I'm fascinated by how the animators for TADC handle Caine's impossible anatomy so well. There's so much to balance and they've somehow engineered a solution for his expressions to hold during speech.
I also traced Caine answering the phone from episode 4 to demonstrate his phonemes and mouth shapes.
So i was re-reading some of your delightful, absolutely delightful texts and had a silly idea, just the silliest.
We ALL know how we are kind of accident prone sometimes, small misfortunes all around. And unfortunetaly for our little kitty thief, they just had the biggest misfortune of all their thieving career. Beaten and bruised, and feeling rather lost. They come just in time for a special dinner for two, with their favorite dish steaming just out the oven.
AN The sillies of silly, I thought this was cute— STOP. Cats sometimes hide when they're hurt did you know that? And to have Maca come to you? In need??? I'm THROWING
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The thing about Macavity was that they had always been lucky.
Not skilled—though they were certainly that. Not clever—though nobody who'd ever chased them across three rooftops and through a museum skylight would deny it. Lucky.
Lucky enough that security guards always seemed to glance away at the right moment. Lucky enough that locked windows were left unlatched, that cameras malfunctioned at convenient times, that every impossible escape somehow became merely difficult.
Macavity liked to think it was because fate found them charming. Tonight, fate appeared to have gotten sick of their attitude.
Their ribs ached with every breath. One eye had swollen enough to blur the edge of their vision, and blood had long since dried stiffly against the collar of their shirt. Their left hand trembled every now and then when they flexed it, a painful reminder of a fight they had never intended to have.
The job itself had been simple, or at least, it had started that way. A quick grab. An easy entrance. A faster exit.
Then someone else had shown up. Someone bigger, meaner. Someone who apparently lacked the common decency to appreciate dramatic banter before throwing punches.
Macavity limped down a rain-slick street with their hands buried deep in their pockets and their hood pulled low. Every sensible instinct told them to disappear for a few days. Find somewhere safe, lay low, patch themself up and figure out what had gone wrong.
Instead, they found themself staring up at a familiar apartment building. The light in your kitchen window was still on, warm yellow light spilled through the curtains, soft against the darkness gathering outside. It looked welcoming in a way few places ever had, safe in a way Macavity rarely allowed themself to think about.
They stood there longer than they meant to. Then, with a sigh, they made their way toward the fire escape.
By the time they reached your balcony, every muscle in their body felt heavy. The climb should not have exhausted them this much. Normally they could scale half a building without breaking a sweat.
The distinction bothered them more than they cared to admit. The window slid open with familiar ease. Of course it wasn't locked. You had listened exactly zero times whenever Macavity lectured you about apartment security.
They climbed inside and immediately stopped. The scent hit them first, something warm, savory and unmistakably familiar. Their gaze drifted toward the kitchen.
The table was already set. Two plates, two glasses, candles. And sitting on the counter, still steaming from the oven, was their favorite meal.
For a moment, Macavity simply stared. A strange feeling settled heavily in their chest at the realization that somebody had been waiting for them. "Well," they muttered quietly, "that's unfortunate."
You appeared from the kitchen a second later, drying your hands on a dish towel. The smile that greeted them was immediate. Bright, warm, and to him, dangerously effective.
"There you are. I was starting to think you'd gotten distracted by some shiny object and—" You stopped, smile vanishing in an instant, Macavity hated when that happened, because they could see the exact moment you noticed everything. The bruises, the split lip, the blood, the limp.
Your expression shifted instantly from fond exasperation to concern, "Oh." The dish towel slipped from your hand. "Macavity."
The way you said their name made something twist painfully in their chest. They tried for a grin, it came out uneven. "Good news," they announced.
You crossed the room immediately.. "No."
"I'm still devastatingly attractive."
"No."
"I think this black eye adds character." By then you were close enough to get a proper look at them your jaw tightened. "Macavity."
"That's the third time you've said my name. At this rate you're going to wear it out."
You reached for them, just carefully, one hand settling against their shoulder as though testing whether they were actually standing upright.
The simple touch nearly unraveled them, which was ridiculous.. They'd been punched, kicked, shoved into walls, and chased across rooftops. A hand on their shoulder should not have affected them more than any of that.
And yet for a brief moment, Macavity found themself leaning into it before catching themself. Your eyes narrowed, "You need to sit down."
"I'm fine."
"You climbed through my window looking like you lost a bar fight."
"I won the bar fight."
"You absolutely did not."
"There wasn't technically a bar involved."
"Sit." The command carried exactly the same tone you'd used when they'd tried to eat expired convenience store sushi.
Macavity, who had successfully escaped armed guards on multiple occasions, folded immediately, it was deeply embarrassing.
You guided them toward the couch while they grumbled under their breath about personal freedoms and oppressive healthcare practices. The complaints only grew louder when you returned carrying a first aid kit.
The sight of it made them groan dramatically. "Oh, come on." Your eyebrow lifted. "What?"
"Surely I've suffered enough."
"You're bleeding on my couch."
"That's not blood."
You stared. Macavity stared back, "...Fine. It's a little blood."
"A little?"
"An artistic amount."
Despite the reputation they had, and the half unfunny joke Maca pulled out from an unseen hat, you still offered them a small smile despite the shake of your head. There it was, the entire reason they'd dragged themself here in the first place.
Because that was the truth, wasn't it? Not the food, not the couch, not even the safety. They'd come here because they wanted you.
Because when everything went wrong, when the world stopped feeling predictable and they stopped feeling invincible, there was only one place they ever wanted to be.
And unfortunately for their dignity, that place was wherever you happened to be.
You knelt in front of them, opening the med kit with the efficient confidence of someone who had patched them up far too many times before.
The sight should have been concerning, instead, Macavity found themself watching you with a strange softness they hoped you wouldn't notice.
Your fingers brushed their jaw gently as you examined the swelling. The touch was careful.
"If you're about to say something stupid," you warned without looking up, "don't." Macavity smiled despite the sting in their lip. "I was going to say you're pretty."
You sighed, and somehow that made them smile even more.
I am finally free from this semester of Uni, I'm just waiting on the results of my two final classes, yippee! But, I've been seeing a lot of Tiny/Giant fluff, soooo...
How about Sylvian with a reader whose movements become harsher when they're angry? Like walking faster, doing things more abrasively, stuff like that; but, the moment they notice Sylvian is now there, they actively soften themselves. Don't get me wrong, they're still mad, but they know to soften themselves so as not to hurt or scare him. And, how would Sylvian react if one of those times he notices that change?
Aaaahhhh!! I don't know, I just LOVE the whole, giant softening themselves even if they're angry or tense to make their small partner feel safe trope, it truly pulls at my heartstrings (((ＵωＵ｀ *)
“Room For Him”
Tags: Male Fairy X GN Reader | Quiet Devotion | Gentle Giants | Protective Softness & Being Loved in the Small Things.
AN HELLO RING sending you every ounce of luck I have so you finish your classes well. Everyone is finishing and I still have 1 more month uhuhuuu. You are so right I love Giant going gentle for small, Imma be honest I had no idea how to tag this, I hope you enjoy!
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The axe came down with a crack. Then again.. And again.
Woodchips scattered across the clearing. The unfortunate log never stood a chance. You weren't usually rough with things. Not intentionally. But today had been long, frustrating, and packed full of little annoyances that had piled together into one unpleasant knot beneath your ribs.
So the firewood was suffering for it.
Crack.
Another strike. Your jaw clenched.
Crack.
A little harder this time. You barely noticed how sharp your movements had become. The way your shoulders were tight. The way your boots dug into the earth.
The way every motion carried a little too much force behind it.
Then—
Sylvian hovered nearby, framed by sunlight filtering through the trees. His orchid-colored wings shimmered as he drifted closer, carrying a small flower nearly half his size.
"Darling?" The familiar voice drifted through the clearing. Instantly, you paused.
You blinked. And just like that, something inside you softened.
The next breath came easier. The tension didn't disappear—not entirely—but it settled. You lowered the axe carefully instead of dropping it.
His brows knit together. "You sound irritated."
Your shoulders relaxed. "Hey, Syl."
"I am irritated."
"Aha." He landed atop the chopping block, crossing his legs elegantly. "At least you're honest."
The thing was, Sylvian had seen you angry before. You weren't cruel. You weren't frightening, not to him. But humans were... big.
Big footsteps. Big emotions. Big movements.
Until he started paying attention. When you were frustrated while cooking, your spoon scraped the pot a little harder. Then Sylvian would flutter onto the counter.
When you were upset, the world seemed to feel it. And yet the moment you noticed him nearby you always changed. At first he thought he imagined it.
Immediately your movements would become slower. Gentler. More deliberate.
When you paced while thinking, your strides were quick and agitated. Until you spotted him perched on a shelf. Then your steps would shorten.
Your feet would land softer.
Even your voice changed, nothing was forced. Just... Careful.
And the more Sylvian noticed it, the less he knew what to do with the feeling it gave him.
A few days later, he found himself sitting on your shoulder while you repaired a torn pack strap. The leather refused to cooperate. Your fingers jerked. The needle slipped, you hissed under your breath.
Then you noticed Sylvian leaning against your neck, immediately your hands slowed. You repositioned the strap. Took a breath and tried again.
Sylvian stared.
"What?" you asked.
"Nothing." A lie, an obvious one too.
He was still thinking about it hours later. The two of you were curled beside the fire that evening.
Well.
You were curled beside the fire, Sylvian was bundled inside the oversized folds of your sweater with only his head poked out. His wings twitched sleepily against your chest.
For once, he wasn't talking. Which should have warned you. Eventually he spoke up.
"So." You looked down.
"So?"
His fingers fidgeted with the fabric beneath him. "You always do that."
"I genuinely don't."
"Do what?" His nose scrunched. "As though you don't know."
Sylvian sighed dramatically. Then, after a long pause— "You make room for me."
You blinked. "...What?"
"When you're upset." His voice was muffled. "You stomp around and glare at things."
His cheeks immediately turned pink. "Oh, don't make me explain it." A groan escaped him, he buried his face against your chest.
"Rude."
The realization hit immediately. "Oh."
"It's true." He pointed triumphantly despite still being buried in your sweater. Then his hand slowly lowered. "And then I show up, and you become careful."
"Yes, oh."
You stared at the fire, thinking about how to answer him. "Well... I mean you're tiny."
Sylvian looked up, his expression flattened. "Wonderful."
"I mean it nicely."
"Somehow that's worse."
You laughed. The sound rumbled through your chest beneath him. He felt every bit of it. "I just don't want to accidentally knock you over." You reached up, brushing a finger through his hair. "Or scare you."
Sylvian suddenly understood something. You weren't calming down because you thought he was fragile. You weren't treating him differently because he was small. You were doing it because you loved him.
"Oh." This time it was his turn, your hand continued petting through his hair. Slow and gentle. The same way you always touched him, like he was precious.
The realization hit harder than any declaration ever could. His wings fluttered once, twice. Then he climbed from the folds of your sweater and settled against your collarbone.
A small nod. "I like that you think about me."
"Syl?" He pressed his forehead beneath your jaw. "...I like it."
Your smile softened. "Yeah?"
His voice was barely above a whisper now. "You never stop being yourself." His fingers curled against your shirt.
"You're still angry, you still get frustrated. But..." He swallowed. "You always make room for me anyway."
Without a word, you lifted a hand and pressed a kiss against his forehead. Sylvian froze. Then immediately buried himself against your neck. "Don't look at me."
The look on his face nearly broke your heart. Because for all his confidence and flair and endless demands for affection, this mattered.
"I wasn't."
"Good." You giggled again.
And despite his embarrassment, despite the warmth spreading across his cheeks Sylvian didn't move away.
In fact, he somehow managed to scoot even closer. Tucked safely beneath your chin, wrapped in your warmth, he allowed himself a tiny smile.
Because no matter how angry the world made you, there was always a place where your touch became gentle. And somehow, impossibly—
AUGHGUHHAHG, THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I MEANT, IM GOING TO EXPLO-💥
Your writing is always so freaking delightful and delicious, I lose sleep re-reading all of your works and I just can't get enough of them!!!! You are an amazing writer, you understand exactly what I mean each and every time, clown to clown communication is in its prime!!!
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