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yukidragon · 3 months

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I'm a bit curious was it ever confirmed that Shaun and Ian interacted with one another or met before the eventual breakup between Ian and MC. If not what are some of your headcanons on this matter would they have gotten along at all?

Actually, yes, it has been confirmed that Shaun and Ian knew each other before Ian and MC broke up in this comic posted over on the official Sunny Day Jack twitter!

Credit as always to Sauce for their awesome artwork and for giving us this hilarious glimpse into college age Ian and Shaun. Consider supporting them and the rest of the SnaccPop Studios team by joining the patreon for even more lore tidbits I can't even mention publicly. Just remember, don't share anything privately posted!

While a lot of teaser/development art should be taken with a grain of salt, if it appears on one of the official pages, it's a pretty safe bet that it's canon to the timeline of the game.

So this comic, also drawn by the awesome Sauce, while hilarious, may or may not be canon.

I think it's a pretty safe bet to say that Ian did not pass Shaun's vibe check.

The first comic certainly makes it clear that Shaun didn't find Ian attractive considering the way he reacted. Maybe it's due to jealousy (I don't think Shaun wants to think about his crush having sex with someone else) or maybe it's because of Ian's bad taste in anime. Who can say?

Content Warnings: This post contains talk of cheating, jealousy, drinking in excess, (unintentional) self-harm, near death experience, SA, issues with sex, and toxic relationships.

I suspect that these two just didn't get along. Between Shaun suffering from jealousy due to his crush and the two of them having different tastes, they were probably only friendly to one another for MC's sake.

I would imagine that Shaun's opinion on Ian took an extreme nosedive when they found out Ian cheated on MC.

Man... can you imagine how much pain Shaun has been through? He had to watch his best friend/crush be happy with someone else... then get devastated by being cheated on. The worst part was if he had bad vibes from Ian from the start, but he ignored his gut feelings for MC's sake.

When it comes to my personal headcanons that I use for Sunshine in Hell... Shaun and Ian had friction since the first day Alice introduced the two of them.

It wasn't just Shaun being jealous of Ian either. Ian was jealous of Shaun too!

Ian has always suffered from a low sense of self-esteem. Shaun, by comparison, is much more well put together, more outgoing, and has this natural charisma that draws people to him. Shaun is just so likable that he gets a lot of attention and friends. For years, Ian was the exact opposite of that, which led to him being bullied and degraded often.

So one day Alice, his childhood friend and partner, is super excited to introduce Ian to her new friend. Shaun and Alice have a lot in common, and it was very visible in the early years of college when Alice was in the middle of her pastel goth phase. Shaun and Alice had a love for horror movies, cats, the goth aesthetic, and a whole bunch of other things. They clicked so quickly, and it scared Ian a little.

It didn't help that Alice had trouble making friends like Ian did. They had that in common, something that gave them a sort of understanding that no one else could intrude on. Now that they were in college they started making more friends, and that was a good thing, really! But Alice clicked with Shaun about as fast as she did with Ian.

In the 1st grade, one day Alice mustered up the courage to talk to Ian in order to cheer him up. After that they started talking every day and they were besties ever since. From there, they started dating. She's never really clicked with anyone else so fast like she did with Ian...

Until Shaun, that is.

Ian kept comparing himself to Shaun, unfavorably. He kept worrying about Alice falling for Shaun instead since, well, clearly Shaun had so much more than Ian had to offer. Why wouldn't she? What didn't help his insecurities was the fact that they had been a couple since high school, but they still hadn't had sex yet.

I integrated the comic into part of Alice and Ian's troubled sex life. The depicted instance was Ian's attempt at making things romantic so that they could finally go all the way.

It took them a while to start being sexually intimate due to their mutual lack of practical knowledge and Alice's SA trauma. She was very cuddly with Ian, not afraid to kiss him or go into a make out session, but she struggled to go further than that for a long time. It left Ian struggling with insecurities, fearing that he wasn't attractive to her despite her constantly reassuring him that wasn't the case.

Really, it was that insecurity and self-blame that pushed Alice to go further than she was ready for, to pretty painful results that she learned to just accept as part of the experience.

Alice is the type of person who can't be comfortable with people touching her unless she trusts them. However, when she gets close to someone, she can get pretty cuddly, even with her friends, giving them hugs often. So, for Ian, seeing his girlfriend get comfortable hugging another guy... someone he might have noticed looking at her a certain way...

Well, getting cockblocked on his rocky road to losing his virginity didn't help Ian see Shaun in a more favorable light.

Really, this was an incident that pushed Ian to be a bit more possessive of Alice. He was already struggling with the fact that his partner was sharing a dorm with someone else, but for Shaun to just casually walk into her bedroom like that without knocking? Ian certainly had permission to come in there without Alice knowing since he's her boyfriend, and he was planning to surprise her with a romantic evening, but how long had Shaun been just letting himself into her private space so casually?

Ian didn't believe that Alice was cheating on him, but what if Shaun decided to take advantage of her? What if this casual blurring of their living space led to feelings blooming?

What if Alice realized that Shaun was so much better than Ian in every way?

This led to Ian asking Alice to move into an apartment with him, even if it cost them money. He was able to feel more secure when they were living together, and he could be the one going into her bedroom at any hour of the day to be with her instead of someone else.

Shaun did try to befriend Ian, but it seemed like every time they hung out, something would rub him the wrong way. He did his best to be happy for Alice and Ian in their relationship, but it wasn't just Ian's shit taste in anime that struck Shaun as a red flag.

It didn't take Shaun long to notice a pattern in Ian and Alice's relationship. Ian would be down on himself, even cry and apologize for being inadequate, and Alice would reassure him. It seemed like every day, he saw this happen at least once. He tried reassuring Ian as well when he could, but after a while it gets tiring to try and lift someone up who keeps dragging himself down. Shaun would suggest Ian try therapy, and Ian would insist it wouldn't work, he was hopeless, and it wasn't worth wasting money on.

It was only when Alice showered Ian with love, and when their mutual friends bent backwards to cheer him up, that Ian would perk up again.

Shaun saw the red flags going up, how Ian was so needy for Alice and it was wearing on her. She went out of her way for Ian all the time, doing so much more because Ian "needed" her.

What made it worse was that Shaun saw how unbalanced their relationship was, how Alice gave Ian so much more than Ian gave back. Because Ian was so clingy, Alice had to often cancel meet ups with friends at the last minute, citing that he was having a bad day and needed her. Yet, on days when Alice was feeling like shit, she just kept powering through, pretending nothing was wrong. It took Shaun a lot of effort to pry her into leaning on him, and he'd even go out of his way to do stuff for her without her asking, like buying her lunch when she was so overworked she forgot to bring any.

Shaun worried for Alice because she was his friend, and she didn't deserve this sort of treatment. It was like she had become Ian's emotional crutch. Regardless of his attraction towards her, regardless if they could ever get together, he wanted her to be happy.

Shaun's opinion of Ian slowly deteriorated over time, but it turned into downright hate when Ian cheated on Alice, especially after she almost died because of it.

It was just a normal night when Shaun got a phone call from Ian. It was about Alice of course. It was the only reason Ian ever called Shaun - to check up on Alice. That night was different because Ian was in a panic. Alice wasn't picking up for him, which was unusual enough, but Ian was insistent that Shaun needed to check on her to make sure she was okay.

It was lucky that Shaun had the spare key to the apartment Alice and Ian shared. The sight of her lying unconscious in a pool of blood in the bathroom is a scar that'll forever be etched in his memory.

Shaun spent an entire night terrified, wondering what had happened. Did Alice try to kill herself? Why? She might have been missing Ian after he moved across the country, but she always reached out to Shaun and others when she wanted company. What happened that night? When he mentioned Alice's state to Ian, he just wailed that it was all his fault and Shaun couldn't reach Ian after that, as Ian was busy trying to book a flight back home to see her at the hospital.

Shaun had to be the one to call Alice's family too, but he had no answers to give them. The doctors would only let family or her legal partner see her for a while. It was only the next day that he learned that it was all because Ian had cheated on Alice, and she drank to dull the pain, only to hurt herself under the influence of alcohol poisoning.

Shaun could've kicked himself. He saw the problems in their relationship, but he didn't think it was his place to say anything. He worried his jealousy was coloring his perspective, seeing things too negatively. Now he wished he pushed harder like his gut told him, got Alice to see that the relationship was no good for her.

When Alice forgave Ian and tried to make it work, Shaun couldn't just sit back and let it happen.

So, yeah, Shaun's opinion of Ian in the present day is very negative. He views Ian as a toxic, manipulative, cheating scumbag who didn't deserve Alice. It was a relief when he managed to help Alice see that too so that she could finally end that toxic relationship. He was there for her so many nights when she cried over Ian and missed him. He saw the pain Ian put Alice through, and it just made his hatred of Ian grow.

Ian is grateful for Shaun being there to help Alice and even getting her to the hospital, but that doesn't get rid of his jealousy. Shaun and Alice are still talking even though she never picks up the phone for Ian anymore. He sees their exchanges online. They're still close. Shaun could one day sweep in and...

Ian can't let that happen. He can't let Shaun steal away the person who means so much to him. He can't let Alice just let him go like this. He just has to apologize to Alice, keep apologizing, and everything will be fine.

Sooooo... yeah, suffice to say, Ian and Shaun do not get along, and I doubt that they ever will... at least in my headcanons.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

#Sunny Day Jack #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #SunnyDayJack #sdj #swwsdj #Headcanon Ramblings #Sauce-y Art

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00-hawkboi-00 · 2 months

Text

Forget-Me-Not

Part One

Pairing; Gaz x male!reader

WC; ~6.3k

Warnings; none? I don't think?? Lemme know if there are any I should tag

Summary; gaz is definitely an attraction-at-first-sight kinda man/ it's time to wake up from that coma bby <33

A/n; when I said 'fluffy' I meant no one was gettin tortured this time around . Also, yes, this is definitely a set up for a ton of angst content <3 (note the unfinished ch title) There's going to be a "missing scenes" feel to this one, that's intentional.

Edit- I forgot to mention, this takes place before the other two fics, during the mw2 campaign (tho I definitely spread out the events bc no way could this all take place in the span of a week)

---"this is how we began,"---

Kyle had just gotten back from almost a week of being tossed around like a damn ping-pong ball when he met them. Or, rather, met you.

Fresh out of the shower—yet he swore he could still smell that filthy water on himself—and bored out of his mind with nothing else to do.

It would take a bit of time before Laswell fed them some more actionable intel, and to Kyle's knowledge, the two other members of their team were already on the hunt in Mexico. So all there was to do was wait.

Well, Kyle figured he could probably use this time to catch up on some much needed rest—but where was the fun in that?

He couldn't sleep, not right now, not when Price had informed him of a new squad touching down at their base this afternoon. According to the captain, they—around five or so soldiers—were just here to provide support if needed.

Kyle didn't think it was necessary, but it's not like he had any say in the matter. Especially since, apparently, the squad would only be using their base as a rest stop between their own missions. So, again, he didn't see the point.

But, like any curious soldier would do—and any who were a bit skeptical about their newest comrades—, Kyle was already beelining his way to where he knew the newcomers would touch down.

Kyle had paid attention to the bare minimum information needed to avoid butting heads with the group, but never dug much further than that. Some American mercenaries under General Shepard's direct command and, as he'd mentioned before, here to provide support or something. Again, he hadn't paid much mind to the info thrown at him; honestly didn't think he'd end up meeting them anyhow.

Only when he finally gets out on the tarmac Kyle doesn't immediately rush to greet the new soldiers as he usually would. He comes to a full stop, previously resting heartbeat now running a marathon in his chest, gaze zeroed in on you.

Seeing you—your form lax and almost casual in comparison to your stiff-postured comrades, a certain air of confidence surrounding you—made Kyle wish he'd done a bit more research, asked a few more questions.

Dressed no differently from the rest, there was nothing particularly interesting about you. Nothing that should draw him in so wholly upon merely seeing you. He couldn't even see your face, for fuck's sake—nor could he see any of the rest of the squad's, but that's besides the point.

You hadn't even glanced his way and Kyle was acting like a schoolboy seeing his crush in the hall between classes.

“You're staring, Kyle.”

“Mh- Wha-?” He drags his attention away from you, wholly prepared to start spluttering out his defense when he recognizes the man who'd come to stand beside him. Noticing the barest hint of a smile pulling at his captain's mouth.

With a soft scoff Kyle looks away again, shaking his head a little. “Not at all, Cap’, just scoping out the newcomers. That's all.”

As anyone else would do, of course.

But they both know it's a lie.

Right before Price has the chance to open his mouth again—likely to playfully call Kyle out on his bullshit in that gruff way of his—the aforementioned group of newbies comes to a stop in front of them.

Two in front, three fanned out behind them. Five after all, it seemed. You and some guy in the front, the rest Kyle wasn't sure of, their identities far too obscure to tell.

“Cap-” The guy standing beside you starts to speak, only to be roughly—albeit probably playfully—nudged aside by your elbow, effectively cutting him off.

“Greetin’s Captain,” you say, amusement obvious in your tone, a slight wrinkling at the corners of your eyes betraying a hidden smile.

And Kyle would be lying if he said he wasn't completely enraptured as you spoke. Barely even registering the hand you held out to shake Price’s hand.

“Shadow 0-9, at your service,” though there's still a hint of humor in your voice, there's a certain air of professionalism to it too. Even as you retract your hand and raise it, fingers curled into a fist and thumb jutted out, to gesture to the soldiers around you.

Starting with the one beside you, then on to the three behind you, right to left. “Joined by Shadows 0-3, 1-4, 1-5, and 2-3.”

Then it's on to the actually serious stuff. “Commander Graves has sent us under the General's orders to stay here and provide assistance to your cause if need be. Though mostly we will be carrying out our own missions and using your base as a landing zone between operations.”

And again, amused—your flip-flopping emotions were going to give him whiplash at this rate.

This time clapping a heavy, gloved hand on 0-3’s shoulder, the slight crinkle around your eyes returning. “If y'all got any questions, feel free to ask me,” lightly jostling 0-3 now. “these imbeciles hardly got a clue what's goin' on half the time anyway.”

It's obvious the other four Shadows are used to your antics, as none of them even bat an eye at your, likely empty, insult to their intelligence.

Kyle zones out as Price goes over his own spiel, mind somehow blissfully blank as he stands beside his captain. Thumbs subconsciously slung through his belt loops in place of gripping his vest like he usually would, gaze focused on the group in front of him, giving all the impressions of some serious, gold-star sergeant attentively paying attention to his CO.

That couldn't be further from the truth.

The spell Kyle is under only breaks when Price directs his attention his way, drawing his focus when the man says, “-gent Garrick ‘ere will show you lot around. All the standard things; barracks, mess, rec and the works-”

He then proceeds to space out again when your gaze slips from Price and to Kyle instead, not a single thing out of place as you analyze him.

It feels like you've got a scalpel to his skin, peeling away layer after layer. Through the muscle and fatty tissue, and deeper still, until you've reached the bone, and you keep going.

It's not uncomfortable, the way you tear into him like a rabid hound gobbles up a raw steak. Or maybe not rabid, no, you're not feral. You’re cool and calculating and yet playful all the same. A working dog, a trained hound, then.

It's more.. Kyle doesn't think he harbors the vocabulary to put it into words how he feels about it; flayed alive under your watchful gaze. It's strange. But it's not.. bad.

It's been all of five seconds when your eyes flicks away from him. A quick scan, a once over, just as he had done to your squad, and then you're fixated on Price again.

Price who's still talking, saying things Kyle doesn't have the wherewithal to bring himself to care about. Not when he felt so viscerally raw and unbelievably vulnerable in his own damn base at the moment.

He has a few more seconds to compose himself before Price finishes up and all five of the collectives’ attention is on him, expectant.

And so Kyle plasters on a carefree expression, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile, and casually nudges Price with a loose fist. A mused, “thanks, Cap'” and such, then he's taking charge.

Voice level and strong, like any typical self-respecting Sergeant, as he turns and urges the group to follow.

The last thing Kyle expects is for you to fall into step beside him—with the impression of your personality he'd gathered, it shouldn't be a surprise—, only lagging a half-step behind, a grin obvious under your mask.

His brain short-circuits, but Kyle quickly recovers, keeping his focus locked straight ahead and decidedly not looking at you. Not for any reason in particular.

“Sergeant,” You drawl—and, fuck, it was just a rank, a title, several others held the same one. So why the hell did it feel so different when you said it?

“Got somethin’ on your mind-” Kyle begins casually, as if his heart wasn't doing literal jumping jacks in his ribcage right now. And it takes him a brief moment to remember what he was supposed to call you, wracking his brain for answers, before he finishes with a bland, “0-9?”

God, he hoped that was the right number. There were five of you, all these numbers were going to be a struggle to keep up with.

“Oh, none ‘a that.” You say with a soft chuckle, waving him off. “I know those digits can get a bit confusing. Call me Viper, that's what everyone else calls me anyway.”

Viper? Like a fucking snake? Not that Kyle had any room to judge; not when two of his teammates were a cleaning product and a Hot Topic employee.

Shite, that probably also meant you wanted him to extend the same damn olive branch. Kyle considered himself a pretty social man, he could hold his own in a group, could approach strangers with almost the same confidence he did with friends.

But there was something about you.

And Kyle wasn't sure if it was good or not.

“A’right, Viper,” Kyle doesn't remember swiping his keycard, but he does jump right back into his body when his hand curls around the handle, pulling the door open and letting you in first before letting your comrades struggle with the heavy door after him. Taking his place just that half a step in front of you once more. “They call me Gaz.”

“There a story behind that one?” You ask, not a single ounce of hesitation or delay.

“That depends, there one behind yours?” Kyle quips right back, not missing a beat.

Kyle's ears pick up the tiniest huff you let out, but nothing else. “That depends,” you mimic. “how much you wanna know?”

“Whatever you'll give me.” It was easy to lay the charm on thick, but it seemed almost like a competition between you two, as you quickly fired back.

“Desperate, are we, Sergeant?” Kyle could've swore you just, honest to God, purred when you said that. But he must've just been hearing things.

“Just curious.” You had asked first. How had this turned on him?

“Mm, think I'll just leave ya guessing.” You muse, closing that half-step distance to just barely brush your arm up against his, and then back to your place again. “It'll be more fun that way.”

Kyle nearly forgets there's four other people witnessing this conversation right then.

Finally alone again, and having gotten the new squad settled in properly, Kyle takes a moment for himself.

As of right now apparently his fellow sergeant and good ‘ol lieutenant were currently taking a tour around Mexico, and Price was out doing very important Captain-things, so Kyle was entirely on his own.

On his own to deal with whatever the fuck that dumpsterfire of a base tour that had been.

He'd been entirely sidetracked by you the whole time! It didn't make any sense, what did you have that the other soldiers didn't?

You all wore the same uniform, all bore the same random-ass numbers, all were just a bunch of trained killers- there was literally nothing to set you apart!

A lot of people were touchy by nature, especially in professions like this that were built on comradery, Soap certainly was, so there was no reason in the deepest parts of hell for why-

Kyle groans softly to himself, running a hand over his hair before pushing himself up and off his desk chair.

There was no rhyme or reason to it, to why he, in the most cheesy fucking way, honestly felt a goddamn spark when you touched him.

And it wasn't even in the realm of- of intimate. It was a simple brush against him here and there, made perfect sense too! You'd been standing so close the entire time- it was only expected that once and a while you two would graze each other now and again.

He's pacing now, wishing nothing more than to be able to pick up his phone and call the only man who'd be able to help him make sense of all these weird feelings. And also the only man who'd call him daft and his brother in the same sentence.

But he can't do that, so Kyle resigned to simply doing what he should've done in the first place after his furious scrub down in the shower; take a damn nap.

Kyle's first impression of your personality had been wildly off-mark.

If he was going off of how he'd first perceived you last week on the tarmac, he would say that you were easygoing, gave off a more.. laid back energy, maybe even a bit quick-witted.

But his current observations said everything but that.

Kyle had been trying to skirt past all the tired, bleary-eyed soldiers that passed him in the hall without being noticed by the more lively of the bunch; he didn't have the energy for that right now. The last few had nearly flown by him though, wide-eyed and clearly spooked.

Confused, Kyle had brushed it off and continued walking. Sometimes these men were like wild horses, alerted by the smallest mishaps.

Kyle becomes keenly aware of exactly why those last stragglers had appeared so frightened when he turns down the next corner, on his way to the rec room, when he spots you.

Or, more accurately, spots you tearing one of your own soldiers a new one in the empty corridor. The very self-explanatory as to why, isolated corridor.

He gets the gist of it fairly quickly, even as the words flying out of your mouth go in one ear and out the other without a hint of recognition.

The shorter man had obviously fucked something up, and was now hearing it in all the jumbled mix of curses and slang Kyle couldn't even begin to comprehend.

“An' if I eva’ ‘ear ya sayin' shit like that again I'll ‘ave ya scrapin’ shit out the muck from the break ‘a dawn ‘n ‘til the damn cows come home, ya hear?” You spit, masked face mere centimeters away from the other's. A gloved hand fisted in 1-5’s, if he remembered correctly, shirt collar, making him have to nearly raise to the toe of his boots in order to not be choked by the fabric.

There's a venomous flare in your eyes when you snap to look at him, a misstep on his part alerting you, and Kyle has never felt more conflicted in his life.

“Everything good here, Viper?” Obviously not, but what else was he supposed to say?

“Just peachy.” You grit out, fingers slowly unfurling from 1-5’s shirt. In turn the poor man is able to lower himself back onto the ground fully, letting out an obvious breath of relief when your hand pulls back completely, falling clenched at your side.

The brave soul who had somehow triggered the brunt of your aggression manages to stand there a little longer until you huff out a gruff, “dismissed.” And send 1-5 on his way.

Though not before barking out a, “And be sure ‘ta relay the message ‘ta Pierce!” As the man scurries away, a quick “yes, sir!” choked out over his shoulder.

“And if I asked what that was about?” Kyle asks when 1-5 is out of sight, raising a curious eyebrow.

“I'd say it ain't yer business, Garrick.” You snap, still obviously not having gotten the frustration out of your system. Kyle's first instinct is to throw another quip right back at you, extra sarcasm on top like it's sprinkles and he's making a damn sundae, and he almost does, but Kyle quickly slams his mouth back shut before the words escape.

Instead he sighs and relaxes his posture.

“Y’look like shit.”

That seems to put a halt to whatever was rampaging through your head, the rage clearing for a moment to make room for shock first, then confusion.

“..what?” Your clearly puzzled gaze—so expressive, even with the mask—would be humorous, if not for the truth to Kyle's words.

You did look like shit. Like someone had run a train on you—literally. A real one; honk honk, rattle rattle and all. Your hair ruffled, matted with some unknown substance and sticking up in every which direction. The black paint around your eyes was smudged away and exposed your true skin tone, well.. kinda. Now with the additional flavor of mud and debris.

Even with the limited access he had to your face, Kyle would say you looked.. tired. Run ragged—maybe that train wasn't all that metaphorical. Beneath the anger it was clear as day you were just exhausted; you looked nothing like that first day he'd met you, when he had shown you around base.

Hidden grin and playful banter replaced with a stiff posture and veiled limp—yeah, he definitely noticed that part. You weren't the only observant one here.

“I said you look like shit, mate.” Kyle says. His clarification doesn't, well, clear anything up for you, if anything just frustrating you further. Making your eyebrows furrow in a way that's almost cute.

You huff, posture straightening even though Kyle can see the way the new position puts a strain on your worn body- he doesn't mention it. It's not his place.

“Thanks.” You reply, voice flat.

“It was a compliment.” It wasn't.

Deadpan, “really?”

“Mhm.” But Kyle stays firm in his resolve.

“I aim to please.”

“Clearly.” And there it is. Kyle can't see it, obviously, but the small twitch of your features, the slightest crinkle at the corner of your eye, tells him he has succeeded. Even if it's not your usual smile—not that he would know what that looked like.

Another puff of air from you, closer to a sigh this time. “Did you need somethin', Gaz?”

The heat is gone, but Kyle can see the way the embers linger; ready to reignite at the first spark.

“How ‘bout we take a walk, mh?” He wasn't planning on a walk, really, but Kyle wasn't actively planning against one either. “Clear your head a bit?”

You look like you want to brush him off, hesitating like you want to say no and rush off just like your subordinate had. But you don't. “..sure.”

And that's all Kyle needs to tilt his head in the direction he came from before turning around.

Kyle doesn't have to look back to know you've taken your place the position on his left, half a step behind him. Just as you had that first day.

It becomes a sort of.. routine.. after that. And while Kyle hadn't seen much of you that first week, you make an appearance by his side—always on the left, always half a step behind—more often than not.

A little spark of some unidentifiable emotion lighting up in your eyes when you see him. Kyle isn't quite certain what it means, but if it meant he got to see you more often, he was fine with not knowing.

You were.. friends. Or as much as you could be in this situation, one Kyle knew was temporary. Which had the man trying to heed Ghost's advice for once and not get attached; there was no telling when either of you would be shipped out again, never to return.

“Gaz!” The sound of your voice is unmistakable when shouted over the noisy chatter of the cafeteria, and Kyle's heart definitely does not do a weird flip when he hears it. Definitely not.

Yeah, so he may or may not be struggling with the whole following Ghost's advice thing. Hey! He said he was trying, not that it was actively working.

“Viper.” Kyle greets when you take a seat in front of him. Usually he would have lunch with his dear captain, but Price was even more busy as of late—and reasonably so—and the lack of that familiar presence was really starting to wear on him. Made the lack of another pair of comrades much more prominent.

“Did you know your bellybutton is actually attached to your bladder-”

You filled in that empty space a little.

“What? I thought it was just cut off from everything else?”

Kyle never did find out what had you so down in the dumps, but it wasn't his place to know anyway. Everyone had their secrets.

“No! There's a lil' line that travels from your bellybutton down to your bladder. That's why it feels so damn weird when touched-”

You were a little spitfire. Reminded him of Soap, kinda. Except Soap didn't flip flop from fiery rage one moment to calm and collected the next, buttery smooth words dripping with innuendo.

And then there was right now, where you shared the strangest little factoids with Kyle.

“And don't even get me started on the dormant blood vessel in your liver-”

And that is where Kyle drew the line.

“Nope, nope, nope-” Kyle says, waving a fork in your general direction. Amused when you gasp in surprise, as if he's threatening you with something more substantial than this flimsy plastic. “I am eating. I don't wanna hear gross facts about my anatomy.”

“Would you prefer a physical demonstration on anatomy instead?”

And that was the weird innuendos he mentioned before. Sure, Soap and him shared a few playful taunts now and again, occasionally the rest of the team would chime in—and there was whatever the hell Soap and Ghost had going on, but Kyle didn't think those were all jokes. But this felt.. different.

“You are a menace, you know that?” Kyle huffs, twirling some bland mush around the fear-inspiring fork from before; now that he wasn't actively threatening you with it.

A dramatic gasp, and Kyle doesn't even have to look up to know you look just as dramatized as you sound.

“I am a damn saint, Gaz!”

“Rigghhhht, is that what we're calling this?” He does look up this time, and the slight widening of your eyes, the little glimmer of something hiding in those captivating hues, makes him glad he did. Pocketing that adorable priceless look on your face for safekeeping.

“I've got the body, the attitude,” you count with both hands, a finger for each listed item. Gaze on something vaguely to your right as you think. “And the charm! That's like- the fuckin' holy trinity. I'm a damn holy temple, I tell ya!”

“Sure you are, mate.” Kyle says, a small grin on his face that he couldn't get rid of even if he wanted to. It does make eating a little difficult though.

He tries not to linger on the fact that you never eat in front of him. But you always come to hang out with him anyway.

Things are good between you two, and Kyle feels warm and giddy every time you grace him with your, as you'd once put it, saintly presence. He doesn't ponder much as to the why he feels this way; not that it really matters, this was temporary and you'd be shipped off somewhere else eventually.

That space to his left feels cold when you're not there, empty, and even though he's never worked with you in the field, Kyle finds himself looking back, expecting you to be there when he crawls through tall grass and mud in that suffocating ghillie suit.

It's dumb and Kyle doesn't know why he does it, but he half expects you to chip in a word or two over his shoulder in the midst of his playful banter with Price and Laswell. When he is, once again, pushing through tall grass. Only this time he gets to snipe a few dozen unsuspecting soldiers from hundreds of meters away.

Things are going well, so damn well, almost too good to be true. And it is.

Kyle would have never expected to hear such raw panic in his captain's voice, accustomed to the man's usual gruff and composed behavior. It strikes fear right into Kyle's core, cutting through his chest and piercing directly into the sergeant's heart.

In the beginning, Kyle had been eager to get this over with and fly back to base with the expectation of seeing you again; now that idea was nothing but a passive thought as his mind was clouded with a worry mirroring Price's.

Kyle's entire torso feels like it's been ripped to shreds when they touch down on base again, every step shooting sparks of pain through his nerves and reminding him why he hates heights so damn much. But at least they managed to get Laswell back before anything could go terribly wrong. They had Farah and her soldiers to thank for that.

Wanting nothing more than to soak himself in a tub of scalding hot water, and knowing he'll have to settle for a lukewarm shower instead, then sleep the pain away, Kyle's path is interrupted by the sight of you marching down the corridor.

“Gaz! Shit- there you are!” You call when a few paces away from him, a sort of relief obvious in your breathy tone. You come to an abrupt halt right in front of him, blocking Kyle's way and causing him to come to a sudden stop lest he accidentally crash into you.

Your eyes are analytical and Kyle is far too exhausted to decipher the several layers of emotion that flash through your gaze.

In the end you seem to come to some sort of conclusion, stating a flat, “Y’look like shit.”

“Yeah,” Kyle huffs out a surprised laugh; the phrase reminiscent of when he'd caught you chewing out one of your soldiers. “Falling out of a helicopter doesn't usually make for a pretty sight.”

“Fuckin'- pardon!?” Your eyes go wide, and Kyle would bet your mouth was hanging open right now too. “How the hell did that even happen?”

Kyle couldn't reveal too much of their little rendezvous in Urzikstan, but he could tell you the gist of it. Namely how the fuck he got tossed out of Nikolai's helicopter like a damn ragdoll.

“Was helping out a friend,” car hopping and trying not to get shot at in the process. “Got a bit tossed around, you know how it is- RPG, couldn't deploy countermeasures in time..”

“Luckily I got the rope latched in time, shit hurt the most when the rope ran out.” Kyle's hip bones ache at the memory, and he knows for certain his body will be one giant bruise in the morning.

“Are- are you okay-?” You stammer, gaze no longer on him and now flicking over his dirtied uniform. Never lingering on one spot.

“I'll bounce back soon eno-” Your hands reach out then, as if wanting to touch him and make sure for yourself. Kyle cuts off mid sentence, eyes widening by a fraction and body going stiff.

As if just realizing what you were doing, your hands pause where they are, hovering awkwardly between the two of you. Your gloves and his own gear serve as a thick barrier between your bodies, but Kyle swears there is an energy buzzing there; an electric static thriving in the air between you both, the tension near suffocating.

“I'm just gonna..” it takes Kyle a second to realize you've fully retracted your hands by now, a stale awkwardness lingering between you two.

Kyle isn't sure whether to feel disappointed or be appalled by how much he wished you had touched him. Between the fluctuating altitudes he'd endured and the full body ache he was currently experiencing, Kyle comes to the conclusion that it must just be the exhaustion finally kicking in. Yes, of course. That is why he was mourning the loss of something that hadn't even happened. There was no other possible reason.

Clearing his throat with a stilted cough, Kyle nods. “Y-yeah, definitely. And I should take that shower..”

“Of course, yeah-” Your gaze is downcast now, arms tucked behind your back and Kyle notes the nervous shift of your weight from one foot to the other. “You- you do that.”

“Yeah.” And then Kyle hightails his ass out of there, it's a little awkward—who is he kidding, it's beyond awkward. And how many times was he going to say awkward, would any other synonyms suffice? You had been standing in front of him, so Kyle has to do a weird little hop to the side to get around you- which then triggers you into motion. And you step to the side to get out of his way.

Only the direction your subconscious chooses is once again right in his path and Kyle stumbles over his own feet, barely avoiding colliding with you but pulling on his sore muscles in a way that has him digging his teeth into his lip to avoid letting out a sharp yelp.

When Kyle regains his balance, the hallway is empty and you're nowhere to be found. With a deep sigh, and a heavier weight on his shoulders than before, Kyle straightens back up and continues on his way to his initial destination.

There better be some warm water left when he gets there.

As it turned out, falling out of a helicopter and just barely surviving by sheer luck did actually have its drawbacks and one couldn't just walk away with a few scrapes and expect to be a-okay in the ol’ nob up top.

For Kyle that meant various scenes playing out in his dreams of what could have happened, not what did. Ranging from him not having clipped the hook onto his gear right, to the rope just snapping in half the minute Kyle reached the end of the line. Even some where he just straight up splat into the back of one of the many trucks that had been flying by. The worst had to be when the helo was hit dead on and Kyle wasn't even given the chance to make things right, bleeding out and dying right then and there in the cabin of Nikolai's helicopter.

Waking up drenched in a cold sweat wasn't anything new to the sergeant, but waking up alone, as of late, was. Usually he was bunked up with Soap, and when not on base, or stationed on another, he was grouped up with other soldiers.

Being forced into the waking world with his heart lodged in his throat and beating so fast it was practically trying to escape, with the aches and bruises that made the nightmares all that more real, and being stuck inside a dark, empty room? Now that just wasn't pleasant at all.

Pushing through the stabbing aches radiating throughout his body, Kyle forces himself to stand, haphazardly throws on an old hoodie and decides right then and there he needs a cup of tea. Extra steamy.

The walk to the common room, and subsequently the kitchenette beyond that, is short and Kyle doesn't have to think about it when he places one foot in front of the other. His legs easily carried him to his destination without the need for any extra brainpower.

Kyle doesn't notice the looming figure in the dark, obscured by shadow in the corner of the rec room, until he's already got a burning hot mug between his hands. Passing back through now that he's got his tea, he's graciously welcomed back by a lamp in the corner flicking on.

He blames the high-pitched squeal that rips from his throat on his exhaustion and not that he'd been spooked by a fucking light of all things.

“Viper- shit,” He breathes, the hand not currently cradling the mug flying up to clutch at his heart.

“Sorry.” You murmur, sounding a bit sheepish. Your voice is a little deeper than usual and Kyle assumes you must've also woken up recently. He opts to ignore the small flutters that erupt in his stomach at the sound. “Couldn't sleep. Didn't think anyone else would be out ‘ere, wasn't tryna startle ya.”

Kyle moves to wave off your concern, only to wince at the strain it puts on his sore muscles, sucking in a sharp breath between his teeth.

You, ever the observant bastard, immediately zero in on his discomfort, one of your eyebrows quirking upward as you study him.

“Alright?”

Not trusting his voice, Kyle hums a noncommittal sound, and, trying to appear at least a little put together, straightens his posture and steps forward.

But the pain is worse now and he nearly spills his tea, instinctively tightening his grip around the steamy mug.

Fuck, Kyle had known it would hurt—Christ’s sake, he had literally fallen out of a damn helicopter—but he had obviously severely underestimated how bad it would be. Now, he was used to pain, you didn't get very far in this line of work without at the very least some tolerance for the aches and burns.

But this? This was a pain that went from an average sort of soreness in the muscles of his thighs, to sharp stabbing pains in his hips and a near debilitating throbbing ache that spanned over practically his entire torso.

Everything hurts. Laying down hurts. Standing hurts. Sitting hurts. Everything. Unless he stayed completely still, Kyle's entire body felt like one giant bruise. Any little twitch of a muscle sent a stabbing shock straight to his nervous system.

You're on your feet and standing in front of him before Kyle even has a chance to right himself again. When had his breathing become so labored?

There's no hesitation this time around, no awkwardness when your hands shoot out. Grasping his shoulders, your hold gentle yet firm, and stabilizing Kyle where he stood.

Kyle isn't quite sure when it had happened, but the warmth of his mug was gone. Replaced by the heat of your own body from where his hands rested—really, more or less hanging on for dear life; he'd be ashamed if he had the wherewithal to do so—on your waist. Fingers curled tight, twisted and snagged into the fabric of your shirt.

If Kyle hadn't been so out of it from the sheer amount of pain he was in, he would've noticed your lack of uniform. More dressed down than he'd ever seen you—though a mask still firmly in place, he would've noticed if it were otherwise.

“Did anyone check you out when you came back?” Kyle has to actively work to zone back in on the rough timber of your voice, his mind sluggish as it works through each word and syllable.

“Y- kinda? I wasn't bleeding out or nothing.”

“Oh, fuck's sake-” you let out a heavy exhale, and Kyle, though as disorientated as he currently is, can here the unsaid you’re a goddamn idiot clear as day in that singular breath.

“Alright. You're comin' with me.”

“Wh- huh?”

“With me. No questions, Garrick.” You hold no authority over him, if anything, this being his base, and not yours, Kyle had a bit more of a say in matters than you did. And yet, when you release your hold and untangle yourself from his, Kyle follows.

There is nothing stopping you from touching him now. Not since last night.

Kyle can still feel your hands, strong and yet so, so unbelievably delicate, running across his skin. Scouring his abdomen for anything that would clue you in on whether he had internal bleeding or not, pressing down on his bruised rib cage, checking for breaks in the fragile bone.

Thankfully, you find nothing but the bruising painted clearly on his skin, and Kyle can't get the picture, the feel, of your hands brushing over his stomach. Up his sides and down to his hips, further still to his aching thighs. The latter had been over his clothes, but the heat of your palms had been more than enough.

The following day, and practically every waking second now, Kyle's mind and eyes were on you. If he couldn't see you, he was thinking about you. And if he could see you, you were usually at his side. A hand on his shoulder, an elbow nudging his arm.

Kyle now found himself in an odd state of yearning. His body craved your touch in a way it never had for any other's. His heart skipped a couple beats every time he even caught sight of you.

And when you touched him? Shit, Kyle had to hope and pray the blush he could feel warming his cheeks wasn't as visible as it felt.

Kyle wasn't quite sure why he reacted to you the way he did. And, honestly, he wasn't quite sure he wanted to. He was perfectly content not knowing—was he? Or was he just burying what he didn't want to acknowledge?

He didn't ruminate on the fact that Soap had a tendency to touch him similarly—but, shit, it was different, wasn't it?—, and never had Kyle once responded to it the way he did with you.

If Price had noticed—which he likely hadn't with what was going on halfway around the globe. Soap and Ghost stuck somewhere in Mexico, and of course the constant planning on what their next move would be. The captain didn't mention it.

If Soap was here, he'd probably call Kyle out on his bullshit. But he wasn't, and Kyle was perfectly alright with continuing to ignore the, definitely one-hundred percent platonic, convoluted emotions he felt towards you.

Things were good; the last thing Kyle wanted was to accidentally rock this delicate sailboat when he currently had unlimited access to your bubbling laugher, sarcastic quips, and crinkling eyes.

A Viper, that's what you were nicknamed after, and, with that fiery attitude of yours, Kyle was starting to understand why.

Masterlist | Next

@cptg00s3 @ruthgrimxiao @20nerd04-blog @mikahrh @in-down @hauntedapplefarm @mello-life69 @unkn0wnd3ad @tayaisback @starre-eyes @gabbvr-dog @suhmie @lazyrel @spiritzofthedead @yeonpm @its-ares @k1ssesofdeath @ravagerdogz

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments!

(also if you change ur user and still wanna be a part of the list, let me know pls)

#i had a lot of trouble when tranfering this one from my google docs #hopfully nothin is off abt jt..#call of duty #cod x male reader #male reader #call of duty x male reader #call of duty x reader #reader insert #gay #gaz x male reader #gaz call of duty #gaz cod

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aioliravioli-69 · 30 days

Text

Detective Noir AU

Alright, this au has been sitting around, waiting for me to finish it but chances are, I never will :((

So instead, I'll just post what I have so far

This was inspired by that one comment on the au post the author made(at this point you could consider me a stalker for the amount of hours I've scrolled through her feed💀)

First things first, none other than our main character himself, Detective Hollow!

I made him the detective in this one mainly because I was basing it off of the theory that if there was no heroine the keyholder would simply become the hero instead(don't remember where I read this but I'm guessing it was the webtoon comment section).

I also my have just really wanted to draw him in an overcoat

gonna be honest, I did little to no research going into this AU, the thing I most tried to learn about was the femme fatale so I could get a good view on how to design Buddy

Speaking of the femme fatale:

Seems like someone got caught in the spotlight!

And before you ask, yes, those are pants. Weird ones, but pants nonetheless. I swear, I hate lighting when it's from the front. Frontal lighting can go fuck itself. Please ignore the little help lines I put in

Honestly, Buddy's outfit was probably the hardest part of this one. I wanted him to look slutty, but I didn't want to make it TOO slutty, but I feel like I may have added WAYY too many folds in his pantsuit and I kinda messed up on the overcoat lol. The diamond on his chest was inspired by the diamond on the villainess key more than anything and I tried to incorporate that into his gloves too.

Anyway, have some potential outfit sketches I made:

the two I thought might come off as too slutty and

the ultimate winner of the outfit ideas

As you can see the diamond chest window and fur coat were a mut in this outfit and I'm pretty happy with the end result

Y'all know how the femme fatale usually has to seduce the main character a.k.a. the detective?

Well, y'all know me so have an extra just for you <33

But I'm not done just yet!

Remember how I said that I made Chase the hero because of the lack of a heroine in the story? Well...

I did some more surface level research(and I mean very surface level) and decided to adapt the trope of the girl-next-door archetype for him!!

Don't think it suits him, since they usually just sit pretty and wait for the detective to notice them, but they do have badass roles once in a while and I live for those!!!

The one Chase has taken on doesn't though sadly :')

I decided to go with Charlie Hollow for this one because it sounded more like something the timid and 'pure'(yuck I know, but sadly film noir movies often prop up comparisons between the femme fatale and the girl-next-door, this being one of them) girl next door would have

Overall I tried to make this one as cutesy as possible because, why not lol

Lastly(I apologise, I made this in a rush because I was running out of motivation)

The distance between Buddy and the detective sure did close QUICK-

Originally I was planning on adding Deacon as a police officer and now that I think about it I could technically fit Prunella in here as well, but I just don't have any willpower left to keep this thing alive

My art blocks been acting up recently and I can't even pick up the pencil without immediately wanting to put it down :((

I wish I could have continued this and maybe I will someday, but until then this'll just stay in my drafts

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fearlessinger · 1 year

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i would love to know your thoughts about how Will, Austin and Kayla are Apollo’s foils!!

Heyyy I’m so sorry this took me so long but… in my defense… it ended up being very long? I’d been meaning to do a deep dive into Apollo’s relationship with his children for a while, and you gave me the perfect excuse.

Starting from the obvious: Apollo’s children are mini mirrors of him. They clearly inherited a lot of his personality traits, both the good and the less good. Apollo’s ready to acknowledge the latter right off the bat, but it takes him until the very last book to admit that their kindness, their compassion, their willingness to stand up for the weak – for their disgraced father, to whom they remain inexplicably loyal even when he has nothing to offer them in return... they got that from him too. Will, Kayla and Austin reflect back to him his BEST qualities, finally allowing him to recognize and take ownership of them after an entire life of being made to feel like he had to suppress them. I’ve talked about this before so I won’t belabor the point here.

The other way in which Apollo and his children foil each other is perhaps more subtle but I think even more interesting: they have complementary arcs re: their relationship with their father.

Apollo begins the story having lost all faith in his father already. He doesn’t really believe in his father’s mercy, in his father’s compassion, in his father’s love anymore. He’s not surprised by his father’s cruelty, especially not when it’s directed at him. He’s under no illusion about who Zeus is, how he operates, what he’s motivated by. It takes him 4 books to call him abusive outright, but he’s been drawing comparisons between him and Nero since book 1. It’s in fact precisely the similarities between the two, between Nero’s treatment of Meg and Zeus’s treatment of Apollo himself, that first led Apollo to realize Meg is abused too.

When Apollo discovers that he’s bleeding red, he immediately knows what has happened. He understands that he’s been sentenced to death. He tries to convince himself that this is just like his previous punishments, that if he does everything right he will be forgiven and taken back in, and, being the incredible liar that he is, he makes it almost sound believable. But he knows, deep down, that it’s all bullshit.

I turned my face to the sky. ‘If you want to punish me, Father, be my guest, but have the courage to hurt me directly, not my mortal companion. BE A MAN!’

To my surprise, the skies remained silent. Lightning did not vaporize me.

And yet, it takes Apollo 4 books to finally say the word “abuse” in relation to his father. He keeps telling himself surely this is enough. Surely this is enough suffering to satisfy Father. He’ll take pity on me now. He can’t really want me killed. He’ll change his mind.

He clings to that hope, to that fantasy, as a last ditch attempt at denying the truth and, most of all, the inevitable consequences of it.

I suppose I could have raged at him and called him bad names. We were alone. He probably expected it. Given his awkward self-consciousness at the moment, he might even have let me get away with it unpunished.

But it would not have changed him. It would not have made anything different between us.

Apollo admires Percy and Jason for the fearlessness with which they stood up and spoke their mind to Zeus. But at the end of his trials, at the end of his character arc, Apollo chooses to bow his head and remain silent, because unlike Percy, unlike Jason, he knows, and finally accepts, that his father is a lost cause. Zeus won’t change. Zeus doesn’t want to change. He cannot be saved.

Because that’s what this was all about. Apollo refusing to give up on Zeus no matter how much it hurt him, right up until the moment it would have literally killed him, because despite everything, still, Apollo couldn’t bring himself to believe that there is nothing he can do to redeem his father. It may not look like it at first glance, but a big part of Apollo’s journey in TOA is about accepting that this is yet another choice his father has taken from him.

So Apollo doesn’t rage at his father. He doesn’t call him out on his behavior. He finally accepts that there’s no point in it. In every way that matters, now, to him, his father is already dead.

Will, Kayla and Austin, on the other hand, start out with a… quite frankly astounding amount of faith in their father, all things considered. But just like there was a caveat to Apollo's lack of faith in Zeus, there's a caveat to the kids's faith in Apollo too.

There’s no doubt in their hearts that he loves them. Apollo pays attention to them. Not nearly enough, of course, but enough that Will considers a prolonged period of silence on his father’s part not just weird, but outright alarming. Enough that the thing that they all consider irrefutable proof of his identity is him recognizing them and smiling at them.

It’s a tragically low bar, but one that none of the other gods manage to clear. Apollo’s children feel acknowledged. They feel cherished. They feel at ease interacting with him. They know he won’t mind if they bombard him with questions. He won’t mind if they tease him. He won’t even mind if they yell at him. We see them do all these things within minutes to a day of his arrival at camp, seemingly completely unthinkingly. We see Will confess his insecurities to Apollo the moment Apollo asks. Heck, Will confesses to Apollo that he made a wrong call with the nectar and almost killed him completely unprompted, as soon as Apollo’s awake. It doesn’t seem to even cross his mind that Apollo might get mad at him for it.

Will, Kayla and Austin believe their father to be nice. They believe him to be safe. They believe he means well, not just with them, but in general.

‘Jason is making that storm,’ Nico said. ‘If you fire the onager, you’ll kill him and Piper, and –’

‘Good!’ Octavian yelled. ‘They’re traitors! All traitors!’

‘Listen to me,’ Will tried again. ‘This is not what Apollo would want. Besides, your robes are –’

Will’s conviction that his father would NEVER agree to the slaughter of innocent demigods, not even if that’s the only way to defeat the gods’ greatest enemy, is so unshakeable he repeats it twice: once in front of the roman army, and once again as he tries to convince Octavian that even just a handful of lives is too high a price.

Damien reluctantly handed it over. I leaned toward the guitar case by Woodrow’s feet. The satyr leaped several inches into the air.

Austin laughed. “Relax, Woodrow. He’s just getting another string.”

There’s no way Austin doesn’t know the story of Marsyas from Will’s mythology books. In fact, his reaction here indicates that he does, because it’s only with that context in mind that Austin would find Woodrow’s reaction funny as opposed to confusing. But it doesn’t seem to quite click in Austin’s brain that the cruel god of the myth is his dad. Because Austin's dad would never hurt a fly. It’s simply laughable to think that anyone would have reason to be scared of him.

It’s worth noting that the rest of the CHB demigods don’t ever seem overly intimidated by Apollo either, which makes perfect sense considering how he presented himself to the world prior to his fall from grace. He used to act like a total clown. That's how the campers seem to think of him, and, to an extent, it's how his children think of him too. For all the faith they have in his character, they don't really seem to have a lot of faith in his ability to do… much of anything.

‘We don’t know what’s going on at Delphi,’ Will continued. ‘My dad hasn’t answered any prayers, or appeared in any dreams … I mean, all the gods have been silent, but this isn’t like Apollo. Something’s wrong.’

Across the table, Jake Mason grunted. ‘Probably this Roman dirt-wipe who’s leading the attack – Octavian what’s-his-name. If I was Apollo and my descendant was acting that way, I’d go into hiding out of shame.’

‘I agree,’ Will said. ‘I wish I was a better archer… I wouldn’t mind shooting my Roman relative off his high horse. Actually, I wish I could use any of my father’s gifts to stop this war.’ He looked down at his own hands with distaste. ‘Unfortunately, I’m just a healer.’

The phrasing of this bit is a little ambiguous. Was Will agreeing to the suggestion that his father might be hiding out of shame rather than take action against his descendant? We can’t say for sure, but I’m inclined to think so.

Will believes his father cares about him and his siblings. He believes his father doesn’t want any deaths on his or the gods’ account. But he also seems to have absolutely no expectation that his father would intervene to prevent these deaths. He feels that it’s HIS responsibility to stop the war, to stop Octavian. Of course, his father would never wish hurt on any of his descendants. His father would never hurt a fly. He is kind. Silly. A bit of a clown. He visits them in dreams. He answers their prayers. He can't seem to ever be there for them when it would matter most.

This is really the crux of the problem. Apollo’s children trust him. They don’t trust him to be able to protect them.

But they don’t hold this against him. How could they? They know him. They know it’s not because Apollo doesn’t care. It has to be because he can’t. Literally can’t. Gods can’t meddle in mortal affairs. And… is it possible… that maybe… maybe Dad's power and overall competence is a bit overhyped in the stories?

He sure can't seem to be able to put together a decent poem.

Kayla squeezed my hand. Her archer ’s fingers were rough and calloused. “It’s okay, Apollo… Dad. We’ll help you.”

Austin nodded. “Kayla’s right. We’re in this together. If anybody gives you trouble, Kayla will shoot them. Then I’ll curse them so bad they’ll be speaking in rhyming couplets for weeks.”

Kayla and Austin are such kids at the beginning of THO: self centered, blunt to the point of rudeness, shamelessly thrilled to learn everything about this crazy thing that just happened to their dad. It’s heartening to see. But as soon as they realize that Apollo is actually struggling, THEY are the ones who rush to reassure him, earnestly promising that everything will be alright, that they will support and defend him.

Like Apollo, who appointed himself his mother's protector mere days after being born, tasked himself with slaying the monster that had been tormenting her, felt an obligation to cut down whoever would dare badmouth her, his children too feel a responsibility to be his protectors, to defend his honor. Like him, who only ever thinks about his mother in terms of what he can do for her, who has no delusions that she could be his salvation in time of need, his children too are far more preoccupied with helping him than they are with anything that they think they might get from him in return.

It's the last thing Apollo would have wanted for them. He was so relieved to hear them worry about the Olympics and youtube views, and then utterly ashamed to realize that they care about him more. As much as he admires his mother, Apollo did not intentionally model himself after her in this respect.

But just like Leto, Apollo doesn't really have a choice. Or, well. Perhaps that’s not quite true. He might have one, but it's one he is not willing to consider. Not until the end of this story at least, not until he finally, definitively accepts that his father will never change, that his father cannot be saved.

“A father should give more to his children than he takes,” Apollo thinks in despair, looking at his children who are ready to give and give and give to him, even as he's left with nothing to repay them with, but in truth he is only reaping what he sowed. His kids only know of him what he’s let them see.

“That was so beautiful!” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “What was that song?”

I blinked. “It’s called tuning.”

“Yeah, Valentina, control yourself,” Damien chided, though his eyes were red. “It wasn’t that beautiful.”

“No.” Chiara sniffled. “It wasn’t.”

Only Austin seemed unaffected. His eyes shone with what looked like pride, though I didn’t understand why he would feel that way.

Was this the first time Austin actually heard his father play music without intentionally flubbing it? Based on what we saw of Apollo in the books preceding this one, I’d wager yes. But Apollo is taken aback by his son’s reaction. He doesn’t seem to have realized yet how deep an impact his habitual routine of feigning ineptitude actually had on his kids.

He’s not really making any effort to correct their assumptions either. He never protests when his children explain to him stuff that he already knows. He doesn’t offer advice when Kayla and Austin debate the best way to patch Connor’s injuries up, defers to Will’s judgment when doing infirmary work.

Granted, the kids know what they are doing. They technically don’t need his help in these matters. It just doesn’t seem to occur to Apollo that they might appreciate it anyway. It also doesn’t seem like he’s given any consideration to the fact that his trust in their abilities can only be worth so much to them, when they are given no reason to think he knows enough to evaluate them.

It must have felt so good for Asclepius to hear Apollo say “my son taught me this thing”. But that was a long time ago, and Asclepius knew his father in a way that Apollo’s children quite simply aren’t afforded in the present day.

To make matters worse, he is genuinely horrifyingly far from at the top of his game at this point in time, and not handling it well at all. In a stunning display of immaturity, he makes a whole spectacle of his poor performance at the archery range.

It’s no surprise then, that nobody listens to Apollo’s pleas to not attack Peaches, not even Kayla. In a combat situation, of course she trusts her own instincts more than her father’s. Neither she nor her brothers take Apollo's completely justified concerns about having a "death race" within the labyrinth seriously. They don’t listen to him when he insists that the game should be at least put on hold until the prophetic trees situation is under control. They don’t even ask him to help them with the infirmary, not until Will is left alone and absolutely needs the spare hands.

As much as he tries to hide it, it’s clear that Will has very little faith in Apollo’s ability to rescue Kayla and Austin. And is it any wonder? How can Apollo save his children now that he’s a mortal, weaker than even the weakest demigod, when even as a powerful immortal that was beyond his power?

Apollo couldn't save Lee, or Michael, or the rest of Will's unnamed siblings who died in the battle of Manhattan. He gave them gifts – weapons, to help them in the fight. He was not, he could not be there for them when the weapons ran out.

Now, the only thing that’s changed is that Apollo doesn’t even have enough power left to protect himself.

As soon as they were gone, Will gave me an apologetic smile. “They’re in shock. We all are. It’ll take some time to get used to…whatever this is.”

“You do not seem shocked,” I said.

Will laughed under his breath. “I’m terrified. But one thing you learn as head counselor: you have to keep it together for everyone else. Let’s get you on your feet.”

Of course Will is terrified. He easily admits this to Apollo, but then immediately changes topic, relieving him of the burden of having to reply. He knows Apollo has no reassurances to offer him at the moment. And he loves him. He doesn’t want to make this any harder for him than it already is.

Will’s used to having to manage his own terror alone anyway. Keep it together for everyone else. He can be the rock for his father too. So he smiles, he stays calm, he gives all the support he can while pretending that he himself requires none. He commits to this course of action so thoroughly that Nico feels compelled to intercede, to try to communicate Will’s needs to Apollo in some way:

Nico rested his hand on Will’s shoulder. “Apollo, we were worried. Will was especially.” [...]

“I’ll be fine.” I pulled on my jeans. “I have to save Meg.”

“Let us help you,” Nico said. “Tell us where she is and I can shadow-travel—”

Nico's attempt is still pretty indirect. He’s trying to be considerate of Will’s feelings, respectful of Will’s choices. But the meaning of his words is obvious: Please, don’t do this to him. Will's not gonna be able to survive losing you too.

Perhaps the most interesting facet of Will’s coping strategy of repressing, repressing, repressing is the following:

“Gee, thanks….”

I got the feeling that he almost said Dad but managed to stop himself. [...]

“Guys,” Will interrupted, “why don’t you run to the Big House and tell Chiron that our…our patient is conscious.

Kayla and Austin alternate between using Dad and Apollo with no discernable pattern, seemingly at random, which makes sense considering how young they are. It's likely that they've known their father – properly known him at least – for little more than a year at this point in time. They are familiar with him, but not so familiar that thinking of him as Dad is second nature to them.

But Will has known Apollo longer, and to him it is. He so clearly struggles to not call Apollo Dad. He catches himself right before saying it twice in their first scene together, despite the fact that Apollo looks nothing like himself, and nothing like someone who could plausibly be Will’s dad either. But Will recognizes him, even though he wishes he didn't, and the word is automatically on the tip of his tongue. It slips out of him anyway, seemingly without him noticing, at dinner that night, while he and his siblings argue against Apollo that the planned activities for the next day are a perfectly acceptable level of dangerous:

“It’s different now,” Austin told me. “Since Daedalus died…I don’t know. It’s hard to describe. Doesn’t feel so evil. Not quite as deadly.”

“Oh, that’s hugely reassuring. So of course you decided to do three-legged races through it.”

Will coughed. “The other thing, Dad…Nobody wants to disappoint Harley.”

It doesn’t happen again, though. Will makes sure of it.

Maybe he thinks that as long as he does not say the word, there’s still a chance that this will turn out to be just a really weird nightmare.

Maybe he fears that if he does say it, he’ll be tempted to lean on Apollo for support, and feels that he can’t afford to do that when Apollo is barely holding himself upright, and seemingly eager to throw what little health and safety he still has away like it’s worth nothing.

Maybe he’s afraid of getting any more attached than he already is, now that Apollo could quite literally die on him at any moment.

Maybe, even if he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, doesn’t want it to be true, a part of him is actually angry with his dad for putting him through all this, willingly or not.

(And speaking of foiling, and of Apollo and his kids being mirrors of each other, I think it’s worth mentioning that Apollo, for his part, does the same thing in reverse. He refuses to call Will, Kayla and Austin “my children”, feeling undeserving of the title of father, until the moment Kayla and Austin are stolen from him. He only allows himself to acknowledge the connection when it will hurt him the most, but at the same time, also, when he is finally in a position to do something for them, as opposed to them offering to do things for him.)

And then.

Apollo doesn't die. And not only does he not die, he brings back with him Kayla and Austin and Meg and all of the missing campers safe and sound.

Suddenly, everybody’s looking to him for guidance, taking directions from him, deferring to his leadership.

“I think there’s a way,” I said. “But I’ll need your help.”

Austin balled his fists. “Anything you need. We’re ready to fight.” [...]

“Hey!” called Nico di Angelo. He and Will scrambled over the dunes, still dripping from their swim in the canoe lake.

“What’s the plan?” Will seemed calm, but I knew him well enough by now to tell that inside he was as charged as a bare electrical wire. [...]

“What’s the plan?” they ask him. And also “How do you know it will work? What if you fail?” They don’t feel the need to stop questioning him, but they trust his answers. They trust that as absurd as his idea to take down the colossus might sound, it’s their best shot. They win. They all live.

Of course, Apollo only gives us a terse summary of the aftermath of the battle. To tell us about how happy, how proud of him his children are, would completely ruin this nice self deprecation thing that he has going.

The next time we see Will, Kayla and Austin interact with their father, it’s 4 books and almost 6 months later, after Apollo has finally resolved that he must make the effort to respect other people’s choice to believe in him, even though he thinks himself unworthy:

‘Dad!’ Will shot to his feet. He ran down the steps and tackled me in a hug.

“Dad!” is the first word that we hear Will say. And it’s not a slip up this time. It’s all Dad, Dad, Dad the whole book. Will doesn’t call him “Apollo” once.

This change in Will’s attitude is, in all likelihood, not just due to the events of THO. He, and Kayla and Austin too, must have heard accounts of what Apollo has done in between then and now, not only from Meg (who is at this point simultaneously Apollo’s biggest critic and his biggest hype machine. A powerful combination), but from Camp Jupiter and the Waystation too. And I’d bet that those accounts were nowhere near as dismissive of Apollo’s actions as Apollo’s own narration is.

We see everything filtered through Apollo’s still very biased perspective, and we know how much he doubts and berates himself. We know that he’s more acutely aware of his mortality now than he’s ever been, and that he’s readying himself to make the final sacrifice.

But Will is not scared anymore. Not like before. There’s no trace in him of the barely concealed terror that gripped him all through THO. He’s still just as eager to offer Apollo support, but now he seeks out his father’s support in turn.

It only takes one word from Apollo for Will to immediately confide to him his worries about Nico, his hope that it will be good for Nico to have something else to focus on, if they can help Apollo accomplish this task. Helping Apollo is almost more an excuse to help Nico in Will’s mind at this point. He tells this to Apollo before he even tells his boyfriend. He looks to Apollo for support. Quite literally.

Nico seemed to realize, at the same time I did, that Will hadn’t shared all the lines of the prophecy with him.

‘William Andrew Solace,’ Nico said, ‘do you have something to confess?’

‘I was going to mention it.’ Will looked at me pleadingly, as if he couldn’t make himself say the lines.

‘The son of Hades, cavern-runners’ friend,’ I recited.

This becomes a bit of a running gag, even: Will begging Apollo with his eyes to say the awkward thing in his place. It’s a stark contrast to his behavior at the beginning of THO, when he felt compelled to give Apollo an out whenever any sort of awkwardness manifested itself.

At one point this happens:

‘So what do we do about the rest of them?’ Will asked. ‘Dad, you sure you can’t …’ He gestured at our bovine audience. ‘I mean, you’ve got a god-level bow and two quivers of arrows at basically point-blank range.’

It’s the first time we see Will make an explicit, direct request of Apollo. A small one, sure, but I think the casualness of it, coupled with everything else, is indicative of how fast and comfortably Will’s settling into the habit of relying – actually relying on his dad.

He trusts his father’s judgment to the point that he doesn’t hesitate even for a second to give Apollo nectar when Apollo asks, despite the fact that his father is still technically mortal at the time, and drinking nectar should still technically kill him, as Will no doubt remembers, because the discovery caused him a fair amount of grief at the beginning of THO.

In practice, their situation hasn’t changed that much overall since the first book. They are still facing impossible odds. Apollo isn’t any less prone to concussions, he’s not any less vulnerable or fallible than he was when they last parted ways.

Yet, Will’s expectations of his father have changed on a fundamental level. Apollo doesn’t seem helpless to him anymore. Far from it. And his praise means more to Will, now, than Will can manage to express in words.

Nico smirked. ‘Friends, meet my glow-in-the-dark boyfriend.’

‘Could you not make a big deal about it?’ Will asked.

I was speechless. How could anyone not make a big deal about this? As far as demigod powers went, glowing in the dark was perhaps not as showy as skeleton-summoning or tomato-vine mastery, but it was still impressive. And, like Will’s skill at healing, it was gentle, useful and exactly what we needed in a pinch.

‘I’m so proud,’ I said.

Will’s face turned the colour of sunlight shining through a glass of cranberry juice. ‘Dad, I’m just glowing . I’m not graduating at the top of my class.’

‘I’ll be proud when you do that, too,’ I assured him.

We’re never told why Will was embarrassed of his glowing talent, to the point that he apparently hardly ever showed it off, and even on this occasion had to be coaxed into doing it by Nico. If I had to guess, I’d say probably because it’s yet another ability of his that completely lacks offensive power. But Apollo thinks it’s amazing, and he leaves Will no room to argue otherwise, and the next time we see Will, he’s glowing brighter than he ever has, bright enough to be mistaken by Nero’s soldiers for a god, and loudly declaring himself his father’s son in front of everybody.

It’s easier to see all this in Will, who has the most page time out of all of Apollo’s children, but Kayla and Austin’s perception of their dad too has shifted in a similar way. A single compliment from Apollo makes Kayla blush right down to the roots of her hair. “You're taller,” is the first thing she and Austin tell him upon greeting him. “You hold yourself straighter.” This may or may not be factually true, but regardless I would wager that their comments are reflective of more than just a physical reality. He looks taller to them. He’s grown in their esteem.

Kayla had been listening quietly, but now she leaned in. ‘Yeah, Meg was telling us about this prophecy you got. The Tower of Nero and all that. If there’s a battle, we want in.’

Austin wagged a breakfast sausage at me. ‘Word.’

There’s a big difference between this dialogue and when they promised Apollo that they’d protect him, back at the beginning of THO. The way they phrase this, it’s like they expect some pushback on the idea of them joining the fight. They expect that their father will want to protect them. That he may not even need them. And they respect his initial decision to leave them at camp, where he hopes they‘ll be safe.

But they make a point to let him know that they want to be there for him, with him, anyway. They know that, one way or another, their time together is coming to an end.

It’s pretty obvious that this is something that weighs heavily on the minds of Will, Kayla and Austin all through book 5. Not so much the possibility that Apollo will die, but the possibility that he won’t. That he will become a god again, and they will have to go back to seeing him only in dreams, if they’re lucky maybe in person once a year, never for longer than it takes to exchange a gesture of affection, a couple hollow platitudes. That they’ll never get to be this close with him again.

They don’t ask him to stay. The big requests still feel too big for them to voice. But everything they actually say and do is telling enough.

"I was hoping you'd come back," Will says, giving him the new clothes he's bought for him just in case. And he adds, "I wanted you to feel at home."

‘Hey, if we don’t get out of this –’

‘None of that talk,’ I chided.

‘Yeah, but I wanted to tell you, I’m glad we had some time together. Like … time time.’

His words warmed me even more than Paul Blofis’s lasagne.

I knew what he meant. While I’d been Lester Papadopoulos, I hadn’t spent much time with Austin, or any of the people I’d stayed with, really, but it had been more than we’d ever spent together when I was a god. Austin and I had got to know each other – not just as god and mortal, or father and son, but as two people working side by side, helping each other get through our often messed-up lives. That had been a precious gift.

Austin makes a point to underscore that it’s not the mere fact of having gotten to share some time with his dad that he’s grateful for. It’s not like he never saw or talked to Apollo before. He and his siblings are lucky, for a demigodly definition of the word. Apollo always gave them the time of the day. But this is different. Austin doesn’t quite know how to describe, put into words, what exactly the difference is.

But Apollo does. “Austin and I got to know each other as people,” he says. He calls it a precious gift, as if it’s something out of his hands. Because it is. It will continue to be, until Apollo decides to wrestle it out of the hands of his father. He still doesn’t know that he can.

[Dionysus] disappeared in a grape-scented cloud of glitter.

‘Such a show-off,’ I muttered.

Will laughed. ‘You really have changed.’

‘I wish people would stop pointing that out.’

‘It’s a good thing.’

Notice what is it that prompts Will to remark on Apollo’s change. It’s not Apollo being desperate to get Kayla and Austin and Meg back, to the point of risking his own life to go find them. It’s not Apollo being kind to Harley and winning the child’s loyalty along with a ukulele. It’s not Apollo expressing sorrow and regret about Jason’s death.

There’s a moment, later in the book, in which Rachel actually does give Apollo the “it’s so great that you actually care about people now” speech, but to Apollo’s children this doesn’t seem to register as an actual change in their father at all. They never show surprise to see him care.

Instead, what Will chooses to highlight as a novelty is Apollo rolling his eyes at Dionysus’ antics. He’s used to his father being kind. He’s not used to his father being serious. And he likes this new serious version of his dad – not humorless, but also very much not a clown all the time. It feels more real, somehow. Will doesn’t have anywhere near enough context to fully understand it, but the thing that he's really reacting to is the lack of a mask.

Apollo does understand though. He understands what his children are trying to communicate to him, even though they are careful to phrase their desires exclusively as expressions of gratitude. He may find it hard to believe, still, but he ain’t stupid. It’s painfully obvious that his kids want more of this. More of HIM. And he wants nothing more than to be able to give it to them. But much like his children don’t dare ask, he doesn’t dare make a promise that he’s afraid he won’t be able to keep.

I think you can see, at this point, what I meant when I said that Apollo and his children have complementary arcs re: their relationship with their father.

Apollo needs to give up on a father who refuses to accept him as his own person, keeps him from his own possessions, from his own loved ones. He needs to give up on a father who hates him enough to orchestrate his death. He must, for his own sake, and, most importantly, that of his children.

Will, Kayla and Austin need to realize that they are entitled to ask more, that they should demand more of a father who loves them, completely unconditionally, enough to be willing to die for them. A father who, they are starting to discover, may be fully capable and willing to murder for them, too.

The series ends before any of them have time to really act on the revelations they have had, the lessons they have learned. It’s an open ending, but the way forward is clear.

Apollo tries to tell himself that it will be enough to keep his distance. But even as he tries to convince himself of this, he’s admitting that there’s really only one way to stop tyrants like Nero. Tyrants like Zeus. Who can’t be reasoned with, because they don’t care to be reasonable. Who can’t be cut off either, because they feel entitled to everything and have the power to trample all over other people’s boundaries. Visiting his children in secret, helping demigods behind his father’s back… that strategy wasn’t working for Apollo before, and it’s not gonna start working now. There’s only one way this story can end, and deep down Apollo has already acknowledged it.

Apollo’s children, on the other hand, and I want to say especially Will, because he’s the one who has the most reasons and the most need to, should finally allow themselves to get angry at their dad. Because now they have seen, they have proof, that he can be a much better parent to them than he’s been all their life. Because they know him too well, now, to be able to make excuses for him. He is simply too good to be so awful a father. So how dare he?

The one time he was there with them, even as a mortal, even without his power, he saved them. So why could he not do it all the times before? Why could he not do it for all their other siblings?

Apollo let go of his anger, and, with it, he let go of the last of the hope he still held for his father too.

Will should be angry with his father because, now, he actually has hope for him.

No, it’s not Will’s responsibility to reform Apollo. But it matters to Apollo what his children have to say. What his children want. They know him well enough, now, to know that he’s both capable and willing to change for them.

But Fsinger, you’ll be asking me now, what about the infamous solangelo book teaser scene in the TON epilogue? Doesn’t that go against everything you’ve been so correctly and exhaustively arguing up until now?

To that I have to say

1) I was hoping you wouldn’t bring that up

2) I really, really want to be wrong, but that scene really reads like a hasty, completely graceless reset of the status quo so that Will and Nico’s adventure, and probably many more after it too, can be written still following the same old formula that has already proven to sell. Suddenly, jarringly, Apollo's back to feeling like he can't do anything but watch in resigned impotence as his kids march to their death, and Will’s back to making excuses for his dad. Everything can continue on as usual. Move along, spectators, there’s nothing to see here. If you thought this story was leading up to a specific place, no you didn’t.

#i am so ready to ignore tsats inevitably retconning the shit out of this ✌️✌️✌️✌️#thanks for coming to my TED talk #actually no joke thank you for your patience i'm so sorry to have kept you waiting #i'm gonna get to answering the other asks soon. before the next ice age starts i swear #toa #toa meta #rrverse #will solace #kayla knowles #austin lake #thesungod

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403tarot · 9 months

Text

KPOP READING: jake sim X anonymous in bed

DISCLAIMER: this is for entertainment purposes only. tarot is a game. it shouldn't be used to take serious decisions nor anything in this aspect. take everything with a grain of salt.

* explicit content taken out of a reading simulating a relationship between jake and one of my querents.

MINORS ARE NOT ALLOWED TO INTERACT !

As the final card regarding what Jake would like about the chemistry between you two, I got The Devil's card. I would like to draw a brief comparison between this card and The Lovers card.

Both cards depict a couple. I drew The Lovers card first, which represents how much Jake would appreciate the chemistry between you two in the emotional aspect. Then we have The Devil card, indicating that this would also extend to how much Jake would enjoy the sexual chemistry the two of you would share.

As I mentioned a bit in the previous reading, Jake would feel a strong need for physical touch. I believe due to the intense attraction and deep feelings he would have for you, this need to feel connected through touch would intensify even more.

He would become addicted to you, to your touch, your kisses, your scent... He also wouldn't be able to keep his hands off you. The areas he would pay the most attention to would be your neck, back, and shoulders. While you were busy doing something, he might come up from behind, hug you, leave kisses on your neck, touch your arms and shoulders. I see him doing this constantly, seeking at least a bit of your attention.

He would probably be the type who wants to fuck all the time, who is playful and always eager to have you close. It's as if he has a neon sign with your name flashing in the background of his mind 24/7. One thing I can visualize is both of you lying down while watching something together, and he rests his head on your chest as if it's a pillow (lol). He would ask you to play with his hair while doing so, and probably after the movie ends, he wouldn't be able to name a single character because of it. It's important to emphasize that your intimacy wouldn't be limited to just sex but also moments like the one I described. You could take showers together, something that requires a high level of intimacy even in a relationship, for instance.

As for his feelings having sex with you, I can see that Jake would feel very lucky to be with a woman who connects with him both emotionally and sexually. He would worry about giving you pleasure as if his life depended on it, he would find you so affectionate, sexy and willing for him that he would want to repay all your dedication in the best possible way while he has his head between your thighs.

Touch and consequently sex ends up being one of the strongest love languages he would present in this relationship. Besides, I see that he could also be a little more possessive while you were having sex, it's a moment when people end up being a little less irrational and more instinctive and with him it would be no different, he could, for example, want to mark your skin with bites or hickeys to claim you belong to him or else make you say you're his while he thrusts deep into you.

I also asked what feelings he would get the most out of while you were having sex and the ace of cups practically jumped out of my pile of cards as I shuffled. Regardless of anything his heart would be overflowing with love for you, he is a passionate lover and could get talkative as he would shower you with compliments, tell you how beautiful you are, how much you make him hard and about the little things you do during the day that drives him completely crazy and you don't even realize it.

He would want to make your bodies merge into one, skin slipping on skin, hearts beating fast, lots of sweat and vows of love. If you didn't take care of yourselves... Jake would get you pregnant for sure.

deck used: rider waite-smith tarot

you can book a reading with me too! check my pinned to know more or send me a dm!

#kpop tarot #enhypen smut #sim jaeyun #jake scenarios #jake x reader #— duckie notes ⪩♡⪨

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rymndsmth · 2 years

Text

kyoto 4 (tangerine)

your peaceful bubble is popped. prev.

You had officially gone insane.

The scattered pictures littering your dark wooden floors, tucked into corners of your door frames, and spread over every surface all contained the same thing. Him. Whether it was a striking sketch of his burning gaze on you or hyper detailed retellings of his fingers, they all held some iteration of Tangerine.

He had completely taken over your mind, evicting all other residents with that easy yet powerful charm he possessed. All you saw was him, all you felt was him. The only thing your hands were able to create were glimpses of the few memories you shared.

White socks slid across the floors as you danced along to a song on your playlist. Your phone sat in a cup, amplifying the music as you conceptualized your latest piece. Was it going to be the view you had of him fucking you senseless last time, or the way his cigarette hung from his digits?

There was the faintest sound that you wouldn’t have picked up on if your ears weren’t as curious as you were. The panic that shot through your body suggested that you turn down the music, but you had another thought. If someone were to have discovered you, the noise could be an advantage.

You slid the one kitchen knife you had from the counter, securing a good grip as you padded to the door. Stealth was far from your strong suit. So, with a few deep breaths, you all but ripped the hinges off, ready to strike.

“Fucking hell!”

“Jesus Christ!”

Before you stood two Englishmen. One, you knew quite well in some ways. The other, you shared no familiarity with at all. It was obvious that they were something of a pair though. You didn’t need the matching suits to put that together.

Actually, there were three men. The last was lying on the ground face down in a growing pool of blood, so you couldn’t tell if he shared their nationality. This was certainly not what you expected to find.

Tangerine’s eyes moved rapidly between yours, the knife raised above your head, and your body. That reminded you that you were in nothing but a tank, underwear and socks. Now was definitely not the time for your nipples to put on a show, but they didn’t seem to get that memo.

“Take care of this shit, Lemon.” Tangerine examined himself to make sure he was clean.

He then lifted a finger, poking you in the chest and pushing you back into your loft. His heel kicked the door shut behind him while you studied his face. The pinch of his brow, the way his eyes combed over the space around you. He was concerned.

Then a wave of mortification hit you. All of your drawings were still out. The millions of tiny pieces of him brought back to life from your brain. This made him seeing your sketch of him on the train feel like nothing in comparison.

“As much as I’d love to get into,” His bracelet clinked as he motioned around. “This. We don’t have time. Get your things, we’ve got to go.”

You blinked at him, slowly resting the knife down. “Just…explain yourself. For once.”

Tangerine let out a frustrated huff, placing his hands on his hips. For some reason the gesture made you smile. It was the kind of thing someone did when they couldn’t find the right words to tell you off in a way that was almost affectionate.

“You’ve been found, I don’t have to tell you by who because you probably already know. I’ll explain more after you get that pretty little ass into the car.” He walked over to your closet and tossed you your backpack.

There wasn’t even any time for you to blush at his comment. That first sentence was all the motivation you needed to start shoving stuff into the bag. Your father’s rivals were into really dark shit. Blood sport, abduction, trafficking, torture. Whoever they had sent for you no doubt had the most nefarious intentions.

You didn’t have a moment to think about how they’d found you. Or worse, if they knew who you truly were. That would make you not only a valuable bargaining tool to them, but to nearly every other triad looking to make a move in Tokyo.

Did he know who you really were? Why was he here, who was he with, was he protector or captor? There were so many questions going through your mind. Your body moved on autopilot, slipping on a some trousers, sweater, and boots.

Tangerine’s hand was on your back, guiding you through the door and down the steps. You quickly craned your neck to see that the floor was entirely cleaned up as if nothing happened. He ushered you into the back of a black SUV, getting in passenger seat once you were secured.

“Alright,” You swallowed. “Explain.”

His eyes flicked to yours in the rear view mirror. You held his gaze, your own pair widening to silently urge him on.

“My brother Lemon here was hired by The White Death, lovelier man than he sounds by the way, to keep eyes on you.” He started.

His brother? They didn’t exactly look alike, but you guessed there could be a number of reasons that would be true. Also, what was with all the fruit name stuff? You knew about street names obviously, but this was a whole new level.

And what did The White Death have to do with you of all people? He was something of a myth now in the underground, people heard of him but they never see him. His power, however, was felt all over Japan.

“I haven’t seen him since the train.” Your head shook.

“That’s the point.” Lemon laughed.

“Anyways, I was on a different job that I was able to wrap up so I decided to stick around.” Tangerine looked back at you and then down to his lap. “You know, just to lend a hand.”

A lick of heat hit the nape of your neck. You pulled at the rear of your sweater, letting the cool air of the air conditioner wash over your back.

“What’s The White Death got to do with it?” Somehow you were able to refocus on the conversation.

“Unlike you, I don’t ask all these questions.” Lemon wagged a finger.

You slunk back into the leather seats, that was understandable. If it were anyone else beside these two involved, you didn’t think you were going to be as inquisitive as you were.

Outside the window, you watched the part of the city you lived in disappear in a blur. The direction the car was headed was towards the mountains. That was as much as you knew along with the information you gathered from your questions.

There was one more that came to mind. Though, it was less of an inquiry and more of an observation. Tangerine knew who you were from the moment he saw you on the train. What did that mean?

It was funny how he spoke as if you’d seduced when he was the guilty party all along. He was the one who decided to complicate this mission by fucking you and therefore making you addicted. He had to know that would happen.

There was a nagging, unwelcome feeling gnawing its way in too. What angle was he working? Your time in this life left your bar for trust way below hell, everyone did something for a reason. There was no such thing as a coincidence.

That ate away at you, bit by bit, despite your feigned indifference to it. You pulled behind a massive gate, a sprawling bungalow with mixed modern and traditional elements coming into view.

A loss whistle fell from your lips as you stepped into the biting air. If Tangerine was living this lavishly, what was he dong slumming it in your ends? An angle, an angle, an angle. You turned your eyes inwards to silence the voice.

The interior was just as immaculate as the outside was. Lots of wooden and stone accents to compliment that large glass windows. You followed him down a hallway and stopped where two bedrooms that were back to back.

“You can get settled in here, I’m right next door.” He swept his eyes over you before walking away.

A huff fell from you. There wasn’t much settling to do. All you had were a few pair of pants, tanks, and a sketchbook. You threw your backpack into an armchair that was in the corner, padding over to the bathroom.

The state you were in made you immediately want to hop in the shower. Thankfully there were toiletries ready for use. You let the water scald the dirt and grime from your hair and body. When you emerged you were sure several layers of skin had been scrubbed away.

You plucked the biggest item from your bag, a long sweater that just about covered everything, and padded back into the main area. Lemon and Tangerine were drinking some whiskey around the kitchen island.

“Want one?” The former asked when he saw you.

“Definitely.” You smiled.

There was no way you were going to be able to go to sleep sober tonight after todays events. You didn’t feel safe, but knowing that the men in front of you had literally killed for you made things easier.

“So…” You screwed your face at the bitter alcohol, throwing it back in one shot. “What’s the plan?”

They exchanged an amused look between themselves.

“We sit and we wait.” Lemon grinned.

“Riveting.” Your eyes rolled.

What were you going to do now? There was no way you were going to be allowed to roam around outside anymore. This place didn’t exactly strike you as one that had board games and shit like Jenga.

“Cheer up, love.” Tangerine nudged your shoulder. “The company could be worse.”

You looked up at him, and then to his lips that he licked just slow enough for you to press your legs together. A small uptick in his mouth confirmed that he had intentionally done that to rile you up.

The brothers chatted some more, reminiscing of jobs they’d done in the past. If it was supposed to soothe your soul you were sorry to say that it did anything but that. With the stuff they’d done, for whatever reason The White Death hired them, it had to mean that the people after you were the worse of them all.

You polished off a second drink before bowing out to boo’s and groans from the two. With everything going on in your head all you wanted to do was hope that sleep would come and claim you.

That hope would be crushed to smithereens. Minutes bled into hours and still you laid in bed wide awake. The light of the moon casted an eery almost blue glow across the bedroom. You thought about drawing the curtains, but it was too beautiful to shut out. Did he leave his open as well? Was he a fan of moonlight?

Your feet found themselves touching the cold wood, softly sliding your door open and slipping into the room beside yours. A breath caught in your throat instantly. It hadn’t occurred to you that you hadn’t seen him like this.

Tangerine was, in fact, a fellow lover. The soft haze washed over his bare torso, muscles for miles disappearing under his duvet. He’d taken off his rings, but his necklaces remained glistening on his chest.

The usual gel slicked back hair had taken on a relaxed role. Freshly washed and curled against his pillow. There wasn’t a doubt before and now it was even less than that. He was the most beautiful creature you’d ever seen.

You found yourself beside his bed, a finger reaching forward to loop into a soft tawny curl. His hand immediately shot out to catch your wrist, a smile forming despite his eyes remaining shut.

“Don’t be a creep.” His voice was gruff with sleep. “Come here.”

It was a struggle to keep yourself from releasing a sigh. Tangerine shifted so that you could get in beside him. You trembled slightly as you joined him, but once you felt the warmth of his body, you relaxed entirely.

You loved this. There were no questions asked, no awkwardness. As it was the night that you dreamt of him, whatever was going on felt familiar. Intimate. You leaned forward slightly, pressing your lips to his chest as his arms came around you. Fire, tobacco, vanilla.

Funny, then, how you had no trouble at all drifting into a peaceful sleep.

taglist: @noz4a2 @simpforbuckyb @marshmelloyellow02 @bkildy

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #aaron taylor johnson #bullet train #tangerine bullet train #fics.n

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maccreadysbaby · 5 months

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A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

this chapters kinda short but I wanted the ANGST to have its own moment lmao, loved leaning into damian’s insecurity for this one

also thank you dami for refueling bentley’s incredibly irrational and borderline stupid idea making tendencies

part nine

❝ PITY ❞

THURSDAY — AUGUST 6 — 5:11PM

BENTLEY DIDN’T SLEEP AGAIN AFTER HIS NIGHTMARE, AND NEITHER DID BRUCE. Instead, they went back to the cave after a while and sat with Dick. All of Alfred’s swabs and tests came back clear, which meant he hadn’t been injected with, inhaled, or even misted with any kind of toxic chemical that could do this to him. (Bruce had told Bentley about fear toxin, an inhalable chemical one of their past villains used that made a person live through their worst fears in their head.) A quick comparison of current Dick’s vital charts and past-Dick-on-fear-toxin’s charts looked freakishly similar, despite one major change: he didn’t have any fear toxin in him.

Which meant, if it wasn’t chemical, he was being attacked psychologically. Somehow.

All signs pointed to it being the Secret Keeper, but she hadn’t done anything to anyone besides plaguing them in bad dreams, much less knocking them out without touching them and wreaking havoc on their brains for six hours. (Which was how long Dick had thrashed and cried and whined for in his unconscious state.) On hour seven, he went limp and still, which probably meant he’d tired himself out.

Bentley didn’t go to school on Wednesday or Thursday, and he didn’t sleep Wednesday night, either. Bruce didn’t seem to mind (he actually seemed a little relieved) and Bentley didn’t want to risk seeing the Secret Keeper out and about. His teachers posted his classwork online, anyhow, so he wouldn’t miss any schoolwork. He spent the better of the two days switching between using Tim’s old computer to do his schoolwork, playing red light green light around the Manor to avoid Damian, drifting down to the cave to check on Dick, and attempting to take power naps that never lasted that long.

Not to mention being texted… like a lot. Ot started when Nico texted early Wednesday morning to ask if he was okay, and why he wasn’t at school. Bentley simply told him he had been sick the night before. (Technically not a lie.) Then Nico took it upon himself to text Bentley all about their environmental science class, even including pictures of their worksheets, and had also taken it upon himself to ask how Bentley was feeling just about every hour. (He always just said better than last night.) Then, Bentley got a text from a random number at lunchtime on Wednesday about how Damian was, quote-on-quote, so creepy. And only ten minutes later and lots of confusion from Bentley did that number come back and say, oh yeah, it’s asten, got your number from nico. heard you were sick. sucks dude.

While Asten wasn’t as incessant about asking how Bentley was doing as Nico was, he did tell him about Spanish class and rant about Ms. Venetstantos making him speak Portuguese every day. And he decided Bentley was a good outlet for all things conspiracy and detective-y, because he kept sending him random articles about metahumans and missing people and Secret Keeper sightings and typing long, drawn out theories about what was going on that ranged from plausible to outright impossible. (Bentley only pretended he read the ones about the Secret Keeper.)

He didn’t remember until those texts that he and Asten had both put detective as their dream job on their get to know me sheets. (Nico had pointed it out on the second day of school when the teacher put those up in the hallway.) He was obviously getting started early. The amount of recon and web-surfing and conclusion drawing he did reminded Bentley of Tim.

Speaking of, Tim and Jason and Steph and Cass had all shown up at the Manor Wednesday and Thursday. Which was strange, considering they’d all been avoiding Damian like the plague. But he didn’t mind — he liked having everybody home.

Bentley started to get really worried about Dick when, on Thursday at five in the evening, (42 hours after Dick had collapsed on Patrol.) he was still laying in that same bed, not thrashing like before, but tossing and turning, still visibly distressed.

He’d been long since changed out of his Nightwing uniform and into some loose sweats, and was connected to drips and other things to keep him hydrated and nourished in his unconscious state. Bentley had finished another color-the-map geography paper about an hour ago and made his way back to the rolling chair stationed next to Dick’s bed.

He had no earthly idea what was wrong with him, but he wished it would all stop. It'd been hard enough seeing Dick during a nightmare he could wake up from — but now, when he was trapped in his own head and no amount of yelling or shaking could snap him out of it, it was practically a form of secondary torture for the entire family. Tim had retired to the Batcomputer, trying so hard to find some kind of solution, or at least a case of something similar, and Bentley didn’t think he’d been upstairs since Dick collapsed.

As of now, five in the evening on Thursday, he, Bentley and Dick were the only three in the cave. Alfred popped in and out often, and Bruce a little less often.

Bentley was sitting next to Dick’s bed, telling him about all the texts he’d been receiving. (Alfred said talking to him would help, so Bentley was trying his best.) He’d taken to telling him about Asten’s conspiracy theories and the new group chat he’d been added to not three minutes ago, with Nico and Asten, in which they were arguing about the possibility of said conspiracies and asking for Bentley’s input. (Asten’s conspiracy about aliens swapping a human’s brain for an alien brain via something he called ‘materialization tech’ and endowing them with the power of the stars being the origin of metahumans was the one on the table now. It was already segwaying into metahuman world domination.)

But eventually, even with the group chat blowing up his phone with the probabilities of metahumans turning the country into a dictatorship, he fell quiet and just took to holding Dick’s hand. He didn’t scream when he grabbed it, at least. But it didn’t seem to make anything better, either.

He was just debating on whether or not he should try to wake him up again when a voice sounded from the doorway of the medbay:

“Hey, Bentley,”

He glanced over, brown eyes locking onto Tim’s icy blue ones. He looked exhausted. Bentley knew he’d been working hard on the missing person and metahuman cases before this happened to Dick. But now? Bentley wasn’t sure if self-preservation was even on his radar anymore. He hadn’t seen him ingest anything other than coffee in a solid two days (given he very well could have when Bentley wasn’t around.) and he was pretty sure sleep wasn’t even a thing he thought about anymore. Though he looked like he needed it.

“Hey,” Bentley replied quietly, slipping his hand out of Dick’s and pulling it back to his lap.

“Doing okay?” Was Tim’s next question, and he moved forward just enough to rest a hand on the top of Bentley’s head.

He shrugged. “Have you found anything to help Dick?”

The weakly plastered-on content expression fell off of Tim’s face. “No. I haven’t been able to find anything.”

Bentley said nothing, but looked back at Dick, who was moving his head back and forth with soft whines.

“Is he going to die?”

It was a heavy question, yeah, but a question that had undoubtedly been floating around in all of their minds since his unfortunate patrol. With all the metahuman stuff out of the way, Dick would technically be classified as in a coma. And lots of people who went into comas didn’t come out of them.

Bentley heard Tim let out a puff of air.

“I don’t know,” He said, hardly a whisper, letting his hand move down Bentley’s head and rest on the back of his neck. “He’s stable, even if it looks like he’s in pain. It’s not ideal, but it’s… better than anything getting worse, I guess.”

Bentley nodded slightly, and hoped that Dick would get better soon.

He heard someone walk across the room on the other side of the cave, and both he and Tim glanced over just in time to see Damian disappear back up the stairs to the Manor. When had he come down there? He wasn’t down there five minutes ago.

“Maybe you should talk to him,” Tim suggested after a quiet moment. “He might actually open up to you.”

Bentley glanced over at him skeptically. “Damian? No he won’t.”

Tim snickered. “That kid would never in a million years cuddle up next to anybody sick like he did you. And he definitely wouldn’t get up in a hospital bed with any of us except, maybe Dick.”

Bentley said nothing. He did kind of miss Damian. Like, the old, not-angry Damian, that took him around the Manor to do things and actually talked to him.

Bentley shrugged. “I’m afraid he’s gonna stab me.”

“Aren’t we all?” Tim snickered. “Seriously, though, he cares about you. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

“I know, but…” Bentley trailed off, glancing down at his hands.

“There’s still a chance,” Tim finished his thought. “Yeah, I know.”

Bentley said nothing.

“It might be good for you to go upstairs for a while,” He continued, and Bentley glanced back up at Dick, who was still shifting uncomfortably in the bed. “I’ll sit with him.”

Bentley nodded. He wasn’t really in the mood to argue, and he needed to finish his schoolwork anyway.

He pushed himself out of the chair and bid goodbye to Tim, heading back up to the Manor. He took to reading the group chat messages he’d missed on the way through the house and up the stairs. Nico was currently trying to explain to Asten that aliens couldn’t use technology he’d made up, and he was arguing that they could because they could read everyone’s minds.

Bentley had nearly made it into his room when he bumped right into someone.

“Sorry-“ He muttered, glancing up from his screen to meet Damian’s ice cold blue-green eyes. The assassin’s glare alone shut Bentley up.

Damian walked past him with nothing more than a faint scowl, heading for the stairs.

He wasn’t planning on talking to him, but it was a better opportunity than seeking the angry assassin out.

“… hey, Damian?”

Bentley turned on his heel, and Damian did, too, shooting him another dagger-like-glance.

Bentley wanted to recoil and say nevermind, but that wouldn’t be very helpful. “What’s wrong?” He asked instead, really focusing on the fact that Tim said Damian wouldn’t hurt him.

“You should know well enough, Whittaker,”

Bentley nearly flinched when Damian used his last name instead of Bentley like he always did. Why in the world would he know what was going on when Damian wouldn’t tell anyone?

“I don’t…” Bentley blinked, searching Damian’s face and then looking at the floor when the unpleasant expression got too reminiscent of his father’s. He knew what that expression meant. And coming from Damian, it made him want to cry.

A moment of silence passed, and when it was clear Damian didn’t intend on speaking, Bentley muttered in a tiny voice: “You’re mad at me?”

Silence.

Bentley thought and thought and thought about all the interactions he’d had with Damian before he started getting upset, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember doing anything wrong. He’d asked Damian to teach him about throwing knives, but he’d told him yes. (He hadn’t done it yet. Was it maybe Bentley’s fault for never asking again?) He didn’t think that was enough to make Damian so upset for so long.

Bentley wished he could bring his knees up, but he was standing, so he wrapped his arms around himself instead. He hoped Damian couldn’t see the slight wetness brimming in his eyes at the very prospect he’d done something so bad the assassin didn’t even want to talk to him anymore and he didn’t know what it was.

He looked at the floor in a vague attempt to hide it. “What did I do?”

“Exactly what you’re doing right now,” Damian replied bitterly, in a tone that literally made Bentley want to start crying. “You weaseled your way into this family with nothing more than pity. All you have to do is shed a few tears and you have the whole household at your feet — the only reason you’re here is because my father and brothers feel bad for you. Because you’re exactly what your father trained you to be. A manipulator.”

Bentley did flinch, that time, like he was dodging knives made of words. It wouldn’t be any use — Damian never missed.

“Your relationships are built on pity, your place in this family is built on pity. Even Drake has contributed more than you, and I’m not shy about discussing his obvious inferiority,” Damian spat. “I am a Wayne by blood and I have to work to be part of this. If I had even considered doing anything like you did with your father, considered betraying this family like you did, they would…”

Damian trailed off.

“You don’t deserve to be here. It’s pity that’s keeping you in this house, pity that’s holding your relationships together, and once that pity is gone, what’s going to be left? Nothing. Because pity is all you are. Pity is what you’re built for, and once it’s gone, you’re going to be left with nothing, useless, just like your father created you to be.”

Bentley watched through blurry eyes as Damian turned and continued down the stairs like he hadn’t just dispatched a carefully-sharpened killshot right through Bentley’s chest.

Damian didn’t want him there.

Thank goodness he was right next to his bedroom, because he hardly had time to get inside and close the door before he started crying.

Everything Damian said was right — he was in this family out of pity. If it weren’t for pity, none of this would’ve happened.

And Damian didn’t want him there. This was his worst nightmare. Tim was wrong, Damian had hurt him.

He walked over to his bed in the dark — the lights were off but the sun was still somewhat out — and curled up in a tiny ball in it, covered his head with the blankets, and cried.

Dick had been taken in when he had nothing, and became Robin to help Bruce fight crime. Jason got taken in off the streets and became Robin. Tim got taken out of a neglectful household and became Robin. Damian got shipped here from overseas to be Robin. Cass, Duke, Steph, Barbara, they were all superheroes, crime fighters, vigilantes.

What the hell did Bentley have to do to make himself deserve being a Wayne?

Become a superhero?

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @cademygod

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agostobuwan · 7 days

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a dive into august moon's (tiny) discography 🌙🩷

From what we know about August Moon, the fictional boy band from The Idea of You, they are meant to be a conglomerate of a bunch of different boy bands and artists – an ode, a homage, to this era of music, if you will. Obviously, by looking at the members themselves, you can draw similarities between certain members of - ahem - another well-known boy band, but this post isn’t about them. This is about the music because I’m insane and I have Thoughts I’d like to share.

Taste: After my very first listen of Taste, I immediately noticed the inspiration drawn from modern K-Pop, specifically BTS (and from interviews, Nick has mentioned they looked to BTS to help build August Moon’s dynamic). Sonically, Taste has a similar beat, tone, and structure to BTS’ Butter. All we’re missing really is a bar or two from their Rap line, which is unfortunate that they don’t have one. Taste is the most upbeat out of the five August Moon songs we get and relies heavily on electronic dance and disco elements that is reminiscent of K-pop music production. But also, after sending this song to a friend, it reminded her of Jonas Brothers and DNCE, which is not entirely far off, too.

Dance Before We Walk: This is the first song that introduced us to August Moon, and I think this was a good choice for a debut single. It brings elements of electronic dance and rock that is very One Direction-esque. However, it still brings something fresh, new, and unique, which is what they needed to really sell August Moon as a boy band, even if they’re not technically a real one. But they’re still real in my heart. Hayes has bewitched me.

Closer: The one thing that stands out to me about this song - besides that first line of the chorus (you know the one) - is the driving bass line that carries the heart of the song. If you know me, you’d know how much I appreciate a good bass. No other August Moon song has the bass turned up so loudly that it holds a melody of its own, and because of this, Closer, I think, is a modern take on 1960s boy bands like the Beatles or the Beach Boys. Paul McCartney of the Beatles prided himself on a melodic bass line, and Closer, to me, pays homage to that.

I Got You: When Nick said this was his favorite because it’s so cliche, I didn’t believe him, but after I listened to it, it is very much the most cliche song I’ve ever heard. This is what I imagine to be August Moon's One Less Lonely Girl, where they bring a girl from the audience and serenade them, or their Little Things because boy bands sure do love pointing out a girl’s insecurities and saying how much they love her despite them. It’s so cliche that it also reminds me of Big Time Rush more than anything (Cover Girl, anyone?), and I feel like this is the most accurate comparison I could come up with.

Guard Down: Sorry, but this is the most One Direction song that ever One Directioned. This song could have been from Take Me Home, and I wouldn’t have known the difference. I feel like what sets this one apart from the other songs is that it relies heavily on the rock/pop elements that are obviously a nod to One Direction, especially in their Take Me Home era. This is probably why I love this song so much because it reminds me of a time when life was so simple. I was just a girl in high school listening to Rock Me and just giggling about these five boys from the UK.

[BONUS] Go Rogue: There is no doubt that Hayes’ performance of Go Rogue on the Graham Norton Show is a direct comparison to Harry who was just beginning his solo career. Go Rogue is very reminiscent of Harry’s debut self-titled album (From the Dining Table, Sweet Creature, etc.). The song itself is very pared down compared to August Moon’s songs. Very minimal production - just a voice, guitar, and piano - which isn’t dissimilar to what Harry’s self-titled album is like. There is a layer of yearning that is also borrowed from Harry’s lyrics and sound, and I think it is a beautiful homage to the passage of time and to Harry himself.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk <3

#the idea of you #august moon #ALSO please feel free to share your own thoughts with me #music is so interesting to me #not me actually using tumblr as it was intended by posting a blog

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milkweedman · 1 year

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Wanted to know how much faster spinning on my wheel is compared to spinning on a supported spindle--specifically, I wanted to compare the yardage I could produce on each tool within a given amount of time. I chose to use my russian supported spindle because it was next to me and empty, and spun on a 13.5:1 drive ratio (the medium whorl) since thats what my wheel was already set to (and to be fair, i rarely use another ratio). I spun some nice gray roving because i didnt want to use hand prepped fiber for it.

The experiment was thus: I set up my spindle/wheel (attaching fiber and spinning just enough to get started, then marked my place with some scrap fiber), set a timer for 20 minutes, and spun continuously until the timer ran out. I chose not to include the set up in my timing because that only happens at the beginning, and in a test this short i was pretty sure it would skew the results a little. I also never paused the timer when the fiber broke and i had to reattach it, since that can happen repeatedly while spinning and realistically does affect how fast one can spin.

After 40 minutes of spinning, i had these two singles, shown on the bobbin/spindle and then skeined up.

No surprise there--obviously i spun more on the wheel. The pictures are actually pretty deceptive though, since i was not aiming for a particular weight and just spun what came naturally. On the wheel its much much thicker than on a supported spindle--a heavy fingering weight singles compared maybe a heavy cobweb singles. But the purpose of this experiment was to see the yardage specifically, and--

On my wheel, I spun 54 yards/49.3 meters in twenty minutes

On my spindle, I spun 17 yards/15.5 meters in twenty minutes

Which is just over 3 times faster on my wheel. I'm actually pretty shocked by that--I was predicting AT LEAST 5 times faster on my wheel, and I honestly wouldnt have been surprised if it was closer to 10. But nope, a measly 3.

Which is pretty cool to know. Before this experiment, if I had to spin something on a deadline, I would always have picked my wheel to spin it on. But now im actually thinking it may be a draw, maybe weighted just slightly in favor of the spindle for a few reasons--i have limited ability to spin on my wheel since it's more painful by far, but also my spindles are way more portable. So if, for some reason, i had to spin a hat's worth of laceweight singles ASAP, doing it on spindles that i can use in the car/on the train, at work, in bed, etc, would probably be a more efficient way of doing it than sitting at my wheel for two hours, ending up in quite a bit of pain and potentially triggering a flare up.

The chief slowdown of the spindles is the logistics of the temporary cop, since it means that for every length of yarn you produce, you are winding it by hand three times--the first time onto the temporary cop, the second time onto your hand once the temporary cop is full, and then the third time onto the actual cop at the base/middle of the spindle. This is kinda unavoidable--you dont need a temporary cop for drop spindles, for example, because youre spinning much longer lengths of yarn at a time, so for each time that you have to wind it up the spindle stick to get to the tip, youve spun at least an armspan of yarn, potentially up to 2. Whereas on a supported spindle, much less (anywhere between 3 inches/7.5 cm to 12 inches /30.5 cm depending on what I'm spinning). I dont know exactly how much slower it is to forego a temporary cop, but i highly suspect its far more than the slowdown of winding thrice. Maybe ill check at some point, but i dont really want to (ive tried it, and its extremely tedious).

Anyway, suprising but heartening results ! Would be very interested to hear the results of others if anyone else wanted to give it a go for their own edification. (Im actually really curious what other spinners speed is ! And would be interested to hear drop spindle or other hand spindle speeds even without a comparison to another tool !)

#im also pretty pleased to learn that i spin close to a yard a minute on my spindles #and bear in mind that russian spindle is not among the fastest spindles that i have. pretty sure with a full cop im easily spinning #a yard a minute on my faster spindles #long post #yarn experimentation #handspun yarn #spinning #supported spindle #spinning wheel

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brushstrokesapocalyptic · 2 years

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Pure Vessel Fight Analysis

So I've been thinking about Hollow Knight lately. Specifically The Hollow Knight. Specifically, the way THK fights. This is mostly about the Pure Vessel fight, since that's the fight I'm referencing, but since the nail attacks are all shared between both versions of their battle most of the analysis applies to both.

TL;DR: I don't think The Hollow Knight knows how to wield a nail. They've got a pretty good guess, and their sheer size and speed makes up for their inexperience, but they really, REALLY don't know what they're doing.

Exhibit A: Their posture.

I don't think I need to elaborate. Why are they standing like that? Why are they holding their nail like that?? With that kind of a stance, the only reason Ghost doesn't immediately knock them over is the fact that THK is roughly five times their height and could lift them with one hand.

Exhibit B: Their attacks.

I can't really convey this fully through images alone, so I heartily recommend you watch a video of the fight(s) to see them in motion. I especially recommend watching them slowed down, as their speed does a lot to disguise their sloppiness.

They've got three attacks that I'd confidently describe as nail-based, and one other that I'll get to in a bit.

First is the Triple-Slash. The worst of the three moves I'm examining, this attack has a big wind-up, very clearly telegraphing THK's movement ahead of time. The slashes themselves don't cover very much vertical space, almost entirely horizontal despite the combined length of THK's arm and nail. They're also wildly uneven, with the first swipe covering much more ground than the second two. Additionally, they do absolutely nothing to account for if their opponent dodges in absolutely any direction, instead just continuing on with the same three swipes every single time. Like come on man, even the Husk Warriors know how to block someone attacking from above.

Next is the Parry. THK stole this move directly from Hornet, and they aren't even good at it. For comparison, here's Hornet's parry:

Hornet remains low to the ground, fully braced for impact. If struck, she lashes out with a broad sweep that fully covers a large radius both in front of and behind her. THK barely changes their stance, leaving their back and shins totally unprotected, and when struck executes a single swipe with all the same problems as their Triple-Slash.

Last but not least is the Lunge. This is probably the best swordplay they've got, just a nice straightforward horizontal dash across the arena floor. It's cribbed directly off of Hornet as well, and once again found lacking as THK can only do it across the ground. It has a slightly longer startup than Hornet's dash too. I'm willing to chalk both of these up to THK being so goddamn big, though. I'd also like to draw your attention to the blink-and-you-miss-it burst of magic used to launch them, pictured on the right, for reasons that will come up shortly.

And now for the last move which involves the nail, but which I can't confidently refer to as a nail attack: Soul Pillars

They jump up and slam their nail into the ground, and then a bunch of giant nails stick out of the ground. Yes, this attack involves the nail, and the initial jump is aimed directly at Ghost, but the primary effect of this move is the giant magic nails they generate. They don't even do a good job of sticking their nail in the ground! Look at it, it's at such a weird angle! Why!!!!

"Hey," you might be wondering by now, "All this evidence is really compelling and you're totally right and I agree with you about every opinion you've ever had, but is it really necessary to roast the Hollow Knight so hard about this? I mean, they're doing their best." And to this I say, you're right! I'm sorry, Hollow Knight. You may be absolute dogshit at hitting things with a sword, but you know what you're not bad at? Magic.

Let's start with that pillar attack. Yes, the angle at which their nail enters the ground is hilarious, but let's not let that distract from the giant goddamn nails made of soul that they create. And they've also got the Soul Daggers and Focus attack, each of which involves intricate formations of soul far beyond the crude blasts Ghost can make.

The Pure Vessel's journal entry describes them as follows: Chosen vessel, raised and trained to prime form. I believe the primary assumption people make on reading this is that by "trained", it means they were trained with the nail. Hopefully from all this evidence you can agree that this is unlikely; they probably received little to no nail training. What skill they did pick up, it was acquired by observing Hornet and/or whoever trained Hornet in action. Instead, the training referenced is more likely training in the art of Soul manipulation.

Why they were trained to fight with Soul more than a Nail, or who trained them, I can't say for sure. As the Hollow Knight was meant to hang from a ceiling for all eternity, it makes sense not to waste resources teaching them how to wield a nail effectively, but then that brings into question why a nail was sealed in with them. Perhaps as a ceremonial thing, to go with their title of Knight? The fact that they were trained in any type of combat at all throws a wrench in things, though it does make some sense if we're to assume there was to be some kind of dream-fight between THK and the Radiance.

Let's say the Pale King trained THK alone, primarily focusing on soul arts and deeming their wild nail swings Good Enough due to their general size, strength, and speed. They pick up a few moves from watching Hornet train, but don't have a proper tutor to fix their glaring stance problems. This, I think, would fully cover the situation, and is probably what I’m gonna go with if/when I ever get around to writing any fics in that time period.

#hollow knight #thk #the things i think of at five am

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goodqueenaly · 1 year

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Hi! I was reading some of your previous posts and saw a brief comparison between Alyssa Velaryon and Isabella of France. Could you elaborate a little more on the parallels between them? I've always had a fascination for Isabella's story, and I think Alyssa is a character who doesn't get nearly as much credit as she deserves for her support of the Targaryen dynasty.

I do think that GRRM was partly inspired by Isabella of France, queen to King Edward II and mother of King Edward III of England, when creating Alyssa Velaryon. Specifically, though, I think GRRM was heavily, perhaps even primarily drawing on Isabella of France as she is depicted in The Accursed Kings novels by Maurice Druon (I know, I know, it me) - and unfortunately (especially given the, let's say problematic nature of that series), not to the benefit of Alyssa.

Both Isabella (again, as depicted by Maurice Druon) and Alyssa are initially married to kings the narrative clearly wants to portray as weak. Just as GRRM described Aenys physically as "[a] weakling" who was "[a]s tall as his father Aegon, but softer looking", "[s]lender, weedy, [and] dreamy", so Druon notes that while Edward II was "a fine-looking man, muscular, lithe and alert", Edward's "forehead was utterly unlined, as if the anxieties of power had failed to mark him", his "long chin" was "merely too big and too elongated ... whose weakness the silky beard could not conceal", his hand "was flaccid ... flutter[ing] aimlessly and then tugg[ing] at a pearl sewn to the embroidery of his tunic", "[h]is voice ... merely suggested lack of control", and "[h]is back ... curved unpleasantly from the neck to the waist, as if the spine lacked substance". (Druon does not precisely emphasize this point, but I think it's probable that GRRM was also thinking of the contrast between Druon's weak and unimposing Edward II and his indomitable conqueror father, Edward I, when trying to underline the contrast between the "weakling" Aenys and his warrior and conqueror father, Aegon I.) Too, just as Aenys came to the throne only to face, almost immediately, a slew of rebellions - Lodos, Harren the Red, the Vulture King, and Jonos Arryn - so Edward II ( in the fifth novel of Druon's series, The She-Wolf of France) complained about rebellions again him, past and current: "The Scots are always threatening and invading my frontiers", he moaned, while "my barons of the Marches raise troops against me on the principle that they hold their lands by their swords" and Roger Mortimer, former magnate of the Marches, had so recently escaped imprisonment and fled to France. Although GRRM substitutes a much more condensed reign for Aenys I for the timeskip Druon gave the English court in his novels (as Druon focused little on Edward II until the opening of The She-Wolf of France), both kings are eventually deposed in the midst of rebellions against their respective rules (formally in the case of Edward II, while somewhat less formally in the case of Aenys I). If Alyssa Velaryon is perhaps less a leader in the rebellion which puts her son on the throne than Isabella is in hers - Alyssa flees to Storm's End with her two youngest surviving children and supporters of Jaehaerys thereafter gather there to acclaim him, while Isabella was at the front of the invasion force, dressed in armor and backed by Hainaut soldiers she had gained thanks to the betrothal she had arranged between her son Edward and the Count's daughter Philippa - both nevertheless see their sons assume royal power at the age of 14.

Too, although the circumstances of those rebellions are quite different (and in fact, GRRM may have shifted some of the antagonism against Edward II, and generally Edward II's own position as a villain in Druon's narrative, to Aenys' brother and successor Maegor, also de facto deposed), both Isabella and Alyssa then become romantically/sexually involved with leaders of these rebellions. Indeed, I find it not at all coincidental that GRRM shifted from the name "Robar Baratheon" to "Rogar Baratheon", because of the strikingly similarity between "Rogar" and "Roger" - that is, Roger Mortimer, Queen Isabella's chief ally and lover. Nor do the similarities end at their respective names. Just as Rogar Baratheon was the grandson of Orys Baratheon and a powerful magnate in his own right as Lord of Storm's End, so Roger Mortimer was both "a descendant of a companion of William the Conqueror" (whom Mortimer's uncle, also named Roger Mortimer, described to his nephew as "our kinsman") as well as a powerful aristocrat before his relationship with the queen (as "eighth Baron of Wigmore, Lord of the Welsh Marches ... the King’s ex-Lieutenant of Ireland" and "the Justiciar of Wales"); likewise, both are proud, ambitious men, eager and even desperate to seize and hold onto supreme royal power (with Rogar trying first to integrate his Baratheon relatives by marriage into the royal family and then openly conspiring to overthrow Jaehaerys in favor of a puppet-queen in the person of Aerea Targaryen, and with Druon describing Roger Mortimer as one "born with the soul of a king" who "had been obsessed by an impatient longing for power").

Unfortunately, this is where the influence of The Accursed Kings results in a distinctly (well, perhaps more distinctly) negative character experience for Alyssa Velaryon. In keeping with the rampant misogyny observable throughout The Accursed Kings, Druon depicts Isabella as virtually entirely ruled by Roger Mortimer once the two of them begin their relationship. Druon blithely informs the audience (in The She-Wolf of France) of his view that "[t]hough a woman may be a queen, her lover is always her master" (ugh) and thereafter has Isabella continually defer to Mortimer. Worse, in this vein, Isabella is shown multiple times as having to put up with or give in to Mortimer's petty jealousy, selfishness, and rage. When Isabella gives an innocuous sign of thanks to one of their Hainaut allies during the landing in England, Mortimer is so incensed at what he perceives as a flirtation that Isabella the has to overtly acknowledge thereafter that "it was thanks to Lord Mortimer that she had been able to return so strongly supported", while "pras[ing] his services highly and order[ing] that Lord Mortimer’s opinion should prevail in all things; when Isabella shows a "hysterical gratitude" during sex with Mortimer (I know, I hate it too) following the execution of Edward II's lover Hugh Despenser, Mortimer immediately assumes that Isabella's passion and fury against Despenser means that she "must surely once have loved Edward"; and when Isabella refuses to order her husband murdered, Mortimer stalks out, threatening to leave forever, until Isabella, weeping and clinging to him, begs Mortimer to stay and agrees to order whatever he wants done with Edward.

In turn, Alyssa Velaryon shows little in the way of her own voice and agency, and indeed sometimes finds herself at the mercy of her own rebel-lover's bullying leadership. When Alyssa decides to go to Dragonstone to beg Jaehaerys and Alysanne to return, Rogar "angrily" forbids her from doing so, dismissively referring to Jaehaerys as "the boy" for good measure. When Alyssa finally acknowledges that the regency government has to accept Jaehaerys' marriage to Alysanne, Rogar declares that to Alyssa that she is "weak ... as weak as your first husband was, as weak as your son". Worse, when Alyssa refuses to accept Rogar's actively treasonous plan to depose Jaehaerys in favor of Aerea, Rogar insults her as "[w]oman" (emphasis in original) and mockingly asks "[y]ou think you can dismiss me"? Moreover, just as Isabella had been reduced (by Druon) to tears by Mortimer's temper tantrum over her refusal to murder Edward II, so GRRM has Alyssa start crying when Rogar throws a fit over the acknowledgement of Jaehaerys' marriage to Alysanne (with the supremely frustrating additional note that the tears came "as if to prove that he [i.e. Rogar] had spoken truly" - that is, by calling her weak).

And, just as unfortunately, both Isabella and Alyssa "die" - the former narratively, the latter first narratively and then literally - in ways related to pregnancies caused by their respective second husbands/lovers. Toward the end of the sixth novel, The Lily and the Lion, Isabella becomes pregnant by Roger Mortimer, a condition that fills her son Edward with disgust and alarm. Fearful that, as young Edward puts it, "Mortimer is perfectly capable of killing us all, marrying my mother so as to get himself recognized as Regent and then claiming the throne for his bastard", Edward sets out to depose and arrest Roger Mortimer - an event that, so the novel implies, causes Isabella to suffer a miscarriage of her child by Mortimer. After this miscarriage, Isabella all but disappears from the story: Robert of Artois muses in The Lily and the Lion that "[h]e would have liked to see Queen Isabella, who was really the only person in England with whom he had memories in common", while Druon then adds that Isabella "no longer appeared at Court" and "[s]ince Mortimer’s execution ... no longer took any interest in anything" and flatly comments in his "Historical Notes" that "Queen Isabella still had another twenty years to live, but she took no further part in affairs". (This, in case you were wondering, is not true at all.) Even in the seventh novel, The King Without a Kingdom, the in-universe narrator Cardinal Talleyrand barely acknowledges Isabella, merely noting that "she is still alive" as of 1356, in "a huge and sad castle where, twenty-eight years ago, her son locked her up after he had had her lover, Lord Mortimer, executed", because "[f]ree, she would have caused him far too much trouble"

GRRM, for his part (and bafflingly, if you ask me), not only emotionally crushes Alyssa in a similar manner - recall Barth's conclusion that Alyssa "could not survive" Rogar's fury at being dismissed as Hand, which instead apparently "shattered her" - but decides that he needs to physically eliminate Alyssa from the narrative in ways even beyond what Druon had done to Isabella. If Alyssa is given the barest amount more presence in the story following the end of the regency (and the effective end of her relationship with her husband) than Isabella is following the end of Edward's regency (and the definite end of her relationship with her lover), it is nevertheless a sham of representation in the spirit, if not the letter, of Druon's narrative. Alyssa Velaryon's reunion with her son is summarized a brief third-hand account, and she participates in no public (much less private or familial) events or activities at either the Red Keep or Storm's End following her departure from the capital (even Druon allowed, in passing mentions, that Edward III would annually spend Christmas with his mother); indeed, Alyssa's only further involvement in the story is in conceiving, carrying, and giving birth to Boremund and Jocelyn Baratheon. Worse, while not entirely shying away from Rogar's guilt in forcing his wife to undergo a dangerous (much less drastically unnecessary) second pregnancy - indeed, Rhaena's vehement denunciation of Rogar following her mother's death is one of the (very) few truly bright spots in F&B for me - GRRM nevertheless indulges in a gruesome and lurid depiction of Alyssa Velaryon's final hours that itself provides Alyssa no opportunity to voice her own thoughts and feelings.

Did I mention I really, really don't care for the way Alyssa Velaryon is depicted in F&B?

#asoiaf meta #alyssa velaryon #fire and blood volume 1 #the accursed kings

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depressedhatakekakashi · 2 months

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Oh no...I've been thinking up bonding situations/ activities Gai and Kakashi did leading up to the Madara incident.

At the start of day one, Kakashi injures Gai a lot(gotta train him like the world's at stake because...it is. Don'tworry the healing amulet will take care of it) and Gai at some point SLIGHTLY damages Kakashi and is like "want me to kiss it better?" He gets a loooong stare in response and is like "ah no worries than. You probably couldn't afford it. 😁👍"

Kakashi knows its going to be a loooong week. And doubles the training.

It takes three days of non-stop fighting/training and badgering from Kakashi before Gai's composure finally breaks and let Kakashi see his vulnerability, as well as his resolve. Then passes out. Kakashi finally realizes he is dealing with the actual Gai his old bff, and resolves to treat him that way.

Day 4, lot's more training but they also now know Gai's limits even with the amulet and extra god items help. Kakashi is doing a better job explaining how lightning works and how to wield it as a weapon and in the tri-staff form. Gai let's Kakashi know that his storms were an inspiration to him. They get a little closer as they kick each other's ass.

Day 5.) They take a break to cook something. Obito drops by. Bit of a downer but he learns about those two being brothers! So cool~ talks about his own family for a bit. Its....probably not that great. Especially in comparison to his last lifetime. He gets to see Obito put the stars up and sees Kakashi messing with it.... asks if Kakashi can draw something funny up there for him. ("Put a penis up there~" (Obito is not pleased.))

Day 6.) Day of resting. They trained all they could and any more would probably just tire Gai out for the battle tomorrow. Gai gets to cut his hair and shave how he likes, take a bath, talk to Kakashi, do some light flirting mostly for fun... and also reveals one of the ways he fought is based off a dance he himself made. Ends up showing Kakashi and gives him a bit of a show (clothes stay on!) and Kakashi is struck because.... the steps of that dance are the same ones Gai use to dance for him in the past life. Just a bit more sensual.

Day seven. Time to fight a god... asks Kakashi for a good luck kiss maybe and points at his cheek. To which Kakashi responds "you couldn't afford it, honey."

It makes Gai laugh and smile before his major confrontation. And its time to go. And Kakashi... wants to believe in him to now. No matter how things turn out, he will stay by his side and cheer him on.

He doesn't want to see his friend die again.

I really love the idea of them bonding over training, and the little joke about a kiss costing too much 😭😭😭

Kakashi should have taken the kiss. It was litterally his only chance before disaster struck. On the plus side though, they’ll have a lot of time to get to know each other better after.

Also Kakashi hates that he has to be so hard on Gai in training, but it’s a lot to learn. Dude almost took off to another village with the winged shoes Naruto gave him, which could have ended so badly if Kakashi hadn’t caught up to him and pulled him back before he came into contact with any of the villagers.

I love the idea of Gai’s village being sort of mythical. After all those who visit it don’t survive, so how do people know it’s real when they have only met a select few people who claim to have come from there?

All these other villages hear of a great fight between a mortal and a god and just shake their head. They don’t belive there’s a mortal out there stupid enough to fight a god, abd if there is they certainly didn’t win.

It’s bot until generations later when a cure is found and people can begin venturing outside of the village that their stories spread and their history is properly shared, and so many other villages finally learn about the great Mortal Gai who fought a god of creation just to protect his village

#GOS AU #God of Storms au

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alena-reblobs · 9 months

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Trigun Bookclub Trimax Vol8 Part1

Vol01: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Vol02: Part 1 | Part 2

Trimax: Vol01 Part 1 Vol01 Part 2 | Vol02 Part 1 Vol02 Part 2 |

Vol06 | Vol07 | Vol08 Part1

As a warning, I will start babbling about Vashwood in this volume (though not really in this part yet) and then probably in all volumes to come, too. Obviously because I love the pairing but also because their relationship is so important and impactful, and this volume marks such an important milestone.

What I really like in Vash and the talk between him and Knives at the start of Chapter 1 is, that Vash also acknowledges the pain and abuse that humans have inflicted upon the Plants. He totally understands Knive's anger and why he acts that way, but the kind sides of the humans that Vash was witness to as well, Knives never got the chance to learn. And if you'd try to show kindness to him now, he wouldn't appreciate or even see it.

Not the face of someone who's happy to be back with his old crew obviously. (Sometimes some drawings of Wolfwood make him look so much less bulky and more fragile and like the tiny Wolfwood, like here on the right...maybe because we can't see these huge shoulders. I like that!)

Still trying to live by Vash's and now his ideals, even though there's no way these soldiers are gonna get back out of this alive anyway...and how he stubbornly doesn't answer Chapel...(Meanwhile Livio is thinking "Nice! Free banquet! *continues to slaughter the men*)

Oh my boy you've come such a long way :'(

The whole rest of the talk between Knives and Vash at the end of ch1 was a great character insight, and next to what lots of other people already said I wouldn't know what to add to that. So I'm just choosing to save these panels here, sums it up pretty nicely and we get to see the two brothers in a nice comparison!

Chapter 2:

Please take my boy out of this situation. He clearly doesn't want to be there. (the way Wolfwood looks so much not-in-control of the situation....oh man)

Make a pirouette, and I'll give you a 10/10 for this jump, Knives.

If some had not been aware until now, at this point at the latest everybody will have noticed that Nightow doesn't fuck around with depicting some traumatic and cruel stuff. (And boy does he know how to do it)

There are so many awesome pages in these later volumes that I'm basically just copying whole pages in these posts here but HOLY COW doesn't this look epic.

And the whole time, Vash is unable to do anything. At least he's giving Legato a hard time, too.

That above panel damn. And look how it's killing Wolfwood internally. He's seeing all those evil deeds done by the arc, helping alongside Chapel now too, probably, and then he's already got the guild of bringing Vash here to get him trapped....all just because he wants to save his home and the kids there but BOY is it killing him inside. It sucks when you have to be the bad guy to save the ones you care about.

Also, the turn the story takes at this point, with everything falling into chaos so quickly...it's gotten very quickly so much darker now. I do like dark stories too so I was enjoying this with anticipation how it could get resolved when I read this for the first time. Still, very tough stuff to digest.

And then, of course, omg these girls appear again!!! You go!!! However you managed to survive, you're looking well. I'm also glad Luida is still here too ♥

Chapter 3:

If I'm ever in need for a mechanic and had to choose from the Trigun cast you know I'd go for Brad. Look how crafty he looks with that..drill...thingy. Leaking faucets, here's your mortal enemy!

THANK YOU Luida. Yes, Vash has dangerous powers, but he's also Vash and you all owe him so much!! Not letting some fear prevent you from trusting in him!

Wolfwood awoooing at the moon, just like his name says. Also, this was the scene where the plants memories are being shown, and I love that we actually get to see something from their view! The way it's done, with only same-size panels from the same view is also the perfect way to make that clear.

Super neat way to show how all these different memories and plant consciousnesses (?) are breaking him apart

Please look at our queen in all her murderous glory.

oh god oh god oh god (I'm reading this for the 12234th time but still)

oh god OH YES

#trigun #trigunbookclub

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akitothemightydorito · 11 months

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YES HELLO INFODUMP PLS AND THANK U I wish to know about reader design, and designs in general, and also all the other characters (very curious about u mentioning Gregory - how is the chaos gremlin gonna show up, I need to know)

Info dump pt.1

YESS FINALLY!!! I GET TO INFO DUMP RAHHHH!!!!

So I did mention that Gregory would be introduced and we do in fact have an early concept of him when the prologue and other chapters were fleshed out (by the way art isn’t mine!! It’s my co-writers !!)

Here are two drawings of him! The one of the left is one “before he was trapped on island” and “After a while he was on the island” 2 years before reader to be exact which doesn’t really show much other than he’s a sneaky little bugger when reader encounters him. And oh boy is he a nuisance! Before the main plot begins Gregory was stranded after Eclipse attacked the ship he was on that he sneaked on to get away from the orphanage he lived in and pretty much was caught in the unfortunate event of Eclipse taking notice.

You could say Gregory was in a similar boat to the reader (I’m funny I swear-) and was saved somehow he survived drowning. Gregory eventually comes across Freddy and long story short he gets adopted by the giant grizzly (I’ll show size comparison soon !!) and becomes the local menace. Like, bro literally now thinks he’s invincible with Freddy by his side!? Mess with Monty and enter his territory? Freddy is there to quickly deescalate the territorial croc and remove Gregory as soon as he gets word, Greg is given a stern talking to for the nth time now. Oh what’s that? Gregory is provoking Roxy and Chica again? DAMMIT GREGORY WE DONT NEED MORE FIGHTS (context: Roxy and Chica aren’t on good terms early on due to competing for the same territory for the open plains)

All in all I think you can guess a few ways Gregory might make a first impression on the reader >:3

Okay moving onto Freddy!! The father bear himself! So I don’t remember all heights of the characters off by heart and the part where I discussed them is waaaaaayyyyyy back in a chat so until I get it I’m gonna try and estimate on what faint memory I have! Freddy is based of a brown grizzly and has a human like figure but mixed in with bear with lots of fur! His lightning marks and stripes have been turned into scars from an old conflict, of what? We don’t know since not even Gregory can pry it out from him….maybe it’s reluctance??

Here is some of the concepts! I’ll show the size difference below separately!! But yeah I hope this helps get an idea of what he’s supposed to look like!! Freddy is also known to keep the peace’s between everyone (and to keep Gregory in check-). He’s a friendly fellow but…he wasn’t always so tame before…never mind!

HABSHEINEBSUW EVERY TIME I SEE THIS I WANNA JUST SQUEEZE WHATEVER IS CLOSET RAHHH-

Freddy is basically the best to give out cuddles and a great napping partner, rivaled by DJ Music man though!

NOW I’m just gonna quickly move onto the MC themselves, Y/n!! OMG I AM SO EXCITED!! as you have probably seen in the prologue of EOTE (eyes of the eclipse. Shorter title) then you know that reader is German in WWII but!! They aren’t exactly one to see eye to eye with the views on Jews and so they vowed to help any Jew they could escape the county and basically be a human smuggler for Jews! The design I showed where reader is in a trench coat actually is what they use to get around, find sources of where Jews are being transported etc. basically just a disguise out of their Dad’s cloths. Reader also worked in a factory like some people did wearing overalls since both men and woman wore them during the mid 1930’s! (Same can also be said for Gregory’s clothes but for the early 30’s)

Headcannon: since Y/n and Gregory are both from Germany and speak both English and German, they like to confuse the others on the island on purpose by suddenly switching languages mid conversation! They also say curses in German either as a reflex or accident if it makes sense

I just find my own little HC funny hehe.

Next up we have Roxy!!! She actually is one character I remember the height for exactly and the reason I can remember Eclipse’s as well lol. She’s actually an astounding 7’3 when on her hind legs. The reason for her very tall height is because she is based off one of these:

RED MAINED WOLVES BABY!!! this also makes sense as to why she’s alone and doesn’t want to have a pack as well as wanting to have the plains for herself as she feels more in her element in taller grass! He legs and paws also have that same gradient of black fur going on as well as her having a puffy mane and fur. I also may or may not have said she is able to run top speed when she runs on all fours thus being a good way to scare reader :p

Like I mentioned she is able to walk and run on all 4’s just like she can on two legs but she prefers going on all 4’s though. Makes her hunts more easier and keep that pesky bird out her DAMMN Territory!! >:/

Only have 1 rough sketch of her so far since reader is yet to encounter Roxy or anyone else haha but here take in the tall maned beauty in all her glory! :D

Her more early concepts. Might have more added to her soon though 👀 (shhh!)

She isn’t one for being all that social and is Gregory’s #2 target whenever he feels like causing issues and risking his life. She also sometimes accidentally stumbles across Chico’s territory a few times which leads to a few scuffles and chase outs between the two so no one’s really surprised, Freddy manages to stop them before things get rough tho!!

Okay I have some juice left to dump about 1 more character before I pass out! ITS DJMM!!!! AHHHH so, so…He is a HUGE Drider that lives in a cave deep in the forest of the island. I have a few sketches but I can’t find them at the moment but in my next info dump I’ll be sure to get them! So basically he gives the vibe a jumping spider would: Harmless and sweet! Which is true when he’s Docile and unthreatened but when that changes he can show off his huge venomous fangs that can paralyze and even be lethal depending on dosage. Did I mention he also has soft fuzz on his boddy but not entirely covering his carapace? No? Oh well yeah he does but that also plays part in his threatening stance! He has the ability to shoot out barbed hairs out just like a tarantula (I physically shivered when I typed that, ugh!) but also be wary for his webs! Not only are his fangs and fluff a problem but also his webs! They have the consistency of a Golden ord weaver: strong and resilient but also soft and silky so if you’re caught, you’re trapped there for good!

Another small detail I wanna mention is the mini Music man’s in the SB game that chase you through the vents have basically become a cluster of mini driders (perhaps some young MM adopted ??) and so he is basically a protective father over all of them so anything coming their way is a threat on sight! You enter the cave without him knowing and your done for pal, game over!! >•<. Also, Also MM doesn’t speak verbally but he does communicate through chirps and other vocal sounds he’s able to make like clicks as well!! (He’s so sweet!!)

Okay that’s part 1 of this info dump done but I got more coming this way!! I got Monty, Chica, Sun, Moon and Eclipse to do next!!

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