#fun to me when i can put myself into the shoes of a character like her who i already relate to. rrghh too bad im scared to talk about her | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dokidokitsuna · 3 months

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RWBY: Next Steps

This is just a design collection (remember when I used to do those? 'Winter Mission', 'Summer Tour'?? Fun times~)...and it may be my last. Its only real purpose is to give me something fun to draw for the NeverFell Projects wrap-up series. The recent Adam and Cinder designs are technically part of this collection, too. ^^

These were much harder to do than those two, though...I've spent ~2 months chipping away at this set, trying and retrying to address several different RWBY design criticisms while still making the girls look good. ಥ_ಥ I've finally begun approaching success, though, so I wanted to talk a bit about these ideas.

Ruby The only one I managed to design in one try. ^^; This was my answer to the question I felt was posed by Ruby's Vol. 7 design: i.e. "how do we do a new Ruby design that feels more 'mature'??" Because I never liked how the V7 design attempted to do that. :/

Between the new hairstyle and the new 'generic adventurer' clothes, it felt less like they were trying to evolve Ruby Rose and more like they didn't like her original design and wanted to get as far away from it as possible. V1-Ruby was such an iconic look (and STILL IS), and yet there's no trace of it in V7-Ruby. None of the goth-lolita style or playful edge that even V4-Ruby managed to preserve...instead they just scrubbed everything out to start from scratch, with a new design that's honestly 'meh' at best.

So what I did was stick closely to V1-Ruby, while adding just a few big changes to make the look distinct. You say a 'combat skirt' is too childish for an older Ruby? Well then we'll make it shorts...but shorts that are just as frilly and cute as the original skirt, with a similar overall shape. You say her original hairstyle is too boring and 'safe'? Well, then we'll change it...by simply shaving half of it off. It's a much edgier look that simultaneously preserves the original shape of her hair: from every angle except front and back, her silhouette will remain the same.

You say you want to give her new shoes, but don't want the fandom to make fun of you for covering them in dozens of belts again? Here's a wild idea: cowboy boots. ^^ A totally unexpected, unique item that still fits in with the antique-ish vibe of her goth clothes.

Basically, I just wanted to prove that you can do something dramatically different with Ruby without completely abandoning her fashion sense.

Criticisms: The details are still lacking; I think I should work some red accents into her corset and boots. Also, I originally designed this outfit with a white shirt, and I kinda want it back (she had the team colors! R, W, B, and Y! ;_;)...the problem is that it clashes with the sheer thigh-highs. One must go...I'm sure I'll figure it out

Weiss The toughest of the bunch: I did three different Weiss designs before landing on this one. ^^;;; The big epiphany came when I realized that Weiss looks her best when she mirrors Ruby. The girls' original design concepts share a lot of features; I feel like the characters were designed to look like they belong together, and figured I might as well honor that.

ALSO-- and this was the biggest priority for Weiss' design-- I firmly believe that she should not look like a princess anymore. From a character designers' perspective, it is ludicrous that they gave her the giant Disney ballgown in the same volume where they put classism at the center of the plot and have her send her bourgeoisie father to jail. That right there is the definition of mixed messages...

I thought the whole point of Weiss' character arc was to distance herself from the uber-rich parasites of her family and fellow 'Atlas elites'. I thought we cemented that when she officially lost her "heiress" title in V4. o_O I expected her next look to ditch the crown and visually show that she's past the point of 'rebelling'-- there's no more authority in her life for her to rebel against; she's free now! But alas...

So as usual, I had to do it myself. This Weiss outfit is definitely still fancy, with the coattailed vest and ruffled sleeves, but there's a lot less 'decoration'; fewer jewels, fewer details. The construction is straightforward and simple. And of course, no more tiara. Instead I decided to give her a li'l snow pea flower and ribbon, which ended up inspiring her new periwinkle purple-y color scheme. Like her original design, it's actually fairly colorful, but does its job and puts the emphasis on the white elements.

Criticisms: ...Not many, this came out pretty good. ^^ I might reconsider the black coattails, but if I do I'll probably just switch it out with the indigo inner vest. I like the idea of her outfit construction mirroring Ruby's, but her color scheme mirroring Blake's, since they have a closer bond in NeverFell.

Blake Blake designs are notoriously difficult; if you wanna hear some great reasons why, I suggest you check out this old Twiins iink RWBY design ranking video, which always helps guide me when I do redesigns for the main 4. Anyway, this phenomenon makes it hard to describe what I did...I guess you could say I tried to combine all the best elements of all her outfits, while clinging to the 'fancy action girl' vibe of her original design.

I'm most proud of her new hairstyle-- I dunno why, I just enjoyed working on it and making those decisions. ^^ It's hard to tell, but it IS shorter; now shoulder-length instead of back-length. We make up for this with additional volume, emphasizing the waves in her hair texture by pushing them outward. And most notably: she keeps the ribbon. She just wears it differently, using it to accentuate her ears instead of hiding them. This way, we keep the point of interest on her head while still showing her character growth.

Criticisms: Infinite, countless. This is a good look, but something is definitely still off. ^^;;; I think some additional detail in certain places (not sure where yet...) might help 'finish' it, so to speak. Maybe some extra yellow accents...? Also, the bow obviously gets lost in her hair this way. I've tried several color changes and don't like any of them; I think I may just have to texture it differently in the final product. Fingers crossed...

Yang Another tough one...I only made 2 design drawings, but the colors took several rounds of trial and error. I think my excitement over finally arriving at a good color scheme TODAY was what spurred me to make this post. ^^;

Anyway...there is a specific piece of Yang design criticism I hear fairly often that drives me up the wall: people commonly complain that she doesn't wear enough yellow; that she doesn't represent her character color well because all she wears is a yellow shirt. And the character designer in me wants to rip my teeth out whenever I hear this, because it blindly ignores the giant fairy-tale-inspired mass of yellow that is her hair, and the purposely attention-grabbing pops of yellow that make up Ember Celica. They're not "clothes", technically, but they're still part of the design! It's like saying a character with green skin can't represent the color green if all their clothes are black...without realizing that maybe their clothes are black BECAUSE they have green skin, in order to draw your attention to it...!! (╬▔皿▔)╯I just jifjkdsnfksahujknsjnfufh

...Anyway, anyway...the point is, it's difficult to take a character design with so much natural yellow in it and add yellow clothes and still have it read well. But because I like a challenge, I decided to take it on. I think the difference between the mustard leather and neon yellow hair is large enough to make it work, while still feeling casual enough for everyday wear. The champagne off-white she wears in her 'Hunter' outfit (which heavily inspired this) looks great, but it feels too 'classy' to me; like something specifically meant to dazzle the audience with her beauty for one special adventure, not for her to wear often.

On that note, my secondary mission with this design was just to make Yang look cute again, by following the structure of her V1 look, and even adding a little skirt on top of her battle shorts, which looks surprisingly natural considering she almost never wears one.

I don't know what happened in the canon to make the character designer forget the 'Yellow Beauty' part of her character concept; tbh even if her gender presentation gets more masculine she can still look pretty. Designs like Ozma, V7 Qrow and V4 Ren show that they understand this, but choose to cover Yang up in flavorless sheets of beige anyway. :T Making sure she always has a boob window isn't enough; the clothes themselves need to say something too.

Criticisms: ...Honestly, none? I think this might be solid. :> We'll see what happens when I draw it properly. I hope the white socks work out, because then she'll successfully be wearing the RWBY color scheme, which fits her (former, implied...) role as the glue holding the team together.

#rwby #yang xiao long #ruby rose #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #character design

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loubouskz · 1 year

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could you do a chan ff where y/n asks him to read a couple chapters of the book they’re reading but the reader asks bc the book has smut in it and then chan reads it and gets all 😉

reading can be fun

bang chan x reader

description: reader gets turned on by chan's reading and they have a lil fun haha

warning: cute nicknames(like baby and sweets, I used 'my girl' once, couldnt figure out a different name to put, other than that its pretty neutral), SMUT!, reading smut, the smallest bit of thigh riding, some foreplay, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, chan may have a slight breeding kink but it's not mentioned, reader loves chan's dick...I think that's all, let me know if I missed anything.

wc: 2.0k(not proof-read)

a/n: ofc I can and thank you for requesting!! I had some much fun writing this! and I'm sorry this took so long to post. my laptop is finally kicking the bucket so I have to type everything on my phone(on the days where I can't get my computer to work.)so it's taking a bit longer than I like but i hope you enjoy this and I did your request justice!🥰

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after a long day of catching up with doing chores around my apartment, I finally had time to myself. to sit down and read the book my friend lent me. they said it was really good and that I should try to read something that wasn't my usual genre that I love. they basically begged me…for two weeks straight before I finally agreed to read it. I made a cup of tea and sat down on the couch with the book in hand. I brought my legs up to sit somewhat under my butt and got comfy. grabbing the throw blanket from the top of the couch and laying it across my lower body. I took a sip of my tea before opening the book.

i was on the eighth chapter when I heard chan enter my apartment with the key I had given him. I heard him take off his shoes and jacket before entering the living room. I turned my head and met eyes with the person I loved most. his dimpled smile brightened up when he saw me.

"hey baby!" chan said, as he made his way to me. "hi!" I said back, tilting my head up to follow his eyes. chan kissed the top of my head and maneuvered his way to sit next to me. "how was your day?" he asked, grabbing my legs and laying them across his lap. "a bit long, but that was because of the chores I had to do around my apartment. now I'm relaxing, what about you, channie?" I said. "ahh, tiring but worth it- like always. changbin, jisung and I are working on a new track and it's coming along nicely." chan said, absent mindlessly caressing my legs.

"but I'm also happy I got the rest of the day off and get to spend some time with you." he said, leaning over and giving me a kiss. I smiled into it, making him giggle. "so, what are we reading?" he asked, snuggling closer to me. I told him the name of the book, "it's the book my friend has been wanting me to read for a hot minute now." I said, showing him the cover of the book. "nice! what is it about?" he asked. "it's a fantasy/sci-fi romance novel set in space. it's about this girl falling in love with a crew member from another ship that they've been on a race with- without knowing whom…" I told him what the book was about and caught him up to the part I was at.

"wow, i might have to read it after you, it sounds really good." chan said. "you wanna read a few chapters to me?" i asked shyly. "sure." he said with a big smile on my face. i handed over the book to chan. knowing what was coming up next in one of the chapters my friend had told me about. "are you sure?" I aksed before getting comfy, to which he nodded too. once we were both comfy, he began to read where I had stopped.

we were now on chapter 10, and the two main characters were sitting next to a window and talking about what they were.

he looked back out the window. minutes passed, and he still hasn't said a word. she sighed and stood up. "this was stupid. to think, for once, you would talk to me about what's going on inside your head. but no." she said. as she turned her back to him, he finally said something.

"what is this lee?" she said. he tilted his head. "what do you mean?" he asked. "I mean like all the nights we've spent up here. you listening to all the thoughts in my head and answering them aloud. even when i think you can't hear them. the long talks and banters. all the secret glances. what is this? what is this to you?" she said as the words fumbled out. her heart racing, like it was going to explode.

"if you want me to say I feel the same way about you, just know I do, but nothing more can come from this." he said, almost too quietly for her to hear. she could feel the tears start to build up. "and why is that lee?" she asked, not turning around. "because you have to leave. you have to stay with your brother. you can't be with me." he, again, said quietly. she turned around and walked up to him. 'look at me' she said in her head. "stop it. just go back to your room." he said. 'please look at me. I wanna love you.' she said. lee hissed in a breath of air. "we can't." he answered again.

'then love me for one night. this night. my last and only night with you.' he snapped his head to her, with an unfamiliar look in his eyes. he looked at her for a couple of seconds before making up his mind. he shot up from his seat and placed his lips onto hers. quickly…."

"okay! I think that's enough for tonight, channie." I said, grabbing the book out of his hand and closing it. i felt my cheeks starting to heat up. "what no, let's continue!" he said. I pretended to yawn and placed the book down on the table. "let's go eat something and go to bed channie." I said, flipping the blanket off and hopping off the couch. I made my way into the kitchen, opening up the fridge.

I heard chan's footsteps making their way to me. I called out to see if he wanted one of two options I offered to make, but he didn't answer.

"he shot up from his seat and placed his lips onto hers. quickly grabbing hold of her waist tightly, like she would slip away if he didn’t, making her moan into the heated kiss. her hands threaded his hair, pulling at it slightly.

"fuck." he whispered out, breaking the kiss. she started kissing down his jaw, finding his sweet spot. though they were in a hidden spot. lee didn't want to be caught. he grabbed her hand and pulled her to his room. once in the safety behind the closed door. he pushed her against it, one of his legs slotting between her legs. right where she wanted him most."

chan stopped reading aloud after that. i peeked my head up from the fridge and saw his eyes scanning the page. hearing him say that part of the story out loud, made my knees go weak. the way he was saying the words creating an uncomfortable wetness between my thighs. chan's eyes left the book and made their way to me.

"you want me to continue?" he asked with a slight smirk on his face. I shook my head no and closed the fridge door. I need to calm down. I tried to walk out of the kitchen and pass chan. he quickly dropped the book on the counter and grabbed my hips. "where are you running off to baby?" chan asked, pressing me against the counter. "no where." I said confidently. he chuckled at my answer. "really? because I think my girl was starting to get all hot, flustered, and bothered from the book i was reading out loud to her before i even got to the good part." chan said as he leaned in.

"am I right, baby?" he asked in a lower octave. I whimpered out as I felt him push my legs apart with his. one of his hands slowly made their way into my sweats and past my underwear. "answer me sweets." chan said, cupping my sex. he and I both knew the answer, but he wouldn't continue if I didn't say the word. "yes." I said quietly. he hummed at my answer, slowly pushing two of his fingers past my folds and curling them up inside. my eyes fluttered closed at the feeling, moaning lightly.

chan groaned, "god, you're so wet baby." I held onto his arm that was in my sweats as he quickened the pace. chan started leaving open mouth kisses on my neck, sucking sweetly on the spot that made me clench around his fingers. "channie, please." I said as I started to ride his fingers. "what do you need baby?" chan whispered in my ear, nibbling on my lobe. "I want more." I said. I grabbed him through his pants and felt how hard he was. chan removed his fingers, quickly tasting them before grabbing me behind my thighs. lifting me up and walking back over to the couch.

"oh fuck. don't talk like that y/n." chan said, grabbing my hands and holding them above my head. one hand on my wrists and the other guiding his dick into my cunt. slowly filling me inch by inch, I closed my eyes at the feeling.

he laid me down, caging me in. clothes coming off fast, feeling up each other. chan grabbed his wallet as I stroked his dick. "fuck baby, I don't have a condom on me." he said, throwing his wallet onto the coffee table. "I wouldn't be the first time fucking me raw." I said, squeezing him. chan shuddered at my words and action. "you still want to?" he asked, fucking into my hand. "of course, why wouldn't i want your thick cock inside me, filling me up so nicely." I said, spreading my legs a little more for some more room.

"oh chris!" I moaned out, throwing my head back as he bottomed out. he groaned, letting go of my hands to place both of his on my hips. dragging out till only his tip was in, then slamming right back in. "shit, I love how this little cunt takes me all in." chan said, as he kept his slow but rough thrusts. taking his time to bring each other to our highs. with every thrust, hitting the gummy part inside me so perfectly every time. "faster please." I said, sweeping my hands up his arms to around his neck.

"wanna cum baby?" he said, circling his arms under my body to completely hold me. his sweaty red chest presses against mine tightly. he rolled his hips, hitting my cilt with every stroke. I choked out a moan, angling my hips to get better friction. "yes, make me cum. please make me cum channie." I whined out, pulling at his now wet locks. as chan quicken his sloppy thrusts, he pushed his head into my neck. chan started moaning louder and louder, making me clench around him even harder. "oh fuck!" I moaned out. "yeah, cum for me baby. cum all over my cock." chan said, lifting his head, pressing his forehead to mine. "let me see how good I fuck you." he said with broken moans in-between.

the eye contact, the feeling of his body pressed to mine, and god-sent thrusts bringing me closer till finally the knot broke inside. dragging my nails down his back as I came. chan didn't let up with his thrusts prolonging my orgasm while chasing after his. which came with a couple of thrusts later. chan moaned loudly, pressing his hips as far as he could. cumming deep inside me. "oh fuck!" chan cried out, still lightly pumping with shallow thrusts. "take all my cum baby. take it, it's all for you." chan said, pushing once more before fully stopping. laying his head on my chest.

"I love you chan." I whispered into his hair. he pushed himself up and gave me a dazed smile. "I love you more." he said, pecking my lips gently. he fully say up and slowly pulled out. "going need to wash your blanket." chan laughed out, with his ears turning red. "what?" I said lifting up my body. "we made a mess baby." he said, rubbing the back of his neck. ohh. "well, let's get cleaned up." I said, careful getting up. I held out my hand as chan could grab it as we made our way to the bathroom.

chan relaxed into my arms. he dragged out his arms and stroked my thighs as we both calmed down from our racing breaths.

"I can't believe that book really turned you on." chan said. "and what about you? you had a complete hard-on and you had barely touch had you hands on me at first." I said, laughing. chan blushed as he pushed me into the bathroom. "shut up." he mumbled.

#skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan imagines #bang chan smut #skz chan x reader #skz #stray kids #bang chan

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boul3vvard · 6 months

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Bring your child to work day･*.:+

Sanemi AU x GN! Reader DRABBLE!

S/n = sons name

I started writing this story back in nov 2022 I abandoned it and came back to it March 2023 erased the ending and rushed it so sorry if this isn’t up to par I’m just trying to get this out of my drafts lol. Now a few pointers

★ Sanemi is OOC I just think that it would be really cute to picture him in this sorta dynamic.

★I tried to keep it gender neutral as possible this is also my first time writing a gn story so feel free to give me any possible feedback

★also as I always say this isn’t proof read AT ALL!! so there might be a ton of grammatical errors idrc HAPPY READING

There are only 3 characters who are color coded

Y/n sanemi and s/n

“Are you sure you’ll be fine taking him with you I mean he’s only 4, He won’t be too much of a distraction for you?”

y/n said while doing their sons hair making his curls pop out a little more.

“He’ll be fine we’re not doing too much in class today anyways” sanemi sighed as he was getting dressed for work. “You’ll be good for daddy right?” y/n asked s/n while looking at him in the mirror. “MMHM” s/n said happily. Y/n was a little nervous at first about this whole ordeal when sanemi brought it up but all the doubt disappeared when y/n saw how giddy their son was to spend time with sanemi this was also the first time their son is going to be around a bunch of people at once, let alone a bunch of teenagers. how will he react? “he’ll be fine plus I’m there if anything does happen, which nothing will so stop worrying, You act like we’re going to war or something” sanemi chuckled as he patted his partners shoulders. “I know I know I guess I’m just a little worried” they sighed “for nothing, we’re gonna head out inna bit I have to get to work early. where is the little guy so I can put his shoes on?” “IM RIGHT HERE DADDY” his son squealed excitedly “LOOK”. sanemi sighed, a soft smile appearing on his face. “your shoes are on the wrong feet you dork c’mere” Y/n packed everything sanemi needed for Haruto in his book bag so he wouldn’t get bored. “are you all set and ready to go?” sanemi said while picking his son up into his arms. “Have fun you two” y/n waved at the two before they left.

Sanemi got to class 1 hour early so he could prepare his classroom for the day. students started rolling in and filling in their seats, two of his students ran into his classroom one slapping the other repeatedly. “INOSUKE STOP HITTING TANJIRO FOR THE LAST TIME I WILL NOT REPEAT MYSELF” Inosuke gruffed as he plopped into his desk. “hey sir, who is that child sitting in your chair? if you don’t mind me asking” Tanjiro asked pointing to the child as his classmates started to quiet down since they all wanted an explanation. “He’s my son. I decided to bring him in with me today he won’t be too much of a distraction” sanemi said as he started gathering all of the papers on his desk into a neat pile. The class all became strangely quiet so he looked up to see what was wrong “yes?” He said as he quirked his eyebrow. “YOU HAVE A CHILD??” they all yelled in Unison. “FORGET ABOUT THE CHILD YOU’RE MARRIED??” Zenitsu yelled freaking out. “Is that a problem?” sanemi started to get angry. “I just feel bad for the sorry sack who decided to tie the knot with you” Inosuke said bluntly. Sanemi threw an eraser at the boys forehead. “Before we get started on today’s plan how about I let him introduce himself to you all” just before the boy was about to speak everyone zoomed in on him making him feel so small, he hid behind his daddies leg. “it’s okay remember how we practiced in the car do it exactly like that okay don’t be shy” sanemi said as he pushed him up front, everyone weirded out about how soft he got for a sec-. “h-hello my name is s/n and I’m 4 years old” he showed everyone on his fingers. All of the girls in the classroom started cooing at the young boy. “AWWW HES SO CUTE” they shouted. “thank you” s/n said blushing at his shoes, he ran back to his dad and hugged him. “You did good, now go sit down for a little bit alright daddy has to do his job okay” “okay” s/n said shyly as he ran back to sanemi’s seat.

The rest of the day went smoothly as s/n opened up throughout the day and became more talkative. During passing periods Haruto would run to the other teachers classrooms to greet them. He ran up to the first classroom and walked in. “Uhhhh mr Iguro Theres a Child standing in the door way” one of his students said confused. Iguro was about to tell the child off before he raised his eyebrows in confusion. “s/n?? What are you doing here?” “I’m with daddy today he let me come to work with him today” he basically shouted happily “I see, well im in the middle of teaching right now how about you come back later okay? “Okay see you later” on his way back to his fathers class he stopped by Uzui’s class, they were all circled around a bowl of fruit quietly drawing it on their own. “I LOVE DRAWING CAN I DRAW TOO?!” The entire class was startled by the broken silence. “s/n??, What are you doing here kid? And what a flashy way of entering a room” Tengen said smiling at the kid ear to ear “I’m here with daddy” “of course you are but where is he? “In his classroom” “well I’m kinda in the middle of a class kiddo so how about you run back to your father and I’ll catch up with you later, how does that sound” “OKAY BYE BYE” just as he was about to run off again sanemi scooped him up “there ya are punk, you can’t go running off like that especially not at my job,what if principle Ubuyashiki caught you before I did huh?” “Sorry daddy I went to go see uncle Oguro” “let’s go eat lunch y/n packed you something delicious” sanemi said “YAYYYY”.

overall he enjoyed being at work with his father and seeing what he did daily. Some of the kids would chat with him which he loved of course and even colored with him. The class fell in love with him very much only knowing him for such a short while. I liked today Do you think I can come to work with you tomorrow daddy?” “Of course you can.” Now let’s go home I’m sure y/n can’t wait to hear all about your day today”

#sanemi drabble #sanemi fluff #demon slayer sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba sanemi #sanemi x you #hashira x reader #kimetsu sanemi #shinaguzawa genya #kny genya #demon slayer genya #tanjiro kamado #zenitsu agatsuma #demon slayer inosuke #anime edit #anime art

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kelseytheballerina · 8 months

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what made you realise you were acting vain and how did you change it?

It wasn’t just me enjoying the fun or relaxation of it anymore, it was a serious pursuit. So take my enjoyment of luxury goods for example. I like buying bags and shoes and stuff bc I think they are pretty and I just like them for what they are. I don’t make an idol of it, I don’t think it makes me better than anyone, and if God showed up and told me to leave it behind I would do it before he even finished the sentence bc I don’t actually place too much importance on it. I can wear a chanel or a random unbranded bag from amazon and it wouldn’t make a difference. But when it came to former beauty practices, I did care. A lot. The thought of not being done up a certain way was no longer simply about self care but caring far too much about how others were perceiving me and how I was looking in relation to others. Always wanting to be the shining star in the room. I was also doing it for personal enjoyment and for beauty’s sake but there were other dubious thoughts bubbling under the surface and they weren’t healthy. It was giving me a false sense of superiority and for what?

It was weird bc I would see other vain girls and feel a distaste for them even though we were exhibiting the same traits. So I was really seeing myself and not liking the reflection, if that makes sense. There’s a difference between confidence and arrogance. There’s a difference between doing something because you like it and feel like doing it vs feeling like you have to even when you don’t authentically feel like it. My views on beauty are very relaxed now and although I very much enjoy my routines and the end result, it is not an idol in my life and I am fully shining in simply doing what I want/like and feeling no pressure of any sort to be as pleasing to the biggest pool of people as I was before.

Being pretty, dressing cute, it doesn’t make me better than anyone else. It doesn’t make me worth more. It doesn’t mean I deserve more or am entitled to demand better. Yes I knew that before but I wasn’t behaving that way 100% of the time. All it means is that I like having curled hair and eyeliner. That’s it.

Whenever I take breaks from the extra outward adornments (just wearing my hair curly, no makeup, etc), I don’t feel any better or worse about myself bc it’s been taken off of a pedestal in my life. 2021 was definitely the height of my vanity and I’m glad I don’t have that same mindset anymore. You can enjoy looking good and taking really good care of yourself without being snooty or insufferable about it and somehow I was really annoying that year lmao! But it’s funny bc I got a lot of followers that year so people loved it but after a while I realized that I wasn’t as proud of my behavior and I didn’t think it was showing upstanding character. At the end of the day, getting 50k notes on a post and gaining a bunch of followers doesn’t mean anything if I’m not proud of who I’m becoming when I put the phone down.

I am a very visual person and I love beauty and will always enjoy partaking in beauty routines, but it doesn’t mean I have to be vain.

#ask

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queenburd · 5 months

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Cross posted to ao3. Very mild formatting differences. Comments make me happy.

Hey, folks, this one is heavy, long, and full of repetitive text and phrases. While I know that's par for the course with this game, I bring it up because I know writing it made me feel weird at times, and it intentionally leans into its theme of deterioration. Take care of yourselves. We're dealing with the Figurines Ending, the Epilogue, and the Skip button.

If you like my writing, please consider tipping me. I also have commissions and a paypal donation button.

|.|.|.|

The first thing Stanley does, when the reset hits and he finds himself staring at his desk, is pick up the mug that sits on the corner and hurl it out the door of his office. It hits the wall beside the doorframe on the opposite side of the room, and shatters on impact.

“Stanley?! What in God’s name—“

He screams.

It’s a hoarse noise. It’s deep and it’s broken and it hurts to get out, but he screams because there’s something horrible inside him, something he needs to purge. The noise cuts out, and then begins again.

The chair is grabbed next—he hooks his arms around the backrest and lifts the thing to chest height before he flings it with all his strength. A wheel catches on the doorframe to his office and the chair crashes to the floor, hitting the wall with an almighty, horrendous crash and sliding partway across the hideous beige carpet.

“Stanley!”

His chest heaves with fierce, angry panting. His cheeks are wet. Another noise wrenches itself from his throat. Stanley turns to his desk and swipes his arm across everything on it, knocking pencils and papers and pens to the floor. He slams his fists on it. He turns and kicks one of the filing cabinets, turns and paces in the little room like a caged animal.

There is so much built up inside him that he doesn’t know what to do with. All he knows is that he’s going to rip this place apart with his bare hands.

It’s not just anger, you must understand. It’s much more complicated than that. You see, Stanley has just come from the Epilogue.

The sand blows around him. The wind is cold and fierce. The sun is unforgiving. The moon is a large lamp in the sky.

And Stanley is alone.

He walks for what feels like eternity. He walks for what seems like mere minutes. He walks towards nothing. He turns in every direction. He puts one foot in front of the other.

And Stanley is alone.

The fire doesn’t warm him. He can’t dislodge the chairs from the ground. There’s sand in his shoes and shirt and mouth. He wraps his arms around his chest and walks and walks.

And he is alone.

“Yes, I'm remembering something now. I remember before this whole story got started.

Back then, I was... I was different; I used to make big decisions, I was passionate! I was skeptical! I weighed each decision with profound thoughtfulness.

And then, somewhere along the way, I stopped making decisions.

I became lazy. And I came up with—well—I came up with a character named Stanley, to do my thinking for me. He would make the decisions, he would decide which way to go, I would cheer him on as he collected figurines for no reason.

Why did I invent Stanley? Was I lonely?

Yes, perhaps that's it. Perhaps I needed to imagine I had companionship. And Stanley really did make for a wonderful companion, even if he was a fiction.

But—ahh, I suppose it's grown old. I-I want to think for myself again. I want to go back to how it used to be.

Yes, I can be on my own again. I can do it! I'll be stronger this time. I'll take care of myself. I don't need Stanley anymore.

Oh, but he truly was so much fun to play with!

You know what? Since we're in the Memory Zone, how about one more good memory?

Let's go back, just once, and give Stanley one more run of the office! And then, I'll retire him for good. I did enjoy telling his story—so very much.

Okay, here we go.

This is the story of a man named Stanley.”

The Memory Zone is flooded with sand. The bucket does little to comfort Stanley, even as he holds it to his chest. He follows the power cord deeper into the deserted building, feeling numb.

[ Narrator? ]

[ Narrator, what are you talking about? ]

[ Can’t you see me? Hey! Hey! Narrator! ]

[ Why won’t you answer me? Answer me, please! ]

[ Narrator! ]

“I’ll take care of myself. I don’t need Stanley anymore.”

“Jim.”

The buttons glow softly. He presses them mindlessly.

“Jim.”

What once was a source of amusement leaves an ashy taste in his mouth. The bastard never tried, in the end, to make these buttons work. Like everything else, he half-assed it, then abandoned it when something else caught his interest. Left it to collect dust. Left it to be forgotten, with the rest of the oh-so-precious memories.

With Stanley.

Hurt blooms in his chest. It’s been minutes—it’s been years. Time doesn’t mean anything at all in this stupid game. Nothing means anything. The thousand thousand runs they’ve played don’t mean anything. The conversations they had don’t mean anything. Their friendship doesn’t mean anything.

He doesn’t mean anything.

“Jim.”

“Stanley.”

“Stop sniggering, Stanley, you’re ruining my take! Oh, it’s no use, we’ll have to start from the top.”

Stanley giggles around the hand he has pressed firmly to his mouth. He wants to be apologetic, and he’s glad the Narrator is involving him in this new promotion for the upcoming update, but the delight in him keeps bubbling over. It’s so rare to see the fellow direct that old familiar vitriol at someone other than Stanley himself. After so long knowing him, hearing him attempt to be menacing and nasty is outright silly.

“Wh—Silly?! You impetuous—Stanley, stop laughing!!”

Sorry, he’s sorry! A little off-balance from his own laughter, Stanley climbs onto the set and adds another tally to the whiteboard there.

“Unbelievable,” the voice mutters while he climbs back off the set and makes sure the camera is still centered on the tripod. “Here I am, trying to make a serious critique of game developer habits, and you demand to be included so I include you, and what do I get? Mockery. Absolutely ridiculous.”

Comments like these do little to dampen Stanley’s spirits, but he does attempt to sober himself. He does, after all, appreciate that the fellow has gone through all the effort to include him in brainstorming this one and setting it up. It was his idea to include the clocks and the tally board, and he really does think the shot is improved for it.

He sits back into the metal folding chair quietly. No more laughing. Promise. He’ll manage it this time.

The Narrator clears his throat. “Right. Let me review the script again.”

Stanley nods. His eyes flick around the small office set, then back to the computer monitor.

Man, has it really been almost nine years? It feels like they’ve been doing this for much longer.

“Well, really it’s only a little more than eight years, if I’m being honest. The original HD game released in October of 2013, so depending on when Ultra Deluxe drops in 2022, it may only be a couple months past the eighth anniversary.”

That’s being a bit generous to the developers, Stanley thinks. Does the Narrator really think it will drop in January?

“Oh, I don’t know, Stanley! I’m guessing, same as you.”

Still. Over eight years. Why does it feel like they’ve been here for much longer?

“Well,” the voice sniffs, “it could be for a number of reasons. Time is relative in the Parable, after all. Then of course there’s the fact you rarely sleep, since you don’t need to, so you get a lot more time than most proper humans would, since the usual human circadian rhythm makes them lose at least eight hours in a day. That’s fifty-six extra hours a week you have over most. Multiply by fifty-two, and then again by eight, and that’s not an insubstantial amount of time, I would say.”

That's fair. That's... shoot, Stanley isn't fantastic with numbers. That's... Fifty by fifty is twenty-five hundred, then six and and two is twelve—

“Twenty-three thousand, two hundred ninety-six hours. Divided by twenty-four, it's an additional 970.6 days, which means over two and a half additional years.”

Did he just pull up a calculator?

“Didn't.”

He totally did. Stanley heard the tapping of old clunky buttons.

There's a derisive sniff. “Yes, I suppose you would be the expert on buttons, and not maths.”

Also, is that two and a half years extra per year, or altogether?

“....I don't know.”

This is gonna give him a headache.

Quite without their meaning to, the both of them begin to chuckle at the same time. It's ridiculous, honestly. They're bickering over math, over time and takes and it's all just so ridiculous.

Eight years, give or take two or possibly twenty. That's how long it's been since Stanley started wandering these halls with little more than a voice for a companion. That's... that's a lot of time together. It's a lot of time for things to change. He kind of likes how things have changed.

And, as the fellow said before, time is relative here. They can and have experienced things on a different scale from how an experience would play out in the real world. Their own individual experiences are different even from each other's, with lost time, pauses between death sequences, loading screens—it's all subjective. Guess Einstein was on to something there. Bet he never imagined it in this kind of context, though.

Still. It's a long time with one other person. The universe spins on, and they have each other.

There's the tapping of keys again, a little soft muttering. He smiles.

He's double-checking the numbers, isn't he?

“No! No, I'm not, thank you!” The defensive tone in the Narrator's words confirm that yes, he is. It's made further obvious by the following deflection. “Now, that's enough of a break, let's get back to work. And no giggling this time, Stanley!”

He clears his throat, and the lights dim on the set. Stanley settles back in the metal chair with a grin, arms crossed.

“What does it mean to be a video game developer?” The voice begins. “It means lying, boldly and brazenly to your audience; promising them release dates that are wildly outside the realm of reality...”

“Stanley.”

Why is he still pressing it? Why can't he stop? Why is Stanley shaking, fingers pressing down on the plastic again and again?

“Stanley.”

When did the Narrator make this? When did he—and why is it here, with the rest of the discarded buttons? Why would he go through the effort to make something, just to leave it behind?

The button doesn't answer him. He presses it, and presses it, and it says his name until the word loses all meaning.

“Stanley.”

Every time you restart the game, we’ll advance the number of the sequel by 1, and then we’ll pick a new subtitle. That way, The Stanley Parable will never end! And nothing in the game itself will change when you do this, either. Adding more content sounds like work, no need to do that. It’ll just be the same content, recycled again and again and again, with a new title screen! What do you say? Should we go forward with this plan? I like it, but I want you to have a say as well. [Let’s do it] [Don’t do it]

He stares at the dark screen, but he doesn't really see it.

Stanley feels cored out. There's an emptiness in him that he can't truly comprehend. It hurts, he thinks, but he feels it in a detached sort of way.

The Narrator is gone. Stanley is alone. Yet, even now, he faces choices that are designed around traps for one or both of them. How is that fair?

How is it fair to ask him if he wants to go back to the office, to go back to companionship, when the companion in question has apparently abandoned him? How is it fair to ask him if he wants to drag that person back into hell, when they've supposedly freed themselves from it after years?

“How they wish to destroy one another. How they wish to control one another.

How they both wish to be free.”

He doesn't want to be alone, in this wasteland. He knows in the end what he's going to choose, and he hates that he does.

He's selfish. He's so, so selfish. His loneliness is more important than the Narrator's happiness, that's what this decision says. It says that he would rather force them both to live through the Parable, again and again, forever, than have the Narrator leave him.

And then, here's the kicker! Is this even Stanley's own choice? Is he coming to the conclusion himself, or is there another force at play, a Player, influencing his decision? He can't know! He only ever knows the Player's presence in the godforsaken Real-Person ending, they only ever fully yank the control from him there. Can he even trust his own mind?

Does... Does it matter?

[Let’s do it]

Stanley is not a good person.

So. As I said before, reader. Stanley's emotions are a complicated tangle of hurt, anger, despair, and uncertainty. It's almost impossible to tell where to begin when it comes to unraveling it all.

Still, one must do one's best.

For as long as the Parable has existed, it has spun around conflict. Taijitu, or yin-yang, is a circle made up of two teardrops, one black and one white, circling each other endlessly. A wheel that turns forever. Opposing forces that will never overtake the other. Always equal, always opposite.

But you recall this, don't you? This isn't new information. We've been here before.

Stanley and the Narrator are equal and opposing forces, circling each other. Stanley makes a choice, and the Narrator responds. Stanley moves forward, and the Narrator tries to pull him back. A battle for control—one only ever responds to the other. Neither of them can claim to want this, but if they didn't want different things, then there would be no game to play.

Time and again, the Parable tests the bond that has been crafted through time and care. Memories are taken. Time is stretched thin as it can go, like a rubber band. Stanley makes a choice, and it brings the Narrator joy or suffering. If he stops, the Narrator will be at peace, but then there will be silence, and silence cannot be tolerated. Silence is the equivalent of inaction.

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, this is a game about control, and the lack of it. If you could find happiness through a single choice, but it would bring another person pain, would you do it?

How they both wish to be free.

But these two have turned a battle into a dance. There will always be a drop of yin in the teardrop half of yang, and vice-versa.

So how do they fight back? How do they choose to progress, when the wheel turns ever back? Or are they doomed to repeat the cycle forever?

When Stanley has had enough of his pacing, when the silence has become too oppressive for him to take, he turns on his heel and sharply faces the open door.

Well? Nothing to say? Nothing at all?

“Well,” comes the bitter retort, slower than expected, “I would ask what you expect this tantrum of yours to accomplish, but that isn't exactly the most constructive comment, is it?”

A hiss escapes through Stanley's bared teeth. That's it?

“What do you want from me?!”

It's desperate. It's hurt. It's confused.

“What have I done, Stanley? I can't make sense of you right now, your mind isn't making any sense!”

Of course he doesn't remember. Of course it's Stanley's job to be the one who remembers, who chooses, who deals with the consequences of both their actions. That's how it's always been, that's—

“Stanley, I know our situation has never been balanced fairly in your favor, but I—“

Stanley storms out of his office and kicks his chair out of the way. He grabs a cardboard filing box off the floor and lifts it over his head before flinging it hard. It hits the cubicle wall by the copy machine and the lid flies off, papers scattering across the floor and box bouncing off the top of the copy machine to fall harmlessly to the floor.

“What has gotten into you?!”

Stanley snarls again, at the open air, the ceiling, wherever he thinks the Narrator might be perceiving him. Never been balanced fairly?! Understatement of the millennia! Speaking of millennia, did the Narrator enjoy his little vacay away from Stanley? Was it fun, “thinking for himself”? Leaving Stanley in the sand with the rest of his discarded little game, his figurines and buttons?

“I—“

Did he come up with new stories? New protagonists? Was he stronger? Was he happier without him?

Did Stanley drag him back to hell?

The silence this time feels distinctly more shocked and hurt. Stanley lets out another noise, pacing across the carpet and then turning to door 429. He lifts his fist and slams hard on it, face twisted up into an amalgamate of pain and anger. He beats his fist on the door again, desperate and despairing.

Say something! Say anything! Fight him! Argue with him! Be angry! Be angry that Stanley was so selfish, that Stanley decided to get revenge for being abandoned, please just—

“I'm sorry.”

He flinches.

“I don't—I don't know what I did, but I think it must have been something terrible. I just can't stop, can I? Even when I'm trying to, to be careful, I can't stop being cruel to you. You're angry with me, I can see that, and you don't—you don't like to be angry, so I—“

The voice trembles. It sounds on the verge of tears. Stanley hits the door again, because it hurts to hear, and that's not fair.

Damn him. Damn his own empathy.

“I'm sorry,” it says again. “Whatever I did, I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you somehow. Do, do you want more endings? I'll make new endings, I'll find a way. I'll find more for you to do, I'll come up with something, please just let me fix it. I'm sorry I don't remember, but I'll fix it.”

Stanley screams hoarsely again. His legs give out and he drops, leaning against the bottom of the door with his fist pressed to it. His chest heaves, shaking sobs that wrack his frame, though there's barely any tears. It's just so hard to breathe.

Stop, stop. Stop. Stop apologizing. Stanley is the one in the wrong here. Stanley turned the wheel back. Stanley tore him from his happy ending.

Didn't he?

“I didn't go anywhere,” the voice responds, distraught. “I never left.”

Then what was that?

“I don't know,” it pleads. “Even if I could go, I wouldn't. I wouldn't leave you behind, you're my best friend. I thought you knew that, Stanley.”

He thought he did, too. But then the voice had called him a fiction again, something dreamed up for companionship, and had decided it didn't need him anymore.

The Narrator is quiet at this, and then he says, very carefully and in a voice terribly controlled, “I only ever thought that when you were frozen with the Skip button.”

The Narrator waited, but he was not stagnant. At some point, while Stanley was in a small concrete room, lit with only the glow of a yellow button on a pedestal, the Narrator decided to pass the time by making something new. Surely, when all this was over, when they were back in the office, they would put this behind them and pass the time as before.

For all that the new content for Ultra Deluxe had been a disappointment, hidden in the download were folders and folders of unused assets. It seemed that the developers had had countless ideas, and yet had done little to expand on those ideas, choosing instead to box them away. Well, the Narrator would show them what new content was supposed to look like! Who cared about Ultra Deluxe? No, he would really knock the reviewers' socks off. He was going to make a sequel! Stanley would love it!

When he came back.

If he came back.

No, of course he would come back!

And so time passed, and that was fine. More time meant a chance to perfect his work, to work out his new features and to even perhaps address some of the complaints people had had about the original game. And more time passed and he thought he might make a button that says the name of the player, wouldn't that be rewarding and engaging? Stanley would love that! A button of his own to say his name, wouldn't that just be delightful?

And Stanley stared unseeing at the Skip button, and the Narrator thought to himself, perhaps not. Perhaps Stanley wouldn't care at all.

But that was fine, because there were plenty of new features for him to explore! He'd love the Bucket, surely. All the silly secret Easter eggs, the little references to lore that went nowhere, he'd get a kick out of it for sure! And the figurines! There wouldn't be anything special about them, of course, but the fact they were Stanley! His silly face! Oh, the Narrator would be so excited to see Stanley get them all, and of course Stanley would, because he would do everything. He would find every single one.

And, and the Narrator was so excited for that! Maybe he didn't know how Stanley would react, maybe Stanley would think it all silly, but the sheer fact he would find each one, it would delight the voice to no end. It would say “you found one of them! One of the figurines!”

It would be so much fun! Wouldn't it, Stanley?

Stanley?

Ah. Still frozen. Of course. Not a problem. The Narrator would be here when he got back. The sequel would be here. The figurines would be here.

He would just get everything ready in the meantime.

Wouldn't it be wonderful, when Stanley was here, and able to play? There would be so much for him to explore! He would love the Bucket and finding its secrets, and oh, the figurines! He'd find them all, surely he must. And the Narrator would say “you found one of them!”

And one of them would be by the red and blue doors, and Stanley would probably get that one last, but there was no guarantee, he did like to keep the fellow on his toes, but when he did collect the last one, the Narrator would say “and now the first number equals the last number!” And it would be so exciting! Even though there was nothing special about them, just the experience itself, doing something for the sake of it, was so special, and he'd think about it always.

“It was such a wonderful fantasy. And so in his head he relived it again, and then again, and again, over and over, wishing beyond hope that it would never end. That he might always feel this free. Surely there's an answer down some new path, mustn't there be? Perhaps if he played just one more time.”

And the Narrator would say, “yes, another Stanlurine under your belt!”

“But there is no answer. How could there possibly be? In reality, all he's doing is pushing the same buttons he always has. Nothing has changed. The longer he spends here, the more invested he gets, the more he forgets which life is the real one.”

And the Narrator would say, “I haven't stopped thinking about them since you nabbed every last one.”

And the Narrator would say, “science tells us that it's impossible to forget your third time doing anything.”

And the Narrator would say, “No, no I'm not ready to move on! Stop the loading screen!”

“And I'm trying to tell him this. That in this world he can never be anything but an observer. That as long as he remains here, he's slowly killing himself. But he won't listen to me. He won't stop.”

And the Narrator would say, “We'll do the Memory Zone again from the opposite direction! See how that feels!”

And the Narrator would say, “I want to keep going! What else is there? What came before this?”

And the Narrator would say, “And before everything else, there was your office.”

And he would pause, and then wonder aloud, to nobody in particular, because nobody would be there, “Was there anything else?”

There must have been. He was sure of it. He was sure there was something, or perhaps someone. But that couldn't have been right, you see, because if there was someone, then he wouldn't be alone. He wouldn't be talking to himself, someone would be listening to him. Someone would hear him. That's what—that's what Stanley was for!

But Stanley wasn't doing that. Stanley had not done that for a long time. Had he imagined Stanley? He must have. He imagined many things, after all. Yes, he must have made Stanley up, to listen to him, to have a companion. It's terribly lonely, after all, being a voice without an ear.

Maybe he should move on. Try something else. Maybe that would be for the best. But—oh, but Stanley made him so terribly happy. Just like those wonderful figurines. He loved to think about Stanley's adventures, he loved telling his story so much. Just like the figurines, he'd have to indulge himself.

Just one more time.

And the end was never the end. Was never the end. Was never the end.

Can you see? Can you see how much they need one another?

“I'm sorry, Stanley,” the Narrator says again, sorrowful. “When the game reset, everything was saved. The sequel content, but also the things I found myself saying during the interim. It's all here, somewhere. It's all my fault.”

So he never left?

“Never.”

And Stanley hadn't dragged him from his happy ending?

“No.”

He slumps further against the door. A hand absently lifts and scrubs at his face. So he's just stupid.

“No, I don't think so,” the fellow says generously. “I think you're hurting, understandably so. I think the Parable seeks out ways for us to try to make the other miserable, so that we will keep trying to control each other. You know the song and dance.”

Where it cannot find conflict, it will manifest it.

“Yes. We've been here before, haven't we?”

They have.

I asked you, before, how they overcome it. I told you they'd made a battle into a dance instead. How do they do it? How do they choose to progress when the wheel turns ever back?

But you already know the answer. You've already seen it. Don't you remember?

We've been here before.

“Stanley, I'm not going to hurt you.”

He didn’t want Stanley to be scared of him.

“Whatever it is, we can figure it out together.”

[ New path, new story. Just me and Stanley. ]

If Stanley gave him context, he could get to the memory himself?

“I—I can’t recall if I’ve said it before, how grateful I am to you, Stanley.”

This time, by the time the hold music has kicked on, Stanley is on the floor, laughing so hard his sides hurt.

[ Don't ever. Call yourself DADDY. Again. ]

Did he just pull up a calculator?

He’s listening. He’s listening, and listening, letting his friend know that they exist, together, the space between them closing again, and for as long as he can he won’t let the narrator be alone in the void.

The unwavering strength in his voice feels like an untapped well of passion. Like he’s working to fuel them both through this damnable path, letting Stanley know that yes, yes, they are moving towards something, he has not abandoned him.

“Please listen. This is important to me, alright? It’s not your fault.”

Stanley's fist has loosened and relaxed against the door. Now it rests there, gently curled, as he thinks.

They have been here a long time, in this game, and he is tired.

So now what?

“Well, now I think I'll close the figurines exhibit, so something like this doesn't happen again.”

The Narrator's voice is rather cool and detached. It lacks distress. It's professional. Words stated in the same way as a script, memorized by heart. Stanley doesn't like it.

He presses his hand flat to the door and rests his temple against it. It's cool against his face.

And after that?

“That's up to you, isn't it?”

Quite without meaning to, Stanley flinches again. The Narrator nearly speaks, before he cuts himself off, seeming to think better of it.

It's hard on the spirit, to be the one who has to make choices. Thinking of what they might mean, what the consequences could mean for others. Certainly, there's power in making decisions, but with that power comes the burden of responsibility. Include the added ordeal of being the one who remembers every consequence, every outcome, and one is left with the distinct feeling that they are being punished. There is no winning here. There is no gaining the upper hand.

He is so tired of making choices.

“Then, perhaps I could convince you to listen to me, and follow direction, for a few minutes.”

Something prickles in the back of Stanley's head in old familiar irritability. He doesn't want to do the story. He doesn't think he can get up.

“I didn't say anything about doing the story, now, did I, Stanley? Close your eyes.”

An innocent enough direction. He obeys, adjusting his position against the door to lean his back against it, hands in his lap.

“Good. Very good, Stanley.”

Still all professionalism. Still lacking familiarity, or anything more than casual approval.

“Now. Take a deep breath. Good. Now let it out, slowly. There you are. Again.”

His breathing steadies and his heart slows. Tiredness gives way to calm.

“Excellent. Now. I'm going to speak, and you're going to listen. That's it. No choices, no paths. Just my voice, and your ear.”

That's not a game.

“No, it isn't. It's a story, and you're my audience. Now. Quiet your mind, there's a good lad.

This is a story about my very good friend Stanley.”

“Stanley's had a rough go of it in his life. He likes simple things, like pushing buttons, and drinking coffee completely black. This isn't to say Stanley is a simple-minded fellow, oh no, not at all. In fact, Stanley is one of the most intelligent and compassionate people I know.

The problem is that, for all that Stanley prefers simplicity, he's been put into an impossible position. He's a protagonist of a story.

Now, everyone knows that the best stories aren't the ones where things just happen to a protagonist, but instead the ones where the protagonist plays an active role in progressing the plot. Making choices that result in changing the direction of a story, towards its climax and resolution. It's all well and good that Hansel and Gretel have been left in the middle of the forest, but they choose to be clever and leave a trail of pebbles behind them, before being forced to resort to breadcrumbs—and then of course the choice to use breadcrumbs changes the trajectory of their tale.

The truth is that being a protagonist is anything but simple. Quite without his permission, Stanley has become inundated with responsibility. It isn't an easy life, and it can quite honestly be an unfair lot to give to the fellow.

But if you ask me, there's nobody better suited to the job.

Now, perhaps this is unfair of me to say. After all, I'm not the one who has to make the decisions. All I have to do is tell his story, as a passive observer. Look at him, look at how he struggles, doesn't this make for an incredible tale of overcoming odds? I of course will never have to shoulder the burden he does, so I can say what I please without any regard to his own well-being. Oh, don't give me that look, Stanley, you and I both know it's true. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes if I were paid to do it.

Yet I've been watching Stanley for quite frankly a ridiculous amount of time, so long one might call me an absolute creep. It's true! And so I feel I am at liberty to say that, for all that it's an unfair position to be put in, and a terrible burden to carry, there's nobody who carries it like Stanley does.

You see, he makes every choice to the best of his ability. He thinks about its ramifications to the best of his knowledge, and does his best to consider what his decision might mean in the long run. Take this recent choice, for example. He's decided to listen to me, for a few minutes, even though it's in his very nature to take action and to disagree, because he knows that I asked him to. He's chosen to compromise, despite the fact I could press an advantage.

He's done so, because he knows in his heart and in his mind that I care about him. I want him to be happy. He knows, based off prior knowledge and based on his own gut feeling, that listening to me will make him feel better, because he matters to me.

And this is a simple choice, deceptively so, but in its simplicity it is a perfect example of what I'm trying to convey—

That Stanley does everything to the best of his ability, with all the care he can muster, and that no one could ever judge him poorly for doing the best he can.”

Stanley doesn't know when he started crying again, body wracked with the force of it. It's quiet, at least. When the Narrator stops speaking, he still feels him all around, comfort on every side.

Does he mean it? Does he really—?

“Of course I mean it,” the voice huffs, faux offense warm in his ear. “Don't you know by now that I mean what I say? Don't you—“ it wavers a little, before pushing on, a touch shakier. “Don't you know how much you mean to me?”

He cries. The sigh is fond, and gentle.

“You're alright, darling. It's alright.”

Taijitu. Balance between black and white. The symbol didn't always have the two dots, you know. In the original concept, yin and yang symbolized stillness and activeness of all things in the universe, respectively. The substance of the universe moves as an active force, until it reaches its limit and becomes still; and yet even that stillness reaches a limit, and becomes active again. The dots, added during the Ming Dynasty, have since their inception been a portrayal of how one will always be the source of the other, and so both will always exist. There will always be an interconnected, interwoven, powerful bond between these two forces in flux.

Which doesn't mean much, to those of us who don't study Taoist philosophy or history. Most of us just appreciate the duality of opposites, who cannot help but have a grain of commonality. One does not and cannot overtake the other. Round and round they go, an endless chase.

Or, one might note, a dance between partners. Momentum carried through. Weight supported. Stepping in sync.

The wheel turns, as do the dancers. This is how they succeed. When one slips back, the other grabs them by the hand and guides them forward with the grace that's only gained through years of practice and familiarity. The wheel turns without catching, and neither are caught under its grind, because they're standing on its face, using it as the platform on which they perform only for each other.

Stanley dries his eyes and wipes his nose. He's sorry for causing such a mess.

“Please, I've seen you do worse and we both know it. Remember the time you threw every chair and box out the window to see if you could make a ladder back up into the office?”

He laughs weakly. Not one of his brightest moments, admittedly. The Narrator had threatened to navlock every last item in the office down if he tried it again, after.

“Which, of course, only motivated you to try again.”

Yeah. Because he's a bastard.

“That you are, Stanley.” The Narrator chuckles. “Now, up you get. Up, up!” he reinforces, while Stanley sluggishly gets to his feet. “I have a surprise for you!”

Oh boy. That can only be good, he's sure.

He's led through the office to the TSP 2 Expo sign, which has returned to take the place of door 416 for good, it seems. When the Narrator guides him through the display environment, he takes care not to rush Stanley, since the thin monitors and patterned carpet delight him more than he ever thought possible, but it's also clear the fellow is eager to get a move on, to show Stanley something he's sure will knock his socks off.

So when Stanley gets to the Jump circle, displaying twenty-one jumps left, he's distinctly unimpressed.

“Just trust me,” the Narrator says, with nothing but earnestness.

And so he does. He steps into the circle.

“Jump!”

With a barely-there smile, and a roll of his eyes, Stanley jumps.

And then the game resets.

THEENDISNEVERTHEENDISNEVERTHEENDISLOADING

Stanley blinks, looking at his computer monitor, then up. Uh... What?

“Stanley,” the voice says slyly, “when have I ever given you reason to doubt me?”

“Now. Jump.”

Stanley's eyes widen. He blinks.

And then he jumps.

He jumps again.

And again.

And then Stanley begins to laugh, utterly befuddled and delighted and surprised and joyful, and the Narrator begins to laugh as well, and the wheel spins on, and so do they.

#the stanley parable #tspud #may writes #the sparrow parable #tsp #idk why i am bothering to tag when the embedded links mean it wont show in the tag but #here we are.

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wannawritefast · 6 months

Text

Poise

A/N: Here she is. Seriously Aro is wicked fun to write and as I told Vas (@vasiktomis) reader/MC kinda ripped the reins from my hands. Is she (as in reader/MC) a lil coo coo bananas? Yes. Did she stretch my abilities as a writer? Yes. Were there times that I agonized over a singular word choice for an embarrassing amount of time? Oh yes. A lot of firsts in this fic for me as a writer. Very proud of myself. Thanks for reading. Also I'm so unserious about Aro. No funky aesthetic gif for this one. He's simply too silly. I also post all my stuff on both Tumblr and AO3. Same handle!

Pairing: Aro Volturi x F!Reader

Words: 6.6k

Warnings: gore (consider yourself warned), implied intimate partner abuse in flashbacks, death (no major characters), arachnophobia, reader has powers having to do with nightmares and is crazy, so is Aro, it’s the Volturi you kinda know what you’re getting into

Summary: After taking matters into your own hands, you swear never to be weak a day in the rest of your eternity. The Volturi can help with that.

“What I am left wondering is why you have suddenly found yourself in want of membership to the Volturi. You denied us quite emphatically those many years ago.”

“I was under a year into my immortality, Caius. You must forgive the blunders of my youth.”

Indeed, that many years ago you had declined their invitation. But that was when you still had your youthful fire about you. In so many years you had traded it in for temperance.

Still Caius narrowed his eyes from the platform. Only two of those splendiferous thrones were occupied at the moment -- a naked helm. Heidi had assured you that Aro was well on his way. That had been 3 minutes ago when Caius had decided to put you on trial for no other reason than him not being present.

Marcus watched on with those ancient eyes. They must have always looked old, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t imagine Marcus’ eyes looking any younger than time itself. And Caius’ eyes -- well… Very well. You’d let him enjoy this silly little power trip. There was something of a cruel smile lifting the edge of his lip.

“I have the time to hold a grudge.”

“Have you nothing better to do with eternity than harbor petty anger? My, my, you truly do not play well with others.” Your eyes drifted to Marcus. “Have you nothing to say, old friend?”

“We are hardly old friends.”

You rolled your eyes, settling your attention back to Caius. “If you’ll excuse me, I shall speak no more until Aro arrives.”

“Why? Are you frightened?” He taunted. Bait, that’s all it was…

“Are you?”

The doors behind you swung open heavily, like a final breath. Four sets of heeled shoes struck the marble. You did not turn even as Jane and Alec walked close on either side of you, like eels as they glided up the platform standing in the background.

Heidi didn’t even so much as brush past you to go out a side door. It was an unusual occurrence to demand entrance into the Volturi especially when a previous invitation had been so rudely turned down. You were certain a number of the vampires along the walls with you were there simply to see what demise would befall you for such insolence.

The fourth set of boots slowly walked up to the direct back of you. There was no body heat to speak for Aro but you knew it was him. The eyes of all the people in the room suddenly on you could not mean anything else.

“Did you receive a warm welcome?” His voice hit the back of your head and it was no louder than a lover whispering their intentions.

You straightened, your eyes piercing Caius where he stood. “Something like that.”

Aro finished the pace around you. “You are very brave to have come here.” His eyes scanned the walls. He was looking to see if it was true that you had come alone.

“I was hoping it might be rewarded.”

“Hope…” He tasted the word. “Now that’s a word I have not heard in a good while.”

Half of a smile spread across your face. “You’re welcome.”

“Hm.” Aro looked you up and down, amused, before continuing his path to his throne. The three men on the platform finally sat. “And I… well, perhaps I should not assume a thing. Why don’t you tell me why you are here?”

The blonde vampire stole the silence from you. You couldn’t help but think that the angelic color was wasted on him. He would be blonde. “Foolish girl, she’s changed her mind!”

“Caius, I did ask her to tell, did I not?” Aro only dignified the man with a slight turn of his head. He set his jaw and sunk back into his throne a little. Aro’s hand gestured for you to continue.

“It is true,” you responded. As much as it pained you to soothe Caius’ temper via agreeability you were not above it especially now. “I would like to petition for entry to the Volturi.”

The laugh of all the vampires in the room made it all the more funny, you supposed. Even Marcus’ perpetually morose eyes tilted up as he chuckled.

Aro only smiled. “Now my dear…”

“I am aware of my past petulence-”

“Ooh, that was not petulence,” he corrected you, leaning forward. “Petulence is far too generous. You were rude.”

You gulped. It was true. You had been rude those 200 years ago. Very rude.

Aro continued. “I believe you said… what were the words you used…?”

Marcus cleared his throat. “Allow me. ‘The Volturi are a semblance of order. Their actions are a colossal mimicry of law and the leaders are just as big of fools for as long as they stand if they believe that their offers of entry are anything more than an identification of spinelessness in the subject if they accept such a thing.’” Curse him for his memory. “Something like that.”

His really good memory.

The helmsman of the Volturi raised his brows at that. “Your recollection is pristine, Marcus. My goodness, such scathing words… I had forgotten.”

“‘Go to hell, you greedy fucks’ too,” Caius added, that hint of a cruel smile earlier was now a complete grin. “Can’t forget that either.”

“That last one was not me actually.” A glower from the blonde vampire. “My sire, rest his soul-” I hope he is eternally suffering, “-should be properly credited for that.”

There was a chuckle from all three on the platform, even Jane smiled a little. Although it was better than how you had begun it still was not a good sign.

“Yes, rest his soul.” Aro tilted his chin up. “Whatever did happen to him?”

A test. Aro knew what had happened. Everyone in the room knew what had happened. Or they knew a version. “My coven at the time… handled him and went our separate ways.”

It was not a lie.

“Yes, I suppose you did handle it.” Aro remarked. “It was startling to hear about, just like that, ripped limb from limb by your coven.” He didn’t trust you. Why would he?

You swept up the steps before him and wordlessly knelt, reaching a hand up. A young woman reaching her hand up to a young man, both centuries old. Jane and Alec stepped forward in warning, flanking Aro’s throne. Your eyes flitted between them. An impasse. Still you kept your hand outstretched to Aro who had taken a small step forward in your approach. Your eyes landed back on him. Please.

Aro regarded you coolly; it was colored by something else though. Intrigue. Curiosity. Hunger. The last time Aro had read you had been 200 years ago; you had so much less control then. You remembered him snatching his hands away from yours as your nightmares, or rather his, had sloppily tumbled toward him while he flitted through your memory. Two horrible truths slamming into one another -- a mutual bruise, the two of you. Your talents were similar, all thing considered.

“You can look,” you whispered up at him. “I am better at this now.”

Something of a warm smile dawned on him, if indeed Aro could ever be described as warm, as he crouched down. His red, milky eyes bore into yours and then, gently, one of his hands tucked under your palm and the other covered your knuckles. You bridled the lightning fast nightmares as the man pushed forward.

Just like the first time it had happened, it felt like nothing more than the pad of a thumb releasing held pages as they rushed for the cover of a book. Aro flicked through two centuries of life in ten seconds, his eyes darting between yours as he passively consumed.

The story had to begin with the truth that covens did not turn on each other. In technicality it was not that it had turned on itself -- just all against the self-declared leader who held all of you in a vice-like grip. You refused to even give him his name in your memory, yet another way to kill him back in a way that truly mattered.

His inclinations of you showing abilities upon your turning were unfortunately well-guessed. You cursed your sire for the rest of your days for his early but ultimately rare stroke of clairvoyance. With time you would learn that he was no stranger to fear as a weapon either.

Aro pushed forward, unreadably neutral. The memory of the first time you ever used your abilities somersaulted through your consciousness. You had gone well beyond the bounds of the perimeter that had been set for you by your captor. It was direct disobedience to your sire’s orders and the vampire passing through never saw it coming. The spooking they had done you was a complete accident. Their intentions to take the human body you were feeding on, however, were undeniably loaded with malice.

You had only intended to shoot them a glare but something about the tense moment, about them approaching you with a hand reaching out to what was in yours… that’s what started it. You heard it first, an impossibly low thunder like something far beneath the earth pushing its way up; they heard it too. Your crouch was something feral when you did it and the nightmares that crashed into that poor vampire tumbled into your mind too. To that though you were a spectator, privy to the innermost workings of what horrified that particular individual.

Tense shoulders, a talon-like grip taking control of your hands, a furrowed brow. Your eyes snapped shut; while the nightmares were never your personal bane they hardly offered any comfort. You saw it all. It would be the first of many in the coming eternity.

Their shrinking hands slashing and clawing through phantom blood, unable to cup it, unable to consume any of it in a vicious bout of craving. Frantically pressing themselves into the ground as the endless blood on the ground began draining into the soil. They were withering by the second. It didn’t matter to the vampire that it was utterly ridiculous.

The vampire before you, the real version, collapsed to the ground; you heard it, like a snare cutting through reverberating bass. You didn’t open your eyes until their breath came out in pants, as if they were suffocating on too much air. And it stopped. Just like that. An end to the focus ending their nightmare.

Aro cocked his head, continuing to read you. In hindsight, you wished you had cut and run right then. You would have had a head start. Your sire wouldn’t have caught you in the few moments he had made the mistake of leaving you alone. From that moment on, he forced you to be at his side. You remembered the berating you had gotten for your disobedience that followed after his wide-eyed realization that you could do what you had done to the weeping vampire.

With that, you became the prize of the coven; it was your abilities that afforded your sire his longevity. He made you play with his food sometimes; asking what you saw as you screwed your eyes shut. You told yourself it was from the effort. In truth it was not any harder than flicking down a wooden block had been in your mortal youth.

No, you strained with the wretched knowledge that the only thing you really had a knack for was holding out a mirror. The beastly things you saw -- what frightened the most deplorable of individuals. It was sick; in every horrid vision you churned out, you saw the inner workings of the mind, of the filthy things that these monsters had done in their conscious lives. The worst thing about your abilities was that the most frequent nightmare you bore witness to was them getting what they had deserved. Revenge. Balance. Order. Justice.

It was true. Yours and Aro’s gifts weren’t really that different. You saw a lot, possibly too much of whoever had the poor luck of encountering your proficiencies.

And, oh, how your sire had loved your gift. It was precious, he said. You recalled a time he had even called it artistry. It was after you used it, after you saw the depravity of human and vampire kind that he cradled your head between his heavy hands. You learned to savor the moments where he wasn’t throwing them around. And during those times when you deeply pleased him by what you were able to do, you saw him bloat with the intoxication of power. It would be many years until you really used your gift but it took little guesswork to know then what he feared: the loss of control -- the loss of you. Motivated by pride he kept turning others, stopping at the fifth of your covenmates when he realized that he had really only lucked out on his first try -- also, you.

That was when you had been initially approached. Your sire had never once received so much as a greeting from the Volturi; he never let you forget how bitter it made him. Unfortunately, his hold on you also included passing down his opinion. By the time the Volturi got to you, you had been spoiled against them. Only time would truly tell whether you would be forgiven for it.

At this moment, though his red eyes were set on you, Aro wasn’t really looking though -- not the present-you anyways. It was subtle, the way his brows and lips fluttered up and down as if fighting his own desire to respond. His expression sobered briefly.

You had spent centuries with the man, your sire… he was brutal. Even you were not immune to his rage. Each of your covenmates were strong in their own rights but none of you were singularly stronger than him. The Volturi’s arrival and immediate departure was one of the worst days of your life. You remembered holding one of your sisters, the sixth, the youngest, after it all. She begged you to stay and endure with her. And for two hundred years the two of you, all of you kept that promise to each other.

It had been one too many cruel moments when the dam broke. It was the moment that all of you realized that while you were too individually weak, he couldn’t handle all of you. You did the honors of the inaugural blow -- undoing him with nightmares of his own demise as it came to fruition. It was the only time in all of your years of using your abilities that you hadn’t clenched your eyes shut and shrunk away. No, that time… that time you had leaned forward, eyes unblinking as you watched him writhe in fear before what was left of him was instead writhing in pain. It was easy, like dropping a heavy bucket with little care of what happened to its contents.

As Aro dug, it was only then that you realized you smiled when you’d done it. It was funny, you supposed, that your sire’s worst fear had come to pass right as it transpired just moments before in his mind. The six of you, your five covenmates and yourself, tore him to shreds. No blood that you had tasted or would ever taste compared to the delicious freedom of his eternal rest. He died, truly died, afraid. He deserved worse.

It was short-lived though. After centuries of subjugation, the sudden freedom was a blessing and a curse and not a single one of you could really agree on what to do except to leave. It was devastating in the same way you would see the final struggle of a living thing fighting off its final moments before succumbing; they were certainly in a better place. Two of them went on their own. The other three traveled together elsewhere. At the end of it you found yourself alone and not wanting to be weak again a day in your life.

While the rebellion had been justified, it was an overthrow of power, something especially dangerous in the halls of Volterra and you had been the ring leader. After all, you were the only one in the group with a talent.

Aro rose to his feet, gently tugging you up with him. “Now that does complicate the narrative, doesn’t it…”

Your eyes flickered to Caius who was in turn staring him down. “Oh, come off it, Aro. You are not honestly considering letting her in.” He stalked up to where the two of you were standing. You looked up at both of the men, still a step below. “The Volturi do not give second chances!”

“If I may, I am not asking for a second chance.” Bold… This was bold of you… “I am petitioning for membership on the grounds that it was offered once before. Your opinions of me have not changed since the initial offer.”

“Yes, they have.” Caius spat.

“Mine haven’t,” Aro confirmed. “Although I wouldn’t be so sure that is a good thing.”

Bright red eyes bore down as you finally pulled your hand from his grasp. His fingertips brushed along your knuckles before his hands lowered in kind. Him looking through your mind just moments prior felt less invasive. You directed your attention instead to the less intense of the two.

“We should have killed you the second you walked in here.”

Very well. “If it is an apology you want I will give it.” Your eyes were locked on Caius, pure impudence meeting unbridled sadism. You knew it drove him crazy.

“Foolish girl-!”

“I am sorry!” You snapped at him. The words came out more like ‘shut up.’ They were just as effective though. Caius stood silent although the sneer was still on his face. Of course that would do it for him. You knew it. It was disgusting. Oh, how he loved seeing people grovel. The hate in that man’s heart…

You suddenly remembered yourself. Aro had seen that -- your distaste for Caius, your willingness to do anything to be a member of the Volturi, your deep regret that your sire had influenced you to be so brash. That was one of the worst things your sire ever did: convincing you that his opinions were yours.

“I will repeat to you what I said to you earlier. Forgive me for the insolence of my early days. It was unwise of me to have behaved in such a way… and-” You were practically choking on your apology, uselessly panting with the effort. Admittance that you were wrong had a bad mouthfeel, especially after decades being forced to do it. “-and I was wrong about all of it. Consider me corrected.”

If Caius had been biting back any of his cruel amusement before, he certainly wasn’t hiding it now. Marcus was now standing closer having meandered nearer during the course of the apology. And Aro… Aro had the most curious of soft smiles on his face.

You were beginning to think you had made some kind of mistake coming here. You had laid almost all your cards bare. You had shown them you were desperate which was far worse than just being desperate. This was something you were going to have to amend for a good while if they accepted you. That you begged to be let in.

“I am satisfied,” Caius remarked, eyes settling on Aro. They were standing over you, all three of them.

Some days ago you had come across a rat moments before it was devoured by three street dogs in an alleyway on your journey to Volterra. It must have looked like something like this to that rather unfortunate vermin, you thought to yourself.

Your head dropped in complete and utter humility, eyes only on the marble underfoot. Even the pristine stone was too good for you… You had been at the mercy of the three men before you since you set foot in this dreadful place. It was only at that premature moment you still had an ounce of pride in your body. It was far gone now.

“Marcus?”

“I am satisfied.”

“As am I.” Cold smooth fingers tucked under your chin. Aro’s. You must have looked something pitiful. “And this-” Aro tutted at you, lifting your face up. “-we will work on this.”

The gesture might have been kind, intimate even, if it was anyone but Aro. You didn’t really trust him as far as you could throw him but you knew enough in having seen his nightmares many years ago that he would not tolerate an ounce of self-deprecation in a vampire beyond paying their due respects to the Volturi, to him. He had seen quite enough from you. That much was true.

“Yes… sir?” You tested the title. You weren’t quite sure what to refer to him as.

Aro’s face took on something of a delighted expression. “Look at you using your manners. See, Caius; she learns.” The blonde vampire rolled his eyes. “I do appreciate it but ‘Aro’ will do just fine.”

Ah. Well, that was embarrassing. You nodded affirmatively. Marcus’ eyes flicked from Aro to you and back before he returned to his seat. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Jane smile something wicked.

“We shall get you new attire, especially now that you will be joining the guard after some fine-tuning, but there’s no sense in putting you in anything of the sort since we’re coming up on-” The side doors swung open and Heidi led in a group of tourists who were guffawing at the ceiling. Aro’s hands flew up like a child prince being brought an expensive present. In a sense, it was -- “-dinnertime!”

Oh, so this was how they fed. Aro steered you to the side and behind him with a hand clamped around your upper arm. Heidi sidled up to you.

“Welcome to the Volturi.”

“How did you know?”

“You are still in one piece.” Fair.

Aro leaned over to you. “Now, next time you will join your compatriots along the wall but tonight we will make an exception -- something of a welcome gift…” He extended his arm to the group of mortals before you who were clicking pictures of the room. Like fish in a bucket… or however the expression went.

You raised a brow at him.

“You first, my dear.”

A vampire along the wall by the name of Felix bobbed on his feet, antsy. You smiled and launched off the platform for the human before you. The both of you rolled together as you slammed him into the ground. Only his limbs flailed clumsily. Yours had been a vision of centuries of practice. A trained killer.

You bared your teeth. He screamed. Humans…

Wandering aimlessly about the grounds, such expansive ones at that and with such independence, was novel to you. You weren’t entirely sure what to do with yourself; it was beautiful. Just months ago you had been sequestered to your corner of the world, never to go beyond a painfully small perimeter. And now here you were… surrounded by the most powerful of your kind. Nearly unrestricted access to the grounds. New clothes. Fresh blood, not whatever your sire didn’t finish. Eyes never black with hunger. The respect you got as a tentative member of the Volturi guard. It was new.

And the Italian air. Sure, you didn’t really need to breathe at all. There wasn’t a function to smelling it. But the air… The breeze in Volterra was something fresh, warm, earthy, sweet, like blood. It was even more perfumy at night.

Something about the years of being on edge, even as an immortal, still ran through your veins, through the very way you functioned. Even in your most relaxed moments, you could recognize when you were being followed. And someone was following you.

You stopped in your tracks, only peering over your shoulder.

A fraction of you thought to yourself -- how odd… Aro should’ve been better at this. Then you realized two things. The first was that if Aro was truly aiming for discretion in whatever he was about to do, there was no reason for it to be him here and now. The second was that it was also entirely possible that Aro simply didn’t care that you knew he was there… or, in fact, did want you to know. Your curiosity was a helpless one; you must’ve looked like a cat.

“I was wondering when you were going to catch on.”

Only the trees in the garden obscured him from you, not the darkness. “How did I do?”

Silence as he rounded the corner. Black suit. Red eyes. Dark hair slicked back. You let him approach until he was a pace away, slowly continuing. “Ten seconds before you caught me… there are a good many vampires who would have gone much longer if noticing me at all.”

“Will you subtract a moment or two since I contemplated not acknowledging you?”

“Hearsay.”

“Only if you have the ability to corroborate and don’t.” You held your hand out to the side toward him, stopping in your tracks.

Aro only looked at it from the side of his eye, not even stopping. He did grace you with a smile though. “I should like to keep my victory unnegotiated.”

Ah, yes… the cat walking next to whatever you could call it that killed it. You closed the distance with a few long strides, now playing catch up with him. “You were loud.”

“I was not aiming for stealth.” If Aro was trying to humble you, it was working.

“And what was your target then?”

Silence again. It was comfortable. In time you came upon your favorite spot in the gardens — the point at which you could overlook the better portion of the town. It was beautiful -- quiet and empty for the most part at this time of night but the evidence of mortality there, living and dying… well, you still found it charming.

“Would now be the appropriate time to thank you?”

“For heaven's what?”

“For…” You finally looked at him beside you. He wasn’t looking at you; perhaps he was gazing beyond this little enclave in Tuscany. “For your hospitality.”

“Hospitality is for guests.”

“I was a guest for a small while.”

“You were more of a defendant.”

“Well, then, I thank you for your arbitration.”

“My ‘arbitration’?”

“Yes.”

Aro exhaled for the show of it. “Do stop your simpering and get on with what you mean.”

You were speechless.

“I didn’t say ‘shut up,’ did I?”

You blinked at him. “I suppose… I am grateful to be somewhere nicer.”

“I can hardly be thanked for your decision to come here.” He still refused to regard you. You imagined it was a rare thing for Aro to resist such expressions of the kind. He was a proud man after all. You looked back out at Volterra.

Aro finally turned his eyes to you. It was a withering look. Now that you obliged. “I saw quite a bit in that mind of yours. It is such a shame that you were thoroughly convinced of such horrible things.”

You were confused. “The only thing that I was convinced of was inferiority.”

“Like I said,” he snipped. “Horrible things.”

“Now how is that horrible,” you inquired. Surely this did not bother him personally. Aro did not strike you as the type. “I do you no injury in my lack of pride.”

“And you think it is good for the Volturi’s reputation, for the guard’s reputation to have but one who thinks themselves lesser than even humans?” Aro seemed to shudder at the ‘h word.’

Oh. There it was. He was right. Your head lowered.

He tilted your chin up for the second time. It wasn’t as gentle. This time it was a scolding. Aro was not pleased. He released it looking back onto the town. “And you must stop that. It’s unbecoming.”

It was lost on you how to respond. “Sorry.”

“Already forgiven, my dear.”

“I guess… I just want to thank you for taking a chance.”

Aro scoffed and looked at you fully. He wasn’t a tall man; his height was hardly what made him intimidating. What made him intimidating was the stature with which he carried himself, the raw power, the hunger, the intelligence. A man like him hadn’t gotten to where he was without some impressive cunning.

“I might find low esteem from my subordinates satisfactory on the usual occasion. I will not mince my words -- on you it is a most distasteful thing. I will forgive its ugliness for its reaffirmation but only for a time.”

If there was any functional air in your lungs, it would’ve been snatched from you. His words were not harshly spoken nor were they loudly boomed at you. Instead they broke skin like something sharp to vulnerable flesh. Aro took an imposing step forward. You took one back but it wasn’t enough. Your neck was craned up at him despite every inner instinct to shrink away; you wouldn’t dare disobey him again. You weren’t sure he would be as kind.

“There is nothing so abhorrent as one of our kind — our superior, beautiful kind — acting in the embarrassing way you continue to. If I was capable of emptying my stomach at the thought, I would.” Aro plucked something minute off your shoulder before rolling it between his long fingers and discarding it to the wind. “And as far as taking a chance is concerned, I- The Volturi- do not ‘take chances.’ Make no mistake, there is no calculated risk with you being here.”

“I-”

“If that is an apology or another meaningless expression of gratitude poised on your tongue, I would advise that you hold it there.”

You could only gape up at him. He was leaning over you still, very close.

“You will show the full extent of your gifts tomorrow. I want you officially in the guard as soon as possible.” And with that, Aro was gone, stalking away into the gardens.

With about 12 hours to ruminate on Aro’s words to you, you had decided that he had a flair for melodrama. You also decided definitively that you would never let him know such a thing unless he pried the information from you, which he was indeed capable of. This… what you were being made to do before the Volturi… You would not define it with such levity. When Aro had said that you were to display the full extent of your gifts, he had meant it.

It wasn’t certain whether it was you or the man writhing on the ground that was the subject of the gripping fear that your nightmares brought, what with your upper body being curled in on itself the way it was. Your fingers were curled at the ends of your locked arms with effort. The unfortunate human’s whimpers rattled along the domed ceiling, merely an accessory to the deep hum in your ears.

There was an exaggerated yawn from behind you — showy for a vampire — Jane’s. And a voice cut through the whole of it, halting your powers immediately. “No, no. That won’t do at all.”

Because you had already been shrinking away at the time of the interruption you needed only to open your eyes. The body thudded to the floor. Relief. It wouldn’t last. Aro was shaking his head as he leaned against his throne.

“You, my dear-” he pushed off his spot and stopped just behind you “-are holding back.”

The man, as far as you could tell, was only deeply phobic of spiders. It was how you had done it the dozens of times you’d done it before. Except for…

Out of the corner of your eye, Caius held a finger to his temple, rolling his eyes. Asshole… Aro’s voice pulled you back. “Try again.”

You clenched your eyes shut, your chest coiling up in kind. The man began wheezing almost instantaneously, the only sound in the room.

“No.” Aro cut in once again and you dropped focus. You turned to face him, your muscles loosening in the way that only annoyance could make them. His red eyes glimmered back at you. “That is not what I meant. Again.”

You huffed. You’ve done it once before, his face seemed to say. Who were you kidding… that was exactly what his sharp features said. When you had channeled that much power, you had been in an entirely different state of mind. That had been the raw rage you had buckled behind survival. All you had done was suddenly unleash it. You weren’t certain that you still had it in you. “Aro. I can’t-”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Nonsense. His hand straightened to a point — the human, once more.

You faced more of your body, still tense, eyes clamping shut. Your arms locked to your sides and you willed the fear forward before you tensed — thunder in your ears. Your muscles reacted in pure instinct, the man weeping in perfect time. Despite the overwhelming physical sensation of pushing the abstract forward, you could feel Aro behind you. It was stronger this time.

Oh, the man wasn’t just afraid of spiders.

Between the spiders, flickering amidst the impossible number of angular legs and blinking sets of eyes, the insects that dribbled into every corner of his vision, there was something else. A girl with one dark eye and a knife. She was young.

You jolted backward, knocking briefly against Aro. If he minded he didn’t indicate any such sentiment. Your lip curled into a sneer. The human… he was pleading with a higher power that was certainly not listening if it was there at all. Pathetic.

When your eyelids closed this time they didn’t tighten. It was a flutter. And this time when your muscles tensed, you trembled. Where there was air between the clawed fingers at your side, you imagined the man’s fleshy neck. This… this was righteous. The girl began closing in, spiders skittering out of her path.

Aro’s voice brushed your ear. “May I?” You nodded your head, although you weren’t certain as to what exactly you were agreeing to. Aro would not harm you; you were sure of it.

It felt like a baptism. In a way it was. Feather light, Aro’s fingers ghosted first at the base of your neck, gently pulling the muscles out to your shoulders. In the touch you were acutely aware that it wasn’t intimacy that Aro was after; he was honing you. Your nightmares were only encouraged.

Aro’s hands smoothed over your shoulders with a quiet mastery -- tender in the way a sculptor guided pliable clay between their fingers as it spun at their behest. The harshness was gone with but a swipe.

The man bellowed. He sounded now more of a screeching animal than man. The girl picked up her pace, almost a jog. The knife winked at him.

It turned into a full grasp as Aro traveled down your biceps, tugging the astriction out. He chased the natural form of the muscle down your elbows into the joint of your wrist. The rigidity in your fingers released at the pressure he placed there -- conjoined in poise.

You pushed a stronger assault of terror forward to meet the man. Long gone were the spiders. There was a small part of you that recognized that he wished for the insects instead of the young girl with a bruise ready to bury the knife in his chest, his stomach, anywhere the business end would find purchase. She was standing over him.

He screamed. Yes, ‘scream’ was the right word for it…

You spectated his nightmare; the girl with the dark eye had already started plunging her blade into him. Again. Again. Again. Again.

Aro’s hands shed themselves from your arms but only for a moment. Your chin bloomed with the familiar feeling of his fingers, turning it and angling it upright. Proud as it was meant to be.

He whispered again. “Look.” It was a gruesome sight.

The possibility that the man had begun gouging out his own eyes the moment Aro had begun amending your posture was a good one. If that was the case he had indeed made decent progress. The man was on his knees and his left eye hung from its socket like a generous helping of hot cheese, swinging. You almost wanted to applaud the man’s zeal. Only a desperate rodent would have done what he had. His grubby fingers pushed into his own skull again, getting around the other eye, bemoaning his self-inflicted plight. He seemed to be chewing the air. There was viscera on the marble -- not the first time it had been so defiled and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Still, you didn’t relent; you had never extended your power this far. God, why hadn’t you done it before… Sure, you- no, he had taken his eyes but somehow it wasn’t enough. The young girl brandishing the blood-soaked knife was still angry. This was justice. And he hadn’t yet paid in full.

He howled, writhing.

Marcus approached at the very edge of your vision. “Aro… is this-?”

He was halted by an upheld hand, the other slowly falling from your chin. Aro watched you as you watched the man, watched his nightmares.

“We needn’t toy any longer.”

The thunder in your ears rumbled to silence. “This is toying? If you saw what I saw, you’d know…”

Marcus seemed taken aback. You weren’t sure if it was because of how true your words were or how right they sounded coming from your mouth.

You drifted back to the man. “He deserves it.” Your voice came out no louder than a whisper.

“It’s alright, Marcus. We asked for an assessment-” The ensuing squelch and sudden cry indicated the man had found success on his second endeavor. “-and we have indeed received one.”

You found Aro’s eyes with yours.

There was something of an assuaged smile -- his bright teeth wolfish. The feeling of your cheeks pulled up was the only sign to yourself that you had been smiling. You took the moment to look about the room. Caius was staring at the man on the floor, mouth slightly ajar.

“Well?”

He turned his head first then his eyes. A grin.

You beheld the grotesque body with a sneer. He hadn’t even had the decency to look artful as he went -- his body held upright by the leverage of his spine against his heels. Pathetic. The way he dug at his own face like that… like you were some tumor, something he could just rip out of himself if he tried hard enough and be done with. He died as stupid as he looked. Your chest flared at the offense.

Aro was still standing near you. “Par excellence.”

You digested his words. You understood now. This was what he had known you were capable of. In just moments, Aro had cured you of your affliction, the debilitation of timidity. You matched his smile.

“Would now be the appropriate time to thank you?”

It was met with a giddy laugh. Aro clapped his hands together, utterly delighted at your words, your smile. He gulped it down and stepped backward offering you an expressive bow complete with arms outstretched. “No ‘thanks’ necessary. You… you are a credit to our kind.”

You bobbed your head in courteous reply to his own bow, unable to hide your giggle.

“You were never anything but.”

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mebemilena · 4 months

Text

Bodyguard

i'm thinking about stating a series, but i've been thinking about SO MUCH stuff. also, i'm relearning how to use Tumblr.

Last night i had a dream, a woman telling me to write, but she didn't tell me WHAT to write.

maya lopez x reader

summary: Kingpin hires you to be Maya's bodyguard

"A bodyguard?", Maya signs too fast in hopes to dismiss Fisk's order while it's fresh . She doesn't understand why she needs someone to protect her.

"i can take care of myself, uncle.", she insists, but Fisk gives her minimal attention.

"I need you to lay low. We can't get any attention for now.", Kazi translated. He was not entirely happy with the situation.

You arrived at the gym ready to show off your abilities. They said you had to be a good fighter, observant and easy to mingle around. Knowing ASL would be a plus so you studied a few sentences and the letters.

As you got your muscles stretched, warming up your arms and legs, a few guys arrived. You recognized the Tracksuit mafia for their clothes and hid a laugh. It was funny how they seemed more like characters from a 90's TV show than to criminals.

"Y/N", Kazi called you, he was the one who suggested your name for the job. "This is Maya.", he said as he signed, introducing you to the woman beside him. Before he could continue, Maya interrupted him.

"Do you know her?", she asked him, eyes not leaving you.

"We're friends.", he replied.

You kept a straight face, somehow trying to show that you had control over your emotions and were a good pick for the job.

Maya and Kazi exchanged looks.

You went up the ring to start the "physical test", as Kazi called. A group of man lined up, ready to attack you and you understood the task in hand. It didn't take long for the first one to kiss the mat.

One by one they ran up to you, violently trying to put you down. One of them went as far as talking to you. "Nice shoes, princess. Wanna dance?", he mocked your bright orange sneakers before lifting you up. Terrible mistake.

Maya watched with thick interest as you put all her man down. Aggressively, violently, though your expression barely changed from a smile to a grin. You were having way too much fun.

"She was a Black Widow.", Kazi explained.

Maya got up from her seat and went up to the mat. She took her leather jacket and signed to you. You didn't understand it all but you did recognize the word "dinner".

Though you tried, Maya was way too talented. Her kicks were too strong and her aim was flawless. You hit the mat after a few minutes, your nose bleeding.

"Enough.", Kazi followed her orders. "Congrats, you got the job.", he threw you a towel.

After getting cleaned up and socializing a little, you left the gym and met Maya at the parking lot, close to her own motorbike. She handed you a helmet.

"When you said you got a job interview, i didn't think it was to be my bodyguard.", Maya hit your arm.

"I wanted to surprise you.', you replied, winking at her.

Maya rolled her eyes. "As if we didn't spend a lot of time together anyway.", she pulled you by the hem of your jacket, your noses touching. "Sorry for the nose.", she apologised.

"You can always kiss me better.", you signed, wiggling your eyebrows.

You two stayed in your litte bubble for a moment before Maya tapped your shoulder. "Let's go. You own me dinner.", she set her attire.

"Oh, that's what you said.", you finally understood.

Check out my redbubble shop: https://www.redbubble.com/people/MilenaFernandes/shop?asc=u

toss a coin to your artist (me) at ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/mebemilena

#maya lopez #maya lopez x reader #alaqua cox #mcu #marvel women #echo

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fxchild · 7 months

Text

The Switch

Miles Fairchild x fem!reader

Chapter seven: So now you're back?

A note from Fxchild ! Hi hi so ya I am not dead ! My phone lit broke and I totes forgot my email for this acc but now I'm back and my writers block has never gone away so quickly ! I'm so excited for new chapters to b out soon ! In the meantime while you r waiting for chapters, if you have one shot ideas for characters Finn Wolfhard plays I would b more than happy to write those so you guys aren't waiting forever for a new chapter ! So...finally heres the well awaited chapter seven ! I hope you enjoy this <3

It's the first day of May. It's also been three months since Miles left again. I keep telling Flora that he'll be back soon but I feel my heart break every time I lie to her. I don't think he will be back until I leave for the summer and then he'll leave again when I come back. I feel so guilty..Flora doesn't have a brother that lives with her because of me. But was it all really my fault? He treats me like shit and expects me to tolerate it. Never mind. I don't give a flying fuck about him anymore. He can do whatever he wants, if something happens to him, oh boo hoo not my problem.

It was finally Friday which means I have tomorrow off and I only have to teach Flora a little today because the weather was perfect for horseback riding and I'd promise to let her out today. Today I wore a dark red top with dark grey jeans with black high top shoes. I put my hair in a half up half down clip and did minimal makeup because I was planning on recording myself for an upcoming interview I have for a summer job.

Today I planned out a written test to see Flora's knowledge on geography. I would give her a half an hour to finish up on review and two hours for the test. The test was fairly easy so it shouldn't take her more than an hour or so.

"And begin." I smiled at Flora, setting my timer on my desk which is right across from hers. She immediately begins to read and write down answers while I look over her past work to grade.

Around 45 minutes into the session we hear the front door open. Flora pays no attention to it, I assume it's Ms. Grose coming in from cutting grass or buying groceries so I ignore it and go back to reading old assignments. Around a few minutes went by when I heard footsteps coming to the room. Expecting Ms. Grose I take my feet off the desk and fix my posture without looking at the door. I pretend to be in deep thought with grading when I hear someone clear their throat and hear Flora shout,

"Miles!" She screeches and jumps from her seat running over to hug him. I immediately turn my whole body in my chair with wide eyes. His hair slightly longer and he looks a little taller. He still has the same smirk and dead eyes I saw the night he left. He had on a black coat that ran down to his knees and two bags in his hands that he must have taken when he left. He engulfs Flora into a hug and smiles down at her. I've never seen that smile before. Unlike the ones he had given me this one was warm and loving. I think I had given him that smile before but I wasn't sure. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, he looked up at me and smiled. It was genuine, his eyes brightened. I knew it was real because it wasn't that same old smirk he put on with confidence, he looked painfully awkward and his eyes kept darting between me and the wooden floor. I didn't smile back. I rose up from my seat and walked over to him.

"Flora, why don't you take Miles bags and put them in his room for him sweetheart?" I smiled down at her while patting her hair. She gladly accepts and runs off with his bags. Miles smiles at me again nodding opening his mouth to speak but I cut him off.

"How you been Miles? Where'd you go this time huh? Was it fun?" I say with a sarcastic fake smile, he could tell I was mad.

"Well I-" He begins as I slap his face.

"You scared the shit out of me! Do you know how upset Flora was? She cried for almost a week, blaming herself, poor girl!" I say gritting my teeth with my eyes starting to tear up slightly.

He stared at me with pursed lips before sighing and answering. "He told me to."

I scoff and look at him dumbfounded. "He? Wh-who the hell is 'he' Miles huh? What are you schizo?" I roll my eyes annoyed

"Nobody-nothing. I just..had a dream that's all." He shakes his head staring down at the floor with shame.

"Whatever Miles." I roll my eyes and walk over to Flora's desk to pick up her finished test. "Better go find Flora. Told her she could get out of class early to go ride the horses." I say looking through her test without looking up at Miles.

"You're not gonna come?" He asks quietly, nodding his head to the side, scratching the back of his neck.

I chuckle quietly before placing the test back on the desk. "After the last time?" I walk over to him, picking a pine needle off his jacket. "No thanks." I fake smile before walking out of the room to my own. When I reach my room I fall flat onto my bed before letting out a loud sigh into my pillow. A few minutes later I look out the window. I see Flora and Miles running to the stables and shouting happily. I turn to look at my Calendar, 30 days until I leave. I got sick of sitting in my room bored and decided to go do something, anything in his boring place.

I walk into the kitchen hoping there's an apple or some food sitting out but instead of being greeted with food, it's an unbearable Ms. Grose. I smile at her but she crosses her arms and frowns at me.

"Why are you being so unpleasant towards Miles?" She grits her teeth. "What are you talking about?" I ask trying to pretend I have no clue what's going on. "Talking to him in such an arrogant tone, not accepting his offer and you still wonder why he left? You should be shamed." She spits at me coldly. My face dropped as I start to feel tears in the corners of my eyes.

I quickly ran back up to my room and slam the door. Tears start to stream down my face as I grab my backpack and start shoving stuff into my bag. By the time I zipped it up I hear the front door open again. I quickly put my shoes back on and started heading down the stairs. Walking towards the door I'm wiping my tears, Miles blocks my path.

"Woah woah! Where are you going?" He asks with a concerned look on his face, his hands falling to my shoulders. "Out." I reply while sniffling trying to push past him.

"Um okay, when are you coming back?" He lets go of me, now following me out the door. "I don't know..like..tomorrow? Sunday maybe?" I continue to walk away from him to my car. "Tell me where in case you get black out drunk again and need me to pick you up." He scoffs grabbing onto my wrist.

"You know what Miles? You won't have to worry about me anymore! I won't bother you. It's clear I make you want to leave and you hate me so I'll just leave you alone okay?! Is that what you wa-"

He cuts me off by pressing his lips against mine. It was soft and quick, like he was trying to shut me up and this was the first thing he thought of. He lets go of my wrist and stands up straight looking at me sternly. My cheeks are burning red as I attempt to say something but I can't seem to speak, like there's no air in my lungs.

I lean up against my car door for a moment staring at my feet trying to decide whether to leave or not. I finally look up at him, his head in staring at my feet too. His hands are in his pockets and he's biting his bottom lip nervously. I smile up at him.

"Hey..I'll be back in a little while. I promise I won't make you pick me up this time. Want me to grab you something?" I softly smile, hoping he won't hate me. He shakes his head no with a small smile on his face before letting me get into his car. He watches me drive off before heading back inside.

'29 days..' I whisper to myself as I head into the nearest town, smiling to myself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was extremely rushed so my apologies if it wasn't as great as one of my last chapters ! I promise the next chapter will b better and have more of a plot than this one. Hope you guys liked this and r excited for the next chapter!

#fanfic #miles fairchild #miles fairchild x reader #the turning #finn wolfhard #the switch #miles fairchild smut #stranger things #mike wheeler #ziggy katz #richie tozier #trevor spengler #boris pavlikovsky #fxchild

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coleskingdom · 3 months

Text

Mine Pt 5

The promo

Genre Smut

Jay White x reader

Warnings NSFW Minors DNI

I came back from being in glam for my first on screen segment. I had just put on the gold heels that were easily the most expensive uncomfortable shoes I’ve ever owned. I appraised myself in the mirror, the gold switchblade really setting off the black ensemble. “ There’s my girl” Jay smiling as I turned around, the leather jacket in his hands. “Here let me put it on you” He put the jacket on me, and came around to turn me back to the mirror. “Is it too much?” I ask, I look like a person I don’t recognize. “You look fucking amazing. It’s perfect you’ll get used to it, then when you come back through the curtain you become you again….thats who I’m in love with. Though if this alter ego ever wants to play I wouldn’t tell her no.” His wink made me laugh. “ Are you going to be able to superkick in any of this? “ I turned into the move resting my heel on his shoulder. “Well that’s some move you got there. I apologize for ever doubting the ability of your kick.” He moved my leg to around his waist grinning pulling me forward into him. “ I don’t know that I can do this. I’ve never been a character.” My forehead resting on his, he dropped my leg, putting his arms around me. “I won’t let you fail, I’ve got you. If not me the boys have got you.”he said.

As if on cue, Matt , Nick, Cole and Page, walked in. “Hey, Ospreay is here for his match he wanted to see if it was okay if he came in.” Matt said. A grin broke out on my face. Matt stuck his head into the hallway, and Will came in “Holy shit, you’ve always been beautiful but this this is something else” Will said I could hear Jay inhale but instead of ripping into him, “ She is isn’t she.” He agreed. The rest of us let out the breath we’d been holding. “ You’ll kill it out there love” giving me a hug “ I think I’m opening the show, I’ll be in gorilla watching, we should go out and celebrate after.” He left the locker room. “He’s a cheeky fucker isn’t he. “ Jay said somewhere between annoyed and amused.

We ran through how everything was going to go. I wasn’t going to have to speak, just stand there. Jay was going to take the lead in an explanation that flirted the kayfabe reality line a little to closely but given everything it was for the best. A worried look passed Jays face “ Guys if something happens out there just get her out of the ring and safe.”

Matt “What do you think is going to happen?”

“ I’m just thinking if I’m Finlay and I’m at risk of losing Bullet Club and have been humiliated in the dirt sheets. I’m going to attack tonight, and I’m coming full force. Fuck how did I not see this coming.” He’s pacing now like a caged animal

“Should I stay back here?” I asked cautiously The chorus of No’s rang in the locker room.

Just then Tony knocked on the door, “It’s time” his big smile not matching the room. I feel the weight of everything on my shoulders, I gripped jays hand tighter, Matt and Page directly behind us, and Nick and Cole behind them. Jay kissed my hand and I felt Matt’s hands on my shoulder, the original Bullet Club music hit. The crowd exploded, but I found my eyes scanning the arena. Jay and Page sat on the ropes to let me in, I entered followed by the guys. Jay is talking when six men jump the barrier and enter the ring. Why did Jay have to be right this time? Each of the war dogs has one of the guys , a war dog has Jay in a hold and Finlay takes his microphone.

. “Hi Princess remember me?” Finlay sneers, “ I’m actually surprised you had the courage to run out on me, at our wedding but don’t worry my boys and I had a really good time at the reception.” I step to the side of the ring knowing that I have to grab a mic. I reach for the mic and my eyes lock on Jays and I know I have to do this.

“ You know what’s funny David, you may have had fun at our reception with a coked up pop tart, but on our wedding night I was learning to breathe with the switchblade “ the crowd reacting to the realness of the statement. “ I have never seen a more impotent leader of bullet club David, hell it’s only a matter of time before the rest of your dogs realize what a bitch you really are.”

Danger flashes in David’s dead eyes, “ You really have them all fooled don’t you, that they think you’re something special when you’re just a ring rat with her daddies money. “ he smirked

“Oh the irony of a fifth generation wrestler who can’t even get himself over, even with the power of the club behind you. You are pathetic.” I see over David’s shoulder that Jay has almost got his guy off of him.

“ I’m going to make sure that you beg me to stop beating Jay. It’s going to be a pleasure as I break his body down with you ringside watching me do it.” I start walking away from him shaking my head, the rage and humiliation taking hold I pause I turn back and dropped him with a Superkick. The dogs let go of the boys and were on Finlay, Nick got me out of the ring and back up the ramp, I watched as the guys trade punches with the war dogs and kicked them out of the ring. The punches looked stiff and I was worried but they were on the way back up the ramp and we came through the tunnel and Kenny waved smiled and walk away.

“ Tony , what the fuck was that?” Jay yelled, “Kenny said it was a work.” Tony said “He was back here in gorilla the whole time.” “ God damn it, it was a fucking shoot, why would we do that to her? Why would we have her go toe to toe with Finlay.” Jay fuming “ it’s okay, I’m okay I think” I said trying to get Jay to calm down.

“ Actually it was pretty fun, how did it look?” I asked Tony smiled “ it looked fantastic honestly I thought it was planned.”

We walked back to the locker room, Colten and Austin were on their phones, “hey bullet club gold is trending along with coked up pop tart and breathe with the switchblade colton said. “Oh shit, I can’t believe I said that.” I tried to laugh “You also called him an impotent bitch” Austin chimed in.

The tension broke and everyone laughed, “Then it was like the power of hbk came over you when you hit that kick, he actually dropped “ Cole said “ I want to know if her shoe print is tattooed on his face” Page said “ Next time we can make you a thumb tack heel “ Matt offered.

“ I’m so fucking proud of you. “ Jay said putting his arm around me kissing me on the cheek.

“ Guys, I think I’m done for the night.” I said “ I just want to get back to the hotel.”

“ So she can breathe with the switchblade “ Colton said.

“I’m never going to live that down am I ?” I started to further explain I could feel my cheeks turn red

“Not for a while sweetheart, now gentlemen you heard the lady, we are done for the evening. Colton grab our bags”

I got a hug from each of the guys as we walked out to the car. In the car I reached for Jays hand. “ You okay?” I asked him, “Yeah you shouldn’t have been out there in that position but I’m so fucking proud of you. You’re gonna have to watch it back, when you said breathe with the switchblade I popped and the crowd popped. “ I smiled, “ Hey what’s wrong? “ he asked as I squeezed his hand in mine realizing I’ve been using it as my grounding point. “ Nothing, I just have never loved anyone as much as I love you.” looking at him. The rest of the car ride was quiet, the ride up the elevator was quiet.

Once in our room Jay dropped the bags, he stalks back towards me. He reaches me in only a few steps, his body colliding with mine as our lips meet. He doesn't stop moving, walking me backward until my back is pressed up against the door, and then he pins me against it, his lips hungry and forceful. I kiss him back the same way, going up onto my tiptoes to try to get more as my hands roam over his muscled shoulders and back. I slide my fingers through his hair, gripping his head as if I need something to hold me steady as his tongue delves into my mouth. "Fuck," I gasp into his mouth as he nips at my bottom lip with his teeth.

He makes a noise in his throat and soothes the sting away with his tongue before sealing his mouth over mine again. His hands are just as restless as mine are, seeming unable to settle any-where. He slides them over my sides, my arms, groping my breasts, kneading my ass. It's like he's trying to touch me everywhere at once, and every bit of skin that his rough palms travel over lights up like it's on fire.

"Oh god," I whimper as he wrenches his lips away from mine, trailing hot kisses along my jaw.

"Not quite." He scrapes his teeth over the column of my throat, making me shiver. "No god would do the things I'm planning to do to you,sweetheart but your fiancée would. "

The promise in his tone makes me shiver, and when he captures my mouth again, I moan. He hooks one of my legs beneath the knee, lifting it to give himself better access as he grinds against me. He's so fucking hard, the bulge of his cock straining against his pants, and I roll my hips against him, more desperate than I've ever felt in my life. He slips the jacket over my shoulders , I raise my arms so he can take off the tank. He sucks in a breath as he sees the black lace bra, and the necklace resting between my breasts. He unhooks my bra in the back, pulling away just long enough to slide it down my arms and get rid of it. Then his mouth is on my breasts, switching between them as he sucks and teases my nipples. I whimper as sparks shoot through me, electric currents of pleasure traveling straight down to my clit.

Breathing hard, I reach down to fumble with the button and fly of his pants. He moves my hands

“ Not yet, sweetheart , I have a much better plan, I said I was going to take care of you and I am.” He kneels in front of me, removing each of my heels delicately, slowly he moves his hands back up my legs as he reaches for the button of my jeans and works them down my hips and I step out of them. Jay stands taking off his jacket, his shirt, I can’t take my eyes off of him, his chiseled chest, his abs I draw in another breath.

“ follow me, sweetheart, I want you to ride my face?” as he laid down on the bed. “ You what!?” I stumbled over my words “ You heard me, I can tell you did your breathing changed, I want you dripping on my face, I want every drop of you on my tongue, that only happens if you’re sitting right here” he tapped his bottom lip. He reaches for my hand,

“ Take off the last piece of lace, sweetheart .” I take them off giving him a show bending down as I took them off. He groans. I get on to the bed straddling Jay, he moves me into position his hands on my hips guiding me. He tugs on my hips, getting me lower. “ wait wait, you still have to breathe.” “Sweetheart you already take my breath away come on baby sit on my face let me taste you.”

I let him position me where he wants me, I’m rewarded with him licking me with the flat of his tongue on my clit again again and again before he stiffened his tongue and started to fuck me with it. “Jay” he pulls me down further on his face I start to rock my hips matching the thrust of his tongue my thighs start to tremble around his head, my moans fill the room and my hand reaches down to grab his hair. “Jay I’m going to….” He changes his focus back to just my clit, his mouth began to suck on it hard, my pussy clinched and I came hard and soaked his face and he began licking me as I came down.

“Oh my God” my muscles are relaxed as I roll off of him collapsing on the bed he rolls on his side a grin on his face. My eyes on his jeans that show his hard cock, “ Greedy girl” he chuckles as he takes off his clothes.

He lays his body over mine, nudging my legs apart as his hips settle between them. "Fuck, sweetheart ," he rasps. "I need you so fucking bad."

"Need you too," I whisper, I don't care about anything except feeling him slide into me. I need that connection between us more than I need air. His jaw is tight as he braces himself on his forearm and lines himself up with my entrance. He presses in slowly for the first few inches, and our groans mingle in the quiet room.

"Fuck me, Jay," I gasp, reaching down to dig my fingers into his ass, pulling him toward me. "Please."

With a harsh grunt, he drives all the way in, rocking the bed beneath us as I cry out his name.

My name is a whisper, and it sounds like it comes from somewhere deep inside his soul. I cling to him, wrapping my arms and legs around him to keep him as close as possible. He doesn't move for a long moment either, as if he can't bear to pull out, even to start fucking me.

"I've never loved anyone as much as I love you," he murmurs, kissing my neck before scraping his teeth over my earlobe. "You fucking own me." He shudders, his cock pulsing inside me. "You feel what you do to me? I'm wrecked.”I squeeze around him, kissing his neck and shoulder as his familiar scent fills my nostrils. “You’ve wrecked me to” With that, he kisses me again, plunging his tongue into my mouth as he draws his hips back and drives back in.

My legs fall away from his waist, opening for him and giving him room to move as he fucks me with long, deep strokes. Pleasure builds inside me, a slow burn that starts in my clit and travels all the way out to my skin, making every brush of his body against mine feels like an electric charge. I tilt my hips, changing the angle a little, and he growls, gripping my throat lightly as his thrusts turn erratic.

"Won't last long," he grits out.

"Fuck, I can't. I need you too much, and you feel too damn good. Come for me first. I want to feel you milk my cock. Show me that you need me." He slams in and grinds his pelvis against mine, putting friction on my clit, and I hook my heels around his calves as my head tips back. "Right there," I breathe, my spine arching. "Right there, oh fuck, Jay." “ I love you.” His voice turns to gravel on the last words, and that's what pushes me over the edge. I let out a sobbing cry as my orgasm crests, and Jay explodes a second later, burying his face in my neck as he comes deep inside me.

He collapses on top of me, and even though he's heavy, his weight is the most perfect thing I've ever felt. I melt into the bed, my chest pressing harder against Jay with every inhale as I try to catch my breath. My arms are around his shoulders, my fingers drifting over the muscles of his back, and I can feel his ribcage vibrating with the heavy thuds of his heart. We stay like that, for a long time. When he pulls out and rolls off of me I miss him immediately.

He gets up and goes to the bathroom, and comes back with a warm wash cloth and a glass of water. He rubs the wash cloth delicately over my body cleaning me and placing soft kisses on my body. He pulls the covers up over both of us, I curl in to him, he takes my hand and interlaced our fingers holding my hand as I fall asleep.

#AEW smut #jay white x you #jay white x reader #jay white smut #jay white imagine #jay white fanfiction #switchblade Jay white smut

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ducktracy · 4 days

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What is Daffy Duck, if not someone who gives people a hard time 🙏😔 we pray 4 u

TRULY!! THIS IS TANGENTIAL but this ask makes me smile BECAUUUSEEE... i've said it before but a very big part of my art process is connecting and communicating with the characters. making sure the characters i draw are authentic and feel like i'm drawing THE character (rather than presenting a drawing of the character) is one of my biggest artistic priorities. and to achieve that, i try to get into the mindset of the characters as much as i can. sometimes that's thinking like them, thinking of their mannerisms, and thinking of how they would react to me drawing them. i think of myself as a director telling them how to pose or what to look like, while also putting myself in their shoes and thinking how i would react to that

THIS IS A VERY CONVOLUTED WAY TO SAY some characters obviously take direction better than others. i think i'm mainly saying this because Daffy is my bread and butter, i have higher standards drawing him because it is extremely important that i get him right! so of course i'm going to struggle more in the process. but when this happens, i always chalk it up to him being "difficult" because it's certainly in character for him. of course he would be uncooperative! this is silly but it gives me a lot of amusement and also takes some of the edge off when i want to put my fist through the screen LOL

BUT YES thank you :) the good news is that i'm making progress! i've resigned myself to understanding that it's gonna take however long it takes. i'm only ever gonna review this once so i might as well make it count! likewise it's a very very important cartoon to me, so there's more to blab about so obviously that's going to take longer. when i was starting out i was getting 5 reviews out a day, but i need to remind myself that this entire project has exploded into something so much more than what it used to be in the 4 and a half years that i've been doing this HAHA.

thank you for your patience regardless, it's been fun to write in spite of all the hurdles and i can't wait to get all the screenshots together. look at him

#my director says i'm really good at getting into the psychology of the characters i draw and am very mindful about intent so. i take that to #mean it works #anonymous #asks

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imaginingaustin · 1 year

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paper roses

summary: unknown to austin, you had a secret collection of small gifts that he'd given you over the years that held very special memories for you.

inspired by austin showing off his go-to party trick.

“y/n, are you ready to go?” austin called from the living room.

“just about!” you called back. you finished getting dressed and slid into your shoes. you stepped out into the living room, austin smiling up at you.

“beautiful.” he said softly. you felt your face flush as you walked to the front door. you loaded into the car and made your way to the restaurant for dinner.

as you sat at the table, small talk flowing between the two of you while you waited for your food, you noticed austin beginning to fiddle with his cocktail napkin. you watched as his fingers moved in familiar motion, wrapping it around his fingers to create a rose bud.

making napkin roses was something he learned from someone he met through his sister, and it stuck with him throughout the years.

it was such a little character trait, but it was one of the things that made you fall in love with him when you started dating.

he smiled once he finished it, pressing a kiss to it before he handed it to you. you took it and put it behind your ear, the red napkin matching your red top.

dinner ended up being lovely, and once the night was over, you and austin had returned home and began getting ready for bed.

you walked into the closet, pulling a box from one the top shelf. you pulled the rose from your ear, grabbed a pen, and dated it before putting it in the box amongst all the other napkin roses that austin had made you over the years. you sifted through them, smiling at your collection when you heard austin speak.

“whatcha got there?” he asked, walking up behind you. he rested his chin on your shoulder, glancing down at the box you held.

“memories.” you said softly. you turned to face him, and handed him the box. you watch as his face changed, his eyes widening as he focused and realized what filled the box.

“you kept all of these?” he asked, rifling through them. “every one i ever made you.” he asked, moving so sit on the floor of the closet.

“not every one.” you laughed, sitting down with him. “just ones from special occasions, or when we went on dates that were especially wonderful and i wanted to remember.” you said as you began going through your collection.

“this was one of our first couple of dates. that really terrible restaurant we went to that had like, three tables in the whole place that weren’t lopsided.” you said, picking out a flower made of a blue napkin.

“can you believe that place is still open? it never has any business.” austin laughed as you shook your head.

“this one is a christmas napkin, the first christmas you spent with my family. my mom told me that night that she loved you and that she loved us together.” you said with a smile, picking out a green and red colored christmas rose. “this design made this one really pretty.”

“this one i think is one of my most favorite memories.” you said, pulling out the rose made from a purple napkin. it was one that you remember austin taking his time on, making it looking as perfect as he could make it.

austin took it from you and noticed the date written on it; your birthday.

“oh, i bet i can guess why.” he said with a smirk.

“that surprise birthday party you threw me, after weeks of me thinking that we were just gonna spend the night at home. i remember getting home from work, and you making me get dressed up.”

“you were so mad.” he laughed.

“but i changed anyway, especially after how much you begged. you drove me downtown, and i was beside myself trying to figure out where you were taking me.” you continued recounting the story of the birthday party, reminiscing on all the wonderful people that austin had gathered in such a beautiful venue. you remembered how beautifully everything was decorated, and how much fun you had.

“that night was the first time you told me you loved me.” you said softly, looking up at austin.

“i remember.” he said, smiling as he twirled the flower in between his fingers. “by then, i’d known for a while that i loved you. that night, we were slow dancing to some song, i can’t remember what, but i do remember how beautiful you looked. looking into your eyes, i just knew in that moment that i loved you, more than i ever loved anyone else. i’m pretty sure it was the first time you told me you loved me too.” he finished.

“it was.” you said with a smile, taking the rose from him. “definitely one of my, if not the, best birthdays ever.”

you and austin continued going through the box, reminiscing on the memories that each of the flowers held. austin was still in shock that you’d kept them all, but he was happy that you did.

you and him shared many wonderful memories together, and he couldn’t wait to continue to make more, both memories and flowers, with you.

#austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fanfiction

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crochetedblorbos · 8 months

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"Dying's not so bad. It's staying dead that sucks."

Character Name: Gerard “Gerry” Keay

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Voiced By: Jon Gracey

Yarn Used: Skin: CraftSmart Value - Off-White Shirt/Trousers/Shoes: Red Heart Super Saver - Black; heidi & jo iron-on applique Hair: CraftSmart Value - Curry; Tulip Colorshot Fabric Spray Paint - Black Face: Park Lane 10mm plastic eyes - hazel; Red Heart Super Saver - Black Tattoos: Red Heart Super Saver - Black

Basic pattern here.

Okay, so if I’m being honest here, this particular Gerry is 100% influenced by the version in “Awake and Unafraid” by blasphemous-lies-and-deceit, who is amazing and deserves all the love. (Not that I don’t want to hug canon!Gerry too, but holy hell.) I will also confess that I had to undo him at one point; I’d been working on him steadily for a while, and then set him aside in favor of NaNoWriMo, whereupon he promptly got swallowed up by the hellscape miasma that is my room. I finally unearthed him in a moment that can best be described as “I have discovered every single godsdamned thing I have been looking for in the last six MONTHS and also the Ark of the Covenant and Jimmy Hoffa, and yet I cannot find the one specific thing I am looking for and which I only purchased a week ago” and started working on him again. Unfortunately, I had no idea where I was in the pattern and what variants I had actually done, so I unraveled most of his torso and started over. This is why it has taken me almost a year between Hux and Gerry.

Oh, well. At least I can confidently tell you that I altered the “base” pattern as follows:

Shoes: Black combat boots, baby! Like with Mini and Hux, I kept the color the same, but otherwise the shoes are the same as before.

Trousers: I was trying to give him baggy black jeans, so I wanted them to come down over his shoes. Thus, when I got to the top of the boots, I did a round in the front loop only to give myself a little ridge, then did a round of treble crochet in the front loops of that before going back to sc for the rest of the trousers. (I think. I forgot to write this down as I was doing it and it’s been, as previously mentioned, around six months since then at time of writing.) I also wanted to give him some artistic rips in the knees, so I switched to the white I’m using for his skin and did front-loop in the black around it to give it a bit of texture and make it look like they are, in fact, torn across the knees. Deliberately or not, your call.

Shirt: I wanted Gerry to be wearing a kind of baggy, shapeless shirt, and also to be a bit taller and lankier in the torso, with a slightly longer neck. I also put him in all black because that’s how he’s always described, so I worked him the same way as Joseph (just without changing color) up until R36, and then: R37: Ch 2, hdc in each fpdc around, sl st in first hdc (38 hdc). R38-48: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (38 sc). R49: Ch 1, [sc in next 17 st, inv dec over next 2 st] twice, sl st in first sc (36 sc). R50: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (36 sc). R51: Ch 1, [sc in first 2 st, inv dec] 9 times around, sl st in first sc (27 sc). R52-53: Ch 1, sc around, sl st in first sc (27 sc). R54: Ch 1, [sc in first st, inv dec] 9 times around, sl st in first sc (18 sc). R55: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (18 sc). R56: Switch to skin color. Ch 1, sc in back loop of each st around, sl st in first sc (18 sc). R58-59: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (18sc). I also added an iron-on patch to give him a design on his shirt. (Fun fact, I bought three different patches and kept losing them before I could find my iron, which I had stupidly put away where it belonged.)

Head: I always picture Gerry as having a long, thin face and a slightly larger nose, so I followed the base pattern for his head up to what is R60 on the original pattern (but is R64 on this pattern due to previously-made changes), and then: R65-70: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (42 sc). R71: Ch 3, dc in next 26 st, puff st in next st, dc in next 15 st, sl st in first dc (41dc, 1 puff stitch). R72-77: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (42 sc). Continue from R72 on original pattern. Unfortunately, I didn’t stuff him as much as I should have, so his neck is kinda floppy. I’m working on a solution to that.

I also used safety eyes for the first time here! And oh my God they saved so much time. I wasn’t sure they were going to work in the package, but once I got them in his face, I liked them a lot! I embroidered a little smirk for his mouth. Used yarn this time because I finally had a yarn needle to do it with and didn’t feel like digging for my embroidery floss by the time I got to his mouth, and I like it.

Hair: Yeah, I’m a ginger!Gerry convert, what of it. Anyway, because his hair is always described as “badly dyed”, I initially considered using a variegated yarn, but couldn’t find one that would do what I wanted it to do, I decided to badly dye it myself. I wrapped a hank of yarn around a piece of cardboard, tied it off, and cut it, then spread it out on said cardboard and sprayed it with black fabric spray paint I found in the clearance aisle at Joann Fabric. And, as if it knew why I was doing it, it just…wouldn’t…take. I must’ve sprayed, rearranged, sprayed again, let dry, untangled, discovered that I’d just done the surface, resprayed, moved, and sprayed again about twelve times before I thought I’d got it. I hadn’t. Finally, I gave up and sewed the mottled orange-and-black mess onto his head (which was a headache and a half, especially since I wanted him to have a side part), discovered that it was neither as long nor as thick as it had looked before I put it on his head, debated starting over, decided not to, took him back outside, and covered his face with a paper towel, then sprayed the hair again, this time while it was already on his head. That way a) it dyed the scalp as well, and b) I could hope it stuck. (It also occurred to me that I was doing this on the front porch, right on the EDGE of the porch, and that it was, if not raining, at least very humid, and I wondered if that was affecting it, so once I’d sprayed his head down, I brought him inside and let him cure that way.) The yarn still soaked up a lot of the dye, but at least it’s more or less evenly covered…and it does, in fact, give the effect of a bad dye job, so…success?

Arms: I did Gerry’s arms the same way I did Hux’s, except that I gave him short sleeves rather than long ones. I also made them a little bit longer than normal, partly because Gerry is a little bit taller and partly because I was an idiot and wasn’t counting properly.

Trenchcoat: I may have made this slightly more complicated than necessary, but I like how it came out, so: Ch 48. R1: Dc in third ch from hook, dc in each ch across, turn (46dc). R2-5: Ch 3, dc in each st across, turn (46dc). R6: Ch 3, dc in first 17 st, fpdc around next st, skip next st, inv dec, dc in next 4 st, inv dec. Skip next st, fpdc around next st, dc in same st, dc in next 17 st, turn (43dc, 2 fpdc). R7: Ch 3, dc in first 18 st, bpdc around fpdc from prev row, skip next st, inv dec in back loops, dc in next 2 st, inv dec in back loops. Skip next st, bpdc around fpdc, dc in st behind, dc in next 18 st, turn (41dc, 2bpdc). R8: Ch 3, dc in first 19 st, fpdc around bpdc from prev row, skip next st, inv dec twice. Skip next st, fpdc around fpdc from prev row, dc in same st, dc in next 19 st, turn (39dc, 2fpdc). R9: Ch 3, dc in first 19 st, bpdc around next 2 fpdc, dc in next 19 st, turn (38dc, 2fpdc). R10: Ch 3, dc in each st across, turn (40dc). R11: Ch 1, sc in eacn st across, turn (40sc). R12: Ch 1, sc in first st, ch 1, skip next st, sc in each st across, turn (39sc, 1ch). R13: Ch 3, dc in first 38 st, dc in ch sp, dc in next st, turn (40dc). R14: Ch 3, dc in each st across, turn (40dc). R15: Ch 1, sc in first 38 st, ch 1, skip next st, sc in next st, turn (39sc, 1ch). R16: Ch 3, dc in first st, dc in ch sp, dc in next 38 st, turn (40dc). R17: Ch 3, dc in each st across, turn (40dc). R18: Ch 1, sc in first st, ch 1, skip next st, sc in next 38 st, turn (39sc, 1ch). R19: Ch 3, dc in first 9 st, inv dec, dc in next 18 st, inv dec, dc in next 9 st, turn (38dc). R20: Ch 3, dc in first 9 st, inv dec, dc in next 16 st, inv dec, dc in next 9 st, turn (36dc). R21: Ch 3, [dc in first 8 st, inv dec] three times, dc in next 3 st, turn (33dc). R22: Ch 3, dc in first 6 st, [YO x4, insert hook into next st, pull up loop, YO and pull through 2 loops x6]*, ch 6, skip next 3 st, repeat *, dc in next 11 st, repeat *, ch 6, skip next 3 st, repeat *, dc in next 6 st, turn (23dc, 4 extended stitches, 12ch). R23: Ch 2, hdc in first 7 st, sc in ch sp 6 times, hdc in next 13 st, sc in ch sp 6 times, hdc in next 7 st, turn (27hdc, 12sc). R24: Ch 2, hdc in first 7 st, inv dec in back loops 3 times, hdc in next 13 st, inv dec in back loops only 3 times, hdc in next 7 st, turn (33hdc). R25: Ch 1, sc in first st, hdc in next st, dc in next st, tc in next st, dtc in next st, [YO x4, insert hook into next st, pull up loop, YO and pull through 2 loops x6]*, ch 4, inv dec in hdc 10 times, hdc in next st, ch 4, repeat *, dtc in next st, tc in next st, dc in next st, hdc in next st, sc in next st, turn (13hdc, 2sc, 2dc, 2tc, 2dtc, 2 extended stitches). R26: Sl st in first sc, sc in next 5 st, sc around chain and into edge of extended stitch 4 times, sc in next 11 st, sc around chain and into edge of extended stitch 4 times, sc in next five st, sl st. Fasten off. Sleeves: Join yarn to st in armhole. For row 1, ch 1, sc in first st (mark starting st), sc in next 19 st around, join (20sc). For rows 2-10, ch 3, dc in each st around, join (20dc). Add buttons to sc rows of front opposite ch sp if desired. (I do so desire, I just haven’t done it yet.

Tattoos: Gerry’s tattoos are embroidered on in backstitch. I only did three (one on each hand and one on the back of his neck), because I was doing it in yarn and it was way too thick for anything tinier, but what the hey, he doesn’t technically have “joints”. (The ones on his knees don’t show because the holes are sagging below the joints. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!)

#blorbo from my shows #crocheting #the magnus archives #tma #gerard keay #scopophobia tw

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4ggravation · 2 months

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sumeru boys redesigns + notes

as you may know, i redesigned the sumeru boys a few weeks ago because, as much as i love them to bits, their designs are well. not that great in some areas. also because i wanted to draw them more often without the roadblock of their designs being so complicated. i've mainly been drawing my cyno and tighnari redesigns, but i did also do alhaitham and kaveh, so i thought that i'd show off these redesigns in one post, along with some notes on why i made certain decisions. hope you enjoy!

(pre-note: just so no one gets confused, i also renamed everyone when i did my redesigns, giving tighnari and alhaitham first names and cyno and kaveh last names.)

tighnari ❀

(renamed abdullah al-tighnari; tighnari was made his surname because that was the case for the real guy he was based on)

i went into this thinking "how can i make this design more appealing to me while still retaining what the original design meant?". since tighnari is one of my favorites in the game overall, i put a lot of pressure on myself to make a decent design.

a lot of tighnari's design inspiration comes from moroccan (specifically amazigh) culture, which i kept in my mind through most of the drawing. this inspiration shows in his bead necklace (i forget the name), his belt, and his earring, which i remade to mirror the shape of moroccan headpieces.

gave him some muscles because there's no way a guy with his job wouldn't have them. also a bottom-heavy fat distribution for self-indulgent purposes.

the design has less layers and lighter/flowier clothes because of tighnari's canon sensitivity to heat. if you're living in the rainforest (a famously humid biome), you probably wouldn't be wearing what canon tighnari does, heat sensitivity or not.

gave him some traits that are popular headcanons, such as the flower thigh tattoo, the sharp teeth, the scars, the claw-like nails (with the middle and ring nails filed down for No Reason), and the lichtenberg figure. also gave him tan skin and wavy hair because i Cannot deal with canon nari looking like that.

sturdy shoes! archery gloves! his vision on his belt! quality of life features that an actual forest ranger would have!

i will admit that the slit pants, the shorts, and the tights were all for self-indulgence reasons, but i think they go together well with the rest of the outfit too.

a braid in his hair for cynari marriage purposes. (i hc that in sumeru, marriages are consummated by braiding each other's hair)

kaveh ❂

(renamed kaveh laghmani; surname is of iranian origin, but i forgot the meaning)

another real quick note: if i change a character's pronouns in their rewrite, i'll be using those pronouns in their notes. here, kaveh goes by he/she pronouns (she just like me fr).

his canon design is actually my favorite of the sumeru boys, so this redesign was more of a simplification while still keeping the original color scheme and such.

from my research, kaveh's mainly inspired by persian/iranian culture. this is what i had in mind with her shirt and her jacket... shawl... thing. idk what to call it.

kept him a skinny twink; imo, her being a twink in canon fits pretty well.

emphasized the bird of paradise motif with the thing on her side looking like feathers. you will see this again with alhaitham.

made him brunet for more cohesion with the color palette, also because i don't like the whole blonde-fading-to-brown situation he has going on in his canon design.

flowers!!! also giving him a pretty headpiece bc this guy is flashy. also also keeping the feather, it's cunty and fun.

i wanted to make kaveh obviously gnc/genderqueer without going into full-on feminine outfit territory. you can tell she's not quite cis but it's not super in your face yk?

made his vision one of his earrings like yae miko because i forgot to give it a proper place in my concept drawings lmao

quality of life feature: actual artist gloves that aren't cut off. seriously, them being fingerless in the canon design completely negates the point of artist gloves.

removed his braids because of the aforementioned marriage headcanon.

alhaitham ⚘

(renamed amir al-haytham; i wanted to give him the most basic name possible, though i fought with myself a lot on whether to write it as al-haitham or al-haytham)

my god i despise his canon design. it's so... not him. my goal with a redesign was just to give him an outfit that made sense for his character because jesus his canon design is an atrocity.

alhaitham is mainly inspired by either saudi arabian or general west asian culture (like what's constant and such). i was mainly inspired by casual saudi arabian menswear when i was designing him.

hot take but i don't like alhaitham being buff in canon. i made him chubby/fat in my redesign mainly for self-indulgent reasons, but also because it makes more sense to me. also gave him facial hair because yes

kept his color scheme mostly the same, along with the eye motif. emphasized the eagle motif slightly with the feather hip piece (see: kaveh's redesign).

gave him a headscarf (not a hijab or anything like that, just a regular headscarf) because he felt like the type, plus i got the design idea for it and went "well i can't not include it now".

wanted to give him the vibes of an npc who was forced to be a main character

no he isn't wearing his vision anywhere, he doesn't carry it around in my rewrite.

quality of life features: more sensible, looser clothes that are easier to live in- really the whole design is meant to be a quality of life improvement first and foremost

cyno ⚡︎

(renamed cyno al-sahrawi; surname meaning is "of the sahara" or more generally, "of the desert")

like kaveh, i'm gonna be using he/they pronouns for cyno here because that's what i put in my rewrite.

in my opinion, cyno's design is relatively solid, but with a few glaring flaws that kinda ruin everything for me. i'll bring them up as these notes go on.

they're very obviously inspired by ancient egyptian culture, specifically anubis. like, it's very blatant. with my redesign, i wanted to keep those inspirations in mind while making the outfit less stereotypical and make more sense.

why does this man, who's said to fight a lot, not wear a shirt? why are you letting the place where most of your vital organs reside breathe freely? also, why does this guy not have scars?

simplified a bunch of patterns, especially below the belt and with his headpiece. also made their helmet(?) a darker, more saturated purple to attract your eyes' attention to it.

gave him eye of horus makeup for a little cultural nod

the black piece in the back was made to look like a tail to further the jackal thing.

curly hair that resembles lightning bolts <3

the shoes were inspired by traditional egyptian footwear, because if this guy is out in the desert all the time, i'm not letting him go without some kind of foot protection.

quality of life features: a bit of armor on his arm (partially for aesthetic purposes), less flowy bits on his helmet and hips to prevent distraction or getting caught on things, the aforementioned shoes

added braids for cynari purposes, because i'm me.

hope you enjoyed reading this! please keep in mind that this is all off the top of my head and doesn't even go into color theory, how the designs mirror each other, and other smaller things like that. i might make a part 2 someday going into those things, but who knows with my memory lmao

reblogs are heavily appreciated!

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