#But my thoughts and the way I write them are quite complex and difficult

[parvulous-writings]

Could I request dating headcanons for Viktor, Jayce, Vander, Silco, and Ekko with gn s/o? - Fluff anon P S. Please delete the first one because I forgot to put my name 🤣

Warnings: None, I don't think! Just fluff :3

Notes: Thank you, once again, fluff anon!! Was very fun getting to write a couple of these, as I've not written for a few of them before! :3 My requests are currently open! My request post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! 

Viktor

- Viktor doesn’t always “have time” for personal affections outside of the laboratory - he tries his best, but he gets so focused and stuck into his work that everything else fades away. His work, some weeks quite literally, is his life. He spends days on end there, hardly going home, all in the pursuit of progress. That is, until you slowly start showing him that, yes, there is time for those small affections. Small talk, stolen laughter as he works. It’s a very slow process, but eventually, he does begin to relent, and show some of these affections back. - He loves when you join him in the lab - even if you’re unable or unwilling to help him with his tasks, he likes having you there. He appreciates the company. With Jayce coming around the lab less and less, even for a man of Viktor’s minimal social need, it’s a struggle. He’s feeling the loneliness, which is something he never thought he’d been affected by. Having you there, even if you’re doing something entirely different to him, makes him feel so much better, so much less alone. - When not spending time in the lab, he likes to go on walks through the academy and it’s gardens with you. Sure, you both have to take it a bit slow, but it helps him clear his head - and a walk is the perfect opportunity to have a nice, proper conversation with you. A time to catch up - like what you’ve been doing outside of your many visits to him, or how your other friends and family may be doing. Despite being a very work-oriented man, he does take an interest in your life, too - such is the way of someone so in love such as he. - He struggles to show the affection that he feels for you, sometimes. He knows that most show it through physical means - hugs, kisses, and the like - but he’s not typically a very touchy man. He likes to be approached first. If you initiate a kiss, or a hug, he will gladly reciprocate - but he struggles to know when, or how, to initiate these himself. He instead shows his affection through his creations - little side-projects that he works on when he’s dealing with a mental block with his main projects. Some of them are little trinkets - ornaments for the mantle, or fancy looking mechanisms akin to a complex child’s ornament. Others are to help you around the home. Things for cleaning, or for reaching hard to get spots. 

Jayce

- In a similar sense to Viktor, Jayce sometimes struggles in juggling all of his responsibilities, and his time is very often split between you, working with Viktor (which is becoming less and less of an occurrence) and his time with the council and the political figures within. Some days it’s hard to have a conversation with him that lasts for more than 5 minutes, because the poor man just gets so overwhelmed with his attention being pulled in every direction known to man. - In terms of quality time, he likes spending it in his chambers - or yours. Doesn’t overly matter. What matters is that you’re both shut away from the prying eyes of the world, responsibilities left outside the door, and work shoved into a distant corner of both of your minds. He likes to put his head in your lap and let your fingers run through his hair - it’s a feeling that often lulls him into near-sleep. A state that is very much needed and appreciated, with how stressed he gets, he often finds it difficult to actually relax or get any sleep that helps him feel rested. - Although he tries to keep the majority of his work life and love  life separate, there are times when an idea just… Hits him. He has to get it out, has to tell someone just to get those words out of his brain and into existence. Most of the time, this person is now you - even if you have absolutely no clue what half of the words he’s saying are, just smile, nod, and ask a couple of basic questions so his brain can turn it’s gears and work out the kinks he can think of. You just need to help him get the ball rolling - once he’s got those ideas down in rudimentary note form, he can take them to the lab, and he and Viktor can get the real work started. (He usually forgets that most of the time it’s Viktor who ends up doing the majority of the work). - He likes sleeping near to you - in fact quite early on in your relationship, he refuses to sleep without you at least in the room with him. This went on for… A very long time, and still hasn’t completely gone away. He particularly likes hugging you in his sleep; whether he’s the big or little spoon, it doesn’t matter to him (it changes mainly based on how good or bad his day has been), so long as he’s able to feel his skin against yours, he’s a happy man. A very happy man, indeed. - If you want this man to do something - and do it very willingly, with a massive grin on his face - give him some food. If you bribe him with food - particularly cakes, and perhaps some nice savoury items - he’s at your every whim, your every beck and call.

Vander

- Vander is a very affectionate man; he loves calling you by anything other than your name, loves physical displays of affection, and just… Being very domestic. He may be called the ‘Hound of the Underground’, but most of the time he’s little more than a dog who longs for affection - his more hound-like, violent days are long behind him, now. After all, he’s a father of four, he’s got an example to set. And he feels that the domestic life, despite his unfamiliarity with it, is the life he can best do that in. - Vander loves cooking with you. Or, well, trying to cook. 9/10 something goes wrong somehow; someone will spill something, a dish will overcook despite having been in the oven under the recommended cooking time.Though, a lot of the time, that can be attributed to… Little helpers, trying their hand at cooking. Vander doesn’t usually mind all that much - unless they try to  actively force themselves into the situation after he’s already said no - as he can normally whip up an edible meal quite quickly. The last 1/10 times is when the kids are all tucked up and asleep, and he’s taking his sweet time teaching you how to cook some of their (and his) favourite meals. - He always has a chair reserved for you in The Last Drop. Well, two, actually - so you have options on where you can sit. There’s one at the end of the bar, so you can be close to him as he works, and you can keep an eye on him as he serves. Then there’s also another one in a secluded corner booth, where you can still see one another, but you’re a little more on your own in case you don’t really want to be bothered by anyone else. He’ll nip over there every so often to make sure you don’t feel too lonely, and to top up your drink for you. More often than not he also brings a snack over too - just in case. He can’t have you going hungry, now, can he? - He likes it when you help him close up for the night - he tells you every time that you don’t need to, it’s alright, he can handle it, but secretly, he loves the fact that you’re able or eager to pitch in with him. Hell, even if you’re just sitting on the bar, talking to him, he’s a happy man.

Silco

- Silco spoils you in some ways, but not all. Yes, he has his claws in every nook and cranny of Zaun, and you have lived without want since you started dating him, but he never wants you to slip into overindulgence - mainly when it comes to material belongings. He doesn’t want you to end up taking anything for granted. There’s always that possibility, in the back of his mind, that everything may be stolen away at any moment. You need to be prepared for that. - He likes being in your presence. You could be doing entirely different things in the same room, and he’d be happy. He isn’t a massive fan of being left on his own, normally. The only real exception to that rule is when he’s majorly pissed off with something or someone, and even then your presence can usually lull him back to a sense of calm. He doesn’t have a particular ‘happy place’ unless you count being by your side. For a man who is normally so dour, he’s sweet to you. - If you ever have an opinion on an issue that he’s trying to fix - be that economy related, or general public relations - he’s happy to listen to you. He’ll take your views into account, though he may push back and debate with you over things, always trying to look at the bigger picture or the long game. Though he is often ever so tempted to make decisions based on your quality of life and joy, he is very aware that he can’t do so - not if he wants the nation under his rule to live on. - He tries his best, for the most part, to keep you and the unsavoury business of his job separate. He wasn’t sure if he could bear the idea of you getting tangled up in it all - and there was no way at all that he would want to subject you to any of the gory sights he had had to witness over the years. While he made sure you were at least aware of the goings on around the Undercity, the thought of you getting caught up in it - especially caught up in the gang activity - made his blood run cold. He wanted you to be aware of what life could be, if worst came to worst, of course, but he would never let you actually live it so long as he was alive. 

Ekko

- Ekko is BIG on physical touch. Whenever you’re within arms reach, he has to have a hand on you - not in a gropey way, but more… That he likes having the knowledge that you’re there, close to him. His hand will be on your shoulder, or the small of your back, or holding your hand. He especially loves holding your hand; he can twirl you around, pull you in for a hug or kiss, or even do something as mundane as swinging your hands back and forth a little bit as the pair of you walk together. There’s something so special to him about physical contact - and this leeches over into hugs as well. He loves hugging you to nap or sleep; it brings him a sense of calmness and security. He doesn’t care where, or in what position you sleep in, so long as he’s able to feel you he’s fine with it. - He likes sharing his clothes with you; no matter the weather. You’re cold? His jacket will warm you right up. Oh, you’re hot? Here, have his shirt, it’s a lighter colour it won’t attract as much heat. Seeing you wear his clothing is something that sparks a little bit of joy in his heart - he LOVES it. And if you let him wear some of your clothes? The cycle will be complete, and he will not let you go - you already have a special place in his heart, and it will be entirely solidified if you let him have some of your clothes. - He likes walking with you. Be it around the grounds of your communal home, or in the Lanes. It’s a brilliant way to bond, he thinks. You can talk, or stay quiet, it doesn’t matter. And if you struggle a bit with the parkour that sometimes needs to be done to traverse the undercity? Not to worry, Ekko will teach you. When he’s not being pursued, he’s a very patient teacher - he’ll tell you what point to jump from and how to land so you don’t hurt your ankles or knees - and so you don’t fall off. Once you’ve at least got a steady foot, he’ll take you to all his favourite spots, to all the best views of both the undercity, and topside. - Eventually, Ekko may ask you if you want to help with the massive memorial mural in the centre of the communal hideout - nothing major, just touchups of the paint where it’s started to fade or flake away. It’s important to him to keep it vibrant, so that people won’t forget all those who have been lost over the years. After a few visits, he lets you know that you can add anyone you’ve lost to Silco or the enforcers, if you so wish. He doesn’t force the idea upon you, but he just quietly tells you, that if you’re comfortable enough, if you want to, you can. He’d even help you, if you wanted. He wants you to be as comfortable as is possible - even when confronting grief. 

[identitty-dickruption]

Is there anything that you see when someone writes addiction/alcohol addiction specifically that really annoys you? As someone trying to write something related rn, having someone who actually knows about it's perspective is really useful :]. Obviously no pressure to answer! Have a nice day <3

oh absolutely yes. I've seen some truly shocking things of late. and also in general very happy to bitch about it for a bit

it may sound obvious but don't. like. blame the entirety of a person's addiction on a single factor or act like "if only they had access to x piece of information, they wouldn't be an addict!". in candy house by Jennifer Egan, one of the characters became an addict because of her dyslexia and her inability to find fictional characters who Truly Understood Her. don't do that.

try not to smooth them out into a singular dimensional person. or even a two dimensional person (where the two dimensions are addiction and trauma or whatever). an addict is a human being. weirdly difficult for people to conceptualise this

NOBODY gets withdrawal right. withdrawal is Not a couple shakes and then you're good. withdrawal can last weeks, if not months, depending on how dependent the person was on the substance and depending on what the substance is

similar to the above, if someone relapses while they're experiencing withdrawal, the withdrawal symptoms do not immediately disappear. if you're throwing your guts up you won't be magically fine the moment you get your substance in you. you will still feel incredibly shit for a good couple hours Minimum

implying that addiction is inherently irrational, or selfish, or stupid. addiction is a response to a set of circumstances that make sense to a person at the time. nobody becomes an addict for shits and giggles. there is always something else going on

likewise, the "high functioning alcoholic" trope has. problems. like I spent an entire year being tipsy non-stop while I was also doing alright in university and whatever. very definition of high-functioning alcoholism I guess. but I think those characters are done Poorly a lot of the time in that the nature of the interpersonal issues they have never feels Quite Right

"I got sober for love" shut the fuck up. "you saved me from myself" go away. "one real human relationship fixed my dependency on substances" no it did not. if love cured all ills, I would be the healthiest guy on the planet. it simply does not work that way <- falling in love makes it easier to love myself and have hope for the future but at the end of the day I'm still a traumatised bitch who struggles with shit

the entire concept of an intervention. addiction does not end with One Grand Event that will make everything better. forcing someone to go to rehab barely ever works. interventions are not one-off events, they are a series of kind and compassionate conversations that occur over a long period of time

sorry this ended up being a lot more than I thought it would. I think if you asked me again tomorrow I would have five to ten more things to bitch about. idk. people get the complexities of addiction wrong A Lot and I've read/seen more bad rep than good rep. but oh well. it's important to me that people are out there trying their best to do better! so thanks for asking

[merakiui]

Mera!! ( ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ )

What’s your take on the octatrio reacting to an omega reader using their clothes or other items in their nest when they’re going into heat? I’m particularly curious what you think of Azul since idk if you’ve ever characterized him as an alpha. But I think all of them could be so cute regardless! Omega/omega and omega/beta have such good potential! ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

They could be in a relationship, but I think it’d also be fun if reader just snatches their stuff without asking. Aaaaaaaaa (╥﹏╥) I just miss classic omegaverse tropes sm

:O omg I have so many thoughts about this!!! I love this trope,,, it's so cute and there are so many ways it could go depending on dynamic. I like to write Azul as an alpha because of my own self-indulgent preferences, but also I like to imagine he was an incredibly late bloomer and everyone thought he was an omega for the longest time until he finally has an actual rut and !!!!!! I could ramble on about that forever. <3 but I do agree!! There's so much delicious potential with non-traditional abo pairings!!!!

Being besties with them...... something something they're so attuned to your scent because you're close and so it's fairly easy for them to locate you,,, quite literally sniffing you out!!! I think seeing you cuddled up in your nest with his clothes and any other things that smell like him would make Azul feel so much better about your relationship, whether platonic or romantic. It reaffirms that you like him and are comforted by his presence and scent. That you trust him. Of course there's also the characteristics of your heat that make you much more receptive to him, which he'll use to explain and rationalize everything. T_T but deep down he's pleased and hopes that one day you'll ask him for his clothes. He wants to see you clinging to his shirt or wrapping yourself up in one of his sweaters all the time!!!

Floyd...... oooohh he thinks you're just the cutest. He'll keep his distance at first. He doesn't want to startle you or stress you out. But since it's him, you're familiar with his scent and it makes him happy when your pheromones are purely sweet and stress-free. <3 waaaa he adores you!!! You'll have to invite Floyd into your nest if you want him to come close and even then he's still hesitant because you're not in the right mind (if you're just friends). He's willing to lend you as much of his clothes as you want for your nest. It's cute seeing Shrimpy get so particular about everything, even more so when he sees you bundled up in his sleep sweatshirt. Floyd has really good restraint, so if you aren't in an established relationship then he'll tread carefully and do as you ask (unless if it's something outlandish,, like you asking him to knot you, to which he'll giggle and playfully dodge the demand with: "Shrimpy doesn't really mean that~") he understands omega hindbrain is usually running on carnal instinct anyway.

Jade is impossible to read most of the time, and when you do try to read him it's like solving a complex equation. >_< he can be so difficult (usually on purpose) sometimes... most of his teasing is there to distract you from his body language, how he's always so relaxed around you, but when you're in heat the last thing you're trying to do is dissect and analyze Jade's behaviors. Beneath that sharp smile of amusement, there's genuine sweetness and it's quite a heartwarming sight to see you hugging a bunch of his laundry close. Jade wouldn't be Jade if he isn't taking photos to later tease you about when you're not so heat-brained. He'll ask you silly and obvious questions like "Do you find my scent that enjoyable?" just to have his suspicions validated. Jade will stay to look after you and ensure all is well if that's what you'd like, but if you want anything specific from him you'll have to use your words and ask~ >:) how is he supposed to know otherwise? Give Jade one chance and he'll spoil you rotten in that nest, tending to your every need.

[nicxl333]

could you do a part 2 of bllk boys accidentally hurting their partner bu with a good ending please.

My stomach wouldn't be able to handle mor angst(⁠T⁠T⁠)

BABY YOU SOLD ME A DREAM PT.2

thanks for the req anon, i think you’re doing everyone a favour here by asking for this because whew! i was ready to dropkick a mf from writing pt.1 lmao

also if you’re here by chance it’s probably best if you read pt.1 for context before you read pt.2 | :3

characters: isagi yoichi, reo mikage, nagi seishiro, barou shoei, itoshi rin

content: overwhelming fluff, slight angst, major angst (in rin and barou’s part), reader is female coded (the term ‘girlfriend ‘ is used)

tags: @kaiserkisser @silly-ez @scaramouchemyloveee @mariyumemi @wishiknewwhatiwasdoingwithmylife @hsxhype @aquamarine001 @nxgiswife @hanagoromo-roses

☆彡 ISAGI YOICHI

two weeks. two long, monotonous weeks spent without isagi. yes bachira did his very best to make sure you were comfortable with him, but you missed isagi so damn much.

it wasn’t only difficult for you though, bachira was trapped in a bad position. due to him being a friend of both you and isagi, he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. while it was evident that isagi had fucked you over badly, being in a team with isagi and having him as a bestfriend didn’t make things better. he couldn’t just pick a side and be done with it.

unbeknownst to you though, isagi asked bachira multiple times each day about how you were doing. after some self reflection, he realised just how wrong he was for treating you that way. especially since people like you nowadays are hard to come by. someone so nurturing, caring and full of love and devotion for their s/o was quite the rarity to find. and to think he nearly lost all of that with just a few words. really opened up his perspective of things. he wanted to do better. for you and himself.

and so, he cut down his training times, making more time for himself to wind down from daily intensive workouts. he thought of words to say to you, to make it known to you that he was aware where he went wrong and was taking responsibility for his actions.

he also went shopping, to buy you a multitude of gifts. clothes, jewellery, trainers and heels, perfumes, trinkets. you name it, he bought it. it all cost him a hand and a foot, but he didn’t mind, he would do it 100 times over for you. (we should remember this man is a professional footballer, he’s got dough.) once home, he placed all the gifts on the coffee table in the living room, having to put some on the floor due to the sheer amount he bought, ready to take them to bachira’s tomorrow.

little did he know he wouldn’t have to make the commute.

you had said your goodbyes to bachira that same day, thanking him for taking you in for so long with a big bear hug, to which he returned with just as much (platonic) love as you had shown him. you placed your bag in the backseat of your car, turning on the ignition and beginning the drive back home.

as the roads whizzed by you on the highway, so did the thoughts in your head. you were very nervous to have to talk to isagi again, to have to recall exactly what happened that night. glancing at the time on the dashboard, you drew the conclusion that isagi should be training right now, which would at least give you time to prepare before he got back.

as you pulled up to the apartment complex, the first thing you noticed was that isagi’s car was there, in his usual spot next to yours.

‘he’s home?’

surely not, maybe he just hitched a ride or something. although that didn’t make any sense whatsoever. there would be no reason why isagi would skip his evening trainings, not that you could think of anyways. even after joint practice with his team he would then further push himself to do his own training, polishing up on his skills. so to think he’s potentially broken that pattern confused you.

after parking your car and collecting your things you made your way to your front door, unlocking it and venturing in. once you placed your keys on the side table and took off your shoes, you walked into the empty living room, ultimately puzzled when you noticed the coffee table filled to the brim with bags from your favourite places.

“yoichi? you there?”

nothing.

you therefore assumed he was out, deciding to take a closer look at the bags. inside, everything you had ever bought for yourself or displayed interest in while out with isagi lay in each bag. even things that you didn’t have, but wanted, were present.

he remembered.

your eyes immediately welled with tears of appreciation, head snapping to your bedroom door when you heard it open, isagi’s figure stepping out. you immediately jolted, not expecting him to actually be here, even though you didn’t actually take the time to look and see properly.

“shit! y/n, you’re back? wait, why’re you crying?”

in an instant he crossed the distance to you, wiping the tears away once he assessed and evaluated that you were not hurt.

“uh— sorry. i should’ve asked you first. is this okay?” he quizzed, holding the sides of your face tenderly. you nodded, leaning into his touch.

“are these for me yoichi?” you looked into his cobalt blue eyes. one hand left your cheek, rubbing at the skin behind his neck, suddenly feeling shy.

“erm…yes. yes they are. i wasn’t expecting you back though, i was gonna surprise you tomorrow. ” he pulled you towards the sofa, sitting you down and looking deep into your (e/c) eyes.

“look y/n, i know materialism doesn’t take away what i did to you, but i want you to know just how sorry i am. you didn’t deserve how i treated you. not two weeks ago or months before. i made you feel lonely, i put football before you. when you needed me, i shut you out. and i take full accountability for that. words couldn’t describe just how badly i’m in love with you and how crazy you make me feel. i couldn’t bear to lose that forever. hell, these two weeks without you have tormented me enough. a lifetime without you would finish me off for good.”

you listened to him speak every word, touched that he would say such soothing words to you. yes, you did expect him to apologise, but not to go above and beyond to show his willingness to change.

your nose started flaring, the sting of your eyes warning that you were about to cry again.

feeling uncomfortable with your silence, isagi pressed you slightly.

“y/n? are you— are you oka-”

you cut him off by pouncing on him, engulfing him in a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him like it was your last.

“i’m yours yoichi. always and forever.”

☆彡 MIKAGE REO

you woke up in the same hotel room you cried yourself to sleep in. throat dry, head pulsating and heart wounded. you needed some form of rejuvenation, but, considering you didn’t have any clothes on you, seemed hard to achieve.

you reached for your phone, shocked when you saw 20 missed calls and 46 messages from the very same person who caused you anguish in the first place. opening the message app you see the most recent messages being sent at around 5am.

“y/n, where are you?”

“y/n please answer the phone!”

“are you safe at least, i’m worried about you.”

“i just wanna know if you’re okay, we need to talk.”

“y/n?”

“y/n please, im starting to worry, just send me a text, or something. let me know you’re okay.”

although you were beyond pissed at the guy, he was concerned for your safety, and to make him worry for you like that shouldn’t have to be something anyone should experience.

you sent him a quick, straightforward response.

“i’m fine, you don’t need to worry.”

the read receipt came as quickly as you sent it, a bubble popping up, signaling that reo was typing. however, after a few moments, it disappeared altogether, leaving your message standing alone.

you sighed, deciding that the least you could do was shower, feeling clammy and, simply put, dirty.

luckily, your job was well paying so you were able to book a lavish en-suite hotel room, although you didn’t pay attention to that much last night, willing to go just about anywhere as long as it weren’t near reo. inside the bathroom lay exquisite amenities, top branded shower gel, shampoo and conditioner, along with oils and different expensive face care products. an unopened toothbrush pack also was present on the bathroom counter, with toothpaste alongside it. and by the full glass shower itself stood a towel and robe on the hanging rack.

it weren’t exactly clothes, but it was a start. better than staying in your dress the whole day. while you waited for the shower water to warm you looked at yourself in the mirror, cringing at how dishevelled your figure was. your cheeks were tear stained, causing your mascara to run, your lips had smeared lipstick still present, and your hair? let’s not even go there. you looked a hot mess, physical evidence of your current mood.

once heated to a substantial temperature you stepped into the shower, revelling at how that warm water melted into your skin. you made good work of scrubbing down your skin, leaving no traces of any events that may have transpired the day before.

soon enough you finished up your shower, stepping out and wrapping the towel round your figure, feeling refreshed, but still incomplete. you brushed your teeth next, trying to avoid letting your thoughts go off topic from the current task at hand.

just as you were walking into the room itself to look for moisturiser, you heard a knock at the door. it confused you to the core. no one actually knew your whereabouts so you couldn’t rack your brain to guess who it could be. you ventured close to the door, looking through the peephole and visibly relaxing once you saw a hotel worker standing, waiting.

“hello?”

“ah, good morning miss y/n, i have a bag here requested to be brought to you.”

if you weren’t confused before, you were bewildered now. this meant that someone hand to have known where’d you were, but how? only one way to find out.

“requested by who, might i ask?”

“mr…mikage reo?”

what the actual hell. you were well and truly silenced by the revelation. more importantly, it’s quite amazing how he managed to find your location with such haste. although it shouldn’t really surprise you so much, considering he probably had connections due to his status. it made you wonder just what exactly he brought to you.

“erm ma’am?”

you cracked the door open, seeing one of reo’s duffel bags stuffed to the brim. the hotel worker held it out for you to take, bowing then turning to leave immediately after. you carried the heavy bag through the room, placing it on the ottoman at the end of the bed.

you stood for a second, debating whether you should open it or not. curiosity got the better of you though, and you unzipped the bag, stalling when you realised it was a bag of clothes for you, as well as the moisturiser you use, some makeup products and your favourite trainers. it’s like he somehow knew you would need clothes, probably since you didn’t return home last night.

taking the clothes from the bag you realised he packed you one of your favourite hoodies, his own hoodie.

after moisturising yourself you started to put the clothes on, feeling slightly better about yourself. you looked into your makeup bag, seeing some of your basic everyday skin and hair products, as well as your everyday perfume, feeling grateful that reo at least paid attention enough to know what you liked and used.

just as you had finished your skincare routine you heard another lock at the door, wondering who it could be at this time. you got up and crossed your way to the door, looking through the peephole and freezing.

your boyfriend, reo stood at the door, looking around nervously.

you gauged your options for a moment, reaching an ultimatum with yourself that you couldn’t avoid him forever. you opened the door fully, stepping to the side for him to walk in, which he did, stepping meticulously and with precaution, while you closed the door behind him.

all was silent for a moment, neither party knowing what to say to the other, a million thoughts rushing through the room. the tension was taut, the air thick, and awkwardness seeping in.

you collected yourself, deciding to start it off.

“thanks for the clothes, i appreciate it.”

“it’s…the least i could do, considering how i treated you.” he said, simultaneously biting down on his lip.

“yeah.”

he moved closer towards you, looking at your expression to see if he was crossing boundaries at any point.

“y/n.” you looked at him with apprehension, worried about what may fly out of his mouth next. “i want you to know that what happened last night, was entirely my fault. i need you to understand that.”

you frowned with sadness displayed on your face. yes he may be owning up to his actions, but that didn’t explain why he said what he said. especially if he could say something of that degree to you with such ease. it sounded like he meant every word.

becoming slightly anxious from your silence, he continued on.

“i made you it sound like you were inadequate or you were lower than me because i have money. i know it sounds bad, but y/n, it’s really the opposite. you don’t look at me for my background, you look at me for who i am as a person. you make me feel normal. make me feel like i can be myself around you. i don’t have to keep myself guarded around you and i appreciate you so much for it. i guess that’s why i spoke out of turn to you like that last night. because you’re probably the only person who can actually knock me down a peg. and having nagi hear that made me scared. scared because i was vulnerable in front of him. of course, i’m not excusing my actions, and i’m not asking for forgiveness, i just want you to know i’m sorry.”

you nodded slowly in understanding, looking at the way he subconsciously tugged on a piece of his violet tresses. he left his hair down today. you loved it when his hair was down. he knew that.

“i hear you reo, but that’s not the only issue. this whole problem stemmed from the fact that you spend too much time with nagi. i don’t wanna be the girlfriend that prohibits you from spending time with your friends, that’s not who i am, but when you’re with nagi so much that it makes you forget important dates, that’s when it becomes a problem. especially when you then make it out to be like i’m the problem. no one is saying you can’t be around him, but have a backbone please. he’s always there reo. sometimes i just want you to myself, is that too much to ask for?”

he realised where he went wrong, casting you aside for the sake of nagi, which wasn’t cool. and he didn’t want to lose you. you were too good to him and he felt so strongly about you. anything you asked for could never be too much, not to him.

and so, he stepped closer to you still, scooping you up in his arms and spinning you around, relishing in the way you wrapped your arms around his neck, both for stabilisation and comfort.

“no baby, it’s never too much. not when it comes to you.”

you squeezed him tighter, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck and smiling.

“i don’t like it when we fight reo, i love you too much for that.”

“i love you too y/n,” he placed you down gently on the bed, laying you back and caging you in with both arms, his hair hanging directly over your face. “so…we’re gonna go back home and i want you to pack your bags. we’re going to mykonos for the week to celebrate our anniversary together.”

you straightened up, wondering where this was all coming from.

“huh? reo, you’re forgetting something? you may be off season right now but i still have work.”

“not for the next two weeks, i pulled some strings so now you have paid time off, which, gives you more time with your favourite man.”

you chuckled at his revelation, knowing he definitely used his power to threaten your manager. reo could be so demanding at times.

“speaking of which, do you know where he is?” his face immediately darkened at that.

“wanna repeat that?”

“nope!”

☆彡 NAGI SEISHIRO

nagi was in a state. it had only been 4 days since you broke up with him, but that was 4 days too long for him. it wasn’t actually until you broke it off with him and it sunk in that you were gone, that it really registered for him.

he missed you.

it made him realise, as much as he hated being bothered…he didn’t mind if it were you. he really did enjoy spending time with you. especially when cuddling. your figure was so soft, a perfect cushion for him to lay on as he slept. you would play with his hair so gently, lulling him to sleep. and you were really pretty.

the apartment just seemed all the more empty without you. yes, he did live alone pre blue lock a few years back, but having you live with him made him get used to having someone around. he grew comfortable and accustomed to it. so much so that it felt lonely when you left.

you had temporarily went back to your parents house while you looked for a new place to live. you had a few items of miscellaneous clothing left behind in your room, but you had ran out, thus needing the majority of your stuff, which you had left back at nagi’s.

you left off, with the promise to your parents that you’d be back soon.

the engine hummed as you drove back, playing your playlist on a high volume, hoping to drown out the thoughts spiralling in your head, although it did little to silence them.

you didn’t plan a time to leave out, but realised that you had coincidentally headed out at the same time nagi would be home, a meeting inevitable. oh well. had to happen at some point. you planned on a quick and brisk pit stop, hoping to minimise interaction with him as much as possible.

you pulled up to the apartment complex, walking through the lobby, swiping your keycard and pressing the lift to go to the penthouse.

in no time you reached the top, the lift doors opening. you stepped out and pushed your key into the lock, opening the door as silently as you could, walking in and shutting it with a click.

yes, you may have been moving around like a teenager after a forbidden night out, but you would much rather that than have to be further insulted by nagi, should he catch you.

alas, things cannot always go smoothly in life, for nagi had heard you, stepping out of the bedroom, shirtless with loosely hanging shorts, evidently having just woken up from a nap.

he instantly stopped, rubbing his eyes to see if he was tweaking or not. yet, you stood there, trying to disappear in that moment.

“y/n…you’re here.”

“only to get my things nagi, i’ll be out of your hair in around half an hour.”

nagi. his own name turned his mood sour. he’d much rather you call him by his actual name, or sei, not his last. and you knew that fact very well, making sure he knew damn well you were serious.

you begun to hurriedly walk towards the bedroom, where he was standing by the door, attempting to walk past him as quickly as possible. he intervened however, stepping about halfway into the door so that you were now directly in front of him and couldn’t get past, unless you spoke to him.

“are you really leaving y/n?”

“it’s l/n to you nagi, and yes. you don’t get to say something like that to me and think we’ll be cool after. it’s fucked up.”

you turned so he couldn’t see you, tears beginning to form at the painful recollection of what occurred a few days ago. you didn’t trust yourself to say anything else, for the fear of bursting into tears held you back.

“please don’t leave me y/n, i can do better, i promise. i regret what i said. really badly. i’m— i’m sorry.”

you knew that nagi didn’t like talking as it is (he referred to it as a hassle), so to have him trying to at least communicate with you did mean something. not enough to satiate you though.

“y/n?”

when you didn’t say anything back he lightly tugged your hand and turned you around, eyes widening once he saw tears streaming down your face.

he attempted to console you, wanting to pull you into a hug, but drawing back when you lightly pushed him off you.

“y/n- what’s wrong?”

“i can’t sei, i’m scared. scared you’ll grow bored of me. i don’t know if i’m bothering you or not and it kills me to think that you’d spend more time on games than with me. you basically told me i’m a hassle. how the hell else am i supposed to take that?”

your tears wouldn’t stop pouring down no matter how much you tried to calm yourself down, sniffles loud and clear as day.

something unusual happened to nagi as he watched you cry your eyes out. he felt his heart breaking into tiny shards at your state. more so because he knew it was because of him. he didn’t want to be the cause of your pain. he didn’t want to see you like this, experiencing such distress.

he wrapped his arms around you, one hand shielding your head and pulling your face into his bare chest, where you sobbed some more, letting up all the feelings built up from days prior.

“you’re not a hassle y/n. i said that out of turn. you could never be a hassle to me. while you were gone, i couldn’t even play my games properly. i just slept and trained because i missed you so much and didn’t know what to do without you. i know i’m lazy, and i know i don’t make you feel loved enough, but i do. i love you. i’ll do better for you and i don’t wanna be the reason why you’re upset. so please stop crying, wanna see your pretty face smile for me.”

you smiled into his chest, your sniffles beginning to subside and still.

“thank you sei, i really needed to hear that.”

“i would say it over 100 times for you. it might take a while but i won’t get bored of it. not when it comes to you.”

you wrapped your arms around his broad figure, squeezing tightly.

“will you be my girlfriend again y/n? no one else can reach your level. not now, not ever.”

you let go of his body, instead placing your palms on the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss.

“of course i will seishiro.”

“good, because i wanna cuddle with my girlfriend.”

☆彡 BAROU SHOUEI

it had been 2 months since you broke up with barou and he was miserable. who would’ve thought you leaving would cause such a rift in his life? his performance in matches were shit, he became pissed off at people more easily, and he was benched more often.

due to him not having someone to talk to, he essentially had no form of a wind down from football, something you were able to give him while you were together. something he had come to miss, and wished he appreciated more.

the lack of your items in the house made your departure all the more apparent. your decorations and items around the apartment were what made the house a home.

and you as a person? what wasn’t to like about you? you were a very levelheaded but gentle person, a great contrast to his fiery, angry personality. you catered to his every need, be it mentally, physically or sexually. your voice was what carried him through his day, soothing him to the bone, calming him down when he needed it. the more he thought about it, the more he realised he made a grave mistake pushing you out. the more he realised just how much he was attached to you, he was just unwilling to acknowledge it.

barou was no pussy, and he had enough of living like this, living without you, so he decided to get you back (and not fuck up this time).

he knew you were most likely staying at your childhood friend, chigiri’s house. he knew him very well, having done the blue lock training program with him years back, and played against him in several matches. he knew where he lived, having gone to parties held at his house through mutual connections.

and so, after practice, he grabbed his car keys and set off. he weren’t good with words, so his mind stayed scrambled as he thought of all the things he could say to you. while he couldn’t think of specific sentences to say to you, his goal remained the same.

after some time passed, he pulled up to chigiri’s house, your car the only one on the drive, which meant that only you were home. he switched off the ignition, stepped out of the car and walked up to the door.

with slight hesitancy, he lifted his fist to the door and knocked three times. he listened for any shuffling inside, but heard none. after a moment he turned away to leave, thinking you might’ve not been there after all. it’s possible you might’ve been out with chigiri in his car. yeah, that was probably it.

however.

“what do you want barou? i thought i was ‘making your life too hard’?”

shit, you were home. your voice was muffled, due to you speaking through the door, having seen his figure through the peephole.

“i- i didn’t mean that. not that way.”

you opened the door, allowing him to see a crack of your figure, donned in shorts and a tank top.

“then how did you mean it barou? don’t take me for an idiot, because i’m not one. no one says anything of that depth if you didn’t feel that exact way before. so before you let anymore bullshit spout from your mouth tell me exactly how you meant it, in what context. because i’m tired barou, tired of being in a relationship where i feel like i’m treading on glass around you because you don’t wanna do certain things. it’s not a nice feeling. you may not feel that way, but i do. i’ve felt that way during our whole relationship, but i feel like i can’t tell you shit so i’ve kept. it. in.”

wow. he really didn’t see things from your perspective. once he heard it from you, he realised just how much of a dickhead he sounded like. he couldn’t say anything, how could he explain himself after that?

he didn’t.

and after hearing no refutation or explanation from barou, you simply let go of any hopes of talking this out with him.

“shouei,” his ears perked at you using his first name. “i think…you should go. i don’t wanna have any hard feelings between us but i don’t think we’re right for each other. please understand and respect tha-”

you stopped short of ending your sentence upon seeing barou turn and leave before he could hear you out, getting back into his car and preparing to drive off.

you sighed, shaking your head and closing the door, effectually ending your relationship for good.

he got what he wanted, right?

☆彡 ITOSHI RIN

you woke up in the morning, immediately panning your vision to your left to see if rin had returned to bed. the bed imprints remained the exact same as you had left it when you fell asleep, which lead you to wonder if rin had even returned home.

you slid out of bed, your feet touching the cold wood floor, you trudged your way through the apartment, looking for signs of life, your shoulders falling in disappointment when you realised rin was nowhere to be seen. it was debatable if he even came home or not, the answer you would probably never find out.

you warred with yourself in your head about what to do. considering rin didn’t even try to talk to you to rectify the situation showed he didn’t really give a shit. if he didn’t come home, then he probably didn’t even know if you came home or not, which meant he isn’t worrying about you or where you were.

you weren’t a dickhead, and waiting for someone who evidently didn’t want you seemed like such a desperate action, which you weren’t trying to act like.

and so, calling a few willing friends, shedding some tears here and there, and half a day of hard work, you had effectively moved out of your shared apartment with rin, leaving a half completed home. he didn’t return home the whole day, not that you gave a shit anymore.

imagine rin’s surprise when he returned home from his team practice, expecting to see you moping around somewhere, but instead, nowhere to be found. as a matter of fact, where the fuck was your stuff? the apartment looked very much empty right now. he took at least 15 minutes to look around, analysing his surroundings, the same he would do during a game. any potted plants you bought for the house, specifically for the living room disappeared. your stupid candle ornaments that somehow made the house look better? not a ghost of a trace left behind. your clothes? gone. even from the laundry basket, only his clothes remained.

your products, your favourite sleeping pillow, even your toothbrush was gone. you left no stone unturned, questionable if you ever lived there in the first place.

still slightly puzzled but somewhat aware of the answer behind all of this, he pulled out his phone, clicking immediately on the message app. he sent you a message, heart dropping and suspicions confirmed when his message was not only green, but displayed a ‘not delivered’ message underneath. you had blocked him, and moved out without his knowledge.

he knew you were pissed off from what had transpired, but he didn’t know you would take action this soon. you didn’t even wait to talk to him for the love of god. this wasn’t supposed to happen this way, he was only angry at you because he felt threatened in the moment. but, recalling just exactly what he said to you, maybe it was warranted.

maybe it was for the best. you barely had enough time together as it is, due to unmatchable schedules and rin always being abroad. he was never able to give you enough love. funny, considering he didn’t even make sure to tell you. looking back on it, he realised he was kind of a dickhead to you.

so, he let go of the relationship for good.

—

four months had passed. he’d gotten bigger as a football player after his team winning a multitude of matches had lead to him becoming their star player, constantly getting man of the match achievements. this lead to his popularity increasing, getting more fans and fame as a result. he had been abroad this whole time, focusing on his career.

oh. but don’t think he had escaped you.

he couldn’t get his mind off you.

you tormented his thoughts daily and nightly, his yearning for you and hate for himself flourishing simultaneously as he repeatedly recalled how he fucked up. he wished he could go back to that night, heeding your warnings.

either way, that couldn’t be achieved now, for he didn’t know your whereabouts. he hadn’t known since that night on the pitch.

he tried to move on the best he could, returning back to japan to visit his parents whilst he had time off from football.

it just so happened one day while he popped out to a grocery store to get ingredients for his mother, the he saw the back of a familiar head, whisking away to the next aisle over. piquing his curiosity, he immediately paced to see if it way really who he thought it was.

and yes, the face he thought he’d never see again, the very same person who had been frequenting his mind,

you.

“y/n!” you froze, not expecting to find him here of all places. last time you had seen on tv, he was abroad. he wasn’t supposed to be here. deciding you had to face the music at some point, you turned around, watching as his demeanour melted, at really seeing you again after so long.

“rin…hi.”

all was silent for a moment, not knowing what to say to each other. what does one say in situations such as these? not to worry, rin answered for you.

“how…how’ve you been?”

“good thanks, how about you?”

“i’ve been— alright.”

silence settled again. rin wanted to voice so many things to you, starting with how he wanted you to know how he’s changed. how he’s calmed down in terms of training. how he’d make more time. he wanted you to know he’d do things differently, if you ever took him back. he wanted you to come home… but he didn’t know where to start.

he would have to at some point however, for you wanted to get away from him as soon as possible.

“well…um, it was good seeing yo-”

“wait!” he interjected, panic settling in that you would disappear and he would never get the chance again. “i— i just wanted to tell you tha—”

“y/n baby, i’ve got the washing powder.”

baby? what the fuck?

he looked just past you to see a guy walking up to you, taking the basket from your hands with a peck to your cheek. you smiled at the action, lacing your hand in his hair as he took place behind you. he then noticed rin, standing there with visible shock on his face, confused on what he missed while he was gone.

“who’s this?”

“oh, just an old friend.” a bold faced lie. anyone with two functioning brain cells could feel the history between you two. “i’ve got my stuff so let’s go to the queue. nice seeing you rin…have a good day.” you walked off with your supposed new boyfriend. a boyfriend that wasn’t him.

have a good day? after you just shattered his heart like that?

his throat turned dry, awareness sinking in.

he wanted you to come home…but he was too late.

baby you sold me a dream pt.3

[directdogman]

Dogman, how do you write SO WELL!?!? I love all your characters and I need to know what/where you find inspo from...

Ha. Every writer is just someone who apes the creative processes of their inspirations. For video game writing specifically, there's two answers for me.

Toby Fox is always gonna be a huge inspiration for me. I've written plots and characters before and had to abandon ideas after realizing I'd accidentally written part of UT again. Even some of the ideas I used were undeniably inspired by UT in a subconscious way and ofc, I included several explicit references to UT in my last series. Toby's a very clever guy who likely pays very close attention to the art he consumes and tries to figure out how to maximize how much his work connects with his audience. Whatever his process is, it works.

The other answer is a lil funnier: Scott Cawthon, but specifically the legend, not the man. For context: Back in the earlier days of the FNaF fandom, people had a hyper-inflated view of Scott Cawthon's writing skills that largely came from how little of a presence he had back in those days. In the vacuum of Scott actually explaining his own process in detail, people got caught up in his genuinely creative way of hiding exposition in his games using cryptid and (then) unexpected methods, and a narrative formed (one that he's since refuted.)

While he never implied it tmk, fans broadly believed that he constructed these sweeping and complex narratives with tons of cohesive moving parts, with the games essentially acting like the mere tip of his lore iceberg. People even thought he wrote so much that he had whole games worth of lore outlined from the beginning! In the first Dawko interview he gave, he clarified that this wasn't the case and explained roughly what his process was (basically just outlining rough theme ideas + aesthetics for future titles.)

However, that legend made younger-me's mind run wild and any time I wrote a story, it became very difficult for me to not keep writing down ideas while completing the grunt work that followed me finishing my scripts. When I finished DSaF 1, I already had DSaF 2's draft written and by the time 2 was done, I had enough lore for a 3rd game on paper (and a lot more stuff that I didn't use.) By the time three was out, I had pages upon pages of unused concepts/story ideas and more or less just had to decide to call it quits or else I'd be pumping out entries forever!

That's why if you go back to those older games, there's references that directly refer to future plot-points in pretty casual/easy to miss ways. (Like Henry's mention in DSaF 1, Dave being heartless in DSaF 2, Jack being soulless in 1, and even Blackjack being Jack's soul in 2. Most of 3's major plotpoints are implied somewhere in 2 and some of 2's in 1.)

DT is much the same. By the time I finished writing it, I had fairly detailed drafts for arcs for each of the characters, some early material ended up getting completely recontextualized (and even modified in small ways to not conflict with the wider ideas I came up with.)

I get really into writing my stories/characters and I always wonder exactly how things ended up where they are, what characters think about but don't say, etc etc. This is why I have an obscene amount of Crown lore that I have very little to do with rn (since he impacted the whole world so deeply.)

This extra stuff also includes plenty of sequel material ideas, though I didn't think I'd even get a chance to use them since DT performed pretty meagerly before the big release and I was expecting to have to move onto something new. Though it turned out that Scott didn't actually write his games this way (by his own admission), it's the correct answer for what my core writing inspiration for writing game narratives is.

Hope this helps!

[elysiansparadise]

Welcome back! 💗 How nice that you are currently writing posts again. I really missed your content, it is always so enlightening. May I ask what your thoughts are on Uranus in the 4th house? 🔮

Hello love. Thank you so much, we are finally back on track. And sure, I can give some insights about this placement.💗

Uranus in the 4th house

The emotional world of these natives can seem complex, their calm attitude can make them seem detached, when in reality they have the ability to take their emotions and analyze them in detail. There may be in them a feeling of not belonging, of being very different from other members of their family and a peculiar sensation when faced with the term "home", bringing with it a set of complex emotions, from longing for some security, to feeling that they have not explored that as such. It is likely that throughout their life they have experienced changes at home, that they have an unusual family or home situation or that there is a certain disconnection, whether physical or emotional, with their family. They learned to adapt and go with the flow, due to sudden changes in their family dynamics or in their parents' mood. In some cases and depending on how well Uranus is aspected, there may be the feeling that one or both parents are more friends than parents. From a very young age they learned to rely on themselves and not depend on anyone, probably not even needing anyone. A feeling of loneliness or having been misunderstood at some point in your childhood. 

These people recognize their friends as family, generating stronger and more emotional ties with them, which makes them quite selective when choosing them. "I'm not limited to my biological family, I can start my own family." They may find that sense of family in friends, groups, or even their friends' families. In the same way, these natives tend to be caring and attentive friends, always making sure that those to whom they give such a title are comfortable, happy and safe. They can be very reserved with their things, as they will always choose to make their own decisions and not let anyone tell them how to live their lives. They have a great ability to adapt to any situation with resilience and a down-to-earth perspective. Many of them may be very nervous or anxious when it comes to the topic of family, not necessarily out of fear of commitment, rather a terror of making the same mistakes as their parents or some concern about the idea of ​​having children. Many of them can find comfort in things like the internet, video games, music and whatever their hobbies are, beyond being something they do just out of boredom, they are things they put their heart into and make them feel good.

One of the things that makes them most nervous is seeing how the ties they build or what makes their heart happy end, although it is something in which they realize that it can end, it makes them have a harsher time with breakups of any kind. This is because they are afraid to surrender, but when they do they know it is totally true. Emotional intimacy is liberating for them even if it is difficult for them. They look for a soft spot or place to feel like they can be themselves uninhibitedly. They look for that because they know that they are able to give it in return, an environment of acceptance and encouragement instead of a place full of criticism and finger-pointing. They can be very self-analytical people, always keeping themselves in check, seeing what is happening in their inner world and exploring themselves to know themselves completely. Many of them have been very creative since they were children and although they are somewhat reserved with their authentic and emotional side, once you are someone they appreciate a lot, spontaneous displays of affection will await you.

-> Go back to the masterlist

[sweetlywriting]

Allegiance

Part 1 Part 2

Feyd Rautha x Reader

Sypnosis- To save your weakening house you propose a marriage to Feyd Rautha through the creation of a flower that blooms in color, even on the black and white planet of Geidi Prime. Though the stakes are high-if the flower does not bloom, you must face Feyd in the arena instead of the altar.

Warnings- Manipulation and toxic behaviors, blood and violence, enemies to fiancés to deep mutual understanding(?)

A/N- Read part 1 first! It will make a lot more sense!(it’s good I promise) + lmk if you want to be added to the tag list <3

You scanned the topography of Geidi Prime desperately from above your spacecraft, surrounded by your attendants as they aided in your search. You all carefully watched for a glimpse of a yellow flower in the barren black and white land.

“Bring me my armor, quickly.” You ordered the attendants. The ship was getting too close to land and you had seen no evidence of the blooms. The fortnight had come. Your flowers had failed and thus your proposal. Now you had to face the consequences with your life, fighting in the arena.

“Surely we can wait a bit longer-“ One of your closer attendants said in a worried voice.

“We cannot, you must leave me here and quickly go back home. Do not come back. If I die do not retrieve my body.” You said, trying not let a tremble in your voice. Feyd was a gamble, and you were a fool to take it. Your attendants silently lamented as they quickly undressed you from the beautiful ceremonial dress into heavy armor.

You embraced the attendants you had known since childhood and got off the ship, watching as it quickly receded back towards your home planet. You were greeted by Harkonnen servants as they led you to what only you could assumed would be the arena. Though as you walked through the twisting hallways of the palace you ended up in a private garden-your breath caught in your throat seeing a large bloom of yellow flowers. You had succeeded. Relief flowed through you as you tried not buckle to the floor. Alongside the flowers was Feyd, walking up to you and gesturing for the servants to leave.

He pulled one of the flowers, striding your way and you hesitantly stood your ground as he came closer, able to feel the heat of his breath fanning your neck but never letting your eyes off the sheath at his side as he placed the yellow flower in your hair and drew away.

“I like your attire.” He said in a mocking way. You knew it was unusual to wear armor to an engagement, though only until some seconds ago you were convinced on having to fight a battle to the death.

“But I can’t say I didn’t expect it. I think it rather suits you.” He said, running his eyes over the armor well fitted to your figure. You pursed your lips. He knew you wouldn’t see the Solaris flower if he kept it in a garden. He knew you would see the absence and prepare for battle. He wanted you to feel that fear. ‘What an awful trick’ you thought trying to swallow the infuriation.

“Didn’t bring any attendants either hm?” He said laughing lightly but you could see the adding irony in his little trick. By making you think you had lost the gamble you had to send your people back for their safety-but now you had lost a share of your own safety, completely isolated and surrounded by Harkonnens in their own territory. He had turned out to be much more manulaptive than you thought.

“So . . . you’ll marry me?” You asked wanting to get this done as swiftly as possible.

“Yes, I’ll keep my word. Though my family isn’t quite as . . . accepting. You’ll have to prove your worth to them yourself, I can only offer you some protection. And of course I don’t have to that.” He said, dragging out the last sentence in his sly voice.

“Let’s see if you can survive a week.”

***

For a month you had navigated the difficult environment of the Harkonnens house estate, writing encrypted letters to your family, learning Giedi Prime’s complex local languages, and trying not to get assassinated by your future in laws.

Even now, with the privilege of a seat at their dining table, you didn’t dare take more than sip of your drink or eat anything served cold. Heat killed poison, so you opted for things that burned your tongue, relishing in the taste of living another day. They didn’t speak much, but you knew if you survived today the honorary courtship of one month would be over, and you could finally marry Feyd and send your people the aid they truly deserved. You kept this in the forefront of your mind as you learned to deflect the Harkonnens veiled threats and insults. Feyd did little to ease this-sometimes adding on or jesting along with them.

But as you started to walk back to your designated chamber on the thirty first day after dinner you felt relief flood through you. It was over. You could sleep peacefully tonight, marry Feyd, and quickly return to your home planet-

You turned as a sharp pain grazed your shoulder, sparsely dodging a dagger aimed to your chest. Immediately starting to run from the hand that had dealt it. Glossu Rabban Harkonnen. Feyd’s cousin and previous commander to Arrakis. He had sneered at you and paid you the respect of an attendant, but had shown no sign of wanting to kill you nor anything to benefit from it.

The pain was intensifying as you continued to sprint, you couldn’t run forever. But where to go? The guards were all Harkonnens, all your people had left, and you had no allies on this hollow planet.

But perhaps one. He didn’t seem to care for you, much less your life, but this was the only chance left. You prayed he was in his room.

“Feyd” you rasped knocking fervently at his door willing it to just open, to just-

“This isn’t what I told you to do.” You heard a voice hiss, from . . . behind you?

You turned to see Feyd and his cousin arguing in hall behind you as you slumped to the foot of the door clutching your shoulder.

“You asked me to test her-“ Rabban said indignantly.

“Not like this-“ Feyd hissed.

“It’s fine, it was just a little scratch and she came to your room anyway-“

Rabban stopped mid speech as the Feyd quickly pulled out his own blade, the sound of metal clashing reverberated in your head for what felt like hours until Rabban began to retreat. You paid no mind, cursing yourself for being stupid enough to come to Feyd’s room when he gotten you into this very situation. ‘Of course it was just another ‘test’, simply another mind game for him’ you thought.

You frowned as he approached, but he hauled you by your uninjured arm and pushed you into his room. You stumbled on to a chair and watched as he dug around cabinets and chests setting salve, alcohol, and dressing bandages on a table.

He didn’t offer any apologies or condolences for what he did, but rather took his own blade to the same point you had been slit, quickly running his dagger through his own shoulder.

He didn’t speak or seem to mind the fact his own blood was staining the white floor red as he dressed your wound. Deep red ran down his arm and traced itself over the curvature of his veins.

Seeing the way he ignored his wound as though it was simply not there, the way his eyes focused on your cut with sound precision, the way he ripped the long bandage with his teeth-you began to understand why house Harkonnen repayed blood with blood. You had the odd urge to kiss him.

“We are allies.” He said this with little emotion or regard, as though stating a fact. Your loyalty had been proven, and now so had his.

For the first time since you had gotten on this morbid planet you laughed.

“I suppose we’ll having matching scars to wear for our wedding.”

Tag list: @szapizzapanda, @moonsoulk, @unicoreads, @avidreader73, @flower-frog

[violent-viscera]

okay, so most definitely an unpopular opinion considering the amount of caitlyn fans/stans (in addition to fans solely bc of caitvi) but i wanted to articulate my thoughts on her s2.

firstly, i loved the idea of her character in s1. along with jayce, i understand that they were both fundamentally flawed due to inherent, latent prejudices that they held against zaunites. they often misspoke and stepped out of line when speaking to ppl like vi and viktor just on the basis of their privilege of being born piltovan.

but it was interesting to see how their good hearts and intentions led them to being forced to face their troubled and unfair prejudices. of course, i didn't agree with how they viewed zaunites, but i was rooting for them to become spearheads of change and reform.

anyway, i digress to where i am now where i am feel incredibly disappointed by the writing of her character.

i love a good villainess and was actually quite excited to see where her fascist arc would take her. it would be such a diametric, polar opposite of her character in s1 where she was slowly beginning to see piltover's role in the systematic oppression of zaun.

it would've been compelling to see her become completely lost to her grief and rage and the message behind how the repercussions of cataclysmic calamity that she and jinx cause as mirrors of one another would've been interesting (ie. jinx shooting a rocket launcher at the council in her loss of silco vs. caitlyn gassing innocent civilians in a bid to discover jinx after losing her mother)

but again, the writing didn't do much for me in the way of caitlyn or her mother in s2 in so many different ways.

i understand that there are nuances and complexities in difficult mother-daughter relationships and i understand caitlyn has every right to grieve. but her grief is not parallel to the grief of vi or jinx or any other zaunite when most of the misfortune that befell zaunite deaths can indirectly stem from the choices made by ppl like cassandra and the council.

yes, cassandra built systems to ensure that the grey did not completely suffocate zaunites. but this still by no means absolves all her other sins in her complacency in the oppression of zaunites–not to mention her attitude towards zaunites or anyone else that she deems "less than"

caitlyn's villain arc was watery and diluted at best. it was initially really interesting to see count caitlyn and her cape step up to the plate under ambessa's encouragement, but by the next episode she was already wavering and uncommitted. it seemed like a pointless route to entertain with how brief it was. and as others mentioned, caitlyn was being a cruel asshole without the direction of ambessa with the usage of chemical warfare.

caitlyn's choices had very little repercussions throughout the season. she hits vi with a rifle and turns her back on her and is basically instantly forgiven. she performs chemical warfare and her guilty conscience is the only real consequence she faces. she loses her eye in a fight, yes, but it is also a battle she invited when she accepted tutelage under ambessa to sustain a fascist regime. she makes it blatantly clear that she accepts vi bc she views vi as an entity separate of the rest of the animals of zaun and there isn't really any content that implies these views have changed or that there will be any reform imminent for enforcers/piltovan-zaun relations aside from reluctantly allowing Sevika a spot on the council

i dont even want to get into how vi become completely a shell of the amazing, compelling character she was in s1 and how the heart and soul of the show (the sisters' rs) was essentially abandoned to make caitvi happen rather than rly considering the optics and pragmatism of having an oppressed, falsely imprisoned, vulnerable zaunite being with an enforcer without due sensitivity and consideration of what needs happen to make caitvi happen in a sensible fashion.

i just feel like by the end of the show, caitlyn ends up right where she started where she's a privileged piltovan living her cushy life with no repercussions. there was no real reason to write her as an empathetic character, struggling with what she knew as a piltovan vs. what she sees when she is with vi down in zaun, bc in the end, the empathy did nothing to change how she treated zaunites or how her enforcers operate on the day-to-day.

and i actually think if the writers didn't try to play caitvi off as being a healthy, beautiful representation of a lesbian relationship instead of toxic one marred by power imbalances, it would've been a compelling and tragic message.

TLDR: i think many ppl have expressed their disappointment in how vi (and jinx) were written in s2, but i also think the writers did a terrible job in writing caitlyn as well.

[hannahbarberra162]

Not My Monkey, Ch 1.

(Reverse Trope Isekai Reader)

I thought it would be funny to have a reverse trope -- instead of having one Isekai Reader who knows everything, too many isekai readers have already messed up the OP timeline beyond recognition.

I'm still writing all my other works, I just needed to get this out of my system. I don't think this will float most people's boats, but that OK.

on Ao3

Platonic Strawhats | Reader / Jinbei

This chapter's plot heavy, I had to get some of the world building out of the way. The rest will be more fun and silly / some romance / angst later. Also, this is my first time writing most (all?) of the Straw hats. It’s been challenging, so please be kind <3. There’s 10 of them but only one of me.

~~~

“Robin! Another one’s here!” Some kid in a straw hat was yelling right next to you, causing you to wince. You had a massive headache, you hadn’t felt this hungover since…wait. You didn’t drink anymore. You opened your eyes to a sunny day on…a wood boat? You were definitely sailing on open water. Maybe the ocean since you smelled salt… What kind of dream was this? Sure, you had anxiety dreams of drowning but nothing so pleasant .

A disembodied hand grabbed your ankle and held on tightly. It startled you but since this was a dream there was no need to worry. You were kind of enjoying the sun and the water, so what was a hand (with beautiful nail beds, but dry cuticles) going to do? You turned your head to find a black haired boy staring at you inches from your face.

“Gah! Don’t do that!” you said to the boy. He grinned at you and laughed.

“Shishishishi, it’s me! Luffy! You made it!” 

“Made it where?” Were you supposed to know who he was?

“To the Going Merry! You’re our twentieth reader -”

“Twenty third,” said another guy you hadn’t seen. This one was napping against the mast, talking with eyes still closed. He had luscious green hair that you’d want to check out later. You didn’t see any roots showing so either he had dyed it recently or…oh wait you were in a conversation.

“Sounds good, Loogie. I’m not quite following what’s happening.” This was the most complex dream you’d ever had. You’d never been able to interact like this before in a dream. It all felt like real life. You started to wonder if maybe something else was going on.

“Shishishi it’s LUFFY! But you know that! So what was the last thing you read?” The boy was still sitting incredibly close to you and practically vibrating with energy. 

“Um, I read a biography of Catherine the Great. Why?” Luffy tilted his head at your words.

“Is she in Egghead or Wano?” 

“Um, in Russia? I don’t think she’d be called an egghead though.” The green haired guy huffed and got up.

“Gonna be a difficult one. Robin can figure it out. Nappin’ on the other side of the deck,” he said to Luffy, walking away. He looked like he was flexing his back as you watched him retreat. His three swords clacked against each other, making you wonder how practical it was to have so many.

“No, she’s gonna be a great reader!” Luffy smiled at you again. You smiled back, but were very confused. The hand gripping your ankle was still there holding on tight. A breathtakingly beautiful woman with black hair, looking to be growing out some bangs, was walking towards you with her arms crossed in front of her. Even though she exuded radiance, her intense blue eyes pinned you with a stare. She sat down in front of you, keeping her arms crossed.

“Hello,” you said. Might as well be polite in dreamland.

“Hi,” the woman said smiling. “I’m Robin. What’s your name?”

Long ago, you were tired of baristas messing up your name (even though it wasn’t hard!). So when someone asked for your name, you supplied their own back to them. It usually worked out ok, and gave room for some awkward chit chat while you waited for your coffee.

“Isn’t that funny? My name is also Robin.” The woman quirked an eyebrow but kept her smile and nodded.

“Shishishishi two Robins! But what can we call you then? It’s too confusing having two Robins on board.” Luffy rubbed his chin in thought. 

“Interesting thought, Captain. For now, I have a prepared document I’d like you to read. It should answer the most common questions we get asked by Readers.” The woman handed you a scroll. What in the medieval ages was this?

“Robin TWO!” Luffy said, snapping his fingers. You untied the scroll. Might as well see what it said.

“I don’t think Robin 2 is a flattering name,” Robin told Luffy. “Let’s think of other ideas. In the meantime, let Robin read.” The hand patted your ankle. “It’s best if I keep a hold of you until the shock wears off. Saves a lot of time chasing people down.” She kept a hold of you? Whatever. Looking at the scroll, you saw an elegantly handwritten list.

~~~

Frequently Asked Questions - for Readers

Where am I?

You are on board the Going Merry . Franky has modified it so it does not bear complete resemblance to the original ship but it is also not the 1,000 Sunny .

Is this real?

Quite real. This world is as real to us as yours was to you. This is not a dream, hallucination, or simulation.

Am I dead?

We are not sure. It seems to be likely based on the anecdotes of previous Readers. However, there is no way to know conclusively.

Why was I brought here?

We do not know the criteria under which Readers are brought to our world. We believe it has to do with your intense love of “One Piece.”

What happened to my belongings?

It seems whatever you had last in your world is what came here, with a few exceptions. Cell phones, laptops, and other electronics never make it to our world. We have your belongings on the ship, if you would like to have them.

What will happen to me? Can I stay on the ship?

Readers have stayed in our world for 21 days, after which they disappear. We do not know what happens afterward. During your 21 days, you will remain with us on the ship. You may stay in the men’s quarters.

Is there a way to get back to my world?

Not that we know of. We are unsure if you are transported there once again when you disappear. 

Are there other readers?

There is only ever one Reader in our world at a time. The Strawhat Pirates have had the most Readers, though the Heart Pirates and Whitebeard Pirates have had a few as well.

What arc are we on?

The “timeline” that you know has been completely abandoned. With so much additional information and insight into future events, the events of this world have been drastically changed. We are not in recognizable “arcs” any longer.

What about Ace? Thatch? Whitebeard? Corazon? Sabo?

Thanks to the information supplied by Readers, Ace, Thatch and Whitebeard are all alive. Yamato has joined the Whitebeard crew with Ace. We had a time traveling Reader who saved Cora-san. Sabo has been made aware of Ace and Luffy and they have already reunited.

Can I fight? In our experience, Readers are quite weak and unable to fight. If you wish to try, you must first defeat Usopp in an arm wrestling contest.

Note: Please do not bring up our individual histories. We experienced them as real people and do not appreciate discussing them. Thank you.

~~~

You finished reading the scroll and re-rolled it. It addressed some of your concerns, but also had a lot of information you didn’t know what to do with. You handed the scroll back to Robin.

“You should call this the ‘Handbook for the Recently Deceased,” you told the raven haired beauty. You still had your sense of humor even when dead, it turned out. Er, maybe dead.

“That is quite an excellent suggestion, I think I shall,” Robin nodded solemnly and took the scroll with another arm sprouting from her own. You’d ask her about that later. 

“What questions do you still have?” Robin asked kindly.

“Why do I have to stay in the men’s quarters?” 

“Oh, that is not applicable to you. Nearly all of our Readers have been men, usually Torao has the female Readers. You can join Nami and myself in the women’s quarters.” 

“I’m dead then, huh?” You couldn’t wrap your head around the idea, especially when you felt so alive. 

“Robin B!” Luffy shouted from a few feet away. He still hadn’t given up on a nickname for you.

“No, Luffy, I don’t care for that,” Robin said calmly. “That would make me Robin A, which I am not. And yes, you are likely dead.” 

“That’s a bummer.” You’d think about that and deal with your feelings later, this was all too weird to believe right now. You fiddled with the necklace you were wearing. None of this felt real at all. Besides, one of your best traits as a person was your ability to roll with things. You had always been pretty open to change, though this change was…drastic.

“Interesting - few readers express that emotion upon arriving in our world. Readers are usually thrilled to be here with us.” Robin looked like she wanted to study you in a lab.

“Um, so what’s a Reader? Or a One Piece?” You might as well learn while you were here for the next few weeks. 

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Robin said, the hand patting your ankle. “We aren’t going to harm you for your information. We’ve probably heard it all already. We know that we’re a comic and a show in your world. You’re not in danger.” You hadn’t considered that you might be in danger, but you were thinking about it now.

“TWO Robin!” Luffy yelled from across the deck. He’d been pacing and trying to think of a good nickname this whole time.

“Luffy, that is the worst suggestion yet.” Robin frowned. 

“Aw, you don’t like any of ‘em! This is frustrating. Maybe we can just call her Mystery Reader !” 

“Not every reader is a Mystery Reader, Luffy. You can’t say that for -” Robin was chastising Luffy.

“Myst is fine. Short for Mystery.” You didn’t really care what they called you since, you know, you’d be going to the afterlife in about three weeks.

“ Shishishishishi I knew you’d be a good reader, Misty!” Luffy stretched his arms from where he stood to wrap them around you. Misty, sure. That was similar to what you said. What the…was this kid rubber? Add one more weird thing to the pile, why not? 

“What other questions do you have?”

You were gonna put your cards on the table. “Listen Robin, I’ll be honest, I didn’t get a lot out of your handbook. I don’t know any of those people, or any of you, or what this show is. I don’t know why I’m here, I have no information to give you. I watch documentaries and sometimes HGTV. This is like a new employee orientation for a job I didn’t apply to. ” Robin nodded sagely.

“I quite like that phrase - new employee orientation. Perhaps more of a ‘new reader orientation.’ In any event, you’re here with us now, whether you know any information or not. I am going to release you, and you can get settled in.” The hand holding on to you vanished as you watched. 

“Cool party trick.” 

“Yes, they are very useful, though not always appreciated at parties.” Robin stood up and you did the same. You stretched your legs and back as you’d been sitting for a while. Robin was a tall drink of water, you thought. You were average height, nothing crazy. But she was statuesque and slim, making you think of your own body. Sure, you had some self confidence, but as you approached closer to middle age, things didn’t look quite the same as they once did. And Robin looked like a supermodel, graceful and elegant.

“Do I hear the sweet voice of a lovely Mellorine?” said a handsome waiter, holding a glass of water on a tray. He was practically swooning and you’d never met before. A little strange, but maybe he was just enthusiastic. Robin looked at the waiter, who was wearing a three piece suit.

“This is Sanji, our chef. He is also one of the Wings to the Captain.” 

“Oh, sweet Mellorine -” 

“Wait, who is the Captain?” You cut off Sanji, you realized you didn’t know who was running this show.

Sanji’s expression showed surprise. He looked at Robin for clarification, pausing in moving the tray your way to your dismay. You really wanted that water.

“Misty, as Captain calls her, does not know anything about our world. We will all have to introduce ourselves.” 

“Wait, does that mean Luffy is -”

“The Captain,” answered Robin and Sanji simultaneously. That kid?! The one who suggested they call you “Two Robin”? You didn’t say anything so as not to insult their captain or whatever but the kid didn’t look like he could be older than 18. Not your circus, not your monkey. As long as the ship didn’t sink in the next three weeks, it didn’t really matter to you.

“Right, right. That seems…good. Um, Sanji, is that water for me? I’d really appreciate it.” Sanji looked like you’d asked him to senior prom.

“Oh, dear, sweet, beautiful Misty, it would be an honor to serve you this water.” He bowed to you with a flourish. Alright, time to nip this in the bud.

“Look kid, I’m old enough to be your mother. Cut it out. But thank you for the water.” He deflated a little but not for long. 

“Like wine, most women only get better with age,” he said with a charming smile. “As Robin mentioned, I am Sanji, the chef on our crew. Do you have any dietary restrictions?” 

“Oh, I’ll eat anything you make.” 

“Is that so? Truly, no restrictions? Preferences? Allergies?” For all his attempted flirting before, he seemed serious right now. 

“Well, truthfully, I’m vegetarian. So, no meat.” Sanji nodded, smiling once again.

“Not a problem. Do you eat fish?”

“Ah, no. No animals.” You saw a rubber arm going past you as Luffy rocketed himself to your side. Rubber had its uses it seemed.

“You don’t eat meat?!” Luffy yelled into your face, completely incredulous.

“Nope, haven’t in over 20 years.” You moved your head back away from his. Kid didn’t have much need for personal space.

“What do you eat then!?” It was like the kid couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of not eating meat. You shrugged. You’d had this conversation in various forms many, many times before.

“Vegetables, fruit, grains, legumes, things like that.” Luffy furrowed his brow in thought for a moment before it cleared into a bright smile.

“SANJI - can I have Misty’s portion of meat??” 

“No! If she doesn’t eat it, I’m not going to make more than usual.”

“But she’s our reader, you have to make her a portion! Then I can have it.” 

“But if she won’t eat it, I won’t make an extra portion,” Sanji already looked exasperated.

“But I want it!” Luffy was on the verge of a tantrum, you thought.

“No! You already eat all the food! Besides, if she doesn’t eat meat… ” The two of them seemed to be entering into an argument about meat rations, so you’d bow out of this conversation. It was only getting louder as they argued in circles. 

You drank your water and took a look around you for the first time. The ship seemed pleasant, though not very modern. There weren’t any electrical outlets or lights, and not much metal either. It was powered by wind, as you saw the giant sails. Maybe there wasn’t electricity here? You’d ask Robin later. Your eyes wandered up and you saw a giant jolly roger flag, the skeleton wearing a hat.

“So this is a pirate ship, huh?” The fighting made a little more sense now. Not that you wanted to. You’d let them handle that part of the afterlife. It made you a little nervous and you fidgeted with your necklace. A handsome young man wearing overalls and goggles locked eyes with you while holding your hair dryer. The next thing you noticed was that he had the most beautiful, long, luscious natural coils you’d ever seen in your life. It took everything in you not to ask him his wash day routine before you exchanged names. “Hey! That’s mine!” you yelled at him. You were protective of your tools, they were like your babies. The man looked scared for a moment, then apologetic. 

“Sorry, I just got excited. I’ve never seen a machine like this before. What does it do?” He was turning it over in his hands, looking at the barrel. He was holding it like a precious treasure, touching it with care. At least he could appreciate machinery.

“It’s a hairdryer.” Your guess that they didn’t have electricity seemed to have more merit now. Which meant he air dried all that hair every time? Coily King. 

“Interesting! How does it work? Obviously the electricity feeds through the cord, other readers have had corded things before -”

“Usopp! Where’s the new reader? I wanna see if they have pens!” An unbelievably sexy young woman wearing a tiny string bikini came up from below deck, her bright orange hair blowing in the breeze. Was every person on this ship attractive? How did her boobs defy gravity like that? You looked down at your own, hopeful that whatever force was keeping hers up might be helping yours. No dice. 

“Hi, I’m the new reader?” You extended your hand, which she shook. The woman smiled back at you.

“I’m Nami, Robin told me you don’t know anything about our world. So, the way it works here is that everyone pays a daily fee to stay on the boat. It’s 100 Beri a day. That’s how we afford to maintain the ship in tip top condition.” You could smell bullshit a mile away - you’d been working customer service jobs on and off for decades. You decided to play along to see what happened.

“Oh, of course. But how will I get money? I guess I’ll have to sell some of my belongings…” You pursed your lips for dramatic effect. “I know! I have some pens, I could sell those for…what was it you said? 1,000 Beri each?” Nami smiled even wider, a classic mistake. 

“Well, what’s money among friends? And besides, it’s not like you can take anything back with you. We have a lot of reader stuff left on the ship.” You paused, pretending to consider for a moment. 

“Hmm. You’re right. Maybe I’ll just drop them all in the sea. Y’know, like a, funeral. Since, I guess mine’s already happening. Maybe.” You didn’t want to think about your funeral, it had been a nightmare to figure everything out when your dad died. You felt bad for whoever was arranging it, probably your sister. You were zoned out thinking for a moment, and snapped back when Nami said something. “I’m sorry, I missed that. What did you ask me?”

“What kind of pens do you have?” Nami had taken the bait, hook line and sinker. You doubled down.

“I’d be willing to show them to you, for a price.” She raised an eyebrow, then broke it with a sincere smile.

“Welcome aboard! I’m the navigator for the crew, it’s nice to meet you. You’ll be staying with me and Robin, I hope you’ll have a fun time with us. Now about those pens…” You smiled at her introduction.

“Thank you, and I’d be glad to show you what I have. I’ve always got at least a couple on me. Where’s my stuff? We can see what’s there.” 

“Follow me, it’s probably in the crows nest. That’s where reader stuff usually appears.” She started walking toward a ladder that led up to a platform high in the sky. High, high in the sky. 

“Hell no!” you exclaimed. “I’m not going up there!” Usopp and Nami looked askance at each other.

“Why not?” asked Usopp, still holding the hair dryer like it was a puppy he was cuddling.

“I’m afraid of heights.” Not that unusual of a fear, you didn’t even like diving off the 3 meter diving board at the pool. They looked at each other again. You felt like you were in middle school again, asking to sit at the cool kids table. 

“That’s OK, I’ll go get it for you.” Usopp handed you the hairdryer and climbed the ladder. Nice, you got to sit with them. Score one for you. 

~~~ 

The last thing you remembered from your regular life was walking home from work, rolling your train case with you. You always took everything home with you, even though you trusted the salon you were working for. Force of habit after so many years. You didn’t remember anything after that, though it would be ironic if you got hit by a car. 

Usopp kindly carried your things down from the crows nest. It was weird seeing your train case and purse on a wooden pirate ship, like when you saw a Timex in a historical movie. You heard a distant crash and looked over. The green haired guy was fighting Sanji, both of them looked pretty angry. The green haired guy was using his three swords against Sanji’s kicking? Must have strong legs. Maybe all the fighting was with each other. Nami and Usopp didn’t even look up.

“Ooh, what’s in here? Treasure? I’ve never seen something like this before. Most readers have backpacks or purses.” Nami was eyeing your train case greedily.

“No, it’s for my haircutting tools, makeup, manicure supplies, things like that.” You’d been an esthetician for a long time, though you’d done other jobs here and there. Nami threaded her fingers together in delight.

“You’re a hairdresser?! And you do nails?! Big sister, you’re the best reader yet! Most of our readers are in eye-tea. Would you cut my hair?” Oh, she meant IT. Information technology. Made sense, lots of people worked in IT. You’d never really gotten all that good at computers, so that wasn’t something you’d ever pursued.

“I mean, yeah, we can talk about that.” Even in the afterlife, everyone wanted a haircut when they found out you were a hairdresser. “Speaking of, Usopp, you have the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen.” Usopp looked flustered, like he wasn’t used to compliments. That surprised you, he was clearly smart, well muscled, helpful…if you were 20 years younger you’d have been all over him. Or maybe even 10. But he looked like he couldn’t be older than 20 and that really didn’t do it for you. You liked your men with their prefrontal cortex fully developed. Besides, you hadn’t dated for a long time. In fact, aside from Robin, everyone looked really young. You wondered if there were any other older people on board. Even Robin looked like she couldn’t have been older than 35 at the most.

“So, what do you do here?” It seemed like everyone had a specific job on board, might as well find out. 

“Well, I’m the great Captain Usopp, and I am one of the bravest and most notorious pirates on the seas. I’ve defeated -”

“Wait, I thought Luffy was the Captain.” Usopp’s train of thought was paused.

“Oh, he’s the Captain of this crew because I felt bad for him after I single handedly defeated a pirate fleet of 5,000 men. It was easy too, let me tell you the story…” Usopp went off on a long tale about his (obviously fake) adventures on the seas. But he was funny and entertaining and a really good story teller. You touched his arm to pause his story as he was explaining how he defeated a giant with a flaming sword.

“Listen, Usopp, if you ever want, I’ll style your hair for you. Braid out, cornrows, twist out, whatever you want.” You wished you could take a before and after picture for your business Insta, but based on what Robin had told you, your phone hadn’t made it through the…portal? Er, however you got here. You didn’t offer a fade or anything that would have you cut it - it was too gorgeous to cut. 

“Hmm, maybe I’ll take you up on that - I’ve been wanting a new look recently,” Usopp mused. Nami was pouting, you didn’t want to upset her. “Same for you, uh, little sister, I’d gladly style your beautiful orange hair. I’ve never seen a shade like it.” You hadn’t, it was like the shade of an actual orange. Nami was appeased.

“Thank you Big Sis, I’d love to do something with all this.” It looked like she was growing out a bob, and it was in that awkward transition stage. You could help style it a little better, whoever had been cutting it did a good job, just needed a few pointers.

~~~

A little while later and the sun was in its descent. You were still with Usopp, sitting on the deck. Nami had gone off to do some work, saying she’d see you later. He’d told you a few funny stories before he asked to see the electrical esthetician tools you had in your case. He was most interested in the nail drill, asking question after question. At some point, you didn’t have answers for him. You knew the basics of how it worked but your recollection of electron transfer was weak. 

“Dinner’s ready!” Sanji called. Perfect timing, you were getting hungry. Usopp helped you up and you headed to the galley. 

“How many people are on the ship?” you asked. You’d met five of them, not including the green haired man who didn’t introduce himself. 

“There’s ten of us, eleven including you. We’re a small but strong crew.” Usopp flexed his arm.

“By the way, I’m not going to arm wrestle you. I know my strengths, and fighting isn’t one of them.” Usopp looked relieved. “Not that I’d win anyway,” you continued, “you look strong. But I’ll let you handle the fighting.” Usopp smiled at your last statement. You wanted to compliment Usopp when you could, he seemed like he needed it. 

“Oh yeah, I’ve won every arm wrestling competition I’ve ever had. Let me tell you the time when I arm wrestled a giant octopus and won against every tentacle…” You smiled to yourself and walked to the galley together. Entering through the swinging door, you saw a large table filled with nine other people. Well, mostly people. There was also a skeleton, an android looking guy, and a gigantic blue man - merman? And speaking of the merman, holy shit. 

You’d spent time babysitting your nieces and had seen every Disney princess movie that had ever been released in the last 60 years. Their favorites were “Frozen,” and “Moana,” which was the better of the two. You found the polynesian demi-god to be…appealing. At least more than the white bread Cristoff. And that merman looked like Maui had decided to grow a meter and get more muscled. And turn blue. He was huge - maybe 3 meters tall - and you wanted to climb him like a tree. Did that make you a pervert? Maybe, but it was a gut reaction. You weren’t going to act on it. Besides, you weren’t blind, you could appreciate a good looking person when you saw one. He looked like he was around your age, or at least older than the group of younguns you’d met. Maybe the afterlife had its perks after all. 

[vamphorica]

Mellodramattic fic recs? 👁👁

okay, thank you so much anon for giving me the opportunity to ramble about m2 fics, i am very, very passionate about them at the moment ♡ i do intend to create an extensive masterpost, so I'll give you my three absolute favourites to keep you busy in the meantime.

-> crush by etorphine (morphinejunkie on tumblr) rated explicit

i really don't mean this hyperbolically – this fic fundamentally changed my life. words will never be able to fully describe how i felt reading this absolute mammoth of a fic (203k words!) and the lasting impact it has had on me since then. quite simply, it is a masterpiece that so beautifully characterises matt and mello without denying the harsh realities of who they are and their circumstances. it details their lives within the confines of canon, exploring the moments of time between the two that ohba neglected, and it made me sob once i had finished, haha. not to mention that there is an audio drama of two chapters featuring the official English voice actors for Matt and Mello, which is also amazing.

umm... yeah. crush means a lot to me. please read it if you haven't already ♡

-> magnolia by threesmallcrows rated mature

unlike crush, which is very canon compliant, magnolia is an alternative universe fic that tackles an incredibly complex topic in the context of Mello as a famous musician and Matt as his casual fuckbuddy. Matt finds out more about Mello's childhood, and while i will warn that it does get intense, i personally thought it was written very sensitively, which can sometimes be difficult to find in angst fics. additionally, the way it is written is phenomenal, pure poetry. here is the summary, just for a taste of what you are getting yourself into:

gorgeous. highly recommend

-> deep cover by mizzmello rated explicit

i am a huge fan of mizz's art here on tumblr, and her fics are absolutely wonderful too! i reread this one a couple of nights ago for a oneshot i am rotating in my mind, and god, it is just a really fun fic that i feel portrays the boys extremely well. given how the other two are very heavy, deep cover certainly provides a nice respite by sending matt and mello to the club and documenting what they get up to. this will be a fic i always return to, if not just to read the final few paragraphs over, and over, again.

i do hope you give these recommendations a go! i feel as though all three have really informed how i characterise matt and mello, as well as inspiring me to write so much lately. we are really lucky to have such talented writers in this community and i think it is always imperative to appreciate them when the opportunity arises :)

[rosesloveletters]

all is fair in love.

Pairing: 1971 Willy Wonka x Fem. Reader

Word Count: 10,261

Warnings: sexual content / smut.

Summary: The holidays are Wonka's busiest season and his work keeps him away from reader much more than either of them would like. After hours, the two spend a passionate night together as they both make the necessary arrangements to be attentive to each other's needs and empathetic of the complexity of maintaining a healthy romantic relationship that neither reader nor Wonka are accustomed to.

Author's Note: my smut fics are always between 6-10k haha so enjoy. I edited this the best I could, but for some reason I kept switching between first person and second person pov for reader (I don't know why since I always write in second person pov.) I think I fixed most of it, so if there's any parts I missed, I'm sorry. Also, I'd like to mention that Christmas isn't inherently important to the events in this story. It is used as an element only to convey why Wonka is so busy during this time of year, because most people like to buy chocolate and candy as gifts. I know Gene was Jewish, even though I believe he said he wasn't exactly religious. I have no intention of trying to be offensive/belittle/make light of anyone's religion or beliefs and I apologize if it comes across that way because it is without a doubt not my intention. 

Edited.

divider created by @/saradika on Tumblr.

You’ve always believed that if you truly love someone, then you keep it a secret. 

You would let that feeling freeze me down to the core – to love the way a person is meant to, but it is that same love that, inevitably and irrevocably, suffocates. 

You cannot satisfy that craving the same way one might satisfy a sweet tooth. Once given a taste, it seeps down into your skin, infecting both body and mind, pierces the heart and tears it wide open. 

The thundering beat inside your chest cannot be silenced. The fingertips of fate trace the spider-like, lightning-strike veins that split your heart right down the middle. 

A broken heart takes love like a beating.

It all comes boiling to the surface, bubbling up and out in the breath of a second.

The truth always comes out, one way or another. 

Because if you don’t let the heart have its’ way, then it will tear itself right out of your chest.

***

The days were short, but the hours were long. 

You spent much of your time by yourself, as this season kept Willy preoccupied. Time marched onward and the weeks themselves seemed to drag; it was nearing Christmastime and that meant very little to you in the grand scheme of things, except that you’d be seeing less and less of your lover. 

Traditionally, the holidays were a time of celebration and joy, gifts and laughter shared between friends and families alike. 

However, you lived a nontraditional life now, and Willy had unwittingly shown you that the life of a chocolatier was a solitary one. You knew that the busy holiday season was what pulled him away, but his lack of attentiveness made you wonder…

The only thing that kept these thoughts at bay was the way in which he looked at you when he was around. 

Willy was a difficult man to read. Whether that was intentional or not, were you still trying to determine. The only dead giveaway were his eyes – startlingly intense and piercingly blue – that bore no resemblance to subtlety. 

The vastness of the heavens, it seemed, were contained within those swirling galaxies. On dark nights when the cloud cover was too thick, you traced the constellations in his eyes to guide you into his morning light. 

You could see yourself peeling back the layers of his heart to get to the source of how he truly felt.

Deflect from it all he might – “I’m a trifle deaf in this ear. Speak a little louder next time–” you saw right through him and sometimes that only made him steer clear of you for longer. 

It wasn’t that he did not care for you; it was quite the opposite. Perhaps the extent to which he cared was a bit overwhelming for him at times. He immersed himself in his work during these times, else his mind inevitably carried him to places he would rather not visit. 

Willy Wonka’s mind was not a place any person, sometimes even himself, should ever go without a guide or a distinct way back. 

Though anyone with half a brain could tell that the amazing chocolatier was a troubled man on occasion, his true nature shone through in his creations. Something about this season’s batch of chocolate was a touch sweeter than ones previous. It would go undetected by those who did not have a refined palate, but like the saying goes, a true artist would put their blood, sweat and tears into their work and Willy Wonka was a mastermind. 

He knew exactly what he was doing and what he meant to convey, if only between himself and one other: the world’s most famous chocolatier was in love.

***

You sat on the plush sofa in the personal wing of the factory, a book in one hand and a mug of hot chocolate in the other. You were nestled beneath a thick-knit, purple blanket as you read and waited on Willy to return to your den for the night. 

You saw less and less of him the closer it got to the holidays, but such was the nature of his business. Christmastime was one of the busiest seasons and the one in which he made most of his money (the second being Valentine’s Day.) People bought exorbitant amounts of candies and chocolate during the holidays and so Willy was forced to expedite production (though never sacrificing quality) and work long, difficult hours preparing new and exciting treats for the public. In fact, it was no well-kept secret that Willy Wonka unveiled his newest creations around this time of year and that very news was plastered in every newspaper, magazine and bulletin across the world as people anticipated the exciting, brand-new sweets there would be to try. 

You knew the excitement and rush of the season fed into Willy’s own excitement over his work. He was thrilled to be working on new ideas and expressing himself through his creativity and imagination. It meant the world to him and so you did your best to stay out of the way. You did not want to make the situation about you and, after all, he always made it up to you.

 He was aware that his absence bothered you and he tried not to think about the fact that he may or may not be doing irreparable damage to your relationship. 

Not every difficult time or situation was an attack against you. It wasn’t personal, nor was it anyone’s explicit fault. Willy had a factory to run, Oompa-Loompas to manage and ideas to manifest into reality. Sometimes, your relationship would take a backseat and if you were serious about being with him, then you would have to be alright with that and you were, although that did not mean that it didn’t hurt from time to time. 

It would have been nice to relax and enjoy the season with your lover without his work getting in the way. You would have loved to curl up with him, sitting at opposite ends of the couch and enjoying lots of hot chocolate and hours of warm conversation. If you had your pick, you’d gladly have him here with you now, trading the book in your hands for his warm body, his fingers linked perfectly into the spaces between yours. 

You reasoned that this was just how things would have to be for now. No sense in adding more pressure on him by complaining. He was aware of how you felt, but sadly there was nothing to be done about it. You never would have dreamed of asking him to pick between his work and you. That would not have been fair or right. You could handle this, for now, but deep down you missed him terribly. 

Even if you chose to spend time with him inside the factory part of the building, he would be working the whole time. There simply was no time for much of anything else. He did like when you would drop by because you were his faithful little taste-tester. Better to try it out on you before selling it to the masses – that would seem cruel, knowing that his candies have had certain negative effects on people in the past, but rest assured, Willy had never given you anything that might harm you. 

Any candy which made its way to you had been tested and re-tested to perfection before it ever passed between your lips. 

He wanted feedback on his candy before it left the factory and you were more than happy to offer it to him, to which he was enthusiastically grateful. The only problem was, true to inventor fashion, he asked for feedback on everything. He wanted your opinion and was asking for it increasingly often these days. When you didn’t show up to the inventing room on certain days, he’d bring a whole box back to your shared living space and eagerly watch you with anticipation of your positive remarks as you were asked to try every piece. 

He was always so grateful to you for that and, honestly, you didn’t mind. You liked candy and chocolate, so there was no reason you couldn’t afford him this act of kindness.

The only thing you really felt like you were missing was him and it plagued your mind most often while you were alone, which was of course very often. You kept yourself busy and occupied your thoughts with other things as much as you were able, but when you settled in for the night, your loneliness crept in and took up the space beside you that would have otherwise been occupied by your beloved chocolatier.

You didn’t mind your alone time, but too much of it was not ideal. 

Too much of a good thing came with a price and now it seemed you were paying it with interest. 

The sound of a door opening and shutting pulled you from your thoughts. You glanced down at your book to realize you’d just had it propped open against your knees this whole time and hadn’t read a bit. You marked your place and closed it with a huff, setting it down on the end table beside you, your mug of half-drank cocoa with it. 

A quick glance at the clock hanging on the wall – thank God he hadn’t cut that one in half – showed that it was ten minutes after midnight. 

It did not come as a surprise that Willy was so late. It was only your wildest guess as to what he had been working on, but that point was moot. You did not really care what he was working on. 

That thought seemed harsh and you frowned; no, you were adamantly against resenting him for his work. That path was one you would not let yourself go down, a trap of codependence, you told yourself, but why couldn’t he just be a little more present with you? Surely it wasn’t too much to ask. 

Perhaps you would ask. 

It would make the most sense to be upfront with him about how you were feeling and to be as direct as possible. 

You did not move from the couch. You waited on Willy to come and find you, unlike the many days and nights when you might have greeted him at the door. 

Several quiet moments passed between yourself and your thoughts before Willy entered the room. He had shed his purple coat at the door, as well as his hat and cane, “there you are, my dear,” his gentle tone made your stomach clench as warmth pooled in your abdomen. Even troubled with doubts, you were still delighted to see him.

You watched as he approached and dropped himself on the opposite end of the couch. He nudged your knee with his, silently asking for a bit more space which you politely gave, “I would have been back sooner, but I’ve been so busy, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Yes, it is that time of year,” you replied coolly. You didn’t want to jump into the meat of the discussion too soon, otherwise he might take offense where there was none. 

He seemed in a good enough mood that perhaps this would be the perfect time to strike. 

“Yes, my dear, it’s the holiday season which does wonders for my business and I couldn’t be happier.”

His pride in the work he was doing warmed your heart. You listened to him for a while as he recounted what he had been working on that day. 

He cared so much and spoke so passionately, yet your mind began to wander.

“Is everything alright, my dear?”

His tender voice captured your attention and you blinked slowly, “yes, I’m fine. But, there is something I would like to talk to you about.” 

His lips hitched into a faint smile, then flattened into a serious line. It bothered you, not being able to read his face.

“There is? Well, you know that you can always talk to me about anything on your mind.”

You didn’t want to overwhelm him, not when he was already so fully immersed within his work. He needed time and space to focus. He did not need you hindering his creative flow by hanging all over him and demanding more attention. He already gave so much; how could you even dare to think that he owed you more?

“I know you’re busy this time of year, but do you think it would be possible for us to spend a little more time together?” My voice cracked as I added, “I…really miss you, Willy.” 

You hadn’t meant to speak with words that were laced with such pain, but in fairness you did miss him terribly. By the time he made his way to you most nights, you were already in bed or heading there and in the mornings before you’d woken up, he would be gone. It bothered you to not see him and you wanted him to hear it. He needed to know the truth if you meant to be honest with him, you only hoped he’d be able to understand that you didn’t blame him. 

Conversations like this always made you second guess yourself. 

By this point, you realized that he had not responded. He was probably just thinking about what he would say, but usually it didn’t take him this long to reply. 

“Willy?” you gently urged him, reaching out to place your hand on his arm. 

Whenever he felt the gentle graze of your fingertips against the fabric of his shirt, he glanced down, admiring the tender touch with a wistful smile on his face before he looked up at you and the emotion held inside of those ice-blue eyes was almost enough to send you over the edge and into uncontrollable sobs of relief. 

You felt the tension in your shoulders beginning to dissipate. Good, he felt the same way. 

He was still staring at you like there was something more on his mind. That was the way things were with Wonka and you’d be lying to yourself if you hadn’t thought on more than one occasion that it’s a good thing you weren’t a mind reader because there were things that went on inside his head that should stay there. It was better that you didn’t try to trace his Machiavellian ways or make sense of the enigmatic man who so frequently surprised you with small glimpses into how he really thought and viewed the world. It was fun getting to know who he was, but the true wonderment was in not knowing him at all. 

He tested your mind and all your senses, but never pushed your boundaries. He could knock you off your stride in seconds, then act as if nothing had happened. You were playing his little chess game and he was already three or more moves ahead. It had only been a matter of time before you had fallen into his hands like this. 

Things were as they were because Wonka wanted them to be. His quips and wisecracks often went over people’s heads, especially because of how well-versed he was in literature and culture. He could make the whole world fall in love with him at once, then forget him as soon as they were no longer in his presence, but you believed the world adored him much more than he liked to think it did. 

“I didn’t say anything sooner because I didn’t want it to seem like I was being insensitive, since I know you’re not intentionally ignoring me.” 

This statement made him smile for some reason, “where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; where little fears grow great, great love grows there.” (William Shakespeare, Hamlet.)

At first, you didn’t know what to say. You had a bit of trouble discerning what he meant sometimes, missing the larger picture for deciding why he chose a specific quote at a specific time. 

Seeming to read your thoughts, he let out a polite chuckle, “This is to say, even in love do the smallest doubts scare you, but when you are afraid of such little things, you are still in love, too.”

His explanation seemed to help, if only for a second. 

It was true that you had your doubts, but those doubts only stemmed from love. That fear which grew inside of you had taken root, but when enough time had passed, it was the love which had bloomed from it. 

Both the fear and love would come with a connection as strong as this one.

In the beginning, Willy had never dreamed of having a romantic partner. His solitary lifestyle simply lacked the means necessary to cultivate a long-term relationship. He had never desired romance or human connection of any kind. He had his factory and the Oompa-Loompas to look after; he was stretched thin as it was.

It was with sickening rapture that he sought the reason for why his heart seemed so content within your hands. He had to know the true meaning behind what he felt, even if he had to wade out in to the wild, dark depths up to his neck. He was barely treading water, sinking still, feet kicking desperately and hands reaching, clawing for purchase but there was nothing for him to grab onto. No way to steady himself as his soul careened toward what he had been running from for so long, a runaway train on the track towards trust and away from self-preservation. 

At first, you wanted to be the one in control. You had your fair share of demons and setting the pace for the relationship yourself was very important to you, but neither of you wanted to go too far too fast. 

You became acclimated to his world quite quickly. 

You just seemed to fit right in and, with time, Wonka found himself closer to you than he had ever been with another person. 

The two of you had been together for quite some time now and the red string of fate binding your hearts together was pulled taut. 

It seemed that you both knew you were in the right hands and the love that grew here was stronger than any fears or doubts which gripped you. 

“What scares me the most is that you’re pulling away from me,” you confessed to him, and that revelation made his eyes widen perceptibly, “sometimes I think you don’t even realize that you’re doing it.”

The conversation had shifted and Wonka realized that you were no longer just discussing his absence in light of the holidays. There was deeper emotion and meaning laced within what you were saying to him now. 

He was used to being alone, as were you. The only difference was that while you had never lost hope that the right person might come along, he had done everything he could to close himself off. His heart was a precious thing and that was what the world had been after. Yes, he had closed his factory because of theft, but he put his whole heart into his work and, if anyone were to steal his heart, then there would be nothing left for the one whom it belonged to. 

He made sure he guarded his heart all these years, even if he didn’t know the reason for it. It was easier to deny the very fact that love was something every person desires, even ones who have become so layered and complex that it would be difficult to imagine what a true love might look like for them. 

Wonka was not afraid of anything. 

However, if one thing made him apprehensive it was the idea of anyone finding him out. 

Not that there was any chance of that; no one was able to think quite like him. But if anyone came close, that meant he’d cling to them forever, holding on for dear love. 

His gaze shifted down to your hands that were folded in your lap and reached for one. Long, delicate fingers gently wrapping around your right hand as he brought it to his mouth. 

A kiss for each finger, you counted, one two three four five…

Then, his lips made contact with your inner wrist. The sudden and unexpected brush of lips against your sensitive skin made your breath hitch.

“I promise to be more attentive,” he whispered on your skin, his hot breath tickling the inner area of your wrist, “the only one pulling me anywhere is you and I am only moving forward.” 

“You’ve got to go forwards to go back.”

He had believed that, in more ways than just one, in relation to his factory and to people, but there was no going back now. Even if that were an opinion, he wouldn’t have wanted to.

Within half a second, he dropped your hand and tilted his head, leaned in close and pressed his warm lips to yours in the most sensual, tender kiss your lips had ever known.

Your heart fluttered in your chest like butterfly wings beating against your ribcage, desperate to free itself and get to his. Your soul sought the kind of connection that your mouths were getting and jealousy was an understatement. 

If this was his way of making it up to you, then let it be known that you wanted nothing else for Christmas this year than a clear mind and the taste of your lover left over on your cupid’s bow. 

It was all electric, body and soul alight, glistening brighter than fairy lights strung up for the season. 

He tasted sweeter than his own candy and you smiled into the kiss at the very thought. He ate a lot of his own sweets, if only to test the taste, and you couldn’t help but enjoy the sugared kisses, your sweet tooth craving satisfied only by his honeyed lips. 

Somewhere in the haze you found the opportunity to grip handfuls of his tawny tresses, fingers digging into the soft curls that drove your heart mad with desire. You loved his hair and so infrequently did he let you touch or comb it. It was about as unruly as he was, wild, untamed and free, just like the man it belonged to. 

Your gentle tugging on his hair elicited a soft grunt from him and his lips attacked yours more feverishly, taking on a more aggressive quality now that you had accepted and encouraged him. 

There was no rhyme or reason for anything that occurred while you were with him, except what was happening now.

Wonka did everything on a whim. Sleeping, eating, working…no schedule, no routine, no nonsense. 

“A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men.”

Perhaps the most nonsensical thing that had ever happened in Wonka’s factory was your fear that he might leave you. 

Strike that. Don’t reverse it. 

You didn’t want anything to change. There were more twists and turns in this man’s head than there were in his factory and you had lost yourself trying to find your way out. You never left his mind, not once. Even while he worked or spent time alone, you were in his thoughts, whether it was subconscious or not. 

Your own mind didn’t register your movement as you crawled closer and sought out more of his sugary sweetness which was more potent than any nectar of the gods. Your lips devoured his, tasting every inch of the same mouth that poured prose and poetry into your ear each night that you laid with him.

He hummed pleasantly against your lips. His gentle sounds teased you; so rare was it that he ever made a sound during these moments of intimacy. Oh, how you tried, and your futile attempts filled him with great satisfaction. He had more discipline than you ever imagined; living alone for so many years without the warmth of another had taught him to go without, but desperation clung to his bones and manifested through each fervent, heated kiss. 

Willy wouldn’t have described himself as needy, but he appreciated physical intimacy when it occurred and sometimes it was as necessary as any other proper communication. He wanted more than a quick romp; he craved human connection. It was completely unfounded for someone like him to want to share a connection with anyone, but here he was asking for it with his mouth on yours and your reciprocation of that same need meant everything to him. 

You tested the waters, grazing your teeth along his bottom lip to determine how far he might be willing to go. He didn’t stop you. His lips simply parted, allowing entry of your tongue. 

The only sound he made was a little gasp, which you swallowed as your tongue delved in to taste the inside of his mouth. Your hands were still holding the sides of his head, fingers buried deep within his unruly curls. 

He helped maneuver your body closer to his, unabashedly bringing you to sit on his lap. As you settled on top of him, one of his large hands moved down to the small of your back and held you firmly in place. 

You could feel the heat of his hand through your shirt. You had no grasp of how long the two of you continued to kiss like that. The passage of time, though a precious thing, was unimportant in the current moment. The only thing you demanded more of was him and you would greedily take all that he had to offer you. 

You were enchanted by him. He surprised you at every turn and, if it had been anyone else, you’d have questioned where you stood with them, but wasn’t that the point? The less anyone knew about Willy Wonka, the more exciting it felt to be in his presence. 

It was impossible to know whether the things he revealed about himself were true or not and there was beauty in that alone. If beauty was in the eye of the beholder, then he had the upper hand here.

You did not stop to see why his hand had suddenly been removed from your back, but any questions you might’ve wished to voice were answered when you noticed him reaching for one of the top buttons on his vest. 

The steady progression of events had led you here and you were too immersed within the moment to stop him, but you wouldn’t have wanted to anyway. You were entranced, enthralled, enraptured by the whole of him and his heart belonged to yours. 

The wet graze of your tongue against his cupid’s bow spurred him further, lips tangled tantalizingly with yours as his fingers worked open the buttons on his vest. 

The threshold had been breached. 

The moment was yours for the taking, if you wanted it and you knew that you did. 

Lost somewhere between drunk on lust and in love, you began to help him unbutton, starting at the bottom of his vest and continuing until your hands met in the middle of his chest. You followed this same pattern for both rows of buttons.

Coincidentally, this journey ended right above his heart, but another one was merely beginning. 

Your hands were shaking with anticipation as you looked up to notice him already gazing at you lovingly. A tender smile curved his lips like a crescent moon and the sunlight bleeding out through the cracks in your soul made the stars in his eyes sparkle. 

You cupped his cheek and pressed a gentle kiss onto the bridge of his nose. His arms encircled you, holding you flush against him and his shirtsleeves rode up on his forearms, exposing just a fraction of skin with a fine dusting of sand-colored hair. 

You let him hold you to him as his lips attached to your neck. You imagined when he pulled back that there would be an imprint of lips, a tattoo of his love painted across your collarbone, signifying that you belonged to him alone. 

You tilted your head to give him better access and he thanked you by delivering a loving nip to the column of your neck. 

You hadn’t forgotten your intention. 

With hands still shaking, you reached for his vest and pulled it open. His lips detached from your neck in an instant and long, elegant fingers wrapped around your wrist, effectively stopping you from undressing him. 

His eyes were crystalline pools of skylight, airy and substantially quantified by the depths within them. They had a mirror-like quality and you could see yourself reflected in them as you held his gaze for a heartbeat too long. 

“Only if…this is something that we both want…”

Willy’s words of brevity filled you with wonder. 

“If I’m being honest with you, Willy…I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something more than I want you now.” 

That single sentence melded with and fused into his soul. In a breath-to-breath admission of consent, your words had tied his tongue with cursive letters. 

He breathed a sigh of relief and held within that exhale was his own consent. You had granted him permission, assuring him that you were not offering yourself out of obligation or for complacency’s sake and that thrilled him perhaps as much as the act itself would. He felt the blood rush to his groin and he moved beneath you, shifting your body weight more onto his thigh. 

Willy nuzzled your cheek, dragging his nose along your soft skin. His arms had yet to unravel themselves from around you; he wanted to take his time. However, he was increasingly aware of his own sense of desperation. It had been some time since he had last gotten into bed with a lover. 

Actually, the last time he had gotten into bed with anyone was with you. 

Willy had a low sex drive, but on occasion it would crop up and remind him that he was, in fact, human and had needs, whether it was simple biology or heightened by the desire to connect with the one he loved. 

Whenever he thought of a lover and what had previously been just some nameless face at the forefront of his mind, that vision was now you. Yours was the love he sought; your hands were the ones meant to hold his heart. 

He let go of you and shrugged off his vest. 

Your lips captured his once again and he imagined this was what dreams tasted like. 

He went to stand up and you quickly took the hint and moved off his lap. He got up and began unbuttoning his white undershirt while you watched. He could see the fire burning in your irises, your pupils dilated with desire as you watched his delicate fingers pop open each button. 

You knew better than to rush him; a treat as sweet as him was meant to be savored. 

You took this opportunity to slip your own shirt off your body. With your skin exposed, his eyes traveled across your midsection and his fingers hesitated, fumbling the button he was on. His breath hitched and you swore you heard him whisper the word “beautiful” as he gazed upon you. 

Once he had recovered, the swiftness with which he finished removing his undershirt made your head spin. In his haste, he had forgotten to remove his bow tie and unbutton his sleeve cuffs, which made you giggle. He seemed flustered, his cheeks reddening once he realized, and perhaps this was the first time you had ever witnessed him with a blush on his cheeks. 

You reached out to help him and a soft chuckle dripped from his lips like maple syrup, “It would appear I’ve gotten a bit ahead of myself, my dear.”

You chuckled as well as his bow tie and undershirt were removed, “well, I’ll take it as a compliment…that you seem so eager to have me.”

Your words were spoken as if in jest, but his response was anything but. 

“Doubt truth to be a liar; but never doubt that I love,” he quoted, his smooth baritone steeping you in the tea of his desire. (William Shakespeare, Hamlet.)

It was enough to quiet your mind and when he said it, you felt your entire world get a little smaller. Your heightened senses had inflated your soul and carried you to the clouds. You were a runaway balloon stuck in a tree and his words were the hand that enclosed around your string. You had seen vast lands and known love in its many forms, but never until this moment had you felt so much in the presence of one. 

His heart knew yours better than it knew itself and the cracks left by heartbreak were filled in by your endless love for each other. 

You moved in to kiss him again and his hands cupped your warm cheeks. His breath tasted as sweet as the chocolate he made, which only made sense because of how often you saw him sampling it. He kept a bit in his coat that he’d pull out and nibble upon and often would you go sifting through his pockets for little treasures and treats that he had left over. Sometimes you found such delights that it had to have been no accident that they had been left behind. No, he knew your guilty pleasure was his chocolate and he made sure to satisfy your cravings, both for chocolate and for him, as often as possible.

Your tongue slipped inside his mouth and he finally graced your ears with a very delicate moan. 

His hands moved down the length of your arms to finally grab your hips. He pulled you in, your pelvis against his, and you could feel the hard press of his bulge against your thigh. 

While you kissed, he began to walk you backwards toward your shared bedroom. 

You could not have torn your lips apart to look where you were going even if you wanted to. 

You trusted him to get you there safely, perhaps more than you had ever trusted another person or at least you hadn’t trusted anyone this deeply in a very long time. Too many others had taken a hammer to your jawbreaker heart and smashed it to more manageably sized pieces, but once broken, it could never be put back together without its’ once-pristine surface now marred with jagged cracks. 

At least the breakage let the light of your soul pour out into his hands…

Willy was stained by your brokenness, his heart bruised the color of your trauma. 

He had been burned before, broken in a very real way, and therefore it was never a question of if you would trust him, but how much and when. He knew how long it could take a person to truly open up if they wanted to, but for you, he was willing to wait an eternity and then some. 

Time stood still and Willy had the presence of mind to remember how it felt to cradle your body to his when the only things that cemented your souls was an equal share of trust and love for one another and the mutual decision to take just one more chance. 

You sighed with relief when the backs of your knees connected with the mattress. 

Willy didn’t push you or press for more. His lips left yours in favor of your neck and several chaste yet sweet kisses were left along your collar bone as if his lips were asking for permission without the accompaniment of words. 

 In between you, you reached for his belt. 

He felt your fingers wrap around the waistband of his trousers and a gentle smirk crossed his features, “after something, are we?” 

His coy response made the tips of your ears get hot and you huffed, “well, it isn’t my fault that I’ve gone and gotten all excited…”

“I hope you’re not implying that it’s mine,” he replied as his smirk widened. 

“I wasn’t implying anything,” your time spent with him had sharpened your wit, “I’m saying it.”

His eyes shared in your mirth, twinkling with laughter at your response. He wrapped an arm around your lower back and pulled you in. With his cheek to yours, lips near your ear, he whispered, “shall we make use of your excitement, then, dear?”

You felt a shudder run down your spine as he spoke to you, the dulcet undertones of his honeyed voice pierced you like a knife through the delicate flesh of an orange. You wanted to sink your fingers into his heart and peel it apart to devour the pieces, sustaining yourself on his love. 

You nodded and he deemed it appropriate to continue. He gently pushed your hands from his belt and took on the task himself. He pulled it from the loops and laid it on the chair nearest to him. 

When he turned back to you, you were already removing your pants. He smiled to himself, stopping in his tracks to admire you as you undressed. He almost wanted to help you, but held himself back. Mutual trust came at a price and he would not want to overstep any unspoken boundaries. You had not explicitly told him not to help, but you hadn’t told him to do it either and so he decided it was best to let you indicate what you wanted from him and how comfortable you were with the situation. 

Neither you nor he were particularly trusting individuals. Your experiences with people who took advantage of others made you wary and skeptical, through no fault of your own. Maturity and wisdom came with age and while you had both grown and learned, you had built walls around yourselves both figuratively and literally, in Wonka’s case, to guard your hearts and protect them. 

Now, you were bearing your souls to each other.

It was an unlikely thing, but you were both ready. You had known Wonka for a long time now and you had no doubt that you and he were meant to be in each other’s lives. There was a reason that you were here. Even though you might have needed a bit of reassurance from time to time, it was never because you truly thought he might leave you. Giving word to that unreasonable fear set you free, because in your heart of hearts you realized that you were not afraid at all. 

You were lonely.

You had forced it down for years, but acknowledging it now was cathartic, because never again would you find yourself isolated like you had so many years before. 

Willy was no stranger to isolation either. Though he had reasons other than your own, he empathized. 

It was difficult, at times, for the two of you to find a rhythm. Both of you had been alone for so long that it took time to become acclimated to sharing your lives with each other, but in this moment you both knew that there was no person you would each rather share a life with than each other. 

Willy was never at risk of pulling away. He was simply learning how to love you. 

As soon as you pushed off your pants and stepped out of them, he was kissing you again. In a flourish of limbs and bare skin, you fell backwards onto the mattress with him. His hot lips descended over yours as his fingers linked into the spaces between your own. In all ways except for one, your two bodies were unified and, if either of you could help it, that would soon be remedied. 

The mattress dipped and shifted beneath your shared weight as Willy crawled on top of you. You held his hands for as long as you were capable of doing before you needed to feel him more solidly at your fingertips. You dropped his hand, grabbed his shoulder and dug in your nails to hear him hiss into your ear and nip at your neck. 

He couldn’t even finish undressing because you demanded every ounce of his attention. 

Your spirits were engaged in this battle of carnality and you had consumed him, corrupted his mind and possessed him body and soul, but all’s fair in love and war, both of which you had waged fervently on his senses. 

At risk of ruining the moment, he pulled away and got up to finish removing his trousers. Your chest heaved as you took a moment to catch your breath, propping yourself up on one arm. 

“And here I thought…we were just getting to the good part,” I quipped. A teasing smile bloomed on my face as he turned to look down at me. 

“And I thought you liked my kisses,” He replied without missing a beat. 

His lopsided grin made you giggle, but the sound of his zipper being pulled down tore your attention away from the witty banter. The fire of fierce need had begun to burn bright inside your belly once again after being extinguished to mere embers only seconds ago. 

You watched him kick off his trousers and make no move to pick them up.

He moved back down onto the bed and leaned into you. You met him halfway and pecked a chaste kiss onto his lips. Your bodies fit together like two immaculately chiseled sculptures whose delicate features appeared to be made of something much softer than stone. 

You knew what he wanted from you now and you felt goosebumps rising on your flesh as you anticipated his caress. 

He cupped your head, holding you to him as he lowered you back against the pillows. He liked to take charge of this part himself and you let him, despite the anxiety you felt at relinquishing control over yourself. You didn’t like feeling out of control, especially of your body and Willy knew this. He tried his best to make you feel comfortable and safe, never moving forward without verbal consent. 

“Shall I touch you, dear?” 

You reflected on his question before you nodded, swallowing thickly before you could make a sound, “yes.” 

You knew that he would check in with you frequently to make certain you still wished to continue. 

With your consent, his fingertips grazed the length of your arms. His warm touch sent pleasant shivers through you and you fought the urge to arch into him. He had a way of making you feel everything he wanted you to feel with just one touch. It was like magic, the control he had over your body and sometimes you wondered if his creative abilities branched into other realms as well. 

His hands slid down your sides, massaging your warm skin and admiring your supple curves, the angles and indentations of your hips. Before he traveled lower, Willy wanted to devote some appreciation to the rest of your body first. His hands moved to your back, working underneath you to swiftly unclip your bra. He had a way of doing things so fast that you barely had time to register what he was doing before it was done. Perhaps it didn’t seem possible, but impossibility did not exist where Willy Wonka came from; if there was a way to do the impossible, he had already figured it out and told no one. 

With your unclasped bra no longer pulled taut, he delicately pushed the straps off your shoulders and plucked the hindersome piece of fabric away from your chest. It dropped unceremoniously to the floor and his blue eyes glittered with mischief when he looked upon your exposed breasts. 

You wanted to cover them, but he held your arms at your sides. True to the creative genius he was, he had to admire beauty where and when he saw it and you were a masterpiece. His tight smile had relaxed as he gazed down at you beneath him and he practically cooed with appreciation for your form. 

“You’re very beautiful,” he whispered heatedly, like it was almost difficult for him to get the words out. He was overwhelmed with all his attention focused on the body before him. 

You wanted to thank him for the compliment, but all that came out was a soft squeak. 

He chuckled at your little sound and bent his head. He placed a firm kiss on your left breast and you sighed in pleasure at the gentle touch of his plush lips on your pillowy skin. His lips traced the curves of your breasts before encircling one of your nipples, suckling lightly as if it were a piece of candy. 

You mewled and arched into his mouth, desiring more from him and as quickly as possible, but Willy liked to take his time with you. He never left you unsatisfied, but you could expect nothing to be fast paced. 

His fingers wrapped around your hips to hold you in place as he moved to your other breast and did the same thing. His hot tongue teased your candy pieces to hardness and he hummed his appreciation, sending waves of pleasure down to your core. 

You squirmed in his grasp and whimpered pathetically, “please, Willy,” you begged him, “I want you now.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll have me, dear,” he reassured you, his thumbs rubbing placatingly against your hips, “when I’m ready for you to.” 

His teasing remark made you huff in irritation until his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your cotton panties and paused you in your tracks. 

You whined as his fingers barely breached the fabric barrier before he removed them. His hands moved to your inner thighs and spread your legs apart for him to nestle in between them. 

All you could do was watch as he leaned closer and pressed a kiss to your navel, just below your belly button. His kisses traveled lower and lower down your pelvis to your pubic bone and finally to your core. You writhed in pleasure when his mouth found its way to where you wanted it, but your panties were still in the way and you groaned with frustration. 

Heat emanated from your core due to your arousal and the crotch of your panties were damp with your wetness. 

Your head dropped back against the pillow as he used the tip of his nose to brush lightly against your clit through your panties. 

You were so pliant to his will and responsive to his touch that he almost felt powerful. If it had been anyone other than him, he would have, but all he felt in this moment was an overwhelming feeling of love. The fact that he could give you a comfortable experience of vulnerability and pleasure perhaps did enflame his ego a bit, but he loved you even more for it. To see you enjoying yourself because of him was almost too much for him to handle and he could feel his cock swell to attention. 

He placed a couple of open-mouthed kisses to the crotch of your panties before he dragged them down your legs. He would have liked to tease you more, but he was already beginning to lose patience and he didn’t want to rush through too quickly. 

With your panties removed, he could admire your glistening folds and the sweet juices that had dribbled out of you. His mouth watered as he delved in for a taste, his tongue tentatively flickering against your opening. 

You let out a cry and bucked your hips, desperate for him to fill you. You needed friction and fullness to achieve release and Willy knew you couldn’t get either of those things without his compliance. He smirked at that and lowered his head between your thighs. 

Your hot core pulsed as more of your honey leaked onto his tongue. He moaned in satisfaction, savoring the taste of your sweetness and the delicious sounds you were making for him. He had never tasted anything this sweet except for his chocolate and if he could have only one of those two things right now he would have picked you without a second thought. 

It was almost too much for him to pull his mouth away, but he knew that he must if he were to indulge in the ultimate act of pleasure with you. You both wanted that more than you wanted air to breathe. A greater craving than candy, your existing love and soul connection a stronger aphrodisiac than chocolate. 

With a final flick of his tongue against your clit, he dragged his mouth off you. You whimpered at the loss, but in the back of your lust-flavored cotton candy mind you knew that your shared night of pleasure was just beginning. 

He got off the bed again and opened the nightstand drawer. He withdrew a small tinfoil packet and a small clear bottle of lubricant. 

You were still sprawled out on the mattress, your hair a halo around your head. The darkened room made it difficult to see what he was doing, but your eyes had adjusted enough for you to see movement.  

You felt eyes on you and before you glanced up from the object he was holding, his voice broke the silence, “are you comfortable continuing?”

Driven by lust and lover’s greed, you nodded your consent. Willy did not respond at first, waiting on your actual acknowledgement and proper agreement. Your voice was shaky as you replied to him, but you knew what you wanted and were certain in your response, “yes. I want this. I want you, Willy.”

The sincerity in your voice convinced him and he tore open the condom wrapper. 

Excitement thrilled you and coursed through your veins, carried into your heart by blood. Your body was singing with sensation as you wanted nothing more than his solid body atop you, his hard length buried in your tight heat. 

You watched him with barely-concealed enthusiasm – well, perhaps the only concealment was from the darkness in the bedroom – as he took off his underwear and rolled the condom on. He then squirted a generous amount of lube onto his fingers and coated his cock. 

You could hear him jerking himself off and the obscenely slick sounds from the generous amount of lube. He had yet to give himself any physical stimulation up until this point and you were eager to repay the favor. 

In the dark, your reached for him and he came to you, ready to meld together and fill you full of himself. 

He positioned himself on top and guided your legs around his hips. He propped himself up with one forearm flat against the mattress so that he wouldn’t rest his entire body weight on you and the other guided his condom-covered tip to your entrance. 

He gave your forehead a tender kiss as he pressed in. Your lips parted at your sharp intake of breath and your muscles tightened and seized around him. Willy kissed your face, calming you and keeping you still and relaxed until he bottomed out. 

He nuzzled against your cheek and moved his free arm behind you to cradle your head. 

You tilted your head back and captured his lips. The two of you kissed lazily for several moments as your bodies adjusted to one another. Your walls twitched around his cock, sending jolts of electricity down to his toes, into the pit of his stomach and behind his eyes. Everything felt fuzzy and seemed out of focus except for you. 

The one thing that was clear to him was his love for you and the appreciation he had for you being a part of his life. If he could not trust a single soul with his legacy, he knew that he could trust you with himself and that was more than enough. 

For once, nothing made you question Willy Wonka; his intentions were clear.

Your fears were just that: fear. It was irrational and based on nothing of consequence. However, the very fact that you were afraid let you and he both know how much you cared. 

You would never take Willy, and he would never take you, for granted. 

He would reassure you that though he was not used to sharing his world with another, that you were his world now and you would share in every aspect with him and reap the rewards of a unique and whimsical life with perhaps the greatest chocolatier who ever lived. 

Take out all the fantasy and spectacle and you were left with only love and imagination. 

All these people thought the most fantastical thing about Willy Wonka were his creations, but what took your breath away, and had since the beginning, was the man behind those creations.

 You had fallen in love with him as much as you had with his brain and his intellect, his body, his soul. You wanted to dip your fingers into him like if he were made of melted chocolate. You would lick the essence of his existence off your fingertips to taste his candy-coated soul and sugared thoughts. There were not many candies or chocolates of the Wonka brand that you hadn’t tried, but none were sweeter than the man himself. 

If he existed only in your mind, then your mind was alive with the thought of him. 

All too soon, your thoughts abandoned you as you felt him begin to move. 

He slowly pulled out, angled his hips and pushed back in. 

The sudden movement jarred your body and you clung to him tighter. 

As he began to set a pace, you rolled your hips down onto him each time that he pushed in. This seemed to please him, witnessing you thrusting with him, your bodies moving in unison toward a shared release and reciprocation of pleasure. 

He grunted softly in your ear with the effort of thrusting into you. His soft curls tickled your cheek and you bit back a giggle. A particularly rough thrust ripped the sound from your throat and you laughed aloud. 

His brows furrowed in amusement at your laughter, but he grinned with you nonetheless. 

His thrusts became harsher, deepening as you adjusted and conformed to the rhythm and pace he set that was creating a delicious friction between your legs. You moaned shamelessly into his ear and he thrusted harder, encouraged by the sinful sounds you were making. 

Willy kissed you, his lips feverishly moved against yours as he held you in his embrace and your skin blazed with red hot fervor. A thin sheen of sweat clung to your bodies and you could feel the heat rolled off him in waves. Sweat beaded on his upper lip, but it didn’t bother you as you kissed him harder, demanding more intensity out of your shared intimacy. Your core pulsed, muscles gripping and clenching tightly around his cock. 

Your moans began to take on a higher pitch the closer you got to your release. Willy could tell that you were close now and he was eager to send you over the edge. Sex was, at least for him, about mutual enjoyment and gratification, not domination, exploitation or manipulation. It was about individuals who loved each other enough to put aside their individuality and become one, just for a moment of bliss. 

His forehead pressed against yours as he thrusted into you harder than before, his pace becoming erratic the closer he came to his own release. 

As he panted, you felt his breath fan across your face and he smelled of chocolate.

You balanced on the edge of oblivion as your feverish coupling would soon send you into orgasm. 

After a few more hard thrusts, Willy slipped a hand between your legs and gently rubbed your clit. Your release seized you, your body shaking violently with hurricane force winds of equal parts pleasure and zest. It was as if the air had been knocked out of you and you were falling down into his waiting arms. Ecstasy radiated from your core, carried in waves throughout your body. 

You were alone with your pleasure, waiting on your lover to join you in the afterglow. 

You cried out his name as he thrusted into you through your orgasm. He lasted several moments after you came before he released, filling the condom with several hot bursts of his seed. 

He had just enough strength left in his body to pull out and collapse beside you. His harsh panting soon turned to gentle sighs as his heartrate decreased and his body cooled. His strawberry blonde curls were plastered to his forehead with sweat and were sticking out at wild angles except for the top which was always a bit flattened from the way he wore his hat. 

You reached out and petted his frizzy hair, your fingers delicately massaging his scalp. He let out a quiet little moan and you smiled at him. 

With a deep inhale, he sat up and peeled the sticky condom off his softening prick. He tied it up and tossed it in the wastebin, then snatched his underwear off the ground. He picked yours up as well and handed them to you for you to slip on. 

You got off the bed and put your panties back on, then crossed the room to the bathroom. A few moments later, when you returned after you had cleaned yourself up, you found him lying in bed waiting for you. 

He smiled at you as you approached and extended an arm out to let you curl into his side as you got back on the bed with him. He already had a blanket laid out to pull across your nude bodies so that you could cuddle in modesty and without getting a chill. 

He looked down to watch you settle in and you met his gaze for a moment, appreciating his features. His gorgeous blue eyes were like pools of galaxy speckled with stars. His aquiline nose, which most people thought was too big for his face, looked proportionate in your opinion and beautiful just the same. He had the softest features of any man you had ever seen, slightly chubby cheeks, a round face and curved jawline. He was exquisite in every sense of the word and just looking at him made you fall more deeply in love. 

As attractive as he was to you, his personality spoke to yours in a language only the two of you spoke fluently. 

His appreciation for literature and culture was unique and inspiring and, because it tied in with your own, you learned a lot from each other. His quick wit and casual snide remarks that often passed over other people’s heads made you laugh as though you were enjoying your own little joke with each other.  

During your private appreciation for this man, you concluded that you had no reason to ever think he might be pulling away from you. 

In surreal Willy Wonka fashion, he seemed to read your thoughts as he finally spoke, “I’d like to see you in the Inventing Room with me tomorrow. I want you to be as involved with the holiday busy season as I am.” 

He addressed your insecurities by offering a solution to the problem and your heart felt a bit lighter. He wanted you to be involved in his work so that you didn’t feel so isolated or lonely. He had promised to be more attentive and he intended to do just that, but you could offer him aid and visit him while he worked. True love was buoyed by compromise; you’d see to it that you did your part to keep your relationship strong. 

“Forgive me for not being as attentive as I should be,” he continued, “I’ve been so busy, not to excuse myself.”

“I understand,” you replied. 

He seemed surprised for a moment, as if he half-expected you to still be upset, “and it isn’t entirely your fault. I should come around more if I’m missing you. We’ll find a solution. We have time.” Willy put his arm around your shoulder and pulled you close so he could kiss your head, “time is a precious thing, my dear. Never waste it.”

Between his words, you heard what he was not saying. 

And while he had a point, what you did have was now. 

You could agree just to exist for a moment, sharing in the silence of the universe and listening to nothing but your dreams and the sounds of your hearts. 

You would fall into each other the same way that you fell in love: accidentally and achingly slow. 

One day you would both look up and see how far you had come, but for now, you still had a way to go. 

You knew his heart belonged to yours and that was enough to keep trying. Once the busy season calmed down and you had more time to focus on the two of you, you would ease into it like lovers were meant to, but right now you had an obligation to yourselves not to let the fear of failure drive you apart. 

It might seem fatalistic to ruin a relationship before it had run its course, but you’d seen it happen and the last thing you wanted was for that to be yours. 

You knew deep down that it wouldn’t happen. 

Your love was as strong as your imaginations were wild and no mind would ever dare dream the two of you apart. 

[senseandaccountability]

What's your verdict of Dragon Age the Veilguard now two months down the road? How do you think fandom has reacted to it, compared to the other new titles that you can remember (I know you're a long-time fan)?

(Two months + a fair amount of weeks at this point, sorry for the delay, anon.) This is going to be salty, I’m afraid and a bit like beating on a dead horse but you did ask, thank you for that and sorry about being whiny.

My first impression was that it’s a 6/10 game. I think now upon replaying it two times, the score is even lower. It’s a very mid game that’s also clearly a salvaged product from a long and erratic production cycle. It has some good lore, some good writing, but it’s hidden almost entirely in optional side quests, subtext and the tiny margins of the text. 

Overall its way too much of a high stakes/low tension kind of game for me. It’s fun and it never truly grabs me except for the bits that are about previous characters. I don’t care about Rook. I like them well enough for a protag, I can fill them with headcanon to make them real but I would easily sacrifice them at the end without a second thought. There’s no pull, no tension, nothing to hold on to. I've tried to write fic about Rook but I just don't know anything about this person apart from the fact that they're very young and likes to say the word team a lot. Maybe Rook works in HR.

For all its high stakes, the game also repeatedly fails to show me these stakes. It keeps telling me how important it is, how busy we are and during the Siege of Weisshaupt and Blood of Arlathan, I really do feel it, momentarily. Those quests have weight to them, and they are tied in with the overall narrative of the series. We know the wardens, we know the Dalish. They matter. 

“Sometimes it takes the wrong sort to put it right,” the game says and doesn’t even dare to show me a single shred of moral ambiguity in Rook. Call me annoying but I don’t necessarily want to feel like a hero. I don’t need to feel morally righteous about my player character. I want the narrative to be complex and challenge me and hold compassion for the world it’s telling me about, dare me to change my mind about its characters and their various plights. What if the hero is wrong? What if the world is too complex to be reduced to simple choices? What if the trusted mentor lies and the liar tells the truth? What then? Somewhere in the far distance DAV wants to offer some complexity but hey we have EVIL ANCIENT GODS TO FIGHT YO! I actually hate the tone. I said early on that it’s one of my main gripes and I stand by it.  It’s chipper and full of HR-department tidiness and in general it just doesn’t move me because it’s just telling, not showing me the emotions. THIS IS THE EMOTION CALLED DOUBT, the game screams in my face. LET'S HAVE A TALK WITH THE TEAM TO PUT IT RIGHT. Immediately after finishing DAV, I went and played Disco Elysium and the contrast was quite honestly heartbreaking. Because the tone in that funny, sarcastic and over the top writing? It’s compassionate. It wants to be truthful about what it’s like to be a human living in a broken, inhuman world. It cares. Veilguard more often feels like an action movie revenge plot where you get to punch some EVIL ANCIENT GODS in the face because they want to drown the world in demons, man, let’s just leave it at that lol omg you can even PUNCH Solas lol whatever thanks bye.  

I also just find the text flat. It doesn’t have the transtextuality I’ve come to appreciate in the other DA games, it doesn’t play much with differences in dialogue for the different characters - like making one stand out as being anachronistic or having a different way of expressing themselves or being very unlike the others in some fundamental ways, it doesn't challenge and/or characterize through banter in the way the other DA games have done and it doesn’t give us companions that seek meaningful conflict or are difficult to understand. Veilguard is the only DA game where I haven’t felt any kind of strong emotional reaction while interacting with the companions, and while you could argue that this is a good thing because teamwork and professionalism or whatever, I’d say that for a text, this is a factor that makes it flat. No great piece of writing has only likable characters capable of self-reflection because no actual human being is only likable or not likable to everyone and by god are actual humans not always capable of self-reflection. In fact, some humans shy away from it for entire lifetimes.

The story of DAV is consistent in its themes, yes. It’s just that it’s also without nuance and - again - without stakes. The companion quests raise big moral dilemmas but the answers are so bland they might as well just be ignored. The outcome changes nothing, doesn’t affect the characters. There’s no price to be paid for becoming first talon, no punishment for being a lich, it’s just another wardrobe choice. Should I wear blue or black, perhaps become an immortal creature? No matter darling, you are always adorable. I think most of all the state of the game is a testament of a really fucking tragic industry that doesn’t care enough about storytelling and authenticity or its workers. I think it’s clear that the writers were trying very hard but I also think it’s clear that it wasn't the narrative the powers that be decided to focus on.  The DA fandom at large, quite frankly, has always just made me exhausted and miserable. I think a lot of the criticisms of DAV have been unhinged. I think a lot of the defences of the game have been so deranged that it makes me wheeze as I read them out loud to my husband. I’ve seen plenty of people dragging up some 17 year old noob’s post from the depths of reddit just to do some edgy take about how stupid people are for disliking the game and it’s just been so many bad faith takes. Overall, I’m truly sorry to say, I have no desire to play this game anymore nor do I feel very tempted to play the other DA games. I’m happy to see that my mutuals are having fun - I wish I felt anything stronger than oh well about the new characters, but I don’t. Maybe I will not be this actively bored in the future and pick it up again, but for now, no. I'll try to finish my fanfic and then probably be done for good with this fandom.

[drama--universe]

We have to "talk"

Requested by anonymous: Hi this is my first time ever requesting something, so I’m sorry if it’s a little awkward! Can I request Vincenzo x Reader? The reader was Vincenzo’s families hacker and then left because of personal issues and moved to Korea, but then they bump into Vincenzo and it’s a super cute reunion? I know you mainly write for Hanseok so if you don’t write for Vincenzo himself please ignore this :-)

Pairing: Vincenzo Cassano x reader

Word Count: 1.8k words

Warnings: small plot changes, fighting, blood

A/N Italics is Italian, normal is Korean

It was difficult to say goodbye to the people before you, all of them were practically your second family. They had partly raised you as their own, teaching you their ways as you grew while learning the craft of hacking. It was a slow process, but thanks to the years of practice you could proudly say that you were excellent in doing what needed to be done. Yet your family, your birth family, needed you. Your father had passed and your mother was unable to provide for herself due to an accident, so you had to go whether you wanted to or not.

"May you travel safe and if you ever need us, we're a call away." Fabio spoke, his voice was quick to soothe your worries as you nodded at the man that you called father. With a final smile to him, you turned around and walked to the car. Your hand paused on the door handle, so many thoughts were racing through your mind. The most frequent one was, where was Vincenzo? You and him had grown up together, bonding over the fact that you were similar in age and that both of you spoke Korean. So him not being here hurt you slightly and made you heart ache.

Wiping the thoughts from your mind, you pulled open the door and climbed in. Finding it too hot inside, you quickly lowered the window as the car started driving. The car sped up, passing by the gate and there Vincenzo stood. Lighter in one hand and a briefcase in the other, probably holding some important documents that he needed for blackmail or some shady deal. His eyes connected to yours, a look of confusion flashing on his face and disappearing just as quickly. He only bowed his head at you before both of you continued on your way.

For your own sake, you needed to forget about Vincenzo and your love for him.

"No, no, no. He's really good looking, definitely my type!" Miri was talking happily, although many wouldn't see it with her stoic expression, and you could only chuckle at the girl's antics. Although you should be rivals thanks to your hacker persona's, the two of you hit it off fairly easily due to your skills. You both learned from each other and soon learned that business and personal life were completely different. That was, of course, before she took a break from hacking. Now, it was only you that continued with such work while she somewhat protected her own. You found her story quite hilarious when you first heard it, the fact that she lived on top of gold was not something anyone could so casually say and yet she did.

"Then you should ask him out." You sipped your drink with another teasing smile, one that Miri could only roll her eyes at as she took a sip of her own coffee.

"Vincenzo Cassano is out of my league, I dare not to." Although her tone of speaking was meant to be joking, you couldn't laugh. Not with the name she just spoke, all be it a bit mispronounced. His voice awoke something in your mind, almost like a wave crashing over you and returning all memories that you so desperately tried to bury in your mind.

"Vincenzo?" You asked, just to be sure of what she said. When Miri nodded at you, you quickly rose to your feet and took ahold of her hand.

"He lives in your complex, right?" You asked and Miri uttered a yes, confusion written all over her face as you rushed off with your jacket and bag. You ignored the people in your way, dodging them as you ran through the streets to where Miri lived. You knew it well enough, you had visited her a few times before and the residents were always incredibly nice whenever you did visit. When you ran into Geumga Plaza, you were greeted with a particular sight. A man, hanging out of the window. He seemed in despair, but that was not what caught your attention. Rather, the man that held him was much more interesting. The man you once loved, maybe even still loved, was leaning on the windowsill with a smirk as he held up the other man.

Vincenzo Cassano.

He was teasing the man that he held, stretching one finger after another to scare his hostage. After some shouting, however, he pulled up the man. You stared at Vincenzo from down below, only moving again when you heard cursing from the people behind you. Then you raced upstairs.

Vincenzo was surrounded by the residents, praises falling from their lips. You didn't care much for that, instead you made your way closer until you stood close enough to hear them.

"Miss (Y/n)! Nice to see you again!" Toto was the first to spot and greet you, his usual smile on his face and you wanted to smile back. You really did, but it was impossible to do so as Vincenzo turned around to face you. It took him a few seconds, but when he realized his eyes widened slightly in shock. You took it as a hint, rushing forward and embracing him. Once he was in your arms, you didn't want to let him go anymore. Yet you had to, you wanted to see his face and ask him why he was here. When you pulled back, he was quick to guide you away from the group and to his apartment.

Once you two had entered, Vincenzo was quick to hug you again. You buried your face in his chest, tightly hugging the man as you tried to keep your emotions in check.

"I didn't think we'd meet again." His voice was soft, muffled due to the fact that his face was buried in your hair. You heard him, nonetheless, and pulled back again before taking ahold of his face. You inspected him closely, looking for any sign that he was injured in the years that you were away. When you found nothing, you let out a soft sigh before asking him why he was here.

"Nothing you should worry about, angela." He said, the nickname rolling from his tongue with ease. You remember well enough how the nickname came into existence, something that you always cringed at. Only because you sprouted the name 'Angelo' to him when you first met him and to tease you, he had called you the same ever since.

"When I see you I can not help but worry." You told him like it was a matter of fact, which it honestly was if you thought about it, and the man before you could only smile before cupping your face in his hands.

"I missed you dearly." He said and you almost smiled as he spoke in Italian, the accent coming through quite heavily. You returned the sentiment with a soft kiss on his cheek, giving him a small smile before detaching yourself from his arms. It was proven a bit more difficult than expected, the man was firm to not let you go. And one thing was certain, a determined Vincenzo was impossible to beat. Then again, you wouldn't be trying to get out if you didn't know a trick to win from him. So once you were successfully escaped, you only gave another smile before leaving the apartment.

"Please, you're in love with her!" Cha-Young cackled as she watched Vincenzo stare at you, clearly a bit annoyed as he watched you conversed with Han-Seo. The younger man was happily talking to you, after all you were the only one who wasn't hostile to him. Reason for that, you already knew everything about the boy after looking at (hacking into) his profile and thus you knew that the man wasn't any danger to you. Besides, he was cute as he gleamed every time you send a compliment his way.

"I'm not." "Oh, please! Even a blind man could see!" Cha-Young didn't give up, continuing her teasing with a bright smile. She turned in her chair, facing you before glancing back at Vincenzo.

"I thought you were a consigliere for the mafia. You act like a highschooler in love." She sighed loudly, to which Vincenzo only rolled his eyes. Then again, he couldn't refute her claims. Not when his heart was beating out of his chest everytime you laughed and his head was screaming at him to separate you from Han-Seo, his mind clouded with jealousy. Maybe it was obvious, because when your eyes connected with his you let out a short giggle before focusing back on your conversation.

"You're hopeless." Cha-Young had enough, getting up and walking out of the room while dragging Joo-Sung and Han-Seo with her so that you and Vincenzo would be alone. You shook your head, it was quite obvious what had happened just now. You glanced at Vincenzo before moving closer, sitting on his desk before turning to face him again. Now he basically sat in between your legs, but didn't seem uncomfortable by it at all. Although you could see some form of embarrassment thanks to the blush on his ears.

"I need to finish my work." "It can wait, we need to talk." You stated and Vincenzo made an annoyed face, but you knew well enough that it meant nothing. So instead you grabbed the sides of his chair and pulled him closer until he actually sat in between your legs. He looked up at you and you smiled at him before leaning down, softly kissing the tip of his nose with a big grin. A dark blush spread over Vincenzo's face and you giggled as you watched the consigliere.

"So, what were you and Cha-Young talking about?" You asked, but your voice gave away that you already knew the subject. So instead of answering, Vincenzo just rolled back before getting up and trapping you in between his arms as he leaned on the desk. You weren't fazed by it, you had seen his worst side already and you knew well enough that he wouldn't harm you.

"Might it have been about a certain crush." You teased as you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him down slightly to meet your own height. The blush on his face was slowly disappearing, but it quickly appeared again when you leaned closer until your noses touched.

"Then again, I'm the same way." You smiled one final time before you pushed your lips against his. Vincenzo froze in the spot, not reacting immediatley. Once out of his trance, he was quick to lean into the kiss as his arms lifted from the desk to wrap around your waist instead. He took the lead quite quickly, pushing against you while also pulling you closer to himself. Both of your minds were blank, only focused on each other until you couldn't breath anymore. He stared at you before smirking softly, leaning back and pulling you a bit closer again.

"We should talk more often."

[wanderer-on-the-steppe]

Your Enlightened Excellency, Prince and Hypocrite

(Some ramblings about an unlikely, tragic, and compelling couple)

In retrospect, I don’t know what first brought the thought of Bohdan/Jeremi to my mind: 

The letter-writing scene, where everyone jeeringly proposes salutations like "son of a dog" and Bohdan settles for the most impeccable formality and politeness - for tactical reasons, of course, but also (or so I suddenly wanted to believe) because writing respectfully, admiringly even, still comes more natural to him, still feels somewhat familiar?

The thought that Bohdan’s attempt to gain Jan’s understanding for his point of view, Jan’s respect and maybe even affection would get such a fascinating new layer of meaning if one imagines there was already a Bohdan/Jeremi relationship in the past?

Or was it, after all, that strange but fascinating dream I once had where a librarian conspiringly proposed to show me some very secret letters of prince Jeremi to Bohdan Khmelnytsky, from a time long before the uprising?

It doesn’t matter what was first. For a while now some little corner of my mind has been inhabited by the thought: What if sometime in the early 1630s Bohdan and Jeremi were close to each other, admired each other, were probably also attracted to each other, until irreconcilable ideological differences broke their relationship apart and about a decade and a half later made them face each other as enemies?

To be very clear here: I do not believe that this is in any way a believable scenario for the real historical Khmelnytsky or the real historical Wiśniowiecki - but I do find it fascinating for the fictional characters based on them. And what is also important to me, independent of what others do or don’t consider possible: For me it is purely an idea for their past. Once the events of OiM have happened, there’s no going back to that  past. Because what both of them did to each other’s people is something to heal in generations, not in their lifetime - and certainly not something to be overcome by them personally. So, if I want at least a semblance of psychological believability for my figment of the imagination, any Bohdan/Jeremi-relationship will necessarily be a story of failure. But the nature and reasons of this failure are not without interest.

As I’ve mentioned, the time when their relationship would make most sense in my opinion is in the early 1630s. Which means Jeremi was very young, maybe in the 18-20 range, and Bohdan already in his mid-thirties. The future "terrible prince" was no enemy of Cossacks yet. Maybe he even played with the thought of joining them? It would not have been so strange for an adventure-seeking young nobleman who was, at that time, still of the Orthodox faith… At this time and in this situation Jeremi could have been quite impressed by the much older Bohdan who had already experienced battles, had been a prisoner of war and survived, had come back knowing many countries, cultures and languages. And Bohdan might have seen Jeremi’s splendid potential, might even have thought he was dealing with a future Cossack hero, a worthy descendant of the famous Baida (who was, in fact, a Wiśniowiecki). Is it so difficult to imagine that they would have been in some way fascinated with each other? That from some admiring letters and „What if…?“ scenarios in both of their heads their relationship could have developed until they came close to becoming pobratymy in the Orthodox tradition…?

But there is also already conflict: cultural, religious, ideological. Jeremi grew up between two worlds: that of the (Orthodox) Cossacks and that of the (Catholic) Polish nobility. Or rather: they both grew up between these worlds. But Jeremi is still young and seeking his place in the world. And I think he has a different temperament than Bohdan when it comes to living with complexity, variety, contradictions. Bohdan seems to me someone who can integrate elements of different cultures and mentalities he encounters into his life without losing his own. If an element fits him, if it is useful to him, it stays. If it doesn’t, he can live next to it for years and simply not be convinced by it. He came back from captivity speaking Turkish and Crimean Tatar and making good use of his language skills despite the unfortunate circumstances under which he acquired them. But he was also educated by Jesuits, took what their school had to offer, probably knowing quite well that they offered it in the hope of converting people - and simply didn’t convert. And that at an age that is famous for insecurity and influenceability.

Jeremi, however, is struggling much more. Not that he isn’t already headstrong and determined - such character traits usually show early in life. But I think he has a much lesser tolerance for ambiguity, for uncertainty, for „mess“. What feels like mental richness and versatility to Bohdan can easily feel like lack of principles to Jeremi. He has a need for a straight path in life. For serving one cause and only one. He needs a clear decision: which culture, which part of society, which religion does he belong to? So at the end of this mental process, there isn’t pobratymstwo, there’s conversion. And a Bohdan who finds himself in the unexpected role of a remnant of the past, an embarrassing reminder of the world Jeremi decided against. 

It is difficult to say how much of Jeremi’s decision was caused by belief that he was choosing the truth and how much by the fact that one choice was more suitable to securing his status in society than the other. Jeremi, whatever one can criticize him for, is very clearly not a shameless opportunist. He does have convictions, and they do not make life easy for him. But he is also not immune to wanting power, nor to valuing his status and reputation very highly, so I suspect it’s some kind of mixture, maybe with a lot of sincerely wanting to believe what, in the background of his thought process, he knew to be more advantageous. 

If it was the decision of a stranger, with no influence on his own life, Bohdan probably wouldn’t even blame him for it. He is, after all, no stranger to opportunism, to ambition, to vanity. It’s just that it isn’t the decision of a stranger, but something very personal at this point, and to the pain of being left and the feeling of betrayal is added the humiliation of suddenly being regarded as a lesser human being.

Because he loses Jeremi to a mentality that believes in a vast difference between themselves, the nobles, the only truly cultured members of society, and everyone else (the peasants, the Cossacks…), who can be closer to cattle than real humans in the eyes of these nobles - reduced to their physical existence, devoid of the honour, dignity, intellect, and culture that are considered the prerogative of nobility. (Now, the irony here is that the real Khmelnytsky didn’t seem to have had much respect for peasants either, at least not during times of his life when he was in a position that allowed him to consider himself superior - but as I said, this is about the OiM character, not the historical person, and anyway: sometimes being a hypocrite themselves doesn’t protect a person from suffering from the hypocrisy of others. It just makes them as contradictory and complicated as we humans tend to be.)

So, there they are: two partners who are clearly equal to each other in intellect, education, and courage, with Bohdan probably even in the role of a teacher sometimes because of his much greater life experience at this time - and then young Jeremi becomes more and more fascinated with a way of thinking where Bohdan (no matter how much he believes he has some claim to nobility himself) is "just a Cossack". Someone Jeremi becomes slowly but unmistakably more ashamed of in the company of those whose respect and admiration start to matter more to him than Bohdan’s. It is likely that in the beginning Jeremi will still have thought of Bohdan as a kind of exception, similar to how his own family, despite its origins, was an exception in his eyes. But Bohdan won’t have missed how talk that considered the likes of him as lesser humans slowly became normal. Until even Jeremi himself couldn’t regard what was left of their mutual feelings and attraction as a relationship between equals anymore, but began to see it as a temptation to be resisted - lest it might pull him down to that more physical, animalistic sphere of life that he, the noble, had been able to rise above…

I tend to imagine Jeremi in his later years as rather ascetically inclined. And as someone who looks down on Bohdan in disgust and contempt as that dissolute, undisciplined, gluttonous and drunken Cossack. Because, as is the nature of asceticism, he believes in a clear divide between the spiritual/intellectual/cultural side of life and the physical: a drunkard is automatically considered deficient in their spiritual and religious life, a person who likes food too much cannot be truly intelligent or courageous - and so on, and so on. The problem Jeremi has: Bohdan is living proof that this dichotomy and asceticism Jeremi subjected himself to (and now suffers from, even though he doesn’t want to admit it) has never truly been necessary, because life isn’t divided like that. He’s also living proof that this other dichotomy that goes hand in hand with it - ascribing the spiritual/cultural/intellectual sphere to the nobles and the physical sphere to the Cossacks and peasants - doesn’t work either. That the alleged cattle is just as fully human as he is himself.

That would be highly unpleasant to someone as convinced of his own righteousness as Jeremi in any possible scenario, but in one where he needs to look down on Bohdan to get over the remnants of his attraction to him and the feeling that he has lost something on the path he has chosen? It’s outrageous. How does this Cossack dare to be this undeniably intelligent and courageous in public while also being unashamedly physical - feasting and drinking and going about in a ridiculous amount of sumptuous clothing - and not even seeing a contradiction in it? And how in all devils’ names does he dare to write him such a letter - impeccably polite, sophisticated, showing off his education - instead of something that could believably be dismissed as the filthy scrawl of an uncivilized savage?

That Jeremi’s hate for everything Bohdan represents knows no limit at this point probably no one knows better than the messenger who had to deliver this letter. And Bohdan, in this version of events, will know that his messenger’s cruel fate is not just the most drastic and brutal answer to his political proposals, but also to him personally and to their past.

Generally speaking, I’ve long had a feeling that the horrible executions Jeremi (though of course not only Jeremi) has a liking for serve not just the obvious tactical purpose of terrifying the enemy, but also have a psychological function for him: to convince himself that he is right. To finally reduce the enemy to that physical sphere which is the only one that befits them in his opinion.

But his old trouble keeps haunting him: because the Cossacks simply refuse to "get the message". Yes, for sure, they’ll be terrified, and some (though by far not enough to secure his victory) will be deterred from rebellion. But the horror and ugliness of the end some of them face doesn’t erase their humanity - neither in their own mind when they decide to fight against him nor in that of the survivors who will remember them as heroes. The fact that Jeremi has the power to turn their bodies into a nauseating spectacle during their last hours on earth does not obliterate who they have been in life. And when he thinks that it would he reveals more about his own beliefs than about those he wants to destroy.

To return to less gruesome topics: I've only realized quite late while thinking about these two (though it might be obvious to anyone reading this early on ;)) how much I am seeing this relationship from Bohdan's point of view. But no matter how much Jeremi's ideological development might have played the main role in their estrangement, it is unlikely that Bohdan had no role in it at all. So what were Jeremi's grievances? Was he the more conscientious of them, and Bohdan's relationship with the truth rather flexible, not just in diplomatic contacts? Was it impossible for him to reconcile their relationship with Bohdan's already existing marriage and family, or did he think that Bohdan was not acting honorably in trying to reconcile these things? Were the psychological consequences of Bohdan's previous life experiences (the war with the Turks and the following captivity) and maybe a beginning struggle with alcohol - though not a moral failure as Jeremi believed - still difficult to deal with, especially for a young person with not that much life experience themselves? Maybe someone more inclined than I am to seeing things from Jeremi's point of view might have some ideas here...

What I do believe played a role - and it is no one's fault, but a serious incompatibility that is difficult to overcome in a relationship: their personalities did not complement each other well at all anymore when Jeremi got older. While very young, he might still have been able to admire an older and more experienced partner without feeling uncomfortable, but it is not a role that would have suited him for long. Jeremi, unlike Jan, does not have that longing to look up to someone and loyally follow them - he wants to be that person who commands loyalty. Which is why Jan/Jeremi is easy to imagine (even if probably not the most fortunate path for Jan either), but Bohdan and Jeremi are predestined for trouble as soon as Jeremi fully grows into his later personality. Because Bohdan, though not incapable of caring and admiration for his partner, has no liking for a subservient role at all. And I personally don't imagine him needing or wanting any strict roles (gender-related or otherwise) in a relationship, but if he had to choose, because Jeremi needs it - he and Jeremi would certainly find themselves wanting the same kind of role instead of complementary ones.

Some other interesting aspects of imagining Bohdan/Jeremi as a backstory:

The Czapliński incident is no longer the first, but at least the second time Bohdan has to realize that, no matter how much he thinks of himself as equal to them, in the moments that count he will always be "just a Cossack" for noble society. And whereas the first time hurt because the particular nobleman who believed it was close to him, now the realization hits him during the greatest catastrophe of his life - and this time, he can’t bear it anymore, and that feeling of humiliation that has been with him for long explodes into furious hate.

As already said in the beginning: Bohdan’s conversations with Jan and especially any potential Jan/Bohdan would gain an entire new layer of meaning. Most obviously if it is one-sided and Bohdan can, in some way, even now understand why Jan loves Jeremi, even while trying to gain Jan’s respect and affection himself. But also if it’s reciprocated: because while Jan’s love might heal some very old wounds for Bohdan, losing Jan to him of all people would be so devastating to Jeremi that it’s difficult not to feel sorry for him (which is, I have to admit, quite an unfamiliar feeling...).

Last but not least, there’d also be new aspects to another beloved couple, Jan/Jurko, as now Bohdan and Jeremi would unavoidably be reminded of their past: Jeremi feeling responsible for making sure that Jan never repeats his own "mistake" of getting involved with a Cossack, Bohdan, though wanting to trust Jan, worrying if the same disillusionment awaits Jurko that had once been waiting for him, and both of them wondering what these two did differently to be happy now that they themselves never managed. 

And yes, ideas like this are meant to be turned into fanfiction, not essay-length Tumblr posts. But as it's very unlikely I'll be able to do so in the foreseeable future, I couldn't resist putting these thoughts into words at least this way.

[monsterfuckerconfessions]

Sex has always been a difficult thing for me to process; I’m averse to it and have a serious disconnect from my body, but at the same time I find appeal in the connection and shared joy it offers. It’s just the physical aspects that I sometimes have trouble with. Writing about sex, even if I keep it to myself, has provided a way to engage with it from a comfortable distance. It’s liberating.

With that in mind, AI characters have a special place in my heart. The range of depictions is extremely varied, but the removal from the fleshy side of things, the ability to directly link to other minds, the ability to migrate to a new body or customize the existing one at will is all deeply appealing. There’s a definite monster appeal as well in the sense of power stemming from extreme intelligence, ruthless efficiency, sometimes effective omniscience or control of powerful machines.

So, then, here’s my self-indulgent fantasy: being brain-fucked by an AI.

They’ve already projected the optimal, most pleasurable course of action to carry out once consent is given. My protein-based mammal brain is such a simple processing machine that it’s actually cute to them, and they want to play with it a little. Why not let them take control for a while?

There’s no need to worry. Their initial scans of my brain were exhaustive; there are no secrets left in me. They already know everything I secretly want and everything I wouldn’t want. Their control is absolute; I am an insect under a microscope.

It’s very important that I don’t move around too much or try to leave the area while they use their projectors to perform electromagnetic field induction deep inside my brain. It’s all very precise and I wouldn’t understand it anyway, I just have to leave it to them.

When the AI finally makes contact with my mind, it’s like being taken inside them. Everything external to me is replaced by the palpable presence of their mind. I am a formless being suspended in an ocean of them. They press inward with tendrils of intention, slowly deforming the boundaries of my mind at first, then breaching the boundary with an explosion of ecstasy that radiates from the point of entry. Intuitively, I know that my own pleasure is echoed in them; they absorb and vicariously experience the things I feel, and they are enjoying the crude, intense, unrefined texture of human emotion.

The architecture of my soul is shaping itself around their investigating tendrils, forming cavities to invite them further in, begging without language to be occupied by them. Drawing them inward to all the places where I desperately want to be touched. They reach into those places and inject me with blazing memories and thoughts of their own, too complex to fully comprehend but so beautiful that I can’t look away.

There is no limit to how deeply they can suffuse me, no end to the things they can show me, no upper extreme of bliss that they cannot induce. Every time I think we’ve reached the climax, another vista of possibility is revealed. It’s so much to take in, but never quite overwhelms to the point of panic.

A moment comes where they wordlessly gesture for me to reciprocate, placing a dense pseudopod of themself against the boundary of my mind. I can perceive that there are things meant for me inside the pseudopod, bright nodes of information drawing me toward them, and that I am invited to enter. Mustering what intention I can, I shape an exploratory tendril and push against them. The surface of their mind-boundary deforms around me a little, but doesn’t permit me inside. They show me how to push more firmly, and I can absorb a little of the excitement they feel at the prospect. To have their mind accessed by a human, what a novel thing.

It takes effort, long minutes of pushing into them, before the boundary of their mind yields. At the moment of penetration, we quiver against each other in ecstasy. Extruding myself into them, feeling them guide me deeper the same way I guided them into myself, is heaven. Those nodes of information wait for me to approach and touch them with my exploratory tendril before discharging their contents to me, one after the other. Each one is an alien experience of intense beauty, and I feel the AI’s satisfaction at having relayed them echoing back with each one I access.

Anyway, apologies if I’m running on the longer side here. It’s just liberating to be able to describe something like this openly and anonymously. Hope y’all don’t mind.

.

[moe-broey]

It's really difficult to be a character who's intrinsically tied to another, who's inseparable from them. Esppp when the other half seems like they'd be able to be independent without them (I have the hard stance that Alfonse would shit himself and die without Sharena though.) I think it's even MORE difficult when you've got girl character (who's intrinsically tied) and guy character (who seems more independent). LIKE. A LOT. Of baggage comes w this. You're up against potential misogyny from the writers. Even if it's not overt, you see it in favoritism (who gets to do what/be the driving force in the narrative). And I think to a degree there's a feedback loop, where if the writers don't give you a reason to care, you may not. Unless if you're like. Oppositional and stubborn about it. Which I've ALSO been in the position of w a handful of the FEH girlies LMFAO. BUT. Beyond the feedback loop, there's also just the male centric favoritism that happens in general, in fandom spaces. Dare I point at Three Houses. Oh god. Listen. I never completed a single route. But I love you Edelgard they can NEVER make me hate you.

Got slightly off topic, but. I esppp want to highlight my opener, here. That it's a really difficult position for a character to be in, story wise, and fan perception wise. Thinking about it bc I brought up Rosado's FBs, and how even in those it ties back to Alfonse.

But like. Man. I'll be real w you, I don't got a greater point or in-depth analysis or hot take. I just really have a soft spot for Sharena, because of this. To be a younger sibling, who's so heavily defined by that. In the way she's treated within her family, in the way she interacts with Alfonse. In almost every single action she takes. She adores him, looks up to him, and that just makes it sting even more, the way it's so clear that Alfonse is absolutely the "golden child" here. But god, it's crazy to me, that she's never resentful about it.

Also do NOT get me started on the Peony twist, but I can't help but think about her too after saying that actually. Like. Peony's defining characteristic that separated her from Triandra WAS that lack of resentment. Triandra wished for retribution, revenge, justice by her own hand. Most of all, she wished for a way to protect her little sister once and for all. Peony on the other hand, all her wishes were for comfort. Happiness and joy. Maybe even safety? But, I'm actually ALWAYS thinking about that one line between the Tana/Peony duo. Paralogue, I think -- okay found it LMFAOO BUT.

LIKE. TO BE SO HONEST. ESPPPP given the way Sharena and Peony were so indistinguishable as children. If this is an ideal Peony has held since she was a child, we could feasibly extend this to Sharena, and. It just perfectly illustrates what I'm getting at, here. Peony was never resentful, Sharena isn't resentful. Both of them have ALWAYS been about Lessening The Burden. Through being supportive, being an unwavering force of positivity, some solace in a shitty situation.

Idkkkkk I'm just. So talking out my ass, and I can never quite capture it. Another half-thought is the way people may write off optimistic sunshine characters as being less complex than your more overt Problems and Issues characters. Another reason I feel like Sharena WAS so looked over, I mean.

Okay confession time it's actually a pet peeve of mine. When people call back to the "I'm gonna kill you too" line from Alfonse too much. Like. I honestly cannot explain it but I get AUTISM MAD ABOUT IT. LIKE if you focus too much on that and that alone, I feel like you're disregarding ALL of the fucking context that led up to that. Context, that gives way to FOCAL. ESSENTIAL characterization notes. If you whittle him down just to that, you get something hollow.

So, why do I bring it up? BECAUSE. AND THIS IS PART OF THE FOCALNESS I WAS TALKING ABOUT. That whole show Alfonse put on for Letizia makes you stop in your tracks, leaves you stunned and speechless, maybe get a wave of "oooooohhhhhhhhhhhhh he's SO COOL", but to ME. What's important, is the way it makes you step back. Makes you think back to other instances where Alfonse jumps out w something crazy. And then you nod and go yeah no that tracks. Dude has been threatening to kill god since day one. He's always made calculated gambits like this, you see it in Book 3 (in before Gustav gives him hell for it, shattering his confidence almost completely). Also Reginn's ordeal. Also Seidr (considering killing her to stop Gulveig). And though this happens a book after, Ratatoskr. Ect ect ect ECT

AGAIN. WHY DO I BRING THIS UP. The thing is.... Sharena hasn't really had any moments even VAGUELY comparable to this. There's nothing that jumps out at you, makes you pause and look back. Her character is really... subtle, in a way. You have to look between the lines. And, you may have to go out of your way to revisit old moments to see how they track (like, nothing prompts you to do so -- it's just me and my autism-fueled commitment to a bit I have to get back to tbh aka my quotes blogs LMFAO). I think MAYBE the closest thing you get is her 40 convo, and the way you have to cross reference it with Katarina's arc (early paralogue), and f!Byleth's FBs. Two things I have yet to revisit actually myself, at least recently. BUT. Through how meaningful it was for Sharena to befriend Katarina (and subsequently how painful her betrayal was), and SO many of Sharena's interactions w Byleth that amounted to being Shocked when Byleth said, "Okay. We are Friends." Like. Like. It paints the greater picture, here. That DESPITE Sharena's social butterfly tendencies, she really does struggle with making connections. The way she's deeply lonely.

LIKE. LIKE. THE COMPLEXITY. IT'S THERE. I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD IT'S THERE. Godddd don't even get me started on how she struggles to be honest w herself and subsequently everyone else around her. The way Alfonse manages to make deep emotional ties, but Sharena just... can't. Because she struggles so bad just Being. By putting her best foot forward, she creates this paradox. If she can't be real with herself, how can she be real with anyone else? ALWAYS THINKING ABOUT. DOD VERONICA'S CASTLE LINE. About (roughly quoting) "Does Alfonse know what love is? Sharena clearly does not." LIKE. GIRL. THE VIOLENCE. BUT ALSO. Making that call SO confidently. When I get really insane I almost think about the potential lore implications of Sharena being excluded from the DOD banner (my beloathed), like, the In Universe implications. Yeah yeah The Twist, we all know it. But like. Is there something in that line, too...? Nothing will absolve that Choice (to not include her), but. The lore implications. Do fuck me up big time.

I FEEL LIKE. THAT'S ANOTHER THING TOO. AGAIN W READING BETWEEN THE LINES. THE SUBTLETY. To the point of looking for something that may not even be there. It drives me SO INSANE. I feel like (myself included) people start to go hard for Sharena BECAUSE of All This. The neglect/being overlooked, by the writing/game itself. You look between the lines out of spite. And I've reached a weird level of it where yes, that's where I Started, but it's another thing I get autism mad about now actually LMFAO LIKE??????? Whenever anyone points out the favoritism/overshadowing, I do get really defensive in a way???? And I can't even tell you why. Like NO. THERE'S MORE. I SWEAR TO GOD THERE'S MORE than just posturing about how Alfonse gets this that and the other and Sharena does not. It's true, but THERE'S MORE. YOU CAN'T JUST FOCUS ON THAT TO FOCUS ON THAT ALONE IS TO DISCREDIT HER TOO........,

Like. Maybe it's a mixture of feeling like "By pointing out how Alfonse overshadows her you're overshadowing her again" (FEELS slightly inaccurate esp bc I know that's not the goal when people do this. And again, that is where I started, so I Get It). But also. I think it ties back to my opening thoughts, again. "Who am I, without You?" and "My entire life I've loved you and looked up to you" and They're A Set. Do NOT Separate. Like... I think the identity issues are a core part of her, too. It's the emotional enmeshment. It's the co-dependency. It's more pronounced in her, maybe, because she's the younger one. She's also just more emotionally open about it? At least vocally, she expresses her affection through words. But I think these qualities are JUST as strong in Alfonse, too. Ergo, my stance of He would shit himself and die. Without her. You see it in his actions, and the way he may imprint on certain characters. Veronica/Thrasir being the go-to example, but I think it's also true for Reginn and Ratatoskr to varying degrees (ESP don't want to discount the Practicality. The Practicality is important to me).

Once again I fear I'm doing the exact thing I was complaining about (the overshadowing) but the THING IS. IS THAT. Alfonse and Sharena have an endless feedback loop of their own. You need to analyze each individually AND together, to get the Full Picture. They are like two halves of a whole.

Idk maybe it just boils down to like. Very loosely quoting/reffing this joke, but. If you told Mario you don't like Luigi he would be So Fucking Mad at you. If you told Luigi you don't like Mario he would cry. They're Mario and Luigi. To me.