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zerocoded · 5 months ago

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summary: arguments rise between the two of you, but what you don't know is that caleb would let you punch him how many times you wished.

authors note: i decided to split this in two because the word count was already pass 16k, so yeah. posting the smut in the next chapter! this sucks bc i don't know how to write happy characters, i'm so sorry. i wish you a happy reading! this series was supposed to be three chapters but now it's four, i hope you don't mind hehe, enjoy!

warnings: HEAVY ANGST • bad talk about ourselves again (booh) • doubts and feeling of betrayal and guilt • we get introspective all the time im sorry • MINOR INJURY • mentions of psychological and physical torture (in the past) • obsessive!caleb • UNCANNON bc i finished this before caleb release so this is the lore i created ok • hurt/comfort • THIS IS NOT A LIGHT READING, but i promise it'll get better next chapter

word count: 9.9k

the first time you see caleb after the incident┃caleb uses you as a hostage at the farspace fleet┃you're here┃caleb teaches you his love language

colonel caleb wore real gold on his uniform and carried a fire in his gaze. his steps were precise, almost mechanical, and his towering height commanded respect wherever he went. his voice never wavered, firm and unyielding, and any flaws he might have were buried beneath the weight of his presence. the insignias on his chest gleamed like silent declarations of victory, each one a testament to battles fought and won.

the metal where there should have been flesh and bone was a source of both mystery and awe to his subordinates. what might have seemed a reminder of pain to him—his bionic arm, a testament to his devotion—was, to others, a symbol of unyielding strength. even the faint hum of its servos as he moved carried an air of authority, a silent declaration that he had sacrificed and endured more than most could fathom.

but in the quiet of his own room, colonel caleb felt less like the commander everyone revered and more like the boy you had grown up with.

his height, which once seemed awe-inspiring, became almost comical in the simplicity of his surroundings. even though the entire space was designed to accommodate him—a luxury that often left you struggling with the proportions—he still seemed impossibly large as he moved around in a sleeveless shirt and sweatpants. if you closed your eyes, you could almost see a younger version of him—slightly shorter, a little less broad—fumbling around granny’s kitchen, trying to fix something for the two of you to eat before bed.

after you both got out of that conference room, caleb seemed recharged in a way that was impossible to ignore. despite the distance still lingering between you and the stark confusion of where you both now stood, caleb seemed brighter, lighter, as if the mere fact that you were sleeping in the room next to his was enough to bring him back to life.

that observation made you see him in a different light, made your resolve crack just enough for the resentment you’d been holding onto to soften by the end of the day. it was impossible to ignore how palpable his love for you was, woven into the very air of his chambers, clinging to every word he spoke and every glance he stole.

it left you feeling recklessly cherished. dangerously so.

the notion was both thrilling and unsettling—how much power you held over him, how much of himself he seemed willing to give just to keep you near. and with that realization, the suffocating weight that had pressed on your chest since the moment he appeared at your front door in linkon city five days ago began to ease, just a little. it was still there, still sharp and heavy, but the edges had softened with the knowledge that, in some inexplicable way, you had always been his anchor.

since the false interrogation he’d orchestrated, caleb had taken to sleeping on the sofa, giving you the bed without question. you often woke to find him there, sprawled in uncomfortable positions that looked at odds with his commanding presence during the day. his sacrifice was unspoken, like so many of his gestures—a quiet, steady offering of himself to make you feel safe.

his voice carried a tender, teasing lilt every time he spoke to you, as if he couldn’t help but let his affection seep into his words, smoothing the sharp edges of the bluntness that a few days ago defined him.

in a way, you couldn’t decide if you were grateful—or terrified—to be the center of this man’s world.

you had experienced something you hadn’t in years: the giddiness you were often reproved for as a child. it crept up on you in the quiet moments—the teasing glint in caleb’s eye, his sharp wit, the way he quirked an eyebrow when he was trying to get a rise out of you. his funny remarks and old quirks, things you thought you’d forgotten entirely, came rushing back, leaving you disarmed.

you found yourself laughing at things you hadn’t noticed were funny, smiling in ways you hadn’t realized you still could. the sense of euphoria was intoxicating, almost overwhelming. it burned through the shadows of doubt that had lingered since you arrived, leaving you to wonder if caleb’s presence—his persistence, his warmth—was the very thing you needed to feel whole again.

but that wasn’t all. caleb had made it his mission to spend every waking second with you now, as if making amends for the two days he left you alone when you first arrived at skyhaven. he cooked for you—something he didn’t have time for before. his presence became tangible in ways it hadn’t been in years. he started tagging you along for his tasks outside the dorms, immersing you in the controlled chaos of his world.

every time you asked a question, his answers were immediate, clear, and unguarded. every time you wished for something, he set his mind to making it happen. just that morning, when you wondered aloud how daa pilots coordinated emergency landings so precisely, he’d whisked you away to the base, brimming with enthusiasm, to show you the mechanics of their operations. he even placed you inside a trainer aircraft, insisting you try it out—his face lighting up like a proud instructor—only relenting when your panicked pleas got you safely back on the ground.

he almost sounded like a nerd when he explained things, which you found oddly endearing. familiar.

even in moments of uncertainty and vulnerability, caleb remained steadfast. his decision to confine you to his chambers during the first two days—something that had frustrated and angered you—still lingered in your mind as an unfair choice. yet, he never hovered. instead, he occupied himself with tasks in the background, always ready to comfort you if needed but careful not to suffocate you. as if he understood that no amount of effort could undo the hurtful choices that had brought you both to this point.

the storm of emotions from your first 72 hours here in skyhaven still stole the air from your lungs during the nights, leaving you gasping in a silence that felt too loud. you cried yourself to sleep with an ache that defied words, an emptiness that gnawed at your chest and refused to let go. it wasn’t just the weight of what you had learned—it was the crushing realization that so much of your life had been shaped by truths you never knew, by choices made for you without your consent.

caleb noticed everything. he noticed how your showers stretched on endlessly, the way the sound of running water masked the quiet sobs you thought you could hide. he saw how your eyes darted away from his when the weight of his gaze felt too much to bear. the way your hand would unconsciously clutch at your chest, as if holding yourself together, as if your heart might betray you if you let it go.

he never mentioned it. not once. his silence wasn’t dismissive; it was deliberate, as though he understood that words could only do so much. instead, he stayed close—close enough that you could feel the steady presence of him, grounding you when you felt like you might unravel. but he never pushed. he let you have your space, retreating to the far corners of the room or busying himself with tasks that gave you room to breathe.

one night, when the weight of it all became too much, you broke. the tears came suddenly, unstoppable, as if they’d been waiting for this exact moment to escape. you didn’t even try to hide them this time, your body trembling as you sat on the edge of the bed, clutching your knees to your chest.

caleb was there before you could even process his movement, his warmth engulfing you as he pulled you into his arms. his grip was firm but gentle, like he was holding something fragile. he didn’t say anything at first, just rocked you slightly, his breath steady and grounding against the chaos in your mind.

when the murmurs started, they were soft, barely audible over the sound of your sobs. “i’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice rough and full of something that made your chest ache even more. “i’m so, so sorry, princess. i know. i know.”

his lips brushed against your forehead, lingering there for a moment before moving to your hair, your temple, your ear—soft, fleeting touches that carried an apology too big for words. you felt his chest shudder beneath your cheek, and it took you a moment to realize that his breaths were uneven.

caleb was crying too.

his words, his presence, the steady beat of his heart against your ear—it all worked together to chip away at the walls you’d built around yourself. you didn’t know how long you stayed like that, the two of you wrapped in each other, but eventually, exhaustion won. your sobs quieted, your breathing evened out, and before you knew it, sleep took you.

the next morning, he didn’t bring it up. instead, his apologies came in other ways.

he made you breakfast without a word, setting the plate down in front of you before retreating to clean up the kitchen. when you needed a moment alone, he gave it without question, hovering just close enough to remind you that you weren’t truly alone.

it didn’t fix everything, not by a long shot. but it was a start. and for now, that was enough.

caleb’s quiet determination to make things right showed in ways he didn’t even realize. but for all his efforts to rebuild the fragile connection between you, there were moments when his own vulnerability slipped through the cracks.

the first time you truly saw his bionic arm—not just his hand but as an undeniable reality—was one of those moments. it wasn’t something he wanted you to see.

you caught glimpses when he wasn’t looking, stealing moments to trace his body with your eyes, searching for the details you still weren’t used to. it was as though he wore it like a symbol of his own ruin when in front of you, a quiet badge of loss. he always hid it beneath long sleeves as if punishing himself for its existence.

the only time he didn’t—when necessity gave way to something more human—was on the first morning after the investigation episode. unable to bear staying in the bed that smelled so much like him, you’d wandered into the kitchen, drawn by the soft clatter of pans and the faint smell of food. and there he was, standing by the stove in a sleeveless white shirt, his bionic arm fully exposed for the first time.

at first, you hadn’t noticed it, your groggy mind too focused on the surreal sight of him cooking breakfast. but when his eyes met yours, everything shifted. his posture stiffened, and his entire demeanor changed, as if you had caught him in a moment of weakness. the confidence he usually carried so effortlessly vanished, replaced by a flash of vulnerability so stark it made your chest tighten. it was as if your gaze alone had stripped him bare, as if you weren’t supposed to see him this way.

as if he didn’t want you to see him this way.

he turned his body slightly, instinctively shielding the metal limb from view. the movement was subtle, almost imperceptible, but you noticed. it was in the way he avoided your eyes after that, focusing too intently on flipping the eggs in the pan, his silence louder than any words could be. it was in the way his shoulders tensed, betraying the emotions he wouldn’t let surface.

you let it go for now, though the image stayed with you, lingering like an unanswered question.

it was your sixth day in skyhaven. yesterday evening had been spent making phone calls to friends and colleagues, reassuring them after your sudden disappearance. you’d explained the situation to everyone who mattered, carefully crafting the details to sound less alarming than they truly were. but one call had remained undone—zayne. the reasons for not dialing his number sat heavy on your chest, unspoken and hard to name. but you left it at that.

the sight of caleb cooking should’ve felt mundane by now, honestly. you’d seen him shirtless more times than you could count, growing up together had ensured that. you both had been at the mercy of puberty and hormones, awkwardness softened by familiarity. but something about the way he stood now, his presence so certain yet so quietly domestic, struck you differently.

it was a stark contrast to the lean boy who used to tease and prod at your attention; now, caleb stood tall and broad in front of the stove, his muscles shifting with precision as he moved, every action pulling a reaction from you—a warmth that crept into your cheeks as a flashback of your first kiss in your apartment left you momentarily off balance.

all the thinking and pondering you’d done over the past three days hadn’t wavered the anger simmering inside you—not yet. caleb might have also been a victim, but he wasn’t innocent in the slightest. his choices, no matter how well-intentioned, had left scars on you that you couldn’t ignore. and you’d finally decided how to deal with it.

you were going to punch him.

in the face, preferably.

it wasn’t the most rational plan, but it was the only way you could see to start letting go of the frustration and rage that had been building inside you. you could start your healing journey from there. but first, you needed this. he had faked his death, left you to mourn him alone. if that didn’t earn him a solid right hook, what would?

so you stood in the doorway of his bathroom, your fists clenching and unclenching at your sides, watching caleb move around the kitchen like he belonged there. his back was to you, broad and steady, muscles shifting under his skin with every precise movement. his bionic arm rested at his side, but you refused to let your gaze linger on it—it wasn’t the time.

he glanced over his shoulder, offering you a small, warm smile. “morning,” he said casually, as if the weight of the last few days hadn’t fractured something between you.

and then you saw it—that small, almost imperceptible movement. the way he shifted slightly to hide the metal limb from your line of sight, as if shielding himself from judgment he thought he might find in your eyes. the gesture was subtle, but it struck you like a spark to dry tinder, igniting a fire that had been smoldering in your chest.

why did he keep doing that? why did he act like he had to hide from you? as if you were the one who couldn’t accept what he’d become, when he was the one who had shattered your world?

the tick of irritation swelled into something sharper, something more visceral. you stepped into the room, your movements slow but deliberate, the sound of your footsteps catching his attention.

“why do you do that?” you asked, your voice low but edged with something brittle.

his brow furrowed, his eyes flicking to you as he turned, uncertain. “do what?”

“this,” you said, gesturing toward his arm. “you keep hiding it. like you think i care about that more than everything else you’ve done.”

his expression shifted, a flicker of something—shame, maybe—crossing his face before he looked away, focusing on the pan in front of him. “it’s not that simple, pipsqueak” he said, his voice quieter now, guarded.

“no, it’s not,” you shot back, stepping closer. “nothing about this is simple. but you don’t get to act like you’re the only one carrying this weight.”

his grip on the spatula tightened, his jaw clenching, but he didn’t respond. that silence, that calm restraint, only made your anger boil over.

“you don’t get to hide, caleb,” you said, your voice rising. “not from me. not after everything you’ve put me through.”

he turned then, fully facing you, his expression hard but not unkind. “what is it with the lashing out just now? i’m not hiding,” he said evenly. “i just—”

“you just what?” you interrupted, stepping closer still. “you just thought it’d be easier to let me think you were dead? to leave me to grieve while you played hero for people who didn’t even care about you?”

his eyes widened, the calm facade he usually wore cracking just enough to show the vulnerability underneath. “i—i told you i’m sorry,” he said, his voice quiet but edged with something raw. “i explained my reasons at the time, it was not like that”

you almost felt pity for him—almost. but the ache in your chest, the anger clawing at your throat, wouldn’t let you soften. not yet.

“then what was it like, caleb?” you demanded, your voice trembling with the weight of your frustration. “because from where i’m standing, it looks a hell of a lot like betrayal.”

the words hung heavy in the air, the silence between you thick with tension. you could feel your chest tightening, the storm of emotions swirling inside you threatening to spill over.

and then, without thinking, you took a step forward and swung your fist. your knuckles connected with his jaw, the force of the punch sending a sharp jolt up your arm, but it wasn’t like you weren’t used to fight wanderers by yourself. he stumbled back a step, his hand flying to his face as his eyes widened in shock.

caleb had expected it—not like this, not right now—but the moment your fist collided with his jaw, a strange sense of inevitability settled over him. he let out a sharp breath, his fingers brushing against the tender spot where your punch had landed. the sting was immediate, but it was nothing compared to the ache that had been simmering inside him for days.

he stayed still for a moment, the weight of your anger washing over him like a tide he’d been bracing for but never truly prepared to face. you were trembling, chest heaving, your knuckles still clenched as if you were debating whether to hit him again.

caleb straightened slowly, his jaw throbbing as he met your gaze.

the room was silent, save for your ragged breathing and the faint sound of the pan sizzling on the stove.

for a moment, you thought he might lash out, might yell or demand an explanation. but instead, he let out a soft, incredulous laugh, his lips curving into a faint smirk.

“you’ve got a hell of a punch, pipsqueak” he said, his voice tinged with amusement, though his eyes still carried that familiar weight.

“don’t,” you said sharply, your fists still clenched at your sides. “don’t laugh this off. don’t pretend like you didn’t deserve it.”

his smirk faded, replaced by something softer, more serious. “you’re right,” he said quietly. “i did.”

those words took the wind out of you, leaving you standing there, unsure of what to do next. the anger that had driven you moments ago was still there, but it felt different now—muted, as if the act of hitting him had let some of it go.

“feel better?” he asked, his tone light but not mocking, hand still holding his jaw.

but his calmness, his ability to shrug off what you’d done as if it were nothing, only made something inside you snap. “no,” you said sharply, your voice trembling. “no, i don’t feel better. because none of this changes anything, caleb. none of this fixes what you did.”

he watched you quietly, his expression steady, patient. that calmness—the same calmness you’d once found reassuring—now felt like a wall you couldn’t break through. it only fueled the storm building inside you.

“you left me,” you said, your voice rising as your emotions spilled out, unchecked. “you lied to me throughout all my life, you should’ve told me something, should’ve… i don’t know!”

his lips parted as if to respond, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“and then you show up again—alive, bigger than life, barking me orders as if i was a stranger to you. you think you can just apologize and everything will go back to how it was? do you have any idea how much you broke me?”

your voice cracked on the last words, and the tears you’d been holding back threatened to spill. you stepped closer to him, your fists pounding weakly against his chest, frustration and grief bubbling over. “i should hate you forever, caleb.”

he didn’t move, didn’t stop you, his hands hovering at his sides as if he wasn’t sure whether he was allowed to touch you. not when your words sounded so heavy.

"god," you felt your voice crack and tears started forming on your eyes.

caleb wasn’t allowed to say anything but, “i’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice breaking under the weight of his words. “i’m so sorry.”

“stop saying that!” you cried, your voice rising in a mixture of anger and desperation. “sorry doesn’t fix this. it doesn’t fix us, you asshole!”

your fists hit his chest again, harder this time, and he caught your wrists, gently but firmly. “i know,” he said, his voice steady now. “but it’s all i have. it’s all i can give you right now, princess.”

his grip loosened, and before you could pull away, he wrapped his arms around you, drawing you close. “i’m so sorry,” he murmured again, his voice low and heavy with emotion. “i know i hurt you. i know i can’t fix it overnight. but i swear, i’ll spend the rest of my life trying if you let me.”

his words broke something inside you, and the tears finally spilled over. you buried your face against his chest, sobbing openly as his arms tightened around you. his hand rested on the back of your head, cradling you gently as if he were afraid you might shatter completely.

“don’t give up on me,” he whispered, his voice raw. “i’ll be okay if you hate me forever, as long as you’re happy. that’s all that matters.”

“don’t say things like that,” you choked out, your voice muffled against him. “don’t be so dependent on me. you’re a dick.”

his arms around you tensed for a moment before loosening, his breath brushing the top of your head. “i’m trying not to be,” he murmured, his tone so soft it felt like a confession. “but you’re the only thing that kept me steady until now, Y/N. the only thing that makes me feel like… like i’m still human.”

his words struck you, sharp and raw, cutting through the haze of your emotions. you pulled back just enough to look at him, your eyes meeting his. “caleb…” you started, but you didn’t know what to say, how to piece together the whirlwind in your chest into anything coherent.

he gave you a small, almost broken smile, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “i don’t mean to put that on you. i know it’s not fair, and i don’t want you to feel like you have to carry me too. but… i just need you to know that you matter. more than anything.”

“you can’t do that,” you said, your voice trembling. “you can’t put me on this pedestal. it’s not right. it’s not fair to either of us.”

“i know,” he said again, his voice cracking slightly. “but you’re not on a pedestal. you’re… you’re home. and that’s not something i can turn off, pipsqueak.”

fuck. why did he sound so broke too?

you pulled back slightly, wiping at your face as you looked up at him. his eyes were red-rimmed, tears threatening to fall but never quite spilling over. it was the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him.

he glanced down at his bionic arm, flexing the fingers absently before letting it rest at his side. “i hate this thing,” he said suddenly, his voice low and quiet. “it’s a constant reminder of when i hurt you the most.”

you frowned, confused. “caleb…”

“ever wanted me to lose more than this arm,” he continued, his tone growing darker. “they wanted me… broken. half of my body was supposed to be destroyed in their ‘plan.’ they thought they could control me better that way. make me more… dependent.”

your stomach churned at his words. “why didn’t you tell me? why do you keep hiding it from me?”

he shook his head, looking away. “i’ve already put you through enough. i didn’t want to burden you with this.”

it was strange how the weight of forgiveness didn’t feel like a single, decisive moment. it wasn’t a clean break or a sudden realization; it was more like erosion—a gradual softening of the jagged edges of anger, resentment, and grief. it was in the quiet moments, like now, when his voice was stripped of its usual command, when he stumbled over his words, when his walls came down just enough for you to see the pain he carried. it made you question your own anger, not because it wasn’t valid, but because holding onto it felt heavier than letting it go.

"but i want to know," you pressed, your voice trembling. "i need to understand, caleb. i need to know what they did to you. i need to understand why."

forgiving him didn’t mean forgetting what he’d done. it didn’t erase the nights you’d cried yourself to sleep, the hollow ache of mourning someone who wasn’t really gone. but it meant acknowledging that he’d suffered too, that his choices—terrible as they were—had been born from a place of love and desperation. of obsession.

as much as you wanted to cling to your anger, you couldn’t ignore the cracks forming in its foundation. his actions, his words—they chipped away at your defenses, forcing you to see the pain he carried. and in those moments, you realized that forgiveness wasn’t about absolving him of what he’d done. it was about freeing yourself from the weight of it. it was about choosing to let go, not for him, but for you. because holding onto that anger wasn’t just hurting him—it was hurting you too.

his jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together as he finally looked at you. his eyes were dark, stormy, filled with something that looked too much like shame. "it’s too much," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "it’s graphic, and cruel, and i can’t… i fucking can’t make you see me like that, Y/N."

"i already see you, caleb," you countered, stepping closer still, voice cracking over something close to desperation. "i see the way you try to protect yourself by being harsh towards everyone, the way you tense up when you think no one’s looking. i see how much pain you’re in, and i see how hard you’re trying to hide it. you don’t have to protect me from this. don’t keep lying to me, i beg you."

he let out a sharp, bitter laugh, his hand running through his hair in frustration. "you don’t have to beg for anything when it comes to me, princess," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "it’s not about protecting you. it’s about not giving you more reasons to hate me, do you understand? ever was shit to both of us, they still are."

"i don’t hate you," you said quickly, your voice firm. "i’m angry, yes. i’m hurt. but i don’t hate you, caleb. sometimes i wish i could."

his eyes softened, but the anguish in them didn’t fade. "i don’t want to fucking trigger you, princess, just let it go," he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, flesh hand running through his brown locks in a dismissive act. he took a step back and turned to the stove, turning the fire off while avoiding your gaze.

“i can’t forgive you if you keep hiding these things.” you crossed your arms, looking at his posture, “if i thought i couldn’t handle, i wouldn’t be asking you this right now. why did you let them do it?”.

he shook his head, his hands coming up to cover his face. "you have no idea," he said, his voice breaking again. "the limits i’d go to for you. the things i’d endure. i’d let them do it all over again if it meant you’d be safe. i’d let them tear me apart piece by piece, because i—" he stopped, his hands dropping to his sides as he looked at you with an intensity that made your chest tighten, as if just imagining his devotion was already physically exhausting. "because i love you. so much it terrifies me."

he looked away again, his jaw clenching as his fingers flexed at his sides. you wondered for a second if he expected to hear those words in return one day.

"princess, i just don’t want to drag you into something you can’t unhear. something that’ll stick in your head and haunt you the way it does me.” breakfast long gone, he turned to the counter and leaned his weight on it, crossing his arms over his chest.

"but that’s not fair," you pressed, stepping closer, your voice softer now but no less determined. "you keep everything locked up inside, like you should be this invincible man. i want to know. you don’t have to protect me from this, for fuck's sake."

his shoulders sagged, a bitter laugh escaping his lips as he rubbed his hand over his face. "you think i’m protecting you?" he asked, his voice low and pained. "i’m protecting me, princess. because if i see that look in your eyes—the one that says you pity me, or worse, that you’re scared of me—i don’t think i can handle that. not from you."

you reached out to touch his arm. "i’m not scared of you. and i’m not going to pity you. just fucking tell me already."

his gaze dropped to the floor for a moment, the silence between you thick and heavy.

he shook his head, his bionic fingers twitching as his hands curled into fists. "they broke me, okay?" he said, his voice raw and trembling as if his patience were running thin from your persistence. "they strapped me down, cut me open while i was still awake just to see how much i could take. and i took it, all of it, because i thought if i didn’t, they’d turn to you instead. and the fucked-up part? i was willing to let them do it again if it meant you were safe."

your breath hitched, the vividness of his confession slicing through you like a blade.

“this arm,” he points and looks at it, “it has to go through repair oftenly, it hurts like a bitch, the electric current, everything… they keep increasing the power every time i go there.”

"do you know what it’s like to hear them talk about you like you’re a bargaining chip?" he continued, his voice rising slightly, anger and despair mingling in his tone. "to know they saw you as leverage, something they will certain have on the future? i couldn’t let that happen. so i let them do whatever they wanted to me, make me stronger. and yeah, it hurt. but it was nothing compared to the thought of fucking losing you, Y/N."

you swallowed hard, tears prickling at your eyes as his words sank in. "you shouldn’t have had to make that choice," you said, your voice shaking. "it wasn’t your responsibility to protect me like that. gran should’ve… she shouldn’t have put that on a child."

"but it was," he insisted, his voice firm despite the emotion cracking through it. "it’s always been my responsibility. ever since we were kids, i promised myself i’d keep you safe. and i failed you once—i’m not failing you again."

was granny josephine truly blameless, or had she knowingly set these events in motion? had she purposefully placed caleb in harm’s way, using the innocent, budding love he had for you as a tool to safeguard her fears and protect her secrets? had she manipulated his loyalty as a child, planting seeds that would root so deeply they’d shape his entire existence?

the silence that followed was thick, heavy with unspoken emotions. you stepped closer, your hand finding his and squeezing gently. "you didn’t fail me," you said softly, your voice breaking. "you’d died for me more than once, that’s already too fucking much, caleb."

his patience made you wonder: how many times had caleb carried this same burden? how many nights had he endured this same hollow ache you have been feeling these past few days, but without someone by his side to share it with?

did he ever feel alone? did he feel the crushing isolation when cruel people, hidden behind the guise of scientists, broke and prodded at his skin? when they searched for cracks in his mind, trying to shatter him into pieces so irreparable that the boy he once was could never return? had he felt the same suffocating weight you carried now—the weight of being someone else’s creation? of knowing that your very existence was shaped by murderous intent and corruptive minds, calling your body their experiment?

ever hadn’t succeeded in making him a servant—he told you that—, but hadn’t they almost gotten there? hadn’t they stripped away enough of his humanity to leave him standing like this, a shadow of the boy you once knew?

he looked at you then, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "i don’t deserve your forgiveness," he said, his voice barely audible.

"you may not deserve it," you began, your voice trembling slightly, "but i think i want to give it to you anyway." the words felt fragile, like they might shatter under their own weight. you looked at his bionic arm, its polished surface catching the light, and noticed the way his jaw tensed, just barely. he didn’t say anything, but the tension in the air told you he was bracing himself, waiting for whatever came next.

you also expected him to say something, to break the tension that hung in the air, but the silence stretched so long it began to feel awkward. just as you were about to open your mouth and fill the void with some kind of sentence—or at least an acknowledgment of what had just happened—you saw him grimace slightly, his hand coming up to palm his left cheek.

oh. right. you had hit him. you’d almost forgotten.

"oh shit, i’m sorry," you blurted, guilt suddenly surging up as you watched him rub his cheek.

but he waved it off, not even glancing your way. "don’t worry, princess," he said, his voice casual, though there was a faint edge to it. "i’ll finish breakfast and put some ice on it."

"are you sure?" you asked hesitantly, your guilt gnawing at you.

he nodded, finally meeting your eyes. "yeah, I’m sure. it’s not the first time i’ve been hit, and it won’t be the last."

there was an odd kind of amusement in his tone, but it didn’t do much to ease your discomfort.

"do you want something else to eat? the eggs are probably cold by now," he added, gesturing vaguely toward the pan on the counter, his tone shifting back to the calm, measured one you were used to.

you didn’t know what to say, the words catching in your throat. everything about the moment felt strange, like you were navigating a space you didn’t fully understand. "no, i’m fine," you murmured, your voice softer than you intended. "i’ll… i’ll eat later. i think i want to take a shower first."

his gaze lingered on you for a moment, unreadable, before he gave a small nod. "take your time, princess," he said, turning his attention back to the stove.

you nodded awkwardly, already stepping back toward the door. the guilt and confusion swirling in your chest made your movements feel clumsy, uncoordinated. you needed a moment to yourself, away from his steady presence and the weight of everything unsaid between you. a shower sounded like the perfect escape.

that morning, you skipped breakfast. instead, you locked yourself in his room—ironic, wasn’t it?—and spent the hours replaying the moment over and over again in your head. the sound of your fist connecting with his jaw, the way he stumbled back, the stunned look in his eyes.

his words, your words—they lingered, looping in your mind like a broken record. every syllable from that morning carried a weight you hadn’t anticipated, carving deeper into your already-frayed emotions. you could still hear the way his voice had trembled, how it softened in places you didn’t expect. and the way yours had cracked, betraying the storm you were trying so hard to contain.

you hated that you couldn’t let it go. that you kept picking apart every second of the exchange, trying to find something you missed, some meaning hidden between the lines.

the shower ended up lasting an embarrassing thirty-five minutes, and by the time you got out, your skin felt like it was starting to peel. turns out, skyhaven’s technology was far more advanced and exclusive than linkon’s. their residents had access to countless showers and sinks with customizable settings and precise temperature controls.

despite everything, you couldn’t help but enjoy every second of these little luxuries. you found yourself wondering if caleb might let you take some of his fancy dermatology products back to linkon with you.

by the time you got out, you remembered that caleb had mentioned during yesterday’s lunch that skyhaven would soon begin its monthly isolation week—a period where all soldiers and officers were confined to their bedchambers. it was a precautionary measure, meant to ensure that the magnetic fields and protocores keeping the island afloat remained stable and resistant to any potential failures.

the thought of spending the upcoming period together in isolation left you with an unexpected wave of embarrassment gnawing at your mind.

your fingers curled into the sheets as you sat on the edge of his bed, your mind a whirlwind of guilt and uncertainty. after your prolonged shower, the scene of the punch replayed endlessly in your head. you’d gone over every detail, from the sharp crack of your knuckles against his jaw to the stunned look in his eyes. had you taken it too far?

if you were going to spend the next seven days confined in this dorm with him, wouldn’t it be better to try to make amends? the tension already felt unbearable, and avoiding him would only stretch it further. you needed to face him, didn’t you?

your gaze flicked toward the door, hesitation pulling at you. you’d skipped breakfast to dodge the awkwardness, telling yourself you needed time to sort through your own emotions. but now, the thought of him sitting alone in the kitchen, nursing a bruised jaw and left to wonder about your silence, made your stomach twist. he deserved some sort of explanation—or, at the very least, acknowledgment of what you’d done.

“he’s fine,” you told yourself, standing abruptly and pacing the room. “he’s a soldier. he’s been through worse.”

but the image of his expression—the way his eyes softened, almost tender, when he said, “i did”—refused to leave your mind.

you felt like you were going crazy. for six days, emotions like confusion, guilt, regret, anger, and love had taken turns coursing through your body, leaving you utterly whiplashed. every time you thought you had a handle on one, another would rear its head, demanding to be felt. it was exhausting.

in the last three days, caleb hadn’t been anything but kind to you. he’d gone out of his way to make you feel comfortable, to give you space when you needed it, and to be there when you didn’t. his words, his actions—everything he’d done had been soaked in care.

“pipsqueak?” caleb’s voice came through the door, soft but clear, pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts. “can i come in? you didn’t eat breakfast, so i brought some fruit.”

your heart leapt into your throat, and for a moment, you froze, unsure of what to do.

was he reading your mind?

“o-oh, it’s okay,” you stammered, grimacing at how shaky you sounded. “i’m not hungry.”

there was a pause, followed by the low rumble of his laugh. it wasn’t mocking, but it carried that familiar teasing edge that made your stomach twist. “please,” he said, his tone amused. “you’re always hungry. that hasn’t changed, has it?”

you swallowed hard, your eyes darting to the door as if it might give you an answer. what was he doing? why was he being so normal? like nothing had happened? you both basically confessed your undeniable pull towards each other a few hours ago, and now he was out here laughing about your appetite.

“i’m really fine,” you said, forcing your voice to steady. “you don’t have to—”

“too late,” he interrupted, the doorknob jiggling slightly. “i’m coming in.”

panic surged through you. “wait!” you blurted, stepping toward the door instinctively. “i’m—uh—I’m not decent!”

there was a pause, and then his voice, lower but undeniably amused, came through the door again. “you’ve said that before. pretty sure it was a lie then too.”

your face heated at the memory, and you clenched your fists, both at him and at yourself for reacting this way. why couldn’t he just leave you alone for five minutes to figure out what the hell you were feeling?

“caleb,” you said, your tone sharp but shaky, “just—give me a minute, okay?”

another pause. “fine,” he said, his voice softer now. “but i’m not leaving until you eat something. deal?”

you huffed, running towards the door and fixing your hair. “deal.”

before you could change your mind, the door clicked open. caleb stepped inside, balancing a plate of sliced fruit in one hand and a small ice pack pressed against his cheek in the other. he was shirtless, his bionic arm fully exposed, the metal catching the light as he moved. it was the first time he hadn’t tried to hide it from you, and the sight made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

you barely registered the plate of fruit before your eyes caught on the bruise forming along his jaw. your fist had left a mark—faint, but undeniably there. guilt flooded your chest, your earlier resolve crumbling.

“hi,” he said, his voice laced with a teasing lilt as his gaze shifted to you. his lips curved into a smirk, his eyes glinting with amusement. “nice shirt, by the way.”

you glanced down, realizing with a jolt that you opted to put one of his shirts after the shower, the fabric oversized and hanging loose on your frame. your cheeks heated instantly.

“i—it was just comfortable,” you stammered, tugging at the hem as if that would somehow make it less obvious. “don’t read into it.”

he chuckled, stepping further into the room and setting the plate down on the nearest surface. “oh, i’m not,” he said lightly, though the smirk never left his face. “but if you want to borrow more, just let me know.��

your embarrassment shifted into a mix of irritation and concern as your eyes darted back to the ice pack on his cheek. “what happened to not leaving until i ate?” you said, trying to deflect as you stepped closer.

“still holding you to that,” he replied, his tone playful but soft.

but you weren’t paying attention to his words anymore. your gaze was fixed on the faint purpling of his jaw, the guilt clawing its way back to the surface. without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his face as you gently turned it to get a better look.

“does it hurt?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the concern threading through your words catching even you off guard.

caleb stilled under your touch, his gaze steady on you as you inspected the bruise. “not really,” he said, his voice softer than you expected. “i’ve had worse.”

you frowned, ignoring his attempt to downplay it. “you’re not supposed to just brush it off,” you muttered, your thumb lightly grazing the edge of the bruise. “i shouldn’t have—”

“hey,” he interrupted, his voice gentle. he reached up with his flesh hand, carefully wrapping it around yours and pulling it away from his face. “don’t do that. don’t feel bad.”

you blinked at him, caught off guard. “i was expecting you to be mad,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “i thought you’d yell at me, or… i don’t know, something.”

he laughed softly, shaking his head. “why would i be mad? i deserved it.”

“you keep saying that,” you said, pulling your hand free and stepping back. “but why? why do you think you deserved it?”

he sighed, his expression softening as he leaned back against the table. “because i’ve been waiting for you to hit me since the fake interrogation. hell, i was starting to get worried when you didn’t.”

“worried?” you repeated, your brows knitting together. “why?”

he hesitated, as if weighing how much to say, before meeting your gaze again. “because the girl i grew up with wouldn’t have let me get away with half the crap i’ve done,” he said simply. “she’d have punched me the second she saw me.”

his words hit you harder than you expected, a strange mix of emotions welling up in your chest. “well,” you said after a moment, your voice softer now, “maybe she’s not the same girl anymore.”

he smiled at that, the kind of smile that carried a weight you couldn’t quite name. “maybe,” he said quietly. “but she’s still in there. i see her every time you look at me like i’ve done something stupid. every time you call me out on my bullshit. and i’m glad she’s still here.”

you didn’t know how to respond to that, the raw honesty in his words leaving you momentarily speechless. instead, you looked down at the plate of fruit he’d brought, your fingers brushing against the edge.

“fine,” you said, your voice still quiet but steady. “i’ll eat.”

his smile widened, a hint of relief flickering in his eyes. “good,” he said. “because i wasn’t kidding about not leaving until you did.”

you rolled your eyes, but there was no real bite to it. as you picked up a piece of fruit, you couldn’t help but glance at him again, the bruise on his jaw and the faint smile on his lips making your chest ache in a way you weren’t ready to name.

the room settled into a quiet rhythm as you nibbled on the fruit caleb had brought, the faint rustling of his movements behind you blending into the soft hum of skyhaven's faint mechanical undertones. he had settled onto the bed at some point, the ice pack still pressed lightly against his cheek.

you didn’t look up at first, focused on the sweet tang of the fruit and the thoughts circling your head. when you finally did glance over, you saw him lying back against the cushions, his large frame sprawled out comfortably across the bed. it struck you—how long had it been since he rested properly? since he allowed himself this kind of moment?

there was something oddly humanizing about the sight of him now. his broad chest rose and fell with steady breaths, his muscles visibly relaxed beneath the glow of the dim room lighting. his eyes were closed, and for the first time since you’d arrived at skyhaven, he looked… content.

his bionic arm rested on the bed, unmoving, and yet it seemed a part of him in a way it hadn’t before. the faint light caught the edges of the metal, highlighting the intricate details of its design. you noticed the tension that usually coiled through his shoulders was gone now, replaced by an unfamiliar ease.

you wondered, as the silence stretched between you, how the two of you had gone through so much in just one week. grief, anger, guilt, and even flickers of something softer—it felt like a lifetime had been compressed into the span of days.

just as you were sinking deeper into your thoughts, his voice broke the quiet. “did you call zayne?”

you blinked, the question catching you off guard as you chewed the last piece of fruit. you swallowed quickly before answering. he probably heard you talking to your friends yesterday.

“not actually. i still don’t know what to tell him.”

he shifted slightly, turning his head to look at you. “why not?” his tone was calm, curious rather than accusatory.

“it’s… complicated,” you admitted, setting the plate down on the desk beside you. “zayne’s always been logical, rational. and this? this is anything but that. you were his friend too so…”

he seemed to consider that, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he sighed and leaned back into the cushions. “did he comment on anything from my… from the explosion?” his words were careful, almost hesitant, as if he was testing the waters.

you hesitated, unsure if he was fishing for something deeper or just looking for updates on zayne. the memory of zayne handing you the documents—grandma josephine’s documents—flashed through your mind.

“not much,” you said eventually, your tone thoughtful. “he just gave me the documents grandma left with him. said she wanted me to have them. after that, he helped me deal with… everything else. the grief, mostly.”

caleb nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. “he always was good at that,” he murmured, almost to himself.

you tilted your head, studying him. “why ask now?”

his lips quirked into the faintest smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “i guess i’ve just been wondering… how much he knew. if he ever blamed me, or if he…” he trailed off, his voice growing quieter, “if he thought i could’ve done more.”

“zayne didn’t blame you,” you said softly, the certainty in your voice surprising even yourself. “he never said anything like that. he just… he cared. about both of us. since always.”

caleb’s shoulders relaxed a little at your words, the tension easing from his frame. he let out a long breath, his eyes closing again. “that sounds like him.”

the comfortable silence returned, but this time, it felt heavier with unspoken thoughts. you stayed where you were, watching the way his breathing steadied, his face softening in a way that felt so achingly familiar.

caleb sat up from the bed, stretching lazily as his muscles rippled under the warm light of the room, leaving the ice pack on the bedside table. the movement drew your eyes almost involuntarily to his chest, his defined pecs and the subtle line of his collarbone. you realized too late that you were staring.

“like what you see, pipsqueak?” he teased, smirking as he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.

your face heated instantly, and you scrambled to find a response. “i wasn’t—i mean, you’re not that impressive,” you shot back, your words stumbling over each other in your flustered state.

he laughed, low and amused, clearly enjoying your reaction. “sure you weren’t.”

before you could retort, he straightened up and glanced toward the door. “what do you want for lunch?” he asked casually, his slightly red jaw stealing your attention for a few seconds.

“lunch?” you blinked at him, momentarily stunned. “i forgot we’re supposed to spend the next few days confined,” you admitted, your tone dipping with mild disappointment. “i was really starting to like the restaurant food we’ve been eating.”

caleb chuckled, his expression softening. “well, you’ll have to settle for my cooking again. i think you’ll survive.”

your mood lifted almost immediately. “oh!” you said, excitement creeping into your voice. “can you make that dish you used to make me when i came home from college? the one with the rice and that weird sauce you wouldn’t tell me the recipe for?”

he tilted his head, pretending to think. “hmm… you mean my secret signature dish?”

“it’s not that secret if you made it for me all the time,” you countered, grinning now.

“fine,” he said with a mock sigh of defeat, standing up from the bed. “i’ll make it.”

as he moved toward the door, you hesitated, shifting awkwardly in your chair. “uh… caleb?” you started, your voice quieter now.

he turned back to you, raising an eyebrow. “yeah?”

you fiddled with the hem of his shirt, avoiding his eyes. “i was just thinking… if you wanted, you could, um, go back to sleeping in your bed. you know. with me. it’s big enough, and the sofa doesn’t look that comfortable…”

his sofa was actually very comfortable and big. but you felt bad either way.

he stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before a slow grin spread across his face. “are you worried about me, pipsqueak?”

“no!” you said quickly, your face flushing. “it’s just… i noticed the marks on your back from sleeping there. you look uncomfortable.”

his grin widened. “so, you’ve been staring at my back?”

“caleb!” you protested, standing up and trying to shove him toward the door. “don’t twist this into something weird.”

he laughed, letting you push him as he pretended to resist. “all right, all right,” he said, still grinning. “if it makes you feel better, i’ll sleep on the bed again. but…” he tilted his head slightly, the grin widening into something teasing. “can you at least warn me before you decide to punch me next time? because, honestly, this thing hurts like a bitch.”

you froze mid-push, your face heating up in a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “don’t tempt me,” you shot back, trying to sound stern but failing to keep the amused lilt out of your voice.

he chuckled, stepping just outside the door but turning back to look at you, his expression softening. “deal?” he asked, his eyes searching yours.

you sighed, shaking your head as a reluctant smile crept onto your face. “fine. but only because i want to avoid another bruise on your face. it’s bad enough looking at this one.”

he chuckled, stepping out of the room but turning back for a moment. “get comfy, pipsqueak. i’ll call you when lunch is ready.”

lunch came and went, the hours passing in a strange haze of quiet conversations and unspoken tension. turns out caleb’s cooking skills have improved since your last meal together, and you’ve caught yourself praising his abilities more than once.

the gaifan with baozi left you content and vibrant for the rest of the day, the taste of familiarity spicing your tongue along with the steamed dumplings.

at one point, caleb insisted on showing you how skyhaven’s isolation worked—something about magnetic fields and protocores stabilizing the entire floating city. you tried to follow along with your hunter’s brief knowing about fluctuations, but the way he lit up as he explained it was far more captivating than the details themselves.

“this is why we have isolation weeks,” he said, gesturing toward the ceiling as if the intricate systems were visible through the walls. “the magnetic fields can’t handle too much strain for extended periods, so every month, we scale back activity to let the systems recalibrate. it’s boring, but it keeps us alive.”

“boring?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “you’re talking about living on a floating island, caleb. that’s not boring.” you smiled. “i remember you dreaming about coming here for the first time when you graduated high school.”

he smirked, leaning against the edge of the counter. “guess i’ve been here too long. you kind of get used to it.” his tone was casual, but there was a flicker of something softer in his expression, a quiet pride that reminded you of the boy who used to explain the constellations to you back home, his enthusiasm unshakable.

later, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, he led you to the living room, where floor-to-ceiling glass windows framed the sky in breathtaking clarity. you stood there for a while, the silence between you broken only by the occasional hum of skyhaven’s systems. the view was mesmerizing—clouds streaked with gold and pink, the faint glow of the city’s lights flickering to life below.

“do you ever get tired of this?” you asked, voice quiet.

“not the view,” he said after a moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “it’s the one thing that reminds me we’re all still connected to something bigger. even up here.”

you glanced at him, surprised by the weight in his words. for a brief moment, he wasn’t the confident, larger-than-life caleb you’d known these past few days. instead, he felt like something closer, more familiar—a reflection of the boy you once knew, the one who used to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders even when it wasn’t his to bear.

his gaze stayed fixed on the horizon, but his fingers brushed the edge of the glass as if reaching for something out of sight. that first night, neither of you could sleep. the air between you was heavy, the silence stretching long enough to make you wonder if he could hear the way your heart raced.

“can’t sleep?” you finally asked, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

“not really,” he admitted, his tone unusually soft. “too much on my mind.”

you turned to face him, the dim light casting shadows across his face. “like what?”

he hesitated, his jaw tightening. “everything,” he said finally. “you, mostly.”

“me?” the word came out sharper than you intended, your chest tightening.

he nodded, his gaze meeting yours. “i can’t stop thinking about everything i’ve put you through. how much i’ve hurt you. it’s like this weight i can’t get rid of, no matter how hard i try.”

“yeah, you hurt me,” you said, your voice steady, though your chest tightened with the admission. “there’s no denying that, caleb. but carrying it around it’s not going to undo anything.”

his eyes softened, the vulnerability in them cutting through the walls you’d tried so hard to keep up. “you’ve always been too good to me,” he murmured. “even when i didn’t deserve it.”

you wanted to argue, to tell him he was wrong, but the words caught in your throat. instead, you reached out, your fingers brushing against the cool metal of his bionic arm. “you didn’t deserve what they did to you either,” you said quietly.

for a moment, he didn’t respond. when he did, his voice was barely audible. “i would do it all again if it meant keeping you safe.”

the weight of his words hung between you, heavier than the silence. you didn’t know what to say, how to ease the ache in his voice. so you didn’t say anything at all. instead, you shifted closer, letting your shoulder brush against his. it was a small gesture, but it felt like everything.

you fell asleep before he did, your breathing soft and steady in the quiet. he stayed awake, watching the way the faint light danced across your face, tracing the lines he’d memorized a thousand times before.

he turned his gaze to your sleeping form, the rise and fall of your chest a quiet reassurance that you were here, that you were safe. it was the only thing that kept him grounded, kept the shadows of his own mind from consuming him whole. and for the first time in days, the knot in his chest loosened just enough to let him breathe.

you didn’t know—couldn’t know—how much he’d thought about this, dreamed about this, clung to the fragile hope that one day he could be near you again. that he could protect you, not just from the world but from himself, from the consequences of his failures and the monsters he’d let into your life. it wasn’t just love. it was something darker, deeper. devotion that bordered on obsession, a desperate need to be the shield between you and everything else.

he would protect you. from ever, from the shadows of the past, from anything that dared to hurt you. again and again and again, until there was nothing left of him.

author’s note: it was so hard to write this one guys, i didn't know if y'all would like caleb's switch up from such a hateful man (ugh) into this more real one but yeah, i had a good time writing this. I KNOW THE ENDING IS BAD, but it's not the real ending yet! see you next chapter (very soon!), xx. THE SMUT IS COMING I PROMISE. send me a request • my masterpost

taglist: @bbieainee

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bewareofthenewphannie · 6 months ago

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sigh....please don't kill me for this

AO3 Phandom Stats - Top or Bottom?

As many of you may have noticed there has been a shift in the depiction of Dan and Phil in fanfiction over the past few months from previously predominantly Dan being written as the bottom to now largely Phil bottoming. This post aims to put that trend into numbers and visualise it in a few overly convoluted diagrams below the cut.

Does any of this matter? Absolutely not.

Is it interesting? Oh boy, it sure is!

Disclaimer: This is an analysis of the fanfiction writing and tagging trends within the Phandom. It's at most tangentially related to the Real People Dan and Phil and is not meant to spark any type of discourse. I am doing this as an avid fanfic reader and with the utmost respect and appreciation for the authors of these fics, so I don't want to see any negativity directed towards them. Above all this is meant to be fun and interesting.

And as always - don't like it, don't read it <3

Note on accessibility: linked here is a doc with all the numbers shown in the screenshots of this post. Inspired by emma's stats I will be putting the cell range in the ID - if there's a better way to do this, please lmk!!

Methodology

To get the numbers shown here I filtered the works in the Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF) AO3 tag by "date updated" from the Jan 1st to Dec 31st of each year and by the following tags:

Bottom Dan Howell

Bottom Phil Lester

Top Dan Howell

Top Phil Lester

Short excurse on AO3 tags for those unaware:

The tags I chose are canonical tags, which means other tags that mean the same thing but are for example spelled differently are linked to this tag by tag wranglers and appear when you search for the canonical tag (see example below).

Additionally, the "bottom x" tags are metatags for the power bottom tags, which means fics tagged with "power bottom x" also appear when you filter works for these tags.

It's important to note that not every fic where one of them tops or bottoms is tagged as such. That means these stats very specifically look at the author's choice to tag fics with these tags and not the overall amount of fics where one of them tops or bottoms. However, I would argue it's fair to assume that it's at least somewhat reflective of the general writing trends within the Phandom.

For simplicity's sake I will refer to these tags as e.g. "Bottom!Phil" (b!p) going forward.

Stats 2013 - 2024

Here you can see how many fics were tagged with each tag in the respective year and the amount of bottom!dan and bottom!phil fics relative to the total amount of fanfic written in the same time span.

As expected, up until 2023 the split was about 2 b!d to 1 b!p fic (precise numbers: 71% to 29%; see pie chart above).

In 2018 we can see a peak in both in the number of phanfics written and the relative amount of fics tagged as bottom!dan.

Starting in 2023 (more on that below!) this flips and in 2024 the ratio of b!d to b!p fics was 1 to 4 (precise numbers: 81% to 19%; see pie chart above).

Furthermore, making up 4,62% of the total amount of phanfics written in 2024, the bottom!phil tag is relatively speaking twice as popular now as the bottom!dan tag ever was.

Sidenote: You can see that generally the amount of fics tagged with b!d and t!p, as well as b!p and t!d correspond to each other for obvious reasons (they're usually fucking each other). This year however there's 16 fics more tagged with bottom!phil than top!dan, which shows that there's been a very specific interest in writing and tagging bottom!phil in the last year.

Here you can see the total amount of phanfics written by year because I already collected the data, so I might as well put it here:

Stats 11/2023 - 12/2024

Now I want to take a closer look at the past few months post hiatus.

You can see that there's been a steady increase in the total amount of fics written per month!

That's incredibly cool!! (Love to all the wonderful writers out there <33)

Before we get into the actual stats, it's important to note that we're working with very low numbers here, so don't be fooled by overinterpreting percentages in the first few months depicted and look at the actual numbers! In the diagram below I excluded September and October 2023 because there simply wasn't enough data to produce useable results.

Contrary to what I expected, the increase in fics tagged with bottom!phil does not coincide with gamingmas 2023 (pour bot hem and top bunk kind of guy), nor phil's birthday live stream (topped by kakuna) but only really starts in June 24 and spikes in August for reasons I'm not fully sure about.

If I had to pin it on one thing it'd be the precious baby angel picture, which was posted in mid August.

Much more likely is though that this was simply a dynamic that built over months and had a wide array of reasons mentioned above and could very well be a self-reinforcing dynamic of more and more people looking for that tag and also writing for it.

If anyone has more insight on this, please share your thoughts :]

On that note, I'm finally done yapping, I hope this was at least mildly interesting!

#phan #dan and phil #phil if you're snooping that's on you #dnp described #misty says things #spreadsheets #(kinda i need a tag for this)#phandom

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omorithedreamermod · 5 months ago

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JANUARY DEVLOG - 2

The second DEVOLG is here! It's been almost a month since development after the PRELUDE began, and there has been a lot of progress made. Before that...

IMPORTANT INFORMATION:

[Before, it was stated here that saves would not be usable from the DEMO. Doing more testing with this, and now it's pointing to the likelihood of saves being usable after all. Hoping this stays true! Testing, testing...]

Also, this mod is NOT an adaption of my fanfic Endless Dreaming. Although the very base premise, passing out in the good end, and Headspace still existing is the same–the reasons why are different, and absolutely everything else is different too. Those who have read it will have realized this the moment MARI appeared in the DEMO. That is to say, you will not find out any information on the mod by reading the fanfic. It's a brand new story, with new locations, new characters, new interpretations and concepts, new lore–all of that. Just wanted to clarify this since rumors have been continuously spreading despite notes on the mod page. Wouldn't want people to turn away thinking it's a story they've already seen before. Now, onto progress.

PROGRESS:

Majority of the maps are completed, while a couple are active WIPs. Only two more important maps need to be created from scratch! Other additional areas may be added if time allows.

Most general character sprite art has been created. NPCs are also in progress. There's a lot left to do.

Battle assets are still being created. Most of the DREAMER emotions are complete, while both him and STRANGER lack more of the general ones. Enemies also still need to be drawn, but concepts exist. Battlebacks are beginning to be made now that maps are mostly accounted for.

OST for the prelude is near complete. Everyone has been amazing and on top of it!

Writing has fully begun, including the programming of said cutscenes. To avoid spoiling, not more will be said, but a lot of writing/cutscene programming is happening.

Along with battle portraits, DREAMER and STRANGER have a large amount of general portraits now! Many more still need to be made for SUNNY and BASIL in the real world, though. Certain important NPCs also have their own new portraits, so please look forward to those new characters! As shown above, the mirror art is complete. There are still important cutscenes that need to be drawn, and have not been started on. There's also a certain "thing" that needs quite a bit of art, but hopefully that will be simple and quick.

Battle programming regarding attacks and skills are implemented for the main party, but not for enemies. That will likely be done later, as placeholders function well for now.

NOTES:

I believe the March goal is very possible, if I properly balance everything. Work beyond the PRELUDE release will likely start while art continues to be made. I'm still making all the non-sprite art as well as writing everything, and programming the vast majority-and that's where the concern comes in, since including that, I'm also been doing maps, OST, and sprite art, meaning the time spent is split between many tasks.

This also does not factor in the time it'll take to make extra art ahead of time for the trailer. Still, considering the simplicity of the OMORI style, and how each drawing makes me faster/more adept at it, I believe it is possible as long as I stay focused and balance it with my other priorities not involving the mod. I believe consistency with the art is important, which is why I'm doing it all.

The team is reliable even if small, and while I was concerned about NPCs, a new team member recently joined and is really helping out, so I'm extremely thankful and feel less stressed about it. Also, most maps are accounted for, and OST is practically done, so as long as I stay on top of programming/writing, the art will be completed in the remaining time.

CONCLUSION:

There's still a lot to do, but I believe the current pace will lead to success. Even more groundwork has been laid, and now it's being built on top of properly. Certain ideas have been ironed out, and the goal is in sight. Everything will be a lot less stressful once the PRELUDE is complete, as a lot of the art made now will be used throughout! Please continue to root for our continued progress, and look forward to the next DEVLOG!

#omori #omori mod #omori game #devlog #mod #omori sunny #omori stranger #omori fanart #art

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earhartsplane · 7 days ago

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It's been weeks and I can't get Conclave out of my head. So. Do you want a comparison of Conclave (the Book) and Conclave (the movie) ? Well, you're getting one anyway. Spoilers for the book and the movie, although I am roughly operating under the assumption that people have seen the movie but not necessarily read the book.

I am also splitting this post into two because I hit the image limit.

First things first, the two are very similar. Whole scenes are left practically identical. An enormous number of lines are verbatim from the book. In my opinion, it makes what they changed stand out even more.

In terms of characterization, I think they made almost all of them a bit worse. Not worse characters, worse people, which makes sense in order to heighten the tension in movie format.

Bellini gets the shorter end of this particular stick. The movie leaves ambiguous whether Tremblay got to him or not. This is not present at all in the book. Bellini is not nearly as ambitious, his not wanting to be pope reads as more sincere, and he says that his first vote was for a theologian, and all the others for Lawrence.

He also doesn't yell at Lawrence. The line about the participation of women is extended, which by showing the opposition makes him look more liberal in my opinion.

The lack of screaming does mean that he doesn't say my favorite line in the movie

that instantly made me go

Lawrence is an interesting case, because we have his inner monologue in the book. Overall, I think it makes him more sympathetic (with one NOTABLE exception that I'll come back to). Book!Lawrence is Italian and is called Lomeli, but for simplicity's sake I'll keep calling him Lawrence. Book!Lawrence is somehow an even wetter cat than his movie counterpart. He's praying to die instead of the Pope on the very first page.

He skips meals.

He doesn't sleep.

He's had cancer.

While most of his inner turmoil is very skillfully portrayed, the movie doesn't let us in on most of his cattiness, and it is a real shame. This is Lawrence when Adeyemi is on the verge of being elected:

And this is Lawrence after Tremblay speaks to him for the first time:

Book!Lawrence could be a world-class catty bitch, unfortunately he is always trying to be empathetic and forgiving.

While looking for screenshots that illustrated that point, I found all of these examples of Lawrence hating on Tremblay and it's hilarious, so enjoy:

This lead me to the Notable Exception:

First, not very subtle way to let us know that Lawrence had nothing to do with all that. Second, what the hell do you mean? You wouldn't have reported sexual abuse? Is this supposed to make you relatable? I am uncertain of the effect this passage is supposed to have on the reader, but I don't think it was supposed to sink Lawrence in my opinion as much as it did, so good job not including it in the movie.

Tedesco's character is a testament to Sergio Castellito's acting ability because movie!Tedesco is much more of a dick inter-personally and yet by charisma alone he's one of the most compelling characters (notice how I say compelling. Not good. Not sympathetic. Compelling). In his very first appearance on screen, movie!Tedesco hits an attendant. Here is the same scene in the book:

Book!Tedesco has humble origins. Book! Tedesco is the less wealthy of all the cardinals that the previous Pope was investigating.

Book!Tedesco has a possible trauma around food.

Book!Tedesco has had several scenes cut in which he banters with and is quite nice to Lawrence.

In comparison, movie!Tedesco is an extravagant cape-wearing diva who is constantly smoking. I don't know how that would have changed this character's reception, but I completely support these choices for one reason: there is no mention of smoking in the whole book, and I think the vape should have won an Oscar.

On the ideological front, book!Tedesco is arguably slightly less racist. The first scene that made me go "Oh fuck OFF" in the movie is the diner scene, and here is how it goes in the book:

He does go on an islamophobic rant at the end of the book, but unlike his movie counterpart, he doesn't call Muslims animals. I wonder if movie!Tedesco might also not profit from the fact that most of his lines are in Italian, which means that to the not-italian-speaking part of the audience (which I belong to), he can say the most vile rhetoric and it just sounds like Italian. Reading it doesn't have exactly the same impact. Tedesco is also not a very serious candidate for most of the book. He only needs enough votes to block any election for thirty votes, then a pope can be elected by simple majority, and only then he may have a chance. His rant is also triggered by Benitez saying they should all just vote Lawrence.

#conclave #thomas lawrence #aldo bellini #goffredo tedesco

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gottencents · 4 months ago

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Drive - Yu Jimin

causal scenarios. causal masterlist. main masterlist

pairing. meangirl!karina x soccerplayer!reader

synopsis. Late one night, Karina and Y/N take a spontaneous drive around the city, the streets quiet and empty. As the night unfolds, they talk about everything and nothing at all, the comfort of each other’s presence slowly unraveling their walls.

The city was quiet, the usual rush of the world muffled by the late hour. Karina’s car hummed softly as it glided through the empty streets, the neon lights from nearby stores casting a soft glow that reflected off the wet pavement. The air was cool, making it the perfect temperature to leave the windows slightly cracked. Inside, the only sound was the soft music playing, a playlist that Karina had created months ago and that now felt like it was made just for this moment—just for them.

Karina glanced over at Y/N, who was curled into the seat, arms resting on her lap, her gaze drifting lazily out the window. The night was quiet, peaceful even, in stark contrast to the party they had just escaped. The weight of the evening had lifted, leaving room for something simpler, something more personal between them.

“Babe,” Karina said softly, breaking the silence. Her voice was warm, carrying a trace of something deeper, something she hadn’t quite acknowledged yet. “How are you doing?”

Y/N turned her head toward her, a small smile forming on her lips. She hadn’t expected Karina to ask that, especially with everything going on. “I’m good,” she said, her voice calm. “I guess I just needed to get away from everything. You know?”

Karina nodded, her eyes flicking over to Y/N for a split second. “I get that,” she said, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. “It’s nice to just... drive. No destination. No pressure. Just us.”

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat at those words. The weight of them, the simplicity, and the honesty of what Karina was saying. She didn’t have to pretend with her. Not tonight. “Yeah, it is nice. Sometimes I just... want to be somewhere quiet. Somewhere with you.”

Karina’s heart fluttered at the softness in Y/N’s voice, at the way she said it so simply, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Karina didn’t know what had changed between them, but it felt different. The connection, the chemistry—it was undeniable now. She wasn’t used to this kind of easy, comfortable closeness. She wasn’t used to letting someone in, and yet, with Y/N, it felt like she didn’t have a choice.

“Well, you’ve got me for as long as you want, baby,” Karina teased, letting the pet name roll off her tongue with ease. “No place to be, nowhere to go.”

Y/N chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling in the dim light of the car. “Good. I think I could get used to this.” She reached over, her fingers lightly grazing Karina’s hand, a soft contact that made Karina’s breath catch in her throat. “It’s nice. Just... being like this.”

“Mm, I like it too,” Karina said, her voice dropping slightly, becoming more tender. She didn’t realize how much she needed this until now, until Y/N had said that. The warmth of her hand, the softness of her voice, the way they just fit together—it was a feeling she didn’t know she’d been craving.

As the car rolled along, the familiar streets of the city began to fade into quieter, more residential areas. The headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the houses they passed, but everything felt so much more intimate now, so much more personal. Like the world outside didn’t matter, just the two of them in this car, together, in this perfect moment.

“You know,” Y/N said after a few beats, her voice soft but with a playful edge, “I used to think you were... untouchable. Like you were always so perfect, so untouchable.” She turned her body toward Karina, her hand resting on the console between them. “And now here we are, driving through the city in the middle of the night... It’s kind of surreal, don’t you think?”

Karina’s lips curled into a small, soft smile, her heart racing a little at Y/N’s words. “Untouchable, huh?” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “I never thought I’d hear someone call me that. But I get it. I’ve kind of built up walls around me, you know?”

Y/N’s brow furrowed slightly, and her fingers brushed against Karina’s as she spoke, a gentle touch that spoke volumes. “I can see that. But... I like seeing the real you, Karina. Not the ‘mean girl’ or the girl everyone thinks you are. The real you.”

Karina’s heart fluttered at that. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. No one had ever looked past the image she projected. She glanced over at Y/N, her fingers moving instinctively to thread with Y/N’s, the soft, intimate gesture grounding her in the moment.

“I like seeing the real you too, Y/N,” Karina said, her voice low, sincere. “I think I’ve been too busy playing the part to realize that I’m not... really living, you know? It’s easier to stay distant, to keep everyone at arm's length. But with you? It’s different. You make it feel easy to just... be myself.”

Y/N squeezed her hand gently, her heart swelling at Karina’s honesty. “I get that. I used to feel the same way. Like I had to put on a mask for everyone else. But with you, it’s like... I don’t have to pretend.” She gave Karina a soft smile, her eyes tender and full of warmth. “It’s nice.”

Karina’s smile deepened, her thumb brushing across the back of Y/N’s hand. “Yeah. It really is.”

The streets became quieter as they headed into a more residential neighborhood, the glow of streetlamps casting shadows across the road. The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the soft sounds of their voices and the quiet hum of the car. Neither of them had spoken for a while, but the silence felt comfortable now, not awkward. It was the kind of silence that only came with someone you trusted, someone you cared about deeply.

“You’re special, you know that?” Karina said softly, her voice so quiet that it was almost a whisper.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the words, and she turned her head to look at Karina, her gaze soft and warm. “You think so?”

Karina nodded, her fingers still gently holding onto Y/N’s. “I do. You make me feel like I can just... be. I don’t have to be anything else around you. Just me.”

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection. “That’s exactly how I feel, too. Like I can just be myself. And that’s... something I’ve never really felt before.”

There was a moment of perfect, quiet understanding between them, and then, as if drawn by some invisible force, Karina leaned a little closer, her shoulder brushing against Y/N’s. Y/N looked at her, their eyes meeting for a brief second before Karina smiled, a soft, intimate curve of her lips.

Y/N’s heart raced in anticipation, the tension between them palpable, but sweet. Without thinking, she shifted closer, her lips just barely grazing Karina’s cheek. The moment was slow, deliberate, and as if on cue, Karina tilted her head, capturing Y/N’s lips in a soft, gentle kiss.

It was slow at first, testing the waters, but soon it deepened, both of them melting into the kiss with a warmth that neither of them could deny. Karina’s hand moved up to Y/N’s cheek, cupping it softly as they kissed, and Y/N responded in kind, her fingers threading through Karina’s hair, pulling her closer.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, hearts pounding, but there was no awkwardness between them. Only the quiet hum of the car and the feeling of their hands intertwined, hearts beating in sync.

“Babe,” Y/N whispered, her voice husky, “I think I’m falling for you.”

Karina smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Y/N’s face. “I think I’ve already fallen for you, Y/N.”

And just like that, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them, together in the warmth of the car, the city lights passing by as they continued their journey, hand in hand. No destination, no rush, just the quiet certainty that whatever was happening between them was real—and it was only just beginning.

taglist [OPEN] : @kimminjiissosjdirbidnsjje @goofymickeyr @yuyuy90 @dgybbvrcsacgswtcbkyv @spidrgamer

#cents works #aespa #aespa x reader #yu jimin #yu jimin x reader #karina #karina x reader #yu jimin x fem reader #aespa karina x reader #karina x fem reader #aespa x fem reader #kpop gg x reader #kpop wlw

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inkedcerulean · 7 months ago

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an alliance in waiting | chapter two

jacaerys velaryon x fem!frey reader

summary: after the war is finally over, you meet the prince.

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of war & death

general notes: semi-non-canon-compliant. rhaenyra permanently succeeds in taking her throne. jace and baela are not betrothed. ulf and hugh do not betray rhaenyra. helaena lives. following canon, daemon, aegon, and aemond are dead.

reader does have a backstory, but she has no name or descriptors. i have added some minor ocs (her siblings) and some of them do have silly names, but so are some of the names in asoiaf.

jace taglist: @hotdhoe @chimmysoftpaws chocotorta2027 @drvcosstuff @emilly-adopted-mcmann @charlottelaffin @suniika @princessofthereach @twilightzone24 @ghizlana @yohanseyebrowmole @fairyjuhak22 @francislovergirl @viserraslawyer @ackerman0-0

TWO YEARS LATER

Morning light seeped in from the high windows of your chambers. You shivered; there was a chill in the air, even though it was mid-spring. Muffled footsteps told you that the handmaidens scurrying about. You paced around the room, taking in the quiet of the early hour.

The door opened then.

Fara, your handmaiden, widened her eyes. “My lady…” she began.

“Good morrow, Fara,” you said, smiling, though however forced.

Fara was carrying a tray with a snood. “Might the lady want to have her hair out of the way when she goes sailing?”

“Yes.” You think of the dozen times that you had forgotten something for a journey or for the day in the towers, and Fara had always been there to remind you. “It always escapes me, doesn’t it?”

Your dress, which Fara helped you put on, was gray and muted, but you much preferred simplicity. The shawl over your dress was wolf fur from the North, protective for the bracing breezes. The Prince was soon to arrive, as Fara told you, and you could not help but feel an anticipatory fear of him.

You stepped out into the hall to break your fast in the Great Hall, your footsteps quick and loud. You kissed the five of your siblings on the cheek, who were already seated, albeit groggy. Your mother most likely forced them to get up, to save herself from any embarrassment of not having the host family up first before the guests.

Thimbus and Dannis, your youngest brothers, were looking at you expectantly.

“Sister,” Gunther started. “Are you nervous at all about the day’s schedule?”

“Yes, I am,” you said, not wanting denial to stir up any teasing.

“That is wise,” he responded, splitting his roast ham in half. “I will miss you when the day finally comes when you will be so very far away from us.” Despite his kind words, the familiar mischievous look graced his face, as if he found your lack of agency amusing.

Marsella and you exchanged a look of quiet camaraderie; you smiled to thank her.

It was hard to believe that the wedding would take place in about a month. Weeks ago, when the guest list had been presented to you, you had looked over it with a transformative pain in your gut. This was all too real. The arrangement was made two years ago, but that time had moved quickly in your own waiting.

As you looked out your window to the Green Fork, you remembered how you dreaded this day at first. It was a cautious thing, facing a dragon and its rider. The Dance of the Dragons, as the maesters were keen on calling it, was infamous for its violence in dragonfire. But the war was no longer, and your betrothed unharmed, or so the maesters said. You heard whisperings of a scar on his neck. The specifics were unknown to you, but you were curious as to find out if the Prince was willing.

Though curious as you were, you could not help but wonder what violence you were marrying into. Calm as you tried to be, you were still anxious. Your mother would not have secured this if she thought it was a danger, so you had no choice but to trust her.

“The Prince Jacaerys Velaryon of Dragonstone has arrived.”

You hesitated for a moment, looking down at the crumbs on your plate. The food in your stomach was turning. After taking a deep breath, you got up to treat with your parents and the Prince on the bridge outside. As the guards led the way, your heartbeat quickened. Although they were there to protect you, you felt as if they were leading you into a dark pit of which there was no escape.

The first thing you saw when you took your first steps outside was the dragon. It was not as monstrous as you imagined, his frills the color of the orange pastries you loved, and scales as green as the hills around you. You held your gaze eye-level.

Queen Rhaenyra had sent twenty of her men, two dragonkeepers, and two of her Queensguard to oversee his stay. Many at the Twins thought it aplenty, but you could not blame her; times of war bred caution. That was not something so easily shed.

You stood at the West Tower, your lady mother and lord father beside you, looking out as the Prince now stood before you, his men behind him. There were several things you noticed about him: his short stature, his striking red cape perched atop his shoulder, and the furrow of his brow that was because of the sunlight, mayhaps.

“Good morrow, my Prince,” you said, curtsying.

“And you, my lady,” the Prince said. “The Riverlands have not much changed since I last set foot here,” he continued, looking at both of your parents. His gaze drifted from you three to the Green Fork ahead. A flicker of amusement visibly phased over him. Perhaps, you thought, that he was thinking of how he won the Crossing for his mother.

Your mother spoke. “This time, I hope, is a much less distressing reason.”

“I will see to it that it is.”

“We are glad that you are here, my Prince,” you said. “And that the rightful queen took her place on the throne, as she should have long ago.”

“My thanks to you.”

You nodded.

“How fares King’s Landing?”

“Well. My mother sends her greetings in good faith.”

“To her as well.”

You and your parents began with a tour of the Twins. You approached Jacaerys, giving him a curt nod. “We would like to begin with a tour of the castle, if it pleases Your Grace.”

“Yes, of course,” came his reply.

You followed both the guards and your parents to the Water Tower, walking next to the Prince with a few feet’s distance between. It was not difficult to keep pace with him.

The Water Tower was the lone turret that stood at the center of the bridge, equidistant from both towers. It was where all your guests stayed. Your friends and their families would frequent this accommodation. Until two years ago, when you had a falling out and the war started soon after. You had written letters to them in this peace time, and had gotten only some responses. And from this, a great despondency grew within you.

Would this be the same with the Prince? You had held your friends near to your heart, but time and abandonment had turned your heart to stone. If, gods be cruel, there was another war, would it take your to-be husband from you too? And to be partners in marriage was no cure to your loneliness. You wanted romance but needed friendship, and you feared that your wishes for the latter would go unanswered. A betrothal would only distract you.

You ascended up the curved steps in silence. It had been so long since you’d been here that it felt intimate yet foreign. How could it be, that this was part of your own home, and yet you felt uneasy in this space? His experience in this new place for him was a microcosm of your own future; you were soon to be sent somewhere new for eternity.

The guest chambers of the water towers were generously furnished. When there weren’t any guests, Thimbus would sneak out here at night, for he often swore that these featherbeds were more comfortable than his own.

“Here are your chambers, my Prince,” your mother says.

“This looks very comfortable indeed,” he smiled.

The Prince stood there, several feet away from you and your family. He looked somewhat out of place there. It was then that you realized that it was silly and foolish to think of proceeding with the courtship in your home rather than at the Red Keep. Choosing to show your heart to a stranger and how lonesome it really was, compared to a bustling setting where people and distraction were common, was a shameful, impractical choice.

The boat departed when the air was still chilly. Your parents had left, which you were grateful for. However, the only presence that remained were Prince Jacaerys, and the guards, who remained mute.

You took advantage of the ample room on the small boat as you sat next to the Prince. It was turning into a beautiful day and the wind was calming, but the same could not be said for your nerves. You knew that it was impolite to stay quiet for so long, but you could not think of anything to say.

“I have not taken a boat in some time,” Prince Jacaerys said, looking around you. “I had forgotten what it’s like to travel by air.”

You turn to look at him. “You sailed in King's Landing?”

“A little, the first time I lived there. Ser Laenor taught me all he knew.”

You looked out at Vermax flying in the distance over the hills. Many times you had seen birds fly in the same area, but now there were none; it was a simple, banal sight then, but now you ached for the mundane. Would everything in your life be replaced by the Prince’s company?

He noticed that you were looking at his dragon, and he told you about how Vermax’s egg was put in his cradle, and how when he was a boy, he would train him in the Dragonpit with the supervision of the dragonriders.

“The day I taught him to breathe fire, he burnt a goat. I was happier before than after the fact. Proud of the fact that he burnt a goat alive, but saddened to see what remained of it.”

You nodded.

“Would you like to meet him?”

“Now, you mean?”

“After the boat ride. I can inform one of my guardsmen to go to the dragonkeeper to feed Vermax. He is more temperate if he has just had a meal.”

You chuckled, though it was a small distraction from such a prospect. It was inevitable for you to cross paths with his dragon one of these days, and you felt it was more convenient to make your introduction sooner rather than late. Imagination could sometimes be more monstrous than reality.

“I would like that,” you said.

Prince Jacaerys smiled, close-lipped but apparent.

It was dusk by the time that you both made your way to the western hills. There were stone steps leading through and a few trees littered through the landscape. You looked up at the clouds, then down at the steps. At quiet times like this, it was easy to see everything as gray and sullen. This, you thought, was the reason why it was one of your house colors, the blue towers on an expansive gray field. The dragonkeepers made their camp here to keep watch on the dragon.

At once, your ears perked up to the sound of the dragon’s call. You startled imperceptibly, and Jacaerys eyed you. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said.

You both carried on in silence, though it was uncomfortable for you because of your reaction. You then spotted a flash of orange amongst the green, and then you saw golden eyes peering at you.

One of the dragonkeepers, to the left of Vermax, bowed before the Prince and yourself. He greeted Jacaerys in High Valyrian and then turned to you. “My lady.”

You curtsied at him.

Jacaerys approached before you, walking slowly but with confidence. If it weren’t for his eyes, Vermax looked asleep, his head pointed low on the ground so that some blades of grass brushed his chin. The dragonkeeper was near, seated on a log now.

The Prince came to a stop. “Dohaeris, Vermax.” Without hesitation, he reached out, placing his hand on his snout. Vermax’s mouth curved upwards, closing his eyes as he breathed like a cat purred. You saw the gentleness of Jacaerys’s manner. He stood straight, proud, but not overbearing with it.

He turned towards you, the movement swaying his shoulder-clasped cape. Keeping his other hand placed on the dragon, he held his other hand out towards you and raised his eyebrows. You stepped forward and took it, letting him lead you all the way to his scales. They were coarse against your skin, but you kept them there.

“Iksis ziry jāre naejot kipagon?” asked the dragonkeeper, frowning.

You frowned too, though for the reason of not understanding what he was saying.

“Lo jaelza naejot,” he responded. “Would you like to ride with me?” Jacaerys asked.

You imagined it, taking to the skies on a marvelous creature. You knew the power that you were being offered, even though you were only borrowing it.

“He is beautiful,” you said. “But if it does not offend you, I will forgo.”

“Offend me? Why?”

“Rejecting an offer from the Prince is generally ill-advised,” you said.

He smiled, pleasant and comely indeed. “You needn’t worry about that.”

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #꩜ inkedcerulean

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ilycosy · 1 year ago

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being tara's friend and starring on the podcast!! getting borderline wasted with her and zach during the show and drunkenly admitting you'd have a threesome with the two of them <3

ive been putting this off bc of motivation but x. x we finally got our zachyummy x reader fic !!!! who cheered :3 ??

fyi it's a little implied that tara n reader have alr slept together <3 js for the simplicity , also it's a little choppy at the end but it's js bc idk how 2 end it <//3

you felt a little warm as you sipped on your beer, watching tara banter with zach. you and tara have been friends for years, meeting each other because of jake, but you had only met zach a couple of months ago. you got along well with him, you just weren't as bubbly as tara was.

tara giggled and leaned her head onto your shoulder, listening to jared ask a question. "out of all your friends," he says with a giggle, his face a little red from the beer. "who would you be most likely to sleep with?"

you glanced at tara, watching as she wrinkled her nose and said nobody while zach tried to pry for more. in a split moment of drunken confidence you blurted out, "well, zach, but i think id want tara's emotional support there too." you barely finish the sentence as you feel embarrassment rush through you, zach already whistling and giggling into the mic.

it was the first time tara had glanced at you back that night, smiling to herself as she finished off her bottle.

by the time the podcast ended, tara was offering everyone over to her place knowing that jared had plans. seeing that you and zach were free, you both agreed to come over. huddling on either side of tara in the uber that she ordered, she talked idly so the ride wasn't awkward.

you probably should've noticed that tara was getting touchier and going past the friendly flirting, but you were too tipsy to process. only noticing the tension when tara had backed you into zach, your eyes meeting his equally shocked and flushed face.

you would've felt more shame for how fast you allowed tara to do this if it didn't feel so good, her lipstick smearing against your jaw and face while she left comforting kisses. her hand threaded in zach's hair as she kept him in place, his big hands keeping you spread as he took turns from teasingly licking you and completely working his tongue into you.

"jesus christ woman," he huffs, pulling you closer by your thighs. causing you to slide down so your head is resting in between tara's legs. "i can eat them out myself, get your claws off of'm." he makes no effort to pull away from her hand, which makes her pet his hair.

you sniffle, whining as he continues eating you out. pressing rough kisses against your clit before sucking it, you can tell he's grinding onto the couch from the shifting. "fuck, zach you need to get more fingers in," tara mutters, moving her hand away from his head so both her hands could cup your tits.

he barely lifts his head to see what he's doing before he's listening and slipping in a finger inside, looking up to watch your face screw up and admiring tara's tanned skin against yours.

"good enough for you, ms. yummy?" he asks teasingly, pressing kisses along your thighs and up your stomach as he works in a second finger. "shut up, zach." is all she says before giggling and pulling him into a kiss, both of them whimpering into the kiss as you're trying to keep your eyes open to watch.

#cosywriting #cosynsfw #cosyreqs #tara yummy x reader #tara yummy smut #tara yummy #zach justice #zach justice x reader #zach justice smut #🎀 asks

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deathandrainbows1 · 7 months ago

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Y'all percabeth domesticity is everything to me cause just picture this:

Annabeth comes back from her job as the Head architect for the newest palace in Olympus. She is tired- no, actually she is *exhausted*. Designing a palace for the gods is no easy job after all, and dare she say it- a pretty thankless one at that, but at least it pays well. Enough for the rent, at least.

She comes home to her small apartment in Manhattan with a blue sign on the door that reads "Chase-Jackson". Just the sight alone is enough to crease her weary face with a small smile as she fumbles for the keys to get the door, and as soon as she opens the door she's hit with that familiar scent of sea-salt caramel and strawberry cookies baking in the oven, along with the scent of whatever was simmering in the stove, but the smells of dinner cooking wasn't the only thing that greeted Annabeth though as Percy rushes to wrap her in a bear hug, lifting her off the ground a little as he did, filling her nose with the smell of sugar and salt water like he always did.

Just like that, all her stress and exhaustion from the day was gone, and Annabeth smiled.

Her shoulders relaxed as she giggled and kissed Percy on the cheek, complaining about how she couldn't breathe, but he doesn't budge as he carries her down to the couch where he still refuses to let her go.

Since dinner isn't ready yet, they just grab a plate full of blue sea-salt caramel and strawberry cookies (her favourite, as Percy had learnt) and the rest of the evening is spent with Annabeth telling Percy about everything that happened at her job, which despite the ADHD Percy always tries to give his full attention to, to the point where he has beef with several of her nastier coworkers.

It's his favourite part of the day, just sitting there and listening to his wise girl rant about her day, even if he didn't fully understand her sometimes. It didn't matter. He just loved listening to her, sometimes he'd tell her if something interesting happened during his day if he ran into a monster, or if he visited his parents and Estelle did something cute, or if he just did something new around the apartment.

When dinner is ready, they continue the conversation and eat on the couch while watching TV and cuddling. More often than nought fall asleep right there, although most of the time Percy carries Annabeth back to bed. She usually falls asleep first, poor girl is exhausted after a hard day's work after all, and Percy thinks it's adorable.

It took them a while to adapt to the simplicity of it all, of having a safe space where they don't have to keep watching their backs constantly or live in dread of the next quest that'd put their lives on the line. They still dreamed of that life sometimes, but the nightmares became fewer and fewer overtime when they slept together.

After all those years of struggle and living with their life on the line every day, they finally had the home they'd always wanted, both in each other and in their little apartment in Manhattan.

(this post was gonna be way longer, so instead I'm splitting it into a small fic and a bunch of headcanons that I'll post in a bit, hope you enjoyed!)

#percabeth #percy jackson #annabeth chase #pjo

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knight-a3 · 4 months ago

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Hazbin Masterpost

Heavenbound Masterpost

Emily, angel of hope

I want angels to look more human, so they have noses now.

More notes under the cut

Halo: So I have ideas about how angel halos work. Long story short, seraphim have two silver ring halos.

Wings: I also gave seraphim wings that have three sets of primary feathers, instead of three sets of wings. It was to simplify drawing them, and so I could actually comprehend the anatomy. Emily's wings are based more heavily on hummingbird wings than most others. I liked the fairy look it gave her. Seems more cheerful.

Seraph: I've decided that the seraphim are angels that represent a concept. An idea, emotion, object, force of nature, etc. Lucifer, as Helel, was an angel of morning light. Emily is an angel of hope, unless I think of something more fitting, I guess.

Clothes: I simplified the logo on her chest, for simplicity's sake. I gave her two different outfits because I thought an empire waistline suited her, but also a tea length dress(I'm a sucker for the 50s circle skirt silhouette). So she's got a formal outfit and a casual one now, so I could have both.

The empire waist is most notable on regency era dresses(just before the Victorian era. Think Jane Austen). So I looked at a lot of them. I noticed that the triangle split in the skirt did not seem to be something that happened often. But you'll see it in shows like Bridgerton. The closest it got was with a pelisse, which seems like a coat. Or a court dress/ballgown with a train(which seems like a separate piece). But it's not like an angel who is not beholden to earth fashions has to wear a historically accurate dress, so I don't need to be strict.

--Biblically accurate angels--

I addressed this when I posted Sera. So I encourage you to read that HERE. To summarize: "Biblically accurate angels" are not actually as biblically accurate are you may think.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin redesign #hellaverse #emily seraphim #hazbin emily #heavenbound au #hazbin hotel redesign #a3 art #fanart #digital art #character sheet

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jiraisupportgroup · 8 months ago

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˗ˋˏ ♡ Jirai Kei Survey Results ♡ ˎˊ˗

(NOTE!! I re-opened it because I saw some people saying they were sad they didn’t respond!! It’s open again! You can take it here)

Hi hi!!! First of all, I'm so sorry that this took me like an entire month to make, and second of all thank you to everyone who participated in the survey I posted a while ago! It got 89 total responses which is awesome!! So many more than I was expecting, you guys are awesome ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

I've got a spreadsheet of all the answers given in October 2024 here if you want to go view them for yourself ^-^ (I have redacted pronouns and location for privacy sake)

I also went through and read everyone's answers and pulled some of the main points / focuses people had to make into little graphics for simplification and comparison's sake (This is a huge part of why it took so long because I didn't want to misrepresent anyone's points so I went person by person and considered all of their answers and overall vibe before pulling the main points just to make sure I wasn't accidentally changing or misunderstanding their points).

Please keep in mind: 89 people is NOT a large enough sample size to extrapolate this to the entirety of the Jirai Kei community - this is really just an exploration of the people who answered the survey - it does not represent the feelings of the community as a whole. This survey is derived from the western community as the survey is in English and was posted in primarily English-speaking areas.

Also just as a note I messed up when making the selections for the ages and put 18-21 and then 21-25 so people of the age of 21 could have picked either - this isn't ideal but since I messed it up in the original choice options I'm keeping it listed as that because I think changing 21-25 to 22-25 would be disingenuous.

I'm going to go question by question and kind of break it down if you're interested! I'm also going to try and remain mostly neutral and not really put my personal opinions in here. My main goal is to kind of break down what was said in the survey.

Demographics:

It's a pretty good mix of people. Also, hi!!! So many of you are from so far away!!!! That was really exciting to see. To be honest, it was super cool to see how this community encompasses people from all over the world!!! (Also, as a note here, there was one person who answered the survey who was over 40. I included their answers in the 26-30 range just for simplicity sake.)

I also did not make a graphic for the pronouns: primarily she / her, followed by they / them or any / all, followed by he / him or he / they pronouns just in case you were curious. I also took the pronouns out of the original answers document since I know quite a few people use neo-pronouns which are quite unique and I didn't want anyone to see those and connect that person to their answers, I wanted it to remain as anonymous as possible. I redacted the locations for the same reason.

I did not make a graphic for the languages either but those are included in the original answers spreadsheet that I have linked above. Many people speak Japanese, Russian, German, Spanish, and French. Those were the main answers besides English.

I don't have too much to say about the social medias to be honest. Discord, Youtube, and Twitch are likely under-represented in this since they were write-ins and not part of the general selection.

How did you first hear about Jirai Kei?

I don't have a graphic for this one either. It looks like most people learned about it because they already had an interest in j-fashion. A decent number of people mentioned Needy Streamer Overload. Lots of people came from Pinterest, Instagram, TikTok, and Tumblr. Many people also said they were into Menhera and came from there.

How would you describe Jirai Kei to someone who hasn't heard of it before?

Again, no graphic for this one - highly reccommend to go read some of the answers on the linked sheet above. It was pretty split between people talking about the aesthetics & fashion vs people talking about the mental health community. A lot of people mentioned that if they were talking to someone they didn't know very well or who didn't have any knowledge of j-fashion they would say it's a style and move on, while if they were talking to a friend or someone who did know a little more about j-fashion they would talk more about the mental health aspects and history of the subculture.

A few quotes (I'm trying to get a good mixture of opinions in here, please note these are mostly smaller parts of larger answers - this goes for all the quotes added in this post): ♡ "Usually it's easier for me to just send the wikipedia link to people though honestly" ♡ "a subculture of mostly young women with mental illness who share certain interests in jfashion etc..." ♡ "...a lot of ppl often tell me it just sounds like the jp version of emo." ♡ "A subculture for mentally ill people who can’t, won’t, or don’t want to recover" ♡ "depending on my knowledge on their opinions on mental health, i'd either go with a basic explanation of the fashion if they dont seem like the type to be sympathetic of ppl with mental health issues, but if they seem like the sympathetic type, i'd go more into detail of the origins and lifestyle associated with the subculture." ♡ "Being cute despite your mental illness! Also a bit of consumerism and idol worship..." ♡ "It's mainly a stereotype" ♡ "I would recommend watching cybr.grls video on jirai kei " ♡ "It’s an alternative japanese fashion style with frilly, lacey, and dark garments! The main colors it will be are very muted pinks, blacks, grays, whites, or even reds or purples (albeit rare)" ♡ "Jirai Kei is the term used to describe the fashion style related to Jirais / Landmines , which was a derogatory term used to describe mentally ill girls who had an “explosive” personality , wearing cute clothing to distract / hide men from their personality. It usually consists of frills , ribbons and lace , blouses and skirts , with a colour palette of black and muted colour varients like pink and blue , and white. "

To your understanding where does Jirai Kei come from? What's it's history?

Again, no graphic for this one (T-T these are just too complex for me to comfortably break down into bite-size pieces). Most people talked about the Toyoko kids, a bit less talked about host / hostess clubs, and quite a few vague nods to Kabukicho in general. About a fifth of the people just talked about overall mental health in Japan. Interesting mixture of answers - different people seem to latch on to different parts of the origins, which is likely based on what they relate with the most. I was surprised that only a few people mentioned the "Jirai Kei" makeup trend of 2019/2020 - I honestly thought that would be talked about a little bit more ngl. Interesting read for sure.

A few quotes: ♡ "jirai kei became seen as clothes worn by dangerous or unstable women, hence the trend " ♡ "the history between jirai kei && the toyoko kids sometimes get mixed together because of their resemblances , but it's important to note the two are different . jirai kei define an instable person who will explode at some point like a bomb , but you don't know when ( landmine ) . initially , it was mostly used to refer to girls who threaten their boyfriend to kill him or themselves if the boy left them . since jirais are disordered or mentally ill , they often engage in unhealthy behaviours . the toyoko kids on the other hand are teens who ran away from home to live in the streets instead . most of them suffered from abuse && causally have disorders or illnesses . this is where the two subcultures came together to form one : the jirai kei we know now..." ♡ " The clothing style that is most typically seen on social media stems from the fact that these clothes where cute but cheap to come by. " ♡ "Jirai kei as a term originated from misogynistic men calling mentally ill women “explosive.” The style came from poor (unfortunately, often sex workers) youth in Japan. It how we’ve became popularized and somewhat mainstream there after a while." ♡ "then in 2020 people started dressing up in stereotypical "toyoko kid/jirai woman style" to make fun of them before brands saw how popular this trend became and decided to start selling clothes based off this idea. the original style is known as dark girly kei which uses elements from both dark girly and girly kei the latter being a style that was popular with 2010s gyaru and evolved to incorporate french girly and dark girly motifs making it what it is today. other styles such as subcul and suna kei are also extremely popular with jirai to the point of being synonymous with the style." ♡ "...Thus, the fashion style was associate with "Jirai Onna" and became "Jirai Kei". The fashion style extended beyond Kabukicho and many girls and women wear the style in Japan due to the kawaii look and the popularity of the style within many fashion brands. Another demographic that has popularised Jirai Kei is idol fangirls who wore girly kei and jirai kei fashion. The style was also given the term "ryousangata" meaning "mass produced" an insult basically calling the girls who wear the style "basic"."

What do you think differentiates Jirai Kei from other subcultures?

Okay since this is the first type of this graphic we're seeing let me explain what you're looking at. I took key points or words and quantified how many people mentioned it as a larger part of their explanation. There were a LOT of other things mentioned these were just the ones that came up repeatedly.

Many people were confused by this question and said there are too many differences to even describe, which is completely fair. There were two main types of answers to this question. The first is that fashion is what makes it different because it's a fashion-based subculture or if not fashion-based, fashion is a big part of it. The other is that it's a community based around mental health primarily unlike other subcultures which are based on fashion or music. A lot of people who mentioned this went on to say that the thing that differentiates it from Menhera specifically (because menhera is also based in mental and physical health) was the idea that Menhera is very recovery, resource, and awareness focused, while Jirai Kei isn't focused on those things at all and is more so just people looking for a sense of community.

A few quotes: ‪♡ "menhera is art and advocacy focused, jirai is community focused. menhera also is more recovery focused often, whereas jirai places no emphasis on that at all" ‪♡ "Dawg idk how to tell you this… there’s too many examples and they’re all so different" ♡ "For starters, its background story, the clothing doesn't look the same either.... Jirai culture is not really focused on getting better mentally, much on the contrary... being mentally ill is praised, spending an insane amount of money on clothes you don't exactly need is praised...." ‪♡ "I’ve seen jp jirais say that jirai kei is whatever a jirai girl chooses to wear, it can literally be anything. However, at the moment it visually is a combination of menhera and dark girly kei. Because it’s new though, it’s already having subsets form and change that." ♡ "i think jirai is unique in its rejection of the “just get better” culture a lot of places have. Most people think of inability or unwillingness to improve a moral failing. " ‪♡ "Jirai Kei has a distinct history and recognisable style" ♡ "menhera is about finding a community that wishes to accept you and want to encourage you to get better jirai kei is not about wanting to get better thats a very important distinction" ♡ " - idk how to explain??? It’s like asking what differenciates gyaru and goth lol" ♡ "the subcul is definitely viewed in an extremely negative way compared to other subculs, even menhera. I also think that other subculs like Emo, Anime, and Idol culture revolve a lot around the fashion aspect. While jirai is best known for the Dark Girly fashion, i think that jirai in itself, as mentioned before, is more about the lifestyle that we life, our mental health, and the struggles we go through either on purpose or not" ‪♡ "for many i'd say the fashion is what differenciates them. while they can overlap with common traits under the other subcultures, it's still quite different." ♡ "i do believe that the associated fashions (again, not just dark girly, but also tenshi kaiwai, subcul, etc.) are necessary to set a landmine apart from these cultures. the fashions is a huge part of the subculture and sets it apart from these other mental-health based subcultures. that is why i personally believe that a landmine must at least wear the associated fashions OCCASIONALLY to be considered part of the subculture."

What kind of Jirai Kei content do you engage with the most?

This one again, no graphic. Top answer was outfit / coord posts (82%), second most common was vent posts (67.4%), third was dark humour (58.2%)

Are you interested in the fashions associated with Jirai Kei? Which ones?

Again, not too much to say overall about this.

One thing to note is that some of these answers could technically be lumped in with other ones, like "all of them" could be counted towards Dark Girly Kei, Girly Kei, Tenshi Kaiwai, etc but I kept it separate. Same with "Jirai IS the fashion" which could be lumped into Dark Girly Kei but again I kept it separate unless they mentioned it in their answer.

The one that isn't like that is "No Interest" because if someone was of the mind that the fashion is called Jirai Kei and said they weren't interested in the other fashions they're in the "Jirai IS the fashion" count, while the people in the "No Interest" count were of the idea that the name of the fashion is not Jirai Kei and is rather Dark Girly Kei so they have their own count.

What role do you think the asssociated fashions play in Jirai Kei? Do you need to wear them to be considered "Jirai" or part of the community?

Again, this has been vastly simplified but I tried really hard not to misunderstand or misrepresent anyone's points. The categories names are a bit strange so let me explain what I mean by them:

‪♡ "No, it's a lifestyle" - This person believes that you do not have to wear the associated fashions to be part of the Jirai Kei community because it is first and foremost a subculture based around mental health and finding people who relate to you that you can talk to about these things. They also tend to believe "Jirai Kei" is the not proper name for the fashion, and that to be part of the Jirai Kei community you must be either mentally ill or at least open and understanding about mental illness. ‪♡ "No, it's both a lifestyle and a fashion" - This person believes that you do not have to wear the associated fashions to be part of the Jirai Kei community. They tend to believe that Jirai Kei is both a lifestyle and a fashion, and you can participate in either the overarching mental health community based around Jirai Kei or the fashion side of things and be accepted either way. This kind of answer tended to imply that both the people looking for a mental health-related safe space and people who just like the fashion are welcome. ‪♡ "Yes, it's both a lifestyle and a fashion" - This person believes you do have to wear the associated fashions to be part of the Jirai Kei community. They tend to believe that Jirai Kei is the proper title for both the mental health subculture and the overarching fashion and you have to participate in both to be considered part of the Jirai Kei community. ‪♡ "Yes, it's a fashion" - This person believes Jirai Kei is a fashion style, if you wear it, you are welcome in the Jirai Kei community.

A few quotes: ‪♡ "the fashion has almost taken over the community, and overshadows its origins." ‪♡ "I don‘t think the Fashion is the central aspect, but it brings people in. It’s historically speaking a part of Jirai Kei, but not the most inportant thing. You can be Jirai and not dress like it." ‪♡ "Yes to be considered Jirai one should wear the clothing of the subculture they are trying to claim. I don’t think you have to branch out into any jirai substyles though if it’s not your vibe." ‪♡ "No if you're a lifestyle jirai, yes if you're a fashion jirai. If you're a lifestyle jirai I think just wanting to be jirai is enough" ‪♡ "i definitely do think that people who dont wear the fashion can be considered jirai, as thats how the word originally got its meaning, though nowadays its definitely more recognized as a fashion style." ‪♡ "It's just a part of the stereotype because a lot of us happen to wear it not because we need to." ‪♡ "it’s such an enormous part of the subculture that leaving out the fashion aspect makes your “landmineness” indistinguishable from a thousand other subcultures." ‪♡ "i think the fashion gave way to helping people who are mentally unwell or don’t feel good find and outlet to feel better, wether it be makeup, or the clothes for me it makes me feel pretty and distracts from the fact i’m depressed. i think just wearing “jirai” as a fashion or style doesn’t necessarily mean you are unwell though, you can participate and be okay in the head lmao, and ofc be in the community. i think the problem lies within the title of jirai. " ‪♡ "i don't think you necessarily NEED to wear them to be jirai, but i think that an interest in them is pretty important because the fashion and aesthetics are closely intertwined with the subculture " ‪♡ "I actually think the biggest thing to a Jirai look is Jirai makeup. I think as long as you have that, then you are Jirai enough. " ‪♡ "While I don't think you have to wear the fashion to be jirai, the fashion does play a big part in the subculture and people need to acknowledge that. " ‪♡ "to an extent, yes you do, but it's more important just to have an interest in them. nobody needs to wear them 24/7 and if you can't afford clothes then it is what it is, but you can't really call yourself jirai if you have no interest in one of the main aspects of the subculture (the aesthetics)" ‪♡ "nah, as long as u wear alternative fashion and know ur shit and participate in the culture ur fine."

Can non-Japanese people be "Jirai"? Why or why not?

Most people said yes (which is kind of to be expected since this is in English and most of the people who answered are not Japanese so I will note this is biased), but a lot of people brought up different points.

Some of the "yes" pool are people who believe Jirai Kei is just a fashion and brought that up as their point. Some of the "yes" pool are people who are more into the mental health side of things and talked about how people in different countries still experience mental struggles and that's something everyone can relate to in their own way.

The "Yes but it's different" pool is mostly comprised of people talking about the mental health aspects of the community and mentioning that although foreigners can be part of the Jirai Kei community, it is important to understand that the things that many Japanese "Jirai"s go through are things that we will not experience due to the differences in our mental health care resources / infrastructure and the infrastructure of the Japanese sex-work industry. Essentially, we can go through really similar things but the overall cultures make it quite different.

Some Quotes: ‪♡ "yes, especially when a trend originally comes from sex work in which non-japanese people living in japan are overrepresented." ‪♡ "Yes, I’ve seen from the pov’s of Japanese landmines and they are open to it because we’re all supposed to be there for each other because nobody else is" ♡ ‪"Yeah, I think they can be, BUT they shouldn't go around acting like they are the template for what a landmine is, or demanding changes to the culture, just because they wear the fashion and/or are mentally ill. It's roots lie in Japan, so the "originals" are still Japanese Jirais" ‪♡ "of course they can ! never did the term refer to exclusively japanese people . even when the initial term " merged " with the toyoko kids , it didn't make it an exclusively japanese term . as long as you fit the " criterias " , you can be a jirai if you choose to label yourself as one ! ♡" ‪♡ "Nowadays I'd like to consider it a fashion style and fashion styles travel all around the world as long as u don't claim to be japanese cause you are wearing jirai you are good. You should also respect and learn the story of the style before u decide to wear it since it's more troubling than other styles." ‪♡ "Very unlikely. There are many factors that would eliminate most people to be "true Jirai kei" ie. experiencing homelessness as well as involved with sex work and host club addiction. Emily from the suburbs who lives with her family and has depression could not be Jirai kei but can partake in the cool fashion. Calling themselves Jirai would not be up to par with the real meaning of it." ‪♡ "Yes. The Japanese jirais don’t seem to disagree so I’m not sure why I would." ‪♡ "yes of course, its important to say that non japanese people often have different issues as japanese people but that doesnt make them less valid meaning they can still use the style as representation of their own issues" ‪♡ "yes and no. if you disregard the fashion and makeup or frame jirai kei as a "menhera" community when its not then you dont really deserve to call yourself a jirai onna. acknowledging that your generally live a better life because of your privilege of being outside of japan. though i can understand calling yourself a jirai onna if you suffer extremely similar problems to that of toyoko kids especially if you suffer from BPD." ‪♡ "Ofc it's clothes" ‪♡ "Yes, of course! Jirai kei is for anyone and I don't see a reason why people can't participate/ want to gatekeep it. I just think it's important to learn about the history and not be a jerk to those who participate in only the lifestyle or only the fashion part."

What does "Jirai Kei" mean to you personally? Why do you associate with the subculture?

I chose to make a word map for this to kind of point towards some of the most repeated words throughout the answers. A lot of these answers are very sad to read (just a heads up before you start going through them), but that is kind of to be expected. Most people mention mental illness and personal struggles with things like EDs, SH, alcoholism, other unhealthy coping mechanisms, or relationship issues. The thing that really stood out to me was that a majority of the people who are of the idea that "Jirai Kei" is the name of the fashion still brought up how the community feels comforting to them because they struggle with mental illnesses and relationship issues. Very few people just said "I like the clothes", most people also mentioned mental struggles in their answers.

I think that's an important thing to note. It really highlights the fact that you never know what someone is going through behind the screen. You only know what they choose to post, and many people choose to post cute outfit photos and things of that nature, but they still can be hurting behind all of that.

A few quotes: ‪♡ "it’s comforting to identify as one and feel like there’s a subculture out there of people who feel similarly to me. everyone connects with the label in different ways" "I like being able to relate with people and have somewhere to post my vents and get things off my chest without judgment" ‪♡ " i was paranoid for not being mentally ill enough for the community, i was absolutely terrified of making jirais mad at me and being rejected. to this day i am terrified of the day when they decide i did not suffer enough to be a jirai. but such a thought is twisted in and of itself, right?" ‪♡ " I love dressing up as fashion is a major coping mechanism for me and I feel delighted at being able to express myself through clothes: it is an art form. Dressing in the subculture's fashions has allowed me to express myself and come to terms with my experiences and who they made me today." ‪♡ "Funny enough my mom calls me a jirai girl (in a derogatory way since she has a typical older japanese person mindset) but i don't mind saying that i am one without shame. especially because i don't believe that my mental illness is something that should be stigmatized and judged. calling myself jirai feels liberating in a way..." ‪♡ "I feel like because I cannot wear the style (not enough money + sizing is difficult) I cannot call myself Jirai kei but I notice others who don’t wear the style call themselves Jirai, which is comforting. I’ve always struggled with mental health for most of my life and I’ve always loved Jfashion subcultures, so obviously I was drawn to Jirai." ‪♡ " i do think people who just wear dark girly kei should be careful when using the term jirai kei if they aren't in the subculture though. i see people say they're jirai and then mock the mentally ill people like?? you aren't jirai you WEAR jirai kei 💀💀 there is a difference!!" ‪♡ "i am also transgender - my girlhood is very important and nostalgic to me but it is also inseparable from dysphoria and sickness, and i think dark girly/jirai fashion helps me to express that." ‪♡ "I found I appreciated the relaxed attitude towards mental health struggles, nightlife activities and a visual indicator that someone might be a little “dangerous” or someone that likes to party." ‪♡ "when I first started, "I want to become cute!" was a big theme I was seeing. I can be cute even though I'm ugly and have bad mental health and it's ok. the style of the clothes is the biggest appeal." ‪♡ "I honeslty really only associate myself with the fashion aspect of it, since it’s something I really love. So instead of calling myself “Jirai”, I like to say I “dress in Jirai” instead." ‪♡ "To me, it's just the clothes. I don't call myself Jirai by itself because it's insulting"

What would you say the pre-requisites to being part of the Jirai Kei community are?

40% of people mentioned mental illness or struggles as a main part of the subculture. There were different approaches to the way that they mentioned it though. Some people were saying "you should be mentally ill since 'Jirai' is an insult used against mentally ill people and the explosive nature is part of the subculture" and others were saying "If you are mentally healthy you should stay away from Jirai Kei to protect yourself because you're going to see triggering things".

Many people said you don't have to be mentally ill to be part of the community, but you should understand that you are going to be interacting with people who are mentally ill and not bully people for venting. Some people said you have to be mentally ill and not wanting or willing to recover to be part of the community (although this was only 3% of people).

On the other hand, about 16% of people said that the only thing you need to do to be part of the community is wear the clothing.

People who mentioned both mental illness and clothing in their answers were divided into 4 different categories: ‪♡ "Mental illness" - they mention the fashion but state is it not a requirement for the community ‪♡ "Wear the fashion" - they may or may not mention mental illness, but do not think it is a requirement for the community ‪♡ "Wear the clothes AND be mentally ill" - they mention both and think both are required for the community ‪♡ "Wear the clothes OR be mentally ill" - they mention both and think you can either participate in the fashion side of things or the mental health side of things, but you don't have to participate in both.

Many people also mentioned doing the makeup as a big part of it. Some of the people who mentioned makeup as a requirement said that even if you don't wear the clothes as long as you do the makeup you're good.

A lot of people also said if you like the clothes or the community or whatever you're all good, so long as you don't bully anyone. Their general vibe was that anyone is welcome to hang out so long as they aren't mean to others. (Many people counted in the "don't be mean to 'fashion' onlys are also counted in the "don't be mean to 'lifestyle' onlys category as well. And as a note a lot of them didn't use those terms specifically I just used them to shorten "people who only wear the clothing" and "people who only participate in the mental health community" because those are looooooooong titles)

There isn't an overarching general consensus. It is very split and debated. (Which we all know). A lot of people were very passionate about their definitions though, which is to be expected. Mental health is a very touchy and personal topic for a lot of people, so people on both sides have really passionate emotions about it.

A few quotes: ‪♡ "i think people who are mentally healthy should stay away from the community; both so they don’t judge those whose thoughts they don’t understand but also for their own protection and comfort. the topics talked about in jirai spaces are triggering and disturbing. i don’t blame, nor judge jirais forthe abusive behavior neurotypicals could accuse them of — it is often not their fault and a mentally healthy person could easily harm a jirai as well. i think such interactions would end up with mutual suffering on each side." ‪♡ " to call yourself a jirai you need to wear the makeup, the clothes, and suffer from some sort of mental illness especially if your livelihood is often threatened by the fact you have these conditions. and its OKAY to not cal yourself a jirai its NOT A GOOD THING to want to be a jirai mentally ill people who call themselves jirai onna are mentally ill and just find comfort in some form by the title." ‪♡ ". i do feel like these are two separate communities with some overlap, especially with the recent western discourse. i don't like these terms as i feel they are a bit harsh but there is a difference between "fashion only jirai" and "lifestyle jirai". of course anyone can appreciate cool clothes but the landmine side of the community deserves a safe space to talk about their issues and relate to each ‪other without uneducated jirai kei wearers bashing them" ‪♡ "i wouldnt say you necessarily have to be struggling mentally to be considered jirai kei, but i dont personally like the way some fashion only jirais negatively talk about the more lifestyle jirais at times. i also however dont think lifestyle jirais should be actively trying to call people out for being a fashion only jirai. it could end up being quite harmful, as you never really know what people are going through." ‪♡ "You may have a mental illness such as BPD which directly links to the “Explosive Landmine” personality. Otherwise it’s fine to just call yourself a Fashion Landmine and only wear Jirai Kei without “being Jirai”." ‪♡ "It really depends on if someone likes the fashion only, identifies as a jirai (landmine person), or both. Someone who likes the fashion may just say they dress in jirai kei clothes. Also, just because someone identifies themselves as a stereotypical jirai and calls themselves just landmine doesn't always mean they wear the fashion either; although it's more common for someone to do both and straight-up call themselves jirai." ‪♡ "being mentally ill (and i mean... cmon a little more than just depression and anxiety because like all of gen z struggles with that((this isn't the mental illness olympics but this is meant to be a safe space for people struggling with more severe illnesses))) and owning like a few coords that isn't that one DML coord that everyone has and wearing the damn makeup" ‪♡ "I think just respecting the community. You don't have to be "mentally ill enough" to join but you do need to respect people no matter their problems and coping mechanisms." ‪♡ "Hot take but if you’re not a Jirai in Japan you’re not a true Jirai and I don’t mean the fashion I’m talking about life choices . You can wear the fashion without having to call yourself a landmine" ‪♡ "there's no requirement, anyone can wear the fashion. it's just clothes."

Do you feel like there is a difference between "Jirai Kei" and "Landmine Kei"?

Most people said no, which is the kind of idea that I had but I wanted to ask because I have seen people use them in different ways. Most of the people who said yes said that in English-speaking circles Landmine is used more to talk about the mental health aspects of things while Jirai is used more when talking about the fashion or overall community. Which I think is interesting. It seems to me that separating Landmine and Jirai is another way that people try to separate the clothing from the mental health community like the distinction people make between Jirai Kei and Dark Girly Kei fashions. (Anything else I have to say here would go into my own opinions so I'm going to leave it at that - it's an interesting thing to think about).

A few quotes: ♡ "i believe there is a difference between simply wearing jirai kei and being a landmine. people in the english speaking community generally use landmine kei to describe the mentally ill side of the community even though jirai literally means landmine. i only see landmine kei used in context of like the fashion mine vs lifestyle mine debate." ♡ "From my experience, I have seen many English speakers misinterpret the term 'Jirai Kei' and water it down to fashion but, of course, that shouldn't represent all of the English-speakers partaking in the discussion." ♡ "Anywho considering Jirai is a direct translation to Landmine, I don’t see how they could be any different." ♡ "I think Landmine Kei is more dressing up as the stereotype and Jirai Kei is the lifestyle that predates the stereotype." ♡ "I feel like calling it landmine kei does alert people more to the mental health side of the subculture"

What is your favourite part of the Jirai Kei Subculture?

This was a combined question "What is your favourite and least-favourite part of the subculture" and most people skipped the favourites part and started just talking about what they hate which did make me a little bit sad. I really liked reading about what people liked in the community.

Most people said the fashion was their favourite part. Both people who said that Jirai Kei is a mental health-based community and people who said Jirai Kei is a fashion-based community brought up fashion as a favourite part of theirs.

"Community" is a very vague thing - in this context, it mostly means they were talking about how they share a lot in common with people in the community whether that be fashion, idols, music, aesthetics, mental health, etc. However, most of the people who mentioned mental health as a main part of why they love the community are counted in "Safe Space" instead.

A few quotes: ♡ "I have dealt with a ton of ableism and med shaming before irl and in other places online, but never in the jirai community. So it makes me happy that I can vent without people treating me like I'm "crazy" or trying to force dramatic changes onto me." ♡ "I love the clothes so much of course so the aesthetic of the fashion is my favorite." ♡ "The clothes of course, I really loved visiting the clothes shops in Japan. People in Japan are really nice about my clothing and often compliment me when I wear Jirai Kei, plus all of the shopgirls are really kind." ♡ "my fav part is the super cute clothes and how u can meet so many other ppl who not only have the same fashion style, but also similiar/same issues/experiences as you, so you can share pretty much anything with no judging at all!!! ^_^" ♡ "I like having a place where I can be open about the reality of my mental illnesses without being bombarded with “solutions”." ♡ "i love wearing cute outfits, seeing other people's codes and seeing other landmines experiences ." ♡ "the fact that people actually understand how i think / feel most of the time , and that i won't get weird looks / i won't be judged for things" ♡ "Most favourite: people identifying each other and bonding over shared experiences (and of course, the fashion)" ♡ "I love the community as a space for people on all lines of recovery to come together and exist without judgement" ♡ "My favorite part of the subculture is blogs, the fact that the people in the community get to share their thoughts & be related to & validated makes me really happy" ♡ "I love how empowering Jirai Kei makes me feel."

What is your least favourite part of the Jirai Kei subculture?

NOTE BECAUSE SOME OF THEM GOT CUT OFF: ‪♡ "People who say you have to be..." is "People who say you have to be mentally ill" ‪♡ "People who use mental illness as an..." is "people who use mental illness as an excuse to be mean" ‪♡ "People who say you have to buy" is "people who say you have to buy certain brands"

The top answer was fashion Jirais. This is a combination of people who specifically said the term "Fashion Jirai" and people who said things like "people who only wear the clothes" or "people who think the community is just cute clothes and ignore the mental illness aspect of it". I combined those into the same count.

"Anti-recovery" as a category is more than just people talking about how recovery isn't front and centre like Menhera, or people talking about venting - it is specifically people who talked about people who say you cannot be in recovery if you are part of the Jirai Kei community.

"Glamorization of Sh/Ed" also is more than just people talking about posts that talk about those things, it is people who specifically said it is over-romanticized / glamourized. And as a note this is different from "lifestyle Jirais" since that category includes people that are just talking about vent posts or mention "lifestyle jirai"s by name.

"Lifestyle Jirais" and "People who don't wear the clothes" are also two different categories, lifestyle jirais is either people who said that by name or were talking about people who vent or think the community is mental-health based, and "people who don't wear the clothes" is just that, it's the people who specifically called that out.

I don't have too much to add here since I can't really add anything here without stating my personal opinions which isn't what I'm trying to do right now. I did find it comforting that most other people are sick of the discourse, and it's both people who think Jirai Kei is fashion-based and people who think Jirai Kei is mental health-based that were saying this.

A few quotes: ♡ "But there are legit people on here who act like you're 'fake' if you aren't attempting suicide every hour or something lmao" ♡ "i'm sick of sharing my safe space with people who think it's just a pink blouse and some short skirts and a bow." ♡ "putting a label on jirai that you have to act a certain way seems wrong. some rules and bashing on other girls wanting to wear the fashion is very wrong too." ♡ "i’m simply utterly terrified of rejection." ♡ "My least favorite would probably have to be those who promote self harm or say you have to engage in some sort of dangerous stuff to be a part of the subculture. While many of us do struggle with these things, it's super unnecessary to push people (mostly the fashion only jirai keis) to harm themselves." ♡ "least fav is that there are a lot of gatekeepers who want you to prove that you're actually mentally ill or they turn it into a competition of who's suffering the most. I also don't like how many jirai are anti recovery if someone chooses to recover (not forced, but their own choice). and I don't like that there are some really young kids in the community, like 13 and under" ♡ "I hate the people who slap a random pink shirt on and a black mini skirt and call it jirai because it’s not. Jirai is so much more than pink and black." ♡ "least fav is probably the fact how some ppl will say the most vile shit ever and use the fact that theyre a jirai as an excuse (it can always be a reason for said behavior, but never an excuse!! 😭😭)" ♡ "fashion "jirais". i don't like discourse at all , but i really wish people would understand the whole point of jirai kei before calling themselves a landmine :(" ♡ "the least, however, are the people who say you "dont need to be mentally ill to call yourself jirai" which is just ridiculous" ♡ "I don't like the narrative that we have to buy from the original designer or it's not Jirai, that's just buying into what the fashion industry wants you to think. A fashion is a style, not a designer brand. Quite frankly I just don't like being limited to certain brands." ♡ "Constant discourse (assuming that people can't resonate with the subcul just because they're not as vocal about their experiences as the others PLUS the bullying of actual people who struggle for venting when that is the core of this subcul)" ♡ "i wish it was more mature because many jirai people are in their early teens (12-14) and i feel the need to act as a role model in spaces that include minors, rather than speaking freely as i would normally among people closer to my age" ♡ "least favourite: weird gatekeeping (eg. "you can't wear jirai kei because you're not mentally ill""), shaming peoples looks and fatshaming in general" ♡ "My least favorite is the ones who say you have to be anti-recovery to be jirai. It's okay to be tired of hurting." ♡ "i detest the infighting, and the way that it's rapidly growing is kind of pissing me off because im more comfortable in smaller communities" ♡ "As for least favourite, glorification of ED and SH (I must note, glorification, not just the fact people discuss/have it in the community) as well as the fatphobia and such"

Overall very interesting read and very mixed responses, but also not actually as mixed as I thought they would be. Most people landed somewhere in the middle where they considered both fashion and mental health to be parts of the subculture and just had different levels of importance for those two things. Most people also did mention mental health being part of their reasoning for being here, whether they engage more in the fashion side of things or the mental health side of things.

If there are any clarifying questions about what the titles of things in these graphs really mean or why I chose to break things down in the way that I did I am more than happy to provide clarification to that! I'll try to respond to any comments like that as soon as I can. I won't be engaging in discourse or defending any points or anything (at least not here) - this is more about the answers to the survey and not my personal opinions so pls understand T-T.

If you read all that mess thank you! Took me a while to actually get all of this compiled. If you didn't thank you regardless! Especially if you responded in the survey to begin with ♡

Also if anyone is uncomfortable with their answer being posted in the answers document please contact me either on Tumblr @jiraisupportgroup or on Reddit @ Mara-melody (DMs should be open on both) with the details about which response was yours and I will delete it from the publicly available document! Thank you!!

#jirai kei #jiraiblr #poll #poll results #i don't know how to tag this to be honest #mara is yapping??? but its not really *MY* yappings #I'll tag it anyway #mara is yapping #Jirai talk

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kirakuudere1 · 2 months ago

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Big rant on denji

To regard Chainsaw Man’s Denji as anything less than a deeply abused and exploited individual is to misunderstand the fundamental emotional and psychological scaffolding upon which Tatsuki Fujimoto constructs his narrative. While the hyperviolent aesthetic and supernatural premise of the series might distract from more subtle readings, Denji’s story is, at its core, an allegory for abuse—systemic, emotional, physical, and psychological.

Denji’s suffering begins long before he becomes the titular “Chainsaw Man.” As a child, Denji is thrust into a brutal life of indentured servitude. Following the death of his father—an apparent suicide that Denji may have witnessed or indirectly caused—he inherits his father's insurmountable debt to the yakuza. The yakuza, organized crime figures, immediately coerce Denji into a life of labor, intimidation, and organ-selling. These are not acts of juvenile delinquency; they are the forced survival mechanisms of a boy who is, by all accounts, an orphaned child with no education, no guidance, and no love.

It’s critical to emphasize that Denji’s earliest relationships are exploitative in nature. His bond with Pochita, the devil who becomes his heart, is the sole mutual relationship built on genuine affection and sacrifice. Every other character Denji encounters in Part 1, from the yakuza to the Public Safety Bureau, to Makima, views Denji primarily as a tool. A weapon. A means to an end. He is not offered compassion; he is offered conditions. He is told he can eat toast if he kills devils. He is told he can touch someone if he follows orders. He is told he can have purpose if he subjugates his autonomy.

Makima, perhaps the most psychologically manipulative figure in the manga, is the clearest abuser. She weaponizes Denji’s trauma, ignorance, and longing for affection with surgical precision. She does not love Denji. She engineers a situation in which Denji believes he is being loved—creating a faux family, giving him the illusion of comfort, and then methodically stripping it away to induce guilt, grief, and ultimately, obedience. This mirrors real-world abuse patterns, particularly those of emotional grooming and coercive control, in which abusers isolate victims, condition them to seek approval, and punish any resistance.

Fujimoto deliberately portrays Denji as emotionally stunted and socially naive. He does not understand relationships; his desires are elemental—food, sex, affection—because he has never been taught how to engage with others in healthy ways. His desires are not shallow; they are desperate. When he fantasizes about a girlfriend or even something as mundane as buttered toast, it is not comedic relief—it is tragedy masquerading as simplicity. These are the aspirations of a boy so profoundly deprived that basic human dignity feels like a luxury.

Furthermore, Denji’s repeated attempts to define his own will are crushed by external authorities. Though he becomes incredibly powerful, his sense of self is consistently undermined. He is manipulated into killing someone he loves (Power), then psychologically shattered when his mind splits and he becomes a near-emotionless shell. Even his transformation into the "Chainsaw Man" becomes another way in which others attempt to use his power for their ends, whether ideological, military, or personal.

To label Denji merely as “crude” or “simple-minded,” as some readers do, is to fall into the same trap as his in-universe abusers: judging him without acknowledging the systemic trauma that shaped him. His crude humor, his sexual confusion, his moral ambiguity—these are not inherent defects but rather the scars of unrelenting mistreatment and neglect.

Denying Denji's status as a victim not only misreads the emotional core of Chainsaw Man, but also perpetuates a broader cultural blindness toward how abuse manifests in the lives of boys and young men. Fujimoto’s brilliance lies in forcing the reader to confront uncomfortable questions: What does it mean to save someone? What does it mean to love someone who doesn’t know what love is? And how often do we overlook abuse when it is wrapped in strength, violence, or laughter?

In sum, Denji is not a heroic savior nor a mindless killer—he is a wounded boy navigating a world that has never shown him kindness without a price tag. Recognizing him as a victim of abuse is not just accurate; it is essential to understanding the moral and emotional architecture of Chainsaw Man. To do otherwise is to dismiss a story that is, ultimately, a cry for empathy hidden beneath layers of gore, chainsaws, and devils.

#chainsaw man #csm denji #denji hayakawa #csm #chainsaw man denji #makima

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justthreadyall · 5 months ago

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two extra days off school means i finished this hoodie 10x faster than normal, which feels awesome :3 i am seriously so in love with this piece <333

some progress pics :] i used a simple straight stitch for the patchwork stars and a split stitch for the moth on the back. took me about two and a half days of pretty much nonstop work - thank god for familial responsibilities or i would not have stopped for anything lolll

my inspiration was these hoodies by trippydraws (one of my favorite artists :3). i was going to do a similar beading thing/stitch around the seams, but my family advised me to leave it how it was, and honestly i think the simplicity works better in this piece, especially with the more muted colors. i’ll experiment with the beads on another piece :]

this was, like, the most fun thing ever. i am in love with making diy clothes. it turned out so cute :DDD

(i was talking to my friend about commissions while making this and hey - if anyone would like me to commission them a similar piece then feel free to reach out :3)

#embroidery #fiber art #fiber crafts #textile art #embroidering #fibre arts #fiber arts #textile arts #textiles #my embroidery #hand embroidery #diy #diy clothes #diy or die #upcycling #upcycle #my other stuff

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d20-lesbian · 1 year ago

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AFTER AN OVERWHELMING WAVE OF SUPPORT AND ENCOURAGEMENT, I'VE DECIDED TO POST THE WILL WOOD ESSAY!!!! it's below the break !!!!

I would like to really quickly state though that this essay is my property, I put a lot of time and effort into this, so please don't claim it as your own !!!! thank you <33

I will be analysing Will Wood’s song ‘Suburbia Overture / Greetings from Marybell Township! / (Vampire) Culture / Love Me, Normally’. which, for simplicity, most fans refer to as simply ‘Suburbia Overture’. This song is the first on his first solo album entitled ‘The Normal Album’, which came out in July 2020.

This song, in the most general possible terms, is a criticism of modern suburban life, how it is advertised as “the perfect life”, and how this advertising is incredibly false unless you fit the picture perfect standard that these facets of society seem to require.

The song itself is split up into 3 distinct sections, "Greetings from The Marybell Township!", “(Vampire) Culture” and “Love Me, Normally”. I'll be tackling each section one at a time in order to properly break down what each means, what different analogies they use, how they all relate to each other and the intended end result of the song and the message it intends to convey.

Let's begin with 'Greetings from The Marybell Township!'.

This section of the song uses a lot of analogies that compare suburban life to a warzone, the first line of this section being “white picket fences, barbed wire and trenches”. This section also focuses heavily on the concept of the nuclear family, and it often literalises the term and uses analogies based around radiation and nuclear warfare. Such analogies can be found in lines such as “the snap crackle pop of the Geiger, camouflage billboards for lead lined Brookes Brothers”. Now there's a couple of terms that require definitions in this line. The first of course being “the Geiger”. A Geiger counter, which is what this lyric is referring to, is a tool used to measure levels of harmful radiation. This, paired with the concept of billboards advertising “lead-lined Brookes Brothers” when lead is a material used to deflect radiation, and the knowledge that ‘Brookes Brothers’ is an American vintage style clothing brand, this line really paints a picture of a seemingly post apocalyptic/post nuclear war but still consumerist and capitalistic suburban society. The last line in that verse is “buy now or die”, which ties back to the concept of safety equipment being advertised on billboards, while residents of this town have no choice but to buy the products. This all relates back to the hyperconsumerism that plagues our society, and runs particularly rampant in middle to upper middle class neighbourhoods. The very same neighbourhoods that are often referred to as “suburban”

In the second verse of this section there are a lot of hard hitting lyrics that to me really show that this perfect idealised life is far from perfect or even good, so we will work through them one by one because I feel that they all deserve proper analysis.

The first line that i want to point out from that verse is the line “takes a village to fake a whole culture” which is clearly a rip off of the phrase “it takes a village [to raise a child]” but it also references the fact that usually suburban towns are incredibly monotonous in both residents and architecture, and so it takes the collective effort of the entire population of the town to pretend that there is an actual culture to it.

The next few lines I'll speak on all come in quick succession of one another, essentially blending them into one line.

“Your ear to the playground, your eye on the ball, your head in the gutter, your brains on the wall.”

So let's break these down. This line is easily split into 4 distinct phrases, and all of these phrases have a few things in common, which I will point out later.

“Your ear to the playground” is a play on the phrase “ear to the ground” which essentially means that the person with their ‘ear to the ground’ is attempting to carefully gather intel about something. Someone having their ear to the playground simply reinforces the idea of this suburban “paradise” being. Not as paradise-y as one would hope, seeing as the people who use playgrounds most of all are children, so this line is demonstrating that the picture perfect life that this suburban town offers is actually corrupting children so young that they are still on the playground.

The next phrase is “your eye on the ball” isn't a play on anything and is in fact in itself a common phrase. To have your eye on the ball means to be entirely focused in and paying attention to something, and not allowing anything to divert your attention. Given the last line this line very well could be another reference to the corruption of the youth and the idea that their every day play has already been tainted with the hostilities of modern life usually reserved for adults.

Following this is another well known saying “your head in the gutter” which, as most know, someone whos head is ‘in the gutter’ is someone who will see some sort of innuendo or otherwise vulgar/inappropriate meaning in something that was intended to be entirely innocent, leading to others in the interaction telling the perpetrator to ‘get [their] mind out of the gutter’

And finally, in my opinion the most hard hitting phrase in this set, “your brains on the wall” which is clearly in reference to the notion of ending your own life with a shot to the head, which would lead to, well, brains being on the wall. These last 2 phrases come in stark contrast to the seemingly picture perfect life that suburban towns offer and advertise, the concepts of suicide and perversion are not concepts one expects to see or hear when imagining this idealised form of life.

There is one main similarity in each of the 4 phrases, that being that each phrase has some body part being on something else, your ear to the playground, your eye on the ball, your head in the gutter, your brains on the wall. This similarity almost offers a body horror aspect to the song, which when paired with the concept that this is written about a seemingly post nuclear apocalyptic town presents an interesting idea of possible mutation, but i'll be the first to admit that may be a little far fetched. However that's not the only similarity that these 4 phrases share, another is the fact that they are all directly, or only slightly modified versions of already well known phrases, a similarity that is found in many lines over this entire song, through all 3 sections.

I want to analyse a few more lines before we move on to the second section of the song.

This next line comes directly after the previously analysed line, and it goes “home is where the heart is, you ain't homeless, but you’re heartless”

Sticking with the theme of using already existing and commonly used phrases, “home is where the heart is'' is once again a phrase that you could likely find as a cross stitch hung up on the wall of any of the homogenous houses you could likely find in this idealised suburbia. But what Wood is saying in this line is that home is where the heart is, and that while people in this town may not be homeless, they are certainly heartless, meaning that they in fact don't have homes. They have houses. Rows upon rows of houses that all look the exact same in the horrifying monotony that is suburban living.

Following this line is the lyric “it's the safest on the market, but you still gotta watch where you park it”. These lines seem to be in reference to buying a car. The car being the "safest on the market" is likely in reference to the fact that it may have a lot of safety features. But this is immediately negated by the fact that you “still gotta watch where you park it” meaning that the safety features could be a reason that the car gets stolen, rendering all the safety that those features offered useless because in the end it made the car and the owner less safe.

In the third verse of this section, you immediately hear the line “so give me your half-life crisis” which partially is a play on the term ‘mid life crisis’ wherein which one realises that they may have wasted their life up till that point and they're already halfway through, but the use of the term “half-life” instead of ‘mid-life’ is very intentional, as the term “half-life” can also be used to refer to the half-life of an isotope, which is the amount of time that isotope takes to lose half of its radiation, which ties back into the theme of radiation that we see mentioned a lot in this section.

Later in the same verse is the line “if it's true that a snowflake only matters in a blizzard”, which is interesting in a few ways, first, it brings up the idea of a singular individual means nothing on their own and that they only matter when they’re part of something larger or a larger group, but i also think that the use of the terms “snowflake” and “blizzard” instead of something like ‘raindrop’ and ‘storm’ is very intentional in the fact that snowflakes are known for being individual, none are alike, every single one is different. So saying that a snowflake doesn't matter unless it's in a blizzard is yet another hit at individuality, essentially implying that in this town individuality means nothing and is essentially rendered useless.

The final line in this verse is “everybody's all up in my-” repeated thrice, and on the third time the sentence is finished to say “everybody’s all up in my business” and before the word “business” can be finished its overlapped with the beginning of the chorus, the first word of which is a very loud “SUBURBIAAAA!”. I believe this is reminiscent of the fact that in towns like this, everyone cares so much about what everyone else is doing, they’re all so interested in everyone else's business, and i think that sentiment being stated and cut off by the word “Suburbia” is essentially saying that ‘this is the norm, this is just Suburbia, this is how it works around here.’

After the final chorus of this section, in the final verse, you'll find the line “chameleon peacocks are talk of the town” which particularly interests me because if you know anything about chameleons or peacocks you’d find that they seem incredibly different as animals. Chameleons blend into their environment in order to stay safe, whereas peacocks are known for parading around bright colours to make themselves look better, but if you think about it the term “chameleon peacock” actually makes a lot of sense, a person who blends into their surroundings in order to make themselves look good. This sentiment seems to perfectly describe the homogeneity of the people that live in these perfect towns, they're all the same, they blend in with one another in order to make themselves look good, or perfect.

Another line heard shortly afterwards is the phrase “he cums radiation”, rather vulgar, I grant you, but it's important because it is yet another literalisation of the phrase ‘nuclear family’. It could also be a reference to the general toxicity of this societal norm.

The final line in this section of the song is “the dog bites the postman, as basement eyes dream of a night at the drive-in, with an AR-15”. Which is another use of juxtaposition, intended to cause a kind of whiplash in the listener and reinforce the idea that while in this place there is scenarios that would happen in a hollywood movie esque picture perfect neighbourhood, like the dog biting the postman, there's also horrors that lurk below the surface. (although clearly not TOO far below.)

Now let’s move on to the second part, ‘(Vampire) Culture’.

If you listen to the song, you’ll immediately be able to recognise where 'Greetings from The Marybell Township!' ends and ‘(Vampire) Culture’ begins, due to the insane juxtaposition between the two. Where 'Greetings from The Marybell Township!' is soft and sort of reminiscent of the 1950’s, ‘(Vampire) Culture’ is loud, jarring and grotesque, complemented with much raspier and strained sounding vocals compared to 'Greetings from The Marybell Township!' ’s soft and melodic ones. The tone for this section of the song is immediately set with much more graphic lyrics, the very first line of this section (after the opening scream) is “i dropped my eyeballs in the bonfire, we fucked on a bed of nails” which absolutely sets the scene for how different this section will be to the previous.

This song immediately jumps into using cannibalism as a metaphor, with the first line after the jump start opener being “I caught kuru from your sister, and I'm laughing in jail”. While this line is written to sound like the concept of catching an STD from an act of adultery, Kuru is actually a disease only found in human brain tissue, meaning that you can only contract this disease by eating a human brain, and what's one of the symptoms for this disease? Uncontrollable laughter.

This use of cannibalism as a metaphor is used again immediately after in the line “smell those screaming teenage sweetbreads on that 4th of July grill”, ‘sweetbread’ is the term used to refer to the pancreas and thymus gland of an animal, usually a lamb, but in this particular case it is in reference to the human teenagers that supposedly lived in The Marybell Township, or a least they did before they were dissected, cooked and served at a neighbourhood 4th of July barbeque hosted by the same people that were once referred to as their neighbours.

This line adds an interesting level of patriotism to the song and criticism of how America utilises patriotism and their love for their country as means to justify harming the youth, however a 4th of July neighbourhood barbeque is also commonly associated with white picket fence gated community America, which ties us back to the base criticism of that style of life and how it is seen as the “proper” and “perfect” way to live.

These cannibalistic sentiments are followed up with the line “smile and wave boys, kiss the cook, live laugh and love, please pass the pills.” which brings us back to the repeated use of commonly known sayings being taken directly or modified only slightly to remind the listener of the setting were in, that being a seemingly 1950’s era tight knit neighbourhood.

Phrases like “live laugh [and] love” or “kiss the cook” are both phrases that could easily be seen in a setting like this, especially “kiss the cook”, as this is a phrase commonly associated with aprons worn by grillmasters at neighbourhood barbeques, not unlike the cannibalistic 4th of July barbeque that this particular neighbourhood seems to be hosting.

These phrases being immediately followed up with a sentiment such as “please pass the pills” serves to entirely undermine the pleasantries that, until a moment ago, seemed to be plastered all over the faces of the people living in this fictional town that Wood has created. I think that final phrase brings the listener back to the realisation that not all is right here, quite the opposite in fact, and drags them from their momentary paradise.

Circling back very quickly to the phrase “smile and wave”. I felt the need to point out that this phrase has been used for centuries as a way to say “stop talking and act normal” which once again reinforces that these people are pretending to be something they’re not in order to fit in.

We enter the next verse with the repeated phrase “it's only culture”, after that line is repeated three times we hear “sulfur, smoke and soot”, which could either be a reference to how dirty and disgusting the ‘culture’ is, or it could be a different way of saying that this culture and the people participating are going to hell, as per the common phrase ‘fire and brimstone’ and the fact that sulfur is another way of saying brimstone, and smoke and soot are both byproducts of fire.

The last line of this verse and the first line of the chorus blend into each other, so I’ll speak on them both.

First, the last line of the verse. It goes “you cocked and sucked your lack of empathy, pulled the trigger with your foot to prove you've got-”

Putting aside the clear innuendo, this line refers to the idea of ending one's own life with a long shotgun. According to the media, by the time the gun is cocked and the barrel is in your mouth, you're not able to pull the trigger with your hands due to the length of the barrel. This line instead presents the solution of pulling the trigger with your foot to end your life.

So this person “cocked and sucked” the gun (cocked the gun and put the barrel in their mouth) before pulling the trigger with their foot to prove they’ve got-

And here's where the verse blends into the chorus.

Because the first line only consists of one word.

“Blood”.

The person who was shooting themselves with a shotgun only to prove that they bleed. Which is where the title of this section comes in. “(Vampire) Culture”. This section seeks to portray either the people in this culture or, the more likely option, the culture itself, as metaphorical vampires, who aim to destroy those around them. This knowledge makes the next line “didn't they want your blood, so why apologise for being blue and cold” make a lot more sense. After all, if these culture vampires have drained you of your blood, is it not their fault that you’re now “blue and cold”, as bodies tend to be if they lack blood flow. However, if you look at synonyms for the words “blue” and “cold”, you could also interpret this phrase as meaning “sad and apathetic”.

A sad and apathetic person doesn't seem to be the kind of person this ‘culture’ seeks to enlist however, and so one who is “blue and cold” is shunned as an outsider.

What Wood is getting at is that if this culture is the one who made you sad and apathetic, then you should not apologise to it for being so.

The next verse is short, and like the previous one, also blends into the chorus in the same way, by having the last line of the verse cut off right where the chorus would finish the sentence with the word “blood”. However in this verse, there's an interesting line. “It's only culture and it's more afraid of you than you are of it”, which is a sentiment usually used by adults to attempt to subdue a child's fear of something, usually insects. However it's interesting in the fact that it brings up the idea that this culture that has caused so much damage and harm is actually incredibly fragile, and would, in theory be very afraid of the concept of the individual, because if this ‘culture’ is only being held together by the silent agreeance that everyone will simply pretend, then the idea that there is people who refuse throws the whole idea into jeopardy.

This line is followed up however, by the line that blends it into the chorus. “Go on drink that-”, clearly intended to be finished by the first line of the chorus, making the full line, “go on drink that blood”.

This line is in reference to the phrase “drink the kool-aid” which essentially means to pledge your undying loyalty to something, a concept, a person, a god, etc. and it derives from an infamous mass cult suicide where over 900 people drank poisoned Kool-Aid and subsequently died for the cult. It is not a far cry to believe that this event and this phrase is what the line is referring to, as it's something that Wood has referenced in other songs, so it only makes sense to believe that this is what he means here.

After that chorus we move on to the bridge, which begins by listing 3 pairs of names, all famous or semi famous, and each pair being similar in one right but opposite in another, the line goes as follows; “were you Nabokov to a Sallinger, were you Jung to Freud or Dass to a Leary”, so let's break down these pairs one by one.

First “Nabokov to a Sallinger”, these names belong to Vladimir Nabokov and J.D. Sallinger, both authors who wrote famous books that both surround the theme of innocence, but in very different ways. Nabokov’s book “Lolita” is a story told from the perspective of a grown man about his sexual obsession and attraction to a little girl, and his desire to ruin her innocence, exploring the theme of innocence in a grotesque and frankly horrifying way, which is in stark contrast to Sallinger’s book “The Catcher in the Rye”, which explores the topic of innocence through the main characters desire to preserve their little sisters innocence, and in that desire displays hesitancy at the idea of sex themself. Both books explore the topic of innocence, however while one seeks to preserve it, the other seeks to destroy it, two sides of the same coin.

The next pairing is “Jung to Freud”, meaning Carl Gustav Jung and his mentor Sigmund Freud, who once again are similar in one right, but opposite in another. Jung and Freud both had theories on the nature of the human mind, but where Jungs was all about the concept of spirituality and how that ties into the collective unconscious, Freud's approach was much more focused on the individual unconscious and the concept of sexuality.

The final pairing is “Dass to a Leary”. both psychologists, both at the forefront of the ‘Harvard Psilocybin Project’ (before they both got dismissed from harvard entirely following controversies around the project) Richard Alpert and Timothy Leary were both psychologists and eventually authors who studied the effects of psychedelic drugs on the human mind, and while they were co workers they ended up with pretty conflicting views. Dr. Richard Alpert, who apparently ‘died’ and was ‘reborn’ as spiritual guide Ram Dass, centred his teachings heavily around the concept of living in the moment, (in fact his best selling book, written in 1971 was titled ‘Be Here Now’) and he believed that psychedelic drugs were not needed and that a permanent version of the same effects could be achieved through meditation. Whereas Dr. Timothy Leary advocated heavily for the use of psychedelics, believing that LSD specifically had great potential for therapeutic psychiatric use.

All of these pairings and examples utilise the concept of duality and speak on how every coin has two sides, which can easily be tied back to the idea that the picture perfect suburban life is just one side of the coin. This idea is then reinforced by the next line, “were you mother, daughter, subject and author?”, The use of the word ‘and’ here shows that it's possible to be two sides of the same coin at once, just like how this town, which is perfect on one side of the coin, is still terrible on the other side of the coin. The line is stating that it's possible to be both at once.

The very last line in this section is; “you don't make the rules, you just write them down and do it by the book you throw around”. This line combines a few relatively well known phrases. The first being of course ‘i don’t make the rules’, which can have two distinct meanings. The first is to express a kind of sympathy for someone being punished, and the second is to absolve yourself of the blame for that person being punished, a sort of ‘don't shoot the messenger’ situation.

The ‘rules’ that are likely being referred to here are the societal norms and expectations forced upon people who reside in these towns, the standard for ‘perfection’.

However, following this sentiment up with the phrase “you just write them down” is essentially saying that while it's not the fault of the people in these towns, they didn't create the norms, they still enforce them. They expect everything to be in line and perfect at all times, they follow these ‘rules’ to a T, and they shun and punish anyone who doesn't fit the standard and/or refuses to follow these ‘rules’, which is where the line “do it by the book you throw around” comes in, doing something ‘by the book’ means to follow rules strictly and to the letter, nothing out of line, and to throw the book at someone means to punish them as severely as possible, usually used in the legal sense to mean punishing someone for their crime as severely as the law will allow. So in all, the lyric “you don't make the rules, you just write them down and do it by the book you throw around” ends up meaning ‘you didn't create these norms but you still enforce them by following them to an absolute T and punishing anyone who doesn't.’

With that we enter the third and final section of the song, entitled ‘Love Me, Normally’, a title it shares with another song on the album, but of course this song is partially meant to serve as an overture for the whole album, meaning it shares some similar lyrics with lyrics from other songs on the album, so sharing a title isn't all that surprising.

The first lyric in this section is “do you know the difference between blazing trails and slash and burn?” which is another instance of duality in this song. Trailblazing or being a trailblazer means doing something no one has done before, paving the way for other people to follow in your footsteps, it comes from the literal act of creating a trail in the woods for people to follow, usually by creating notches in trees or setting small fires, hence ‘blazer’, as blaze is another word for a fire. However “slash and burn” is a method of deforestation that involves cutting down and burning a section of forest to create a field. Both examples include using fire to change something, but where one is seen as progress and positive, the other is negative, and seen as a means of destruction. Once again, two sides of the same coin, innovation and destruction.

This is followed up with the line “going against the grain and catching splinters”, which is a line i particularly like because while it is something that literally can happen, if you run your hand along wood in the opposite direction to the grain, you're more likely to get a splinter because you're essentially pushing your hand against the chips of wood, but it also is another metaphor for the dangers of not being the same. Going against the grain in this instance means daring to be different, not going the same way everyone else is going but instead the opposite of that, and in this example splinters are the consequences one would face for being different, especially in a setting like this perfect town, where everyone is the exact same as everyone else.

A little bit later you hear the line “well Lot he had his lot in life, Job his job and i guess you’ll too, and die”.

Lot and Job are both figures found in the Bible, whose names both share spelling with common English words, but are pronounced slightly differently.

Job, from the Book of Job, was a man that was tested by God, made to suffer to test his loyalty, his ‘job’ was to believe unendingly in God and see Him as always correct no matter what.

Lot, from the Book of Genesis, was a man who went through a lot, and the phrase ‘my lot in life’ is a phrase commonly used by people to write off/explain why they don't have it as good as others, they say it's simply their ‘lot in life’.

The end of this line “i guess you’ll too, and die” i believe refers to the fact that everyone will have their own job and their own lot in life, and then everyone in the end will die.

This theory is solidified by the fact that the next line is “The Lord looked down and said ‘hey, you're only mortal’” which is a play off of the phrase ‘you're only human’. Wood himself said that the phrase ‘you're only human’ has always felt weird to him, he says, “cause like, of course I am, aren’t we all? How is that fact supposed to help? I still feel bad. What does being human mean to you?”. He follows this up by saying that the idea of God saying "hey, you're only mortal" offers the same kind of sentiment, but in a “cosmically condescending” sort of way.

The following line reads “giveth and taketh away, till things come out a certain way, leave you wondering when they might go back to normal… leave you wondering why they can't have just been normal”.

This line presents a sort of hopelessness in the realisation that things are constantly changing, nothing is any more ‘normal’ than anything else, there's no such thing as ‘normal’, which is an overarching theme found throughout the album. Once again bringing back the fact that for all intents and purposes this song is an overture for the rest of the album.

To conclude, ‘Suburbia Overture’ is, in my opinion, one of the greatest criticisms of suburban, middle class, gated community, nuclear family life i've ever seen, it highlights the problems in that life and showcases how this kind of lifestyle in its incredibly rigid and restrictive standards is incredibly harmful to the very concept of individuality, because the expectations and unspoken rules set in communities like this and the widespread idea of forced normality seeks to crush any individuality before it even has a chance to blossom.

The use of metaphors and phrases that are well known and are likely to be seen in settings such as this gated community suburban town that Wood has created really paint a subconscious picture of what this community looks like, the use of duality, how every story has another side, and how nothing that is seemingly perfect from the outside is actually perfect on the inside.

Will Wood is an incredible lyricist and the fact that he was able to cram so much symbolism and such a powerful message into a song just over 6 minutes long is genuinely incredible.

Thank you for listening to my/reading my autistic hyper fixated rambling, i hope i didn't melt your brain too badly <3

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