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secret-engima · 4 years

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alyss-spazz-penedo

hey, @secret-engima, hear me out: what if GILGAMESH became Glaucus' Shield? Like, after the two Murder Brats jumped into the Tempering Grounds and Glaucus has to fish them out, the man takes a moment to chew GIL out for endangering children like that, he SAW that last swing and it was aimed unacceptably close to a vital area, what even is he doing STILL haunting the damn Tempering Grounds anyway when the next worthwhile opponent won't be for literal decades (ie. Gladio)

alyss-spazz-penedo

So Gil is clubbed over the head with the idea that he doesn't actually have to follow 200 years of habit and, like. Ardyn's moved on, is living a life, and Gil KNOWS what's coming and that there's no value to holding his post, killing off idiots, once these people leave bc Cor was the only worthwhile opponent for literal decades. He can... he can take a VACATION.

alyss-spazz-penedo

....He has no idea what to do with a vacation, so he falls back on EVEN OLDER HABITS and is like well let's play Shield for a LC then. And maybe, MAYBE he'd pick Ardyn, but there's just. So much history there. That wouldn't... that wouldn't WORK, it would hurt them both just to try.

alyss-spazz-penedo

Which leaves just one LC available (arguably, bc Titus would absolutely fight him for the position but the brat's too young still. Maybe in a few years). And, Gilgamesh KNOWS what's up with Glaucus-once-Cor-Leonis, might be the only person in the world who DOES know, and that's//

alyss-spazz-penedo

*and that's... that's something I think Glaucus might really need. Just. Someone to help him remember who he WAS,

alyss-spazz-penedo

(Also, the thought of Ardyn and Gil wandering around being terrible at self-care and utter bemused by the world amuses me. Also Besithia would probably be an Utter Scientific Glee)

Me: *deep breath*

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS

BUCKLE UP RAMBLE FICLET INBOUND.

-It starts after the Murder Children are idiots and Glaucus has to come rescue them. Titus and Cor have never been more humbled, confused, and terrified than watching Glaucus snark at a 2k year old potential eldritch abomination and GET AWAY WITH IT. Glaucus actually makes Gilgamesh shuffle in shame when he lectures about how close he came to actually HURTING two of Glaucus’s kids. How dare.

-Then Glaucus takes a long, hard look at Gil and abruptly tells him to take a vacation. It’s not like the world is gonna end if he leaves the Tempering Grounds for a decade or so (Titus and Cor are a Fear™, don’t tell the monster to LEAVE it’s hideout and roam the world Glaucus!!). Gil stares at Glaucus in a stunned silence, Glaucus grunts and walks away, lecturing the two murder children.

-Gil thinks ... long and hard on Glaucus’s words.

-In the end decides it’s a moot point because when he was first cursed to this place he did try to leave a few times but he couldn’t. His curse wouldn’t let him. Pity though ... a vacation had sounded ... nice.

-That’s right around the time Ifrit shows up.

-Now, Ifrit doesn’t like humans, even after giving Glaucus his Blessing for the time-travel thing. He tolerates a few of them, even finds Glaucus and his group funny, but on the whole doesn’t like them. Know what he does like? Screwing over Bahamut. And when Glaucus mentioned Gilgamesh’s curse situation within Ifrit’s earshot (ie said it aloud at all because Ifrit tends to watch them from afar like his only tolerated cable tv channel), Ifrit got IDEAS.

-So Gilgamesh is in his Tempering Grounds, minding his own business and being broody bored when there’s a rush of fire and Ifrit the Infernian is standing there looking ... cunning.

-“Mortal.” Ifrit intones.

-“Not really,” Gilgamesh snarks because he’s a walking suit of armor cursed to live until the Chosen King comes, what’s Ifrit gonna do? Curse him again?

-Ifrit just grins “How would you like to change that?”

-Excuse him?

-Anyway after much smug talking from the Infernian, much sarcasm from Gilgamesh, and some severe bending of the rules of curses with a little shapeshifting magic thrown in for flavor, Gilgamesh kinda- blinks and finds himself outside the Tempering Grounds. In the sunlight.

-For the first time in 2k years.

-Yeah there might have been a panic attack or three. Especially because he now had lungs with which to HAVE a panic attack again. Ifrit had granted him a human form (one-armed and with a scar on his back just like the missing arm of his armor and the rend Titus had made) which technically Ifrit shouldn’t have been able to, except apparently he can just this once because he’s not bothering to use a human disguise and he was GOOD at this kind of magic while the rest of the Astrals were too busy being holier than thou to bother learning human-friendly enchantments.

-Gilgamesh sets off into the wilds, quickly figures out he has forgotten how to maintain an eating or sleeping schedule and he’s probably gonna go into a coma or something if he travels alone. So with a dry smile (that feels so good he HAS FACIAL EXPRESSIONS AGAIN. WOOT.) he sets off for where he can feel the magic of the time-traveling Sword.

-A week-ish after Ifrit shows up, so maybe 2-3 weeks after the Murder Children do their thing, Glaucus is having some “me time” out in the forest (happily murdering things to bring back to camp later without having a nattering crowd on his heels, he loves his idiots and Regis’s group, but sometimes they’re ... a bit much) when all the hairs on his neck prickle. He looks up and sees two red eyes glowing faintly in the shadows.

-The figure steps out wordlessly, hand away from his sword. One arm is missing and the man stands at a massive 7′6″, his eyes are a dark red that glints in the low lightning, his shaggy brown hair is pulled back into half-tail to keep it out of his face, which has scars on the right side from some old fight.

-Glaucus lowers his sword, but doesn’t ease from his stance, “I didn’t know you could look human, Gil,” he says almost flippantly.

-“Had a little help from your pet Astrals,” Gilgamesh retorts, his smile tugging at his scars. His posture is relaxed and non-threatening and almost ... uncertain. Like he isn’t sure what to say or how Glaucus will react.

-Glaucus just looks at him thoughtfully before snorting, “My gang of idiots is not the best place for a vacation.”

-Gilgamesh is blunt and open, “I’ve forgotten how to sleep when the moon rises, when to eat so I won’t pass out. I cannot die until the Chosen King comes into his own, but it is still unpleasant. I also...” he hesitates, “I do not remember how to function without a purpose. To fight. To guard the Grounds. To await the Last Shield. Without them ... I am lost.”

-“So you came to me.”

-“You are the only Lucis Caelum without a Shield.”

-Glaucus sneers “A Sword doesn’t need a Shield,” he scoffs, “and isn’t Ardyn more your speed?”

-Gilgamesh winces, “I have made my apologies,” and hadn’t that been a dramafest when Glaucus dragged the newly purified Ardyn to the Tempering Grounds for Gilgamesh to apologize to him, “but we will never stand united as a Shield and a King. I have broken his trust once, he does not give it a second time. Not in the way he would need for me to be his Shield. Besides,” and now Gilgamesh smiles ruefully, “For all his bite, the young Drautos is more a Shield than the Little Lion will ever be.”

-Glaucus flinches at the far off memory, of promising to be Regis’s second Shield, of protecting him no matter what only to fail. But Gilgamesh did not mean the words as an insult and the man makes a point. For all his recklessness and snark and fury, Titus is protective. His instinct is to kill on behalf of something rather than just to feel the adrenaline in his veins. He is protective of Ardyn, and Ardyn listens to the boy. Glaucus sheaths his sword and flexes his hands, “I don’t know how to have a Shield,” he admits softly, “you know I’m not ... natural.” Not a natural LC, not a born one, a time-traveler added to the line for the sake of the future and nothing more.

-“Neither am I,” Gilgamesh shrugs, “it is nothing to be ashamed of. You have the instincts to forge a Shield Bond imprinted in your very magic. I will swear fealty, and you will command me.”

-“Doesn’t that take trust?” Glaucus points out, “You’ve tried to kill me once before, and I know what you did to Ardyn.”

-A pause. A weighted reply of, “it takes trust. The trust that I will fight by your side and be strong enough to watch your back, that I will voice my opposition but obey your every command. The trust that there is no secret you can hold that will turn me away from you.” The last part is meaningful, pointed.

-They stand there in the increasing gloom of dusk for a long time. A former Leonine Sword and a Cursed Shield.

-Then Glaucus laughs, rough and wild and bloody. His eyes spark silver-bright as his magic reaches out and angrily, possessively tangles around Gilgamesh. It carves away the old, tattered, withered bond he once held with Somnus, a blade cutting away a rotted limb, then coils into place. A silent demand for loyalty, a silent acceptance of all Gilgamesh is and has done. Gilgamesh kneels and swears fealty to a new king, a old lion with glittering claws, and in the quiet of twilight, Glaucus names him Gildas, Gilgamesh’s old name from before he was the Mystic’s Shield, his current name of blood and trials and terror, both cast aside in favor of the new one. A new start.

-Gildas rises and follows Glaucus back to camp.

-While the rest of the groups stare in surprise at the massive, one-armed giant of a man Glaucus comes back with, Ardyn stills. Gildas and Ardyn stare at each other for some time, long enough for Titus to bristle protectively, not quite recognizing Gildas as the unarmored and once-more human Gilgamesh. Then Ardyn smiles, sad and understanding and ... forgiving, and pats the Haven in welcome, “Come, friend, introduce yourself to us and enjoy a meal.”

-Gildas dips his head, submission and gratitude all in one, “I am Gildas,” he rumbles, “and-”

-Glaucus interrupts, a slight, possessive lion’s growl in his voice, “He is my Shield.”

-The camp erupts into chatter and questions and shouting save Ardyn, who just smiles sadly and shuffles over to make room for an old once-friend. They will never be what they once were, will never trust each other like they once did, but Ardyn has always been too forgiving of a soul when the scourge did not turn him bitter, and he knows that Gilgamesh has been trapped in the Tempering Grounds for two thousand years with only the voices of the dead to keep him company as he awaited the Chosen King, just as Ardyn was trapped for two thousand years with only the screaming of the daemons to break the silence. In Ardyn’s mind, Gilgamesh has been punished enough.

-Better to forgive and move on in this new time, than to hold onto grudges two thousand years gone.

#Secret Engima Rambles #Melodies and Manuscripts #The Future's Blurry (the Past is Trap) verse #yesssss #gilgamesh (ffxv)#cor leonis #ffxv au

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comicteaparty · 5 years

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November 20th-November 26th, 2019 Reader Favorites Archive

The archive for the Reader Favorites chat that occurred from November 20th, 2019 to November 26th, 2019. The chat focused on the following question:

What main character do you relate to the most? How relatable does a main character have to be for you to like them?

Capitania do Azar

You know, relatable is simultaneously a very strong and very week word to describe how I see main characters. Sometimes, the MCs I like the most are those I can't relate to in any way, when their actions are so out there and wild that I cannot for the life of me seeing myself doing (regardless of weather I understand their motivations or not). I tend to find secondary characters much more easier to relate to, since they're not so much under the spotlight and get to have personalities that are often less directly connected to the plot, and creators get to have more freedom. That said, on the top of my head, one of my favorite protagonists is Trigger, from Ghost Junk Sickness, https://www.ghostjunksickness.com/, who I cannot, for the life of me, relate to, but whose horrible decisions I find absolutely amusing.

Now, for side characters who I can definitely relate to, I'm gonna go with Aaron from XIIComic, https://xiicomic.com/magic-and-muses/, because that one was love at first sight, eheh(edited)

FeatherNotes

I agree with @Capitania do Azar-- For me, main characters are the ones who would be written with the themes, and the backstory that make them unique enough for a singular experience so i would often find it most difficult to 'fully relate' to them. That said, characters don't have to be very much relatable at all for me to like them , and that most MCs with flaws that are beyond me are who i mainly like bc of their potential complexity! Secondary characters are my go to's, and i relate to them much more quickly! With that said, i def have vibes with Sanna and Dizzy from Startrip http://www.startripcomic.com/cast

Phin (Heirs of the Veil)

I rarely find main characters "relatable", but if they are well-written enough I can like and root for them no matter if I think they are relatable to me personally enough. @Capitania do Azar and @FeatherNotes made really good point as to why this is the case. Anyways a character I still really relate to is Rafael from Superpose (https://superposecomic.com/). Painful gender feelings, people being dismissive of ones gender, the overall feeling of being stuck and not knowing what the future will bring really speaks to me, so reading Superpose I got especially invested. Another character would be Nikita from O Sarilho (http://sarilho.net/en/) and he's very interesting to me because there is a lot about him that feels deeply relatable and familiar but then so many things that are absolutely alienating. I think that makes him an especially alluring character to me.

Cronaj

I agree with the everyone else. I don't really need to relate to a main character to like them. In fact, I just realized on my search through the webcomics I read/enjoy that I don't relate to pretty much ANY of the characters. This might have to do partly with the fact that I read a lot of fantasy, sci-fi, and historical comics, so the issues the characters face are very different than the ones I personally face. That being said, there is one comic where I relate to one of the main characters so much, I actually cried. This is the character Taesoo from the webtoon The Lady and Her Butler. (https://www.lezhin.com/en/comic/ladyandbutler) He is a struggling artist with low self-confidence and the after-effects of a bad relationship with someone who didn't appreciate him. His scars from this situation have remained with him and made it difficult for him to love again. I know this sounds like something straight from a drama, but this legitimately happened to me. (On a side note, I relate to my own characters, but that's because I subconsciously created characters a lot like myself.)

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

Like others have said above me, I don’t really need to relate to a main character to like them. If they’re well written and receive good development, I’ll probably like them on some level. I do tend to gravitate more towards roguish and morally ambiguous characters, and my favourite is usually an outrageous villain. As for my own characters, I put a bit of myself in all of them, but probably none more so than Anor from Children of Shadow. I hadn’t meant to mirror so much of myself in him, but my characters tend to act and grow independently of me. He struggles with depression, PTSD, feelings of isolation, and has a similar queer experience / identity as me. He isn’t me, however, and differs in a lot of ways, too. But I can identify with him probably more than any other character I’ve written.(edited)

Batichi

I feel kinda narcissistic saying so, but the character I do relate to is my own protagonist, mainly because the point of the character was to have one that was more like me I guess. Low energy, unable to feel like they progress, never knowing if points of trauma are growing or hindering being a full person. I never intended a 'full insert' but a lot of their personal journey I feel gets pulled out of my own head since it's where I can pull from. I don't know if that counts or not xD I don't need a character to be relatable for me to be interested in them, but I do need to understand them. 'Defined' feels like too broad of an answer, but when I can be interested in both heart of gold protagonists and drug dealing warlords that's the best I can come up with.

spacerocketbunny

I may not need a character to be relatable to like them but it definitely does make me soft when I can. I think a character I can relate to would be Satinder from Shaderunners http://shaderunners.com/ I think she's a lot more outgoing than me and generally just more jovial and sweet but I relate to her struggle with her relationship with Ivo the most. Pining for someone who doesn't want to settle and just wants to move on bigger and better feels pretty real to me! Other than that I'd say Vic from Inhibit http://www.inhibitcomic.com/ while again I don't relate to his personality or much of his situation, I feel for his struggles SO MUCH. Stuck in that awkward, can't do anything right and just exists in the mediocrity of his situation just gets me all the time.

eli [a winged tale]

I think I relate with main characters who are competent in their own way but FLAWED, and are shown in the story to be facing a struggle. They may not have to make the right decisions or be the most clever, but their reasons are justified (via history, development, relationships). So ultimately it really comes down to the creator’s execution. I’ve been thinking about this question for a while and I think the best example is liking Kushana more than Nausicaa in Miyazaki’s graphic novel (you’ve watched the film, now go read the epic graphic novel!). She is presented as an antihero and a foil to Nausicaa and we see her struggle against how she was raised to the ideal way of dealing with the world presented as a possibility. Edith is also one where you see her being put together on the surface, but hiding deep insecurities inside. Yet she continues to grow, face her fears and maybe make the mistake of being on the wrong ship I jest, but working hard to solve her problems. I find static, good influence characters to be a little bit harder to relate to but if the story is good, I can invest in it.

GGY

Most of my characters stem from small pieces of my personality and experiences. Some of those personalties are exaggerated a bit to drive the plot and explain a few things going on with the characters. I don't have to relate to a character to like them but it is always interesting to see that side of a character that the other characters don't get to see as often or its not apparent. Not that the character is leading a double life or anything but that there are reasons why characters act the way they do and those reasons are either presented in a back story or from that character's perspective of the world. Anyways if I had to bottle it down to one character I think I relate a lot to would be one of my main characters Bridget Killigan of Over 8 Miles mainly because she runs by her own logic of how things go wether or not they are wrong. However this is only because of the result of circumstance, which I can relate to all too well XD(edited)

DanitheCarutor

I don't pay attention to relatability when reading a comic? Like I have no idea what characters I can relation to outside of my own since mine were sorta made to vent my experiences and issues. It's like gender and sexuality, as important as those details can be, I don't actually notice those things unless they're blatantly pointed out. Given that, not a whole lot of people can relate to me personally (I'm a weird person with weird opinions and views), so relatability in characters isn't totally possible and isn't important. Sometimes they can relate in life experiences, or a mood, but that's about it. Character(s) who are fleshed out, growing, and/or who are interesting is what matters most. So I guess I'm kinda parroting what other people have already said.

AntiBunny

Relatable? That's a bit of a tough one. I can care about a character without relating to them. In fact to answer last week's question, having characters I can care about is probably the most important thing to hook me into a webcomic. But relating to a character is different than caring about them. I would at one time say Riff and Torg from Sluggy Freelance, a couple of irresponsible guys getting into hijinks, but I've changed as a person over the years.

I suppose the most relatable character, might be Rhea from Slightly Damned. I say that because she's the one who has to be the responsible one now. She's the oldest of the 3 main characters, but still basically a kid herself. She has to protect and guide these two oddball teenagers, even though she's not even sure of her own place in the world.

I guess as you get older, people start looking to you as a protector, and as a guide, even though you still very much feel like a child wearing an adult suit. So Rhea is someone I can relate to in that regard. She's from http://sdamned.com/

Akreampuff

Sometimes I find I relate to elements of a character - Like when they comment or express an opinion on something - But having a character resonate with me isn't something that really happens often. I can't remember the last time it did. For me to like a character though, they just have to not be a shitty person. Flaws are fine - Flaws are great - But if they are just a horrible person or a flat bleh character then I lose interest very quickly.

kayotics

Karkat Vantas

RebelVampire

One character I relate to immensely off the top of my head is Shy from Radio Silence http://www.radiosilencecomic.com/ There have been a lot of moments in that comic, especially related to social anxiety, where I have cringed super hard along with Shy because I knew exactly what it was like to feel what he was feeling. It actually makes the comic difficult for me on occasion just cause it brings flashbacks. In terms of the second part, that's a difficult question. I feel like it's super easy to relate to at least small portions of every main character, since people are complex and have a million different sides to them. So, for me at least, I can always find at least a little something I can relate to. But overall, that usually doesn't determine if I like them or not. I'm more concerned about whether I'm invested in their goals and want to see them succeed or suffer for their pursuit of those goals. To me that's what makes a character likeable. So in the end, it's not a question of how much, since I'll always relate in some way. It's just also not important.

#ctparchive #comics #webcomics #indie comics #comic chat #comic discussion #comic tea party #ctp #reader favorites

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caelystrae · 6 years

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Don’t You Love Me Now?

wow this acct is back from the dead after a yr bc its @letanafuck week and i plan on... hopefully... writing some kinks that i wouldnt on my main (but still horny) acct

todays prompt was old/young which tbh ive written abt on multiple accts before (two ghosts on here and scars & shadow both on my main) but u know. i gotta let ana fuck. so heres more new Content ig

ao3

Pairing: Anamercy

Rating: M

Words: 3.5k+

Or,

Angela may be getting older, but Ana realizes that she herself is just plain getting old, and isn't quite sure how to feel about it.

Aging was something that snuck up on Ana—a grey hair here, an age spot there, change so gradual that she did not notice it in herself, never taking the time to observe any one change in particular until, one day, she realized that she had come to look entirely different—and this does not bother her, particularly. If she cared about any of it, she would have taken more note as it were happening, but it is one thing to recognize signs of aging in oneself, and quite another to see them in one’s lover, particularly when said lover is notably younger than oneself.

When Ana began to notice wrinkles around her own eyes, it did not bother her at all—if anything, she was pleasantly surprised to realize that, despite the Omnic Crisis, and all that followed, she had lived long enough to have any—but it does bother her, shortly upon being reunited, when she sees those same lines around Angela’s eyes. Were anyone to ask her why, she could not say, because she does not find them unattractive, nor is it particularly surprising that Angela might have a laugh line or two at her age, but there is a nagging worry there, something she cannot quite put a name to which bothers her nonetheless.

That same feeling returns two weeks later, when, while Angela is looking for clothing for some event or another, Ana notices that one of her favorite dresses, memorable if only for how its bright color stands in contrast to the rest of her wardrobe, is conspicuously absent. In response to Ana’s inquiring as to where it went, Angela just laughs, shrugging off the question by saying that in the past three years or so she went up a size or two, and that she does not mind it much, given her age, thinks it is only to be expected. There is little reason to press the issue, particularly given that Ana quite likes Angela’s current weight, and does not want to give the impression that she feels otherwise, but still there is that something about the statement.

Another three weeks go by and Angela is frowning into the mirror at herself, fingers pushing her bangs out of the way so she can more carefully examine the roots of her hair. While Ana cannot see precisely what her lover is doing, from her place outside the doorway of the bathroom, she has a fairly good idea.

“Staring won’t make the greys go away,” she says, and watches in some amusement as Angela drops her hands quickly, almost guiltily, turning at once to face her. That amusement fades quickly when she sees the expression on Angela’s face, far from happy.

“Are they that obvious?” she sounds almost resigned as she says it, crossing an arm over herself in a way that Ana knows, by now, means she is nervous as well, “I hoped that maybe they wouldn’t be so obvious, in the blonde, but—”

“They’re not,” Ana reassures her, before she can continue the thought, “I wouldn’t have even brought it up if you didn’t seem so worried about it.”

“Ah,” says Angela, but it doesn’t seem to calm her any, for she bites her lip and turns her gaze away, towards the shower in the corner. There is a considerable pause before she speaks again—they have known each other long enough, by now, that Ana knows when to push, and when to wait—but speak she does, “I don’t like it,” says she, “Feeling like I’m getting old. Before you came back I was the oldest woman here, you know.”

Before speaking Ana shifts her weight, rests against the frame of the door, making sure that there is enough room that if Angela wanted to, she could push past, will not feel trapped during the ensuing conversation. If her lover were to ask, that is her reasoning—not that she needed time to gather her thoughts, to choose carefully what to say next, although that is the truth. It would be a lie, she knows, to say that Angela is not getting older, because certainly she is nearing middle age, and it would do neither of them any good to pretend otherwise, but that Angela is older than she once was does not make her old, particularly not in Ana’s eyes. It clicks, then, what has been bothering her: for all that Angela is clearly older, she is still far younger than Ana herself; if Angela is old, what does that make Ana?

“You’re still younger than I was when we met,” says she, and it is true: eighteen years later, and Angela is still five years from the age Ana was then, even though just a few months under half of her life—and less than a third of Ana’s—has passed.

That does not seem to comfort Angela in the slightest, as she is still staring resolutely in the direction of the shower curtain when she speaks next. “That doesn’t make me young,” she argues, and she is not wrong, necessarily, but certainly she cannot seem old to Ana, who only recently began to think of herself as being old.

“No,” agrees Ana, “It certainly doesn’t.” Another pause between them, before Ana asks, carefully, “Is that such a bad thing, though?”

The hand Angela does not have pulled across herself now grips the sink so hard her already pale knuckles turn white, “You tell me.”

“I’m sure I can’t know what you mean,” Ana tells her, and tries not to sound too sharp, even if the comment immediately puts her on the defensive. Outside of the subject of work, of their differing interpretation of what is right and what is wrong, the two of them rarely argue, but on the rare occasion that they do, neither is inclined to mince words.

“What are we doing here, Ana? Sneaking around, never talking about our relationship in front of anyone, keeping everything a secret the way we always have,” she turns, suddenly, to look Ana in the eye, gaze sharp, “It made sense then—with how young I was, and you being so much older—but now? I’m not young anymore, Ana. Why are we still hiding, unless we don’t know what else to be?”

“Angela,” she begins more sharply than she wants to, pauses and takes a breath before continuing, “There was a rather stringent anti-fraternization policy then, if you’ve forgotten, and you haven’t made any mention of our relationship since my return, either. I didn’t know it bothered you.”

Angela opens her mouth as if to object, but Ana is not done, has more to say about the matter, “And your age didn’t have anything to do with my attraction to you—if anything, I was worried I was too old for you.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Angela says, and if she were not so obviously angry it might sound like a plea, “You’ve been strangely quiet every time I’ve mentioned my age since you got back. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” In her anger, she had straightened up, moved forwards, but now she shrinks into herself again, leans back against the sink when Ana, too surprised by the turn of conversation to argue, does not respond quickly enough, “You don’t have to stay, if you don’t find me attractive anymore.” When she says this, her eyes flick over Ana’s shoulder in the direction of the door.

“I’m not lying,” Ana says, trying not to be annoyed by the accusation, or at least not to show annoyance. “It’s just… become harder to ignore, recently, how very much older than you I am, and always have been. If either of us is too old for the other, it isn’t you.”

Angela laughs, then, relaxing at last, and grins at Ana when she says, “I daresay that’s part of your appeal.”

Hearing that should not surprise Ana, really, not with how eager to please Angela has always been, the way she flushes when Ana calls her a good girl, the age of the various celebrities Angela has mentioned finding attractive before, but it does surprise Ana, nonetheless—perhaps because she always avoided thinking about how young Angela was, preferring to focus, instead, on all the ways in which they were equals.

She really does not know what to make of this.

(Whatever allusions Angela might have made in the past

“That’s… interesting,” is what she settles on, after a considerable pause.

“Does it bother you?” Angela asks her, and Ana is surprised to find that it does not.

“No,” says she, without hesitation, but then, “It’s probably something we should discuss, though.”

“Probably,” Angela agrees easily, and then, stepping forwards to close the gap between them, “Later, though. For now,” she moves a hand upwards, cupping Ana’s jaw and leaning down just slightly so that they are level with one another, “I can show you just how much I appreciate your current age.”

Who is Ana to say no?

In the years prior to their separation, Angela was never interested in taking control, always content to allow Ana to initiate sex and decide the pace; in the ensuing years she has grown bolder, although she has never said why, and Ana has never asked. Seven years ago, Ana would not have wanted this, to be lead backwards and then pushed down onto the bed, for she had so little control of the rapidly unravelling Overwatch that she felt she needed to take it where she could—but now, older still, and maybe even wiser, if she is lucky, it does not seem like such a bad thing to let Angela take control for a short while.

(There is also the fact that it is easier, these days, for her to not be the only active partner. She can only kneel or thrust or do whatever else for so long before she grows sore, and needs to change positions, and Angela stepping up and being less passive is certainly beneficial for the both of them, in that regard.)

So she allows Angela to divest her of her clothing, even if she is moving not nearly so quickly as Ana knows she could, nimble surgeon’s fingers pretending to fumble with the fly of Ana’s trousers, and toying with the hem of her shirt. Ana wants to complain, to urge Angela to just hurry up, to joke that she is not getting any younger, anything if it would make Angela move faster—but she does not know, yet, how far she can push when Angela takes charge, and rather wants to see how their evening will turn out.

Eventually, it seems Angela has had enough with her teasing, and finishes pulling Ana’s clothes from her, kneeling above her on the bed, a knee just outside either hip. Ana shivers, from the cold and the scrutiny both. It is one thing to know that she has aged, and to accept it, but quite another to have just discussed it, and to find oneself wholly bare before another person. When Angela looks at her she will see scars she does not know the origin of, for they have not discussed them since Ana’s return, including a rather grotesque one along her side, a jagged, light depression against the surrounding tissue, will see breasts that never returned to their original firmness after breastfeeding, and have only grown saggier with age, will see an abdomen which was once well muscled and that now, while still strong, does not look so.

(Angela, too, has changed, has more moles in more places than she ever did when she and Ana were first together, and from this angle her weight gain is more visible—even if it is difficult to know which changes in her silhouette are attributable to HRT and which are aging—but Ana is not looking at those things, is watching Angela’s expression as her own body is scrutinized.)

“Beautiful,” she breathes, before bending down to kiss Ana’s neck, one hand moving to cup a breast, and when she says it like that, Ana can believe it. She lingers, with each kiss, moving slowly downwards towards Ana’s breasts, murmuring gentle praises between each kiss, stunning, gorgeous, strong, and it may have been decades since last Ana last let sweet words sweep her off her feet, but the increase in her heartrate is not purely due to arousal.

Perfect, Angela tells her before wrapping her mouth around a nipple. Normally, she would only tease at it, licking it and flicking at it with her tongue, but perhaps emboldened by their earlier conversation, and her admission, this time she sucks at it in earnest, and Ana threads one hand in her hair to encourage her to continue, the other reaching down between the both of them so that she can touch herself.

These days, it takes time for her to be wet enough for a partner to comfortably touch her, and any embarrassment she might once have felt when tending to her own needs during sex has long since faded—and it certainly does not hurt that she knows Angela finds it arousing, a fact which shows as Angela redoubles her efforts at Ana’s breasts.

For several minutes, they are in a holding pattern, nothing escalating between them, and pleasant as it is, Ana finds her patience is beginning to dwindle when suddenly the timing of a particularly hard suck from Angela and her own thumb pressing against her clit coincide, and her hips roll involuntarily, breath hitching in response.

That, finally, is enough to spur Angela into action again, and after a brief—but necessary—pause to fumble around in her bedside drawer in search of lube, continues moving down Ana’s body, lovely whispered into the large pockmark left by shrapnel just below her ribcage, wonderful as Angela’s lips find her cesarean scar, and mine as she moves her hand out of the way and Angela finally, finally reaches her labia.

When she looks down to meet Angela’s eyes, one leg moving to hook over her lover’s shoulder, she does so over the same body which survived the Omnic Crisis, which bore a child, which once was unmarked, unmarred, but thoroughly untested. Now, despite the shifting geography of her form, new marks and rolls appearing over time, she knows her body better than she did when she was younger, is far more at peace with who she is. It may be a surprise to look down and see Angela’s face amongst white pubic hair, but her heartbeat still picks up when Angela traces around her clit in little circles, and she still feels that familiar pull of arousal when she feels Angela’s free hand begins to creep up the inside of her thigh.

(There are, of course, some small concessions made for age—that Angela is careful not to move her hips beyond what is now their maximum comfortable flexibility being the most prominent adjustment. And while once Angela might have dedicated a good deal of time to teasing, she does not do so any longer—it takes Ana longer, now, to come, even with greater stimulation, although those single orgasms are stronger than the multiple ones she might have enjoyed when younger—concentrating immediately on Ana’s clit.)

Years of practice have ensured that Angela knows well what it is that Ana likes, and it is not terribly long before she feels herself beginning to draw close to an orgasm, hips moving in time against her lover’s mouth. If she were the type to beg, she might say more, or please, or something to that effect, but she has never been the type to ask permission for anything, and particularly not permission to come, when she has always worked at least as hard as her lovers to ensure that she orgasms.

Instead she presses insistently at the back of Angela’s head with one hand, pulling at her hair in the way her lover enjoys, brings her free hand up to her breasts, tenses her thighs in anticipation, holds her breath and—

—Does not come.

A deep breath in, and out, and she tries again to let go, good eye closing this time as she focuses inwards, tries only to feel, not the sweat on her skin or the cold on her nipples—still damp—but the tension of her approaching orgasm, the pressure of Angela’s mouth on her, the warmth and wetness and pleasure.

She is right there, and she thinks yes, please yes, I need—

—Yet, still, she does not come.

After some thirty seconds, she has to breathe properly again, and she untenses her thighs for a moment as she resists the urge to huff in annoyance; normally, this would be enough, and she still feels like she is there, like she could come at any moment, but for all that she tries the orgasm which is so close eludes her.

Angela must notice something, her frustration or the movement or the way her grip on her lover’s hair tightened and then relaxed because she looks up, for a moment, asking, “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Ana is quick to reply, and then, embarrassed, but firm enough that it is a request and absolutely not a question, “I just need a bit more, sometimes, now that I’m older, so…”

“Ah,” Angela says, and then, “I do have a vibrator, if you’d like me to get it out?”

“No,” Ana says perhaps a bit too quickly. From personal experience, she knows that she is very particular about the settings she likes, and doubts that taking the time to find the right configuration on Angela’s vibrator is worthwhile. “You don’t actually have to do anything differently, it just might take a bit longer than usual.”

(In truth, the added sensation of something inside her might speed things up quite a bit, but even after transitioning, Angela is not terribly fond of penetrating anyone with anything, and Ana does not want to make her feel as if she needs to do anything—they can discuss it another time, when there is less pressure.)

When Angela begins again, she is more forceful in her movements, focusing more on Ana’s clit, and it is nearly at the point of being too much, of Ana wanting to ask her to slow down or ease up—but she is so, so close. It is all she can do to stay put, to not pull away from the intensity of the sensation, because she feels again that she is right at the edge, and she does not want to lose the orgasm by twitching away at the wrong moment.

A minute passes, another. Ana tosses her head and fights the urge to whimper, to beg.

Another minute, and Angela rubs soothing circles on her thigh, nuzzles closer into Ana, reaches her other hand to try and hold Ana’s, the way she likes to when she comes—and nothing about the sensation of it is terribly different, but suddenly Ana is there, tipping over the edge and trying not to buck her hips too hard into Angela’s face.

The unexpectedness of the orgasm makes it feel almost torn from her, and she is surprised by the intensity of it—though perhaps she should not be, given how long she teetered at the edge. Angela helps her to ride it out, and when she is finished moves up the bed to lie next to her, propping her head up on one elbow and idly stroking the side of her face with the other hand.

After a moment to catch her breath, she turns so she can better look at Angela, who is at her blind side, “Your turn?” she asks, not certain if Angela—still fully clothed—will want to do anything, but more than willing should she prove amenable to the idea.

“Once you’re one recuperating, sure.”

“Recuperating?” Ana demands, and then, teasingly, “Just how old do you think I am?”

“I don’t know,” Angela says with a smirk, “I seem to recall someone saying just earlier today how you were much too old for an only slightly-old person such as myself. And you do seem rather out of breath.”

Ana clicks her tongue, and rolls on top of Angela without any warning, pinning her to the mattress, “I’ll show you out of breath,” says she, using one hand to move a now compliant Angela’s hands above her head. She leans in as if to kiss her lover, waiting until Angela’s eyes have drifted shut, face pointing upwards, to release her grip, instead bringing both hands suddenly down to Angela’s sides to tickle her.

The sensation is no doubt dulled by the fact that Angela is still wearing one of her many thick sweaters, but she shrieks nonetheless at the sudden sensation, unable to squirm away, pinned as she is.

Perhaps they are, both of them, growing older, but that hardly means that they need to grow up, nor change in any other way. They can be happy just as they are.

#anamercy #ana amari #angela ziegler #i was gonna write mommy kink for this but u are what u eat so im pussy #later in the week... i hope

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huhnerhexen · 4 years

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All!

macaroni and cheese: what makes you think of your childhood?

- the Halston Z-14 cologne, the sound of lawn mowers, Sesame Street, salt and vinegar chips, bonfires

spring green: how do you relax when you're feeling stressed?

- I take a bath and watch Moominvalley, sometimes I'll smoke a joint before hand

asparagus: already answered!

bittersweet: already answered!

eggplant: explain your URL and avatar

- huhnerhexen is german for chicken witch, I used to dog sit for my roommate and her dog knew me as "the chicken lady" but I also practice witchcraft and speak a little german so here we are. My avatar is the cover of Frog And Toad Are Friends, I grew up on Frog and Toad and I love them very much.

outer space: do you ever feel like you're an outcast from others?

- frequently

cotton candy: what is your favourite dessert?

- sex in a pan

freckle: do you have marks on your skin? how do you feel about them?

- I have moles, scars, rosacea, and tattoos. I'm fine with all of them, they make me unique

shocking pink: is there a trait that you have that others don't expect from you?

- depending on how we meet, a lot of the holiday hires at work are surprised that I'm as goofy as I am bc I'm very much a "let's get down to business" kind of guy; new friends are sometimes surprised by the amount of passive aggression I can hold inside my tiny body

robin's egg blue: if you were an animal, which one do you think you would be?

- in an ideal world I'd be a housecat, but I think I'd be a dog because I'm so loyal

granny smith apple: what is something everyone else likes that you don't?

- cake

dandelion: already answered!

atomic tangerine: what gets you motivated to do a difficult task?

- a banging playlist and a cup of coffee

wisteria: what's your favourite thing about yourself?

- my style and my moral compass

candy apple: how do you think others view you?

- I honestly don't care how others view me, so I don't pay attention to it.

plum: already answered!

sky blue: already answered!

tickle me pink: how do you try to cheer up others when they're sad?

- I ask them what I can do to help, that way they get their needs met, guaranteed

wild strawberry: do you care what others think of you?

- not even a little bit (okay maybe a little bit)

glossy grape: recommend something to your followers

- Schitt's Creek, it's a Canadian sitcom surrounding the lives of a jewish family working to rebuild their lives. If you were ever a fan of Corner Gas, this has much the same vibe.

world wide web yellow: what's the last thing you looked up?

- rcmp headingley

shadow blue: do you have a darker side to you that most people are unaware of?

- maybe? I definitely have a darker side that I hide from people, but I don't know if people are unaware of it?

electric lime: what genre of music do you listen to?

- literally all except rap/hip hop and edm, I have a soft spot for 80s classic rock, and old school acoustic country

night owl: describe a very interesting dream you have had?

- all my dreams lately have been nightmares, forgive me but I don't feel like reopening that can of worms...

cornflower: what do you think about the most?

- my recovery process and snacks

grasshopper green: describe the area that you live in

- imagine a bunch of queer, millennial, hipsters could afford to buy a house and all congregated in the same neighborhood. It looks like that, except no one living in this area is a millennial or hipster... Lots of colourful houses, lots of flowers, lots of dogs!

misty moss: already answered!

tiny toad brown: do you find beauty in something other people consider to be ugly or undesirable?

- I hope to find beauty in everything, that said some things are just plain gross

sunnyside up: do you like waking up in the mornings or would you rather sleep in?

- I like the romanticism of having coffee and reading a book in the early morning while the sun is rising and getting a headstart on my day, but getting me out of bed to actually do that is a whole other thing

kitten gray: do you have any pets? if so, describe them.

- I have a cat named Mama Cat, she's 10 years old. I got her from my aunt who couldn't take care of her anymore. She's the smallest little lady! Her favourite things to do are sit in my lap while I do schoolwork, lay in front of the heat vent in our bathroom, and sit on the windowsill in the sunroom to watch the neighbor's dog, Phoebe, in the backyard.

I have a rat named Mr. Carlos, he'll be two in February! He's a zippy little guy who really likes baby food and napping. The man snores like a garbage truck and sleeps like the dead, if he's napping you literally cannot wake him up. He really likes head rubs and to play with people's hair.

I also have a snake named Slinky, she's 5 (so still a baby), and if she has a personality I have yet to see it. She sleeps and eats, and is generally grouchy.

rose dust: describe your aesthetic in 5 words or less

- classy, trinket-hoarding, grandma

timber wolf: do you give second chances when somebody has wronged you?

- I give second, third, fourth, fifth, etc. chances. I'm working on building healthy personal boundaries

freshly squeezed: what excites you?

- new music, family get togethers, cranberries

firefly red: what gives you purpose?

- my own personal growth, my studies, my work, my family

tiny teapot tan: do you consider yourself cute/attractive?

- I am THE cutest, idk why y'all can't see it...

raindrop blue: describe the weather outside.

- the sky is grey, the snow has covered the ground, except for the places its been shoveled, it's chilly but not cold. You could wear a big sweater outside and not need a jacket.

sweet pea green: do you have/want children?

- I think I'd like one kid, but I'm not having children until the climate crisis is resolved, I think it's irresponsible to bring a kid into the world that doesn't have a chance of living past 10

pussywillow: do you like being around others or do you like being alone?

- I prefer to be alone

jack 'o' lantern orange: what's your biggest fear and why?

- I'm dead afraid of spiders, something that bony, hairy, and with that many legs makes my skin crawl

baby bunny pink: do you look young for your age or do you look older than you are?

- I look like a 12 year old boy, but I'm actually 21...

mystic maroon: what confuses you and why?

- I don't understand millionaires or billionaires. If you have more money than you could ever spend in your lifetime, why are you hoarding it like a dragon instead of using to help people around you?

cosmic cobalt: what's your zodiac sign? do you think it's accurate?

- I'm a Gemini, Libra moon, Libra rising, and Gemini sun; it's 100% accurate

petal pink: describe your fashion sense as well as what you're wearing right now.

- my style goes from chaotic gay twink to little old man to punk rock teenager and everywhere in between, there is no sense to what I wear, really. I'm presently sporting mom jeans with a big belt, a low cut black button up short sleeve, and a knit sweater with a LOUD pattern.

mountain meadow: do you like taking care of others or do you prefer being cared for?

- I like to take care of others, helping people makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

fuzzy duckling yellow: is there something from childhood that you haven't outgrown?

- the muppets, they're a timeless treasure and I won't ever "grow out" of them

brussel sproutlet: do you have any unhealthy habits?

- several... I have a nasty nicotine addiction, I give too much of myself and have no personal boundaries, and I lose myself in other people. I'm working on it...

razzle dazzle rose: describe an ideal date

- if it's winter, going to a small coffee shop to drink and chat, or going to see the Christmas lights. If it's summer, going for a walk through a park or the forest, and holding hands the whole time!

periwinkle: what's something ordinary that has special meaning to you?

- I have a little brown teapot that is my prized possession; my grandpa gave it to me because he had a matching one, so that no matter who's house we were at we could have tea together after dinner. It's the teapot that started my collection.

mauvelous: do you think you deserve a better life than what you have right now?

- I have a really good life, I have dreams of what my future looks like, but I think it's important to do the work to build that future for myself. I don't think I deserve a better life, but that's not to say I don't deserve nice things, it's just that I already have nice things and people to share it with!

blueberry blue: do you get sad easily?

- I feed off of others' emotions very easily, so I do feel other people's sadness, but I'd say for the most part I'm usually quite happy.

purple mountains majesty: how does someone earn your respect?

- people have my respect right off the hop tbh, just because we're not pals doesn't mean you're undeserving of my respect. Earning my trust is a completely different thing, if you want that you've got to be honest and authentic with me, and respect me as well. A lot of give and take.

#answered

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napandasandwich · 6 years

Text

baby draft of something i’m working on to get through vento aureo feelings

our scars make us is the tentative title bc i cannot name things for the life of me

------

each section describes no color but that the new character brings and is associated with

until /green/ which describes trees getting their new leaves and, sparingly, the way the characters and their colors come together in harmony and discord, and each brings their own color to the scene, like spring

then the history, his perspective

then the sun, then the girl, then gold, then the end

1. orange 2. red 3. purple 4. blue 5. green 6. yellow 7. black & white 8. pink 9. gold 10. silver

----

orange is for fugo, like warning colors in animals, his bright anger and brighter intelligence, the shiver, the nervousness in nails bitten to the quick, the fidgeting, the simmering mass of emotions, the snapping to focus, his bright ostentatious clothes that he fidgets in, the orange jacket, bright bright bright and searing, to the point where you were surprised when his stand was purple, but it makes sense as his shadow, the purple of a bruise faded to orange smears at the edges, how anything made his skin go red, hand tap tap tapping an orange pen on the paperwork, artfully slicing a cheese, holding a boxcutter with a safety orange handle to a man’s eye, hands on various object with a nervousness before he set to the task but competency once he’s on his way, the love of rules and systems he knew but could never force himself to fit inside, last scene is him cutting an orange with a knife and offering it over more paperwork, orange pools of light in the late night warm companionship of bruno’s apartment, orange settling into bruno’s cool grey life and warming it

----

red is for narancia, the blood around him, the stink of infection and how easily his face goes red when he's angry or cries, passion and a loud voice and music and violence, everything about narancia is bright now that he's better and you would die to preserve that because always in your mind the image of a boy in a hospital bed, eyes and heart vacant and forgotten and scared, blood on the pillow and the way fugo's nails dug so deep into his hands they drew blood, and how when you banished naracia from joining you he didn't know that you'd already taken pains to kill/threaten those who'd hurt him, that fugo was in charge of keeping an eye on him and how your own rage had snapped when you found out fugo had given him an introduction to polpo, narancia's face going red when he cried and screamed as you tried to send him home, his cheeks still red when he fell asleep later, safe as you could make him while knowing that his blood was now already on your hands

----

Purple is mista, excess, freedom, the first time bruno picked one of his own, how bruised and hurt mista was by prison and that bruno got him his gun (? Check?), wine and all the rich things in life, crushed grapes, berries, a woman in a purple dress, his chatter to nara and fugo a background noise that drew fugo’s annoyance and nara out of himself, the sound of music in the house, mista ducking into a shop to come out with pastries for each of them sticky and oversweet, turning mista away as soon as the body in the alley drops, handing him off to fugo with a look as the purpleblack spreads on the pavement and bruno hurries to call stickyfingers, the sky overhead going purpledark in the summer as mista came wandering home from a long walk, gun in his waistband and a hum in his throat, bruises on his knuckles and a smile on his face, and his cheeks are never gaunt anymore

----

Blue is abbacchio, love and pain and lust and most of all a strange companionship. Power imbalance and worshipfulness, self-degradation, a beautiful afternoon, the stink of a drunk, the refinement and expansiveness he tries to crush, loving someone who wants to self destruct and how hard it is to have someone always turn away when you offer vulnerability, self doubt and finally a creeping despair of things changing, but through it all love love love, the swell of orchestra and the magnetism, the color of the open sky, something ascendant, of heaven, his old uniform and the sea beside the cafe where you first realized you were in love, blue bruises from fights and blue in the shadows of the bottles of liquor and the blue of blood and of a sacred broken heart, wishing he could see himself still, wishing he would see you, catching your breath that sometimes you think he does but the love lying unspoken between you is just as bright and unknowable as heaven itself, an open question forever unanswered

-----

Green (we green and growing things), a year of early spring, new leaves in the trees and something stirring in the air, the smell of cut plants, things were getting better for the gang

-----

Yellow is giorno's arrival, associated with light, flowers, bees, the sun, flashing everywhere in the reflection of a luxury car, he is like the sun and yet still almost a child, new things, perhaps the flowering of what began in green, his is hope

----

then in black and white, bruno's actual view becomes clear, rather than just scenes that include him as focus. colors become absent from bruno's life with the loss of his parents, and once he joins the gang formally and gets his stand he gives up on himself and his life includes no color/passion, only emptiness and careful balancing acts and unease.

Those colors are also identified with nero and then white noise on the phone (pledging allegiance to silence) and the simple logic of following orders, superiors and subordinates, gang members vs civilians/everyone else, who lives and who dies according to rules he just has to follow, step by step

(we also find out about bruno's particular method of body disposal and that that was a role he played before he was given his own subordinate in the form of fugo, partly because polpio felt bruno was wasted as a bullied junior member of another gang)

then one by one, he is given his gang (none were technically chosen by him, but each chose to stay with him) and color returns to his life, slowly, through his interactions with him which lead him to finally feel that there is perhaps more to life than taking orders until his untimely death.

----

in yellow it's revealed that although polpio nearly raised bruno for while and was always his direct superior, he was abusive. when giorno kills polpio bruno's feelings are mixed, but the end result is still that giorno killed his abuser and freed an essential part of him that had until then been trapped.

----

in pink we discover that bruno's choice to save trish was the *first* time he had ever gone against orders at all, and that yes he was both dead and freaking out v badly. but she was someone he could save, the way he had wanted to keep his gang safe and even get them out of the gang one day. and she reminded him of his mother, quiet and strong-willed and unfairly treated as a pawn by the world.

----

gold is about bruno's feelings about giorno re the longevity of the gang and it's stability if something happened to him, and his own choice to embrace battle and a final death in the face of a way to break the cycle of the world in which his has grown up and that has shaped and hurt every one of his people. willingness to see the world change, at any cost, even though he never wanted to pay the price it took and did begin to doubt himself, but in the end there is only one choice, a final choice, and everything else doesn't matter.

short section about bruno's willness to die, and his gratitude for each of the people who brought color to his life, as it begins to seep away for a final time

Trish. Giorno. Abbacchio. Mista. Narancia. Fugo. I'm sorry.

----

[drop silver as a chapter name, use epilogue?]

a man walks by a cafe where someone gets up to help him with a bag, their walking leads them through an alleyway where the taller tugs the shorter to a brief stop, a momentary kiss, they talk of their friends briefly, and then they go on together beyond the bend in the road

----

I'd forgot how to daydream So consumed with the wrong things, but in The dark, I realized this life is short And deep down, I'm still a child Playful eyes, wide and wild, I can't Lose hope, what's left of my heart's still made of gold

and i know that i'm still fucked up but aren't we all my love darling our scars make us who we are, are

when the winds are howling strong and you feel you can't go on hold tight sweetheart you'll find a rainbow/

Rainbow - Kesha

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