#they're just something that's been there for most of like. the past decade.
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Hot take: Laios wouldn't actually mind an arranged marriage.
Obviously "reluctant royal being pressured into marriage" is very fun for shipping purposes. But I have harlequin blood, so bear with me. Join me on this journey of character theorizing/shipping nonsense that makes it abundantly clear I have a Scrivener document I'm neglecting.
Laios was promised to someone from a young age. He and Falin both were; it's probably how their parents ended up together. They both broke it off by leaving their village, but it didn't seem to be a factor in Laios's own decision. And when Marcille, presumably, asks about his hypothetical love life (bicorn chapter), he not only brings it up readily, but actually seems kind of flattered? lmao
I love when smug Laios comes out. Underrated factor of Laios's personality for me is how much he enjoys being seen as cool. I think you'd expect Laios to be embarrassed or uneasy over this line of questioning, and the fact that he isn't is fun to me.
So when Yaad and his other old advisors bring up his need for a wife, Laios is ready to go along with it. Not necessarily thrilled by the prospect, but he was raised to think of marriage as a business arrangement you do because it's beneficial for your household/bloodline (as was often the case historically). He's already made the big step to claim a throne, and the idea of becoming village chief after his father seemed to have been vaguely in the back of his head all his life. Besides, if he has to do it anyway, I think he'd take comfort that there was a formalized process for an otherwise socially messy undertaking.
This dovetails neatly with my personal headcanon that Laios is gay but unaware of it. He comes from kind of a repressed culture- or at least I can imagine he does based on context clues- and has spent most of his life being ostracized in one way or another, feeling like he's on the outside of humanity. So he doesn't realize that his lack of attraction to women is unusual- he assumes that nobody really enjoys romance that much. It's not like his own parents married for love. It's just something people play up for stories, right?
It's all tangled up with his fraught desire for human connection and platonic companionship anyway. Meanwhile he's blithely unaware that the things he says about Toshiro are not normal bro things. Oh you'd totally marry Toshiro, Laios? Tell me more.
I see this in Marcille too. Firstly due to her unstable development, which has only recently allowed her to reach maturity (I headcanon her as somewhere between 20-22) and secondly due to her being a half-elf (infertile+a too-long lifespan), I think she has the expectation that she's simply not destined for love. The half-elf character she relates to in her favorite books says as much. So she, too, confuses a genuine lack of heterosexual attraction with the belief that this is just because of her half-elf status distancing her from it. Plus, she spent over a decade as a student/researcher in a nice little sheltered academic bubble, at an all-girls academy populated by adolescents. She's the most sheltered of all the characters: she's only spent the past year in the "real world", and she still focuses all her romantic attention on living vicariously through her favorite characters or her friends (except for Falin, conveniently!).
And Marcille would absolutely want to live vicariously through Laios and his future wife. She would not want him to go through a dispassionate formalized process: she wants her bestie to have a fairytale romance! What is the point of being a heroic king in a mythic castle if you can't even get a love story for the ages out of it?
This would result in a lot of Laios meeting with eligible bachelorettes at Marcille's urging, looking to Kabru for help the entire time and being grilled by Marcille afterwards about what he liked best about each girl. "She had nice, um, teeth?" They're both so close to getting it.
Kabru, meanwhile, is agitating for Yaad and the other advisors not lock the country into a hereditary monarchy, they have the chance to do something radical here, to break away from the systems that the elves and dwarves uphold. At the very least, let Laios marry for love, or formally adopt an heir and name them his successor if he wants, he's already sacrificed enough for the sake of Melini. Don't make him jump through these circus hoops for the chance of some trade agreements, we can get those without a royal marriage. And even if Laios was willing to go along with it, he does look at Kabru like he's his hero for sticking up for him.
The vague unhappiness Kabru feels at the idea of Laios being married off is easy for him to ignore. Kabru didn't actually get better at honoring or even recognizing his own wants just because he's moved past the dungeon. And Laios hasn't gotten the hint about his crush on Toshiro and is still 50/50 on saying casually shocking things, so when he remarks that he doesn't need a wife anyway when he has Kabru, he has no idea why that gets him the looks it does. After all, where he's from, men marry women to run their households, but Laios has castle staff for that, and Kabru is handling the rest?
That comment alone ticks one month off their collective gay awakening countdown.
Anyway. How many repressed gays in their twenties does it take to run a country?
Answer: Yaad can tell you.
#dungeonposting#DUNGEON MESHI SPOILERS#I always have to use that tag for the dumbest reasons. because of my harlequin blood.#Labru#you get that tag because that was the point of my post it just took awhile to get there#also pretend I made some kind of joke with a pun about screwing at the end. believe in me.#Golden Country trio#^tag for ME. rotating scenarios with them in my head is a personal treat.#I haven't figured out where Kabru falls yet#he's very bad at introspection and very good at denying himself#but god knows what a guy like Kabru who moves through society the way he does experiences#several possibilities present themselves and I haven't yet decided which one is most plausible. or funniest.#pairing: to be human
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there's so many posts floating around that are like "if you stop joking about wanting to kill yourself, you won't think about suicide as much!"
and. in my experience, that's just been dead false.
when i was younger, i would casually joke about my suicidal urges all the time. it made my (often equally depressed) peers laugh along and connect with me, and it made the urges feel less scary, like i could conquer them and laugh.
i stopped joking about suicide as i got older. everyone said it was harmful to do, so i quit. and i think it actually made me feel so much worse. my suicidal ideations are now a dark taboo swirling around deep within me: something that i can't show outside of serious conversations in therapists' offices or to friends preceded with "can i vent about something?". serious conversations that don't really make me feel better and often manage to make the suicidal feelings look even BIGGER and more unmanageable to me.
i wish i could joke about it like i used to, but i can't. i'm more conscientious of others' feelings and reactions to me than i used to be (which is in some ways a good thing, but in some ways leaves me constantly muting and molding myself just to be more palatable to outsiders). so i can't bring myself to risk upsetting anyone with my dark jokes anymore: no matter if it's fellow suicidal people who may be understandably hurt by the subject, or if it's just mentally healthy people clutching their pearls because i dare be mentally ill in public.
and joking about these things is a lot more taboo now that it was just a few years ago as a teenager in the late 2010s. humor was more dark and ironic overall at the time. you could post like, a deep fried jpeg of a shrimp captioned "i want to krill myself!" and there was a general understanding that like, yeah some of the feelings there might be genuine, but it's still a joke and you can join in on laughing. but now something like that would be treated more like a cry for help.
i don't really have a solution to this cuz like, yeah there were people who were negatively impacted by the ubiquity of suicide jokes back then, and it's probably not something we as a culture should bring back overall. but GOD sometimes i miss it.
#eliot posts#suicide mention#and a disclaimer that i feel the need to add to posts talking about my suicidal feelings:#don't worry i don't have a plan i'm not gonna act on them#they're just something that's been there for most of like. the past decade.#waxing and waning but often just a dull hum in the background#i wake up. i want to die. i go to class. i want to die. i have a nice conversation with friends. i want to die. i pet my cat. i want to die#i wash dishes. i want to die. i am overwhelmed with classwork. i want to die. i get groceries. i want to die. i sit in bed. i want to die.#it's just there.#but i haven't killed myself in all these years and i'm not about to act on it anytime soon#it's just. yeah. y'know?
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「Without Me」 Zhongli
↳ In which as the lantern rite festival was once again celebrated, you find yourself bidding your farewell in the land that you cherished the most. They're doing fine without you anyway.
Hands on the pocket, the figure quietly approaches the place. (Hair color) locks being swayed by the wind as the figure does so. After making sure no one was around, the figure pulled out something out of who knows where. There a two cups as well as a bottle of osmanthus wine was all you could bring.
Right in front of you were a few offerings, things that surely reminded you of her. Placing a cup on her nonexistent grave yet knew it was quite a memorial place for her to be, you place a cup on her seat and just hold your but upon realizing you need to open the wine bottle, you place it on the table, opening the bottle afterwards.
"It's been a while, hasn't it? Guizhong." You spoke as you pour her wine cup and yours some wine. "I thought about it for a long time and decided to pay a visit before I go." You spoke casually, placing the wine bottle right beside the rest of the offerings on the table before picking up your own cup. "So here I am." Then you took a sip, and damn, it tastes the same.
You just stood there for a long time. You have nothing to say in the first place. So you just stood there as the gentle breeze passes by, your (hair color) locks slowly becoming a mess by the wind but not that you mind. As time passed by, the slowly but surely the wine is being emptied and with one last sip, you throw the cup away by the lake, watching it sink for a moment before taking a deep breath. "Happy lantern rite, Guizhong."
You didn't leave right away. You just sat there, humming a tune you haven't for so long as your eyes fixed on the scenery in front of you, waiting for the night to come as time slowly passed by. As you did, you can't help but look back of the memories of yesterday not so long ago.
"They're at it again." You said with a chuckle as you sat down next to your friend and lover whom too were watching the scene with interest. "You're not going to join?" Your lover, Rex Lapis asked, and you shake your head. "One thing I learned over the past few decades is that I can't win against Guizhong when it comes to mechanisms." You chuckle and shrug, eyes boring to your lover who never looked at you, those amber iris never once looking away from the goddess of dust.
"Those were the good old days, I suppose?" Just like that, a bitter smile left your lips. "Heh." Good old days, huh. Thinking about it gives you mixed feelings. Nevertheless, the warmth it gave your heart was enough for you to call it good memories.
Before you knew it, the once bright sky was now filled with stars. Only then did you realize you have long stopped humming. Getting up from your seat, brushing off the dust in your clothes. It was now time to leave.
"You know. I never hated you." You spoke as you give her resting place one last glance. "In fact, I could never." You chuckle. "Goodbye, Guizhong." With a genuine smile on your lips. You walk away and never look back. Ascending down from the mountains, you can't help but admire the bright harbor from afar.
"Now, now. Where should I go?" You whispered and asked yourself. It was too early for you to leave, you still have a few hours for you to kill time. And as much as you wanted to go to the harbor yourself. As the other adeptus were currently in there, your presence might just spoil the mood so you'd rather not come. It was okay seeing the city from afar.
Suddenly, a place came into mind. Without missing a beat, you made your way at the place. It was such a good timing, after all, the current conquer of demons is currently away in the inn. That place was a good place for sightseeing after all. A good place to admire Liyue and waste time until your departure. Or so you thought.
"Aren't you going to the city?" "Old foes are in there, I'd rather not." You chuckle helplessly as you turn around. There a certain adeptus you thought won't be here have arrived. "Well then, now that you're back, I should get going before I ruined your night." You bow politely, something a mere mortal would do in front of him nowadays.
Walking past him, you did not expect to be stopped, having him grabbed you gently by the wirst. "Adep-" "It was an accident." He spoke before looking at you, meeting your (eye color) iris. You blink, gently prying off his hand away from you before you take a step back. "Right, but that doesn't change the fact that I was the one with her when she died." You give him a small smile. "I should get going."
"Why do you keep running away?" He sounds frustrated that you almost look back, but you didn't. But you did stop walking when you're about to walk out the door to the top floor where he was always at. After all, Yaksha was never the one to initiate a conversation, let alone an outburst. By his question, you can't help but to let out a chuckle, "Running away, heh. That's an interesting way to put it when I was the one that was left alone."
Realizing what came out of your mouth, your (eye color) iris widen as you cover your mouth with your hands. "I said something I shouldn't have." You took a deep breath and eventually dropped your hands to your side. "I apologize." You said with a sigh as you look back at the green haired adeptus whom had his eyes looking at you wide upon, probably because of what you just said a couple moments ago. "I'll take my leave now." This time, you really did leave.
Finding yourself back on top of the high peeks of Liyue, you casually lean back at one of the statues of seven, your back meeting with cold stone it was made out of, sending shiver down your spine. Still, your mind wandered off the little interaction you had with the fellow adeptus earlier. Just like that you let out a sigh.
You honestly didn't want to be seen by your fellow adeptus. Not because you'll be leaving without a word, but because of what happened in the past that each of you can't seem to forget.
Guizhong was a very bright, extrovert, and genius being. You can see she was always the center of everyone's attention. Maybe that was the reason why even Morax can't seem to look away from her. Maybe it was the reason why she always felt a bitter taste on your mouth. Because whenever she was on sight, Morax, Rex Lapis, your lover never looked at you.
"They're at it again." It was a strong sense of deja vu but this time, it wasn't you who was speaking, it was one of the adeptus, the cloud retainer speaking as the two to you look at the near distance. Rex Lapis and Guizhong alongside the rest of the Yaksha. It was a heartwarming sight, to be honest. But it did nothing but ache in your heart as you see Marshall Vritras give Guizhong and Rex Lapis a new pair of clothes. It looks like matching with each other.
"I'm going ahead." "Already?" "I wasn't feeling very well nowadays." You chuckle. That was the truth. Nowadays, it felt like someone was sucking your energy out of you. You get easily tired nowadays, and today might be one of those days. "Should I call Rex Lapis?" As she stood up, you grab the hem of her clothes. "Don't, leave him be. I can go back on my own. Just tell him I went ahead." You smile gently at her.
With one last at your lover, you bid your farewell at cloud retainer and quietly make your way back to your lair. It wasn't that bad at first, the as you walk and walk, the more you felt like everything was spinning, the grounds felt shaking, or was that you slowly loosing you strength all over you body? "Wha- what.. In the.." Before your body fell on the ground, you felt a small arms capture your figure. "(First name)?!" That voice was familiar, familiar enough to bring you back to your senses.
"Gui..zhong?" You utter in disbelief, she was just with the other not long ago, what is she doing here? "I've seen you leave not feeling very well, I decided to follow you and-" "Tsk. Another one to ruined my plan." Both of you turn to the uninvited guess, another God. It feels like you've seen him somewhere. That.. Where have you seen him? Before you knew it, an attack was launched at the two of you.
It was hard. You knew the two of you don't stand a chance. You're slowly losing your senses, you're not in the condition to fight in the first place and as you pant, looking at Guizhong right beside you. She was as wounded as you were, blood dripping down her temple all the way to her chin. "R-run." You utter.
This time, she was looking at you in disbelief. "Do you think you're in the position to say something like that?! You won't be able to hold him back!" "He was coming.. coming for me ha- in the f-first place." You pant heavily. Just like that, you heard a sinister laugh from the god in front of you. "That's right. I'm glad you're well aware (First name)." So it was true, it was really after you. "Guizhong... Run."
"That's right, you two can't take me. Why don't you go and ask the others for help and leave (First name) here for me. Don't worry, we'll only talk." "Like I'll believe that!" "You should. Do you even know why they're in a state like that? It's because they hate you." "What non-" "What shit are you saying?!" You shout all of a sudden, (eye color) iris shaking.
"You don't know? Were you really not aware of it? Aren't you just wondering why you're running out of energy nowadays? Why do you think was the reason?" "You-!" "It's because of your hatred and jealously." As the god in front of you laugh, your (eye color) iris shook even more. No, no. No no no no no. It's nothing like that. That's not it. There is no way in Celestia he was able to suck your energy away because you're what, angry and jealous? How pathetic!
"Come to think of it, isn't they God the reason for all of it?" By those words, you felt like you're drench in cold water. "Isn't she the reason why you and Rex Lapis rarely get along nowadays?" "What nonsense are you saying?! We're nothing but friend-" "Isn't that right, (First name)?" No I- you- I... "(First name)?" They shaky voice of Guizhong snapped you out of it. "No- I.. I don't-" "HAHAHAHA See? They can't even reply properly!" "Shut up! Don't confuse them any longer!"
"You know me and Rex Lapis were just friends, right? Right (First name)?" She spoke gently. But at your (eye color) iris met those bright ones of hers. You can't help but look down and utter. "I'm sorry." You knew they were friends, heck. You knew that, and it disgusts you to think there is something more. You never felt so broken, confused, disgusted, and pathetic to yourself all your life. "I'm sorry." You utter once again, this time, tears where pooling in those (eye color) iris. "I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry." You don't long for how long were you saying that but you kept on saying anyway. "It's alright." You heard a quiet yet genuine chuckle. "It's alright. You don't hate me, right?" She smiled brightly at you. But before you can even reply. A blinding attack cane towards the direction of you two. Only then did you realize, you've been distracted for awhile now. And before the attack reach you. You one again felt an arm wrapped around your figure. "Close your eyes, (First name)"
Looking at the city afar, you blink. Then you look up. It seems like you've taken a nap. Your shoulders were cold and stiff, so you stood up and stretched your arms and back. Then you halt. "Alatus." You sigh, looking back to see the green haired adeptus once again.
"You're leaving." "Heh? Where did you get that idea?" "Why are you leaving?" "You didn't answer my question, so I have the right not to answer your question too." "Fine. I just have the feeling." "Hmm. Why am I leaving? I just want to travel." "Don't." "Why?" You raise a brow. "Everything is fine right now." That is the truth.
"I'm just leaving Liyue, I'm not going somewhere far away." You added. "Then I'm going to get going now, I had a quick nap so-" "I told you it was just an accident, when will you stop blaming yourself-!" "That doesn't change the fact that she died because of me, okay? Besides, that's surprising coming from you. She was your esteemed master after all-" You stopped and sigh. You've said too much once again.
"I'm going to tell Morax." "Then tell him." As if he'll do something, you almost scoff but held it in. "No one has ever blamed you for what happened." "Really, Xiao? Did you honestly forgetten?"
A harsh slap across the face made you turn to your side. It hurts, but you didn't dare cry. You deserve this. "You-! You-! I can't believe you!" "That's enough." The Cloud Retainer eventually restrain Streetward Rambler from laying a hand from you again. "Enough??! Enough?! It is all because of them that Guizhong died! All because of what? All because of them being envious?!" "I'm sorry." You clench your jaw. "I'm sorry."
"I wish it was you who died." You don't know, perhaps you don't want to know who said that as you flinch. "Rex- where is Rex Lapis?" You asked, never once looking up. You haven't seen your lover ever since then. "Who knows? Maybe he doesn't want to see you for what you did?" Once again you flinch. "We were just doing fine without you, even before. If you aren't Rex Lapis lover, I wouldn't have approached you in the first place."
Looking away from Xiao, you sigh, rubbing your temples. "That-" "Enough. I'm not changing my mind. It's much better this way. Besides, even without me, you'll be fine." Just like that, you disappeared from the conquer of demons' sight.
When you teleported into a familiar place you haven't been for a long time, you didn't expect to see him there, he should be around the city somewhere after all.
You couldn't help but stare at his back. You haven't seen him for so long. So you didn't expect to see him in the place where the two of you first met, of maybe it was just place to him.
As you were about to leave, about to teleport away. Your (eye color) iris met with a pair of amber ones. You couldn't move. Morax, he looked the same as he has always been. "I- I was just passing by." "I see." He replied like it was nothing, maybe it was nothing. So why is he looking at you like that?
"I'll get going then." You spoke and turned around. As you did, you felt his glaze upon your back. Then you stopped. "Morax." "I go by Zhongli nowadays." "Yeah, I've heard." You bit your lips. "But this question is for Morax, not for the mortal Zhongli." "I see." There was a moment of silence as a harsh wind breeze passed by. "Morax." "What it is?" His voice was soft as always, like the good old days.
"Morax, did you ever love me?" You asked the question you've been dying to ask for a long time now. And yet, as moments passed by, there was nothing but silence it makde you laugh. "I see, so that's how it is." You smile bitterly.
"I should get going now, thank you for your time." You spoke before you continue to walk away from him. "Oh, and Zhongli. You'll do just fine without me. Like always."
As you glance back at him, and for a moment, you wish you never did. Because as soon as you did, he was looking with eyes wondering what were you up to, those amber iris wondering why you even asked him of such question. Those amber iris looking at you with such affection as it did in the past. But perhaps that's just you. Because as you walked away like you did in the past, he never chase after you. Like he never loved you.
[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2023°
Edit: part two
#genshin impact#genshin imagines#dark night hero#genshin#morax lapis#morax x reader#genshin impact zhongli#zhongli imagines#zhongli x reader#zhongli#zhongli angst#genshin impact fanfic#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact angst#genshin x reader#genshin x gn reader#genshin angst#lantern rite genshin#guizhong#xiao
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OK PREFACING WITH IM SORRY IF I ALREADY SENT THIS EXACT ASK BUT MY WIFI KILLED ITSSLF AS I SENT IT SO IDK IF IT ACTUALLY WENT THROUGH. but in case it didn’t . i know youve gotten this countless times in the past because i blog stalked just in case youve mentioned something similar before but i need to know if you have any specific inspirations when you draw exaggerated expressions specifically like these two images of marcille. ive actually cried laughing over this comic and being able to communicate this type of visceral emotion is such an insane skill and ive followed your art for probably close to a decade through various fandoms so watching you develop this style has been fucking awesome and epic. like i cannot articulate how funny these are to me i just need you to understand i look at this comic to inspire me to draw now. the closest comparison i can draw to the feelings they evoke are like those mspaint reaction images and also mspaint tails i included for reference even though you probably know exactly what im talking about anyways but its actually so much harder to do that intentionally when you study art. also i lied you literally don’t even need to answer this i just had to let you know how obsessed i am over your silly comics and now ive written out a whole ass discussion post about it. im sorry if this is weird at all i think my daily prescribed amphetamines r wearing off and i know this is such a dumb specific thing to fixate on and im so sorry if its not something you want to hear about your art. ive just always seen that as an artist this type of expressive stupid silly style is something that comes after a significant amount of time and practice and study and style development despite being “simple” in theory. its just so cool to have worked with your own style so much that youre able to go “off model” from it and still maintain consistency with the rest of the piece. i said it already and im sorry this is actually rendundant now but the ability to communicate such raw emotion somehow decreases from at its height when someone is a beginner artist learning how to proportion and keep a steady line and what looks “normal” but somehow it all comes full circle because taking all that experience and using it to almost return to where you started but in a fully informed and intentional way so you can make choices to draw characters like this when the situation calls for it is just dhcidogakgoshfhw. i think i need to cut myself off or im going to talk in circles im sorry tumblr user sabertoothwalrus i just am fascinated by your style and progress and the years you’ve dedicated to art can be seen in so many places but this is just one that stands out to me specifically.
MMMMM what a fun question!!!
I'm not gonna lie, I think it's just Letting A Drawing Be Bad. I definitely think the people that struggle with this the most are people who have genuinely very pretty art styles, to the point of being kind of perfectionist about it. and to Draw Funny often means Drawing Fast and Weird. Pretty is kind of the antithesis of funny (unless being pretty is the punchline). do drawings that make yourself laugh. tracing/lining funny sketches almost always makes them less funny.
one of my favorite types of humor is when it skews more deadpan, actually. This is one of the reasons I love Adventure Time. minimal expressions and flat line delivery + absurd context is a really good combo. the key to comedy has more to do with contrast! if your drawings are allllll crazy ren & stimpy all the time, they're not funny anymore cause it's just "normal". if it's all subdued UNTIL it's extreme, and vice versa, then it's funny. The reason this comic is so funny is because of the complete lack of any expression. I feel like the one you sent of Marcille shouting "WHAT" is funnier when you know how much she tries to be dainty and feminine and delicate, how much she values her appearance, and how averse she is to "gross" or "weird" things.
something I find really annoying (and this is with comics/animation in general, not the expressions themselves) is when the joke goes on for too long. Like you'll have the joke, then the punchline, and THEN the characters reacting to the punchline??? Like the author didn't trust that their audience would find the joke funny, so they basically drew in a laugh track. But, this is distinct from a character's reaction being the punchline (like how the examples you gave from my Marcille comic are). MY POINT IS sometimes expressions aren't as funny on their own as you think, and context can affect how you feel about it!
as far as inspirations go!
my own face! even if I don't have a mirror, I like making the expressions myself so I can "feel" where the points of tension on my face are, and it gives me a sense of what to exaggerate.
my brother's art, believe it or not! we've been trying to make each other laugh with our drawings since we were kids, and he's really good at it.
ATLA has some great expressions
OK KO has been a reallyyyy good source for me lately. That show is so tailored to my sense of humor and the expressions and line deliveries feel exactly like the kinds of things I'd come up with. The tone, timing, and art style are all really close to the tv show pitch I'm working on, so when I feel like I've "strayed" too much from it (like after drawing a bunch of dungeon meshi, and my art feels tighter and... idk "manga-ier"?) I like to go and watch a couple episodes of OK KO to loosen back up
A lot of things like OG Spongebob, Calvin & Hobbes, the Simpsons, Chowder, etc etc
memes in general. if it makes you laugh, keep it in mind
and lastly, I wouldn't say I ever try to mimic funny expressions I see. Like if I watch a show for inspo, I'm not pausing it to copy specific drawings, I'm just trying to notice patterns and pay attention to what about it I find funny.
talking about being funny is really bizarre and I dunno if it makes it lose some of the magic. Ultimately it's something you can't think about too much, and just gotta go with your gut.
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Opinions on owning pet parrots? I'm doing a degree in animal welfare and have pretty much come to the conclusion that the smaller species are fine if you can provide what they need but the larger birds like the greys, outside of being rescues, shouldn't be pets at all.
Okaaaaaaaay so time to make everyone mad at me again I guess
parrots have been human companion animals for longer than Judaism has been around, so, I don't think we can just say "it's wrong" and force everyone to stop doing a thing that's been done for that long. Like, this isn't a human randomly taking home a tiger, this is a long going process with many species of parrots now being near-domesticated in the strictest sense of the term
Parrot ownership is in fact ancient in many "tropical" areas and the idea that it's a new thing is... white supremacy! what a shock!
in the United States (I am not talking about other countries, just my own), literally no companion parrots are wild caught anymore. They're bred. Bred as companions. If we were to outlaw larger parrot ownership, many birds would be without a home, and that's morally reprehensible
in fact, the kind of backlash against parrot ownership that's risen up in the past decade has directly led to a shelter crisis. most shelters are overfilled and overstressed, which is a *lot* worse for the birds in many cases than home ownership
parrots are pets that have extraordinarily high care needs. They are not good pets for everyone. but no pet is! Every single companion animal has its pluses and downsides, and many of them have many more downsides than pluses. Doesn't mean they shouldn't have a home.
There are some people who are actually able to take care of companion parrots, adequately, in their homes. First of all, we've learned a lot in the past few decades. Second of all, there are lifestyles that work well with even larger parrots and their needs.
So, while the number of human beings on this planet who can adequately take care of large parrots is extremely small, it is not zero. Which means if someone thinks they can take care of a bird well, and has the space and resources and time, then they should be allowed to, if that's what they wish
Because birds in the USA are bred as companions, the vast majority of said parrots would be unhappy in any situation that doesn't involve close contact with humans. Admittedly, all my parrots are "small" (whatever that means), but I know for a fact that if you took them away from our home they would be significantly worse off, because they're bonded to us. That's how this whole flocking thing works
Also, our most recent rescues, who had been stuck in a shelter for 15 years, are definitely happier now getting more individual attention and space. Shelters are supposed to be temporary places for most birds, not permanent homes, because they can't get the adequate level of care and attention that they need.
also, I'll point out that being pets has allowed many parrot species to have thriving populations that are not threatened by climate change, which is something to their benefit. given. you know. climate change. not that pet ownership is conservation, but, it's not that far removed from it - the axolotl population owes a lot to both pet ownership and zoo captivity, for example.
like, it's a spectrum, right? And it doesn't really go along with size, at the end of the day. There are tons of extremely neurotic and high needs small parrots, and many larger ones that are exceptionally chill. So while the vast majority of humans on this planet should not have a parrot, that's not all of them; and while the number that can handle higher maintenance ones is even smaller, its not zero. And I think, given the fact that we have all of these captive bred birds in the states at least, it's not a good idea to tell people that there is no way to ethically practice husbandry with them.
and I'm not the kind of person who assumes I know everything about someone's life in order to tell them "no you shouldn't bring home that cockatoo", so I'm not going to. In fact, I give everyone on the internet the benefit of the doubt if they have a parrot unless a) that parrot shows signs of distress (like plucking) or b) there is clearly something wrong going on (like someone's smoking weed around their bird)
so, no, there's no commonly kept (and thus domestically captive bred) bird I think is a bad pet for every single human on the planet. And it's not my business whether a particular individual should or should not have a particular bird.
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Remember Part Two |SatoSugu X Reader| HC
Part One
Summary: It's hard bouncing back twelve years.
Warnings: none? Pretty fluffy.
- - - - -
You pat around the bed, but can't seem to find what you're looking for. You awkwardly push yourself up onto your hands, your waist awkwardly trapped in Satoru's tight hold.
You look around, still weary about, well, everything that's gone on. The jet lag-like dysphoria combined with the surrealism of the situation is muddling your mind.
You're still in Geto's room, that much is obvious based on his dark sheets and clean desk, but there's no Geto.
"Suguru?"
You can't feel his residuals anywhere. You try to settle your worries by reminding yourself that he often suppressed his cursed energy, that the ball hadn't started rolling yet, but the pit in your stomach was persistent.
Before you can panic any more, he's sliding his door open and closed behind him. You let out a breath and forced your way out of Satoru's grip. You hear him whine, but don't pay much mind to him.
You sit on the edge of the bed and rub your hand over your face. It's easier to calm down now than it was last night, the initial shock having worn off and the lack of exhaustion make things much easier to process.
"You can't just leave, Suguru."
"I was just," he paused, "Nevermind. I'm sorry."
He takes a seat next to you and you rest your head on his shoulder.
It's silent, but not uncomfortable. You can feel him trying to pick you apart with his eyes, wanting information but not wanting to ask. You chose to let him wonder and just basque in his presence. It's warm, almost like a hug.
You eventually convince yourself to get up from his bed and start your day. Gojo complains, something about you getting up means he has to as well. You can no longer be used as an excuse to lounge around all day.
It's difficult to get back into the groove of your old life. You're quickly realizing how much a person can change when given enough time.
Your hair is longer than you'd recently kept it and your ears hadn't been pierced yet. Seeing a face you didn't recognize as your own in the mirror was a trip in and of itself. Second puberty is a very real thing, the lack of adult maturity in your features being proof of it.
You haven't used a single product in your bathroom in over a decade. Satoru had long replaced your cheap body care products with an expensive perfume and matching lotions. There was no trinket dish holding your prized jewelry, solely because you just hadn't been gifted any of it yet. Your closet was severely dated, only containing uniforms and outfits you had outgrown years ago.
None of this stuff mattered in the grand scheme of things. Everything would eventually fall into place, and you'd have all of these things back, but that didn't stop it from hurting. They're just objects, but most of them held much more significant meaning. Milestones, holidays, memories with people you care for. It's sad not to have the visual reminder.
You make your way through the halls of Jujutsu High, acknowledging the faces of all your old classmates. Once you get past the eerie presence of a select few you haven't seen since their untimely deaths, it's refreshing. As of right now, there's no war or depression. Nothing stopping you from actively enjoying the present time with your friends.
That is, except for the expiration date practically stamped on their foreheads.
You head through a myriad of hallways and tunnels that eventually lead to an elevator. You know you shouldn't be down here, Yaga would surely have your head, but you don't really see any other options.
You're surprised when you easily pass through the barrier. He was most likely expecting your company. Word travels fast, especially when it involves everyone assuming their battle position at three in the morning.
His base is creepy, to say the least. The vibe is ominous, almost like you're entering certain death. You're certain that this is a stupid idea, but your feet keep moving nonetheless, and soon your eye to eye with the one person who can protect the future.
"Tengen."
"Oh? I hope this doesn't have anything to do with my upcoming assimilation, does it?"
"You don't even know the half of it."
- - - - -
After your impromptu meeting with Tengen, you decided not to bother with the rest of your classes. Instead, you made a trip off campus for some essentials.
The errand is short, just a stop at the nearest bookstore for some new journals and the convenience store for a more... indulgent treat. It isn't long before you're back in the confines of your bedroom.
There's writing supplies strewn across your desk, your feet awkwardly forced onto the narrow cushion of your seat as you uncomfortably hunched over. The ashtray to your left is packed full of butts, the pack halfway gone as you've chain smoked through the whole ordeal.
You always hated the task of actually writing out the events of your dreams. It's tedious and requires an ungodly amount of focus to remember every detail. It's been damn near four hours, and you're only three years into the endeavor. Granted, all of the more relevant things happen in that time, making it drag out a bit more in word form, but that's besides the point.
You're so entranced in the activity, you don't even notice Geto slide open your door. He walks up behind you, resting both hands on your shoulders and startling you out of your daze. You swiftly close the notebook and relax into his touch, reveling in the way he digs his thumbs into your sore shoulders.
"Never thought I'd catch you smoking after all the grief you give us."
"I needed to unwind," you pause, glancing at the half empty pack, "I suppose I did get a bit carried away, though."
It's quiet while he continues his ministrations. You take one last drag of your cigarette before snuffing it out in the tray. You relax, allowing your body to melt into a less chaotic position in your chair.
You're having a hard time recalling the specific relationship dynamics you once held with the people around you in high school.
As an adult, you happily indulged in Satoru's advances. You found comfort in his bed at night and in the gestures of affection he'd grant you, but something was always missing.
Nothing was ever formal or very serious, something you entirely blame Geto's defection for. He had left a hole in everyone's hearts, and no matter how much you tried to move past it, there was always that lingering darkness. Having Satoru and not Suguru was like having the moon and not the sun, and it stunted both of you for years to come.
Your future relationships and mature understandings of life were blurring your memories of the current ones. Had you and Gojo romanticized the past version of Geto? Was the way you're feeling right now just a symptom of that? Or was there always something actually there?
"What are you thinking about?"
You shrug. You don't really feel like lying right now, so it's better to just not say anything.
"I came in here to ask if you'd like to go to Splendid Sushi with us? Satoru's treat of course."
You tilt your head back to peer up at him. You touch his hand and strain your arm so you can drag your fingers up his arm, finally finding a place to rest on his bicep.
He looks new. There are no bags under his eyes and he still has that sparkle of hope. It finally sinks in that this is your Suguru. The guy who argues about morals with Satoru and dreams about protecting the weak. It's a warm feeling, one that gives you the strength to venture forward.
"I have to keep working, Sugu. You guys go on without me."
"How about you come with us, and I'll keep you company afterwards."
You hum, feigning contemplation for a moment before dramatically sighing and agreeing to his proposal.
You forgot how good it felt to be worry free. To sit in a restaurant with your three favorite people, talking about nonsense and just enjoying the night. Eating a sickening amount of sushi and being loud enough to bother other patrons.
But your thoughts started to drift to the one thing you'd been trying to avoid; your kids.
When Megumi and Tsumiki were younger, family dinners weren't an issue. You could easily wrangle everyone in and play peacekeeper long enough to have a nice meal. Then Tsumiki got sick and it felt wrong to enjoy the weekly gatherings.
In all honesty, neither had ever really needed you, but you'd like to think they enjoyed having you and Satoru as some kind of pseudo-parents. Megumi has always been independent and Tsumiki has always been a fighter, but they're little right now, about three and four years old, probably fending for themselves while Toji and his girlfriend are off doing God knows what.
You've completely tuned out the others' conversation about, what even was it? Animals they could take in a fight? They're talking amongst themselves while you begin to worry about their place in your future.
Would Satoru still seek them out? With Geto around, will he feel the need to raise two kids? And what about the two girls Geto saves from that village? Should you intervene in the town beforehand, or set things up so he still takes them? Is there even a way to do so without igniting that anti-monkey flame?
You rub your hand down your face as the onset of headache approaches. Only a half-hour into dinner and you've already managed to ruin it for yourself.
You quietly excuse yourself from the table and exit the building. You hear them whisper amongst themselves before Shoko jogs to catch up with you outside. She leans against the side wall with you, surprised when you hand her one of two lit cigarettes between your lips.
"You good?"
You don't answer at first. What are you supposed to tell her? That you miss the teenagers you raised after having a hand in killing their dad?
"Just stressed."
"Feel like sharing?"
"Wish I could. You have no idea."
Shoko has always been your favorite confidant. She's well-rounded and more predictable than Gojo, even now. You sigh, tilting your head back and forth in thought with a groan.
"I'm having trouble adjusting."
"Don't you always?"
"Not like this. I've never seen so far forward before. I feel like I'm in a haze."
"It'll fade. It always does, just gotta give it time, y'know?"
You jab the filter against the bricks and toss it in the trash, Shoko following suit. Despite it being a very dry conversation, you do feel a bit better. Maybe just forcing yourself into a more familiar place within the group was helping.
You make your way back to the table, sitting beside Satoru this time and allowing him to pull you into his side with an arm around your shoulder. He leans his head down so he can whisper in your ear.
"You're too pretty to be worrying so much. Try and relax, alright?"
The next second he's laughing, joking with Suguru about how easy it is to piss off Nanami and arguing with Shoko about who gets to open the prize capsule.
You smile, thankful for the wonderful distraction that is your friends. You pull the bit out of Shoko's hand and call dibs. They pout, but don't fight you. You pop it open and pull out a Badtz-Maru keychain. You can't help but be reminded of Megumi, its black spikey top and sour expression are damn near uncanny.
Satoru uses the arm around your shoulder to pluck the prize out of your hand.
"Awe, I was hoping for Hello Kitty."
You take it back and shove it in your pocket.
"Good thing it's not yours then, huh?"
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#satosugu x reader#satoru gojo#suguru geto#geto suguru#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#geto x reader#gojou satoru x reader#getou suguru x reader#gojo x geto#satosugu
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What are your thoughts on guardians vol.3? (If you have watched it) I went into it, expecting it went to the garbage like the rest of the mcu, but I was pleasantly surprised by its creativity, trope subversion, and how it wrapped up the previously unresolved arks of its characters.
That's what I've heard!
The thing is, Guardians 3 could be the most transcendent work of cinema ever made, and I'd probably still feel little to no motivation to watch it at this point. It's not Guardians's fault - it's just suffering from the same problem that superhero comics have been struggling with for decades: no matter how good an individual arc or run is, absolutely nothing good lasts or matters in the long term, and the stories are shaped in such a way that "the long term" is the only thing anyone gets to build towards.
Whenever I complain about the MCU I get a handful of people loudly complaining about my complaining, with the general thesis that if I don't like it I shouldn't watch it or talk about it - if I'm not having fun, just stop engaging with it. And the thing is, I have. I am intellectually interested in why this massive franchise is fumbling the bag so hard, which is why I still check in on it sometimes, but I've long since stopped turning to the MCU for uncritical entertainment. And even the good movies or shows with a lot of interesting ideas - good character arcs, fun concepts, interesting planting for future payoff - don't draw me in anymore, because they're hooked into a massive moneymaking machine that will scrap and squander anything if they think it'll make them more in the quarter. It doesn't matter how good the writing is, because the writers are not allowed to tell a complete, finished story, and they have no control over what happens to their characters outside of their own script.
Captain America's arc was set up from literally minute one to answer one burning question at the core of his character: does a world without a war still need Captain America? After that incredibly basic tee-up at the end of First Avenger, half a dozen movies failed to come up with a reason to say "yes," and now Steve is retired for good after getting fumbled through four different storylines that couldn't even pretend that they needed him (the unused Chekhov's Phone from the end of Civil War still haunts me). The foundational arc of his entire character never happened because nobody bothered to keep track of it past a single movie.
Taika did something interesting with Thor in Ragnarok - take away Mjolnir, force him to recognize what it means to be the god of thunder, give him a very Odin-y missing eye - and the very next movie undid all of it. Just kidding, never mind, here's an eye and a new weapon and also his old weapon again, and in one more movie we're even gonna give him his hair back, probably as an apology for all the completely unironic fatphobia we're gonna slather him in for two and a half hours. I'm not even surprised Love And Thunder was such an overblown mess that barely took itself seriously - why would Taika bother trying to give Thor another arc when the powers that be will just roll it back in six months anyway?
I hear Rocket Raccoon has a fantastic arc in this movie. That's great, and demonstrates that he's being written by a writer that deeply cares about him. But he's part of the MCU, and the MCU doesn't let anything end, so if current patterns hold, Rocket is going to continue to serve as quippy plushie-bait for the next dozen movies and none of that depth is going to come through in the long term. Hell, since they're making Kang noises for the Next Big Threat and Kang's entire gimmick is rewriting timelines, literally none of this is guaranteed to matter. By next year, it might not have even happened anymore.
The MCU has successfully shaped itself into a paradigm where the bright spots of good writing are overridden and lost as soon as the writers room turns over, and that makes it really hard for me to muster up the enthusiasm to watch even a really good movie that's locked into the exact same grist mill as everything else. I'm glad people liked it, I hope it gets to stay good this time - I just have no desire to watch it.
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I saw your post about ingram, and out of curiosity, is there some advantage to going through the whole self-publishing thing with retailers when you're just starting out? like I mean the way that fandom zines work is that they don't even bother going through ingram or amazon or whatever. they just set up a social media site (usually twitter) to gain followers, open preorders (usually 1-2 months in length) to generate the costs of printing upfront, and then sell anywhere from a few dozen to several hundred copies of their books (usually artbooks, but anthologies exist too). I've seen some zines generate over a thousand orders. they're kind of like pop-up shops, except for books. maybe the sales numbers aren't so impressive to a real author, but the profit generated is typically waaaay more than the $75+ apparently needed for Ingram Spark, so I still feel like new authors could benefit from this method too, especially if they just need some start-up cash to eventually move to ingram if they want to for subsequent runs of their book. I think authors would also have to set aside some of the pre-order money to buy an ISBN number to have printed on their book, and I'm not really sure what other differences there are, but I just wanted to ask about it in case there's some huge disadvantage I'm missing!
So, popup zines work well for some people, and I know some authors who kickstart their work successfully. But for a lot, it's just not feasible as a long-term stratedy. Or even as a means to get off the ground.
Fanzines succeed primarily because an existing fanbase is willing and ready to throw money at something they love. They’ve got a favorite writer or artist they want to support. Supporting all the others is just a happy by-product. They also take a HUGE amount of short-term but intense planning that just doesn’t always jive with how some of us work.
I, for one, would never offer to organize a fanzine. I’ll take part in them as a creator, but I’d rather throw myself off a cliff than subject myself to wrangling that many people and dealing with the legal logistics.
When it comes to authors doing anthologies, it'svery much the same. The success of the funding often hinges on having other big-name authors involved whose existing fans will prop up the project. Or having a huge marketing budget.
Most self-pub authors have zero marketing budget. I’m one of them, and I’m under no illusions that my work would not be as popular and self-sustaining as it is if I didn’t have a large Tumblr blog.
When I thank Tumblr in my forewards, I am utterly sincere. Tumblr brought fandom levels of enthusiasm to an unknown work and broke the Amazon algorithm so hard, that Amazon thought I was bot sniping my way to multiple #1 spots and froze my sales rankings.
That’s not the norm. And while I could probably kickstart my own work as an indie creator, that’s because I’ve put literal decades into building up a readership. I’ve been doing this since I was 16 and realized people thought I was funny. I didn’t know what to do with it or if I’d ever actually write anything, but it meant the groundwork was already there (thank you, past-me). I basically fell upward into my success by virtue of never being able to shut the fuck up and wanting to make people laugh. Clown instincts too strong.
New or first-time authors trying to sell their work without that will find it infinitely harder.
All of that aside, even if an unknown author somehow gets lucky and manages to fund their work, there’s still the question of shipping and distribution logistics. Are you shipping everything yourself? Better hope you’re able-bodied and have the time for it. (for reference, it took me months to ship out 300 patreon hardbacks because of my disabilites. It damaged my back and hands. I couldn’t type for several weeks after I was done.)
Are you going to sell primarily at conventions? Better hope you’re able-bodied, have the time and don’t have cripling anxiety about being in large groups...
Also, will selling a dozen to a few thousand copies in one burst be sustainable in the long run as a career? Not for me. Doing things via Ingram and Amazon means I earn a steady trickle of sales for the rest of my life provided the platforms remain and so long as I keep working and can generate interest in the series, not just when I have funds to pay for physical copies to sell. The one-time (in theory) cost of $75 to distribute through Ingram gets paid off pretty quick that way. And it doesn't require the same logistics as doing the popup/crowdfund.
Ultimately, it comes down to what you are capable of but also the type of work you’re doing. If you’ve got an extended network of fellow creatives who will back you or you’ve got a large following elsewhere, doing it like a popup might work for you.
If you’re an exhausted burnout who can’t fathom the short but intense amount of organization that sort of thing requires, not to mention doing it over and over and over... Ehhhhh. No thank you.
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Hi there :)
Can I request some headcanons about Xiao and Wanderer (separated) with an old s/o? Like, they've been together for decades, but reader is a mortal and they're not, therefore they don't have many years left to live now that they're in their 80s. I would like something sweet but feel free to add some angst in it.
HI ANON TY FOR YOUR ASK! Ok so I’m literally goiNG TO CRY because I actually purposely make my own self insert immortal because this makes me so depressed but dw I will make it a fluffy happy ending. I would be unwell if I didn’t make it a happy ending LMAO
[Fluff + Slight Angst] [Xiao/Wanderer x Reader] Mortals
CONTENT
Fluff, some angst, gender neutral reader, HAPPY ENDING WOO, CHARACTERS ARE 18+
XIAO has been alive for longer than he can genuinely remember and most of it was spent suffering alone. He’s scarred so deeply that even until the end of time, the marks will never fade. He can’t get rid of his past but you came along and he realized he could at least start to heal from the centuries of pain. Your time together has been the best years of his life and it makes his heart ache to think that you’re about to come and go before even living for a fraction of his life. He’s watched your mortal body age but he still thinks knows that you’re the prettiest thing he’ll ever encounter. Xiao has always treated his time with you like it was limited, even when you were younger. He’s been getting desperate recently though, your body has slowed down, and you’re well into your elderly years. He’s always wanted to ask you if he and Zhongli could help you with this, return you to your younger body and help you live forever. But, he thought it would hurt you. Immortality is more of a curse than a blessing and he of all people should know that. But as your health deteriorated, he started to plan how to ask you without pressuring you. Honestly, when he finally brought it up, you giggled at him and said “I didn’t even know you could do that.” He blinked as he realized how much time had passed and how he really had been avoiding it all these years. It was just somewhat unfathomable to a 2000 year old being that all these fun years with you had already been a few decades. He explains why he felt bad suggesting it, but you quickly comforted him and thanked him for even bringing it up. You said you needed some time to think about it but you knew that you wanted more time with your beloved. It’s near impossible for most people to find their soulmate and so since you found yours, you wanted to somewhat selfishly hold onto him as long as you could. Of course he secretly felt the same though. Your time together might end soon as the traveller discovers the underlying mysteries of the world or it could end millenia later. Either way, you knew you’d be able to face it, together.
WANDERER has been through so much over the past few centuries of his life and he’s believed his emotions have been so useless to him as he isn’t even human. His suffering, pain, and desire never made sense because he always lacked a heart. He thought he’d be doomed to this forever until he met you. You breathed life into his mechanical body and into his new anemo vision heart. He felt truly alive with you, it was like he was freshly born as a real man when you came into his life. He took a while to properly warm up to you before he could express himself in a healthy way but you always had the patience for him. The problem was that he couldn’t have the same patience, not because he wasn’t a healthy partner, but because your life had a definite end. He was impatient because he couldn’t lose you and he didn’t know what else to do. He consulted Nahida/his mom about it and she suggested using his body as a template to create a body for you. One that would last forever with him. He was immediately overjoyed to hear that there was hope and he almost forgot to consider that you might not want to live forever. He probably tries to gauge if you would want to by prodding you with small questions but you see straight through him. You know something’s up, and you tell him that you know there’s enough trust between you two for either of you to speak freely. So he does. You take some time to debate it and decide to do it because even if at some point you can’t take it, you’d talk to him about it and come up with a solution (but you doubt that'll come up <3). There was a lot going on in Teyvat at the moment but just knowing that you’d have more time gave both of you peace. He was worried that afterwards you might not be the same, and that you might become emotionally hollow. But you knew that with him there, you’d never feel any less alive. Even without your physical body, you both had your souls, and it was all you’d ever need.
Thank you for reading!
|| MASTERLIST <3 ||
#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin fluff#genshin angst#genshin impact fluff#xiao x reader#xiao fluff#xiao angst#wanderer x reader#wanderer fluff#wanderer angst#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche fluff#scaramouche angst#j's silly ramblings#j's asks
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so i have not stopped thinking about gillion's banishment ever since it was revealed, but episode 114 has got me feeling fucking unhinged over it because it has given me new thoughts.
cause like, here's the thing. gillion's banishment never made sense to me. clearly, the prophecy and the chosen one are extremely important to the undersea. it is literally about whether their people continue to live or are exterminated. it is so vital to them that they took a literal child away from his family and trained him under the most important, highest-position figures in the entire undersea. just think about all the resources and time and effort they piped gill's way.
so the idea that they would just… send him away doesn't make sense. if they send away their chosen one, they're basically fucking over the entire undersea. according to the undersea's version of the prophecy, they need their chosen one or it's literally the end of the world. and even if maybe the elders didn't fully believe the prophecy, they'd still have to answer to their people who definitely believe the prophecy. (hence why the whole shebang was swept under the rug, to the point they refused to tell edyn anything about it.)
obviously, there's unseen factors at play here.
it's possible that it was, indeed, the elders' choice to exile gillion. maybe they decided they were wrong that gillion was the chosen one - after all, he'd spent the past decade or so failing in his training, and maybe this was the straw that broke the camel's back. they sent him away as punishment for the incident and to get him out of their hair, kept the whole thing on the down low to keep the people calm and preserve their reputation, and started searching for who they believe is the real chosen one.
but i can't believe that. it doesn't make sense to me, especially since time and time again, various people have been able to look at gillion and see the sheer divine energy he radiates. the elders - the most powerful people in the undersea - would surely be able to tell.
or maybe they simply didn't care whether gill was the chosen one or not, just that he had disapointed them one too many times. like it's one of those things where the people care about it much more than the government. but frankly, that just seems too convient and doesn't really line up with the intensity of gillion's training. i don't believe it either.
which means, the most likely scenario is that it was not the elders' choice to exile gillion.
i can only imagine what kind of a diplomatic nightmare it would be to try and sort out the aftermath of such an incident. it's wasn't just some rando stabbing a human - it was the chosen one, one of the most important figures of the undersea, stabbing a vice-admiral, one of the most important figures of the navy. entire wars have been declared over less. there is no way the navy would just let this slide, especially considering how hostile the navy has become and how their desire for an alliance with the undersea was really an attempt at manipulation. any opportunity for control they see, they will take.
perhaps gillion's exile, then, was simply punishment by the navy. if the navy did not know exactly who gillion was (it's not like he introduced himself to jayson prior or anything, and it's possible the elders did not tell the navy) then it would be an act that doubles as justice and as an example that resistance would not be tolerated. maybe it was part of a larger suite of demands, including opening a line of communication with the navy - after all, it seems that there might be some sort of communication going on at some level, given what gillion overheard at the all-port base in episode 61. (or maybe there is no communication, and the chosen one they talked about transferring was already in navy hands after being forcibly captured. who knows.)
speaking of, something about that whole all-port bit doesn't sit right with me - specifically, the alternate chosen one thing. the undersea seems to have appointed another "chosen one" after gillion's banishment. however, a few questions arise. did the undersea do it on their own accord, or at coercion of the navy? does the navy know that this isn't the original chosen one, or did the undersea manage to keep the whole switcheroo secret? was this chosen one even appointed by anyone or did they just kinda assert themselves? there's still so much that's unknown.
if we continue with the assumption that the navy did not know that gillion was the chosen one, then that would indicate that this secondary chosen one was likely chosen in an attempt to save face - possibly in the eyes of their people, possibly in the eyes of a navy threat (after all, it wouldn't be good to look weak). it would also indicate that the navy believes that this person is the true chosen one, which paints one hell of a picture. one of the things gillion overheard in episode 61 was that the chosen one was being transferred, presumably away from the undersea and the people they're sworn to protect. it seems like a very intentional move to try and lower the undersea's defenses and open them to attack.
i'd also like to add: i saw this wonderful post by here-there-be-drag0ns that you should totally check out if you haven't already that talks about how the gathering of undersea leaders might have been a front by the navy in order to get them all in the same place at the same time to take them all out. i just wanted to say that if this is true, then the idea that the navy would pre-emptively take out the chosen one to leave undersea folk more defenseless fits too well for my liking. they're making sure that the undersea's supposedly-best warrior is not present at this mass murder meeting where they're trying to decentralize the undersea. fucking yikes.
however, as much as all this makes sense to me and is a possibility, it still feels like there's something missing. it's up to some debate whether the navy (at least the higher-ups) know if gillion is the chosen one or not.
so. uh. episode 114, huh? what an episode. the tritons hanging on meat hooks and the triton skin on the ground was extremely striking to me, mainly because this is the first time we've actually seen other tritons in the campaign. for 113 episodes, the only tritons we've seen were the three tidestriders (and technically that one elder but like that was in gillion's mind so it doesn't count. also does gillion even count? anyway). that made the scene hit so much harder, and it really stuck in my head. in the time between gillion being exiled and now, the navy managed to get their hands on tritons without our resident pirates having any idea. this led me to a new thought:
what if the navy knew that gillion was the chosen one, and they knew exactly what they were doing in demanding that he be banished?
i'm not sold on this thought because it would make the whole "transferring the chosen one" thing kinda pointless (unless that was just a symbolic move meant to instill complacent despair into the undersea folks, etc.), but shit, it does make some sense.
because again, the undersea probably wouldn't banish their chosen one without some sort of coercion, and it doesn't make too much sense to me that the navy would particularly care about some rando (i.e., i think they'd leave the punishment to the undersea and instead focus on more significant ways they could use the incident to acquire control). the most likely reason they'd demand for gillion to gtfo is if they knew who he was, because then, they'd definitely want him gone. if you had the opportunity to get rid of one of the biggest obstacles between your plans of domination and the people you want to dominate, you'd fucking take it. it would make it all the easier for them to do what they want with the triton people.
but if this is true, then an even larger question arises: why wouldn't they just kill gillion?
well, maybe they wanted to. maybe they made that demand to the undersea, but the undersea refused. maybe they knew that the undersea wouldn't do it so they didn't even make the demand. maybe they knew that if they pushed for it or did it themselves, it'd piss off too many people and things would get a whole lot more messy. maybe they originally planned to secretly kill him and then replace him with someone under navy control to placate and manipulate the people, but it didn't go as expected.
or perhaps - and hear me out - gillion's banishment was not a punishment forced by the navy, but rather, an act of protection by the elders.
surely, the undersea knew they were in deep shit. for the first time possibly ever, the navy had come down to the undersea with attempts to manipulate them, but before they could turn the navy away peacefully, their goddamn champion barges in and all but makes a war declaration. shit could only go downhill from there.
obviously, the elders are shady and not morally great. they're flawed people who have caused a lot of hurt. they're as transparent as mud and withhold (and even lie about) significant information. however, i'm convinced of one thing - the prophecy and long-term survival of their people are important to them.
which means… the chosen one must stay alive.
but "oh, wouldn't it make more sense for gillion to stay in the undersea so he could fight off the navy because he's the chosen one and-" no. nope. we've all heard the way gillion talks about his training. the elders definitely saw him as a failure, no ifs, ands, or buts. they would have no confidence that he would do anything but be killed. so if your only options are 1) have your people be taken over by the navy but your chosen one is probably alive somewhere, or 2) have your chosen one be killed and then your people get taken over by the navy anyway, you're gonna go with option 1. you're gonna sacrifice the current well-being of your people with the hope that some day, destiny will lead the chosen one back when it is time and prevent the undersea from being wiped out entirely. an awful choice to have to make, but if you truly believe the prophecy, then you're gonna do what you have to to make sure it is fulfilled, even if the immediate consequences are dire. literally a last hope type of moment.
but "oh, wouldn't they at least tell gillion some of this because, again, chosen one, and-" nope. gillion is gillion. mf would absolutely go hero mode and try to stab another navy vice-admiral, get himself promptly killed, and fuck over the undersea worse. but if gillion thought he was banished as a punishment, well. that's not exactly something you can just return to the undersea from. it's a serious charge and gillion would know it. he'd be more likely to stay away and, by extension, stay out of navy hands. the best choice for the elders was to keep him in the dark and send him away, praying that destiny will lead him to where he needs to go.
but if we go this route, then it doesn't really work with the idea that the navy knows who gill is. it's possible that the undersea told the navy they killed the chosen one to try and cover their tracks, or maybe the navy knew they just exiled him and it angered them enough to react with a stronger iron grip and more demands, but… that doesn't really jive with me. if the navy knew the current "chosen one" wasn't the real one, there'd be no need to transfer them out. also, gillion has come face-to-face with jayson multiple times since the incident, and surely, if he thought that gillion was anyone of real significance, he'd remember his face (although, perhaps he's so preoccupied with jay that it was the last thing on his mind). plus, it's also worth noting that gillion's bounty from the navy only ever increased in connection with his pirate shenanigans. surely, if they really wanted the chosen one gone, they'd place a high incentive to lure in bounty hunters. in general, the idea that the navy knows who gill is just doesn't mesh well - it seems that they really don't know.
another possibility blends the banishment as protection idea with the concept that the navy doesn't know that gillion is the real chosen one. perhaps the navy, not knowing this, didn't really give a shit what the undersea did with gillion as long as he was punished and made into an example. however, just because the navy didn't know who gillion was then didn't mean they would never find out. again, gillion's got one hell of a hero complex - he simply would not stop at a single attack. he would persist, endangering any diplomatic attempts by the undersea to straighten things out and revealing himself as a very important figure and target.
this paints an interesting picture. perhaps while the navy did not directly force the undersea to exile gillion, banishment was still the best choice. it keeps the screw-up from making things worse, keeps the chosen one out of certain death, and keeps him a secret. in his place, the elders scrambled to find a suitable replacement to show to the navy and avoid suspicion. this way, if the navy exerted their newfound control over the undersea and did something like, say, transfer the chosen one out of the undersea to do gods-know-what, the real chosen one would still be hidden, safe, and ready for the day destiny pulls him back to liberate them all. gillion would be their plan b and secret weapon, should they fail.
("hidden," "secret," i say, like gillion hasn't spent the majority of the campaign immediately introducing himself to everyone as the champion of the deep and the chosen one. oof. never said my theories were solid. maybe in his long list of titles, the navy didn't notice those.)
anyway. i don't know. i have many thoughts, few of which are coherent. i have no idea what to believe. there's still so many missing bits of information, like everything regarding edyn. maybe i'm totally misinterpreting the transferred chosen one thing. there's also that whole storyline where gill was in the luxbris pearl and it was clear the (technically imagined?) elders banished him as punishment. there's that comment by that hanging triton where he says gillion abandoned them, which makes me feel like i am so off on the elders' intentions because maybe they publically blamed gill to save face. or maybe the elders didn't blame gill on their own accord, but rather were coerced to blame it on him by the navy, which, by this point, surely has deep hooks in the undersea government. fuck, dude. brain's going conspiracy theory mode now, i feel like i'm losing my mind. if y'all have any thoughts or better ideas than me, i'd love to hear them.
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DEMO (TBA)
Have you ever had everything you thought you wanted? Everything you could ever dream of just within your grasp? Only to find out it was all built on quicksand?
You were the lead singer in the most popular band to grace the music industry in over a decade-- breaking records, amassing fame and fortune, and launching your career into a height you never believed possible. Everything was going great, better than you could ever hope to imagine, until it wasn't. Until everything started to fall apart. The dreams you had thought you wanted, the life you thought you'd be able to build, began to crumble around you.
So, you did the only thing you thought you could do, you ran. Left the band that you had created within a garage back in high school, and the people that had been with you through it all, behind. Never thought you'd go back, that you'd simply fade into obscurity, but the past has a way of catching up with you. Even after five years of being away, you'll always find your way back home.
Just like you find yourself back in the world you thought you'd left behind for the Legacy Tour-- an event that could right all of the wrongs you had caused.
Will you be able to save what's left of your career, your relationships, and your passion for music? Or will it all simply fade away once more?
Faded is rated 18+ for explicit language, sexual themes, drug/alcohol use, potential violence, morally questionable behavior, and more!
✯ FEATURES ✯
Customizable MC: name, nickname, appearance, gender, hobbies, facets of your personality, various vices, public image, and more!
Delve back into the world of the music industry! Will your MC enjoy being back or secretly long for the simplicity that they have carved out for themself?
Create your own music! Will you share it during the Legacy Tour? Wherein millions could finally hear the true story behind why you departed so swiftly?
Engage in romance with a variety of characters! Some may cause more gossip than others, and be notable for the tabloids, but it's all in the name of love!
Interact with fans, new and old, and discover what they think of your departure. Will you be able to win some of them back?
✯ THE ROs ✯
Hudson Lock ✯ He/Him, 26 ✯ A fan that still remembers when you had met years before; citing that you're the reason he has pursued his passion for photography. His passion, as well as his fervent drive to do better, is something to be commended-- especially when it's focused in the manner it seems to be during the Legacy Tour.
"You've been someone I've looked up to for so long, I hope that I can be someone you can rely on when it counts too."
Noah/Nora Fox ✯ He/Him or She/Her, 28 ✯ Your oldest friend and the person that had helped create the band with you-- the only person that had believed in you during the earlier days. The very same person that can barely look you in the eyes, and has shifted from a happy ray of sunshine to the classic partier that sleeps around. Will you be able to fix what's been broken?
Special Romance: Choose to have simply been best friends with them or have been in a relationship prior to you leaving.
"I hate how much I love you sometimes, I hate that it's still your face that I want to see first thing in the morning and the last thing I see at night. I fucking hate that you destroyed me, yet you still hold all the shattered pieces."
Angelina Thorne ✯ She/Her, 28 ✯ The woman that has taken over for you within the band. With an attitude as fiery as her hair, Angelina isn't one to back down from a challenge, especially if she feels threatened. It'll take a while to break down her walls, but she may just be worth the effort.
"I don't know what bugs me more. The fact that you're here or the fact that I can't fucking stand it when you're not."
Elijah/Elizabeth Knight ✯ He/Him or She/Her, 34 ✯ Your old manager hasn't changed in the slightest; barring that they're no longer married. You don't know how you feel about the news, nor do you wish to comprehend what it could potentially mean, but you do know that nothing would ever happen as long as they kept you at arm's length.
Special Romance: Choose to have had a crush on them, but nothing ever happened because they were married.
"You are, and will always be, my only exception."
Jaime Winters ✯ They/Them, 28 ✯ One of the few people you've let close to you within your new "normal" life. They're not the most talkative person, which you can appreciate, but they always make sure you know that they're listening, and they can brighten any room with a signature smile of theirs. Plus, when they do get comfortable their teasing quips and sly remarks can lighten the mood if needed.
"You're still you. You'll never be anyone else to me. I don't care how famous you are."
Harry/Harley Sharpe ✯ He/Him or She/Her, 29 ✯ A security officer that's been placed to protect you, and the band as a whole, during the duration of the Legacy Tour. They seem to be overall a gentle individual, surprising given their career choice, but their drive to protect and serve creates quite an intimidating presence for anyone wishing to cause you harm. Will you be able to resist their gentle eyes and understanding nature?
"I don't know why this happened, or if it's smart that it's continuing to happen, but I can't stop. I don't know if I'd even want to if I could."
#faded#interactive novel#interactive fiction#if wip#interact if#no demo#choice of games#hosted games#dashingdon
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Icing | Bob x Reader x Rhett
Word Count: 5,300
Cross Posted on AO3
Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, improper use of icing, food is mentioned several times, blow jobs, grinding, hand jobs, overstimulation, planning for a wedding 💐 it's porn with a very vague plot
Brief Summary: This icing, in particular, is not going on the cake, but you don't mind so long as it's on Bob Floyd.
"Are you sure this is how we're supposed to do it?"
"What makes you ask that?" Bobby chirps, barely audible over the hum of the hand mixer. His eyes flick down to the cake pan held between your hands. "Seems perfectly fine to me."
The beater bumps into the edge of the bowl. Icing splatters across the countertop.
You think that might be the whisper of a swear, crossing the room.
"I don't know, it just...feels weird," but you're pulling open the door to the oven, anyhow. A plume of heat washes across your face, like the blaze of a campfire, threatening to roast you alive.
But fortunately, the only thing being baked is this tiny pan of cake batter. Locked away to its doom of inhumane temperatures until it rises to perfection.
"Honey, there are only so many ways you can bake a cake," Bob's entirely unaware of the blue icing staining his cheek as he reaches for a damp cloth. Now that you give it a squint, you reckon it might be up in his hair, too.
"Well, last I checked," reaching out to swipe at his face with your thumb, raising it to your lips. Different color. Same taste as before. "Most folks don't have to bake their own wedding cake samples."
His head turns back to the thin list of instructions, scanning over where he left off, and—oh, well, he's got blue in his hair, too.
"Hey, get a load of this," Rhett's voice echoes from the living room, socked feet thumping across the hardwood. "They're sellin' that ol' rodeo property in town."
You're not entirely sure what woke him; if it was the clatter of skillets as you clumsily withdrew them from the oven, or if it was the bickering over why Bobby continues to use the appliance as a storage unit. It had to have been something you two did; fifteen minutes is astronomically short for a Rhett nap.
Maybe he never went to sleep to begin with because he's got a newspaper in hand. Today's date sits proudly in the corner, next to his thumb; he must have picked it up from the gas station on his drive home.
"We should buy it," waggling the paper in his hand, like it'll somehow convince you and Bobby to scrounge up ninety-five grand for an arena that has been abandoned for the better half of two decades.
"Sure thing, sweetheart," Bob's mixer kicks back on, an obnoxious noise sounding through the kitchen. Surely, there have to be quieter models out there. "We'll put an offer in next week."
"Ha. Ha," Rhett's eyes roll, the newspaper falling onto the recently cleared counter, right where Bobby was saving space for the blue icing. "Funny."
His mouth opens like he's got more to say, but nothing slips past those thin lips. Soft blue eyes flicker across the counter, scanning across your rainbow assortment of icings, the sample baggies of sprinkles and candles, and the portfolio of decorative figures. Not one of the premade couples comes with a third partner, but you're not entirely sure if you want to go that route to begin with.
Rhett's nose wrinkles; lost. You've got nothing more than a shrug to offer.
"All I'm sayin' is," picking back up on the hanging conversation, he reaches out to poke his finger into an open dish of sprinkles. The ones made to look like pearls. There were more, but half got lost when you accidentally ripped the package open. "You'll have a lotta time on your hands when ya leave the Navy."
The mixer shuts off.
"Who said I was leaving the Navy?"
Rhett's lifting a pearl to his mouth, obnoxious tongue poking out to catch it. "You, last night."
"And the night before that." You add, with a nudge of your shoulder.
And the night before that one. Sometime five mornings ago. Again, last week. After the most recent deployment and the one before that. Before the engagement and way before the house was bought...actually, when has he not talked about this?
The pearl cracks so loud that you almost wonder if it chipped Rhett's tooth. His brows furrow, shifting the hunk of sugar around in his mouth. "The hell are you two doin'...?"
"We're baking our wedding cake samples," and even with Bob saying it so matter of factly, it doesn't sound right. Nothing about this picture is correct.
Rhett's head tilts to the side. Even the dark hair cascading into his face can't hide those questioning eyes.
"See?" Throwing your hand out as if Bobby hasn't noticed the puppy-dog of a man standing on the other side of the island. "Even he's confused by this."
Nobody bakes their own wedding cake samples. This is your sign to find a better bakery! Before the stakes grow even higher!
Careful, Bob pulls the mixer from the bowl, turning around to drop the beaters into the sink. "He's always confused."
"Hey!" Rhett squawks. "Ya jus' gonna say that 'n turn your back to me?"
Not a word leaves Bob's mouth, deliberately keeping his back to you and Rhett as if to drive home his unspoken point. He's doing his best to remain firm, but even so, you can see the way the corner of his lip rises with every passing second. Must be able to hear the way Rhett's rounding the corner, big hands reaching out to grab hold of bony hips.
It's a little too easy for him to force Bob to turn.
"What, can't say it to my face?" Any venom in Rhett's tone is lost in the midst of his chuckle. Amused.
Still, Bobby remains quiet, defiantly folding his arms across his chest, like that will somehow stop the smile from bursting onto his pale face. It's a losing game. Rhett knows it. You know it. He knows it. The whole world knows it.
Rhett's tilting his head, leaning close. "Say." Kiss. "It." Kiss. Bob's hand reaches out toward the counter. "To." Kiss. "My." Kiss. His finger dips into blue icing. "Face." Kiss. "Pal." Kiss.
One blink, and you nearly miss it. The swift drag of Bobby's fingertip, smearing the artificially dyed sweetness onto Rhett's thin lips. Leaves just a big enough mess for him to lean in and press his mouth to Rhett's, that soft pink tongue darting out to lick it off. It ends as quickly as it started, with Bobby turning back to the counter, already beginning to pour another pack of sprinkles into an empty container.
Rhett's wide eyes meet with yours. Bewildered.
...huh.
"What do we think of lemon?" Bobby's speaking as if nothing ever happened. Acting it, too.
You're not entirely sure what he means by that. "I'm sorry?"
"Cake flavors," holding up a non-descript packet of mix. "There's lemon in here."
Rhett's nose wrinkles, and you can't help but wonder if he's recalling the sourness of the lemon pie you two tried to put together for Bobby. Worst damn welcome home present you've ever made.
"Is there a difference to the icin'?" Rhett asks, poking at one of the bowls.
"They're all the same." Bob's head shakes, sprinkles audibly pouring out of the packet and into yet another bowl. Who's gonna wash all these dishes, anyhow?
Rhett's eyes meet with yours. Brows furrowing, like this is the most absurd thing he's ever heard. If the initial confusion hadn't already worn off, you reckon you'd be feeling the same damn thing. Who does this, and why are you just letting it happen? Is your life so devoid of joy that this is what you've allowed yourself to resort to?
Or is Bob Floyd just very, very good at convincing you to blindly follow his lead?
Idle, Rhett's hand dips into some of the icing. Slow. Flying just below the radar of Bobby's peripheral. "So why'd ya make every color?"
And your poor WSO hasn't the slightest damn clue, reaching for yet another container of sprinkles. "To see what—"
Rhett's big hand presses into Bob's pale cheek, vibrant orange icing splattering against his skin. Dragging down, down, down his neck and onto the little bit of chest peeking out from the low collar of his shirt.
You know what's going to happen before it even starts. Bobby's fingers dive into a pool of pale yellow. Smacking it into Rhett's broad chest, gets the base of his neck and all. And Rhett's reaching for the pink, dragging it across an unwitting forearm. Bob's going for green. Reaching for Rhett's scruffy jaw. Giggles bubble through the air.
Blue splatters across the kitchen floor and across your shirt.
Your white shirt. "Hey!"
"He started it!" Bob squeaks. But he's stumbling backward, bumping into you as he reaches for another bowl—ammunition for the next attack.
All Rhett can do is grin. "Did I?"
Insufferable.
Your hand darts out from your side, venturing to the counter.
Purple splatters across Bobby's clothed belly. The only spot you could reach.
"Both of you?" Bobby's squawking. Twisting. Turning until he's got his back to the sink and not you or Rhett, his vibrantly colored hands held toward the ceiling. Surrender, or preparing his next move? You're not sure yet.
God, he's a mess. Splatters of orange, pink, blue, and plain white, stretching from his nose to his belly; you think there might be a little bit of purple lurking beneath his chin. Rhett's not doing much better, green clinging to his jaw, chest decorated with a vibrant smear of yellow.
"What else are we s'pposed t' do with all this icin'?" He asks, lifting his fingers to his lips, short pink tongue darting out to lap up the sweetness clinging to his skin.
Bob's eyes roll. You wonder if he's noticed the drop of green on his lens. "Well, wearing it shouldn't even make the list!" But it's nothing compared to the icing on his neck, sickly sweet and spread thin over the thick vein that bulges from beneath his skin.
"I can think of a few ideas," muttering, entranced.
Out of his peripheral, Rhett meets your eye. The corner of his lip twitches up, fingers slipping out of his mouth with a wet 'pop' so loud that it echoes through the kitchen.
"What..." Bob swallows. Adam's apple rising and falling. Soft blues flicker between you and Rhett; must be able to read the thoughts filtering through your head. "Would that entail, exactly?"
You don't know who steps forward first. But one way or another, your sticky hands are finding their way to Bobby's chest, bracing yourself as you lean in. Rhett's so close that his hair tickles your cheek; he had a longer distance to cross than you did, and yet he's already beating you to the point. Licking a fat, wet stripe up the side of Bob's neck.
And you're in hot pursuit. Licking up the other side, trailing across that thick vein, multicolored icing greeting your taste buds. But that sugary sweetness is nearly dulled in comparison to the soft mewl that rolls out of Bobby's mouth, his head rolling backward.
"Okay..." he breathes, "that's..."
The flavor of this icing is far from your favorite; it isn't even close to the one you had in mind when contacting the bakery, but you can hardly pay it any attention. Nothing but a mild annoyance when you've got this to preoccupy your mind with. Bob's hand, working its way up your side. Rhett's soft hum, downright delighted with this predicament.
Careful, your lips press to a soft patch of skin beneath his ear, sucking lightly. Not enough to bruise his terribly sensitive skin, but still managing to leave behind a faint redness in your wake. One tiny little mark after another, spots blending amongst the vivid orange that you've yet to lick up.
This icing, in particular, is not going on the cake, but you don't mind so long as it's on Bob Floyd. Him and his sticky, heaving chest, squirming as you work lower, lower, lower. Teeth grazing across his collar, tugging on the flesh stretched thin over the bone there.
Rhett's shoulder knocks into your side, a little too broad to be squeezing himself in next to you. His hands venture to the hem of Bob's horribly stained t-shirt, yanking upward.
"The cake," Bob's panted protest is hardly one at all, "you can't...it'll burn." And yet he's obediently lifting his arms, letting Rhett pull the shirt over his head. Maybe letting it fall to the floor isn't the best idea, but you're in no position to raise even the slightest objection.
"We have time," you murmur. Lie. You don't even know if you set the timer.
Frankly, you don't care. It's just too damn easy to forget about. Letting your mouth find its way down Bob's pale chest, a thin trail of saliva marking your path as if you could possibly become lost in this familiar terrain.
But even though you've had a head start, Rhett still manages to beat you to the checkpoint, his lips wrapping around a delicate nipple. So sudden that Bob jerks beneath you, his feet stumbling. Two can play this game, though, and Rhett can only pay attention to one thing at a time.
Without the slightest warning, you sink down. Knees thunking heavily against the cold kitchen tile. They'll ache when you ultimately climb back to your feet, but that's for the future version of you to worry about. Right now, your bold hand is soothing over the heavy bulge in these sweats, feeling how Bobby twitches from the simplest touch.
"Can't believe you're already hard, Robby," teasing, your thumb swipes right beneath his tip. The wet spot forming in the thin gray material is like a reward.
"You're..." his head rolls, fingers tugging at Rhett's hair, "surprised?"
Not in the slightest.
It's Rhett who reaches for the thick elastic of Bob's waistband. Watching through thick lashes as you help pull it downso swiftly that his cock brushes your cheek as it springs up to smack against his belly. Flushed a bright ruby, a small bead of precum running down the underside of him.
"Shit," Rhett swears; it's so quiet that you can hear the way his knees creak as he settles down next to you.
And now both of you are down here, caught up in some kind of perfect synchrony, leaning forward to run your tongues up the sides of Bob's cock. Relishing in that shuddered gasp as you and Rhett meet at his head, lips brushing in what was meant to be a sloppy kiss, but it's more of a clash of tongues than anything. Broken apart by Bob's soft cock head, caught perfectly in the middle.
"You...." Bob's hand bumps into your cheek, thumb stroking the skin there, "fuck, you two are..."
Rhett's chuckle is all it takes to have Bob's sharp hips bucking forward, pushing himself right past your parted lips. Wasn't exactly next up on your itinerary, but you're rolling with it as if it was. Sucking gently, tongue swiping back and forth beneath it. Teasing while you still can.
Not a single beat is missed. With the delicate hollow of your cheeks and the lazy way Rhett mouths at the side of him, it's almost hard to believe that this wasn't choreographed earlier in the day. As if anyone could have predicted that Bob was serious about this whole 'baking cake samples' thing.
"Y' likin' that, Bobby?" Rhett hums, pausing to graze his teeth against delicate skin. "Watchin' both of us on our knees for ya?"
You're leaning back, and Rhett's moving in to take over for you. Doesn't need to use his hands, as he sucks that leaking tip into his mouth.
Bob sucks in a breath. His other hand dives into Rhett's hair, tangling in the mess of it. "How could I—mhm, not?"
All of a sudden, Rhett's sliding further down, eyes scrunching shut as Bob knocks into the back of his throat, but that's never been enough to deter him. It's a wonder he's got a gag reflex at all. You can't help but twist yourself around, a hand coming to rest on his lower back, bracing yourself as you find your way to the underside of his jaw. Air audibly puffs through his nose. Always has been sensitive here.
Sweet, too, with all of this icing to be licked up. There simply isn't another person cut out for this sort of job. The artificial flavor is far from your favorite, but you can't be inclined to share. Not when he tries to lean into it, a muffled grunt rumbling out of him.
Above you, Bob can't close his mouth. "That's...oh, that's—"
A shrill beep tears through the air. Once. Twice. Thrice.
So you did set the timer. Lucky him.
And Rhett laughs. Barely able to pull away before he chokes, swollen lips glistening as they meld with the shape of his smile. "Guess ya gotta check that, flyboy."
This is the first and likely the last time you'll see Bob Floyd check an oven with his sweats pooling around his thighs, heavy cock bouncing as he leans down to see what he's doing. Is the cake done? Or burnt? You haven't the slightest clue because Rhett's kissing at the side of your neck, and any self-control you had left dissolves in an instant.
"Shame y' didn't get more of this on ya," he's speaking into your skin, vibrating right up into your head and rattling all your thoughts off their metaphorical shelves.
The stain on your brand-new shirt is speaking otherwise. "This stuff doesn't even taste that great."
"'s good when it's on one of you," he does, unfortunately, make a really good point. The kind that lets him get away with pushing your pants down your legs, underwear and all, right here in the damn kitchen. So much for trying to break the habit of kitchen shenanigans.
You wonder if this memory will wander back into your mind the next time you invite guests over and eat in this kitchen.
Rhett's hands settle on the sides of your waist, pulling you into him as he leans backward. Knocking the back of his head against the tile can't feel good, but he doesn't react in the slightest. Too busy pulling you on top of him, your legs straddling his wide hips. They hitch upward, so strong that they push you along with it, as he shoves his shorts down his legs, cock audibly smacking against his belly, swiping against your thigh as it drifts past.
"Are you doing what I think you're doing?" Your hands brace against his chest, chasing the illusion of stability.
"Mhm," is the best he's got to offer, and he's hardly got to guide you any further. You're already beating him to the punch, grinding down against his length, letting him slip between your parted lips.
Fuck, it's been a while since you last felt his weeping cock head drag against your clit. You wonder if he can feel the way you involuntarily clench around nothing, sent into a mindless spasm from that alone.
Bobby's knees audibly knock against the floor, and you're not entirely sure where his sweats went. "You two move too damn fast."
"Maybe you're just slow," there's nothing but playfulness in your tone, albeit the slightest bit breathless. You can't help it. Not when you've got this going on between your legs. Rhett and his big cock rolling up into you, chasing the feeling of your pussy against him. Beads of precum slicken the glide, every motion punctuated by a sickly wet little noise.
"'n ya say I'm the one always givin' ya trouble," Rhett's not doing much to help his own case, but then again, you don't think that was his goal.
It's an awkward angle, with Bob sitting on his knees and Rhett laying against the floor, but he's craning his head up, tongue greeting the underside of Bob's cock. A fleeting sort of thing that only lasts a moment or three.
"You're gonna upset your shoulder if you keep doing that," Bobby hums, not making any move to stop Rhett from trying at it again, lips stubbornly wrapping around his mushroom tip.
There's a spin in your head that wasn't there before. Lightheaded over the sight before you and the sweet throb of your cunt, sliding against Rhett's shaft like you're aiming to win a first-place trophy. Hands flat against his heaving chest, trembling arms hardly keeping your body upright as your hips roll.
"Can feel ya gettin' wetter round me," Rhett's eyelashes are fluttering, and it's all he can do to keep himself from knocking his skull against the tile again. "Fuck."
"As if you're not dripping like a damn faucet," your words hitching on a gasp, the embers of a whine building in the back of your throat. Getting off to this wasn't on your list of plans, but with every soft massage of his plush tip, you're growing closer to writing it at the very top.
Rhett's back arches off the ground, legs kicking beneath you, like he can feel the heat that's flooding your lower belly. Makes it so damn hard for you to keep moving your body back and forth, hopelessly grinding back and forth, obsessed with the way he kisses your clit on every pass.
"God, you two should see yourselves," Bobby says it like he's caught up in a trance; you don't think you've seen him blink since he knelt down here.
"Enjoying the show?" Speaking through a gasp. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your eyes are rolling backward, and Rhett's twitching against you, and it's so, so much.
His hands settle on your aching thighs. Blunt nails digging into the meat of them. Does nothing to ward off the shiver that's settled into the muscle there. But his hips are rising up off the floor, and he's rutting himself into you properly now, rubbing against your poor clit over and over and over.
"Rhett—" whimpering high in your throat. Head tilting back. You're...he's...
"C'mon," in that raspy tone of his, wavering with the motion of his body, "cum on my cock."
Bob's cool hand glides up the side of your neck, and that is it.
A choked noise echoes through the kitchen and into the living room. Spasming, cumming to the drag of him against your clit alone. Clenching helplessly around nothing but air, a ripple running up your spine. Your arms crumple out from under you. Stars sparkle behind your eyelids like the night sky. Falling into a messy heap on Rhett's chest, helpless as his cock keeps rubbing against your dripping cunt.
"Ah—Rhett!" Jolting. Oversensitive. And it's all you can do to slide off of him, letting gravity drag you down to his side instead, a leg lazily sprawled overtop his thigh. You don't know if he's laughing or if you're hearing the hammer of your heart beating away in your ears.
"Awful quick," Bob's eyes flick to you, hardly able to conceal the playful glint in them.
You ought to give him trouble for such a comment, but your head is still spinning like it's about to float up into the clouds. The best you can do is to swipe out with your hand, smacking against his belly. "Like you're any better."
Rhett's chest rumbles with a chuckle. You're not entirely sure when he got his arm around you, but it's carefully squeezing you into him. Keeping you snug against his chest as Bobby moves to settle between his legs.
And this...this is a hell of an angle to be observing from. You don't have to move your eyes or tilt your head at all, comfortably gazing at the sight of Rhett's plush thighs caging Bob's waist. On its own, your hand darts out, grabbing a handful of one. There's so much more to squeeze compared to when you first met; he's exchanged that wiry frame for something thicker, stronger, too.
Bob's reaching for his own cock, still wet with saliva, as he leans forward, fingers darting out to wrap around Rhett, too.
One stroke and Rhett's hips lift off the floor. "Shit."
He's so damn wet, with what mess you've made of him and the precum spilling out of his inflamed tip like a dripping faucet. Bob's thumb swipes out, collecting the clear fluid and spreading it onto himself, but before he's done there's already another bead of it forming.
"Good lord, Rhett," Bob mutters, and you're not entirely sure where he got that packet of lube from, tearing it open with his teeth, already beginning to pour the sticky substance onto their cocks.
So much for trying to break Rhett of that habit.
If he'd give Rhett a few minutes, you think he'd spill out enough to warrant forgoing lube altogether, but Bobby can only stretch his patience so far. Never has been able to hold out for very long when it comes to you and Rhett. That big hand of his gives an experimental stroke, a wet squelch sounding through the delicate air; you don't know who groans louder.
What you do know is that the sight before you is downright obscene. Rhett's legs squeezing around Bobby like he'll disappear if he doesn't, their heavy cocks twitching into one another. How Rhett's tip has a darker shade of red as compared to Bob's pale pink. They look so similar until they're right next to each other like this; it's the only way to tell that Bob's a fraction longer but not quite as thick as Rhett is.
Bob jerks forward, pressing impossibly closer. "Does that feel good?" As if he's not speaking around his own strangled breath.
You have to lift your head to get a better look at Rhett's face. Eyes scrunched shut, teeth worrying his thin bottom lip, cheeks flushed with a newfound redness. "Uhuh." His head shakes with what you think is a nod.
Maybe that's an answer Bob was looking for, but you want to hear more. "Use your words, cowboy."
"It feels—" Swallowing hard. A microscopic mewl breaks past his lips. "Feels good!"
He's already dissolving into a mess of squirms, wriggling back and forth, the swift stroke of Bob's hand too much for him to handle. Bucking upward, only to try and draw away, unshaven jaw shivering like a leaf in the wind.
Your fingers drift upward, nails dragging across the soft meet of his inner thigh, knuckles brushing against his balls as you drift past. Lightly rolling them in your palm would draw the prettiest sounds out of him, but today, you've got a slightly different plan in mind. Fingertips wander into the soft expanse of skin behind them, rubbing in loose circles.
A pitchy cry rings in your ears. Rhett's hand flies up. Tugging at his own hair. Desperate to grab hold of something. "Fuck! 'm gonna..." His head thrashes, pretty neck barred to the world. "I'm, I'm—"
"You fixin' to cum for us, sweet thing?" Bobby's voice sounds akin to thunder, a little twang in his tone. His thumb darts out, rapidly swiping back and forth across Rhett's plush cock head.
Curls bounce with Rhett's nod. Hardly able to close his mouth and stifle his moan. Yet, it's so loud that you can hear it anyway. Your fingers keep spiraling, pressing the slightest bit harder. You're almost certain that you can feel the sporadic twitch of muscle as his back arches, cumming with a wail.
A rope of white paints across his belly. The next one caught by Bobby's still moving hand. Disappearing into the squelching mix of lube and precum and your own juices, some kind of lewd recipe for disaster. Rhett's hips jerk. Yanks a grunt out of him.
But Bobby's not stopping. Still pumping their cocks together as if nothing ever happened. If anything, you think he's going faster, and it's got Rhett jumping around like a wounded animal. Mouth wide open. Brows knit together.
"Too much, too much, that's not—ah!" He squeals. Panting hard. Frantically pawing at Bob's hand, but it's doing nothing to end his torment.
"Hang on for me," Bob's eyes scrunch shut. Hissing through his teeth. Close. "You can do it."
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, you can't, that—haah!" Rhett's twitching. Wailing. Legs kicking in the air.Still smacking at Bob's rapidly jerking fist as if that can possibly save him, but he's not uttering a single note of his safe word. Merely dissolving into a frenzied babble of, "Bobby, Bobby, Bobby!"
That's all it takes for Bob's pale blue eyes to roll into the back of his head with a soft, deepened groan. Set off by the babbled cry of a helpless cowboy, trembling like a leaf beneath him. Rope after rope of cum, splattering against Rhett's lower belly and all over his softening cock. A visible shiver rakes its way up Bob's spine, and for a moment you think his glasses are about to fall off.
Finally, finally, the motion of that big hand is beginning to slow, loosening until Rhett's length slips from his grip entirely, smacking against his skin. Between the wateriness of Rhett's eyes and the redness in Bob's cheeks, you're not entirely sure where to look. Each are tempting in their own right, but not enough time to focus on both.
You suppose your distraction is why it takes a moment to realize that Bob's actually moving. Leaning down at a snail's pace, his lips pressing to your forehead, lingering for a moment or three before moving on to Rhett's, pressing a kiss to him, too. "Maybe we should call a different bakery," he murmurs, half-lidded gaze flickering to you.
If this is all it took, then next time, you'll skip the arguing and jump right into kissing down his neck. "You think?" There's a hoarseness to your voice that wasn't there before; you blame the icing.
Whether or not he caught the sarcasm in your tone, you have no idea.
"Yeah..." Bobby pauses as Rhett leans in to steal a proper kiss on the lips. "Now we've gotta do something with all these ingredients."
Rhett hums. Sounds akin to a cat purring. "I have a few ideas." You wonder if those ideas include smearing each other with icing again or offhandedly snacking on sprinkles for the next several months.
"I'll hear you out on those ideas," yawning, a strangled little noise escaping you, "when we're in bed."
A valid request, but Bobby's wrinkling his nose at it. "How about a bath, then bed."
"Y' act like we were just rollin' in mud," Rhett's fingers tap at your shoulder, gently squeezing.
"I love you two, but I draw the line at sticky sheets." Well, if Bob wants you to take a bath so damn bad, then he's gonna have to help you find the strength to get off this floor. Your hand reaches out, opening and closing in a grabbing motion.
It takes a couple seconds of looking at it for him to realize what you're asking, but after a moment, he slips his hand into yours, holding it as he rises to his feet. Something in your knee audibly pops as he pulls you up, an ache blooming in the bone from digging into the floor earlier. Your feet stumble, knocking into Rhett and nearly taking him back down with you.
"You're a mess, sweetheart," Bob laughs, pulling on your hand as if you're still due to fall at any moment. You're not entirely sure when you acquired the purple icing on your thigh or the smear of green running down your leg; you refuse to acknowledge the array of colors on the floor until after you've had a nap.
"So are you," not an ounce of venom in your tone, despite the attempt at mustering some kind of sarcastic bite. Behind you, Rhett hums his agreement. Someone started this, and it certainly was not you or Rhett.
"No, I'm not," Bob's beaming, almost proud of himself. "You two licked me clean, remember?"
It'll take the rest of the day for him to notice the icing on his glasses.
#bob floyd#robert bob floyd#rhett abbott#bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott#hawthorn au#oneshot#tw food
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thoughts about dgm chapter 251
gonna throw my thoughts about these new revelations here.
bookman jr or past!allen?
she got us good! I was in shock when I first read it (all my headcanons about pasta, out the window! thrown! chunked!) but now I'm more fine with it.
I believe what happened was that hoshino drew the bookman jr in those flashbacks with nea on purpose - she wanted us to think that was allen and bookman jr. the flashbacks aren't past!allen with longer hair, this is definitely the bookman jr, as we can tell now.
it also makes more sense now why "allen" was talking about high concepts like the spiral being the force for life - it really was a bookman!
I fully think she did this switcharoo on purpose. if we look at her most recent livestream (translated by ponkotsubluuues), someone comments that they were shocked past!allen and bookman jr weren't the same person. her response is basically "yes, I know". she's not surprised people would think that, this was probably deliberately on purpose.
bookman jr & past!allen
okay, now on to some thoughts on who they actually are. I won't stick long here as we'll probably find out in just a few months and we don't have much to go on right now.
personally, I don't really care to ever meet allen's blood relatives. it's never interested me who he's "actually" related to and I always felt it would add even more complicated feelings for him and even more complexity to an already messy as hell family & relationship tree.
that being said, I wouldn't be surprised if bookman jr and allen are some kind of family unit, be it blood related or not. when they begin talking about the two of them as separate people, lucia refers to them as "two young men". so they're probably not father and son, but I could see them as brothers or some sort of brotherhood if they're not blood related.
maybe past!allen is a traveling clown who toured the world with bookman jr LOL.....?
either way, bookman jr was so compelled to protect allen & nea that he gave his life for them. I'm so, so eager to see their bond.
cross marian
who the hell is cross marian in all of this?
we know the cross has been around since almost adam's time, having been with mana and nea since they were children-
so we know that regardless of who is he, he's known about and visited the campbell manor for decades.
in this chapter, they even bring him up by name.
not only does allen ask about him, but lucia talks a bit about him as well.
and note that they're not saying something like "my master left a message for me" and lucia just goes along with it- allen says "my master cross" and lucia continues by saying his full name. she knows exactly who he's talking about.
(allen specifically says "cross shishou" = "master cross" but lucia called him "cross marian")
to me, this is one of the main reasons I don't believe cross is bookman jr. I believe he's somehow tied to the bookman, but I don't think he's the missing jr. if he was, why does lucia refer to him as cross here but not later? she clearly knows who allen is referring to, so wouldn't the bookman have searched for cross and found him with relative ease, given he was at the order for quite a while with bookman & lavi up until apocryphos attacked him?
lucia and the master only refer to bookman jr as "junior", not cross marian. if you're desperately looking for cross marian and are fully aware allen knows who that is, then why not call him that? what do you have to lose at this point?
and furthermore, if cross was this bookman jr, how did he forget who HE made the host? how did he lose allen? redarm!allen looks a lot more like this new past!allen and they both have redish brown hair - if you were traveling with this guy, you should be able to recognize him even if he's de-aged like 8 years, ESPECIALLY once mana takes him in and his hair becomes styled the exact same way.
I know we always have the deus ex machina of apocryphos' memory changing but I really don't want that to be the case for every character, the more you do it the more it becomes a contrivance.
cross definitely has SOME connection to the bookman, I don't feel like his mask and knowledge of bookman things is entirely a red herring. lucia makes it sound like cross reached out to them regarding the campbell manor, but I'll get to that in a bit.
the other leading theory is that cross is cyrus campbell, katerina's brother and head of the family. I feel like this holds a bit more water than him being a bookman, as it'd explain why he was the campbell manor when mana and nea were so young (and presumably before nea became a noah) and why he has worked so tirelessly for both of them.
remember, his innocence maria greatly resembles katerina. it's possible this is katerina's corpse, being infested by innocence. maybe this is from innocence cross was carrying finding its way to her corpse or maybe it was a failed attempt to save her, we don't really know yet.
(I'm not fully convinced about the cyrus theory either though, as why does nea refer to cross as cross instead of cyrus or uncle? how would the order not know about his family and how obviously tied to the noah he is? how could he not recognize allen, his nephew's most trusted friend?)
there have been some theories that maybe the campbells are a bookman family, which may be the case and would help explain why cross has a connection to both, but the way lucia words this part makes me think otherwise.
she makes it sound like the campbell manor wasn't always under their jurisdiction, that it came to be that way but wasn't always. but that might be pulling at straws. I just don't think she'd word it this way if cross = bookman jr.
I'm not fully convinced about either theory about cross as I see holes in both of them. just have to wait and see~
personally I'd still like it if cross was just a childhood friend who got way too attached but we'll see 😂 or maybe he was just pining for katerina from afar....
crown clown
I feel pretty confident now that this is past!allen being hugged by bookman jr, possibly for the last time / as bookman jr's way to protect him.
but I also can't help but feel.... it reminds me of crowned clown, you know? the way it wraps around allen, covering him in an attempt to protect him. even the cut off tips. it really reminds me of that.
the bookman are no stranger to innocence. we also don't know when allen acquired his innocence- did past!allen have it? or...... did bookman jr give it to him as he was dying? did he think it would protect him and nea (and why would he give a noah innocence)?
I would not be surprised if there was some connection between bookman jr and allen's innocence.
allen
I absolutely loved this part.
the pure conviction in his face. no regrets. he finally has a chance to clear up his mind, to cast away the fear he's dealt with for so long about who he actually is. so, so good.
but........ WHO IS ALLEN WALKER????? the burning question. who knows at this point.
I'm very excited to see the next parts, even if it apparently isn't the 35 year flashback (her own words, from the aforementioned livestream) - I assume it'll be a flashback to past!allen meeting nea possibly, or them finding out nea isn't a typical noah, or some major event that happened before shit went down.
yeah that's about it, see yall next time ✌️
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dirty thirty (@funsonmunson-again's mafia eddie x reader)
funsonmunson-again's birthday week writing challenge / prompt #24: saving the best for last haha, but birthday spankings with any of the eddies!
happy birthday evie!! thank you for reviving the timeline with your amazing fics. it's eddie's birthday too and he's in trouble...
CW: very much 18+, pure smut, bdsm, use of guns, truly the most depraved thing i've ever written.
For his 30th birthday, Eddie Munson has nearly just taken a shot to the head... but in your defence, he really fucking deserved it.
Slowly - albeit on wobbly feet - Eddie, Gareth, Jeff and Freak turn around to face you, eyes still wide from seeing the bullet fly past their boss's shoulder. They're stood in a line like naughty school boys in your garden, caught doing something they shouldn't be. Which is exactly what's happened.
You stand in front of the glass doors that lead onto the patio, curtains billowing and light glowing behind you. Flanked by four growling dogs. The light from the house reveals the curves of your body under the sheer babydoll lingerie you're wearing. But no one is looking at the small number, they're cowering at the pistol in your hands and the infuriated look on your face.
'Get inside, now,' you snarl, the dogs' snapping in agreement with you.
At the stroke of midnight, by some miracle of god, the unimaginable happened and Eddie Munson reached thirty years of age. Each year of his life since he hit ten, felt like a bonus. He was sure he'd never see twenty and absolutely certain he'd never meet thirty but here he was. He'd been surprised you let him go out with the guys that night but you insisted.
'Let loose with the boys, then I can have you all to myself in the day,' you'd smirked, clearly hiding something.
The four men left the house at 8pm, promising to be back by 2am at the latest. Yet, by the fourth shot of tequila, that promise was long forgotten as well as Eddie's suspicions that you'd been planning something.
Which you had. Throughout your four years together, it had been near impossible to surprise Eddie. Firstly, his line of business meant he liked to know everything that was going on. Surprises equalled the opportunity for danger. Secondly, you shared your finances - although, in all honesty, his finances, but he enforced a what's mine is yours policy. So, it was hard to splash on something for him, without him noticing when the bills came or his accountant alerting him. But for his thirtieth, you devised enough was enough.
After hearing him murmur to himself so many times about his disbelief he had survived this long. Not only had he survived, but now, with you by his side, he was living. Your man deserved for once to be surprised and spoilt. To reign in a new decade of life together in the best way possible.
Therefore, for the past year you had been plotting. With the help of Eddie's accountant and the boys, you'd secretly been putting money aside. Slicing off a chunk of any 'shopping trip' money, he gave you, and putting into a secret account. The accountants making investments on your behalf throughout the year that also went into the account.
Now, you had a hefty chunk of cash that was being spent on the most devastatingly romantic holiday to France that money can buy. A long glamorous weekend in Paris, followed by a week hiding away together on a private beach in Monaco. The flight was booked for Eddie's birthday, that's why you'd let the boys take him out - so you could pack without getting rumbled. But nothing is ever so simple with a Munson.
At 1am, with still no Eddie, you'd become impatient.
By 2am, you were irritated.
By 3am, you were furious.
By 4am, you were terrified that something awful had happened.
At 4:15am you thought those fears were confirmed as you heard gunfire from the gardens.
Not even thinking how you were dressed in an entirely unsuitable birthday present for Eddie, your instincts kicked in. Taking the pistol out the bedside table and with your precious pups quick on your heels, you ran down the stairs. Brain screaming with all the awful possibilities of what could've happened. No matter how long you've been together, the fear over Eddie's job never truly leaves. You burst through the patio doors and fire a warning shot... and then you see the culprits.
Eddie and the boys, lined up, their own pistols in hand. Before them were (once) law ornaments which they had clearly lined up and started target practice on. Now they were looking at you, the tiny remaining sober part of their brains were doing some explaining. Maybe coming home late and doing target practice whilst you were oblivious and gone alone, wasn't a great idea.
With big blinking eyes, like Bambi in front of headlights, Eddie begins to stumble on his words.
'K-k-kitten, hi... I'm s-sorr-'
'Shut the fuck up,' you snapped harshly. The rest of the guys immediately looked down at the ground.
'Edward, get inside NOW. The rest of you, leave.'
Immediately, the four grown men begin to wobble and scramble. The three that weren't your fiancée, babbling,
'We're so sorry Y/N... we didn't mean to... we lost track of...'
'I don't care. Go, before you're limping as well as swaying and this time it'll be because I've shot you in the fucking leg.'
In a flash, they were gone. You glowered at your now shattered flamingos in the distance before turning to look at Eddie. He was tripping over the entrance to the house when you finally looked him in the eye.
'Baby... I really sorry,' he whispered.
'I don't think you are,' you said coolly, 'go to the bedroom. Now.'
Eddie didn't hesitate, he quickened his stumbling pace. As you locked the doors, you could see him gripping onto Lucifer for stability. Then using Zeus as well once he attempted the stairs. You could hear him unsubtly whispering to them as he climbed the marble steps.
'I've never seen your Mom this mad before.'
It's true, he hadn't and he was petrified. More terrified than he had ever been in a sticky situation during work, he had far more to lose with you. Good job Munson, he grumbles to himself, not even five hours into 30 and you've fucking blown it.
When you finally come up to the bedroom, Eddie is sat on the edge of the bed, throbbing head in his hands. Now he's not stumbling around, he can finally look at you. The pretty sheer dress you're wearing in his favourite colours, pretty bows and ruffles and microscopic matching panties. Your hair is swept up how he likes as well. Everything you've done, as ever, is for him. He feels awful and not because he's drank the best part of a bottle of tequila and a whiskey more expensive than several of his rings.
'You look really beautiful, kitten,' he whispers, big eyes now wet.
But your eyes are still filled with anger.
'How could you, Eddie!' You shout, 'you scared the shit out of me!'
'I'm sorry, I-' he croaks.
'No!' You snap, taking a kitten heel off and launching it across the room. 'No excuses. I've not finished! Can you imagine if I had done that? Disappeared longer than I said and without contact? Then you heard random shooting outside?'
Eddie's blood ran cold at the thought and knuckles white as he gripped the sheets beneath him. If he was in your shoes, a search party would be out and he'd be sick with worry.
'That's what I thought,' you mutter as you see the look on his face. 'You wouldn't let me ever leave without an escort again.'
It's true, he'd never let you leave his side.
'I thought you were...' your facade and your voice finally cracks, 'I've never been so scared in my life!'
Irritated that your mask has slipped, you stomp forward to Eddie. With all the anger in your body, you shove your lean fiancée, causing him to fall backwards on the bed. Eddie stays lying there, not wanting to look up and catch you sniffling. He doesn't want to make it worse. His heart cracks hearing what he's done to you, especially on what is supposed to be a happy day. Especially when you'd clearly planned something for his return.
He clears his throat, wanting to ensure he gets his words out perfectly.
'Kitten, I know. You never would've done this to me. I'm so sorry. What can I do? How do I fix it?'
There's only silence for a little while but he keeps his eyes trained to the white ceiling. Then, he feels your hand hovering on his knee.
'Turn over,' you say firmly but quietly.
Eddie lets out a confused mumble but does as he's told. Right now, if you told him to eat his own shoes, he would. Then, he feels you take an ankle, lifting it so you can begin to take off his boot. Once it's off, he kicks off the other himself. He gulps then, truly unwitting over your plans. Your hands now tug at the waist of his slacks, nails scratching at his back. In attempt to aid you, he raises his hips and undoes his belt and buttons, allowing you to slide them off.
He hears the sound of his eyelashes flutter against the duvet as he blinks, anxiously. Are you just getting him ready for bed? He would like to just go to sleep in your arms right now. Whisper he's sorry and he loves you until you both fall asleep. But that's not what is going to happen.
No, that's definitely not going to happen, Eddie realises suddenly. As before he can even process, you've quickly tugged down his underwear, and have cracked down your palm against his ass cheek. Eddie gasps.
'You're going to feel how angry I am, Eddie,' you say so calmly that a trail of goosebumps prickle down his spine.
'I'm going to do to you, what you would've done to me in this situation... and you're going to take it.'
Crack. You hit his cheek again.
'Do you understand?'
'Yes, kitten,' he barely whispers. He's scared, confused and aroused. Never, ever, have you done this to him before but he doesn't dare protest.
'Good,' your palm soothes over the attacked cheek. It's barely blushing, your own hand nothing in comparison to Eddie's own sprawling ones. He widens his legs so you can stand further between them. He knows right now, he just needs to let you do what you need to do.
Crack. Crack. Eddie gasps. Crack. The fear, surprise and arousal mixed together is intoxicating. His heart is in his throat and his palms are sweating. Each smack, full of raw emotion, sends a zap through his body.
'That's five, Eddie... I'm going to do thirty.'
Eddie's eyes widen.
'If you're going to act like this, at your age now, then I'm going to give you a present deserving of it. So, twenty five to go.'
He's not sure he can last that long in silence, without crying out your name or moaning or worse, popping a boner whilst you're angry. Then, he feels a dip on the bed alongside him. For the first time since you shoved him, he dares to steal a glance at you. Your eyes are dark and looking back at him.
'You should probably sit across my knee. It'll make this easier for everyone,' your voice is unwavering. This new stern side to you is equal parts unnerving and sexy.
Eddie scrambles to his feet quickly and stands before you. You look him up and down, infuriatingly, he looks so good. You'd thought that when he left the house and you couldn't wait to throw yourself at him upon his return. But he ruined it. Now he's just there, a sheepish look on his face, shirt still on but his cock out. You had planned to ride it until you both collapsed, but now plans have been spoilt.
'Take your shirt off and get over my knee,' you sigh. Your voice sounds so uninterested, it makes Eddie's heart pang. He wants to get on his hands and knees and beg for your attention and forgiveness. Desperate to smother you in kisses.
However, he does as he's told. A shiver rippling through him as he rids himself of the shirt. Anxiously, he walks to the side of you and clambers onto the bed and then spreads himself over your lap. He wiggles, following your guidance to get his lap perfectly across your thighs.
'Baby, is this right? Do you need to me to move more?' Eddie asks, desperate to please you.
'S'fine,' you say casually.
But there's nothing casual about the gasp that escapes him as your fingers trail down his back. Small circles drawn into the dimples above his ass. Then one hand trails down to the top of his thigh and rests, whilst another stays on his asscheek. There's nothing for a moment and Eddie feels his heart racing and the anticipation. Until, he feels your soft lips place a peck on the one cheek you'd struck. It gives him butterflies knowing you still want to give him gentle loves.
'That's nice... thank you, baby,' his voice sounds smaller than ever before.
'S'okay, Eds. I'm gonna go again now, okay?'
He nods. Your hand smooths over the untouched cheek, stealing a squeeze.
'This one needs to catch up, hmm?' You coo. Oh god, he thinks, you're playing with him now. Like a cat with a mouse.
Five sharp, consecutive slaps, crack down against the porcelain skin. Each jolting Eddie and causing him to gasp. You squint, wondering if part of him actually enjoys this. So you test the theory.
'Nineteen,' you say.
Then, the hand smacks down, harder than ever before. Hard enough that he knows there's a mark.
'Eighteen!'
This one even harder, your hand clearly coming down from quite a distance. The jolt from the force causes his cock to flop between the gap of your thighs.
'Seventeen! Sixteen!'
Smack. Smack. Both as hard as the last. There's no denying it hurts, but it's also good. Eddie feels good that you're punishing him for scaring you. It satisfies the shame he feels and his body knows it because his cock springs to life. Rock hard now between your soft thighs.
'You're fucking hard?' You scoff, turning the cheeks on his face, not just his ass, bright red. 'Do you not understand that I'm angry? This isn't for your pleasure! Fifteen!'
'Oh fuck,' Eddie cries. Fifteen was the hardest yet and it pushed his body down, causing your thighs to tug at his cock.
'You're sick, Eddie. Getting off on this...' you rake your nails down his back now, causing more moans from him.
'Do you like it? Facing the consequences of your actions for once, baby?' You snarl. Your hands have now reached the base of his neck and tug at some hair there.
'Yes, yes,' he wines. He can't stop himself, he thrusts into your thighs some more. Fucking himself between your plush skin. You're genuinely shocked.
'Oh my god... you really are getting off on this, hmm? Engaged and I'm still learning new things about you. My dirty boy, hmm. Ready for more?'
Panting from thrusting at your thighs, Eddie nods.
'Okay, you asked for it...'
Fourteen. Thirteen. Twelve. Eleven. Ten. Each one is quick, sharp and alternates between each cheek. Eddie snaps his hips, jerking his throbbing cock off in time with your hits. Your own panties are soaked at seeing your big, scary, mafia boss, so desperate and pathetic.
Eddie whelps something you don't make out. You pinch the skin of his hip and ask him to repeat.
'The belt, the belt,' he cries, 'god, please use the fucking belt!'
Your face scrunches up, wondering if he really just said what you think. But before you can process, you feel him shift. His arm stretches out down to the floor. Your questions are answered when he thrusts the belt he had holding his slacks up, behind his back and into your hands.
Oh, you gasp internally, he really fucking wants this bad.
Tauntingly, you brush the smooth leather across his skin.
'You feel that bad, huh? Understand just how angry I am, Edward?'
'Yes, kitten, please...' he cries, 'please show me.'
At first you hesitate, not wanting to do some serious damage. Folding the belt in half, you bring down the looped end against his bright pink cheek. Nine. The sound is heavier than any your palm could make but you know the sensation is even harsher.
Eddie groans in frustration and shakes his head. He wants it worse.
You tighten your grip and bring it down harder. Eight. Instantly there's lines imprinted on his skin from the edges of the belt. But it's clear that's what he wanted, as his hips thrust ferociously and you feel precum trickling down your calf.
Seven.
Six.
Five.
Eddie is crying your name, fists white knuckling the bed linen. His skin has transformed from magenta to blooms of purple.
'Just five more and then it's the big 3-0, okay?'
He's barely paying attention, so lost in the high, continuously fucking himself in your thighs. You take the belt to the other cheek now.
Four. A warning spank. You lean down and press a kiss each cheek. This is it.
'Say'
Three.
'You're'
Two.
'Fucking'
One.
'Sorry!'
Eddie's cock spurts his load all down your legs as he cries.
'I'm sorry, I'm sorry kitten, I'm so fucking sorry!'
His body trembles on you at the aftershock of such intense touch. Another load of cum squirts out. He sobs real tears, you can tell, into the sheets.
'Kitten. I'm sorry, m'sorry, love you s'much,' he whimpers.
You let both your hands soothingly rub his back and thighs and you lean down to presses kisses to his ass. Perfect porcelain now splattered in purples and pinks.
'I know, Eds. It's why it upset me so much. You're never reckless like that... I wanted you home. Was supposed to be perfect when you got home...'
Eddie can hear that the anger is gone and now there's just a soft sadness in your voice. Ignoring the ache in his backside, he crawls off you, sliding onto the floor. Slotting himself between your thighs as he rests on his knees. Capturing your hands, he kisses them.
'Let me make it up to you, sweetheart,' he pleads. Big brown eyes, red from tears and begging. Letting go of your hands, Eddie takes your knees and pushes them further apart. He reveals his cum still dripping from you thighs. Leaning in, eyes still looks at you, he kitten licks his own spend up.
'You shouldn't have let me cum,' he mumbled against the velvety skin at the apex of your thighs.
'Should've forced me to make you cum, over and over and over... so that's what I'm gonna do.'
You just nod and let Eddie take over. He tugs your soaked panties off.
'These were so cute, kitten. I didn't deserve them,' he sucks at the wet crotch, 'daddy was so bad but now daddy will make it up to you. I promise.'
With that, Eddie dives into your folds. Lapping up the wetness that's been gathering like he had his own cum. That alone makes you sigh, so much of the tension leaving your body. Bringing your thighs over his shoulder, he buried his face further to access to your clit. Latching onto it the moment he finds it. Sucking until you squirm.
'That's it,' he sighs, his voice happy now, 'going to make my girl feel better.' He punctuates each word with a soft kiss to your bud.
It's all parts feral and tender and causes your tense body to flop back onto the bed. Eddie is shortly quick to chase you. With your thighs round his neck, he guides you to lie back against the pillows so he can completely lie down and lose himself in your cunt.
Now his body is fully relaxed, he makes out with your pussy. Going from sucking your clit to lapping at your hole.
'That's so good, Eds,' you coo, hand twisting curls round your fingers. Now, Eddie knows he's on his way to forgiveness.
Forcing your legs a little further, he goes in for the kill. Using the move he knows always makes you crumble. He sucks both his thumbs, letting one come up to toy with your clit and the other drops to press against your tight asshole.
The concentration alone sobers Eddie up. He hears you gasp and cry his name as the thumbs circle each pleasure point. Then he lets his tongue fuck into your hole unrelentingly. Faster. Faster. Your thighs are squirming but Eddie won't stop until you get the release you deserve. The wiggling results into his thumb popping into your asshole causing your hips to jerk and your hand to rip at his hair.
'Jesus fuck, Eddie,' you sob, tears erupting at the overwhelming sensation.
Eddie plunges his tongue as far as he can, along with his thumb in your ass and then tears aren't the only thing erupting. Your little cunt spasms, squirt soaking his tongue and face. Your whole body left trembling as you gasp. Eddie doesn't let on that it causes him to cum against the bedsheets where he'd be gently rubbing himself against.
Wiping his face and licking his fingers clean, Eddie smiles at your fucked out frame.
'That is the best birthday present you can ever get me, kitten.'
Leaving you to catch your breath, he gets up and waddles over to the light switch. His sore cheeks definitely limiting his movements more than the alcohol ever did. The bedside lamp keeps the room in a soft glow as he turns the main light off.
Slowly, he climbs under the covers and into bed next to you.
'Is it... is it okay if I hold you now, Y/N?' Eddie's voice is soft but nerve filled. You turn and look at him, chocolate eyes full of worry still. Nodding, you shuffle under the duvet and into his waiting arms. Lying in a way that you can both look at each other.
'I love you and I'm sorry. I can't imagine how scared you must've been. We got carried away,' he sighs, stroking fallen strands out of your face. Leaning forward, you press a soft kiss to his chewed lips. He melts into you instantly, soul settling to be fully reunited with yours.
'Just... don't do something like that again or I won't let you make it to thirty,' you smile against his lips.
Eddie pulls back and looks at you, wide eyed in shock. 'You see us being 60 together?'
His response makes your brow furrow.
'Yes? Obviously, you silly boy? Eds... I'm marrying you in just a couple of months.' You laugh, pressing another few kisses to his lips. When you look back, his cheeks are flushed like his backside.
'Doesn't seem real still. Don't know how I made it this long, but you wanting to marry me? S'the most unbelievable part...'
You shake your head.
'Best get believing. You're about to experience a week long love fest...'
Eddie cocks his head in confusion and you lean up to peck his cute round nose.
'I think we'll have to bring your ruined ass a cushion though for the journey... filthy boy,' you chuckle causing Eddie to groan and bite his lip.
But your words must finally hit him. Releasing you from his hold, he now waves his arms maddeningly in confusion.
'What the hell, what's going on, woman!'
You chuckle to yourself, knowing you're finally about to pull off a surprise on him. Even at 30, the love of your life, Eddie Munson, still doesn't know how spectacular he is. But it's okay, you've got the rest of your lives to show him.
did you enjoy that? i bet you did, you sick fucks x
#funsonsbdaygame#mafia!eddie munson#mafia!eddie munson x reader#Eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x yn#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x fem!reader#Eddie munson x female reader#enam3ls rockstar eddie
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Part fifty-three of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.
Ao3 link.
Previous parts: forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, forty-four, forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two
-
Though the concept is called unscientific, and certain aspects of it are actively being suppressed by Shinra Science Department… there's no denying that there's something inherently magical about Mako. After all, Mako is what makes Materia, and with Materia you can cast spells, and no matter how Professor Hojo tries to deny it, it's a fact, indeed, undeniable.
Materia makes magic. Mako makes Materia.
There is also the open secret, the myth, the legend - the unscientific nonsense, as they put it. The theory of Lifestream and Spirit Energy and the concept that when something dies, the energy of that thing and all it collected and produced in life returns to the Planet, to the great collection of all the other things that died before. The great Lifestream from which all living things come and to which all living things return.
Shinra has spent a lot of money and effort suppressing and erasing those old faiths and traditions from public consciousness, and the widely accepted theory nowadays is that Mako is more like Coal and Oil - it's a deposit just beneath the Planet's crust that formed over millennia and which can now be harnessed by people. Nothing more. Nothing less.
But most people, no matter how they deny it or denounce it, know better.
Go back just two generations, and Mako isn't even a thing. The stories about the Lifestream, on the other hand, are thousands of years old.
And Genesis believes them wholeheartedly.
Well. He believes that the old myths have a basis in reality, anyway.
"When you use Materia as much as I do, you learn the difference between knowledge, power, and knowledge that becomes power," he explains, leaning back against the gym windowsill and lifting the shining marble of Restore Materia high up. "Materia is knowledge made physical, made powerful. It is wisdom crystallised, immortalised - and still living, well past the time of its origins."
"As you say, sir," the Second Class SOLDIER, Lacier Meres, agrees without looking up. He's sitting on the bench press, not pressing anything - instead he's leafing through a printed brochure.
Genesis continues. "That knowledge comes from somewhere - and it predates Shinra and its machinery. Materia existed thousands of years before us, and it will outlast us by thousands more," he says, examining the Materia in his hand. "I have seen orbs of Materia so old they must've first formed when the Ancients still existed."
"Very mysterious indeed, sir," Lacier agrees distractedly, turning a page.
"And I have seen Natural Materia only a few decades old," Genesis adds, narrowing his eyes at his Materia as he holds it against the light. Evening sun makes the Materia glimmer and glow. "I have held in my hand Materia as it spawned a copy."
"A miraculous event by any reckoning."
Genesis casts the Second Class a look, slightly annoyed by his lack of enthusiasm for the subject. There's no one else around, either, to appreciate his soliloquy. It's late, and they're the last ones in, sadly.
Even during all the drama going on, a slow week night remains a slow week night. The labs have closed for the day, the SOLDIER offices have closed for the day, and there are no theatre shows during week nights.
Genesis feels fit to fly at the walls with the need to talk, and there's no one to truly talk to, not about what he knows! It's unbearable.
"Do you know where the knowledge locked away in Materia comes from?" he presses on.
The Second Class shrugs. "The Ancients, sir?"
"The Ancients," Genesis repeats and lifts the Materia again. "So they say. But this Materia is young. It came from a production factory not a month ago. How is it then that the wisdom of the Ancients is in this Materia, when the Ancients have been dead for thousands of years?"
Lacier doesn't even bother answering, but Genesis doesn't care. He doesn't need an answer - he knows it.
The wisdom of the Ancients didn't just appear in the Materia when it was created. It existed before that, in the Mako that made it.
There exists wisdom - no. There is knowledge in Mako. Knowledge of the Ancients, maybe. Knowledge of the dead, certainly. How much of that knowledge did it take to make a single orb of Materia? How much Mako was there in a single orb of Materia?
How much Mako was there in a single SOLDIER? More or less than in an orb of Materia?
"Very good, sir," Lacier says vacantly.
Genesis is tempted to lob the Materia at his head. "I didn't say anything," he says cuttingly and shoves the Materia into his pocket. Then he hops down from the windowsill.
"That's very nice, sir - hey," Lacier complains as Genesis yanks the brochure from his hands. "I was reading that! Uh, sir."
"And what exactly is this to be more important than paying attention to those around you, hm?" Genesis asks and flips the brochure over to see the front page.
It has an oversaturated black and white picture of Sephiroth in the front - along with the word Sephiroth training session volume 1.
"What is this?" Genesis demands. It doesn't look like it's from the Science Department.
"Just something we Seconds put together, sir," Lacier says, looking half proud and half stubborn. "It's nothing much."
It's not a brochure. It's a combat tutorial, with photographs and written explanations, detailing a training session Sephiroth had given in excessive detail.
Genesis narrows his eyes and waves the leaflet in Lacier's face. "When was this?" he demands.
Lacier looks embarrassed, running a wide palm over his neck. "It was after the, uh. Incident? Sir."
"The incident. You mean when Sephiroth destroyed the training room and tried to kill Hojo?"
"Well, uh, yes."
Genesis arches a brow. "And when exactly between losing his mind and being carted out of Midgar did he have the time to give a training session?" According to Angeal, Sephiroth had been completely out of sorts and couldn't even stand under his own power afterward.
"It was pretty much during?" Lacier says, wincing. "He was kinda out of it still."
Genesis lowers the leaflet. "I am going to need you to explain," he says lowly. "Be very specific."
Lacier squirms but explains.
Apparently in the middle of his psychotic episode, Sephiroth was possessed by the spirit of a school teacher. "And not one of you thought to tell me this?"
"Well, sir, we… thought it would be best to keep it amongst ourselves," Lacier says awkwardly. "All of us agreed it wouldn't be good if… you know. It was pretty irregular."
"Irregular," Genesis scoffs and takes another look at the leaflet.
He didn't get enough of a chance to face off against the new Sephiroth to really build up an idea of how he fought, but even so… he can feel Sephiroth's hand in the poses displayed by various SOLDIERs in the photograph. He recognizes the starting pose.
It's the same Sephiroth schooled him in, after mocking his footing.
"It was pretty weird, sir," Lacier says. "He talked all funny. Called himself this master and stuff. Half of the stuff he said didn't make much sense. Still… the best training session I've ever had, as a SOLDIER."
Genesis hums and sits down on the bench press next to Lacier, reading the descriptions added to the photos. They're very detailed. There are quotes.
"Don't tempt Qi-deviation?" Genesis murmurs. It's the final line of the booklet, underlined and everything.
"Something he said at the end," Lacier shrugs. "No idea what it means though."
Genesis frowns and lowers the booklet to rest on his knee. Then he looks at the window and at Midgar below them, swathed in darkness and light of Mako-powered street lamps.
How much Mako did it take for knowledge within that Mako to begin to coalesce into Materia? How much Mako was there in a single SOLDIER?
How much Mako would it take… until the knowledge within that Mako began overwriting the host?
-
Hehe
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The bond of DIR EN GREY - WOWOW Interview Special (2023)
"There are many things that only the five of us have been through together, and that is the connection between us." — Die
Notes before reading:
This is the last five minutes of the interview. ★BGM:カムイ
The five members were interviewed separately.
Repost and share are welcome.🙌 I translated it all by my ears, so please feel free to correct me if you spot any mistake or any confusing parts.☺️
--- --- ---
►The bond of DIR EN GREY (DIR EN GREYの絆)
【Kaoru】
Of course sometimes we talk about stupid things, that's nothing special.
We must always maintain equal relationships so that all can communicate with each other. But everyone has that personality, so it'll be a little bit… it's gonna be hard (laugh).
Well, we all had different periods. Even so, we're still five people, spending time together in each other's lives.
I still think we have to be aware of each other and move forward.
Well, all I can say is that it's a pleasure to be in a band with them.
*(一緒にやってくれてよかったなと思って)
【Shinya】
A balance of not being too deep and not being too shallow relationships with the members would be great, wouldn't it?
Maybe during the periods when we were together for a long time, it was a little bit awkward, like a decade or so ago.
Now it's just right.
【Toshiya】
I think it is necessary to consciously maintain a certain distance. Considering this, it should be the most natural feeling now.
Although we have been together all along, we have not had unnecessary conversations. Of course, human beings communicate with each other through conversations, but at the same time, they get unnecessary information.
Personally, if my work and private life are mixed together, I gradually feel like I'm misunderstanding something, and I don't like that.
As for the connection between us, when (everyone said) "Okay, let's go!" (before the live show), there’s a very strong cohesion. I feel that way.
【Die】
I am often asked, "Do the members have a good relationship?" "After all this time, you've become like family members, right?"
It’s *troublesome to answer. *(めんどくさい / mendokusai)
The time we spend together may be longer than that of family members, so do we have a good relationship? Or a bad relationship? It has nothing to do with that. We're beyond that.
There are many things that only the five of us have been through together, and that is the connection between us.
We've been through all kinds of things in the band, happy things, going overseas for the first time, getting frustrated. We've been through a lot together.
We all hit the wall together, rushed forward together, and then hit the wall again.
Precisely because the five of us have experienced many things together, this kind of relationship can only be understood by the five of us. It has nothing to do with whether we have a good relationship with each other, nor are we family or friends.
In DIR EN GREY, there are some things about our relationship that only the five of us can understand.
【Kyo】
I guess I like these guys. *(人間が好きなんじゃないですかね)
There's something to honor in everyone, and I often think that they're amazing.
Maybe even if we didn't form a band, but just meeting and getting to know each other on ordinary occasions, we'd still be friends. At least I'd do that.
It's just that we're connected through music now, even though we don't talk a lot... Yeah.
I guess it's because they all deserve respect.
【Narration】 (cv: Morikawa Toshiyuki)
Although always a *solitary existence, DIR EN GREY has been going on for a quarter of a century. The trajectory of the past 25 years has never stopped and continues to move on to a new path.
The five people connected by the bond of music will bring us deeper pain and hope of being alive.
*(孤高 / ここう / kokō)
(END)
— — —
My Blogger → English Translation / 中文翻譯
#dir en grey#kyo#京#kaoru#薫#die#toshiya#shinya#interview#interview 2023#translations#translation by yinfu#diru translation#video translation#diru wowow 2023#WOWOW interview#relationship#💜❤️💛💙💖
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