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tiredmamaissy · 2 years ago

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Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Chapter One

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff. I love her and all her art so much that when I saw Ralak I was so compelled to write a fic for him. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Teytey, you knocked it out the park with this one (as you always do, my love).

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: shit ton of fluff, profanity, age gap, a lot of sexual tension, size difference, let me know if i forgot anything?

Word Count: 4.4k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: I hope I did this gorgeous man justice and wrote his character well. It was an interesting challenge to introduce his character and build a plot with it. Chapter two and three will be out shortly! I’m beyond overjoyed that you guys are excited for this 😊 I hope I don’t disappoint lool

Synopsis: Your family seeks uturu with the Metkayina in the village of Awa’atlu. You have a difficult time adjusting, and are assigned your own special teacher, Ralak.

Next ->

The Sully family adopted you from birth, taking you in as their own. They were more than patient with your delayed milestones, moving at the slow pace you set since childhood. You completed your iknimaya a cycle later than your siblings, despite your eagerness to prove your self-worth as one of the Sully’s. Being a late bloomer and smaller than the average na’vi never put a damper on your optimistic attitude, though. It only added fuel to the fire.

The news to seek uturu with the Metkayina came as a shock not only to you but the rest of your siblings, and soon became the leading topic of discussions at family dinner. Jake explained that this is what was necessary, and that you would need to ‘pull your weight’ and ‘make a real effort’. You knew he didn’t mean it as harsh as it sounded, but the words stung nonetheless, plucking out a couple heart strings when they pierced through your chest.

You’ll never forget the day of your arrival here.

War horns blew loudly, signalling your arrival to the village of Awa’atlu. All the members of the clan swarmed the shore to see what the fuss was all about. Even the little ones that could only toddle wriggled their way out of their parents’ arms to get a glimpse. It was overwhelming – to say the least – to have all these eyes on you, scanning every foreign feature of your body, walking around you to inspect you further. You’d never felt more objectified in your life.

When Tonowari and Ronal made their grand entrance on their skimwings, your heart thud furiously in your chest. Sure, the large, winged fish took you by surprise, but the man to Tonowari’s right shook you to your core. His head tilted in wariness, hunting knife secured cautiously in his right hand and the leather wrapped reign gripped tightly in his left.

Wet, long hair plastered to his chest; he eyed you down momentarily before averting his gaze to the rest of your family that calmed their ikrans. His eyes widened ever so slightly at the winged creatures, large with armoured skin, much like the beast he’s bonded with.

You couldn’t help but stare aghast at his sinewy, chiselled features – sculpted by Eywa herself. It didn’t take long for you to understand why he was Tonowari’s right-hand man. His expression of indifference remained fixed on his face. Embodying that of an akula, his presence brought an intimidation like no other.

But what you couldn’t understand were the butterflies that plagued your stomach.

Your gaze lingered for a moment too long, the akula himself now returning the leer. It sent shivers down your spine, turning your butterflies into knots. You looked away, gaze falling onto your toes that burrowed their way into the sand. You felt his eyes bore into you, taking in each dark blue stripe on your tiny body, your slender extremities and thin tail.

You peeked at him through the corner of your eye, to see his gaze locked on your tail as it swished side to side. You saw his ears perk up, and the minor curl of his lips, a sight only a person staring as intently as you would see. You watched as his expression morphed into one of confusion, just before he dropped his head all together.

You would later come to find out that he couldn’t quite understand his own butterflies in his stomach.

The giant stayed seated on his winged beast, as Tonowari and Ronal dismounted theirs and crossed the shore in only a few strides. Initially, they were wary of your arrival, thinking your family would bring war to their village. After your father reassured them, they were gracious enough to grant uturu for your family, and even dispatched their own children to teach you the ways of the people.

Naturally, you had a hard time adjusting to the new biome, water was never really your thing to begin with. You were slow in the water, slender body only holding you back more. The olo’eyktan’s son, Ao’nung, quickly grew agitated with you, handing you off to his sister, Tsireya, who was already overwhelmed with teaching your siblings. You felt like a burden, holding everyone back during lessons. There was absolutely nothing that you were getting the hang of, not even the ‘finger talk’ as you brother calls it.

For the first in your life, you felt completely defeated.

The sweet, determined girl disappeared, leaving nothing but her shell behind. You started missing lessons, making up reasons to stay back in your family marui pod. You often found yourself alone sitting on the shore in the height of the eclipse, dipping your feet into the warm water. Jake would always find his babygirl, demanding to know what was wrong. But you could never reveal the truth, not after what he said to you before your departure. Especially not now, not after failing so terribly for two entire months.

At this point, your siblings had passed their iknimaya, and you were the only one left.

----

Tsireya presses two fingertips right above your navel, resting her other hand on your chest, fixing your posture. “Breathe from down here. You must slow down your heartbeat, y/n.”

You’ve heard this a million times by now. You know this, but it didn’t matter. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t get it. Frustrated, you exhale harshly, gritting your teeth so you won’t speak the words flooding your mind.

“Look. I know you’re frustrated, but you are getting so much better. If we just keep –”

“No! I’m fucking tired of this. I’ll never get it. Alright?!” you shout, shuffling to your feet to.

You scan the circle of surprised na’vi, all of which are staring up at you in disbelief. You could see Tsireya’s face screw with hurt, which only makes your heart ache more. An apology brews in your chest, when all five pairs of eyes flicker to something behind you. Turning on your heels, you see what everyone is looking at.

Jake, Tonowari, and his right-hand man all standing in front of you, presumably listening to your every word. You stand there for a bit, eyes bouncing between Tonowari and Jake before landing on the giant. He stands tall, staring off into the distance with that same deadpan look on his face. His hair is tucked behind his ears, revealing the stud in his lobe, the freckles on his jaw – the deeper blue markings on his neck.

This is the first time you’re getting a good look at him, seeing the first time you two met things were... eventful.

His freckles are conspicuous, even in broad daylight, beautifully patterned and abundant throughout his body. Perhaps it’s his lighter-cyan coloured skin and swirls for stripes, but his freckles twinkled just right from the reflection of the water. They even seemed to trace his stripe pattern on his forehead and brow bones. A single tahni under each eye... his ocean, impassive eyes.

A sleeve of tattoos covers his right arm, a sleeve on his right knee to his ankle, and a tattoo of stripes below his navel that went underneath his – oh. Your brows lift slightly, tensed facial muscles relaxing.

That’s an interesting place for a tattoo.

This tattoo continued between his prominent v-lines, under the band of his loincloth. You begin counting the stripes.

One, two, three, four, five... six.

It takes the sound of Jake clearing his throat for you to reluctantly peel your eyes away from this poor man’s crotch.

“Right, babygirl. Ralak here is going to be your teacher from now on.” Jake motions his hand over to the Metkayina, who’s now visibly, and unsuccessfully, trying to appear friendlier.

You couldn’t help but scoff, frustration now bubbling over in your chest once more. “So what? I’m so shit at this that I need a ‘special’ teacher?” you glance over at Ralak and roll your eyes.

“Language!” Jake whispers harshly, giving you that look. The look he gives you when you’re embarrassing him.

“No. I’m tired of this. I want to go home.” you shrug, storming past him just for him to wrap his hand around your upper arm and drag you back.

“That’s enough.” Jake growls, bending over to meet you at eye level. “Tonowari has been kind enough to arrange for Ralak to help you. He was once a fisherman.”

“The best. At about your age.” Tonowari stands proudly as he utters the words, “And now he’s one of the best warriors. I hand selected him myself.”

Your eyes flicker over to Ralak, whose ears lay flat against his skull, brows slightly pinched, jaw clenched. It’s hard to tell what he was feeling, his mask of indifference fixed tightly on his face. Was he grimacing? Or maybe he was trying not to.

Regardless, it looked as if the words upset him. Maybe there was something more beneath this cold exterior. Something that maybe you can pry out of him. Something that intrigued you. The corners of your lips curl upwards, an expression that any outsider would perceive as happiness, but Jake knew you had something else in mind.

Something more mischievous.

“I apologize, sir. I am... just frustrated.” your eyes shift from one giant to the next as you bow before the olo’eyktan. “It would be an honour to have Ralak be my...” you glance over at him, “...karyu [teacher].”

Jake remains silent, pursing his lips as he watches the scene unfold.

“Ah. I understand.” Tonowari smirks, shrugging his shoulder. “It is decided, Ralak will teach you.” he looks at Ralak, giving the order, “Today.”

Jake raises his brows at you, as if he were telling you to behave and not cause any trouble. You tilt your head and subtly stick out just the tip of your tongue. Tonowari walks away, a large hand brushing against Jake’s back to signal him to follow. Jake turns around and joins the larger na’vi, two olo’eyktans now making their way back to the tall mangroves.

“Hey, karyu.” you sing, eyes fluttering as you stare up at the towering man.

He looks down at you for a moment, eyes flickering between your eyes and lips. His ears twitch as he swiftly turns around, walking away from you. “Come.”

So that’s what his voice sounds like.

It’s gruff, yet smoky. Deep and husky, thick with... nothing but his Metkayina accent. It was flat and monotone, revealing nothing of his true character. You follow closely behind him, already excited about how you plan to get him to reveal more about himself. He seems to be a man of few words, reserved and... composed. You couldn’t deny that there is a part of you that wants to poke at him, to see how far you can take things with him.

Before you know it, you’re standing in a secluded clearing on the shore, nestled far away where the fishermen tend to hunt. You look around, scanning your surroundings with curious eyes. You see a secluded marui pod, seemingly larger than all the others you’ve seen thus far. It's tightly woven with orange and red sturdy material, secured tightly to the thick mangrove roots around it.

“That yours?” you stick him with your first poke of the day, eager eyes trying to look inside the marui.

His gaze remains fixed on the fishnet that he’s gathering in his hands. “Yes.”

“Pretty big for...” you mumble, shifting your gaze towards him to be met with the sight of him unbuckling his cumberbund. “...just one person.” your voice dwindles in volume, fading out into a breathy whisper.

If your eyes could protrude from your head anymore, they would. You always had a hard time masking how you feel as your facial expressions were quick to give it away. His cumberbund falls into the wet sand, embellished razor sharp akula teeth piercing its surface. Your eyes trail up his body, settling on his bare chest.

“Today, fishing net. Tomorrow, ilu.” he mutters, putting his hair into a loose bun as he ventures further into the water.

“O-kay.” the word comes out broken and awkward.

Venturing out into the water, he settles in the spot he used to go frequently as a fisherman. Waist deep into the water, he looks behind him, chin meeting his chest to land his gaze on you, chest-deep in the water. He realizes that he's gone too far out for you, and walks towards you.

Your beaded top plasters to your chest, revealing your peaked nipples as your breasts bounce with the tide. His eyes quickly avert to the shore, eyelids fluttering a little faster than they should.

“Come.” he walks past you, prompting you to follow him once more. You bounce your way back to the shore until the water is crashing into your stomach. “Watch.” he says, fixing his stance to show you a demonstration.

You watch intently, focus being on the wrong thing, honestly. Your eyes had a hard time looking away from his chiselled body – from each dip and ridge of his muscles on full display. How could you focus? Especially now that he’s barely thigh deep into the water, loincloth clung to his bulge. You swallowed thickly at the sight, was that huge thing really his –

“Erm. Got it?” the sound of him clearing his throat snaps you out of your deep thought.

“Mhm!” you nod quickly, doe eyed and genial smiled.

He nods once, handing you the netting. You take it slowly, buying yourself sometime to figure out how to throw this thing. Standing with your left foot in front of your right, you bend your elbows out, holding the yoke of the net close to your chest.

He grunts in disapproval, settling behind you to fix your stance. He gently kicks your feet apart, putting your dominant foot in front. Large hands grip your tiny waist, shifting your stance slightly to the left. They slip up your sides, and run along the length of your upper arms, stopping at your elbows to tuck them in. He’s so focused on correcting your poor posture that he doesn’t even realize how he’s pressing himself against you.

“Like this.” he huffs, hand enveloping yours to shift it further from the yoke of the cast net. “Hold here.” his other hand grabs the lead line and plunks it into yours.

Heart pounding at a dangerous speed, you take a few deep breaths. Perhaps it was the nerves of casting your first net, or maybe it was just how this gentle giant is pressed against you. Either way, you can’t ignore the butterflies that flutter in your stomach again.

“Now throw.” he says barely over a whisper, backing away from you.

You twist your upper body, core tensing when you throw the net as hard as you can, only for it to clump together rather than spread out. Your shoulders drop and lips press tight, a wave of disappointment washing over you.

“Again.” he orders, pulling the net towards him.

Ralak had you throw the net half a dozen more times before giving you your first break. You prodded and poked at him, trying your best pry personal information out of him – to no avail. He remained unaffected by your persistent jabs, revealing nothing other than how he pined for the days of being a fisherman.

“Karyu. I-I’ll never get it.” you huff in frustration, gathering the fishnet from the surface of the water for a tenth time.

“Again.” he says patiently, unbothered by your frustration.

“Karyu. Please. It is not working. Can’t we try something else?” you beg, arms and back sore from throwing the fishnet so many times.

He looks at you for a moment, taking in the slouch of your back – the strain on your face. He felt bad for you, but he could also see that you were so close to learning the skill.

“No. Again.” he orders monotonously, taking note of your gaze drifting off to the mangroves nearby. “Focus. Eyes on me.”

“How am I supposed to focus when you look so, so –” you cut yourself short with a sigh.

“So, what?” he tilts his head and raises a brow.

You shake your head and roll your eyes, landing them right on that damn tattoo again.

Why was it so low? Didn’t that hurt? Why there of all places?

“Look. I see you –”

The words make your eyes snap up to his, heart thumping wildly in your chest.

“...staring.”

You didn’t realise you were lingering until he pointed it out. How could you not? Surely, he chose that spot for a reason. Perhaps his mate wanted it there, so she could trace the lines with her tongue, all the way down to his –

Am I... jealous right now? I don’t even know this man.

“Who did that tattoo?” you question harshly, green flame of envy igniting in your chest.

“This one?” he chuckles softly, tugging at the hem of his loincloth.

You drop your head, gaze locked on your hands fiddling with the net, hoping to hide the blood that’s rushing to your cheeks. “Yeah. That one.”

“Again. And I tell you.” he pulls the hem back up before crossing his arms over his chest.

Your gaze snaps back up to him, eyes wide with excitement. This is the first time he’d be revealing anything personal about himself. A smile splits your lips as you fix the net in your hands once more, burrowing your feet into the sand. Your eyes narrow on the target – a school of fish off in the near distance.

Twisting your torso, you cast the fishnet, watching it splay out perfectly and trap majority of the fish. You stare in awe, surprised that it even splayed out much less caught some fish. Once it registers, you jump up in glee, quickly turning to your teacher to see his pleased expression and slight nod.

“I did.” he utters, a smirk barely pulling at his lips.

Adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you’re perplexed by his two words. “Huh?” you huff, brows pinching together in confusion.

“I did the tattoo.” he says, holding eye contact with you.

“Oh.” your lips pucker at the words, furrowed brows now raising in understanding. Being so surprised by yourself – finally getting something right – you forgot about your little deal.

He breaks eye contact to look over at your perfectly casted fishnet. “If you ride an ilu, maybe I show you the rest of it.” he says through his thick accent, making his way towards the fishnet. “Since you are so... interested.”

“I-I’m not – it, it is just in a – an interesting spot.” you stutter, eyes locked onto your twiddling thumbs.

“Ah.” he gathers the fishnet in his large hands, bundling it together to call it a day. “If you say so... vultsyìp [stick; tree branch]”

“What did you just call me?” your leer snaps up, eyelids squinting at his tensed back muscles that flex and relax as he gathers the net.

A smile pulls at his lips, although you can barely see it from the angle in which he’s facing. It’s contagious, causing your own lips to curl, and soon enough you’re giggling into your hand.

----

Ralak became the light in the darkness, pulling you out of your shell and filling you with the purpose that you once lost. Things came quick to you, thanks to him. He was a great teacher, always patient with you, never showing his agitation – or any other emotion for that matter.

You learned how to hold your breath properly in only a week, due to his persistence and confidence in you. He’d always be quick to praise you after you accomplished something, whether that be with a quick clap, a gentle tap on the back, or – in bigger accomplishments – a hug.

The bond between the two of you strengthened. Overnight. You put a crack in his walls, and bits of his true self began to shine through them. And that was your biggest accomplishment yet. To see a person with the strength of five men turn into a little water puppy in front of you, and you only.

There would be moments where his façade of indifference would drop completely. The moments where he would chuckle a little too loudly, a little too long. Where that shy smile grew wide enough to flash his lengthy canines, and a primal part of you that you tried to supress, desired to know what they felt like sunk into your neck. Clamping down on you while you writhe underneath him, being tamed by his touch.

The moments where you’d tease one another about your differences. His stature in comparison to yours. Pressing your hands together, only for yours to be lost in his palm. And when you pulled away, your fingers intertwined ever so slightly, prickling the skin all over your body. He loved to tease you. Honestly a little too much, poking at your chest with a figurative finger about how you favoured that of a vultsyìp. It’s what got you riled up the most and soon it became your nickname.

Until the day you successfully rode your first ilu.

It was an exhilarating experience, nothing like what you had experienced prior. You glided through the water effortlessly, flowing with the movements of the blubbery creature. When you broke the waters’ surface, Ralak stood proudly in the shallow end, arms crossed over his chest with a smile on his face. It was a rare occurrence – that smile.

And when you laid your eyes on such a sight, the butterflies flew back into your stomach, fluttering and flapping harder than they ever have. They soon became plenty in number, filling your stomach to the brim until you can no longer suppress the way you feel. The flutter in your stomach radiated throughout your body, sending your legs fluttering too. You swam quickly to him, surprising yourself with your speed.

“You did it. Like I said.” he smiles smugly.

“Hope you didn’t forget about our deal.” you grin, wringing out the water from your hair.

“You would not let me.” he scoffs, shaking his head as he uncrosses his arms. “Ready?” he asks, cocking a brow while his fingers glide down his stomach, finding purchase under the under the band of his loincloth.

“From the moment I saw it, karyu.” you say, voice feigned with confidence.

He could see through your disguise, though. It only makes him chuckle, to see such a little thing act so big – so dauntless. He tugs his loincloth down, taut strings now sinking into his upper thighs, revealing not only the entirety of his tattoo but also the base of his length.

“H-how did you manage to do that all on your own? Didn’t it hurt?” you ask sheepishly, voice laced with concern.

“Bottle of fermented fruit and a rag to bite. No pain.” he answers, Metkayina accent thick.

You examine it a little closer, leaning in to have a better look. It’s raised, very slightly – invisible to anyone not staring as intently as you are. Most definitely because it’s hand poked, by himself of all people. An innocent thought floods your mind, so loud that you couldn’t stop the movement of your own hand.

How does it feel?

“Can I –” you glance up at him briefly, hand hovering over the tattoo, “Can I touch it?”

His brows and ears shudder for just a few seconds. He quickly regains his composure, swallowing silently before giving you a single nod. Fingertips experimentally graze over the tattoo, taking in its bumpy texture. Your digits trace each line of his tattoo, down to his pelvis. A sudden jerk of his hips causes you to yank your hand back.

“S-sorry, Ralak.” you mumble, feeling a little ashamed that you may have made him uncomfortable.

But in all honesty, your innocent, little touches were arousing him and he didn’t want you to know.

“Nothing to be sorry about.” he states, fixing his loincloth.

You straighten your spine, a foot stepping back to create space that you think he wants, only for him to pull you in for a hug.

“You did well today, vultsyìp.” he mumbles, hands resting on your head and back. “Tsurak [skimwing] next and you will be Metkayina.”

“Hmm. I’ll think about it.” you giggle, warm embrace and snarky commentary ebbing away whatever feelings of doubt tensing your chest.

It’s the way his huge arms engulf you that make you feel so protected and accepted. It’s something you always looked forward to after a big achievement. You lean into him, laying your head on his chest. The smell of sea salt mixed with leather hide wafts up your nose. You take a deep breath, holding it in your lungs until you feel light in the head. Releasing your breath with a loud huff, you smile widely.

It’s so enticing, so addictive.

“You always do that.” he chuckles breathily, swiping back a few strands of hair stuck to your temple.

“’ts not my fault you sea people smell so good.” you mumble into his chest, taking in another deep breath.

“Ah.” he exhales, hand cupping the back of your head. “My hì’i vultsyìp [little stick]” he almost grimaces at his words, it just wasn’t fitting anymore. Not for situations like these. Not when his chest feels so tight.

You lift your head and stare up at him with eyes of innocence. He looks down at you, ocean blue eyes searching yours. You’d never even noticed the little yellow ring around his pupils until now, how they shimmer when the light catches them just right. There’s an unspoken tension, thick in the air – so thick it makes you swallow the spit pooling in your cheeks. Your smile fades, lips parting as your breaths turn hot.

Eyes growing heavy, they almost close in anticipation that he might – just might – kiss you.

“Tanhì.” he mutters, eyes minutely shifting between each freckle on your forehead. He’s counts them, admiring how they embellish your supple, dark blue skin.

Your smile returns like it never left, except it’s wider – brighter. The last ray of sun shines through the sliver of a gap between your silhouettes, averting your attention to the oncoming eclipse.

“Thank you, karyu.” you whisper, reluctantly pulling away from his arms to make the trek back home.

“Tomorrow...” he watches your small figure shrink as you walk away. “...my tanhì.”

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if you were tagged and don't want to be just lmk :)

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oh-cramity-its-amity · 9 months ago

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OMG YOU SAW THAT??? LMAO OMG. ah THIS IS so pretty!!!!

the new album is sooooo good omg i listened to it earlier tonight. almost cried too ughhh. they just mean SO much to me. they were THE band that saved my life when i was a teen. theres so much song lore with them and clancy as an album rounds out THE era. LIKE THERES ALBUM lore and tyler wrote it all out and the skeleton clique is just insane with how we decode and put together all the pieces of the story 😭. its literally SO indepth and i cant even explain it here without getting rambly.

im beyond proud of how far theyve come. <3.

tyler finally managed to get the burger buns to josh in time for the clancy release day bbq party😅🍔

i’ve been a fan of twenty one pilots for nearly a decade now, experienced 3 album releases, seen them 3 times in concert and not once have they disappointed - lets just say the new album clancy is no exception! 💛

follow me on instagram! @/illustratinghan

#twenty one pilots #clancy #reblogging art #reblogging tøp #thank you so much for showing me this. i dont normally associate with bandom much anymore but i should genuinely look into it again #i saw them live in 2019 on their tour for trench and id wrote about it briefly but trees was the song that kept me alive #they played that song as their FINAL song.#it was just a magical night and i cant #i feel like im gonna start crying again thinking about it /pos but #their entire motto was that “real bands save fans. real fans save bands” or something and thats genuinely true #tyler went through so much depression and like through the years of it- seeing him get married and have kids. he looks absolutely so SO #beyond overjoyed with being a dad #it gives me faith knowing that things will all be okay in the end. that we'll get through it #he did it. he beat his depression. i can too #mannnnn #i love them both #i dont even know all the clancy lore either LOL but #its a lot and its so so cool #all of it is #“emo” bands really do want the best for their fans. at least gerard way and tyler do. (gerard is from mcr)#anyway gerard if you didnt know is a comic book artist and created the umbrella academy #yeah #anyway sorry lol #but im so glad you tagged me #thanks <3

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ecrivainalene · 7 months ago

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Leviathan Panel at Otakon 2024

I was OVERJOYED to be at the Leviathan panel during Otakon 2024! I'll do my best to recap it below, but if you want a more coherent play by play, this Twitter user did an excellent job.

I've got a handful of photos, recap of Sharp Gender Discussion, plus misc. things I remember.

Not everyone was up for the entire time, but I snapped this photo near the end when everyone was on stage! From left to right: Waki Kiyotaka (Studio Orange), Yoshihiro Watanabe (Studio Orange), Scott Westerfeld, Christophe Ferreira (Quibic Pictures), Justin Leach (Quibic Pictures), Katrina Minett (Quibic Pictures), and Diana Garnet (ending theme vocalist).

New concept art! Looks like Dr. Barlow, Klopp, Alek, and Sharp, right before the Germans attack the Leviathan.

More under the cut!

Alternative shot of that art bc I couldn't get my lighting right:

Clanker and Darwinist technology designs. Watanave explained that Studio Orange's early days were spent doing contract work on Gundam anime, so I can't wait to see how that translates to the Clanker machines.

Some more concept art:

By the way, the entire series is being adapted at once - so we'll get the complete story at once! That in mind, the second image here makes me think of that maneuver near the beginning of Goliath to pick up the cargo.

Sharp!!! Look at them!!!

I don't have much to say about these but I'm fairly sure I hadn't seen them before. I am wondering if they downsized Alek's crew for the sake of the story, or perhaps we just haven't seem Bauer and Hoffman yet.

We got some new character art! The panel was very cryptic about who the character designer is. Apparently they're pretty well known, but they can't share it yet!

Volger I am so sorry your photo was unfocused. Forgive me.

The panel jokingly described him as "Alek's dad," which feels accurate. And maybe I misunderstood, but it sounds like he plays an even more important role in the anime than he does in the books. I've always considered Volger to be a pretty important character, so I wonder what else he'll do in this new series.

Klopp looks exactly like how I pictured him in my mind!! They said if Volger is Alek's dad, then Klopp is like his mom. Which is very fair but also made me laugh a lot.

Dr. Barlow!! She looks amazing. There was a lot of talk about the dynamic between her and Volger and how they're often playing mental chess games with each other. I'm really glad they're leaning into that dynamic.

And one more concept art:

This looks like the visit to Istanbul, which I'm desperately hoping means we'll see my favorite chaotic bisexual, Lilit.

That's all of the photos I have! They also showed us a preview of the show plus a live performance of the ending song with Diana Garnet. No video recording was allowed and I don't break rules, but believe me when I tell you it was stunning. The world feels so full of life and adventure and I can't wait to see the final show.

Tbh I was too busy holding back tears of joy but one thing I remember distinctly is there's a shot of Sharp getting ready for the day, and we see a sheet of paper with a bunch of names written and crossed out before finally (I think) "Dylan" is circled.

Which actually brings me to the Q&A part. TLDR, between the use of "Sharp" for Deryn's name, Scott referring to Sharp as "she/he/they" during the panel, and the scene I mentioned earlier, I feel really hopeful about how they're approaching Deryn's gender and identity in this adaptation.

I asked a question about this at the Q&A and voice recorded it, so I'll try to transcribe it here as best I can because the audio is not great lol. I stumbled through my question so I trimmed it down here but I'll transcribe the response as clearly as I can!

Me: I just finished re-reading [the series] for the first time since I was probably in high school, and one of the things that interests me about this adaptation is the approach to Sharp's character... I guess I'm just interested, like, was there a lot of thought put behind, or what kind of thought was put behind how to approach their character in the anime, I guess as a chance to re-approach the story however many years after it was originally written.

Scott Westerfeld: Yeah, there's a lot to that. The "girl dressing as a boy" as a trope was something completely different in 2007 when I started writing this than it is now. And so we really approached Deryn's identity as what was at stake rather than just... rather than just her being in disguise, it's about their recreating themselves and becoming a different person and transitioning and, and so... but it's always been interesting to me that the words that I wrote back in 2009, 10, 11, y'know, as an old guy who grew up in Texas in the 70s - who was David Bowie fan! - but otherwise didn't have a lot of access into issues of gender, I'm amazed at how many people have been [able to?] adopt Deryn/Dylan as one of their own. I just got an email a week ago from a trans boy whose chosen name is Dylan. So it is amazing to me how whatever imperfections or whatever problematics there are in the text, people still find their way into what they need from a character. And as a writer, I can say that I always respected that character, I always respected their choices, I always respected who they were. I never tried to stick them into a dress and have everyone go "Ooh now you're pretty 'because 'cause you're in dress!" We didn't do that, and I think that what may be important for people and I think that's why it's still what's gonna work here, but it's been fun to be able to update it and everybody on the team's been really great about understanding that.

TLDR I don't want to get anyone's hopes up too high, but I'm really appreciative of the care that's being taken with Sharp's story and identity in this adaptation. It seems like Scott and the others on the team are taking that into account, and I'm excited to see how it plays out.

Other random things I remember:

THERE WAS AN ALEK COSPLAYER. I took a photo with them but I won't post it without their consent. Just trust that they looked fantastic.

Scott said one of the first things he was told was that Alek can't actually kill Nikola Tesla because he's too well loved by people in Japan, which I think is the funniest possible reason for a change to be made in an adaptation.

Diana Garnet (they/any) mentioned how much they love Sharp (don't we all) and also how they used to work at a Barnes and Noble and remembers selling lots of Westerfeld books!

Scott said his approach in writing Leviathan was taking everything he'd always wanted to write about and basically throwing it together, because he was just coming off of the success of Uglies and figured he could get away with it.

If I remember anything else I'll add on to this post! Overall, it was a wonderful panel and I'm incredibly excited for this project.

#studio orange #qubic pictures #leviathan anime #leviathan scott westerfeld #leviathan trilogy #leviathan netflix #scott westerfeld #deryn sharp #leviathan series #leviathan alek #prince alek #otakon #otakon 2024

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gayofthefae · 1 year ago

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I just realized something so sweet and personal about Will's painting.

Their DnD characters don't look like that. We saw him draw them plenty in season 1. Will the Wise has a long beard and Mike's character I think has straight blond hair.

Will didn't just draw their characters per usual, he drew them as their characters. He's drawn Mike's knight character a hundred times. But he's never drawn Mike as a knight. He was understanding that Mike's character is a projection of who he aims to be, like all of them, so he drew MIke as the knight this time. For the first time.

That's what this smile is. Mike has played a hero for years. But he's never been one. He saw a dragon and probably expected his character, overjoyed with more of Will's familiar art, but instead, he was met with a glorious knight in shining armor with black, wavy hair. He was the hero this time. *(you can even see his facial expression change from happy excitement to this broad smile)

In season 1, Mike initiates the search party because of Will's heroics in DnD meaning that he would do it for them. He acknowledges that Will's actions in character are still his own. This is the same. This is Will saying "To play a hero, you have to be one yourself. And you are. I see through your character disguise. I see you. This is just the hero you've always been without the mask."

THAT is why it's different. THAT is why it's so much more personal than all the others, not just the heart, MIKE. THAT is why it hurts so bad (Will too but I'm referring to me/us).

I've said in a previous post that it wasn't about the heart, the heart was kind of for us, it was more-so about the heroism. And that's exactly what I standby. The heart isn't the only new thing about this painting. The hero has never actually been Mike before. And Will responded "Yes it has been. It always has been."

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emyn-arnens · 1 month ago

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Galadriel and Celebrían Headcanons

↳ for @arafinwean-week Day 4: Galadriel

Galadriel names Celebrían "Silver-queen" both in the belief that Celebrían is perfect (for any child of hers must be so) and in the hope that Celebrían will be able to achieve what she has not yet been able to.

(That Celebrían might not want—and indeed does not want—to become a queen is baffling to Galadriel, and it takes her many years to understand and accept this part of Celebrían.)

Galadriel struggles with Celebrían's earliest years, disliking drying tears and guessing at a newborn's unspoken needs. Though she loves Celebrían, she does not love the early years of motherhood.

Galadriel teaches Celebrían many different crafts, but Celebrían takes to none of them, preferring the forests and the creatures within them to setting her hand to a craft, though she does well at weaving, learning languages, and transcribing.

For all that Galadriel possesses great insight into the hearts and minds of others, she struggles to understand Celebrían at first, and she often measures her daughter's development against her own childhood, wondering why Celebrían does not show the same enthusiasm for crafts and athletics that Galadriel did at her age.

Celebrían initially feels more comfortable with Celeborn, sensing Galadriel's outsized expectations of her and feeling that he does not expect as much of her as Galadriel does and is willing to let her be herself.

Celebrían grapples with insecurity in her youth, feeling that she will never live up to Galadriel's hopes for her. She struggles to communicate to Galadriel that her dreams for her future are not the same as Galadriel's and often wonders if she ought to be aspiring for a greatness that she does not desire, and if there is something wrong with her that she doesn't.

As Celebrían grows, Galadriel begins to realize that Celebrían's strengths do not lie in crafts or feats of strength or enchantments, but in her ability to perceive the hearts and minds of others, to guess their unspoken needs and meet them, and to breach barriers between people.

It isn't until Celebrían is an adult that she and Galadriel begin to better understand one another and grow closer as they weren't able to during her youth, barred by too many unspoken words.

In Eregion, Celebrían is vital in helping Galadriel build an alliance with the Dwarves of Khazad-dûm, often travelling with Celebrimbor to help build and strengthen the Elves' relationship with the Dwarves. It is at this point that Galadriel truly begins to appreciate Celebrían's strengths and the person her daughter has become.

When Celebrimbor becomes consumed with his work with Annatar and begins to withdraw from his friendships and duties, it is his spurning of his long friendship with Celebrían that at last draws Galadriel to confront him openly, for love of her daughter and the pain of seeing Celebrían in pain.

Galadriel and Celebrían grow closer still after Galadriel is driven out of Eregion, and they are separated from Celeborn during Sauron's attack.

Galadriel is overjoyed when Celebrían draws Elrond's eye and she sees that Celebrían returns his affection. It is the match she has always hoped for for Celebrían, worthy of Celebrían's status and lineage. (She does, however, wish that they would speak their minds sooner.)

When Celebrían is recovered from captivity, Galadriel spends months at her side in Rivendell, tending to her and using every art she possesses to try to heal Celebrían and draw her from the darkness she's trapped in, to no avail.

Celebrían's sailing marks the beginning of Galadriel's wearying of Middle-earth. Though she has not wholly tired of Middle-earth, she cannot find the joy in it that she once did, knowing that she will not see Celebrían again until she, too, sails over the Sea.

#arafinweanweek #arafinweanweek2025 #the silmarillion #galadriel #celebrian #headcanons #my headcanons #there aren't nearly enough fanworks about their relationship so create the content you wish to see etc. etc.#nearly all of these show up in across so wide a sea but i like having things laid out and have been meaning to make a post like this #for a while

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demaparbat-hp · 10 months ago

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I can definitely see a version of katara, a couple years after sokka goes off with their dad, watching her tribe struggle for resources, first being overjoyed to welcome this air nomad, somebody around her age and also trying to save whats left of their culture in the fire nation’s wake, and then so betrayed when he’s (in her eyes) suddenly the reason they’ve all been suffering for so long, the reason she doesn’t know whether her brother and father are alive or not.

And then zuko coming along, not only with a tangible plan to stop the war and help her family, but also a way *out*. She loves her tribe and would do anything for them, but she’s also a teenager that feels so angry, so alone and helpless, and can only see a future where she lives and dies on this small patch of ice, feeling the pull of the moon but being too busy, too tired, too ignorant to heed its call. Of course its the scariest thing she’s ever done. I bet she deals with nightmares after the righteousness wears off and it sinks in what shes signed up for, the last waterbender of the southern water tribe on a metal fire nation boat. But if katara does anything its buckle down and commit.

I would love to know how zuko even gets into a position to have a conversation with katara and tell her his plan. What is their first meeting like, to not only divulge that, but want her on his crew? Do the two of them do their best to teach her waterbending; does uncle iroh help? I can only imagine watching katara struggle but keep on getting up to try the forms again and again brings back some of his own memories learning bending (i love your art, i love all the details about this au and all the others youve dropped, thank you for sharing even when people are dicks)

You have put this into words much better than I ever could. Her journey, her development and what drove her to make the decision to leave it all behind.

Zuko is a different person in this AU, and has had different experiences. He respects their village's boundaries, and comes in a small ship with two unmasked members of his crew, a man and a woman. He introduces himself in the way of the Water Tribe (I am Zuko, son of Ursa—no father, only his mother's name when it should have come last), and asks for permission to stay in their lands as his ship is repaired. Away from the village, where their presence wouldn't be a burden or a threat, and they could be easily forgotten or watched.

Katara is the only person to look him directly in the eye and, when she goes to where his ship is docked late at night and threatens to end his life if he so much as lights a fire in the direction of the village, he doesn't dismiss her fury or her capabilities. He smiles instead, eyes old and tired. I can end you, right here, right now, she says. I know, he answers. I know.

Days pass, Aang has been making himself scarce and the Prince has kept to his word. He doesn't ask for anything, he isn't seen unless someone from the village goes to stand watch, and he looks at her with something akin to respect.

Then, a few days after his arrival, Zuko asks for an audience with the village's mathriach and her family. He isn't surprised when Katara is there, and he addresses her directly, as if her opinion is something to value.

He hasn't been entirely honest, he says, with the countenance of someone about to play it all in a move that could earn him either victory or defeat. His ship needed repairs and he was closer to their shores than Earth Kingdom land, this is true. But it was so because the person he was chasing after had damaged his ship and, according to maps and calculations and sheer dumb luck, the only place they could have run to was here, in the Southern Water Tribe.

But why would he chase someone like that?

To return home. To earn back the rights to challenge his father for the throne, and end the war.

Why do such a thing?

For his mother. For his sister and uncle. For the world.

Why tell them this?

Because they had a right to know, since the person he was after was right here, right now.

Who?

The Avatar.

Who?

The airbender.

(Later, after Aang abandoned them again, Katara approached the Prince and offered herself to him. She knew the Avatar, she said. She was a waterbender and could help them in the seas. She was the Sea Wolf's daughter, and could ensure an alliance. She needed a way out. He accepted.)

#dema answers #zutara #atla #zuko #avatar the last airbender #katara #hunters au #Katara joins Zuko AU #zutara au

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honeydazai · 2 years ago

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୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ 𝆬 girl dad Chūya 𝆬 ·࣭࣪̇˖୨୧

Girl dad Chūya, who, the moment he learns he's having a little girl with you, is already overjoyed, coming up with names you both will hopefully like and thinking about how to furnish the future bedroom, how to best bond with her.

Girl dad Chūya, who usually isn't prone to overthinking, though he can't help but worry about his future daughter — or daughters. While he'd like to protect her himself at all times, he knows that won't be possible, which is why he's quick to teach her some ways of self-defense. If she inherited his Ability, great; if not, he'll teach her some basic fight moves even if she has no actual interest in martial arts. It's for an important reason, after all. Really, he might just get her something a little more strong than pepper spray, too — just in case.

Naturally, he'll defend her with his life as well; if anyone were to ever try and hurt you or her, he makes sure to get rid of them.

Girl dad Chūya, who bonds easily with his daughter, no matter what her hobby is — if she's more into sports, perhaps soccer or even martial arts, that's amazing; he's not the best martial artist in the Port Mafia for nothing, and he'll gladly teach her how to get her movements to be extra crisp and sharp. If she's into fashion, that's great, too, given how he takes dressing himself properly seriously as well, and he won't hesitate to buy her whatever she sets her eyes on. He's got the necessary money, after all. Even if she's into art and books and other topics he himself isn't too interested in — not to say he's not fond of a good painting or novel; he just rarely finds the time to indulge in those kind of interest —, he makes sure to encourage her to be herself, to do what makes her happy, and often asks specific questions about the novel she's reading or the piece she's currently drawing to be as involved as possible.

He doesn't mind sitting through three to four Barbie movies in a row; at one point, he even starts getting into them rather than just tolerating them, grimacing at the antagonists and cheering for Barbie and Ken, though he'll also recommend other films, especially ones that aren't stereotypically seen as girly and feminine. Just because she likes Barbie doesn't mean she can't also enjoy Jurassic Park or Star Wars, after all.

Girl dad Chūya, who does absolutely anything to make sure his daughter is happy and safe; even though he's a strong and scary mafioso at day, his Ability terrifying and powerful, his rank as an executive intimidating, he won't shy away from painting his nails just to see his daughter giggle and to hold imaginary tea parties with her. God, if she wants to, he'll even squeeze himself into a frilly dress, a tiara on his head, matching the one on his daughter's, if only it makes her laugh.

That's the most important thing, after all. He didn't have a particularly happy childhood himself, which is why he'll do his utmost to make sure her early years of life are as perfect as can be.

this drabble was a commission!! thank you so much again!! 💜

tags: @irethepotato @beandaifuku , @the-foreigner , @ranpobb, @arixsux, @dei-lilxc , @atsyushi @satoruislove @pastelsbaby @marina-and-the-memes @texchou @shiggysredhead @savagemickey03 @rosepxtlz @nikolaiswife @okura-s @ladykatakuri @lunerenzo @berywritesstuff @xelia25 @yuuotosaka3 @double-black-dazai @alice0blog @fyodorstolenushanka @ttaiyaki @itsnovariella @black-rose-29 @fyodorscumsock @ayshaashaya @qxxstuff @serenareiss @atsvsh1 @dilucshandholder @reiikonee @1-800-mocha @xvocadooo @hexiisexii @cupxfcxffee @jodidann

@Happymoon16 @yumidepain @nchuuyahq @janeinerz @Aaronthegreatestsimp @fanfiction-waifu @KimxKiba @Morigumy @villainouspotential @ashthemadwriter @mrsdostoevsky @nikolaisgoofyahhhat @yeonwoomyheartbelongstoyou @hellgirlwhore @c4xcocoa @lyrstybsd @angelsrunes @wuaoqu @disa-ster @aspookyscaryghost @nikolaisboner @urgodmoon @polish-anon @arisu-chan4646 @eroscastle @somnobun @birbysaur @Senpaible @hyunlixie143 @dababyurmom @4nthonyyliving

@Chxrry-doll @brokeniced @nikolaisdove @dxwnstxr

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cruyuu · 2 months ago

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It's actually crazy how I keep getting more and more convinced Yuuji and Sukuna are in love, when I first started shipping them I just thought their hatred for each other was interesting and could potentially lead to love but I figured I'd have to stick to fanfictions for that, but Gege just keeps making their relationship more and more sus?

This week alone with the Wasuke as the twin reveal (which might not change the actually plot but it definitely changes my reading of the story by a lot) and then dropping the Sukuita dance art, where they're holding hands while Yuuji looks so overjoyed to be in his arms and Sukuna, the tsundere that he is, looks upset but continues to hold Yuuji close anyway AND the "abominable righteousness. a steadfast anchor for the soul" quote right next to them??? That's clearly meant to be Sukuna's true feelings about Yuuji since the other cards were all words spoken to Yuuji by Gojo, Nanami, and Choso respectively. But- I have no words, this is as close to canon Sukuita as I think Shounen Jump would ever allow lmfao.

This is the most unexpected ship of mine that's received so much canon content, I'd expect this from some of my more vanilla ships but Sukuita??? Insane.

Hi anon!

The effect of Sukuna and Yuuji is the more you pay attention to them, the more you'll grow to like them (and start shipping them). These two have an interesting relationship no matter how you look at it (or them in general). It's true that they're subtle but then, they're also extremely loud (what the fuck was Shinjuku arc even about like they've spent more time caressing each other than fighting) and it's true that, in the beginning, there was little content but good content nonetheless. If you ask me, it was extremely sus even back then because why was Sukuna so amused by Yuuji? Why was he out there making Binding Vows's not to hurt people (someone who enjoys killing, mind you) just to get control of his body? The same Sukuna who slices people to bits if they raise their head in his presence (what he did to Jogo and those girls)... ?? Just what.

But now that we've reached the end... we have enough content to last us a lifetime and convince us that these two are certainly not in a platonic relationship. I, too, found them interesting at the beginning (more about all of that in a different post! I have to answer one anon.) but wasn't expecting anything even if I realized, as we kept progressing further and further into the plot, just how valuable these two are to it and how tied in are to the entirety of the story. Sure, jjk has a lot of other characters, but Sukuna and Yuuji stole the show in the end and went out with a bang. Not only did Yuuji change the unchangable but Sukuna and him! Danced! This is even funnier when you know what the epilogue was trying to hint at which puts even more emphasis on how their relationship is clearly not one of enemies and neither of friends.

Gege always had something more to say when it comes to these two, which also adds to the whole "hey I do think these two are... definitely something". They won't add just a tiny piece of content, but would rather drop some mind-numbing, plot-changing lore about them. The fact that they first dropped the Wasuke and Sukuna sharing souls plot point and then dropped official art of them dancing is hilarious to me. Like it's always something big, something huge! Whenever it's something about these two, you know damn well it won't be insignificant and that Gege will deliver.

"abominable righteousness. a steadfast anchor for the soul" quote right next to them??? That's clearly meant to be Sukuna's true feelings about Yuuji since the other cards were all words spoken to Yuuji by Gojo, Nanami, and Choso respectively.

Oh, don't even get me started on that, anon. I already ranted my friends' ears off about how that quote is insane. Yuuji is somebody who Sukuna used to see as insignificant but now he's finally not stubborn enough to admit that yes... all that hate wasn't really hate. There's admiration there. There's "I'll always have you".

I mean, it's pretty clear to anyone who followed this manga that Sukuna doesn't really hate Yuuji. If he did, all of this wouldn't have happened and would've been different lmfao. What we did lack tho was his opinion on him. His actual, truthful opinion. Sukuna loves to lie after all and loves to pretend he doesn't care when in fact he does... very much so.

And yes, anon. This is as close to canon we can get. They're tied to each other, forever in love and Yuuji even promised his forever to him, to be there even if the world wouldn't accept him. That's fucking insane genuinely. It awfully sounds like a marriage proposal because saying that to someone you lowkey used to ignore and despise *checks notes* a couple of months ago is baffling. Why would you promise someone to walk by their side forever, even if the entire world is against them? Come on now. There's no platonic explanation for that.

#melanswers #sukuita

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toomuchracket · 8 months ago

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late night talking (sweetheart!george x reader smut)

calling it smut is lowkey misleading, but it's definitely extremely very sexy. day 7 of summer75, set in the weird tentative dating era after you and george reunite. enjoy <3

you're in bed when your phone buzzes beside you, cocooned in blankets while watching a third consecutive episode of drag race; when you see the caller ID, you extract your arms as fast as you can, one hand scrambling to mute snatch game while you answer the call with the other, smile surely audible. “hi, george.”

“hi, angel,” comes the reply, the always-devastating combo of gravel voice and pet name awakening the butterflies in your stomach. fuck, you've missed him. “how was work?”

“was okay. busy.”

“you're settling in alright, though, yeah? nobody giving you grief?”

“yeah, everyone’s nice. how was your day?”

“busy, too. really busy, actually,” george sighs. “still found time to miss you, though.”

you smile. “i missed you too, babe.”

“missed you calling me that and all,” he giggles after he speaks, the same stupidly high laugh that's always made your heart feel funny. “sorry for how uncool i'm being, by the way. i know we said we'd be cool about everything, about us, but…”

“s'alright. i get it,” you reply, not unkindly, because you do get it, you understand completely. choosing not to rush back into a relationship seemed like the sensible thing for you and george to do after four years and a few countries apart, but it's proving to be much more difficult in practice; he is your first (and honestly only) love, after all, and you never could resist that voice. or those eyes. or those lips, actually - the first time you kissed him again recently (just a normal smooch, mind you), you almost swooned. like, actually swooned, proper virgin behaviour. “feel like a teenager all over again with you, to be honest.”

“so do i, baby - can i call you that, or-?”

jesus. you hope you don't sound too breathlessly desperate. “of course.”

“thanks, baby,” the grin on george's face is obvious, and yours widens even more as you wriggle further out of your blanket cocoon and roll onto your stomach. “but yeah, i genuinely do feel like i'm seventeen again…”

“good film, that.”

“knew that was coming as soon as i said it,” he sighs down the phone, before joining in with your giggling. “genuinely, though, angel - feel like it's still 2007, because all i can think about is kissing you. m'serious. can't get anything done.”

you kick your legs back and forth, overjoyed to hear him admit he feels the same as you. still, you don't miss the opportunity to take the piss out of him. “jesus, it's the new gucci perfume fiasco all over again.”

“christ, don't remind me of that,” george groans, voice slightly muffled by what you know is him facepalming, dragging his hand down his face slowly; he's a creature of habit, your… well, your george. “thought i’d died and gone to heaven when i got a whiff of it the day we ran into each other in the shop, when we first saw each other again.”

“shut up.”

“m'not kidding, baby. driven me mental since day one, that perfume.”

you rest your head on your folded arms, wistful. “i remember. you walking into the art classroom door because you were that distracted trying to lean over and smell me? how could i forget?”

“yeah, well, it had its benefits too, that day,” george retorts. “if i recall correctly, it motivated me to get all my homework done quickly so i could kiss you, no?”

“that's true,” you allow yourself to briefly get lost in the memory, so strong you swear you can feel the shitty bic pen in your hand now. the flashback progresses to a scene you almost wore out repeating at the time, the workbooks and pencilcases shoved off the bed, and school uniforms following as you and george took advantage of having his house to yourself that monday afternoon. despite not having even discussed doing that with george in the modern version of your relationship yet, the mention of that after-school activity leaves your lips before you realise. “and if i recall correctly, we did a lot more than kiss that night.”

there's silence from the other end of the phone line. a very particular, pregnant type of silence, one that you intuitively know will end with something pivotal to you and george's relationship; despite this make or break moment, you keep quiet, not wanting to make it worse by fumbling an apology or explanation, even though you've got a growing sense of creeping dread that you might've just fucked the whole dynamic up beyond repair already.

and then he speaks, and you can exhale again. “i think about that a lot, you know.”

the atmosphere shifts again - it's still one of anticipation, but of the more… sensual variety, you'd say. heart pounding against your sternum, you wriggle out of the blankets completely, clicking the tv off so you can give george your complete, undivided attention. “yeah?”

“yeah. that night, and my eighteenth, and your eighteenth. prom, and all our holidays, and christening your uni flat,” george hums, giggling after he's done listing. “just any time we fucked, really.”

“you miss it?”

he sighs. “a lot.”

“so do i,” you say softly. “i really miss… no,” you close your mouth, shaking your head. “i can't say it. not yet. s'inappropriate.”

“baby,” there's a hint of forcefulness in george's voice, and it goes straight to your already-slick core. “tell me, please. wanna hear you.”

fuck. you really have missed him.

you sigh. “you're sure you wanna do this?”

“angel, i've never been more sure of anything,” george replies, and you know he means it. “talk to me.”

“alright,” you can't help smiling, both at george and the memory. “was gonna say that i really miss the way you would hold me after we both came, you know? you'd just wrap your whole body around me and kiss my neck, and i'd just feel, y'know, so safe, and happy,” you pause, then grin. “i mean, i miss the actual sex too, of course, but…”

he laughs, and your heart flutters. “i miss that too, the post-shag hugging. you're cute, y'know, baby - thought you were about to say something filthy, honestly.”

you twirl a strand of hair around your finger, flirty. “well, if you want me to be dirty, g, i can. can be whatever you want me to be.”

george groans. “don't fuck me about, angel.”

“m'not!” you decide to be proper serious for a second. “i just want to make you feel good, george. i miss doing that. i miss you,” you bite your lip, releasing it slowly in a poor imitation of the man at the other end of the phone line. “and i want you. i really, really want you.”

another brief silence, then he replies. “how do you want me?”

you smirk. “you tell me. like i said, sweetheart, whatever - and however - you want me to be… i'll do it.”

“well, in that case,” god, his voice. “i want you to come over. right now. how does that sound?”

“perfect,” you aren't lying. “is there anything else you want me to do?”

“be my girlfriend again, but we can discuss that when you get here, yeah?”

you beam, kicking your legs excitedly. finally. “yeah. alright,” you roll out of bed and make a beeline for your lingerie collection. “i'll be over as soon as i get changed, babe.”

“please be quick,” george sighs. “oh, a final thing, baby?”

“yeah?”

the smirk on his face is crystal clear. “bring a vibrator.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #george daniel fanfiction #george daniel fanfic #george daniel fic #george daniel smut #george x reader #george daniel x reader #sweetheart!george #summer75

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gravityglitch-blog · 8 months ago

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Wishes for Absolution

(The night before the trip to Cabin Fever Labs, N and Uzi lean on each other for comfort.)

Part I: N

He woke up with the fever and the screams running through him again.

N shook himself to loosen the grip of memory. He grabbed a severed drone arm from the stash in the corner of the landing pod, his current home. The oil was old, clotted, but it did the job of bringing down his temperature. He had always felt guilty that his life came at the cost of others. There was no taking back what he had done. He had sworn now to only take oil from already-slain drones.

Robo-God knew, there were more than enough of those. Though it didn’t sate his hunger as well as fresh oil, it would do.

The Worker Drones were corrupted. A problem to be solved. That was the lie he’d been sold, the task he’d been given, and oh, had he done it well. He’d taken no joy in it, that much was true. He’d been driven by survival instinct more than the mission. But all that oil was still on his hands, and nothing would ever wash it away.

Perched atop the landing pod now, the icy wind ruffling his hair and only the moons of Copper Nine for company, N reflected on his victims. They’d all tried to run, at first. Most had pleaded for their lives. Some sad few had fallen limp the moment he got hold of them, accepting their fate. For what felt like the thousandth time, he tried and failed to remember if any of them had a familiar shade of purple hair. If any of them resembled the one and only Worker who had ever fought back, and won. Uzi Doorman.

Even thinking of her now brought a strange mixture of comfort and guilt to his chest.

Comfort, because she was the only one in his strange life who had ever treated him like a real person, who he could name as his best friend without hesitation. Guilt, because if his fear proved true, and he had stained himself with Doorman family oil, he would lose her forever.

He looked to the corpse spire on the horizon, where V preferred to make her home these days. Away from him. He didn’t blame her. They didn’t exactly see eye to eye anymore, if they ever had. During the short time Uzi had stayed with them, the tiny pod had felt crowded, but for the first time, it had felt something like home.

Aside from her schemes to take the fight to Earth, and to the humans who had brought all this upon them, Uzi had also shared with him bits and pieces of her life. He’d listened to her recite the long and sometimes complicated storylines of the anime she had pirated. He hadn’t understood a thing, but it didn’t matter.

He’d been silently overjoyed that someone was talking to him. In return, he’d told her about the dreams he’d been having, which he suspected were memories. He’d told her about how he wished he could have a pet someday, and that he wanted to learn about art. Copper Nine was a bleak canvas of whites and grays, and he found himself longing for colors. Not only had she listened to him, she had even started teaching him how to draw. The walls of the pod were decorated with some of his earliest attempts, done with crayons he’d once discovered on a scouting mission and hidden from J. If she’d found them, she would have destroyed them. There were a few of Uzi’s drawings, too. Normally they made him feel better, but tonight, they only helped highlight his loneliness in neon red.

He looked toward the spire, a monument to his crimes. Broken bodies. Broken lives.

“I know it will never be enough,” he said quietly, as one speaks at a gravesite. “But I am so, so sorry.”

The corpses did not answer.

Loneliness, the ever-present bug in his systems, was eating voraciously at him tonight. It tortured him with all he couldn’t remember and all he couldn’t forget. He couldn’t stay still any longer. His wings snapped open and he took to the dark sky. He told himself it was just a quick flight to clear his mind. But he already knew where he was going.

Part II: Uzi

Uzi trudged back into her room, the skirt of her prom dress swirling around her. It was the fanciest clothing she had, and tonight, she’d had need of it. Her father had been honored with an awards ceremony.

After the colony had struck a truce with the Disassembly Drones, he’d come up with a new invention: windows. “They’re like doors, but for your eyes!”

Everyone had been amazed by this concept. Because it gave her father such a glow of pride, and because he’d been trying so hard to do better by her, Uzi had held back her usual sarcasm. She’d been the first to receive a window in her room. Almost all the living quarters had them now. It was nice to be able to see the sky. She had taken to using one of her spare black hoodies to cover it up during the brightest part of the day. The sunlight made her feel strange and achy. Most likely because she’d never seen so much of it before. The ceremony had been nice, full of happy chatter and congratulations. People were almost willing to talk to her now.

But the noise had eventually made her tired.

So had that oil smell that seemed to hover over the whole gym, where prom had been held not so long ago. They probably hadn’t been able to clean it all up yet. No one else had seemed bothered by it, though.

She’d excused herself, leaving her dad to enjoy his moment.

She changed into the oversized shirt, baggy pants printed with cartoon bats, and fluffy black cat slippers she wore to bed. She was about to put the dress away when something made her stop and stare at it. The memory of the very first time she’d worn it, with N.

A blush rose unbidden to her face. She wished it could have been a normal date. Without all the murder.

A date? Where had that thought come from??

If she was being honest with herself, she missed N. Despite all the differences between them, no one had ever made her feel so understood. She would see him again tomorrow, during the field trip. She’d also see V again, too. This she didn’t look forward to so much. But even she had to admit that V was trying. The friendship that their killer prom queen had struck with Lizzy had slowly been turning into something more genuine. Maybe there was hope for them all yet. Tired as she was, Uzi was still feeling restless. She had just set her beaten-but-tough old laptop to watch something when she heard a series of quick taps at her window.

“What the heck?”

She pulled open her makeshift blackout drapes to see N’s smiling face. He was hanging upside down and waving at her.

“N!”

She slid the window open.

“Hi, Uzi!”

“Hey,” she smiled. “I thought you’d be resting until tomorrow. What’s up?”

“I wanted to return your book!” He held up the manga volume that had been missing so long she’d almost given up on it. “Also…” he scratched at the back of his head. “I’m having trouble sleeping. Nightmares.”

Uzi nodded, no stranger to nightmares herself.

She stepped aside to allow him space to climb in, but still he lingered out in the cold.

Then she remembered. “You can come in, N.”

He smiled again and clambered through, having some trouble with his tall build. It hit her like a punch in the face that this was the first time he’d visited her home. All her belongings looked small next to him.

“Will your dad be okay with me being here?”

“Probably not. But he’s not home. The colony is still celebrating the invention of the window.”

She returned the book to its proper place on the shelf before noticing that N had gone strangely quiet. He was staring at her. More accurately, at her stupid, dorky pajamas!

Part III: N

He’d always thought Uzi was cute. Any Drone who thought otherwise needed their optics checked. When he’d seen her in her prom dress not long ago, “cute” had upgraded to “beautiful”, and he’d just barely stopped himself from saying so. But he’d never seen her like this. Wearing a well-loved shirt and pants that draped over her tiny frame. Fuzzy slippers.

But what most caught his attention was her hair. For once, she was without her signature beanie. Her hair was longer and fluffier than he’d thought, gently tousled as if she’d just run her fingers through it. He was wondering what it would feel like to do just that when he pulled himself back to reality.

“Uzi,” he said quietly, “You look so cu—“

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I swear to Robo-God, if you say “cute”—“

“Cozy!” He substituted quickly. “You look really cozy, like you just woke up.”

Uzi squinted at him, weighing his answer. Finally a small laugh escaped her. “I’ll allow it.”

“Oh, no, did I wake you up?” He asked, feeling guilty now. “It’s okay, I can leave—“

“No, you don’t have to go! I just got back from my dad’s award thing. I…I’m kind of feeling nervous about the trip tomorrow. I was going to watch some anime to help me calm down.”

He nodded, then sank down to sit cross-legged on her floor. He fussed with the hem of his coat. What he wanted to say refused to solidify into words. Uzi perched on the edge of her bed, patient, listening.

It came out almost without him realizing. “I’m a monster, Uzi.”

She didn’t have an immediate reply to that. She hugged her knees to her chest.

“What brought this on?”

“Ever since we met, I’ve been thinking about everything. All I’ve done. The reason I was made. Everyone I’ve ever…killed.” He looked up at her. His eyes flickered with the threat of tears.

“I almost killed you, the best person I’ve ever met. How can you even look at me?”

Uzi rested her chin atop her knees. “I decapitated you the day we met. I’m hardly in a place to pass judgment.”

She must have sensed how disturbed he was, because she took her time before continuing.

For awhile, the only sound was the distressed pounding of his heart.

“The reason you were made,” she said at last. “You didn’t get to choose that. You didn’t choose killing just to be able to survive. Everything that you did before…I’m not going to say it doesn’t matter. But the way I see it, you were the weapon. You were used. Besides, the company, or whoever’s behind all this, made you reliant on oil. Maybe…if we learn more, dig deep enough…maybe we can find a cure?” The little note of hope in her voice nearly ended him. This girl had his heart in total free fall, and she didn’t even know it. She was still talking.

“There could be something to help, so you won’t need to drink oil anymore. So the sun won’t hurt you.”

His gaze drifted to her window. “That would be something. To see the world by daylight.”

“I’ll show you,” she promised with a gentle smile. “Not that there’s much to see on this rock.”

“Doesn’t matter, so long as I get to see it with you.”

A brief silence and blush lines followed this.

Uzi tugged on her hair, something he’d noticed she often did when nervous.

“Do you want to stay and watch some anime with me? It sometimes helps when the nightmares are bad and I can’t sleep.”

N’s eyes hollowed. “Not the one with the scary book again!”

Uzi was already digging through a box at the corner of her room. “No, not that one. Look, no one even knows I have this anime. I’ve got my reputation to protect. So you can’t tell anyone, okay?”

In answer, N mimed zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the key. He helped her arrange her pillows and blankets into a fort / nest on the floor. Once they were settled in, Uzi hit “play” on her laptop, and the opening theme began.

“Fighting evil by moonlight! Winning love by daylight! Never running from a real fight! She is the one named Sailor Moon!”

N was entranced by the story of these magical girls and their fight to defend love and justice.

Uzi seemed happy to openly geek out, something she hadn’t dared show anyone else. He felt a deep sense of gratitude that she would share this with him.

“Sailor Mars has always been my favorite,” she said, as the character sent a firestorm hurtling toward her enemy onscreen.

“I think I’d pick Usagi for my favorite,” N chimed in.

“I thought you might.”

“Why?’

“She’s just like you. Strong, brave…maybe a little silly, but with her heart wide open.”

Uzi’s eyes grew wide when she realized what she’d just said. N resisted the urge to pull his hat down over his face to hide his furious blush. As the episodes rolled on, N felt the exhaustion finally creeping up on him. He slumped against Uzi’s shoulder like a pillow. He felt her start, but she didn’t push him away. Her skin was pleasantly cool against his cheek, soothing the constant fever. He could hear her heart beat a comforting rhythm.

He had almost silenced that rhythm forever.

He shuddered and instinctively burrowed more closely into her side.

Never again. He would never let anything hurt her ever again. The vow brought him some peace. He was halfway asleep when she spoke up.

“N?”

“Hmm?”

“When I went out there that first night—“ she hesitated. He looked up at her, eyes curious and drowsy.

“I was so stupid,” she finished sadly. “I thought I was going to be some kind of hero, like in these stories. I was going to be the one to save Copper Nine and we’d all live happily ever after. But what if I’m not meant to be the hero? What if I’m just a screwup like everyone’s always said?”

“How silly,” N said, more asleep than awake now. “Of course, you’re my hero. You’re going to save us all and find a cure, remember? And I’ll be your faithful sidekick!”

Uzi laughed, a wonderful sound to him. “You’re no sidekick. You’re way more than that. You’re my—“

Here she stopped again, unable to find the word she wanted.

He glanced up at her as the silence stretched. What would she say? Friend? Partner? No, that was too intimate…

With a shrug, she gave up and said simply, “You’re my N.”

Sleepiness had lowered his inhibitions. He reached up and gently twirled a lock of her hair around his finger before letting it spring free again. “My Uzi.”

A comforting quiet settled over them, until he felt himself entering sleep mode. Instead of a nightmare, he was met by Uzi’s voice, singing a soft lullaby.

“Deep in my soul

Love so strong

It takes control

Now we both know

The secrets bared

The feelings show

Driven far apart

I’ll make a wish on a shooting star

There will come a day, somewhere far away

In your arms I’ll stay, my only love

Even though you’re gone, love will still live on

The feeling is so strong

My only love”

His last thought before the soft dark claimed him was, What a beautiful dream.

This is the song I imagined Uzi singing, from the 90’s Sailor Moon dub. This song touches my heart to this day.

youtube

#murder drones #murder drones fanfic #nuzi #serial designation n #uzi doorman #gravityglitch writes #Youtube

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shadesoflsk · 1 year ago

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Okay but imagine Leon having a hispanic/latino s/o? Like him being introduced to their family at parties and having to memorize all the cousins, him falling in love with all the aspects of their culture. Also i feel like he would love gustavo cerati???? Coming from a latina (boricua y dominicana) this has me kicking my feet and giggling!! Ly 💗!! - 🐚

Hi! This is the first time someone claimed an emoji! I feel so excited, hehe.

And I just noticed I often reply to these asks with just my thoughts not knowing if any of you want a whole fic 😭 If you want one let me know ‘cause I'm dense.

Regarding Gustavo Cerati… you're so real 🐚 anon. In fact, I'm preparing a post which is basically hispanic music I think Leon would like. And let me tell you, there are A LOT OF Cerati's songs. If you guys want to share your thoughts/suggest some artists or songs you're welcome to do so. 🙏🏻

Anyway, I could definitely see Leon being overjoyed dating someone hispanic/latino.

The term itself is really broad, so I'm going to leave the details of the culture as ambiguous as I can so everyone can imagine their own.

leon kennedy x gn reader (reader speaks spanish)

Leon himself isn't someone who actually got to spend his childhood and younger years next to a family, or at least a loving one. So, when he met you, he slowly discovered your upbringing and how beautiful your culture was.

It started with little things. When you first mentioned Leon where you come from, he'd search for one thing he really enjoys—music! He fully believes art is the door to a culture, so there's nothing better than getting to know your country by its artists and songs.

He'd need to translate them, though. He barely knows how to say hello in another language. But then again, he tries his best to actually engage in your culture and show genuine interest.

While he navigates through the songs, typical dances, and festivities, the next step is obvious. As your relationship gets more serious, you'd tell him that your family wants to meet him. He isn't scared, not all. He's actually really excited at the prospect of meeting your relatives and taking such a serious step with you.

However, he is nervous about something.You had previously told him that your family was big, and while it didn't bother him, he isn't confident about his ability to remember names.

Poor boy would be the target of your family's teasing. As soon as he enters your home, some of your relatives would give him a pat on his back, seeing how nervous he is. The whole experience would be overwhelming but in a good way.

You'd introduce him to every family member. He'd say his name as best as he could (He asked you to teach him a bit of Spanish, to at least impress some of your relatives).

Very basic and broken Spanish: “Hola yo me llamo Leon, ¿Cómo estás tú?” Baby is trying his best, and everyone could see how much respect he holds for their culture and language.

He's really respectful in every aspect you could think of. When the little mingling comes to an end and hunger starts to brim in each one of your relatives, Leon would be delighted to try everything.

As soon as he starts eating, there are two outcomes. A) He really likes the food. B) He doesn't like it. For the first scenario, he'd devour the plate. Having something prepared with so much seasoning and love was something foreign to him. He'd whisper and ask you to tell your mom if he could fetch himself another serving. He's too shy for his own good.

For the latter, he'd still remain as respectful as he could. It's okay not to like certain things, and while he tries to finish his plate your family would joke about how he couldn’t handle the spice (even if it wasn't spicy in the first place.)

His favorite activity to do with your family is to see your childhood photo album. They would pull out embarrassing photos of yourself, but he'd think you look lovely. In moments like these, he gets to bond with your family even more, feeling himself blending with them and being part of a family he always longed for.

Overall, Leon would find himself falling in love with you and your culture. No matter how different it's from his own upbringing, he'd be honored to share moments getting to know everything about your country.

#I imagine re2r leon for this one #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy #resident evil #— ࣪ ⊹ 💌 ruby's askbox #: ･。. 🐚 anon

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seat-safety-switch · 1 year ago

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When I was a kid, there was nothing better than heading into town to see the sights. Food, fashion, family, those were great too, but the best part was seeing the weird VW Beetle sculpture outside the local Volkswagen mechanic. For whatever reason, the guy running the shop had decided to place an old air-cooled Beetle chassis atop some welded-rebar legs, such that its two-hump body looked like the thorax of a spider. This, to my childhood mind, was cool as hell.

Unfortunately for grown-up me, air-cooled Volkswagen repair is no longer the moneymaker that it once was. In fact, I'm about ninety percent sure that it wasn't turning much of a profit when I was a kid, either. Chances are that guy had to compromise his principles and do a couple oil changes on a water-cooled Toyota, gritting his teeth in rage the whole time about how things made sense and were generally reliable. Eventually, he retired, and the Beetle statue disappeared.

What happened to it? Nobody knew, but it seemed difficult to hide an entire car plus two-storey-tall giant steel spider legs for long. Eventually, it popped up on the roof of the Starbucks across the street. When I recently visited, I was overjoyed to see that it had returned, in some way, to the community in which it once lived. It gave me further joy to imagine the confused anger of the local populace, queuing for their mocha half-fraps, wondering why the fuck there is a giant menacing Volkswagen-spider on top of their local coffee establishment. Perhaps this was part of the original owner's contract: I'll sell, but you gotta freak out the squares.

If that's the case, then hats off to that weird dude from long ago. You spent a weekend or two turning a rusty Beetle shell into some kind of horrifying art project, and made the world that much stranger in the process. And if you are reading this, please cut that rusty Beetle shell back off those legs, drop it from the roof of the Starbucks, and sell it to me so I can turn it into a Baja Bug. I got dumb art projects of my own to do.

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burningcheese-merchant · 25 days ago

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Добрый вечер из украины:33

последние пару дней я вычитывала о ваших голденспайс фанкидах и не могла перестать думать о том что мое единственное умение(а именно рисовать котят) может не плохо отыграться

Я В ВОСТОРГЕ ОТ ВАШИХ МИКРОДЕТОК БОЖЕ и от фанфиков тоже, они вызывают у меня конкретное состояние восторга и счастье

Пеппер Джэк и его микромалютка сестрёнка

хочу думать что Чизз учила его как пользоваться крыльями в полной мере

I don't even know what to say... I'm so giddy looking at this haha. Let me start by saying hello back to you! I really hope you and your loved ones (if they're there with you) are doing ok over there in Ukraine, I know things are... not great there right now and you have all of my best wishes (and my worry/concern lol)! With that said...

YOUR ART IS B E A U T I F U L !!!!! I LOVE IT!!! YOU ARE VERY TALENTED AND I'D LOVE TO SEE WHAT ELSE YOU CAN DRAW!!! I'm so grateful you showed me this, I love when people send me their art :') I hope I can learn to draw as well as you do

BURNINGCHEESE KITTENS AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH (I scream as I melt into a puddle of goo)

I'm so happy you like my fankids so much :') and my fics too. I put a lot of love into both, it always means a lot to me when someone comes to tell me they like them. I hope I'm able to keep entertaining people with my works and thoughts

I love that you notice and enjoy all the little details about the kiddies! Including that Matar Paneer is supposed to be tiny 😂 Kitten Jack watching over teeny tiny Kitten Paneer is the best thing ever, my eyes have been blessed

You're right about Golden Cheese teaching Pepper Jack to fly! She was honestly overjoyed when she saw those little wings on his back when he was born. She taught him to fly, she taught him how to preen, she did everything. Mama Bird and Baby Bird! (On the other hand, Spice taught Paneer how to take care of her hair. They have the exact same hair, texture and length and everything, so he taught her how she's supposed to brush it and all that. Daddy/daughter bonding yay!!!)

This ask really made my day, thank you so much ❤️❤️❤️ You can look forward to more BurningCheese spam from me in the future, fankids included lol

#i hope i understood you and answered properly!!! I actually studied Russian in undergrad and can still read it relatively well #but i admit that I'm very rusty lol. I should probably take this as my cue to start studying it again #thank you so so much again for your ask!!! it put such a big smile on my face #thank you for your support in general! seriously your art is lovely please keep it up #...am i able to bait you into drawing the whole family as cats 👀 lol jk #cookie run kingdom #burningcheese #goldenspice #pepper jack cookie #matar paneer cookie #merchant asks

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ennas-aesthetic · 2 years ago

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Retired!Dream as a Librarian AU

Both @ineffablyendless and I spent a night brainstorming on what we think Retired!Dream would be doing (you know, if he walked away like Destruction did and decided to live life not tied down to impossible responsibilities), and we immediately agreed that he would LOVE being a librarian. So here's a collection of our Retired!Dream as a librarian headcanons:

Surprisingly, joining the library wasn't Hob's idea.

The first few months after he left his duties and responsibilities as ‘Dream of the Endless,’ Morpheus had gone into a bit of an existential crisis. He has basically lost his entire function, which was the anchorage of his whole being and identity. If he is NOT the manifestation of the collective unconscious and the Prince of Stories, then who the hell is he?

(He has no idea where Destruction has gone, too, so it’s not like he can tap him and ask casually how to start living his life as a human. Dream is drawing on a blank, and is completely lost on who he should be and what it is that he wants to do.)

Hob is there for him during those months. He is gentle and kind and patient; he tells Dream that he can do whatever the fuck he wants, and encourages him to try various things. Crafting, painting, writing. Dream has a natural affinity to the arts (of course) but none of them seem to stick (and the Bohemian starved-artist persona was more Destruction’s thing, anyway. Dream may be a ‘human’ now, but the pettiness went nowhere, it seems.)

Hob tells him that he will NEVER mind Dream going out of the flat when Hob’s off to teach at the University. Encourages it, even. He tells Dream that he does not need to be cooped up in the house, that he can go wherever he wants. Dream often stays in, anyway, (because he has got nowhere to be), until he could not take the constant ennui and boredom any longer and books out of the flat.

He goes around the locale for a bit, explores the town he and Hob live in. Inexplicably, he is drawn to the local library.

Stepping into the library reawakens a small part of him that has been dormant ever since he left the Dreaming. Stories had always been his domain, and it is there that a tiny part of his soul (if he has any) is moved – as if the place has put him under its spell. He browses the shelves, reads through books and novels that he has read a thousand times. Often, though, he is content sitting at the little visitor’s nook, looking at readers of all ages exchanging and accepting stories and tales, and feeling a forgotten part of his heart twinge with bittersweet calmness and serenity.

Haunting the library became a daily ritual. And as it is with humans and rituals, the staff become more and more used to him the more he frequents the place. Slowly they integrate him into their tight-knit band of librarians. Dream finds himself in deep discussion with various people over folktales and legends and stories, and they are entranced by how much he knows, endeared by his seriousness and aloofness. It is in conversation with the head librarian that he finds out they are always accepting volunteers. Would Dream like to be one?

When Hob finds out he is overjoyed. It was a no-brainer, really.

And that’s how Dream became part of the staff of the local library.

Sometimes Dream wonders how he had gotten here. Oh, if only his subjects could see him now. If only Lucienne could see him now. He was the owner of the Dreaming’s vast, endless library, sure, but as Monarch he had left the more menial tasks to Lucienne. Which, he realizes, was quite the “dick move” (as Hob puts it), on his part. He gets taught how to shelve books using the Dewey Decimal system, how to administer fines for books that are way past their return date, find the exact shelf for Fortunately, The Milk that a child had wanted for forever, how to wrangle silence with a vehement ‘sssssh!’ and a death glare. The last part he could do with ease, but the others not so much. He resolves to be more appreciative of Lucienne’s work over the millennia, if he ever sees her again.

But the work itself is pleasant, an anchor. He never had a sense that being a librarian is a chore. In fact, the task seems to keep him fixed, hinged on an axis of purpose and drive. After months of senseless brooding he is happy he has this at least, to define the fuzzy boundaries of his identity. He is still crafting who he wants ‘Morpheus’ to be, but it gets easier, a day at a time.

And the people, to his bemusement, love him. He is surprised at the ease of which he gets accepted into the brood, and realizes that people are so much kinder than he could ever have thought. There is Lissa, who is going through her bachelor's degree in Sociology, but who heads the Weekly Library Scavenger Hunt and frequently asks Dream’s help to cut up various visual aids and decorations for their bulletin boards. There is Annalee, who sometimes brings him coffee when they exchange shifts. They help him with the shelving and sorting at the end of the day, and they enthusiastically drag him in to help organize the monthly Slam Poetry competitions. Rupert, an elderly man who comes to stay at the library all day, and who does not forget to ask Morpheus how he is doing. Charlotte, the matronly Head Librarian who notices Dream not eating or taking breaks at the right time (his relationship with food has been complicated and rocky since his imprisonment at Burgess’), and clucks at him like a mother hen for skipping meals.

It’s… it’s a community. Dream has found himself a community: people who CARE about him, who allow him to be part of their little found family, who do not cower away from him or act as if they’re walking on eggshells around him. For once he has found himself an actual, healthy support system. Hob says something about Dream resonates with them: how aloof and awkward he is, how utterly serious and straight-faced he is about the job. They give their kindness so freely that sometimes Dream thinks that there is a catch (because there always was.) But sometimes kindness is brash and natural and emergent - it shows up wherever, whenever, just because.

(He is loved by the community, too. They are obsessed with him, this awkward, no-nonsense, goth librarian in doc martens and earrings and black nail polish. Whose partner, a genuine University professor, comes over occasionally to give historical talks and seminars. This skinny, goth, queer librarian who can and frequently glares people to death for the slightest perceived misdemeanor but blooms like a fresh flower for every nervous child who has questions about books. He’s done so well that they upgrade him from volunteer to full-time librarian, of which Morpheus accepts graciously.)

Another thing the community is obsessed with: Morpheus’ Children Reading Programs.

He was not in charge of Story Time Tuesdays. Peter was, except Peter wanted to move back to Brighton to be closer with his family. Morpheus takes the mantle when he volunteered to adlib a story on the behest of one of his fave kids. Of course, unbeknownst to literally everyone else, Morpheus is in his element. He does not just read: he performs. He takes the voices very seriously, and he is an excellent storyteller, weaving a tale of dragons and knights and pegasi so enrapturing the entire floor goes dead quiet hanging on to his every word. When he is finished they erupt into incredulous, awestruck applause.

Story Time Tuesdays become a hit. The kids are apt listeners and a great audience, and adults come over once in a while to sit in, too. Sometimes he does not even need a book. He's like a fucking bard. An old-timey rhapsode who could string one story into another with ease. EASE. He could recite them as though he himself was there for each and every one. (And he was. HE WAS.) The children love him completely.

He is so good at storytelling that the library club affectionately nicknamed him the Library's "Prince of Stories." This sends Hob to hysterical tears.

One time the kids suggested he tell the story of Mr. Sandman. This is the one time he is taken aback, the one time he sputters as he insists Mr. Sandman doesn’t have his OWN story, because he was the storyteller. He does not have a story of his own.

The kids call BULLSHIT on this, because somehow Dream trained them all into believing EVERYONE has their own story. Hob, bastard that he is, who has made a habit of getting off the university early to listen in on Dream’s Story Time Tuesdays, yells "YOU'RE RIGHT!" So Morpheus is delegated into the sidelines as he watches the kids make up a story of their own for once, about a dream magician named Mr. Sandman with a dragon best friend who goes on a quest to leave his island.

Mr. Sandman becomes a recurring character in all of Dream's adlib stories now, at the kids' insistence. He’s the magical godmother and the helpful NPC that helps the heroes on their quests. The other librarians who are secretly compiling all of Dream's adlib stories are naming it "Sandman Stories". The kids dress up as "Sandman" on Halloween and Dream is beginning to realize the children perceive Sandman to look a lot like himself.

He also DID NOT have a complete breakdown in the bedroom he and Hob share, about how the children are adamant that Morpheus has a story of his own, despite believing for entire eons that he has none. It's still hard to reconcile his issues on self-worth, remember that he deserves kindness and compassion. But Hob is there to help him get through it, and the kids continue insisting that the Sandman is a real character with a story of his own that MATTERS. That he has a life worth living, a tale worth telling.

And slowly but surely, he starts believing that, too.

We have SO MANY MORE librarian!Dream headcanons that we haven’t touched on yet! If you have questions + want some more these hit us up!

#dreamling #dreamling fic #dream of the endless #hob gadling #the sandman #dreamling au #retired!dream #RETIRED!DREAM IS A LIBRARIAN AND HE IS HAPPY #also goth librarian flirts with university prof by the register #netflix the sandman

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