still have me, finally get married.. W-Won’t - Won’t we?’
“Of course we will,” she tried to reassure you, “and there’ll never be a day where I wake up, and decide that I don’t want to marry you, I promise.” You then groaned, and your eyelids began to flutter shut, panicking her, but she tried to stay calm for you, not wanting to worry you, or upset you any further. “Y/n,” she cooed, “Nugget, talk to me, please, o-open your eyes.”
‘I’m so sorry,’ you whispered, before falling quiet, but you weren’t dead, yet, merely unconscious, but she didn’t know that, beginning to cry beside you, whilst she gently shook you, before curling up beside you, and crying herself to sleep, but once she woke up, your body was gone; you had been taken away, and were alive, but you both wouldn’t find each other again, until four dark and lonely years had passed.
~~~~~
Hope you enjoyed it! ❤️
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osric-giroux-ffxiv · 1 year
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Most would have tripped over themselves for a chance to be in Mr. Slater’s eye; he was young, accomplished in having been a Dragoon at one point in his life, came from a wealthy family and typically held a quiet life coupled with the fact he was a perfect gentleman – perhaps a little too perfect. Expectantly so, he was handsome on top of it all and an ideal candidate for several single beauties throughout the city. Among the names of others, Osric’s would find their way into the idle gossip Vahalia would hear throughout the weeks.
During her walks, her casual strolls. She’d say nothing and aid nothing into the small circles of chittering women. They were very much like hens, you throw a nugget of gossip into the middle of them and they’d flock after it all until there was nothing left. They were hungry for it.
She couldn’t blame them. Most didn’t have a job and beyond children or home life in tending to their partners it was hard to really find any enjoyment outside of their own misfortunes. They thrived off of what little bits of truth they could find marred in between their own fabrications, words of others and judgment. 
Fickle little creatures.
With a purse of her lips, Vahalia walked the road as she often did on her days off. An umbrella to keep the snow at bay if the weather happened to take a turn as it often did in Ishgard, however, the perpetual winter continued. That too was fickle. One minute the day would be cool and brisk with plenty of sunshine to enjoy while in mere moments the skies could blacken and a flurry of snow would be on its way.
Small things such as this are what Vahalia focused on. Observing and forever an onlooker rather than being a part of the action until it was necessary. Most knew better to leave her be and stay away – be it a gut feeling they often felt or the ridge of common sense just by knowing enough about her to keep their presence at bay. She was a well-known face among many parts of the city. She had been born and raised here and her father even being one of the many companies that took part in building large weapons for the city itself.
Maybe once upon a time. The Cress name had other ventures these days, as did the Slater name.
They would soon be one in the same – two peas in a pod. A solid partnership. Or at least, that is how she would have wanted people on the outside looking in to view it. What they wouldn’t know was how emotionally crippled she was as a person and how damaging she could be to the Slater Lord. 
She’d never love him as he would deserve. She could come to respect him but in time she could give him everything else and more. Who needed love when one could have power, wealth, and respect? What good was love if it could take you out and everything you worked for in a few simple words? Betrayal? Regret? No. Love did too much damage and little else to be considered a blessing. In her minds-eye, it was a torment. Just as silly as she had seen the Valentione’s Day decorations in the distance and how they had seemingly run their course even days after the holiday was over.
She was built for much bigger things; much bigger plans.
A far wall from the crowds is where the Matriarch of House Cress decided to settle, she leaned slightly over the cold stone to peer at the mist below, taking in the silence and scenery before her while she waited for her company.
And she wouldn’t have to wait long.
Osric had never been one to be late to a requested meeting, and particularly not when he knew the location like the one described within Vahalia’s missive, as well as he did. Appearing every bit the noble he was supposed to be he made the trek from his estate through the Pillars, managing to avoid the merchants pushing their ‘holiday’ themed wares trying to make a quick gil. Boots sounded against cobblestone as he adjusted his coat, approaching the dark-haired woman carefully, clearing his throat as he got close. 
“I can’t say I blame you for choosing the mists over the decorations.” Blue eyes shifted back over his shoulder for a moment towards the plethora of red, white, and pink decorations in the distance before turning back towards the woman before him. “The view here is significantly better. Lovely to see you again, Vahalia. I hope I haven’t been keeping you waiting too long.”   
“Not at all.” she sighed and turned to her side, elbow and hip finding purchase to the stone wall that separated them from a long fate, “It’s good you showed up before anyone thought it a good idea to fill the space in your absence. Not sure I would have enjoyed that company.”
“Well fortunately, you don’t have to find out about ‘that’ company and I’ll do my best to make sure mine is enjoyable or at the very least, tolerable, this afternoon.” Osric tilted his head ever so slightly with a small upward quirk of his lips but only for a brief moment as he moved to stand in front of her, one hand slipping into his coat pocket, the other resting against the stone wall lightly. ”
“I admit, I hadn’t expected to hear from you until after news of your sister’s wedding, as you’d mentioned wanting to make sure she was settled first…and yet that news never came.” His brow furrowed for a moment. “Has something changed?”
"Unfortunately." Vahalia replied in a soft tone and she looked around casually before her eyes had settled back to Osric, "She is unwell and has been bedridden for nearly two full moons. I thought it the best decision to end the contract that bound her to marriage." Gazing down the flat of her hand smoothed over the cold bite of the stone beneath her, "I've been assisting in her care where I can and we're just waiting for her to wake. Valeria suffered a head injury here in the city."
The frown deepened as he exhaled slowly. “An attack within city walls in most areas outside the Brume is a fairly brazen act.” He shook his head quickly. “Not that it matters, the end result remains. I’m sorry to hear that this has happened to Valeria. Should you require any additional resources for her care, please let me know. Have they found the individual responsible for the attack?”
The lacquered handle of Vahalia’s umbrella shifted from one slender shoulder to the next, her free hand finding purchase at Osric’s forearm – uninvited. She didn't care, she came and went and did what she wanted, when she wanted. The Lady Cress even spurred them from the wall with a subtle tug at Osric’s limb, "She is well cared for currently – but no, we haven't found out who is responsible but we will soon enough. I have some suspicions but they could merely be misplaced on account of heart rather than them lacking motive."
The hint was received, and he drew her closer to his side as he turned to guide the pair of them down away from the crowds and decorations and towards one of the secluded walkways. 
They turned a few heads in the process. It hadn’t been the first time…Osric imagined it wouldn’t be the last.  He quirked an eyebrow at a passing nobleman he caught staring, whose eyes widened as he hurried up the nearby ramp. 
Osric huffed before he turned to the woman on his arm, “I don’t imagine you’d have suspicions for no reason - I’m sure whoever you suspect is more than worthy of it. But as I said - should you need any resources, all you need do is ask. She is your sister…and that makes her family. And as we’ve discussed, there’s little I would not do for family.” 
A skeptical glance observed Osric’s face and eventually, the honey-colored eyes resumed their course watching the walkway before them. A strange thought, an even stranger feeling of acceptance fell over her and for a moment, Vahalia felt like she was drowning. A tightness found her throat and her cynicism warred with the smile she felt begging to curl at her red lips. Her face opted to rest, as it often did, “You’ve been doing a lot of thinking then?” partly guilty of the fact she had done very little outside the scope of necessity.
“A bit.” His gaze remained on the road ahead, cutting to the woman beside him for a moment as the question was asked. “After old contracts and agreements that were no longer of use were sorted through it left me with a bit of time to consider what came next. Our arrangement, all that it entailed - new family included.”
Guilt twisted inside of her but she welcomed it.
“You are not wrong. In all aspects in due time, you would be family to her, yes. Family is important. Sometimes it is all anyone has.” a small part of her felt knotted and her thoughts – even for a brief moment – turned to her Dalmascan counterpart who had recently left. With him, she felt safe and understood. Perhaps it was the current conversation and their stroll that she found some of that comfort in Osric too or perhaps it was how heavy the conversation was about her sister. She had been struggling to keep it together. Alone. A not too far off familiar concept and feeling, none of which she had ever expressed to anyone outside of her wheelhouse. Cards of emotion were always kept close to her chest and for good reason. People always left her in some form or fashion in the end so it was no surprise when they’d turn their back on her, leaving her with some veiled comment and then disappear for her never to see them again; unless of course coming to haunt her many years later.
Perhaps she deserved it.
Vahalia’s lips curled into a common expression very befitting of her for anyone who knew her well enough. She smirked. She smirked in Osric’s direction and her hand adjusted to his arm to draw herself in a little closer to his warmth, “Since I’ve dragged you out here, I might as well be good company. If there was one thing you could do without consequence, what do you reckon it would be?”
He chuckled, a low rumbling sound through his chest as his feet slowed, there were visible signs of confusion from the Dalmascan and Ishgardian mixed woman at his side; catching her entirely off guard. He disentangled himself from her hold just long enough to remove his coat, gently draping it over her shoulders before offering her his arm once again and drawing her close with a low hum. “You haven’t dragged me anywhere, Vahalia. I’m here by choice, because I want to be.” 
She was baffled but did not remove or decline the offer even though she showed no signs of actually being cold. She was quite good at playing off one feeling for another, something small and often missed. A small step for comfort and just existing was played into the poor, frail and cold woman who seemed to come unprepared.
Blue eyes gazed at Vahalia curiously for a moment, not having forgotten her question.”One would think I’d have an answer readily available for such a question…and for quite some time, I did.” He started to walk again his gaze darkening for a brief moment as he spoke, keeping her close against his side as they took to the leisurely stroll. “But I had the opportunity to see the action done, with no consequences, and I took it. And so I find myself looking for a new answer to this question. I have…ideas, but I’m not sure. What about you? If consequences were not a concern…what’s one thing that you would do, Vahalia?” “For me? I’m not someone who plays by the rules all too well and I feel as if though consequences aren’t something I labor to be beholden to.” she smirked up at him, “In short, I do what I wish, when I wish and care little for the consequences.” she tipped her head and clipped her words only to tack on to them shortly after, “-- within reason of course. I might be fearless but I’m not reckless. I like to push the bounds of normal things that most would turn away from.”
Warm tongue slipped towards the corner of her mouth and she loosed an amused breath, “So what was this…action you speak of? I’m not quite sure I am reading between the lines of your thinly veiled response. It's as if though you curb yourself to keep from saying something stupid or offensive.”
“Not stupid or offensive - that’s not the concern. I’ve certainly done that plenty. In your presence, brief as our interactions have been.” He licked his lips quickly. “You do as you please, with little consideration for the consequences, yes? I have from time to time made a decision without fully considering what the consequences may be, but for most of my life, I was forced to consider every possible outcome. Something I still do, but less and less often. But for the present conversation, I keep in mind the fact that the stones of Ishgard tend to have eyes and ears and do so love to talk. They’ve always been that way, they’ll always be that way - and the man is buried, there’s nothing to be done about it now.”
In all seriousness, her face rested and her honey-colored eyes ticked up in his direction again, “I’d very much like to hear about any ideas you may have. I’m sure nothing you’ve done would be entirely horrendous to hear about and I suspect it would be tame in comparison to some of the things I’ve done myself or have been privy to. Not much surprises me.”
“Well, I suppose let’s start with what has already been done before moving to possible ideas for the future, hm?”  He paused, leading her over to an isolated gazebo, out of the snow that had started to lightly fall. After glancing around for a moment, making sure they were secluded, he motioned towards the bench, waiting for her to sit before sitting himself. 
“You recall the name Kenward Slater? The Dragoon who obtained the tome I gave you during our last conversation? He was my uncle. A bastard of a human being, and if you’ll forgive the language an eternal pain in my ass. The man never liked me. Actively made my life hell in every way he could. He died last year. The records say he died in combat. The combat was with me. He had no funeral, he’s buried in some unmarked grave out in the Highlands.” Osric gave a long exhale, a plume of white rising and dissipating in the cold air. “My only regret is that the bastard didn’t suffer longer for all the suffering he inflicted…and not just on me. But neither here nor there. He’s dead and rotting now.”
“In a grave. At least you were kind enough or offer him that. Unmarked or not.” Vahalia quipped with a small smirk, adjusting herself along the bench.
With a quick shake of his head he turned to his company. “In regards to future ideas - it depends on the risk you’d be willing to take. With the rebuilding efforts within Garlemald, if one could establish a foothold you could become a primary supplier for years to come. But there are the rumors of voidsent to contend with, which leads back to the idea of the battalion that you’d previously mentioned. I have compiled a list of possible instructors who might be convinced to leave their posts…for the right price, if need be, and I’ve a rough idea of what those prices may be.”
“I told you before, I want to see your house succeed. I mean to see that happen, consequences be damned.” 
A long silence swelled between them and Vahalia took a moment to settle her folded umbrella beside her; no reason to have it open at the current moment. She was thinking and had no qualms about allowing herself however much time she desired.
“In time, to be our house since you’d consider us all family at some point as well.” she hummed thoughtfully, “I’m not quite sure if I would be entirely settled on the idea of Garlemald quite yet given past circumstances but it’s something to certainly consider if the current efforts of others are anything to go by in that area. It would be a large undertaking and risk if things were to go awry out there.”
“It would be.” He nodded slowly, resting his hands against the bench on either side of him as he looked up for a moment. “But, the possible gains if things were to go smoothly are fairly significant. From what I’ve heard it will take years for Garlemald to rebuild, and no small amount of supplies. The opportunities for one to gain a foothold seem to be numerous. So it seems to be an option, but it is certainly not the only option.” 
Osric’s gaze shifted to the woman beside him. “You know - you mentioned earlier that you do as you wish, when you wish, with little concern for the consequences…but I don’t know that you answered what you would do if there was no concern for the consequences…So…what would you do?”
"About Garlemald? It depends on the status and situation of things at the time. If there are safe trade routes from here to there and proper weaponry on my ship, then I'd have to find one hell of a crew and start dipping my beak further into suppliers and those who might want a cut in on the trade business there. It might be difficult considering a lot of people's personal vendettas with the Garlean's, then there is the threat of the Legions getting involved; what is left of them. It's worth a shot – keep the supplies small and steady at first – quiet even and then get more trusted people in on the aspect." She blinked, warm colored eyes met his cool pools, "The consequences would be on the lives of others if things went poorly. A heavy burden to bear. Could you do it? Having lives of innocent people possibly on your hands?"
He hummed thoughtfully. “It could be argued that I already have the blood of innocent people on my hands. There is also that risk for any venture - the possibility the people will get hurt. Even the ‘safest’ routes may end in disaster. The risk may be significantly higher in Garlemald, but it is not nonexistent in say, Gridania.”
Vahalia looked back out to the street, "Consequences don't bother me much, but I try not to tamper with the consequences of others unless it is necessary. Depends on the person and situation. Is there more to gain or more to lose with a hard gamble? But that's the sport isn't it? It's a gamble."
“A fair stance to take.” He lifted his hands from the bench to lace them together. “An outcome is never guaranteed, that is part of what makes gambling so appealing to some, the risk, the thrill…but it’s a calculated risk. One taken knowing the cost and possible consequences. Beyond business then…are there any risks you would take if consequences were not a concern?”
Yes.
“No.” She lied. So easily it came to her, she knew there was one of two things she’d risk nearly everything for but would never say such out loud. For a time leaving everything behind to take up residence in a small room in Radz-at-han sleeping the day away in the blistering heat with a metal arm at her back was something she’d abandon it all for. It was a good idea – a nice idea. As much as she hated the sand and sweltering sun – it was a nice idea. Instead, her attention cut back to Osric from the snowflakes she was watching and her lips pursed for a brief moment, “At current, I can’t see anything worth taking risks for unless it's business related. Sometimes the allure of not knowing what comes next is enjoyable but I’m also a creature of habit and structure.”
A curious gaze met hers as she turned back towards him and Osric offered a nod as he leaned forward, resting his elbows against the top of his thighs, glancing out towards the street. “Understandable. There’s a certain level of safety and comfort in habit and structure, or rather I’ve always found there to be safety and comfort there. Knowing what was expected of me, where I needed to be, when I needed to be there, what needed to be done, what time I had…the surprises occur from time to time, but there’s more stability than not.” 
He brushed his hands together for a moment before lacing his fingers together once again. “So as we speak of stability and structure…how do we move forward, Lady Cress? And I don’t necessarily mean in terms of signing the papers - we discussed that the last time we spoke. I mean in terms of getting to know one another - like this afternoon - and moving the whole arrangement forward. I realize Valeria’s situation complicates things a bit, and her health does come first.”
“Currently her health is stable. I thought perhaps setting time aside for moments like this and speaking was sufficient enough in getting to know one another further. I have a good and decent handle on who you are as a person; I believe. It’s just a matter of everything else.” her attention flicked to a trio that walked by, so enthralled with their chatter that they didn’t even look towards the gazebo.
“I suspect it’s ample time for you to get the Slater name in order and whatever it was you had to do before going forward regarding the finer details. If paperwork is something we can work on then we can see that it’s done in good time.”
“Fortunately I’ve taken the time since our last meeting to see to a majority of the issues that needed to be addressed. What remains are only small details that can be handled with a discussion or two, certainly nothing that will take a tremendous amount of time.There will be no hiccups when it comes time to put pen to paper.” 
“I do think conversations, moments like this do provide us a very good opportunity to get to know one another better.” Osric straightened, shifting on the bench to face  the woman beside him. “I can’t help but be curious. I feel like I know certain attributes, you’re driven, highly motivated, intelligent, goal-oriented, and perceptive…the parts I’ve been allowed to see. But I’m not so foolish as to believe that’s all there is too you. And in that same vein I can’t help but wonder who you think I am as a person.” “I know of you.” she chimed in and looked at him then allowed herself a moment of pause, “I know you’re very buttoned-up and to the letter, you seem to follow the rules with some measure of care for the outcome and what may or may not happen. I’d wager a guess that you possibly agonize over hard decisions before making them, possibly taking too long in the process. I’d go on a limb to think you’re perhaps someone who sees opportunities pass you by and then kick yourself in the ass for it later.”
Ruby tiers pursed and then she hummed, “Of course all just observation from our interactions, both personal and professional. I’d wager you’re a bit of a people pleaser as well with how much you aim to do right by the things people expect of you. That much I know with your sister having asked things of you before and you adhered to her wishes despite not enjoying the thought of such demands.”
“As I said…perceptive.” He took a moment, stretching his legs out in front of him as he leaned back, his hands resting against the back edge of the bench. “But I would note that my sister asking me to take care of something or to attend an event in her place versus anyone else requesting such a favor are two very different things. She was in the position she was, being required to field such requests in the first place, because of a decision I’d made. As such, I thought at the time the least I could do was assist when she requested it. But, as she will no longer be handling such requests she should no longer expect such adherence, something she and I have already discussed.”
His gaze was drawn over towards the street for a moment as a pair of giggling couples moved past, once again, no one sparing the gazebo a look, each too absorbed in whatever conversation they were having. “And you’re not wrong. I have been accused of giving decisions too much thought - convinced that if I could predict how things could go wrong that I could somehow avoid them. The reality is that there’s no way to avoid such things, something that I’ve slowly come to realize and accept and as a result, it’s allowed me to be less inclined to overthink. To simply make the decisions I need to. Even if they, occasionally, do go wrong.”
 “An answer I suspected befitting of your personality. Not that it is entirely a bad thing; just predictable.” She smirked faintly in his direction, “At the very least you’re someone who puts in a lot of thought. Some aren’t too keen on thinking at all before jumping the gun.”
“You are correct…there are quite a few who are very quick to action and they are left with the consequences of such hasty actions, which are often much more significant than the consequences of the well throughout counterparts. Every choice has a consequence - it’s simply the level that differs.” Osric shook his head before straightening up once again. “But to each their own. As I said - I’ve recognized that there have been times when I’ve thought too much, something I’m working to address, but there is a happy medium between that and not thinking at all, ‘jumping the gun’ as you put it. It’s a fine line to walk, to be sure.” 
He glanced out towards the street for a moment. “Speaking of walking, shall we continue a bit? It looks like the snow has stopped for the moment.”
Vahalia had hardly noticed the snow and she offered a small nod, picking up her closed umbrella and choosing to carry it to her side for the time being, “Be it far from me to keep you more than necessary, Osric.” she stood and a hand lifted to firmly adjust her attire; including the jacket he had offered her. She didn’t forget about it and she even took it off to hand it back to him, “I appreciate your kindness, I should be more than alright without it. I was born in Ishgard after all. We’re practically built for the chill, are we not?”
A small smile graced his features, followed by a low chuckle. “I’ve cleared my schedule for the afternoon, Vahalia. I’m in no rush to be anywhere except here.” His gaze shifted to the jacket and he started to reach for it before pausing and drawing his hand back, offering his arm instead. “We are indeed built to handle the cold - but being built for something does not mean that one endures discomfort when there’s no need to. Hold on to it for a bit and walk with me?”
He was offered a skeptical gaze and with a ghost of a smirk, Vahalia took his offered arm, holding the jacket as suggested and she stepped in towards his person, “I can assure you, I’m not experiencing discomfort. Perhaps I’ll just keep it and you can claim it another time.” she had no problem giving him a reason to come looking for her or to be around, to come face to face another time. A playful side showing through as was often the norm for her.
An eyebrow quirked as his amused gaze met hers for a moment before they started down the path once again. “I believe I’ll have to take you up on that offer. And since I believe I heard some mention of a storm in the next few days from one of the Skywatchers it may be sooner that I stop by to claim it rather than later.” He turned, managing to keep a straight face for a moment as he guided them from the main path towards one of the side roads. The right corner of his mouth quirked up as the path straightened and he was able to focus on her once again. “Suppose if I were to come and claim my coat. Is there perhaps a day or time that is best to stop by, I realize you’re busy and also realize that there’s your sister’s care to account for as well.”
"Funny, that. My sister's care is what has been keeping my feet more grounded to the estate these days and I've been managing my work from there. Bruce has been instrumental in assisting me in that. He bounces between the manor and the Ashen Wolves for me and brings me the ledgers." She smirked up in his direction as they walked, "Could I bother you in perhaps a swift trip to the library before the afternoon ends?"
“Indeed you could, Lady Cress.” He adjusted course, leading the pair of them back towards the center of the Pillars, and the aforementioned library. “Though it need not be an overly swift trip, and perhaps, if you wish it, I may read to you before the day is done.” Osric tilted his head for a moment, appearing thoughtful. “Or perhaps I’ll reserve that for when I retrieve my coat…we’ll see.” 
The afternoon faded away to the evening within the confines of the library, surrounded by tomes, and quiet, the only interruptions that of the occasional attendant and the crackling of the carefully tended fires.
Osric couldn’t have told anyone how long they’d been there, had he been asked. He couldn’t have described those who wandered in and out of the library during their time there, so focused was he on his company and their purpose visiting the structure. In the end, as he’d walked her back to the Cress estate, offering a small bow and a quiet farewell, nothing over the top, a small kiss to the back of her hand - they were to be business partners in this venture, after all, he realized that for the first time in quite some time just of quiet his thoughts had gone during the visit.
As he turned to head back towards the Slater estate, back past the noise of the decorations and the merchants once again he couldn’t help but think that he’d need to visit again soon…and not just to retrieve his coat.
Collab with @umbral-flare-ffxiv
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rothjuje · 2 years
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Justin is so civilized, he picked up Crumbl cookies last night and didn’t devour half the box on the way home like I do. He didn’t even sneak one bite. When we became parents, he never opened up snacks in the grocery store before paying or let kids eat in the car. Now he knows the magic of the grocery store bribe and the joy of silence car snacks bring, he’s come so far. He still washes all the dishes before eating meals though, I wonder if it’s the only child left in him. I feel like the bigger the family, the more chaos/more relaxed rules.
The twins’ half birthday was Monday. I still go by their adjusted age though and it drives people crazy. It’s more so for George because the older the kid is, the higher the expectations people place on them. I feel like Genna has become the typical ‘neglected’ middle child. I mean on Tumblr of course because anyone who knows me irl knows she gets all the attention she demands haha. She has a flair for drama and is still the smartest little nugget I’ve ever met. George has started singing and counting. He is starting to say more words and phrases now but still isn’t building onto what he knows. I know it will come in time and that gestalt processing still results in meaningful speech/communication.
Alyssa loves creating song lyrics and she made one up the other day about going out on a Saturday night...where does this stuff come from?! I haven’t been out on a Saturday night in...longer than I can remember. The lyrics: “Let’s get ready it’s Saturday night, let’s get ready it’s Saturday night, let’s get ready it’s Saturday night/ let’s get pretty it’s Saturday night, let’s wear glitter it’s Saturday night, let’s wear a pretty dress it’s SATURDAY NIGHT. Let’s go climb a treeee it’s Saturday night!”
A long time ago I posted my Instagram username and got a bunch of follows and meant to message people to see which person went to which Tumblr account but life happened. Now it’s been so long I’m too embarrassed to ask “who are you??” So if you follow me there and I don’t follow you back that’s why. Just message me and let me know who you are 🙃
Justin booked our hotel for MA. We’ll be staying in Burlington which I think is south of most places we’re looking at. Our MA realtor called today and wanted to talk details and it made me nervous. Not bad nervous, just ‘this is real’ excited/nervous. I am so excited to stay in a hotel without children. I feel guilty about it but I am definitely not taking our mini trip for granted. We will eat at restaurants with no children. We will drive in a car and actually be able to have conversations. No one will scream at stop lights. Btw, if I ever sound like I’m complaining about my children who I love more than life itself, I just want to make it clear that my autistic child (or is it child with autism, I’ve read conflicting things) is not the source of my overwhelm. I relate a lot to George’s need for strict routine and constant desire for music and snacks. We have a lot in common.
Coincidentally my friend who is also moving ended up on the same exact timeline as us and now we need the same realtor the same weekend. I think she’s going to try to come a day before or after us. Someone gave me another realtor rec on here too, thanks! She decided to move to a town in NH that’s close to the border. And I’m so (so) excited to have another person I’ll know up there.
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tarnished-doll · 2 years
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alright, but with so many Godricks, which one's for you? the tumblr six-armed sexyman? the horrendous graft beast? the cranky lanky failson? the miserable NUGGET?
fool you are, anonymous, to assume i can choose only one and that they all don't carve out specially suited parts in my heart/brain/dick. i love drawing and thinking about all of them a very healthy amount of times per day. anyways i'm going to be mentaly ill about all of them under the cut now
lanky failson mode godrick manages to be appealing to me despite going against my usual principles because its sort of a calm-before-the-storm. he's delicate and miserable, a pile of issues that are still raw and new for him. i can imagine he's stared down illness and death itself until he was desperate and determined enough to turn himself into a murderous, monstrous crime against humanity. he's beautiful and mean but the hope that he could have been someone better is still there under the surface, taunting you because you fucking Know its never gonna happen.
in-his-prime tumblr sexyman godrick is pretty ridiculous and ridiculous on my part to spread around because i would hate for that to be the only version of him people would rather see - but theres something incredibly charming about an extremely brief point in his life where he was the idealized version of himself, as huge and powerful and pretty as he's convinced himself he deserves to be. he's cocky and all posturing and swagger but its kind of entertaining, like you can fix him but whatever's wrong with him is way funnier. perfect to watch crash and burn because he can take a hit now so it's not so cruel as in his youth. i want to see him look in a mirror and have a mental breakdown over several different flavors of dysphoria hitting him all at once.
the horrendous graftbeast of canon is still the most fun to draw, the most delightful to pick apart and figure out - whether trying to aim as close to the reference as possible or putting my own spin on his body, which i think is more true to his character anyways. he's an awful mess, a failed rockstar, the ultimate in divorce energy, but he's gotten to that point with self-destructive enthusiasm all to make something of himself in front of a family and a realm that just doesnt fuckin care about him. he is the ultimate in i-can-fix-him technology, the culmination of years of miserable self-inflicted bullshit etched into a body he's very comfortable warping and twisting to his desires. he may be a wilted flower but the way he's decayed is so beautiful, especially juxtaposed against his young versions.
limbless kenshi nugget godrick is a little cruel to me, because people just vibe without limbs irl and i would rather respect that than draw a lot of him getting tossed around like a sack of potatoes. but theres such vulnerable tenderness that you can't get with his other versions in the idea of him being stripped down to his core, utterly dependent on the person kind enough to only peel him rather than kill him. the same sort of glimmer of hope that he could be better from when he was young is there again, but its been so long and he's done so much to ruin himself and his reputation that it would be less cruel for it to already have been snuffed out. i want to give him a bath and wrap him in warm towels and put him to bed.
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