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sineala · 3 years

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How would you say fandom culture has changed over the years? What are some differences you notice between older and younger fandom folks?

I’ve been thinking for a while about how to answer this, and I’m not sure I have a really good answer, but I’m going to try.

I’ve been in fandom since approximately 1995. Maybe 1994. At that point, the world wide web was a relatively new part of the internet, and the fandoms I was in had most of their activity on privately-hosted mailing lists (predating eGroups/OneList/Yahoo Groups) and on Usenet newsgroups, with fiction beginning to be available on websites as part of either fandom-specific or pairing-specific archives as well as authors’ individual pages. Fanfiction.net did not yet exist. LiveJournal did not exist. AO3 definitely did not exist. If you wanted real-time chat, there was IRC. I was coming in basically at the tail end of zine fandom; zines were no longer the only way of distributing fanfiction, as fandom started to move online. So I have a selection of zines from 90s-era Western media fandoms but even by then zines weren’t where I was doing most of my reading.

I think in terms of generally “what it was like to be in fandom,” the big-picture stuff hasn’t changed. Fandom still produces creative fanwork and likes to, y’know, get together and talk about fandom. Also, almost every fight or complaint that fandom has about something is a thing that has been going on for actual years. People complain that, say, the kudos button is ruining comment culture because back in the LJ days the only way you could comment on a story was, well, by leaving an actual comment, or sending an email on a mailing list, and this might mean that people who would have otherwise commented have left a kudos instead. But back in the LJ and mailing list days, people were complaining that commenting was going downhill since the days of zines, when in order to comment on a story you had to write a real paper letter and mail it and because you had to do that, the quality of feedback was so much better than you got nowadays because people could just dash off a quick email or comment. You get the idea. Top/bottom wars are not new either. Pairing wars are not new. If you’ve been in fandom a while, you will pretty much have seen all the fights already. I think one thing that is new, though, is the fandom awareness of things like privilege and intersectionality and various -isms, as well as things like “providing warnings might be nice” (do you know how much unwarned deathfic I have read? a lot!) and I sure won’t say we’re perfect at any of this now, but I think fandom is trying way way more about all that stuff than it used to.

There are some fights we actually don’t have anymore, as far as I can tell. I feel like it’s been years since I’ve seen the “real person fiction is wrong” battle, but also I don’t hang out in a whole lot of RPF fandoms, so it’s possible that’s still going and I just don’t see it.

There also used to be a recurring debate about whether gay relationships that were canonical were slash or not. When slash started, obviously this wasn’t a question because there weren’t canonical gay relationships in fandoms, period. But as gay characters began to appear in media, people started to wonder “does slash mean all same-sex relationships, or does slash mean only non-canonical same-sex relationships?” Now, you may be reading this and think that sounds like an incredibly weird thing to get hung up on, but that’s because what appears to have happened is that the term “ship” (originally from X-Files Mulder/Scully fandom) has, as far as I can tell, come up and eaten most of the rest of the terminology. Now people will just say, “oh, I ship that.” For any pairing, gay or not, canonical or not. Fandom seems to have decided that for the most part it no longer actually needs a term specific to same-sex relationships as a genre.

Similarly, there are a few genres of fic that we used to have also pretty much don’t exist anymore. There are also plenty of genres that are well-entrenched now that are also extremely recent -- A/B/O comes to mind. But there are some kinds of fic we don’t write a lot of now. Like, I haven’t seen smarm in years! I also haven’t seen We’re Not Gay We Just Love Each Other in a while. There was also a particular style of slash writing where you’d basically have to explain, in detail, what made you think that these particular characters could be anything other than straight. You’d have to motivate this decision. You’d have to look at their canonical heterosexual relationships and come up with a way to explain why all those had happened in order to reconcile how this one guy could have romantic feelings for another guy. When had he figured out he wasn’t straight? Who might he have been with before? How does he interact with people in ways that make you think he’s not straight? That kind of thing. You had to, essentially, show your work. And these days a lot of fanfic is just like, “Okay, Captain America is bisexual, let’s go!” It’s... different.

Fandom also used to skew older, is my sense. A lot older. I don’t know, actually, if it really was older, but I get the sense now that there are some younger people who are surprised that adults are still in fandom. I have seen people saying these days that they think they’re too old for fanfiction because they are not in middle school anymore. And I think a lot of this has to do with the fact that the barriers to access fandom are a lot lower than they used to be. You used to basically have to be an adult with disposable income (or know an adult with disposable income who was willing to help you out; but even then if you were reading explicit fiction you also had to swear you were 18+, usually by sending in an age statement to whoever you were buying the zine from or to the mods of the list you wanted to join, so a lot of fandom was very much age-gated). Internet access was not widely available. Even if you had internet access, you maybe didn’t have your own email address, so you couldn’t sign up for mailing lists; free email providers didn’t exist. If you wanted to buy zines, you had to have money to buy them. If you wanted to go to cons, you had to be able to afford the cost of the con, travel to the con, et cetera. If you wanted to have a website you had to know HTML. Social media did not exist. You want to draw art? Guess what, you’re probably drawing it on paper! You might be able to upload a picture to your website if you have a digital camera or a scanner, but both of those things are expensive, and also a lot of people don’t have the capability or the money to download pictures from the internet (some people have data caps with overage charges, and some people have text-only connections!), so they won’t get to see it. Maybe you can sell your piece at a con! You want to make a fanvid? We called them songvids, but, anyway, you know how you’re doing that? You’re going to hook two VCRs together and smash the play and record buttons very fast! If you want anyone else to watch them, you are either making them a tape personally and mailing it to them or bringing your vids to a convention. Maybe you can digitize them and upload them, but it’s going to take people hours to download them!

(Every three hours my ISP would kick me off the internet and I’d have to dial in again. If it was a busy time of day, it might take me 20 or 30 minutes to get a connection again. And that was assuming no one else in the house needed to use the phone line. Imagine if your modem went out every three hours now.)

And now, for the cost of my internet connection, I can read pretty much whatever fanfiction I want, whenever I want it. I can see all the fanart I want! I can watch vids! Podfic exists now! Fanmixes exist! Gifsets and moodboards exist! If I want to write fic I can write it with programs that are completely free, and as soon as I post it everyone in the entire world can read it. If I want to draw or make vids that may require some additional investment, but I may also be able to do it with things I already have. Do you have any idea how good we all have it?

There are a couple of kinds of fan activity that don’t seem to exist anymore, though, and I miss them. I know that roleplaying still goes on, but I feel like these days most people who do real-time text roleplay have switched to things like Discord. I know that in the LJ days, RP communities were popular. But I really miss MU*s (MUDs, MUSHes, MOOs, MUXes..), which were servers for real-time text-based RP with a bunch of... hmm... features to aid RP. There were virtual rooms with text descriptions, and objects in virtual rooms with descriptions, and your character had a description, and they could interact with the objects as well as with other characters, and you could program things to change descriptions or emit various kinds of text or take you to different rooms, and so on. Just to, y’know, enhance the atmosphere. It was fun and it was where I learned to RP and I’m sad they’re pretty much gone now.

I also don’t think I see a lot of fanfiction awards in fandoms. Wonder where they went.

Going back to the previous point, the barriers to actually consuming the canon you are fannish about are way, way, way lower now. You can pretty much take it for granted that if right now someone tells you about a shiny new fandom, there will be a way to read that book or watch that show or movie right now. Possibly for free! Of course you can watch it! Why wouldn’t you be able to?

This was absolutely, absolutely not the case before. I’m currently in Marvel Comics fandom. If there is a comic I want to read, I can read it right now on the internet. I have subscribed to Marvel Unlimited and I can read pretty much every comic that is older than three months old; the newer ones cost extra money. But I can do it all from the comfort of my own home right now. I was also, actually, in Marvel Comics fandom in the nineties. If I wanted to read a comic, I had to go to a comic book store and hope they had it in stock; if they didn’t, I had to try another store. Not a lot of comics were available in trade paperback and they definitely weren’t readable on the internet. I used to read a lot of Gambit h/c fic set after Uncanny X-Men #350. I never found a copy of UXM #350. I still haven’t! But I did eventually read it on Unlimited.

Being in TV show fandoms also had similar challenges. Was the show you were watching still on the air? No? Then you’d better hope you could find it in reruns, or know someone who had tapes of it that they could copy for you, otherwise you weren’t watching that show. It was, I think, pretty common for people to be in fandoms for shows they hadn’t seen, because they had no way to see the show, but they loved all the fanfic. The Sentinel had a whole lot of fans like that, both because I think it took a while for it to end up in reruns and because overseas distribution was probably poor. So you’d get people who read the fic and wrote fic based on the other fic they’d read, which meant that you got massive, massive amounts of fanon appearing that people just assumed was in the show because it was a weirdly specific detail that appeared in someone’s fic once. Like “Jim and Blair’s apartment has a small water heater” (not actually canonical) or “Blair is a vegetarian” (there’s an episode where his mother visits and IIRC cooks him one of his favorite meals, which is beef tongue).

Like, I was in The Professionals fandom for years. I read all the fic. I hadn’t seen the show. As far as I know, it never aired in the US, and it certainly never had any kind of US VHS or DVD release. I’d seen a couple songvids. I eventually saw a couple episodes in maybe 2003, and that was because my dad special-ordered a commercial VHS tape from the UK and paid someone to convert it from PAL to NTSC. I didn’t get to see the whole show until several years later when I got a region-free DVD player someone in fandom sent me burned copies of the UK DVD releases and then I special-ordered the commercial release of the DVDs from the UK myself. But if I were a new fan and wanted to watch Pros right now? It is on YouTube! For free!

I think also one of the things about fandom that’s not immediately evident to new fans is the way in which it is permanent and/or impermanent. There are probably people whose first fannish experience is on Tumblr or who only read fanfic on FFN and who have no idea what they would do if either site, say, just shut down. But if you’ve been in fandom a while, you’ve been through, say, Discord, Tumblr, Twitter, Pillowfort, Imzy, DW, JournalFen, LJ, GeoCities, IRC, mailing lists. And sure, if Tumblr closed, it would be inconvenient. But fandom would pack up and move somewhere else. You would find it again. It would, eventually, be okay. Similarly, if you’ve been in a lot of fandoms, if you’ve made a lot of friends, drifting through fandoms is like that. You’ll make a friend in 1998 because you were in the same fandom, and then you might go your own ways, and ten years later you might be in another fandom with them again! It happens.

But the flip side of that is that I think a lot of older fans have learned not to trust in the permanence of any particular site. If you like a story, you save it as soon as you read it. If you like a piece of art, you save it. If you like a vid, you save it. Because you don’t know when the site it’s on will be gone for good. I have, like, twenty years of lovingly-curated fanfic. And I feel like people who have only been in fandom since AO3 existed might not understand how much AO3 is a game-changer compared to what we had before. It’s a site where you can put your fic up and you don’t have to worry that the webhost is going out of business, or that the site might delete your work because they don’t allow gay fiction or explicit fiction or fiction written in second person or fiction for fandoms where the creator doesn’t like fanfiction, or whatever. Because all of those things have absolutely happened. But, I mean, I still save pretty much everything I like, even on AO3, just in case.

So, basically, yeah, fandom is a whole lot more accessible than it used to be. I think fandom is pretty much still fandom, but it’s a lot easier to get into, and that has made it way more open to people who wouldn’t have been able to be in fandom before. There is so, so much more now than there ever was before, and I think that’s great.

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bokettochild · 3 years

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request: sometimes time likes to be alone underwater. with his iron boots and zora helmet, it's easy to just take a stroll at the bottom of a deep enough lake, away from the rest of the world. he did not expect, however, to find legend relaxing inside a small hole in the stone. Mer Legend.

Oh boy! I was vibing with this one for a while, I just wanted to make it perfect!

I'm pretty happy with what I made too, but man is it long!

(I hope this makes you happy, anon!)

When he and Malon have kids, he hopes they don't have this many.

Nayru knows he loves his boys, but they can get a bit much sometimes. They can get loud and overwhelming, and as a man who’s used to traveling primarily alone, with maybe a fairy trailing behind him or his trusted mount, it’s a bit overwhelming. He’s not used to being around people so much, Malon and Talon are his only consistent company and even then, the work they share means that often times it’s only him and his thoughts as he mucks, mends and tends things around the ranch.

Sometimes, when the boys get especially rowdy and playful, it’s just nice to get a moment of quiet to himself. Between Sky and Twilight he knows that nothing overly chaotic will go down, and he trusts the boys to keep each other in check.

So, when they come to the Pup’s Hyrule, their battle in this world over and most of their number restless as they wait for the next portal to arrive and whisk them away, Time allows his boys their space, and with a quick exchange with the only two he can trust to not burn something down (at least while the younger ones can still see them) he heads off into the forest to get a little space to himself.

Of course, he can’t really go far, not if he needs to hurry back, but he doesn’t really need to. His destination is Lake Hylia, which is only a short distance from their camp, maybe ten or fifteen minutes, and, when he gets there, he allows himself to actually breathe for once.

Wild, Warriors and Wind had been locked in a game of cards when last he left, the champion soundly beating the other two both at cribbage while Wars bemoans his poor luck, and Twilight and Sky were discussing wood carving with Hyrule, with the occasional comment from the smithy, who is only too happy to throw in something related every so often as he looks up from his book. That leaves himself and Legend, and he’s long since learned that the vet was one to disappear for his own space when possible.

He’s not overly worried. Legend has items and experience that far outmatch most of their group, and if he runs into trouble Time has little doubt that he’ll be able to get himself out of it to at least gather reinforcements, if not handle the issue by himself.

A deep breath of relief escapes him as the eldest of the heroes pulls a few items from his own bag. The boots are a familiar if not welcome weight as he slips out of his armor and dons the tunic and cap of the Zora, his breath bubbling softly as he steps into the lake before him with a contented sigh.

The cool water floods over the top of him, tugging at his hair and bubbling in his lungs, but it’s doesn’t burn the way that it should. He breathes easily beneath the rippling surface of Lake Hylia, the Zora tunic granting him freedom beneath the waves.

There is little sound beneath, only the muffled noise from above the surface, the flow of the water and-

Time’s ears prick forwards as a single blue eye turns to search the space around him.

Someone is singing.

It’s a haunting sort of melody, one that draws you in and makes you dazed, and Time finds himself stumbling over his own feet as he searches for the source. It is not a Cursed song, nor anything powerful from what he can recall, in fact, it’s almost familiar. It sounds similar to something he hears hummed about their camp at night while the boys take watch. He’d never been able to place which of the young heroes hummed the lilting melody, but he’s let it carry him off to sleep many a time before. Only this song, the one that twines about his head and whispers in his ears and makes his feet trek closer and closer to its source, this song is different, it’s haunted and Broken, and it is sung in a Voice.

Not a voice like most of those above the surface have, but a Voice like a fairy or spirit might have. One that pulls at your very soul and sings in your mind, un-hampered by wind or waves, able to carry across miles to be heard by those that it Sings too.

Heavy feet trod faster.

He’s under no spell, but he is a Link, and by now he has learned that all of their kind are blessed or cursed with courage and curiosity both, and to be without the latter is simply unthinkable for the young-at-heart hero. Something –the forest imp in him maybe- tells him to find the Voice, find the Singer.

He’s only made it part of the way across the lake, hasn’t even left the shoreline properly, when the song stops. Unease creeps over him as he looks around, alert and ready for trouble, only to see nothing but the peaceful stillness of the lake bottom around him.

There! His mind supplies as something pink flits in the corner of his vision, and he’s whipping around to come face to face with-

Long tangled hair drifts in the waves as glistening scales reflect the light pouring down through the waves. Too deep, too dark eyes stare at him in shock for a brief moment, and then-

The creature, the thing, is gone in an instant. Whipping away as it’s glimmer fades into the waves around him, speed no doubt granted by the brilliant tail of the thing sending it rocketing out of his grasp before he even has a chance to speak.

He tried to follow it. He does! But quite soon the adult part of his mind is reminding him how dangerous the thing could be, and that he still has his boys to return to back on the surface. It’s been exactly thirty-two minutes and thirteen seconds since he left them at their camp, and by now they usually would have sent someone to check and make sure that whatever member of their party had strayed off was alright.

Removing his boots is all it takes to float to the surface, despite the fact that he still holds the things in his hands, and it’s with no small amount of relief that he realizes that the bank of the lake is free of other heroes.

Time gathers his things together, wringing out his hair and clothes before returning to his normal gear and heading back to the camp.

Smiles and chuckles greet him as the young heroes tease.

“Go for a swim, Old Man?” Legend quirks a brow, staring up from his place by the fire.

Time doesn’t answer him, but he does shake his head violently enough to spray the younger heroes with water, earning shouts and shrieks from them as they try and shield themselves from the wet. “Seriously, Time?” Warriors moans, wiping lake water from his face. “What are you, a dog?”

Time smirks at the captain and, to everyone's surprise (which produces no small amount of delight for him), he barks.

“What sorts of people have you met in your adventures?” Sky asks a couple of days later, head cocked to the side as he watches his brothers. “You all talk about so many races, but I don’t think I've heard of most of them.”

“Well,” Wild smiles, there’s a glint in his gaze that isn’t quite mischief, but it’s a warning to be wary anyway, because they all know what a crack-pot their cook can be at times. “There’s Hylians, of course, and Sheikah, Yiga, Gerudo, Rito, Gorons, Zora and koroks! You’ve probably already met the Sheikah, since you mentioned knowing an Impa during your journey, and the Yiga are an offshoot of that group.”

Twilight blinks and stares, Warriors furrowing his brow as he two older heroes stare at the younger, but Wild seem entirely unaffected.

“Gerudo are a desert people. They’re really tall, and extremely strong! Most of their race have long red hair and slightly darker skin than the people around Hyrule. They are a society of all woman, with only one man being born to them every hundred years. They worship the goddess Din for the most part, and live out of an opulent city set in the desert where they specialize in the crafting of weapons and jewelry, and the farming of exotic plants.” The champion then proceeds to run down traits and knowledge about the other races, matter-of-factly, as if the details he is sharing are things that everyone from the surface knows.

“Wow.” Sky laughs as Wild finishes. “I had no idea.”

“There’s also the minish.” Four adds. “And the Wind Tribe, who are sky people, of course.”

Sky looks curious, but Four says nothing more, instead gesturing to the other heroes to share their thoughts, which they do.

“Terminans.” Time offers. “Very similar to Hylians.”

“Ordonians.” Twilight adds with a fond smile. No explanation is needed.

The others all nod along, but Legend rolls his eyes. “Humans, like, non-Hylian humans, Shifters,” The vet stares upwards with a light scowl as he ticks the races off of his fingers. “Technically they’re humans too, but Wild counted the Sheikah and Gerudo, so there’s also the Lorulians, Labrynninians, Holodrumese folks, Hytopians, Drablanders, Subrosians, Catalians-” Legend frowns. “I could swear there are more but I can’t really recall.”

Time, for whatever reason, he can’t really say why, cocks his head. “Any water people other than Zora?”

The vet snaps his fingers. “Mer-folk! Thank you, Time. I guess fae and animal folk count on that note.”

There’s a scoff and Warriors is leaning forwards with a smirk. “Fairies and animals, sure, but mer? Seriously, Legend? Have you even met a mer before?”

“Many times.” The veteran drawls, cocking a brow in the captain’s direction. “On multiple adventures. What about you, cap? Jealous you couldn’t snag one for your guild of brides?”

Warriors blusters about indignantly, earning laughter from the others as Legend smirks, but the man recovers quickly enough. “I do not have a guild of brides! That is- that is utterly disgusting!”

“Could have fooled me.” Legend teases, sipping some water from a flask.

“Give him a break.” Twilight snickers, shoving the vet playfully.

The unfortunate thing about Twilight’s shoves though is that the ranch hand doesn’t seem to know his own strength, and Legend is small enough that the light push is enough to send him scrabbling to not hit the ground. More laughter rings about their camp, but this time at the vet's expense, as Legend topples over into the dirt, spilling his drink and failing his arms as he goes.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” Legend huffs, pulling himself back up and dusts off his clothes, scowling at the water spilled on him. “Great.”

“Oh, come on, you came back soaked to the skin earlier, what’s a bit of water going to hurt you, huh, vet?” Warriors ribs, smirking.

Legend shoots him a half-hearted glare.

“Legend,” Time starts slowly. “How would you describe the mer?”

The vet pauses, gaze resting maybe a moment too long as his hands as he brushes off the hem of his tunic. He’s already done so and there’s really no reason for him to do it again, but he does anyway. “What you’d expect.” He shrugs haltingly. “Hylian on top, fish beneath. Tail, long hair, that sort of thing.”

The old man hums. Legends ears twitch, nose shivering slightly as violet eyes flit over their group. “Care to expand on your sky people story, Four?”

“I’m good.” The smithy replies lazily.

Time would pass it off as a strange one-time thing, he would, but there are... other factors at play.

They’ve traveled to Four’s time, fighting off monsters and solving puzzles the same as they’ve always done. The boys are taking some downtime, playing hide and seek, and just like the last time, Time takes himself down to the river they’ve made camp ear and dons his Zora gear.

He isn’t expecting to see the creature, the mer, again, much less hear them singing -after all, this is a Hyrule far before his Pup’s- but there the creature is. It- or they- frolic in the water, chasing fish and singing softly. The tune is lighter than the last one he heard, a different song entirely, but there is no denying that it is the same mer.

Gold flecked, petal pink scales shimmer beneath the twisted lights that invade the water, hair of the same colors flowing in the current as long fingers, tipped with pointed claws, reach out to swipe at the fish swimming wildly away. They don’t catch anything, but Time hears it giggle anyways, the tune of its voice bubbling in merriment as it rolls like and otter and turns to explore some other part of the river bed.

The cursed curiosity of a hero niggles in Time’s mind. How is the same mer from before in this timeline, ages before Twilight would even be born? And why do they play and explore as if they’ve never seen this river bed before in their life?

Long claws pull through sand, and although their hair blocks their face from his view, he can still hear the warble of delight as the creature removes something sparkling and bright from the river bed. The mer floats in place, turning the item over in their hands curiously before whisking it out of sight and returning to their search.

A mer that likes treasure, huh? Why is he unsurprised?

His own soft laugh startles them, and for a half of a moment, golden ringed, violet eyes, wide and bright and full of shock, meet his own.

The mer is gone before he can make a move.

He asks Legend about it the next day. As they travel along the path towards the nearest town, Time falls back to ask the vet more about mer.

“Do mer like treasure?”

Legend starts, eyes wide as they meet his own, and something in the back of his mind is nagging him that the look in the vet’s eyes is somehow familiar. “What?”

“Do mer like treasure?” He repeats himself.

Legend stares at him, blinking slowly as they continue along the path, but eventually the vet shakes his head and answers. “Depends on the mer. They’re people too, Time, they can have varying interests and hobbies. There is no standard for mer. None.”

“Don’t they all swim at least?”

Legend’s gaze is flat. “There are disabled Hylians aren’t there? Not all Hylians can walk, and not Mer can swim. Some just choose not to because they don’t like it!”

Time frowns. How does the vet know so much about mer culture? “How do you know this?”

The vet shrugs, eyes darting away. “I’ve been a lot of places and met a lot of people. Mer are no exception.”

“I thought you hated swimming and the water?” Wind breaks in, falling back to join the two of them with an odd look on his face. He looks like a puppy and it’s killing Time not to ruffle the kid’s hair.

“Didn’t always.” Legend returns, smiling wryly down at the sailor. “But enough of that. The real question here is if you’ve ever met one, sailor.”

“A mer?” Wind furrows his brow, looking away with a soft sigh. “The water in my world isn’t safe for the people who lived in it. There’s hardly even any fish in most places. The Zora in my time had to adapt to the air instead in order to survive.”

Awkward silence falls over them, the vet looking guilty for a half a moment before he settles a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “The goddesses aren’t always fair, Maliit, it’s not your fault.

Time hums his agreement, heart aching for yet another young hero and a world that suffered for Time’s failure to have properly saved it.

He sees the mer again. Not just when he’s in the water himself, but when he’s keeping watch during the night or on occasion when he goes fishing with Twilight. The Pup says nothing about seeing gold and pink beneath the water, but Time finds himself watching it all the same.

It darts beneath the dock they’re fishing on one time, and when Twilight’s line gets a tug, the rancher pulls it up only to find the one of his boots dangling from the other end.

Time can’t help it, he laughs.

So, this mer is a prankster, huh?

He takes to seeking them out, trying to catch their attention or try to talk to them, but nothing works. The minute that gold and violet eyes meet his own, petal pink scales flick deftly in the waves and the mer is swimming away.

But Time isn’t dumb.

He knows that the same mer cannot reasonably exist across all of time, not with all the changes that come to the world with each hero. He knows that this being is somehow following them, and h’s got a rather good idea exactly how it’s happening.

It’s a long shot, but he knows for a fact that Legend is always gone from camp before he sees the creature, and enough times startling the vet when asking about mer has taught him that the expressions between the two are the same. All he knows on the mer’s face is shock, but the vet’s eyes glimmer the same shade of violet, even if they are different in size and shape, and the petal pink hair that the vet comes out of the forest with one evening after their group was separated is uncannily similar to the shade of the mer.

They’ve made camp again, and rather than climbing into the water when he catches a moment alone, Time settles on the shore, not in the mood to be in the water but in need of its calming song. The air has been tense the past few days, and Time welcomes a brief moment to relax, forcing himself not to think of the gaping wound in his Pup’s side or the ragged breath that wheezes between the rancher’s lips.

Twilight will be fine, he reminds himself. Hyrule and Warriors had worked together to tend the wound and while it would definitely leave a scar, the danger of losing their beloved friend and brother (and maybe son?) is not so high anymore.

He welcomes a free breath, away from the hurt gazes of his boys as they try and process that their beloved canine friend and the rancher are one and the same. A chance to think without having to stop those who were out of the know from bombarding those who were in it with questions.

He’s glad to be free of the questions himself.

Legend seems to be too, if the glint of pink beneath the waves is to be believed.

He doesn’t approach this time, doesn’t try entering the water to speak. He’s tired and he wants his spae, and he imagines Legend would like his own too. So, instead, he sits on the bank, feet trailing in the water and ocarina on his lips as he plays softly.

The tune is a sweet one, one he’d written himself that lilts and dips softly, very nearly perfect for a dance, but far more suited to a night by a fire or watching the sunset. And sunset it is, fading light stretching out across the water, glinting of the surface and reflecting off of gold and pink-

He stops, eye wide as he turns towards the flash in his vision.

Gold and violet stare back at him, framed in curling pink as Legend freeze half-way through pulling on his tunic again.

Gold fades just as the scales dissapear and leave the vet siting on the shore, tunic still bunched around his shoudlers and violet eyes wide with fear as he regards his leader.

“I won’t tell.” Time forces, turning away his gaze and returning his focus to the instrument in his hand. He doesn’t play, but he doesn’t look up either.

“It’s an item.” Legend forces, strained. His voice is still tainted with whatever power had shifted him between forms, and it’s sweeter and more melodious than normal. “I found it on my third adventure. Got cursed.”

“Like the rancher?” Time hums softly, not having to look up to know that Legend is shifting nervously, foot tapping madly at the ground beneath him.

“Yeah.” Legend huffs.

“Okay.” And he does look up them, calm and as open as he can make himself seem as he meets the vet’s gaze.

“Just okay?” One brow cocks as Legend crosses his arms.

“Just okay. It’s your secret, Legend. I can’t change what I’ve seen, but I won’t tell the others either.”

Legend nods, wary bit willing to accept the words, if only for now. “If you say so.”

They’re on their way back to camp, Legend carrying an armload of fish and Time carrying both of their bags when the vet stops and glares at him. “I don’t want to hear any jokes, alright? I get enough of those from Twilight and Sky.”

“They know?” The old man tilts his head in question.

Legend flushes, ducking his head and setting off again at a speed some might label a scurry. “No. Hurry up, these fish are gonna rot!”

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

Waves lap around his head and it’s all Time can do to break the surface, coughing and hacking as he struggles to remain above the water.

The portal had come at the worst time ever, and no one had been ready to be dropped into the center of the ocean.

Lightning crackles overhead as waves swirl and crash about him. The ocean rages and Time is again reminded how small Hylian’s are in the face of Mother Earth herself.

“Boys!” The shout rasps from his throat as he spins to look about, praying to every deity he knows that he’ll find the rest of them safe and sound, or at the very least together. Never mind that Twilight still can’t walk, much less swim. Never mind the smithy’s shattered arm and Wild’s fear of the water. He can’t panic about those right now, he has to find them!

“Over here!” Sky’s voice answers him. The Chosen Hero clings to the shivering form of the smithy, both are soaked and trembling, but they’re managing to stay above the waves.

“My Hyrule!” Wind calls out as Time strikes out towards them, and the sailor continues once he’s close enough to see that at least five of his boys are safe. “We’re near land,” Wind nods in a random direction and Time wonders briefly how the sailor even knows that. “It could be a challenge in these waves, but we can make it. Have you seen the others?”

Hyrule looks up at him hopefully, the water-logged traveler fighting madly to stay above the water but succeeding despite the waves. Time reminds himself to help the boy learn to swim more effectively later, and more importantly how to properly tread water, but for now he focuses on answering Wind. “You're the firsts. We’ll have to hope the others are alright, getting y’all to safety is my first concern.

“But Wild!” Hyrule splutters, choking on some water as Time swims over to give the traveler someone to cling to. Freezing fingers latch ahold of his armor as teeth chatter, the waves are neither kind nor warm and with their health as it is he’s certain someone is going to end up with a cold when this is all over. “And Twilight! A-and Legend and Wars! They’re out there somewhere!”

“We have to hope Legend and Warriors can elp the other two. We can’t do them any good if we’re fighting to stay above ourselves.” He tries to same calm, but his own mind and heart scream with the same message that Hyrule’s voice does, and its all he can do to push it down.

Thunder rolls overhead and waves beneath as they push off towards the shore, each of the older heroes aiding a younger one as Wind guides them all towrads the supposed island.

Time hs never been so relieved to see sand in his life, and as Hyrule pulls himself up the bach and Wind helps Sky to settle Four, Time can only pray that he’ll find his way back again. “I’m going to look for the otehrs. Wind, stay and help Sky.” The sailor looks as if he wants to hesitate, but he knows better than anyone how a small body can be lost to the waves much easier than an adult. “Make a fire, warm up as best you can. Keep an eyes out. I’ll come back if- when I find the others.”

He stops only to shed his armor and don his Zora gear, but a single dive beneath the water is enough to tell him that it’s for naught. Wind wasn’t joking about his water being toxic, and a single breath of the stuff leaves Time heaving as soon as he breaks the surface.

His chances of finding the boys have lowered considerably.

Nayru above, don’t let anyone have sunk beneath!

Time swims for all he is worth, pushing past weariness as he battles each and every wave. And he’s just beginning to lose hope when he catches sight of something silver reflecting in the water as lighting flashes above.

“Time!”

Blue whips around to meet its twins as Warriors comes to swim beside him. “Have you found any of the others?”

“Wind, Sky, Hyrule and Four.” he breathes back. “You?”

The captian looks rueful but nods to his side. “Legend.”

Time can’t help but start as Legend’s eyes peek above the surface. Golden and violet are glassy in the pale ace of the vet, but they’re there and that means that Legend is alive.

“I’ve officially met my first mer.” Warriors sighs, but there’s worry in the captains voice and face both.

“Split up.” Legend’s voice rasps, and there none of the melodic song that Time is used to hearing from this form of the vet.

Legend is pale, far too pale.

“What’s-”

“Wind’s world.” Warriors tells him. “Water here is toxic.”

The water is toxic. The water, which mer have to breath to stay alive, is toxic.

Time’s gaze shoots to the vet but there’s only a flick of gold and pink as he disappears beneath the waves. Warriors groans. “He keeps doing that! I swear, I have no way of knowing if he’s even still there, but he still insists on disappearing like the little shit he is.”

Usually, Time would scold his brother for such a tone, but he knows that Warriors is just sacred. He’s terrified, and it leaks into his voice and his actions, and the only way that the soldier knows how to hide the fear is by biting back with venom, not dissimilar to the vet’s own actions.

They swim together, searching and calling out for the two missing heroes. Hope is beginning to fade and Time can feel a gnawing fear eating away at his heart as he thinks of the gaping wound in his Pup’s side and the likelihood that Twilight would even be able to swim with it.

His pup’s chances aren’t high.

“Look!” Warriors shouts over the storm, jerking him from his thoughts as his eyes follow the captain’s pointing hand.

Pink bobs on the surface, backed by bedraggled and soaked black fur as Legend hauls Twilight’s limp form through the water.

“Pup!”

He’s taking the lad from Legend as soon as they’re in reach, and Legend seems to sag in relief as the weight is removed from his shoulder. “Was with Wild. Bring him to-” The vet wheezes and ducks beneath the water for a moment, coming up with a pained expression on his face. “Bring to shore. I’ll get Wild.” He gives them no time to respond, tail flicking as he disappears beneath the waves again.

Time and Warriors exchange a glance and head back to shore, supporting the weight of the rancher between them.

Wind and Sky have managed to get a virtual bonfire going on the shore, and the sailor has laid what blankets and bed-rolls he’s found of their equipment in front of it, allowing their dampened things to ry as he and the other three heroes bundle together for warmth.

It’s with a cheer that they al; greet Time and Warriors as the two emerge from the ocean, and Time can’t help but smile a bit in relief at seeing them all safe again. Only a little longer and Legend will be back with Wild, and then he can rest easy knowing they’re all out of the storm.

Rain still patters against already soaked skin and cloth, but with the fire flickering before them Time can’t bring himself to care over much.

Hyrule’s fingers shiver as they slide over the wound in Twilight’s side, cleansing it from the poisonous water that has soaked into the bandages, and while Twilight grits his teeth and winces, he’s at least conscious enough to do so, and that alone brings some peace to the others.

Warriors informs the others of the whereabouts of their two missing brothers, and Time helps to settle Twilight on one of the warming bedrolls. It made still be wet, but it’s better than getting sand in the pup’s wound.

They wait in tense silence, bundled together to share heat as nervous gazes watch the shore. Wind hasn’t stopped muttering under his breath and Four isn’t doing much better with his half formed sentences and steady murmurs.

It’s only when Wild’s golden hair can be seen on the shore that they all release a breath of air.

Cornflower blue is wide and glazed, likely from shock, but it doesn’t stop the champion from reaching back into the waves to pull out his companion.

Legend is a mess.

The veteran gasps and splutters for breath once he’s free, skin a sickly shade of white and eyes just as glazes as Wild's own as the two clings to each other, and when the two stand together Legend is leaning heavily against the shaking champion, and it’s only through sheer luck that Time and Sky get there in time to catch them before the duo collapses back into the waves.

Wild curls against Time’s chest, fingers shaking and eyes blank as the man carries him back to the fire. Legend doesn’t even stir, lying limp in Sky’s hold as the Skyloftian bustles back to join the other heroes.

Nothing is said about the glistening tail that fades into legs once Legend is warmed and dried, and even if anyone had dared the stern gaze of the first of their number would have been enough to silence them.

Violet blinks hazy and distant beneath the warmed fabric of Sky’s sailcloth, but they are all safe. They are all safe and they are alive.

“Thanks to Legend.” Wild whispers when he comes back, head resting against Times collar bone. “Without him I would have never got Twi back to shore.”

“Three cheers for the vet.” Wars forces a smile, and while the cheers are heartfelt and thankful, they do nothing to lighten the mood.

Legend doesn’t even seem to hear them.

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rose2jam · 3 years

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Why It Was Practically Inevitable That Severus Snape Would Join A Cult, an essay by Rose Jam

So, let’s talk about Cults. Disclaimer: This is just information I’ve gathered over the years from my personal fascination with religious cults. I’m in no way an expert or a psychologist or whatever. This is just my personal understanding from the research I’ve done.

A cult is started when a wildly charismatic Leader feels like they have a purpose, a higher calling, or a mission to be fulfilled (or they could also just be an egomaniac). Maybe they really do feel like what makes them special comes directly from a higher power, be that God, or the Heir of Slytherin, but either way, this person has a pathological need to be worshiped, and they need followers in order to do that.

So, how does one obtain Followers easily? By finding the misunderstood misfits of society, and promising them something. The people who feel like no one else understands them, or their ideologies. But this Leader? This Leader GETS IT, MAN! The Leader understands them perfectly, vindicates them, and makes them promises along the way. Like, if they stick with the Leader, then not only will they finally be understood, but they themselves will also be revered. That they will rise above all of the others who have put them down for so long, and will come out on top as a superior being.

Any of this sounding familiar?

Charles Manson preyed on young people in the middle of the hippie movement, mostly women, who were feeling lost, lonely, and in need of guidance, or in terms of the men he recruited, seeking power over others. Not all of these people were poor or helpless; some of them came from middle class, or even rich homes and families. Yes, some of them came from broken homes, but all of them felt “broken” themselves, in some way. So Manson used their desires to have a family to draw them in. He then used LSD and other drugs to keep them under his control, and he created a manipulative environment where the members of his “family” felt they could never leave him, and if they didn’t follow his commands, something horrible would happen to them. I’m not going to go into full detail on the Manson Family Murders, but if you’re personally interested, check out the Podcast “Cults” on Spotify.

So back to basics, this Leader draws in Followers with flowery promises of community, power, family, or whatever. But once the Leader has that following, the terror will begin. Cult Leaders are usually master manipulators, and have completely brainwashed their followers into believing the “us vs them” mentality, that the outside world is evil, that the outside world will only harm them, that the outside world would never understand what they’re doing on the inside. And that the Leader is the only one who knows the truth, so they better stick with him. Or maybe the Leader has gaslit his followers so completely, that they become dependent on him for everything, to the point where they don’t know how they would possibly function without the Leader. Or, the Leader has created an environment that’s so hostile, that Followers are too afraid of what might happen to them if they tried to leave, or didn’t do what the Leader commanded. Typically, it’s a combination of all of the above. Destructive cults will either hurt others outside of their circle (The Manson Family, Sect of Nacozari), harm themselves (Heaven’s Gate, The Ant Hill Kids), or both (The People’s Temple, Aum Sinrikyo).

Now that I’ve laid this foundation, I’m going to tell you why it was practically inevitable that Severus Snape would join a cult.

Snape’s childhood ultimately laid the foundation for the mental state he would be in when he decided to join the Death Eaters. He grew up in an abusive household, where his father, the muggle, had his magical wife so thoroughly whipped, that she couldn’t (or chose not to) use magic to defend herself, or her son (1). Eileen had obviously told Severus about magic, about Hogwarts, about what a wonderful place it was, and what a wonderful gift magic could be. Severus also watched as Tobias beat the magic out of her. (I know it’s debated whether Tobias actually physically abused his family, but he certainly verbally/mentally/emotionally abused them, so the term “beat” could be used figuratively as well). I don’t think it’s unreasonable to believe that Severus developed an extreme hatred of muggles with “burn the witch” mentalities from a very young age because of this.

Enter Lily, perhaps the only other magical person in his life besides his mother up to this point. He sees her using magic out in the open, perhaps recklessly, for fun, and he sees an opportunity to make a friend (and, admittedly, to be smarter than someone about something for a while). He was so eager to tell her all about magic, because getting to learn magic, and go to Hogwarts, has possibly been the only thing keeping him going in his young life. And now he’s made a friend, a real friend who doesn’t think he’s weird because he’s magical. Unlike Petunia, yet another muggle who makes fun of him for being weird (2). And Lily actually seems to like him back. For a kid who probably hasn’t received a lot of affection in his life, this is monumental. This friendship is everything. Why wouldn’t he love her?

So the time finally comes to go to Hogwarts. Severus gets to escape his abusive household, and finally has an opportunity to embrace magic for the first time in his life. But almost immediately, he’s met with a hic-up. Specifically, James Potter and Sirius Black. So Severus is no longer facing abuse exclusively from muggles who think he’s weird, but now he’s also getting it from other magical people who think he’s weird (3). And this started on the fucking TRAIN before he even GOT to Hogwarts. You can’t tell me that wouldn’t sour a kids dream right off the fucking bat. And then, when he finally gets there, he’s separated from his only friend, by being sorted into different houses (4). What a way for a life-long dream to be thoroughly dashed in less than 24 hours.

Let’s look at Snape’s Hogwarts experience. He’s a good student, and he pours himself into learning as much magic as possible, and at being the best he can possibly be, probably motivated by a desire to be better than what his Father thinks possible. During this time, he is regularly bullied and abused by the Marauders. Sometime before his 5th year, the Incident at the Shrieking Shack took place. It definitely sucks to have been so thoroughly fucking duped, and put into a life-threatening situation involving a goddamn werewolf (5). But perhaps even worse than that, the salt in the wound, was that no one fucking did anything about it (6). He saw Sirius and James and Remus get out of that situation without facing any sort of proper punishment (as in, they all still stayed at the school as opposed to being expelled like they DEFINITELY SHOULD HAVE BEEN (At least Sirius should have been)). Dumbledore was looking out for the Marauders, but no one was looking out for Severus. On top of that, Severus isn’t allowed to TELL anyone about it, not even Lily. So, he goes through what was possibly one of the most traumatic experiences of his life, and he can’t even tell anyone that it happened.

So, what sort of support system does Severus have during all this? He has Lily, sure (who literally told him he should be GRATEFUL to James, one of his abusers). But, what he really has, is Slytherin House (7). I’ll say it plainly: Severus was sorted into a house that was already full of existing cult members. McGonagall says in Sorcerer’s Stone that “Your house will be like your family” (she at least says it in the movies, I’m too lazy to get up and reference my books rn lol). So, Severus’ family, his support system, for 10 months out of every year, is a house that is already full to the brim with pureblood elitists with prejudiced ideals, who would absolutely vindicate Severus in his dislike for muggles. As a kid first getting sorted into the house, it’s obviously not unreasonable to become friends with the people you’re literally living with. His dorm mates became his family. So, when his dorm mates started to become Death Eaters… This is headcanon, I fully admit, but like, fuck, Severus didn’t have a lot of friends, and was probably already drifting apart from Lily. Do you really think he was going to tell the people he had to live with every single day, not to mention the only people that had been supporting him for years, to go fuck themselves for using Dark Magic? Especially when he was probably feeling like he was on the verge of thinking that their rhetoric made some sense?

On to Snape’s Worst Memory (8). At this point, he’s spent 5 years in Slytherin House, with fellow students who casually throw around the M word. He gets attacked by James and Sirius, he’s practically defenseless, and then the girl who he’d considered his closest friend for so long… has to force herself not to smile when he’s thrown upside down and exposed to everyone on the grounds. Sure, she was trying to defend him at first, but she also fucking nearly smiled at his humiliation, his pain, his abuse. So he hurls the one word that he knows is going to cut the deepest, that will hopefully hurt her as badly as she has hurt him. And it works.

Severus had been beaten down his entire life. By Muggles and Magic Folk alike. And finally, he’s betrayed by Lily, his last lifeline to the light. He betrayed her as well, of course. But he did try to show remorse. And she doesn’t forgive him (9), which was her prerogative, of course.

So. Who does he have left?

I’ve placed little (numbers) throughout my writing here. Each of those numbers denote the specific events that led Severus to becoming an angry young man, who hates muggles, hates (some) magic folk, and resulted in him feeling weak, helpless, and desperate. For what? For power, for a family, for a community. For a world where he is no longer the weird one. For a world where he’s respected, strong. For the world he thought he was going to be a part of, when he arrived at Hogwarts in his first year.

And it just so happens that this is the exact world that Voldemort is (allegedly) trying to create.

Severus Snape was angry, and vulnerable, and as such, he was practically the poster child for the type of person who would be susceptible to falling for a cult. Maybe he was recruited by his friends in Slytherin House. Maybe he was recruited directly. Either way, charismatic Tom Riddle came along, understood how he felt, where he was coming from, told him he deserved better, and offered him all of the things he never had in his life. And being at rock bottom, being the lowest of the low, to Severus it must have seemed like a miracle of an opportunity, or perhaps, like the only chance he had left.

Now, let me be extremely clear; everything I’ve written is not trying to EXCUSE Severus Snape for his actions. There is always a point where personal responsibility must come into play. Except for children born into cults or victims of kidnapping, nearly every person who has ever joined a cult has made the personal decision to join it. I’m just trying to express how unbelievably easy it is, for a Cult Leader to find people with damaged lives and low self-worth, to suck them in with promises of a fulfilling life and grandeur, and for those people to be easily swept up and brainwashed into believing that what they are doing is right. (Or that what they are doing is required, because the alternative is more horrifying.)

The type of people who joined the Death Eaters are the same type of people who joined Heaven’s Gate, or The People’s Temple, or yes, The Manson Family. Now, I’m just going to say, from my own personal point of view, I do not vilify anyone who’s ever joined a destructive cult. On the contrary, I feel sorry for them. Because most people who join a cult, don’t necessarily do it signing up for the… end result of what happened to them. Some of them totally do, like Heaven’s Gate. Most of them knew that the end result was going to be the “evacuation of their earthly vessel”. But the people who joined the Manson Family, for instance, did not initially join it KNOWING how it was going to end. They were part of the family long before Manson even came up with Helter Skelter, and by the time the Tate-LaBianca Murders took place, they were already too far gone to go against it.

I highly recommend anyone who’s interested in a humanizing view of former cult members, to read the essay “Leslie Van Houten: A Friendship” by John Waters. https://www.huffpost.com/entry/leslie-van-houten-a-frien_b_246953

Or, at the very least, listen to this 7 minute NPR interview with John Waters about the essay https://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=111585116

It’s the story of how notorious film maker John Waters, became friends with former Manson Girl, Leslie Van Houten, and about how she broke away from the cult after her conviction, how she’s spent the last 51 years of her life recovering from the psychotic influence of a maniac who’d promised her the world, and how even though she was convicted to life WITH a possibility of parole, it’s never been granted to her, despite the fact that she has done literally everything possible to try and atone for her crimes.

Maybe I’m just a bleeding heart. I’m pretty much the only person I know who feels sorry for Leslie Van Houten and other cult members who were brainwashed, abused, and manipulated into doing a lot of the horrible things they’ve done. But there are people in the world, who have committed FAR more heinous crimes than the Manson Family murders, and who are far less repentant than Leslie, but because those crimes weren’t as notorious, they get to walk free.

Addendum: When I first posted this, I had a few people point out to me that they had always associated Voldemort and the Death Eaters with Hitler and Nazi Germany. This is a perfectly fair point, but one that I personally don’t jive with, and the reason is simply the numbers. There were literally millions of people in the Nazi party during WW2. Death Eaters don’t even reach triple digits, as far as I’m aware. As I hinted at in this essay, I consider Voldemort and the Death Eaters to be MUCH closer to Charles Manson and the Manson Family. The Manson Family 100% had Nazi ideology, of course. "Helter Skelter” was Charles Manson’s prediction that there was going to be a massive race war; one that the Whites were going to lose, and that he and his Pure White family would emerge from it in order to rule over the remaining Blacks. Kinda... sounds like a Death Eater thing, huh?

Sorry. Back to Snape. There is a lot we don’t know about Severus’ actual time as a Death Eater. I think it can be reasonably assumed he’s never actually killed anyone before Dumbledore (In Prince’s Tale, Severus questions if his soul would be safe from killing Dumbledore, and Dumbledore implies that his soul would not be damaged by helping an old man avoid pain and humiliation. This leads me to believe that Severus never committed any soul-damaging murders before this). Beyond being a sneaky spy and delivering the prophecy to Voldemort, his time as a Death Eater is all up for conjecture.

Severus does make one important deviation from the typical cult member mold, however. In the end, he manages to break away from the cult. The scales fall from his eyes. In a figurative sense, the LSD has worn off. What made him sober up, was the threat to his last lifeline to the light. The one good fucking thing he’d ever had in his miserable life. He was brought back by genuine love. Ya know, the ENTIRE MESSAGE OF THE HP SERIES. And not only did he leave the cult, but he then spent the rest of his life actively attempting to destroy it, and atone for the mistakes he’s made, in an effort to bring back the world he’d been excited for, as an 11-year-old kid, so full of hope.

#Snape Meta #Severus Snape #Pro Snape #Snapedom #Snape Community #This will be the TRUE test of the tags #Essay Jam #Why It Was Practically Inevitable That Severus Snape Would Join A Cult

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aetheternity · 3 years

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Sight, smell, touch, taste, sound and which one I believe would draw the Aot boys to you. Kinda Modern Au 🤷‍♀️ idk you be the judge.

(If you guys want girls too I'd be happy to do them just let me know) (MILD NSFW WARNING kiddos be vanquished.)

Eren

~Sight

•Baby boy is so in love with every bit of your face, eyes, hair, curves, to the edges of your fingertips he's just got to look at you.

•Don't take this as shallow. No he definitely finds so many more reasons to cherish you.

•But that body tho~~ 😜

•He loves to watch your hips sway as you dance to music.

•Loves watching your hair flow on windy days.

•Craves the gorgeous red coloring from late night (horny) sessions.

•Enjoys slowly spinning you around when you're wearing something skin tight.

•Don't even get me started on when your skin is wet for any reason.

•Fuck~ but growled gently into your nape or collarbone.

Armin

~Touch and sound

•Damn papa he's a mixed breed. (No I didn't just say that shut up) .

•He wants to hear any noises that come out of your mouth and touch every delicate inch of your skin.

•Starts off with listening to you talk about your day. (Like everything! Don't skimp on the details.) Your little hums as you listen to music. Whispers of good night, I love you etc etc. Accompanied pleasantly with your warm lips, his fingers sliding over your back late at night or the feeling of your hair under his finger tips.

•It's all so beautiful. So absolutely perfect for him.

•And a little further along in your relationship when he's squeezing your thighs or cupping your ass. Listening to your breath hitch as he hits all the right spots.

•The breathless murmurs of his name on your lips has his heart soaring.

•He'll always reach up to your face after sex to press his thumbs into your cheek and devour every noise cresting off your lips.

•He'll always reach out for you after a long day. He just needs to squeeze your waist. Needs to hear your little giggles if he tickles you when he touches certain spots.

•In short you're a lucky bitch if he's yours so better keep him satisfied 😩😤

Jean (HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY!)

~Touch

•He's touch starved so let the first thing you ever do with him relationship wise be giving him the tightest fucking hug!

•He wants you in his lap, pressed against his chest, within kissing distance and you better be ready to constantly interlock your fingers.

•Small price to pay for one of the best boyfriends in Aot.

•He's gonna need your skin pressed gently against his body period.

•Definitely plans as many instances as he can to get you in the bath tub with him. Bubbles soaking the gorgeous terrain of what is his as he rubs, wipes and scrubs every inch of your body with a gentle hand.

•You'll fall asleep. (He wants you to fall asleep). So he can carry you to bed bridal style.

•Absolutely loves sneaking a hand into your pants when you whisper you need him late at night and adores the lengthy marks you leave over the expanse of his back.

•But more than anything he just wants to hold you. Rub his hairy chin against your neck and face. (LET HIM DAMMIT )

Levi

~Smell

•Believe it or not I see Levi as the type to be extremely attracted to certain smells.

•And god he loves your's

•He wants to stick his face in your neck and just take a long sniff and once he has the opportunity lord knows that's one of the first things he does whenever he has the chance.

•Loves how you smell when you're covered in cleaning products from a lengthy spring cleaning, after you've washed your hair, in his shirt, after you've showered etc etc.

•Please he needs you to be as close as possible so that your scent can relax him!

•Sometimes wears your t-shirts or falls asleep holding any article of clothing that smells the most like you.

•And fuck yes your smell can also get him sufficiently hard for really long fuck sessions. (Most likely if you smell like his cologne.) The scent of your arousal is probably his second favorite smell.

•Always sleeps a full eight hours or more if he's got his nose tucked into your nape, slightly in your hair. (Hopefully you washed it..)

•That's it Levi enjoys your smell thanks for coming to my Ted Talk. 😃👍

Connie

~Touch and Taste

•Not lowkey about his freaky side at all.

•He'll come straight out after a confession on either side and be like I've been wanting to touch you for I don't know how long 😳.

•He craves his hand molded to any part of your body he can reach. Smacking that ass like it cursed at his mother. (Mfer is handsy as hell.) Wants no needs the taste of your sweat, thighs, neck, lips etc etc.

•Though he enjoys sweet touches too. Loves when you slip a hand under his shirt to scratch his back.

•Don't be surprised if that sweet touch or any sweet touch escalates into something else. (You so horny for what like: 😤)

•He's always got a hand up your shirt when you two are alone. Actually feels calmer after a long day if he's kissing your neck and fondling your nipples.

•Even if you guys are out he's touching you in other ways.

•Got his arm affectionately wrapped around your waist at all times, comes close to give you little kisses on your ear and lips.

•Just make sure you give him as many hugs as possible or he might riot. 😏

Erwin

~Smell and Touch

•Like Levi I'd like to believe he enjoys certain smells over others

•But like Jean I believe he's touch starved and has an unquenchable desire to touch you.

•Granted he won't be as horny when he actually has your touch no I feel your smell will get him going too. Specifically when you're wearing something he gave you or when you're only wearing one of his shirts.

•He loves touching your thighs, grazes his fingers over them with slow soft desire. Layers kisses near your armpits and shoulder blade where your scent is the strongest.

•If that leads to sex 🤷‍♀️ depends on his mood.

•Makes sure that if he's working late hours you're in his lap to provide your heartbeat and the soft scent of your breath as you lay open mouthed on his shoulder.

•Please be wearing no pants he'd love that so he can tap your butt to tell you he's done and then squeeze it when he's lifting you to bed.

•(Personal belief that he can undo buttons with his teeth and tongue.)

•Uses that to bury his face in your stomach and chest. (Overall wear Erwin's shirts challenge 21k)

Colt (My favorite guy from Marley besides Falco 😜)

~SIGHT MFER SIGHT

•He's so entranced by you the second he sees you 🥺

•Knows that he wants you all to himself but has a hard time saying it but when he does know that he's always watching.

•He's such a cutie tho!! Feels embarrassed if you catch him sneaking a peak if you're stretching and your shirt rides up or if you're only wearing a towel and you're parading around his room.

•Please tell him it's ok to look 🥺

•Wear his shirt. WEAR HIS SHIRT. Don't make me repeat it a third time. If you do he'll have his eyes on you all day.

•When he's comfortable with you he'll stare at your long legs peaking out his untucked shirt and.. now he's hard.

•He loves watching you do cute precious shit like cook or dance. Loves the way you jump around when you're just humming a tune.

•Let's you wear his boxers (Please be in them when he comes home. He'll give you that good cock.)

•Let's be honest here his eyes are always looming over your figure and he wants to touch but fuck he loves to look. 😜🥺

Porco

~Sight and taste (I have a strong belief that almost all the Marley guys love to stare.)

•Guys.. show off that ass for Porco.

•Give him something to watch. You go walking away from him with your ass perfectly cupped in something tight fitting there's gonna be another tight fit waiting for you at home.)

•He fucking loves the taste of your sweat. Quite possibly your blood too when he bites down a certain way. (Porco screams blood kink to me 🤷‍♀️)

•Shit quite literally gets him going.

•He's got your waist and hand in the streets and your thighs between his teeth in the sheets.

•He's a biter (Ladies, Gents and the rest.)

•Loves gripping your ankles and yanking you towards him. Sometimes during sex sometimes just because you keep inching away from him on the couch.

•I also see Porco as the kind of guy to stick his tongue in your ear. Like if he does he's staying there for about twenty minutes.

•Porco has the god tongue and rough fingers (Do with that what you will.)

Renear (Reiner) 🤭

~Obviously Sight but also touch.

•If please touch me were a person.

•I see him as the type where if he were friends with someone he had a crush on and was playful with them he'd do things like pull them into his chest on occasion and put his hands on the small of their back.

•Unlike Porco and Connie his touch is probably more aimed at loving than sexual.

•He's always marveling your gorgeous eyes, he loves running a finger over your chin before he kisses you, adores pressing his thumb to your bottom lip and when you open for him to press his thumb against the pad of your tongue-

•Holy shit.

•Watches you do literally everything as if he's so awed but he's in love.

•Holds you around the waist whenever you two dance. So close you can feel his heart skip for you.

•Once again (Wear his shirts. Wear his shirt. wear his shirt!)

•Also craves pecks on the lips and tight holds around his body so give him those.

Berthot (Berthold whatever the fuck his name is)

~Sight

•He's definitely one of those personality driven mfers.

•But he's also seen you and what he's seen is amazing.

•Why tf is he always blushing just to look away cause he adores you from your head to your toes.

•But unlike some of the other guys I see him as the kind of guy obsessed with your pretty face over your curves and what not.

•He loves the way your eyes twinkle when you see a shooting star or the way you smile at him when you see him.

•He's like the easiest guy to please out of all the others here.

•He bores every pretty expression you make into his memory.

•Specially when you guys are 😤🥰😩

•Good luck to Armin when he sees you as 99.9% of his memory like damn.. 😤

Farlen (As a bonus!)

~Sound

•Your voice has been a lingering sound in the depths of his memory.

•From the second he first heard you he had to hear more.

•If you sing he wants to hear more. If you cry he wants to slit the throat of whoever did it and if you laugh. God please laugh..

•He's gonna do everything in his power to hear literally everything you have to say even if it's stupid to you. (There is no never mind in this relationship 😤).

•And dear god if you moan in his ear it'll send him to a galaxy far far away. You might even make him cum on the spot.

•If you whistle he's gonna ask you to whistle for him and will probably fall asleep to the sound.

•He wants the details of your day (like Armin) but he'll probably stop literally everything he's doing just to listen to you vent.)

•Please whisper in his ear he'll get so so very hard.

•And politely mumble how much you love everything about him the universe isn't big enough for how big his heart gets.

(This was posted on April 7th right before 12am so again. HAPPY BIRTHDAY JEAN!!) 🥺

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stopeatingwhales · 3 years

Text

particles x damon albarn

the lyrics to this song are genuinely so beautiful, like i honestly cannot describe enough how much i adore this song my goodness

Pairing: present day damon x reader

Warnings: none :D

Word count: 1.881

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

It had been two months since I had last seen him. Two whole months since he had set foot in our home; two whole months since he said goodbye to leave for tour. The home that we shared had began to inhabit a sense of eeriness, some nights the walls began to feel as if they were closing in on me, trapping me from any interaction with the outside world, as if to hold me hostage by my own insanity, although other nights the space felt extremely large, almost too big for one person to be able to waste their nights alone in, encapsulating my mind in a constant conflict of obstructive thoughts, forcing me to overthink every tiny detail that was conveyed on the pale stained walls, the wooden floorboards, the arrangement of the furniture, resulting in many a time of me moving around heavy tables and chairs until the image of the room settled my mind’s anxiety. Allowing distance to get in the lines of mine and Damon’s relationship, it was simply uncanny that I was going to miss him; he was the carcass that kept me sane, the being that granted me peace in myself, ease on my mind to prevent such mania from enrapturing my brain, the person that engulfed me into a stupor of adoration and affection that one could never understand the authentic strength until felt - what some perceive as paramour, true love, something so overstimulating that once separated such thing desperation beguiles you to surround yourself with, only a mere sensation of emptiness is all that is felt inside, as if your limbs are damaged, your insides constantly in a state of sickness that you are convinced you’re in need of some form of professional assistance, but it is simply the alchemy, the poison of the apprehension that captivates you from the estrangement from your significant other. Though that wasn’t to say that wasn’t proud of Damon; I embraced fondness and admiration for everything that he did and was so dedicated in doing, his talent and immense knowledge for the art form that speaks to you demonstrated his ability to move millions of people, uniting as one in concerts, all touched from the same, simple string of melodies, proving his true gift and genius that is inside his brain.

I tried to pry my thoughts away from the excitement that had been seeping into my veins from the fact that he was returning home today, in an attempt to focus my mind on whatever had been showing on the television, but there was no use. To be cradled in his arms was all that I had longed, the thought clouding my brain almost every single night that I had thrown my body onto the linen sheets, trying to wrap my body around the duvet to replicate the specific warmth that had enveloped my body when in his arms, his body completely dominating mine, his hands running through my hair gently, apologising with a kiss on the top of my head when he accidentally pulled too roughly, my face buried in his chest as a blush would suddenly creep onto my cheeks, our embrace fulfilling me with a nest of blooming butterflies in my body, a poignant sensation of nervousness and reverence for the man that had me cooped up in his arms, the same feelings that would embody you whilst walking past your first crush during primary school, accidentally brushing your hands against one another’s, sending your mind into overdrive as if to think that the person was the love of your life. Such emotions never left, and I doubted that they ever would; supposing that is true love, he could make me feel like a little girl squealing over her teenage idol because of how perfect he was, just from being himself.

“I’m home, love,” I heard a voice call out in the hallway, accompanied by the soft slam of the front door, the tone of voice lacing a certain amount of raspiness, perhaps from a cigarette that had just been inhaled. My head instantly turned to the door of the living room, eyes settling upon the sight of Damon, who had a small grin curved on his lips, his gaze captured with joy and desire, perhaps from gratification towards the understanding that the tour had finally ended, as well as the fact that he was able to finally see me once again - my expression equally reciprocating his happiness. Instantly jumping from my seat on the couch, I rushed over to him as I threw my arms around him, resting my ear against his chest, listening to the soft pattern of his heartbeat. As usual, his arms wrapped around my figure, tightly embracing my body, the swarm of butterflies breaking out of their cocoons, my limbs growing weak from the recognisable thrill of affection that I had desired for far too long, and had sadly not received. Feeling his lips grazing against the top of my head made my mind go fuzzy, my cheeks flushing a heat that made me feel as if I was under the beating warmth of the sun during the summer months. This is what he does to me. “How’ve you been darling? I see you’ve rearranged the place, again.” he mumbled into my head of hair, my mind still relishing in the pleasure of being in his arms again.

“I’ve missed you,” I replied, reluctantly pulling my arms away from the embrace, in order to gawk at him. A gentle chuckle rumbled from his throat, though his features accentuated pity, understanding how I must’ve felt being away from him for so long. Lightly taking hold of one of his hands, I dragged his arm, guiding him to the sofa, where both of us sat next to each other. “You were gone for so long!”

“I know love, I’ve missed you so much,” he replied, squeezing my hand in reassurance. “At least I’m not gone for any longer though.” he added, his lips curving slightly as I nodded, a similar grin planted on my lips.

“How was the tour then?” I asked, pulling his arm to wrap it around my shoulders, my body already aching for more attachment to him. “The videos I’ve seen online made it look very good.”

“It was great, honestly. Loved every bit of it.” he replied, the grip on my shoulder tightening as he attempted to haul me closer to him. Humming in agreement, I placed my head on his shoulder, cradling the moment we shared together, the moment that I had imagined and adorned each and every night he was absent, cherishing every single time that he was able to be in my presence. I depended on him greatly, as did he, and though that may be a toxic strand which can only result in turmoil; our appreciation for one another held such poise that it would draw us closer together each and every time we had conjoined together after months of being separated. “I’ve actually got something to show you.” he added, shifting from our hug and slowly stepping to his feet, taking his hand in mine, his soft but coarse palms gripping onto mine ever so slightly, urging me to stand up too. “Come with me.”

Following him closely, we headed towards his studio. I had forgotten the last time that I had set foot in it; usually I would leave Damon to work on his craft alone, since having me prance around messing with all sorts of instruments and controls wasn’t going to provide much assistance. As well as that, sitting in the room, knowing that he was away and would be for many days on, would only make me yearn for his presence more, which is the last of what I would need when not being able to fall asleep. Though whenever he would call me into the room, he would always show me the most beautifully crafted symphony, in which he would perform it so effortlessly, as if it was simply created from the top of his head at that moment. Talent like his was so scarce; it would only prove to me that it’s something you are gifted with at birth, like an extremely high intelligence quotient - he always had ideas running through his mind, melodies that would be formed from a simple tap of the table in front of him. It was a wonder in the fact that he seemingly never got burned out with creating music, it was evidently his passion, and it touched me that he would constantly ask me for my opinion on his music, as it always resonated with him, always held such importance.

When we walked inside the studio, I followed him to the grand piano that was standing by the corner of the room. I kept my body upright, behind him, as he pulled out the black stool underneath, moving it back slightly in order for him to sit on it. “Over the tour, I had some free time, so I wrote this song, it’s called Particles,” he began, his voice quiet, as if it were intertwined with a certain anxiousness about what he was about to perform. “It’s still a work in progress, but I wanted to know what you thought of it.”

As I admired his fingers softly grazing the elegant, pale keys of the piano, the melody that in which played forth me instantaneously sufficed me in a trance, bewilderment encompassing my my mind as I listened to the sounds of the alluring chords echo throughout the room, bounce off the walls, the waves of noise crafting mountainous regions of goosebumps to prickle on the bare skin exposed from my forearms. Sculpted with such elegance and formality, my mouth fell agape as he played with such ease - in that significant moment, I was subdued to his music, hypnotised into his magnificence; I could do nothing, absolutely nothing, except admire the grace that fell from his lips once he started singing. As I allowed my gaze to drift onto his face, I gawked at his demeanour, his eyes almost screwed shut, his face almost frozen in place as his body rocked back and forth to the melody that was omitted from the piano. Every word, every string of lines carried a lugubrious essence to it, a tone laced with such beautification; obvious that there were deeper implications behind said lyrics. Each line that escaped his throat exemplified the nature of what earnest fervour, authentic devotion and expertise can embody. Such melody, paired with his voice embodied with pure ethereality, as if I was being greeted by a herd of the most quaint angels, welcoming my soul into the seven heavens. A beam crawled onto my lips, my heart thumping at a million miles per hour from the amount of love I carried in my body for the man in front of me.

Once the song ended, a moment was held in the atmosphere of mere silence, as if to take in all that was felt, all that had vibrated through the sound waves and blessed my ears. Shifting his body so he could connect eyes with me, a gentle, welcoming smile tugged on his lips. “That’s for you.”

#thank u anon <3333333 #damon albarn x reader #damon albarn #blur #blur band #90s #britpop #gorillaz #my imagines #my writing #fanfic #fluff #fan fiction

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lilover131 · 3 years

Text

Syaoran and Kaito Analysis

So I’ve mentioned recently in a recent fanart and in my analysis of chapter 55, but I have noticed quite a few similarities between Syaoran and Kaito, and upon some observations, I have some theories, particularly in regards to how Kaito views Syaoran. I decided to delve into that a bit, so see under the cut for more! Warning: It’s long. I wrote a lot. >.<

I have a lot to cover, so I thought it might be best to outline in the most simple way possible some things we already know about Kaito.

· He was born gifted with incredible magic. His parentage is unknown and he was “alone for as long as he could remember”.

· It’s unclear where Kaito originated from, but it seems he spent a majority of his life in England.

· He has moon based magic and has a wide variety of talents, but specializes in time magic. It’s unclear if he already had a skill with time magic or if this was obtained after he met Momo. It seems implied that he made a magical contract with her and maybe gained his time abilities from this. But we do know he has the ability to fly, to locate objects, teleport, to talk to animals, and to make something vanish in a mere moment.

· He is also talented in housekeeping skills, such as sewing, cooking, etc.

· He used to be very cold hearted and preferred spending time alone. Kaito changed considerably in personality at some point in his life. It is uncertain exactly what caused this change, but it seems likely that Akiho’s mother was the catalyst for this.

· He is part of a very powerful group of magicians called as we know it ‘The Association’ and is revered as one of its most powerful with the title ‘D’. He recently betrayed them and left, taking Akiho with him.

· He protects and seems to care for Akiho

· He is preparing for an event labeled as “that time” and needs Sakura to create a specific card.

· He is putting himself in extreme physical danger for his goals, seemingly for Akiho’s sake.

· He has been noted as always smiling to ‘hide his pain’.

So when I look at all of these facts about Kaito, I noticed something interesting. Syaoran too could be described by almost all of these things. You might think “Wait a minute Chrissy! Kaito and Syaoran are nothing alike!”, but please hear me out.

Syaoran too was born gifted with incredible magic. He also draws his power from the moon (a connection that has already been pointed out by CLAMP) and has a knack for household skills as well, being very independent from a young age. Like Kaito, he was cold hearted in his earlier years, preferred to be alone (according to Meiling in the original 90’s anime in episode 43), and had a drastic change in personality later on, particularly after meeting Sakura. Syaoran is part of a very powerful group of magicians as well, the Li clan, and is one of the strongest within it and destined to be the next leader. Similarly, Syaoran too is preparing for some kind of event, a future seen by his mother, and is doing everything to prevent this, even if it causes him physical harm (as we’ve seen with him struggling to conjure the Sakura cards). In order to keep Sakura in the dark as to not worry her, he has been using a smile to ‘hide his pain’.

Now you may be wondering “Okay, so they have a few things in common, but they are still completely different!”. And you would be right. They are two completely different people after all, but try to think of them as two sides of the same coin. This beckons another question: How did two people who are so similar turn out so differently?

This is really where their differences in personality shine through, but part of it I believe is due to their backgrounds as well. For example, Kaito was picked up by the Association at a young age due to his skills with magic and was taken in to “use that magical power to accomplish their own tasks”. Based on their record of not having a great reputation, according to Eriol, and their treatment of Akiho by assisting her Clan in turning her into a magical device, it seems likely that Kaito was not treated kindly by anyone in the Association. In fact, he was probably left alone nearly all of the time unless his strengths were needed, and took care of himself in the remainder of that time. He was surrounded by people but still completely alone, and he preferred to be this way. This cold background of his really prevented him from being able to open up his heart to anyone. But he does seem to be much different around Akiho.

Syaoran, on the other hand, was surrounded by loving and caring family members. Although he preferred to be alone in his earlier years, he wasn’t actually alone at all. His mother was protective of him (like cutting his hair until he was strong enough to protect himself from things like scissors near his neck), and his sisters adored him and undoubtedly showered him with love at every opportunity. But even with that love from them, he was still somewhat cold hearted (though not as much as Kaito) until he met Sakura.

Their backgrounds do differ from each other, but I think the biggest difference in them of all is how they handle their feelings. When Syaoran first started to realize his feelings for Sakura, he struggled quite a bit and was in a great amount of denial, even physically running away at times when confronted with them. It was when he finally came to terms with his heart and confessed his feelings to Sakura that he underwent a great change and became the Syaoran we know today.

So what about Kaito?

Well, Kaito I believe is in that same stage of denial where he is refusing to come to terms with his feelings, whatever those may be. It’s clear that he cares about Akiho, but when she or Momo try to have a serious discussion with him or get him to talk about those feelings, he goes out of his way to change the subject (or once with Momo, actually fled at the first opportunity, which is just like Syaoran used to do!). It is something he is clearly uncomfortable with, and I think that is because it is unfamiliar territory for him. He is used to not feeling anything at all, so having to actually think about his feelings and reasons for doing things is unbearably frightening. He can handle any magical opponent any day (except Sakura of course), but being open and honest about his feelings? That’s another battle entirely that he doesn’t know how to handle without his magic to use as a crutch.

Momo mentioned in chapter 39 how Kaito had made a great deal of changes, all so that Akiho could live comfortably and pleaded internally “peer deep inside your heart. And don’t avert your eyes”. This was said again in chapter 51 when she stated “I implore you Yuna D. Kaito. Listen…to your heart”.

In the very next chapter, it is none other than Syaoran who has a discussion with Sakura about how his mother had told him “If you possess great magic power…when you feel pounding and stirring in your chest…you shouldn’t ignore it. You need to listen to your intuition. I think that goes for everyone, magic or no magic. I don’t think anyone should turn a blind eye to their own heart”. We also know that in that same conversation with his mother, thanks to the mini chapter provided with the special edition of volume 9, that Yelan said to him then “If there’s something you want to accomplish, then training with your spells is surely important, but...more than anything else, you have to face your heart”. She went on to tell him how important it was to listen to his heart and that “If you lie to yourself, you will sadden the person who loves you so dearly”.

And that, my friends, is the major reason for Syaoran and Kaito being so different despite their many similarities. One listens to his heart while the other adamantly turns away from it. This leads me to my next topic (thank you for anyone who has read this long into it. I appreciate it!), and that is in regards to Kaito’s feelings about Syaoran.

I have noticed that Kaito in general tends to act quite differently in regards to Syaoran than he does anyone else. It starts at the very first time they met, when they made their introductions. Despite working so diligently to keep himself hidden from Akiho and Sakura, he did the complete opposite with Syaoran. He had to have known that being able to sense his magic and being given his name and title, that Syaoran would go and research who he was. He wanted Syaoran in particular to know who he was, which I believe is also why he allowed him to speak with Eriol initially. I say allowed, because we know he clearly had the potential to cut off communications at any point in time, and he only stepped in to shut this down when Eriol started talking to the others (Kero and Yue). He clearly wanted to control what information people knew about him, and Eriol crossed a line. He also put spells on Syaoran that would not allow him to communicate with others about him, so again showing he wanted him to know about him, but not to be able to tell anyone else about him, especially Sakura.

Another occasion I found intriguing was chapter 34 in the scene with the pool. Kaito stopped time, but for some reason, allowed Syaoran to move freely as well. Why is this? He could have easily frozen Syaoran too, but he made a conscious decision to allow Syaoran to move.

Then we come to perhaps the most telling scene so far, which is the battle he and Syaoran had in chapter 41 and 42. In a moment where he could have easily stopped time and rewound so that Syaoran never approached him, he instead decided to have a full discussion with him and even go as far as to engage in battle with him in stopped time. In this ‘discussion’, he stated several facts that he knew about Syaoran, who was pointedly not responding to them and seemed solely focused on Sakura. Some of the details about him were probably common knowledge to the magical world, but some of them seemed oddly personal, such as him being a ‘diligent student’, as if to show he had been watching him for quite some time.

Something about the interaction was different than others. It was as if he was observing Syaoran in that moment to see how he would react to hearing certain things. He then mentioned after seeing Syaoran use the Sakura cards how rewriting a contract once written takes a toll on even the strongest magician and he said “Is this all…for Sakura too?”. I think what he was trying to say here is that he recognizes the efforts he’s making for Sakura and may even feel a connection to him because of his own efforts for his own wish.

In chapter 42, continuing on with this conversation, Kaito seemed ready to turn back time the moment he realized they were no longer alone and that Sakura was able to move, but he still had more to say. Syaoran reacted to Sakura calling out for him, and it was at this moment that Kaito said “You certainly are honest, aren’t you? One look at your face, and I know exactly what you’re thinking” (even Eriol made several comments about Syaoran’s honesty in the original series). Once again, he’s showing here that he’s observing Syaoran, but why? For what reason does he bring this up? I think he says this because it is something so foreign to him and fascinates him. Kaito is so used to hiding his feelings and being unable to express them, but Syaoran is the complete opposite in the fact that he can so easily show his feelings and it is not his nature to conceal them. Kaito followed this by bringing up that Syaoran had suppressed that honesty when he came to Japan, which we know was through his fake smiles (something he is all too familiar with). Yue also said to Syaoran in chapter 27 that he had been hiding behind a smile and ordinarily was much more unrestrained in how he expressed his emotions, no matter what that emotion may be.

I wonder if Kaito said this because he wondered “how is it that he’s able to be so honest?” or maybe he was trying to show that he understood his reasons for hiding behind a smile, pointing out the similarities between them; that they were not so different despite having different goals. Kaito’s next comment in particular is probably what caught my attention the most. He divulged the detail about how Syaoran suppressed his honesty particularly to try and prevent the future that his mother saw. Even Syaoran seemed surprised by this, and he had good reason to be! This was likely a very personal moment, one he hasn’t even told Sakura about yet, and this implies that he might have been there when this particular moment happened. It makes sense too, considering Akiho had stated in her very first appearance that she was in Hong Kong just before coming to Japan, meaning she and Kaito were certainly there at the same time Syaoran was, at least for a brief time. This means he probably saw all the effort he was putting in for Sakura’s sake and maybe this resonated with him. I think maybe he also saw how his older sisters, even though they had no magic of their own, are treated with respect in the Li clan, unlike Akiho with her own. Kaito has only ever known a world where those who are strong are used and those who are weak are deemed worthless (like Akiho), but yet Syaoran lives in a world where both live harmoniously. Sakura’s world in Tomoeda is the same as well and filled with kindness, far different from any other experience Kaito has had, and this must have been quite the culture shock! But more importantly, Syaoran and Sakura have all the things that he and Akiho never had.

Another interesting thing to note here is that Kaito was supposedly expelled from the association about a year ago due to stealing a powerful magical instrument that was forbidden to be taken (which we now know to be Akiho herself). And guess what else happened about a year ago? About a year ago, Syaoran went back to Hong Kong to handle his ‘important things’. Coincidence? Well, famously CLAMP series often say there is no such thing as coincidence...only hitsuzen.

Just as he is about to send another attack at Syaoran, he talks about how he and Syaoran both do not have the power of divination, but that “it is for the strong to decide…what the future holds in store for us all”. I think what he meant here is “Neither of us know how this is going to turn out, but the both of us are working hard for our own goals, so may the best man win”. However, before he could go any further, Sakura used TRANSFER to switch places, and he is both surprised by this, but quite quickly decides to end things and rewind time at this moment, indicating that he had not really wanted to engage with Sakura at all at this point in time. He had even stated at the beginning of chapter 42 that he had intended to keep her frozen and only have Syaoran able to move, meaning this whole situation had only been kept going for this long so that he could talk to Syaoran.

After rewinding time and talking to Akiho later that evening, he mentioned how Parent’s day was “quite illuminating”. This could have been said about his newfound knowledge of Fujitaka, but I also believe he learned quite a bit from Syaoran as well.

Now we finally get to the more recent chapters, like 54 and 55. While sitting together at the botanical garden, Kaito puts yet another spell on Syaoran to force him to smile against his will to avoid any suspicion. I feel like this was not just to keep the peace but also somewhat of a way to toy with and tease Syaoran. What better way to get under the skin of someone so honest and open with their feelings than to force them to hide these under a smile unwillingly? I think this was the mischievous side of Kaito showing and almost like a big brother teasing a little brother, but unfortunately for him, he pushed things too far with this, and not only did Sakura notice something was wrong, but this allowed the spell to be broken, and Syaoran wasted absolutely zero time saying the things he had been suppressed in saying before.

Cue to chapter 55, our most recent chapter. Sakura has managed to keep herself from being frozen in time, and she starts off with a few basic questions. The first one was if he knew about her being able to use cards. Kaito answered simply “Yes”. But when asked about if he knew about Syaoran, he gave two very specific details about him, particularly that he knew he was a gifted sorcerer and that he was the next head of the Li clan”. He could have just answered yes, the same way he responded in regards to Sakura, but instead he seems to have wanted Sakura to know in that moment that he knows a lot of information about Syaoran and not just that he can use magic. The two then exchange meaningful looks, and it’s right after this that she looks over to Syaoran and Akiho, looking almost worried. Now, it’s not clear what they were both thinking in this moment, and it’s possible that I am overthinking this one, but I find it fascinating that his answer was so detailed here, and I don’t feel like that was for nothing. Ohkawa has always been very thoughtful about the words she writes in her scripts, and I think this is no exception.

Anyways, I feel like we’ll get more definitive answers in the future, but I’m incredibly intrigued to see if there are any further and more concrete connections between them. I feel like CLAMP has done quite a bit to point out similarities between the two, and it should be a wild ride from here on out!!

#cardcaptor sakura #clear card #alaysis #syaoran #kaito #clamp #spoiler #chrissy talks a lot #this was a long one

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ikroah · 3 years

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You can say that you're leading me on but it's just what I want you to do. Don't you notice how hopelessly I'm lost? That's why I'm following you. — “Misty,” Johnny Mathis (1959)

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #13 - 188 Trading Post

Collaborative Issue! Guest Inks and Colorist: @worthlesssix

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Notes / Original Pencils / Transcript:

Notes:

This is one of my favorite issues I’ve scripted because it’s just Agnes and Cass kind of hanging out, a type of issue I don’t really have a lot of room for in a series that moves forward as deliberately and intentionally as IKROAH does. A year into this pandemic I’m also really, REALLY missing diners, so it was natural for me to interpret the 188 Trading Post as such.

Also, the next issue, #14, is the final issue of Volume One. It feels like I’ve been working towards it forever, but also that it’s sneaked up on me so fast. Anyway, it’ll be out two weeks from today on March 27th. Readers, I’ll see you in Boulder City then.

Also also, it seems like @worthlesssix is just destined to do the inks and colors on all of the scripts that I love the most, because she really painted this one in a lush, warm, lovely style that just took my breath away. The desert sun, all the intimate little details of the 188, the mauvish and cracking overpass...just an absolute privilege to work with such a wonderful artist and friend a second time on this project.

Also also also, the traveler in the gas mask chatting up Veronica is Charlie, who belongs to @jepsxyhn / @comrade-shrimp. It was so much fun to draw them in! There’s tragically not a lot of good crowd scenes in IKROAH for cameos like this, or else I’d do them more.

Also also also ALSO...that butterfly on the Forecaster’s finger is a desert black swallowtail, a native to the Mojave! Just a fun detail, in case you were curious.

Original Pencils (click for full size):

Six’s inks and colors on this issue are so incredible and stylish that I almost forget that the she drew it over the skeleton of my own pencils. But yes! Every line, every detail, every tough perspective shot was real lead on real paper first, and to be honest, folks, I’m really proud of these ones, especially the deep shot of the Forecaster and Gun Runners on the third page. Note the extremely intense Frankensteining that went into the first and second page. The reason there’s two floating mugs in the pencils for the first page was because I originally intended for there to be three panels, not two, with one of the panels being Cass taking a sip, and the other panel being her saying it was too bitter. And then...I just fucked up the pencils, haha. But the layout was definiely better for it, it would have been too cramped otherwise. I also decided against “switching” the top two panels like I originally must have intended.

Transcript:

EXT. 188 TRADING POST.

AGNES SANDS and CASS are seated at the small, sheltered bar of the 188, having a late breakfast and coffee. A few other travelers stand around or sit, with MICHELLE KERR manning the counter. The RADIO behind the bar is playing, and CASS takes a thoughtful sip of her coffee as MR. NEW VEGAS introduces a song:

RADIO: You know, sometimes the journey beats the destination. Especially when your spurs go "jingle, jangle, jingle," and you meet some nice gals along the way. We'll be back with some news, after this.

CASS: That's not bad. Smoky. A bit too bitter.

AGNES: A bit too bitter?

CASS: I guess I'm not one for strong flavors.

AGNES: Not one for...? Cass, when I first met you, you were deep in six bottles of whiskey.

CASS: And I was deep in another six last night trying to forget what Searchlight smelled like. Sorry to disappoint, but maybe I've just burned my taste buds off by now.

(NOTE: *IKROAH #11—Lou.)

CASS bites into her sandwich with a CRONCH, then looks askance at AGNES.

CASS: I didn't do anything embarrassing last night, did I? I don't remember much.

AGNES: Not that I know of. When I went up to our room, you were still talking to that sniper. I was asleep already before you came back.

CASS: Uh-huh.

Beat. AGNES takes a bite of her omelette, CASS has some more coffee.

AGNES: Wait a minute. You were already out when I woke up, too. You did come back to our room, right?

CASS: OHHHH MY GOD, now I remember.

CASS’ head hits the bar with a miserable THUD.

AGNES: How bad?

CASS: You ever try to come onto a guy who's grieving his dead wife?

AGNES (sipping coffee): No, I don't come onto men in general.

CASS: Ha ha. Funny. Good for you that you don't have this problem. Ugh.

MICHELLE swings by the two, a pot of coffee in her hand.

MICHELLE: More coffee, ladies?

CASS, head still down, gestures her mug affirmatively.

CASS: Please. My head’s still killing me.

RADIO: ...aaaaand we're back, folks. It's midday in the Mojave, and boy, is it a hot one out there...or is it just me?

RADIO: Our top story today...the stand-off at Boulder City between the NCR and a splinter group of Great Khans has entered its third straight day of tensions.

AGNES (flash of recognition): Huh.

RADIO: The Khans refuse to yield their hostages, but they can't stay holed up much longer, according to an NCR spokesperson. Folks...let's just hope they don't blow it up again, am I right?

AGNES: Cass, do you hear this? Those might be the Khans who shot me.

CASS: I thought you said some guy in a checkered suit shot you.

AGNES: He hired two Khans as help.

CASS: Alright, so the accomplices to your attempted murder might be in Boulder City, and you want to...do what, exactly?

AGNES: I...I, uh...

CASS: Just saying, if you rush in guns blazing, all you're gonna do is get yourself killed. For real this time.

CASS: I'm not saying don't go...if all this had happened to me, I'd make all these fuckers choke on the end of my shotgun. But we're really going to need a plan, is all.

AGNES: We? So you don't mind squaring up against Khans?

CASS: I'm a red-blooded Californian, ain't I? Fuck the Khans. Speaking of, it's not like the NCR and them are having a tea social together. How do you suggest we interrupt a standoff?

AGNES stands up, throwing some caps onto the counter with a jingling of light, metallic KLINKA-KLINK sounds.

AGNES: We'll just...think of something when we get there. We should probably go now, too, if we want to get to Boulder City before nightfall.

AGNES starts to leave as CASS gets halfway out of her own stool, hurriedly finishing her coffee.

AGNES: Come on.

RADIO: ...you know, they say no news is good news, but I think my program would be awfully dull if that were the case.

RADIO: You’re gonna love this next song. I guarantee it.

#fallout new vegas #fallout #courier six #rose of sharon cassidy #veronica santangelo #michelle kerr #the forecaster #mr new vegas #188 trading post #volume 01 #13 #ikroah archive

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geekwritersworld · 3 years

Text

Then stay

Pairing: Finn Shelby x reader

warning : it’s long

Summary: Isaiah Jesus’s sister comes to small heath, and falls for Finn .

A/n: Firstly, @marvel-is-a-mood thank you so much for the idea 💖secondly, I am sooo sorry it took me so long to write and post this fic.

Everyone in Birmingham knew Isaiah Jesus as the blinder, Finn Shelby’s friend and the son of the preacher.

And though Isaiah rarely ever spoke of her, small heath also knew he had a sister. But no one had seen her. She’d lived in London with her aunt her whole life. It was the safest decision for her , given her father and brothers involvement with the London gangsters.

Jeremiah and Isaiah visited her every few months, which again kept her out of Birmingham.

But she’d decided to venture out on her own, for once. She decided to go visit her brother and father. Plus, a bit of change would do her good.

Heads turned and men whistled at the young woman who was clearly new to town. But she paid them no heed and continued walking towards the infamous pub she’d heard so much about from her brother.

she slowly opened the door to the pub, the only light in there seemed to be from the sunlight outside, creeping in through the window.

“we don’t serve women” a man behind the counter eyed her curiously. His statement wasn’t harsh, it was more precautionary.

“no harry, but I do” a blonde woman said softly, appearing from the storage room behind him. Her Irish accent instantly assured the young woman that the barmaid wasn’t from Birmingham.

the older bartender sighed, turning around and continuing to wipe a glass.

“What can I get you?”

“gin , thank you”

“bit early isn’t it for plain gin?” she smiled, pouring some.

“well I’ve had a rather exhausting start to my day”

“I'm grace”

“I'm Anna, usually don’t go by a full name, but its anna Jesus if you will.” she raised her glass to her lips

“Jesus, as in Jeremiah Jesus’s daughter?” Grace inquired

“yes, have you seen him? or my brother Isaiah. I'm here to see them.”

something about the Irish barmaid didn’t sit right with Anna. She downed her gin in a go, clearing her throat at the burn .

“your brothers at the betting shop down the street.” Grace called after the woman making her way out.

She eyed the shops carefully while trying to find the betting shops. Once she did, she opened the door and stepped inside. “She’s in the wrong place isn’t she?” a man snickered somewhere.

Anna turned her head towards the man, her eyebrows furrowing. But before she got a word out, a woman with short hair and a black coat walked towards her “you’re not here to bet are you?” cigarette dangling between her thin fingers.

“I- No , I’m looking for my brother “ she eyed the entire shop, trying to find her brother” a barmaid at the garrison told me he was here” a small panic had risen in her. Anna was starting to regret making the decision of looking for her brother and father. The faces of the many men staring at her , was making her beyond uncomfortable.

“who are you?” the woman inquired, she had a motherly look in her eyes, that was the only thing that calmed Anna’s nerves slightly.

“anna, Anna Jesus”

“course you are, come along ”she placed the cigarette between her lips “don’t worry boys, she’s no threat” the men instantly lowered their gazes and continued to holler numbers.

“um, who are you?” Anna asked following after the woman.

“I’m Polly, dear. Aunt Polly to 5 fucking nuisances”

towards the back of the shop, Anna saw her brother talking to a boy who seemed to be a few years younger. Maybe just by 2 or 3 years.

“Isaiah” she gasped, walking quickly to the boy who looked her way surprised.

“Anna” he walked to her and hugged her. He hugged her tight , and just didn’t let go for a few minutes.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” he let go . His question was more , again one filled with worry rather than anger. Which made Anna curious as to what went on in small heath that she was being sent silent warnings?

“I decided to come and visit you and Dad , instead of the other way around. plus i needed a bit of a fucking change”

The boy Isaiah had been talking to cleared his throat.

“right, Anna this is Finn Shelby, Finn this is my sister Anna” Isaiah introduced Anna to the boy who was starting to blush.

“nice to meet you , Finn” Anna couldn’t help but stare at Finn’s eyes. There was some sort of innocence in them , that seemed to draw her attention.

“Yeah, you too” he looked away.

“Right, Finn stay away from her, Anna , you come with me "Isaiah rolled his eyes.

“why the fuck’s everyone giving me these piteous looks?” Anna muttered walking next to her older brother.

“because this is small heath. Come on, dad’s over there”

Jeremiah Jesus had just walked out of what looked to be the main office, upon looking up, he saw his daughter walking towards him with her brother.

“anna?’ he walked to her.

“hi” she sprang and hugged him. The men in the shop paid the small family reunion no attention.

He watched the way she smiled and laughed while catching up with her father. Finn couldn’t help stare at the young woman he just met. He found it fascinating that she just walked into the betting shop without even knowing she was amongst a bunch of gangsters. She felt uncomfortable, he saw it on her face the moment he saw her behind Polly, but she’d come in further just to look for her brother.

He wanted to get to know her better, but Isaiah’s warning lingered in the back of his head.

******

“Alright, just come find me at least before going anywhere” Isaiah argued with his younger sister in their small home.

“Why , ‘saiah ?” Anna groaned.

“Alright look, don’t tell our father i told you, but small heath , its a fucking dangerous place alright. We-we’re involved in something and it could be dangerous for you”

“what the fuck are you talking about? involved in what?”

“Just this betting business can get quite out of hand at times , alright.”

“Alright, i wont go anywhere without letting you know-” “thank you” Isaiah rolled his eyes .

“let me finish saiah” Anna grumbled “ i won’t go anywhere without telling you , as long as you let me get to know Finn”

No sooner had Anna finished her sentence , had Isaiah sprang up from the chair, where he had sprawled out.

“what the fuck? why, No , I- his brother Tommy Shelby will kill you” Isaiah tried to fib his way. But he wasn’t one to lie and so naturally he failed miserably.

“Why the fuck will I kill your sister Isaiah ,eh?"

Tommy Shelby’s figure loomed in the doorway. Of course no one had heard the London gangster walk in.

“I- Fuck sake. Anna that's Tommy” Isaiah didn’t bother telling Tommy this was Anna since eh clearly knew already.

“Um- Hello, Mr. Shelby.” Anna said awkwardly. she didn’t know the man, and on any other occasions he would’ve panicked had a random man walked in unheard, but since Isaiah seemed to know the man she was alright with it.

“Right, Isaiah, Telling your father we need him at the shop tonight. We’ve got some work.” His blue eyes turned to Isaiah, who had taken a seat on the counter.

“Am I required to be there as well ?” he asked

“Why, have you got somewhere important to be for once , eh?” Tommy raised his eyebrow.

Anna snickered from her spot at the table .

“Fuck off Anna, and Tommy, well someone’s got to keep an eye on Anna, can’t be leaving her alone “

“Well I'm fucking sure Finn’s free” Tommy turned on his heels walking out.

Isaiah looked at Anna’s smug smile. ”fuck sake”

*******

Anna had now been at small heath for two months. The day when she would go back to London had come sooner than expected.. Anna had become quite close to Polly, Ada and Esme. Tommy was supposed to marry Grace the following afternoon . And though no one would tell Anna the details, she’d figured out that the woman had fucked up and yet Tommy was still going to marry her. But Anna never pressed for answers , knowing it wasn’t her place.

But Anna never really found herself wondering about grace anyway. Her mind was occupied by someone else. Someone who she’d grown extremely close to.

She and Finn had become close, too close for Isaiah’s liking. She found herself daydreaming of the youngest Shelby brother almost everyday. And the only time she didn’t daydream of him , was when she was with him. She had started to fall for him soon after she met him that day 2 months ago.

She’d watch him from far while he talked to Isaiah, when he rode on his horse , Anna would find herself smiling at the look on his face.

“Anna!” She jerked up from her spot on the couch, looking up at Finn .

“Yeah” she attempted to act as though she wasn’t daydreaming of the boy standing in front of her.

“I asked you if you were ready to leave?” he laughed.

“yeah” she got up , grabbing her coat ‘so when’s the wedding starting?” She called after him, jogging to keep up her pace with him.

“In about an hour” He opened the door to the passenger side of the car.

“we’re going in one?” Anna asked. her stomach becoming a knot of nerves and butterflies at the same time.

“yeah, Isaiah had to leave slightly early with your father since Tommy needed them there earlier. Your brother looked fucking daggers at me for some reason at that”

“That’s Isaiah I suppose” Anna knew why. Isaiah had figured out that she liked Finn a month ago, the only reason he didn’t kill Finn was because he knew Finn was a good person, and he’d never say it loud , but a part of him was relieved that it was Finn his sister had taken a liking to. Rather Finn than any other boy.

On the car ride to the wedding hall, Finn had looked at Anna multiple times from the corner of his eye. He turned a few times to look at the way her hair blew back slightly because of the wind.

She’d looked absolutely gorgeous in the maroon dress she’d worn for his brother’s wedding, and it took every bit of an effort for him to not blurt out and tell the young woman he was in love with her.

He helped her step out of the car , and walked behind her into the hall. She’d seen Esme and walked off to her.

“are you ever going to tell her you like her or are you just going to fucking pine over her until she’s left?” Polly asked him, blowing out smoke from the cigarette.

“And why would you think she likes me back?” Finn asked his aunt.

“Because I'm fucking Aunt Polly. If you don’t tell her soon Finn, You’ll lose her” she said and walked away. Typical Aunt Pol.

After the wedding, at the dinner, the guests found themselves waiting patiently; The groom and bride were running late. Everyone at the table knew why but no one said anything.

“How long do you think they’ll be?” Anna leaned towards Finn’s ears and whispered “ hours or minutes?” she laughed.

Finn snorted his drink. Coughing and wiping his mouth.

“minutes apparently” he said gesturing his head towards the doorway, where Tommy and Grace had just entered.

Finn and Anna looked at each other and burst out laughing, earning some unimpressed looks from Polly and Ada, but John and Arthur on the other hand had smirks on their faces ,knowing exactly what the two were on about.

Soon one by one, after dinner was deemed over, each guest made their way to the large hall at Arrow house.

Except Anna. She found herself forcing laughter and smiles halfway through dinner. Since, she’d in realized she’d be leaving for London in a day. She kept herself from tearing up every time she glanced at Finn during dinner. And so when everyone walked towards the hall, she walked outside, to get some air.

Looking up, Anna blinked away the tears. How she’d go back to living a normal life after having met Finn Shelby and fallen for him, she’d never know.

“I needed to talk to you but couldn’t find you inside” Anna whirled around.

“Finn, yeah, I needed a few minutes, there’s too many people in there” sshe gave a small laugh.

“Can I, can I , uh, tell you something?” Finn looked her in the eyes.

His breathe seemed to be caught in his throat, he could hear his heart beat in his ears , silencing the rest of the world, his hands got clumpy from sweat and his ears were starting turn hot.

“Sure” Anna looked at him in a way that made Finn’s heart burst in pure adoration.

“I didn’t really know what it was, yeah, at first. But , um, I realized that-that I love you” he blurted out he las part. His eyes widening because he meant to say he liked her, he was terrified now, that he’d scared Anna away , by telling her he loved her. His heart dropped when he saw Anna’s eyes widening.

“I mean I-” but whatever it was that he meant to say next got muffled by Anna’s lips on his. His heart pounding, his hands made their way to the back of Anna’s head.

She felt as though they were the only two in the entire universe, in that moment. She couldn’t think of anyone else besides him. His hands . his lips and his hands.

He touched every part of her soul with that one kiss.

“Finn , I love you too” she held back her tears “ But I’m leaving tomorrow for London. And I’m not quite sure when I’ll be back, that’s if I come back” she looked at him with tears in her eyes, he kissed her forehead.

“stay, for me”

#finn shelby #finn shelby x you #finn shelby x reader #finn shelby imagine #finn shelby one shot #finn shelby fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #finn shelby fluff #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders #isaiah jesus #isaiah jesus x sister #anna jesus #finn shelby x anna #finn shelby x y/n

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kaaytea · 3 years

Note

hi :’’) i love ur blog so much!!!! can i request some random fluffy headcanons/lil scenarios of what a relationship with haruichi, ryou, and miyuki would be like? maybe childhood friend for miyuki only? ;v; i just feel like hes the type to go after his childhood friend lol

Falling for a childhood friend

⤷Includes: Ryousuke, Haruichi, Miyuki

Warnings: brief mentions of death, lil bit angsty

A/n: Hello lovely! It makes me so happy to hear you're enjoying the blog 🤧 I've already done dating hcs for both Ryou and Haruichi so I decided to include them in the falling for childhood friend req, I hope you don't mind! Also I don't know what happened with Miyooks, I threw in his mom as a small detail but then it turned slightly angsty

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

Ryousuke

Please, Ryou has been introducing you as his s/o since he was 8 years old

You lived across the street from the Kominatos and being the same age as Ryou your parents set up play dates frequently when you were younger

Initially Ryou would tease you alot by tugging on your hair and occasionally shoving you

But when other kids on the street started to bully you and push you around like he did, Ryou defended you with his life

Only he was allowed to bully you 😤

One day he just casually asked you out while lying on the grass in his backyard

You were kids so you didn't fully understand relationships

You liked Ryou, he protected you and was kind so that was enough reasoning for you to accept

You were "dating" the last few years of elementary school

When you started junior high you were a bit confused on if your relationship was actually serious because it began from an innocent question on Ryousuke's part

Was he actually seriously considering you his s/o? Or was this just a silly thing the two of you had kept going for too long?

When you asked him this he looked at you like you'd grown two heads

"I asked you out didn't I?"

"Yes but we were barely 8 at the time. You couldn't have actually been serious."

"I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't serious. My feelings for you haven't changed, if anything I'm probably more in love with you now then I was then."

"O-Oh"

To prove his point he kissed you on the lips for the first time

(and then he made fun of how flustered you looked)

Anyways

When Ryou told you he was going to Seidou you were heart broken. You were already confirmed to attend a local highschool meaning he'd be in a completely different city from you for the next three years

The last thing Ryousuke wanted was to break up with you. You were probably the only person he had met that he considered as important as his family, it'd be even more painful for the both of you if he broke off your relationship before leaving

You eventually settled on calling each other every night to talk and then Video chat every other Saturday

Ryousuke would sneak off during dinner to avoid his teammates eavesdropping on your conversations

He ended up missing you alot more than he thought he would so he looks forward to your nightly calls all day

He's extremely happy whenever you take the train to Tokyo to watch one of his games

After the game he always meets up with you and sneaks away from the team so you could watch the next game together

He also looks for a secluded area to just hug you for 5 minutes straight because wOW did he miss being able to hold you!

Haruichi

Haruichi was so close with Ryou when they were younger and spent most of his free time following him around so the two of you most likely met at school

Haruichi wasn't the best at putting himself out there to make friends in elementary school. He was a bit too timid to approach anyone so he usually kept to himself or sat with his teacher when the class was given free time

Until one day you just sat down next to him and started talking

He was too shy to tell you to go away and he'd be lying if he said he didn't like having a friend to be with, so he let you pull him over to a different table to draw together

By the end of that day the two of you were inseparable

Haruichi was honestly sO excited to have a friend that wasn't one of Ryou's! Sweet boy went home and told his mom all about you

Fast forward to junior high and you're still best friends

It's actually during junior high that the two of you somehow get even closer as Ryou left to attend Seidou leaving Haruichi alone back home in Kanagawa

The two of you spent almost every free moment you had together and Haruichi started to find a different sort of comfort around you

He doesn't even know what triggered it, he just suddenly realized how cute you looked and ever since then his chest would get all tight and he'd have the constant feeling of butterflies in his stomach when around you

Ironically everyone thought the two of you were already a couple, including his parents who once asked how his date with you was to which he had to stutter out an explanation with a bright red face

In your finale year of junior high, Haruichi decided he had to confess at some point. The uncertainty of where he'd be going for highschool was hanging over him like a nasty rain cloud, and with how he was leaning more and more towards running off to Tokyo each day, he knew he couldn't just leave without telling you how he felt

So one day while the two of you were studying in his room he just couldn't hold it in anymore and told you everything

You immediately told him that you were harboring the same feelings he was and encouraged him to go peruse baseball at Seidou

It felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders when you said that. He pulled you into a tight hug and hid his face in you shoulder as he muttered out thank yous

The day Haruichi left for Seidou you could tell he was torn between being disappointed about leaving you and being excited to open a new door of possibilities at the prestigious school

You sent him off with a kiss on the cheek promising to come visit sometime

What Haruichi didn't know is that your "visit" would be happening way sooner than he thought

A few months prior you had sent an application to Seidou and remarkably you were accepted!

Haruichi was significantly gloomy on the first day of classes. For the first time in over 10 years you wouldn't be sitting in the desk in front of his. He didn't think he'd feel so lonely this quickly, but here he was staring out the window desperately wishing you were here to ramble on about a videogame or what your mom had packed in your bento

The look on his face was priceless when you walked into his classroom and pulled a chair up to his desk like you'd usually do

"W-what are you doing here?!"

"I go to school here silly! Anyways, I started a show last night that we HAVE to watch together!"

Unsurprisingly the two of you were still attached at the hip while at Seidou

Although, Ryou seemed to find great pleasure in teasing the both of you now that you were in his proximity. He always took the time to send you knowing smiles or bops on the head when he passed the both of you in the halls

Miyuki

You lived relatively close to Miyuki but knew him more so due to the fact that your father worked at his dad's steel mill

When Miyuki's mom was still around she was always offering to watch you while you parents worked, so the two of you were kind of forced to become friends from your constant presence at his house

Those early days of friendship were spent in the kitchen with Miyuki gushing about baseball, pointing out cool plays and explaining the game to you while his mother cooked you both lunch

He'd also drag you and his mother to a park near by so the two of you could play catch together

(his mom would often have to remind him that sometimes you didn't want to play catch and to let you decide what the two of you should do)

When his mom died you slowly saw the effect it had on him

Miyuki lost the cheerful innocence he carried when he'd explain baseball games in his homes small kitchen. He became a little more closed off; a little less bright

There were days you would stop by to check in on him only to find Kazuya curled up on his bed clutching a scarf his mother had made him to his chest

He didn't cry, not once. Instead your friend became an empty vessel, a shell of what he formally was

Slowly his old cheery attitude would shine occasionally when making jokes or teasing you, a small crack in the calculative demeanor he kept up

Those small appearances of light-hearted behavior were your only reassurance he was still the same little boy you initially knew

Since his mothers death you took it upon yourself to be that little spark of light that seemed to have dimmed inside him

You pulled him to the park to play catch, encouraged him to continue being a catcher, you even helped manage your schools team so you could keep him company

You also became accustomed to carrying band-aids with you. Miyuki was a small kid for his age and had a habit of pissing off his upperclassmen which never ended well

When it came time to choose highschools Miyuki made it clear that you didn't have to follow him to Seidou to keep him company

He was going for baseball, making friends wasn't his top priority anyways

In the end you still went to Seidou with him (which secretly he was very grateful for, he felt better knowing you'd be there for him and vice versa)

I feel like Miyuki would unknowingly have had a crush on you for years but never realized it. He just played it off as you being his childhood friend

you knew him better than he knew himself so of course he'd feel this comforting love towards you!

Boy is his world turned upside down when Kuramochi asks him how long the two of you have been dating

He'd never considered seeing you in a romantic light but now the thoughts of holding you to his chest or kissing your nose WONT. LEAVE.

He becomes very awkward and goes through a mini crisis everytime he sees you

This would go on for a few weeks but everything seemed to peak after the summer tournament

You'd just gotten back with the rest of the managers and immediately went off to find Miyuki

He was in the dinning hall already watching their game against Inashiro when you found him. It was pretty late so the hall was empty asides from the two of you

When you walked over to him he just silently pulled you down to sit on his lap, propping his chin on your shoulder so he could continue reviewing the game. In return you ran your fingers through his hair

Kazuya would never admit he was upset with how the game turned out, but you could tell he was torn up from the outcome

Everything about this moment seemed to make his feelings boil over. He moved his head from your shoulder and stared you down

"I'm in love with you"

"About time you admitted it, dumbass!"

He pinched your side in retaliation, laughing as you slapped his hand away

And then he kissed you ♥️

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monstersandmaw · 4 years

Text

Male drider x reader - Part Four (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

I think the previous parts have had a female reader, but I left it ambiguous/gender neutral in this one, even in the nsfw bits, mostly out of habit.

It's 8000 words, with a bit of angst, a good dose of fluff, some recognition of unhealthy attitudes, and a slightly messy nsfw scene at the end...

Hope you enjoy!

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Gilvas waited until you’d closed the matching panel at the other end of the secret passage, and then turned away.

While you worked on the catalogue, you couldn’t shake the vulnerable look on his face as he’d told you about his late wife and as you’d stared at her vivacious features in the portrait. In the nine years since her death, he’d become a shadow, haunting this creepy old mansion and drifting from one day to the next, and it broke your heart. Gilvas was clearly a gentle soul, though his fuse was short at times, but you had begun to suspect that it was more of a defence mechanism than a character trait.

As evening billowed around the stone walls of the enormous house at the end of the day, with an awful lot still swirling around your mind, you nearly walked straight into Naril who was loading his last pile of autumn leaves into a wheelbarrow by the back door. He called your name just in time and you sidestepped with a bashful grin.

“So is it true?” he asked almost immediately.

“Is what true?”

His ears waggled and he laughed as he dumped the leaves into the barrow with a little flourish. “You and the master…?”

“Me and the master what?” you snorted, crossing your arms. “You make it sound like we’re school kids caught snogging behind the bike sheds! He showed me the portrait of his wife and told me a bit about her, that’s all.”

Naril shook his head expressively. “We’ve had people here on the estate before, you know? None of them ended up strolling the corridors with him.”

“How’d you know about it anyway?” you asked instead, resisting the urge to flick him in fond reprimand on his large ear.

“Chiara came in and started talking to my dad about it. I couldn’t believe it, and neither could they. The master doesn’t ‘chat’ with anyone…”

You shrugged. “Well, if he’s happy talking to me, I’m happy enough to listen. He seems nice, once you get past the way he likes to bark at you.”

Two days later, while you were stooped over the working version of the catalogue, scribbling something down in the margins of your cataloguing notes, the shadows moved in the recesses of the library, and Gilvas emerged. You looked up and smiled. “Hi,” you offered.

He nodded curtly at you and began to pace.

Setting your pencil down a minute or two later, you asked, “Everything… alright?”

Gilvas turned, apparently on the point of snapping something acerbic and defensive at you, but he caught himself in time and paused, throat working. The dark red birthmark on his neck moved and shifted like ink in water. If asked, you’d have said he was nervous. “I… I was wondering if you would take tea with me on the terrace today.”

You froze. Of all the things you’d been expecting from him, that had not been it. “Uh…” you began artlessly.

“Or not. You don’t have to,” he blurted, turning away. “Stupid idea anyway.”

“Wait,” you laughed, relief washing through you. “Wait. I’d love to. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Oh.”

If you’d been surprised, it was nothing to the expression on Chiara’s face when he summoned her to the library with a little bell pull that you’d not spotted before.

“You… You want to take tea… You want to take tea outside…?” the harpy repeated, looking unsteady on her clawed feet.

As if he’d just realised how unusual it was, his expression went blank, his four ruby eyes going dull, and he seemed to deflate. Gone was the intimidating, sharp-edged lord of the manor, and in his place you saw a vulnerable, shattered widower, with no one to talk to and rusty social skills.

Reading her master well enough, Chiara schooled her features into something resembling their usual sternness, and she nodded. “Of course. I will have it set up for you and…” she looked at you with her golden eyes and you tried not to shrink away. “For the both of you.”

“Thank you,” you said, and she nodded, departing.

“I think I gave her quite the shock,” he muttered, half smirking.

With a snort, you said, “We’re just going to have to find more ways to surprise them.”

“Them?”

“Your staff,” you said. “It’s clear that they all respect you, and they enjoy working here - well, obviously I can’t speak for all of them, but I have supper with Mr. Ambleside and his son almost every night. I don’t get the impression that they’d object to seeing a bit more of their mysterious master from time to time.”

“It’s been so long,” he croaked. “I… I’ve hidden myself away up here. I… I don’t remember — I mean…” he broke off and you noticed how glassy his eyes were.

Cautiously, you approached him and laid your hand on his foremost right leg. It was smooth like glass, and cold. It felt extremely brittle, though you knew the chitin was pretty tough. Your eyes nearly drifted to the empty stump on his right side though, and you suppressed a shiver. It wasn’t that tough. He shuddered and you nearly retracted your touch. “Sounds like you could use a friend to take tea with every now and again…” you said gently.

“I’d like that,” he said. “If… If you could bear it.”

“Bear it?” you repeated. “Please. I wouldn’t have accepted if it wasn’t something I didn’t already want to do.”

Gilvas fixed you with a piercing red gaze, making the blood-dark streak of his hair and the swirling birthmark stand out in vivid detail. “No,” he mused slowly, his legs and spider body relaxing a little into your touch like a great machine coming to rest. “I don’t suppose you would.”

Tea on the terrace became a daily fixture, weather permitting, and on the first day it was rained off, he asked you into a small drawing room on the ground floor that you’d never been in before.

Four and a half months into your stay, he leaned over the table and poured you another cup with shaking hands. He always shook, you realised, though the tremors worsened when he grew agitated or emotional. If Naril was right, he was about ten years older than you, and while at times he seemed youthful and almost playful when you got him talking about one of his interests - mathematics was a particular favourite of his - there were times when he seemed stiff and tired, and much, much older than you; and older than he truly was. He carried the weight of his grief around with him everywhere, dragging at him like chains, rattling in the quiet corridors of his mind and reminding him of his heartache. He never went too long with a smile on his face, the expression often shattering or sliding off his face to leave a brittle mask behind.

“Gilvas?” you asked as he set the teapot down on the tray with a rattle. “Everything alright?”

“You’re too perceptive by half,” he grumbled. “I wanted to ask you to dine with me tonight.”

“Oh,” you breathed, taken off-guard.

“You sound disappointed,” he said a slight huff to his tone.

Conflicted, you said, “It’s Naril’s birthday. He’s celebrating with the rest of the staff and some of his friends tonight, and he asked me to join him…”

“Then you must go, obviously,” he said. After a pause he added, “Naril is the one who tends to the gardens, is he not?”

“Mmm. He’s a firbolg.”

“My father always hired firbolgs for their way with nature. I’d forgotten that Ambleside has a child. How old is he?”

“About my age, I suppose?”

Whether or not he was aware of it, Gilvas’ face shuttered at that. With a sigh, he shifted his already vague gaze to the huge patio windows beside you and stared out at the gardens beyond. It had been raining earlier, but it had cleared up now to leave broad puddles flashing in the sunlight on the terrace. “I think I will go for a walk through the gardens this evening before sunset…”

“You want some company?” you asked, but he shook his head.

“No. Thank you.”

Naril’s party was just rowdy enough to be fun without straying too far into unruliness, and you stayed up late in the kitchens, laughing and joking with him and his father, who, it turned out, had quite the sense of humour with a few glasses of wine in him. Eloise, the maid, also joined you, and a few friends of Naril’s who lived in Starfall Springs. The laughter continued long into the night, until his friends from town announced that it was time to head back just shy of one in the morning.

Waving them off at the end of the night, still buzzing with the unusually vibrant evening, you and Naril turned from the upper gates and walked back to the house. In the dark, the firbolg could see much better than you, so he let you loop your arm amicably through his to stop yourself stumbling on the uneven driveway.

Just as you stepped back into the kitchen, he cracked a good-natured joke at your expense, recalling a moment from earlier in the evening, and you nearly fell about laughing. “Oh my gods,” you wheezed as you clung to his arm to stop yourself tripping up the step. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” he said, popping the plosive consonant with a chuckle. “You’re far too easy to tease. I —” he cut off suddenly, expression falling. His eyes were wide and he was staring at a point on the far side of the kitchen.

You looked up and found the hulking shape of a drider standing silhouetted in the dark doorway. “Forgive me,” Gilvas said stiffly, jaw working. “I came for a brandy. I thought you’d all turned in for the night.”

You blurted, “Gilvas?” at the same time as Naril whispered, “My lord?”

“Forget it,” he said, turning abruptly in the wide doorway. “I hope you enjoyed your evening together.”

Even after the door slammed behind him - the gesture leaving a sour taste in your mouth - neither you nor Naril spoke.

Finally it was Naril who broke the silence. “I’ve never seen him before…” he murmured, awestruck at the encounter. “He looks dreadful. Perhaps he is sick after all?”

“He doesn’t look as dreadful as he looked three months ago,” Chiara’s unexpected voice said tartly from the pantry to your left where she’d apparently been occupied, stowing away the remnants of the uneaten food.

You swallowed. “Well… I… uh… I guess I’d better head back. Thanks for tonight,” you said, hugging Naril briefly. “Happy birthday. I’m sorry I didn’t have anything to give you… It’s not as if I can go into town or anything from here…”

“Couldn’t you ask your friend to pick you up,” he said. “You know, the one you phone every Friday?”

Despite having phoned Damien every week since arriving, you’d never even thought of asking him to drive all the way out here and pick you up for the weekend. He’d probably do it though if you asked. “I guess I could…”

The idea took root in your mind, and as you took your break the next day, you used the house’s landline to call Damien’s shop since he’d be at work too.

“Hey!” he chuckled. “You don’t normally phone today. How’s things at the Spookville Court?”

“Don't call it that,” you scoffed. “It’s fine. Listen, I haven’t got long, but I was wondering if maybe you’d be free this weekend…? I know it’s not exactly a short drive, but I’d kind of like to get out of here for the weekend…”

There was a pause while he checked his calendar. “Sure,” he said. “I can pick you up on Friday night if you like?”

“You don't have plans?”

“I was gonna grab a beer with Sarrigan since he’s in town,” he admitted, “But maybe if you can get away early, we could go together?”

“I don’t see why I couldn’t…” you said. No one was monitoring your hours after all, and it wasn’t as if you hadn’t made huge inroads into the project already.

You grinned and practically flung yourself at him when Damien’s truck drew up outside your cottage on the far side of the courtyard. The wide expanse of gravel sat on the side of the house with the servants’ entrance, and was overlooked by the back of the mansion.

“I missed you!” you laughed, letting the colossal orc spin you easily in a circle. “You still smell like chocolate,” you said as his immensely long, black plait caught you in the face.

“Just proves I’m sweet,” he joked, and you groaned, smacking him in the chest with the back of your hand as he set you down.

“That was a bad pun, even for you.”

“You ready?” he asked.

“You don’t want to stretch your legs first? You’ve literally just got here.” He shook his head, but did nip inside your apartment for a drink of water and a bathroom break. While he was gone, you leaned against his truck and looked up at the trees above you. The height of summer was fading to the bronze of autumn now, and a few coppery leaves rained down around you like confetti, spiralling through the air that promised a change of season soon.

“Ready?” he asked, swinging your overnight bag easily into the truck and helping you up the enormous step into the cab.

As you drove away, you glanced up at the house and caught the glint of sun on a window as it closed on one of the upper storeys, but you soon forgot about the house as Damien began to regale you with stories of your friends’ antics.

With Widowsweb Court in the rear view mirror, you sighed and settled into the comfy seat, letting Damien talk as the house dwindled to nothing behind you. It felt good to be away from the limited confines of the estate, but as you looked forward to a weekend in Starfall Springs with your friends, something nagged at the back of your mind, like a caught thread pulling in the sleeve of a favourite sweater…

Your whole weekend in Starfall Springs was like the first breath of fresh garden air after a day spent in the dusty library of Widowsweb Court.

Damien had taken you to the Inglenook Inn that first night, where he, Sarrigan, their respective partners, plus a mothman named Merritt whom you’d met a few times before, and a couple of your other friends were gathered, and the lot of you talked late into the night. There were a lot of questions about Widowsweb Court, but you mostly focused on the work and describing the house and gardens to them. Somehow it felt disrespectful - an invasion of his privacy - to talk about Gilvas much.

As you left the pub to walk back to your modest apartment at the north end of the town, Sarrigan caught up with you. As he scuttled up to you, you were struck suddenly by the difference between him and Gilvas. Sarrigan Silkfoot’s silver-banded fur rippled in the moonlight, ruffled by the night breezes, where Gilvas’ spider body was black, hard, and shiny as black lacquer, and where Gilvas’ legs moved like articulated, curved daggers, Sarrigan’s were chunky and muscular and unbelievably fuzzy, ending in a little hooked and almost dainty talon. Gilvas’ legs ended in wicked points, sharp and slender as paring knives, and his fangs probably carried a deadly venom, where Sarrigan’s smile held only jollity. Gilvas also had no mandibles, where Sarrigan’s hardware clicked and chittered with his emotions.

“Listen,” he said as he fell into a near-silent step beside you. “I know you’ve not got any reception up there at Widowsweb, so I haven’t been able to get in touch by text or whatever, but I just wanted to ask you - away from the others - how it’s going. With my family’s history with theirs, I did some digging into the Widowsweb estate and the family…”

“You did?” You weren’t sure whether to be offended or curious, but in the end, the latter won out. “What did you find?”

“Just tragedy. Lately anyway. Earlier generations seem to have done ok, but… you should look him up.”

“Who, Gilvas?”

He nodded.

“You mean the fire?”

Again, he nodded, shuffling nervously. “The police think he started it, but they could never prove it.”

You scowled, horrified and hurt. “Sarrigan, I’ve met him. He doesn't seem like the type to murder his family - and his unhatched children too?” You shook your head, appalled, stomach roiling. “He’s devastated… rarely talks about them, and when he does… he’s close to tears. I think he lost a leg in the fire too.”

Sarrigan’s handsome face remained harsh and he clicked his mandibles pensively. Finally, he sighed. “Just… be careful, ok? The articles I found all said he had a nasty temper, and that since his wife’s death, he fired all the staff and turned into some kind of recluse…”

“They’ve got the last bit right,” you said, “But not the first.” He did have a short fuse though. “Thanks for looking out for me, Sarrigan, but I’m not worried.”

He nodded once. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

You shook your head and parted from him with a warm hug. “I appreciate it, but trust me… Gilvas isn’t some cruel, violent lunatic. He’s an isolated widower who’s never learned how to move past his grief.”

To your relief, Sarrigan seemed to take you at your word, and left you at your door looking happier for having aired his anxieties, and in turn having had them laid to rest.

The remainder of your weekend passed without incident, but you couldn’t get Sarrigan’s words out of your head. If he’d been painted by the press at the time as some kind of violent monster, it was no wonder that Gilvas had hidden himself away on his estate and never spoke to anyone.

On the Sunday of your weekend away, you met up with a few friends at Damien’s cafe for breakfast, and spent the better part of the day while the sun was out browsing the marketplace. As you passed a carpenter’s stall, your eye was drawn by a number of carved, wooden puzzle boxes. The satyr who had made them was demonstrating how one of them worked to a small crowed of fascinated onlookers, and when he finished, finally sliding the last section of wood free, the lid sprang open to reveal the empty chamber inside, and everyone applauded.

Fascinated, you realised what a tactile thing the boxes were, and suddenly thought of Gilvas. With his reduced sight, he relied a lot on his sense of touch. On a whim, you bought one and had it wrapped neatly in brown paper by the satyr. Thanking him, you headed home and packed up, bringing with you a few new clothes and a few more things to occupy your evenings.

Bouncing back up the driveway in Damien’s truck that evening, you couldn’t miss the looks the orc tossed you sidelong, and as you drew to a halt in the courtyard again, he stayed put in his seat and asked, “Are you really alright here? It’s so remote…”

“It’s fine,” you said. “I love the work, and the people are kind. I promise I’ll ring you the moment I’m unhappy, but for now, I’m honestly loving it. I’ve never had a better or more fulfilling job, Damien. I can’t believe I’ve got so little time left really…” You paused and sighed. “I almost don’t want to leave.”

He bowed his head and backed off, though not without pulling you half into his lap for a bone-crushing hug first. “Take care, OK?” he grunted before releasing you.

“You sure you won’t stay for some supper?” you asked as you slithered out of your side of the cab and landed on the gravel. “I bet you’d love Naril.”

“I can’t,” he said with a regretful grimace. “I need to get back to prep the shop for next week. Another time?”

You nodded. “Drive safely.”

For the entire week following your return to Widowsweb Court, you didn’t see even the slightest glimpse of Gilvas.

There was no trace of his having been in the library at all, and the secret panel at the rear of the room stayed firmly shut. You didn’t think it was your place to go wandering the corridors again, and although you continued to take a mug of tea out onto the terrace every afternoon, it was hardly the spread of High Tea that you had shared with him every day for months. The whole place seemed empty without his presence now, reminding you of your very first week there, when every shadow and doorway had loomed ominously large before you.

Finally, at the end of the week, you ran in to Chiara on your way back down and you paused to let her past with an armful of linen. “Chiara, is… is Gilvas around? Is he alright?”

She narrowed her eyes and tutted softly at you. “None of your concern,” she snipped at you before bustling off.

You stood there, mute and surprised.

It definitely didn’t sound like he was alright, but what were you to him, really? You thought of the box stowed away in your room, waiting for the right time to be brought out and given to him, and suddenly felt foolish. You’d known him for a matter of months. He was a lord, with land and a title; he had a whole household full of things already, and you were just there to reorganise his library. He’d probably already forgotten about you.

You worked solidly through the morning again the next day, but didn’t feel hungry enough to go down to lunch. You continued on through the day, pausing only to sip from your water bottle before heading back up the ladders time and time again with armfuls of books. It was exhausting. There was no trace of the webbing he’d used to catch you, and since there was also no sign of him, you made sure to take extra care going up and down.

With a sigh you finally set down the last of the hagiographies at eight o’clock that night, and put your hands to the small of your back, grunting. Dusty, tired, stiff, and still oddly demoralised, you thought you heard the creak of a door from the back of the library, but you’d barely dared to hope before the main doors opened and Naril stumped in, looking terribly out of place and awkward in his gardening overalls. He had mud on his trousers, but his boots had been scraped clean.

He sighed your name in obvious relief when he spotted you. “You ok?” he asked.

“Fine, why?” you frowned as you turned to face him, still with your palms pressed to the small of your back.

“You didn’t come to lunch, and you missed supper as well. I was worried about you.”

You smiled and dropped your hands to your sides. “I’m fine. I just… haven’t felt like myself lately. Thank you though.”

An awkward silence hung between you, and he scratched the back of his head. “Right. Well, there’s… uh… stuff in the larder and fridge if… if you get hungry. I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t been crushed by a ton of books or something.”

With a chuckle, you said, “This isn’t The Mummy you know? People do actually secure their bookshelves…”

He laughed briefly and headed for the doors again. “Seriously though… Are you sure you’re ok?” he asked, ears waggling.

“I’ve… I’ve got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

“Ok,” he said, green eyes wide and glassy. “Well, you can always talk to me. What are friends for, right?”

“Right. Thank you, Naril.”

He nodded, and left.

In the silent stillness of the library, you sank with a heavy sigh into one of the nearby chairs and let your palm cradle your chin, with your elbow planted on the wood of the table. When had this place started to feel so sad again? It was as if the gloom was seeping back into the fabric of the place like a sponge soaking up ink.

About a minute later, a familiar movement caught your attention and you looked up to find Gilvas standing beside a bookshelf. He was tilting his head in that way that meant he couldn’t see you in the dim light, but he knew you were still there.

“I’m here,” you said quietly, hardly daring to move in case he scuttled away.

Locking onto your voice, he moved with expert familiarity round the library and came to a halt near your table. The only light now came from a lamp one shelf over. “I… I overheard…” he began stiffly. His red gaze sailed right over your head, so it was clear that he couldn’t see you, even this close up. “Is… I mean… Are you alright?”

“Could ask the same of you,” you said wryly, eyeing the dark shadows under his eyes and the tightness around his mouth. “I haven’t seen you in ages.” He looked dreadful again, as if he’d hardly eaten anything in the interim.

“Been better, I suppose,” he said. “The firbolg said you haven’t eaten today… is that right?”

“Mmm.”

“Should we raid the kitchen together?”

You smiled. “You haven’t eaten either I take it…”

He shook his head.

Standing, you swayed as a head rush washed over you and you let out a tiny grunt of surprise, grabbing the back of the chair.

With a scowl, he stepped closer. “Alright?” He steadied you, his hand finding your waist and lingering there.

“I missed you,” you breathed unthinkingly as you stared up at him.

Gilvas froze and then let out a rough exhale, withdrawing a few paces. “You did?”

“Mmm. I have something for you too, from Starfall, but it’s back in my room. I… I’d started to think I wasn’t going to see you again…”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his fingers curling briefly into fists at his side. “I… I rather let the melancholy take over again.”

“Why?” you asked, stepping closer to him. His ear followed you and he narrowed his eyes. You got the impression that you’d just stepped into his limited field of vision and he could now make out your silhouette in the shadowy library.

The lord of Widowsweb Court gave a bitter, brittle laugh and turned away, legs moving in sequence like a windup toy. “I think I misled myself,” he said eventually.

Your brows knitted and you closed the distance between you, laying your hand boldly on his cool, obsidian foreleg again. As before, he shivered, but he didn't pull away. “What do you mean?”

“I suppose I got carried away - this past month in particular,” he said in his rough baritone.

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t,” he said, that cut-glass edge returning to his voice. “You don’t know what it was like before you came here; before you —” he stopped himself but then took a breath and continued in barely a whisper, the consonants softly articulated. You had to lean in closer to hear him. “Before you brought the light back to this place.” His voice cracked as he added, “And you took it with you.”

“Gilvas…” you gasped, shocked by his tone.

“I know,” he growled. “It’s inappropriate of me, and melodramatic. You were only gone for two days. But it’s the truth. I got so swept up in spending time with someone again — in… in enjoying myself — that I somehow forgot that you have a whole life outside of our brief interactions here, beyond these walls…”

“Naril's birthday…” you breathed and he nodded. He’d stumbled upon you and Naril sharing a laugh and a close touch at his birthday and had assumed from the physical closeness that there was something more than friendship between you. That had been the last time you’d seen him.

Then he shook his head in disgust and sneered self-deprecatingly, “It’s as though I became a teenager again - spoilt and sour and… everything I loathe about myself.”

He backed away out of your grip until his huge carapace nudged against the shelf behind him and he went still again. Trapped between you and the books, he breathed heavily for a moment through his aquiline nose. Your heart was beating in your throat but you kept quiet.

“I have a nasty, possessive side,” he said, scowling. “I’d almost forgotten about it, but as — I hesitate to call it a friendship… I’m not sure what we had between us — but whatever it was grew, I came to think of you as… mine. And then I saw you laughing with him and… I remembered that you’re not mine at all. I have no right to make those kinds of disgusting demands or claims. You’re not mine — you’re not anyone’s but your own person. I forgot myself, and I hated myself for it.”

He was jealous.

Gilvas was jealous that you’d been laughing with Naril that night. Despite the anguish on his face, you had to smile. When he heard you chuckle softly, he growled at you again, deep and rich and animalistic. Defensive. That was all it was; defensive bluster.

“It’s true that Naril has come to be my friend here,” you said, moving carefully closer to him now that he couldn’t back away any more. “But I thought about you all weekend while I was away. I couldn’t get you out of my head. When my friend Sarrigan —”

“— Silkfoot?” he interrupted with a sneer. “‘Sarrigan’ is an old Silkfoot name…”

“Yes. Sarrigan Silkfoot is a friend of mine,” you said carefully, noting the lingering displeasure in his features. “He’s currently dating a human, and my best friend, Damien, is also very much in love with a human. If you’re worried about what previous generations of Silkfoots thought about relationships between species, you needn’t worry. The current heir to the family - Sarrigan’s older brother - has even recently married a human. Things have moved on since the founding of Widowsweb…”

His chest heaved and he sank lower so that his pendulous spider’s body was only a few inches above the ground, and his torso and head were almost on a level with yours. “I’ve hidden myself away too long,” he whispered, more to himself than to you.

Taking a final step over to him, you stood in the space between his deadly front legs. It felt suddenly intimate in the extreme, and you reached your palm out and laid it on his chest. He flinched, but let you talk.

“Sarrigan told me a bit more about the papers said… about the circumstances of the fire… about what people believed at the time…” you said carefully, and Gilvas’ face darkened dangerously. “But I got to know you before I’d heard that, and I can’t believe you would have started it. I can’t believe anyone thought that of you.” You placed your left palm to mirror your right and felt the way his chest heaved with emotion as he listened. “You’re a good person, Gilvas. I told my friends that, and they believed me. And I think you’ve suffered alone for long enough.”

Gilvas’ expression shattered and he leaned forwards and drew you into his arms. “I don't want you to leave…” he whispered into your hair as he held you close. He smelled like books and sandalwood, warm and comforting, and you let your arms snake around his waist.

“I don't have anything else lined up for after I finish here,” you said without letting go. He was gently inhaling the scent of you, you realised, and you let him hold you, drawing comfort from the warmth of your body. “And I told you there’s a lifetime’s worth of work to do on this library…”

“I could renew your contract,” he said. “Or… Or you could… No. I don't want you to feel… obliged…” he said, swallowing thickly and drawing sharply back from your embrace as if you’d burned him. “If I’m paying you —” his face buckled into a sour grimace and he lurched slightly further away from you. “I don’t want to pay you to stay here…” he spat as if the idea thoroughly disgusted him.

You laughed. “I own my apartment in Starfall. I could rent it out for some income, and come and live here with you. That way… there’s no imbalance…”

“Yes,” he nodded breathlessly, hardly daring to believe what he was hearing. “Yes, that’s… that’s good. And if you still have your apartment, you can… I mean… there will be somewhere for you… if… if you decide…”

“Stop,” you said. “Don’t push me away again.”

The drider took a huge inhale and nodded. Then he licked his lips nervously and said, “You know, we were going to raid the kitchen before we went down this path. You shouldn’t make any rash decisions on an empty stomach.”

“An excellent point,” you said with mock seriousness. “Let’s go.”

Over a rather strange and cobbled-together supper of leftovers scrounged from the pantry, eaten at the scrubbed wooden table in the kitchen, Gilvas stayed almost completely silent. At first, you thought he was just concentrating on eating, being particularly careful about his movements since he didn’t see as clearly as you did, but after a while, you discovered the crinkle in his brow and noticed the tremor in his fingers again.

“Wait here,” you said, pushing back from the table and touching the back of his hand briefly. He was always so cold.

“Where are you going?” he barked, tense.

With a giggle, you said, “Trust me. I’ll be right back.”

And with that, you vanished out of the back door and scuttled over the gravel to the little apartment above the old stable block where you’d been staying for the past few months. Minutes later, you returned to find him exactly where you’d left him, scowling at his food.

He looked up sharply as you reentered, and you watched his shoulders drop with relief a split second later when he figured out that it was you.

“Here,” you said, holding out the brown paper parcel to him, touching it to the back of his fingers in case he couldn’t see it.

In moments, it was obvious to you that he couldn’t, because his fingertips trailed along the edges, looking for a way into the parcel. “What is it?” he asked warily, shifting his head from side to side.

“You’ll find out. I saw them being made in the marketplace, and I think with your sense of touch you’ll probably have an advantage over someone with sharper vision…”

At that, his frown deepened, though not from discomfort. He was openly curious now, and he got to work on the wrappings, abandoning them to one side. “A box?” he murmured when he’d run his fingers all the way around it. Watching him, you suddenly felt a thrum of desire go right through you. You wanted him to do that to your body, to explore you by touch, and you barely bit back a moan as the force of it swept through you.

He paused and turned his face towards you expectantly.

“Yeah,” you croaked. “It’s a puzzle box. It’s all inlaid with different types of wood, and there are a few panels and sections that you have to slide in the right order to open it.”

At that, his face cracked into a gorgeous, open, delighted grin and your heart slipped sideways in your chest at the youthfulness it lent to his features. “I used to love these as a child,” he said. “Thank you.”

He moved then, obviously not having been sitting on a chair like you, and found his way faultlessly around the kitchen to where you were seated opposite him. The little inlaid box lay to one side on the table while he took your hands in his and squeezed your knuckles fondly, earnestly.

“Thank you,” he rasped again.

You raised your chin and he let go of you with his right hand and brought it up to cup your left cheek in his cool palm. His thumb traced an arc across your skin and you shivered, exhaling and breathing hard. “Gilvas…” you whispered, want burning inside you inside you like a flare. You didn’t want to push him or rush him, but if he didn’t kiss you in the next three seconds, you thought you might just wither up and die on the spot.

Mercifully, he leaned down, tilting your chin upwards to meet his lips. His kiss was soft, his lips cool and hesitant, but the moment you let a little moan of pleasure escape you, he deepened the kiss. His long fingers scrunched in your hair and he closed his red eyes with a flutter of long lashes. His two forelegs rose up slightly for balance as his body rocked downwards and he pulled back with a gasp, chest heaving again. “I want you,” he whispered hoarsely, looking suddenly shy.

You grinned and stood. “I want you too…”

Gilvas led you through the house, pausing with endearing frequency to kiss you breathless against almost every spare surface that wasn’t covered by paintings or suits of armour or priceless vases on precarious pedestals, and finally he backed you up against the double doors to a bedroom on the fourth floor, and picked you up so that you had to latch your legs around his waist at the point where his humanoid torso met his spider’s body. You ground yourself against him as he kissed you over and over, his long hair falling around your face in a black and red curtain.

With one foreleg, he delicately pushed the handle down and nudged the doors open. Still holding you, he drew your top off over your head, discarding it to one side as he carried you across the room and deposited you onto a massive bed. It bounced and flexed beneath you, and as you looked around you discovered that it was not a bed, but a thick and intricately woven web slung between the two perpendicular walls of the far corner of the room. You leaned back into it, feeling the soft silken strands flex slightly beneath you, and looked up to see Gilvas’ silhouette in the darkness of the room.

The moon shone through an open window to your right, painting fine silver highlights to the gleaming lacquer of his carapace and needle-like legs, and in the moonlight, you saw that he was dripping webbing onto the floor from the gland at the tip of his spider’s abdomen. You knew enough about driders to know that when they got really aroused, they often leaked webbing like this. Male driders did not mate the way many other beings did, but that didn't put you off. You wanted him - his pleasure, his ecstasy, his noises, his joy…

It did make him suddenly nervous though, as if he’d only just realised that you might be expecting him to penetrate you, and with his anatomy, he couldn’t.

“Gilvas?” you asked, reaching up for him where he still loomed hesitantly above you. “Come here… let me take care of you…”

“I…” he began, but he let you draw him down onto the soft, smooth webbing. His legs ended in those dazzlingly sharp points, and he seemed to dance across the webs like a circus performer on a high wire. He lowered himself down atop you and you kissed him again. His hands skated over your hips and he drew the rest of your clothes off to abandon them beside his bed.

Seeking friction, he carefully slid his slick abdomen against your legs and shivered, moaning. “You’re so warm,” he whispered, head bowing forwards as he rested on his elbows, one on either side of your body. “I can’t believe how warm you are… it’s… it…”

“Does it feel good?” you asked, raking your fingers through his long hair and he nodded wordlessly. “Can you roll over?” you asked.

“Oh gods,” he gasped, clearly aroused by the idea, and nodded.

It wasn’t the most elegant manoeuvres, but once he was on his back with his legs curled upwards like a black, clawed hand, you sat in the gap where his one missing leg should have been, and ran your hand over the smoothness of his underbelly. In no time you discovered the slit in his lower body that was leaking slick, pearlescent fluid all over himself.

“Oh!” he yelled, spine curling and legs twitching as you traced your fingertips around the softer inner walls of the slit. Where the rest of his body was cool and hard, there he was almost searingly hot, the inner walls silky and slick. “Oh gods, oh gods… oh gods…” he chanted in time with your motions, his whole body twitching and making the webbing rock beneath him.

The tendons of his neck stood out in glorious contrast beneath the watercolour birthmark as he clenched his jaw and rammed his eyes shut, lost in the sensations. His fingers scrabbled at the web of his bed and he rocked and shivered and arched into your touch as you worked him closer and closer. You knew he was going to make a mess when he came, and you felt your whole body flush hot at the thought of finally getting him to let go of all his tight control and insecurities, to give himself over to the simple, honest pleasure you were offering to give him.

The thought of that was almost enough to make you come yourself, but you focused on him until he growled softly.

“I want…” he began but cut off as you grazed a spot inside him unexpectedly with a fingertip that made him bellow wordlessly. “Fuck…” he hissed when he’d recovered, head lolling back again, and you grinned at the curse on his aristocratic tongue. “Wait…” he panted. “I want… I want to touch you… before I… before you make me…” he growled again in frustration. “I’ll only be able to… to… come once… please… let me…” Hearing him lose control of his words like that in the face of his arousal only made it all the more endearing.

“You can touch me,” you said coyly without changing anything, but when he genuinely snarled, sounding more like a werewolf than a drider, you laughed and leaned closer to him.

His cool fingers dug into your arms as he tugged you tight against his body, pulling you down to lie atop him along the length of his belly and humanoid stomach, and you ground yourself against him for a little relief. His hand slid down your body, down your side, and before you could think, he was pleasuring you. “Let me,” he hissed when you tensed a little, revealing his venomous fangs as a flash of white in the dimness when you tried to pull back to finish him.

“But I wanted to make you come,” you pouted, and he actually laughed at that, four red eyes closing and crinkling softly in the corners with genuine amusement at your disgruntlement.

“Too bad,” he groused. “I want to watch you first.”

“Fair enough,” you grunted as he caught you just so and you rocked against him. “I’m so close…” and you really were. His touch was relentless, demanding your pleasure in return for the sensations you’d just given him.

“I know,” he snarled right in your ear, teeth - the non-venomous ones you hoped - just grazing the shell of your ear. “I can smell it on you.”

And with that, you came unexpectedly hard, crashing into your release and clinging to him. He eased you through it and when you lay panting and spent on his chest, he moved his hand to his mouth and cleaned himself luxuriantly, obviously enjoying the taste of you on his skin.

After that, he seemed softer and more relaxed, and when you’d recovered enough to get your legs back under you and return your attentions to his body, he finally seemed to have allowed himself this connection to another person. His body heaved and rocked rhythmically, his legs knocking nonchalantly against each other as he spasmed and moaned, and as he grew wetter and slicker around your hand, and his inner walls began to clench and shiver in a distinct cadence, you knew he was getting close. He was also giving you the most delicious sounds; gasping and cursing, grunting and even wailing softly at times when you slowed your touches to a barely-there whisper against him.

Eventually though, he began to rock against you in earnest, and you felt his release coming as a rapidly-building wave, gathering momentum until it finally ripped through him like a wildfire. White release gushed from his entrance and covered your hand, rolling down the sleek, shiny carapace to soak into the webbing while his body heaved and convulsed with pleasure. He made no sound, his face contorted in a rictus of pleasure as he gave everything he had to you, his hands gripping the webbing as he released in messy waves all over himself and you.

Finally as the pleasure faded to something gentler and less intense, he lay back, motionless on his bed, muscles completely slack, face soft, breathing quiet.

“Gilvas?”

“Mmm?” he hummed without moving.

“You alright?”

“Mmm.”

Weak and completely spent, he lay there unmoving for a long time while you gently trailed your fingers around his still clenching slit as aftershocks of pleasure rippled through him. Eventually, you wiped your hand clean on the webs beside him and shuffled up to lie beside him. He still looked absolutely exhausted and drained, and you sat there a long time just watching him.

After a very long time, he mustered the energy to open one arm to you and you nuzzled in against his bare shoulder. His breath hissed softly through his slack jaw and he pressed a shy kiss to the top of your head. “See why I wanted… to make you… to make you come first?” he whispered, words heavily slurred and indistinct.

You nodded and shifted to drape your arm across his chest and draw idle patterns over the bare skin of his white torso.

His skin was starkly pale in the moonlight, and as you stared at him, you realised he’d probably relied solely on touch for the whole time you’d been in the room. You smiled and pressed a kiss to his jutting collarbone, making him inhale sharply.

He was still too thin, still obviously not taking care of himself properly, but, you thought, if he’d trusted you and let you in to this extent, perhaps you could both take care of each other now.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he whispered after another long while of silence and closeness in the dark.

“Just thinking how good this feels,” you said honestly. “And how I could lie like this forever… Or at least… until you’re ready to go again.”

He snorted, taken off-guard. “Won’t be for a very long while,” he said bashfully. “Driders don’t recover quickly. Not the male ones, anyway.”

“I’m in no rush,” you said, laying your cheek back down on his cool skin and shivering as goosebumps rippled up your body.

He fumbled around on his other side and drew a large blanket up and over his body, careful to avoid the mess on his carapace, and let you snuggle up beneath it.

You’d have to wait for the dawn to go again though, because you were asleep in his arms in minutes.

___

Maybe we'll get to see more of them in the future, but for now, this four-part story is over. Thanks for your comments and enthusiasm for the cranky spooder boy!

___

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

#drider #exophilia #male drider #male drider x reader #drider x reader #monster boyfriend #drider boyfriend #male monster #gender neutral reader #female reader #(technically - although the reader in this part is gn)

712 notes · View notes

frannyzooey · 2 years

Text

I posted 2,340 times in 2021

948 posts created (41%)

1392 posts reblogged (59%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1.5 posts.

I added 1,246 tags in 2021

#tmtc ask - 182 posts

#frankie morales x reader - 139 posts

#tmtc inspo - 129 posts

#frankie morales/reader - 122 posts

#pedro pascal - 120 posts

#din djarin x reader - 115 posts

#frankie morales - 114 posts

#din djarin/reader - 109 posts

#frankie morales x you - 108 posts

#frankie morales/you - 108 posts

Longest Tag: 132 characters

#when you haven’t been inspired in a while and you watch almost famous and are suddenly writing a jeff bebe one shot no one asked for

My Top Posts in 2021

some days it is enough to just think about the story you want to write.

daydream about it with a secret smile, let the plot run it’s course in your mind while you drive to work, imagine several different endings while you grocery shop, brainstorm dialogue while you shower, let it all linger pleasantly in your mind while you drift off to sleep.

some days that’s all you have time for and that’s ok.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

781 notes • Posted 2021-06-21 14:15:17 GMT

I commissioned the lovely and amazingly talented @shuploc to draw Western Din from Take Me To Church and I cannot BREATHE right now:

The expression, the details — his skin texture, the slivers of grey in his beard, the specks of bright color throughout — the quality of this is truly masterful and I am so very thankful for this beautiful creation!

Beyond kind, extremely helpful, very professional and extraordinarily talented — @shuploc I cannot even begin to thank you enough for making this vision a reality. THIS IS HIM, how I’ve always envisioned him and I can’t stop grinning right now.

That man above and this:

He looks down at you, his gaze soft with affection and you admire the dark green fabric tucked under his chin, the kerchief tied neatly around his neck. His face is shadowed by the brim of his hat and he smiles before lifting it off his head so he can lean down to kiss you. Standing on your toes, you stretch as tall as you can and he laughs into the kiss, his lips catching against yours for a moment before pulling away.

THIS IS EVERYTHING ❤️

Thank you thank you thank you! 😍😍

906 notes • Posted 2021-04-28 17:16:38 GMT

Weeknights

Summary: In search of a weekly babysitter for his daughter, Frankie Morales asks the daycare if they would recommend someone. Directing him to a college nanny website, he searches through the bios one night, coming across yours: the credentials and qualifications just what he is looking for, he decides to hire you. The photo on the website grainy and outdated, he isn’t quite prepared when you show up at his door the first night - beginning a professional relationship that slowly slides into a personal one.

Rating: what’s a rating that’s not explicit (don’t even get me started on how I don’t even know because all I write is filth, lol)

Warnings: age gap (~10 years), eventual employer/employee relationship, pining?, fem!reader, eventual smut (I’ll raise the rating when we get there)

CHAPTER ONE: MONDAY

Arms full at pickup; one with his kid, the other with her bag, he had asked one of her teachers for a recommendation on where to find a sitter.

“Just like a once-a-week thing”, he explained, shifting to balance the weight of his daughter as she fit her face into the fold of his neck. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, the chaos of the classroom rushed around his legs as he listened to the woman tell him about a website – some kind of college nanny thing - and he mentally took note with a nod, thanking her before leaving.

Later that night, after dinner time and bath time and story time and finally bedtime, his body slumped into the couch and his feet resting on the edge of the coffee table, he scrolled through the site. Certifications meaning the most to him, especially in his line of work, he liked your bio; the listing of CPR, first aid and water safety listed under your small and grainy picture.

Scrolling further down, he read through your details - currently enrolled in a graduate program at a nearby school (an older student, he liked that), the screen listed that your schedule was flexible, that you lived in the area and that you were looking for something part time. Perfect.

Clicking on the “Contact” button, he quickly typed out an email and hit send before tossing his phone on the couch; a broad two-handed swipe of his hands over his face with a sigh before shuffling off to bed.

In the morning, leaning against the counter while waiting for the coffee to be ready, he checked his emails. Mostly spam, half a dozen or so old notifications from the daycare app with pictures of Lucia’s day yesterday, a couple of work emails. Surprisingly, the site had already contacted him to set up the first appointment. The short message outlining that you’d accepted and confirming the date and time of your first shift, he was relieved to have something in place for this week, not wanting to get anymore shit from Santi about missing another guys night.

Just hoping you were as good as your bio said, he didn’t expect you to be so pretty.

See the full post

984 notes • Posted 2021-01-09 15:17:40 GMT

Telling you to come in, you slip your shoes off and set your bag down in the entry way before following him into the house. You take in the neat spaces – sparse décor (typical for a single man), Barbie's scattered around on the carpet, a small plate of sliced apples on the coffee table in the living room – and he keeps walking, leading you into the kitchen.

Tight

gif credit: @di-n

Summary: Din comes back from a hunt to find you in his bunk.

Rating: Explicit — size kink like whoa

A/N: This is dedicated to @silksaddle who sent me the filthiest audio clip of this man followed by this gif. Thank you for being so inspiring ❤️

Maybe if you hadn’t been so deeply asleep you would have heard him.

Maybe if the kid hadn’t kept you up for the last three days, you would have been woken by the hum of the ramp, by the stomp of his boots as he climbed it, by the soft, heavy sound of a body being dragged behind him.

Maybe if you hadn’t grown tired of waiting for him, eventually crawling into his bunk to sleep, you would have been ready for him when he finally did come back.

Well, that’s not true. You were ready for him, his modulated voice echoing in your head as you got ready for bed that night, you had felt a shiver of anticipation down your spine at the memory.

“I don’t want you to wear anything but this when you sleep in my bed, okay?”

See the full post

1180 notes • Posted 2021-10-21 18:14:46 GMT

Need

Summary: Frankie needs you.

Rating: Explicit, feelings?

A/N: idk what the hell this is - I sat down to write something else entirely and this poured out. This is not Box Set Frankie - this fic is set right after his mission in the movie. Hope you enjoy it!

“I need you.”

Frankie’s husky voice sounded tired, almost slurred over the phone and you close your eyes with a deep sigh, relief flooding through you as you rolled over in bed, staring the dark ceiling.

“Where are you? You said you’d only be gone for the weekend, said –”

“I know what I said”, he replies, and you hear the rustle of bedding as he shifts position. Hotel bed and not a hospital, you hope. “I need you. Can you come?”

You say nothing, a strange swirl of anger, frustration and relief churning in your stomach, a small dash of lust at the sound of his sleepy voice. You hear him breathing on the other end of the line, the slow, comforting sound of it and you want nothing more than rest your cheek on his chest like you do in bed; the same steady breathing lulling you to sleep.

Reaching to click the small bedside lamp on, you dig in the drawer for a pen and paper and he can hear the fumbling, a smile spreading on his face as he pictures you on your side of the bed, probably wearing the same old t-shirt of his that you always wear.

“Where are you?”, you ask, pen in hand, ready to write. He tells you the name of the city, of the hotel and you scribble all the details down.

“I’ll come in the morning”, you reassure him, clicking the light off again. “I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”

See the full post

1225 notes • Posted 2021-01-28 02:13:54 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #official stats on how your girl is a CLOWN 🤡#this is so cool! ❤️

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framecaught · 3 years

Text

Cataloguing Homestuck’s Art Styles

Hussie deploys a number of distinct art styles throughout Homestuck, each serving different purposes in the narrative. A number of these, especially those mentioned in the published book series’ author commentary, have been catalogued in the Homestuck wiki [1]. These officially named styles are well-known enough to appear in quora answers. However, Homestuck employs a much larger variety of stylistic manipulations than explicitly mentioned in the book commentary or wiki. While scanning through the comic again for this project, I wanted to catalogue the rest of them!

This post constitutes a working list of all distinct art styles present in Homestuck. I’ve chosen not to include the distinct styles of the fanartists/outside artists who contributed to the comic; that will be a project for another day. As far as I know, this list only comprises the different styles Hussie develops throughout the comic. I have tried to bring a degree of specific formal analysis (also known as art-historical language) into my description of each style.

1. “Classic” Style

Page 1 of Homestuck

Page 1349 of Homestuck

Page 4227 of Homestuck

The “Classic” Homestuck style appears on the first page of the comic. Although not officially described by the wiki, it is widely understood as the comic’s typical graphic norm. Characters have simplified faces and clothes, and they frequently lack arms. Elements are often outlined in a black stroke, especially to differentiate them from other adjacent, similarly-colored elements. In more colorful panels, scenery may be made up of solid blocks with bright colors. Sprites (base character illustrations) and elements are repurposed from panel to panel in new combinations. Homestuck even takes up the repurposing of sprites as a gag, as in page 1349 above where the ability to flip one’s sprite allows Noir to regain his lost wrist barcode.

This style obviously shares characteristics with Hussie’s style in Problem Sleuth. General characteristics that frequently appear in Hussie’s art are present, such as circular faces and rounded edges on quadrilaterals. The Classic Style umbrella actually covers the broadest range of visuals out of any style catalogued here. The uber-simplistic sprites, such as John on page 1, have typically been lumped in with, for example, the illustration on the cover of Homestuck Book 1, or the two other examples I pulled for this post. So, in the Classic Style, characters can sometimes appear with arms, sometimes without, and in outfits of varying detail, but they retain the same facial features and simplistic quality. The circular facial shape is especially characteristic of this style, along with the lack of a neck. The neck-less quality, static poses, and simplistic detail chiefly differentiate some instances of Classic Style from Hero Mode, though there are still some grey areas.

2. Scribble Mode

Page 1931 of Homestuck

Page 1937 of Homestuck

Page 1798 of Homestuck

Page 3140 of Homestuck

This style is recognized by the Homestuck wiki, which describes it as emphasizing “a particularly silly/stupid moment in the story, particularly those to be imagined by a character.” That is to say, this style often denotes imagined scenarios which do not actually occur in the comic but instead in a character’s imagination, and especially those which form the butt of jokes. It is also employed simply to highlight silliness. This style is constructed to appear as if the author has “scribbled” rapidly between the outlines of forms to fill in color, creating gaps in those forms. Generally, strokes are made to seem more careless, and less detail is used. While the style is meant to mimic a scribbling motion, it does not always end up crude or parodic. For example, in this “charming vignette” (in Hussie’s words) depicting the Mayor’s dream, the scribble style actually illustrates a remarkably beautiful and almost impressionistic series of panels. Although the dream vignette has certain obvious scribbley elements and certainly depicts an imagined scenario, I would argue that it combines aspects of both Scribble Mode and Hussnasty Mode (#4 in this post) throughout.

I have also identified two distinct styles within the Scribble Mode umbrella. One always uses a thin, apparently single-pixel-wide black line to outline forms, while the other uses a thicker stroke for both its filling and outline. You can see the difference between these in the four examples I’ve pulled; they are sometimes even combined within one single Scribble Mode panel.

3. Hero Mode

Page 1815 of Homestuck

Page 2063 of Homestuck

Hero Mode was officially named as such by Hussie. The Homestuck wiki page describes it as cropping up to “emphasize a particularly epic moment in the story.” Hussie originally called the style “action panels” before hitting upon the current name, emphasizing the link to action scenes and dynamic poses. Along with dynamic posing, characters are drawn in greater detail and tend to have elongated limbs. Some crossover can be seen between Hero Mode and Hussnasty Mode. I would argue that characters in Hero Mode usually retain the original style’s characteristic lack of a neck, while Hussnasty Mode often adds one. Compared with the Classic style, Hero Mode always adds arms. The degree to which Hero Mode drawings include the “hatching-type effect” characteristic of Hussnasty Mode varies from panel to panel. The difference between Hero Mode and Classic Mode can be observed clearly on these two pages, where Damara shifts between the two styles at the behest of Scratch, who asks her to “render [herself] in a more symbolic manner.”

The wiki asserts that “Hero Mode dispenses with the black outline that typifies sprite-style animation and scribble mode,” but I don’t think it can actually be characterized as the only lineless style. Scribble Mode and Hussnasty Mode also sometimes feature a lineless graphic style depending on which part of a character is being depicted, or the need for a line to differentiate two features of a similar color. A willingness to move between lined and lineless blocks of color characterizes Hussie’s art as a whole.

4. Hussnasty Mode

Page 2805 of Homestuck

Page 2976 of Homestuck

This art style is also named by the author. In his commentary on page 2805, he writes: “Someone asked me what I called the style, and I replied by naming it "Hussnasty Mode" myself, because well… it's a bit nasty, isn't it? Kind of raw, a little over-illustrated, and making use of a lot of jagged aliased pixel edges for a hatching-type effect. It was sort of the point to make it a little nasty, kind of aggressively incongruous with the other styles previously established.” This quote sums up the style’s characteristics pretty well. Hussie also describes how this style is more naturalistic, or less symbolic, and was meant to work in direct contrast to the extremely symbolic RPG Sprite Mode. He writes that “drawings like this are introduced in contrast with this simple RPG sprite mode, which was also established very recently as something that Homestuck was "allowed" to use as a stylistic presentation of characters and settings… Every time HS does something like this, it's widening its own umbrella in terms of what it's allowed to do stylistically, which includes dramatically simplifying and abstracting its forms. Which implicitly asks another question: Can HS "allow" itself to go in the other direction? To render characters with higher degrees of definition, regardless of congruity, and freely navigate this full artistic palette at any time, resulting in sharp stylistic contrast and a certain amount of visual thrashing? The answer to that question, almost immediately after it's asked in the form of dropping RPG-sprite Rose into a standard panel shot, is yes, HS can do that, and clearly it WILL do that.”

5. RPG Sprite Mode

Page 2804 of Homestuck

Page 2824 of Homestuck

Despite being officially described by the author, RPG Sprite Mode hasn’t gained much representation as a distinct style (it does not have a wiki page, for example). This style appears after Homestuck’s first walk-around game, now incorporated as a style for static or gif panels. After their joint introduction, this style is juxtaposed against the Hussnasty style. The quotes pulled above in the section on Hussnasty Mode nicely describe the contrast between these two styles and their greater impact on Homestuck’s graphic norms. RPG Sprite Mode always shows characters from an aerial view, mimicking the style of the first walk-around game, which in turn mimics a wealth of RPG sprite games (such as the original Pokemon games). Sprites from these sorts of early games can be characterized by their almost pointillistic use of individual pixels to carefully construct forms.

6. Terezi’s Perspective

Page 2756 of Homestuck

Page 2128 of Homestuck

This style hasn’t been officially described yet. It only crops up as a representation of Terezi’s perspective, conveying some of her experience tasting and smelling colors. While it only appears a few times in the comic, I think it is uniquely visually interesting, and it includes “blurring” techniques which are only rarely employed in the rest of the comic. I’d guess that the effect is created by layering low-opacity strokes over one another and then sliding the different layers’ opacity up and down.

7. SBAHJ Style

Page 8 of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff

Page 3451 of Homestuck

The SBAHJ comic, featured both within Homestuck and as a spin-off, has its own recognizable style. In the first few pages it has a lot of commonalities with Homestuck’s two versions of Scribble Mode, but later takes on distinct characteristics. It can be characterized in part by its image clipping, an effect where an element is made to look like it has been selected within a square box (in MS Paint or Photoshop) and dragged around the page with little care for the size and accuracy of the selection box. Commenting on page 3451, Hussie describes this effect as follows: “In the SBaHJ comics, one of my cool tactics—which I'm almost positive I invented as a sequential artist—was to elaborately render someone ‘turning around’ by taking one shot of them and gradually altering the pose by crudely rectangle-selecting pieces of their face and nudging them around until they're facing the other way in a totally unconvincing and utterly hideous manner.” Different from Scribble Mode, the SBAHJ style also frequently features blocks of color that appear to be filled with the “paint bucket” tool. When the paint bucket tool is used to fill anti-aliased stokes, it creates a small transparent space between the filling and the original outline, visible in the SBAHJ graphics. Finally, SBAHJ comes to include image compression and glitching, created through “deep frying” compression techniques. Overall, the breadth of manipulative techniques made apparent to the viewer in SBAHJ is much greater than any other style. SBAHJ panels are reproduced wholesale or hyperlinked in Homestuck, but on these two pages Gamzee is also drawn in the SBAHJ style.

8. Caliborn’s Styles

Page 5075 of Homestuck (hyperlinked in pesterlog)

Page 6259 of Homestuck

Page 6929 of Homestuck

Page 6864 of Homestuck

While Calliope’s in-world art was contributed by Shelby Cragg, Hussie gives Caliborn has three styles of his own. The first is his “angular” style, which Calliope aptly characterizes on page 5109 as containing “inscrutable squiggles” and demonstrating a “penchant for arbitrary, completely baffling straight lines and right angles, almost as if trying unsuccessfully to begin constructing a grid.” The second is the style he uses in Homosuck, which retains elements of his original “baffling right angles” but generally takes on the black outlines characteristic of Homestuck’s Classic style, while employing even cruder detail. Finally, after reading a “How to Draw Manga” book, he develops his “manga” style which uses black strokes, somewhat messy coloring (usually with the paint-bucket tool), and shows an attempt at naturalistic representation despite a complete lack of understanding of human anatomy. This style is specifically meant to emulate manga styles, so it features the characteristic white dots as highlights in the eyes, among other features.

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As becomes apparent through Hussie’s commentary, the different art styles employed in Homestuck do more than just emphasize certain moments; they form part of the comic’s visual language and ask us to question our understanding of graphic representation. The scope of this post also illustrates the attention paid to Homestuck’s visual elements throughout the story’s production and within its readership, even if these visual distinctions have received less attention in scholarship. Despite the variety of styles, we can see Hussie’s characteristic artistic tools, techniques, and sensibilities reflected across the comic.

If you find any styles recurring in the comic that I haven’t mentioned here, feel free to shoot me a message! Again, I haven’t included styles from other contributors; only those developed and drawn by Hussie.

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As we approach the close of the semester, I’ll probably be putting out one more post sometime soon! If you liked this post, you can follow the blog on tumblr for updates or, if you don’t frequent tumblr, sign up for the mailing list to receive an email whenever I publish a new mini-essay!

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[1] These include Hussnasty Mode, Scribble Mode, and Hero Mode.

#essay post #homestuck analysis #art styles #art history

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