#convey the feelings this scene made me feel when i read i?
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liliasenbyhusband · 21 hours ago
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I keep returning to this fanfic to reread it (like with most your fics tbh) aaannnddd I no longer feel too shy to do this soooo it only felt right to share this
First of all this fic never fails to make me giggle but these parts in particular always tickle me:
And when she murmurs a soft, "baby, no, come on, let's go to bed', you protest like a child, her name stretched long in its affectionate bits, tone heavy with tipsy impatience. "I need to show you, my love, something, I don’t know where it is yet, but it’s important, it’s—”
“Cruel,” your murmur is thick with drowsy affection. “So cruel of space to keep you away from me like this. Or are you and the concept of space teaming up against me, huh?”
So real of us to want to be closer to Lilia đŸ™‚â€â†•ïžđŸ™‚â€â†•ïž
Though Lilia, ever knowing, ever perceptive, keeps you tethered to her, her fingertips pressing insistently into your soft flesh, securing you as you try to wander. She knows your ways, knows you too well; how everything illuminates in new hues when drink lingers on your tongue, how your sly little tendencies take root, your flickering marvel with everything but still, somehow, and mostly, always her.
The way Lilia takes care of us- *incoherent gay screaming*
A quiet guardian of your untamed spirit she is, settling herself onto the mattress and tugging you into her homely embrace before you could try to form the idea in getting up to rove around the room and further.
Like this is so peak Lilia and always makes me feel so soft and cared for and I’m just a poor lesbian who is down bad for this woman
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I was already down bad for Lilia but this fic made it 10000 times worse:
Baby, doll, my love, darling, angel, sweetheart, sweet girl, honey.
Even pet names in her mother language were aerated against your temple before sealing them with a sweet kiss, lips and endearments skimming across the apple of your cheeks, the curve of your forehead, reaching every corner of your being where love collects like morning dew.
"Behave for momma, darling girl," She is speaking to you in such honey-soaked croons, lilted with firmness that portrays her gentlest, most instinctive protectiveness when you try slipping away from her.
Oh I see how it is, you’re trying to kill me. You want me to die of gay panic.
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And then of course my all time favourite moment.. like my favourite words ever written in any Lilia fic because I’m always sat here with the biggest smile and tears in my eyes when reading it:
You stare at her then, brow furrowed, irises dazed and musky with wetness but gleaming with something unbearably enamored. “You’re so beautiful,” Admiration douses your every whispered syllable, thumbs brushing a path over the swells of her cheeks. “So unfairly beautiful. Pretty. My pretty, pretty Lilia.”
Then Lilia, for all her age, for all her wisdom, stills as your drunken confessions peel back the centuries and for a moment, just a flicker of a second, she looks young again. Not in body, not in form, but in the way her lashes flutter like the edges of a butterfly's wings beneath her eyes, the way her lips parted just vaguely, taken by surprise. The sensation is familiar — this sensibility of being gazed upon as if she were the very reason of someone's existence, but goodness gracious, it never loses its luster. Not with you.
Even drunk you are in love, you are a poet, mapping the delicate silver in her locks with your fingers, each strand conveying a story you so desperately wished to learn by heart. Your words, though unclear, hold such conviction, such dizzying sincerity, that Lilia is left breathless, humbled by the depth of your love.
The devotion, the love I can feel pour out of your written words, the way I can just see the scene unfold in my minds eye because of how well you write, AAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!
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You write Lilia so well and I just am obsessed with how you write her and this fic just always makes me fall in love with her all over again.
Also Lilia deserves someone who is this devoted to her and besotted with her đŸ™‚â€â†•ïžđŸ™‚â€â†•ïž
ïž” ✼⋆˙ đđ«đźđ§đ€ 𝐱𝐧 đ„đšđŻđž | 𝙡𝙞𝙡𝙞𝙖 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙧đ™Ș Țƒ 𝙛𝙚𝙱𝙖𝙡𝙚!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧
ïž” ✼⋆˙ á„ŽêȘźêȘ€êȘ»êȘ–ê žêȘ€áŠ“ : FLUFF, drunk!reader, alcohol usage, softness, hopeless!reader for lilia, lilia being a caretaker and the sweetest lover, physical affections, usage of pet names, touch!starved!reader, drunken confessions that are pretty much well known, clichĂ© and sapphic shit I experienced and cannot get over ïž” ✼⋆˙ ᭙ᄎ : 1k+
quick note : one thought to, “oh, lilia calderu would be the sweetest girlfriend to ever exist with her drunk s/o” wounded up into this and all I can feel and see are hues of oranges, tangerines, soft reds, golds, yellows, sparks and stars while I was on cloud 9 for a few hours — I hope you enjoy !!! <3
─────── .đ–„” ʁ˖✼˖ ʁ𖄔. ───────
There is a patience to Lilia, a devotion so effortless, so intrinsic, that it feels like an enchantment interweaved into the very fabric of her being. And never is it more evident than in moments like these — when the weight of your intoxication has rooted profoundly between your limbs, rendering you languid and sun dappled-eyed, your voice spilling over in hazy murmurs that make impeccable sense solely to you.
She holds you close, her arm a firm but gentle band around your midsection, guiding you through the soft golden glow of your shared sanctuary. You are all movement at the beginning, all impulse, your hands reaching for items on her shop’s shelves, tugging at the silks of her sleeves, attempting, with slurred determination, to drag her toward something that has suddenly become fascinating in your clouded mind even though you have come across these items thousands of times.
And when she murmurs a soft, "baby, no, come on, let's go to bed', you protest like a child, her name stretched long in its affectionate bits, tone heavy with tipsy impatience. "I need to show you, my love, something, I don’t know where it is yet, but it’s important, it’s—”
You are liquid in her grasp, slipping and flowing, drawn to the world in a way only being drunk allows — every warm lamp, every shimmer of the beaded curtains as you both made your way through them ( or rather, she's come to recognize, she gives into your nonsensical sentences enough for you to become completely engross by uttering them to her that you barely recognize the change of scenery as she drags you away ), every shadowed outline that swayed along the walls, every gleam of silver catching the low light suddenly a wonder worth chasing.
Though Lilia, ever knowing, ever perceptive, keeps you tethered to her, her fingertips pressing insistently into your soft flesh, securing you as you try to wander. She knows your ways, knows you too well; how everything illuminates in new hues when drink lingers on your tongue, how your sly little tendencies take root, your flickering marvel with everything but still, somehow, and mostly, always her.
And oh, how she lovingly indulges you.
She listens, her mouth curving at the edges as you ramble, voice swaying between dreamlike astonishment and tiny complaints, entirely enraptured with her as though she is some celestial thing newly discovered. And to you, even in this state of supple-limbed reverie, she is; otherworldly, ethereal. You cling to her, as if proximity alone might keep her from vanishing, and she laughs, airy and betrayed with a soft snort, something bashful curling beneath the sound when you burrow yourself into her while you sit at the edge of the bed and she's standing in front of you.
“Cruel,” your murmur is thick with drowsy affection. “So cruel of space to keep you away from me like this. Or are you and the concept of space teaming up against me, huh?”
Lilia hums, entertainment whirling her whiskey-hued gaze as she presses a sweet kiss into your hairline. “I am right here, my love.”
But it is simply not enough. Not when her warmth is mere inches from you, not when she moves to ease you into fresh, soft and cozy pajamas and she barely grazes your bare skin with her touch, and the whispers of oxygen between your bodies feels like the greatest injustice within this universe.
You let out a whine, a prolonged sound wholly unguarded for her to come back, and she hushes you with a saccharine croon, guiding your gauche arms into the sleeves of a clean, long sleeve shirt you always claimed was the second-most comfortable feeling in the world besides Lilia herself. Her hands are stable, metallic rings pressing ever so slightly into your heated skin as she works, and every touch is a soothe, a promise that she is not leaving, not ever.
Fingers become greedy and cherishing as they catalog the elegant lines of her features, over the regal slope of her nose, the fine etchings of age that time has worked with grace into her skin, the way the light softens her edges.
You stare at her then, brow furrowed, irises dazed and musky with wetness but gleaming with something unbearably enamored. “You’re so beautiful,” Admiration douses your every whispered syllable, thumbs brushing a path over the swells of her cheeks. “So unfairly beautiful. Pretty. My pretty, pretty Lilia.”
How you then speak something along the lines of how her smile makes you feel like you are dissolving into love itself.
Then Lilia, for all her age, for all her wisdom, stills as your drunken confessions peel back the centuries and for a moment, just a flicker of a second, she looks young again. Not in body, not in form, but in the way her lashes flutter like the edges of a butterfly's wings beneath her eyes, the way her lips parted just vaguely, taken by surprise. The sensation is familiar — this sensibility of being gazed upon as if she were the very reason of someone's existence, but goodness gracious, it never loses its luster. Not with you.
Even drunk you are in love, you are a poet, mapping the delicate silver in her locks with your fingers, each strand conveying a story you so desperately wished to learn by heart. Your words, though unclear, hold such conviction, such dizzying sincerity, that Lilia is left breathless, humbled by the depth of your love.
A quiet guardian of your untamed spirit she is, settling herself onto the mattress and tugging you into her homely embrace before you could try to form the idea in getting up to rove around the room and further.
Baby, doll, my love, darling, angel, sweetheart, sweet girl, honey.
Even pet names in her mother language were aerated against your temple before sealing them with a sweet kiss, lips and endearments skimming across the apple of your cheeks, the curve of your forehead, reaching every corner of your being where love collects like morning dew.
"Behave for momma, darling girl," She is speaking to you in such honey-soaked croons, lilted with firmness that portrays her gentlest, most instinctive protectiveness when you try slipping away from her.
Utterances are tenderly pressed into the flushed skin of your cheekbone as you protest in indignation, too busy letting petulant complaints tumble out of your mouth that you are oblivious of the soft grin she harbored as she chuckled.
Her fingers start grazing the side of your face, the chilled silver of her rings gliding over your fevered flesh, soon ascending to brush through the pieces of hair adorning the crown of your forehead. She then tucks you into her bosom, placing her chin at the top of your head with a low 'hush now' exhaled as you try writhing in order to sit up, drowning out your mumbled words from the slumber overcoming you, finding solace in her heartbeat, your arms winding around her in lazy devotion.
ïž” ✼⋆˙
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fraybury · 2 days ago
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Kisaku for my bi-monthly ship art quota. I wanted to draw another piece to be posted together but I've been physically burnt out lately so I made a no Kidou goggles file instead. Heh
This doubles as a character analysis art so I will write down my thought process under a read more. It's very christian so if you're not comfortable it's okay to not read it
I had been having the idea of making a Kisaku art with christian imaginery since early January, but I only managed to sketch a good composition for it last week.
This art is based on a post-Shin Teikoku arc scene that's also one that's very memorable for me. Like, it's just a very tender and profound one, especially when one can see Kidou's hand holding Sakuma's tighter after Sakuma told him he can't shake his hand. I also referenced the scene when Sakuma faints right before the match end whistle.
Another thought that inspired this was the christian concept of being saved from sin and its consenquences by Jesus' death and resurrection (salvation); which is pretty much what happened to Sakuma in this arc. Sakuma fell to the temptation of the aliea meteorite (sin), but it's Kidou's love that saved him from destroying himself physically and mentally (salvation).
An interesting part from Shin Teikoku arc was that while it ends with Sakuma and Genda being saved, Kidou came out becoming even more traumatized especially after seeing what happened to his friends and hearing Kageyama's words. And that's without mentioning that he also witnesses Someoka's sacrifice.
Kidou and Sakuma are two people who feel deeply yet tenderly for each other so I wanted it to show in the colors and rendering. I used colors that could remind someone of the dawn. I wanted to color in low contrast but the initial palette hurt my eyes (physically) so I ended up opting with shading with only highlight, with the soft light peeking through behind the pair. Subtlety was all I was aiming, so I tried to draw Kidou's expression that could express it too.
The text on the background is,
What is Salvation? Salvation is... to be saved from sin, and its consenquences from death, and eternal separation by your cross.
The text was thought and written by stream of consciousness, unlike the drawing where I worked on it precisely unlike my usual drawing style. Initially I wrote it by hand to see where should I type the text but I found that handwriting conveys the emotions in a rawer form so I went with it.
I also free style-ed the text's content because NGL, scrolling through christian articles and wikipedia pages gave me religious trauma based anxiety so I let my instinct and write whatever came to mind.
I was torn between "crucifix" and "cross" as I wanted a word to replace "love and suffering". I went with "cross" because crucifix is used to specifically refer to the cross Jesus was crucified on and the portrayal of it. For people, the word used is "cross" (referring to the christian concept of carrying one's cross). Kidou is very much associated with pedestalism, even Kageyama saw him in an idealized manner of a perfect creation to bring him back to his childhood. But despite everything Kidou is only human, and he's as sinful everyone else.
I had so much fun working with this piece, and I think I'm more satisified than I was with my previous character analysis art. I hope I could do more of this type of works in future.
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romana-colasour · 1 year ago
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“Did he have keen ears? If I listened harder
 would the whispers of distant demons
 be audible to me too?”
Fukigen na Mononokean - Chapter 78.
I made a mistake and thought this scene was around chapter 84, so I instead colored Ashiya in the morning, in the kiyakudo, and not at night at an inn. Still, I like how both turned out so I’m posting them both. Click on “read more” to see the variant.
The mistake one:
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Foliage brushes my beloved. If I can find a way to use them I will.
The edits were very fun and easy to make. I just duplicated the shading layers and changed the colors from warm and light ones to cool and dark. Some didn’t need to be changed like that and instead I just lowered the opacity. I’m pretty happy with the result.
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valeriehalla · 7 months ago
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actual writing advice
1. Use the passive voice.
What? What are you talking about, “don’t use the passive voice”? Are you feeling okay? Who told you that? Come on, let’s you and me go to their house and beat them with golf clubs. It’s just grammar. English is full of grammar: you should go ahead and use all of it whenever you want, on account of English is the language you’re writing in.
2. Use adverbs.
Now hang on. What are you even saying to me? Don’t use adverbs? My guy, that is an entire part of speech. That’s, like—that’s gotta be at least 20% of the dictionary. I don’t know who told you not to use adverbs, but you should definitely throw them into the Columbia river.
3. There’s no such thing as “filler”.
Buddy, “filler” is what we called the episodes of Dragon Ball Z where Goku wasn’t blasting Frieza because the anime was in production before Akira Toriyama had written the part where Goku blasts Frieza. Outside of this extremely specific context, “filler” does not exist. Just because a scene wouldn’t make it into the Wikipedia synopsis of your story’s plot doesn’t mean it isn’t important to your story. This is why “plot” and “story” are different words!
4. okay, now that I’ve snared you in my trap—and I know you don’t want to hear this—but orthography actually does kind of matter
First of all, a lot of what you think of as “grammar” is actually orthography. Should I put a comma here? How do I spell this word in this context? These are questions of orthography (which is a fancy Greek word meaning “correct-writing”). In fact, most of the “grammar questions” you’ll see posted online pertain to orthography; this number probably doubles in spaces for writers specifically.
If you’re a native speaker of English, your grammar is probably flawless and unremarkable for the purposes of writing prose. Instead, orthography refers to the set rules governing spelling, punctuation, and whitespace. There are a few things you should know about orthography:
English has no single orthography. You already know spelling and punctuation differ from country to country, but did you know it can even differ from publisher to publisher? Some newspapers will set parenthetical statements apart with em dashes—like this, with no spaces—while others will use slightly shorter dashes – like this, with spaces – to name just one example.
Orthography is boring, and nobody cares about it or knows what it is. For most readers, orthography is “invisible”. Readers pay attention to the words on a page, not the paper itself; in much the same way, readers pay attention to the meaning of a text and not the orthography, which exists only to convey that meaning.
That doesn’t mean it’s not important. Actually, that means it’s of the utmost importance. Because orthography can only be invisible if it meets the reader’s expectations.
You need to learn how to format dialogue into paragraphs. You need to learn when to end a quote with a comma versus a period. You need to learn how to use apostrophes, colons and semicolons. You need to learn these things not so you can win meaningless brownie points from your English teacher for having “Good Grammar”, but so that your prose looks like other prose the reader has consumed.
If you printed a novel on purple paper, you’d have the reader wondering: why purple? Then they’d be focusing on the paper and not the words on it. And you probably don’t want that! So it goes with orthography: whenever you deviate from standard practices, you force the reader to work out in their head whether that deviation was intentional or a mistake. Too much of that can destroy the flow of reading and prevent the reader from getting immersed.
You may chafe at this idea. You may think these “rules” are confusing and arbitrary. You’re correct to think that. They’re made the fuck up! What matters is that they were made the fuck up collaboratively, by thousands of writers over hundreds of years. Whether you like it or not, you are part of that collaboration: you’re not the first person to write prose, and you can’t expect yours to be the first prose your readers have ever read.
That doesn’t mean “never break the rules”, mind you. Once you’ve gotten comfortable with English orthography, then you are free to break it as you please. Knowing what’s expected gives you the power to do unexpected things on purpose. And that’s the really cool shit.
5. You’re allowed to say the boobs were big if the story is about how big the boobs were
Nobody is saying this. Only I am brave enough to say it.
Well, bye!
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acciojaeyun · 3 months ago
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let me hold you close | p.sh.
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PAIRING. rich!sunghoon x fem!reader
SUMMARY. you and sunghoon are both off-limits. you're still living with your ex, and he's off to get married to someone that has been arranged for his family business. but that doesn't stop you both from trudging boundaries when it's just you and him in your own world.
CONTENTS. smut, some angst, some fluff. LOTS OF JEALOUSY. smut with plot. not beta-read. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
WARNINGS. lots and lots of jealousy. sunghoon is DOWN-BAD for reader, but the feeling’s mutual. indirect cheating (but not really???). semi-public sex, dom!sunghoon, bratty reader. somewhat mean hoonie. oral (both f and m receiving), p in v, unprotected sexual act (use protection at all times), temperature play, sensory deprivation, slight bondage (just tying up), sir kink (oh yeah baby), spitting kink. use of pet names (wiee). THREE SEX SCENES. (seldom mentions of hyung line: heeseung, jay, and jake) IDK I WROTE THIS BEFORE I COULD FULLY WRITE EVERYTHING.
WORD COUNT. 4.7k
AUTHOR'S NOTE. FINALLY IT'S HERE. belated happy birthday, my hoonhoon! this is my hoon birthday gift for y'all. hope you like it! (did i write two sunghoon smuts already? yes, yes i did.) also, wait for further updates, i might be updating anyone from the hyung line soon! wink wink.
MY LIBRARY. REQUESTS ARE OPEN! TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST, YOU CAN SEND ME A MESSAGE.
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There was something about him.
Park Sunghoon was the image of something so mysterious – yet, so captivating. His eyes held something deeper than what he tries to convey. You tried to hard to look away, but his actions, his stance – they command attention.
So much, that they commanded yours.
He has been a constant, a regular at the bar that you're working in every weekend to make ends meet. He was the hot bachelor that belonged in the upper VIPs that usually had a secluded room where they could share small talk over top shelf drinks.
Your first encounter with Park Sunghoon was when Byeol called in sick, and that meant you took over her shift as the personal-hired entertainer at Room 130.
"Please, Y/N," Byeol pleaded through the phone, coughing as her voice scratched against her throat, "if I could, I would. I'll take over your shift for the next week. You'll have my pay for tonight."
Now, additional income is something that is very difficult to shake off, no matter how it takes a night that consists of Neoguri noodles off of your schedule.
You wore your signature red cocktail dress, one that hugs all your right proportions beautifully, but not too tight, with a slit that doesn't go too up high on your thigh. Matched with a wave that's swept to the side, it is a no-brainer that the four men of Room 130 didn't even ask where their usual entertainer, Byeol, is.
"What a pretty face," Jake comments as he takes a sip of his armagnac, his eyes travelled down to your legs, but went back to your face, "nice voice, too." He adds.
Sunghoon was late, muttering an excuse that was along the lines of: his mother made him stay for a supposed meet-up with someone.
"Mommy's still on it?" Heeseung jokes, grabbing some of the snacks on the table, shaking his hand to remove the residue of it before pouring it to his mouth.
Sunghoon sends a look over Heeseung's way, making the oldest boy chuckle, "Well, you have to follow mommy's orders, or else, you're gonna whine about how your daily allowance has been reduced to half."
The rest of the boys chuckled, alongside the girls that were in the room to hold them company. Sunghoon was not the most pleased, he knew that Heeseung is right. He has to find a lady or else he will be arranged to a wedding just to keep up his expenditures and his lifestyle.
"Who's the girl?" Jay asks as he places his hand on the small of the back of the lady that sat on his lap, his eyes on the girl that giggled as she kept on tracing the edge of Jay's jawline.
"I don't know," Sunghoon grunted, eager to down a shot that was already on the table, "all I know is I have to find a partner ASAP, or else, I'll be wed to someone I could care less about."
That was when his eyes landed on you, singing a song softly as you held your vintage microphone. His eyebrows perched up slightly, and he smiled to himself.
Now, it has been approximately the fifth consecutive week that Sunghoon had tried to talk to you, alone, on your supposed shift at the public part of the bar.
Sweeping past through sweaty bodies as well as people that are drunk off their minds, Sunghoon was determined to at least know you better. It only took one song and one damn dress to catch Sunghoon's attention.
Lucky for him, he had caught your attention, too.
The thing was, you had a boyfriend – well, a roommate, if you will. Since love was obviously out the window, and that you were trying to sustain each other's stay in your apartment that has its contract nearing its end by the end of December.
Well, another reason was that your then-boyfriend was still trying to win you back.
And while you're certain that you're over him and is keeping him at bay for benefits, he certainly was not, and it somehow was making you guilty that you're somehow leading him on even when it was Sunghoon's face that you think of whenever you press your bullet vibrator against your clit, leaving out broken, breathy moans that underestimated how much you think you're going to moan for Sunghoon if time permits you.
Which brings you to here, a never-ending cat and mouse game that you have established with Sunghoon, who clearly was so head-over-heels for you.
The ordeal was simple: you, one of the bar's beloved entertainers, would finish a song that you sing and dedicate for Sunghoon, but wander off with a smile as you try and find yourself a suitable man vying for your attention. It was effective for you to make him jealous and demand your attention on him for the next hours.
Sunghoon had never gone past the eating only the third base, and Sunghoon was more than willing to eat your pussy on hours end. And you were willing to let him go past that, if only you haven't seen the ring that adorned his left hand, snug tight around his ring finger.
It was a stark reminder of how he was not for you, just how you are starting to become his.
"You sing here often?"
"I do," You'd giggle to whoever this guy's name is, you really didn't know, nor even tried remembering. You were sure it wasn't his name that you'll be screaming in the bathroom stalls of the bar.
"I should bo-"
"Then I'd want to book you, privately," Sunghoon cut the guy off, his voice reeking of jealousy and authority as he stood behind you, your back flushed against his chest.
"Ya," the boy raised his voice and poked Sunghoon's blue sweater tank top, "do you mind? We're talking here."
"And I'm talking to her, as well," Sunghoon responded, his eyes crinkling into amusement, "do you not want to talk to me, baby?" He pouts at you, nuzzling his chin to your neck as he leaves light kisses on it, making you gasp.
"I.." You trail off, biting your lip as your eyes moved back and forth between the guy and Sunghoon.
"I'm not wasting my time on this," the guy raised his hands in defeat, backing away, leaving you with the guy that you have tried to flirt indirectly through the night.
"Fancy seeing you here against sweaty bodies," You giggle as you turn around and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down teasingly to have his lips over yours, to which Sunghoon growled and pushed his lips on yours, immediately pushing his tongue inside your mouth as his hands dug on the curves of your waist.
"You drive me so fucking crazy," he whispers to your lips, in which you hum as a response. Not a long while after, you're being guided to one of the restrooms, his lips now attacking your neck to leave noticeable bruises that you're trying to cover up before you go to your morning shift at the local library of your town.
He pushes you to an empty restroom, not minding to lock it as he cages you in between his body and the sink. “Are you having fun?” He suddenly asks as he pools your dress up your hips and starts rubbing you through your wet panties, “Playing with me, are you having fun?”
You looked at him through lidded eyes and nod, “I do,” you say as you bite your lip, spreading your legs wide, “I like it when you’re so crazy for me.”
He grunts and kneels down, pulling your panties down as his nose is immediately wafted off by the smell of your arousal spreading throughout your core, “So wet for me, the guy did that to you?” He spoke as his thumb pressed on your bare clit, making you shudder.
“N-no,” you squeaked out, holding on the sink behind you, “it has always been you.”
“Always been me?” Sunghoon chuckles as he blows air to your sensitive cunt, “I don’t know, babe, I’m starting not to believe it given how many times I’ve practically pulled you off against men who are thirsting over you.”
Not leaving you any moment to respond, Sunghoon attaches his lips to your sensitive nub, moaning at your familiar taste that he had been obsessed with.
Moaning his name, you immediately hold on his hair, tightening your grip on his soft, brown-black hair, to which Sunghoon tuts as he pulls away, his thumb replacing his lips as he presses and rubs circles on your clit, “You don’t get to touch me, princess.”
Grasping your wrist, Sunghoon had practically forced your hand off his hair, placing it on the sink behind you to continue his ministrations on your pussy.
“Love this pussy so much,” he breathes out, poking his tongue out to fuck your hole with, “so pretty, could get in this forever.”
You moaned in response, desperate to cum just by Sunghoon’s fingers alone. Instinctively, your hands went to play with your breasts, pulling your dress straps down to pool on your arms, you bit your lip as you pinched and flicked your nipples, mimicking the way Sunghoon does it when he was mouthing your tits instead of your pussy.
Sunghoon looked up at you and smirked, sneaking in a hand between your legs to spread your labia apart, forcing his tongue deeper into you as he shook his head sideways, nose prodding against your clit, mouth leaving out noises, making sure that anyone could walk in the unlocked restroom and catch you both in such sinful act.
With buckled knees, you started to grind on his tongue, your mind dancing on the quick release that you felt was bubbling at the pits of your stomach, “Y-you eat pussy so fucking good.”
“That’s where I’m best at, babe,” Sunghoon winks at you, pushing his middle finger inside you after tracing your hole with it, “and can you blame me? Your pussy tastes like heaven.”
“O-oh!” You squeaked out, feeling your orgasm could come if Sunghoon continued this. And as if Sunghoon knows how to push your buttons, he adds a second finger, then a third, his tongue now dancing on your clit as he panted against your core.
“Fuck - shit, Sunghoon!” You exclaim as you push his face to your core, panting as you whine, eyes screwed shut with your other arm failing to hold on the counter, regardless of how dry the sink it may be, body convulsing as you cum on Sunghoon’s face.
Sunghoon happily licked through your folds, slurping your cum messily and noisily. He stood up with your cum glistening on his lips, his mouth sporting the smuggest grin that made you want to kiss his face silly.
“Damn,” you breathed out, leaning toward his chest to ground yourself.
“We’re not done yet.”
Needless to say, Sunghoon made sure that you could cum thrice from his fingers and mouth alone.
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The following week, you were in the same position — however, instead of your hand holding on the sink, it was Sunghoon’s, with his other hand fisting your hair as he holds you still while he fucks your mouth to prove a point.
“So f-fucking warm,” Sunghoon grunted, his balls trodding against your chin as he kept on cursing, too lost in the bliss of your mouth taking him tightly, mimicking a virgin pussy.
With blood almost drawn on his lips, Sunghoon lets out a guttural groan as he pushes you against his pelvis, his penis bullying its way on your throat as strings of warm cum painted your throat.
“Should get you jealous more often,” Sunghoon comments as he regains his breathing, “such a desperate slut you become once you start reminding me whose pussy my dick belongs to.”
Before you could respond, the tall boy pushes his lips against yours hungrily, tongue immediately poking inside to start a tongued kiss with you, cupping both of your cheeks, he made sure you aren’t going anywhere.
“Thighs,” you started, too overtaken by lust, but Sunghoon heard it, he held your face with one hand to force you to look at him, “Your thighs, Sunghoon, I want to-“
“Yeah? Wanna grind on it, pretty?”
You nod, anything that could have you feeling him against your throbbing core, “Please,” you pleaded, grabbing his wrist to make you suck on his ring-clad finger, “want it, so much.”
Sunghoon almost lets out an animalistic growl as he pulls you to one of the stalls. He reaches behind you to lock it before turning around and places the seat down, sitting on it before urging you to straddle him.
Pooling your dress over your lap, you did as you were instructed. Hanging both arms around his neck, you stood up to pull your panties down, the slight string of arousal visible from the cloth.
On the other hand, Sunghoon already had his pants and boxers discarded, his angry cock lay erect against his stomach. You licked your lips and straddled him again, your legs on either side of his thighs, thigh-grinding long forgotten.
Both of you hissed as your pussy made contact with his dick, and soon enough, you were both a grinding mess, your grinds interrupted by humps as you groped your tits, your head thrown back as you continue to moan Sunghoon’s name.
“Yeah, moan that n-name, he’s y-yours, isn’t he?” Sunghoon hissed, his hair all over his face before leaning down to suck on your free boob that has been exposed from the tubing of the dress that was pulled down by you prior.
“Mhm, he’s mine!” You squealed as you hit your high just in the same time as the pale boy you’re sat on.
“Fuck,” you chuckled.
“Damn,” Sunghoon said breathlessly before kissing your lips and leaning his forehead against yours.
It was the first time he kissed you on the forehead after hooking up.
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Last, last week’s hookup session with Sunghoon has all become you’ve ever thought about as you placed the books on the shelves, pausing every now and then as you daydream of it.
It has been two weeks since Sunghoon had shown up in the bar that you’re working at every weekends.
And while you hoped that he could at least sweep in to wave or send a smile your way. But Friday had gone, so has Saturday, even Sunday - no signs of Sunghoon.
His absence seemed to gnaw on you as you started to search for him during weekdays at your off-duties, but none. No sign of Sunghoon.
And you can’t even text him, since he hadn’t given his number, and you didn’t, too.
You’ve found his Instagram page, but it has never been updated apart from the photo of a golf course which he had posted four days ago. Stories didn’t also help, as he never updates his stories. DMs are off, and the only way to contact him was through e-mail.
E-mailing him had crossed your mind the moment it reached Thursday, you were so close to losing your mind that you didn’t even care whether or not to message him through his work e-mail, regardless of the possibility that anyone within the network could see it.
“That’s too much of a thought,” said a voice that startled you. Turning around, you saw the infamous Sunghoon leant agains the bookshelves, arms crossed, mouth adorning a soft smirk that you’ve grown to love.
“Please, I bet you’re thinking I’m thinking of you,” you snorted as you continued sorting the books, eyes not meeting his as his gaze challenged you.
“Well, I don’t even have to bet. I know you’re thinking of me whether you admit it or not,” Sunghoon countered.
“What an ego,” you muttered as you rolled your eyes, disappointed by his sudden absence for two weeks, even without giving you a notice as to why.
“Where are you off to, tonight?” He asked out of nowhere.
“Home, as usual.”
“My place?”
“No, what do you mean?”
“You said you were going home?”
“Since when had your place been my home?”
“Are you willing for it to be?”
“Sunghoon, what?” You furrowed your eyebrows at him, looking at him as if he had three heads in one body.
“I’m serious, stay with me.”
“Sunghoon—“
“I don’t take no for an answer.”
“Sunghoon!”
“What a noisy librarian do I have here,” Sunghoon smirked, “I like it when you’re noisy though.”
With an exasperated sigh, you pulled Sunghoon at the back of the library, “What are you doing, Park Sunghoon?”
“Full name? Ouch,” he placed a hand on his heart.
“Sunghoon,” you said through gritted teeth.
“Let’s go home,” he said instead of answering your questions, pulling you by your arm to the direction of his car that has been parked in front of the library.
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Now, it was supposed to be just a talk. A negotiation between you and Sunghoon to finally end whatever it was between you both, both your heart and mind exasperated by the uncertainty that was brought about by you and him.
But here you are, biting your lip as Sunghoon kissed you on your neck, alternating between kissing, licking, and sucking, as he kept your hips pinned down by the grip of his hands on it.
“Stop moving,” he demanded, looking at you with such fire in his eyes whenever you bucked your hips up onto him.
“Need you,” you whined out, desperate to grind on him again, this time, you were hoping that it would last long and be much more comfortable than the last time that you did in the stalls.
“I know, sweetie,” Sunghoon smirked before sitting up to grab his black necktie which he had on his nightstand, “This okay?” He asked as he raised the necktie before you, insinuating a plan that he had in mind.
With a nod and a verbal agreement, Sunghoon wrapped the blindfold around your head before pulling away to see you in your totality: laid back, eyes covered by the velvet cloth of his necktie, and naked — all just for him.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” Sunghoon comments as he grabbed the cloth ropes that dangled on the edge of the headrest, grabbing it with a smirk, he hoists your arms up, making you gasp, as he tied it to the to the headboard.
He tested whether the knot was tight or just right, before peering down at you and cupping your cheeks as he leaned down to kiss on you.
Adjusting his body, Sunghoon left a trail of kisses from four face down to your nipple, before swirling his tongue around your sensitive nub. Pulling back, he grabbed the cold glass of champagne that sat on the trolley by his bed. Grabbing a small ice cube from the bucket of the bottle, he circled the ice around your nipple, earning a gasp from you.
"Cold, isn't it?" He questioned before leaning down again to give your other breast attention, and after a while, he switched places, giving you the same amount of pleasure from the cold and his warm mouth alone.
He trailed the melting ice cube down your body, making you shiver at how the cold trail was instantly replaced by his warm lips as he kissed you along the wet path of the melted ice cube.
"You and your pretty body," he whispers before grabbing another ice cube again, this time, he placed it on his tongue, letting the cold replace the warmth of his tongue.
Peering down between your legs, he crawled down until he was face near your core, making you sigh in anticipation, it was moments like this that you craved for Sunghoon to speed up his actions. It was no lie that Sunghoon ate pussy pretty good, and sometimes, you think, how good could he be when he finally has his dick inside you?
Sunghoon pokes his cold tongue against your hole, making you squeal as your legs thrashed up in surprise. He grinned as he gave kitten licks to your core, his hands pushing your legs far apart before diving into your cunt.
Moans and groans and the occasional noise from Sunghoon's licking on your core were all that could be heard in his bedroom. He kept his eyes on you, basking in your reactions before he inserted his middle and ring finger inside you, contrasting the coldness of his tongue.
"Fuck! I love your m-mouth," you whimpered out, wriggling from the overwhelming feeling that only Sunghoon had managed to get out from you.
"Always f-fucking my pussy with that m-mouth so, g-good - Sunghoon!" you exclaimed as you came on his mouth without warning, Sunghoon humming as he licked through your folds, mimicking the noise of that a happy man.
He straightened up and freed his aching cock from the restraints of his trousers and boxers, hissing as his dick slapped against his stomach before hovering over you again to tip your chin up for a messy kiss.
Sunghoon licked into your mouth before prodding it open so he could spit into it, "Swallow," was all he said before you closed your mouth and opened it in front of him to show him that you did what was told.
The boy groans as he places his dick in between your folds, setting his pace as he starts from something that's agonizingly slow, drawing out a pained whimper from you.
"Hoonie, want your cock."
"Yeah?" he breathed out, picking up his pace, "you already have it been your legs, pretty."
"No," you shook your head, "want it."
"Want it, where?" he starts to slow down without much thought as he dawns realization to what you said.
"Cock, Hoonie, w-want it inside me."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, fuck! Please, hurry!" you pleaded, hands pulling against your restraints, "Want it inside me, Hoonie, please!"
"Condoms?"
"No, raw."
"Baby–"
"Please!"
One beg from you and Sunghoon's heartbeat has already picked up. Before you both even started seeing each other to hook up, you have already established that the farthest you could go with each other is oral. Other than that is off the table, as you have said, you both are completely off-limits.
Sunghoon's chest warmed at the thought of you warming up to him, "Okay, baby," he breathed out, "are you sure?"
"I am," you whined.
He leaned over and removed your blindfold and restraints, letting you adjust before pushing his lips on yours, "Thank you, thank you," he muttered in between kisses as he pulls himself away, prodding the tip of his dick on your throbbing hole.
"I gotta say," Sunghoon chuckled as he pushes his tip inside you slowly, earning a delicious moan from you both, "you're so goddamn pretty, more exceptionally so when I'm inside you."
Sunghoon has a way with words, that's one thing that you made yourself known. That was something about him that you think was what sealed the deal – he fed into your need for constant assurance, even though there were limitations between you both.
"Push it all in," you demanded.
Without another word, Sunghoon pushed himself inside, earning a throaty groan between you both.
"Shit, f-feel so g-good for me, oh, my god," Sunghoon breathed as he pushed his face into the crook of your neck, your arms immediately finding home around his torso.
Sunghoon picks up his pace as he continues on bullying his way inside you, relishing on how your pussy throbs around his dick. With every thrust that he lands inside you, your eyes roll at the back of your head, feeling the pulse of the veins of his dick with every drag.
"God, Sunghoon, I–" you cut yourself off with a groan by his ear, cradling his face as he placed light kisses on your shoulder, "Fuck, Sunghoon, so good!"
The boy pulled his face away, prying your mouth open as he spit into your mouth, his cock drilling inside you in the slowest, yet most delicious way. It was as if he was trying his best to memorize how your gummy walls enveloped his dick, in the hopes of making your pussy remember his.
And, to commit this into memory, Sunghoon removes the ring he had clad around his ring finger, reaching for your left hand that hung around your shoulder, and, in a lust-filled haze, he wore the finger around the nearest finger that was accessible to him, he'd fix that later.
Your eyes wandered to the ring that adorned your thumb, before biting your lip and looking at him. Sunghoon already adjusted himself, kneeling straight as he hikes your leg up and places it on his shoulder; and with a roll of his hips, both of you are already a whimpering, moaning mess.
"So f-full, fucking finally," you moaned out and Sunghoon reaches for your other hand to intertwine it with his, "Yeah? Been dreaming of it for so long, huh?"
Tapping your cheek he makes you look at him, "Been dreaming of this, t-too, baby," he says, panting, "been dreaming of d-doing more than just this, too,"
You looked at him with doe eyes, your lips dropping down to his lips, "Kiss me, Sunghoon."
Sunghoon nodded and kissed you, your hips bucking up to meet his thrusts, it was in that moment that only the two of you existed.
"You're squeezing me so f-fucking..." Sunghoon trailed, eyebrows drawn to each other in concentration, "..so fucking good for me, God, I love you."
His hands travelled down to your clit and rubbed circles around it, making you whimper and pull his face to yours, your lips wanting to get a taste of his again.
"Not gonna last l-long, princess," Sunghoon muttered in between grunts, "You close?" He said as he looked at you, searching your eyes for more than just your sign of being as near as he is.
You hum reaching your head up to peck his lips, "M-me too, Hoonie, dick is f-fucking me so g-good," your head attempting to throw back as his tip kept on hitting that sweet spot inside you.
"I love you," Sunghoon whispers as he lets go of your leg on his shoulder, pressing onto your body as he finally lets go of his cum inside you, your release following suit after he kept on thrusting even if he was coming undone inside you.
For a while, you both had stayed in that position, Sunghoon still deep inside you in between your legs, legs weakly wrapped around his body, both of your arms wrapped around his neck as you combed through his hair.
There was a heavy weight in the air, something that demands to be addressed.
Sunghoon lifts his head up, his chin rest against your chest. With a quick kiss on the valley of your breasts, he pulls the hand that had the ring wrapped around your thumb, he kisses your inner wrist, before, with lidded eyes, removing the ring and placing it instead to your ring finger, kissing your palm after a close inspection.
Sunghoon had never been so sure in his life, until now.
"I meant what I said," Sunghoon says quietly, his eyes now trained on your hand, eager to confess that it had always been you all along.
"Sunghoon, we can't.."
"Why?"
"You're going to get married,"
"I called it off."
You looked at him with a gasp, "What?"
"I said I found a partner, I always told you I'll always have you close, right?" he says as he sent you a soft smile, relishing in the hand that played with his hair.
"You're crazy," you chuckled.
"You make me go crazy over you," Sunghoon smiles with his eyes almost close.
"I love you, too, Sunghoon."
And when your eyes both meet, Sunghoon smiled softly, and that was when you both knew – it was where you both are supposed to be.
Sunghoon hums as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close, this time, sure.
"Stay with me tonight," Sunghoon whispers.
"I'll stay tomorrow, too," you add.
"And on the days after that?" Sunghoon asks, his cheek pressed against your chest.
"And on the days after eternity."
© acciojaeyun, 2024.
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DISCLAIMER. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE COPIED/REPOSTED ON HERE OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR PUT INTO ANY AI PROGRAMS. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ.
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mysteryanimator · 30 days ago
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Breaking down "Even the Iron Still Fears the Rot" (almost) shot by shot!
The fan-animatic can be viewed here!
youtube
HEADS UP: This is a fan-made content. I am a fan. I just love Castlevania/animation a lot and I love storyboarding nuances and making people cry over character dynamics. Also apologises for any grammatical/spelling mistakes!
I wasn't planning to do another breakdown of my own work, simply due to imposter syndrome but I genuinely put so much love and care into this animatic! I want to talk about it! Also, people have been really open to hearing about my inspiration and notes, and why I take the directions I do for my work, even if it's fan-made, so here we go!
(Also the reciprocation of my animatics has been so kind and uplifting, and I'm really glad that there's a lot of love for them as much as I love doing them! I learn and grow with every single board I make, it's been really fun! I hope I get to shine this much passion in the future in actual work!)
Since this is also an adaptation of a fan one-shot by Aquila, (which you can read here!) I knew I wanted to evoke what they had written and interject some of my own nuances/personal readings to their story to elevate what they had! In turn, kind of created this monster (positive) of a fan creation haha. There are some changes/rearranging the placement of aspects of the one-shot to strengthen the existing tension going on!
With this out the way, let's begin!
(heads up, for any shots I completely skip over, it is because I'm reaching image limits here)
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I wanted to evoke that strong halo light you see in a lot of media. Often than not, this visual is used to depict the character as a divine force of nature and/or when a character is bobbing in and out of death. It can also be a very very terrifying image, as, for example, s02e8, Mizrak is literally all dark with a brightly lit background. It is scary- BUT people will say hot because it's Mizrak but hey, look, all I can say is I fully understand haha. It all depends on your intentionality and what follows before and after to give context to your scene!
Mizrak is dead. Well, undead now. Olrox is the so-called angel giving him life and love and this halo of light gets repeated a few times!
By the end, not only do their literal positions switch, but their roles shift too so I hoped to convey that visually by also giving Mizrak that halo glow for the second last shot. At the start, Olrox consumes Mizrak’s love, and then it ends with Mizrak consuming Olrox’s love. Guh I love blood themes in vamprisim.
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This shot honestly took me a bit to do, since I was going a lot cleaner than usual, the expression for Mizrak was super important for me to get right. I wanted him to look like he was about to die- yet still have an unwavering amount of life in him. (Also I hadn't warmed up drawing in this cleaned-up style so it definitely was me messing around). It was important for me for this to feel like a POV shot to contrast the first scene so we can get inside the mind of Olrox!
This too is where I only have sound effects since I can't have voice so I limit my SFX to the only most vital things to elevate things I personally find better elevate the scene with audio. It only happens TWICE. The heartbeat. His wrist is shown and from context clues from not only S01 of Nocturne with Tera's turning, but a whole bunch of other vampire media- the wrist is a place where the dead accept their new life of immortality!
Also, the pulse effect was definitely inspired by the transformation of Sekmet! I'm not sure personally if this went to a further stage I'd want to keep this since I'd personally want something more unique for vampire turning, more specifically for Olrox, HOWEVER, I think it still does a good job conveying the supernatural pull for the time being!
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Wow who saw this coming HAHA
Immediately when I saw the line where Olrox said he went to straddle him immediately, my mind went to go and try to parallel this scene again! I don't have much to say about this shot rather than the feet are purposefully cut out for animation convenience's sake HAHA.
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Jumpscare for sudden Olrox character layout (even though he's really off model and sketchy here HAHA)
I was again, wanting to depict Olrox BATHED in light and since this animatic is purely in greyscale (with accents of colour), I could really push for dramatic lighting when it called for it! This is also why some of the scenes just do not have backgrounds at all. I wanted to make some of the scenes as "heavenly" as possible and for Mizrak to be embraced by the light because Olrox is giving him a new a life.
If this were to ever be animated (I won't be since it would take too much of my time, but it's still a good thing to note when boarding anything... maybe I'll do cleaned screenshots since those are a breeze, or animate ONE scene from this animatic... we'll see what I have time for. I unfortunately don't have proper time to try and figure out the layout of s02e8 bgs and paint them. I did consider quickly doing a 3d mock-up but no haha), the light in the background can probably be lit with candles since it was already pre-established in s02e8! Also, the windows can reflect light into the room so there's that too since Mizrak was backlit in that episode too!
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Fun fact, this entire scene was the first thing I ever thought up and why I started even making it. I thought about how cool of a visual it would be to have Mizrak's eye in the reflection.
I wanted to imbue the fact that Mizrak does not fear Olrox holding a blade, hell, he's not even looking at the blade. He's looking at Olrox. What is described as a relic from a terrifying past, Mizrak is not scared. Mizrak is not scared of Olrox.
This is where the heartbeat occurs AGAIN. This is mostly to signal to the audience what Olrox actually has planned. He's not feeding Mizrak from his wrist but from his actual chest, especially with how gently Olrox runs his hands over it.
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I debated a lot on where the initial cut should go. The heart, for sentimentality, under the breast in the same way Christ had been pierced, etc etc- however I landed on just dead set in the middle so it could form a cross that would grow bigger and bigger as the animatic went on. (Fun fact, the blob of blood turns into a little heart as he squeezes his chest)
I wanted to put some weight to the repressed catholic guilt, so I thought a cool visual way to showcase that Mizrak has only known how to love is via worshipping God which has consumed his entire being and self. God has given him faith, a companion in the hardest of times when the world has abandoned him.
Now, once again, his world has abandoned him. The Hospitaller Order of Saint John of God is gone. In the face of death and fearing the devil will be waiting. Olrox has given him love, and he will be a companion in the hardest of times. He will not abandon Mizrak.
This aspect of the cross in the animatic gets expanded upon as time goes on. Both literally as the cross literally turns into a pool of blood more closely to the symbol Mizrak bares, but also it slowly expands upon Mizrak feeding off Olrox's love! I'll add some more of my personal notes when we get there!
Also by far one of my favourite scenes I've drawn. It's still rough but it decidedly made me go a lot cleaner with the rest of the storyboard!
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This is supposed to be suddenly jarring because it cuts midway through Olrox in a midshot to a close-up of a hand! We need to see him actively halt Olrox for just a moment, but also to show that even when it's sudden- its not hostile, it's gentle.
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This shot does a couple of things!
It showcases how gently Mizrak is reaching out to Olrox
It helps to continually establish Mizrak submission to vampirism. He is constantly placed on the bottom from the composition, or we as an audience, are always looking down at Mizrak! Seeing parts of Olrox here really cements this fact as Olrox towers over him to the point we don't even see him fully!
It helps to lead into the Fallen Angel reference!
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This shot makes me sob because it is so gentle. Despite being placed constantly much higher in the composition in the animatic, therefore making him the most powerful in this dynamic- in no way Olrox is intentionally made out to be an intimidating figure. He is comfort. He is a companion. He will not abandon Mizrak. The act of turning Mizrak might be read as selfish. It may be read as cheating the natural cycle of life, it may be everything wrong and doomed as your mind makes it to be, however, it is done out of love. Morals, whether good or bad, no longer matters because Olrox is in love. Love has such a strong chokehold on this series, so I'm shoving as much love into these characters as I can. Both literally make these characters so sickly desiring love that it will be their doom and saving grace, but also me as an artist deeply putting love and thought into this board because care a lot about how to convey these complex emotions! Sure it is quite easy to churn out boards without care, but without putting care into your boards, your characters and stories lack life (in my personal opinion).
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Immediately, this animatic shook me and told me to put in a reference to The Fallen Angel by Alexandre Cabnel!
Also, how does one portray the soul? EYES. Eyes are the window to the soul. Mizrak’s eyes are also considerably the most important/crucial part of his design. His eyes in both seasons ‘glow in the dark’ due to the highlights in his eyes. Mizrak is considerably really emotive too and that was important to me to emphasize. I wanted to capture his essence, his soul if you will, into this shot.
This is also why this shot is done really prettily if you will.
The reflection of Olrox's eye in Mizrak's is important here! Olrox is here to act to comfort Mizrak. Even when Olrox is not on the screen with us, he is majorly present here. He will not abandon Mizrak. Also, since it is coupled with this line, people can choose to infer what they wish with Olrox! It can symbolize Olrox does have a soul, it can symbolize how Olrox and Mizrak are now intertwined together, it can symbolize Mizrak reciprocating Olrox's love. The list can go on! I give that room for open interpretation (same as the rest of the animatic, the only reason I'm going through, breaking down almost shot by shot is that I deeply care about this sort of thing, and I know other people do too!)
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This shot, is deceptively simple but it's here to actually initiate a bunch of scenes I wanted to happen after this!
Firstly, I needed a very nonchalant but easy way for Olrox to let go of Mizrak's hand without needing to overcomplicate. I needed something that gave it just enough importance for the hand kiss BUT not too much where it is the sole focus on the shot.
Secondly, I needed a way for Olrox to lean down to Mizrak and initiate him being way closer to him.
Thirdly, it acts to parallel another shot that happens with Mizrak where instead of going diagonally down, he goes diagonally up!
This is one of the points where I visually slightly deviate from the one-shot! I really REALLY wanted to emphasize Olrox's dialogue here so I chopped up and elongated the scene to make it that much more intense and tender. Which is why we get the next two close up shots!
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Look it was very VERY important to me to have Olrox cup Mizrak's face and intentionally cut off his eyes. The important part I wanted to focus on solely was his hand and Mizrak looking up because genuinely, Mizrak's eyes are 'distracting' and it would remove the focus on the gesture! Also I am saving Mizrak's eyes for the next shot haha
After this shot too, you may notice the blood from his neck disappears for the rest of the animatic. This is because, after this, it began to take too much of a visual focus away from the blood on Olrox's chest since it is bright red against greys in the shot. We can chalk it up to Olrox wiping the blood off when he goes to cup him.
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"The most beautiful soul a vampire can posses."
It was so important to me that we get a BEAUTIFUL shot of Mizrak. I needed the audience to see his entireeee face close up, unobscured by anything. Olrox is holding a beautiful soul in his hands. He's holding Mizrak. Actually makes me sob.
This shot by the way has been repeated 3 times with slight variations by this point. Yes, this is a very pretty shot so how could I not help but repeat it? HOWEVER, I was trying to make a reference to how Mizrak has said Olrox's name only 3 times in the show with a variation of what was said around it. After that, Olrox calls him my love, basically unlocking a new stage in their relationship.
So here, three times when he looks at Olrox, he's mentally calling out his name. After this, Olrox brings him to a new stage in the relationship.
Also in Catholicism, a lot of things are in 3s. One of the major ones is that three times, Christ fell over carrying the cross. On the third hour of that day, he died and on the third day, he was resurrected from the dead. The three sacraments that welcome someone into the Kingdom of God are Baptism, Communion, and Confirmation as they all build off one another! I could go on both those are the main points AND I feel you might get the gist now!
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It was very important to me that when Olrox makes this promise, we HAVE to see his full face. This is why it's a close-up.
It lets for no shadow of a doubt that Olrox means what he says here. He's looking AT Mizrak. He's telling the truth to him.
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This is a parallel to a much earlier shot of Olrox! He moves closer to Mizrak by going from top right to bottom left, while Mizrak moves closer to Olrox by going from bottom left to top right! You also both see them exit the screen too!
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In this shot, we bring back that halo vibe but also this is a reference to S01E04 and S02E08! The curtain! It is BOTH their first-ever shots to establish a new scene, so I wanted to go “Hey this is establishing a new scene- a new life for Mizrak and Olrox.”
The camera is super purposefully cut just below the eyes. You can see them open then closed, but we will never ever get to see the look he had in his eyes, the single decision in his brain that let him indulge. That’s only for Olrox, and only Olrox will know.
From here on out, A LOT of the shots of Mizrak get segmented/have his face hidden for that reason too (except for one shot, also done intentionally).
When Mizrak actually closes his lips around the blood- it’s on the growling sound in the song. Mizrak has turned into the animal that he’s been calling vampires. In this new life, he is now given the choice to be freed from the man-made shackles of shame and guilt. To be untamed and unrestricted. A wild animal so to speak!
Honestly, I spent a lot of my time here (besides the pretty Olrox frames) because I was super particular about how I wanted to portray Mizrak giving into sucking the blood. The way he accepts vampirism is vital because it sets the tone and mood for how the rest of the board feel since his face gets hidden and you now have to infer from when you saw his face last.
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If you have seen my analyses or my work before, you will know how much I enjoy having a frame within a frame. I loveeee my boxes! They're in the box! TOGETHER! THE CENTER TOO! There are no real divisions with the exception of Olrox's head which is important because it's not Mizrak we're focused on at this point in time, it's Olrox~
This is because the one-shot, even in third person, is mostly through Olrox's perspective!
Also, the camera is moving around in this shot, and the following subsequent shots! It hopefully gives off the "hand-held" feel, which often is associated with feeling as if you're right there in the moment with them.
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Why pillows?
This is me shaking you to say how the blood-drinking is an allusion for sex if that wasn't already obvious enough. So showing pillows coupled with Olrox groaning really goes "Yes they are technically doing it."
Originally this shot (and the previous shot) was supposed to be way more pulled out, but I was saving it for the very last shot of the animatic so I went to pillows with the tinest hint of their body in the frame to make it seem super scandalous. Like what on earth could they be doing for me to cut them mostly out of the frame? Also also, the pillow was supposed to have an embroidery of a painting from 1790s or earlier BUT, for the life of me, I could not decide what I wanted and I did not want to keep reusing the same references I have had in past work. I didn't want to fuss about it for too long since its more of an easter egg rather than adding to the story. The main point is pillow = fucking HAHA.
Side tangent, you can get away with SO MUCH by having blood drinking be an allusion to sex. Like obviously when you have an age rating you must abide by, you must be creative with how you go about mature topics (my age rating is YouTube hahaha)! Not only is blood drinking in vampirism just inherently queer-coded, but the intimacy of it can convey so much more if it was just a regular ol' sex scene! I actually deeply enjoy conveying nsfw topics into art because you can discuss character dynamics at a much more vulnerable, raw state that literally bares them to just their essence and their current desires/needs. However I am getting off-topic, let's get back to it!
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This shot was actually heavily inspired by the statue Adoration by Stephen Sinding!
While there are a lot of differences now simply because Mizrak is at Olrox's chest, I still hope that the vibe of that statue is still imbued. It also gives the sense of not only Olrox adoring Mizrak in this very moment, but Mizrak is too despite not seeing his face. Again quite intentional because it's only for Olrox to see.
Also, a lot of people have been telling me how Olrox is breastfeeding him, and in technicality, they're not wrong, he's feeding blood, from his chest. It is the funniest thing ever LOL
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This shot was important to really focus in on his throat and how, much like in the one-shot, Mizrak is literally not taking breaths and is just continually consuming Olrox.
Wet sounds fill the room as his throat bobs with each steady gulp...He doesn’t stop, doesn’t take a moment to gasp for breath.
I also just wanted to make this scene feel very slow in order to contrast with a much more passion-filled desire that consumes Mizrak in this animatic! Also hopefully the descent of blood and the descent of the camera helps to strengthen the idea of Mizrak descending into vampirism!
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It felt really cheesy to have this close-up shot of his eye HOWEVER at the time, I thought this was by far the clearest way to convey the immediate switch from gentle devotion to devouring devotion and how suddenly rapid it is. In my brain, the stylization for his eyes open would be textured and pulse in the same way Olrox's wrist did, which is why it's just outlined. I'm once again not 100% set on the pulse look and it probably needs some iterations if I ever came back to it again.
Also, the green hearts in his eyes only come through when he's actively consuming blood from his chest! The heart motif comes back later when Mizrak ends up throwing up the blood!
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Here's the cross again, except it is growing bigger. This was very important to me that you see how "gentle" the blood-sucking is at first. A gentle devotion despite the "terrifying" shadow of Mizrak. Also, super an excuse to have kiss marks in my animatic, I love painting them in my art because it can say a lot with placement and how aggressively smudged they are!
Also, I thought it would be SO FUN to have Mizrak's turned self literally have his eyes overlay where Olrox's eyes are. It conveys how Mizrak and Olrox are now switching roles in this animatic! For the first half of this animatic, Olrox has been placed pretty high up in the shot composition, or where the camera looks up to put him in a high place of power! It makes him appear way more etheral and otherworldly, while Mizrak was placed lower in the composition, always looking up at him! Which I'm hoping invokes religious imagery of a God and his worshipper/follower!
When Mizrak's transformation is set, the dynamic switches up. For the rest of the animatic, Mizrak is now placed at a more supernatural/otherwordly position, while Olrox is just there passively, letting Mizrak BE in this position. He does not fight it, he embraces it, embraces how Mizrak reciprocates his love, his desire, and all his messy complications, much like how earlier in the animatic, Mizrak embraces vampirism.
Also if you slow it down enough you can see how I accidentally left my perspective grids in it HAHA, but it goes by fast enough it doesn't really matter! (I guess it's also kind of indicative of my natural style when it comes to digital painting too, I genuinely like having my sketch still peek through into the final painting!)
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Wow even more shots to cement the new role switch AND how much much of the passionate need to consume is controlling his urges! Free to consume at his leisure, he is no longer bound by human nature (for now)!
This shot and his leg shot help to really strip Mizrak of his humanity. Faces in a shot really help to connect people to the characters because we see the emote, we see them breathe, we see them live. Especially for a character like Mizrak? He's super expressive face-wise and I'm purposefully not showing you the defining features of Mizrak. Here I am basically going "Mizrak is no longer human."
This is why in horror/thrillers with antagonist characters, we don't see their faces much and are saved for only key moments (usually, again your intentionality matters). It doesn't allow us to connect with the character on a much more human level. Think of Count Orlok from Nosferatu (2024). Purposefully a lot of his character is shrouded in darkness, focusing on his hands and other aspects, never his face, and even then it is really hard to make out because so much of him is obscured. It makes him that much of an imposing intimidating character! Otherworldly and something that we cannot fully understand.
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This is a flipped version of Mizrak's close-up eye shot much earlier when he asked if his soul would remain. Again to hark on how Mizrak and Olrox are switching roles in this animatic! Olrox is looking at Mizrak's soul as we speak.
Despite us not seeing Mizrak's face, we as an audience noticing how unhuman Mizrak has suddenly become, Olrox looks quite gently at him and that was important to convey!
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Woo! Lot's of horizontal lines here! While the camera is moving towards the left, Mizrak is moving right!
Originally this shot was going to have Mizrak's teeth sinking into Olrox like a very cool Olrox throwing his head back and Mizrak's fang reveal HOWEVER, I want to leave the "carnage" and bloodshed of the feeding out of the frame and only have it show up in very specific moments so I can have those moments actually have their proper impacts. I did not want to show any part of the front of his face at all since it would dampen the effect later on, so I opted for this instead. The legs give a sense of "something is happening but we don't know what, but it's to a point where Mizrak's entire body is moving oh jeez." Won't lie, this looks very sexual and I'm purposefully toying with that line again because blood drinking is an allusion to sex.
Also, I'm continuing the concept of having aspects of Mizrak's face only for Olrox's eyes. What does he look like when he's actively consuming him with such passion? Idk, Olrox you tell me.
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This is everything I was building up for when I introduced the small crosses! The physical manifestation of how Mizrak reciprocates.
My thought process here was that Mizrak only knows how to love by fully devoting himself because that's all he's done for God. So he applies it here. He is reciprocating love, but it is FULL ON. It is intense. It is all-consuming.
The face once again is obscured for all the reasons I have mentioned before, but also it REALLY helps to really hard cut to Mizrak choking on the blood after because before it seemed like he was doing just fine. He is literally looking DOWN at Olrox, he takes up A LOT of the screen with just his back and head. He literally gets pulled into full focus while Olrox is blurred in the background. He appears like he is in control of the situation, however it could not be further from the truth.
Also, I was mostly inspired by the insane amount of bible verses talking about blood, so I'll drop some of those here!
John 6:53-56 ESV
So Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him up on the last day. For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood abides in me, and I in him.
Ezekiel 16:6 ESV 
“And when I passed by you and saw you wallowing in your blood, I said to you in your blood, ‘Live!’ I said to you in your blood, ‘Live!’
Matthew 26:28 ESV
"For this is my [Christ's] blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins."
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Absolute contrast to most of the other shots, not only because I decided to add way more character acting here, but it's because we actually see his FULL face. It's intentional because Mizrak realizes himself now so we need to see him have this reaction. I wanted to show that he is still a person. He still has a soul. He may not be human, but he does have a mind that can think and a heart that can love. He still retains human qualities.
He's choking on all the blood (a physical manifestation of love) and his body is rejecting it. He's not used to consuming this amount of love and he's not used to being self-indulgent. It's deeply overwhelming.
I wanted to say I LOVED drawing blood it is SO FUN, planning the camera movement, and how Mizrak coughs at specific moments was sooo fun. I wanted this to be MESSY AND INTENSE. I wanted the audience to feel the weight of Mizrak's sudden distraught. I wanted to throw him around and to really hark on this line from the one-shot.
What has he done? What has been done to him? What has he become?
It helps to deeply contrast with how still and gentle the next scene is!
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Yes, that is right, Olrox's pupils are DILATED :)
Coupled with the fact that the blood splatters are hearts! They're outlined in cyan! Olrox has a massive heart-shaped blood splatter on his cheek while Mizrak has a few heart-shaped splatters BUT there are gaps in his bloodied mouth that create heart shapes as if Mizrak spewed out those hearts!
Firstly this is because Mizrak literally eats at his chest where the heart is. Secondly, I'm again pushing for Mizrak to consume and throw up his love due to how overwhelming it is. Not only is Olrox's love for him literally beyond his imagination, but Mizrak is trying to love back in with that same amount of passion and utter devotion. A lot is happening for this new-born vampire that is pushing and pulling at him. His emotional state is so overwhelming that it is manifested in physical form.
The green reflections are shown to visually communicate Olrox anchoring Mizrak back, as, throughout the animatic, it is one of the things that ease or calm him down. I could not portray it through voice BUT I can portray it via visual (guys walk with me here, imagine the insane combo of audio and visual, it would be so tasty). The sole reason why I did not have hearts in his eyes here is simply because I reserved the heart motif for when he's actively drinking out of Olrox's chest (so he's literally consuming his love) or when he's spitting out the blood!
Also, the reason why I cut to his eyes rather than pan to them is purely because I wanted the violence of his mouth to be suddenly jarring to the gentleness in his eyes. I didn't want the slow reveal, I wanted the "OMG the blood- aw Mizrak...."
"Lulled into a sense of hazy compliance by Olrox’s voice, the former monk carefully lowers himself and continues though not for long."
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This final shot was soooo important to me to include. The “musty inn room” was mentioned much earlier during Mizrak’s transformation but there was a poeticism by having what is considerably the blossoming moment of their complicated relationship be the final shot. With the lyrics also ending with "Take me back to Eden" how could I not? Clearly, both the rooms between s01e4 and s02e8 are parallel to each other. The only difference is that s02e8 has the room be both red AND GREEN, while s01e4 is just earthy/green. Olrox has taken them both back to their earthly paradise. This is their Garden of Eden.
Woo ok and we're done! Also yes I do thumbnails for these, it's half the reason why I'm fast (this entire animatic, cleaned and everything, was done in 3 days good lord. Is that fast? I can't tell) I make the barest of bones chicken scratch of sketches to get a feel of pace/vibe, then I do my roughs/cleans and add/take away shots necessary for the story that needs to be told. I normally would not let this see the light of day because these are AWFUL BUT, this post is also half a documentation of my personal process so I'm going to close my eyes and share this HAHA
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If you got this far, thank you for reading me geek out about this! I find a lot of joy in the visual storytelling medium. As much as I do enjoy animating, (wow could you guys tell in the name?) I have a deep love and passion for storyboarding personally and I get sit back, and enjoy crafting the entire picture! I still have a long way to go but I'm having fun and I'm pursuing my passions of storytelling!
I desperately want to make more animatics, dealing with different tones, pace etc, but I genuinely have to go prioritize other things for now that will help me build these skills hahaha. I say this but who knows, seeing my current track record haha, look I can do both. I follow wherever my creativity takes me. I may have missed a few things but I have to wrap this up now!
Thank you again! The final takeaway, go watch Castlevania again and go be inspired by animation <33333
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waltricia · 9 months ago
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Regardless of whether anyone actually reads this, I need to show appreciation for the writing, blocking, and editing of the last scene of 3x03, “Forces of Nature.”
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Recently, I noticed that the LW line “this author is captivated” was very specifically placed over a shot of Colin and I knew it was intentionally done to convey the double meaning of the narration being about her and him.
Since then, I’ve realized that the same thing is happening throughout that entire LW narration. And it is fucking BRILLIANT.
So, first of all, this is the transcript of the narration:
“This author believes that all of man’s greatest inventions are nothing more than a distraction from what is most natural to us. Our instincts. The innate animal impulse that is inside even the most sophisticated of us. For when all is said and done, our nature will always win out. It seems Lord Debling’s instinct has led this man of nature to the most surprising pick of the season in Miss Penelope Featherington. Suffice it to say, this author is captivated. For in the battle between man and nature, it is quite clear that the battle is in fact between man and himself.”
Now I’m going to break it down with captioned stills so that you can see which words line up with which frames and I’ll explain what I believe it all means.
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“This author” - When it’s first said, it’s on Pen. The second time it’s on Colin. I think there are several meanings here. Firstly, she’s Whistledown and she’s published. He will be, assuming he publishes his travel journals or whatever. Secondly, I think it highlights how they will be united, in the Whistledown storyline along with everything else. There’s a third meaning, but I’m going to get back to it later, once we get to the second use of “this author.”
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This is the Innovations Ball, so on the surface, LW is speaking about man-made technology versus the natural world. But with the introduction of “man,” the shot immediately cuts to Colin, so the second layer of the narration is about him. All of Colin’s invented personality traits are a cover, hiding his true self- his sensitivity and his feelings for Pen. Obviously, this echoes what she wrote about him in 3x01, but it’s different. The context is the same, but this time, she’s not speaking directly about him, and really, she may very well not be thinking about him at all in writing it. After all, she still doesn’t know about his feelings for her. But we know. And the feeling of what she’s saying this time is less jarring; more, fittingly, natural. Because he’s starting to confront all of it as well.
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In this shot, Colin has been walking across the room to get to Pen. There were people on his right, obstructing his view of her, but as LW says “natural,” Colin passes those people and, though we cannot yet see Pen, we can tell from Colin’s face that he finally clearly can. She is what is most natural to him.
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He comes up to her and says that he has a question for her. The narration starts again. But on this shot, it’s only the one word, “our.” Aside from this just being romantic, I think it highlights that the narration is about both of them. But I also think that it’s not just about them. It feels to me as if, metaphorically, it’s written by both of them. Hence, my emphasis on the importance of “this author.”
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We cut to our first close-up of Colin in this particular intimate sequence of close-ups. And we’re really in his perspective now, as he’s struggling to manage his feelings.
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Again, he had been masking, trying to be like the other “sophisticated” gentlemen.
But a shift is occurring within him.
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And this where I really hope there is at least one other person out there paying attention because all of the elements are coming together to tell us something incredible here. We have our beloved Julie Andrews delivering the line with a profound heaviness. We have Kris Bowers’ “Call Me Simon” coming to a close, sounding like a clock striking midnight. And we have the decisive sentiment of the words themselves. I'm convinced that the words “done” and “win out” being said on Pen speak to the finality of Colin’s feelings. If there was uncertainty before, it is gone now and there is no turning back. He is in love with Pen.
But before Colin can say anything else, Debling steps in and takes Pen away to dance.
Side note: Amazingly, I can back up my theory with this shot and another one of my theories:
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I had said, when the trailer came out, that when true red shows up behind Colin, that indicates his love for Pen. This is the first time we see that happen.
But anyway, back to Whistledown

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Debling is the literal “man of nature,” while Colin is the metaphoric “man of nature.” Both have picked Pen.
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We’ve finally come to the second “this author” and here’s the third thing I wanted to say about it: Possibly my favorite thing about this sequence, is that it acts as a vehicle for the representation of the Polin role reversal. From one end of the Whistledown narration to the other, Pen and Colin literally and metaphorically switch places, seamlessly. They exchange their physical places in the room. She’s the wallflower, then he’s the wallflower. She’s the author, then he’s the author. In a metaphorical sense, they’re both writing this Whistledown piece. This whole sequence serves to show us how Colin and Pen have really been equal this whole time. They’re just star-crossed. It’s like what Luke has been saying in interviews, Colin and Pen keep missing each other. They have brief moments where they eclipse each other and then they slip right past until the next time they orbit around to each other again.
Ok, here’s the final stretch, and it is a fucking fascinating maneuver:
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The battle isn’t between Colin and Debling. In fact, Debling doesn’t signify at all here. I’d say there are actually three other battles being referenced: Colin and himself, Pen and herself, and Colin and Pen. The first “man” of that sentence is said on Colin, while “nature” is said on Pen. So in the battle between Colin and Pen- for there is a battle, as Cressida will mention in 3x04 when she says “Eros and Psyche, battling it out”, and also there will be more blatant battling in part 2- the real battles Colin and Pen are facing are the ones within themselves.
Of course I’ve already written about Colin’s battle with himself.
The reference to Pen’s battle with herself is particularly interesting to me. At first, I didn’t see it and I didn’t understand why that bit of the narration was spoken over the Pen and Debling dance instead of over Colin. Then I realized that the second “man” of that sentence is said directly on top of this shot where, again, it’s not about Debling; it’s her face we’re seeing. Then, Debling spins her and the “himself” is on Pen too. And I know I’m right about this because the shot was in the trailer and I watched it so many times. And I noticed that Sam Phillips is very specifically looking away from the camera in this moment. I figured it was because we had to know that the moment was about her. And I was right.
Pen’s journey is her reconciliation with herself. Colin and Pen really have the same inner battles. They both need to drop their masks. That’s why the mirror scene is going to be so important- it’s about exposing and embracing the bare parts of both of them. They are already equal and united. They just need to see it.
Ok that’s it. I’m done. I got it out. And I literally can’t add any more images to this post. To anyone who will have read this fuckin novel I just wrote, thanks for sticking around. These ballroom sequences are particularly difficult for the cast and crew to do, and there is obviously so much complexity in this one, so I feel like it should all be acknowledged. Someone has to acknowledge it, and if that has to be me, I will gladly continue using up my Friday afternoons to do so.
To the cast and crew, to the captain of the season 3 ship, Jess Brownell, to the director, Andrew Ahn, and writer, Eli Wilson Pelton, to everyone’s favorite choreographer/movement director, Jack Murphy, to Luke, Nic, and Julie fuckin Andrews, I see you and I love you. Please keep doing what you’re doing. It’s all worth it. ♄
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bigtedbear · 7 months ago
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" 𝐚 đŠđžđ«đŠđšđ§'𝐬 𝐠𝐼𝐱𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐹 𝐬𝐞𝐝𝐼𝐜𝐭𝐱𝐹𝐧 "
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đ©đ«đšđŠđ©đ­: đ„đźđšđœđĄđš 𝐱𝐬 đœđšđŠđ©đ„đžđ­đžđ„đČ đšđ›đ„đąđŻđąđšđźđŹ 𝐭𝐹 𝐭𝐡𝐞 đąđ§đ­đ«đąđœđšđœđąđžđŹ 𝐹𝐟 đŠđžđ«đŠđšđąđ đœđšđźđ«đ­đŹđĄđąđ©
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content warnings: gay relationship, descriptions of grevious bodily injury, implied self-mutilation/self-harm, male reader, monster x human relationship, hurt/comfort writing, hey this starts out really dark please take care of your mental health, arguments, misunderstood feelings, mermaid courtship, alternate universe where luocha is a traveling doctor who's studying biology and anatomy across the universe blah blah blah, luocha is pretty genuine in this even though i know he is in fact a snake let me idealize for a moment okay, luocha puts a ring on it without realizing he is literally putting a ring on it
full admittance you'll probably find parallels with @/havanilla's merventurine au at the start of this cause it was one of the last things I read on my old tumblr account before it died on me and i fear i DO have brainrot
to add to my earlier warning about this chapter beginning out dark, there will be a marker for the cuter, mermaid courtship section of the fic!! look for a marker like the one below VV
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" welcome back caller đŸȘ·! connecting your line as we speak! "
" new contact noted! caller luocha has been added to your phonebook - love, 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟 𝑡-19 “
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A pained scream ripped through the air.  
It was a shame it couldn’t be distinguished from the sound of other yells and shouting from all over the deck.  In fact, it seemed the anguish was completely drowned out by the noise of an older man beginning to bark orders from the side of the fishing boat.  Gravelly with age and experience, sets and more sets of hands seemed to jump to action, rushing over to that specific side of the deck.  
In the crew’s haste, they didn’t seem to notice they had also woken up the residential cabin.  Things were more than hectic; the experienced crew themselves were in a frenzy.  There was something that demanded urgent attention and it seemed none of the regular passengers were privy to what exactly it was. 
Still, in the curious sea of civilian passengers renting their rooms in the bowels of the ship, a tall blonde head of hair peered over the crowd straight to the source of the fuss.  Over the sea of yellow rain jackets adorning the working fishermen, he caught sight of some kind of reflective surface
 what many wrote off as an oversized fish, Luocha continued to strain his eyes at.
Should he have been anyone else, perhaps he wouldn’t have noticed.  But Luocha was a doctor, he was more than familiar with noises of distress; with the scent of blood.  Something in the very core of his body shook with each of the pained and weak motions of an equally pained, weak patient.  The vibrations crept up his spine from the wooden boards of the ship, whispering into his ears. 
Something was wrong. 
Something was terribly wrong. 
Despite the protests of one of the tour guides, urging him to go back to sleep, he rushed towards the scene.  The same pained screams; the sounds of the body on the deck; the reflection of the “oversized fish”, they became clearer and clearer the closer he closed in.
Before he could make it into the crowd of men at work, he was caught by one of their coworkers.  Clad in a yellow raincoat, shadow cast across his face in the rain, the obviously displeased grimace all over his face only further sent Luocha into a state of panic.  A tense grip on his elbow, the man spoke in a language he didn’t understand.  Even if he didn’t understand the words themselves, Luocha was more than smart enough to understand the message the worker was trying to convey.  Before he could be pulled away, he made one last attempt to see what exactly was going on. 
When he did manage to catch a glimpse, he froze. 
Perfect, round tears running down flushed, red cheeks. 
The skin was pulled taut in another scream.  Based on the shaking motion of the face, he could only really come to the conclusion the body was being jerked in every direction possible. 
“Stop
 STOP!”  He yanked his elbow out of the man’s grasp, crashing directly into the back of another worker.  In his haste, he shoved the man out of the way only to find his path blocked by even more yellow raincoats.  “You’re only going to worsen the injuries! I’m a doctor!” 
Despite not considering himself to be very physically fit, something about the situation discarded that reality entirely.  An unknown strength washed over him as he forced his way through the clusterfuck of workers trying to wrestle the screamer into place. 
He didn’t understand, Luocha didn’t understand. 
There was an injured crew member on the deck, screaming–what kind of idiot would continue to pull and stress the skin around the wound? Was that why the team leader seemed to screaming with such vigor?  Was he equally concerned about one of his staff suddenly being sent into debilitating agony? 
But no, not even in the slightest.  
Through the crowd, a wet mop of hair thrashing against the backdrop of a barbed fishing net came into view.  The urgency only further sent Luocha wrestling through the crowd of men, all but screaming himself as he watched the injured man on the ground contort his facial muscles in abject horror.  
“Stop it, you’re hurting him!” 
 He could hear his own vocal chords start to tear as he shrieked for the poor victim.  With each passing moment, fear and anxiety seized the doctor in his entirety before he finally managed to part the crowd like the red sea. 
In the end,
he wasn’t faced with a crew member. 
...
A merman. 
Something he’d only heard of in the planet’s folklore. 
It seemed well-known the small surviving population hardly ever ventured out of protected waters for fear of predators. 
What was this one doing so far out
?
With the opportunity making itself known, the unknown merman continued to thrash but harder, lips curling upwards as another shrill cry of agony streaked the night air.  From up close, the doctor could only watch the formerly smooth, unmarred skin become tainted with red.  Washed with your own blood, you looked more similar to some kind of horror movie monster than a person. 
But even in the face of monstrosity, his inner doctor only saw the blown out pupils, the senseless aggression, the fear written all over his patient’s face in their own claret stain.
“You’ll end up killing him, stop, STOP!” 
He completely ignored his own pain as the barbs in the net ripped into the fabric of his pajamas, cutting open his knees when he threw his body on top of yours.  His hands flew around carelessly in an attempt to unlatch the hands that seemed determined to pull at you from every direction.  
At the loss of the hands all over your body, your screams died down into pitiful hyperventilation, curling in on yourself in an attempt to cover the wounds weeping crimson all over the formerly white net.  
Instead of relief, instead of some kind of graditude, it seemed he was only met with friction.
“Oy, blondie, paws off, do you understand how much money you’ve got your hands on right now?” 
The thick accent confused him at first, then the words themselves didn’t seem to compute. 
“Excuse me?” 
You yelped again when one of the men pulled at the net.   The cold metal tore sore flesh in chunks.
“Mermaid scales are priceless.  So are the pearls they cry, we caught the bastard fair and square so. Step. Off.” 
His mind scrambled to understand the sentence, thoughts muddling together in a blender of pain and panic.  “I- I-” 
“You?”  Another crew member chimed in, crossing his arms, “You’ll what, doctor?  You can either get off of him and wrap up your cuts yourself or we’ll drag you off and the barbs can teach you to keep your nose out of other people’s business.” 
“I-”  his breathing picked up drastically, suddenly confronted with such a terrible moral dilemma. 
When prying hands began to make grabby motions for the edges of the ropes, he choked out his final answer.
“I'll pay for him!"
“...”
“...”
“...”
He swept his rain-soaked bangs out of his face, his voice shaking, “You were planning on selling him, right?”  He fumbled with his sleeves, “I make good money, I swear, I-,” he swallowed, “I can afford it.  Just take as much as you want out of the account I used to pay for my cabin.”
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“...” 
“...”
Things were a little bit awkward, to say the least. 
Despite an attempt being made to cooperate while you were awake, it seemed the pressure and the mounting stress of nearly dying made it unable for you to accept the fact that Luocha was not, in fact, going to hurt you. 
The attempt to deal with the various injuries littered all over formerly smooth, silky skin was unproductive at best.  In fact, it only created more problems.  Trying to operate while you were largely unreceptive to anything he was saying was by far the worst decision he could’ve made given the circumstances. 
Point blank, he needed to get the barbed hooks out of your skin.  If he didn’t, the wounds would be at increased risk of infection.  After all, based on the cruel treatment he’d seen on deck, he knew the metal was most likely unsanitized.  Doing this while you were awake was easily the worst decision he could've made.
Promising not to hurt you while continually yanking pieces of metal out of your tender flesh was not a good way to build trust. 
"..."
"..."
You poked at the “strange” bowl that’d been set in front of you.  It was some kind of clam-fish hybrid soup. I mean, Luocha was trying to be considerate of your regular diet.  Surely, since you were living out in open waters, you were pretty used to eating fish right?
He, however, failed to realize you weren’t exactly in a spot to ever enjoy the luxuries of cooked food
 or soup.  He’d laid out some utensils for you to use on top of that; it was a shame you didn’t know how to use them. 
"..."
"..."
You realized pretty early on that he’d saved you from becoming a victim to death by blood loss.  After all, when you were dropped in a holding tank until the ship arrived at the port, the water went cloudy from the dirt, debris, and blood all over your body.  In your little waist-high tank, he’d done his best to make sure you’d actually survive through the night.
Despite your reservations about him, you did your best not to scream while you were confined to a glorified holding cell.  Nails digging into the glass, biting down hard enough on the towel to tear, you tried your best to stay still while he fished countless little hooks from your back, arms, and chest.  
Removing the large hook in your shoulder was the most painful part of the process for the both of you.  You, for obvious reasons.  The hook made a clean cut through the muscle--scraping up against the bone--by the time you were awake enough to realize you were wrapped up in a barbed net.  Luocha, on the other hand, was the one that had to deal with the struggle while trying to complete a very tricky operation.  
Eventually, the problem dealt with itself when you passed out.  Really, he should’ve sedated you to start with, and he cursed at himself for not thinking of it sooner.  After you went out, he did his best to stitch everything up–hell, he wrapped you up in enough bandages to look like a mummy. 
But, since the two of you actually arrived on the island, there wasn’t so much as a word shared from either party. 
You woke up in a little bathtub, in a little bathroom, feeling like your arms were falling off and you couldn’t breathe because of how tight all of the bandages were wrapped around you. Eventually the giant bandages changed to smaller ones attached with some medical tape.  The only bulky one left was the one wrapped around your shoulder. 
"..."
"..."
With some trepidation, you grabbed at one of the fishtails sticking out of the mystery liquid, digging a finger in between the meat and the ribs to peel it off the bone.  Carefully, you used one of your freshly trimmed nails to remove the thick, scaly skin, then biting off a chunk to chew and swallow.  
The longer you stared at the bowl, the more confused you became. 
Yes, you knew how to eat a fish. 
Yes, you knew how to eat a mussel. 
No, you didn’t know what to do with whatever else was in the bowl.  
You paused eating when the man sitting across from the bathtub cleared his throat.  He made a vague gesture towards your lap, “Would you
?”
‘...mind if I showed you how to eat a bowl of soup?’ 
Without much hesitation, you offered up your meal again, much more interested in the chunk of fish in your hand.  Biting off another piece, you drank in the pleasant familiarity in just having some tilapia for once.  
He picked up the spoon. Deciding not to embarrass you further, he decided to taste test the food himself instead of trying to feed you. He let the silver spoon clatter back into the bowl, passing it over to you again. Despite the clear demonstration he’d given you, you opted to pick at one of the mussels hiding underneath the broth. 
“...”
“...”
He cleared his throat again, seemingly averting eye contact as he stared at the tiled walls. 
You diverted your attention from your bowl back to the blonde doctor. 
“I don’t mean to be rude or pry in any way,” he swallowed, “but what exactly were you doing so far from protected waters?"
You didn’t seem surprised in the slightest by his question, grabbing at the other fish tail in the bowl, “Smuggling and poaching.”  
He tilted his head curiously.
“Protective waters have attendants to track general pod health, they have the authority to temporarily remove merfolk from the water to do routine health checks."  You finally wrapped your hand around the spoon awkwardly, bringing some broth up to your lips. "Smugglers get jobs as attendants cause only tagged mermaids are considered protected.” You wiggled one of your finned ears, your left ear. Notably, there was a small tear in one of the fins. “It only takes a couple minutes for an attendant to catch a mermaid, sedate them, get them into a vehicle, remove their tag and throw them out into the right spots for a couple grand.” 
“I see.” 
You hummed, finally bringing the soup up to your lips, “Speaking of, how much did you end up having to pay for me?”
"..."
"..."
“Excuse me?” Luocha’s hands rested in his lap. 
“How much did you end up paying for me?”  You picked up another mussel, “I’m pretty good about keeping up with the price of scales and pearls.  I know you bought me as some kind of pity project, but I'm pretty eager to go back out to open waters.  Just name your price and I can start trying to pay off the debt.” 
The doctor blinked a couple times. “Oh
 oh my god, absolutely not!”  He shook his head, bringing his hands up in front of his chest defensively, “There is no need to pay me back in the slightest.  Please, just rest well and remain healthy.  That would be the best payment.”
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“What’s this?” 
He rolled the small iridescent pearl between his gloved fingers. 
“It’s a pearl.” 
He cracked a smile at that. It was gone as quick as it arrived as he brought the little treasure to his face to take a closer look.  “Well yes, but where did you get this? Did you have it stashed on you somewhere?”
You twirled your finger in a circle on the surface of the water. “No,” absentmindedly you observed the little whirlpool it made, “I made it.” 
He blinked a couple of times, hand dropping back to his side. “Pardon?” 
You finally looked up from the surface of the water, “I made it.” 
He cocked his head to the side, “You
 made a pearl?” 
You looked at him, bored, “Well, yeah, did you not know mermaids make pearls?”
He looked from you, to the pearl, and then back at you.  “No
 I’m afraid I didn’t know.”  His palm closed into a fist around the pearl, “How?” 
“...hm?”
He gestured towards his closed hand, “How did you make it?” 
You gave a huff, “Well, you’ve seen me make them before.”  
He frowned, “I
 have?”
‘-and I didn’t notice?’
You nodded, shifting around in the bathtub to try and stretch your long tail out a little bit.  "The night I got caught on the boat-" Your jaw tensed, a sudden pang of soreness shooting up from your extremities. "-they were all over the deck, there were a bunch in the little tank they had me in.” 
His frown only deepened as he did his best to recall, “I don’t think I remember seeing them
? Does your blood crystalize into them or something of the sort?” 
You rested your head on the porcelain of the tub, bringing your arms up to cushion your cranium.  “Tears,” you murmured, “Merfolk tears turn into pearls.” 
‘Ah
 so that’s why you mentioned there being so many on the ship.’
But then it hit him. 
“Why were you crying?” 
You shrugged, “Most mermaids in protected waters can cry on command.  We get a lot of tourists that give us gifts, sometimes if we’re interested we’ll give them a pearl in return.” 
He nodded like he understood, but suddenly the beautiful gem felt heavy in his fist.  He opened his hand and offered it back, “As beautiful as it is, I don’t wish to see you shedding any tears while you’re under my care.” 
You pushed his outstretched hand away, “Well, I already made it.  There’s no use trying to return it.” 
“Still, I feel terrible receiving a gift with such painful origins,” he sat down on the stool that’d become his usual spot.  “I’m a doctor. My goal is to make sure you’re in the least amount of pain possible.” 
“You should feel honored, you’re really the first person I’ve ever given a pearl to,” you raised your head from its spot on your arms, “I usually only gave them to little kids that didn’t bring me gifts so I’d give them something.”  You sank further into the water in the shallow tub.
“My concern is why you believe you should be giving me gifts in the first place,” he crossed his left leg over his right, scooting in closer, “I’ve already told you that taking care of you has always been of my own volition.  It is quite literally my job.  If you’re giving this to me as a gift and not repayment, I might be more inclined to accept it.” 
You huffed,  “Well, I guess you caught me.” 
His brows furrowed, “So I was right, you’re trying to pay back a debt again.” 
“...”
“...”
“...”
This time, he sighed.  “I’ve already told you, your health and wellbeing are both priceless.  I would never ask a patient I forced into care to pay me any sum of money-”
“That’s what I don’t understand,” The water rippled when you sat up suddenly, “Why don’t you want to accept any kind of payment? I’m tired of talking to you as property and owner.  You bought ownership, legally I’m your property. I don’t want to be your property.” 
“You aren’t my property-” He quipped, expression growing displeased.
“But I am,” you cut him off.  “You signed paperwork, you exchanged a certain sum of money.  Even if you thought I couldn’t hear you doesn’t mean I didn’t.” You crossed your arms across your chest, “I still heard the captain of the ship talking about sale prices with you.  I know I was considered a higher quality product, I know I was expensive.”
The doctor opened his mouth; and closed it and opened it again.  He struggled to find the correct words to use. “I didn’t consider that an exchange for ownership of you, I considered that to be the price of your wellbeing.  I’ve never considered you to be anything but an equal to me.” 
You drew your lips into a tight line, “Well, if I was an equal, you’d let me contribute to the cost somehow.  You wouldn’t treat me like some helpless baby.”  You gestured to his closed palm, “The pearl in your hand is priceless, sealing a handful of them would recuperate the money you wasted-”
Luocha held up his hand, “Stop-”
But you insisted, “Hell, if I ripped a couple of scales out you could more than pay for me.  You’d have enough money to buy another sorry sack of shit to take care of-”
“Don’t EVER-” he cut you off aggressively, “EVER, suggest such ludacris things to me again.  I refuse to even think about it.” 
“..."
Luocha shook his head, getting his gloves wet when he reached into the water to hold your hands in his own, “I would never ask you to do something like that to yourself.  I would never ask you to hurt yourself to please me and I would never ask you to hurt yourself because you needed my help.”  He gave your palms a gentle squeeze, “You did not ask to be put in the position you’re in now,  I am the one that chose to do this and I will be the one to set the price on my help; that price-” he paused, making sure you were looking him in the eyes, “-will always be no price at all.”   He pushed the pearl back into your hands.  “Give this pearl to one of the children that visit the waters after you’ve healed up in my stead, yes?” 
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“It’s not exactly how I remember it.” 
You squirmed against the sensation of the water, arms still looped around Luocha’s neck.  
“Any discomfort?” The doctor asked, “Tell me if anything hurts.”
“No, no, nothing like that,” You shuffled around to try and make yourself comfortable.  You did your best to find the familiar rhythm of the waves, but your tail felt as useless as it had the entire time you’d been confined to the bathtub.  “It’s
 cold.” 
Luocha nodded... even though he couldn't quite understand.  “If you aren’t straining any of your injuries, you can hang on for as long as you need to.”
You mumbled, trying to draw your elbows closer to your chest, “I’m not.” 
“...”
“...”
It’d only been a week since the last time you’d tried to repay your imaginary debt to Luocha.  Things got
 less tense between the two of you. 
You didn’t put up a fuss when he put some ointment on the scars that formed all over your skin.  You didn’t squirm when he unwrapped your shoulder bandage.  You’d usually bide your time silently in the bathtub.  Mostly, you’d nap.  But that got old quickly, especially since a bathtub isn’t the most convenient spot for sleeping. 
Luocha could tell you were bored out of your mind all on your lonesome. To satiate this, he’d usually sit with you in the bathroom and try to teach you things like how to play cards.  You were a little apprehensive with him, like you always were, but it seemed you opened up to him a lot more towards the end of your stay in his temporary residence.
You’d become a pretty competent blackjack player all things considered.
You opened up more and more about your life down below.  Usually, you’d be afraid to tell anyone about that information.  Smugglers often targeted specific pods if one of the products happened to be particularly pricy.  But Luocha wasn't at any risk, was he? 
“...”
“...”
Eventually, as the water started to feel more natural on your skin, you let your grip loosen from around his neck.  As the welcoming embrace of the ocean seemed to envelop more and more of your body, you could feel the former tension in your muscles start to melt away. 
You laid yourself horizontal to the surface of the water, tentatively starting to create your own ripples in the vast expanses of blue.  Maybe it didn’t feel exactly as you remembered, but the gentle pressure of the cool, cool sea against your skin felt like home. 
Your arms splayed out in the waves like an angel, basking in the familiarity of it all.  “You can let go now.” 
Slowly, surely, pale arms lowered you into the arms of the same waters you’d been in a little over two months ago.  You shocked yourself when you chased after his hands. Still, as slick as an eel, you slid away from him into the open ocean, finding a boyish glee in the pure ecstasy of true freedom.  
You took off like a little jet, head first into the deep end. 
Luocha could only really watch with a small smile while you explored the vast array of little treasures hidden beneath the horizon line.  
It felt like only fifteen minutes had passed when you re-emerged from beneath the ocean blue, but to your shock, the sun was starting to set and Luocha was off on dry land, wringing the water out of his hair.  
In all of your fun, it seemed you’d forgotten about that man who’d made all of this possible for you. 
“...”
You pursued him onto the sand, watching him characteristically tilt his head to the side to express his curiosity.  You pushed your own wet mop of hair out of your face with your hand, suddenly feeling a little less confident in your choices.  Despite your trepidation, you felt you at least owed him this much. 
That didn't make it any easier.
“I-” you swallowed, curling in on yourself, “What if I wanted to give you a gift? If it wasn’t some kind of repayment?” 
He smiled, flipping a soaked lock of hair over his shoulder, “As long as you aren’t lying to me about repayment, then I would gladly accept.”
You suddenly felt a new wave of confidence wash over you, your chest puffing up a little bit, “Well, I have a gift for you.” Even though you failed to notice your little finned ears wiggling in excitement, Luocha did not. 
You reached up to your right ear, unhooking the beautiful golden earring that’d you'd been wearing since you’d been thrown out of protective waters.
His eyes widened.   
“It-” You offered the hoop to him, “It was my mom’s.”
Luocha blinked a couple times, staring at the bangle before looking back up at your face instead.  
“Well?  You said you’d accept it if it was a gift.”  You pushed it into his face, feeling a red hot flush wash over your features, “This is a gift; from me to you, no strings attached.” 
He carefully took the thin gold loop in his fingers.  He noticed the signs of oxidation and the water damage. 
It was already far less valuable than the pearl you’d tried to offer him.
Yet its sentimental value was unrivaled. 
“...”
“...”
“Did... your mother like jewelry?”
You shrugged, looking away from him, “Yeah, she had a lot of it from my dad.” 
Luocha nodded.  “Well, did she have a favorite kind of jewelry?” 
At this, you paused.  “I mean
 I guess she did.  She wore a lot of rings
 why?” 
“Well, since this is a gift I won’t refuse it,- Luocha slid one of the golden bands wrapped around his fingers off,  “-but if you can’t have her earring anymore, then you can at least have a piece of jewelry your mother would’ve liked to wear.”
You felt your face transition from an embarrassed pink to a much deeper red.  “You
 you know what you’re offering me, r-right?” 
He didn’t respond in the way you expected.  Instead of his usual confusion, he pushed the ring towards you again with one hand.  The other went to work, looping the clasp of the earring through a piercing that was just a little bit too close to closing.  
It felt like your brain was melting.
‘Is he
 flirting with me?’ 
You took the golden ring between your fingers, watching him use his newly freed hand to further force the earring through the piercing hole. You could only feel the heat creep up your neck to your ears; fuck, it felt like you were going to burn alive on the sand. 
When he finally got it in, he flipped a chunk of wet hair over his shoulder.  He framed the golden hoop with his palm.  Playfully, he asked, “How does it look?” 
‘...’
‘He’s definitely flirting.’ 
You immediately ripped your gaze from his face to the ring that suddenly felt like a hundred pounds in your palm. 
‘...What fingers do humans usually put the ring on again?’
Shakily you slid the golden ring onto your left hand, examining the way it glinted in the light of the sunset.  
‘...holy shit, did I just get married?’ 
“[name]?” 
You blinked a couple times, suddenly ripping your gaze away from the shiny metal.  “Sorry, sorry.” 
He chuckled at your expense, enjoying the little fluttering of your ears everytime he seemed to catch your attention again.  “Thank you for the gift, I’ll cherish it dearly.” 
You nodded. 
“...”
“...”
The silence was interrupted with a quiet sniffle. 
“...[name]?”
You aggressively wiped the tear off your face, watching the consequent pearl roll across the grains of sand.  “H-Hey, you can’t just give me this ring and leave-” You took a deep breath, “-That’s not fair, that’s not fair at all.” 
He was a little taken aback at the sudden resurgence of emotion, “Would
” he paused.  He thought it over before tentatively putting a hand on your shoulder, “Would it help if I stayed a little longer?” 
You shook your head, putting your hand over the one on your shoulder to hold it between both of your own hands.  “You have to promise to visit me a lot.  It’s going to take me a long time to find my family, so if you don’t visit I’m going to be lonely.” 
He, once again caught off guard, nodded, “O-Of course!” His own cheeks tinted a pale pink. 
“You promise?” 
He nodded again, this time using his other hand to clasp your hand in both of his.  “I promise I’ll visit.”
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a side note for this upcoming section: i did a lot of world-building for this fic behind the scenes, the current planet they're on is largely submerged beneath the waters and they live on a bunch of island nations. To link up with that idea, my idea of the mermaid smuggling industry is to do with the concept of foreigners coming in and destroying local ecosystems. (Colonization)
Long story short, the planet is loosely based on Polynesian Islands so I chose Māori names for our supporting cast but keep in mind I am FAR from an expert and I mean literally no disrespect at all to anyone at all. Only the names are Māori in nature because I feel like no matter how much research I do, I would be unable to capture the essence of the rich culture of New Zealand. I'm a little gay fanfic writer I have not done nearly enough research to claim I know ANYTHING, I just thought it'd be cool and help with world-building in case people want a part-two or something
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“What’s got you so worked up?” 
“Shut the fuck up Iarere, this is like the seventh time in the same hour.” 
Your younger brother held his hands up defensively, “Well, things got boring around here without you!”  He let himself fall towards the ground next to the boulder you’d splayed out all the little pieces of gold you’d managed to scrounge up.  “You manage to make it back from outside of protective waters and instead of hating everything and everyone, you’re suddenly getting all buddy buddy with the tourists trying to get some trinkets.  I know you’re old but are you really getting that desperate?” 
You frowned, “I’m not that old.” 
Iarere rested his face on the cool surface of the rock, prodding at one of the particularly flashy necklaces.  “You’re old to me.”  
Your frown deepened. Not just because your brother was calling you old, but because Luocha’s weekly visit was coming up and you hadn’t managed to gather up nearly as much as you would’ve wanted.   For your kind, caring, doctor husband who was already well off, a few necklaces and a handful of rings and earrings wouldn’t be anywhere near enough to woo him.  “I guess I am getting towards the end of the usual age people get married at.” 
The younger man nodded, humming, “Yeah, so do you have anyone in mind?” 
You bit your lip.  
I mean, yes, you were married. 
But it felt inauthentic if you didn’t present your husband with some kind of dowry first. 
Yes, Luocha only presented you with one of his old rings, but he also paid a hefty sum to rescue you from certain doom.  He also nursed you back to good health, refused to take any payment for any of the medical treatments or the food that’d been wasted making sure you’d retain your strength throughout your recovery. 
In your mind, maybe human dowries were just a little bit different. 
Despite opening your mouth to voice your dissent, your little brother jumped up at the opportunity to tease you.  “So you do have someone you’re thinking about!” 
“I-” 
“What are they like?” Iarere gripped your shoulders, tearing your attention away from your inner dilemma.  “What do they look like? Do I know them?”  He gasped, shaking you back and forth and he demanded to know, “Did you meet them while you were outside?!” 
You gripped at his shoulders in return, “I didn’t say I had anyone in mind!” 
“...”
“...”
He pursed his lips, “Yeah, I’m not buying it.” 
You groaned, bringing your hands up to your face.
He only got more excited, leaning in way too close for comfort as he squealed, “So I was right?!” 
“Right about what?” 
Your eyes darted over to the side, watching one of the few friends you’d managed to retain at your grown age.  “Thank the gods, Akahata, get Iarere off me before he gives me whiplash.” 
He hummed, “Well, I’m more interested in what exactly you guys were talking about before.”  You watched as his eyes flitted from you and your brother to all the precious metal and gems you’d laid out.  “Actually don’t tell me, let me guess.”  He pointed at the rock, “You’re setting up a dowry, but you’re upset because you know no amount of jewelry would ever get anyone in the pod to consider settling down with your ugly mug.”
“HAH!” 
Your ears fluttered in irritation.  “That’s a horrible guess.” 
Akahata shrugged, “Well, I mean, your mug’s only ugly cause you frown all the time.  If you actually made an effort to smile more, you’d probably have a lot more people that’d be willing to accept you with no dowry.” 
Your frown tugged at the corners of your lips as you massaged your temples, “For your information, I’m making a dowry cause I already got married.” 
“...”
“...’
“...”
“You WHAT?!” 
Iarere’s fists clenched even tighter around your biceps, “You told me you lost mom’s earring, not that you got married-” 
“It’s a long story-” You started, 
“Not long enough to not tell either of us!” Your best friend screamed in abject horror.  “The moment Ngaio and I started courting each other I told you immediately-”  You grimaced when he pushed your brother out of the way to be the one to shake you back and forth, “-and you get married and you don’t tell me until afterwards?!” 
“It wasn’t planned! I didn’t even realize he was courting me until he gave me his ring-” You countered, face lighting up pink.
“So it’s a him
” Iarere mumbled, putting his hand to his chin.  His expression lit up as the pieces started clicking together in his head.  “Is that where you’re going tomorrow?!” 
“YOU’RE GOING TO MEET HIM TOMORROW?!” 
You were growing more overwhelmed by the minute, averting eye contact.  “Yeah, so what? We’ve been meeting up every week while I was looking for you guys.  Is it weird for husbands to spend time together?” 
Akahata abruptly let go of you, leaving red imprints of his hands on your arms.  “That’s not that problem, that problem-” he paused for dramatic effect, “-is that you’re planning on meeting up with him after returning and you’re not even telling us who he is!” 
Iarere put a hand over his heart, feigning his disappointment as he let himself sink into the sand below.  “I think I’m going to faint.” 
You sighed, “Well-”
Akahata jabbed an accusatory finger in your chest again, “Is he even good looking enough for you? Is he any good at providing? What was his dowry like?  What pod is he even from?!”
“He’s not from a pod-”
Your brother hummed, “So is he a lone wanderer out beyond the boundaries of protected waters saving pretty mermen he wants to marry?” 
Your face twisted into one of disgust, “Keep your fantasies to yourself.” 
Iarere huffed, “Well, what else am I supposed to think when you say he’s not from a pod?  He obviously has so be some kind of lone wolf, PLUS you got married before you made it back.” 
Akahata put a contemplative hand under his chin, “I mean he has a point.” 
You shook your head, “He’s a human.” 
“...” 
“...” 
“...”
“You’re joking.” 
“I’m not.” 
“You’re joking
” 
You held up your hand, gesturing towards the ring on your finger. 
“Oh my god, you’re not actually joking.” 
Your younger brother squealed, “Oh my god this is like something out of all those movies on the surface! Tell me all about it!” 
You frowned, pushing through both your peers to make it back to your makeshift table top.  “He’s
 a doctor, but he was working as a trader on a big ship.   He was there the night I got caught and he ended up buying me off the boat and he patched me up and released me.” 
Your best friend sighed, “Only you can make a story that romantic sound like a business deal.” 
Iarere furrowed his brows, “Wait, wait, wait, when did he propose?” 
“Well-” You fumbled over your words, “I caught feelings and I thought I might as well start the courtship process-” 
“YOU made the first move?!” 
“Shut up!” You pushed your overly eager younger brother’s face away, “I didn’t know if he even knew about mermaid courting so if I was going to start courting him, I had to do it then.”
“...go on.”
You sighed, “I gave him mom’s old earring, but instead of just taking it, he gave me one of the rings he was wearing.” You covered your face, feeling another wave of crimson wash everywhere from your neck to the tips of your ears.  You still couldn’t get the memory of him showing off the earring out of your fucking head. “I mean- I- I even asked if he knew what offering me his ring meant and he just put it in my hand.” 
Your younger brother kicked around on the sand eagerly, waving his hands around excitedly.  “That is actually one of THE most romantic proposals I’ve ever heard of!” 
Akahata crossed his arms, “Damn, I feel like mine was lacking.” 
You huffed, “Well, Ngaio is still your wife.” 
“And whatever his face is still managed to wife you--of all people--up.”
“Touche.”
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“Oh wow, you brought more than you usually do.” 
Luocha chuckled behind his hand, his own little bag of purchased trinkets hanging loosely at his side. 
You hummed, thumbing over the beautiful glistening stone of a diamond necklace you’d managed to get off of a rather infamous regular.  “You’re one to talk.” 
He gave a small grunt of exertion as he sat next to you on the sand, letting the bag fall to the side, “You’ve got me there.”  He couldn’t help the pleasant swell of warmth in his face as you gestured for him to turn around. 
I mean, maybe you weren’t the best at communicating what you were feeling or what you wanted from him, but you’d been getting better.  Instead of just grunting a yes or no to the questions he’d ask, you’d actually make time for some conversation with him.  Be it from your annoying younger brother to the changes in the pod since you’d returned, it seemed you shared what little woes you had with Luocha.  
You also seemed to share endless amounts of little golden treasures with him.  From old, worn gold, oxidized iron, anything really that you could find, you provided it to him and put it on him with the most delicate touch your rough, scarred hands could muster.  Maybe it was nothing, maybe it was something.  He couldn’t control the way his heart sped up whenever you leaned in to help him put on a new pair of earrings you’d gifted him.  He surmised gift giving was some kind of love language that was common among merfolk.  Perhaps you’d also enjoy it if he brought you gifts of equal value! 
Still, the pounding in his heart was not helped when you’d started smiling at him. 
Everytime he managed to catch one of the rare glimpses of your smile–even worse when you’d laugh–he almost felt like he was looking at something forbidden.  Something he wasn’t worthy of, right in front of him.  For someone who had been through so much, you really opened up to him remarkably quickly after you’d been released.  Perhaps before release you’d been scared of being sold off? The familiar feeling of the waters must’ve don wonders to make you relax this much. 
Even worse when the physical affection began.  It started as simple as reaching out to the side of his face to brush the hair away from his ear so you could catch sight of the golden hoop he’d taken to wearing.   It transitioned to taking his gloves off so you could look at the rings you ended up gifting him.   Before he could really process how quickly the two of you were moving, you were pressed up against him at every opportunity.  
He knew it was natural for merfolk to not wear clothing, but did you have to have such a muscular chest? 
Even now, as you fumbled with the clasp of the absolutely beautiful diamond necklace, you wrapped an equally muscular aquatic tail around his leg.  He didn’t exactly know if this was normal between merfamily-could he call them that?--, being overly affectionate.   Even if it felt like a little more than just normal bonding, he did his best to still the pounding of his heart when your fingers brushed his hair out of the way so you could make sure the gem was oriented correctly.  
Trying his hardest to quell the tide of warmth surging up to the tips of his ears, he put a hand over his erratic heartbeat.  He prayed to the Aeons above you couldn’t feel it as your chest pressed against his back.  
You wrapped your arms snug around his torso, pulling him further into your stomach.  Resting your chin on top of his blonde hair, you found the gloved hand resting over his heart to hold in your own.   The two of you let the silence hang in the air for a moment. 
“...”
“...”
You gave a quiet huff before you moved your chin from on top of his head to bury itself into the crook of his neck.  As his fingers interlocked with yours, he found himself looking at all the gold rings he’d adorned your fingers with.  Each and every one, he could put a time and day to. 
But then, his eyes landed on your ring finger. 
“Oh, you still wear that old thing?”
“...hm?”
You glanced down at your hand, raising a brow.  His finger was tracing over the ring he’d exchanged when he was releasing you back into the open water.
“You still wear the same earring I gave you,” you murmured, flicking it with your freehand.  “I’ve given you countless pairs of earrings since, yet even when you wear one stud, you’ll always wear the same one every time I see you.” 
His chest rumbled with a bout of laughter, “I suppose you’re right.”  He perked up suddenly, “Oh, that reminds me, speaking of this earring
” He reached towards the rather large bag of gifts he’d brought with him.  He threw a few of the boxes of gold ornaments he’d purchased before finally fishing the box he was looking for out of the bottom.  “I went shopping and when I saw this pair, I simply knew you’d love it.” 
You hummed, looking at the little navy blue box in his hand.
He made quick work of the bow wrapped around the holding case, nimble fingers peeling open the little box before he presented you with his gift on their signature velvet cushion. It looked like
 

a replica of your mother’s earrings. 
He offered them up to you with a bashful smile, watching in silent amusement when your ears flicked back and forth in some kind of excitement. 
Delicately, gently, you picked up one of the hoops and twirled it around your fingers. 
“...”
“...”
“...Well? Do you like it?”
You didn’t respond, reaching up to your right ear to remove the little stud you’d chosen to wear to this outing.  Fidgeting with the clasp of the loop, you threaded it with a calculated ease through your piercing.   
“I like it.” 
He clasped his hands together, “Good, I’m more than glad.” 
“...”
“...”
“She would’ve loved to meet you.” 
“Hm?”
You paused, “My mother, I mean,” Your thumb fidgeted with the back of the earring.  “She always wanted to see her sons get married, but she passed before she could.” 
Luocha blinked.  
“Pardon?” 
You tilted your head to the side, “My mother; she would’ve loved to meet you.” 
“No, no,” Luocha could feel the deep claret paint his face a messy red as he scooted to face you, “What did you mean by seeing her sons get married?”
“...

Did you not know?” 
Luocha blinked. 
“We’re married.” 
Another blink. 
“You
 Is that why
?” He gestured towards the gifts strewn across the sand.  He looked back towards his own bag of gifts. 
‘Oh for crying out loud-’
“I-” he cleared his throat, “I apologize, I seem to have
 entered this marriage under false pretenses.”  He put his hands on his temples, “How- Where- When exactly did this happen?”
You hummed, “When you let me back out into the water.  When I gifted you my mother’s earring, that was the signal I wanted to start courting you.  When you gift something back, that’s an officiation of marriage.” 
He coughed into his hand, trying to think through this situation logically. 
Okay, so he accidentally got married.
What the fuck. 
The train of thought seemed to end there. 


He was, however, plagued with another train of thought. 
‘Well, you have been making eyes at him for a few months now.’ 


Those thoughts were not helping.  
“...”
“...”
“If you want to end the marriage, it’s as simple as saying so,” you added, “I thought you knew what my intentions were-”
“NO!”
Luocha covered the bottom half of his mouth.  “I’m fine with the arrangement as is, but it appears human marriage and merfolk marriage are officiated in very different ways.” 
Your brows furrowed. 
“...”
“...”
“...Are you saying you want to officiate the marriage as humans would?”
The tips of Luocha’s ears burned with embarrassment.  “I-” 
You held one of his hands in yours, eyes seemingly boring holes into his face,  “Whatever it is, as long as you want to do it, I will do it to the best of my ability.” 
Any complaints were silenced when he was confronted with such sincerity.  “Well
”
You waited patiently, folding your hands in your lap.  
Finally, it seemed your “husband” made up his mind.  
“Close your eyes.” 
You paused, seemingly surprised, but nonetheless your eyes fluttered shut moments after. 
Luocha urged himself to breathe, flexing and unflexing his hands.  
He leaned forward, closing his eyes as he


planted an innocent peck on your lips.
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there's a note on the side of the phone booth, read it?
" idk how to describe it but now being on the other side of this, i'm feeling something similar to post nut clarity "
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first post since losing literally everything on my first account yay !!
yes guys, luocha and his mermaid husband were openly cuddling on the beach for months and he's wondering "is he into me or am i bro-zoned"
that being said, losing my tumblr has now forced me to realize how many people genuinely like my writing hey guys I went scrolling through user kamisatoelogy's blog to look for their modern ayato fic and i found out someone dedicated time and effort into archiving my works???? and you guys went looks for me????
i fr feel like getting on my hands and knees and thanking everyone for all their support and love over this process and apologizing for scaring you guys so bad
you guys are so sweet and so many of you have been so helpful in getting my blog back up and running again :((
i started drafting my fics in google docs to make sure it isn't all GONE if i get shit on again so this chapter is brought to you by font: unica one, it was 27 pages total (i am insane)
shout out to Chappell Roan cause she really put me in my tunnel vision work zone while i was writing this
if u guys r looking for a writing hack, i trained myself like a sleeper agent to start writing when i play songs on hour loop it puts me in a work rut
- love, operator t-19
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cripplecharacters · 7 months ago
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How to go about writing tics? I have tics but I never know how to write them naturally, especially cause I often forget I even have them. To me it's like describing blinking or something? But I of course want the character to notably have tics, even though my internal experience of tics isn't very noticeable to me? If that makes sense?
Hello!
Jerk, California by Jonathan Friesen is a book about a character (Sam) with Tourette's syndrome, written by an author who also has Tourette's. One of the things I really appreciated about the book was that it described Sam's tics in a way that made sense with how they felt as somebody with Tourette's.
In the book, Sam's tics are generally described when they're relevant. Usually, this is either to show that he's upset/otherwise worked up about something or as a way to build tension within the narrative itself. Although it doesn't necessarily mean that Sam isn't ticcing otherwise, it came across as the tics being more noticeable in those moments -- which I felt was a nice touch.
Consider the following passage from the book:
I glance around. My muscles don't jerk, and I close my eyes. I breathe deep, and like the third runner who finally catches up, the overtakes me. Slowly at first–a hard eyeblink. But that's not enough; there's more that has to work its way out, and my teeth grind. Movement spreads to my shoulder, and soon my whole body springs to twitchy life.
Even without the rest of the context of the scene, the description of his tics is enough to convey how he's feeling in the moment.
In the more mellow portions of the book, his tics aren't generally described at all, which helps it to feel more calm.
Another thing I liked it that they're described in the same way as any other action or movement.
This is another passage from the book:
The class groans, Heather swears, and my shoulder jumps. My elbow knocks my textbook to the floor with a thump.
Although the author doesn't explicitly say that Sam is ticcing, we as readers can get that idea from the way it's described. Essentially, this is to say that you don't need to explicitly specify when something is a tic or not – your audience will generally pick up on it.
With verbal tics (Especially ones that involve speech), it can be a bit harder. There's a kind of balance you want to strike between showing the tics and still making sure that the dialogue is readable.
While discussing verbal tics that occur outside of dialogue (i.e. Not interrupting the character's speech), I'd suggest marking the tic as such through dialogue tags. Words such as "blurted" or "exclaimed" can imply an unintentional aspect to the speech.
You could also describe how the character is experiencing the tic themself (If it's from their POV).
This is another passage from Jerk, California:
"No thanks, Jace. I'll stay with Sam." "Hah!" The word fires from my mouth. I purse my lips and bite my swollen tongue, but my vocal cords are locked and there's nothing I can do. "Stay with Sam! Stay with Sam!"
If you're writing in the POV of another character, you could describe how it looks from their perspective. Though I'd be careful with this, as it can come across as mockery if it's not done well.
With verbal tics that do interrupt dialogue, be careful to ensure it's not too frequent as it can make it difficult to read. I'd also suggest using some sort of formatting to identify tics vs general dialogue.
An example could be: (Note: This is not from the book)
"You know, I don't think–hey!–that would be a good idea."
That said, you would have to establish that the character has tics beforehand (And, ideally, establish this speech pattern as such), otherwise it can look more like an interruption or something similar.
I'd definitely suggest taking a glance through some books about characters with tics, just to see the format that other authors use. There's a wide range of options out there and the book I referenced here is just one of many ways to do it.
Cheers,
~ Mod Icarus
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miruac · 7 months ago
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dating kozume kenma headcanons - part 2
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masterlist
navigation
warnings: not proofread, movie and timeskip spoilers, very self indulgent
a/n: EHEHEHEHEH I LOVE MY INTROVERTED GAMER BABY | word vomit. this is just pure word vomit.
during nationals when they were away, kenma always texted you before and after a game(kinda shocking since he's dry asl)
he would be a little clingy, especially when he was sleepy since he had no filter then
but he literally like slept so late there...(THAT ONE SCENE OF HIM WAKING UP WITH BEDHEAD <3)
before their match with karasuno, he sent you a gif of a happy dancing cat(it was him trying to convey emotion)
after the match, he sent you a text that read 'i guess i'm coming home'
which made you happy he was coming back, but also sad that they lost
right when they got back home, you went over to his house to give him some congratulatory apple pie and cuddles
obviously he got a fever and was literally bedridden for a couple of days, so you had to wait a little while before seeing the poor boy
but when you did, he was still a little sick so he just clung onto you(
when he's sleepy, i headcanon he likes his hair to be played with and when you do it he just falls asleep
timeskip to the future, and its been like what, 7 years? you've moved in with him into his house, and it's pretty casual at this point
he always comes to bed late since he stays up on stream, and he ends up waking up so late
but before you go to bed, he's almost always taking a break from his stream to kiss you goodnight
sometimes if you're feeling clingy AND sleepy, he'll let you sit on his lap and sleep there while he's on stream
guys everyone writes kenma as if he's someone who's lazy as hell, and cant cook
BUT NOT ME!!! i know kenma can cook because he isn't that self-negligent, like if he moved out by himself then surely he knows how to somewhat provide for himself
he doesn't cook much because he doesn't like how much effort it takes, but when he cooks its kinda fire
you guys alternate, but its usually you cooking
i know he doesn't eat much canonly but loves seeing you in the kitchen its so domestic
when you catch him staring his lil bitch ass smirks at you and is like 'you look good in my kitchen.'
EPHASIS ON "MY KITCHEN" LIKE AODJSAOLDJASJDL
guys stop he's so cute when hes posessive
SPEAKING OF POSESSIVENESS OMG
ok now kenma's posessiveness varies from day to day
if he sees another guy with you, he doesn't rage immediately but when he sees them holding you in a way how he does? that's when he slides between you guys and takes you back
but also sometimes when you're about to go out in revealing clothes, he gets all pouty and clingy
he doesn't let go of you and looks up you with such pleading eyes(im so weak. im so weak for him omg)
guys he ALWAYS goes to pick you up himself
most likely he's going to bed by the time youre done, he can spare a couple minutes getting you
and plus i know he may not act like it, but your safety is like one of his top priorities
especially since you're the partner of a famous streamer, he does his best to make you comfortable
whether that's having you sit out of frame when he's on stream, or keeping you hidden
the media's really mean, and he'd do anything to prevent you from seeing or witnessing something hurtful just because you're dating him
he takes all the necessary precautions he knows of, and always tries to keep your identity anonymous
but when you felt comfortable enough, you slowly started to creep into his streams
at first it would just be a hand popping into frame, to you literally napping on his lap while he streamed
he told his fans that he was taken before and they thought he was lying, but since they've seen you they're amazed that he actually pulled
overall, his audience loves you and they literally see how kenma lights up when he looks at you
like his eyes are so soft and glassy and hazed with love(im gonna cry. why isn't he real. please i want him so bad)
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2nd a/n: guys this is literally not proofread this is such shit work like im not even processing these thoughts in my brain IM LITERALLY JUST WORD VOMITTING RN ok im done thank you for listening to my ted talk GOODNIGHT
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yumeka-sxf · 9 months ago
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Japanese Linguistic Observations in Spy x Family - part 4
Part 4 - Furigana and double meanings
I discussed in Part 2 how Japanese is comprised of three different alphabets: hiragana and katakana (together referred to as "kana") which represent pronunciation, and kanji which represent meaning. With there being over 2,000 kanji in common use, as well as various ways to pronounce any one kanji character depending on the word it's in, children learn kanji gradually throughout their school years. So manga and books aimed at a younger audience will typically have kanji "translations." These are comprised of small kana called furigana which are printed to the right of the kanji to show how to pronounce it. In the below panel for example, the one word that has a kanji is the 欉 in 欉しい. The furigana shows that 欉 is pronounced うれ ("ure") to make the adjective "ureshii" (happy).
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Sometimes manga authors will use furigana+kanji in creative ways to convey different meanings to words that specifically suit their story/characters. This alternate way of translating kanji is called ćœ“ăŠć­— (ateji). One way of using ateji is to help introduce fictional terminology. In SxF for example, Ostania and Westalis are made-up words, but Endo assigns them their own kanji: æ±ć›œ for Ostania and è„żć›œ for Westalis. The second kanji for both of them is ć›œ which means "country," and the first kanji for Ostania is 東 which means "east" while è„ż for Westalis means "west." However, to differentiate them from the actual words these kanji represent ("toukoku" and "saikoku," which mean "eastern country" and "western country" respectively), Endo writes out their pronunciations in katakana next to the kanji. You can see this in the panels below.
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Even though they're not real words, by assigning them kanji that represent what they are – "east country" and "west country" – even without any context, Japanese readers get more information about these terms than English readers do thanks to the use of kanji and furigana.
Another way manga authors can use ateji to suit their needs is by telling readers to pronounce otherwise normal Japanese words in the "language" they want. For example, the word used for "codename" in SxF is æš—ć·ć, which is a real word that is pronounced "angoumei." However, when we look at the furigana that Endo assigns to it, he specifically tells us to pronounce it like the English word "codename" (ă‚łăƒŒăƒ‰ăƒăƒŒăƒ ).
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Since SxF is a series that takes place in a fictional version of Europe, Endo must have found it more fitting to use English for specific keywords like this.
While the above examples are fairly common throughout all manga, especially those that have a lot of fictional terminology, Endo also gets creative with using ateji to form double meanings that lend insight into the characters' thoughts/feelings. And we get one of the best examples of this in the very first chapter:
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This is the scene where Twilight's saying that he became a spy to create a world where children don't have to cry. The word for children, 歐ども, should be pronounced "kodomo," however, the furigana is telling us to pronounce it as ă˜ă¶ă‚“ (jibun), which means "self." By creating this double meaning of Twilight saying he'll make a world where children and/or he himself doesn't have to cry, points out in a subtle yet poignant way just how much Twilight's trauma as a child shaped his determination to make sure other children don't have to suffer the same fate. It's a brilliant way of showing a deeper side of the character that he wouldn't outwardly show.
A similar example occurs in chapter 49 during the cruise arc, in the scene where Yor is guarding the room at night, thinking about how she was dragging her feet during the Barnaby fight. Her last thought during that scene is wondering what she's fighting for, however, even though the word used is いばら槫 (ibarahime), which means "Thorn Princess," the furigana tells us to pronounce it as わたし, which is the "I"/"me" pronoun that Yor uses.
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The ambiguity of reading the word as "I" or as "Thorn Princess" emphasizes how she's struggling with her Thorn Princess identity at that time. It can almost have a different meaning when reading it one way or the other. For example, reading it as ă‚ăŸă—ăŻäœ•ăźăŸă‚ ("For what reason am I [doing this]
) or as ă„ă°ă‚‰ć§«ăŻäœ•ăźăŸă‚ ("For what reason is Thorn Princess [doing this]
) gives the impression that she's trying to distance herself from "Thorn Princess"
that she's unconsciously seeing herself and "Thorn Princess" as different people.
Another example that's not as deep but still interesting is from chapter 87, where Sylvia visits Fiona in the hospital and tells her not to push herself so hard, even for his sake, with "his" referring to Twilight. The kanji used is 黄昏 (tasogare) which means "Twilight," but the furigana translation is あい぀ (aitsu) which means "that guy/that person."
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This is a clever way to use kanji/furigana to indicate that Sylvia is indeed aware of Fiona's feelings for Twilight by having her not refer to him by name, but also informing the reader that she definitely knows who she's talking about.
I also find it interesting that all three of these examples are spoken from a character we're viewing from behind. I think it's just a coincidence, but still interesting 😅
I'll wrap up with one more example from chapter 58, where Loid notes that his understanding of Bond is lacking, just like Anya. Once again, the word for children, 歐ども (kodomo) is used (Loid likes making double meanings with that word, doesn't he?) but the furigana translates it to ă‚ąăƒŒăƒ‹ăƒŁ(Anya).
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I interpret this as him saying he needs to understand children better, but he specifically means Anya (even though he doesn't want to admit his particular yearning to understand her).
If you're wondering how the anime handles these ateji, it seems to vary. In the anime version of the chapter 1 example, Loid says the correct kanji translation "kodomo," but in the chapter 49 example, Yor says the furigana translation "watashi."
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The anime seems to use the reading that would make the most sense if spoken out loud by the character.
I haven't read enough manga in Japanese to say that this use of furigana+kanji to create double meanings is a common thing, but even if it is, I'm sure Endo has his own unique style of doing it. I know there's more examples in SxF that I missed, and unfortunately I don't have the time to look through every chapter to find them. But if you happen to come across any others, feel free to let me know 😃 I may amend this post or create another one if more interesting examples pop up.
Continue to Part 5 ->
<- Return to Part 3
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0mg-bird · 2 months ago
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How Did It End?
Post Prison! Spencer x Fem!Fiancee Reader
Summary: Almost four months since Spencer came home and the fairytale that once was your life has come crashing down around you.
Warnings: â˜č ouch. Angst. PTSD. Taylor Swift ‘How did it end?’ coded. hurt/comfort. this hurt to write, don’t hate me. Reid my poor baby has some stuff to work out.
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W.H. Auden once wrote,
‘Were all stars to disappear or die, I should learn to look at an empty sky and feel its total dark sublime, though this might take a little time.’
Poetry was something you were no stranger to, given the fact you taught an advanced creative writing class at the local high school.
You once enjoyed poetry.
But now, when the words feel like knives aimed at you, you can’t bear to indulge in the afternoon readings like you used to.
Instead, afternoons are spent in an apartment that somehow lost its warmth. Before, you’d claim it’s because Spencer was gone, that things would be brighter when you brought him home. He’s been home for three months, a little longer, the weather has begun to change, warping into a melancholy winter. You sit at your desk, staring at your computer screen, spinning your engagement ring around your finger.
You’ve been trying to get back into writing, trying to revisit your archived story. Though, it’s hard to revisit a fictional romance mystery when there’s nothing to inspire it.
Groaning, you delete half of the last paragraph you’ve written and try to type something that isn’t cliche. Pushing through the urge to stop, you write until the words flow thoroughly and there’s a key turning in the door.
There he was, the love of your life.
Spencer trudges into the apartment and drops his bag by the door, his shoes find a home beside it. The circles under his eyes are darker than they were this morning when he left, he runs a hand through his hair and glances over at you when you stand with a grin.
“Hi.” You do your best to beam, conveying just how much it excites you to see him.
“Hi.” He mumbles, tossing you a tight lipped smile as he walks towards the bedroom.
Trying to push away the sick feeling in your gut, you turn back to your blind optimism and take your glasses off.
It takes eight steps from the bedroom door to the closet, it takes him three steps to pace and grab casual clothes. In about a minute, he takes off his day clothes and pulls on something that doesn’t feel constricting. You memorized every foot step he makes in this home, it’s easy to focus on when you spent some time not hearing it.
By the time he comes back out to retrieve his bag and sit on the couch, you grab up your laptop and sit on the other end of the sofa.
Paperwork and files soon lay on the coffee table and you watch him organize and complete end of the day tasks. Patiently waiting your turn, when Spencer finally relaxes back into the cushions, you slide closer.
“How was your day?” You ask.
He grunts. “Nothing worth talking about. Oh, I’m going to Connecticut next week to do a seminar, I’ll be gone two days.”
You nod. “That’s exciting, right?”
He shrugs, then there’s silence.
You scoot closer. “I was working on some things, I think I’m finally getting back into the groove of it. You want to read the last chapter I made?”
He motions to the coffee table. “Yeah, just leave it there and I’ll take a glance later. I’m debating on if I want to shower before dinner or after.”
“I was thinking we could go out for dinner, we haven’t in a while.” You offer with a hopeful smile.
Spencer frowns. “I’m not really feeling a social scene right now.”
“Oh, yeah, no, of course.” You quickly say. “We could do take out then, Italian maybe?”
He shakes his head. “We shouldn’t do take out anymore, it’s basically inviting a serial killer into our home, giving him some place to come back later when I’m not around.”
Right. The paranoia.
You knew things were going to be different when Spencer came home, and you did your best to adjust with an open mind. Sleepless nights consoling him, countless days spent trying to pull him from his own mind. Through tears and breaking points and a few instances where he utterly scares you, you know he’s still your same Spence, but just a little hardened now. He’s still the man who spent too much on a ring, still the dorky guy you fell for those years ago.
Things are just
a little rough.
“Okay.” You say to his statement. “I’ll whip something up then.”
At the sight of your willingness to give something up, he feels immensely bad.
“No.” He sighs, shaking his head. “No, I’m being stupid. Italian sounds fine.”
The bad habit of being too harsh on himself has been hard to kick, but it’s getting better
 you think.
So you order Italian and eat in front of the television while Spencer fact checks what the characters are saying, criticizing the antics of these fictional people. It feels so normal, the whole situation, it makes you momentarily have amnesia, as if the two of you are exactly like before. You lean into his side and laugh at the sitcom, thinking that this Spencer hasn’t experienced what he has, that everyone around the two of you still feel the happy affects of your love, that you test wedding cakes and look for a bigger place. A place the two of you can buy together and start a family.
“I’m gonna shower.” He says, rubbing your shoulder.
Looking up at him, you smile playfully. “Want company?”
There it was, that reminder that things weren’t like before.
He kind of just shakes his head with a smile and leaves without anything else.
You know he doesn’t mean to, but sometimes he makes you feel about an inch tall. He used to look at you with this heavy gaze, something needy, something that never failed to make you feel like the prettiest girl in the world. His hands would find a home on your skin, he used to kiss for fun.
You don’t remember exactly when he last gripped you in a way that wasn’t just polite.
You know he has fears, he has it in his head that he is a danger to himself and you, that his hands are murderous, but it doesn’t feel the best when you’re constantly rejected by the man you’re going to marry.
Rubbing your eyes, you clean up the dinner mess and then go to the bedroom to slip into pajamas. The floor length mirror shines your reflection, you stop to stare.
Maybe you weren’t the first pick, maybe you hated what you saw sometimes, but the thing about Spencer was he was so sure that no one could ever do it like you. A slew of compliments he’d give you, the fever of his love was scorching.
You give the girl in the mirror a smile, then comb her hair with your fingers and smooth your tank top.
Silly enough, you turn to the side, wrapping your arms around an invisible bump, and you smile fondly at the thought. Two kids. A boy and a girl. Little geniuses. That’s what he and you would talk about. The next thing after he marries you, the next thing he’d do was give you a baby. He swore up and down at night when you laid with your head on his beating heart, he’d give you the family you craved and your face would hurt from smiling so much.
All plans are at a stand still now.
And that’s okay, wasn’t it? This was a rough patch and you’re helping Spencer get through it because you’d help him with anything-
The bedroom door opens, Spencer walks in and you step away from the looking glass.
“I’m going to get ready for bed.” You mumble, walking past him, cheeks burning red.
To say the least, Spencer feels horrible. Here you were, giving him your undying loyalty, holding his hand through all of it, and he’s the reason life has stopped. You’re so brave about it, always patient and understanding.
He hates it.
You should be angry, you should be arguing. He knows his bad moods kill you, he knows you’re waiting for things to be normal again and they won’t. You get up in the middle of the night when he’s asleep and put on your wedding dress, just to smile at yourself and promise that soon, it’ll be better. You think he doesn’t realize, that he’s passed out, but from the bed he watches you turn in front of the mirror and bite your lip, the way you always do when you’re too pleased with something. Then he sees you cry, softly, hand pressed to lips so you don’t make any noise and inconvenience him. You only let the break happen for a fee minutes, then you wipe your tears, take off the dress and tell yourself that it’s all alright.
Things will be okay.
What if they won’t?
What if it all just crumbles, every wall of the castles built?
It’s not a matter of ‘what if’s’ anymore, is it? Not when the two of you argue into the morning about things. You’re trying so hard to give him the benefit of the doubt but when he isn’t giving you anything at all, it makes for situations like this one.
Head in your hands, you pause for a brief moment and breathe before looking back up at Spencer. The two of you have been at this for about an hour and a half, all because you mentioned how unfair he’s being. Here you were, taking the scraps he throws to you like you’re a dog, and he’s saying it’s you who is unfair.
“I know you want things to go back to the way they were, but it’s not gonna happen.” He says in that bitter tone you hate, looking down at you, sitting on the mattress.
“I know things are different, Spencer.” You claim. “But I didn’t think I had to be okay with you hardly looking at me, or-or not baring to ask me a simple question like how my day was.”
He scoffs at you, running a hand through his unruly hair. “I’m sorry if my attention isn’t devoted to you now.”
You stand to match his position. “Don’t make me seem selfish.” You shout.
“I’m- you’re not selfish, I just
what do you want from me?” He questions, throwing his arms out and staring at you with absolutely no love in his eyes.
“What do I want?” You reword. “What I want is some progress. Every day I wake up, and I do my best to convince you that you’re not something evil, that these unforeseen circumstances don’t define you, and it’s like I’m stuck in a loop. I can’t help you if you don’t help yourself.”
A lump forms in your throat, your eyes burn but you can’t find it in yourself to let those tears fall.
“That’s the problem!” Spencer shouts. “You’re looking at me like I’m some sort of sick animal and I can’t stand it!”
“You’re looking at me like I’m not the love of your life anymore, so I suppose some things change.”
Silence.
Spencer’s at a loss for words.
Your tears start falling now. You wipe at them with fever.
“I’m trying to give you time, Spence.”
“Angel-” He tries to interrupt, only to be stopped with the movement of your hand in the air, halting him.
“Don’t. Don’t be like this. I know this hasn’t been easy for you, but I have felt so alone.” You say with a squeak. “And you just
 don’t care.”
He shakes his head, demeanor changing. “Of course I care!”
“Really? Because it feels like you gave up on me when you gave up on yourself.” You gasp lightly, trying to calm your shaking hands. “And that’s mean, baby. I know you have been through so much and you lost the game of chance, and I’m sorry- I am so sorry, but you can’t toss me aside like I haven’t formed my whole life around you!”
It’s strange, standing in a room that once knew laughter and the warmth of your escapades. Only now, it’s ghostly and tired and blue. Spencer wants to defend it, wants to shout that you’re just not understanding him but it’s wrong. You understand him better than anyone ever has, and you’re immensely right, he’s abusing the situation. He knows all of this and can’t help but back peddle like his life depends on it.
“I’m not trying to toss you aside, I’m sorry.” He says, reaching out to grab you, deciding his touch can’t be your downfall.
But you side step him. “But you are, do you not understand? Use that smart head of yours to realize the instance here.” You plead. “If you’re done trying, then I am to because I have no more to give. I’m empty, you took it all from me, Spence. What do I get in return? Nothing, not even a fucking marriage.”
There’s a certain level of hurt that mixes with the anger and creates something crazy in your brain, makes it malfunction and all your repressed thoughts come out.
As you go to leave the bedroom, Spencer follows after. “What does that mean?” He asks.
You need to get out, these walls are whispering with your promises of a future, they’re getting louder.
“You aren’t going to marry me.” You state, searching for some place to hide and sink away.
“Of course I am.” He claims, calling your name to stop you.
“You can’t even pretend like you love me, Spencer, you aren’t going to marry me.”
A hand catches your arm and spins you to face him. His eyes are confused and reeling.
“I do love you, I always have.”
There’s a waver in his voice, is there?
I swallow. “Say it again. With feeling.”
“I love you!”
As the air leaves your lungs in a death rattle sort of way, you just can’t feel the warmth. It makes sense, ghosts have no heat, no matter how beloved they are. You know he expects you to give a different statement than what you do, and it hurts when you tell him the truth.
“I don’t think that’s enough now.”
“Don’t say that.” His tone comes out angrier than intended.
“I just did.”
One might describe him as a scared dog, one who lashes out now like he never used to.
“It’s not enough? Then why don’t you just spare yourself?” He spits, resembling a man you’ve never known, tossing your arm aside, probably too harshly.
The knife twists in your chest, you’re convinced you’re bleeding. Slowly, you nod. The ring seems to hold on for dear life, but you still pull it from your finger and offer it forward.
Everything inside of him feels sick as he reaches out his hand, watching as you drop the diamond into his palm.
With your heartbeat in your ears, you go to the door, sliding into your shoes and grabbing your heavy coat to brave into the weather. With Spencer calling your name, you shut the door on his impending questions of where you’re going.
Spencer stares at the door, and for a moment he can’t believe it all happened like it did. But he said the words and you followed his lead like the faithful partner you are and now you’re gone.
It takes him twenty two minutes before he begins to really panic. What if you’re gone forever? What if some force is going to take you now? Where did you go? Are you cold?
And if you left, that meant he’s alone for good, alone like he’s always been. How could he do this to you? He’s horrible, he’s a monster, all of those things he’s thought about are true.
He sets the ring on the counter, then throws the dirty coffee mug into the sink with such force, it breaks.
He paces the apartment while you stand at Penelope’s door, your dearest friend you only know because of Spencer, trying to hold it together until she comes to find you.
“What happened?” She asks, taking in your appearance.
“I don’t– know.” You sob out.
Two weeks later






It’s a weird feeling, having your spine split in half from carrying so much weight uphill for so long. You know a lot about weird feelings now, that empty space in your chest, Spencer sized, that’s your new lover.
Penelope sets a duffel bag by the pullout couch where you hardly move from, she’s been making trips to the apartment over the days to retrieve what you need.
“Hey, lovebug.” She coos softly, sitting by your knees, petting your mess of hair. “How was work?”
You open your mouth to tell her it was fine, that today was actually a good day, all the way up until Spencer texted you and asked if you wanted to move all of your things out.
A strangled sigh leaves your cracked lips.
This sums up how the last two weeks have been, and you wonder if Pen is a little embarrassed for you yet, the way you can hardly get out of bed.
“Emily and JJ and I are going out
why don’t you take a shower and come with us? It’ll make you feel better.” She says in such a gentle tone, one she’s learned that can get you to do anything.
It drags you to the shower, where you sag against the wall and do your daily crying. Then you get dressed and tame your hair and somehow make it to the bar.
Emily and JJ look at you with pity and you have no energy to be upset.
“Reid’s not enjoying it either.” Emily offers in a corner booth, because the conversation has turned to discussing the loss of your life.
Pen and JJ nod in agreement.
The BAU feels like they’re going through this break up at the way Spencer’s moods affect all of them. They’ve never known his anger like they do now, how he’s quick to snap, how the littlest thing sets him off. They’ll spare you, they won’t tell you how he swiped the picture frames off his desk, the ones of you and him. They won’t mention the fact that he hasn’t smiled once, that he looks like he doesn’t sleep.
They won’t tell you any of this but they’ll offer words of condolence or comfort, neither work.
“It’s going to be alright.” Emily encourages, squeezing your hand from across the table. “Heartache doesn’t stay forever.”
JJ nods like it’s going to fix the way you’re as empty as a drum.
“We all know how you’re feeling, don’t worry.” She says, her perfect, Barbie doll smile.
It makes you sick. You really shouldn’t take the anger out on anyone, but you do because there’s so much of it and you can’t stop it from flowing.
“You know what I’m going through?” You question her.
“Yes, I’ve had heartaches too.”
You suddenly can’t stand being here, you need to leave.
“You can go home to a husband, Jennifer, you don’t know how I feel.”
With those as your parting words, you flee, you tell Penelope you need air and you’ll see her at her apartment.
While you brave the cold city, the three women ask themselves how it could have possibly ended like this, with the greatest love of all in shambles. JJ calls Reid, of course she does.
“You need to fix this.” She tells him.
“
How is she?” He asks, sitting on the sofa, eyeing the framed pictures on the wall.
“She’s
lost. She’s ghostly, she-
Spencer, she loves you and she can’t stop. Fix it.”
“I don’t know how.” He says, monotone.
“How did it end, anyway?” She asks, seeing Emily and Penelope return with more drinks.
Spencer sort of sighs, though it’s sad and broken.
“I don’t know.”
- - - -
The air bites, it’s as cold as you feel, makes your bones ache. You wander in hopes of getting lost permanently, but to no avail, you know your city. Your city that feels so harsh and cruel, it’s one big reminder that you used to not walk the sidewalks alone, that you once stole kisses under streetlights. And as you’re walking down fifth avenue and memory lane, your feet drag you to the place you really want to go. In the time you left the bar and got frostbite from the early stages of falling snow, you’ve worked yourself up enough to believe you could stand your ground. Your anger has made a platform to stand on, you’re at the top of the fucking podium by the time you knock on the apartment door.
Why are you knocking?
Your name is on the fucking lease.
You shove the key in the lock and barge in, mouth agape, ready to fire.
And then you see it.
The bedroom door is only halfway shut, but you see movement. In the room that is gray and sullen, Spencer stands with his back to the door, staring at the cascade of white that he has laid on the bed like a memorial, like it was an open casket viewing.
Your podium shrinks.
“I was going to wear my hair up.” You say, causing him to turn and face you.
He’s tired, hair messy, unshaven, and those round brown eyes are the saddest things you’ve ever seen.
“I like your hair up.” He says, the words echo off exposed brick walls.
Heart beats pass, ba-bum ba-bum in your ears and you quickly huff and bush melted snow through your hair.
“I’ll get my things out now, if you want.” You say, choosing words carefully, eyes watching the way his avoid you.
“I don’t have any boxes.” He says, fingers brushing satin and lace before he picks the dress back up, puts it in the dust bag and death marches it to you. “You would’ve looked beautiful
you always look beautiful.”
How is it he can be so blissfully unaware? The smartest man you’ve ever known and he’s saying things to break your heart, with no clue that he’s doing it. You take that dress- that beautiful, vintage gown with the hundred fabric buttons running down the back, and lay it over your arm, then rock back on your heels.
“I can grab what I can and come by when you’re at work to get the rest.” You offer, wishing he’d say all the things you want him to say, like stay and I’m an idiot and I love you.
Spencer only nods. “Yeah. That works.”
“Okay
” You whisper, then drape the dress over the reading chair in the corner, the one too small for the both of you. You used to curl as small as possible on his lap with your legs over the arm and your head on his shoulder.
Every corner of this place is haunted.
In the closet, you pull the string and the lightbulb burns orange. You grab the two handheld suitcases, the ones you came home to find on the bed one day with Spencer telling you he was taking you to London while your school was on Spring Break.
When you come back out, Spencer’s left the room. There was no way he could watch you pull open the drawers where your things sat beside his.
With a knot in your throat, you fold and place things neatly and keep your cool like the mature adult you are.
That is until you grab the MIT t-shirt you’ve worn in. It’s a light gray color now, the neckline stretched so it only hangs right on you and not Spencer. Holding the ratty shirt you refuse to let him toss, that’s when you decide you don’t want to be a mature adult.
You’re a teenager with a broken heart is what it feels like, the world is ending and your soul has been split in half.
One tear comes, and then another, and one more until your face is soaked with your desperation and mourning. You ball that silly t shirt up at toss it away, and decide those suitcases are insufferable and onto the floor they go.
You stare at them, the clatter they made did nothing for comfort. With a raspy sigh, you sink to your knees to put everything back inside, and your blurry eyes drift to Spencer’s socks that appear in front of you after he hears the bang.
Wordlessly and gentle, he lowers his tall frame to crouch in front of you. The look in his eye is fools gold, it makes you think he’s the Spencer he was before everything.
You look at him, sure you look like a mess but you don’t care. Your chapped lips part and he’s prepared for the scolding, for your temper.
It doesn’t come.
“We were supposed to grow old together.” You sob out. “It was gonna be you and me, Spence, wearing matching outfits when we’re eighty, going to senior discount days at the theater.”
Those are the words that bring him back to reality, and the fall is harsh and he’s mortified that he’s done this to you.
You hiccup for air, pushing his hand away that tries to grab the suitcase. “I was going to walk down the aisle to an instrumental version of Heartbeat by The Fray, it’s unconventional but it’s my favorite song.”
“I know.” He whispers sadly.
“We didn’t make a deposit on that little venue with the pond, they gave our spot away but that’s okay, we were going to figure it out because we always do. We always do, Spencer.”
You’re not even sure you’re making sense but he understands, you could go mute completely and he’d understand because you’re his person, who he’s ruined.
“I know. I know, baby, I know.” He keeps repeating, adjusting to pull you away from the mess and into him.
With no strength left, you have no fuel for the fight. You fall into him, face in his chest as he sits against the bed and hugs you like he’s not seen you in years. It’s what it feels like, he hasn’t had you this close in too long. His fingers press into your skin, the warmth is almost groundbreaking in feeling, makes him unsure of where to hold you because he wants to touch everywhere, all at once. A lifeless frame full of hunger, you can’t move as you feel his caring grip in your hair, his lips to your crown as you can’t seem to get a solid breath in.
“Don’t make me leave you.” You plead, curling into him like a whimpering dog, clutching his chest to make sure there’s still a heart in there that beats for you.
Spencer’s crying now, the familiar feeling of fear in his lungs that don’t want to expand if you’re not around. He drags hair out of your face and presses his forehead to yours.
“I don’t want you to leave. Don’t leave me, don’t leave me.” He says with the emotion of the man before.
And just like that, you waltz right back into each other, you know the steps. Sitting in your fairytale, on the cold hardwood floor, listening to the steady beat of his heart, you both determine this isn’t the end of the greatest love affair they’ve ever seen.
You’re not sure how long you stay like this, in his lap, face red and salty as you stare at your bare left hand, but eventually the tears stop for the both of you. Spencer is the first to speak, he gently shifts, his hand sliding up your arm and shoulder to rest on the side of your neck, as if he’s checking your pulse.
“I’m sorry.” He rasps. “I’m sorry for everything, all of it, every single thing I did and said and ruined. I’m an idiot, angel, and you don’t know how lovely you are.”
Like water to a flame, those words are cooling. The grief and remorse in his tone makes you grab that hand checking your lifeline, and hold it.
“I’m sorry too.” You say. “For everything that went wrong and the fact I couldn’t do anything about it.”
His chest shudders, he leans down and kisses your forehead. “It doesn’t matter, it’s over now.”
You tilt your gaze up to meet his eye. “Is it?”
Bless you and the ground you walk on that he should worship better. Spencer gently runs his finger down your cheek and across your jawline. He nods then. “Yeah, baby, it is.”
135 notes · View notes
mochinomnoms · 1 year ago
Note
Hi hi friend,
If it is not too much trouble I would like to make a request for your event? I think I would like Floyd with prompt 14- “I'd rather have the thorniest, pesticide ridden roses grow in my mouth before I'd ever admit having any sort of affection for them!”
They/them for Yuu is fine with me, I was thinking romantic? Where maybe it's obvious to everyone but Yuu how requited their feelings are.
I've really liked reading your writing and hope you continue to have fun doing it (â™ĄÂ°â–œÂ°â™Ą)
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floyd leech x gn!reader [tags] – fluff, mutual pining [wc} – 3,659 prompt 14: “I'd rather have the thorniest, pesticide ridden roses grow in my mouth before I'd ever admit having any sort of affection for them!” note - hahahahahhahahahahaha i did not mean to write so much but i went a little buckwild and i think floyd deserves to be allowed to be soft sometimes a floral inconvenience
Lavender roses - Introduced in 1900, lavender roses represent love at first sight. They’re often given to someone to convey that the giver was immediately smitten and fell in love. 
You’d decided to attend a karaoke event the Mostro Lounge was hosting to introduce the new spring menu. It was meant to be a nice, relaxing hangout with your friends from Heartslaybul as you listened to your friends attempt to show off their mediocre singing skills. 
Ace was in an especially good mood, happy to tease you as you waved happily at Floyd, who’d returned your affections. 
“Oi, oi, oiiiiiii, Prefect? When you gonna say something? Kinda tired of dealing with you puking petals every—OW!”
You snorted as Deuce smacked Ace upside the head, muttering about him being an asshole. 
“Leave them alone Ace, unless you want to be collared for harassing a member of the student body?” Riddle reprimanded, giving Ace a harsh glare as he turned to you instead. 
“You can ignore him, Prefect, you don’t have to say anything to that good-for-nothing merman! I’m sure you could do much better anyways.”
You chuckled, enjoying the soft banter between the group. It was particularly nice seeing Riddle interact more casually with his peers, even if you weren’t able to convince him to sing with you. 
“Are you sure you do want to go up with me?” You pouted leaning in close to the red-headed housewarden. “I’ll even let you pick the song—”
“Out of the question.”
You sighed, resting against the plush cushions of the booth while Ace and Deuce bicker about which song would be better for a duet. This was nice. 
It was nice, up until Floyd decided to take part in the festivities. Somehow he’d snuck behind you and Riddle, snatching up your friend with a gleeful cackle as he screeched. 
“FLOYD! PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT—”
“Nah, it’s fine Goldfishie, I need ya for just a sec!”
Floyd placed Riddle in a seat, front and center at the stage, as he climbed up. The cool blue spotlight suited Floyd’s features as he grinned. 
Picking up the mic from its stand, Floyd announced, “Alright! This song is for my favorite little fishie in the whole entire school, so you all better enjoy it!”
You expected him to start singing a silly pop song, one with high energy and beats. Or one that became a meme on Magicam last week, something about flamingos and turning pink. 
Instead, the upbeat, suave tunes of a familiar song started playing. A familiar love song. 
“Is
is this ABBA?”
“Who?” Cater asked, recording the scene with a stifling giggle as Riddle turned redder and redder in embarrassment (and most likely rage) as Floyd continued to serenade him. 
“This is ‘Lay Your Love’ by BABA, a classic from the 80s—”
“No it’s called ABBA back home—wait, WHY IS FLOYD SINGING A LOVE SONG TO RIDDLE!?”
Your screech startled the surrounding tables, drawing attention that you were too jealous to focus on. Floyd made eye contact with you, hearing your yelling. Continuing to sing—quite nicely you’d hate to admit—the eel mer winked and smirked, drawing an ire that you didn’t know you had. 
“What the hell? Floyd!” With the vindication of a scorned lover, you stomped to the stage and swiped the microphone from Floyd’s hands. 
“Floyd, what are you doing?” you spoke into the mic, glaring daggers at the tall beanpole of an eel turned man, who looked unbothered at your angry presence.
Floyd took the mic back and answered, “I’m trying to win my mate back—DON’T GO WASTING—”
“What mate?” You yanked the mic back while Floyd followed suit, though this time you kept both hands on. It became a tugging match as you both tried speaking into the mic before the other took it back. 
“Goldfishie.” You could hear Riddle scream at that. 
“Riddle’s not your mate! I’m your mate—” You snapped your mouth shut, the mic feedback and your last words echoing through the lounge, mocking you. 
Floyd had a large, smug grin on his face, his sharp teeth gleaming under the bright lights of the stage. You were now very aware of the packed lounge, and of the students spectating. 
The mic was slowly pulled back to Floyd, who gleefully asked “Oh~ Say that again?”
“Nuh-uh.” 
You shook your head furiously, trying to pull back in order to run off and curl into a hole from embarrassment. Floyd’s grip on the mic and your hands tightened, preventing your escape. 
“That’s fiiine,” Floyd pulled out a small device from his pocket, lightly tapping it on the mic. “I have it riiiight ‘ere.” 
Suddenly, a recording of your voice looped into the mic: 
“I’m your mate—I’m your mate—I’m your mate—”
He recorded it. 
“Oh my god
” You looked at Floyd in horror, who was still grinning ear to ear, like a cat that got the mouse. 
“HehehehehehahahAHAHA!” Floyd’s giggle turned into a cackle as he launched at you, mic and recorder abandoned on the floor. Between the ear-splitting squeal of the mic hitting the ground and a 6’2” man tackling you, there was little time for you to defend yourself as your lips clashed, teeth clattering against one another from the brute force.
His long arms wrapped themselves tightly around your waist, dipping you down dramatically as he broke your kiss to instead leave wet kisses on your cheeks, nose, forehead, and every other piece of skin not covered by clothes. 
Ace and Cater’s cackles could be heard amongst the now growing laughter, whistles, and jeers of the crowd. You think you could even make out someone yelling at your two to get a room. 
“—off the stage! Get off the stage, both of you!” 
Ah, it was Azul. Who was stomping over the shoo you both off the stage, giving Floyd a particularly harsh whack on the head with his staff. 
“Ow, fuck that hurt!” Floyd whined, scooping you up with his left hand and cradling you to his chest. “Cool it Azul, don’t harsh my vibe—”
“I don’t care! Go make out in your room! This is a lounge not a brothel!”
“Fiiiiiine,” Floyd adjusted his grip to instead throw you over his shoulder, amused by how limp you’d gone in his grasp. “Come on Shrimpy! I got something fun in mind~”
His sentence and teasing tone made you flush, images of you and him in bed flashing through your mind. 
“W-wait, Floyd, what are we gonna do?”
“You’ll see, ahahahehe!” Floyd’s giggled echoed through the hallway as he quickened his pace. It was only a few minutes before you realized that you two had made it to the dormitory halls. 
Floyd kicked open his door, the hinges squeaking from the force. He marched over to his bed, grabbing at your waist to no doubt throw you on it before pausing. 
“Oh yeah.” Like a sudden realization hitting him, Floyd grabbed the corner of his bedsheets and shook them, clothing, books, and crumbs no doubtedly flying off. 
Once satisfied, Floyd hummed and once again grabbed your waist, this time committing to throwing you on the bed, which bounced under you. 
“AaaAaaAAAah—FLOYD!” You yelped, face turning redder as Floyd caged you to the bed. He looked at you with a hungry expression, licking his lips at the sight of you. 
“Wait-wait Floyd, gimme a sec—” you stammered, crawling backwards until your back hit the headboard. “—this is all very very sudden, I—wait!”
Floyd crawled after you, trapping you with his long arms, leaning down until his lips were lingering over yours. You shut your eyes in anticipation, waiting for his hands to grab at your clothes and tear them off. 
A soft, tender meeting of the lips. Floyd pressed his mouth against yours, swiping his tongue into your mouth, to which you returned with flustered confusion. The kiss was with such gentleness that you had to open your eyes to confirm that it was indeed Floyd kissing you. 
Olive and yellow eyes were closed, a blissful smile on his lips as he broke your kiss, instead pressing almost chaste pecks to your cheeks, down, your neck, and over your shirt where your heart was beating away. 
Floyd pressed his right ear to your chest, listening to the increasingly rapid pounding against your rib cage. His arms moved from trapping you against the bed to trapping you against his body, wrapping around your back and tightening while his lanky legs tangled between yours. 
You weren’t sure what to do with your own hands, once he had settled laying on you. Hesitantly, you reached to lace them through his hair, pushing the strands back to get a better view of his peaceful face. Admittedly, seeing Floyd in such a state, blissful and sweet, was beautiful. 
His smile grew slightly as you combed through his hair, nuzzling his nose into your chest. Into your heart really. 
“Hmm? What’s wrong?” Floyd opened his yellow eye, gleaming at you in amusement. “I just wanted to cuddle, did ya have somethin’ else in mind? Haha!”
He moved to prop up his chin, smirking at you as he teased, “Didn’t think ya had sucha dirty mind, if you wanna ‘do it’, all you had to do was ask—”
You shoved his face back into your chest looking away in embarrassment, feeling his giggles vibrate through you. 
“Shut up, ugh!” You pouted, grumbling, “You set me up! Ugh! How’d you even know that would work?”
“I heard you.”
“Huh?”
“Talkin’ to Lil Goldfishie,” Floyd moved so that instead of laying on top of you, he was curled into your side with his head nestled at the crook of your neck. “When you got the flower sickness.” 
You looked at him with shock. That conversation with Riddle happened nearly three months ago in between classes. 
Specifically, it happened a few weeks after winter break, when you were catching up Riddle to your “adventure” in Scarabia, after which small lavender roses started blooming along your freckles, their thorns scratching your skin.
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“And then, he launched us waaaaaay into the desert!” You animatedly waved your arms around as you recounted your fiasco over winter break. “We were trapped, but then Kalim used his unique magic to fill a dry riverbed with water and then!”
Riddle raised a brow at you as you began gigging with a soft blush. “Jade and Floyd had to turn into their merforms, so me and Kalim had to hold on to his back, but when I wrapped my arms around his chest, and he held my hand to steady me! ”
Your friend rolled his eyes as you started to silently squealed in your seat, sighing.
“Are you going to finish? I have better things to do than listen to you babble about Floyd of all people. Honestly,” Riddle huffed, “I don’t understand what you see in that riffraff!”
“He’s not a riffraff!” You quipped, frowning as you crossed your arms. “He’s actually really sweet if you give him the time of day, Floyd just likes being able to have fun with others you know!”
“Even then, his mood swings don’t terrify you? He gets rather violent sometimes.” Riddle took a sip of his tea as you shook your head. 
“No, I mean if you just go with the flow it’s fine, plus that just makes him more exciting to be around! Plus we’ve been getting closer ever since Azul’s overblot
”
You smiled softly as you looked down at your lap, fondness growing in your heart like blooms on a warm spring day. 
“He can actually be quite sweet, once you get to know him
you just have to give him a chance.”
The two of you remained quiet, the only coming from the distant chatter of other students in the more populated areas of the guest lounge.
“I’m safe to assume then that he is the reason you’ve started sprouting the roses?”
Your soft pink blush deepened as you nodded, picking at the small flower that began blooming on your cheek. 
“Yeah
”
“When will you confess, then?” You looked at Riddle in shock, who seemed confused at your distress. “What? It’s obvious that you have strong feelings for him, and even I notice how especially clingy he is around you.”
You shook your head, stuttering, “Well, yeah but that’s—”
“I’ve even heard him refer to you by name, he only does that with Jade and Azul you know?”
“You don’t understand Riddle.” You tried to interject, growing more flustered by the second. “I don’t think I could—”
Riddle continued, “As much as I disapprove, it does seem that you two genuinely bring out the best in each other, he does seem softer when you’re around—”
“Oh my—Riddle, stop—”
“—And you’ve gotten more outspoken, I remember how shy you were—”
“I’m begging you—”
“—Besides, according to the Queen of Heart’s rule number 478, any romantic feelings must be confessed approximately 12 days upon their discovery or the individual in question obligated to deny—”
“I said stop, Riddle!” You yelled at the top of your lungs before choking on rather large bouquet of lavender roses. Leaves and petals fluttered all around you as you continued to let out rough coughs, phlegm and saliva making a mess. 
Your yell startled the red-head so much that he simply started at you with a red face and thinned lips, too shocked to properly yell back at you for raising your voice indoors. 
Instead, he carefully placed his tea cup on the table between you two, folded his hands in his lap, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. You on the other hand, peaked around the dividers separating your nook from the rest of the lounge. 
Ace and Deuce looked over in concern as you continued to cough out more roses, walking over before you shook your head and gave them a thumbs up before shooing them away and turning back to Riddle. 
“...sorry Riddle.” You whispered, looking at him nervously. “I didn’t mean to yell, don’t be mad?”
“It’s
fine.” He replied with a strained voice, taking a final inhale before opening his eyes again and making eye contact. “You shouldn’t have yelled, and I shouldn’t have pushed.”
Riddle sighed, relaxing into the soft lounge chair. Though he would deny when asked, the chair that he helped you pick for the guest room was is favorite spot to sit in, as it surprising comfortable. 
“May I ask why you refused? It’s quite obvious to anyone that you care for him immensely, for some forsaken reason, and I would even say it’s quite mutual.”
You avoided eye contact as he resumes sipping from his tea, a lemon tea with 2 sugar cubes for his post meal tea. 
“Yeah
that’s what the other first-years say too. Even Jade’s been dropping hints on mer courtship gifts.”
“Then? What’s stopping you? 
A pregnant pause was in the air as you open and closed your mouth, attempting to figure out what it was that scared you. 
“What if
he gets bored?” 
Riddle furrowed his eyebrows as he leaned in, barely able to hear you. 
“What if he what?” He sighed, a bit irritated. “Speak up Prefect, I know you can, you just did earlier.”
You groaned out, “What if he gets bored with me? I’m fun and interesting now, yeah!”
Your friend watched, and you began pacing around the room, holding his head in his hand as he watched and listened to you vent. 
“I’m just a silly little magicless human that got transported from another world! Big whoop! What happens when that novelty wears off? You've heard him, he only likes to do things that are fun and interesting to him, but I won’t always be fun and interesting, eventually he’ll get used to me and get bored.”
You turned to look at Riddle with a teary-eyed, but firm look. “He’s get bored and leave me. I can’t handle that! So I just won’t be with him. In fact, I'd rather have the thorniest, pesticide ridden roses grow in my mouth before I'd ever admit having any sort of affection for him!”
Your voice began to crack as you stated your final sentence, snapping your mouth shut before you got begun crying. Riddle stood up and walked over to grasp your shoulders, looking at you with an understanding smile. 
“The sort of person that would abandon a lover simply because they’re bored never deserved one in the first place.” 
Riddle hummed in agreement as you sqeaked out a ‘really?’, giving you a soft pat on your shoulder. 
“Of course, I can’t say I don’t understand your hesitance, Floyd is
Floyd, after all. However, he is not my friend, you are. If you choose to forfeit your right to confess, then so be it.”
You smiled as he dragged you back to your seats, giggling as he continued, “I personally would say it’s no lost on your part, he’s not exactly the most prime candidate for your life partner should you be stuck here in Twisted Wonderland, may I suggest one of the many more suitable providers?”
“Pfft-like who? You?” you cackled as Riddle looked at you in mild horror. 
“Oh dear, of course not! I admire you as a friend, but I have much stricter standards for a partner.” He snapped his fingers in revelation. “Perhaps Ace or Deuce, you are rather close to them—”
“Ewwwww, pass. They’re like annoying brothers!” 
Riddle snorted before covering it up with a cough. “True. Trey?”
“If you’re just going to suggest your dorm members, maybe we should switch the conversation to something else.”
“Well I think my dorm produces only the best and most gentlemanly mages of all of NRC, so excuse me if I’m simply trying to give you the best options!” 
You and Riddle shared some laughter, a flash of teal catching the corner of your eye. But you saw nothing, so instead you focused back on Riddle as he began recounting his own winter break activities.
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You remained quiet as you processed your thoughts, finding the lilac ceiling to be particularly interesting. 
Floyd also stayed quiet, still curled into your side as he breathed in your scent. You’re sure that with all of the flowers you’d started coughing up in the last few minutes, you smelled strongly of the lavender roses. 
“You know
I was gettin’ real mad when you wouldn’t confess to me.” Floyd whined, propping his head up with his hand to look at you and your pink face. 
“I thought it would be nice to get a cute confession out of my little shrimp,” He pinched your nose and forced you to look at him. “It be real fun! Like those cringy romcoms landfolk like so much!”
You replied, nasally due to your pinched nose, “Wait, is that why Jade was telling me about mer courting methods?”
“Haha! Yeah, I was hopin’ that you’d bring me a pretty seashell or somethin’ cute so Icould make fun of ya for later.”
You let out an indigent huff, smacking Floyd’s hand away as he laughed. 
“Really? So what made you change your mind?”
“Hearing ya talk to Goldfishie. It pissed me off that you’d think I’d toss you out like humans at sea with their trash.”
Floyd’s tone changed, looking  visibly annoyed as he continued. 
“Mers mate for life, and I wouldn’t choose someone I’d get bored with.” He sat up as his mood continued to sour. “It pissed me off, and it hurt, that my Little Shrimpy would think about me like that.”
“Oh, Floyd,” you sat up with him, guilt seeping in your bones as you looked at his angry face. Though, with the small tears forming in his eyes, Floyd looked more frustrated than anything. 
“I’m sorry, I-I didn’t think—it didn’t occur to me that you felt the same—”
“Well I do, and it’s not fair to me that you wouldn’t even give me a chance.” The way Floyd said that so matter of factly made you snap your mouth shut again, looking down at your lap instead. 
“I’m
sorry, Floyd. I wish I could make it up to you—”
Floyd interrupted, moody demeanor brightening suddenly. “No worries, I got just the solution!”
Crawling over back to you so that your back met the headboard again, Floyd grinned maliciously at your curled form. 
“Say it.”
“Huh?”
“Say it. Those three little words.” Floyd held up three fingers to emphasize his point. “The ones that will make all those little flower go right away, the ones you need to say to me.”
You stiffened, leaning away from Floyd as he leaned in. “I don’t know if I can—”
“Say it, Y/N.” The use of your name startled your attention back to his face. He looked unusually serious, peering his heterochromic eyes into your own. If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve mistaken him for his twin. 
You whispered, prolonging the inevitable, “What happened to Shrimpy?”
“Shrimpy was Shrimpy, but now your Y/N. And Y/N is Y/N
”
The two of you shared a smile as the distance between you two continued to close. You couldn’t remember what was so pressing earlier, why you were so anxious when the yellow eye of the man in front of you produced nothing but adoration from your heart. 
“Please
” From the uncharacteristic soft murmur to the eyes darting down to your lips and back to your eyes, Floyd drew you back in with a hypnotic ease that only the most alluring of mythical creatures could even hope to imitate. 
The two of you leaned in as you placed a hand on his chest, his own left hand coming to cradle your own. 
You craned your head back to hover your lips under his, uttering the words you swore to never let leave your mouth. 
“I-I
love you, Floyd Leech.”
A single lavender rose grew between your palms, as two longing hearts met as one.
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virginiaisforvampires · 10 months ago
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That letter really broke me ngl đŸ„ș From the entire content of it, knowing it was the REAL Lestat's words and not some hallucination Louis could twist to villanize it and the little details of the misspeling 😭 How's your little Loustat heart holding on, V? đŸ€­ The writers are really in for a treat to us huh
So I’ve watched that scene maybe 20-ish times by now? I’m not exaggerating when I say it made me ugly cry. I woke up this morning thinking about it. I sat on the side of my bed for a good 10 mins just thinking about it. Does it really truly exist? đŸ„ș
And then I hop on the ole Twitter and see everyone pointing out the misspellings and phonetic mistakes/variations and relating it back to the fact Lestat was illiterate as a human
.and my heart shattered all over again. Oh Lestat. Oh baby.
It was the way Lestat’s voice broke on “all my love belongs to you.”
It was the way Lestat was gazing at him with so much love and affection and utter worship.
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It’s the fact Sam has confirmed this is the Lestat that Louis doesn’t want to remember. It’s the knowledge of realizing this is how Lestat behaved with him ALL. THE. TIME. So much love. So tender. So gentle. Such reverence for Louis that even Roget knew what Louis meant to him.
It’s the way Louis (Jacob) conveys the absolute grief and agony and the sheer resistance and heartbreaking unwillingness to feel all those emotions.
It’s also the fact I wrote in my Heartbeats series a scene in which Lestat writes Louis a love letter and also tells Louis this before baring his soul in the letter:
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And now we actually have this in show canon too. I just
.I don’t even know how to properly articulate it. It was everything I ever wanted and didn’t even know I needed.
And if Lestat wrote that after knowing they were plotting to kill him?! What a statement and how very in-character it would be for Lestat.
No matter what, he will always love Louis. He will always forgive Louis. He will always make sure Louis is taken care of. I knew he would make provisions for him. No matter what. Like I’ve said, that is the real Lestat.
In the event that you are reading this, something dreadful has occurred, which is not my own death rather the fact that we both now exist in two different worlds. Do not waste your life seeking revenge on the person or persons who did this. Do not give them the satisfaction of the hunt. Let treachery eat away at them from within. And you? You go carry on with your living. Know only this, mon cher, you are the only being I trust and whom I love above and beyond myself. All my love belongs to you. You are its’ keeper. A veil will now forever separate our union, but it is a thin veil. And I’m always on the other side. Face pressed up against your longing. — Lestat de Lioncourt
He would want Louis to live for him. He would want Louis to keep his heart beating for him and not waste (waist 😭) his life on Lestat’s behalf.
“All my love belongs to you. You are its’ keeper.”
Remember in Blood Communion when Louis is abducted and Lestat thinks he’s dead and compares the feeling to having no heart to break?
I walked out of the room and on through the rooms of the Chñteau as if I had no feeling in me, no heart to break
.
In other words, Louis is the keeper of his love. Louis is the keeper of his heart. Without Louis, Lestat was an empty shell as the keeper had taken his heart.
Yeah. *tearfully nodding* Yeah.
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sendothetaurus · 11 months ago
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How to write good dialogue
Almost every story needs dialogue - obvious right? Well, this post is about the not-so-obvious sides of conversations. I've struggled a LOT with snappy and realistic speech, so I've made it my mission to collect some handy directives. Here is what I found:
Contents
Information Dumps
Setup And Payoff
Characterization Through Dialogue
Three Simple Questions
Four-Sides Model
Depth
About Answers
Sources And Credits
âźź Let's go! (^â–œ^) ⟯
Information Dumps
Everybody knows them, everybody hates reading them. But how do we avoid them? Something really clicked for me when I understood context. If your character talks about something that happened in the past, they don't need to explain what happened. They were there. Here's an example:
"It would be nice if we at least got a B for that paper. Since I will go to college next year, I feel that this is important to me."
The speaker and the listener should be aware of the exposition (regarding their last year at high school). During dialogue, these conditions go without saying.
Setup And Payoff
Instead of dumping everything at once, let the reader guess what's happening. This is done by mentioning something that is not answered right away. Also dropping hints can increase tension.
Scene 1 "Why do you always carry that with you?" she asked and pointed at the box cutter. Her friend eyed her with suspicion. "For cutting." "Yeah, but why?" "Might come in handy sometime." Scene 2 An ice cold shiver ran down her spine as her fingers felt around the bag, searching for the familiar shape. There was nothing. The other tossed the thing onto the floor between them. "Care to elaborate?" She couldn't have known. "How could you!"
Someone definitely has a secret here that they don't want uncovered. It makes the reader speculate: Does she carry the knife to defend herself or does she plan on hurting someone with it?
Characterization Through Dialogue
The general rule of thumb is: Show not tell. If a character is shy, self-absorbed or chaotic, make them act like it. Also, readers take part in the characterization of your protagonists. Make them guess why a character acts a certain way.
"C- can I have your pen?" She twirled her thumbs and looked at the ground. "What the hell, no!" Disgusted, he brushed off his hands on the front of his jeans. "I'mma better disinfect that."
Notice how the girl is stuttering and the boy has a loose tongue. Mannerisms help identifying traits in a character. Everyone has a distinct way to speak (e.g. relaxed, polite, malignly) which makes it easier to tell them apart. Sometimes there is a difference between speech and behavior. This can be quite useful to highlight conflict inside a character.
Three Simple Questions
Who wants what from who?
Why now?
What happens if they don't get it?
These questions ensure plot consistency. For question 3 the only other outcome is conflict. Conversations thrive off of conflict and it is of benefit to have a supplicant and potential provider for a solution. It's basically intention versus obstacle.
1. She wants to be his wife. He doesn't want a marriage. 2. She is pregnant. 3. She needs to provide for a baby all on her own.
Tadaa, a conflict ensues.
Four-Sides Model
The four-sides model is a theory on communication. It assumes that a message has four distinct ways of being conveyed:
Facts -> data, facts, truth and relevance
Self-Disclosure -> explicit and implicit information about the own mindset; likes, dislikes, opinions
Relationship -> information about whether the person is liked or detested; approval and disapproval; "I assume you have [this] opinion of me"; body language
Want -> a direct attempt to influence the behavior of another person; advice, desire or instruction
Since this is highly technical stuff, I'll provide you with an example:
Customer: "I always drink my coffee black." 1. Fact: The coffee I drink is black. 2. Self-Disclosure: I like black coffee. 3. Relationship (POV of the waiter): Did I do something wrong? OR It's their fault! They ordered the wrong thing! 4. Want: Bring me black coffee.
Controlling the message through sender and receiver gives a new level of influence to an author. The relationship-level is the bottleneck in a conversation that holds the most potential for misunderstandings. I'm trying to be aware of it when I write subtext (see below).
Depth
On the nose dialogue is what we want to avoid at all costs. For this reason subtext is created in stories. Read this:
Scene 1 A: "I like you." B: "Nah, I don't like you back. You're so annoying." A: "Ouch, that hurts. I'm not sure if I heard that right." B: "We were never friends. Go away."
This is not how conversations work. Thankfully, dialogue like this is not entirely useless. It conveys what the characters really want to say. The challenge is to think of a way to not say the thing but keep a similar meaning.
The true meaning behind the dialogue is called subtext (scene 1). If I don't know how to continue after a certain line, I write down the subtext first before I decide on how to paraphrase it.
Finally, I add a fitting description of expression and body language if needed. I try to keep it short and simple.
Check this out:
Scene 2 She tucked her hair behind her ear. "I need a ride home later. Are you free?" -> I like you. "Sorry, all seats' re taken," he said without looking at her. -> Nah, I don't like you back. You're so annoying. "Uhm, okay. But I'm small. You could fit me in the footwell, honestly." -> Ouch, that hurts. I'm not sure if I heard that right. He leaned forward as if he had the urge to stand. "Ha, funny. But no, I'm not planning on doing something illegal tonight." -> We were never friends. Go away.
A character's action depends on their own intention and the other's response. I feel it is easier to keep track of what's happening behind the curtains when it's written alongside the dialogue.
Simultaneously, you can keep habits and traits in check. Does the the character apply all criticism to themselves? Are they disregarding or constantly marginalizing others? Do they worry only for themselves or solely for others? Subtext truly is the most powerful tool in conversation-writing.
About Answers
Did you know that you don't have to answer every single question? In fact, there are two other ways to show an emotion without telling it.
The first one is called sidestepping. The character ignores the posed question and carries on with an entirely different topic.
A: "Do you still love me?" B: "We should get going."
It's very obvious, right? By sidestepping the question, we can assume that the character is uncomfortable or angry with the other person.
The other way to answer is actually a bit paradoxical. Through silence, a great variety of emotions can be displayed. It is recommended to refrain from actually describing silence with words like "he remained silent", "he refused to say anything", "he never responded".
- The laptop hummed. - The birds chirped in the trees. - She felt her legs going numb from sitting in an uncomfortable position. - His eyes wandered around, searching the parking lot for a familiar face.
It feels more natural to explain the things that grab our attention when we sit in silence.
This is it, folks. That's all I could find on the topic - for now. If there's anything missing, I'd love to hear it.
‧͙âș˚*ïœ„àŒ“â˜Ÿ Anyway, thanks for reading, I hope this helped â˜œàŒ“ïœ„*˚âș‧͙
My sources are this and this video as well as this article.
Also a big thank you to @zoropookie for helping me with the colors ⾜(ïœĄËƒ ᔕ ˂ )⾝♡
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alwaysalir · 6 months ago
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So I stated reading the IWTV book and it’s really jarring how different Lestat is the show. I have heard that the character takes a big shift in book two and I think the show really did an amazing job setting that up and making him more nuanced even through Louis’s point of view. Yes Lestat can be very cold & calculating at certain points you see him being really vulnerable & soft. One of my favorite examples of this in season 1 in during episode 6 when Louis is very clearly struggling mentally Lestat stops and whispers I love you which makes Louis smile. It’s such a small moment but I feel like it shows us some context of the Loustat relationship that is missing.
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I think having small moments like these really sets up for the revisited scenes in 2.07. We know Lestat is capable of being more vulnerable & emotional so when you see those scenes through a new lens, it makes sense it doesn’t feel jarring. Those scenes literally made me go back and rewatch all of season one to catch all the smaller moments that they really set up that Lestat isn’t as cold as Louis is trying to convey and I think that’s the point. The story Louis is telling is colored by his anger towards Lestat. He wants him to only be cold & calculating because it’s easier to continue hating him that way, but they’re still moments where the love between Louis & Lestat bleed through Louis’s anger
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