#a wonderful complete artist and an even more wonderful human being

[zhydoesart]

"when the rain stops" (acc version)

for @kieraelieson for @tsspromptmonth 2024 Sleepy Bean Cafe event.

Prompt: Logan is an Ancient being of some kind, who's never needed things like 'companionship' or 'affection' or 'physical touch'. Until a human ever so gently breaks down his barriers to give him those things revealing he's been in desperate need of them all along.

AO3 version (with stylized section breaks)

Logan has been dead so long he can hardly remember what it was like to be alive.

He stopped counting after the first couple hundred years, once the memories of his human life had begun to fade, and, worse, he’d stopped mourning their loss.

The vampires in stories always lived out in big old mansions in the middle of dark forests. That’s half true of Logan. He does live in the middle of a forest—the trees provide good cover, both to hide his home and him, and to shield him from the sun which irritates his skin—but he doesn’t need a mansion.

Logan’s home is a sturdy old house made of dark wood. It has two stories, and some of the details are too finely crafted to be anything other than hand-carved. He supposes he must have known a builder, must’ve somehow convinced them to build this house for him, either through money or favors… but he can’t recall anything about them.

Logan’s house has two bedrooms. His own is set toward the back of the house, taking up much of its small second floor. Its westmost windows look out over, of course, the forest. Beyond the forest, on the horizon, lie the mountains, their snow-coated peaks rising up beyond the feathered tips of the sea of dark pine trees spanning as far as he can see.

He doesn’t have much in the way of furniture, but the room is small enough that it still feels cosy rather than empty with just a bed, desk, and two bookshelves. The furniture he does have is made from the same dark wood as the walls, the floor, the ceiling, the bark of the trees outside. Each shelf is filled neatly from one end to the other with perfectly pristine books—Logan has read each and every one at some point during his… extended life. He’s read several of the more compelling works of fiction more than once.

His bed, in the corner nearest the big window, is made, dark sheets pulled neatly up, tucked under his pillow. His desk, too, is clean. (In fact, not a single surface in the room, nor the entire house, has even a spot of dust.) Stacked in the corner is a small pile of paper scraps, on which are his late-night scribblings. Some of them are poetry; some of them are journalistic observations; some of them are ill-advised, and even poorer-executed, attempts at creative fiction. Over his long life, he’s tried his hand at many things, the majority of which did not stick.

Some of them had stuck, though. Paintings of landscapes decorate the walls of the hallway. Logan had been taken completely by surprise when he’d attempted to recreate the view of the mountains from his window and found that he was calmed by the smooth strokes of the brush. By his own standards (which are, admittedly, not up to par of those of an artist), the paintings aren’t bad. He doesn’t have much use for art, but he finds them pleasing to look at, so he hangs them on the wall.

The second bedroom has another bed. As far as Logan remembers, it’s never been anyone’s, and he wonders why it’s there. Had it been made for someone, once?

-

Logan likes when it rains. For one, because of the cloud cover, he doesn’t have to worry about the sunlight if he chooses to go out. He doesn’t mind the sharp drop in temperature whenever it rains, either, because he can huddle beside the brick fireplace with a book and a blanket, and the tapping of the rain on the wooden roof makes for the perfect white noise while he reads.

Logan’s mind tunes it out the first time, but the second time, it’s much louder. He lets out a minute exhale, setting his book aside on the coffee table. His joints protest—they always stiffen when cold weather rolls around. He shrugs the blanket off, laying it neatly over the back of the couch.

Who on earth would it be knocking on his door, in the middle of nowhere, in the pouring rain? As far back as he can remember, he’s never had any visitors, not even the accidental traveller who got lost in the forest. He’s so far from civilization that someone would have to come here on purpose… or else they are very, very far out of their way.

The door sticks in the frame as he tries to open it, having swollen from the humidity of the rain. Finally Logan manages to open the door wide enough to see the person standing on his doorstep.

The first thing he notices is that they’re absolutely drenched, from their bedraggled purple hair, hanging in their eyes and dripping water onto their cheeks, to the visibly soaked black leather boots that stop midway up their shins. They stand, stance uneven, hands tucked as deep as they can go into the pockets of their jacket, but it’s clearly not waterproof either, judging from the way their whole body shakes when they shiver.

Logan’s predisposition to be annoyed at a total stranger encroaching on his space vanishes as he takes in exactly how pathetic they look, sopping wet and helpless as they drip onto his porch.

“I assume you’re seeking shelter?” he says, although it’s really more of a statement than a question.

“P-please,” the human pleads through chattering teeth.

Logan sighs. “Alright, come inside.” He ushers them in. He has to push harder on the door than usual to get it to close, as it again sticks in the frame, but it latches, and he throws the lock into place.

Logan turns to the human. “Take those off.” He gestures to their boots and their jacket. The human complies, pulling back their wet hair out of their face, and he catches a glimpse of two heterochromatic eyes staring at him in green and purple. (Alright, perhaps not completely human—he’s never seen a full-blooded human with purple eyes.) He examines their shirt, which is marginally drier than their coat had been, but not by much, and it’s probably better to simply get them into a fresh change of clothes than expect them to dry naturally. “Stay here.” They nod, settling into a sitting position on the floor of his living room.

Logan returns a few minutes later with a bundle of dry clothes picked from his own closet. “The bathroom is upstairs. Enter the first door on the left.” He hands it to the human.

They smile with what he imagines is probably gratefulness. “Thank you.”

Logan takes his place next to the fire once more, picking up where he left off in his book.

-

He smells them before he sees them. Being a vampire has awarded Logan with a keen sense of smell, but the rain had made it difficult for him to note their scent. He picks it up now, a pleasant, a strong scent of woodfire with hints of… hm, cinnamon. They approach tentatively, socked feet muffling their footsteps to an almost silent quality. They take a moment too long to figure out what to say, and so Logan looks up from his book.

“Better?”

“Uh, yes. Thanks.” The human tries unsuccessfully to conceal their shiver with a shrug.

“This blanket is big enough for both of us.”

Their eyes widen. “Oh, uh, thanks.” Their face reddens. “I guess I wasn’t hiding that very well, was I?” They sit on the floor next to him.

“Not at all,” Logan says with a small smirk. He wraps the blanket around their shoulders. “What brings you here?” he asks after a few minutes pass in silence.

“I was… out looking for herbs. I live in a village that’s on the edge of this forest. Uh, one of them. Somewhere.”

Logan raises an eyebrow. “From your apparent lack of herbs, I take it you were unsuccessful?”

The human groans. “Yeah, I, uh, I lost my bag in the forest somewhere. I slipped and fell in the rain trying to find shelter and I didn’t notice I dropped it.”

“What were you looking for?” Logan asks.

“Oh, well, I have anxiety, and I have trouble sleeping sometimes. When I make heather into a tea, it seems to help.” They look away.

“Witch?” Logan says.

“Who’s asking?” They side-eye him suspiciously.

“Vampire,” Logan supplies helpfully.

To his surprise, they don’t back away, and they don’t flinch. Logan doesn’t have much contact with humans, but he’d assumed all humans were taught to be scared of vampires. Instead, their gaze takes on a shade of understanding. “Ah. Yes, then, witch.” They offer their hand out to him. “I’m Virgil.”

“Logan,” he offers in return. Virgil’s hand has a slight roughness against his palm.

“So, Logan, what brings you here?” Virgil asks with a half-smirk.

“I don’t… recall.” Unbidden, his brows furrow. “The human mind is only equipped to hold on to a finite amount of information, memory included, and I’ve lived for long enough that my oldest memories have been discarded.”

The look of understanding in Virgil’s eyes deepens, and something about that, being known and understood, makes Logan vaguely uncomfortable. “How much have you forgotten?”

“I only recall the past few hundred years of being a vampire. I don’t have anything from when I used to be human.” Logan aggressively averts his eyes, choosing not to acknowledge that Virgil is perceiving him on a level he’s never experienced.

“Oh. That sucks.”

“I suppose.” Logan gazes at the flickering fire. “I don’t know what I’m missing, and I don’t know if that makes it better or worse.”

“Are you alone here? Not that it’s… well, any of my business.”

“Yes. And, when the rain ceases, I will be again.”

Virgil seems to understand the implication, falling silent, and Logan’s eyes return to his book.

-

The rain does not cease the next day, nor the day after that. It’s been hundreds of years since Logan last saw rain this heavy in these parts of the woods. Whatever material had been used to seal the wood together must be miraculously hardy, because it doesn’t leak.

Virgil keeps to themself, having taken up residence in Logan’s spare bedroom. They keep the door open, and a few times he’s walked past and caught a glimpse of Virgil, well, doing magic. He’s met witches before, but they tend to be somewhat secretive, and whatever relationships he’s maintained with them have tended to be strictly business, so their displays of magic are few and far between. With Virgil, however, it seems to flow out of them as naturally as they expel carbon dioxide from their lungs when they breathe.

“I’ve seen you watching me.” Logan jumps, turning suddenly to see Virgil smirking at him from the armchair in the corner of the living room. “You’re curious about my magic, right?”

“Yes,” Logan admits, adjusting his glasses. No point in pretending after Virgil caught him red-handed.

“I can show you?” Virgil tilts their head in a come here? gesture. Logan sits on the sofa. “I’m not really that powerful or anything, I’ve just got, like, the basic magic talent, but I guess that’s impressive to anyone who’s not a witch, right?” As they speak, their hands begin to glow faintly purple, and the light reflecting almost makes it look as though their eyes are glowing too. Virgil holds out a hand to Logan, who stares at it. “Here, take my hand for a second? Trust me.” Logan cautiously takes the extended hand, and he shudders as a small shock of warmth instantly shoots through his body, involuntarily pulling away. “Cool, right?”

“I…” Logan pauses. “It is… interesting.”

“Do you have any special powers or anything?” Virgil asks, twirling around their still-glowing hands in a mesmerizing pattern that draws Logan’s gaze as if he was hypnotized. “You know, as a vampire?”

“Nothing you wouldn’t expect,” Logan answers, and then wonders why he’s telling all this to a complete stranger. “I have rudimentary dark vision. I don’t need to sleep every night, and I have the ability to go much longer without feeding than most creatures do, but the limit seems to be around two weeks.”

“Let me guess, you’ve tested it?” Virgil says, and while their tone is teasing, Logan gets the impression that they genuinely want to know.

“Yes,” he responds, more flustered than he would prefer to acknowledge that this human has been able to read him like a book.

“Why am I not surprised?” Virgil laughs. The sound is pleasant. “Vampires don’t actually burn in sunlight, right? That seems… really inconvenient.”

“Ah, no. That is a common misconception. From my experience, I simply tend to sunburn much more easily than the average human.”

“I can relate,” Virgil says, gesturing to their exposed skin, which is quite pale.

The conversation has rolled to a slow stop, and Logan fishes around for something else to say before it gets awkward. “Have you been sleeping alright?”

Virgil blinks, frowning. “Oh, uh, yeah. I didn’t think you’d remember that? When I said I have insomnia. I thought you said your memory was bad?” They raise one eyebrow.

“Unfortunately, that only applies to autobiographical memories. When it comes to objective fact, my memory is perfect. …How have you been sleeping?”

Virgil plays with the sleeve of their jacket. “Oh, you know… Not well,” they admit. “But it’s, it’s fine, y’know? I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be,” Logan says with a gentleness that surprises even himself. “I would prefer for you to be able to go home, but, as the rain doesn’t seem as though it will cease anytime soon—as long as you are under my roof, I would like for you to be comfortable. Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Virgil tilts their head as they look at him, like his confession has shifted something in the way they think about him. “Uh, nothing I can think of at the moment. I used to have a cat, once, and I think having something else breathing and warm next to me helped… but I’m not asking you to, uh, cuddle with me or anything. I, uh…” Virgil sighs. “No, nothing I can think of.”

“Alright.” Logan studies Virgil. “Is there anyone waiting for you in your village?”

“No, it’s just me. I’m all alone. Kinda like you, I guess.” Virgil offers Logan an awkward half-smile. “Guess we can be, uh, alone, together?”

Logan mirrors with an equally as awkward half-smile. “Yes, I suppose.” Sensing the conversation had come to its end, he gets to his feet. What was it again that he had come down the stairs to do…?

-

Logan, in his own opinion, has been doing well at ignoring the nagging pain in his temples. It tends to occur when he's particularly hungry and has gone too long without eating. He’d been running low on blood before the storm had hit, but he’d assumed he would’ve been able to obtain more before he’d gotten to the “starving” stage. He was incorrect, and the pain had been getting worse every day in the last week. But he’s doing fine.

Which is why it comes as such a surprise when he wakes up on the floor of his bedroom to see Virgil peering down at him.

“You okay?” Virgil asks uncertainly.

“What happened?” Logan asks. At that moment, he’d been trying to sit up, and simply finds that he cannot—he’s too weak.

Virgil’s eyes narrow. “I’m going to hazard a guess, based on how pale you look right now, that you haven’t eaten the entire time I’ve been here, for whatever reason, and you just collapsed from hunger. Does that sound about right?”

“Perhaps,” Logan admits reluctantly. “But I'm fine.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Virgil says as Logan fails to sit up a second time.

“I don’t need help.” He manages to very slowly clamber to his feet, but the moment he takes a step forward, he teeters again, and, to his embarrassment, Virgil catches him.

“Yeah, you do,” Virgil says with the most firmness Logan has heard them use. “Why haven’t you eaten?”

Logan, accepting that he can’t excuse his way out of this—for some reason, Virgil seems to care about his wellbeing—sighs. “I ran out.”

Virgil’s eyebrows rise. “Oh, great, I can help with that.” In his relatively ill state, it takes Logan a moment to realize that Virgil pulled their jacket down off of their shoulder and is baring their neck to him.

“No,” he says, forcefully pushing away from Virgil and attempting to seem as though he’s found his balance.

“Why not?” Virgil is the picture of innocence, eyes big and head slightly tilted to one side.

“Because…” Logan growls in frustration.

“Got some internalized vamp-phobia in there?” Virgil prods gently.

“I do not wish to harm you,” Logan says softly.

“Have you hurt somebody before?”

“Well, no…”

“Then why do you think you might hurt me?” Virgil gets closer.

“I’ve never fed from a living being before”—as far as I know—“how can I be sure I wouldn’t hurt you? What if I couldn’t control myself?”

“Logan.” Virgil snorts. “I’m a witch. I may be pretty low-level, but I can defend myself.” They hold up their finger, and a small flame erupts out of it before extinguishing. “If it came down to it, I’d stop you before you hurt me.” Virgil once again exposes their neck, and Logan tears his eyes away from it and back up to theirs. “Logan. You’re starving. Let me help you.”

“Fine,” Logan says finally. “But we should move to somewhere more comfortable.”

-

“I’m ready whenever you are.” Virgil, for once not wearing their jacket, waits patiently on the couch. Logan nods, sitting next to them. In such close proximity to Virgil’s neck, he can feel his fangs extend in his mouth. He takes a deep breath before biting.

Almost immediately, Logan gets a rush of energy, and he reminds himself that he needs to pay full attention to what he’s doing to ensure that he can control himself.

Virgil, to their credit, doesn’t make a single sound the entire time Logan is drinking their blood. Their eyes open slowly and alight on Logan with a drowsy sort of languidness, not quite focused.

“Are you alright?” Logan asks softly.

“Hm?” Virgil stares at him for a moment. “Oh, yeah. That didn’t hurt as badly as I was expecting it to.”

“No?” Logan’s brows furrow.

“No, it was kind of nice,” Virgil smiles. “Is there some sort of calming agent in that vampire saliva of yours?”

“I, I’m not sure.” It isn’t something he’d ever considered before, but it certainly would make it easier for a vampire to feed.

Would that mean it was a form of nonconsensual drugging? He certainly hadn’t gotten Virgil’s permission for that, only to feed from him to keep Logan from starving. Surely this then went beyond the bounds of that agreement—

“Hey.” Virgil lightly pats Logan’s hand. “What’re you overthinking about. I know that look. I own that look.”

“Do you feel violated?” Logan blurts.

“What?” Virgil laughs. “Logan, what are you talking about?”

“I can’t help but think you may be onto something with the saliva hypothesis…”

“Aaand now you think you drugged me? You didn’t know.” Virgil leans up against Logan, more in the way a pet wants to be near its owner than in a struggling to hold themself upright way. “Not your fault.”

“I… suppose…” It’s taking most of Logan’s concentration to string together words into sentences with Virgil’s warm body up against his much colder one. “What are you… doing?”

“Hm?”

“What are you doing?” Logan repeats.

“Oh.” Virgil notices they’ve pressed themself up against Logan. “I wanted to be… near you?” they say shyly. “I think, like alcohol, vamp saliva can’t really make me do anything I didn’t already want to, just makes me less anxious about it. Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” Logan says quickly, mind stuck on Virgil wanting to be near him. “You’re warm.”

Virgil smirks. “Let me guess, you’re cold-blooded?”

“Perhaps,” Logan replies, a small smirk of his own slipping unbidden onto his face.

“That works just fine for me.”

Logan’s book is still on the end table where he’d left it last, and he can just barely reach it from here. Virgil grumbles softly when he jostles them, so he does his best to stay still once he can hold the book on his lap.

After about half an hour, it occurs to Logan that Virgil has been very quiet and very still. Sure enough, they've fallen asleep tucked into his side. He has the very bewildering realization that, not only does he enjoy Virgil’s warmth, not only is the pressure of Virgil’s body against his own calming, but a part of him feels some sort of affection for this human that he's known less than a week. And… he realizes he's going to miss them when they leave.

-

Virgil ends up sleeping for four hours—they must have really needed the rest. Logan’s finished his book and is a few chapters into rereading it by the time they begin to stir.

“Did I fall asleep?” they ask, voice rough, and Logan is overtaken by an unprecedented surge of… fondness?

“Yes,” he says, resisting the urge to kiss their forehead—what is happening?

Logan has never needed anyone else, he has been fine on his own this entire time, and he will be fine again when they leave.

“And you let me do that?” Virgil cranes their neck around to look at him, clearly perplexed. If Logan had to guess, judging by their demeanor, he would say that the calming effects of his saliva have worn off at least most of the way, if not entirely.

“You're warm,” he says again.

Virgil shrugs. “Fair enough, I guess.” They settle again, this time with their head on his shoulder. Their soft purple hair brushes against his neck in a pleasant way. “Feeling better with some blood in your system?”

“Yes, thank you.” The fang marks on Virgil’s neck are crusted with dried blood. “I would like to clean your neck.”

“Oh, yeah, alright.”

Virgil sits on the closed lid of the toilet, and Logan runs warm water over a rag. They wince, hissing slightly through their teeth when he touches the bite marks, and he pulls away.

“Tell me if I'm hurting you,” Logan says, making sure to look Virgil in the eye.

“Yeah.” They nod, and he wipes away the crusted blood as gently as he can. “Hey, Logan?”

“Mm?”

“I think one of my ancestors knew you.”

Logan’s hand stills for a moment. “What?”

“Her name was Cassidy. Do you…?”

Logan shakes his head. “Like I told you before, I don't have many memories from before I was on my own. …Why do you think she might’ve known me?”

“My mother used to tell me stories, passed down on her mother’s side of the family, about a strange, kind man with gray eyes who came from the woods. She was a witch, much more powerful than me. You were her friend, I think. Helped her with potions and stuff, back when the villagers came to her asking for her to heal their sicknesses. Now we have modern medicine, y'know, so I mostly practice for, well, myself…” They trail off.

“It's possible.” The odds are probably low that there's another kind gray-eyed vampire living in these woods. “It's likely.”

Virgil stays quiet for the few minutes it takes Logan to finish cleaning the wound. “That's not really necessary,” they attempt when he reaches for the bandages.

Logan raises an eyebrow. “I don't want you getting an infection because of me.”

“Yeah, alright,” Virgil relents in an exaggeratedly begrudging way. “If you insist.” They sit still, allowing him to loosely wrap a length of bandage around their neck. “Satisfied?”

“Yes,” Logan says.

That night, while Logan is painting, Virgil appears in his doorway, blinking in the low light.

“Hey. Sorry.”

“What is it?” Logan turns away from his canvas.

“I can't sleep,” they admit. One of their hands grips the doorframe as they squint in the direction of his voice in the dark.

Logan carefully sets down his paintbrush. “You would like me to stay with you.” It isn't a question.

“Uh, yeah. Please? If that's alright.”

Logan brushes past Virgil, taking their hand to lead them down the hallway to the spare bedroom. It simply makes the most sense, considering he can see in the dark and they cannot.

-

The next day, the rain stops.

Virgil joins Logan at the kitchen window. “Storm’s finally passed, you think?”

“Yes, I suppose,” Logan says. “I should walk you back to your village.”

“Aw, you wanna make sure I get back safe?” Virgil smirks.

“Yes,” Logan says with an honesty that surprises himself. He refuses to look at Virgil, and they ascend the stairs a few minutes later to grab their meager belongings.

It takes the both of them to figure out the way back to Virgil’s village. With the wet ground, they each have at least one moment where they almost slip in the mud and have to grab onto the other for purchase. Logan marks the trees with a dab of bright blue from his paintbrush as they pass so he can find his way home.

“Well, here’s me,” Virgil says, gesturing to a small hut. Judging by its size, it only has a single room, and it’s not run-down, exactly, but it’s not in the best shape either. The heavy rain lasting the past week clearly hasn’t helped. “Thanks for, well, everything.”

Logan nods stiffly, and Virgil smiles at him before turning away.

“Wait.”

Virgil freezes. They turn slowly to look at him, and Logan realizes it’d been himself who’d spoken.

“I don’t… want you to go,” he admits with great difficulty.

“No?” Virgil asks softly. Logan almost thinks they sound hopeful.

“I thought I was fine being on my own, because I couldn’t remember a time when I hadn’t been, but now that I have to go back to it… I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Logan, eyes fixed on his shoes, is taken by surprise when Virgil throws their arms around him, but it’s a pleasant surprise, a relief.

“I don’t really wanna go back either,” they mumble into his shoulder. “I thought that’s what you wanted, and I was gonna go back to the village for you, because I thought that was what you wanted.”

“I want you to stay with me,” Logan says into Virgil’s hair.

“That works just fine for me.”

[lilidawnonthemoon]

[dolicekiss]

Hello there,

If you are still taking in requests, I thought I'd just leave this here. Could you potentially do a Hannibal Lecter x reader one-shot/headcanons (it's up to you) where they used to be lovers. But when the reader caught wind of Hannibal not exactly being a normal, she practically dissappeared from his life entirely. Now, years later, he sees the reader in Baltimore at an art gallery or something (idk maybe the reader is an artist herself or just a guest?) And it just re-sparks some sort of deep longing (yandere vibes???) within Hannibal.

Just a thought.

♡: i love this idea, its fr gonna awaken the poet in me. i hope u like it and it was up to your expectations (fear of disappointing ppl goes hard)

An ache for art

YANDERE HANNIBAL HEADCANON

PAIRING: Yandere!Hannibal x Artist!Reader

CONTENT WARNING: Yandere hannibal, mentions of kidnapping, forced (?) kissing, persistant hannibal, not much, only obsessed hannibal who wants his woman back

SYNOPSIS: When you abandoned Hannibal Lecter, he searched for answers everywhere in his desperation for you. Oblivious to the fact that you'd caught onto the abnormalities of the man. Years later at an art gallery, Hannibal finds solace in the painings presented before you and when he finds out you're the creator, a spark is once again lightened.

An art gallery in Baltimore was the last destination of all places in the world where Hannibal expected to find you.

When he'd asked to see the artist that had performed such a spectacular job at capturing human longing — akin to his, under the stroke of a brush, he didn't expect it to be you.

And you surely didn't expect to meet him. Yet here you were, nervousness heaving on you like cemented blocks.

You'd abandoned him under the fear that you might become his next victim. A voice inside you prevented you from informing the authorities but your morals could not allow you to stay with a man like him.

Especially after realizing he must've fed you human remains, on one of his special dinner nights. Torn between your love for him and the need to escape, you never looked back.

Hannibal tried searching for you, everywhere. He thought you two were soulmates, meant to be forever. You'd climbed the walls that he had always kept higher and higher.

Just why did you leave then? Had he done something so severe that you had to disappear from his life? Leaving your job behind, your life behind in Florence and never appearing in front of him ever again.

“Hannibal.” Your voice a whisper. He could taste the way his name unfurled on your tongue.

For a man that in complete control of his emotions and what he felt, he couldn't contain his excitement and happiness upon at the sight of you.

Hannibal stepped closer to you, a smile causing the wrinkles to appear. The same wrinkles you once used to adore.

“Beautiful art, I must say.”

You nodded, accepting his compliment, a small smile on your lips. You felt no discomfort or resentment in his presence. Only thing left were the beautiful memories of a healthy relationship.

The rest of the evening was spent together. You showed him around the gallery, explaining subtle details of your art to him albeit that wasn't necessary as Hannibal read right through your gentle brush strokes.

Though he was more interested in the art that strolled alongside him. A beautiful sight in her glory, flourishing once more like the petals of a sunflower.

Hannibal had an ache. An ache to consume art but you were the type of art he felt full just by catching sight of. He couldn't satiate these cravings you'd left him with.

After your departure, Hannibal killed and he killed. Yet no one could even compare to what you made him feel.

You were responsible for the deaths of multiple innocents, because you chose to leave him with an ache. Hannibal wondered how you'd feel if you were to find out.

He wished for the time to stop. That everything would come to a halt and you'd stay frozen right before his gaze.

Nowhere to go, nowhere to run to. Only available to him, only before his very eyes.

If it came down to it, Hannibal would not shy away from denying you of your freedom.

As you both reached a secluded corner in the gallery, the tension like a pendulum hung in the air above your heads.

Unanswered questions probed at Hannibal from within. He needed to know why you'd left — just what had scared you away to the point of no return?

Somewhere he knew. Deep in his heart, he was aware that this abrupt abandonment had everything to do with his own sickly desires.

“Why?”

You knew it was coming and it did. You couldn't tell him you knew about his little murder sprees or how he fed you human flesh.

You tried to walk away from the suffocating conversation but Hannibal couldn't allow that. Hand grasping around your arm, his tight prevention scaring you.

“Hannib—”

“I won't let you leave this time.” He longed for you, he never stopped to begin with. Everyday he'd come to his house and find it empty, it felt like needles prickled his chest.

He missed you roaming the premises of his humble abode, dressed in one of his button downs. Casting a meaningful light over the painted walls and furniture.

His grip was tight. You saw the sheer determination so instead of causing a scene, it was best to continue the conversation someplace better.

Like a coffee shop.

Sitting before him with a cup of coffee in your hand, you stared at him. Hannibal was never fond of such small cafes on the roadside — he preferred lavish and rich restaurants.

“I know, Hannibal.”

That was all he needed to know that you were well aware. His face falling but there was no expression on his face at all. Like he'd expected this.

“Was it that easy to abandon me?”

A stinging sensation spread in your chest at his sorrow filled question. Of course it wasn't easy. You'd spent a whole year in complete isolation after parting from him.

Hannibal caught onto the painful expression, akin to his. He wished that he was different too, more like you and not the cannibalistic murderer he was.

But some instincts could not be controlled.

“Come back to me.”

You could not. To step all over your moral conscience required strong will which you did not possess.

“I can't. It will never work, Hannibal.”

Hannibal noticed the reluctance in your gaze, his own darkening. Plans to keep you by his side already forming in his cunning mind.

There was no limit he wouldn't cross for you. Whether it was manipulating you back into his life or kidnapping you, he didn't want to back out.

You picked up your bag and after sparing him one last glance, left the cafe. Bells ringing against his ears, notifying him of your exit.

Hannibal was in disarray. He needed to have you, he had to have you. There was no way he could sit idle and watch you leave him.

So he followed you, pressing you up against your car. Lips working hastily to captivate yours, as he fought the string of dark emotions inside him.

You almost melted.

Him being the only man that could make you feel like this. A bittersweet kiss which acted as the closure you never received from him.

Hannibal’s frame locked you in, his hands roaming down to your waist. He kissed you with vigor, with profound strength like you could disappear at any given moment.

Your hands stayed by your sides, lacking the courage to slither them across his nape.

The kiss heated – his lips sucking yours and then he attempted to enter your mouth. You didn't let him. Persistent you were.

Hannibal pulled back from the kiss and breathed against your lips.

You soon realized what you were doing, in who you were investing and you pushed him off you.

Hannibal loved the feeling of your small hands over his chest. The way you still tasted the same even after years had passed.

“Don't ever come in front of me again.”

He didn't like the venom in your tone and he sure as hell wasn't going to let you go like before.

Hannibal watched you leave in your car and sighed, his fingertips running along his own lips. Remnants of your saliva bringing him to the brink of insanity.

He would do anything to have you.

And if that meant going against your will, so be it.

[fridayth13]

Could I request Zhongli reuniting with his wife after the two had a falling out 500 years ago?

crushed cor lapis.

↳ zhongli × gn!immortal!artist!reader

↳ part one, part two

↳ genre: soft angst at the beginning, but it's mostly bittersweet | wordcount: 1.6k | warnings: none

↳ notes: i ended up with less angst than i thought i would have. but i did want to explore the thought of time passage and fighting for people who are going to live forever, even if it's subtle; reader is immortal and implied to be an adeptus or a god, but the kind isn't very important; ive had an idea for zhongli and an artist reader for a long time so i tried to combine it i hope you don't mind; as with the gender. i did write with a fem!reader in mind as per the request but in the end, the gender didn't need to be specified for anything so i left it gender neutral; i tried to give reader a more divine disposition about them so the writing ended up really flowery, but in any case i hope you enjoy! i really did have fun writing this one

You were a painter.

In your old life, as you liked to call it, however, you were a god. Your domain of influence laid in artistry and beauty.

Or rather, that was what Morax used to tell you. Archons like him were the only beings in Teyvat with real domains of influence. But you wouldn't really stop him if that was his way of calling you pretty.

That was about five hundred years ago. Nowadays was a very different story.

You crushed the yellow berries in your mortar and pestle to turn into paint for tomorrow's commission.

You liked your job in Liyue Harbor. As quaint and.. human as it was, you thought there was divinity to be found in the painstaking recreation of the things around you. Though a painting couldn't rival a Kamera in terms of accuracy, you were certain it completely surpassed the device in most other things.

You slowed your movements, surveying the consistency of the paint and the color. That would probably do. You'd collected quite a lot, so you supposed it was time to head back. All you were really lacking earlier was yellow.

And so you trekked on home from the terraces, skipping over stumps of cor lapis and sunset-painted grass along your way.

As you finally reached your home in the harbor, the sun had fully gone down. The lanterns lit, casting the entire city in a soft, warm glow. The neighboring waters reflected the deep blue of the sky and the speckles of rust and gold adorning every building in sight.

You opened your door and you thought of Morax, wondering if he knew five hundred years ago what beauty would settle upon his previously war torn nation. Leaning on the doorframe, you watched over it for a while. Children playing, kites flying, dinner being prepared, laughter and joy running amok.

You don't like to think about him too much, or how his silence is present in every part of the city that was all him, despite having nothing to do with him any longer. No matter how much time had passed, you seemed stuck in the first night he decided not to apologize.

Still, five hundred years was a long time. Although it felt like the blink of an eye, even immortals had to move on eventually.

You gathered your materials inside and closed the door behind you.

—

The mountains may erode, but they will always be mountains.

You recalled his own words as you saw him again for the first time in five hundred years.

A human-sized Rex Lapis stood before you, hands behind his back, dressed to the nines, pristine, and put together, and perfect, and not at all like he ought to have seemed like at your first meeting in several centuries. Though at the very same time, you couldn't imagine him looking any other way.

You bitterly savored the way he avoided your eyes in front of his boss.

"So this is him!" She said. The lively Director Hu Tao of the local funeral parlor was Rex Lapis's boss. You tried not to laugh. "Our new consultant, Mr. Zhongli."

You set your canvas down onto its easel, then the bulk of your dyes and paints on the floor. You did this without averting your eyes, as if trying to burn him if he ever had the nerve to look back at you.

He did not. And to her credit, it seemed Hu Tao noticed it as well. So as not to make your client too uncomfortable, you decided to take a step towards them.

"Mr. Zhongli." You said. With the proximity you put between you, he had no choice but to look back at you. Not a lot changed about him in human form, but by far, his eyes were the most the same. Down to the hard, intense stare, and the set of his brows. You wondered how many other people in Liyue he'd enchanted with them while he was busy avoiding you.

"Mr. Zhongli?" You repeated, a little less amused. Though you somewhat enjoyed how stupefied he looked at your appearance, you'd endured his silence long enough. "My name is Y/N. It's an honor to meet you here."

This seemed to regain him his senses. That, or Hu Tao's suspicious back and forth glances between the two of you.

Zhongli cleared his throat.

"..The honor is mine."

Hu Tao nodded, seeming satisfied for now. She clapped her hands together in excitement, turning to you.

"Alright! I suppose I'll leave you to it then. I have complete faith that you'll be able to depict the poise and elegance of my esteemed consultant."

You gave her your best half smile.

"Well, I'll try."

"No need to be modest! I've seen your work before. You're one of, if not the best, painter in Liyue. Just ask Mr. Zhongli! He's been very taken with your paintings even before we first met. He speaks very highly of you."

You crossed your arms. "You don't say?"

Five hundred years or the blink of an eye, you could still see his embarrassment without him having to say a word.

—

Director Hu Tao had business to take care of for the funeral parlor, and so left with a flourish, and a "Make sure to get his good side!" as she ran off.

You both continued to speak as civilians for a little while. He sat down at a table on the porch, a steaming pot of tea on said table between you. Your face was obscured to him through the thick white canvas.

Avoiding conversation was easy, but not. Comfortable, but not. Natural, but not. It shouldn't have been. As such was the nature of a marriage to the Geo Archon, you supposed. Or rather, the current lack thereof. But even that was up in airs.

"How.. How have you been?"

Your responding glare was unseen to him, but he heard it in the vitreous tone of your reply.

"Fine." You said. "Something must've happened to you though. Your eloquence seems to have disappeared into thin air."

"..You are still upset. I see."

"In what world would I be upset, Mr. Zhongli?" Your use of his mortal name created a crease in his brow. You gently brushed over it on his painting.

"I didn't think you'd want to see me."

"You still could've asked." You muttered, momentarily leaning sideways to look him in the eye. "For someone so revered for his wisdom, your brain still seems to be as hard as rocks."

You caught his surprised expression as you turned back to the canvas. You didn't allow him another word.

"Honestly, who ghosts their own spouse after an argument like that? You'd think the best time would be after.. five hours. Five days. Maybe five weeks after. Not five centuries—"

You caught him mumble, "Well, it's not as if you tried to talk to me either."

"I didn't think I needed to. You made it very clear you wanted me to leave you to die in the Archon War all on your heroic lonesome."

When he didn't respond, you snuck a glance.

The sun's rays were at the precipice of turning gold in its descent into the sea. The glow smeared his porcelain cheeks in amber, his eyes in glitter, the metallic components of his suit in light. He looked like a monument. Tall, statuesque, and lonely. Almost like his mountainous true form. More beautiful than even his numerous statues across Liyue could capture. More than you could capture. Though you did certainly try.

Annoyed and angrily pining as you were, you still tried to get his eyes right. The little flecks of rust against gold. Like cuts of cor lapis crushed to shimmering powder in the Archon's hand. A man of his own making.

You looked at Zhongli as the golden hour faded, slowly turning dusky pink. His eyes swam in wistfulness as he stared out at the harbor. You couldn't help the dull twinge of sorrow deep in the pit of your stomach.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."

You didn't know how to follow up. You weren't entirely sure what you were apologizing for. But it felt nice to hear it back from him.

When he finally looked back at you, you were tracing the rich scarlet of his eyeliner onto the canvas.

At some point, he turned on the lamp and set it down beside you while you worked on the finishing touches.

"You're better than I remember." He whispered like he thought you couldn't hear him.

You weren't sure what to say to that either. You just kept painting.

—

"This doesn't change anything. I'm still angry with you."

"Of course."

Zhongli never seemed to run out of tea. Despite not having brewed a new pot throughout your stay, the one on the table continued to steam, its aroma wafting leisurely throughout the room. When he offered you a cup after you left the canvas out to dry, you let yourself take it. You allowed him a calmer response when he spoke.

"This may upset you a bit more, but I am also somewhat bothered you never tried to talk to me."

"So we are at an impasse."

Of course, it did occur to you that you were both being hardheaded and moronic. But you were comforted by a few things.

"It would seem so." Zhongli nodded.

"Or maybe not." You quipped, glancing pointedly at an old painting on the wall. "You seem to have been stalking me, Mr. Zhongli."

"I think stalking might be a slight exaggeration."

"Oh, really."

Even as the mountains erode over the centuries, from the dust, they are fated to reform anew.

dividers from @clutteredfun

[cosmicyeen]

Something very interesting to consider is how art, especially art that reflects real world subjects & scenes is inherently derived from the structure of our eyes & the way our brains interpret that info.

We see things so specifically, even beyond just a certain color/light intensity range; certain magnifications/focal points, certain FOVs, certain depth perceptions, certain visual acuity, tiny details like polarized light appearing as white or the differences between artistic interpretations with and without astigmatism or visual snow etc.

And this is cool enough to think about when interpreting human art, but something i wonder is what visual art would look like from a completely alien view. If we came across the remains of a lost alien culture and the only thing left was their art, would we even be able to tell what the subjects are at first? perhaps we can recognize them, but they're distorted, the original intention lost forever, maybe partially recoverable through intense study and recreation but never fully.

What if there are pigments on their world that look the same to us but look vastly different to them?

what if they have vastly different visual acuities and spend time on details we would never see with tools far finer than any human could use, or the reverse, art that's always slightly too fuzzy to us?

what if they paint a water scene and instead of the bright white of reflected light, there are unique colors for the polarization?

strange colors in paintings that don't seem to correlate to real objects until we notice they were painting their interpretation of infrared vision.

Subjects that seem slightly off because their vision locks in on movement in the moment, and you realize those subjects are emphasized on an axis you can't really comprehend

art that's distorted, zoomed too far in or out, or subjects painted to show more sides at once compared to what one would expect of most human art that's not intentionally playing with that dimension.

art on curved surfaces that is supposed to be viewed all at once but is impossible to fit in a human's visual range in the intended way

Light and dark shades being inexplicably switched around as though they process that distinction completely differently

There's so many possibilities it's mind boggling

[wolven91]

The Artist's Eye

"Why does it look so strange?" Asked the noble, tilting his head one way, then the other.

"I believe it's wider than it should be. I have a summer home that has those buildings in the background there..." A scaled, clawed hand points at the backdrop of the portrait. "The buildings are far thinner in real life. Everything is wider than it should be." Claimed the second noble, another male whose tongue briefly flicked out from between his scaled lips and lapped at the blue liquid in his delicate glass.

The pair of them continued to observe the giant portrait painting of an ursidain general. It was unheard of, and completely novel. A painting! With oils and hand-crafted hues and paints. If one leaned in, and observed the collection from the side, one could even see the uneven strokes and application of the paints against a canvas. The subject didn't matter, the ursidain was practically unheard of, but his commissioned painted was on loan to the ssypno people for a gallery event, featuring a human artist.

His style was unknown, his methods unorthodox to the point of being unheard of outside of ancient texts that describe using chintian fur brushes.

"Wider? I would say this would be the wrong portrait to observe if we are wanting to check if the human's eye adds inches to the subjects girth!" Tittered the noble, gesturing at the rotund ursidain. Unbeknownst to them, the general had been delighted at his portrait and only at the promise he could have another done, did he relinquish possession of his painting.

The two nobles approached another painting, this one of a member of House Sa'vurn. 'The Promised Daughter', one 'Desh Sa'vurn', the people's favourite.

The two nobles joined a third, a female who was coiled directly in front of it.

"Her eyes are rather alive, don't you think?" The noble asked openly, drawing the two male's attention. It was true, Desh's eyes followed them. One of the males felt judged, as if the people's favourite Sa'vurn had found him wanting, whilst the other found them angry, as she were posed to strike him.

"If you observe each of his subjects, they are all observed in one fashion or another, but it is their eyes where he has put in more detail than other artists." The noble observed.

"Why? I would know more of the subject if her body posture made sense. Her shoulders are back, but her tail coiled? Her hood is flared yet not a dot of heat."

"Of course there's no heat, it is an oil painting." The lady sighed, pointing out the obvious. "We are observing what the human sees."

"No heat? Boring." Moaned the judged male.

"Fascinating I say. We are stripped down to our most basic parts. There is no lying when standing in in front of his easel. He ignores or is blind to our attempts to show our heat, to radiate what we want others to perceive." Extrapolated the lady noble, referencing how almost every single ssypno in the gallery was displaying as much heat as they could in their hoods, to show that they were successful and didn't need to conserve their heat. She frowned as she reached out, only to stop herself from touching the canvas.

"I do wonder why do many portions are left so dark?"

"I can answer that my lady." Came a lyrical voice from behind. The trio of ssypno turned at once and met the eye of an esquinine. He didn't flinch, or close one eyes, but met their gazes without fear in turn.

"I have been privy to the human's art from the beginning, he rented my loft when he arrived on our home world." Explained the long-faced empath.  "The portions that are dark to you, are actually a sea of different colours, but more in the hues of purples and dark blues. I'm afraid these are colours outside of your visual range."

The trio of large serpants turned back to the art and squinted, as if trying to force their vision to focus and draw forth a colour they'd never seen.

"It is one thing to know one has limited visual colours, it is another to stand before what we know is there and be unable to see it." The female noble lamented.

"Ugh, annoying. Why would he paint a ssypno with colours a ssypno can't see? Insulting."

"He paints for his own enjoyment; it just so happens that others consider this art worth money. Amazing than an artist is more creative when they aren't starving." Noted the esquinine before bowing curtly and leaving the ssypno behind. The esquinine meandered through and over the tails that trailed behind the various gallery patrons before slipping into a side down and strutting down a quiet hallway.

He came to a door, pressed his thumb to the reader then stepped inside.

The human was sat watching the screens.

"How's it going?" He asked, nervously nibbling on a nail. The esquinine stepped over and gently slapped the top of the human's hand, reminding him to stop with the nervous habit.

"Well. They still don't quite 'get' it, but then they are the upper crust. Dry and tasteless." Observed the empath, who turned to watch the screens as a crowd of ssypno tried to force their own world view onto art made by a wholly different species with a very different life to them.

"It's fun seeing ignorance get exposed over and over though..." Considered the esqunine, resting his head against a finger.

"Just because I see the world differently..." Mumbled the human, mildly frustrated.

"Galaxy, and I would be quick to point out they love to remind you, that you are smell blind. I think its rather justified to remind them that they are blind to a whole world of colours, no matter how rich they are." Pointed out the alien with a cold tone to the nobles.

"Body mods are a thing." Supplied the young man, considering how they could choose to have different eyes with their money.

"And admit they aren't perfect? They'd have an ice bath first." Came the esquinine's reply, without missing a beat, taking the human by surprise.

The human grinned and couldn't help but smile at the curt and cutting remarks of his closest ally, cheering him up immediately.

[zealofchronos]

i share ur struggle.. i ACHE for gepard or welt content so hopefully i could request for something like that? im js gonna throw a bunch of ideas and you can choose whichever

relationship hcs (what he’d be like, how does he show his love etc)

sleeping together (take this whichever way you want)

cooking together in the kitchen (im a whore for this stuff idk why😭)

bedroom hcs (kinks, fav positions, literally anything i need it so bad)

KISSING IN THE SNOW W GEPARD😞

anon i hope you know this ask gave me like 5000 braincells. like suddenly i am THINKING. it's so insane how one little ask full of random blurbs gave me so much life to write even just the smallest things.

literally welt and gepard are my two faves rn, i'm fr just waiting for jing yuan to come out. jing yuan my beloved <3<3

but anyway, as for this little ask, i think we'll ease into the hsr content with some fluff ( i am all due for it anyway, i have Not been writing and i also need the fluff because my god does life hit hard ) so sit tight >:)

love and cherishing you ♡ ;; various x gn!reader headcanons

content;- sfw , fluff , headcanons list , how some hsr boys show their love for you ♡♡ , overall just really fluffy because i need toothrotting stomach ache inducing head swirling sweet fluff sometimes... , nothing about getting together but just general hcs on what they'd be like in a relationship , reader is nooooot...? the trailblazer but could possibly be interpreted as such if you squint

characters inc:- welt yang , gepard landau ( includes post-belobog arc content, not extremely spoilery but take note that i chose after the jarillo-vi conclusion to open up more opportunities >:3 )

together with welt yang . . .

welt has lived life longer than perhaps anyone on the express, being from another world and used to living as the first ( second generation ) herrscher of reason, a herrscher that sided with humanity. he didn't expect to get sucked into another adventure, one where he'll meet many companions, see unbelievable sights or even... fall in love.

he's an old soul, yet his heart still has a grand passion for what he does. the fire within him burns, and perhaps, you stoke the flames. a motivation unlike any other to show you the wonders of the galaxy— of every world.

his love is not the most openly shown, an old man can be embarrassed sometimes. especially in the face of his family of the astral express. his affections for you are for you two only. his touches, his words, the little things that make sparks fly are all special and meant for your ears and eyes only. be it in the privacy of his room, or late nights when everyone else is fast asleep, he'll always find a way to make his love for you known when nobody else is looking.

time together with you is always time well spent. he enjoys it perhaps just a little more than going on adventures with everyone. you could be doing anything, and he wouldn't mind simply sitting in silence together with you. it's comforting, relaxing. it's moments like these where he gets to unwind with you. it's essentially a recharge— he doesn't even have to hold you ( but if you'd like that, he'd be more than happy to ).

he used to be an artist— an animation storyboard artist. his skills on paper would definitely outmatch the rest of the crew. he already likes to have his experiences captured in little drawings in his notebook. well, you happen to be one big, long lasting experience. one that he can't wait to see what more comes while experiencing it. you swear that you can catch him gazing at you every other day, and you always see his pencil moving across the papers in his book. inside are sketches of you in all your beauty, how he adores you, even complete with little notes about the things you like.

he wishes to show you the world, all there is to be seen across the entire galaxy. he will be there, to guide you, to accompany you. it's not that he doesn't trust the rest of the crew, but really, this is the closest thing to a date you've ever gotten. taking in the sights of new worlds, creating new memories together, and maybe getting tossed in a bit of trouble along the way. sure, it may be tiring or troublesome, but he wouldn't want to face it with anyone else.

those that come across him know him as welt yang, but this is the name he has inherited. he doesn't tell it often, perhaps, but at least you know him. the real him. he's not just welt to you, but also joachim. it is something he entrusted to you, who he is, who he once was, who he shall become— everything about him.

he adores you, and all your entirety. you are like a burning star in the galaxy above, one that burns with him.

together with gepard landau . . .

gepard, captain of the silvermane guards is a busy, busy man. between his duties as captain and his daily life, he does his best to find time for you. his lack of charm is exactly what makes him charming, some may say. he's no nonsense, stubborn, "famously uncompromising" ( as his sister claims ) with an unmatched loyalty. it sounds horrendous, but perhaps that's exactly why you love him.

you tell him he should prioritise his duty first and foremost, he is an important figure in belobog, after all. and he does, he stubbornly commits to it. even if he can see in your eyes that you're hesitantly letting him go again. it's in these rare moments that he gives you a small, warming smile and a gentle embrace— he tells you that he'll do his best, for the preservation of belobog, for its people— and most importantly, you.

bothering him on patrol isn't one of your favourite activites, there are definitely more enriching things out there, but you still do it from time to time. usually, it's when the nights are a little colder and you can't seem to sleep. it's the same old thing, each and every time. he tells you you should get home, but not after a quick walk together with him. you'd chat about the little things, and he'd even shyly try to hold your hand in such a moment. after that, he personally escorts you back to your residence, and never forgetting to leave without a kiss goodnight. it may be a simple kiss on the back of your hand, or you might get up for a quick kiss on the cheek. you don't know what you do to him.

gepard doesn't strike me as a type that knows a lot in this area. he was born and raised as a noble child, and then went straight into becoming a protector of the city he grew up in. he'd feel a little flustered at a few things, the ideas and thoughts that come to him while together with you. he's even more embarrassed as he goes to his sister for advice on how to deal with such emotions. he reads books, fiction of romance that he does best to turn into your reality. it's not perfect— he's still clueless on what's a really good date— but he's always trying harder just for you.

it's not often that he gets free time, but once he does, he's quick to seek you out... after his sister of course. for many good reasons, actually. other than the usual check in with his sister he loves so dearly, she is more helpful than most others despite her teasing. serval is a big source of support in his relationship with you, not to say you two can't handle it yourselves. he's just rather clueless about love as a whole sometimes, and she's there to give him a little nudge in the right direction. thanks to her, gepard brought you flowers once, and he does it every so often.

never underestimate the lengths he'd go for you. he may be constantly out there in the front lines trying to combat the antimatter legion and the fragmentum, and he may be busy with training the guards or some other silvermane business, but he would always keep you in mind. you're part of his motivation, and you've grown to be the biggest part of it. you could tell him it's nothing important, if you ask for something, like a favour or likewise, but because it's you, he'll put it right at the top of his priorities. you are his priority.

dates are difficult, especially when you're captain of the guards. walking around with him attracts more attention than any other thing, but it doesn't stop him from inviting you out. the luxuries of belobog would be easy for him to indulge in, as a landau and as captain, but truly, simply spending time with him is enough. your favourite dates are ones where you freely walk aimlessly in the day, perhaps after a bite to eat. fresh snowfall is light upon the city streets, unlike the eternal freeze. you find it hard to resist temptation, letting yourself be swept off your feet for a sweet kiss in the everlasting winter snow.

gepard landau has an immense lack of charm. he's stubborn, he's uncompromising, and maybe even a little dense or a little blunt. but the brighter side of these qualities always show around you. he'll find a way to see you, and he won't rest until he has. his lack of knowledge in this department has him cutely flustered from time to time, but also has him doing unknowingly romantic things. he loves you, and he wants you to know that.

[fairestwriting]

*KICKS YOUR DOOR DOWN*

IT'S 8 AM AND I HAVENT SLEPT. I FOUND THE WORD DOCUMENT SO HERE HAVE THE FIRST ONE IT'S THE SIMPLEST ONE I'VE GOT I'M GOING TO BED

Maybe Vil finding out MC is basically his equal in their world? A famous actor/actress, model, makeup artist, etc? Maybe they're super casual in this world so it's not obvious until it gets bright up what they did in their world?

MAYBE i am really simple maybe i will see a vil request and black out and go crazy.......anon please go to bed at regular times (<- guy who does not do this either)

Vil Schoenheit

He's not completely clueless, he does put in the effort to keep up with trends after all-- But it's exactly because of this that he ends up not really recognizing you.

The entertainment industry has no shortage of people, and in the end, Vil is still only human, no matter how much of an eye for detail he has. It's hard to remember other artists' names.

He does get a feeling that he might have seen you before, but he can't really figure out where. It sort of gets on his nerves for a bit. If you pay attention you can catch on to this hint of odd curiosity every time you talk to each other.

There's no way he misses your charisma, either. Still assuming you're not in the position you actually are, Vil is genuinely surprised at how good you are at dealing with people. Even when you seem tired or out of it, you still keep a smile on your face and a pleasant tone to your voice.

Of course, though, he'll still be stern sometimes, even as you grow closer. Maybe he ends up even being a little bit harsher than usual because he sees all that potential in you. At the same time, though, he's a lot more gentle outside of things like school projects. If you show that you know a thing or two about fashion or performing, he's absolutely willing to discuss.

Then, he eventually finds out. Maybe he stumbles upon one of your posts in social media. Maybe you straight up run into each other when he's doing a photoshoot. Later he'll think he should have seen this coming, but in the moment, you're getting the privilege of being one of the few people who really shocked this man.

He'll keep it together if you're both in public, but the second you're not, he's kind of a mess? He doesn't want it to show, but obviously now there's this whole new concern about your relationship hurting his or your career, and wondering if anyone's seen you two together already, and just how the hell did you fly under the radar for so long, he's not mad, he just really needs to know--

Of course, you talk, calm down, and it works out. And deep down, he's happy about being with someone who can really understand the specific struggles he goes through, besides being able to trade work tips and share stories. It feels comfortable.

Honestly though? He's not getting over how you just did that. He's too proud to say it, but he's forever baffled at how insanely good you are at blending. Sometimes you catch him staring. Mostly it's just out of fondness. Other times he's trying to figure out how to pull off your totally-not-a-celebrity aura so he can go to the mall in peace.

if you wanna support my work, you can buy me a ko-fi or commission me!

[beneathashadytree]

what are your favourite unhinged headcannons for the lads/lnds LIs please?🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽 like something that based on how they act in canon preferably but even if it's way left field, just something funny about them

I personally headcanon Zayne as autistic (my radar is going OFF) so I’m 100% projecting when I say that he’s definitely offended MANY superiors at university with his manner of speaking. This makes him feel absolutely HUMILIATED when he gets told off/reminded that not every takes his straightforwardness as a good thing. It’s why sometimes he often hesitates & rethinks his words with the MC; the Neurodivergent Struggle™️

Ever since he and MC started dating, he’s definitely caught himself looking in the mirror more than he ever did before. Not out of vanity, but merely checking in on his appearance every now and then. He’s more conscious of how he looks (in a good way!!) compared to how he previously viewed his body as simply a vessel before. Goes completely red when caught by them, and plays it off as checking for new scars (hint: there aren’t any this time).

Rafayel has a habit of making biting remarks as he gets all shy and defensive, but sometimes he doesn’t hear the double entendres behind his words until the MC smirks at him. Sometimes it’s purely coincidental and he goes beet red, other times he’s lowkey handing them bait to tease him. Maybe a small part of him likes it when he hears them say such scandalous things and joke around…

Delicate as his hands are, he’s got a pretty extensive knife collection. Super fancy too, like the stuff you’ll find at those oddly specific stores downtown where the single set of 6 pieces costs your left kidney and a leg. When he’s run out of inspiration, he sharpens them and takes VERY good care of them. This type of attention is also given to his beloved daggers and weapons of choice. Shiny = pretty is a very recurrent theme with him.

Xavier had gone through a phase where he was trying his best to adjust to life amongst humans, and that was when he was introduced to the wonders of pop culture and the entertainment world. So if he happens to hum along to insanely obscure songs that were popular a decades ago and somehow has every song by said artist memorized, don’t question it. He’s a multi-stan.

Being such a sleepy guy who’s barely conscious, Xavier has definitely skipped MANY relationship milestones with the MC by accidentally letting important words slip during phone calls. Whenever they call him and he’s just woken up, he just word-vomits/half-mumbles his way through his sappiest thoughts that come to him so easily (examples: “I love you so much” “Can’t wait till you marry me” and “Let’s buy a big house for our future family��)

This actually turned out to be more detailed than I thought it would be, sorry for rambling nonnie. This is practically a piece of writing on its own 😭😭

[dairy-farmer]

So I had an idea a while ago but didn't have anywhere to share. Honestly very happy to have found your blog and asks(very fun to read too).

Basically:

Tim has an artistic eye, he IS into photography afterall, which means he can look at, enjoy and find beautiful something most people consider sexual in a completely objective way. Specifically, the human body.

So just Tim wanting to start a personal project where he explores the inherent beauty of anatomy. But he needs models. Somehow he gets his brothers to model for him.

Maybe they had to fight arousal almost from the get go, naked in front of him with all his focus on them. Every ounce of his attention on one person at a time and making them feel not just appreciated and beautiful, but like they were the center of his world for that short time.

Or!

Or maybe there's nothing to it to them. Kid is putting a weird amount of focus on body parts not really all that important, like they'd get it if he was focusing on the parts of them generally considered attractive, but he's not? Go off I guess.

Then they see the final products. They don't know how he did it, but... they feel seen in a way the never knew was being neglected.

Damian sees his hands through Tims eyes. They were always just a tool to him, not all that special even if vital. But somehow Tim has captured them in a way that is powerful and strong, and beautiful and gentle. You can see a paint stain that Tim insisted he not wash off, his calluses from training and the muscles coiled under soft skin.

Jason sees his eyes. His eyes that have become more green since he came back, eyes that he avoided looking at in the mirror because they didn't feel like his anymore. Eyes that now look back at him in a way that were they anyone else's he'd say they look intelligent and empathetic. He sees his lashes in stark detail, beautiful and not pitch black, a few as stark white as the streak in his hair that he never noticed extended beyond that. The corner of a scar that doesn't look hideous, but beautiful.

Dick knows he's beautiful, has been told so many times it's become shallow. He knows which parts of him are lusted after. He expects to see something along those lines. Instead he sees his shoulders. Not as some sensual part of him to be objectified, but... as wide and strong, as load bearing and of steel. He knows he's beautiful, but he's never seen someone even try to look past that in a photo.

Tim took so many different photos of them, but his focus was on picking photos that capture their very essence to him.

So seeing themselves through his eyes? They fall and they fall HARD.

them seeing themselves through tim's eyes and seeing that he thinks of them as art, that he can see the little pieces that make them up. when tim talked about photographing them for some personal project because bruce had told him to get a hobby- they'd mostly laughed it off. they hadn't really been taking it all that seriously they'd just been mostly humoring tim.

but then they'd been in tim's little bedroom studio and tim had been arranging them and his warm hands moving them- adjust posture, cupping heads and hands and moving them a certain way.

tim sees them as pretty and wonderful he photographs them but doesn't make them obejcts he makes them people ����💖💖!

[nanakah]

hello hello, I took the alien stage pill. howdy fellow sufferers

Honestly, my first reaction to basically everything was "awww, they come in sets and are all without exception horribly doomed no matter their specs (loops cool music and vids)"

I'd seen some of VIVINOS' team works without realizing it was the same artist (my favorites being Beloved and Otomeroid) so it was rather shocking to learn of a "series" with a fandom as active/relatively large as Alien Stage without ever actually stumbling upon it before...

Anyways. I like the concept, and Hyuna+Luka in particular, a whole lot. In spite of all the jokes about only yuri and yaoi losing, my spider sense says they'll get their turn of crashing horribly soon and I wanna stay here to witness it burn beautifully, of course.

TL;DR OMG HYULUKA IS SO DELICIOUS

general yapping about all alien stage duos under the cut and some Hyuna/Luka considerations and theories

disclaimer: long, chaotic post ahead - i wrote most of it during revenge bedtime procrastination so I'm kinda just rambling/discussing my general impressions and vibes here instead of formatting it nicely or properly illustrating my points. good luck if you choose to stick around and make yourself comfy

alien stage impressions under read more - also SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

funny thing - I got into alien stage completely by chance after checking out some related vids to my Love and Deepspace twitter spree and avoiding my responsibilities. Ivan's Black Sorrow made a very strong impression and I loved his eyes, so I kept going deeper down the rabbit role and felt fascinated by the web of dynamics between the characters each time I took in a little more of the plot.

(His eyes are so cool and expressive.....I was already loving everything prior and was excited to continue, but Ivan was definitely the one to sell me on the concept more strongly and eat up the rest.)

It was interesting seeing "love" portrayed under such dire conditions and I kept wondering how come the aliens are so stupid they chose a 1vs1 PVP combat format with their beloved pets instead of the optimal formation of idol units and at least duos versus each other to utilize their feelings of love. Why would they do that?

That first innocent musing made me realize how clever the team behind ALNST is. The whole thing seems to be operating as a metaphor/commentary about how predatory the real idol industry is (the concept of anakt garden really sounds like the average idol trainee camp experience and the bonds they form with their group mates) and how heartless guardian (parental) figures can be in a society that is heavily utilitarian and barely gives agency to either their own children or sentient beings like animals that we keep as pets.

So in that world, the sacrifices of being an idol are literal and humans themselves are "pets" - with all the implications that come with "being dependent on a species that does not properly comprehend them". At times, the way they refer to the fandom of each character even seems to be tongue in cheek as to how "we" too are watching the story for entertainment and making fanbases for each character and reacting like some of the in-universe alien fans.

Therefore, it's no brainer that the answer to my initial question was: aliens/Segyein don't understand how to utilize human bonds and emotions to their maximum efficiency in the first place. They know interaction between humans seems to be important and produces more beautiful songs. However, they probably experience those feelings differently and most of them are likely unable to truly empathize with human pain, ethics or feelings. (And believe me, even some people have a hard time believing other species benifit from socialization, so aliens being that way is understandable). Perhaps the awful acts of the Segyein mutilating their pet human is no different from pulling a butterfly's wings to a human or injecting colored fluid into a flower. The glimpses of their buildings and tv show that they have the same sort of "do they have rights?" feelings and similar moral conflicts to what we have in the real world about species we don't understand fully.

I think it's really challenging to analyze a work attempting to guess future developments when you don't know the creator too well. In spite of looping OTOMEROID I wouldn't say I know VIVINOS and her team deeply as an admirer. But from the overall tone of the videos in her channel, I could pick up on a fascination with "extremes" of emotion and exploring the hypocrisy of society. Human/animal experimentation and materialism/religion/consumerism are topics that come up often. Love is also hardly ever portrayed as a simple or benevolent feeling alone - there's unrequited love, obsession, insanity, many facets of that feeling on the channel. Some works are more straightforward and focus on the visual presentation, others seem to have a deeper story behind it.

The technical quality of the Alien Stage MVs is extremely impressive, I had a blast looking at the patreon storyboards and feeling like "wow, a person actually made this". It seriously got me inspired to feel like drawing more to get out of my own artblock and to pick up on old OCs to show them some love. In the era of AI, this is a joy to get to feel. It all definitely feels like a well-put together labor of love. I'm super weak to things brimming with passion like this, it's contagious!!!!

Now that I've tried my best to make an eloquent opening and act like I'm not at all just a fangirl foaming at the mouth with this intense concept (I keep crying that I wanna see either Aka or Ohkawa try their hand at a death game scenario) and at the sight of a tragic toxic duo with a backstory of a deeply rooted mutual obsession/love and fall out (wiping drool out of the corner of my mouth as we speak), let's talk a little more about the story. In order to make sense out of my ramblings and projections, let me explain my thoughts on the other duos besides my bias first.

Mizi and Sua set the tone to their universe as well as serve as an explanation as to why "idols" work well to represent their conflict and struggle - I'm fresh out of Oshi no Ko here, so this feels equal parts like a comfort zone and everything but comfortable and hellish to go over again. But, to put it briefly, the adoration of someone as an entertainer that you want to support also overlaps with the word reserved for adoring "an image or representation of a god used as an object of worship" - idol.

Humans, stripped of their power and autonomy after arrogantly believing they were superior to everyone else and were the only beings in the vast universe, have been subjugated by other species. Because of the bleak, unforgiving circumstances they were faced with afterwards, the surviving ones were turned into luxury pets and stripped of their freedom. Free will made them children of God before, so people have forgotten all about the "God" who couldn't answer their prayers/save them. But, as Mizi says, the belief in God is innate to human nature. You are more likely live in this world successfuly if you have someone to look up to or a reason to survive.

When God seems so far away and so cruel...what they can do is look to each other as their "Gods". Because a belief in God is ultimately, a cry for salvation and acceptance...."The Bible makes it clear that “God is love” (1 John 4:8). He isn't just loving, but he is the very definition of love."Therefore, all characters are, in some way, looking for salvation and being constantly tested and brutally being forced to show off their humanity through the lens of how love affects them - and not at the privacy of their inner thoughts or anything. All of that in order to portray different aspects of "love", adoration and what it means to be human. To have a belief on the unseen - "what is essential is invisible to the eye".

IT'S ALIEN AMERICAN IDOL MEETS DANGANRONPA. WHOO.

(gOD I wish we could have gotten Luka vs Sua or vs Ivan in some way. That feels like it would be extremely close and entertaining to see. Am I losing my humanity? Why is my keyboard slimy? Am I becoming a Segyein ....?)

Of course, because I fell for all those deliciously doomed themes like the good CLAMP/Akasaka foolish nerd I am, I bought patreon access day one. Although some setting details were unexpected, I was pretty satisfied with my overall initial grasp on most of the characters. If you found me through the tags and didn't already follow me, my disclaimer here so you get to know me is that I easily gravitate to polarizing characters or doomed ships like a curse. There are also certain Themes that follow me like a plague and I could see some of my favorite characters' shadows on the doomed kids I liked right away. Like an itch to spot something more to what is being shown.

Therefore right away, Luka and Hyuna caught my eye big time. (literally, when I watched sweet dream I kept pausing and going - whOA WHO IS THE COOL GIRL WITH THE CIG. Wait wait wait show me more of the boy that looks dead inside overstimulated by the flashing lights!)

I don't really have any pretension to be quoted on anything here or say things verbatim (Patreon says it's fine to produce derivative content based on what's there, but as expected, it's enforced not to directly share it so I can't really go argument-evidence here by presenting it) and have only seen pictures of the artbook secondhand by a friend, so I'll have my fun here making commentary loosely based on extra content and sporadically showing off pretty MV captures.

Anyway.

We're introduced to this universe through the jarring cruelty of ROUND 1, contrasting a harmonic, beautiful, lullaby-like melody with a harsh outcome. Like Mizi, unless we got spoiled beforehand, we don't really know anything about what's about to horrifically transpire. And though she got education, it feels like the teachings about what death or the Alien Stage would be like were horribly sugar coated or distorted to her, as incentive to give their best performances - like sacrificing themselves was a good thing. The extra materials back this up with Mizi's first interview about "My Clematis" - it's like they're told they're simply going back to their "origins" entity (The Grand Ankt) and it's a pretty and peaceful thing. We're shown how bad humans have it in their society and simultaneously get a montage of a cute, healthy, heartwarming relationship between the two girls and a deep "pure" love, as well as feel the weight of Sua's sacrifice and how badly it hurts Mizi. You're told that Sua is her God, her Universe in a Godless world - only to have her ripped away and "God" basically slaughtered for cheap entertainment. Some of the extra materials put it as a certain "mutual love" between Sua and Mizi.

It's interesting how we're shown a stage and don't know what to expect at first - since the girls seem "calm" and happy to express their love, but there's an increasing sense of dread until the finality of Sua's death hits and the pretty, shining girl we see in the flashbacks becomes an empty husk. The MVs seem all to be roughly designed around creating a surprise at the end or recontextualizing something we have seen previously.

I won't discuss Till and Ivan at length at this time, because that would get too long and demands it's own post (I sure as hell rewatched Unknown, Black Sorrow and Cure many times though), but the key part for me here is - they similarly express "love", but through another facet - obsession of a one-sided love and the desire to reach salvation or a reason to endure the world because of that, too. To the point of choosing the chance of love over salvation, expressed by Till letting go of Ivan's hand when they had a chance to escape (not wanting to leave Mizi behind most likely) and Ivan's kiss and decision to strangle Till to give his own life in exchange for his/finally getting to express his "shallow emotions" he perceives as something that won't deeply scar Till (but it does, and it mattered, far more than he could ever have known). It's interesting that although Mizi calls Sua a God, they develop something closer to a balanced, mutual relationship, as much as their lack of understanding of "human relationship" allows - they connect deeply. Ivan, according to the comics, sees himself in Sua, but it's deeply frustrating how he couldn't build the same sort of connection with Till and felt like he could only maintain a bond through violence.

Mizi seems to be the only human who was raised in a "stable home" (her alien seems to actually love her closest to a mother), but that's not enough to protect her from pain - after all, the alien's reasoning was that if Mizi likes singing, she should join. Yolo! Your human baby's life is so short! Sounds like outdoor cat owners to me. Ugh. All other pet humans are going through some flavor of parental abuse, and it all reflects in how they express their emotions and what sort of decisions they tend to take.

Till, in contrast to all that, more closely resembles the definition of looking at Mizi like an oshi/idol as a comfort to run from the pains of his life - he always looks hurt or abused, but Mizi is like medicine that even watching from far away makes him feel "saved" due to nurturing that "first love" that is heavily idealized. It's interesting how his character that is first introduced as somewhat violent or wild because of the smashing guitar and "addict"/drug imagery turns out to be one of the most sensitive.

The cloaked figure of Mizi in Blink Gone seems to resemble a saint or Mary (mother) holding a child in her lap as he takes his last breaths. She rushed into the crowd in a desperate attempt to save or at least comfort him in his predicament. Till's final position even resembles that of being crucified.

All that, however, makes Till unable to see Ivan properly - who is constantly around him and yearning for his attention, protecting and loving him in desperate ways that he doesn't realize until the very last minute. He is also seemingly detaching himself from the "real" world as a very "pure" child (shown in the way he loves with full devotion and his artistic inclinations), which of course, makes Ivan painful to face - who is a grounding entity and a reminder of the real world. The one who touches his wounds, who is "there" and not unreachable like a flower at the top of a mountain. That love between Ivan and Till got expressed in a way that was painful to both, but a very human act of a clashing selfish and selfless-ness.

None of them are built for this. They're trying to survive.

So far, what I've got is...Mizi and Sua set a standard of what is closest to a mutual love that was growing together in a relatively equal and healthy way. Ivan and Till were reworked to avoid overlap with them and are chosen to portray the sense of an immature, obsessive love and clashing emotions. It's interesting to me how much the creators stress the "one-sided" and controlling nature of Ivan for behind the scenes, and I feel like this does not mean that Till couldn't possibly return his feelings - after all, the Actor AU does show great chemistry between them. It's more like, within their living conditions and because of the emotional immaturity of both of them, they literally could not see eye to eye - Till looking at an idol out of reach (Mizi), and Ivan choosing to seek out his attention through violent means that confused Till, thus he was unable to respond to the intensity of what he felt and grow into it.

NOW. TO THE MAIN COURSE THAT IS ROTTING MY BRAIN: HYULUKA.

If we've got all those bases covered so far...where does that leave Hyuna and Luka?

(This is the most Mello/Near-like I've ever seen another ship pull off. My inner 13 yo is screaming. They're both incredibly gorgeous. How is a hetero couple simultaneously so BL and yuri-like in DRAMA AND IMAGERY? CLAMP would be proud...)

You see, there's no official answer about the true nature of their bond yet.

But I have a lot of speculations. It clearly looks like a rotten, strangled-by-the-red-string-of-fate sort bond that is just up my alley. THE MOST FUN IS GETTING TO BABBLE BEFORE GETTING AN ASSERTIVE ANSWER. I'm all for making a fool of myself, so let's get down to it.

To put it simply - I believe Hyuna and Luka's role is expressing the extremes of the setting itself and what "to love" means within it, with a turn for the worse and the tragedy of "not understanding" even if there is love.

How do you conquer an oppressive world in which all odds are against you? Would you overtake it through rebellion or would you strike at it from within?

In a world in which God's teachings have become lost to time and difficult to believe, does love strengthen or weaken you? If it causes pain and destruction, can it still be called love?

I think Hyuna and Luka are standing at opposite sides of those beliefs, and cannot understand each other's mindset.

Seems simple enough to write Luka as a mere villain final boss since he seems to be enjoying himself at the evil death game and Hyuna as the nice rebel who wants to save everyone, right? But it's confirmed Hyuna wasn't really trying to rescue more people like she had an opportune moment to do for Mizi.

The artbook also says something incredibly interesting about what the "Luka Syndrome" mentioned in one of the MVs really means - Luka's prestige as a performer is raising the prestige of pet humans. He also believes "Hyuna would be safe with him" - Why is that?

I think they might actually have similar goals and a similar stubborness in which they believe themselves to be the correct one and the other to be pitiful and foolish. Hyuna is trying to overthrow a system that is well-established and has far more power or influence than them, therefore she needs to resort to drastic measures and flashy means to assert dominance over the alien society.

Luka on the other hand, feels like he is using the system against it and exercising his own humanity while at it. Rather than tackling the incredibly daunting task of being a rebel with guns blazing, Luka became a master of the stage in a way that makes humans gain influence and thus become more valuable.Even if I try to think of it as "he's just trying to survive", that doesn't feel enough - because whenever he is not on stage, Luka looks dead inside already.

Especially in the arts he looks like a younger child or teenager, except for the ones after he seems more consistently approached by Hyuna. It's hard for me to think what moves him is a survival instinct. He is also portrayed like the typical "golden kid" syndrome victim - someone so systematically beaten to satisfy their narcissist guardian figure and submitted to so much pain that they eventually absorb part of that mindset as a way to have agency and autonomy over themselves. It gives the illusion of being successful and thus that the abuse was "effective", but it's like a curse that is difficult to break from.

I think both of them are older for a thematic reason. It feels like it could represent what it feels like, as adults, to no longer be able to hold onto naive or idealistic things about the world or society due to ignorance and having to choose a path to express your ideas and reach your goals through your "work".

Hyuna is guns blazing and "adult pleasures" - singing to an underground stage, trying to scrub off the wounds of her past with alcohol, and it's interesting that her guardian alien is portrayed like an "absent" parent figure - they have an interest in humans, but doesn't care about watching Hyuna when she first was eligible for Alien Stage. I wonder if they even are the one looking for her at all - seems to me it's more of an alien police thing because of her "crimes". Under that seemingly "thick" skin though, it seems clear that Hyuna is deeply affected by Luka still, and the loss of her brother. She deals with her wounds by not really dealing with them at all and guess what - it's a weak point. Her song is uplifting and refreshing, but she clearly demonstrates that closing your eyes to trauma and purely moving forward doesn't make them go away. In that sense, Mizi is a way she is trying to "mentor" someone navigate through loss.

I love outcasts and mildly autistic-coded characters, so I gravitated to Sua, Ivan and Luka right away.

(Extroverted cutie and the doomest doomer of the bunch. As a side note, their character design alone and contrast is genius and gorgeous. I'd expect 90% of the time for Luka to be the designated BL character and hardly do I ever see his archetype paired with the sort of sharp, striking beauty that Hyuna has so I definitely got giddy with them right away. She reminds me a lot of Michiko Malando and Luka reminds me of Near, two characters I love a whole lot and funnily enough have the same mbti types the artbook describes them as - ESTP and INTJ. Ankt garden Luka looks somewhat closer to the AU versions of Luka, so gotta love both his origins and his twisted post-alnst/hyuun woo self)

I believe Hyuna bundles Luka with that trauma of grief and loss, and it's still unclear what their roles are in it and after the fact. While singing all in verses "We only get one life, so I'm living mine for me/'Cause I'm the one from your wildest dreams", Luka's face flashes through Hyuna's mind before even her brothers, like it's something that's always on the back of it and barely suppressed.

See...since VIVINOS loves the "more than meets the eye"/twist concept, something I'm expecting is for Hyuna's feelings not to be as black and white as blaming Luka and actually. It obviously was dysfunctional and isn't that....delicious???

I feel like a one-sided love or obsession wouldn't make sense to repeat as themes, and because of the heavy trauma associated in the backstory, it's not like a "healthy mutual love". To bridge the themes of MiziSua and IvanTill, I think Hyuna and Luka are being told in a way to express love as something that can also destroy instead of save, and their clashing ideologies come from a place of wanting to think "-I'M- right and want to be your god", instead of ever having been able to understand each other properly.

They have a similarly "corrupt" love that has a lot of guilt and regret built into it. Even with something awful as what happened to her brother, it's curious that Hyuna's mind first thinks of Luka in an "enamored" light - the scene looks pretty tender - but that's also attached to the weight of Hyun Woo's death.

I think It's likely that the twist is Hyuna having been the one who hurt her brother, even, considering the dynamic in these comics:

Luka and Hyun Woo compete for Hyuna's attention, and it's to be expected that none of them understand the boundaries and definitions of love too well. Hyuna and Hyun Woo seem to be naive and relatively raised in a decent way, submitted to superiority tests like the rest, but not directly abused. They seem to express their love for each other in a cheerful, healthy way, Hyuna probably because of her closeness to her brother (which is unusual for other pet humans to be able to do) is extremely physical in how she shows affection. She doesn't really reprimand Luka, and that creates an unhealthy dynamic in which Luka plays the victim - in spite of starting things - to enjoy Hyuna's attention. There is a cute comic that looks silly, but encapsulates it all:

Luka is a little shit that wants to be pampered. He knows he is physically weaker - if you come across a rabbit being hurt by a wolf, you wouldn't suspect the rabbit provoked it. So Hyuna constantly seems to take Luka's side regardless of what happened, wanting to have that protector role.

Luka on the other hand, has no reference of what it's like to be "loved". He is systematically abused and treated like an object - therefore, he perceives relationships in terms of "ownership". And I don't think Hyuna truly understands just what she is enabling when she encourages Luka to act the way he does or thinks his neediness is "cute".

Honestly, I think there's strong sexual abuse imagery in Luka's art and the presentation of his stage image as someone taking charge of their objectification. His clothing for stage always shows off his body one way or another and both Hyuna and him have this sensual imagery and approach to others, as if "reclaiming one's own body". The contrast of Luka's blank expression and the red collar indicating a mental breakdown in that artwork above featuring Heperu's shadow approaching him is truly chilling.

That boy has no reference of what a familial bond or love is like. And both his introspective nature and abuse seem to make it even worse for him to connect with his peers- in the artbook his only relationships listed are Hyuna and Mizi, in very negative ways. He is also said to have retreated deeper into his own world, because "no one can understand him". Again, checks out with the imagery of "gifted son" that is treated like a narcissistic parent's doll and that becomes desensitized to many things over time.

His alien guardian Heperu even looks vaguely phallic and Luka has body language of "trying to disappear" or soothing himself when not up the stage - hugging knees, looking smaller, sucking on sleeves, stimming with toys (rubik's cube). The scars on his chest seem related to the abuse of submitting him to pain to overcome fear and I theorize the scars on the side may have been for plastic surgery like abdominoplasty or even possibly removing ribs. Normally that would be done from the back, but hey - alien science, and he already had "tainted" scarred skin on the front, so it would make sense to try preserving his back. His waist is drawn really really thin. It's also mentioned that he had a strict diet even though he is a big eater - that is, Heperu is deeply violating his agency in accordance with Lookism.

Luka has all the makings of a really tragic character and reminds me of Kamiki Hikaru's construction in Oshi no Ko. A victim turned abuser in some ways, as a way to seek autonomy, self expression and living for their ideals and love, no matter how twisted it has become.

There's a comic that has a "flashback" of anakt garden and Hyuna being asked by Luka if she likes to sing. The POV of Hyuna's face looks as soft as Luka's does from hers. She tells him that they don't have freedom for anything else, but when she is up at the stage, it's like her life is "her own", so she likes it. The image of Luka singing as an adult suggests that even now, those are the words he pictures and that is the image of Hyuna that is alive in his mind.

In a way, both of them are deeply attached to the past, and while Hyuna wants to shut it down completely and regrets it having happened, Luka's feelings are twisted.

We don't know much about the kiss. Considering the "sucking on forehead" comics, I get the feeling Hyuna was startled by the sudden escalation from Luka acting as a passive, cute pet and jumping her with so much intensity, but may not necessarily have pushed him away. The following fight could either have happened because Hyuna became withdrawn as a result of suddenly becoming aware of the effect she was having on Luka and what their feelings for each other were (since previously, she might not have been able to tell the difference between being all over her brother and all over Luka) /or/ the scenario played out like the forehead sucking. She didn't dislike it, but Luka became insistent or they got caught in a way that Hyuun Woo had no context for, thus assuming Luka was forcing her.

And there is a third option too that now I think about it, seems the /most/ likely: the growing proximity to Hyuna made Luka's feelings of "wanting ownership and exclusivity" even deeper because of love and lust, as simply being assured he is "loved" doesn't seem to be enough for Luka. It could be that Hyuna in fact disliked his attempt of kissing her and became more distant to him. Thus, he orchestrated for Hyuna to take his side once again for validation in a reckless way - but the results were "better than he thought" when it resulted in Hyuun Woo's death. Because, that is a price so heavy that it feels like "wow, you actually chose me".

This scene is super interesting, I love Luka's expression. It's joyful in a "perverse" way. He was successful in trapping his beloved Hyuna. And it seems that the emotion is so intense, like he is finally free from the mask of pitiful wounded animal with no agency over himself that the sheer ecstasy might have caused a seizure or heart attack, hence his eyes looking glassy afterwards and his fingers finally turning the blue/purple hue we see on his older design.

Skimming through the patreon posts, I was pleasantly surprised to realize my gut feeling about Ivan and Luka having a similar core wasn't wrong. Sua in comparison is the scenario of someone who doesn't go off to the deep end as the two of them. It's often stressed that the team was worried about establishing Luka and Ivan as distinguishable - their personalities are similar, but their masks are different. Ivan presents himself as the "big bro", while actually being a boy struggling with properly expressing emotions that went as far as practicing smiles and expresions at the lake. Whereas Luka is like a porcelain doll and passive - austere, even...but what about his real self?

We're cleverly prevented from seeing an introductory MV for Luka, as round 4 doesn't happen. And for the subsequent videos, Luka shows himself partially by not disclosing his POV, but showing important sides of himself - the urge to control and the attempts to "become whatever is desired of him". A blank slate.

In a sense, that's implying to me Ivan and Luka's stage presence is an expression of their "inner selves", where their feelings and thoughts become bare. Ivan does so by casting aside his big bro warmth and stepping in as the image of a serious-faced, strongly devoted man that is coming apart at the seams with the weight of his immaturity, sadness, love and obsession.

Luka's stage presence is a distant cry from his image of passiveness and class behind the scenes. On stage, he is a seasoned performer and a calculating prince that enjoys pulling the strings to reach the ideal performance as seen in his inner world. He cunningly displays a different expression between the audience and his partners to achieve the ideal results. Luka acts like both a director and an actor while performing, in order to construct his vision - He's bold, confident and invades people's personal spaces.

(What a condescending little shit. I love him. His expression seems to be saying something like..."Done already? Hmph. I expected more of you. You need to do something for me to do my part and shine, too."

A point I theorize about Ruler of My Heart - Hyuna says in the artbook, I think, that Mizi reminds her of herself. Luka would be able to pick up on that also, especially since Mizi had just been broken by the loss of the one she loved most and formerly had that spark of "hope and dreaming high" in her eyes. Luka may have chosen the song specifically to have Mizi recreate the "role of Hyuna" envisioned for it - as in, he never expected her to be obedient at all. He was riling her up to feel what Hyuna might have responded like to this song. But the Hyuna in his idealization is probably "blazing, absolute and strong" - instead of shutting down and giving up singing. Mizi lets herself get intimidated by his provocation into silence, but when she loses it to punch him in the face with no regard for the consequences - like Hyuna surely would do - is when he finally smirks. It's also a mockery of letting emotions take her over, securing his win and further reinforcing he is "in the right". )

Another interesting tidbit is that Luka's personality isn't of the ethereal "pitiful-but-nice" character, but rather something that "fits VIVINOS taste". He is also compared frequently to Ivan in personality/mindset, who is described as a "bad boy" with a possessive/manipulative streak. If the sides of Ivan we get to see that related to Till are fairly tame and the team worries so much about contrast, that seems to imply that Luka embraces the more extreme parts left out of Ivan.

Even more interesting than that is the core of Luka's character inspiration - "the little prince", which I assume most people have read before. It's a children's book about an adult meeting a little prince from space and basically sharing life lessons.

If we look a little beyond the "cute blond kid"/moon motif...the most striking aspect about the Little Prince is probably the idea of the rose and the fox. The immature prince is taught the concept of love and responsibility by a wild fox - that to tame someone is to make them unique, and it's the time spent nurturing that love that makes it precious. The prince had been frustrated by a Rose he thought he loved, but grew annoyed by because he could not understand her. He also was confused upon realizing there were many roses in the universe, but his was too selfish and flawed. So is she not as unique as he thought? He starts missing the rose, and learns that there IS a difference - none of the roses are "his" or sound like "his" - because if they have tamed each other, going forward, he isn't just any little boy to his rose anymore - he is "the" boy, and she is "the" rose, unique in the universe.

This feels extremely relevant to a character presented as a "product" of gene editing and, basically, being created in a lab. The implication to me is that there may be many other "Luka"-like humans - the vast array of congenital diseases he manifests such as heart disease, Raynaud syndrome, asthma and chronic migraine all make him sound like their universe's equivalent of a white pug dog with dubious origins to boot.

What makes that test tube baby, raised by a ruthless alien that doesn't care about him as more than a way to vicariously live a life of success and luxury, unique in that case?

Love.

And my take is that, the fox and rose to his little prince are the siblings Hyun Woo and Hyuna.

(I'm suddenly reminded of the Vanitas no Carte Louis-Domi-Noé trio. Why do those never end well?)

IMO the rift created between Hyuna's brother and Luka wasn't necessarily there from the start. Before getting more strongly attached or opening up to Hyuna, Luka looks extremely detached. Hyuna's brother looked like the picture of excitement and youth, so it feels like he could have reached out to the quiet boy first and Hyuna tagged along. The settings mention something along the lines of Hyuna not quite being the origin of the "dreamer" outlook, but being inspired by her brother, and I can picture it.

Hyuna's MV All in and her relationship with Mizi painted to me the picture of a girl that is naturally attractive - her drive and sunny disposition are simply dazzling. But, underneath, there seems to be "something" doesn't it? I think Hyuna's charm comes from a mix of strength and vulnerability. She seems like the type of person to cope with humor and being flirty in order to lift people's moods and surprise them, but Hyuna herself can have quite heavy and serious feelings. The somber look suits her, and it's overall impressive that she didn't completely break because of her brother. It's like her innate talent for performing draws people to her, but at the same time she can sustain an illusion of "closeness", her true worries and wounds are kept deep inside and she doesn't let others truly see into her.

So.

What's shown in Blink Gone to me is that Luka's not merely surviving a death game, he is enjoying the show and trying to feel alive. To someone like him that probably already feels dead inside all the time and was "abandoned" by Hyuna, there is nothing much to look forward to. We don't know what happened between Hyuun Woo's death and their first alien stage run (quite a lot, since Hyuna even lost a leg) ot the timing of their relationship fall out. Given their memories and image of eachother, it does seem to be implied they were already going separate ways right after the incident.

It's likely that what connects Luka to Hyuna's memory the most is the feeling of performing itself - the one time he gets to be free. Luka acts like he is superior to the other pet humans for having "figured out" the system and feeding into it, and looks down on them for having no control over their emotions. But does he really have total control over his own?

In spite of all the abuse he embraced as his own will or believing he could truly get any power by playing the game according to its rules and "overcoming fear", someone as unpredictable and impulsive as Till is the natural enemy of someone like Luka. He had the upper hand as long as it stayed within his plan, but Till suddenly going as far as going back to the green light indicator was worrisome. Luka's Stamina is actually rather crappy, so if Till did decide to go all out, he might have been cooked.

I think, to Luka, it's probably about more than keeping himself alive. And Till flipping the game then would have made him waste his life on a performance that was supposed to be easy -and- it must be annoying that Till strayed off-script. My hypothesis is that he wants to reach out to Hyuna, still - either by increasing the influence of humans to shift the world closer to the one she envisioned, or by putting his life in the line at the stage as many times as possible to feel the "weight" of her presence as if she still were by his side or to grow so famous that she cannot ignore or escape him.

Deliciously hypocritical of him to look down on others so much, when Hyuna's unannounced presence shook him so badly he turned his back to the stage and stared at her with an expression we'd never seen before.

My take is that her walking in like this is seriously the worst scenario to him. Luka expresses in the artbook that he pities Hyuna and that her safety would have been guaranteed with him, so - because of his influence - I think he might actually have gone to the Alien Stage again to secure his power status AND request to keep Hyuna out of it. A condescending sort of domestication we know she would hate, but would keep her safe.

But see. Even if she wasn't under his care, being out there causing a ruckus is one thing - she's alive and kicking, not really in the slaughterhouse. He can live with that. So, he sings to his heart's content. And...

His sneering that people are suuuch rookies at controlling their emotions...

Sooo weak to let their emotions and regrets dominate them and make them lose sight of the stage, compared to his Super Competent self that can overcome fear and control his own heart rate...

All came back to bite him in the ass, like an idiot.

All other characters were pitted against their worst case nightmare scenario, and I doubt the Prince will be an exception. I really don't think his type of obsessive is wanting to be superior to or beat Hyuna at performing either, even if it's his guardian's mindset (it seems Heperu feels inferior to Hyuna's guardian and adopted Luka simply as a means of beating him - so seems very possible he will push for having the two face off and prove Luka's "superiority").

No matter what he does now, it's either Hyuna against Mizi at the risk of death or Hyuna against him. Hyuna's a wanted criminal - there is absolutely no talking a way out of that one. Not only that, Hyuna's bleeding from her wound already. Luka facing against Hyuna as the second time champion would mean being forced to choose - keep rulling the stage, or chose the one who was his guiding light in the first place?

The imagery from the sweet dream opening (as well as Luka having covered that song) is "release" - Luka dying at Hyuna's hand even if it's not something she can truly do with pleasure, no matter how much she copes with her past wounds by hating him. I wonder if it's a red herring or if it will play out, I particularly want whatever will allow to explore their character, feelings and motivation the deepest.

I don't think Hyuna wandered onto the stage for his sake - it seems like it's for Mizi, who is completely frozen. Hyuna probably has up until now coped with hating Luka because he represented everything she was rebelling against - the "system" itself. A nasty cog in the engine of the aliens who, even if not directly, ultimately were the cause of the entire context that stripped her away of her freedom and lead to her precious brother's death.

However...

My guess to what's happening here isn't "wow your outfit is so slutty" or "you've grown". It's more like...Luka suddenly looks too human.

He wasn't supposed to.

...Phew. That's all for now. The ADHD gets strong when I'm talking about something that tickles my brain, so I hope that wasn't too messy/unintelligible to follow with the back and forth jumping timelines or repeating points of interest I did.

Well! I really, really wish there was more for me to keep going, but for now I'll live with overthinking with what we have. I might do separate analysis/speculation for the MVs if I have a deadline I'm procrastinating on come up the time.

Bottom line is, I think all those characters are very interesting, but Hyuluka are the ones I'm rotating like a rotisserie chicken in my mind. Plz hurt me more VIVINOS team and thanks for the good fucking food

[thelov3lybookworm]

Hi! Omg I loved reading your Rhys x reader secret pregnancy fic! May I please request a Lucien x reader where he’s been cursed to stay in the form of an actual fox and the then reader comes along to break his curse? Thank you!!

Cursed

Summary: The mother liked being cruel to Lucien. First she had him lose his eye, and now his body.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: mention of being a child of forced intimate relation, other than that, I'm not sure there is more, so let me know if i need to add anything.

A/n: my love, my heart, my baby anon. come here so i can sing you to sleep and cuddle with you because holyyyy shit i love this idea aaaahhhhh. (i am ready to be your tumblr wifey)

also, the beginning is basically our Y/n trauma/info dumping

anyways, enjoy!

(I had fun talking to you about this @artists-ally)

•○🌑○•

A twig snapped behind Y/n, and she rolled her eyes in frustration.

After wondering for a moment if she should ignore the animal, she decided to turn to look.

There, next to a mighty tree, crouched the fox. Abnormally large, fluffier than a normal fox, it had been following Y/n around for the better part of the week.

The moment Y/n met the fox's mismatched eyes, it tensed, as if ready to bolt. But then, after a moment, it relaxed, again staring at Y/n curiously.

The problem wasn't the fact that it was a fox. No, there were plenty of foxes in the forest near Y/n's home. But those foxes didn't follow her around or sit outside her door at all hours.

This one did all of that.

She wouldn't have been much bothered if it had been a normal fox following her around. But this one had a weird aura about it, like it was not an ordinary fox.

The fox suddenly moved, slowly prowling towards Y/n. She watched it, its body moving and navigating through the roots and fallen branches graciously, as if it were an elegant lady in the royal court.

Y/n shook her head, turning away and continuing on her journey to the cluster of trees deep into the forest to collect some fruit for herself.

The fox fell in step beside her.

She did her best to ignore the animal, though its unnatural aura kept her glancing at it.

Unfortunately, it also had her distracted, and she almost didn't pull up the hood of her cloak when a mortal man walked into view, carrying a bunch of firewood on his back.

But thank the forgotten gods, the man was too busy grumbling to himself to notice the pointed tips of her ears before she covered them.

Being a half fae was hard when living among mortals.

She could get killed if anyone found out about her heritage, and that was the only real reason she had for living on the outskirts of the small town, right next to where the forest started and away from the mortals.

And honestly, she cursed whoever the bastard was that had raped her mother and sired her for the inconvenience.

But she couldn't go down that path of thought, because if she did, she would just end up on the same thought that had her staying up at night and bawling her eyes out.

She was lonely.

It had nothing to do with the solitude of her house. No. It was because she was a half fae, and while other girls her age would mingle with other young men or whoever caught their fancy, she could not do so for fear of being killed.

She also had no family, her mother having died when Y/n was still young. Y/n had no siblings or relatives who could have taken her in, and so, she had learned to take care of herself.

She had also early on learned that the world didn't take kindly to people that were even remotely different from their perception of normal.

Especially beings who had a reputation to torture innocent souls for fun.

Y/n could not blame mortals for hating fae, as she herself hated them, though for completely different reasons.

It was not the best experience when you were scorned by the people you were a part of.

Hated by mortals for being a product of human-fae union, and hated by fae for being a half breed.

She sighed, shooing those thoughts away as she reached the cluster of trees she had been on the journey to, and set down her basket for a moment, stretching.

The fox settled down under an apple tree, and simply stared at Y/n as she went about plucking different fruits and berries and piling them in her basket.

Once she was done, she turned to glance at the fox, who sat unnaturally still.

She thought for a moment, then picked out a juicy apple from her basket. "You want one?"

The fox kept staring at her, and Y/n felt silly for trying to communicate with a fox. She huffed, putting the apple back in her basket and beginning to make the journey back to her little cottage.

•○🌑○•

"Do you think it will storm?"

The fox cocked its head, staring up at the sky before making a small noise, which Y/n took as affirmation.

"I think so too."

While a month ago Y/n would have laughed at herself for talking to -trying to talk to- an animal, now it had become normal. The darn fox never left her side nowadays, and Y/n had grown fond of him, letting him into her house and keeping him fed and warm. She had even named him Rusty.

Rusty glanced at Y/n before it settled down, laying his head on her lap, snuggling into the soft and fluffy material of her thick leggings.

A small smile made its way onto Y/n's face, and her hand lifted of its own accord, burying itself into the fur on the top of his head.

Y/n still remembered how she had felt uncomfortable around the fox because of the unnatural aura it gave off, but she had gotten used to it. Now, it was a companion who Y/n simply adored.

A long moment passed, and Y/n was not entirely sure it wasn't hours, but the sky darkened just a fraction.

Y/n glanced up in confusion, because she was sure it had been brighter just a moment before. Suddenly, the warmth in her lap vanished, and Y/n's head snapped down, her brows furrowed.

Rusty was no longer next to Y/n. He was across the clearing, and Y/n could not fathom how he had crossed the vast area so quickly. Her suspicions about him grew, and she realized his body was beginning to shake.

Y/n quickly rolled to her feet, her eyes growing wide when he began spasming, a tortured whine escaping him. She could do nothing but stare as his paws dug into the soft ground, pain filled sounds continuing to rip from him.

The moment Y/n stepped forward, hoping to do something to help Rusty, his head snapped up, a low growl he emitted leaving her frozen in place. And his eyes...

They were glowing.

Unnatural, completely otherworldly brightness radiated from him, his aura becoming ten times different from what it had been.

Y/n watched, her blood chilling, as he continued to struggle until the smell of something burnt reach Y/n.

Everything stilled after that, and Rusty collapsed, breaths heaving out of him.

And, the place where his paws had been, was nothing but burnt remains of the leaves fallen from the trees

Y/n studied the fox until he had gained enough strength to stand again, and his eyes stared back at Y/n.

She swallowed as the fox prowled closer. "You are not a real fox, are you?"

Rusty swung his head from side to side, his eyes boring into Y/n.

She nodded, wondering why she was even surprised. "Are you fae?"

His head dipped.

Y/n dragged her palms down her face, trying not to lose her shit.

"Why are you here? What do you want from me?"

He cocked his head, as if questioning her how he was supposed to answer.

She released a frustrated breath, going through all the reasons why a shapeshifter would follow her around.

She could only find one reasonable reason.

"Have you... have you been cursed?"

The fox dipped his head slowly, and Y/n took a step back, horrified.

"And you are here because you... what? Want me to break you free?"

The fox whined, taking a step forward.

"No." She stepped back again, continuing until her back hit a tree. "Fuck. No. I will not be used and discarded by you too. I will not..."

The sadness in the fox's -Rusty's -eyes nearly brought Y/n to her knees, but the fox simply dipped its head again after a moment, turning and prowling away from the clearing and, in turn, Y/n.

She watched him go, his shoulders curved inwards, looking defeated.

And, despite her instincts telling her to go behind him, she turned away too, walking in the opposite direction, towards her small hut.

•○🌑○•

The windows shook, their sound a little too loud in the small home, and Y/n's fingers curled tighter on the book, the pages crinkling under her fingers.

Thunder cracked somewhere, and Y/n flinched, squeezing her eyes shut. With a sigh, she put her book away, tugging her blanket closer for warmth. She turned to look out the window, where it was completely dark, not one tree visible.

And, despite her attempts at trying to ignore her worries about Rusty, she could not help but wonder where he was.

Was he somewhere in the forest, getting soaked by the rain, shivering?

Was he wandering around hopelessly, hoping someone took pity on him?

Y/n shook her head, telling herself she did not care.

But of course, she did.

Since the moment she had turned away from his retreating form, she had not been able to think about anything but him.

Y/n had never had anyone that particularly cared about her, so having even a damned fox use her for his own gain cut something deep in her heart.

But then a thought occurred to her, and all her feelings of betrayal were forgotten.

What if it is a child?

Or what if it is just like me, never had anyone who cared?

What if he gets incinerated in the storm by lightning?

Oh fuck it.

The second to last thought was what snapped Y/n's restraint, and she grabbed her cloak, lit a lantern, and set off to find her Rusty.

•○🌑○•

The rain made it even harder to see in the night, but Y/n soldiered on, determined to rescue the damsel in distress. Though the damsel was a male and could probably not be in distress.

He could have found a cave to snooze in, and Y/n was setting herself up to be sick for nothing.

Her heart didn't seem to care for that judging by the way it was screeching in her ears.

A flash of light caught Y/n's eyes, and she stilled, lifting her lantern higher, hoping she had finally found the sneaky bastard.

It was just a piece of glass, and Y/n cursed whoever had thrown it here.

After a long time of searching, Y/n spied a gap in the trees, knowing it led to a small cliff. Her instincts told her to follow the trail, and she decided trusting her heart was the better option than trusting her brain.

She had decided to ignore her heart in that clearing, and now she was stuck in a storm.

Lightning brightened the world for a moment, and Y/n lifted her hand to shield herself as she reached the cliff.

Unfortunately, Rusty was not there as well.

Frustrated, Y/n sighed, turning away from the drop.

And then she paused, her eyes landing on a bush.

Under which lay Rusty, shivering and curled in on himself.

Guilt spread through Y/n, and she stepped closer with caution.

His eyes flew open, his teeth bared as he searched around for a predator.

His eyes widened when he realised it was Y/n who stood in front of him now, and he ducked his head, as if ashamed.

Y/n walked forward, and watched as his shoulders curved inwards, trying to make himself small.

She crouched, extending her hands towards him, and he stared at it for a moment, then at Y/n before taking a tentative step closer, gaining more confidence when her hand remained unwavering. He stopped a few with his face a few inches away from her hand, and she reached out to pet his nose.

"Come," she whispered, "let's go home."

He stared at her for a moment longer, and Y/n felt like there were tears in his eyes, but she couldn't be sure because it could very well be rain water.

Navigating the forest to return home was much easier and faster than it had been searching for Rusty, and Y/n was glad about that, as she could think of nothing but changing into warm clothes and getting warmed in front of her fireplace now that she had finally found Rusty. Also, she had to wash Rusty and feed him. It had been long since he had left and Y/n doubted that he had eaten anything.

As soon as Y/n stepped foot inside her home, she shucked off her cloak, setting down her lantern and turning to find that Rusty still hadn't crossed the threshold.

"Come on in, Rusty."

She beckoned to him, and he trotted in, shaking his head to get rid of the water.

"Let's get you into a warm bath first."

Y/n hurried into the bathing room and turned on the faucets, letting the tub fill with warm water. Feeling eyes on her, she glanced back to see Rusty sitting patiently by the door, like a gentleman. Y/n smiled.

"Get in." She told him when the water had filled to the point she knew he liked. "I will go and get changed, and you get yourself cleaned up until then. We can have food after."

At the last part, his head snapped up, his eyes wide. But then he jumped into the tub, and Y/n was left to wonder why he seemed so shocked.

•○🌑○•

Y/n wrapped the tiny towel around Rusty, giggling at how funny he looked before she placed the red coloured bowl in front of Rusty, his favourite.

She stared at him as he began eating, and stared, and stared.

The air changed the moment he took his first bite, growing thicker and heavier with every moment that passed.

Confused, Y/n glanced behind her, and when she turned back to rusty, she let out a small scream.

In the place that Rusty had been occupying, sat a man... naked.

Y/n had never climbed to her feet so quick in her whole life as she did then, covering her eyes. But then she peeked out from between her fingers, seeing him blushing furiously while trying to cover up his private parts with the tiny towel. It was barely enough to cover up his chest, so he had to hold it with both hands like a curtain in front of his hips.

"Who the hell are you?" Y/n screeched.

She noticed now that he had hair like liquid flame, his eyes were mismatched, and he was... fae.

Realisation washed through Y/n.

"You- You're Rusty."

He grimaced. "Yeah, though I am a little concerned with that name. Can we please not use that? Like, Rusty? Really?"

Y/n let her hands fall to her side, settling on her hips. "You bastard, you should be grateful I let you stay and gave you a name. Imagine how weird it would have been in if I called you fox."

"Yeah, I think that would have been better than Rusty."

Y/n scoffed. After a moment, she spoke again, struggling hard to keep her gaze on his. She deserved a fucking medal for it.

"So... what was your curse? And who had so much free time to put one on you?"

A hint of a smile appeared on his face. "Don't you think this is kind of inappropriate to talk about while I'm naked?"

Y/n rolled her eyes as she moved past him, walking into her bedroom. "You never had a problem before when you pranced about, wooing all the female foxes."

She was now sure he was grinning when he replied. "Yeah well, they didn't wear any clothes either. If you were to strip..."

Y/n whipped around from where she was rummaging in her closet for something to gape at him. He grinned, leaning against the doorframe, his hands folded against his chest.

That meant-

Y/n turned away from him just as fast as she had turned to him, and no matter how much she denied it, the image of him... it would be forever embedded in her mind.

"Asshole." She mumbled under her breath, her hand landing on a piece of clothing she was unfamiliar with.

It was a pant she had stolen years ago, and later realised it had been too big for her. It would have to do.

Without turning, Y/n threw the pants over her shoulder, and by the lack of sound, knew Rusty had caught it.

It was a few moment before he hummed, letting her know he was done, and Y/n turned, her mouth going dry at all the muscle displayed.

She hadn't had the time to appreciate what she saw before, as she was trying not to make a fool of herself by staring at his privates, but now that he was covered from the waist down, she could not help but stare at what she could see.

"Like what you see?"

Y/n's eyes flashed up, colour staining her cheeks as she huffed.

"Of course not. You are still Rusty for me, and I'd never think of someone called Rusty as anything I like."

He scoffed. "Please, my name is Lucien. I'd appreciate it if you stop referring to me as Rusty."

She lifted her chin defiantly. "No."

He sighed. "Very well, my lady. If that is what you wish for. After all, you broke my curse, I can't really order you around anymore."

"Yes, about that curse. Care to elaborate now that you are appropriate?"

He nodded, a seriousness coming over him. He followed her as she led him back out, settling down in front of the fireplace as she boiled some water for tea.

Once the tea was ready, Y/n passed one cup to Rusty- Lucien- and studied him, watching as he fumbled a little with the cup before he got a good grip on it.

"Let's start from the beginning." She nodded her head for him to continue. "Do you remember the most recent war that happened?"

She nodded. The destruction had been immense, according to what she had heard through rumours, but she lived far enough away from the wall that no harm reached her.

"There was a continent called Hybern. One of my closest friends was pretending to aid Hybern so he could gather intel about the kingdom's and the king's inner workings so he could help Prythian when the inevitable war came. Soldiers from Hybern had stolen the cauldron from its resting place in Prythian, and they knew that it could make anyone young and immortal."

"What is the cauldron?"

Lucien glanced at Y/n with raised brows, but explained to her what the cauldron was, who the mother was, and all the things that probably didn't matter to the story just because she didn't know about them.

A power like that? People would kill for it. Y/n thought.

"My friend's past lover, who had been mated to another high lord, arrived in Hybern, and realised her sisters had been kidnapped. The king ordered the sisters to be put into the cauldron. One of them turned out to be my... mate."

The jealousy that ripped through Y/n was unmatched from anything she had ever felt. And for what? The mention of someone she did not even know? Ridiculous.

"The older one, she apparently took something from the cauldron, in turn making the cauldron take away the youth from the human queen put in after her. The queen was furious, and she allied with a powerful death sorcerer."

"He found out about my... relationship with one of the sisters, and before we killed him, put a curse on me, because I was standing the closest to him. He turned me into a fox, and I could only be turned back if someone who loathed fae gave me shelter and food, even after knowing I was fae."

"Powerful death sorcerer, and all he could think of for his last breath was to turn you into a fox." Y/n muttered under her breath.

A breathy laugh escaped Lucien, which then full on turned into howls of laughter.

"So, what, your mate could not help?"

"She probably could have, given she couldn't bear being near me, but she wouldn't have. Me being a fox gave her freedom to pursue whomever she wished."

Y/n sighed. "Is everyone from the other side of the wall dumb?"

He shook his head, staring into the embers of the fire, though a smile remained on his mouth. Y/n glanced out the window, realising the sun was starting to rise.

"We should probably get some sleep."

Lucien followed her gaze to out the window, and he nodded.

"I will take the couch, you should sleep on your bed."

"Nonsense. You have been invading my space for the past month like your life depends on it. It won't be a big deal if you sleep next to me."

"Sleep next to you, not with you?"

"You know what? You can sleep on the porch."

He laughed, standing and pulling Y/n to her feet.

He leaned down, pressing his lips to her cheek.

"Thank you."

Y/n blushed, shaking her head.

"I will leave as soon as I can."

Hurt pierced Y/n's heart like a bolt from hell. "Why?"

His brows furrowed. "Why? I have taken enough advantage of you. I don't want to impose."

She shook her head again. "I like when you impose."

He smiled.

"If you say so."

•○🌑○•

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

Lucien Taglist: @kennedy-brooke @hnyclover @minnieoo @mirandasidefics @sidrapotter @hnyclover

[vroomvroomwee]

Goddamn all of you lovely Good Omens artists are fucking incredible do you know that? And I don't just mean the skill and talent and range you all possess in drawing cute adorable comics all the way to renaissance masterpieces because I won't be able to shut up if I start talking about that.

No, I mean who you are as PEOPLE.

You are all absolutely wonderful. Every single piece relays the refreshing and comforting views and opinions you have as well as your kindness. Drawing Aziraphale chubby and big but as well as soft and sexy and desirable and magnificently ETHEREAL. It has made me love my belly and thighs. It's made me view them as adorable and cute. The utter ADORATION you have for Crowley's nose. I went from despising mine (which is slightly crooked) to flaunting it and being PROUD of it. Because, guess what? ITS FUCKING CUTE.

As a result of all the love you all show towards these characters and the traits that society would call "unattractive", the ones that people should be ASHAMED about and try to hide, I have genuinely started to love my body. Traits that would cause me to feel inferior and pathetic are now causing me to feel giddy and affectionate towards myself. Went from "ew" and "uhhgg" to "tehe" and "eee" every time I look in the mirror.

If there's anyone that feels that their art isn't being appreciated, therefore that means they aren't good enough, I want to remind you that there's probably a person out there somewhere, too shy to like and reblog, who accidentally stumbled upon it and now has a smile on their face. There could also be another individual at a different corner of the planet who comes back to your art when they feel down and need some comfort and happiness, their confidence receiving a momentanious boost, and to be reminded how lovable and worthy they are.

And what's even more amazing is how we don't have this revelation: "My body/face is ugly, but I love it anyway." NO!! It has the "My body is a body. I'm human. There's no such thing as an ugly body. " And that's so so so so important.

People always talk about how Good Omens completely warps your view of gender and sexuality and makes you realise how abstract they both are. But it also has that effect for bodies and facial features.

Changing your opinion and feelings on something doesn't usually happen in the blink of an eye like they depict it in the movies where the characters have this memorable dramatic revelation. In real life, it happens gradually. Because we're human, and we need time to process things. So the Good Omens artists doing this to so so so many of us is incredible because they pop up these gorgeous pieces of art constantly. Over and over and over and over, and it's such a breath of fresh air and freedom from being suffocated by the media and society everywhere you go. And I say this with 100% seriousness, Good Omens has some of the most wonderful people in its fandom.

[idyllcy]

cressie's archive : drafts/unposted

here is EVERY SINGLE UNFINISHED DEVELOPED DRAFT I have :3

Danganronpa

cruel summer // wrecked at sea

The setting sun paints you in red, the image terrifying yet so comforting to the boy. You look like the devil. Komaeda hears the sound of the boat approaching the dock in the background. "I'll see you in five years, Komaeda."

prom queen // ultimate pageant queen reader

Servant watches, heart heavy, mind a mess. That was supposed to be him. He's supposed to be the one to serve you. He feels you had taken what he said personally. It wasn't like he was wrong, but maybe he did need to apologize for not taking your emotions seriously.

white (lies) // eating disorder

You despise the taste of food on your lips, yet you lie to Teruteru about how delicious his cooking was. Komaeda hates people like you

(untitled) // yokai au // dead dove do not eat

Komaeda sighs as he turns into a human, and he grumbles. He didn't want to hex the area, but if he's going to have to find you, then so be it. If you die because of some unfortunate accident again, he's going to kill himself for real this time. 

and baby when it's love if it's not rough it isn't fun // pt of gambling au

Komaeda works to pay back that debt. Would you still pick him if he wasn't yours by force?

gold // isekaied reader

Chiaki clings onto you, unsure as to why you ran so fast, yet she spots her classmates rushing after you while you run. She sees the interest that flashes across Kamukura's face. She notices the ragged breath you run downhill with. Chiaki doesn't know what you're so scared of; yet, as you slam the door behind you, breath ragged, tears streaming, Chiaki thinks she knows.

(untitled) // future foundation ultimate god reader

Hinata is right. You don't like the look you took to be in the foundation. It crawls at your skin uncomfortably, and it looks nothing like how you were supposed to look. What happened to your hair? Your face? Your skin and limbs? You miss when you never took a form.

from elysium, with love // hades game au

With a spin of your robe, you're gone. Hinata stares at where you once were, and he does wonder how you do what you do. The incarnate of death. Hinata liked the cold of death. Your touch was welcome on his warm skin, even more so to his legs which burn of the lakes of Tartarus. The touch of death was welcome to him.

hype boy // food vlogger + college // dual pov fic

while vlogging at the newest cafe on campus, you pay Hinata $15 to bite and record him swallowing the coffee puck. He goes viral as a result.

DC

was it real or just for show? // engaged

You fly out because Tim Drake doesn't care for you anyway. Why is he so adamant about finding you if he doesn't give a shit and returns late all the time?

i want you for worse or for better // mercenary + royal

First Prince Dick Grayson has just had his engagement broken. That very night, he shows up at the pub you work at, drowning out his sorrows in enough liquor to kill an elephant

Red 19 // gambling + casino

Coin in your hand and wealth given to the neighborhood, you wonder if Red Hood is truly as unbreakable as everyone makes him out to be.

"Let's get married" // arranged marriage + soulmates // COMPLETED

When Tim's soulmate is slapped at a Wayne Gala, it seems natural that he should abuse soulmate laws and force them out of their abusive house. Too bad you're adamant about killing yourself.

High school, hi school // high school

Damian only knows you as the other artist in his class. When he crashes into your apartment on accident mid-fight, he worries you'll speak up on it. You don't, and when he turns you down at graduation, the story is supposed to end there.

surface, subface // hades game au

Tim doesn't remember why he still breaks out when his mother is already home? What is it? What is he missing? Why is there an aide managing mother's cottage now?

to live, to love, to lie // metahuman reader

You spend most of your time partying. Being overstimulated and numb was better than being understimulated and numb. A walking phonebook. A walking encyclopedia. Kon finds you partying one night, and one look is all he needs to grab you.

you're not mine // exes au

Tim never got to tell you he was Red Robin when you were dating, so he takes advantage of that and visits your art studio at night to hang out. Nevermind the fact that he was in the middle of divorce processions with his wife or whatever.

Tears of Themis

emerald green // arranged marriage

Years ago, Vyn remembers the feeling of his hand in yours, and both of you are unhappy. In current day, he navigates the murky waters of his feelings for you with you back with him.

Lovebrush Chronicles / For All Time

lion // high school au

When Lars transfers to your school, his flamboyancy evokes eyes from everyone — Including you. You long to be free like him.

Resident Evil / Biohazard

red means i love you // mutual stalking

"Almost forgot you." You grab the teddy, holding it by the hand as you turn it to face the wall in the bathroom. "I still don't appreciate you watching me and not letting me see you, y'know, Ada?" You start the shower, feeling for it as you huff. "What's the fun in sending you lego roses each day with cameras inside if you only keep them at your counter?"

the dead haunt the dead // government agent + plagas

"Are you here to finally kill me?" You stare at Leon, same plagas scars on your face, eyes now the same color as Saddler's prior to his death. Leon can't pull the trigger.

(untitled) // medieval knight Leon // COMPLETED

The fire crackles in your eyes, ashes burning and shattering as you stare, words tumbling out of your heart, eyes weary with an age that should not be possible to you. You look both wounded and aged. Leon has only ever seen those eyes on the men who live til sixty, white visible in both their hair and eyes, old age consuming them until they are a shell of their previous self. You should not be capable of such emotion.

american dream // Nouveau Riche + Gatsby 1920s Leon

Leon Scott Kennedy lacks nothing. A pool the size of Lake Michigan, a tennis court the size of an acre, a bathroom the size of a factory. Leon Scott Kennedy lacks nothing.

Call of Duty

signed puck: signed, luck // Hockey AU Simon Riley

He wants a minx? You'll give him one.

Hades Game

son of apollo, lover of none

Ion is in your care, and Apollo begs that you stay

No promises any of this gets finished but this is for anyone who's ever been curious abt how much shit ends up in the graveyard also feel free to leave a comment or ask if u really want me to finish smth from this list bc like everything here is alr like 2k+ words

[onskepa]

Heyy, I was wondering if you could write a fic where the Sully kids and Spider meet human Jake. It could be like one day they are at Hell’s Gate and suddenly there's like a white light or something and boom Jake is reverted to his past human self ( wheelchair and all ).

Because in canon they only known Jake in his avatar body, so I think this situation would be fun to explore and see their dynamics.

Helloooooooooo there~!! Honestly this is a good idea and I have got the perfect pic for it! Hope you enjoy~!!

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

[credit to the artist]

Would you love me if I was a worm?

No words or sounds came from netyiri. She just stood still, her eyes wide and mouth open. Her tail stopped swaying. For a solid couple of seconds, everything was dead silent. How can she process what is in front of her? 

“Mom, please, for the love of Eywa, don't freak out” Lo’ak says as calmly as he can. His hands raised up slightly, ready for any outburst his mother would do. Neteyam was beside him, both in front of their father, to protect him. 

“Freak out? FREAK OUT!? I am about to lose my mind! What in Eywa’s name has happened!?” Neytiri screeched. Her anger and fear rising up to her voice. 

In a sharp turn of her neck, she glared hard towards the familiar human scientists. 

“YOU!! WHAT DID YOU DO?!” Neytiri's voice echoed throughout the lab, her rage unmatched. Her amber eyes glaring daggers towards the cowarding humans. Norm, being the more braver among the rest, stood in front of her as if to protect his fellow comrades. 

“W-we didn't know it would turn out like this!” Norm said while his voice was shaking, feeling terrified of the large woman in front of him. 

“did not know!? Look at my husband, HE IS SMALL AND PINK! HE IS HUMAN AGAIN!” 

Few hours earlier…

“So what is the point of that whole machine?” Jake asks as his fellow science friends set up some equipment. “We want to see if our theory of reversing things works”. Norm replied. Jake tilted his head a bit, “reversing things? Like what?” he asks. 

“Well like reversing illnesses, diseases, injuries. For mostly medical reasons. Our modern medicine supply is going to go low at some point. And came to decide other ways to fix or treat stuff” Max replies. Jake nods, understanding. He was mostly out of the way as they completed the machine. It was big, mostly tube-like. A long glass tube for a human or na’vi to get in. Had two sides with touch screens and a computer with a slide to insert something into the tube. Looked very rough in some areas. 

“We had to recycle some materials from the old labs,” Norm explains. 

“So, have you guys tested it yet?” Jake asks. Norm shook his head, “no, we are deciding carefully on what could be our guinea pig, and it needs to be organic. Mostly everyone is afraid to go inside”. 

Jake looks at the machine and slightly raises his hand, “What about me? I could do it”. Norm and Max were quick to turn their heads looking at jake. “Are you sure…? We can't guarantee it would hurt or feel weird” Max says, already not liking the nervous feeling he is getting. “We could try a fruit or something else, we really don't know the levels of danger here”. 

Jake raises his eyebrow, “so you built something, medical wise. And you don't know if it can hurt people?”. Norm swings his arms around and taking a deep breath, “we work with what we got. And yes, we don't know if it will cause more harm. That is why everyone, even us, are hesitant to try it out”. 

Jake shrugs and was still insistent on being the test subject. Norm gave in but max was not liking it at all. Feeling something is gonna go wrong. But no one would listen to him. So jake in his na’vi glory, stepped inside the tube as the science guys began to turn up the machine. “Ok, all systems are go. Ready jake?” Norm asks through the intercom. Jake nods, grinning all excitedly. 

Counting down, norm presses a button and suddenly in the tube released light green mist. Fogging the entire large tube. However, loud banging was quickly heard. On the screens showed Jake's heart rate spiking, alarms going off. Quickly everyone was quick to try and shut off the machine. Even by forcing the glass to open. And once it did, a human hand poked out.

“Your father hasn't come back yet, '' Neytiri tells her children as they enjoy their dinner. Jake isn't one to miss dinner time. He wouldn't miss any chance to eat. All of the kids looked at each other, trying to remember when was the last time they saw their dad. And then, tuk thumped her tail happily. 

“Daddy said he went to see the uncle norm and the others. Said they wanted to show him something” tuk happily provides the information. While it is not unusual Jake would go to visit the humans, what is unusual is that he stays there all day. A couple of hours at most and he leaves. This made neytiri worry the more she thought about it. 

“I can go get him” Lo’ak offers. He knows his mother isn't very comfortable being in the human posts. Neytiri nods but also adds, “neteyam will join you”. She knows well he will get distracted and have not only jake but now lo’ak staying longer than they should. 

After dinner, the brothers went off to get their father. However, once they stepped inside…it took everything for the boys to not scream their heads off. 

Present time. 

Jake sat in silence. Mostly still trying to process what happened a couple hours ago, still processing his literal new [or old] perspective, and still processing just how pissed his tall wife is. He is human. Back to who he was before. And to make it worse. 

He is back in the wheelchair. 

Back to having his useless legs. 

Back to being weak. 

And he hates it. 

The screeches of neytiri became dull in his mind. The more he thinks about it, the more it daunts on jake. Will it be forever? Is this the new reality? After achieving so much, only to go backwards? 

“Fix him! I do not care how you do it! Fix him now!” Neytiri continues to demand norm. She doesn't care what methods, she wants her Jake back to how he was. A na’vi. 

“W-we don't know! We are not sure how to fix it. This could take time” Norm tries to reason with the angry wife but she just shakes her head in frustration. “FIX HIM!!” was all she could say. 

“Neytiri” 

She heard Jake's voice. 

Turning to see him, she can't help but feel her heart tug. There he was, just like how she saw him back in the deep forest. Different, yet the same. The man she fell in love with. And now here he is again. Back to being human. 

“Ma’jake…” she whispers. Slowly going to him, she bends to be at his level. Jake offers his hand and she takes it to her cheek. Feeling his warmth. Feeling a few tears escape, she begins to cry. “How could they do this to you?! Why?!” she questions. Humans are creatures she could never fully understand, no matter how well she thinks she knows. 

“I volunteered to help them. They didn't know I would turn out like this. Its not their fault” Jake answers, trying to level a reason with his love. But her tears didnt stop falling. And he hates this. Hates to see netyiri cry. So doing his best to comfort her, he wraps his arms around her neck and hugs her as best as he could. Joining in on the hug were their sons. 

“You foolish skxawng! Stupid! Idiotic!” Neytiri shouted light hearted insults at her husband, and Jake takes it all in, secretly agreeing with her. “I know, I know baby, I know I am” he repeats. He really did fucked up. 

After a couple of minutes, they let go of each other, but neytiri didn't leave Jake's side. Lo’ak turns to norm to ask, “is there a way to turn him back? He isn't going to be like this forever….right?’. 

Norm took a deep breath and said, “the machine we built is to reverse and fix the main source of the problem. When Jake got in…the machine” point to Jake, “fixed him”. The sully family was slightly confused. “Fixed me? How?“ Jake asked. Rubbing the back of his neck, Max stepped forward to provide more information. “What we built is to reverse a source of a problem. Our best guess is the machine found a problem in you. Your na’vi blood. The machine must has seen it as a problem and using your human DNA to reverse it. Thus…you are fixed. And we cant say if we can turn you back into na’vi…”. 

Dread was what everyone felt. Scared that this would be the new reality. Scare that jake won't be with his family every day. Won't continue to be olo’eyktan or anything. Dread and fear is the collective emotions. 

“How about we sleep on this? A lot has happened and sleep would be best to calm ourselves. Sleep, a bit of coffee and think what our next movie is” Jake suggests. Everyone almost agrees. His family however, not really. “I will stay with you” Neytiri says, no hesitation. But Jake shook his head, placing his hands over her larger ones. “I'm sorry baby, but I need you to go back home. You and our boys. Kiri and tuk are currently alone and they need their parents. I obviously can't…but tomorrow, bring them so they can know what's going on. This won't be forever I promise”. 

Neytiri hisses in frustration. He is right, neytiri left kiri to care for tuk while she came to the lab. Never has she wished this was all a bad dream. A nightmare that she can wake up from. But this is real. And she hates it. 

“Fine…but they have to fix you…I want you back” Neytiri whispers. Holding Jake's hand tightly, observing his pale skin. He feels different. It's not the same hand she loves to hold. It is not the same warmth she leans into for comfort. It's all wrong. Jake isn't-

“Mom” 

Neytiri blinks a few times, looking over at neteyam, his hand on her shoulder. “Let's go home, dad is right. We will come back tomorrow. We can bring kiri and tuk like he said”. Sighing, netyiri finally lets go but not without one last look at jake. Seeing his human form made her feel something. Something unpleasant. 

“Dad…damn it's weird…” Lo’ak says, still trying to get the whole thing wrapped in his mind. Jake could help but chuckle a bit, “it's ok son, I will see you tomorrow”. Not saying much, lo’ak goes with his mother, neteyam also looks one last time before joining them. 

The door shuts behind them, leaving Jake alone to his thoughts. 

“So ummmm….you guys still have my old room?”

“Spider, can you for 5 minutes stop staring at me?” Jake asks, slightly annoyed. Spider on the other hand was staring at him as if he couldn't believe what was in front of him. Slowly spider was using his index finger to slowly poke jake. Looking at it, Jake gently smacked his hand away. “Stop it” Jake warned. 

Spider backed away a bit, huffing a bit, “sorry sir it's just….so weird! You are small and pink and well…human”. Jake couldn't blame the boy. He grew up seeing Jake full na’vi. But doesnt mean it didn't hurt Jake a bit. His pride, he tries to keep humble, but little by little his pride crumbles. 

“Get used to it, come on. Lets see what the others are doing” Jake says as both of them head off to the main room. 

“I thought they were kidding…” Kiri says as she stands in front of her dad. Tuk beside her, eyes wide and in shock. Same reaction as their mother. Jake raises his arms, grinning in a rather floppy way, “I wish baby girl” he said. Hearing his voice only confirmed it more. Tuk releases her grip on Kiri's hand and walks over to her dad. Carefully analyzing his human features. 

“Is it really you daddy…?” tuk asks, excited yet afraid to hear his answer. “It is me tuktuk, surprised?” Jake responds, giving his signature grin. Smiling happily, she hugs him tightly. It's so weird to her, she is the baby but she is bigger than her dad. Letting go, she sees his wheelchair, bending down, she traces the metal wheels. 

“Why are you in a chair?” She asks while her giggles escape. She looks up to see jake give a sad smile. 

“Well baby girl, my legs cant move. I cant walk or do anything, '' he tells truthfully. Tuk’s smile faded a bit, “does that mean you cant run..?”. Jake nods. 

A few seconds of silence passed before she went behind him and grabs the handles, “can I at least push you?” she asks excitedly, her tail swaying in a playful manner. Jake chuckles, “try not to run so fast-WOA!!”. Tuk was off doing just that, running fast making cool drifts with the wheelchair. 

“Weeeeeeee~!!” 

10 minutes later 

“Sorry…” Tuk apologizes while holding her tail and head low. 

She just crashed into one of the computers. 

Norm doing his best to not show his internal scream, he does his best to comfort her. But Jake goes over, grabbing tuk’s hand, “it's ok baby girl, but try to be extra careful. It's not easy to maintain all of this technology, come on, let's go with everyone else”. Tuk feeling better, this time she carefully takes Jake to where the other kids are

“And why are you not with your mate? Especially in his time of need?” Mo’at asks as she mixes herbs to make more healing substance. Neytiri was helping her, but refused to make eye contact. Mo’at was told of what happened, and had to see for herself. And while it certainly was a shock, she was quick to tell the people that their olo’eyktan had to travel for a bit. But she doesn't know how long the people will believe that. 

“The children go to support their father but here you are supporting me when it is not needed” she continues. Putting down the roller, neytiri huffs, feeling annoyed herself. “I went to the spirit tree…” was all she could say. But mo’at gave her a look, “Eywa cant answer all of our problems, as she cant help jake sully this time” she says. 

“This is a problem only the humans can fix” 

But even then, neyiri continues to assist. Thinking about her mate, but doing nothing to see him. The humans have to fix him, they must.

The sully kids were playing Jake's old vlogs as he was cringing from the inside. Was that how he really behaved back then? And speaking highly of Quaritch? How badly he wanted to go back in time and smack the shit out of himself. 

“Wait, but you look exactly the same as in the videos, shouldn't you be looking about your current age?” Kiri asks, comparing her father to himself of the past. But Jake could only shrug, “I am not sure kiddo. But I consider it lucky I haven't lost my good looks”. Kiri rolls her eyes at that self praise. 

Yet, as the kids watch, he couldn't help but wonder about neytiri, she hasn't come even though she said she would. He suspects there is something going on with neytiri but he can't point out what exactly. But jake hopes to see her soon. He can use all the support he can get. 

Norm isnt much help since “they are still figuring it out”. Jake hates this, he hates seeing his human hands. Hates to see himself human. The desire to be na’vi again grows every second.  

“Has mom said anything about coming?” Jake asks neteyam, the oldest slight shrugs. “I asked mom but she didn't say much, just that she will be helping grandma. That's about it” neteyam answers. Sighing inwardly, perhaps she too is still processing the truth. That is fine, giving her space can be good.

But as days passed, Jake was struggling. He was so used to doing certain things, he has forgotten his human habits. Often had to be reminded to wear more clothes, forgetting he didn't had much hair from the start. Technology around him makes him a bit sick, unable to stare at screens for a long time. Not like how he used to. Sounds from the computers annoyed him. 

And dont get him started on food. There is only so much pandora food that is safe for humans. Jake missed eating certain things that the humans find weird or gross. 

And most of all, being reminded of how weak he is. Having his useless legs back is forever mocking him. How he isn't strong as he was in na’vi. And he hates himself because of it.

Jake is constantly reminded of how dull and empty his human life was. And how full and nurturing his na’vi life is. He needed to get back to being na’vi soon. As if each day, a piece of his mind is slowly losing sanity. Jake is a patient man, but when you are used to a certain life, only to refrain to how you started. It takes a toll. 

1 month. 

It took neytiri one month to come see him. And Jake felt relieved to see her. To feel her hands and touch her beautiful face. “I missed you” he says with great relief. Neytiri gives him a small smile as she examines his hands again. 

“They still haven't fixed you” was all she said. 

“You talk as if I am broken” Jake slightly jokes, chuckling to himself. But neytiri wasn't smiling. Taking a more serious look, he leans a bit closer, “neytiri…do you think I am broken?”. He needed to know, from revealing to himself, that is all she ever said, fix. As though there is something wrong with him. 

“You are human…” she whispers. But Jake heard her loud and clear. 

Her eyes were unable to meet his. Her hands are there, but her mind is distant. “Is that bad?” he asks. A bad feeling starts to grow, gripping her hands more, Jake tries to make eye contact but neytiri looks away. 

“Baby please look at me….do I look broken to you?” Jake pleads. But nothing came of her mouth. Slowly, Neytiri pulls her hands back and gets up, “I have to go”. She leaves, almost as though she wants to run. 

“NEYTIRI!” Jake calls out, his voice cracking. But she was gone. 

Tuk was crying, she twisted her ankle while running and was swelling bad, Mo’at was quick to treat her, but tears wouldn't stop. Everyone tried to soothe her, but nothing was of use. From neteyam hugging her, to lo’ak making a fool of himself on purpose, nothing worked. And neytiri was getting more anxious that she couldn't calm her baby. 

“Please tuktuk, ssshhhh it's going to be ok. I know it hurts, would you like your favorite supper?” Neytiri asks, holding tuk and gently rocking her back and forth. 

“No! “ tuk cries out. Her wails loud and heart breaking. Honestly they really tried everything. But what could work?

“Tuk, it doesn't hurt, does it? Why are you really crying?” Kiri asks gently, already seeing through her sister's facade. Tuk shook her head, wiping her tears and taking deep, quick breathes. 

“Nononono!” was all tuk could say. The more she cries, the more worried Neytiri gets. But before anyone else can say anything, tuk confesses. 

“I want daddy!!” and she cries some more. 

Her words broke everyone's hearts. For the past month, everyone tried to continue their lives but it was so difficult without Jake around. Neteyam missed flying with his dad. Lo’ak strangely missed being scolded by him. Kiri missed their late night talks. And neytiri. 

Neytiri misses her mate more than she could ever express. But she knows, Neytiri knows she is a coward to not face him as he is. 

A sky demon. 

“I want daddy!! I want him home! I wanna play with him, I wanna be carried. I want daddy to sing me to sleep even though he is terrible! I miss daddy!” 

How can they really shush when they all feel the same? 

“Ssshhh, hey, its still day time, let's go see him. We can all go see dad together” Lo’ak suggests quickly. That made tuk silence a bit, small hiccups following, but she aggressively nodded. Liking the idea, the rest of the siblings were quick to get whatever they needed to go see their dad at the lab. 

“Come on mom, let's go see him” Kiri says, excitedly grabbing her mothers hand. But neytiri stays put. “You go on ahead, take your time” she says. But kiri halted a second, tilting her head slightly. “Don't you want to see dad too? Surely you must miss him a lot more than us” she says, but her mother looks in a different direction, not able to make eye contact. Tugging her hand, kiri gently, yet forcefully, drags neytiri out of their home. Smiling brightly, to encourage her mother, “lets go, we can do something together, all of us as a family”. 

Neytiri looks at her daughter, and decides to follow. But the ever growing dread rumbles in her stomach.

“There there baby girl, don't need to cry. Accidents happen and we learn from them” Jake effortlessly soothes tuk. The little girl sniffed and controlled her tears better. Despite being bigger, tuk was snuggled up against Jake's chest, hearing his heartbeat. This was what she wanted. To be close with her dad again. And being so touch starved, she clinged on to him the most. 

“See, all better huh? Come on, let me see that smile. What is a mouse's favorite food?” Jake asks. Tuk gasped happily, she knows this one! 

“Cheese!” Tuk smiles happily, her tears and sadness washed away. Jake chuckles as holds her tighter. “That's right baby girl” Jake praises. Gently he rubs his forehead against hers, making tuk giggle in glee. His other children surround them, happy to see tuk calm and back to her happy self. Neytiri stood a bit distant, but calmed herself. Jake always knew how to calm their youngest baby. 

“What are you coming home dad? We miss you. I miss you a lot” Tuk whines a bit. Jake couldn't help but frown a bit. “I am not sure when tuktuk. Until uncle norm can find a way, I am like this” Jake answers honestly. But that wasn't enough for tuk. Growling a bit, she huffs. Like a little hamster. 

“Why can't you come home as you are? Spider can go wherever he wants. Why can't you do the same? There are a lot of masks” she asks stubbornly as she crosses her arms. 

Spider, who was beside Kiri, couldn't help but feel sad for jake. The man is in a worse position than he ever was. 

“True, but unlike spiders. I can't run, I can't even stand baby girl. My legs don't work like they used to” Jake answers with all the patience in the world. Tuk looks down at his legs, well what she can see since was wearing pants. Her ears pinned down, hating it more by the second. 

“Can't Eywa fix this? Doesn't she always help like mom says?” Tuk asks more, a little hope rising. Kiri shakes her head and goes over, gently placing a hand over tuk’s shoulder. 

“It doesn't work like that tuk. Our great mother doesn't just grant miracles like that. This is something that must be solved by uncle norm and the other scientists. They did this, so it is only right they find a solution themselves” kiri tells. 

But it seems that no matter how much they explain, tuk will still remain stubborn about bringing Jake back to their home. She understands the complications, but would rather refuse to see it. Like daughter, like mother. As in a way, tuk reflects what neytiri is doing. Avoiding the real problem. So Jake does his best to hold tuk, whispering comforting words into her ear. Which can only work for so long. 

At the same time, lo’ak turns and sees neytiri slowly, yet surly moving farther away. Confused at what she is doing, he goes over. “Mom? Don't you want to get close to dad?” he asks her in a low voice only for her to hear. But neytiri doesn't answer right away. Looking behind him and back at him, she answers in the same low voice. “I am fine, we are here for you and your siblings”. 

Jake noticed the silent conversation happening between his son and wife. It still hurts him that neytiri left only to come back using their kids as an excuse. It seems like real talk is long overdue. Gently moving tuk at his side, he effortlessly climbs back on his wheelchair. 

“Dad?” Neteyam calls out, curious what Jake will do. Smiling like nothing, Jake says, “Hey, why not bother the science guys? They have been playing pac-man all days. But dont break anything”. Giving full permission, they all smile and head off to bother the humans. Spider calls out to lo’ak to join them and he happily does. 

Leaving Neytiri and Jake alone. 

“Let's talk outside, yeah?”

The couple stood outside, as far as Jake's wheelchair allows to. He scratches the edges of the mask. He forgot what it felt like against his skin. It's itchy and uncomfortable. But he bares it. If it meant talking to his mate. 

“Neytiri….baby please. Why won't you look at me?” he asks. Before him, neytiri’s back was facing him. Rubbing her arms to comfort herself. 

“I'm sorry ma’jake…I can't” she confesses. Hesitant heavy in her tone. 

“Can't…or won't?” he confronts. She flinches. And he noticed. Sighing, Jake rubs the back of his neck. The straps itching his upper neck. “I know it's hard. Trust me I know. I had to learn everything again. That i'm…back to this. A useless being” . 

And neytiri couldn't bring herself to defend her mate. As twisted as it may sound. He was right. Jake couldn't do anything without his avatar. He could run, fight, or run a village. He couldn't do anything before the war. 

“But I know that being crippled is the least of your worries. The kids know, I know why you won't look at me. It's because I am back to being what you hate”. 

Don't say it. Please don't. 

“I am…” 

Stop it. 

“A sky demon”. 

“NO!” 

All that had wings, flew away. Startled by the sudden shriek of protest. 

What stance in silence is netyiri fully facing jake. Her fists clenching, heavy breathing, and eyes wide with inner thoughts that scramble to make sense. 

“Back at the secret base. When I passed out from the pandora air. You crawled in and saved me. Placed the mask over my face to let me breathe. You held me in your arms. You saw me. You SAW ME. A human. Looking past my avatar body. Accepting the truth, you feel for a human”. 

The more Jake spoke, the more his voice cracked. The more tears wanted to escape. 

“Why can't you now…?” 

Yes. Why couldn't she? 

“I don't know” was all she could say. No ounce of anger, resentment. Nothing. 

Nodding, but not fully understanding her words. Jake can only repeat it. “You don't know….so who else? Eywa cant help me with this. She helped me greatly before. And even I know, great miracles cant happen twice to the same person. It  must be earned. Fucking shit now I dont know what Im saying”. 

More silence fell between the two. Unsure of what to say. 

“Maybe it was a stupid mistake on my part. Letting myself be the guinea pig for the science guys experiment. I didn't know this would happen to me. I don't know myself” Jake says. Feeling more frustrated by the second. 

But again, he only received silence from neytiri. 

“Neytiri please, talk to me. I can't be the only one spewing out words” he begs. 

“If seeing me like this disgusts you-” 

“It does”. 

Now it was Jake's turn to be silent. 

“Your body disgusts me. I cannot see you as human. To me, you have always been na’vi. An Omatikaya. To see you as human, I am reminded of the past. What they did to our home. To my family. I refuse to look at you for the sake of protecting my memories of you. I will not look back at the past only to see you as human. I will, always will, remember and see you as na’vi. Nothing else”. 

There, she said it. All that had to be said. 

“And now…I see you as one of them”

2 more months have passed and there was no sign of things getting better. The village has grown wary of their absent olo’eyktan that Tsarem had taken the title as temporary. But even still, it can only keep the peace for so long. 

A peace that is fragile. So fragile, it can break at any moment, and chaos will ensue. 

A chaos the sully family is facing every day. Without Jake around, it has become harder to contain their four wild children. Lo’ak has taken more reckless adventures, tuk has been throwing more temper tantrums, kiri has shut down her emotions, and neteyam has become lost in what to do. And each problem took a toll on neytiri. The only time any of them behave is when they visit Jake back at the lab. 

The lab has become more of a home for the kids than back at their marui. 

Yet still, neytiri cant bring herself to go there often like her children. After her last conversation with Jake, confessing how she felt. Never again did she go back to see him. Still playing back the memories of when he was na’vi. Wanting to preserve that form of jake. Pretending he was around, doing his duties to the clan, pretending he was there beside her as she sleeps. 

Pretending everything is ok. 

And it is getting harder to play pretend. 

Until the day came, Jake snapped.

��Bro, do you think they will ever find a way to get dad back to being na’vi? Lo’ak asks. As each day passes, he notices the distance between his parents grow larger. His family is slowly being ripped apart. Lo’ak wishes for his dad to go back to being na’vi. With him back, everything will be ok again. 

It has too. 

“I'm not sure baby bro. But they are smart, Perhaps it takes longer to find a cure. It's not forever, I can feel it” neteyam encourages, But their little chit chat was cut short. They heard alarms going off at the lab. Running quickly, they find their father.

On the ground. 

Crawling. 

And without a mask. 

They were quick to be at his side, Jake was shaking uncontrollably, gasping heavily. Making inconceivable sounds. It was a scary sight. 

“Come on! We have to get him inside!” Neteyam picked up his dad by the legs, lo’ak by the arms. But as soon as they picked him up, spider ran outside with a spare mask. “Here here here!” spider quickly placed the mask on Jake, strapping it around his head really well. Guiding the brothers to put their dad down, they all sat in silence, anxiously waiting for Jake to respond. 

And what felt like forever, Jake gasped into the mask, taking deep slow breathes. The boys released huge breaths as well. Not realizing they were holding it in. 

“Dad, are you crazy!? What were you thinking?!” lo’ak was the first to yell at his father. Jake didn't mind. Letting it slide for now. 

“Thinking about your mom. If she isnt coming to me. Then god damn it I am going to her whether she likes it or not”.

At the sully marui, kiri and tuk were playing in silence as neytiri laid in her hammock, swaying absent minded. Kiri noticed how dull thing became. Their father brought life, structure, and happiness in their family. Kiri desperately wishes he would come back soon.

“DAD'S BACK!!” 

Damn that was soon. 

She and tuk looked down to see neteyam carrying their father in his back. In a hurry, the sisters helped bringing their dad inside of their home. Excited and happy he returned. Even in his small weak form .

Jake sat in the middle of their home, all of his kids talking at the same time. Tuk chanting “daddy's home” over and over. Lo’ak saying how stupid move it was to risk his life like that. Neteyam and Kiri being worried over nothing. He missed this. But the one thing he missed more. Was his wife. 

And neytiri, upon hearing the commotion, stood to see Jake there. In their home, smiling as their children talk to him. Their eyes meet. A wordless exchange was made. But quickly, and again, she looks away. 

“I'm not going anywhere, baby. I'm here to stay. Where I belong. Human or not” Jake states. He said it loud and clear, enough for her ears to point in his direction. Tuk jumps excitedly as she goes over and grabs her mothers hand,“Isn't that good mama? He can stay with us forever and ever!”. 

No, it's not good. 

“Dad is human obviously some stuff will change but he is back mom. We don't have to move back and forth, and we can play games like always, "Neteyam says, with new hope and happiness rising in his heart. All of the kids were feeling that. They can vision it. 

“No, he has to go back. Its not safe for him here. Nowhere is safe out here for him” Neytiri denies. Many begin to complain but they don't know what she sees. So many things can go wrong. Jake cant even climb up without help. It takes only one wrong move and he falls to his death. Or his oxygen tank runs out and no one is near to get him an extra. Death is easier to reach him now, easier to take him away entirely. And only then, would neytiri reach a new low in her life. 

“Then I will have to adapt, dont I? I won't be some damsel in distress” 

Neytiri internally groans. But she is grateful her husband still has  his stupid sense of humor. 

And things did shifted. 

Now Jake spends more time in the marui and neytiri spends more time at the lab. What is she doing over there? Secretly threatening the poor humans to hurry up and solve Jake's human problem. Her threats gotten so out of hand that Mo'at had to intervene. 

“Daring to send thanators after them? Have you lost your mind my daughter?” Mo’at asks neytiri in a stern but calm voice. Despite what expression the tsahik has, she is clearly pissed. Like a child, Neytiri sits still, stubborn and mad that she was caught. Mo’at sits across from her, examining her daughter's facial features, reading her like an open script. 

“Those humans are taking too long. They started their unwanted mess, so they should fix it” neytiri says. And mo’at can only sigh in annoyance. “Fix, fix fix, that is all you have said since the beginning. What is there to fix? Their machine?” Mo’at asks. Shaking her head, neytiri provides more. 

“Not that….Jake….he is not na’vi. He is not MINE anymore” 

This confuses her mother, neytiri goes on. 

“I have looked into the Eywa, seeking, hoping for an answer. I wanted her to help him as she did before. Yet Jake was right, nothing is done twice. I fear many things sa’nu. I fear losing my family. My mind. My mate….I cannot make tayshlu anymore with him. Yes, I can hold him close to me, but every time I see him. All I see is those disgusting, vile, sky demons. I feel utter disgust. The need to hurt him. To dig into his chest and bring out his na’vi body. Destroy his human shell, burn it, rip it apart.  I want him back to how he was. One of us. I fear my inner feelings will soon rise, and that I make a grave mistake that can never be taken back”. 

Hearing all that. It concerned Mo'at greatly. Those are dark thoughts that must be vanquished, if it grows more, she fears it will blind neytiri greatly. 

“What is preventing you child?” she whispers. 

Neytiri took a few seconds of silence, a small smile crept up to her lips. “His eyes…Jake's eyes are what prevents me from losing it all”. 

She goes on. 

“Jake’s eyes are the color of the sky. Very blue, and very beautiful. When I look into his eyes, I can only look for so long. They hold purity. If I stare into them for a long time, I might taint them with all the horrors I have seen. His blue eyes are pure sa’nok. Pure and good, but his body is not”.

Letting her words ponder in Neytiri's mind, she left. But mo’at prays to Eywa that her daughter won't make a foolish choice. 

 

Entering her home, there was warm light, the smell of something delicious cooking, and laughter. Opening the flaps, she sees Jake telling a story as their children all listen carefully. 

“And then, the lorax said…” 

Just hearing that word, Neytiri knows exactly what story Jake is telling. Their children might be too old to hear it, but the Lorax story was one of her personal favorites. She hasn't heard it in a long time. 

Neteyam looks up and notices her, waving his arm and everyone turns to see her. All warm smiles, welcoming her in. Jake looks at her, his patient and stupid smile, his blue eyes staring deep into her eyes. “Come in baby, I was just getting into the good part of the story” he says, kiri serving a bowl of their dinner to her, neytiri accepts as she makes herself comfortable on the opposite side of jake. 

“What story are you telling?” she asks, and in unison, her family happily responds, “the lorax!”. Smiling slightly, she listens. Letting jake continue his story, his voice soft and calm. His way of talking never changed. Always so calm and peaceful. If she closes her eyes, it will be just like how it was. 

Some time has passed, and neytiri was able to stare at Jake longer and more comfortably. Talking more like how they used to, while she is still hesitant to touch him for long periods of time, she is forever grateful how patient Jake is with her. But it seems her children haven't changed much, they are still themselves. Yet just as foolish as their father. 

“Tonight, the children will stay with mo’at” neytiri says one morning, Jake pauses what he was doing and looks over at his mate. “Oh? May I know why?” he asks curiously, seeing how neytiri’s tail was moving, he grins. 

“I thought we could use a little break from them. And just be the two of us-” 

“You want a date night” 

“Yes” 

A burst of laughter erupts in the home, Jake knows her too well. He can read her mind at this point. Looking over, he can see her beautiful smile returning. Bright and lovely. Making his way over with big leaps with his hands, neytiri gets closer. Her eyes staring into his. “You could have said that from the start,” he says. Neytiri places her forehead against his. “Not fun” she says. 

Looking into Neytiri's eyes, he knows what she wants. Who is he to deny her. 

Loosening the straps, he starts to take off the mask. Neytiri sees this and starts to panic, “ma’jake what are you doing? No, stop it!” She holds the mask. 

“Come on baby, what's fun without some risks?” Jake asks playfully.. Taking it off completely, he brings neytiri’s face close to his and kisses her with all the love and passion he had for her. Neytiri wanted to pull away, but felt his lips on her. She caved in, her hand on the back of his head, deepening the kiss. 

What felt like forever, they pulled away. Jake was quick to put the mask on, smirking. “See? I'm fine, but I don't mind another one”. 

Scoffing, she grins, “you skxawng” 

 “your skxawng”.

Night fell, the two mates held each other close. Neytiri sighed happily, she likes this. Likes holding jake in her arms, for once she can top him. Taking in his features more and more, she wanted to admire his good looks. His hair did grew out, and lofts to run her fingers through them. So soft and lovely. His arms strong and muscular, his confident smile ever so contagious. 

“Even if the science guys cant fix me-” 

“No, not fix. Cannot fix something that is not broken” 

Jake looks up at her, surprised but a welcoming one. Brining himself closer into her arms, both let their love and peace lure them into sleep. Happily welcoming what becomes of their new normal. 

Yet as they sleep, they didnt notice Jake’s tablet flashing a light. A message from norm. 

Aaaaaaaaaaaand that is it for this one! NGL I had fun writing this one. Took me a bit but I am glad how it turned out. Until next time! See ya!

[goodluckclove]

On Not Writing

Hi! I'm back. i had a fun two days of doing absolutely nothing writing related, including scrolling this blog. Wife and I played a lot of Valheim. Took a lot of bike rides. Watched Interstellar for the first time - pretty good, kind of silly at the end. It was my first two-day weekend in probably three months, so it was much-needed, hard as it was.

And it got me thinking of some things I wanted to say to the community here. It's especially targeted towards younger writers, of which I used to be one, but I think it can apply to anyone who finds themselves despairing over how much they aren't writing.

Let's imagine you're sitting with me in this coffee shop. It's an overcast Portland morning and I just inadvertently vivisected a croissant. And as we sip our drinks (I ordered a lavender latte), you lament to me. I don't know what to do, Clove. I just haven't been writing!

You know what I say to that?

Good.

This is a new hot take of mine that I, once again, worry about upsetting people with. Because I see a lot of guides here about how to write, or how to write consistently, or how to write through writers block. But I haven't seen a single person talking about the inverse - how to not write. Or - perhaps more accurately - how to exist as a human being separate from your identity as a writer.

This is a problem for me.

Listen - I started young. I was 12 when I wrote my first novella, and 13 when I completed my first novel the next year. Adults in my life were impressed by the big-eyed child writing so many words. They encouraged me. I wrote two more novels, and they continued to encourage me. Because of the potential, right? I could be successful. I could be famous.

People stopped pushing me to try other things. I saw I was getting validation as a writer, so that only pushed me to continue fixating over something I was already enjoying and getting pretty good at. Dad had me writing two thousand words every day, because that's what Stephen King did. At 16 I finished four full-length novels, which everyone thought was really cool and interesting. I was also sporting dual hand braces every day throughout the winter to cope with the carpal tunnel I still struggle with to this day.

There is encouraging a person in their passion. There is also poisoning them with the belief that their self-worth comes from pursuing that passion. This is entirely, absolutely, even more true for younger writers and artists.

I am enraged for the young writer in my heart and in my head. Because they worried about a lot of the same things I see people worry about on here. Oh, if I don't write I'm not a writer! And to an extent they're right, as to be a writer you need to at some point write some stuff.

But here's the fucking thing, Young Clover - a child should not strive for the work ethic of a professional adult. You did not need to write 2k words a day to be a writer. You were a writer as soon as you updated that terrible Invader Zim fanfiction you wrote when you were 10.

And more than that, though, the most important thing to a person should not be their job and aspirations. If you don't write every day, you're still a writer. If you've never written anything, you aren't - and that's fine. You might write something later down the line, or you might not. Either way you are still entitled to exist on the planet and capable of living a full and passionate and wonderful life.

Hear my words: being a writer is not more important than being a human being.

If you aren't writing right now, maybe you're not supposed to be. Maybe you're meant to be nurturing your relationships, or nurturing yourself. Maybe you're supposed to be volunteering. Or meeting new people. Or gaining a new field of knowledge. Or getting really good at making focaccia bread. Or watching every Mark Wahlberg movie.

I don't like to hear this any more than you do. If I was told that I, for some reason, was not allowed to write for the rest of my life, I would be miserable for maybe a long time. After that passed it's my hope that I would move on and do other things, because my worth is not dependent on being a writer. I like doing it. I like being it, and I hope to be one for the rest of my life. But I never want it to be the first thing people see when they look at me. I don't even like bringing it up in conversation with people I don't already know.

So yeah, if you have "writer's block", maybe consider putting down the pickaxe and getting some rest. Step away entirely from the large boulder that stands between you being the next Stephen King or Brandon Sanderson or Teen Dystopia Writer no. 2321. Take a break, and I mean an ACTUAL break, not the kind where you spend the whole time sulking about work.

I am legitimately begging the writers on here to have developed lives and interests outside of writing. I am begging because I do not have that and it has consistently been one of the hardest things of my life.

You prioritize living outside your writing and it will improve the quality of your writing when you get back to it, as it'll allow you a frame of reference that extends beyond our niche industry. Or it might make you realize that, while you enjoy writing, what you really love is ceramics. Or game developing. Or mutual-aid activism. Or the movies of Mark Wahlberg.

It is not your job to treat yourself like you already have a dozen deadlines and an audience teetering on the edge of disappointment. That's ultimately not going to help you. Your job on this earth is to exist fully, for the sake of the universe that wants so desperately to live vicariously through you.

So breathe. Breathe and calm down. You aren't a failure and there's nothing you have to prove. All you have to do today is drink some water and have a nice snack while you look at a cloud.

Please be kind. All of us need to be kinder to each other and to ourselves.

That's all I want to say. I love you dearly. Please let me know if you need anything.