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li-an-nie · 29 days ago

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The origin of Isagi’s talent and a message for us (ft. Naruhaya & Kaiser)

Hi! This is something I've been thinking about for quite a while... and today I finally want to share with you my theory, or rather explanation, for Isagi Yoichi – his character, where his talent for adaptability comes from, as well as our own takeaways we can draw from Kaneshiro's characters.

This is a lot, but I think it shows how powerful the story of Blue Lock really can be!

Transformation

People often like to joke about Slursagi - how this ordinary guy with the seemingly most ordinariest of parents has so far spit out some of the wildest insults on the field haha. Well, sadly I don’t have an explanation for all of that, but I do have one for his incredibly fast and exponential progress in Blue Lock. I mean, we all know by now, as Naruhaya has said before and as was kinda picked up in the most recent chapters – it's his innate aptitude for adaptability, learning and change. Destroying yourself and then rebuilding your best version. Abandoning everything else and thinking of yourself as just a means to an end. While everyone else in Blue Lock had good enough soccer skills to manage just fine on their own so far, this is the method Isagi had to use in order to keep up with all the other players.

(see Ch. 53)

The question is just, where did this amazing talent come from? Is this a learned skill or a mutation, as Ego talked about? Is it nurture or nature?

If we look at it, the other guys in Blue Lock have all these sad backstories, traumas and toxic family relationships and whatnot. Yet Isagi has come so far, despite his ordinary background. Or rather... because of it. Or rather... only someone with a background like him could actually pull this off..! Why? Because Isagi has something that many of us don’t – unconditional love and support.

Again, this is just my own interpretation, but think about the term ‘destroying yourself’ first – what the hell does that even mean (if we ignore the edginess in that statement)?

(This is going to get super abstract, and even I don’t 100% know what I’m talking about, but hear me out first.)

It can mean so much – destroying your personality, your preconceptions of the world or a field, your prejudices, your obsessions, your pride, your fears, your regrets, basically anything that is capable of holding you back. Most people can’t simply do that. Naruhaya couldn’t. We all have inhibitions about certain things, no matter how hard we try, it often feels impossible to let go of certain thoughts and emotions. We're tethered to the past, afraid of losing our ‘self’ we’ve built in the process. There’s always a fear – if we fail, if we slip up, we might genuinely end up with nothing but our own ruin and failures, and that’s why we can never really go 100% of the way.

But Isagi can.

(see Ch. 55)

Origin

Isagi grew up in an ordinary household. But I'd say his family, his parents are actually far from ordinary.

We see it in the spin-off novel first, where Isagi’s incredible spatial awareness was apparent from a young age, making him very timid and much like a scaredy-cat in the beginning. But instead of scolding or condemning him, his parents always tried to understand and support him. And the same applied when Isagi first expressed his desire for a soccer ball.

(see BL Spin-Off - Isagi Yoichi Ch.2)

It doesn't matter if he's a crybaby, as long as he grows up healthy. For the first time, their timid, only son showed them what he wanted to do with his own will. That alone was enough to satisfy them completely.

With that out the way, this scene you probably remember from the manga is more than enough to illustrate everything (Ch. 152).

"You’re still our son, whether you’re special or average. What makes me happy is that you’re doing what you want, and giving your best at it."

"Whether you win or lose, no matter what… we’ll always be there for you, Yocchan."

"So live your life as you want."

Jesus Christ. If that’s not the most loving and supportive parents in the world, then what is?

Isagi’s parents have simply no expectations of him. They love and support him so unconditionally. They encourage and adore him, and they will always think of him their precious son, no matter if he wins or loses, if he chooses to live an average person’s life or risk everything to become the best striker in the world. Isagi knows this, and he grew up like this, he grew up with a certainty that no matter what you will still be loved. That’s why he can sacrifice everything of himself – because ultimately, under that everything is something that will never leave, and this certainty is what enables him to push so far in the first place. He developed a mindset that could push itself to its limits, and it directly impacted not only his life decisions but his evolution on the soccer field as well.

(see Ch. 55)

Naruhaya, on the other hand, had the same talent for adaptability, but he wasn't able to go as far as Isagi. Because unlike Isagi, there were things he had to protect, the stakes were too high – his sisters, and their precarious financial situation. Even though a dire situation like this should enable him to push himself even further, that stake is also exactly what held him back in the end. In his case, it matters so much whether he wins or loses. When it starts to matter, you ultimately become afraid of what will happen if you do lose, and for him that meant so much more than just the end of his dreams. Isn’t it natural to feel more under stress when the stakes are higher?

Opposites

So because of this foundation that Isagi has, he is different than the rest. This would kind of speak against the assumption I had at the beginning of Blue Lock, that his ordinariness is meant to represent all of us. With basically the message that anyone can evolve and transform themselves for the better, just like Isagi. But to be honest that was already thrown out of the window through the spin-off, where you see that Isagi was already gifted as a child. And I’m not even sure if this was supposed to be Kaneshiro’s intended takeaway to begin with, but there’s another way this message can fit together. The missing piece lies in Kaiser.

Because yeah, we all saw what Isagi realized in Ch. 282 was basically following the same thing Kaiser did 20 chapters before (discard everything but your original ego).

If we take into account what we know Isagi, it becomes all the more heartbreaking and ironic when we actually see Kaiser do the same type of evolution in Ch. 262 for the first time – I quote, “past achievements, pride, everything he ever won”, literally the joy he felt about becoming human, he was willing to destroy and throw it all away, he became zero, despite knowing that if he fails that’s all there would be left – zero.

(see Ch. 262)

He’s always had zero, and the soccer ball is the first thing he ever truly ‘gains’. After his career takes off, he slowly acquired more and more, fame, money, achievements, you name it. This would be the first time he possesses so much, but he doesn’t know the pain of losing something yet, because he never had anything before to begin with. Kaiser built himself a high mountain out of things he never had, but then was willing to risk the pain of losing everything and roll back down into that pit of nothing again, all for the sake of his goal. If that's not strength, then what is?

And it’s also a direct contrast to Isagi.

Isagi and Kaiser are opposites, they are extremes that came from completely different worlds and family backgrounds. And yet they are also exactly the same, because they had the same strengths and resolves and were able to undergo the same kind of evolution. One has all the love and one lived their entire life deprived of it, one never questioned being human and one never believed themself to be one, yet they both were able to discard everything of themselves and then rebuild a better version – all for the sake of their goals.

Takeaway

So coming back to the message, how does that apply to us, the average person? Isagi and Kaiser represent a spectrum, and if you ever feel stuck somewhere in life, then remember – you are somewhere in between those two worlds. Doesn't that mean that you're capable of the same change too? I also don’t think it matters whether you’re a genius or talented learner, in real life there’s no clear line between those things anyway. Every one of us excels at something and every one of us has to learn and adapt in other areas. But what Blue Lock ultimately shows is that no matter what background, age or ambition, in the end, the things that can push us forward the most are our own dreams and ego. We are all capable of change.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk!

#blue lock #bllk #media analysis #isagi yoichi #michael kaiser #blue lock meta #I wish this was my thesis paper lmao

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khywren · 1 year ago

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「 Prelude to Your Undoing 」

summary: “Why else would you come find me in the middle of the night?” She asks. “I'd be flattered if you just wanted to exchange pleasantries, but we both know that's not the case, is it?”

“Oh, come now,” Astarion says, his voice practically dripping with lust. “I can think of several reasons to seek out the pleasure of your company after dark,” he insists, his emphasis deliberate. He's deflecting again.

Tav meets him head on. “All right, then, why are you here?”

---

Tav has a way of making Astarion feel vulnerable in ways he's never felt before. He finds this new development rather disconcerting.

pairing: Astarion/f!Reader/f!Tav rating: 18+ MDNI status: complete tags/warnings: vaginal sex, blowjobs, blood drinking, porn with feelings, smut, soft Astarion, mild angst, reader-insert, unnamed reader/Tav word count: 5.5k spoiler warning: nothing outside of a small mention about Astarion's past.

a/n: written in the third person - reader is referred to as Tav but is otherwise generic and not described. crossposted from AO3.

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The first time Astarion allows himself to feel vulnerable around Tav is the first night he drinks her blood.

When she suddenly awakens just before his fangs sink into her neck, Astarion jumps back in a panic, certain that she's going to drive a stake through his chest, or at the very least alert the others who will likely do the job themselves.

But she doesn't. Instead, she hears Astarion out, listens to him confide in her just how weak he is. He doesn't go into further detail about how ravenous he is for even a drop of her blood, lest it scare her off.

He's used to feeling powerless, but that doesn't make the admission wound his pride any less.

When Tav accepts his proposition without a second thought, he cannot help but be surprised. It's an incredibly generous thing for her to do, and perhaps one of the stupidest. But Astarion knows that, fool or not, her blood will be the sweetest he has ever tasted.

He isn't disappointed. When his fangs pierce her throat and she cries out beneath him, it only makes the warm blood that rushes over his tongue all the more delicious.

When the deed is done, she smiles sweetly at him, her blood still welling up from the pinprick marks on her skin. Astarion swipes a finger across the wound and savors one final taste of her, fighting every urge within him to sate himself on every last drop of her delicious essence.

She doesn't judge him for being weak, for practically having to beg for her blood. Faintly, he considers that she might pity him for appearing so frail, that for her, this may be something akin to nurturing a dying animal back to health.

And he hates it.

————————————

It happens again several weeks later, at the tiefling party in their encampment. Astarion lingers alone outside his tent, watching the partygoers, nursing a bottle of the most disgusting wine he can ever recall pouring down his throat. But there are far too many people here for him to even consider staying sober.

A few of the tieflings catch his eye, hoping to entice him, but he pretends not to notice. There isn't much point in seducing someone who he's never going to see again, someone whose use doesn't extend beyond a few quick moments of pleasure.

His gaze flicks across the camp, searching, before at last he finds her. Tav is sitting just within her tent, legs crossed, hair tied back and the loose ends tucked behind her ears, sketchbook in hand.

Astarion has seen her do this before, once or twice. It's how she documents their travels, as if they're all on some merry adventure and aren't infected with Illithid parasites that may detonate their brain matter at a moment's notice.

It would almost be endearing if it wasn't so delusional.

Tonight his boredom and his curiosity get the better of him, and he saunters over towards her, drawing her attention briefly as he cranes his neck to see what she's been up to as her fingers sketch out quick lines in charcoal.

She's created a remarkably accurate image of Wyll as he dances around the fire, hand-in-hand with a delighted tiefling girl who giggles shyly and leans into his touch.

“Ahh,” Astarion drawls, “So it's our darling Wyll who's captivated your attention. How cute. I'm sure he'd dance with you if you asked him.”

Tav is immediately flustered by Astarion's teasing, covering her drawing to stop him from jumping to any other conclusions. It's adorable, really, how easy it is to play with her like this. She's far more susceptible to his playful banter than any of their other companions, and he can't stop himself from having fun.

“Oh, no, it's nothing like that!” she insists adamantly, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “He's just a very good subject, that's all.”

Astarion can almost feel the warmth of the blood that stains her cheeks as the tantalizing aroma caresses his senses. He wonders briefly if she'd let him taste her again tonight, once all the celebrations have died down. It's all he can do not to lick his lips, as if the taste of her blood somehow lingers from the last time she let him feed from her.

She's speaking to him again now, drawing him out of his reverie.

“... and anyway, it's not like he's the only one I've drawn. Would you...” She hesitates for a moment, gathering up the courage to continue. “Would you like to see the ones I've made of you?”

Astarion quirks a brow, suddenly far more interested in the conversation.

“Certainly, love. I just hope you've captured my good side. And in halfway decent lighting.”

Tav thumbs through the pages of her sketchbook, and Astarion catches quick glimpses of some of their other party members: Shadowheart performing her nightly meditations, Gale reading a particularly massive tome. Karlach playing fetch with Scratch.

Finally, she finds what she's looking for and hands the book to Astarion, who cradles the spine in the palm of his hand before studying what's on the pages Tav has selected for him.

She's drawn several portraits from various angles, each and every one a perfect encapsulation of Astarion's angular features. He hardly has time to process the fact that this is the closest thing he's seen to his own reflection in over 200 years before he notices it: in every drawing, his expression looks pensive, distant. There's more than a touch of sadness in the eyes that stare back accusingly at him.

He can't bear to look at the drawings any longer, not when they betray the emotions he has spent so long crafting the perfect mask to hide. It's so much easier to avoid prying questions if he can simply play the charmer; after all, it's what he knows best, it's how he knows how to protect himself. A few well-placed compliments have gotten him much further than a blade in most circumstances.

Astarion's brows knit together, and he grimaces reflexively. Tav chews her lip before snatching the sketchbook back and slams it shut. “I'm sorry, do you not like them?” She sounds disappointed.

“Do I always look like that?” Astarion asks instead, avoiding her question.

Tav hesitates, clearly sensing whatever internal turmoil Astarion is experiencing at this new revelation. She decides that it's best to be honest with him.

“I just draw what I see. But I still think you look rather handsome, if it's any consolation.”

Astarion smiles wryly at her and drains the rest of his wine. Leave it to Tav to try her best to soften the blow.

Earlier, he was contemplating what he might say to convince her to follow him into the woods behind their camp after everyone else fell asleep. A few honeyed words to loosen her clothes, and he'd have her wrapped around his finger like so many others before her. But now the thought of sleeping with her after she's all but exposed him for the fraud he is seems quite pathetic, and he casts the entire plot aside.

Instead, he thanks her dryly for the compliment and retires to his tent, left alone with nothing but his thoughts.

Tav knows too much.

————————————

Tonight, Astarion considers confronting Tav about what's been bothering him, to discover if her assumptions are merely innocent and baseless speculation or something deeper. The more she knows, the more difficult it will be to manipulate her into falling for his schemes of self-preservation.

He needs her to be malleable.

She's volunteered for the first watch of the evening, and as the sun sinks below the horizon, he spots her sitting at the top of the ruined tower that rises at the edge of their camp, her silhouette plainly visible against the backdrop of the stars that blanket the cloudless sky.

He climbs the winding staircase slowly, using the time to consider his course of action. He makes no effort to mask the sound of his footsteps as he typically does, and she hears him before he emerges onto the terrace, her expression questioning the reason for his sudden appearance.

“Feeling restless?” Tav asks, breaking the ice.

“Something like that,” Astarion confesses, settling himself a few paces away from her. She's found a few old cushions from somewhere around the ruins they've chosen to make camp in for the night, and they're far more comfortable to sit on than the dusty stonework that makes up most of the tower.

“I'm sure you must know how dreadful it is to be left alone with nothing but your thoughts rattling around inside your skull. If only this damned tadpole would feed on some of those, it might not be so bad.” He chuckles at the thought, but it's a hollow laugh devoid of any real mirth.

Tav mirrors Astarion's laugh and leans back, stretching her weary muscles. “Are you brooding, Astarion? How very unbecoming of you.”

“Oh, it's nothing that scandalous, I assure you,” he quips back, avoiding playing his hand too early. This is still not a conversation he wants to have, no matter how much avoiding it for so long has gotten under his skin like an itch he can't quite scratch.

“Hmm, I'm not so sure about that,” Tav replies coolly. “I think I know enough about you by now to know that nothing about you is as straightforward as you'd like everyone to think it is.”

She glances briefly at him and Astarion studies her expression, but he can find nothing to hint at her motivations in the casual look she throws his way.

“I'm curious, then,” he says after a few moments of tense silence lapse between them. “About what you think you know about me. Shall we test your clairvoyance?”

Tav tilts her head to the side and ponders the question.

“That's easy,” she says finally. “One, you have a flair for the dramatic. Two, you think heroics are for arrogant fools and those who are too delusional to know better.”

She isn't wrong, but these observations are barely more than surface level. Astarion feels the relief wash over him; it seems like he's been worrying for nothing.

“And three,” Tav continues, “... you wish you could open up to people, but you don't really know how. And I think that bothers you more than you'd like to admit.”

Astarion stares at her in disbelief, and he finds his jaw clenching before he swallows the lump that's suddenly in his throat. He forces his face back into a perfect, stoic mask before Tav says anything about it the lapse in his demeanor.

“I'll have to concede the first two points, but that last one? Darling, what ever gave you a silly little idea like that?” He slips back into his typical mischievous mannerisms, the tips of his fangs bared in a silent warning despite the smile he offers.

Tav does not heed the warning and presses on, her curiosity getting the better of her. This is the sincerest discussion she has ever had with Astarion, and it would be a shame to back out now before she's bothered to discover anything worthwhile.

“Why else would you come find me in the middle of the night?” She asks. “I'd be flattered if you just wanted to exchange pleasantries, but we both know that's not the case, is it?”

Tav meets him head on. “All right, then, why are you here?”

No going back now.

“That's what I like best about you, you know,” Astarion responds, the praise barely masking his growing anxiety. “Straight to business. Quick-witted and easy on the eyes. You're the whole package, darling.” The irony of his trying to prolong the inevitable is not lost on either of them.

“Astarion.”

“Fine,” he huffs, not unlike a petulant child. “It's not like this is an easy subject to broach. Frankly, I'd rather not do it at all, but every time I look at you, I feel... well, I don't know what it is I'm feeling, but I don't like it.” The frown on his face contorts his typically handsome features into something almost grotesque. “How do you handle it?”

“Handle what?” Tav asks.

“Being vulnerable. Weak.”

It's a backhanded remark, but Tav ignores the accusation that Astarion throws at her nonetheless. “I suppose I'm like you. I try to hide it. It's not like I enjoy feeling inadequate any more than you do.” She regards him sincerely, imploring him to hear her out.

“But for what it's worth, I don't think that having to rely on others is a sign of weakness. Other people can be your greatest strength, if you let them. Whoever - whatever - you were before the nautiloid, it doesn't have to define you any longer.”

Astarion laughs, the sound harsh and sharp. “You've seen right through me, haven't you? You know nothing, and yet somehow you know everything.”

Whatever discomfort Tav feels, she does her best to keep it at bay. Seeing Astarion in such a state is foreign, and she doesn't quite know what to make of it.

“It's not like you made it difficult,” she explains. “When you're with the others, you put on a smile and joke with them like you don't have a care in the world, but I've seen the way you look when you're on your own. How you are when you think no one else is looking.”

Astarion recalls the drawings Tav showed him once before and feels his skin crawl.

“It's okay if --”

“Don't. Don't say it,” Astarion bites the words out, his patience running thin. This whole ordeal has clearly been nothing short of a mistake on his part. “I don't need your pity.”

Tav recoils as though his words are a brand against her skin. She wasn't expecting her prying to cut him so deeply. When she looks at Astarion now, his expression is unreadable, masked both by the increasing darkness of the evening and the thoughts roiling around inside his mind.

“Then would you settle for my friendship?”

Tav reaches out to gently clasp his hand. Her warmth is comforting, and he finds his anger receding. The smile he finds himself giving her is genuine, perhaps the only truly authentic gesture he's ever offered her.

“Yes...” he says after some time. “A friend.” The word feels strange in his mouth, the entire idea of companionship without the obligation of sex something he hasn't had the clarity to consider before.

As Tav studies his face, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners and the gentleness in the curve of his mouth, she feels her cheeks warming. Damn him. Even when he isn't trying, it's far too easy for Astarion to disarm her with nothing more than a simple glance.

If only she could still the rapid thundering of her heart.

“Well,” he laughs, “it's nice to know that I'm still as charming as ever. I was afraid that I was losing that particular talent, if you were any indication.”

“I never said you weren't,” Tav almost pouts, struggling to regain her composure. “I may be a lot of things, but I'm certainly not blind.”

“And you have impeccable taste, darling. Although, how could anyone blame you?” Tav is dismayed to find that he's put up the mask again. It's effortless, instinctual. No matter how much Astarion may want to open himself up, the reluctance to expose himself to further anguish is still there.

Maybe, after this is all over, he can allow himself to be completely vulnerable. But until then, he cannot silence the voice that tells himself that what he needs most for the time being is simply to survive by any means possible.

They've grown far too close in the interim and he can feel her warmth, the familiar scent of her blood drowning out every one of his other senses. It would be so easy to kiss her now, to pretend like none of this happened and let his instincts guide him.

And so he does. After all, his shameless flirting had never entirely been a ruse. Ever since he first drank her blood, he's been drawn to her in a way that no one else has compelled him before.

Tav's lips are remarkably soft when Astarion leans down to kiss her, his tongue slowly sliding over them to coax her deeper into the kiss. He half expects her to push him away, to scold him for being so thoughtless after their little heart-to-heart, but...

She doesn't.

Instead, she lets him continue, leaning into him when he cradles the back of her head to hold her steady. Astarion reaches for the buttons on her blouse, the touch featherlight.

“Wait.” Tav suddenly pulls back, face flushed and panting slightly.

“Is something wrong, love?” Astarion questions her. Perhaps he shouldn't have pressed his luck.

“No... yes... I just.” Tav stumbles over her words, the haze of her arousal clouding her mind. “Listen. It's not like I don't want this, but...”

Gods, if you only knew how much I want this.

“But not like this. I wouldn't feel right.” She averts her gaze. There is a twinge of guilt that builds within her; she doesn't want to take advantage of Astarion, not when he's clearly dealing with his own demons, and certainly not after everything that has transpired between them tonight. She doesn't want their nascent friendship to be consummated by something that will only complicate things between them.

“Of course I want you,” Tav explains. “The real you. Not whatever act you've been playing all this time.” The request is plain but hardly as simple as it sounds. She’s not even sure exactly what she’s asking of him, how much of it all has been a façade until now. She’s relying on nothing but intuition.

I don't know how to be what you want me to be, Astarion thinks, but he gives no voice to the thought, pushing it back down into the farthest recesses of his mind where it remains dormant.

She's doing it again, instinctively, reading too much into the way he furrows his brows and presses his lips together in contemplation.

She reaches out to him and lays a calming hand on his arm. “But only if that's what you want too. After tonight, if it's easier for you, we can pretend that none of this ever happened and carry on as we have been. And when you're ready to talk, whenever that may be, I'll be ready to listen. About whatever it is you have to say. As your friend. And... if we happen to enjoy ourselves in other ways in the meantime,” she adds coyly, “it's not like I would be opposed to that. Far be it from me to squander what could be the final days of our lives.”

Astarion's expression softens as he regards what Tav has just said, the choice she has given him. If he says no, if he decides right then and there to leave, he knows she won't hold it against him. He's feeling vulnerable again, but the discomfort he feels now is less unsettling, almost as if he's grown accustomed to feeling this way around her.

In his own way, he does care for Tav - if he didn't, he doesn't think he'd be so bothered by the way she reads him like an open book - and he doesn't want to cause her any undue harm. For her, he will try. At the worst, tonight will be yet another welcome distraction. At best... well, he can't quite say, but none of the possibilities seem particularly unpleasant.

“All right,” he concedes, cupping her face in the palm of his hand and gazing thoughtfully into her eyes. He finds there's something irresistible about them like this, wide and full of wonder. She struggles not to look away, her heart racing like a caged bird beneath her ribcage. The effect he has on her is mesmerizing, and Tav almost forgets to breathe before Astarion kisses her again, slow and steady as he takes the time to savor it.

Tav opens her mouth as Astarion's tongue slides against her own in languid strokes, eliciting a few small sounds that die in the back of her throat.

She never expected him to be so gentle.

An idea coalesces in the back of Tav's mind and she seizes on it, shifting her weight forward and pushing Astarion back. He yields to her surprisingly quickly, and Tav lays him into the cushions beneath them, straddling his hips.

He looks strangely at ease, his brow quirked as he implores her to continue. Tav is happy to oblige and leans over him, capturing his mouth in a hungry kiss. She can feel the pinprick points of his fangs as her tongue explores his mouth, eager as ever to taste him.

Astarion has never been a passive lover, and when his fingers slide beneath Tav's blouse and trace icy spiderwebs across her back, she shudders slightly at the sensation. Suddenly craving more contact between them, Tav rolls her hips against him, earning a soft moan from Astarion for her efforts.

She does it again to draw more of those delightful noises out of him; she can feel his growing hardness now, and she finds herself becoming impatient.

Breaking the kiss, Tav slides herself further down Astarion's body, pausing once she's hovering over his waistband. Astarion watches with bated breath as Tav fumbles with the ties there, before finally slipping her hand into his pants and freeing his cock, the tip already slick with precome.

Tav flashes Astarion a sly smile and wastes no time indulging herself, swiping her tongue over the head of his cock, tasting him. Astarion bites back a groan and props himself up on his elbows to watch her, spellbound by the way Tav's mouth looks and feels wrapped around him.

It feels even better as she slides more of him into her mouth, her tongue teasing him in all the right places. When she moans languidly against him, Astarion bucks his hips slightly, his mouth hung open as his breath hitches.

“Hells, if I had known you had been hiding this little talent, I would have sought you out much sooner.” There's humor in his voice, but Tav doesn't miss the low tone of need in his voice that sends a shiver down her spine.

He's bigger than she expected, and tears prick the corners of Tav's eyes as she bobs her head along the thick length of his cock, pushing him all the way to the back of her throat each time. She digs her fingers into his hips to hold him still, reveling in the feel and the taste of him.

“Nnngh... fuck,” Astarion groans, his eyes locked on Tav as she continues to pleasure him. When her gaze flicks up to meet his own through half-hooded eyes, he sucks in a breath, biting down on his lower lip.

If she keeps that up much longer, he knows he won't last.

He tells her as much through stuttered breaths, and Tav finally relents, sitting back on her calves and licking her lips. She looks extremely pleased with herself, Astarion notices.

“As much as I would love for you to continue,” Astarion says as he gets to his feet, beckoning Tav up with a hand, “It would be such a shame to not return the favor.”

He makes quick work of his shirt and slides out of his pants, and Tav doesn't bother to hide her yearning for him as her eyes rake over every inch of sculpted muscle and smooth, pallid skin.

“Like what you see?”

He doesn't have to ask - he knows how beautiful he is.

“Of course,” Tav says, huffing a laugh. “But you already knew that.”

“Certainly,” Astarion responds, a wicked grin flashing across his face. “But I do love to hear you admit it anyway, darling.”

Even as she removes her own clothing and lets Astarion press her up against the cool stone wall, Tav shoots him a petulant yet playful look. “Prick.”

“For you, my love? Always.” He's teasing her again, but there's a fondness there she's never seen before, in the way he looks at her and how he runs his hands over the curves of her body, building her anticipation for whatever he has in mind. If she's not careful, she knows that she will fall hopelessly and irrecoverably in love with this man.

The thought is cut short as Astarion's hands glide over the swell of her ass, and she arches her back into him, feeling his cock pressed against her.

“Patience, patience,” he drawls, “I want you begging for my cock before I take you.”

Tav doesn't bother to muffle the lewd sounds that tumble from her mouth, her entire body alight with desire as his words alone nearly turn her feral.

Astarion rewards her by sliding his hand between her thighs, spreading her open and sinking two fingers inside her. Tav gasps at the sudden intrusion, his touch electric. She whines almost pitifully, writhing beneath him and desperate for more.

“A-Astarion...”

His name on her lips sounds divine in that breathy little tone, and he begins to pump his fingers inside of her, savoring how wet she is for him already. He leans in close, trailing soft kisses and bites down the curve of her neck and across her shoulders, amplifying the pleasure Tav feels over her entire body.

But it's still not enough. She needs more of him, grinding her hips down to find the friction she so desperately needs. Astarion senses her intentions and slides his other arm around her waist, slipping a third finger between her legs and against her swollen, over-sensitive clit.

Tav cries out and bucks her hips, chasing her pleasure as she grinds against him relentlessly, her arousal building higher and higher with each roll of her hips. Her legs feel weak and she's thankful for the wall, all but clinging to the worn stonework as she does her best not to lose her balance.

“Gods, yes, Astarion... fuck...” The words tumble out of her mouth, punctuated by breathy moans of pleasure.

Astarion picks up his own pace, giving her exactly what she needs.

“Come for me, darling,” he purrs against the shell of Tav's ear, “show me how good it feels.” Tav is more than happy to oblige, pressing her face into the wall to stifle her wild moans as her climax washes over her in wave after intensive wave as she finally finds her release.

When the intensity begins to subside, Tav finds herself breathing heavily, swallowing in great gulps of air to steady herself. Astarion places a final kiss to the nape of her neck, and Tav can feel his pleased smile against her skin.

Astarion slides his fingers out from between Tav's thighs, still slick with her wetness, and runs his tongue along both digits. “Exquisite,” he murmurs, his voice low and hungry.

“I do hope you aren't completely spent,” Astarion muses, his body sinfully cool against the burning heat Tav feels inside herself as he presses himself flush against her. “I haven't yet had my fill of you.”

Tav moans beneath him, revitalized and full of need merely by the promise of whatever else he might have planned for her. She is already so weary, but she cannot deny that she still wants - needs - more.

“Please,” she says softly.

“What was that?” Astarion responds wickedly, pressing his hips into her, his cock thick and heavy against her entrance.

It's all too much.

“Please fuck me, Astarion,” Tav says more insistently, hardly embarrassed by her blatant desperation. “Gods, I need you inside me.”

“Much better,” he praises, lifting her leg just slightly to allow himself to slide into her with a few shallow thrusts of his hips, his cock stretching her out as he buries himself in her tight, wet heat.

She feels absolutely divine, her body molding to him perfectly as he finds himself seated fully inside her, his hands braced on either side of her hips.

“You're even more incredible than I could have imagined,” he admits out loud, partly to Tav but also to himself. Tav urges him to move, to fuck her, to do whatever will bring them both the most pleasure, and Astarion indulges her, pulling out of her almost completely before slamming back down, setting a steady pace as he finally gives her what she needs.

“Yes, yes, fuck,” she moans, bracing herself against the wall and marveling in the way Astarion feels inside her, each thrust bringing a string of oaths to her lips. After tonight, she will never think about anyone else again; he has completely ruined her.

Astarion buries his face against her neck and parts his lips, tongue tasting the sweat on her skin even as his fangs ask the single silent question. He wants to indulge himself in every part of her, and she would be loath to deny him anything when he's already made her feel so good, so complete.

“Go ahead,” she bids him between her mewls of pleasure, craning her head back to offer herself completely to him as he continues to thrust his cock deep inside of her.

Tav expects the bite to be as it always is - a sudden, sharp sting, a mild pain that settles in as he drinks his fill.

Instead, Astarion is gentle again - or, at least as gentle as he can be for a vampire. His fangs puncture her neck, but the act is far less savage than it normally is, and he doesn't drink as deeply as Tav knows he typically prefers to.

There is something different this time, almost as if he is enjoying her blood less to sate his gnawing hunger but more for the mere enjoyment of claiming everything her body has to offer him. He seems content to lap lazily at the blood that naturally raises to the surface of her skin, even as the thrusting of his hips picks up in its intensity.

Tav can no longer differentiate between the sensations overwhelming her body; between the bite at her neck, Astarion's body pressed against her, or the punishing thrust of his cock, she feels herself yield completely to him, her body losing control in more ways than one. She's never had anything like an out-of-body experience before, but she suspects that this might be the closest thing to it.

Every inch of her body is alight with ecstasy, and all that remains is her overwhelming desire, the need to be utterly and completely overcome by Astarion the only thing on her mind.

He murmurs something incoherent against her neck and wraps his arms around her body, embracing her almost tenderly as if he can sense the struggle Tav is having keeping herself upright. Enveloped in his arms and in his scent as completely as she is, she keens against him, finding her release for the second time with his name an exhausted cry on her lips.

Astarion continues to surge into her, riding Tav through her climax before finally finding his own pleasure, burying himself with one final thrust as he empties himself inside her with a low and sensual moan.

Instead of pulling out immediately, Astarion continues to hold Tav in place, even as his cock begins to soften inside her. He is content not to end the contact between them, their minds exchanging a few shared thoughts courtesy of their Illithid tadpoles.

Neither of them can express anything but satisfaction, even as Astarion finally pulls away from Tav and helps her retrieve her clothes.

“You should get some rest,” Astarion urges her. “I can take the rest of your watch. Can you make it back to your tent?”

Tav is surprised by his kindness but accepts it gracefully all the same.

“Yes, I think I'll manage. Thank you.” She dresses haphazardly, well enough to make the short trek back to her tent but not enough to be presentable should she happen to stumble across any of their (hopefully) slumbering companions.

They merely exchange glances, both of them content to enjoy the company of their own thoughts instead. And besides, they're both far too exhausted to bother with the effort.

“Good night, Astarion,” Tav says softly, daring herself to place a single, tender kiss to the center of his brow. If Astarion is displeased by the gesture, he holds his tongue and doesn't protest her affections, which Tav is eternally grateful for.

As she turns to descend the stairs, she throws one more glance Astarion's way, burning the image of him into her mind to preserve the memory.

He stands there, almost basking in the moonlight, watching the stars shimmering overhead. And he’s smiling.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x you #astarion smut #astarion fanfic

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saszor · 4 months ago

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Hey! You're tutorial on drawing burn scars was really helpful. I've been trying to draw burns for a while and I could just never find a tutorial for drawing them, especially not one that showcased burns on multiple skin colors.

I have a question though, and I'm not entirely sure if you'll be able to answer it or point me at a good resource, but I figured I'd ask anyways.

In the guide you have some different types of burn scars listed (hypertrophic, keloid, and contracture). Do you know what causes each type to scar differently? Is it the severity of the burn? Or something else.

Again, thank you so much for the work you've done. No pressure to answer if you can't, that's totally fine. Have a good day/night!

Hi! Fair question!

As for the severity: 1st degree burns very rarely leave anything behind after they heal and if they do it's usually mild skin discoloration. 2nd degree sometimes leaves some scarring but it usually fades away after some time since it's partial thickness, but deeper 2nd degree burns can cause permanent scarring that'll generally be less severe than those caused by higher degrees and mostly be hypertrophic. Third degree basically always leaves scars of all kinds. There might be tissue loss, so parts like ears or nose can be gone. Fourth degree is defined as going all the way to the bone, so the place with the burn will often be amputated because well it's just bone left. In this way it doesn't really leave scars I guess? But the area that's left will usually have severe scarring of basically any type.

For location: Hypertrophic scars happen wherever but are more common in places where skin is tight rather than loose. Pressure garments are used to prevent the hypertrophy so if for example your character wore compression sleeves as prescribed on their arms but nothing on their chest, the scars would probably be much more visible (more thick, discolored, and probably more painful as well) on their chest.

Keloids tend to form on the shoulders, cheeks, chest, and most commonly ears, but there is not much room to get a keloid there when it comes to burns - often if there is enough damage for them to scar, there will be tissue loss first. Keloids also happen more often in people with darker skin because their formation has something to do with melanocytes. Some people are also just more susceptible to getting keloids and if you have one you have a higher chance of getting another. Because of this keloids are rarely removed because they tend to just come back.

Contracture scars tend to happen where regular contractions do - where things move around a lot. So joints, facial and neck muscles, and especially digits. Contractures get less visible with physical therapy, wearing things like splints, or surgeries (like z-plasty or just skin grafts/flaps) that loosen them up and/or allow for more range of movement.

Ofc this is more of a rough guideline than anything else, every scar can potentially form anywhere and from anything (I'm just mentioning what's the Most Typical) and it depends on what resources someone has available to them. I have scars on my torso that according to this theory would have a high chance of being keloids (none of them are) and two on my hand that shouldn't have turned into scars at all (but they did) and they're hypertrophic for some reason. So I'd keep it in mind but don't stress about it 👍

#ask

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cy-lindric · 9 months ago

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I wanted to vent, but also ask an honest question. Since I was a teenager, I always wanted to work on character design. And one thing that always caught my attention was how I always preferred male character designs over female ones. My first thought was that I was always more into androgynous fashion and more masculine styles. But time passed and I came to the conclusion that it wasn't just that, and it seems that male characters can always be different things: fat, thin, handsome, ugly, short, tall, young, old, etc. and female characters, for the most part, fall into two categories: cute or sexy. I wanted some tips on how I can make female characters with more interesting designs, without having to fall into those two categories. I love your work and you managed to make someone else like the three musketeers <3<3

Hello ! That's definitely a good question and something I think about a lot. The bias towards beauty is very strong in character design and it takes a conscious effort to diversify output in that regard.

That sort of advice might be a bit obvious, but one habit I picked up from the director on my first feature film gig was to actually "cast" characters. Without reference, we tend to go for the kind of symmetrical face and "average" features mostly out of stylistic habit. I like to look at character actors with distinct faces (I like this pinterest page that has a lot of faces in one place) but also just acquaintances or pictures of random crowds.

When designing a character, at first I'm always building a big reference board trying to decide what Type of Guy (gender neutral) I'm going for, trying use photos rather than other people's art, because I want to rely on automatics and graphic symbols as little as possible. Whether I'm designing a man or a woman or other, I use references of fashion styles and people across the board in terms of gender so I keep the scope open. Sometimes a character ref board for me will be a picture of one of my aunts next to a bunch of screenshots of Columbo. In my experience, a lot of the times, it's mostly about going with styles and archetypes the same way you would for a male character, and switching it up somewhere along the way by looking at real women in your life and beyond as a grounding mechanism. Sometimes that will mean changing almost nothing, because the borders between genders and how you characterize them is blurry and fluid, and sometimes it will mean using features that are uniquely tied to some sort of female experience.

I enjoy realism and I think getting more proficient at it did help me diversify my designs (I find that more difficult to do with more minimalistic styles). Still, I am mostly a fantasy artist and in my case that comes with some amount of stylization and idealization of shapes and looks. I'm far from perfect in my biases and I'm not going out of my way to draw "ugly" characters because that doesn't mean much to me ; I try to draw inspiration from the faces of every day people and I associate it with my love for fashion. It's also worth noting the work I post here for fun is a lot more hash tag aesthetic than the stuff I do professionally where diversity is much more important.

I don't know if any of that is relevant but that's definitely an interesting topic ! I'd love to know others' perspective and tips on the matter.

#replies #txt #theinvisiblescanner #character design

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kaceythecrunch · 11 months ago

Text

RANT. (sturntok.)

Yall. Im so mad. Sturntok pisses me the fuck off to the point it isn't even funny anymore. This might be messy, so bare with me.

Tara. Why the fuck is everyone pressed about Tara hanging out with the triplet, specifically matt and Chris. Yall are acting as if it was only two of them, like they're on a date. They were with fucking I don't know, 8 other people? Like why does Sturntok care who they hangout with? Did you not learn from elementary school to mind your bees wax, or business? You're probably 15. They're literally 5 years older than you. There is no way, in any universe they're gonna date you girl. ALSO TO SHIT ON TARA?? LIKE GIRL. FIND SOMEONE ELSE TO SHIT ON CUZ HOMEGIRL DONT CARE. SHE DONT CARE. SHE IS STRIVING AND LIVING LIFE LIKE YOU SHOULD GIRL. Live life and don't care. You'll probably have a positive outcome. No cuz y'all know how Chris owns the Saturn necklace thing? Its vivienne underwood. It's less than 20 bucks on Amazon. Also when was the last time y'all saw Chris wearing that necklace girl. Also there's a post from like months, or I think a year ago of Tara wearing the same necklace. These fucking tiktok girls are so annoying. Like we get it, everyone wants to be Tara. (she's my gf.)

Podcast. I saw a bunch of btiches shit on the podcast. Like cmon. THEY ARE PRODUCING AN HOUR LONG VIDEO FOR YALL EVERY WEEK. Mfs are burnt out, you're lucky that they even produce content for you ungreatful hoes. Like lwk, I'd rather have them remove Wednesday videos. I remember when they first started their podcast that they were really excited to start and stuff. I also remember, I believe it was their earlier vlogs. When they were still living in Boston and they haven't like went to LA yet, they were talking about turning their basement into a podcast room. Like cmon. This is something they've been wanting to do and you hoes just don't appreciate anything. Like have y'all's mama's not been pissed at y'all for not appreciating her food. Live life positive and not negative tf. But ofc, I respect their decision.

Intro. Yall just love to shit on everyone. Ruining the party. Sturntok reminds me of the kids-the class "clowns" who would be so shitty to the teacher for no reason and would ruin fun things for everyone. Like guys, I think we should all as a community bully Sturntok. It requires a bit more bullying, just to knock some sense into their heads. Anyways, back to what I was ranting about. I loved their new intro. its a new era. A new them. Change. Is. Fucking. hard. I understand that you love the teens from Boston running around making fools of themselves. Me too, I shall admit it. But in order to get sponsorships, to get the little paring things. (For example, them sponsoring Celsius, even becoming the youtooz thing.) Like they gotta act more professional.

Change. This tied in with the last few things. CHANGE IS HARD. CHANGE IS A DIFFICULT THING. But how the fuck are you gonna live life, and enjoy life when your stuck on one thing forever. Change is needed for growth, and for learning. Like guys, THEYRE 20. I think that's something y'all forget. They aren't teenagers anymore. Its kinda like how when everyone went into middle school and started to not like kiddy things when you still liked kiddy things. When I was in middle school I still like to play with Legos, draw, watch anime. Until I hit 7th grade, aka everyone's downfall. I still enjoy some of those things today but I changed because people in middle school stopped like those things and its embarrassing (well for me at least) to show up in school with anime shirts cuz I'm getting older. Thats what they're feeling I guess. Again, theyre 20 now.

Crazy ass mfs. Crazy, as in them soft mf's on sturntok. Also what pisses me off more is that they're coming here on tumblr. Like no, I know your soft ass belongs on Wattpad bffr. I have a long rant about this one, so bare with me again. They are so so so so so SOOOOO sensitive about the "spicy edits." Sometimes the fucking video frame isn't even about something "spicy" aka- them being shirtless, video frame near their crotch. It was when there was a song about sex. How soft can you be. Most songs these days are about sex. Some songs y'all probably didn't know about was about sex. (cake by the ocean for example.) LIKE LETS ME FOR REAL. MOST SONGS ARE ABOUT SEX. Also with the tiktok audios being removed like cmon. Not everything is about sunshine and rainbows. I remember I commented on a Chris edit and I was like.

"I need this man in my life. He's so hot."

"you're fucking gross. He's a human being and do you know how grossed out he would be if he saw that you said this? (bullshitbullshit,morebullshitandstupidness.)"

Yeah, keeping fucking running your mouth. THIS TIKTOK HAS LIKE 4K VIEWS. DO YOU WANNA KNOW HOW MUCH FUCKING FOLLOWERS THE TRIPLETS HAVE? YEAH. THAT'S NOT EVEN A QUARTER OF WHAT THEY HAVE. THIS VIDEO HAS 1K COMMENTS. ARE THEY FUCKING HUNTING ME DOWN?? MY COMMENT HAS 3 LIKES. WHY WOULD THEY CARE TO FUCKING CHECK GIRL. ITS ALSO TELLING THE FUCKING PERSON WHO EDITED THIS THAT THIS EDIT WAS FIRE AND THAT THEY MADE THE EDIT HELLA GOOD. UR FUCKING LUCKY I KEPT MY ANGER TO MYSELF CUZ OH GIRL. I WOULD SUCKER PUNCH YOU. You know whats also funny? They're the same people who will be pissed with when they see matt or Chris with a female. Like girl. You're calling me fucking gross? Do you think how much more worse that is than my comment? You ruin friendships. OG sturniolo fans know that they've been friends with girls. If you genuinely care, yall would know that nick made most of matt and chris' friends. Meaning most of them were females. SO OBVIOUSLY THEYRE GONNA HAVE GIRL FRIENDS. I remember watching the Zach sang pod when nick was on and he explained that matt usually doesn't make the friends. Theres a joke where matt says "I'm gonna make a friend that wasn't originally nick's friends." smth like that. Anyways, off topic. Just because they are seen with a girl, doesn't mean they are fucking dating them. Like shut the fuck up. please. Respectfully shut the fuck because I'm a nice person. Also Chris gives off major virgin vibes lets bffr.

Madi. Yall hate so bad on Madi and its fucking grossing me out. Why do you have to ship her with matt and chris??? Literally to the point they can't even put her in photo dumps or videos. You just gotta ruin it for everyone, huh? shes fucking gorgeous, and she's so funny in videos. Plus, when she does talk shes hillarious. She literally reminds me of Matt. She doesn't fucking talk much because she is more of a listener.. Like guys bffr. How can you hate her when she barley spoke in videos. Like respectfully, shut the fuck up. Yall just jealous shes pretty.

Calling Nick fine. I also hate them mfs who are always running their mouth about girls calling Nick fine. Lets bffr. Y'all didn't think a gay guy is fine? I'm sure you've had a crush on one gay person before. And if you haven't trust me. You will. I had a crush on my gay friend in 8th grade. I feel like its a canon even in every girl's life. anyways, I hate when girls will be scared to call nick hot.

"Nick is so fine. But like as a cool guy friend way. Please don't attack me."

POOR GIRL BELIEVES SHE IS GONNA BE ATTACKED IF SHE CALLS A GAY MAN FINE. Sturntok leave her the fuck alone. He's hot as fucking and I will kill civilians if I'm not given more nick edits. He's so fine. Literally the hottest triplet.

If u made it here thanks. There was shit on my chest that I really needed to let out. What have we learned today?

Sturntok can suck my fucking dick.

Thanks goodbye.

Me to Sturntok :

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luveline · 1 year ago

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Hi! I remember a while ago you said zombie!au Steve might have a hobby of drawing? Would love to see some of that maybe w r as his muse:D

steve zombie!au fem. 1k

You return to the camp with your new best friend at your side. In matching coats, no less.

"Christ," Steve says, shaking his head in disgust.

He loves —loves— that you have a friend, someone who might care about you just as much as he does. You deserve to be loved, and cherished, and known for your worth. You're a human vestibule of sweetness and God knows it wasn't going to be long before someone else noticed.

But matching coats? "Alright, where's mine?" he asks.

"Didn't have your size, handsome," Eddie says, giving you a quick and purely amicable hug. "See you later."

He scampers off to who knows where and you sit down. You don't hide your happy smile, and Steve's glad for it even if it does make him jealous. "He's so nice," you say.

"No, he's not."

"He is. He's almost as nice as you. And he helped me find you something."

"After he outfitted my girlfriend in a couple's costume. I'm surprised he had the energy."

"You're so jealous," you say, your happy smile growing in size with the seconds.

"I'm actually making myself feel sick."

"I can wear a different coat if it–"

"Shut up! As long as you like me better, wear what you want." He shakes off his petty jealousy and takes your hand. For once, he's sitting on a towel rather than just grass or dirt, but his efforts to avoid extensive grass stainage mean nothing when your muddy shoe brushes his leg. "Nice. Thanks."

"Sorry, sorry," you murmur, swinging your backpack off of your shoulder and sighing as you bend into yourself. "Jeez, my back hurts." You breathe out, a low moan of sound that drags. He can feel your pain. (He can't, but he figures that he loves you so much you're now connected spiritually to one another.) "How come I keep going on these expeditions and you keep staying home?"

"I'm good with the kids."

"Mm. Maybe you'll come on the next one anyways? I miss you when I'm gone."

"I miss you too," he says. "More, I'd say."

You giggle. "Whatever, you always have to be better than me. Shut up! Shut up, I'm trying to give you the things I found for you."

Steve draws a zipper closed over his lips and flicks away the key. You get into these moods with each other sometimes, perhaps from having spent as much time together as you have, where a faked aggression rises between you. It's almost like you would've spoken at the start of the end of the world, when it was him and you alone, and Steve wasn't in the best of moods. The play fighting soon dies down as you open your bag; receiving gifts is always a pleasure.

"First, underwear."

"Thank you," he says, accepting the eight pack of boxers you offer like a man who's crawled the Sahara being given a glass of water. "So much."

"You're welcome. Socks, a shirt, a new belt, a brace for your knee." You dump it on the towel next to him one by one. Your bag must've been heavy carrying all this, and it keeps going. You've brought him soap, hair elastics, razor blades, chapstick. The community you belong to is heavy on sharing, but you're free to bring home whatever you like so long as you're willing to carry it unaided once you've contributed to the food drive. You've clearly crammed your bag full of stuff for him, unveiling only underwear and socks for yourself.

"You couldn't find any toothpaste?" he asks.

You toss a pack of cigarettes at him without force. "Sadly, no. But I think Robin can get us some with those, right?"

"I wanna smoke these so bad."

You laugh and shake your head, fondly disapproving. "You don't! We can just kiss more, alleviate your cravings."

"Weirdo."

You lean forward, putting your cold hand on his cheek to leverage him closer. "You knew this when you met me," you say, kissing his cheek.

Steve's good on the cravings front after that. He swears that when things are at their worst a kiss from you could keep him going. Your lips can ease the ache of an empty stomach and the shattering heat of his ever-sprained knee.

You pull away gently like you're worried you'll hurt him in your detangling. Honestly, you might. Steve imagines you leaving sometimes like his arm being torn off.

You reach back into the back for a parcel wrapped in a shirt for protection. The pencils and sketchbook you got Steve are long gone, lost with the rest of your possessions in the middle of a college campus on the Michigan border. Finding things like that is hard, and it hasn't been on Steve's mind.

Apparently, it's been on yours.

"These are nice ones, right? The pencils?" you ask, having unwrapped your parcel, a soft backed sketchbook and a small metal case of pencils in hand. "There's only twelve, but I even found a sharpener so you won't have to do it with your knife. Sorry there's no black, I know you like the darker details."

Steve flicks through the sketchbook without thinking, every page blank. It isn't very big either, but it's perfect for purpose.

He sets it aside with the pencils near all your new things and gets on his knees, tugging you in for a hug. "Thank you," he says, and he's said thank you a hundred times to you, but this one feels awkward, clumsy in his mouth.

"You're welcome. Just promise you'll draw me again."

"You're the only thing I want to draw." He kisses your cheek in emphasis. "You're the most beautiful thing everywhere we go."

"That's such a line," you say, sounding melted.

Easy, he thinks, turning your face to his for a kiss. Soft, as sweet as he can manage. With you, kisses start soft and end too rough, he can't help it. He remembers you're there and his to kiss and it drives him crazy.

It's a little easier to stop today. Steve is genuinely eager to draw again, and in a week or two there won't be a page in his book without your likeness, his muse.

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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cartmankisser · 2 years ago

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I GOT YOU FAM!

I'd love a Wally fluff alphabet, please! 🥰

omg ur amazing for linking it. creds for the prompts are linked in pink text of the request!! :)

if you haven’t seen, i ran a poll on my account for what type of personality wally should have and the option that won was, and i quote, “normal wally but… just a little messed up and obsessive.”

so i guess this is like?? mildly yandere wally? haha i’m not sure.. he slowly gets slightly more deranged as this goes on,,

using the small font because these always turn out really long 😭

Activities - “What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?”

— wally isn’t too picky when it comes to hanging out. he’d honestly be content just sitting in silence with you!

in such a small neighborhood, everything is just a few minutes away! it’s not uncommon for you two to take walks around the neighborhood, maybe stopping at howdys shop for snacks before spending the afternoon sitting in a flower-filled field with books and arts and crafts material.

maybe you two could teach each other little crafts you’ve learned over the years!! friendship bracelets, origami, crochet, whatever!!

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

— you’re just such a great friend to him! so caring and kind to him… he always feels calm whenever you’re around, just because of how loving you are!!

most of his uncertainties or insecurities just vanishes whenever he’s with you.. no one else ever could ever make him feel so special! it’s amazing!!!!

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc?

— wally has a hard time picking up on your feelings if you don’t straight up tell him that you’re upset. however, if you’re ever crying or upset, he’d try his best to comfort you!

his go-to comfort methods are usually things that make him happy or calm him down. something like singing a song that barnaby has sung to him before or drawing happy memories to distract you from whatever is making you upset!

he tends to explain to you that he would never make you feel as bad as you do right now. he’s the only one here to comfort you! no one else cares that you’re upset, but he does!! because he loves you!!! :)

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

— wally dreams of a calm, domestic future with you! he loves his neighborhood and home very dearly, and i don’t see him wanting to move anytime soon (he has no reason to!), but he really can’t wait for you to permanently move in with him! sure, he keeps you at his house for as long as you’re willing to stay, but you still leave him at the end of the day!!!!

home is one of his friends too, and he would never abandon a friend! so hopefully you can get used to living inside of a sentient house.. (no matter how much home scares you)

other than that though, i don’t see him wanting to change too much? you two are already so happy together, so why would anything need to change? all you really need is eachother anyways!!!!

Equal - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

— i think that he thinks you two are equal. i mean, he tries to listen to you, but sometimes you just need his help!!! he believes that a relationship should be built on respect and understanding! dont you respect him? :(

you really should just trust him and know that what he does for you is for the best. he’s not trying to scare or control you or anything!! he’s just trying to keep you safe and happy with him!!! that’s all!!!! :)))

Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

— while he might be quick to forgive you, he doesn't easily forget the actions that led to the conflict. he prefers to work through disagreements for a compromise, that way you both can continue to be happy together!! albeit, he tends to be a bit patronizing and condescending when you two disagree on something,,,

he doesn’t get mad at you very often though. i can see him being awfully patient with you when it comes to misunderstandings and such. he knows you don’t mean to be rude about it!! you just need him to explain to you why he’s right!!!

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

— he’s very grateful for you!! he enjoys the admiration, love, and support you show him, and he makes sure to show his appreciation and love back through small gestures, like surprising you with treats or leaving little notes around your house when he visits! that way, you’re always thinking about how much he loves and appreciates you!

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

— wally values honesty in the relationship and doesn’t feel the need to keep secrets from you unless they would hurt you. and he knows you wouldn’t dare keep anything from him. not if you truly loved him, that is..

he doesn’t really understand secrets that much anyways.. everyone in the neighborhood is such good friends, why would they need to hide anything? (aka, wally unintentionally talks shit and causes drama /hj)

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

— you’ve definitely inspired him to try out new mediums and techniques in his art. i mean, he usually just paints and draws things he likes! and there’s nothing wrong with that, but recently he’s been trying new things!

with you around to help, he’s rarely hit any creative blocks. you’ve shown him how to connect his emotions to his paintings. and now he knows even more ways to make art that is more than just color on paper!!! truly amazing :)!!

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

— wally is quite possessive and can get jealous easily. he deals with it by keeping a close eye on you, and if he perceives any threat to his relationship, he will go to great lengths to eliminate that threat.

he would never destroy something that means a lot to you, but of course, he has to make sure he means the most to you!!! after everything he does for you, how could you not love him more than anything else!?! :)

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

— i love him a lot okay? but he is definitely not a good kisser. he’s never loved anyone like he’s loved you, so he’s just… inexperienced?

i feel like the first kiss would be awkward and tense, as he was nervous and unsure of how you would react to his feelings, but it was still very passionate and meaningful! sometimes you just take his breath away and leave him speechless, but actions speak more than words, right? @:))))

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

— he would confess his love in a very straightforward and direct manner. he would likely sit you down and tell you about how he couldn't imagine his life without you, and that hes willing to do anything to make you happy!!!

he was confident and direct with his confession because he was sure that he had you wrapped around his finger. before he confessed to you, he made sure to be open enough that you’d enjoy talking to him, but mysterious enough that you’d surely be thinking about him all day, wanting to hear more from him.

Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

— he does want to get married, and he would propose in a grand, romantic way!! he would likely plan an elaborate surprise, such as a candlelit dinner or a sweet picnic in a meadow, and then get down on one knee to ask you to marry him!! he would make sure the moment was so special that there was no chance that you could reject him!

the marriage itself would be pretty traditional, with wally insisting on taking care of all the arrangements and ensuring that everything was perfect for you.

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

— i feel like he would call you things such as "my love" or "my darling," and he would use petnames often to remind you how much he adores you!

he has a habit of calling you a handful of different petnames, but always adding “my“ to the beginning of it. you’re his sweetheart!!!! his love!!!!! no one else’s!!!!!!

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

— when wally falls in love, he becomes completely devoted to you. his feelings are somewhat obvious to others, as he can become a bit possessive and jealous when others try to get too close to you, even though he tries to hide those feelings in front of others.

he expresses his love through attention and gifts, showering his significant other with affection and making sure they know how much they truly mean to him!!!!

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

— he’s pretty upfront about his relationship and is not afraid to show affection in public. he enjoys making others aware of you two and he takes pride in displaying his love for you!!!!

he’s not the type to like??? shove his tongue down your throat in public 😭 but i mean small things like holding your hand and keeping you close to him when you two are out together!!

Quirk - Some random ability they have that's beneficial in a relationship.

— wally has a photographic memory, which makes him incredibly attentive to your wants and desires. he never forgets important dates or details, and always makes sure to surprise you with things that make you happy!!

he knows what size clothes you wear and what scent perfume you use. he always picks up your favorite snacks before you come over and he makes sure to use your favorite colors a lot when he makes paintings for you!!!

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

— i feel like he’d be pretty romantic!! and he loves to make grand gestures to make you feel special!! i like to think he’s somewhat creative in his approach and he enjoys surprising you with things you never expected.

he will go to great lengths to make you happy, even if it means doing something cliché like writing love letters or preparing a candlelit dinner. however, his possessiveness can sometimes lead to darker and more dangerous displays of love, such as stalking or isolating you from others.

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their? Do they believe in them?

— wally sees himself as your personal cheerleader and will do anything to help you achieve your dreams. however, his version of support can be a little intense as sometimes he tends to control your choices to ensure your success. he believes in you so much that he'll go to extreme measures to make sure you reach your full potential.

i feel like he would also be sure to tell you that you two achieved the victory together and that you wouldn’t have gotten to where you are without him!! he doesn’t mean it in a rude way!!!!! he just wants you to thank him sometimes!!!!!

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

— i think that he wouldn’t mind trying out new things with you sometimes, but only if it's on his terms! he has a certain routine that he likes to follow, and deviation from it can trigger his possessive behavior a bit...

he's very particular about what he considers "spicing things up" and can tend to be a bit controlling when it comes to decision-making. he just wants to make sure you stay nice and safe!!! he makes sure to take good care of his belongings! :)

Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

— he believes that he knows you better than anyone else, and as such, he can be highly empathetic when it suits him... however, he's also prone to getting lost in his own delusions and can struggle to see things from your perspective when he feels threatened.

mostly though, he tends to be more sympathetic and pitiful instead of empathetic whenever you’re upset.

Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

— the relationship is everything to him!!! and he's not afraid to make that known! he has a bad habit of seeing you as his property and will stop at nothing to keep you by his side. in his eyes, the relationship is worth more than anything else in his life, and he'll do whatever it takes to protect it!!! you truly mean everything him, and he’s not afraid to give everything else up for you!!!! :)

Wild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

— wally loves to pamper you with expensive gifts and lavish attention. he believes that he deserves your love and affection in return for the gifts and he sees them as a way of showing you how much he cares!

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

— he is extremely affectionate and loves to shower you with cuddles and affection. however, sometimes it tends to turn into a bit of possessive behavior if he feels like someone else is encroaching on your time together.

Yearning - How will they cope when they're missing their partner?

— whenever he’s missing you, i feel like he copes by somewhat obsessing over you... he'll stare over old photos and drawings, collecting small things you might’ve left at his house, overanalyzing them until he can almost feel your presence.

he also might engage in stalkerish behavior,,, staring at your house through his window.. maybe even walking to your place to peek through the windows if he thinks he can get away with it.

Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

— he’s willing to go to great lengths for the relationship, even if it might seem hurtful from your perspective... he tends to see himself as your companion and protector and will stop at nothing to keep you safe, even if it means resorting to things you might not like. his zeal can quickly turn dangerous if he feels that you’re in danger.

#wally darling x you #wally darling x reader #welcome home x reader #yandere wally darling #wally x you #wally darling x y/n #welcome home x you

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sleeplesssmol · 1 year ago

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HC: Looking at all the promotional art, I believe Sonetto and Schneider would have been friends.

Regulus and Vertin's relationship have a similar same vibe as Sonetto and Schneider's. That friend who drives you nuts but you're a pretty awesome duo.

Vertin's involvement might complicate things but I can see them teaming up on her when she does something stupid or fighting side by side to protect the crew.

If I had to use the lore and context around Reverse 1999 to explain how Vertin, Sonetto, and Schneider's dynamic would work, it'd be a compromise. While others may say Vertin would be the reason they fight, I'd say she's one of the things that draws them together and makes them appreciate each other. Here is how I see it:

Schneider understands what it means to sacrifice and provide for a family. She knows the struggle of fighting against a world constantly taking from you. She and Vertin have a natural chemistry because of these experiences. Sonetto understands this and instead of being jealous (not that she isn't at times but she learns to let go), comes to realize its good for Vertin's mental health. They "get" each other. At the end of the day, Sonetto wants what's best for Vertin.

While there was turbulence in the past, Sonetto's devotion to the Timekeeper is unwavering. Vertin isn't impartial either since we know Sonetto lives rent free in her head from the trails (analysis of this here). Sonetto grew up and is willing to cast aside her faith in the Foundation if it means protecting Vertin. Schneider finds that admirable and its gives her a sense of security. Sonetto is someone she can depend on, which is a big deal considering she's used to being the "rock" in her family holding everyone up.

At first its like "I need to keep you around for Vertin's sake."

But then it turns into "I'm happy you're here."

Vertin's always making sacrifices for people. They'd rather compromise than force her into a position they know she can't handle (no matter what Vertin decides, someone will get hurt).

On that note, they do exist outside of Vertin. Schneider might enjoy telling Sonetto about her home country while Sonetto eagerly listens. Sonetto doesn't know much about the outside world, but she can share insight on the world of arcanum. Its utterly insane and Schneider is amused by this. They teach each other things and also complain to each other about Vertin's gremlin ways.

Moving on, it's possible to have complicated feelings for more than one person. The important thing is deciding on whether or not you want to pursue a future with with them.

I'm about to drop a hot take so hot it could burn you. This is an opinion that ties into my HC. Ok, here I go.

Love isn't just feelings, it's work. You need to put work into a relationship or else it'll fall apart.

There are so many people on this earth. In my eyes it's normal to going to have chemistry or complicated feelings for more than one person in your lifetime.

But you choose the people you love out of the other potential candidates because you see a future with them. It's not about what you feel today but what you're going to feel years down the line so you devote your time and energy to those people in you life. You see something worth fighting for which is why you commit to those people (could apply to all relationships honestly).

That's why I HC Sonetto and Schneider like this. They could move on. Sure it'll hurt, but its not impossible. However, they found someone they want that future with. Someone with a lot of love to give yet asks for none in return, which is really sad tbh. If Vertin's not going to love herself then damn it they will! Maybe its unconventional and sometimes difficult, but that doesn't mean it isn't worth it.

#reverse 1999 #schneider #vertin #sonetto #reverse 1999 hc #character dynamics #this game has the best set up for complex relationships that would function within its context #TOO BAD IT WONT HAPPEN #guess i'll cry

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ozma821 · 4 months ago

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All the pricefield drama aside, what is Life is Strange: Double exposure trying to say?

Looking back through the franchise, the first life is strange is a bold exploration in young adult lives and taboo subjects like suicidal teens, internet bullying, societal divide etc. While not entirely unheard of in media, all these issues being so front and centre in a mainstream video game is definately rare. Not to mention Max and Chloe's relationship, a pair of sapphic women that are respected and loved, which is even more of an oddity in 2015 social climate, where queer relationships are either ridculed or relegated to side characters or just hidden away,out of sight out of mind.

LIS 2 and True colors follow suit in exploration and discussion of these topics. LIS 2 bring us to Sean and Daniel, victims of police brutality and racial profiling, in a game that further explores hardships of people of color and societies living on the fringe. True colors meanwhile tethers its emotional anchor onto Alex and Gabe, two kids who suffered from domestic abuse and the horror that is the american foster care system, and further delves into the emotional and societal hardship faced by a younng,queer person of color.

I'm not gonna claim that this franchise has represented or explored all these issues perfectly. But all these themes are integral to the plot of each games and crucial to the identity of the franchise itself. I'd argue that more than any characters or relationships in any particular entries, that willingness to explore to discuss what is still under-represented not just in video games but for society at large is the biggest draw of the franchise, at least to me.

So…we've now seen two episodes of the newest entry, double exposure, and what is it trying to examine, exactly?

There's nothing in the game, so far, that suggests it wants anything to do with representing or discussing anything, in my opinion. Max's backstory is too different in either choice, so much so that they have to force Max and Chloe to split to reinforce the same theme of isolation and trauma that can be merged into one neat narrative pathway. But even then, the lack of specificity in Max's emotional response to the choices in LIS means there is no in depth exploration into her psyche, but rather just a general 'vibe' of despair and loneliness that comes with grief. Its setting is not much better either. Compared to Blackwell, the people in Caledon just seem…bland. Might be because we don't know much about them yet, but so far, again, the side characters really do seem just like they're just fulfilling the roles of murder suspects, with different mysteries and intrigues that mostly just serve as side missions ans red herrings, and not much else.

Nothing in this game so far really sticks out to me as something the writers/developers want to explore or examine. There's not a compelling enough theme or underlying commentary that ties the game together like in previous entities. Compared to how unapologetically the last few entries (LIS and LIS 2 in particular) are about their overall themes and exploration of social issues, how nothing this game feels in terms of commentary or themes, instead entirely dedicated to nostalgia and retreading familiar topics via Max, a familiar protagonist, is very troubling.

As much as I hate what they have done so far with pricefield, I really hope I am proven wrong about this particularly when the game finally drops. A Max sequel where they arbitrarily break up Max and Chloe for plot is stupid and disappointing, but a Life is Strange game with nothing to say would be truly horrific.

#life is strange #life is strange 2 #life is strange true colors #life is strange double exposure #max caulfield #sorry for the rant #and the spelling errors which are no doubt present throughout #just need to vent #at least take my mind off how dirty they did my girl chloe #its 4AM im going back to bed

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ballgame · 5 months ago

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I'm going to ramble a little on my thoughts on magic in Deltarune, but I'd like to preface this by saying that a lot of this falls more under the realm of speculation (and at times headcanons) rather than genuine theory-crafting. I'm fully prepared to have some of these ideas be completely blown to smithereens come later chapters.

I'm not exagerrating when I call this rambling, so I'm putting it under a read-more.

I like to think that the Deltarune reality is the way it is because its Earth is just innately less magical. This is of course working under the assumption that Undertale's Earth is innately magical in some sense, with both monsters and humans pulling from that innate magic in their own ways.

DR monsters are still likely largely physiologically the same as UT monsters, but they can't effectively use their magic because almost all of it goes into sustaining their bodies. I'd wager that the limited magic they do have isn't even quite understood in-universe as being magic, if it's observed at all it's likely called something else. This difference is potentially also why they're more "sturdy" than their UT counterparts, since they never adapted to relying on environmental magic, potentially having slightly more physicality (although they presumably still turn to dust, so not too much more).

Humans on the other hand do not use magic at all, since there's no readily available source to draw it from. Hypothetically they could get and use magic in other ways, since it still exists outside of Dark Worlds to an extent, but I'd reckon these methods are either completely unknown due to a lack of research or are extremely underground/taboo (think about how Kris turned to "occult" stuff when trying to learn magic).

Less magic could potentially also help explain why the functionality of SOULS is unknown in Deltarune. In Undertale, monsters are said to be attuned to their SOULS due to their body being composed mostly of magic. So if DR monsters have less magic than UT monsters, or rather their bodies use it more stringently, this attunement might be dampened or outright nonexistent. This would then majorly stunt the study of souls in early history and limit the wider understanding of them.

Hell, I actually think that the line of logic I've presented here could even explain why Dark Fountains can be created in Deltarune in the first place. This was never a conclusion I was planning to come to, but the more I think about it the more it makes sense to me. Let me explain:

So there's a good possibility that "Darkness," the force that Deltarune's plot revolves around, also exists in Undertale. Entry No. 17 seems to imply this, since it's most likely from Gaster when he was the royal scientist. The very scant concrete, official information we have about Gaster actually does well to explain why he would know about it, since researching ways to draw energy from the Earth to create and maintain the CORE would naturally lead him to learning about darkness if it does indeed exist in Undertale. Now, if Gaster needed something like the CORE to even scratch the surface of what darkness is, then that would seem to suggest that it exists as a layer under the Earth's magic (not in a literal physical sense, I'm speaking metaphysically here). Normally, to draw power from the Earth you need determination, but I would assume the amount of DT an individual would need to reach past magic and into darkness is insurmountable for even the most determined human. But, in a world virtually without magic, one like Deltarune's, darkness is allowed to bubble up from the depths.

#undertale #deltarune #utdr #I meant to properly post this like weeks ago but it kept slipping my mind

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fleet-of-fiction · 1 year ago

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Jake Kiszka // Female Narrator

Part Two

After a blinding light eradicates mankind, you're left in a desolate and empty world. A year of solitude eliminates all belief that anyone else was left behind. Until a chance encounter on the side of the road. Jake is injured and fighting for his life, but his presence brings a renewed sense of hope. Touch starved and lonely, you need him. And undoubtedly, he needs you too.

"It would be the last man on earth that would end up being mine..."

Explicit sexual content Sex (penetrative & oral) /Foreplay /Blood / Injury / Hunting. / Intense emotions / Death.

Day 396 ~ Amelia

His preferred it when I called him Jake. Whenever I had cause to use his name. He began to move around on his own on the fourth day, stumbling into my side tables and clutching his ribcage with each tumultuous step. Like a fawn on trembling newborn legs.

It was somewhat endearing. The way he smiled through the pain and sat with me at the kitchen table eating vegetable soup and crackers in the silence within which we had both become accustomed to. An impenetrable veil between us that didn't seem to want to come down.

We shadowed one another. His eyes averting to the ground whenever I stole a glance. My concern for his healing injuries something I didn't want him to confuse with mounting interest. Even though I had begun to actively consider him, despite my inward protests that he would one day want to continue his search for others.

He was a gentle enigma. My fear that he might gain enough strength to hurt me dissipated with each passing hour. When he didn't sleep he would sit by the fire with a book, his gaze easing up from the pages whenever I had reason to pass. Sometimes he would smile, other times he would just follow me with his eyes before reverting back to his story.

I didn't want to come to rely on his presence. I had made my choice to stay at the cabin and try to survive. I had driven across the country and seen nothing but desolate emptiness. The hopes of my family sitting on the cabin porch waiting for me dwindling with every mile I'd reached.

I didn't want him to become necessary to me. Even though I suspected that I had become somewhat necessary to him, if only whilst he was still recovering. I prepared myself for the day he would stand up and announce that he was leaving. That day drawing unflinchingly closer by the second.

"Amelia." He said, the sound of my name on an unfamiliar voice sending an unrequited chill down my spine.

There was nothing nefarious in his tone. He sat, quite pleasantly, on the chair which he had commandeered for reading and placed his book on the coffee table by the fire.

"Are you in pain?" I replied, shooting up from my place at the kitchen table where I'd been peeling carrots. "Can I get you something?"

The easing of a joyous smirk curled within the corners of his mouth. As if he was amused by me. Shaking his head as I stood in the open space between the kitchen and the den. Feeling a little foolish for rushing to him like that for no particular reason at all.

"Nothing a little whiskey couldn't fix."

He knew better than to ask for a drink whilst on the course of medication I'd put him on. He was staring at me with a mischief that would usually incite me to join, but I'd tried to keep a professional distance. He was my patient, not my guest.

"I had to put you on a course of antibiotics for the wound to your head." I explained, "I didn't want there to be a risk of infection. If you need some pain relief, I can grab you some tylenol."

His shoulders slumped. And he forgot himself for a moment. Hissing back a stab of pain as he eased back into the chair. He was a terrible patient. Pain didn't sit well with him, despite the fact that I had noticed two major scars running up either side of his left forearm. They were neat and perfectly stitched, no doubt from surgery rather than an open wound. I had meant to ask him about them, stopping myself when I realised that I shouldn't get to know him.

"Forgive me." He sighed, "Sometimes I just need a little something... to forget."

He was bored. I'd seen boredom before. When people who could barely stand would fight to get out of bed just to shift their perspective a little. Nights in the hospital when I'd catch my patients trying to inch their arms up the vending machine to retrieve snacks simply because there was nothing else to do. Nothing good ever came of boredom and he seemed to know this, his gaze shifting around the room looking for something else to do.

"Would you like to help me peel these carrots?" I offered, knowing that it was better than him hankering for a drink.

I pulled out a chair for him as he limped over, seemingly grateful for the distraction. It was still early in the afternoon, but the sun had already dipped below the surrounding trees and it felt much later. I switched on the oil lamp in the centre of the old rustic table, the remains of knives that had been sunk into the old wood scattered the grain. And he noticed.

"Peeled many carrots at this table?" He asked, running his fingers along a particularly deep divet.

What I could offer him, I would grant him. The way he asked so sweetly meant that I couldn't ignore him. My manners were still in there, somewhere. I handed him a peeler and a bunch of carrots encrusted in mud and bade him peel.

"My grandparents didn't believe in waste." I replied, driving the blade down away from me a little more aggressively than I'd intended. "I don't remember a time where this table wasn't here."

He nodded and began peeling a little slower than I would have liked. Taking his time to shave each side meticulously in careful hands so that he didn't cause himself unnecessary pain. Sitting at a strange angle on the admittedly uncomfortable dining chairs.

"It's a nice place." He surmised, "I feel like time stopped here a long time ago and never really caught up."

I quite liked that analogy.

"I guess so." I agreed. "Coming here always felt like I was a child again."

Perhaps he sensed my unease. He didn't say much else for a while, sitting with me in that comfortable quietness as we peeled and chopped and prepared another batch of soup for the coming week. Every now and then he would look up from what he was doing as if to check my mood. To make sure that I was even tempered. And I would try to meet his gaze with something reassuring. Even if I felt like my space was being inadvertently invaded.

"You see places like this in movies." He mentioned, breaking a tension that had seemed to come from nowhere. "Old cabins in the woods. Cosy little fireplaces. Beaten up old furniture and appliances that have no business in the modern world."

I quite liked that analogy, too.

"Well, I think that was the whole point." I shrugged, taking the peeler from him as I took the pot over to the sink. "I don't think my grandparents wanted anything to do with the modern world. They liked it out here. They liked the steady pace. My Dad used to say that they were waiting for the end of the world. Seems a little like a prophecy now..."

I'd said too much. I didn't want him to reel me in, I didn't want him to know me any better than I wanted to know him. The need for conversation had been somewhat diluted with him spending most of his time asleep. But now he was wide awake. Asking questions and spending time with me. And I was terrified of it.

"You don't have to be afraid of me, Amelia." He said softly, turning in his seat to face me despite the fact I knew it hurt him to do so. "I'm not going to do anything to hurt you. You saved my life."

His debt of gratitude was misplaced. I'd had no choice in the matter. If I had walked away from that smoking wreck I'd have damned myself regardless, even if faith was something I'd long since abandoned. There was still a part of me that hoped for salvation. I just hadn't known it would come the way that it had. And it was true. I was afraid of him. But perhaps not in the way he perceived.

I was certain that he wasn't going to try and force himself upon me or steal anything. There was a softness to his demeanour that I had picked up on almost the moment he'd regained consciousness. I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was which scared me so much. Other than my intense reluctance to have him become detrimental to me. It didn't really have a name.

"I'm sorry." I faltered, letting the sink run a little before filling the pot. "I've just been alone for so long..."

"As have I." He replied without hesitation. "I've driven north and south, east and west. Towns and cities and country. I've slept in cars and trucks and houses that didn't belong to me. Eaten food out of a can and burned shit to the ground just to stay warm. There's nobody else out there. If there was, I'd have found them. I mean, I did...I found you."

The way he lingered on that last word made me not want to look at him. He was sitting on the edge of the chair, as if he was about to get up but couldn't. I turned away from him and filled the pot with water, doing anything that meant I didn't have to turn back around.

But I knew he was watching me. The kitchen was small, the window above the sink overlooking the woods outside. The gravel path leading up to the cabin winding down into encroaching twilight. I could see my reflection staring back in the dim lamp light. And I knew he could see the pain etched on my face through the glass.

"I'm just one person." I reasoned, "I'm not people."

All his belongings had been burned in the car wreck. He'd been wearing some of the shirts and slacks I'd found at the back of my Grandmother's wardrobe since his arrival. Clothes that were ill fitting and didn't suit him at all. He wasn't comfortable in them and I could see that when he rose from his seat. Not just in pain, but conscious of the way he looked as he appeared in the glass behind me.

"Together we are people." He said, keeping his voice low and soft. "I don't know about you, but I'm just glad to know I wasn't the only one left behind."

I did find some comfort in that. It wasn't something I would ever deny. I found the courage to meet his gaze in our reflection, both of us standing at the window and looking out whilst looking in.

"That's what I'm afraid of." I confessed, swallowing thickly on it as if it was trying to choke me. "What if we weren't left behind? What if..."

There was something in his face that let me know I was safe with him. Enough that I'd let my mouth run away with my thoughts again. Made him listen to me, understand me.

"It's ok." He said comfortingly, touching me for the first time with a careful palm to my shoulder, leaving me breathless where I stood. "Everything's going to be alright."

Day 12 ~ Jake

The grid gave up. I only realised when I reached Detroit and every house I broke into had no power. Every single street light failed to come on. Every single TV wore a blank screen. I couldn't cook a meal or enjoy a hot shower. Nowhere to keep me warm. It was as if everywhere was just giving up. Every last trace that mankind was ever here slowly slipping away.

I weaved through cars on the interstate that had been travelling when it happened. Whatever it was, the thing which had left cars with no drivers barrelling down all four lanes. I didn't want to give it a name. To name it would give it too much power and I knew I wasn't ready to search within myself for emotions that could overcome it, yet.

Dogs were roaming freely in the city, now. Calling out for their masters who would never come. I'd found a few dead ones in houses I'd passed through, unable to free themselves to go hunting or find food and water. Cats, too. The ones roaming free were slowly turning back to their primitive states. Others, dead behind locked doors.

I couldn't seem to find anywhere I wanted to stay around too long. The urge to keep moving ever prevalent. There was a fire in my belly that burned so fiercely I couldn't sleep anymore. Determined to find just a shred of humanity left in the world.

And I wouldn't rest until I had. Even the bones of where people had been were paper thin, echoes long since dimmed. I was losing all sense of time. Each day seemed to merge into the next until I found myself sitting on a curb outside the Detroit motown museum. A place where I had been so many times before. A landmark I could put some familiarity to. Only to feel more lost than I ever had before.

I missed my family. My girlfriend. I couldn't erase the sounds of their jovial laughter on Christmas day. Making the most of our cherished time together, which came so seldomly. The look on my parents' faces when we dropped our luggage at the door after months apart. My brothers and my sister all under the same roof we'd grown up in with our partners and our pets to celebrate for just a few precious days.

I couldn't move past it. The way I'd looked to the sky and thought, at first, it was a shooting star. Only for it to evaporate my senses and render me a prisoner within something I couldn't see. Blinded by the whiteness of it. Replaying it over and over for it to still make as little sense as it had on that very first day.

I sat on that curb and I roared. I let the tears come. The anger and the confusion. Waiting for just one voice to respond to my madness. To just ask me if I was ok and if I needed any help. To just let me know that I wasn't completely alone. To no avail. I was screaming into the ether for none to hear it.

Was I left behind? Or was I spared? Where had they gone? Were they taken or did they go willingly? What had I done to deserve this? What had they done to deserve this? If God had done this why did he forsake me? Or was I so beloved by him that I'd been left behind for a purpose not yet known to me?

I pounded my fist into the concrete. Until it was bloody and I could finally feel something. Aching for a resolution that simply wouldn't come. There was only me.

"Don't be fucking stupid, Jake." I told myself, gathering my bleeding hand into the folds of my t-shirt as I tried to figure out what my next move would be. "Nobody's coming."

That was the moment I realised I couldn't survive if I didn't keep moving. That I would die if I stayed in one place. Where there was nothing but memories and slowly decaying homes and I knew I had to tread through these places like a ghost until I found something that resembled another human being.

I thought I had a kinship with the open road. I had travelled it long and hard. But always with my brothers. Their camaraderie and company had been with me all the days of my life. And I knew that there was no music without Josh. There was no song in my heart without my twin. Only a gaping wound that bled for my counterpart. My soul cried out for him in ways that I never thought I'd have to endure. Of all the people I had loved the most, he was the most fundamental to me.

I'd walked through life with Josh, our paths weaving in parallel lines no matter where our feet would take us. Me with my guitar and him with his voice, knowing that we couldn't make it on our own. We didn't fit. There was nowhere for either of us if we were alone. I missed my little brother and my little sister. I missed our parents and I missed the woman I'd chosen to spend my life with. The echo of her laughter woke me from fitful sleep whenever my body gave in to it.

But it was Josh who left me feeling as if my being there was some grave anomaly. That wherever he had gone, I should have gone too. We came into this life together, surely we must go out of it together? I could still feel his presence in the corner of my eye. The outline of him at my side, faded whenever I turned my head to look. And the sadness of knowing I would feel his absence for the rest of my life was a burden I packed into my car and took with me wherever I would go.

That day it was the new centre one mall. I prized the automatic door open and stood in the empty atrium, my own footsteps too loud for me to tolerate. I couldn't bear the reverb of my boots on marble floor.

I didn't linger. I gathered enough supplies to last me a few weeks, not giving too much thought to what I would need. A winter coat and a few clothing items to replace the ones I'd hastily left behind. I grabbed some pain meds from the pharmacy and a few pouches of tobacco. Loading it straight into the back of my jeep, I felt the creepy chill of the empty mall still climbing up my spine as I sped away. Determined to put as many miles between me and civilisation as I could.

I didn't want to be reminded of it. I hit the road and left the city behind and didn't stop until my palms bled.

Day 2 ~ Amelia

I had to know.

Staring at the blurred outline of myself in the morgue fridge doors, I hesitated. I could feel the palms on both my hands grow sweaty against the cool chrome.

The morgue itself did not appear to look any different than any of the other white washed, sanitary rooms. Except for the slab behind me and a row of handles that once opened would reveal a truth I wasn't certain I was ready for.

I wondered which of the outcomes would give me the most grief. If I opened the door and found nothing there I would know that I'd been forsaken. But if I opened the door to find frozen corpses resting in body bags did that mean only the dead were meant to be left behind? Was I meant to be dead, too?

It did not make sense to linger. Although almost paralysed with the fear of what either outcome would be, I held my breath and gripped the handle tightly with sweaty hands that almost slipped right off.

The lump in my throat threatened to choke me. All I knew was the dragging sensation of my stomach as it dropped. I almost wished that I'd stayed upstairs. On the empty wards where I was none the wiser. Where my ignorance was truly bliss.

There, the shape of what I knew to be a corpse laid motionless inside the bag. Unable to take my eyes from it, I could feel the bile and panic rise in my chest. My mouth filled with saliva and my head spun with a thousand reasons why I should run.

I promptly turned on my heels and vomited into the paper bin by the clinical desk. The contents of my stomach being nothing but water in the last 24 hours. There was nothing but yellow bile in my retch, but I couldn't stop myself. My body ached to purge what I had just seen.

What I knew to be true felt like a nightmare I couldn't wake from. I spat the bitter taste in my mouth out as I went to shove the trolley back where I couldn't look at it.

“Our Father, who art in heaven…” I whispered, never having had much faith in God, I wondered if the prayer would make a difference. "Hallowed be thy name..."

I recalled the prayer from memory. The damned thing etched on my brain from school where I'd been forced to recite it until the words bled on my tongue. Prayer seemed a little futile now, and I was angry with myself for reciting it.

Tears of desolation began to build at the futility of a life that had lead up to this. All those years being taught that the rules of society are absolute. We must pay our taxes and stay in our predetermined lanes. We must adhere to the morals expected of us and dress appropriately for the occasion or the weather. We must respect those above us even if they have little to no respect for us. One of the greatest lies we tell ourselves is that we will be happy if we have a good job and find a partner to share life with and buy a house to live in and drive a good reliable car and have children that meet every expectation once put upon us. Happiness is guaranteed if we can just obtain these things.

In my fury, I grabbed the fridge handle again and pulled out the trolley, a little more aggressively this time and without hesitation I pulled the zip down on the body bag to reveal the crimson and blue face of a young man who had sustained a fatal head injury. I knew it was wrong, but who was going to know? I looked at his peaceful face and countered that he had not been dead for very long. Only a matter of days. He had a look of complete serenity and had it not been for the color of his skin I might have thought him sleeping.

I didn't know his name. His job. If he was married or if he was gay or straight or neither. I didn't know his favorite color or what he liked to do on the weekend. I didn't know a damn thing about him other than he was still here. Where all others had vanished, he and I... we remained. And in that, I found the most soul crushing realisation that I, too, wished that I was dead.

When I put him away there was a sense of loss that I had not expected. A desire to crawl inside there and just fade away like every one else had.

"Rest easy, friend." I sighed, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

I hadn't left the hospital since I'd picked myself up off that cold, hard floor. I'd wandered the corridors and the wards, meandered down into the morgue fuelled by my own morbid curiosity. The dead were still here. And without knowing what that truly meant, I ran until I was out on the eerily empty street.

And it hit me for the first time. Truly. I was alone.

Day 399 ~ Jake

She gave me a room to sleep in. A small, low beamed space that was at the end of the hallway. Served with only a set of pine drawers and a bunk with only the lower bed made up with floral sheets and a knitted comforter. She'd even taken the liberty of leaving me a few clean towels on the end of the bed. Perhaps an insignificant gesture on her part, but to me I almost broke down in grateful tears.

There is no greater sorrow than the memory of love, and the knowledge that it is gone forever. But I felt some warmth walking into that room, despite the pain of climbing the stairs and not really knowing how to properly thank her without spooking her.

"This is the kids room." She explained, "I would have made up the main guest room, but I don't rate the mattress in there. This ones a single, but much softer. I hope it's alright for you. You can use it for as long as you need to."

She lingered in the doorway. I wanted so much to tell her that I had no intention of leaving. That I wasn't a threat to her nor did I intend on ever doing anything that might cause her harm. But the words meant nothing if she wouldn't receive them.

"Thankyou." I managed, "You've been very...hospitable."

Her chin wobbled a little before she smiled. As if the very action of it was a duty to placate me. She would keep me at arms length. And although I didn't blame her, I was curious about her. I couldn't help it.

I'd been out there, suffering. And she'd been here the whole time, not only surviving but thriving.

"Do you need anything else?" She asked, sounding eager to be gone.

I shook my head. "No, this is more than enough."

"Well then, I'll bid you goodnight." She replied sweetly, raising one last smile before she closed the door.

It felt like the entire cabin was a cave of wonders I'd yet to explore. As I slumped down onto the mattress, I noticed a toy chest at the side of the drawers with the name Charlie carved in an ornate font on the top. There were a few children's books piled on top, old and worn spines where they had been lovingly read over and over with a few of them with covers missing entirely.

I was a stranger here. These were her memories, her ties to those who had disappeared. I was a passenger, hitching a ride on everything she had built here to keep alive. If her resources couldn't stretch to accommodate me, it stood to reason that she would want me gone.

A part of me ached to stay, still. The thought of another night alone filled me with a dread I hadn't yet begun to process. If I couldn't go home, then where did I belong? Not here. Not out there, either.

I was thinking about Josh again as I closed my eyes. His infectious, toothy grin and his unflappable optimism. I wanted so much to hear his voice and have him feed me some wisdom he'd learned as he so often did on his spiritual journey. Sometimes I'd agree wholeheartedly, other times I'd roll my eyes at the ridiculousness of the thought but now it all seemed so trivial.

Josh would have been far better suited to being left behind. He'd have found some comfort in the event, no matter how deeply traumatised it had left him. I was the darker entity of our whole, a little more tortured than he was. What a cruel twist of fate to be the one to walk the earth where he had once been. There was no doubt in my mind that Amelia would have felt much safer in Josh's company than whatever I had to offer.

I fell asleep with his voice in my head. For the first time, I managed to drift away without too much of a fight. The closest thing to comfortable I'd been in so long, eventually I slipped into a sleep so deep not even dreams could penetrate.

Her screams did, though. The silence of the night broken by the terrible sounds of a banshee crying out into the darkness. I hit my head on the top bunk as I rose, cursing myself and forgetting for a moment precisely where I was.

Pain ripped through me as I shot out of the bed, tearing down the hallway towards the door at the top of the stairs. With one arm wrapped around my chest, the other lingering on the door handle. I could hear her screaming and crying, her voice unearthly and afraid.

If I had left her to her nightmares, she would have greeted me in the morning knowing that I'd heard her. If I went to give her comfort, would she reject me in fear that I would hurt her? Either way I was damned to my need to respond. I couldn't hear those sounds and not go to her.

"Amelia?" I hedged inside quietly, only to find her thrashing in the bed sheets. "Amelia, wake up..."

She violently tore through me as I reached for her. My healing bones taking a pounding as I wrapped my arms around her body. The gentle hush seemed to break the spell. Although not enough to bring her to full awareness. She breathed heavily against my chest. Her hair drenched in sweat. I swept it back from her face, holding her as tightly as I could.

"I told you, everything's going to be alright." I soothed, letting her calm in my pained embrace. "I'm here, you're not alone anymore."

I was consciously aware that I wasn't dressed. My boxer shorts were enough to conceal the most intimate parts of me. But she was pressed against my bare torso, legs entwined. The darkness of the room shrouding any mounting humiliation in our position.

"It was just a bad dream."

I couldn't be certain if she was still lost to dreams, or awakening as I held her. She stayed so still, like she was locked in a purgatory I couldn't follow her into. All I could do was hold her and pray that she didn't hate me for it.

She was wearing nothing but an old t-shirt and underwear. Her hair all knotted and damp. I could feel the erratic thrum of her heart in each breath she took. My own fluttering uncontrollably at the close proximity of our bodies. She felt like velvet against my skin. All warm and soft, tender to the touch. Eventually, her breathing evened out. And I was gripped with a genuine fear that I'd have to let her go.

"Ever since it happened, I've had nightmares." She said quietly, not daring to move. "Like I've forgotten something and my mind wants so badly for me to remember it but I refuse."

Here in the darkness she could lie in my arms and speak her truth. I would dwell in darkness if it meant that I could keep her. She made no attempt to lift her head, staying firm against me as she let me know my presence was wanted.

"What did you see?" I asked, caressing her with my free hand, sweeping it over her warm cheek.

"Nothing but white." She replied, allowing me to covet her in the only way I knew how. "And that's all I see in my dreams. I'm always back there, blind."

She would speak to me as if I were a stranger in the cold light of day, but here in the middle of the night I knew this was where we truly existed. Every single real thing I had ever known had happened at night. She unravelled in my arms, whether she wanted to or not. Her vulnerability I held like fine china, stroking the side of her face as she continued to calm.

"I saw it too." I replied, trying to keep myself together in the no mans land of how good it felt to hold her and the pain shooting through every single nerve ending.

There was a shaft of moonlight spilling in through the gap in the curtains. A silver shard, like a sword to split the room in half. It illuminated a part of her as she was curled against me. Dark and almost blue, I could see our bodies intertwined. Nothing had ever felt more necessary.

"It never goes away..." She began sobbing, her body vibrating against mine. "It's always there, like it still wants me..."

I searched within myself for a reason to put her aside. To comfort her from further away now that she was settled. But she curled her fingers around my hair, dragging it down against her tear stained cheek.

"Amelia, I..."

What could I say? That I wanted to hold her until dawn, until she was ready for me to slip away? That it had been so long since anyone had touched me that I just wanted to lay there with her and drink her in?

I couldn't say any of it. The moon drifted in and I was beholden to it. To her. To the way she had saved me, not just from the wreck. But from the ruin of a loneliness that was on the fringes of ending me.

Instead I kept my thoughts to myself, giving her only what I thought she could tolerate.

"I'll stay with you, until you tell me to go."

She looked so weary in the light of the moon. Rising from my chest, leaving me cold where she had kept her warmth. Staring at me in the darkness, the whites of her eyes twinkling as she regarded me.

"You would do that. For me?" She asked, the veil between us somewhat torn.

"Of course." I replied, "Whatever you need."

I thought, perhaps, that she would tell me to go. I could see the struggle in her lip as bit it nervously, her chin doing that little wobble that betrayed her desire to smile. I almost cupped it between my thumb and index finger, in a move that felt so natural and yet I had to stop myself.

She propped herself up on the pillow beside me, untangling herself from me. Taking her essence. She remained close, but not enough for me to feel her heartbeat anymore. But I didn't mind. I could see her face in the blue moonlight. Finally it was serene.

"I don't want you to stay if it isn't what you want." She said, her flushed cheek resting in the palm of her hand.

"Are we talking about here in your bed, or are we talking about something else?" I needed the clarification.

She considered it for a moment. Her gaze lowered, she pulled the blanket up towards her chin and offered me some to cover myself.

"Here. In my bed." She replied softly.

I took the blanket that was offered and leaned back into the pillow behind me, propped up against iron bed rails. I covered my lower body, but kept my top half exposed. Rubbing my hand across my ribcage to ease the strain.

"I don't think I could move right now, even if I wanted to." I tried to jest, realising that I'd sounded entirely the opposite to how I truly felt. "Not that I want to... I'm where I want to be. I promise."

Day 399 ~ Amelia

So many nights my screams had rung out unheard. My nightmares gone uncomforted. I would always wake with the same feeling that I couldn't quite put my finger on. That something was trying to make me remember it. And I would always be fighting against it. My bed sheets a mess, tangled in them and my hair pressed to my forehead feeling as if I'd been completely outside of my body.

I wanted so badly for him to remain indifferent to me. But how could I deny this man when he had come to me like that? Without a care for himself. Gathering my shivering body into his arms and holding me when all the other nights I'd fought this battle alone.

He felt so good. Relief surged through my veins, rushing out from the space between my chest and my stomach in waves of heat and yearning for another human's touch. It made me want to stay right there in the crook of his arm, where his hair rested against his shoulders. It made me want to tell him how I felt.

But most of all it made me want him to stay so completely that I found myself relenting to him. Taking a piece of his hair and moving it through my fingers, anything to keep his body attached to mine.

But not if he didn't want it, too. Not if this was just some misplaced sense of duty to go running to my aid.

"I don't want you to stay if it isn't what you want." I told him, dragging myself away from him just enough to gauge his reaction.

He would stay, though. In my bed. In the cabin. I dared to look into his face as the moon shone in through the window. Aspects of it becoming familiar to me in ways that still gripped me in fear.

"I'm where I want to be, I promise." He said, his jaw flexing as he prepared for my response.

"Me too." I replied, turning to catch the first flurries of snow as it danced across the crack in the curtain.

Part Three

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