#Anansi x Reader

[kiaraspeaks]

Anansi x Female!Reader: In a flash we'll meet again.

You hope that he understands one day, his father is a complicated man. Man? That's a stretch of the imagination right there. You loved Anansi, loved him more than anything and anyone else in the world, besides Charlie, but, you couldn't stay with him. Children only are able to see what you put in front of them, and Anansi painted just enough of a vision of himself to hide his world from your child. Children. What a fucking mess that is. There are days that you wished that you hadn't met him but that's a pointless line of thought, Anansi desired you, to know you, to have Charlie, long before any war. He may have driven you up a wall at one point but he was family, and you knew that despite any differences when you called he would always come.

After all that's how you met, you weren't trying to summon a God. But praying for somebody, anybody, to stop this man chatting you up in the bar. You came for a quick drink at Randy's Divebar, Anansi materialized nearby (or perhaps he was waiting in the wings the whole time, just waiting, as he had done your entire life) what might be a hideous green and yellow floral pattern worked for him, long lean lines that might make someone else seem imposing made him even more inviting despite the man yammering on and on about himself.

"Bothering you?" He said, he inhaled on the cigarette and blew smoke into the face of the man hassling you. Whichever meathead that was hassling you didn't take kindly to it, but Anansi didn't care, had never cared, didn't care that he was thinner and obviously more breakable. He out maneuvered everyone before ever setting foot in any room, that included you too. "Move."

"Or what?" They said, he'd been hunched over you for the better part of the night but he was standing up rod straight and cutting an imposing figure. First, Anansi smiled, something you learned much later masks more pain and irritation than any human body could tolerate. Next, he picked up his glass and drained it and turned it over in his hands a few times. You heard it, the sound of the glass shattering, the crunching of the bones in his face, and finally saw the mess of the meathead's face. They ran out screaming, bleeding and crying. You should've been positively frightened but you weren't. Not even as Anansi plucked glass out of hands and tossed it into the drink of the man who had annoyed you.

"That wasn't necessary." You said and nursed your drink. The bartender didn't say anything, clearly they had some type of understanding. They moved further down to tend to other customers.

"Maybe so," He said, the cigarette perched perfectly in the corner of his mouth. He pulled out the splintered shards of glass like it didn't hurt, the blood didn't bother him. He raised his bloody hand and signaled for two drinks. "But it was fun."

"For you."

"Well maybe I'll have to work harder to impress you next time." He said.

"What makes you think there will be a next time, and why would you try?" You said, he smirked, didn't smile. His smirks were harmless, adorable, thoughtful. It's dangerous to know a God so closely. You would call it fate, but Anansi hated such words. After all he thought the only stories that were written in stone were penned by him.

"You're Mr. Nancy's girl, why not try?"

"And who is Mr. Nancy?" You asked, two drinks are placed between you both and then a small container of gauze. Anansi grabbed the gauze and one of the drinks, he poured the liquor over his wounded hand and allowed it to drip perfectly into the glass with the bloody shards. He doesn't wince, sigh or suck in deep breaths of air as the booze washes over his wounds.

"Someone important, snappy dresser, charming, and I hear that he might even be single."

"If I'm his girl how is he single?" You asked,he wrapped his hand with an ease that told he got into these types of scuffles often. Again, you learn Anansi doesn't take on any war that isn't already won, that includes your heart.

"Well that sounds like a proposal if I ever heard one." He said.

"You're Mr. Nancy?"

"My friends call me Mr. Nancy, but you, you can call me whatever you want."

"What's your name?" You asked. Another charming smirk, no madness in the eyes, he tapped the growing mountain of ash into the glass with the shards and the blood and tainted alcohol, he killed the light on the cigarette and topped .

"Have dinner with me and I will tell you." He said.

"You don't even know me, Mr. Nancy."

"Well, I want to get to know you, otherwise we wouldn't still be having this conversation." He said, "Do you want to get to know me?"

"I think so." You said, he held out his undamaged hand to you and you shook it.

"My name is Anansi, and it's wonderful to finally meet you." He said and bowed his head and kissed your hand, and when he asks your name you tell him. You don't know it then but you love him, someone so in love with who you are, starting with your name and every other story that you're apart of. You expected dinner much later, perhaps in a couple days but it didn't take much prodding to get you out. Randy's food at the divebar wasn't very good and you didn't feel like fiddling with the oven tonight.

----

You wished that you could properly explain to your son that his father was a God and that made him half and if he chose have kids that would make them a fraction and yet with all the potential of full Gods. There just never is enough time and never a correct way. Even you struggle at times, Anansi appears to just be a man, impeccably dressed, always on time, and two steps ahead at any given time. You had time to walk away, if anyone could imagine doing such a thing, but you knew something was diffferent, something was wrong. Anansi warned you that he got mixed up with some bad people, that bad times might be coming eventually, gave you time to leave, time to ask questions. Maybe you didn't want to know, perhaps you thought you already knew, you suspected he was a criminal but never a God.

Sometimes he's in two places at once, some times things fall to the floor, teleport across the room, but there are times when he is so far removed from you, nothing can bring him back from that place. You were tired of being ignored, once upon a time being Nancy's girl meant something but now it meant going to bed alone and waking up alone, sometimes with Anansi having not moved from his spot in a chair at all. You came in, surprised he wasn't in a haze, he seemed to be waiting on you.

"You're late." He said. An observation and an accusation. You weren't cheating on him, you could, there were so many who wanted you and yet here you were...alone in your own relationship. The perks of being Nancy's girl.

"So." You said, he went days at a time in the same household and yet not saying a word. How dare he get up for going one night without seeing you. You'd met up with co-worker, Higgler, went out for drinks. No harm in that.

"I waited."

"I didn't ask you to do that."

"I must be confused," He said and stood up and walked into the the kitchen and came to stand beside you. "Is something wrong?"

"No, you tell me, Anansi."

"Are you drunk?" He asked, yes, you were but that wasn't why this was happening. This conversation was begging to be had for a while now.

"Does it matter? Would you even care?"

"I care. Of course I care." He said, then said your name softly and pulled you into his arms. You stay still for a moment but it's hard to resist him, always has been since the moment you met him.

"Why won't you just talk to me?" You asked softly into his chest.

"Would you believe me if I told you?"

"You've never struggled with being convincing before." You said and looked up at him. Then he smiled at you, looked through you and then pulled away.

"Take a seat."

"What's wrong?"

"I'm about to tell you who I am and you should probably sit down." He said, so you do and he does tell you. Your head doesn't split open and you don't die but initially you think he's lying. He can't be a God! He just can't be! It's your human nature to emphatically deny what you don't understand.

It takes more than him politely explaining who and what he was. He sighed heavily and walked away from you. He stood in the center of the kitchen and raised one hand and touched the ceiling and flattened it, then his other hand and used his weight to pivot and climb the ceiling. If that wasn't enough, his forehead was lined with eyes and large fangs extended from his mouth. A birth defect? A disability, possibly. He can see this is a lot and came to sit at his feet.

“This can be a lot for most people.” He said.

“I’m not most people.” You said.

“I know, that’s why I chose you.” You looked down at him and took the cigarette from his hand and he lit it for you.

“What type of God are you?” You ask after a long while, you go through two more cigarettes before you feel steady enough.

“Jack of all trades.” He said. “The people need to be safe and laugh.”

“You make them all laugh?”

“I can change the story but not completely remove it, important parts have to stick. Humans are sticky and linked to one another, I can only ease the journey.” He said. “Wisdom in the form of entertainment has been easiest, you know it’s hard to tell a stupid motherfucker they’re doing something wrong.”

“Are you apart of my story?”

‘Do you want me to be?” He asked, you stand up and he doesn’t look away. Perhaps, reflecting during these final moments you see what it is. Blind faith. He believed in you. Despite him hating fate, kismet, whatever you wanted to call it, he always knew you’d choose him. Like a good book, you’d always return, even if there was an entire ocean separating you. If you couldn’t then he’d come to you. He couldn’t unmake himself a God, much like your boy won’t be able to burn away that part that calls out and sings so sweetly. You held out your hands to him and he took them.

“How long can you stick to the roof?”

“It’s not a party trick.” He said and wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and spinning around with you. When he placed you back down you were standing in the bedroom.

“Says who, spiderman?” You asked and you both laugh. It’s a period of adjustment like nearly everything in your life.

----

You ultmately wish for your boy to understand that everything has a sunrise and sunset. You loved Anansi inspite of every red flag you ever saw crop up, and there came a time where loving and being in love wasn't enough. He was your husband, your best friend and beacuse of that you came to a proper agreement. A moment would come when this world and this war was too dangerous. Your boy, charlie, loathed his father because they were too much alike, both parading around in facades, both busybodies in the worst ways, both too damned pigheaded to say what was on their mind truly at times.

"So you're going to leave?" He asked, it was one of the dumbest thing you'd heard him say. You were finally debased to obvious observations, he was always so well spoken and right now he was holding up a wall watching you in your living room. You'd moved from Chicago to Florida, created a life for one another, brought a child into the world, spoke truth into the world only to watch it crumble away partly due to an invisible war you never saw and the fact Anansi spent more times chasing stories than keeping you happy. Those stories always came in many faces, younger, healthier, livelier people who seemed so different from you.

"Bags are packed. This is where we should leave things."

"You're being very cordial about this."

"And you're smiling, are you happy about this too?" You said and pointed out, he ran his tongue over his teeth and tried to remove the smile but failed. He was angry, but so were you for so many reasons you'd never share. If he loved stories so much he could keep up with them without embarassing his son every forty five minutes and neglecting his wife, he'd always be a God and you'd always be a human who might have bit off more than she could chew. Charlie was a God too, no matter how shy and withdrawn he'd became.

"I know what you're thinking." He said and slid his hands into his pcokets.

"I assure you don't." You said, "Maybe in another time but I can't--"

"Can't what?"

"Can't play second fiddle forever to whatever story you're chasing." You said, "Not for you or for any man."

"Maybe not a man, but a God?" He asked. He pushed off the wall and walked over to you. After years together charm wears off, the butterflies die but familiarity never changes. Falling into step has become second nature, you are so far from the young woman impressed by the cool headed man with brute strength who won every battle before he ever picked an arena. "I know you think you're making the right choice."

"And what do you think?" You asked, "And I want you to really tell me, no cheating, no looking into the future."

"I think that no matter where you go, all you have to do is call and I'll come."

"You'll have three more people moved in before the end of the week." You said, you need to say it so that you know this is really over.

"Doesn't make it any less true." He said and you hold out your hand to him.

"When I'm gone, promise you'll be here for him, he'll need you." You said, he took your hand and dropped down onto one knee and kissed the back of it.

"I'll do my best."

"That's all I can ask for." You said and placed your hand on the top of his head and then pulled away and lifted up your last bag and started towards the door. "If I ever call...it will be to say goodbye."

"So this isn't goodbye." He said and teleported beside the door.

"No, this is just farewell for now." You said and walked out. You don't look back, you don't need to, you don't know exactly what binds him here but hopes he finds something to free himself.

----

You hope one day he understands that his father is not a man and will never behave like one. He doesn't have to, he's not even bound to this planet let alone it's rules, but you hope one day that Fat Charlie realizes he is so much more than just a man and to live the life he really wants to. You can feel when the life starts to leave you and you want all your affairs in order. You move across the country and then out of the country and Charlie followed. He grew bitter and irritated with his father seeing his flambouyant and exuberant personality as a flaw instead of something to carve out in himself. You don't expect cancer to take you, but you've lived a full life and hope Charlie does the same.

You don't expect Anansi to actually show, you don't expect the band, or the kiss that would knock you off your feet if you weren't already in bed plugged up to machines. The nurses enjoy the change in pace and so does Christine, your roommate. Anansi is lively and brings a bottle to celebrate your new change in life, or so he calls it that.

"I'm sick." You said, "I'm dying."

"You're all dying, but it's not a bad thing, and I'm right here, like I promised."

"Still a man of your word down to the parade." You said, you thought the times you got drunk and waxed poetic he hadn't paid attention. You were glad some things hadn't slipped through the cracks. "Talk to Charlie?"

"No, no, you know how he is. Always on about something."

"He's your son and when I'm gone he's all the family you got left."

"You consider yourself family?"

"You wouldn't cross an ocean for no reason." You said. He slid his chair closer, placing his hand over yours.

"You look good." He said, he's older now, or that's what he wants you to think. A little sag here, a bit more hunched over. You've watched him shift his entire body to fit his agenda, this is no different.

"I'm old and bald, Mr. Nancy." You said,

"Call me Anansi."

"Or whatever I want, right?"

"Right." He said and laughed. "But you look good regardless of what you've got. If you could do anything, what would you do?"

"Besides live?"

"Yes, besides that." He said and held your hand in his. His hands have grown harder, rougher. Less story telling, more fighting, much more hard work than he ever should've been used to.

"I want to travel, really see the world, you know I always talk about it but things got in the way, and then Charlie came and I couldn't just take off."

"Yeah, I think I'd lead that boy to an early grave." He said and you both laugh together. A hearty laugh that you didn't know you needed. "Well let me get some things in order first and you'll have it."

"Look, Anansi--"

"You're Nancy's girl, right? You'll have what you need." He said, and you believe him. A spinner of tales he might be but never a liar, at least when it came to you. "Say it."

"I'm too old for this shit."

"No, I'm too old for this. You're exactly where you're supposed to be." He said and you smile, it's been so long since you've done that, you've done more smiling now than you have in the last couple of years. "Say it."

"Say what?"

"You're Nancy's girl."

"I'm your girl." You said and smile again, you mean it, after all these damn years away from him, only an hour together and you've fell back into patterns.

"Kiss on it?" He asked, ever the slick and sly trickster. It has been many years since you've kissed him, it's not just flesh to flesh, he can pour something into you that you didn't know you needed.

"If that's why you came then sure."

"No not the only reason but you know you got what'll make a man sell his soul to the devil and cross the sea." He said, he stood up and leaned over you, not making you work too hard. He leaned on the button helping you lean back and pressed his lips to yours, tilting your head up. You feel it, a tingle, something that starts to brighten and jump to life inside you. You are not a spring chicken anymore, but he makes parts of you spring to life as if you were in the first bloom of your life. "Damn, girl."

"What are you on about?" You asked.

"Nothing, you called, I came, like I told you I would. I've got to get back before anyone knows I'm missing."

"Don't forget to say goodbye to your son."

"Oh, I won't." He said and raised your hand up one final time and kissed the back of it. You watch him go and know you'll see him again but you won't be among the living, this is your last time. You are unsurprised when your tests come back negative and you're discharged. The cancer is gone, dead within seconds, and when you return home you find plane tickets waiting on your counter. Anansi is more than a man and that's okay, you hope Fat Charlie sees that.

-----

You are dead. You know that. You hope Charlie can learn to forgive his father for being so boisterous, larger than life and embarassing, but he is his father's child and it is hard for them to see eye to eye on any damn thing. You rise from the hotel bed and walk over to the balcony and you wait for him because you know he's going to come, or you're going to find him. The land of the dead is silent, there are others, you can see them walking about, playing in the park, running with their dogs, kissing and holding hands, going on strolls. For a moment you think you won't see him, you leave, no need to gather your things, you won't need them.

Anansi once told you about the after life, about what may or may not await you depending on which road you walked. You knew he said he'd never be far behind and you believe that, you believe in him. You step out of the hotel, turn right and walk, going purely on intuition, the hotels and beach towns wash away, through the forests you continue, climb the necessary hills. As you come upon a different world you note your knees don't hurt, your feet don't ache and neither does your back. At the top of a hill is a cave, you pass through the mouth of it and felt something shake and shimmer over you as you enter the room.

It is a large single room, a grate pit in the center of the room surrounded by cushions. There are portraits on the orange walls and shadows dance about the room, you're sure exactly from where. He is laying back on the cushions, his head is pillowed on his arm and staring up at you. He is different, more himself, his true self. His hair is longer, and he has many eyes that line his forehead, and many arms that line his torso. He has a book hand, is weaving with another and waving from a completely different hand.

"You found me." He said.

"For now, I don't think I can stay here, can I?" You asked.

"Not the end of your journey, I'm afraid. Soul like yours comes around once in every few flashes."

"Flashes?"

"It's complicated. You'll learn. All afterlifes are the same in one way or another."

"How much time do we?"

"Oh, as much as you want." He said and dug between the cushions and held a bag of sand. "Sand of times, snatched it off some kid on the way home. Felt like we'd need some time together."

"For what?"

"Whatever you want."

"And Charlie?"

"He'll be fine, smart kid with a good head on his shoulders." He said, he pushed himself up and kept tossing the bag up in the air.

"Tell me what you did when I left." She said.

"Now that is a story..." He said, you walked over to him and the things he semed to be doing to keep himself busy disappeared. He welcomed you with open arms, when you wrap your arms around him the room changes with a snap. You are back in the bar you met in, you pull away and look up. Yes. This is Randy's. Same dumpy dive bar where he inserted himself in your life and you let him. He walked away and over to the bar and picked up the glass of bloodied glass shards, tainted alcohol and ash from his cigarette.

"WHat's is this about?" You asked. He picked up the second glass and poured it into the concoction.

"Drink it."

"You think I'm crazy?"

"You trust me, right?" He said and held it out to you, "Besides, you're already dead."

"There's so much worse you can do."

"Says who?"

"Says whoever you snatched that sand from." You said.

"Touche." He said, but you drink it anyway. A drink. A potion. Whatever it is it makes your head spin, you feel whatever entity you are shift and turn inside out and the sound from Randys came back but it was different. Not a dusty dive bar but the scent of it is still the same and so is the chipped bar. You and Anansi stood at the back of the crowded bar, someone at the front was tearing it up on a saxophone.

"I made arrangements." Anansi said.

"For?"

"Our boy." He said, and yes, why it is Charlie but he's different. Alive in a way you could never put your finger on as his mother. But you see it, at his core, what makes him a God and a man and they're not at war with one another.

"True to your word, why does that make me feel like we're coming to the end of our journey?"

"We'll meet again, a soul like yours, shines too bright." He said. You nod your head in agreement, you sip the drink again and feel yourself start to break and shift. Charlie climbs down from the makeshift stage and tries to part the crowd, but you are dust in the wind.

Blood.

Glass.

Liquor.

Ash.

----

You are flesh, bone and free will, but you do not have direction. Perhaps that's why you hover here at Mausoleum of the fallen. The entities that are sculpted here are beautiful some made of marble, others onyx, you walk by and sense that you are not alone. You know you are a flash, a shift in the cosmic energy and a rarity, you will continue to hide amongst of the morals, walk between the worlds of Gods and mortals....and then there they are far in the back of the Mausoleum.

"What are you?" You asked.

"Choice." They said, the God walked out, impeccably dressed, "Always on time, I see."

"I don't understand."

"You will."

"Gods have never come to meet me before."

"This is different and I'm not just any God," He said.

"How many flashes have we suffered one another?" You asked, you're not sure but instinct in not something you need to find. This multi-eyed creatures stares at you with fondness.

"Seventeen."

"That is not chance, that is planned." You said.

"Yes."

"Why is this different?" You asked, They held up a tumbler of alcohol with ash and glass shards floating in it. You look away back to the statues, there are handfuls of Gods that are necessary, some haven't been seen in eons, they play it fast and loose and are wild cards. You wonder which one he'll be.

"Just is." He said, you have no reason not to trust him despite being gifted with these instincts. You reach for the tumbler but he pulled it back away from you. "The past couple times I meddled but now you have a chance, a real chance."

"You don't think I'll choose you." You said and tilted your head to the side to study them. "Even though you chose me all these cycles."

"The last cycle was different, you walked away, for good, only called when you were about to die."

"And so you wanted to know that now I'd choose you."

"Yes."

"Fascinating."

"How so?" He sked.

"Even Gods, in all your wisdom and knowledge, have your insecurities."

"We invented them, mortals just inherit them."

"Now what will we do afterward?" You asked, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag full of sand.

"We have time to figure that out." He said and this time when you reach for the glass he allows you to take it. You drink it down down, swallowing the glass and ash and tainted alcohol, with each swallow you remember a different life, a different flash, eons of you doing this dance with him, each time you're different, the circumstances are different but the last time is by far the most daunting. Charlie. Oh, how many years has it been? Did your baby boy live well? "How do you feel?"

"Cold." You said and looked down and noticed you were naked. "I bet you think this is funny."

"Only in a cosmic way."

"Is Charlie--"

"He's fine, he's fine. Two wives, three kids, a bar. Living the dream." He said and shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over your shoulder. "We have time to catch up on him later, I've missed you."

"What do you want to do?"

"Lets go to a club, I need to stretch my legs."

"Which ones?" You said and then scoffed as you followed him out of the afterlife. You weren't sure where you were going but you trusted him enough, had trusted him after thousands of rebirths, what was so different this time? For so long you two had been together, maybe now you could stay together without the cruel hand of fate intervening. As you reached the portal you thought of one last thing. "Whatever happened to that war?"

"Oh. I ate the people that were pissing me off.. " He said.

"You're kidding."

"Only a little." He said. "No worries, no war this time, just you and me."

"The way it's supposed to be."

"The way it's always been."

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine Anansi making you a suit.

“Let me tell you a story,” Anansi said, as you sat in your usual attire upon his couch. It was richly upholstered, and represented his style, just like everything else in the room. He was working away at his sewing machine, making you something that would fit your exact measurements.

“So many stories,” You said, wrapping your arms around the back of the couch. “You should get into the screenplay business, you’d make a killing.”

“That’s not the right way to tell a story! It doesn’t have the ... the panache! It doesn’t tell you anything, it shows you.” He complained, licking his thumb before moving the fabric around. “This is a story about that dang dirty robe of yours.”

“There’s nothing wrong with tradition,” You sniffled, looking at the clothes that you had been known for. That your statues showed you wearing. That art had depicted you in over the years.

“No, no, nothing wrong with tradition, that’s the argument us old Gods are sticking to. But there’s sometimes room for a little something...new.”

With a flourish he removed the fabric and held it up to examine his own handiwork. “Try this on, and you’ll be feeling like a new God.”

You did, and you had to admit, it was a good fit. When you stepped out from behind his curtains, and he examined you closely, you felt pretty good about yourself. It was more comfortable than you had imagined. And warm against the cold nights. “There, now you’re out there, looking like an ethereal in your power suit,” Anansi said, clearly proud of himself.

“And how much do I owe you?” You asked, knowing nothing came free.

“Land of opportunity, milk and honey, honey.” Anansi said, running his thumb against his bottom lip. “An opportunity to dress you is pay enough.”

Requested by: Anonymous

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine Anansi coming to you in times of trouble.

“Anger gets shit done,” Anansi reminded you. And you were right - you were angry.

You were angry at injustice. You were angry at police brutality. You were angry at the president. You were angry at the people who defended racism like it was an opinion rather than a hate crime.

So you took up your sign and you marched. You blended in with the hundreds, thousands of other people in your city doing the same, with Anansi marching right beside you, reminding you that this was how change happened. You might not be able to change everyone’s mind, there was always going to be at least one voice against yours, but goddamn it, you could be louder than them. You could make sure that your message was heard. You could make sure that your anger was placed into productivity. You could shout on behalf of the many people who were not here anymore because of prejudice.

And most of all, you would walk down those streets because your tax dollars paid for those streets, for these corrupt police officers, and you would show them that you were not going to be done being angry until change was made. You were not going to give up, or let yourself be silenced.

Anger will get shit done.

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine being a Muse and catching Anansi’s eye.

Unlike some of the other muses, you were more on the silent, contemplative side. You weren’t out there with the rappers, the artists, or the porn industry. You tended to stick close to the writers, bringing out a more quiet creativity. Simply put - you were shy, and anyone that had a loud personality tended to frighten you. Unfortunately, that meant most of the Gods you came across.

Which is why when Anansi started to act sweet on you, you retreated to the human Salim, for he had a more comfortable energy. The Spider God did come and swing by once in a while, but you continued talking to Salim rather than him. Eventually, the mood of the room changed, and it wasn’t because of anyone walking in. It’s because of the mood that Anansi was getting into.

“I think you’re making him jealous,” Mr Wednesday wandered over, giving you a warning look. You looked over his shoulder to see Anansi, staring at the two of you blatantly.

“He should stop being an intimidating spider and try being a cute fuzzy jumping spider.” You suggested, since obviously he isn’t going to give up.

Overhearing that, Anansi did saunted forward, and gave a big smile and a welcoming hand gesture. “Ask y/n to dance, don’t command.” Wednesday said, clearly entertained.

“Shall we dance?” Anansi questioned, pretending that Wednesday wasn’t there.

Still feeling shy, you tentatively accepted. “As long as you’re not the one singing right now, that’s a bit too much to take.”

Requested by: Anonymous Gif by: @americangodsource

[kiaraspeaks]

Anansi x Female!Reader: Small Towns, Old Gods

The south is littered with old Gods. Gods who came with certain people and then were left in these small towns in America, intent and memory bind them to these tiny patches of lands. When you were a girl coming to visit your grandmother’s people here in South Carolina he was here, never seen in the same outfit twice. Always at every function from fish fries to funerals, never without a kind word or a hearty laugh. You always believed that everyone knew but never said anything.

He protected them, and they didn’t want to anger him, or maybe they respected him, at times it felt like a bit of both. But like all those small towns that crisscrossed America this one also saw it’s declined as the people and industries left. From time to time people blew in and out but overtime the stories became gentrified tales made from superstition or remixed fairy tales. Deep down, despite three kids and a shitty ex-husband, you still believe. The world can be cruel but those stories are more than balm for a soul weathered by too many disappointments. There is truth in every word, every story, and in every God chained to these lands by the ghosts of those with far too much hope. 

So when you make the trip back down south to clear up any issues with your grandmother’s estate you’re not surprised to find that his little shop is still there and the lights are on. It is completely unchanged by time but still sharp as a tack. You pass the little shop and have a desire to stop, to pass on some form of history to your children but you don’t. You make it to the house safely, you give your children free reign of the town and beg them to stay together just as your grandmother had before. Your friends from too many years ago have long since moved away, creating families and stories of their own. So you walk the old familiar streets alone until you happen upon the humble old shop. 

The bell chimed overhead as you step inside the shop frozen in time, it had looked the same when you were an adventurous child, a head strong teenager and even a young woman in your twenties confused about the world and what it might hold. He walked from the back of the shop sticking his head out with an infectious smile on his face.

“Now this is a rare occasion,” He announced in that magical way only he could, and then he stepped from behind the counter. “I thought I’d seen the last of you years ago. What brings you back here?”

“Grandma passed, we were getting things in order that my mama and daddy couldn’t handle on their own.”

“Eula. Yes. I heard she went peacefully.” He said and reached for your hand, there’s static in his touch, but his kind always vibrate a bit higher or so you've been told. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I appreciate it.” You say, then time stands still for a moment as he watches you with a closeness you’ve never felt, not even with your husband, or any of those fumblings in the dark you had before him. You stand before a God and try not tremble like a sapling in the wind. You fail. 

“So.” He said and placed your hand slowly back to your side. He spun away, in one fluid motion with the grace of a skilled dancer, you’re still unsure how he does it. But whatever had been initiated between you two disappeared just that easily, almost as if you imagined the entire thing. “What brings you here.”

“Well grandma–”

“No, I mean my little shop. Here.” He said and headed across the room where he placed a lilac colored dress on a mannequin. He watches you as he dressed the mannequin, just out the corner of his eye. 

“I brought the kids, thought a family trip would be nice.”

“It’s lovely this time of year,” He said softly, “But I don’t get the feeling that’s what brought you here.There’s a fair a few miles North of here, and a concert’s happening down in the town square, hell even that old candy shop is around, but you’re here with me.”

“Maybe I wanted to hear a story.” You say.

“Folks in hell want ice water too.” He said, perhaps it’s because he’s probably been here in this town longer than your entire family has been alive, but it seems he knows what you’re thinking before you’ve even gathered your thoughts. “Funny that the kids aren’t around.”

“I wanted them to get to know the old place.” You say and walk deeper into the shop and take a seat in one of the comfortable arm chairs. 

“Let me tell you a story.” He said while sewing white buttons on the dress. You’re always amazed at how fast he moves without missing a beat, “Once upon a time before man ruled there was a Goddess who married a Boy-God, she left her home, traveling across the sea to a new land. The land was beautiful, her new citizens were nice but at night she wept for her land and her own people.”

“And what’s supposed to be the moral to that story.” You say.

“It wasn’t that her people were that much different different from the Boy-God’s, but she was homesick and when she left her world went on. It changed, and maybe she wanted something familiar to go back to.”

“Are you implying I came here for you? Why am I not surprised that you somehow think my world revolves around you?” You ask, but have you not had him on your mind? You knew that through everything that changed he would be there, and here he is, the unchanging and steady trickster. God of Chaos to some and God of stories to others. His name rest on the tip of your tongue but you don’t dare utter it. 

“Marriage didn’t work out to that boy from where the fuck ever, kids are growing up, and maybe you’re getting older and getting certain ideas in your head.”

“About?” You question, you try to be playful but he is a trickster. You can never outwit him, he’s been at this longer than you’ve been alive.

“About what happens after. And your white Jesus and his promises just ain’t cutting it anymore.” He said, you watch as he moves about the shop bringing it life. A light here, a strip of fabric moves by itself there while he sketches on an aged legal pad. “So you came home like everybody else does eventually, looking for something they’ll never find again, but you’re not like everybody else. You’re special.”

“How so?” You ask, part of it is that you’ve spent half of your life being sold snake oil wrapped in bullshit from men like him, and then the other half is that you know he’s no man. A God. You itch to call forth his name, raise his power, but you remember what your grandmother told you; ‘Names have power, girl. Don’t let the old Gods use you unless you sure you can handle what they wanna give you, child.’ 

“You believe.” He said and came to stand in front of you, even as he spoke he’s giving you that look from before. A God stood before you who looks at you and sees you’re enough despite what the rest of the world said, your grandmother’s words and warnings fade from memory. “Those stories they told you about me, about what I might do, how I might get myself out of situations and save my people, you still believe. You came back because you believe, and I’m flattered.”

“So you did all of this to pat yourself on the back?” You ask, now he’s close enough to touch when he’s always seemed so untouchable your entire life, he always seemed larger than life but he’s here and focused solely on you. He hunches over and places his hands on the arm rests of the chair, and you don’t dare to look away from him. You are no longer just a face in the crowd, and here you are, old enough to understand all these feelings and know you’re meddling with something bigger than you.

“Nonsense,” He said, “You’ve done the hard work; through two recessions, a marriage to a man who didn’t deserve you and made you put your career on the back burner, three adorable kids who will eventually leave you and make their way into the world, you still believe when you should be hopeless.”

“But there’s always hope.” You say before you can stop yourself and he smirks, it’s devilish and charming, then he kisses you, a soft generous kiss that you’ve apparently been waiting for your entire life. Men have given you heated looks, but not Gods, you’re walking into an entirely different arena this time and you’re not sure if you’re prepared.

“That’s what I like to hear, there might be hope for this town yet.” He said between tender pecks. And as if it was just a trick of the lights you jump awake suddenly, sitting in an aged but abandoned shop. The windows are broken, the walls smashed in, the door is smashed to bits and graffiti is everywhere but in the corner of the room you see it.

A lilac dress on an aged mannequin is just the smallest amount of proof you’re not losing your mind and hallucinated this entire thing. You know he’s there somewhere, and you rise from the chair, it seems to be the only thing in tact in the entire store and grab the dress before leaving. You don’t know what the rest of this visit might hold but hope wells up inside of you.

As you leave, walking through the streets of this old town his name flows freely from your lips.

Anansi.