#I'd honestly love to write a fic for this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aritsukemo · 2 days ago

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AHHHHHHH NURSED ILYSMMMM!! SERIOUSLY I DON'T DESERVE YOUR FRIENDSHIP HONESTLY :(((

So this fic was actually never supposed to be written! It was apart of a poll I did a while back and it was literally like the least chosen option I'm pretty sure. The thing is, though Furina's fic won in the end and I finished it and posted it, I had already started on this fic while waiting for the results to come in!

..And funny enough, my first intention was to make this a like super fluffy and cute fic about two imperfect, abandoned people finding peace and love within the presence of each other but uh..I listened to this sad wanderer/scaramouche pov playlist and I was like "Y'know what would be really fun.."

I wanted this fic to be a sorta piece that when you read back on it, you notice things that you didn't before! For example, did you know that this story was told in Kabukimono's pov? :) I purposely tried to avoid telling any of the scenes through Y/n's eyes because this story was meant to show negligence. Y/n's feelings are deep-rooted, he was an outcast at a very young age and had a bunch of horrible things happen to him throughout his life. He's long had mental gripes and issues, Kabukimono just never noticed it until it was too late. He only saw Y/n in this fixed lens and the lake scene where he was making the flower crown was the first time he actually saw a glimpse Y/n as what he truly was!

As mean as it is, I wanted Kabukimono to be completely useless to the situation at hand. To me, who wrote this loosely to reference 1800 - 1900 Japan, I was thinking, "Why would Kabukimono be able to pick up on signs of depression?" Throughout the story, Y/n did and said things that showed that something was wrong but they were blatantly yet unintentionally ignored and when everything hit the fan, Kabukimono truly did not help Y/n. My intention is not to make Kabukimono a bad person, it was to moreso show how innocent actions and a sheltered mindset can be just as detrimental as having a conniving one...if that makes any lick of sense.

ALSOOOO I'M GLAD YOU LIKE THE LITTLE STORY ABOUT THE LAKE AND THE VILLAGE!! IT WAS AN INPROMPTU DECISION THAT ENDED UP STAYING- 😭 IT'S ALSO HOW I CAME UP WITH THE ENDING SO THANK YOU FOR THE COMPLIMENTS!!

AND OMGOSH??? YOU GETTING INSPIRED TO WRITE A PT. 2 OF SOMETHING I WROTE?? I'M HONORED???

Seriously though I'd LOVE it if you wrote a pt. 2 to this, I'd def peep! I plan to make my own pt. 2 eventually, but you know how that goes.. Knowing me, it won't be here any time soo I'm not gonna lie- 😓

THANK YOU FOR TAKING THE TIME TO READ THIS!! I FEEL SO SPOILED!! 😖

The Oddities of Human Nature | Kabukimono

Kabukimono x Feminine Male Reader

Warnings: Wooo, where do we start? Major character death ( Reader ), implied suicide ( It's up in arms, but there are hints in the fic that reader may have drowned themselves in a lake ), self harm implied, sexual assault is loosely referenced ( only one sentence mentions it and I don't go into detail at all as to not trigger anyone ), themes of depression is referenced all throughout this fic, lots of blood is mentioned towards the end and I go into depth ( or try to ) in describing death so gore warning, the timeline is all fucked up but for the sake of the fic making sense, this takes place before Wanderer's three betrayals, reader uses they/him pronouns, finally, long story ( around 10k words ) under the cut. With all that said, happy reading!

A/N: This was a big hill for me to cross, but I'm glad I managed to do it! I juggled a lot of elements that I'm not familiar with so I'm sorry if this is all over the place. That aside, I found that a lot of the songs I listened while I was writing matched this fic pretty well! ( ..I also realized out that I maaaayyy have spilled a a little bit of myself and my personal struggles into Y/n, but don't read into that too much, okay? Okay. ) This fic is on the darker side of what I normally write, but I hope all who peep will enjoy themselves! :D ...Now I'ma go finish this finals project I got before I fuck up my grade-

Tagging: @nursedflowers / @kazusys, and @saioratral

Humans are odd creatures. They do things that may otherwise inconvenience them for absolutely no reason.

They could have a broken leg, but will still find the time to entertain friends by going out. They could be holed up in their room doing important work, but will still stop and greet their beloved when they arrive home. They could stumble upon a body in a lake and still fish it out and attempt to resuscitate it. It's strange, but what's even stranger are those humans. You know, the ones who would do things like that for a complete stranger without batting an eye.

"Are you alright?" A soft chirp echoed—one like a feather that surprisingly didn't get swept away by the harsh winds.

It was nothing like her voice.

Upon looking up, indigo hues fill with intricate floral patterns weaved delicately in a circle. Its varying colors twist and intertwine, filling the circle and providing shade and leaving those who fall under it to marvel at its beauty—which didn't soil or gray despite the downpour of rain that hit it.

That said, having been completely consumed in the art of the umbrella, it took another soft call to snap out of the trance..only to be sucked right back into it upon gazing up.

"I noticed that you have been sitting in the rain for quite some time now. That isn't healthy, you know?" Their voice matched their features; smooth like a porcelain doll, but not nearly as tough as one; gentle, just like the silk that covered their body.

"Do you have nowhere to go?" Upon hearing the question, the boy’s lips—which were formerly tucked into a neat line—dipped. It was unnoticeable against his pale skin, but the tender eyes that stared down at him seemed to be sharp like a hawks' and noticed it right away.

"I suppose that means yes."

Their hand reached out to him after saying that and he found himself leaning away instinctively, making him susceptible to the sky's sorrow which drowned his already slick hair in even more chilling rain.

He's immediately saved again, and this time, he was able to watch his savior in action as they tilt their hand, tilting their gorgeous artwork forward enough to completely shield him again albeit at the cost of their own protection.

The rain took pleasure in dousing their hair, deepening it's color a little from the sheer amount it intakes. Ultimately, it's unable to take all of it and falls down on all sides, dripping down their skin, their eyelashes, nose, and lips, to where all the water meets at a point at their chin and drops from it to the wet soil at their feet like a leaky faucet.

Nevertheless, he watched a smile stretch across their face. A sight that he had begun to believe could only look so beautiful on a wandering snow spirit.

"Please, young sir. Come with me. I have a place that could shield the both of us from the rain for the night.."

And in a trance, he—though tentatively—reaches forward and puts his hand in theirs. The warmth that touched him in that moment immediately shattered the illusion that hypnotized him and he blinks upon finding himself being tugged along by the hand. It brought on a perplexed swirl in the abyss he called a stomach and spurred him to ask the golden question, "Why are you doing this?"

And that question earned him another golden smile, unfortunately only for a quick second when they glanced back at him. It was never answered, and despite that, it didn't bother him.

Nothing did in that moment as the only thing he could focus on was the heat that spread throughout his hand which radiated from their palm.

Humans are odd creatures. They go against the purposes given to them at birth for the simplest reasons.

"You're a man?" Was the question that filled the silence, his words filled with his almost accusing tone at the face of their casual confession.

You didn't mind, putting on the smile of a saint as tanzanite hues scrutinize and judge you as if you were some complex painting in a museum.

"Yes, I am," You answered simply, and he once again, eyes you up and down with eyes full of disbelief. As if you had just revealed that you had a second head or something. You weren't offended. Compared to the other stares you've been given in the past, his seemed rather merciful.

"Why do you dress like that if you're a boy?" He asks after a while; another rather offensive question that he asks with utmost innocence.

"Because it makes me feel nice," You reply simply, and to that, your new friend looked utterly perplexed. As if you had just given him intricate, complex instructions on how to defeat the shogunate. From that reaction, you assume he was probably raised in a rather conformist household.

That said, his genuine confusion felt like a breath of cool air hitting your face after venturing days in a scorching desert, as sad as that is to admit.

"Where are your weapons? Your armor? Your mannerisms and speech let me know you come from a noble home, so where are your servants and concubine? What do you do for work?" He shot out questions as if he only had a few grains of sand left in his hourglass. It was like he feared that if he didn't ask all his questions now—and all at once—he'd never get an answer to them. Not that you'd be so cruel as to leave your curious new acquaintance so bewildered.

"I'm sorry to disappoint, but I don't have any such means of protection," You start off slowly, but as your eyes trail down at the two needles in your slender hands—needles which had thin threads of silk woven around the points of them—you found yourself chuckling to yourself, "Though if you'd ask my father, he'd tell you that my reason for that is because I lack the determination and courage to tread the path of a proper warrior — He was a high-ranking samurai for the majority of my youth, you see.."

"As for the servants and..consorts…they're really not my thing. I find bossing someone around and using people to flaunt my own status and wealth to be rather brutish. Though, I will admit I'm quite familiar with the practices. Heh, I was practically raised by my fathers' wives and female servants growing up. Maybe that's why.."

You pause, and in the end, you shake your thought away instead of voicing the rest of it aloud. It wasn't important to the conversation at hand anyways.

"Digressing from that, my ways of making money aren't as noble as my family's either. In fact, one would say it's quite pitiful in comparison; once a week, I go out into the nearby town and I sell my creations. Stuffed animals, knitted clothing, excess crops, and the like. I don't make all the money in the world, but I make more than enough to get by as you can see," And you flick your wrist absentmindedly at one of the corners of your room, mindlessly gesturing at whatever filled the space to better prove your point.

Your guest had been struck silent once again. It seemed he was still rather muddled. You understand it. Like many you've encountered, you were probably an enigma to him, one willing to go against all that has been taught and practiced for centuries just because of simple ideations and pleasures that someone such as yourself should never enjoy in the first place.

..Or so you thought. As you gazed up at your guest, his face made you unsure of what he was truly thinking at that moment. It was something you hadn't seen before—unlike those judge-filled, disgusted, and even pitiful gazes you had been given by many in the past. It sparked your curiosity, causing you to ask him the golden question that had laid dormant at the back of your mind.

"Does any of this.. Do I bother you?"

His response came delayed, but you found his answer that came more valuable than actual gold. More relieving than any cool breeze or sweet treat. More rewarding than any war won or title granted. More comforting than any of the stormy nights that distracted you from your whirlwind of thoughts.

And, oddly enough, such a response was quite simple. Only three words, in fact.

"Not at all."

Humans are odd creatures, but they can be patient and forgiving at times. Plus, being the warm-blooded creatures that are allows them the blessing of a naturally-warm, comfortable body.

"Crap," The cursed utterance left the lips of a mouth who's felt nothing but the bitter tang of frustration coat its tongue all afternoon. The uncivilized profanity did nothing to soothe the taste in his mouth nor did it smoothen out the crinkles made by his furrowed brows. It didn't even relieve the tremble of anger in his blood-pricked hands or the aggression of his movements as his fingertips worked a string of tangles with the needles he was holding.

Knitting is awful. How do people find this relaxing? Ever since he's started, he's felt nothing but vexation, pain, and embarrassment! Not only that, but he's made zero progress after so long that he's practically forgotten what he was supposed to be making in the first place! He hates—no, despises this with his entire being!

"Having a bit of trouble?" He heard you ask, and somehow, half of his stress fell away like a slab of rock on the side of a mountain just from hearing your voice. He doesn't get why you have such powers over him seeming as you're a complete stranger. ..Was your voice charmed by some kind of magic perhaps? Were you possibly a god in disguise?

Whatever the reason was, he found himself praying that you never stop talking if he were to ever find out.

"Here, let me show you a trick," Your breath was fanning his ear before he knew it and your skin was warming his shortly afterwards. He froze in place, still and quiet unlike the noisy rainwater he can hear descending from the skies outside—the rain that has kept him trapped here for literal days now.

He's not complaining.

It was only when your palms found place against the back of his hands that his body relaxed. Your hands were soft unlike the many generals and the blacksmiths he had met before his forced abandonment of his previous life. It felt nice. As if flower petals were cradling his hands.

You smelt just as good as a flower too. He had never been this close to you before so he hadn't noticed it, but now that his back is to you like this..it was as if he was laying in a flowerbed.

Do men always smell this good? He doubts it. Most likely, this scent was completely unique. A fragrance only you could naturally produce. Archons does he wish—

"—and that's how you do it," He blinks, snapping back to reality where he stares down at the cloth now weaved together with expert precision to form a bunny's ear.

You had helped him make a breakthrough at last..and he had been too busy daydreaming about how it would feel to be hugged by you to watch and learn how you even did it.

..But he doesn't feel regret looming when the realization comes nor does his annoyance return. Or maybe it has and it just hasn't set in yet. He can't tell right now, not when he's feeling as if he had just been warmed by the sun after being frozen for a millennia.

"Alright, now you try," He hears your words, but they don't process as fast as your hands leaving him does. Nothing really processes quicker than that. Not his frown. Not his disappointment. Not anything.

But not processing something doesn't make it unclear to others. Upon seeing his downcast expression, your brows quirk up in confusion.

"Is there something on your mind, my new friend?" You inquired, but your question is never answered. Instead, you watch as his saddened eyes turn owlish and his head spins in the opposite direction of you as he mutters something under his breath.

"I'm sorry, but can you repeat that?" You asked softly, leaning closer in order to hear him better.

"Can you..show me how to do that again. Please.." He repeated, and in doing so earned the harmonious gift that was your chuckle and the warmth of your hands on him once again.

"Sure. So what you do is.."

Humans are odd creatures. They'd sacrifice countless hours of their already short life, go to ridiculous lengths doing things, and even put aside their fragile well being to do things that are completely irrelevant just because of their belief that what they do will make someone happy.

"I'm back!" The sweet chirp of your new housemate—which you and the villagers of the neighboring town have begun to call Kabukimono— echoed through the small abode of your now shared home after not having the pleasure to in about three days or so.

After moving in a week prior, Kabukimono had been adamant on pulling his own weight to prove that he was worth keeping around despite you having the compassion to allow him to be a freeloader otherwise. That said, after your own clumsiness in the field left you with a sprained ankle, your kind new friend had offered to go out and sell all of this week’s goods on your behalf and how could you refuse such an offer when he looked so happy and eager to help out little ol' you?

Well, the real answer to that was that he gave you no choice in the matter, but you digress.

"I'm in here," He heard you call from the kitchen and he immediately set off in that direction, just barely remembering to slip off his shoes at the door from how eager he was to see you.

If it wasn't obvious already, it had taken some time—both the journey to and from the village and the actual process of conversing with people and getting them to buy everything—but he believes he did pretty good. At the very least, everything was sold. He even managed to make enough to buy you something with some of the excess money!

"Y/n! I got—! ..Huh?" His words died as quickly as his pace as he stilled to a full halt at the entryway. His eyes grew wide bit by bit as he took everything in.

Banners of silk and thread had been strung along the walls, flashing their abstract patterns of blue and purple at anyone who'd spare a glance. Candles—which are usually set alight atop your nightstand and bookshelf in our room—now clumped and coddled on the table like one big sun with the varying foods surrounding them posing as the stars that helped light up the wooden sky they sat on.

But such a beautiful display was only given a moment's glance as Kabukimono seemed more interested in what you thought was a less-than-average sight; yourself.

Nevertheless, the adoration you felt seeing the sparkle of surprise in his eyes—even if for only a second or so—made you crack a smile as you recited the line you had gone over just about a million times during the time you spent waiting for him to arrive.

"Welcome home, Kabukimono."

He was at a loss for words and not for the reason you wanted him to be. With the intent of easing his perturbed shock, you walked towards him, steady and slow, but all that proved to do was snap him out of the spell your heavy eyebags and dreary, drooping eyes had put him under.

"What is all of this? And more importantly, why are you standing? You're not supposed to be putting pressure on that ankle!" He quickly met you the rest of the way, and to your dismay, he had beat you to the comforting, his hands shooting out to grip you by the hips and ease your bandaged leg of your body's weight.

Ignoring his other questions, you began explaining, telling him, "It's a celebration feast. You told me yourself that you, along with not having a name, you haven’t had a home to call yours yet. I thought it would be good to make an occasion out of you finding one at last."

Kabukimono felt bad to admit this even in his own head, but your words were going in one ear and out the other. Yes, he had asked, but you weren't giving him answers to the other questions he simply found more important at the moment, and because of that, it caused his face to look rather tense. Certainly not cheery like you had hoped.

It seems you have made a mistake. It wasn't a surprise, it was you after all, but the thought still hurt considering how much time it took preparing for this moment.

And so, in an attempt to lighten your thoughts and the overall mood, you ask him, "Aren't you happy?"

And unfortunately, your dear housemate didn't answer in the way you had wished he would, instead replying with, "Why would I? You look like you're about to drop dead!"

"I'm fine," You said; a futile attempt of reassurance when you probably looked like a Sumerian Akademiya student who just finished pulling an all-nighter to write a one-hundred page research paper.

"As if!" Kabukimono said. That's when he slung your arm over his shoulder, forcing your bodyweight onto him without your permission, and began trudging you along in the direction of your room.

"What're you doing—" "Taking you to your room so you can lie down like you probably haven't been doing!"

"Seriously, you should take better care of yourself! Don't tell me this is normal for you.. If it is, I won't be able to let you out of my sight from now on!"

In the end, both the feast and Kabukimono's gift for you had been forgotten. Even though you ended up enjoying it later, your sadness about the initial surprise being ruined was hard to get over even with the delight of a new hairpin being added to your collection..

Humans are odd creatures. Their inability to do much makes them become overawed by the simplest things. Their eyes shine just from seeing a coin flipped in an unorthodox way and they clap and gasp watching the stars twinkle overhead. It’s so nice to see stupid.

“You know how to dance?” The excitable question left your usually composed lips as you stared at Kabukimono with stars in your eyes.

“Well...I used to perform sword dances so I suppose yes,” He clarifies, arms crossed as he stared off at the wall to his left with full interest. His azure eyes darkened as if someone had pulled wool over them only to light up like a room to an oil lamp at the question that followed his response.

“Can you show me?” The way you asked him reminded him of a little kid asking their mother to buy them a toy; full of innocent expectancy. It made his lips thin into a line just hearing it.

It had been ages since he’s danced, and in the past, there weren’t many who gawked at or praised him for his moves. Not his mother. Not any of her servants or soldiers. Certainly not her familiar. At the time, he hadn’t cared about their reactions much at all, seeming as the purpose of his dancing wasn’t for frivolous entertainment, but you, however, were different. You weren’t his mother who had abandoned him. You weren’t the servants or soldiers who never spoke to him. You aren’t his mother’s glaring familiar. You’re you, and the thought of seeing such a lackluster expression painted on your face puts a bad taste in his mouth. It makes him gnaw at his bottom lip from the feeling of a wave rocking unsteadily in his stomach cavity. It made him feel..anxious.

“Ah..” His mouth felt like chalk—uncomfortably dry—as he spoke and his eyes couldn’t remove themselves from the walls he was surely burning holes into with his nervous glare as he tried to find something—anything—to refute you. He, at last, does and sputters it out in an uneven tone, “But..you aren’t going into battle though.”

You hum in acknowledgement, and for a moment, he thought he could successfully negate you from the topic, but then your lips move to say, “Sword dances are to summon strength, right? Though they’re performed for battles, war isn’t the only thing that requires strength. Farming, cooking.. Even getting out of bed in the mornings needs some strength to complete. When put in that way, don’t you think I’m in need of just as much strength as one of the Shogunate’s men?”

“We- Well, a typical sword dance requires a sword and a fan and we don’t have anything like that lying around the house,” He shoots out. His brows knitting at the odd feeling of his skin damp with moisture he wasn’t aware he could produce before now.

“I do have a fan,” You retort, “It’s mainly preserved for hot weather, but it'd be perfect for this occasion! And for the sword..ah! Would a wooden stilt suffice? It’s a little longer than the typical sword, but if I were to shave it down a bit..”

“I..” He looks at you, face uncharacteristically spooked as he repeats himself, sounding like a broken record at this point, “I.. I..” but you don’t pay it much mind as your excitement gets the better of you and you chalk up his reaction as pre-performance jitters before running to find the items needed, leaving Kabukimono no choice but to watch helplessly like some baby kitten.

In the matter of an hour, he was outside. His body donning one of your many creations while holding a summer fan and wooden stick that didn’t come close to matching anything he was wearing. You—smile etched on your face despite feeling as though you were being stabbed all over—sat a little aways from him on the white cushions that had completely covered the green grass, patiently yet eagerly awaiting for the invisible curtains to rise and for his feet to begin to move.

Despite the biting cold, his hands were slick with sweat, forcing him to grip the wood and fan with inhumane force as to not drop it. His breath came out thick and labored, freezing over immediately upon leaving his lips and ultimately coming out as puffy, white clouds. His only saving grace here was that his feet were firmly planted into the dirt circle you paved out just for his little show. It was even rid of the transparent icy layer; an astonishing feat to be done in so little time.

Even from where he stood, he could see the reddening of your face and hands. The slight tremble of your limbs.. You were freezing to death, that much was certain, but you didn’t care. That’s just how adamant you were to see him perform.

And so, feeling as though he had no other choice, he began. His feet started to glide, starting slow as did his arms—languid and mesmerizing—before it began to pick up just a little whenever he’d twirl or spin or hop. He was sure his movements were sloppy, that his improvision to the original dance he was taught shone through like a stain to white cloth..but as he snuck a glance your way, he found himself uncaring.

..Because the way you looked at him was as if you were gazing up at a god who had just saved your life; amazement brightened your hues like comets in the sky as you followed his every move, utterly enraptured by him. He had managed to evoke that from you. Only him.

Ironically, he had found he himself charmed by your expression and microexpressions. Completely hypnotized as he slid and flowed around the small circle, his clothing–the clothing you had gifted to him—fluttering like angel wings which only further added to the beauty of each swing he took with the stick.

But alas, as the dance went on, Kabukimono found himself going into autopilot. Simply going about the motions as he took every chance possibly to glance your way, his eyes like a distant memory—a past life—whenever they locked with yours..

Humans are odd creatures. Deceptive by nature too. Without a perceptive gaze and trained ears to catch onto their lies, they could make you believe anything as the truth.

"Hey, Kabukimono, could you pass me the carrots I cut up over there?" You asked, using your head to gesture over in the direction of where you had left the cut carrots on the low table. Kabukimono jumped to your request; crossing the kitchen, picking up the bowl, and walking back over to where you sat comfortably at the kotatsu in record time.

He hands it to you, and with a flick of your wrists, the orange delicacies had joined the rest of the vegetables in the boiling pot on the table. Kabukimono sits back on his knees as you do this, taking comfort in propping his elbow up on the wooden surface before laying his head on his fist as he watches the slow travel of white steam erupt from the pot into the air. His eyes like staring on like a dormant beast at the boiling vegetables crackling as he sighs dreamily at the smell of heaven they produce.

He didn't need to eat. He had told you that at some point in time along with other things, and yet, you had somehow trained him to yearn for food regardless—to salivate when he saw a tasty-looking dish and even grow excited at the thought of what to cook for dinner. It was such a mundane thing that was once so foreign to him. Such a human pleasure and yet he so eagerly partook in it regardless. All because of you. All for you.

Another thing he does because of you now is small talk. Before, if there were silence between him and another person he'd embrace it without a second thought and wouldn't leave that comfort unless forced to—and even then, only a select few would actually elicit a response from him. Nowadays though, it seems he grows quite restless whenever words aren't filling the air. Though, this applied more so with you than anyone else.

"How did it go in town?" He asked, "You were selling those new cat-shaped stuffed toys you worked yourself ragged making..so? Did anybody like them?"

To such a simple question, your reaction was bewildering. The way your grip tightened on the ladle, the narrowing of your eyes and brows, the tut of your lip.. It all gave a bad vibe.

And so he frowned and asked, "Did they not like them after all? ..Or did something—"

"It's nothing," And you presented him a closed-eyed smile, both your expression and your grip on the ladle relaxing as you went on to further say, "I just..thought about this girl I met at the villager. I assume she was an orphan from her attire and the way she followed me around without a care.. Anyways, she ended up tripping and hurting her knee pretty badly so I gave her one of the cat plushies, free of charge.”

"Anyways, the food is ready so let's drop this topic. After all, we don't want it to get cold," The topic changed as suddenly as it came. Odd, seeming as how you're usually rambling all afternoon and evening about your travel to the village, sparing absolutely no detail about even the tiniest things.

The thought lingered for a time, but as he watched you stuff your mouth and saw your eyes shine joyously at the wonderful flavor that coated your tongue as you began to ramble about your relief about the dish turning out good despite this being your first time trying out the recipe, that thought eventually fluttered away with the wind that came through the crack in your sliding doors that allowed more of the evening oranges and yellows to seep into your home.

You were probably just really hungry and eager to eat, he thought as he finally took a bite of the potato he had picked up with his chopsticks, his eyes closing as he hummed out in delight at the taste.

Unbeknownst to him, your face dropped as soon as his eyes closed, your eyes uncharacteristically fogged and dull, as if it were displaying the thick fog that shrouded your mind, your thoughts, your heart. It was a fog that Kabukimono never caught on to, blissfully unaware of what stained your mind, body, and soul.

Humans are odd creatures. Their outside appearance never matches how they feel or the thoughts that poison their mind. They never voice those thoughts either, making it impossible to guess what’s truly going on with them. There are some who’d bless you with a morsel of their inner world—give you a crumb of the turmoil that constantly leaks in their head—making you feel as though you’ve truly come to understand them when in reality, you haven’t even scratched the surface.

It was the middle of the night. The once navy blue sky that had overcasted the world when the sun first fell was now dark due to even the stars going into hiding to slumber, leaving the moon as the only beacon of light to shed away the shadows. It was pitch black everywhere you turned and cicadas buzzed loudly outside, likely complaining about the sweltering heat of the summer, making it impossible to even hear yourself think. It was like some mundane hell.

So why were you out here?

It happened by chance. He had heard some odd noises and went to investigate it. Not expecting to see a silhouette walking out of the door. Thinking it was some thief, he followed after the person, and as the sounds of the cicadas grew distant and an earthy smell invaded his nostrils, the silhouette became less and less obscure. Becoming as clear as day by the time the person had reached their destination.

That person was you.

“..What is this place?” The question came tumbling out before he could stop himself, his words loudly piercing the quiet of the night. It alerts you of his presence at long last and has your head spinning in his direction.

“Oh.. It’s just you, Kabukimono’.. Heh, you scared me,” You said. Your head turns forward once again as you force your shoulders to relax, allowing the basket on your back to slide down your arms and to the ground. As you slowly set yourself atop the gentle grass, Kabukimono takes a step forward. Then another, and another, until he’s right beside you, who was digging for the items in the basket.

After a moment of silence allows you to, at last, gather everything needed out of the basket, Kabukimono decides to ask his question once again..or he planned to. As he opens his mouth to let his words free, your voice breaks the silence.

“There used to be a small village here,” You told him, your hands beginning to twist two long stocks together, “If you go the opposite way of the path we usually tread, you can still find the remnants of what it used to be.”

“The village's main source used to be this lake. Everyone relied on it for everything. To drink, to cook, to bathe.. Even some of the oddest ways of entertainment came from here..” You laughed, but it was drier than any desert depicted in the novels in your room. It felt wrong to hear—kinda like hearing a baby’s cry come from a grown man—and it felt almost unnerving to have it come from someone like you, who he’s come to associate with the sun itself.

But you were probably really tired. Looking at you, the deep bags that hang your eyelids down indicates you probably haven’t gotten much sleep lately which makes sense seeming as you’ve been running around and, as you told him, ‘preparing’ for something really important.

He wonders what it is you’re preparing for. Whenever he’d ask, he’d never get an answer..

“This lake, though bound by the earth to this one place, saved that village so many times that the townsfolk began to believe that some powerful being was secretly living in the depths of it and protecting them. They began to idolize it, nurture and take care of it, and spoke about it as if this little lake was some otherworldly deity which created tall tales and legends that they’d go on to tell their children…believe it or not, I once took part in such absurdity.”

“So..what happened to the village?” Kabukimono hesitates to ask. After all, the obvious context clues pointed him in a tragic direction, but he couldn’t resist his own curiosity in the end. Not when the look in your eyes—that were lit by the lantern of the water’s ripples—reflected nothing but pure sorrow.

At his question, you took a glance his way. As you broke away from the lake that practically glowed in the moonlight, your eyes were stripped of the illuminating gleam of the waves and casted into the darkness of the night. In fact, if it weren’t for the lake, he probably wouldn’t have been able to see your face at all.

Part of him wished that had happened. If it did, he wouldn’t have been forced to stare into the abyss that had overtook your hues for those small handful of seconds.

“The lake failed them,” You finally spoke shortly after returning your gaze to the water, “A fire of unknown origins enveloped it in the dead of night. It wiped out half the village and forced the other half to flee for safety..some of which came to me, who lived on the outskirts of town.”

“No one knew how it started. After all, fire wasn’t anywhere close to being the most accessible resource they had. It was a luxury, even. It also never spread past the village and by sunrise, it ceased to exist altogether. The oddity of the situation made the survivors believe that it was some punishment from their lake deity,” As you went on, you had been weaving the strands until one end had connected to the other in a circle—though your sloppy craftsmanship caused it to look more like an oval in your opinion.

As eyesore of a sight it was, you persisted. Your hands reach for the clipped flowers beside you, "That thought clouded their minds and the thought of disappointing their all-forgiving god drove them mad,” Kabukimono watched as you spoke, sticking flowers in one by one and twisting it into the circle, making the dank green pop with each pristine white you carefully placed around it.

“Convinced that it was their fault everything was lost, the surviving villagers went about the rest of their days repenting by praying to the lake from sun up to sun down...until the waters rose and they disappeared while being enveloped by the deity's embrace."

The story seemed like something straight out of a fairytale. Nonsensical like a myth that he usually wouldn't believe...but the same could be said about his very existence. With that in mind, who is he to be so narrow-minded? He decided to keep his thoughts to himself, locking them tight behind his lips as you continued.

"The lake failed them. It made a fatal mistake. Saved not one villager from that fire, yet nothing changed. Not their love nor their devotion..if anything it only made them see this lake in an even more divine light...so why didn't the same happen for me?"

The tail end of your sentence made him perk up with unease and as his brows knitted together, Kabukimono opens his mouth as he worriedly asked—or rather, attempted to ask, “What do you mean—” but you shifted the topic faster than he could get the full sentence out.

“ Do you remember the tales I would tell you about my childhood—my brother specifically? ..I ran into him some time ago while I was out selling in the village.”

“Whether they wanted to seize from me the goods I was selling that day—or perhaps mistook me for a woman and wanted to have their fun with me as some men have in the past—they began harassing me quite aggressively,” You started, “They bothered me for quite awhile and grew progressively violent the more I tried to politely get them to leave me be—one of them even snatched me up by the wrist. That’s when he intervened.”

“He didn’t recognize me, not that I’d expect him to. After all, I’ve changed a lot since we were kids..and it seems the same went for him as well,” After placing all the whites of innocence, you went on to grab your smaller, yellow sundrops, your hands meticulously working them in between the white flowers as you continued talking in a cheerful tone.

“Though it’s only been a decade or so since I’d last seen or spoken to him, he’s already been through so much. He told me himself, you see, that he had just returned from the war and was passing through villages trying to find a suitable gift.. Can you guess for what?”

“I don’t know..maybe your parents?” Kabukimono guessed; the wrong answer. You didn’t give him another chance to theorize.

“It was for his wife and daughter,” You corrected, and if once wasn’t enough, you repeat yourself, “He was returning home to his wife and four year old daughter and wanted to get them something special.”

Gaining the courage once again, Kabukimono attempted to question the point of this conversation in the first place by asking, “What’s wrong with that?” He grew hopeful at first when you allowed him to get his words out. Maybe, at last, he could get his questions answered, he thought.

He thought wrong.

“He’s really tall now, you know? —I mean, he was always taller than me, but now he’s like a tree! When we spoke face to face, I had to crane my neck all the way back to look up at him,” His question is, once again, ignored as if he never asked it. He began to frown, not liking the thought of you possibly ignoring him, but that crease in his skin quickly grew less prominent when he caught a glimpse of your joyful smile.

“He’s also got big muscles and a handsome smile,” You add, “That paired with his headstrong, chivalric nature..I’m not surprised that he’s made a name for himself and started a family in such a short time,” Your voice then drops to a murmur as you turn you creation left then right, inspecting it as said, “In only a small handful of years, he’s achieved someone’s dream and so much more.. He’s managed to exceed even the impossible and make everyone proud..he’s truly amazing..”

You grasp at pink petals—deteriorated by the chilling weather—as you fit them as you see fit. Filling in each space like a piece of a puzzle.

“That encounter made me think back to the lake. It made me realize how similar we are. We’re both fragile and delicate and were surrounded by people who’d still expect us to give away our bones despite already relinquishing our flesh and blood…so what went wrong with me?”

“Wh.. What?” He stammered. You lift your handiwork into the air, presenting it to the moon for judgement before you finally repeat yourself..

“What went wrong? I made mistakes just like the lake, so why wasn’t I given the benefit of the doubt? Why did my family–my father–abandon me?”

Abandon. That word stuck to him like a burn to his skin and it felt as if he had just opened his eyes for the first time in a century. It made him realize all the little things at last; how tense the air was, how dim your eyes were, how often your brows twitched, how your eyes seemed like glass balls, how forced your smile seemed.. The illusion he had absorbed himself shattered in that instant, allowing reality to set in like a heavy weight. The person who sat beside him, the one who he’s come to view as the sun that brightened up his day, had looked so different in that moment that he could mistake them for an entirely different person. Did they always look like that? If so, for how long? How long has his sun been this dim? And why didn’t he notice it sooner?

“I’m sorry, that was cruel of me to ask you that,” You profess in a raspy whisper before turning to him, plopping the finished product—a tri-colored flower crown—atop his head as you mutter, “There’s no way you can answer that.. It was my mistake..”

Kabukimono blinks, his eyes looking up as he tries to peer at the crown to no avail. It was like watching a kitten play with a toy; adorable. Kabukimono didn’t catch it, but upon seeing such a cute sight, you bit down on your bottom lip as your eyes narrowed—damn nea glaring—his way. Luckily, you catch yourself before he notices, trying to laugh it off as you look over at the lake once more. Though your laugh was even drier than the previous one that left your lips and came tumbling out of your mouth like gravel.

“You know, you remind me so much of my brother,” You said, “You have so much potential to live whatever life you want, to make everyone happy and still keep yourself intact..I almost envy you.”

Kabukimono—hands delicately tracing the rim of the flower crown on his head—grimaced at your comment. Envy. Such a negative feeling to harbor towards him and for no reason at all. After all, he’s nothing special. If he was, surely she wouldn’t have discarded him and left him to rot alone. Alas, before he can tell you that, you started rambling again.

“I used to make mistakes all the time when I was younger. Especially with swords,” You told him, though it looked more like you were talking to the lake at your knees by the way you were so intently gazing at it, “I just couldn’t get the hang of it. That applied to a lot of things my father tried to teach me… Heh, it makes sense why he gave up on trying after my brother was born.”

“Wh- What are you saying..?” Kabukimono asked. It came out as a hoarse whisper that was easily carried away by the warm winds and far away from your ears. Hence why you continued instead of answering, surely.

“You asked me once about the story behind how my obsession for knitting came about.. Why I enjoy it so much.. Well, the reason I never told you was because the truth is quite silly in hindsight; it was to apologize to my father.”

“I felt sorry for him. After all, his oldest son—who was supposed to carry on and lift a weight off his shoulders–was completely hopeless in every way. I truly did feel bad..and so I thought the least I could do was ease his mind—to reassure him that his useless son could do something right.”

“You shouldn’t talk about yourself like that–” “After keenly watching my mother sew clothes and observing the female servants make clothing they could otherwise not afford, I was able to do something out of these impractical hands..” You held your hands up and kabukimono winces at the sight. They look like the aftermath of an intense fight, scars—some new, some old—littered your skin, some even stained it with the ugly dark crust that forms when the skin begins to heal. Did they always look that way? “Would you like to know what I made?”

“I– I’m not—” “I made a fox. A tiny little fox attached to a string,” You said, “I thought it would be cute if he would tie it around the hilt of his sword and carry it around — similar to how one would a good luck charm. I was so excited when I finally finished and ran straight to my father's dojo on the far edge of our home to show it to him.”

“Y/n–” “At the sight of my creation, my father frowned so deeply I thought his face would become permanently creased by it. ‘Is this what you waste your idle time doing?’ he asked me before cutting my little fox to shreds. ‘No wonder you’ve become such a disappointment! You sit around knitting animals instead of dedicating yourself to training!’ he went on to say.”

“He went to grumbling under his breath after that. He kept his voice low, but I still heard what he said.. Wanna guess? He said—”

“Y/n, stop!” The sound of shuffling of him as he stumbles to his feet is loud—though small in comparison to the boom of his scream. You pause, surprised albeit you barely show it—or rather, you’re barely able to force yourself to react—only being able to slowly blink his way in the end as you stare up at your darling housemate, who’s pretty eyes had welled up with tears.

Stop..please..” He pleaded. A sniffle pushing him past the line of embarrassment, causing him to hide his face from you, “I- I beg of you.. Don’t say another word..not if you plan to degrade yourself like this!”

“..Kabukimono, don’t..—” He hears you call from the other side of the barrier he created between the two of you, but he’s finally quicker, interrupting you for the first time tonight.

“Your family abandoned you, but that helped you find your way to me,” He choked, “They didn’t see your worth for what it truly was..but that allowed me to! Who cares what they think of you? How they perceive you? They aren’t in your life anymore, I am! So stop talking down on yourself like they are!” With every word that leaves his lips—that seep through the unseen slits between his fingers—Kabukimono seems to crack more and more until he falls apart, collapsing to the ground in a fit of sobs which causes the flower crown to fall ungracefully off his head.

“I- I’m in your life now, and I don’t care what you’re good or bad at! I don’t have any expectations for you to meet! It doesn’t matter if you don’t meet society’s standards! I don’t care about any of that. I just want to stay by your side! Isn’t that enough? Aren’t I enough?”

“Kabukimono..” You call. A moment of silence passes and a chime of bells in the form of your choked sobs fill his ears as you snivel, “No.. No, no— I- I'm sorry. Don’t cry, please don’t cry..”

He suddenly feels the warmth of your arms surrounding his kneeled being and he finds himself crying harder to the point every sorrowful yell and sniffle rattled his entire body. You had wrapped your arms around him in an attempt to comfort him, but it was rather pitiful and futile, seeming as you were sobbing yourself, repeating, “Sorry.. I’m so sorry..” over and over like it was your matra.

You two stayed like that; sobbing amongst the serene sound of the water until it drowned you two out altogether. After some time, your loud croaks had been reduced to weak whimpering—though if the reason for that was because your voice grew too hoarse to form proper words or another reason was unclear.

Neither of you cared, or at least, Kabukimono didn’t. All that he cared about was the feeling of being tangled in your arms and the sound of your heartbeat singing in his ear—which he had pressed against your chest.

“Promise me,” He whispered, his voice rasp, “Promise me that you’ll be honest with me from now on. A- And promise me not to degrade yourself anymore..that you won’t think about the past..all of it. I want you to promise me that you’ll move on..with me,” He clutched at your kimono, crumpling the flowers on it with his grip as he awaited your response with bated breath.

And when you finally did—when you finally mumbled your response and in the exact way he wanted you to—he felt as though the sun had finally come out again, better and brighter than before..

“I promise.”

Humans are odd creatures. They’re treacherous liars by nature who spew falsehoods for the sake of their own twisted amusement, uncaring of those affected by their games.

“There was once a small village here. If you go the opposite way of the path we usually tread, you can still find the remnants of what it used to be.”

It’s been two weeks since you left for the village to sell goods. You still hadn’t returned.

It’d usually take no more than a few days for you to sell everything and come home, so after said days had passed and you were nowhere to be seen, he grew worried and—in the end—went to the village in search of you.

..But you weren’t there either. In fact, from what he gathered from asking around, you had left the village days ago.

“The village's main source used to be this lake. Everyone relied on it for everything. To drink, to cook, to bathe.. Even some of the oddest ways of entertainment came from here..”

You weren’t here at the village, but you weren’t home either..so where had you gone? The question sunk into him, weighing him down like an anchor and causing his stomach cavity to drop. A feeling of dread set over him as he came upon the unsettling realization; you were missing.

Where had you gone? What happened when you left the village a few days ago? Had you been kidnapped? Grown more frantic with each thought that popped into his head, Kabukimono ran around, asking every villager he came across about you until he finally gained a morsel of information—a speckle of hope—when a man mentioned seeing someone that fit your description walk towards the entrance of the village with an empty, woven basket as big as themselves hanging on their back.

And without much thought, he took off in that very direction, heeding the man no mind any longer despite his warnings about the impending storm that was soon to consume the area.

Kabukimono remained unfazed when the path beneath his feet began to turn dark and slippery, when the graying sky finally shed its tears, when those tears dampened his clothing, not even when he nearly fell into a puddle. All that he could focus on was the possible places you would have gone and why the place you chose wasn’t home where he was.

“So..what happened to the village?”

“The lake failed them.”

“Y/n! Where are you? Can you hear me?” After a while of running with no destination in mind, Kabukimono found it best to call out to you in hopes you’d make your way to him, call his name back, something–anything–that would hint towards you being near.

He raised his voice as high as he could, his voice likely being carried across nations from how loud he was, and yet, he was met with nothing but the deafening sound of thunder roaring to life. It was disheartening, but as he stood amongst the rain, the final wire in his head finally clicked and the memory of you sitting before crystal waters was pushed to the forefront of his mind.

It’s a slim chance, but maybe you had gone there and, for whatever reason, stayed.

In an instant, he was running at full speed once again, steering in the direction his memory remembered best.

“A fire of unknown origins enveloped it in the dead of night. It wiped out half the village and forced the other half to flee for safety..some of which came to me, who lived on the outskirts of town.”

"That thought clouded their minds and the thought of disappointing their all-forgiving god drove them mad..”

He made it to the lake by nightfall—not that he could tell by looking up, seeming as it's been the same color since earlier that afternoon—and as if a light was shining down on it from the sky, the lake gleamed almost magically. Its darkened waters seemed to shine like a ruby even under the thick clouds and he sees the ripples from where he stood in the distance. The waves paving a clear way for him to follow, slowly leading up to the center where he spots something..

“Convinced that it was their fault everything was lost, the surviving villagers went about the rest of their days repenting by praying to the lake from sun up to sun down…”

As he slowly walked closer, familiar strands of hair became noticeable. Though cut into uneven chunks and spread out to be nearly invisible in comparison to the deep red of the water that it floats in, he was sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. That said, he found himself following the strands to the origins of where they once flourished from. His eyes locked on the indistinguishable lump once again and he was sure that it and the reason he came here were unrelated…until something floating beside it caught his eyes.

That something was a hairpin. One with a golden base and purple and red flowers dancing along the edge of it…just like the one he bought you the day you decided to throw him that welcoming party.

“...until the waters rose and they disappeared while being enveloped by the deity's embrace."

“Y/n.. Y/n!” Despite the pressure of it dawning on him felt like two boulders falling on his shoulders, Kabukimono rushed into the water and immediately the white clothing that covered his being stained a murky crimson whilst a putrid smell invaded his nostrils. It made him feel sick—nauseated, even—but he did his best to push it all down as he clumsily swam towards the center of the lake.

It wasn’t true. This wasn’t happening. This surely can’t.. What’s floating amongst the water truly isn’t what he thinks it is.

It isn’t you. There’s no way. You made a promise that you still haven’t fulfilled, after all. You wouldn’t break your promise, not someone like you.

After what felt like an eternity, he reaches the center of the lake which he now notices is more of an inky black and only stretches as far as a few rogue strands. He grabs ahold of the lump, sucking in a breath when his fingertips sink in slightly as if pressing against a firm, wet cushion. It felt disgusting. He hesitates, but ultimately squeezes down enough to pull it along even with the sickening slick gushing at the pressure and making his grasp unsteady.

He reaches land at long last, immediately escaping onto the wet grass and tugging the lump out along with him. It looked less like a lump now, and though swole and looking like some abstract art piece, there was no mistaking it. It was flesh. This was a person, or rather, the remains of one..and they looked eerily similar to you even when all blotched and bloody, there was no denying that.

But even if this was you, there’s no way you could be dead. No, that’d be impossible. You have to be asleep. You had to have decided to take a dip in the lake and fell asleep. That’s the only thing that makes sense.

His shaky palms reach out to you and he touches you with his cold, wet hands that were actively getting more and more drenched with every raindrop that fell on them. He gently swept your hair from your face, tucked it tentatively behind your ear, and cupped your cheek.

His breath stutters. It was as if he was touching pure ice. But that can’t be possible. You’re his sun, his light, somebody like you shouldn’t feel like this.

..Well actually, it makes sense. You fell asleep in the water plus it’s raining. Even someone as warm as you would succumb to the cold under these circumstances. It makes sense. It’s okay. He’ll help you warm up in the comfort of your home as soon as he wakes you up.

He slides his hand down your face—past your now oddly grayed lips and down your neck—until he reaches your bare shoulder, which wrinkles had been exposed due to his rough handlings in pulling you out of the water by the drapes of your clothing. He promises to apologize when you awake. Because you will wake up. There’s no doubt. Because you’re just sleeping.

“Y/n..” He calls softly. Too softly seeming as you remain unmoving. He decides to give your shoulder a gentle shake, calling your name once again, “Y/n.”

“Y/n. It’s time to wake up,” Your lashes don’t flutter. You don’t grimace from the discomfort of his shaking growing more and more aggressive. You don’t do anything.

“I don’t mean to disturb you, but you’ll probably get sick if you lie here in the rain any longer,” The same result. Blood begins to seep under his fingernails from how hard he’s digging his nails into your skin. He continues to shake you anyways, even going on to grip your other, covered shoulder.

“Come on, you can’t sleep around forever. I- I planned to surprise you by making dinner all by myself tonight. It’s your favorite so you have to try it,” His nose was beginning to tingle from the odor that was invading it. Where was it coming from? Why is it so much stronger than before now that he’s closer to you? He forces his mind not to make the connection. Not that there was a connection in the first place. You were just sleeping, after all.

Just sleeping, nothing else.

Kabukimono’s hand trails down your arm, down past your wrist, to your hand where he enlaces his fingers with yours, “Come on,” He said, though his voice was quieter now, more shaky, and his words cracked like glass, allowing his desperation to seep through just a little, “We have to get home..”

“I- I want to go home now, so let’s go..please..” He lifts your hand, raising your arm into the air and ignoring the deep, dark lines etched messily into your skin—the deepest looking one right over the vein of your wrist—and giving it a firm squeeze. You don’t reciprocate the action.

His grip loosens after a while and your fingers slide down his palm and flop to the ground beside you. You had to be really, really tired. But that’s okay, he’ll help you out!

He moves to hover over you, a grim smile etched on his face as he loops his arms around your waist and hoists you up. Your body collides with his as all your weight shifts to lean on him.

He holds you tightly, his head turning so as to not hit his nose against your chest and instead allows you to lean against the side of his face, his ear pricking up at the sweet symphony of...silence.

Sitting there, amongst the loud rain with his ear pressed against your chest—right over your heart—he’s met with deafening silence instead of the usual beat your heart strings typically produce. Your heart wasn’t playing its usual tune. It wasn’t playing anything, in fact, because it wasn’t beating. If your heart wasn’t beating anymore that meant you weren’t breathing anymore either which meant..you..

Tears—ones that he wasn’t aware of—were building up in his eyes, falling like a castle under attack. They slowly descended one after another, quickly fusing with the rainwater and forming as a long, thick stream along his cheek and past his mouth—which he had cracked open to bare his clenched teeth.

“Y/n..what have you done?” He whispered. His voice sounded small like a baby fox’s cry for help; vulnerable and weak. He then repeats himself one last time, slowly, “..Why have you done this..?”

Silence. His teeth crackles under the pressure of him forcing them impossibly closer together.

“Answer me,” He says through gritted teeth before yelling out, visibly and uncharacteristically enraged, “Answer me!”

Silence. He shakes you hard, your head rolling every which way like a ragdoll to the point it’d make one believe that any harder would cause it to roll right off your shoulders. Luckily, for his sake, it doesn’t.

“You promised me!” He shouted, his voice then dipped, “..you promised me..”

Silence. A choke spells his demise quickly after that and his strength suddenly fails him, allowing your body—your corpse—to fall unceremoniously to the ground. He follows suit soon after, and when he does, he lets out a scream. One that clawed its way out from the depths of his chest, spilling his agony out of his throat and laying it bare for the entire world to see…alas, with nothing but the moon to comfort him.

Humans are odd creatures. Ones that cannot be trusted, no matter who they are or what past they may harbor, at least, that’s what Kabukimono.. Kunikuzushi…

That’s what Scaramouche has grown to believe after centuries of nothing but betrayal.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

#ari reposts #ari talks #nursedflowers #I WAS SOOO NERVOUS THINKING IT'D BE TOO LONG OR TOO DRAWN OUT #YOUR COMMENTARY ALWAYS MAKES ME FEEL SM BETTER #AND THE TAGS???#YOUR WRITING IS AMAZING TOO

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viktorrights · 3 days ago

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Hello!!

I just finished reading Coming Home (But not to you) and its so good!! It really has been a while since i read this much in such a short amount of time, but its only possible because your story was soooo good!! I love how you describe viktors insecurities and i love that he realizes in the end that doubting the love he receives is actually hurting those that give it. Its also fenomenal that you can keep peoples attention during 118.000 words. Your work literally never gets boring, even when you describe mundane things.

I would like to ask though, as I assume this (AMAZING) work is a passionproject/hobby, how do you create time/motivation to do it? Im sure motivation/creativity doenst strike every other day.

Anyway love your fic :)

ummm haahahah.

so motivation for me is easy this is just what I really really really love to do I don't mean that in a mean way I genuinely just love to write and for me coming home was a way to write and express myself without any professional pressure, where I could happily lean into tropes and my whims

time for me is weird - coming home was very much a coping mechanism for me during a really hard autumn/winter. any time I was sad or just unmotivated with my professional work, i'd turn to this fic and just turn my brain off

honestly because of having a weird/rough past couple months I can give you little time management advice because I did not manage my time KLDSFHDLKJFHSLDF

im sorry this wasn't very helpful !! D:

#ask bee

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woozisguitar · 13 hours ago

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my loooove congrats on your milestone omgg 🤧❤ also i'd lay my soul down on the road for a jun fic from you sjksjk. i still think about the way you put ttpd for jun in your svt as ttpd songs IT SUITS HIM SO WELL. so maybe something inspired by that? a fic, a drabble, or just even how you think he fits the elements of the song in general. honestly, you can do anything you like you have the full freedom to be creative ofc <3

congrats againnn i'm so happy for you 😭💕 also feel free to ditch the fic if you're not up for it, it's totally okay ml <333

esa my loveee 💕💕💕💕💕 thank you so much!! the fact you remember I put ttpd for jun I rlly hope you like it!! sorry it took a while jshdlj love you and thank you again 😭😭 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

requests for 200 celebration post: open (but slow updates!)

warning: kinda angsty and long, sorry 😞 BUT its a happy ending dw

You left your typewriter at my apartment Straight from the Tortured Poets Department I think some things I never say Like, "Who uses typewriters anyway?"

when you first met junhui, you found him to be a little… weird. there was no better way to put it other than this, and he was not weird in a bad way. sort of eccentric rather? or maybe reserved? this was in the third year of university, in a creative writing class. with no other seat remaining, you took one next to him. you tried to smile and make pleasantries, an attempt to make a friend in the literature department as this was your only english class. now that you think about it, perhaps it wasn't just junhui, because the professor decided to call this class of 30-some students “the tortured poets department,” and assigned the semester project, which was writing a short book of poems about the person next to you, who was also your now-assigned partner. that was the first time junhui spoke to you. a simple hello and introduction, an attempt to make acquaintance with the person he was going to spend the next few months writing about. over time, you found that junhui had rather a … peculiar sense of humor. he liked cats and often resorted to using only cat memes in conversations. he liked spicy food, albeit his tolerance was not that high. oh! and he owned a typewriter and his only explanation ever was ‘i'm a writer and this is the most efficient tool,’ with an expression as blank as the paper he was writing on. you teased him ever so often, asking the rhetorical question, ‘who uses typewriters anyways?’ throwing a small teasing smile in his direction which he bashfully returned.

But you're in self-sabotage mode Throwing spikes down on the road But I've seen this episode and still loved the show Who else decodes you?

during a discussion lecture about franz kafka, you discovered junhui might have more underlying layers compared to what he tells people. he would often point at a self-criticizing quote or excerpt and joke that it was about him. but his eyes often told a different story. he also had… days when he’d disappear and his only answer was he had to get the inspiration out of his head and on paper. over time, you got used to this, the sudden disappearance, the sometimes concerning jokes, all of it. and you still stayed by his side as a friend. it wasn't uncommon for the professors and class members to ask you about junhui’s absence and what surprised you more was that you knew exactly where he’d be..

And who's gonna hold you like me? And who's gonna know you, if not me? I laughed in your face and said "You're not Dylan Thomas, I'm not Patti Smith This ain't the Chelsea Hotel, we're modern idiots"

this friendship with junhui eventually blurred into something more. it wasn’t lovers, not yet, but it also wasn’t just friends. you’d discuss philosophies and arts beyond the confines of the project and class. no, he was slowly taking the place of the closest person in your life, your best friend. and you liked to believe you did for him too. junhui would often talk about making it big as a writer, meeting big names at even bigger venues. you’d often laugh at his dramatics and found them endearing.

but now, years after not hearing from him, you knew he made it big. you read all his books, hell, you even have copies in your library but you’d always deny if asked. ‘we aren’t who we want to be. nor are we in a place where we should be. we’re modern idiots, that’s all,’ is what he said before he left your apartment and that was the last you heard from him. none of your tears, crying, begging could stop him at that moment. looking back, the only trace of his existence, apart from the wounds on your heart, was the stupid typewriter snow globe he got you.

And who's gonna hold you like me? Nobody No-fucking-body Nobody

so you let him go. despite your hurt, you knew you had to let him go. that was the only way he'd realize no one could love him, hold him, know him like you. you went to class the next day and found that junhui had shifted to finishing his semester online. he already had the credits to graduate, all he had to do was sit through the last week of this semester. your professor asked if you’d like to submit your part of the book and present alone, to which you agreed. this set of poems was, after all, evidence that what you felt for him was real. the junhui you knew was real.

You smoked, then ate seven bars of chocolate We declared Charlie Puth should be a bigger artist I scratch your head, you fall asleep Like a tattooed golden retriever

the absence of his presence haunted you like the echo of a poem you never wrote. you tried to live your life normally, walking past the old shops and stores, allowing yourself to indulge in the memories of junhui once in a while. like the convenience store outside which you dared him to eat seven bars of chocolate in one go, or the alleyway where you and him tried your first cigarette, and immediately regretting it, making you giggle quietly to yourself in the dead of night. you adopted a cat, sylvie, in hopes to distract yourself, but that ended up being a terrible plan because she reminded you of him in every possible way. she would fall asleep the same way junhui would in your lap. petting her was the closest new equivalent of scratching his head as he slept.

But you awaken with dread Pounding nails in your head But I've read this one where you come undone I chose this cyclone with you

things weren't working out for junhui either. ever since he left you, he convinced himself it was for the best. he knew about his tendencies, his weird habits and attributes, and he also knew you'd accept him, flaws and all. and while he had made peace with the idea of sabotaging himself, he would rather die than let anything hurt you, even himself. he convinced himself, in a true poetic fashion, that leaving you meant he would never be able to hurt you ever again and you won’t have to deal with any of his tendencies. ever since then, he would often wake up in sweat, remnants of a nightmare and faint outlines of your figure still prominent when he’d close his eyes. he would see his books, his poems, come to life in these dreams starring you as the main character. on some nights, the memories with you would plague his mind and feel like nails pounding in the forefront of his skull. but junhui’s conviction and love for you outweighed everything else. even if he knew this would kill him, this heartbreak, he would still endure it because it had you written all over it.

And who's gonna hold you like me? (Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you?) And who's gonna know you like me? (Who's gonna know you?)

so he wrote. and he wrote. till his brain was filled with letters and every waking moment felt the need to be penned down in his diary. he thought that maybe if he made it big, he would go back to you and tell you proudly that he did it. he would finally be able to confess his feelings and emotions rather than using words as camouflage. he wouldn't be a modern idiot trying to find his place in this world. he would be your idiot. just yours. he knew, in the back of his mind, the chances of you still feeling the same as him were slim to none, but he still convinced himself that he had to do this for you. during his first book release, he spent the entire tour and interview, looking for you in every face. when questioned about his dedication, ‘to the one I’d always leave my typewriter with,’ he would simply laugh and say it was an inside joke and the person he’s dedicating this book to would know.

but years passed and you never reached out. when junhui tried to visit you at your old university, he found that you moved after graduation and severed contact with everyone. he tried calling, texting, letters to your parent’s home, all of it but you never responded. he visited every single place in this world that could have a tie to you and searched, but alas he could not find you. when he returned, he was about to give up hope to ever find you again and accept his fate. that’s when he saw you, standing against the railing overlooking the park lake. you looked exactly as he remembered you, and for a second he was transported back to your apartment. you hadn't noticed him looking at you yet, and he basked in your presence from afar for a moment. but you looked up and your eyes met his.

I laughed in your face and said "You're not Dylan Thomas, I'm not Patti Smith This ain't the Chelsea Hotel, we're modern idiots" And who's gonna hold you like me? (Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you?)

for the first time in years, junhui braved up, put on his smile, and walked towards you. with each step, he could feel his heart pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. when he reached you his first thought was that he was wrong. he should never have left. he had everything he could've asked for but he didn’t have you and everything else felt like dust without you. and that you were much, much more beautiful than when he left. when he met your eyes, he saw swirls of sadness, anger, but he also liked to believe he saw hints of love.

“hi,” he squeaked out, “i’ve been looking for you.”

“i know. my parents called to tell me about the letters,” you said, guarding your face devoid of any expression, crossing your arms in front of you, “why reach out now junhui?”

“i was wrong. all those years ago, i was wrong. i shouldn’t have left. ever. you were the only person in this entire fucking world who saw me, my bestest friend. and… and i just left you,” he finished, breathless.

No-fucking-body (Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you?) Nobody (Who's gonna hold you? Gonna know you? Gonna troll you?) Nobody

“yeah you did. you left me all alone for years junhui. who exactly do you think you are? you’re not franz kafka and i’m not milena jesenská. i don’t care what messed up idea of love you have in your mind, but i am willing to love you. i will always be willing to love you. i don’t care how much it will ruin me in the process, i know you’ll save me in the end, because we are y/n and junhui. we make our own story. let me rescue you this time, junhui,” you ended with the quote, tears brimming your eyes.

“letters to milena,” he breathed out, “you read kafka? you hated his works. always complained that they were too sad and depressing.”

“you liked them though. i did everything i could to feel closer to you. i even have that stupid typewriter snowglobe you got me,” you giggled, wiping the corner of your eyes.

junhui wiped his own eyes, smiling at you fondly.

“so, mr. writer, do you want to follow the steps of the ones who came before you or are we writing our own story where i finally get to hold you forever? there’s also space for a new typewriter in my apartment, you know.”

junhui laughed, wiping his tears and nodded, “yeah, fuck the poets. let’s be modern idiots and write our own story.” junhui kissed you for the first time that night, against the lake with the moon shining bright above you, in a true poetic fashion.

Sometimes, I wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me But you told Lucy you'd kill yourself if I ever leave And I had said that to Jack about you, so I felt seen Everyone we know understands why it's meant to be, ‘cause we're crazy So tell me, who else is gonna know me? At dinner, you take my ring off my middle finger And put it on the one people put wedding rings on And that's the closest I've come to my heart exploding Who's gonna hold you? (Who?) Me Who's gonna know you? (Who?)Me

“i know it’s too early to say this now,” junhui started as the two of you lay wrapped up in bed in the comfort of your apartment, his fingers drawing patterns on the ring finger of your left hand, “but i will put a ring on this finger someday. i think i’ll die if you leave again.” you giggled at his promise and kissed his nose. “i think i would die too, so i guess it’s a good thing i don’t ever plan on leaving,” you wrapped your arms around his frame, snuggling closer to him. junhui hummed, his heart content for once in his life.

Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you? Who's gonna hold you? Gonna know you? Gonna troll you?

“everyone probably thinks we’re crazy,” you said after a moment of silence.

“i guess but they don’t know us like us, so there’s that,” he said, his voice drifting off, “as long as i’m holding you, i don’t really care about the people now.”

You left your typewriter at my apartment Straight from the Tortured Poets Department Who else decodes you?

with his typewriter sitting in the corner of your living room, you knew your life with him was now for the better. he was still a tortured poet for the world, but at the end of the day, it was still you who could decode him. no one else.

a/n: the cat being called slyvie is a reference to Sylvia Plath (sorry im a nerd like that 😔)

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eldritchgray · 2 years ago

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I've been thinking about Mikey as a character, specifically how we see him in SAINW and The Last Ronin, and it's so interesting to me how he turns out really cynical and honestly kinda mean when his family is no longer there.

Obviously an apocalyptic setting would affect anyone, but Mikey's change is something I can't stop thinking about. How he goes from an optimistic goofball to a bitter, cynical, old man.

I'd be interested to see how Mikey might change with his family still there, and how they'd react to it. Like if Mikey had an arc similar to 03 Leo's and ended up the same, though probably to a lesser degree, as he was in SAINW or Ronin

Basically what I'm saying is: what if Mikey got an antihero arc, because you KNOW that turtle is capable of incredible violence. And how would his brothers recon with it

#I'd honestly love to write a fic for this #but i have too many other projects rn #i might end up doing it anyway #because the shift from optimistic goof to cynic is one I've seen in myself #idk #it's just interesting to think about #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2003 #michelangello #2003 michelangelo #sainw #tmnt the last ronin

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nekrosmos · 3 months ago

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Summary: Zombies have been used in terrorist attacks for the past year. The 141 was on the front line of it when Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley was KIA and left behind. Now, seven months later, Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish is sent to clear out a tunnel infested with zombies, unaware that he will be facing the nightmarish vision of his past lover.

I wrote a little Alone x Soap angsty fic and I'm not gonna lie, I'm super proud of this one. It's short, SFW and has some hurt/comfort !

Please go check it out !

#ghostsoap #goap #alone x soap #soap x alone #call of duty #cod #my fic #my writing #I don't think I'm a great writer by any means but I really am proud of the result #I pushed myself with this one #I would especially love to get some feedback from native english speakers honestly #I'd love to know how I can improve !

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phoenixcatch7 · 4 months ago

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Every so often I drift back to the overlord anime but I can never stay for long because it's a good 70% smut with the succubus and 20% side character drama that never goes anywhere. It's a similar premise to svsss, in that a modern guy accidentally gets sucked into a fictional fantasy world he was obsessed with as the villain with a group of people and a place he rules over and wants to protect, and his paranoia/procrastination combo strategises his way to victory.

So of course I thought, 'let's get our dear old scum villain (affectionate) in here'.

Cuz i'mma be real sy would make an infinitely more interesting panicking lich king. Take off that emotion nullification, for starters.

A) pidw was a vr mmorpg with a vast, overarching storyline of the rising emperor lbh, whom players could battle or wed for rewards. A respawning final boss of such strength it took a world wide unified invasion of top players to fell. When sy gets pulled into pidw and all the npcs come to life, so too does lbh, who is very confused as to what happened but remembers sy as one of the players who fronted the invasion (having dug up every nugget of lore on lbh and using that vast knowledge in strategy) and carries an immense grudge that eventually turns into love as he gets to know sy. Sqh is there too, of course, the uncredited game dev who made lbh and his right hand man mbj, who's own base in the north got retaken when mbj also resurrected and is having his own worrisome love story.

B) sy and sqh are in the same guild, named cq, and the demons are sqhs overly detailed npc. Lbh works as the guardian overseer, aka the head npc, and as they wait for the game to shut down sy sneakily makes a joke in lbhs character sheet about him loving sy. They get sucked in, the characters come to life, and sy spends the time he isn't using panicking about the situation, five dimensional politicking, or protecting the base being in denial about the whole lbh thing (and his no homo) and feeling DEEPLY guilty (and hiding it from sqh). Lbh, of course, now having free will, thinks about it a bit and decides to fall madly in love with his kind, gentle, soft hearted lich king boss in spite of his loyalty to his creator. Sqh goes 'dude, wtf' and so goes a very long back and forth as sy tries and fails to come up with the right code of ethics to deal with this insane situation he inadvertently created, meanwhile lbh is strategising how one could feasibly get railed by a skeleton and being the Best Housewife Right Hand Man Ever. And get headpats in the process.

C) sy was part of the xianxia themed cq guild, and everyone (the peak lords) got sucked into either ygddrassil (overlord world) or pidw (svsss). Basically, all the peak lords are millennials old friends running around trying to deal with the consequences of their role play and finally getting to try out the fancy food and drink. I love this one because everyone would be really comfortable with each other, lots of slang and in jokes, a well oiled team stuck in a crazy situation together with ridiculously powerful characters each and every one, and you could have sj as a member! Sy could be the beast tamer peak lord. It'd be so interesting to see what they'd class and subclass as. Sy might still be a lich, but Yqy would be a really interesting choice! Him and sj would definitely still have history though... Hulijing, wood elf, bamboo spirit, human, who knows!

D) sy spent a few years as the lich king guild leader in ygddrassil (I'm definitely not spelling it right), bored by the lack of anything interesting, before the system intervened (maybe as a remnant of the original game interface?) and whisked him off to svsss. Post canon he gets either revealed as an imposter or there's some past life wife plot (some animal that was a boobacious beauty in its past life getting cursed to switch between them?) that turns sy into his old big bad lich overlord form, which is hilariously incongruent with his personality but utterly terrifying and anathema to the jianghu, but lbh is now having to crane his neck back and desperately trying to figure out how to get dommed. Everyone is fully convinced this is sy's og body, and not some modern human one they don't even get to see.

E) sy gets yoinked by system and when lbh (and maybe some others?) catch up a few years later he's in the skeleton body in ygddrassil dabbling in world domination and very eager to see them. The npcs get introduced and draw many incorrect conclusions.

#svsss #shen qingqiu #overlord #crossover #svsss au #fanfic #fanfiction #Honestly if anyone else knows both of them I'd love to hear!#I just couldn't get into overlord but it had such potential #writing #fic prompt #story prompt

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iamthecomet · 1 year ago

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What if….whats if aether takes Virgin ghouls virginity???

🌑

Aether/Aeon virginity kink below the cut.

Aeon's new. Wide-eyed. Not innocent in pit terms. But on earth? Aether has a hard time pacing himself. It's been so long since he's been in this position. Teacher. Mentor. Elder. He wants to savor it. Wants to savor the way Aeon looks at him as they go over guitar parts. As Aeon learns how his magic works top side. As Aether puts one big hand on the small of Aeon's back. Heavy. Warm. Persistent. Aeon makes little noises when Aether touches him. Tiny huffs of breath. A hitch. A shudder when Aether presses a little closer. Fits his arms around Aeon's body and positions his hand on the Fantoman. Pressing up just tight enough. Not so much that Aeon can feel how hard Aether's gotten in his pants. But enough to really feel him--the weight of him. Aether doesn't want to play all his cards just yet. They spend so much time together. Alone. Aether makes sure of it. Aeon has a full schedule. Days filled with learning, with chores that Aether supervises. Full band rehearsals followed by extra moments where Aether goes over the little things he stumbled on. And Aether is always close. Gentle. Guiding. Aeon isn't stupid. He knows what's happening. Knows why Aether keeps resting his hand on Aeon's thigh--looking at the size difference. Knows that Aether is trying to sink his fangs into Aeon before anyone else can.

It's late, hours after rehearsal has wrapped up. Aeon's determined to nail a particularly tough part and Aether is willing to indulge him. Every moment spent is a moment closer to having Aeon spread open for him. Aeon's fingers hurt, his spine aches. He doesn't actually give a shit about this particular guitar part anymore. He's been feeling the weight of Aether's gaze on him for a week now. Swiss has been sniffing him out too. Doing the same things. Sitting too close, nuzzling up against Aeon during movies. Hand dragging up over his thigh to rest on the front of Aeon's sweatpants. Almost enough--but nowhere close. And Aether has been helpful. He's guided Aeon through everything else. He's gentle, trustworthy. And if Aeon is going to trust this unfamiliar body to anyone--Aether is the right choice. He just isn't quite sure how bring it up. How to ask. Aether's watching him like he's hungry. Eyes heavy lidded, no longer focusing on the stumbling movements of Aeon's fingers. Aeon stands. Aether sits back on his stool, watches as Aeon puts the guitar back in its case. He cocks an eyebrow as the smaller ghoul walks toward him. Hesitation in his step, but Aether can smell the want on him. Ozone, sparked with menthol. Aether's cock twitches in his pants. Aeon sinks to his knees between Aether's legs. Presses both palms against Aether's thighs, drags up and down, thumb grazing over the chubby head of his cock where it rests against his thigh. "What are you doing, bug?" Aether asks, reaching down to drag his fingers through Aeon's hair just as Aeon's hands drag high. Palm covering Aether's cock. Hard and twitching in his jeans. Aeon's hard too, Aether can see that. He's straining against those skin tight jeans Dew's been lending him. Aether tries not to sigh in relief, tries not to look too excited despite the way his cock jumps against Aeon's palm. "Dunno," Aeon muses, eyes wide and innocent as he looks up at Aether. A ruse, Aether knows, but it doesn't matter. "Teach me?"

#comet writes #aeon/aether #virginity kink #cw virginity kink #virginity #aeon ghoul #aether ghoul #phantom ghoul #<- for tagging purposes #aether/phantom #ghost fic #ghost band fanfic #ghost band fanfiction #ghost fanfic #ghost fanfiction #I honestly have SO many thoughts about virginity kink ghouls #I'd love to talk more about them sometime

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writeouswriter · 2 years ago

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Reading a fic that's so well written I wish I could close my eyes and just let the descriptions and atmosphere wash over me, but the dilemma with closing my eyes is, well, I then would not be able to continue reading this fic, now would I.

#fanfiction #fanfic #reading #i don't read longform fic very often but this one is so good wow i'm in awe and clicking next chapter next chapter #the movie it's for I'm not even a particular major fan of itself but I am a fan of the character and the ideas and oh my god #they perfect it to a tee in every way even better than the movie could and yet keep their characterization spot on in line with the og #it's amazing the way they balance the humour and banter with the suspense/tension and drama/horror #and their descriptions are gorgeous/pick out just the right details #their follow-up is more canonical to me as a sequel than the actual official sequel which is wrong in so many ways #and I am in love with their writing style so much my god #i'll say the fic if asked probably will honestly make a rec post for it when I'm done just because wow but here i'm just vague posting #i mean it's 10 yrs old and I've been reading fic for 8-9 yrs and it is truly one of the best I've read in all of that #from all my tags I mean you can labour a guess for the fandom or fic and if you were to guess it wow good job I'd be impressed #but anyway !!! love finding masterpieces I hope this person decided to become an author in those 10 yrs almost *sobs*#I'm gonna say the fic anyway whatever it's From Out the Ocean Risen by Bluestar god it's good (for p/acific r/im)

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illfoandillfie · 7 months ago

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A Different Kind of Eduation: P Is For Pet Play (Chapter 13)

ADKoE MASTERLIST

Pairing: Professor!Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: After being broken up with for not being kinky enough, Reader seeks out her professor to give her some private tutoring so she can win her boyfriend back.

Chapter Summary: Reader learns a few new tricks in Roger's latest lesson.

Warnings: Modern AU, smut (18+), slow burn romance, dom/sub dynamics, dom!roger and sub!reader, professor x student sex, dialogue heavy, role play, pet play, puppy play, training, holding, fingering, spanking, collar, butt plug, orgasm delay/cumming on command, a bit of degradation and humiliation

Words: 9951

A/N: I think writing is a winter sport for me. Which is part of why this chapter has been sitting at 85% finished for months. But, the weather is finally cooling down here in Aus and this chapter is finally done! I'm excited for ya'll to read it. Hopefully I've edited it enough lmao

(Also, apologies for any formatting weirdness, it's because tumblr now has rules about how many characters can be used before you have to put in a line break or whatever, so I had to go through and break up some paragraphs into smaller sections. It should still be okay but all my fics are also available over on Ao3 if you wanna read them that way)

As always *** indicates the smut scene.

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave@scorpiogemini

@80s-roger @libsterslobsters @okilover02 @cjand10 @dealorgirl32 @youngpastafanmug @onceuponadetectivedemigod @zeida @demo-wise @yuillfandomqueen @tie-ur-mother-down @rogermyreligion

(idk how many of you are still interested in this fic so if you want your name taken off let me know, or if anyone wants to be added i can also do that)

“Don’t you look professional,” Roger had teased, handing you a rather large glass of water in lieu of the wine you’d usually have, as you got settled in the study. You’d gone to his straight from work, so were a little more business casual than what he usually saw you wearing. The break from routine threw you off a little but mostly because you were too early for dinner so went straight to the study for your extra lesson. And you quickly got over it.

“So, pet play,” you’d said once you were settled, prompting Roger to start. “We touched on the basics last time,” he slipped easily into his teacher mode, seeming totally unphased by the change to routine, “but was there anything else you wanted to know?” You thought for a moment, “I guess I’m not totally clear on why people do it. And, like, you said it wasn’t always about having sex? I don’t really get how a scene with an animal can lead to sex but then also kink without sex sounds paradoxical.” “Very reasonable questions.” Roger tapped his whiteboard marker against his palm as he decided where to begin, “Last week I said that there were any number of reasons people might be drawn to role play and that includes pet play. Different people like it for different reasons. But I suspect thats not really what you were asking about.” You hummed and nodded your head, “Yeah, I guess my big question is why animals? Why don’t just do the naughty nurse thing or whatever.”

“Look, pet play isn’t something I am incredibly familiar with, certainly not when you compare it to other aspects of BDSM, so I can’t pretend to be an expert and I can really only speculate on some reasons people might be drawn to it. From what I’ve seen of it and the people I know who dabble in it, I think pet play offers an element of creativity that some other kinks don’t always seem to have. Creating your pet’s personality or even the costume you wear. Which isn’t to say roleplaying as anything else doesn’t also have those aspects, but I think for some people working out how to act like an animal can be more of a creative challenge or something more long term than your typical role play concepts. A person sinking money into animal inspired fetish gear is going to be inclined to revisit the role play multiple times, expanding on it, experimenting with it. But really, I think for most people, it’s not inherently about the animal, per se, but the animal opens up opportunities for exploration that other role plays may not. We established last week that part of what may draw people to role play is acting like someone else. You can be more demanding, or more sultry, or more adventurous than you regularly feel. Pet play just pushes that idea a bit further. Depending on the animal you choose and their temperament, it might be as far from you as you can possibly get.”

“Mmmm,okay,” “I know it seems a little contradictory to say it’s not about the animal while trying to explain why other role plays may not appeal the same way.” “Just a bit,” “It is important to keep that in mind though, especially while we discuss how pet play can be incorporated into a sexual dynamic. It’s not acting out bestiality. It’s about roles – someone being in control of someone else in a concrete ownership way – and it's about scenarios that connect with the chosen pet. The way people who take on a canine persona act will likely be vastly different from those that take on an equine persona. And the scenes they choose to play out will in all likelihood be quite different too. For instance, a pony play scene might be physically demanding to simulate a racing experience – being ridden, using a crop, that sort of thing – or it might be an exploration of breeding through a scenario where the horse is put out to stud, or, for those who are more into a show horse type aspect, it might be more about dressing up in costumes – masks and hoof mitts or leather bodysuits - and being shown off at live kink events, maybe even performing a dressage inspire routine.” “Sorry, hoof mitts?” “A type of bondage gear, not always used for pet play. Basically, they’re something submissives can wear over their hands or arms as a type of restraint. They make it impossible to hold or grab things and sometimes they can represent animal paws or hoofs.” “Jesus, alright.” Roger chuckled, “We really are only scratching the surface with these lessons. Anyway, another example, cow play also known by the term HuCow, a portmantau of human and cow. Any guesses what that might entail?” “If you say milking,” “Ding ding ding, we have a winner,” “No way,” you snorted.

Roger shrugged, “It’s not a crazy as it sounds. Lactation fetishes aren’t all that rare, which probably says something about the way breasts are viewed and sexualised but that’s a discussion for another time. But also, it doesn’t have to involve actual lactation, it could just be about squeezing the breasts or even “milking” a penis until it ejaculates. HuCow scenes can tick a number of boxes for people. Those with breast or pec fetishes might like it for the emphasis it can put on that part of the body. There is, like with pony play, a potential for exploring a breeding kink, both as a cow or a bull. You can also get into some gender based kinks like forced feminsation and the like. A male identifying person could be made to act as a female cow, maybe dress in a cow print bikini and have their nipples stimulated as if they were being milked.” “Huh. Okay, that’s very specific. I guess I can see why some animal role plays might appeal to people more than other ones would. So, if we did do something with pet play, would you um, like me to be a, a cow?” “If you were drawn to the idea, I’d be happy to explore that with you. But I was thinking something more along the lines of puppy play.” “So no milking?” you teased, hoping to cut through some of your awkwardness with humour.

Roger smiled, “No milking, no. The first thing that came to mind was a training type scene. It’s fairly classic in the world of puppy play but with good reason. Training is a big part of owning a puppy, reinforcing desired behaviours, teaching them what behaviour is acceptable, teaching them tricks. But training can also be part of many other kinks and sexual dynamic. Sometimes it’s intentional training, sometimes more subconscious in just aiming to handle more intense sensations or to explore wider within a preferred kink. Impact play fans might train to be able to enjoy being struck with a crop instead of just a paddle. Someone might do throat training to be able to deep throat more comfortably. A dom might train a submissive to say thank you after a spanking or to ask permission to cum before each orgasm. We’ve done some light anal training in that I gave you a plug and you wore it to help adjust to the sensation and so you could take me better that way. It’d be my hope that, if you were inclined to try it, a scene about training might be easier to enjoy than something more out there like milking. You don’t have to respond yet,” Roger hastened to add, “I still want to answer your second question before we even think about prac.”

You were relieved Roger didn’t require an immediate answer and that he hadn’t forgotten your initial questions because you weren’t sure you could make a decision without knowing more. But you supposed you could also see the logic in his idea and, the way he’d explained it, training didn’t seem as scary as some of the other things he’d mentioned.

“So the second part of your question is a little more complex.” He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, “You were curious how pet play can lead to sex when one person is acting like a literal animal. The answer is, the same way any other kink can lead to sex. Remember, it’s not about the animal, it’s about the dynamics. Playing as owner and pet is often just a variation of dom and sub – there's the power element, control, the stuff we’ve talked about in nearly every lesson. And, like I said before, the person taking on the pet role is probably also taking on a different personality than normal so that can contribute to the sex. But a large part of the kink community, I would even hazard a guess that it’s the majority, would tell you that any kink can also be fun when there’s no sex involved. With pet play specifically, it’s a fun excuse to dress up, to play, or curl up with someone you care about and have a nap. It can be comforting to feel as if someone owns you when you wear a collar for them. There is tenderness in having your hair brushed and being petted, feeling looked after and cared for. Pet play can just be a different way to express affection for someone.” “Not gonna lie, that sounds kinda nice.” “It really is. That doesn’t just go for pet play either. It is entirely possible to be in a kinky partnership with someone and never have sex. You will find that every single kink we have covered, someone out there enjoys it in a non-sexual way. Bondage, impact play, sensation play, you name it. Though, of course, different people define sex differently and have different boundaries around it. Go to enough kink events and munches and you realise how wide the spectrums for these sorts of things are.”

“So like, they’ll just be tied up and not fuck?” Roger chuckled, “Yeah, sometimes it really is just about the sensations and emotions involved in being restrained. If you continue to explore kinks after, uh, well after we complete this course, you may find that kinks you considered challenging or uncomfortable become more enjoyable when penetrative sex, or any sexual touch at all, isn’t part of it. It’s just about experimenting and figuring out what you enjoy and then defining those boundaries.” You felt a little sad at the reminder that your tutoring would eventually stop but tried not to show it too much. You figured that, as much as Roger might say he enjoyed teaching you, he was probably also at least somewhat looking forward to their end, just to be done with the risks to his teaching position if nothing else.

“Now, not to completely undercut that idea,” Roger said, pulling your attention back to his lesson, “but, if you are curious and okay with trying pet play, I was intending on steering it in a more sexual direction. That is the core point of these lessons after all, to learn about kink and how to safely incorporate it into sex. Of course, it’s helpful to keep in mind that what I’m teaching you isn’t the only way to enjoy these kinks and that enjoying being spanked or called names or engaging in role play doesn’t require an enjoyment of any sort of sex; but sex is kind of what we’re here for.” “So what are you thinking then?” “I’ve already suggested puppy play but did you have any other ideas yourself? I don’t want to tell you what pet to be if there's an idea that interested you or something you’re more drawn to. Role playing as a pet might feel a bit different to role playing as my groupie, and I’d prefer you to be comfortable with the selection than just to do what I want.”

“I don’t know, um, I guess my only thought was just not a cow.” You gave a little shrug, feeling pleased when Roger laughed, “If you think puppy play is a good staring point for me, then I’m happy to go with that. How exactly would it lead to sex though? I’m still not sure I understand that part of pet play.” Roger hummed in thought, “I think obedience and training is a very easy way to incorporate sex into a puppy play scene. I can reward you with physical touch when you obey my orders, or punish you if you don’t. Remember, you’re not being a dog you’re taking on personality traits and actions that align with behaviour common to dogs, but you’re a consenting adult who likes being spanked, so, if you want that tonight, I can do it.” “I want it,” you said with an eager nod, the thought alone enough to make you squirm a little in your seat. Roger smiled, “Okay, good. So rewards and punishments can be an easy way to incorporate sex and other kinks. In addition to that though, I can order you to touch me, or to position yourself in particular ways with the intention of turning us both on. I can tell you to behave in ways that will make you feel humiliated or demeaned, which we both know you get off on, or incorporate degrading nicknames that feel thematically relevant, like calling you a bitch instead of a whore. Even just the act of being bossed around will probably contribute. And they don’t call it doggy style for nothing do they.”

You realised you were biting your lip, “I like the sound of that.” “I thought you might. Now there are a couple things to go over before we start, just so we’re both on the same page and know what to expect and what’s okay. Let me know if something doesn’t feel comfortable or doesn’t sound enjoyable okay?” You nodded expectantly, curious to hear what else Roger had in mind. “Now, while my intention is for this to involve sex, I do also understand how out of your comfort zone a lot of this is, so I’d want to ease you into it a bit and not focus on sex straight away. Um, I’m thinking that you’d be in just your underwear to start.” “Sounds pretty sexy,” you joked. Roger shook his head but he was clearly amused, “I never said it wouldn’t be sexy, just that it wouldn’t focus on sex right away. In addition though, and only if you’re comfortable with it, I have a collar with a lead that you can wear.”

You stomach flipped at the idea “Oh, um, a collar? Like a dog collar?” “Well, it looks sort of similar to one a actual dog might wear but it is definitely made for a human. I did mention collaring very, very briefly when we were looking at bondage. They can represent a few things but one of the more common reasons behind collaring a submissive is as a symbol of ownership. Not necessarily in a master/slave way, though of course it can be. But if the sub wore a collar to a kink event it would be a very clear signal that that person already has a dominant. And in private it can be a signal that they are still okay with submitting to their dom, that they’re willing to follow orders or participate in a scene.” “Could I maybe try it on first, see how it feels before I decide?” “Absolutely, when we’re done here I’ll get it for you. I’d have some specific expectations too around what you are and aren’t allowed to do, things that could contribute to punishments and rewards. Obviously obedience is a major part of this so my expectation is that if I order you to do something, you will do it. Of course, if something is way beyond what you feel comfortable with you can say your safe word,” “Pizzazz,” you said at his pause. “Very good, you can say pizzazz and we’ll stop. We can stop for good if you want or we can just use it as a pause in the scene to check in with each other and adjust things. Does that sound okay?” “Mmhmm, yeah, definitely.”

“Good. My other expectation is that you answer to puppy and pup. I may also use your name during the scene but I may decide to just call you pup, we’ll see how it feels in the moment. And in addition to that, I want you to respond accordingly to good girl or bad girl. Now, dogs can’t speak so I don’t expect to hear much talking from you unless I ask you a question and prompt you to answer with words, or of course if you want to safe word. You can make sounds though, whatever feels natural in the moment. If you feel like barking or whatever, go for it, but if that feels too weird don’t worry.” He gave you a reassuring smile, “Umm, anything else? Oh, yeah, uh, dogs also can’t walk on two legs,” he laughed a little, “So, I would also suggest that you crawl around on all fours. And if I ask you to fetch something you should carry it in your mouth where possible. Does that seem reasonable?” You readily agreed. Though the idea of crawling around hadn’t occurred to you initially, it made sense and you reasoned that being on the ground would probably contribute to feeling more puppy-ish, or at least more submissive.

“One final thing, and this is definitely not mandatory but I figured you might be into it. Do you want to wear a tail?” Your mind jumped straight to the box of dress up items your kindergarten class had had including dinosaur tails you could tie around your waist. Surely Roger had to mean something else, “Uhh, a tail?” Roger held up a finger, signalling you to sit tight, while he ducked out of the room. When he came back he held up a butt plug that, instead of tapering into the traditional shape on the outside end, was instead decorated with a fluffy tail. “These aren’t always used with pet play and there’s a few different varieties. Technically I think this one is meant to be a fox tail, but I only thought of it a few days ago so my options were limited. You can definitely get ones that aren’t so fluffy, ones shaped more like a cat or dog tail that are thinner, firmer. There are little fluff ball bunny tails, horse tails, you name it there's probably a plug out there. The question is, do you want to wear it?” Your decision came quickly, “I’ll wear it.” and then when Roger raised his eyebrows as if asking if you’d really thought it through you added, “I think it’s cute. And I think wearing a plug will help make me hornier which will help me get into the scene more.”

“Alright then,” Roger smiled, handing the plug over, “I also brought the collar over, if you wanted to have a look at it too before we start.” You nodded, though it made you much more nervous than the tail had, and gingerly took it from Roger. The leather was smooth and cool to the touch but the inside was lined with a softer material that you assumed was for the wearers comfort. It had a simple buckle clasp, much like a regular pet collar, and a heart shaped charm dangling from it where a name tag would be on a real dog collar. “Can you help me put it on?” Roger nodded moving behind you to buckle it around your throat. He was gentle, carefully fitting it and checking that it wasn’t too tight both verbally and by slipping two fingers under the collar, before he finally fastened it in place. You reached up to feel the soft leather, tilting your head in both directions as you adjusted to the sensation of it. Your fingers slipped down to the heart charm, the metal cool against your skin, and you felt your own heart quicken a little. You put it down to a few nerves now that you were on the verge of trying pet play, though you couldn’t totally forget what he’d said about ownership. Belonging to Roger didn’t sound too bad.

“What do you think of it?” “I don’t mind it. It’s not as uncomfortable as I guess I thought it might be. I guess I probably wouldn’t want to wear it all the time but for a specific scene I think I’m okay with it.” “Does that mean you’re interested in trying a pet play scene?” “Might as well,” you laughed. You knew he was checking for good reason, that he was just trying to be safe, but it was tempting to remind him you’d not once backed out of a practical lesson, “I don’t necessarily think it’ll be super my thing but I am curious enough to try it out.” “Alright, sounds good. Why don’t you go to the bathroom and get ready then, there's lube in the cabinet over the sink. Just give me a shout when you’re good to go.” You nodded, feeling surprisingly calm, and collected the tail from where you’d set it aside on the desk.

It took you a little while to get ready – a few minutes to compose yourself once you were alone, the idea of acting like a dog suddenly sounding much more ridiculous than Roger had made it sound, and then of course there was the plug to sort out. The collar was a slight distraction too. Not because it was uncomfortable or difficult to wear, though you couldn’t exactly forget it was there either. But the sight of it in the mirror would make you stop, your fingers rising to run over the leather. You were kind of amazed that it didn’t feel worse. You’d also dithered about for longer than you might have needed to, trying to decide if you should leave your bra on or discard it since you’d had to forgo your knickers to wear the tail. Roger would probably appreciate it, if not prefer it, if you were totally naked. But then again, the bra would keep your boobs in place which was probably preferable while you were crawling around on all fours. In the end, you kept the bra on though you’d first asked Roger his preference when he met you at the bathroom door. “It’s up to you,” Roger had said patiently, “although, I think I’m much more likely to cum prematurely and ruin my pants if you’re totally naked. Going to have a hard enough time as is.” He’d dropped his eyes deliberately to your cunt and you’d shifted where you stood, knowing he’d know if you squeezed your thighs together but tempted to do it all the same.

He let his gaze linger on your lower half, as if daring you, before he finally tore his eyes away, “Are you ready?” “Yeah,” you nodded, “I think so.” “Okay, then on the ground for me.” You lowered yourself to your knees right there in the hallway, and then to your hands. The carpet was a little rough against your knees and palms, the tail tickling the back of your thighs, but it was easy following Roger’s instructions and you waited for the next one, hoping he’d keep making it easy for you. “Good girl.” He leaned over you as he said it, a soft metallic sound drawing your attention though you kept as still as you could. “Time for walkies,” he announced as he straightened, “Go on pet.” You crawled down the corridor, your heart thumping as you realised just what a view you were giving Roger as he fell into step behind you. You weren’t sure where exactly Roger expected you to go but made an educated guess it would be the bedroom since that was where you usually ended up. It was open when you reached it which you figured meant you were right, however, before you could enter you felt the collar being tugged from behind and Roger tutted, making you stop. A leash was clutched in his hand when you turned to look. “Not in there pet. The lounge,” You nodded, readjusted your direction and set off again, practically able to feel Roger’s eyes on your arse and wondering if the tail was hiding much from view.

When you crawled through the doorway of the lounge, you were pleased to find Roger had spent his time getting the room ready. The coffee table had been dragged aside, pushed up against the wall so it wouldn’t be in the way, and the curtains had all been drawn so there was no chance of any nosey neighbours seeing anything, a couple of lamps softly lighting the room instead. But that wasn’t all he’d prepared. “You wanna play pup? Go get your ball,” Roger pointed towards the far side of the room where a fuzzy tennis ball sat on the floor, as he took a seat on the couch. You obediently crawled around the couch to the ball, lowering your head to pick it up with your teeth. But you paused a few inches from it.

“Uh, woof?” you said, feeling rather self-conscious, but wanting to get Roger’s attention. You succeeded, which you could tell by the way he was stifling a laugh, “Yes?” “This ball hasn’t been anywhere near a real dog, right?” Roger shook his head, “Brand new. I’m not that sadistic.” “Just checking,” you smiled, before picking the ball up between your teeth. You hadn’t experimented with gags in any of your lessons with Roger, at least not yet, but you had to imagine wearing a ball gag would feel similar to carrying this tennis ball like you were. It forced you to keep your mouth open, made it difficult to swallow which meant you could feel yourself getting drooly as you crawled back towards Roger. He held out his hand and you dropped the ball into it, finding it difficult to ignore how being on the ground put you closer to his cock. It was a small step from noticing that to realising Roger was beginning to stiffen, and then to realise he was probably at least partly aroused from seeing you drooling with a stuffed mouth and naturally you couldn’t help but wonder if he intended to use your mouth at all.

“Good girl,” Roger cooed, no idea what was going on through your head, as he reached out with his free hand to stroke your hair like he was patting a dog. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch, the praise making you feel warm and pleased and eager to earn more, although your instant reaction to Roger’s positive reinforcement made you think maybe he’d had a point when he suggested puppy play. You were turning into Pavlov’s bloody dog, getting aroused whenever Roger praised you. “Alright, pup, you ready to learn some tricks?” You gave an affirmative hum, hoping he’d find it an acceptable response and not demand you bark instead. Thankfully he seemed fine with any non-verbal response because he smiled and moved toward the centre of the room, dropping down to his knees, “Here girl.” At a click of Roger’s fingers you crawled over to join him, earning another good girl but this time the praise was accompanied by his touch. His fingers dipping between your legs to rub your exposed cunt.

“I’m glad you chose the tail over your knickers,” he said softly, “Think you might be too,” he added as he drew his fingers away, the tips glistening with your slick. You whined in response and nodded. Roger gave you a wink and then he was back to business, “Alright pup, we’re going to learn a few tricks today. Let’s start with an easy one, sit.” You weren’t a hundred percent sure what Roger wanted but you thought the most likely option was to rest back against your heels. “So close, pet,” Roger cooed, his hands firm on your knees as he directed you to open them, “Gotta keep your legs spread so I can reward you properly. Let’s try again, all fours now.” You felt a little annoyed at yourself for not realising, and hurried to obey him, eager to show you could get it right.

“Sit,” You sat back again, your arse against your heels, the plug being pressed firmly into you, your knees open. Roger took full advantage of your position, his fingers slipping between your pussy lips as he praised you again, drawing a soft moan from you. The sound of pleasure seemed to be Roger’s signal to withdraw his fingers, “Time to learn another trick, pup. When I tell you to beg I want you to sit just like this but put your paws up,” He physically directed you as his spoke, positioning your hands at chest height, elbows bent, fingers curved over your palms. “And whine so I know you need something.” You felt a little silly but whining wasn’t too hard since you did want him to keep touching you. “Such a smart puppy girl,” Roger said as he rewarded you again, each stroke of his fingers making you more eager to have him inside you. “Right, we’re gonna learn another trick now. Lay down.” You bit back a disappointed groan as he removed his touch again, and did as you assumed he wanted, stretching out on your front.

“Roll over,” Perhaps the increasing horniness was hindering your thought process because for a moment you didn’t understand what Roger meant. Did he want you to roll across the floor to the other side of the room? How would that be arousing for him? The whole situation seemed suddenly ridiculous and you forgot you weren’t meant to speak, “Really?” “Pup,” Roger’s tone was warning, “Do what I say now. Roll over.” “Sorry Sir,” you hurried to say as you prepared to roll yourself across the room until he told you to stop, still not sure why he’d be turned on by such a thing but willing to find out. But a full 360-degree turn was not what Roger had in mind. He stopped you once you were on your back, his eyes raking over your bra clad chest and then down to your bare cunt. You felt yourself blushing, partly from how he was staring and partly because you felt silly for thinking he’d jack off to you literally rolling around. Turning onto your back made much more sense.

Roger shuffled a little closer on his knees, “When I say roll over, this is what I want to see. But next time I expect you to put your arms and legs up too.” Once again he directed you as he explained, guiding your limbs into the air, knees and elbows bent. “This way I can see everything I own.” He gently parted your knees a little further so he could easily stoke between them, toying with your clit. “I can properly reward you for following my orders. Or punish you for speaking out of turn.” You yelped as he suddenly spanked your pussy but he was quick to sooth the pain, or at least distract you from it as his fingers dipped into your entrance. You moaned, willing Roger to press deeper, to give you more, catching yourself right before you’d added his name and a potentially pathetic, “please”. Begging would only work if you kept your words to yourself. But at that moment Roger seemed inclined to reward you, his other hand coming up to rub your clit again as he started working his fingers further into you.

His paused again as his phone began to ring from where he’d left it forgotten on the couch. He rolled his eyes, “ignore it, it can go to voicemail.” You nodded, trying to block out the ringtone and focus on how Roger was touching you, his fingers pressing deeper and faster as if he were trying to make up for the annoyance of the phone. "Finally” Roger muttered under his breath as the call rang out and the phone fell silent. His fingers were still plunging into you, stroking you just right, pushing you closer to release. Your moan broke off in a disappointed squeak as Roger unexpectedly withdrew his hand, his mobile sounding once more. “Jesus,” he sighed exasperatedly as he shuffled on his knees until the still trilling phone was within reach, hastening to deny the call. “Right, where were we?” his voice softened slightly as he turned back to you but a moment later he was swearing as his landline began to ring. You sighed and let your limbs drop to the floor, craning your neck to look at Roger upside down, “Maybe you should take that.” “I should’ve taken the bloody thing off the hook,” he rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Alright pup, sit.” You dutifully scampered back to your knees, taking up the position he’d taught you. “Stay.” You smiled in acknowledgment, a little amused he was continuing with the role play.

Waiting was easier said than done. Roger’s home phone was corded but the distance from where it hung to the doorway of the lounge was close enough that he could remain on the line whist he paced into your field of view and then back out. You caught snippets of the conversation – heard him apologise for missing the call and that he had company – and tried to work out who had called. “Mmhmm,” Roger hummed as he moved back into the doorway, “Well look now's not really a great time for m-. No, of course not.” Roger rolled his eyes and then threw you an apologetic glance. You smiled back, his constant walking making you too wary to move from your position. He’d told you to sit and stay after all, he’d definitely notice if you rearranged yourself. But the longer the phone call went on, the more uncomfortable you became. Your knees grew stiff and you had to wiggle around to keep from getting pins and needles. Without Roger there egging you on, keeping you in the moment, stimulating you, the whole puppy thing started to feel even more silly than it had at the start. You couldn’t deny you were wet (it was hard to ignore) but you felt that was probably more to do with Roger than the scene itself. Although, perhaps you weren’t being totally fair in your judgement due to your current rising discomfort. You pondered the lesson so far, trying to work out how exactly you felt about pet play and how it was Roger could so affect you, trying to subtly shift yourself without being noticed. The tail plug was much closer to the forefront of your mind now, firm on one end and tickling you from the other and you were starting to feel a little chilly, close to naked as you were, but worst of all was the sudden realisation you needed to pee.

When Roger next crossed in front of the doorway you waved to get his attention and tried to tell him you were going to the bathroom with a lot of pointing. He didn’t seem to understand but he did seem amused, leaning in the doorway and holding up a palm to signal you to stay. You frowned and whined softly. Roger smirked as he said, “oh, I totally understand,” to whoever had called. He seemed to enjoy tormenting you because he stayed there, watching as you squirmed, and you were sure he was letting the conversation go on unnecessarily. At first you tried to beat him at his own game, attempting to ignore your growing need, but that just made you think about it more. You whined in desperation, louder than you’d meant to. As soon as you realised that Roger had heard the sound your attention snapped back to him. He chuckled into the reciever, “Nah, I’m dog sitting at the moment. No, no, I can see her from here, she's fine.”

It was mortifying to think someone else had heard you and you blushed as you pouted at Roger, but he seemed more amused than moved as he revealed he still had the tennis ball and rolled it towards you. At first you just let it sit where it had come to a stop near your knee but Roger clicked his finger and pointed at it. With a sigh you bent over, shuffling back a little so you could pick it up with your mouth again. Roger hummed into the receiver before mouthing a clear, “good girl,” at you. Unsure what exactly Roger wanted, you tentatively made to crawl towards him, but he stopped you with a raised palm. It seemed he wanted you to just sit there and wait, feeling yourself beginning to drool from the ball in your mouth, but unable to forget your bladder despite your arousal. Finally it became too much and you steeled yourself to beg for permission.

At first you stayed quiet, raising your hands to the position Roger had shown you, adjusting your posture so your back was straight and your chest was pushed towards him in the hopes it’d help persuade. Roger just looked at you expectantly and you realised he wanted you proper humiliated. Squeezing your eyes shut you whined into the tennis ball still between your lips. It took another louder whine before Roger became convinced. “Hold on one sec, I think she needs to go outside.” If you hadn’t been so embarrassed and distracted you’d have given Roger credit for doing such a remarkable job sounding natural when there was so much laughter in his eyes. He disappeared for a second as he placed the phone down, returning with a snort. “It’s not funny,” you pouted, holding the tennis ball out to Roger. “It is a bit,” but he took the ball from you, “What are you begging for?” “I need to go to the bathroom.” “Ask me again if you can go.” “Can I go?” Roger casually threw the ball to himself, “Dog’s can’t talk. Ask me properly.”

Silently cursing Roger, you let out another whine, trying to make it sound pathetic and desperate. “Doesn’t sound like you need it that badly. Maybe I should make you hold it until I’m through with my phone call.” You whimpered at the thought and raised yourself a little higher on your knees, hoping Roger would be open to some bargaining. He was standing close enough that you only had to shuffle forward a little to be able to rub your face along the front of his pants, whining and whimpering and pausing every now and again to look up at Roger and check he was understanding. If his arousal had diminished during the break, it was quickly returning. You could feel him as you mouthed around his fly, licking and panting against his hidden length. “Oh she is desperate.” He teased, crossing his arms over his chest (which you assumed was to stop himself from grabbing you). “She must be if she’s offering to suck me off.” You nodded, sucking on some of the fabric near his tip. Roger hummed, “I do love putting my cock in your mouth. Unfortunately,” he stepped back, “I have a call to finish up. I want you back here and sitting like a good girl by the time I’m done.” “Thank you thank you thank you,” You scrambled to your feet, pausing just long enough to kiss Roger’s cheek before you hurried past him to the bathroom. “Sorry that took so long,” you heard him say as he picked up the phone again, “Continue.”

When you returned to the lounge, bladder in a much more comfortable state, Roger had taken a seat on the couch and was looking at his mobile. “That was so mean!” you said, moving towards him and perching yourself on the arm of the chair, very aware you still wore the tail plug. Roger laughed, “But you were such a good girl. And I like hearing you whine.” “Should make you hold it, see how whiney you get.” You immediately realised what you’d said and felt your face warm. But Roger seemed flustered too. There was a definite flush on his cheeks when he said, “We both know I’d be into it,” that made the statement all the more sincere and not at all the deflection he was aiming for.

“So would you also be a puppy? Or a different animal?” You asked, your curiosity beating out your embarrassment. “Roger thought for the moment, “I think I prefer being a cat. I like to be pampered.” You giggled and, without thinking, reached out to scratch the top of his head like you’d scratch behind a cat’s ear. Roger leaned into your touch. “And, um,” you didn’t know what to do next and tried to cover the awkwardness with a question, “what would you differently as a kitten compared to a puppy?” “Well,” Roger shifted his hips, “a lot of the basics are similar – with both of them you can have the pet drink water from a bowl or play with toys. With a kitten I’d expect grooming to be part of it, like brushing my hair. If I wanted to still be more dominant whilst being kitteny, I might stalk you around the house and pounce on you. But usually if I’m acting as the pet I prefer to be on the subbier side, just being petted and pampered... maybe encouraged to lick my owner.” You felt even more embarrassed at the hints about oral but the thought did cross your mind that perhaps you would enjoy such an act more if it was occurring at your command. Doing it because you felt it was expected or simply to please a lover felt embarrassing and awkward but if you felt in control of it maybe it would be easier to enjoy the sensations. Roger had proven you could enjoy it if certain conditions were met, perhaps being blind folded and dommed wasn’t the only way.

*****

It was only then you realised your hand was still in Roger’s hair, absentmindedly playing with it, and your thoughts switched from how it might feel to order him to go down on you to what other parts of him you could be petting and stroking. Roger was watching you as closely as he could, enjoying the sensation of your fingers in his hair, but whatever was going through his own mind he kept to himself. However his rapidly stiffening cock gave him away a little. You withdrew your hand suddenly which seemed to be a signal for Roger to get the lesson back on track. “And what about my puppy? Are you still okay with it?” You nodded, “Yeah, lets keep going.”

“Alright, well I really should punish you for getting back here late. You were meant to be done before my phone call finished.” “That’s unfair,” “No, that’s the rules. But maybe you can convince me you’re still a good girl. On the floor, now.” You quickly dropped to your hands and knees, as eager to prove yourself as you were to distract yourself from the weird moment you’d just shared. “Alright, lets see how much you remember. Sit.” You quickly moved into position. “Beg.” You put your hands up and made a small whimpery whine. “Roll over. Good girl.” Each time you followed an order Roger had rewarded you with some brief touch- squeezing your breasts through your bra, letting his fingertips trail seductively along your body, teasing your clit, but it never lasted long enough. “Clever pup,” Roger’s voice was low and gravelly, “back to all fours.”

You were a little surprised, even a little put out that, that he’d not climbed over you, not taken his cock out of his pants, not made any move to fuck you. Thankfully he decided it was a good time to move things along, standing up so you got a good view of just how aroused he was, and moving to kneel behind you. It meant he could better feel you up, able to reach the parts he wanted to touch most with greater ease, his fingers firmer than they had been before. You became a little breathless, the combination of the series of tricks he’d had you perform with how his fingers felt running over and between your pussy lips. Your breathing came harder and before you knew it, you were panting in anticipation, your tongue sticking out over your bottom lip. “Fucking hell,” Roger said softly, “Okay pup, show me just how horny you are,” he pushed lightly between your shoulders, guiding you to lower your chest and raise your hips, presenting your arse and cunt to him. He still wasn’t in a particular rush though, opting to tease you a little more first. Roger started by stroking the tail you wore and making the plug shift within you before reaching for your cunt again. “Someone enjoyed being my pet, didn’t they pup?” You whined and nodded against the floor, trying to push back against Roger’s fingers.

He chuckled at how eager you were and allowed two fingers to slip inside you, working them in and out until he could comfortably fit a third. You moaned as he stretched you, trying to help by rocking back against his fingers as much as he would allow. It was distracting enough that you nearly missed the sound of Roger’s zip coming down as he hurried to get himself ready with his free hand. “Been such a good girl,” he grunted as he one handedly worked his pants down a little further, “Gonna get a very big reward.” You whimpered as his fingers left you, but you knew they’d soon be replaced by something even better though waiting for it was almost torture, especially when Roger used the slick you’d left on his hand to lube his cock. Thankfully he was more interested in fucking you than toying with you any longer and he only stroked himself a couple of times before he began to sink into you. Your breath hitched as his head pressed into you but it was quickly followed by a moan, echoed by Roger as he sank into your warmth.

He went slow to start, carefully pulling partway out and easing himself back in, testing to make sure you were wet enough that he could move comfortably. He grunted as he sank deeper, “Take me so well, sweetheart. Must really love feeling owned with how fucking wet you are.” You shivered as Roger leaned forward, his gravelly voice getting closer as his cock seemed to push even deeper, the sensations all capped off with a sudden sharp pinch as he lowered his head and bit a spot on your side. It made you yelp, more from surprise than anything else, but you felt yourself clench around his length too. When he straitened up again he was chuckling, “Oh pup, you make it so easy for me.” His hands slipped back to your waist, one gently caressing your arse as he moved the tail aside, and gave a quick tug, pulling you into him.

Your breath hitched as he suddenly completely filled you, but he barely gave you time to remember how to breathe before he pressed in again. The temperate test thrusts Roger had given became quick and hard as if his eagerness to have you had won out over his self-restraint from moments before. “Oh fu-u-u-ck,” you moaned, voice jolting as his cock filled you again and again, a rapid pace you had no hope of matching. Your arse suddenly stung as Roger lay a loud slap that made you squeal. “No talking, remember. Still my pup.” You whimpered as he gave you another slap to drive the point home. “Just my horny bitch,” he grunted, “Who practically goes into heat whenever she sees me.” A third slap was swiftly followed by a rough thrust, making you whine and then moan. For a moment Roger shifted all his efforts into his hips, making you squeal with each hard stroke of his cock, but then he eased off and another string of slaps landed against you. He made it clear that the spanks were for being late as well as speaking out of turn, which only seemed fair when they felt so good. And then, once he was satisfied, he focused once again on fucking you senseless.

At first you were worried you’d slip up again, accidentally say a word instead of keeping your vocalisations to simple noises of pleasure, and in doing so bring forth another run of spanks that would make you clench but delay the orgasm you wanted. But it quickly ceased to be a factor. Between Roger’s cock filling you just right and him giving a new order to rub your clit, it was nearly impossible to even think of a real word let along get your mouth to form them. Even when he slowed his thrusts down again you were in little danger of saying anything comprehensible. That was when he decided to put the tail plug to a more specific use than just decoration, spitting on your arsehole so he could fuck you with it. Really all you could do was take what he was giving, whining and moaning, and eventually cum. He did make you work for it though, panting as he told you to wait for permission. You’d never been made to wait for it before, at least not in this way, and you let your fingers slow their motions around your clit, afraid of hitting your release too fast. But the barrage of stimulation from the plug and Roger’s cock were enough to get you close. You squeezed your eyes shut and whimpered loudly, hoping Roger would understand what it meant.

“Cum, pet” You couldn’t do it immediately but you hastily worked your fingers over your clit again, so close but not quite tipping over the edge. You jolted with another spank, “I told you to cum.” Roger’s voice was low, a little breathless but entirely in control. You whined, as you tried to do what he wanted, though your fingers felt stiff and clumsy. There was another spank and then Roger pressed the plug into you, holding it down as he rammed his cock deep. Perhaps it was the shock of both combined with your frantic rubbing, or maybe he just managed to hit the right spot at the right time, but you couldn’t help but tighten suddenly, moaning and shaking as you fell into your orgasm. “There you go,” he grunted, giving the plug a little jiggle to keep you stimulated as you came. You would have fallen limp if you’d been in another position, but Roger was still filling you and his grip was once again tight on your hips which kept your knees from giving out. Instead you just twitched from the aftershock, and whined when you felt him slowly pull back and sink in again. “Stay there, pup, I need to cum too.” The breath you’d only just begun to catch caught in your throat as Roger resumed fucking you, going neither as hard as he had or as slow as you might have liked. He didn’t bother with the plug though, focusing only on how your wet cunt felt around his cock. Thankfully it wasn’t long before he was holding himself deep, the grunts he’d made on each thrust giving way to moans as he came within you.

*****

“Good girl,” Roger said softly, tapping your thigh gently as he pulled out. He shuffled out from behind you, moving to your side as he tucked himself away, and then sat heavily down on the floor. You allowed yourself to sag too and, knees a little sore, lowered yourself onto your back. “Do you want a hand up?” “In a minute,” you sighed, the thought of getting up too much to contemplate immediately, “Have you got anything I can cover myself with?” “You mean you don’t want to lie naked on my living room floor?” Roger quipped, simultaneously reaching for a throw that was decorating the couch and then grabbing a cushion as well. You just laughed, tucking the cushion under your head, “Seems a bit unfair that you get to wear pants is all.” “Thats the perks of being the dom.” He tapped you teasingly with his foot, “How’d you find it all?” “It was interesting,” you thought for a moment before continuing, “I think it’s another kink that like wouldn’t be the first thing I would think of but isn’t a hard no either. Like, I think it’s probably the stupidest I’ve felt during one of our lessons...well maybe the queening beats it, but still, I felt like a fucking tit at first.” Roger laughed, “You got into it though.” “Yeah I did. And I definitely understand it better now, but it wasn’t my favourite.”

He hummed thoughtfully looking over at you with a soft expression you couldn’t quite pinpoint, “That’s similar to how I feel about pet play too. I can be into it with the right person and stuff, but it’s not a go to of mine.” You lay in a comfortable silence for a moment, considering things. Logically you knew Roger had favourite kinks and scenes he preferred over others, but it wasn’t something you’d properly thought of before. Maybe because he was so confident and capable at everything he’d taught you so far, it felt like all of them were his favourites. After a moment Roger interrupted your thoughts, “Hey, you okay? Not too overwhelmed?” “No, not at all, just thinking.” You pushed yourself onto your elbows to better see Roger, “Are you good?”

“I am,” Roger smiled, scooting a little closer. “Did you have any other questions regarding pet play? Anything you’re still curious about? “Uhhh, yeah I guess so, um,” you instantly felt awkward as you tried to phrase your question, “When you wanted me to, uh, finish when you told me to....what was that about?” Roger chuckled, “I s’pose I should have been ready for that question since we’ve not actually touched on it in a lesson. I guess it’s mostly closely related to orgasm delay or orgasm denial. Have you heard of them before?” “Maybe? I think I’ve seen denial mentioned online.” “Well, basically it’s when you delay or stop yourself or your partner from having an orgasm. There’s a bunch of different reasons to play with it and ways to do it. With our scene, because we’d spent so long working on you obeying commands and performing certain actions when told to, I thought it would make sense, and be kind of hot, if you came on command too. I’d be happy to do a full lesson on it next time if you want.”

“That does sound interesting but if I remember your curriculum plan thing correctly, shouldn’t we be getting to CNC next?” “Oh so now you’re paying attention to my curriculum huh?” Roger sat up straighter and, sensing the shift to a more serious topic, you followed, letting the blanket drop since you were wearing your bra. “That was my plan yes. And of course we can stick to that original plan if you feel ready to move on. But I’m also happy to spend more time on other kinks first, even just other role plays. We could play doctor.” You laughed, “Tempting offer, I think you’d make a pretty hot doctor. But I do think I’d like to learn at least the theory of CNC. It feels like an important topic and I think I’d prefer to do it sooner rather than later.” Roger sighed softly, “You’re right, we should cover it so we don’t run out of time. I’m just very conscious that this is a heavier topic than anything else we’ve covered. Some parts of it might get tough. And I really want to make sure to approach it with the right amount of gravity, without making it seem super scary.” You placed a hand on his knee, “I know that, and I appreciate it a lot.” Roger gave you a soft smile before another slight sigh, “I that case, yes, next lesson will be looking at consensual non-consent. I have been thinking about this lesson a lot actually and I had an idea of something we could a bit different, especially if you decide to go ahead with a practical lesson after we cover the theory.” “Different how?” Your question came out of curiosity not concern since you trusted that Roger’s ideas would be about your safety, but you couldn’t think of any ways to change what you were doing. “Well, because we’d potentially be role playing a non-consensual sexual encounter, I thought it might be a good idea to do it somewhere else.” “Like where? A hotel or something?” “No, no, nothing so public. Um, I have a little cottage a couple of hours out of the city. It was a family holiday house, but it doesn’t get used for that as much now. I thought we could go there for the weekend.”

Your breath caught at the idea of going away with Roger but you did your best to keep your voice steady, not too excited, as you asked, “How come?” "Well firstly, the neighbours are a little further away there so there’s much less risk of anyone misinterpreting whatever scene we would potentially be playing out and calling the cops on us. Plus, no one there would recognise you’re my student if they did see us together. Not to make it sound like some sort of bachelor pad or sex dungeon, but the last few times I’ve been there it has been for kink hookups so, even if we were spotted together, they’d probably just assume I’m bringing another girl over. Plus, because we are looking at CNC, a more unfamiliar location might help make the scene better. Assuming that we did that. Even if we went away, I wouldn’t expect you to participate in an actual CNC scene if you didn’t feel fully comfortable doing so.” You nodded but didn’t say anything, your stomach flipping uncomfortably with a mix of nerves about how serious Roger was being and excitement at the idea of going on a weekend trip with him. “But, more importantly, I want you to still feel safe in this house. I know CNC is technicaly what we’ve been building to but, since you’re so familiar with the curriculum, I’m sure you remember that it isn’t the last topic I suggested. I know I’m repeating myself but I’m happy to explore any kinks we haven’t covered or revisit kinks we have in the last weeks before the wedding, and I want you to feel okay doing that. CNC can be tough, it can be scary. It can play with sensations and emotions related to rape. And the last thing I want is for you to feel like I have raped you in what was previously a safe space. By moving the lesson to a different location, we could hopefully contain everything in a place that you won’t have to return to.” You nodded soberly, “That sounds good.” “Okay, well then, this weekend?” “Yeah, this weekend.”

#my writing #my fics #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine #a different kind of education #its 11.29pm and i have to go to work in the morning oops #i'd love to say the next chapter will be up soon but honestly who knows lmao #i'd also love to get back to my fairy verse fics so idk we'll see what happens

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little-mouse-adventures · 2 years ago

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A Timeline of Events in the Artemis Fowl Series

If anyone's interested, I did do an actual analysis for where I pulled some of these dates from. But because I cannot type succinctly to save my life, it's 5,000 words long, so that's below the cut. I also put the timeline there again, but in three separate images, so hopefully they load well enough to be fully legible if the above isn't.

A thousand thanks to @sadbitchapologist and @zahnie for their help and advice with this, despite neither of them having any more than the barest interest in the series and therefore having no clue what I was on about. Thanks also to @orangerosebush for fielding completely out-of-the-blue questions about the French school system, so I didn't have to attempt to navigate web search results to figure out what mandatory gym classes were like for the sole purpose of plotting Luc's birthday on here.

An Analysis of the Timelines in the Artemis Fowl Series

A Brief Introduction

The Artemis Fowl series is made up of eight books covering a range of years and events. I wanted to see how accurate the timelines present in the books were, as well as try and plot out some other details implied in the novels but not explicitly stated, to have a better understanding of the overall world-building. To that end, I went through the series and made the above timeline. I colour-coded it based on the relevance of the specific items to certain categories, namely Humans, Fairies, Villains, and the Series itself. This does mean that some things could have fit into multiple categories. For instance, you will see some items involving Opal categorized as Fairy-Specific (such as her college years, as those are fairly neutral to the main plot or her villainy), Villain-Specific (such as her setting up her emergency fund, as that is mostly related to her schemes as opposed to relevant to her existence as a fairy, or part of the main plot of the series), and Plot-Specific (such as her opening the Berserker Gate, the primary plot point for the final book).

Before we really delve into things though, we should establish the baseline assumptions I was working with. Firstly, I am only using the original series. I have not used anything written in The Fowl Twins trilogy, given that those books seem to ret-con a considerable amount of the original information, and that is far too many headaches to give myself. Any supplemental series information, such as the short stories found in The Artemis Fowl Files, or anything from interviews is also not included. The premise here is: using just the original books, what is the event timeline of the world? The second thing we need to establish is that I am using the North American releases of the novels. I did make notes on where each bit of information comes from, but there isn’t really a citation style for this kind of thing, so I’m not sure how relevant that is. The third assumption is that the first book takes place the year it was originally published. According to my copy, the original publication was 2001, with the first American paperback edition coming out in 2002, and the first mass market paperback being released in 2003. This means our starting point is in 2001.

For sake of clarity, this analysis will start with setting the dates of the books and continue on from there.

The Basics of The Books

With that out of the way, let’s talk about the first book, Artemis Fowl (AF). It is actually not until the very end of the book that we get a solid answer for when it takes place. It’s only in the last few pages of the novel that Angeline Fowl leaves her attic room after all the plot points are tied up and announces that it is Christmas Day. This might be cause for concern – Angeline had not previously been established as a particularly reliable narrator – but given that we are asked to believe that Holly’s ‘feel better’ mood booster worked, and that neither Butler nor Artemis balk at or question the pronouncement that is Christmas Day, we’ll accept that it’s true and move on. This means that, with Butler’s earlier announcement that he was stuck doing four months of stakeout, we can say with a fair amount of certainty that Artemis obtained and translated the Fairy Book in September 2001, and managed to capture a fairy in December of the same year.

Moving on to Artemis Fowl: The Arctic Incident (TAI), we are given a decent chunk of information, albeit spread out a bit. The first is the announcement that the ransom drop for Artemis Fowl I is to be held on the fourteenth. The fourteenth of what, you might ask? Well, we are told that Artemis is currently thirteen years old. Clearly, things are past September 1, 2002 (we know Artemis’s birthday is September 1 based on information in both the fifth and seventh books). We are also told that Luc Carrere has been trading with the goblins for six months, starting in July. That puts us in either December or January, but we can narrow it down further since Artemis gives us another helpful clue. He mentions they are not expecting to see the dawn while attempting to rescue his father in the Arctic. There are only a few latitudes on Earth where polar night (of any type) occurs, and at Murmansk, polar twilight occurs between December 10 – January 2. Combining all of this, we learn that TAI takes place December 14, 2002, give or take a few days to either side.

This can be corroborated by information in Book 3, Artemis Fowl: The Eternity Code (TEC). After Holly heals Artemis Senior, we are told that it takes over two months for him to wake up. Since we are specifically told two months, as opposed to two and a half or three, we can conclude that the events of TEC take place in March 2003. Mulch gives us some information that confirms this. He was living in LA “less than four months ago,” and since he was conscripted to help with the events of TAI in December, a March plotline fits the bill. We are given further confirmation as well: Spiro mentions that Artemis will be fourteen in six months. A specific date for Artemis & Co.’s attack on Spiro’s Needle can be pulled from the throw-away line that Pex and Chips are “burying” Mulch on the full moon. A quick web search tells us that the full moon in March of 2003 takes place on March 14, and the rest of the events in the novel take place roughly two days to either side of that.

In Artemis Fowl: The Opal Deception (TOD), the fourth book in the series, we are given several very clear indications of when the events take place. Firstly, Artemis is contemplating that at fourteen years and three months old, he is the youngest person to successfully obtain The Fairy Thief. Based on previously noted details that his birthday is in September, the events of TOD must take place in December of 2003. Additionally, we are told that things are the middle of winter and Opal has been in a coma for eleven months and counting as of the end of TAI, another December plot.

Artemis Fowl: The Lost Colony (TLC) requires the most math and interpretation so far to figure out when it takes place. We know Artemis is still fourteen, so the main events clearly happen sometime between January 2004 and September 2004. Beyond that, we are using a fair amount of context clues. Artemis and Butler have evidently been traveling for four months looking for demons, so we are dealing with events in at least May. But that still leaves us several summertime months to work with, so to establish a timeline here, we will need to look forward a bit. In the sixth book, Artemis Fowl: The Time Paradox (TTP), it’s noted that Artemis is not yet fifteen, and has, on multiple occasions, spent the full moon in the study. Ergo, he’s spent at least a few months back from Hybras. If he has been back for two months and not yet turned fifteen, he would have had to have returned by July at the latest, and since he returns almost three years later than he leaves, we are looking at him returning in either May or June. This would have him disappearing to Hybras – and by extension, dealing with the earlier events in the book – in June, July, or August. After his conversation with Minerva, he notes to Butler that they “are planning a June wedding,” which wouldn’t make sense to say if they were currently in the month of June. From all of this, we can extrapolate that the first three-quarters of TLC take place in late July or early August 2004, with the triumphant return of our intrepid heroes occurring in June 2007.

As previously stated, TTP mentions that Artemis is still not fifteen, but is nearly there. He has also been home again for at least two months. This would put the events of the sixth book in August 2007. At least, the events set in the current time period. TTP does bring back time travel, and with it some problems. We are told that Artemis and Holly jump back nearly eight years to Artemis being ten and trying to fund searches for his missing father. This would put the events of the past in early 2000. However, other details presented regarding Artemis Senior’s disappearance, which we will discuss later, make that impossible. Artemis also admits, in TEC, that he was eleven when his father disappeared, not ten. If we take a bit of creative license with our interpretations and base the time-jump to the past on other presented information as opposed to the dates given in TTP, we can say that Holly and Artemis instead return to early 2001. This lines up with further details, such as the sinking of the Fowl Star (as calculated a few paragraphs down in this analysis) occurring in December of 2000, and the textual confirmation in TTP that it’s barely two months past that sinking when Artemis brokers the deal(s) regarding the silky sifaka lemur. Since, at the end of the day, the time jump impacts very little in the grand scheme of things, and the year 2001 actually fits in better with other textual evidence and events, that’s what I’m going with for this timeline.

The seventh book, Artemis Fowl: The Atlantis Complex (TAC) gives us a very helpful base point! It takes place on Artemis’s fifteenth birthday, September 1. From our previous results on setting dates for book events, that would be September 1, 2007. The sections in which Butler and Juliet are fighting mesmerized wrestling fans and meeting up with Mulch are noted in the novel as happening “the day before,” which would fall on August 31, 2007.

Artemis Fowl: The Last Guardian (TLG), the eighth and final book in the series, creates some problems. If we assume that Artemis starts receiving treatment for his Atlantis Complex immediately after diagnosis in TAC¸ that would put him receiving treatment in September 2007. We are told he is certified as cured after six months. Yet we are also told that the rest of the events of the book take place in the week or so leading up to the Christmas holidays. Everything so far has said that the Artemis Fowl series follows the current calendar, in which case there is no way that six months can fit between September 1, 2007 and December 25, 2007. However, the only reference to Christmas is in two lines noting that the Fowl parents were planning on holidaying with their children on a foreign beach. If we simply say that six months have passed, and they are instead planning on spending the Irish school system’s spring holidays in the French Riviera, everything else lines up much better. So that’s what I’ve done. This would also put the resurrection of Artemis, after the events of the book and a further six months have passed, at roughly September of 2008. There is a pleasing symmetry to Artemis being born and then re-born in September, though if you want to get really technical and say the events of TLG take place during the 2008 March full moon as Opal claims (as noted in another web search as March 28), a six-month wait time for the clone to grow would put the resurrection in October. Still, there is something to be said for having a boy’s ghost haunting a clone of himself close to All Hallows. Since it’s the last plot point of the series, you can choose which you’d like; it doesn’t have to lead to anything else after it.

Let’s Talk Timelines: The Beginning of the Line to The End of The 19th Century

Now that we have our baseline book time periods established, we can get into the math used to determine some of the events in the timeline above. Several events are easy; we are given specific dates for them. Turnball Root meets Leonor in 1938, Juliet wins the Miss Sugar Beet Fair beauty contest in 1999. Other things are based on some basic math, such as Artemis claiming his parents got married fourteen years prior to AF¸ putting that event in 1987.

The majority of the items on the above timeline, however, do take some mathematics, extrapolation, and interpretation to plot out. To try and keep everything organized, we’ll start at the far left of the timeline, and work our way forwards, looking at events oldest-to-newest to explain why they are where they are on the graph. I won’t be getting too in-depth on everything in the graph, since I’m not sure how relevant the notes on the very minor side characters such as Carla Frazetti are, but I’ll at least try to touch on some of the more relevant points.

To start with, the Battle of Taillte was noted in the 2000’s as being ten thousand years ago, putting that at 8000 BCE. Similarly, the last dome breach at Atlantis was apparently eight thousand years ago in the 2000’s, so that would be 6000 BCE. Troll sideshows were legal in the early middle ages, which implies they were not legal after that. A quick web search says the early middle ages ended around 1000. The first crusades were in 1096-1099, and as those crusades are the start point of the Butler-Fowl working relationship, a point for noting that comes next on the graph.

From there, we get into more modern – relatively speaking – events. Briar Cudgeon and Julius Root are noted as attending the LEP Academy together and being raised in the same tunnel, as well as having about 600 years of history together. If one assumes “being raised in the same tunnel” is similar to the human equivalent of “growing up in the same neighbourhood,” we can assume the two were born roughly 600 years ago, in the 1400’s. Vinyaya is portrayed as being of a similar age to Root, so her birth can also be put in the same general era. We are also told that Fowl Manor was originally a castle built in the fifteenth century, that in the early 2000’s the theories of timeline corruption were first introduced over five centuries ago, and that cloning has been banned for over five hundred years, so those three events are also tossed into the 1400’s.

Julius Root is noted as doing his LEP basic training 500 years ago in Ireland, so that would have to be in the 1500’s. He would have attended the Academy before then, putting that in the mid-to-late 1400’s. As previously stated, he was in the Academy with Cudgeon. Opal also met Cudgeon in college, and competed with Foaly for science prizes there, so they were all in school at the same time.

Mulch now enters the picture. We aren’t ever given a specific age range for him, but we are told about his career. He has, apparently, spent three centuries in and out of prison after a couple centuries of success as a thief. This would make him at least five hundred years old. There is a brief mention that he tried the athletic route at college before becoming a thief, so he would have to be an adult at that point, putting his age at roughly 550 years during the events of the series.

We then enter a period filled in from one-off lines throughout the series, presumably added to give some depth to the world. Things about the wine cellar at Fowl Manor being a seventeenth century addition, Captain Eusebius Fowl and his crew dying in the eighteenth century, and Mulch first faking his own death over two hundred years ago.

Time Marches On: The 20th Century

There is nothing of much relevance to linger on between the 1550’s and the 20th century, so we’ll jump ahead to the 1900’s, when we have Holly Short’s birthday. She is in her eighties during TLC, and her father died “over twenty years ago” when she was “barely sixty” as of TAI. Based on that, she would have been in her early eighties in 2002, putting her birthday sometime in the 1920’s. What a doll.

A few more birthdays now appear, and we’ll ignore, for the most part, some of the irrelevant ones. I don’t think we are at all concerned with Gaspard Paradizo’s birthday, or Mikhael Vassikin. We are, however, rather more interested in Jon Spiro, Domovoi Butler, and Artemis Fowl I.

Jon Spiro enters the series in TEC, as a middle-aged American. A quick search on the Internet says that middle age is generally noted as being between the ages of 40 to 60. We are told that Spiro has worked in three main industries over the past two and a half decades. Additionally, we are told that law enforcement has been “trying to put [him] away for thirty years.” If we assume he entered the working world at twenty, spent five years developing his professional self, and then started going down a path of questionable legality to get the police after him, that would put him at fifty-five in 2003, and born in the late 1940’s.

It was a bit easier to determine Domovoi Butler’s age, and we can get more specific with his actual birthday. We are told that he is forty at the start of TEC, and he is still forty during TOD. From that, we can assume his birthday is not between March – December, which means it has to be between January – March. Now, we can just leave things there, but contextually, Butler says in late March 2003 that “a lot of people know [him] as a forty-year old man.” Since I doubt he’s the kind of person who introduces himself by announcing that his birthday was last week, we can assume that his birthday is not in March. Since about half the books in the series take place in December, and there is never any mention of Butler’s birthday coming up soon, we can likely assume it isn’t in January. We can therefore conclude Butler was born in February, 40 years before 2003, which puts his birth year in 1963.

We then have Artemis Fowl I. This one took the most extrapolation to determine. We know he has run an ethical empire for a few years as of 2007, which coincides with his return to his family after being kidnapped by the Mafia. He apparently ran a successful criminal empire for two decades before that, though, so in 2007 he has been working for at least 25 years. Based on the interactions he had with his own son, I’ve assumed he was also taught to take over the family business from a young age. If he started working at his age of majority at 18 (as possible in the 1980’s in Ireland, based on a web search), we can assume he was born in roughly the mid 60’s.

Billy Kong, born Jonah Lee, is one to touch on. He plays a large role in TLC, during which we are given possibly the most backstory of any villain in the series. He was evidently born in the early 1970’s, and was eight years old in the early 1980’s. Mathematically, that can only lend itself to so many birth years, so it’s easy enough to put his birthdate somewhere in 1973, and his brother’s death date in 1981.

While we’re here, let’s talk about the 1980’s. A lot of things happen in the 80’s, so we’ll be here for a few paragraphs. Butler would have graduated Madam Ko’s Academy in the early ‘80s, Artemis I would have started working in his family’s business and stolen some warrior mummies (of note, the theft is only noted as being in Artemis Sr.’s “gangster days,” but if you are a young, rich criminal, you’d likely commit a wild theft in your early years as opposed to your thirties, which is why this is put in here). Additionally, in the mid 1980’s, Holly graduates the LEP Academy and her mother dies, as noted in TTP when she is contemplating missing three years of her friends lives.

Butler would have started his five-year stint in Russia with an espionage unit in the mid-to-late 80’s, and become a big brother in 1985. Juliet is noted at being four years older than Artemis in AF in 2001, and he is twelve then, making her sixteen at the time. We can extrapolate the month from TEC, wherein she is apparently eighteen when she is called regarding her brother’s apparent death. At the time, we are told what gifts she received for her birthday, implying it was fairly recent. Additionally, Artemis was only thirteen at that time, which would make Juliet five years older than Artemis. If, however, we trust that acolytes at Madam Ko’s start their training on their tenth birthday and get one chance to graduate per year, it would make sense for that one chance to be on their birthday, or within a day or two to allow for as much training time as possible. Since Juliet was in the midst of this one graduation evaluation when she gets the phone call and joins the crew for the March heist at Spiro’s Needle, she’d have to be born in March. (We can also corroborate this with some details from AF: if AF takes place in mid-September, that would be just after Artemis’s birthday, which puts the 4-year age difference back into play.)

Spelltropy begins for the People in 1987, if it appeared 20 years ago from 2007. Artemis I and Angeline Fowl would get married in 1987. They would have their first child, Artemis Fowl II, in 1989, as calculated by Artemis being twelve during the initial siege of the Manor in December 2001. Artemis II’s grandfather was noted as having been dead for over ten years at that point, and it was mentioned in TEC that Angeline married her husband before he really took over the family business, so those events would likely happen when Artemis was but a baby in 1990.

The ‘90s are a period where a lot of things are happening, but few are particularly important. Spelltropy has a cure found, Minerva Paradizo is born, Juliet begins her bodyguard training and her brother refuses to let her shave her hair. These, and other events in the 90’s, are mostly calculated by math along the lines of “Event A happened X number of years ago,” but since the 90’s was mostly a time of worldbuilding events rather than plot events, we’ll just skim over the specific details.

‘You Are Here’: The 21st Century, and Where The Storytelling Begins

Welcome to the 2000’s! The kick-off point of not only the 2000’s, but also the entire series, is the sinking of the Fowl Star. We aren’t given a specific date for this, but we are given enough information to extrapolate the date. Specifically, in September 2001, in AF, we are told Fowl Sr. has been missing for almost a year. In TAI, in December, we are told he has been missing for almost two years. That does have the potential to have the ship go down in either December or January, so we need to use a bit more details from TAI to make a final determination. Mikhael Vassikin and Kamar were told to dump Fowl’s body in the Kola if he didn’t wake up in “another year,” so they’ve been looking after him for one at that point. Fowl Sr. wakes up two weeks before the deadline, and as noted earlier, the ransom drop for him takes place December 14, after he has been awake for perhaps a week. From that, we can tell that the deadline for “another year” was mid to late December, putting the initial sinking of the Fowl Star in late 2000.

The analysis gets a bit confusing at this point, because 2001 is when future Artemis and Holly join the party via time travel, as well as having their regular selves in the timestream. Essentially, we’ve established the timeline for the events of TTP above, so we know the whole lemur fiasco takes place in March 2001. Artemis wakes up at the end of that book thinking about fairies, which ties in rather neatly to him then dragging Butler across three continents for six false alarms (with an assumed approximate 3 weeks between each jaunt) before striking metaphorical gold in Ho Chi Minh City in September. During their time-traveling, Holly also gets a chance to talk to Root, who wonders why she isn’t in Hamburg, which was noted in AF as Holly’s first major failure as a Recon officer and was nearly preceding the events of AF. The time-traveling would also mean that Opal would have had to harvest her DNA for future diabolical plans before March 2001, when her younger self travels to the future. Since it takes up to two years to grow a clone to adulthood, and her clone has to be ready in September 2003, we are a few months off in the time requirements, but really, for a practice that’s been outlawed for 500 years, I can offer a bit of leeway.

We are now well and truly in the thick of the main events of the series. Most of this will be tied into the initial assessments we made way at the beginning of this essay, where we established when each book occurs. Because of this, we aren’t going to spend time on anything plot-related. However, a brief note on Turnball Root and Artemis’s Atlantis Complex is likely in order. Artemis was, as previously stated, dealing with his return from Hybras and the after-effects of stealing magic during July and August of 2007. His Atlantis Complex, and Turnball Root’s plan to escape the Deeps prison, are in full swing in September of that year. We have a brief note in TAC during the evacuation of Atlantis, that Turnball had, a month before, spied on Artemis and noted his Atlantis Complex developing. Therefore, Artemis’s Complex likely came into play in late July or early August 2007. This is close enough to Artemis’s magic theft to make sense for the deterioration of his mental health, and enough time for Butler to have started to notice something was wrong, as he did. We can therefore assume that Atlantis Complex, at least in the case of magic-stealing humans who have a propensity for time travel and getting involved in supremely complicated and improbable plots, develops relatively quickly.

This leaves just one major discussion point from the last few books: the age of Artemis’s twin brothers, Beckett and Myles. The twins are first introduced at the very end of TLC. They are written as being two during the events of TTP, three during the events of TAC, and four during the events of TLG. Regardless of the time-traveling shenanigans of their elder brother, it is impossible for the twins to age two years in the eight months between Artemis’s return from Hybras in June 2007 and the finale of the series in March of 2008, so we need to look at what makes sense.

Myles has already potty-trained himself, and done so at fourteen months, so they must be at least that old. Their other behaviours would make sense for them to be two in TTP. Diapers are still a part of their lives, and their language and vocabulary fit what a two-year-old would have, at least in Beckett’s case. Since Artemis was surprised by their existence, it doesn’t seem likely that Angeline would have known she was pregnant, or at least not have told Artemis yet, when he went to Limbo. Ergo, they can’t be any older than two, since (one would hope) Artemis would have noticed his mother’s pregnancy if the twins were any older.

Additionally, in TLG, we know Artemis gave his brother a birthday present, so he had to have been around during the twin’s birthday at least once. With this fact, the twins cannot be born between March – June, which just leaves the question of when are the twins born?

The most logical answer is February 2005. If Angeline was early on in her pregnancy, say six weeks (which is when most women start noticing symptoms), when Artemis disappeared in July 2004, she wouldn’t necessarily have told him yet. Then, if we assume that since most twin births occur around the 35-week mark, that would math out to having the twins be born in February of 2005. Fast forward, and they would turn one in February 2006, and two in February 2007, which puts them at the correct age for the events of TTP. [One could argue, of course, that a twin pregnancy in an older woman (unfortunately, there is nothing in the series to indicate Angeline’s age) and in a woman already dealing with significant stress could result in a very premature birth, thereby voiding any of this math and leaving the whole question of the twin’s birthday unanswered. However, since I’d rather not subject the Fowl parents to the strife and misery of having one son missing and presumed dead, and their younger children in the NICU with a low survival rate, I’m working with the assumption that the pregnancy was a healthy and normal one.]

The brief comment from Juliet in TAC about the twins being three can be passed off by them being a little over two-and-a-half and Juliet not being around as she is touring in Mexico. By the time TLG takes place, in March of 2008, the twins would have had their third birthday, allowing for Artemis to give Myles his chair as a birthday present, Beckett to be old enough to no longer need diapers, and the behaviours to act more like children than infants. While this doesn’t quite allow for the repeated textual confirmations in TLG that the twins are four, we’ll go with what mathematically makes sense.

That brings us to the end of the timeline! Not everything is touched on in the timeline, and not everything in the books is plotted (we are never given enough context to know Foaly’s or Opal’s birthdates, for instance). But the main events of the Artemis Fowl series are all analyzed, mathematically or logically or textually corroborated, and plotted out, for use or ignoring as personal preference dictates.

#artemis fowl #af timeline #you have no idea how irritated I am that there is nothing - NOTHING - in the series to give ANY context #on the ages for Angeline Fowl or Arno Blunt or Damon Kronski.#i can make GUESSES but they would be entirely based on my own bias and thoughts and vibes #which is INTENSELY irritating because i have basically EVERYONE ELSE #on the timeline SOMEWHERE #oh well. i think i have most of the events of the series on there?#if i missed something i'd love it if someone could point it out so i have a complete 'map'#oh though to be clear: i did very much do this for me!#this isn't meant to like...take away anyone's headcanons or ideas or whatever #if you wanna do something that directly contradicts the above - go for it!#i am just - as my cousin put it - 'that kind of fic writer' in which i will do insane amounts of research for the smallest of details #the one i wanted this for is honestly in a fic i haven't even started #and that is in fact several ticks down the Want To Write list #but that's neither here nor there!#i now have an outline of when things happen so i can do whatever i want with it :)

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inkblackorchid · 11 months ago

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What the hell happened with Crow: an autopsy (Part 2)

Hope you didn't think I'd forgotten about this post yet. Lads, ladies, and other lovely people, here we go. I have more yelling about bird boy to do.

But first, a few disclaimers. For people who may have missed part one, yes, as the title implies, this post is part two of an attempt to analyse Crow's character throughout 5Ds' whole run. You can find part one here. Now, both for people who may not have the time/energy to read my first, huge post about this right now, let me explain what I'm about here before we start again: My analysis is not meant to deter people who like Crow from liking him. It's also not meant to convince Crow haters otherwise, even if I admittedly personally like Crow. All of this stuff is just my personal attempt at dissecting how his character was handled in the show and why that might have been. And because this is part two, and I covered the Fortune Cup and Dark Signers arc in the first post, I'll start with the pre-WRGP arc, then dig into the backstory Crow was given directly before the WRGP begins properly. Also, mind the length of this post. I'm physically incapable of writing short things.

I also feel the need to reiterate another thing before I really get into the meat of things again: If you were hoping to see any old rumours about 5Ds confirmed, this is the wrong post. In fact, thanks to the very thorough work of someone over on Reddit (another shoutout to @mbg159 here, who's the author of those posts), I know for a fact that literally all the big rumours surrounding Crow are one big pile of logistically impossible horseshit, and I think after so, so many years of people citing this nonsense, the fandom as a whole finally deserves to let these go:

No, Crow was not meant to be a dark signer, least of all the final boss of season one, and Blackwings were not the reason he got more screentime later.

No, Aki being sidelined was not the result of her irl voice actress' pregnancy.

Yes, I know these two posts are both a long read each, but I cannot begin to tell you how tired I am of these rumours. So even if you don't have time to read the stuff above, please take away this: The big 5Ds production conspiracy theories are. all. bullshit. Because, to put it in as simple terms as possible, none of them work out logistically. The events people have pretended affected the show's production in a major way all don't line up with the actual production timeline. So just can the rumours already. Please let them die. And no pitting Aki and Crow against each other on his post or because of this post, yes? I beg you, I am so tired. Ok? Ok.

All right, now we can get to the good part. In my previous post, I left off at the end of the DS arc. So, in what position is Crow at the end of the DS arc? He helped save the world by defeating Goodwin and got his very own signer mark after Rudger/Roman Goodwin's death.

And now, where is Crow at the start of the pre-WRGP arc?

(Bam. Delivery bird boy be upon ye.)

This time, Crow wastes absolutely no time coming back on screen. We see him again within the first episode of the second half of the show, and wouldn't you know it! He moved in with Yusei and Jack and the three of them have a funny, brotherly, bickering dynamic between them. Also, as a fun little add-on that is very much in line with his deeply Satellite, down to earth characterisation from the first half, Crow now works as a delivery driver to earn money for the household. That's all very nice and good.

But what is his role in the plot from here on out? Well.

First, a small note about the pre-WRGP arc. Though this arc is fun to watch because it gives us a lot of silly character interactions the show no longer found the time for once the WRGP started, the pre-WRGP arc really can't be said to bother with actual plot much. It's the known filler arc of 5Ds, and as such, Crow is not the only character who gets pretty much nothing plot-related to do during this arc. Thus, I'll only give a quick run-down of what he does get up to, just in case any of these tidbits end up showcasing a relevant aspect of Crow's character I might come back to later.

Furthermore, another thing that's pretty much obvious to everyone who's ever watched the show in its entirety but still bears mentioning: Crow gets a lot more screentime from this point on out. Technically. Why do I say "technically"? I'll get back to that further below. For now, just keep it in mind.

So, how does Bird Boy spend his time during the arc where the plot's on the back burner? To be honest, on the sidelines, mostly. Don't get me wrong, Crow's there. Most of the time. But he gets pretty much only two episodes where he's the focus, and both of those aren't exactly known for being 5Ds' most memorable episodes (even though I still like them both tbh, but I digress): For one, in episode 68, he gets to convince Bashford to move in with Martha so the depressed old man isn't spending his entire retirement living in a scrapyard.

(This episode's comedic moments are actually fairly solid. But those are just my two cents.)

And for two, in episode 85, Crow gets to bond with the boys' somewhat cranky landlady, Zora, by duelling some sense into her son, Lyndon. (Which also introduces us to a duelling tactic only Crow uses that we will later see again: Losing on purpose.)

(And here we can see Crow showing off his skills at dealing with petulant children.)

Now, do these two episodes where he gets to be relevant actually do anything for Crow? As a character? Debatable. If nothing else, they strongly reaffirm the values Crow represents which we were introduced to in the first half of the show, though. They reintroduce us to his stubbornness, to his (in comparison to Jack and Yusei) more playful nature, to his very Yusei-ish dedication to doing the right thing, to his penchant for spite, and to his strong sense of family and community and his belief that these two things shouldn't be abandoned unless you have a damned good reason for it.

You may notice that there's a sizeable gap between these two episodes. That's because those episodes are where we get the only smidgens of plot in this arc. Among them, highlights like Sherry's introduction, the first reveal of accel synchro, Aki's turbo duelling license exam, three separate story beats hinting at the machinations of the emperors of Iliaster (Luciano's little stunt with Rua and Ruka, Placido getting started on building a killer robot army, and the Jack double being unleashed onto NDC), and Bruno's introduction. So, here's the thing: Crow is technically present during most of those episodes, too, but he doesn't actually get to meaningfully interact with the plot-relevant elements. (Which is not to say he doesn't have nice moments here and there. He does get to bounce off the other characters, and, just as one example, helps Yusei and Jack upgrade Aki's duel runner, as well as help Yusei build Rua's duel board. Crucially, he doesn't get to do anything that later becomes plot-relevant, though.) Moreover, not one, but two characters who end up becoming major players in the series' finale are introduced here, which is relevant insofar as that Bruno and Sherry both end up needing a good amount of development before they can impactfully take their later roles. Now, I say this with nothing but genuine appreciation for both these characters, because I do like them, but I feel the need to point out what this means not just for Crow, but for pretty much everyone who isn't Jack or Yusei: Every minute of screentime that was dedicated to Bruno and/or Sherry was one minute less the writers could spend on the rest of the cast. This is not to say that time shouldn't have been spent on them, they needed it, especially because they were introduced so late, but it's something I do want people to keep in mind when talking about who got how much screentime and whether or not that time was well spent. (I also have a larger gripe with the definition of "screentime" in general, but more on that later.)

So when does Crow get to be relevant to the plot again, now that he's even a signer and all? Well, not until episode 94, when the WRGP arc has already started. (Note that I'm using the 5Ds episode list on wikipedia as a general guide for which arc and which season starts where. You can find it here.)

*Deep breath*

So. Episode 94.

(Pictured: One very scruffy dragon. Bird? Dragon-bird. Bird-dragon. You figure this shit out.)

That episode. The episode where Crow, who was awarded with the status of a signer during the finale of the DS arc, finally gets a dragon to match his mark. And the episode where we finally, finally, get some actual backstory for Crow that goes beyond his involvement with the Enforcers and childhood with Jack and Yusei. A backstory that's only Crow's own. Except. How do I put this politely...

This shit doesn't make a lick of sense. Neither the events in the duel between Crow and Bolger in the present resulting in Black-Winged Dragon's appearance, nor the Pearson backstory.

Now, I'm not saying this to step on anyone's toes. From a writing standpoint, I can even make a fairly reasonable guess as to why this episode/mini-arc is here, I think: As I mentioned in part one of this analysis, Crow was not only introduced very late, but also got very little backstory of his own, which set him apart from the other signers. Don't get me wrong, he did get some backstory—we know of his strong connection to Duel Monsters because he learned to read from cards, and we know of his involvement with the Enforcers/Team Satisfaction. Crucially, though, Crow doesn't really get a backstory segment that feels as unique to him as the others. Aki gets her tragic past with her parents and her powers, Jack gets his betrayal of Yusei, which also doubles as part of Yusei's backstory, who as the protagonist understandably gets the most backstory, and even the twins, though they are as always treated as one unit, get their very own segment about the time when Ruka was essentially in a coma. Meanwhile, Crow only has that one-off tear-jerker moment about learning to read from his cards and his being a part of the boys' duel gang, which, and I cannot stress this enough, is treated as more of a Yusei and Kalin/Kiryu backstory by canon than a Crow backstory. Thus, it makes perfect sense from a writing standpoint that the Pearson/Black-Winged Dragon mini-arc would be here. Crow, up until this point, has neither a backstory segment dedicated solely to him, nor a signer dragon to call his own. So, how do we solve this? Give him both in a strategic double-whammy! The math checks out. Unfortunately, the writing of said mini-arc... doesn't.

Now, look. The juicy question of whether Crow would have worked better as a non-signer or not, which I already discussed in part one aside, I personally don't hate what this backstory is trying to do. It's just that the whole Pearson-drama has some very notable, logical holes which I'll get into below. Furthermore, this is not the first time something related to Crow has some unfortunate, logical and/or chronological issues. I already brought up the infamous fridge and Rex Goodwin's rather confusing backstory in part one, both of which raise some serious questions. However, Pearson and everything surrounding him arguably blow that clean out of the water. Let's examine this more closely, shall we.

The long-overdue backstory we get for Crow begins with a mystery: Mikage and Trudge, for a reason that is never given to us, are investigating the death of Robert Pearson (whose death would have been several years ago at this point), whom Crow knew very well, and they're doing it because they found a hint that the person who killed Pearson used an illegal card, Crimson Mefist, to do it.

(Post redemption-arc Trudge actually doing his job instead of bullying random Satellite citizens. Who would have thunk.)

Thing is, here, we already encounter our first, minor problem: Pearson has never been mentioned up until this point, not even as an aside. And this issue is compounded by the fact that not only Crow seems to know him, but Trudge claims to as well, because "Satellite used to be his jurisdiction". So, a named character who's familiar to both one of our protagonists and a notable side character, and we've never seen hide nor hair of him. If we pull our heads out of the story for a second, the irl reason for how this came to be is probably pretty obvious: Pearson was never mentioned before because the writers had nowhere near as solid of a plan for Crow as they did for the other characters, which leads to him being introduced out of nowhere here because we need a backstory and a dragon for Crow and we need those now. Moving on.

The mention of Pearson having been not simply killed in a fire, like Crow previously assumed, but having been murdered through a special, illegal card immediately makes him suspicious. So, he goes to consult Bolger/Bolton, another never-before-seen character who gets introduced in service of this backstory, and who knew Pearson well. And while this guy certainly acts amiable towards Crow at first, implying that the two have a good rapport, at least, he quickly starts acting suspicious when Pearson's murder comes up. Moreover, we as the audience at this point already know Bolger's looking for Black-Winged Dragon so he can use the card essentially as collateral to save his company. And the name "Black-Winged Dragon" already leaves very little to the imagination as to whose deck this monster is supposed to fit into. But, in a small twist, we learn from Crow that this was apparently Pearson's card, and supposedly lost in the fire where said man died, to boot. Then Bolger challenges Crow to a duel, too, offering to tell the truth about Pearson's death if he loses, but demanding Black-Winged Dragon, which he believes Crow to be in possession of, if he wins. So far, so good. We've got a mystery here, and canon is not contradicting itself just yet. Until we get to the actual backstory, which shows us the time Crow spent with Pearson, that is. Before we get into that, I'd like to highlight one theme this mini-arc introduces that actually feels like it fits Crow: Legacy. Over the course of meeting Bolger again and being reminded of his time with Pearson, Crow starts thinking about whether he's taking over his former mentor's/father figure's legacy well enough.

(Crow having some Deep Thoughts TM, featuring one of Yusei's most relaxed, easygoing smiles in the entire show, probably.)

This theme, I would argue, is one of the major things this backstory introduces that really meshes well with the Crow we already had until this point. He's a community-focussed guy and absolutely a family person, if him taking care of Satellite orphans is anything to go by, so leaving behind a good legacy for the people after him (read: the kids he took care of) would absolutely be something he cares about. We see this element of legacy again in his cards during this episode, too, which canon implies he inherited from Pearson. (I'll get to THAT can of worms below.) And on paper, with the themes he's already got going, Crow being the only one to inherit his deck rather than build it all by himself would actually make sense!

However. This is where we have to get into the meat of the backstory. I'll start by listing the barebones information Crow's backstory with Pearson gives us, then going into why several aspects of it are either logistical or chronological nonsense.

So, as canon tells us, Crow met Pearson after Kiryu/Kalin was arrested, when the Enforcers/Team Satisfaction all went their separate ways. During this period, Crow had already set up shop near the original Daedalus Bridge and started out taking care of orphans, but it wasn't all smooth sailing. He was, by his own admission, "living aimlessly". Then, during a pinch, Pearson and Bolger show up, take care of some bad guys for Crow and the kids, and Crow sees a new role model in Pearson. Pearson, who rides the Blackbird, plays a Blackwing deck and owns Black-Winged Dragon. So, he joins up with Pearson, presumably learns how to work on duel runners from him, and also befriends Bolger. Then, one day, a fire breaks out at Pearson's workshop and the man in question dies, but leaves Crow his runner and his duel disk before he does so. End flashback. Because I want to tie this together nicely, we also learn later that Pearson technically left him Black-Winged Dragon, too, by sealing it in his runner. And, of course, that dragon later becomes Crow's very own signer dragon.

Several points to be dissected here. And funnily enough, Bolger's duel with Crow isn't relevant for any of them. Let's start with the big one: The timeline. I want you to remember that as far as canon is concerned, Crow is 17 during the DS arc. Moreover, it's canonically stated that Jack stole Yusei's first duel runner two years before the show's start, at which time Crow would have been 15. And their time together as the Enforcers must have been even before that, because Kiryu/Kalin was already in prison for a while at that point and Crow and Yusei don't reunite until the DS arc is basically in full swing. So, I'll make a vague estimate here and say that during the time of the Enforcers, Crow would have probably been 13-14. (Which is hilarious when you think about the fact that this gang of angry teenagers essentially took over the entire duelling underground of Satellite, but I digress.) Now we add the idea that Crow met Pearson after the Enforcers, but that he died before canon starts into the mix. That means Crow first ran into Pearson sometime around age 15, and that he then died presumably before Crow turned 17. So far, so good, that still slots into canon, even if it makes Crow pretty damn young for some things. He's even missing the personalised Blackbird duel disk he later wears during the Enforcer days, I went back to check. What he is not missing, however, are his Blackwings. And this is where canon may or may not have made an implication that, if intentional, breaks this timeline. See, during the scene where Pearson's workshop is burning down and he's already trapped under debris and has embraced death, he tosses Crow his duel disk and leaves him his runner.

(Two important screenshots, in sequence. One, Pearson with his duel disk still strapped to his arm. His deck is very obviously still in there. Two, Crow with that same duel disk, as made obvious by its distinct shape.)

What this implies is that Pearson also left Crow his deck. Which, yeah, fair enough, if I were dying in a fire I'd probably also think "fuck it, not like I'll need my cards in the afterlife". What this (and Crow's look the first time he sees Pearson's monsters) implies, though, is that Crow didn't start playing Blackwings until Pearson left him his deck. Which is factually untrue, because there is literal evidence in the show that Crow already had Blackwings during his time as part of the duel gang, before ever meeting Pearson. (The exact episode, if you want to check for yourself, is 33, where Crow summons both Bora the Spear and Blackwing Armor Master during a flashback.) However, I will concede that the show never actually states this is the case, it's just implied by what we see on screen, so perhaps the idea here was that Crow already played Blackwings before Pearson, but grew to love them even more through his mentor/father figure, and so later happily integrated the deck he inherited into his own. Crucially, canon never states this outright, either, though, so the option remains on the table. But, to give the benefit of the doubt here, the possibility that this could still slot in with canon and that it was just handled poorly is there. The same cannot be said for the Blackbird, however.

(Uh oh. So much for canon continuity.)

The above two screenshots directly contradict each other. First we have Yusei, upon reuniting with Crow in Satellite during the DS arc, casually remarking that Crow finished his duel runner. Which means that canon at this point suggests to the audience that one, Crow built this duel runner by himself, for himself, and two, that Yusei knew about it for a while already. Then there's the second screenshot, from the Pearson backstory episode, where Crow outright claims the Blackbird was left to him when Pearson died. I don't think I need to tell anyone that these two things can't be true at the same time. And again, I think this is where Crow fell victim to the writers not having a clear outline for him. At first, he was supposed to be this scrappy guy who also built a duel runner for himself, just like Yusei. But now, he's a signer, needs a backstory and a dragon, and because a theme of legacy is introduced alongside Pearson, the runner suddenly needs to be inherited, as well as (possibly) Crow's cards. Now, a crafty fanfic writer could probably reconcile the above contradiction somehow, and I know some stories that accomplished that. But the point isn't that we, as the audience/fandom could make this work, the point is that canon didn't make it work. What canon, sadly, also didn't get to work was Black-Winged Dragon.

(We meet again, bird-dragon.)

Here comes the next elephant in the room: Everyone and their mother who has watched 5Ds knows that Black-Winged Dragon was never implied to be a signer dragon up until the duel where Crow acquires it. In fact, an entirely different dragon is teased so heavily long before BWD ever shows up that it to this day is one of many people's major gripes with the show's writing.

(Why, hello, Life Stream Dragon! Fancy seeing you here.)

And yet, Black-Winged Dragon is turned into a signer dragon before Life Stream Dragon, who was teased more than sixty (!!!) episodes before BWD was ever even mentioned. Why? Simple: Because Crow became a signer and Rua/Leo didn't, because the signers all need dragons (or else the "5Ds" part kind of doesn't work), and because Life Stream Dragon thematically doesn't fit Crow.

Now, I've seen people post theories to reconcile this weird hitch in canon, hell, I've even posted an idea for how it could be reconciled myself. But, again, that isn't the point here. The point is that as far as good old, barebones canon is concerned, it isn't reconciled. Canon at first states there are five signers, suggesting that there are also five dragons. But then, the fifth dragon never shows up, and one of the signers dies, to boot. Only for canon to then teach us, oh, no, look, the signer marks can wander from one person to the next. And to add insult to injury (at least where the show's writing and internal consistency is concerned), the signer mark that was "freed up" by Roman/Rudger's death doesn't wander to Rua/Leo, who any attentive watcher would have expected to become a signer because it was heavily teased during the DS arc, but to Crow. Frankly, I'm not surprised many people were angry about this, but in case my disclaimer didn't make it clear, I don't think it's productive to pin this on Crow by claiming his cards became super popular irl. There was definitely an out-of-left-field writing choice made here, but the only answers as to "why" were left in the 5Ds' writer's room, I believe. At a guess, if you want me to throw out a non-sugarcoated theory as to why, though? They probably thought Crow would be a more interesting character for their target audience. He's a scrappy guy who sticks it to authority, he's brave, he's funny, he plays a cool deck, and most of all, unlike Rua, he never embarrasses himself in a duel on screen. Why am I highlighting that last part? Because I feel like people sometimes forget that the target audience for this show, at the time of its creation, were about twelve year-old boys. And you can feel free to contradict me on this, but most twelve year-old boys I've known and know don't want to project themselves onto a chracter who loses and gets his butt kicked a lot, and who's a bit awkward and steps in it sometimes, which is much closer to how actual twelve year-olds are—but that's exactly why they prefer the cooler characters. And Crow is the cooler character, by average twelve year-old boy logic, regardless of what the grownups of this fandom think.

So Crow gets a dragon and the writing doesn't bother explaining the how or why of it, let alone tackles any of the implications made by Black-Winged Dragon's existence as a signer dragon. (Like what does this mean for the larger worldbuilding? Does the Crimson Dragon actually have more than five servants, but chooses to only ever bestow five marks at a time? Can any "dragon" the Crimson Dragon chooses be a signer dragon, and it just so happens that the constellation of signer dragons is nearly the same as the original one in present-time 5Ds canon? Did the Crimson Dragon specifically elevate BWD to a signer dragon because it felt like it? Was BWD always supposed to be a signer dragon? Was Pearson supposed to be a signer, but died too early before the dark signer prophecy was set into motion? Am I overthinking this? (Yes.)) He also obtains his dragon in what feels like the weirdest way possible to me, because it suddenly??? Just decides to appear in his runner????? Out of nowhere??????

(Why is that here. How did it get there. Why did Pearson even put it in there. And HOW. Is it just wedged between the machinery or what???? And how on earth did Yusei, Bruno, and/or Crow never find it before this point considering how often someone tinkered on the Blackbird on screen???)

(This scenario, of course, also raises the question how the other signers even got their dragons. But like many other, interesting questions, this episode chooses not to interact with that one whatsoever.)

In short, this backstory is a bit of a mess, to say the least. For as much good as it tries to do by contextualising Crow's character and giving him something that sets him apart from the rest of the protag group, it feels like a rough draft of an episode was given the green light to be produced without any editing, judging by the contradictions and weird implications. As such, it harms Crow's character as much as it builds it, as evidenced by how much fandom backlash he still receives years later for the things that were bungled in this backstory and also in different aspects of his character writing.

Now, you may notice this post has gotten stupidly long due to just how convoluted the specific hangups of Crow's backstory are. I originally meant to cover the WRGP and even the Ark Cradle arc for Crow in this post, too, but due to how much there was to say about canon's attempt to finally make Crow a "proper" signer, I've decided that trying to force another two whole arcs in here would be a disservice to the analysis and the character, and also make this agonisingly long, so I'll close this part out here and write a part three, perhaps even a part four depending on how much material the WRGP gives me to work with.

There's one more thing I need to get back to before I finish up this part, though: The "screentime" discussion. I mentioned far above that I take issue with how some people seem to be using the word screentime, and now I can explain why. First, I want you to take a look back at the episodes I covered here, those being 65-95, essentially. Now, as anyone who usually dislikes Crow will tell you, Crow is present in most, if not all of these episodes. He's on screen. He's getting screentime, and, according to many people, hogging it, even. Okay. Now, I want you to look back up at the analysis. How many episodes did I cover where Crow actually gets something to do? As in, where he's either the focus of the plot or gets to contribute to it in a significant way? There's the old man Bashford episode. There's the Poppo Time clock episode. There's his two backstory episodes. That's four. Four episodes. If you're generous, you might add in the episode where he gets to narrate Yusei's backstory alongside Jack and the two fake Jack episodes where he gets to have an emotional moment or two with his foster-brother. If you're less generous, you'll note that none of these episodes have Crow actually interacting with the main antagonists in a meaningful way or set up anything important that pays off later. (Hell, he doesn't even get any, and I really mean, any meaningful setup interactions with Sherry, who ends up being his final-boss-level opponent during the final episodes! Aki gets more meaningful interactions with Sherry than him, not that this ever gets a payoff.) And this is why I take an issue with people claiming Crow gets so much "screentime" post DS arc. Because to me, "screentime" should be time spent letting a character act meaningfully within the story, which most of the pre-WRGP episodes aren't for Crow. He's on screen, yes, but in many episodes, it wouldn't matter one whit whether you replaced him with a nameless side character, which isn't exactly a great look for a supposed third of a protagonist trifecta. Perhaps I'm being too strict with my definition of "screentime" here, fair enough! But the claim that Crow hogs screentime already rubs the wrong way during this comparably unimportant arc, so I can't leave it alone. It feels very decidedly malicious to claim a character who during some episodes seems to only be there to provide exposition or make whatever jokes Yusei and Jack's personalities aren't suited to is stealing screentime from other characters. As for the WRGP duels and whether he's "hogging" anyone's screentime there, I'll dig into that nonsense in the next part, please be patient with me.

...Phew. Okay.

Now, before I leave you to wonder whether I'm every finishing my Crow analysis in full again, I want to attempt to do the same thing I did in part one—propose some changes that could have been made to the writing for Crow's character in order to make things slot in better with the rest of canon. With a small disclaimer, of course: These are just my suggestions as to how Crow's character could have fit into canon more smoothly and been done less of a disservice by his own backstory.

So. First, a quick-fire thing about the pre-WRGP, to get that out of the way: Crow, alongside Aki, is the only signer who didn't get his own confrontation with either Iliaster or their minions. (Yusei had Ghost, Jack had fake Jack, Rua and Ruka had Luciano.) Instead of having him confront a cranky old man in a scrapyard or Zora's son, they could have easily given him a very short side-story where he gets to experience the threat of Iliaster up close and personal, too. Hell, they could have very nicely cut the recap episode where Crow and Jack lie in the mess of Jack's terribly built coffee table and philosophise about Yusei's backstory for this, too. (As funny as their interaction about the coffee table and Jack lying on the floor with a perfectly intact coffee cup are.)

(Pictured: Two idiots (affectionate) contemplating life among the scraps of a shitty, broken coffee table.)

Then, there's the Pearson backstory, of course. So, here's the thing, I think two very different kinds of "fixes" could have worked here. Crucially, they both depend on Crow's status as a signer. I argued in part one that Crow might have worked better as a character if he hadn't actually become a signer, so I'll give both versions here. Let's go.

Option A: We try not to touch canon too much and Crow stays a signer.

How to do this? Frankly, I think what Crow's mark and Black-Winged Dragon were majorly missing was setup. The mark is the smaller offence here, since, fair enough, the idea that signer marks can wander from person to person isn't too out there for 5Ds canon. However, the lack of a dragon despite the alleged 5Ds stands out, and Life Stream Dragon's wasted setup only makes it worse. Thus, making Black-Winged Dragon make sense would have required giving him the same amount of foreshadowing as Life Stream Dragon, at the very least. And you know who could have been great for that? Sweet, ever-forgotten-by-canon Ruka. She was already shown having flashback dreams to the signer dragons' first battle against the dark signers, so who's to say she couldn't have gotten dreams about a shadowy, new dragon she's never seen before? Perhaps even dreams where she's not sure if the dragon is good or bad at first! It could have provided intrigue, it could have made the audience curious. To strengthen that, canon could have also bothered taking the question "hey why are there only four dragons now" seriously. No character in canon ever questions why there are five marks, but only four dragons. Even Rua, who was previously hopeful that he might secretly be a signer, never brings it up. If canon had bothered to actually point this mystery out, they could have used it not only to foreshadow Black-Winged Dragon, but to aid Life Stream Dragon's setup, too. What the fuck am I talking about, I hear you ask. Hear me out: Life Stream Dragon is shown way, way later down the line, long after the audience probably already accepted that it was simply never going to show up, literally bursting out of Power Tool Dragon's armour. We are not provided with an explanation as to why. Imagine if they had sprinkled in another dream Ruka could have had about the ancient past here. Imagine if they had used the opportunity to show something like, oh, during the battle, Life Stream Dragon got injured so badly they had to protect its wounded body with a suit of armour, in the hopes that it would heal. And with one original signer dragon out of commission, the Crimson Dragon sadly had to choose a replacement in between, because the Earthbound Immortals were sure to return. Bam. Black-Winged Dragon. Two signer dragons, set up simultaneously, without forcing the canon lore to do somersaults. Furthermore, to actually explain why Pearson had the dragon but wasn't a signer, they could have easily sprinkled in a flashback between him and Crow. Maybe Pearson could have mentioned how the dragon always feels like it's never really his, as a joking aside. It would have been enough for me to suspend my disbelief, you know? And then the rest of canon could have played out exactly as we know it. Crow could have confronted Bolger, could have obtained Black-Winged Dragon because maybe the dragon finally decided he was worth throwing its weight behind. The mystery behind the missing fifth dragon could have been solved, and it would have made for satisfying payoff without kneecapping Life Stream Dragon's setup or conjuring an extra dragon out of thin air. And really, stuff like the runner thing could have so easily been solved by simply picking one version (did he build it himself or inherit it?) and sticking with it. All it took was a little more care.

Option B: We assume Crow didn't actually become a signer, but try to keep his backstory intact.

Okay, this version works under the assumption that Crow, despite partaking in the final battle against Goodwin during the DS arc, didn't receive a signer mark. To make this work, I would, bluntly put, simply make it so that Black-Winged Dragon doesn't exist. Pearson can still play a powerful Blackwing monster during his flashback that Bolger wants to find and sell later, but it simply isn't that dragon. Really, Blackwings have enough to choose from there. If the backstory episodes had been placed a little later, say, during the pause in the middle of the WRGP, he could have even received something like Blackwing Full Armor Master here. (Yes, I know that card didn't exist at the time, but my point is that he could have simply received a powerup like Yusei and Jack did, instead of a completely new monster.) With this setup, they could have still added the intrigue of taking the question why there are only four signers now seriously. They could have still set up a mystery about why no one ever saw the fifth dragon outside of dreams. And it could have made Rua becoming a signer later, and in this version getting the tail mark instead of a completely new one, that much more satisfying. And Crow could have kept his "fuck destiny, I'm trying to save the world here"-attitude from the DS arc, providing a nice, amusing counterweight to our heroes chosen by an ancient Incan dragon deity. All it would have taken would have been not giving him a mark and switching out Black-Winged Dragon for something else.

So, take your pick, I guess. In the meantime, I'll try my best to work on part three faster than I did part two, lmao.

See you next time!

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