#But the way the world is now if I pursued my own wishes many of the things I love would disappear | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yanfeisty · 2 years ago

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— Voicelines about Creator!Reader (Inazuma) ♡ ！

⊹ [ characters ] — Ayaka, Ayato, Ei, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kazuha, Kokomi, Sara, Sayu, Shinobu, Thoma, Yae Miko & Yoimiya. ◞

⊹ [ synopsis ] — let's see what they think about you. ◞

⊹ [ cw ] — religious themes. ◞

⠀‣ Ayaka

About The Creator: Divine Presence

"It's always a pleasure to have Our God blessing the festivities we prepared with their presence, the sun and moon appear to shine brighter when they're here, and the people happier. It surely makes me happy to see them enjoying the festival..."

About The Creator: Consort

"As an Acolyte and a member of the Kamisato clan, it is a great honor to be Their Grace's consort... But if I may tell my more personal feelings, I feel at ease with Y/n, like I can be myself, I don't feel like people want to know more about us beyond our positions, but when we're together we don't have any titles separating us. Have you seen the beautiful scenery of the sun at dawn dazzling on Inazuma? Their smile are alike."

⠀

⠀‣ Ayato

About The Creator: Divine Ceremonies

"It is the duty of the Yashiro Commission to held festivities in Their Grace's name, such as welcoming parties, the day of their descent, and birthday of course, while trying to fit their taste. With all due respect, I have to say their opinions are quite interesting... You see, playing tcg wouldn't be the first idea I'd have for an official ceremony."

About The Creator: Consort

"Hm... So you wish to know more about our union? I suppose I can share with you a few things. We sadly don't have much time for each other as we're quite busy with our own matters, therefore I try to express my feelings in letters and presents. They did tell me it was useless to spoil them with such 'overexpensive' gifts, but... the sight of their lovely face trying to suppress a smile won't ever stop to amuse me... Besides, no price comes close to my love for Y/n."

⠀

⠀‣ Raiden Shogun

About The Creator: Remaining Soul

"Their body may have perished, but their creations never have once forgot about them. Now, they have been reincarnated into this fragile body, but they are slowly regaining their power as it has remained into the memory of the land. This is eternity at its purest form."

⠀‣ Ei

About The Creator: Consort

"Ah, my exceptional lover. In many ways they have changed my daily routine, I tried things I would never have done before, that I considered futile for my quest of pursuing eternity. But they made me realized even the smallest actions, no matter if they last for long or not, can bring an eternal feeling to one, for exemple the pleasure of eating a dessert is temporary, but the memory of its delicious taste will always be unchanging and bring happiness to the one remembering it. I accepted their proposal as a promise that by my side they shall remain joyful forevermore."

⠀

⠀‣ Gorou

About The Creator: Prayers

"I have heard few of my soldiers praying that none of their comrades or themselves would die before any serious battles or missions, I'm not really a religious person but I can't blame them, if this help them to have courage then why not?"

About The Creator: Consort

"They have brought a lot of help to Watatsumi Island, and that was even before we get together! What I love about them is that they're always so caring with whoever, they're so kind-hearted... They have lots of others qualities too, they're beautiful, funny, cunning, and the list goes on. They also must have some sort of magic in their hands, always finding my best spot to rub... H-hm, that st-stay between us, of cou-rse, I don't want them to tease me about it..."

⠀

⠀‣ Heizou

About The Creator: An interesting Case

"Quite the intriguing person, aren't they? I'm not really into godly affairs but I have to admit that them waking up with not only no memories of their past life but new ones from another world is quite...hm, intriguing."

About The Creator: Consort

"They truly have no shame for playing and stealing the heart of a member of the Tenryou Commission, they used my own tricks to make me fall over heels for them and now I don't think I can recover. Sadly their title make it impossible for me to arrest them and make them face justice, but that doesn't mean I can't teach them a lesson with my own ways..."

⠀

⠀‣ Itto

About The Creator: Ultimate Battle

"I didn't think much of them before they challenged me to a duel of tcg! Of course, I accepted it, I'm not the one to run away from a challenge and people from everywhere knows them, winning against them means that everyone will know the name of Arataki 'The Ultimate TCG Champion' Itto, ha! The one who defeated The Creator with no fear, people would never dare to fight me again, as the simple mention of my name strikes fear into my opponents, hehe... Huh? Did I actually beat them? Well... not yet, but it's only a matter of time before glory fall upon me!"

About The Creator: Consort

"The wha-? Oh yeah, sorry, I'm not used to call them that, I mostly use 'My ultimate bro', 'My one and oni', 'My onikaboo-boo', 'Cutie-sweetie-you-wish-you-had-them-ie-but-you-can't-because-this-lovely-is-the-lover-of-this-oni'. But yeah, they're fantastic, they help me to get out of jail, though sometimes they say I deserve it and leave me there... But besides that, they're an excellent cuddle buddy, always knowing how to brush my hair and horns not too delicately but not too rou-... Hey! What are you laughing at? Oh... So you think that's funny that the fierce leader of the Arataki gang have a cuddle buddy? Pff... I don't care what you think and I'm sure you're just jealous."

⠀

⠀‣ Kazuha

About The Creator: Independence

"Everywhere I go their name is on everyone's lips, I have heard they were kind and thoughtful, but what I recall best is their free spirit and wish to explore all of Teyvat, including the people but the responsibilities they have to shoulder prevent them from realizing their ambitions... Like a bird in a cage."

About The Creator: Consort

"To be truthful with you, I was hesitant of this offer, I love them with all my heart more than anything else, but what does being a consort means? I wanted to continue my life with the loving carefree spirit I fell in love with not The Creator, I was concerned that we would be tied by others' expectations and wouldn't be able to live our life freely. But... they know me best and reassured me that none of this would happen. I'll be forever grateful that our paths met, they know how to comfort me."

⠀

⠀‣ Kokomi

About The Creator

"It is difficult to know whom can you put your trust in, and if so how much amount. The Creator have proven we can trust them to help Watatsumi Island, and as its Divine Priestess I'm deeply thankful to what they have done for us. But I started to fully trust them when I discussed with them, their help didn't have any other intention than just being an act of kindness... I'm slightly concerned that others will abuse of their sympathy, but I'll be there in case that happens."

⠀

⠀‣ Sara

About The Creator

"The Raiden Shogun and myself are both Acolytes of The Creator, and since The Shogun worships them I shall give them my undying loyalty and forever assist them. Even if... their casual personality and peculiar behavior during official ceremonies is quite questionable for a God..."

⠀

⠀‣ Sayu

About The Creator

"I heard about them but only saw them once, I saw their hand going towards my head so I quickly avoided it, turned out they wanted to ruffle my hair, unlike head pats I don't think it will stop me from growing so I let them, but that made me feel even more sleepy."

⠀

⠀‣ Shinobu

About The Creator

"I have to thank them for saving us from difficult situations which even I couldn't do anything. The gang really love them especially the Boss, they're easy going and it's easy to forget they're the most superior being in all of Teyvat, they could have been one of us but of course their position doesn't allow them, but like the Boss said they're an official-but-not-really-member-of-The-Arataki-gang."

⠀

⠀‣ Thoma

About The Creator: Fun Activities

"They're very different from The Shogun, they don't really seek for an ideal like the Archons, they just simply want to enjoy life in Teyvat, haha... They've surprised me with asking if they could play the hotpot game, and I can tell you it was very fun, though I really need to pay attention to what ingredients I put... The others would probably kill me if Y/n even just has a small brain freeze, hehe..."

About The Creator: Consort

"Yes, I've heard people saying 'how can they marry a simple housekeeper?' and I have to say I wonder the same, ahaha... They're so lovely and a kind-hearted soul, I still can't believe they proposed to me, it feels like a dream when I'm with them. And we're partners in crimes when it comes to feeding and petting every stray animals in Inazuma, if you saw how easily they attract animals, it took me days to explain to every pet owners why did their pet suddenly disappeared..."

⠀

⠀‣ Yae Miko

About The Creator: Divine inspiration

"Ah yes, they're a great inspiration and pretty much all of our books related to them sell like hotcakes, we're currently on the 3rd volume of 'Divine Expressions for Dummies', we also do novels that are loosely based on them, 'Next thing I knew... I was a Deity', 'Me and My 100 Spouses' and one of my favorites is 'The Fake God' it is quite the tragedy and not the happiest book, but the end where the main character has their revenge is... satisfying."

About The Creator: Consort

"My, my, curious, aren't you? I can't really blame you, an individual like Y/n is quite the partner, a boring moment doesn't last long with them, they're just so fun to tease and their hands are very soft a perfect recommendation for everyone with fur. Hm? Everyone keeps telling you about how good they pet them? Oh well, I guess I can't blame those people, but I'll have to discuss this with Y/n when I see them..."

⠀

⠀‣ Yoimiya

About The Creator: A Shared Enthusiasm

"Y/n! Have you seen them? They're always so busy... Sometimes they come to buy me fireworks whenever if they want to keep it as a souvenir of Inazuma or asking me if we can use them together. Fireworks don't need to wait for festivals to be used, and what is cool is that with Y/n no one dares to contradict them and tell us when and where we can't do fireworks, ahh... I hope I'll see them again soon."

About The Creator: Consort

"Unbelievable, right? If we have told me I would marry a God one day I would've laugh at them. When I met Y/n I didn't even know about their true identity, but lemme tell you, them creating Teyvat and all is the least interesting part about them, they're sweet and fun, they always tell stories about their other world and the kids and I love them so much. And they share my passion for fireworks! We're planning to do the biggest fireworks show that can be seen in all of Teyvat at the same time, even if they're lots of things we didn't consider but the thought is beautiful, isn't it? Aha... Also when I told pops about me and Y/n he couldn't stop smiling for the whole week! Though, I'm not sure if he understood the part that I told it was 'The Creator'."

@ ་ ׅ : @haileyo0ostuff

#Genshin x reader #Genshin impact x reader #Sagau #Ayaka x reader #Ayato x reader #Ei x reader #Gorou x reader #Heizou x reader #Itto x reader #Kazuha x reader #Thoma x reader #Yae miko x reader #Yoimiya x reader #Sayu #sangonomiya kokomi #kuki shinobu #kujou sara #genshin creator au

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lady-quen · 1 month ago

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Numen, "Love" of Jormag, the scion of Ice. Also known as "The One Who Opens the Door". (He/They)

I don't have their norn design (nor name) yet, but imagine the most innocent blonde boy of short stature with striking blue eyes and the softest smile :) Character backstory below cut! Pspspspsing at all angst hound Commanders out there!!

An orphan rescued from an abandoned village in the Deep Shiverpeaks. Though losing entire settlements to the savage Sons of Svanir was a common occurence, there were no signs of attack, no blood, no slaughter, it just seemed like the inhabitants simply got up and left merely moments before a norn patrol arrived to rest at the local inn. Doors and windows were open, rendering interiors freezing.

The child, naturally, had no known name and was of an unsettlingly pale complexion. He was taken in by the warriors and brought to Hoelbrak, where he grew up more or less normally.

Though he did fit in, he was frail and unfit to pursue his legend, or even be a hunter, despite clearly wanting to. Instead, he was an elementalist with the rare affinity for ice, something the elders theorized to be a result of the near death experience in his infancy.

The boy joins the Commander's party relatively early on, perhaps as an adoptive younger sibling/childhood friend to Braham, and makes himself useful with his unique magic. It's during S3 that things begin to get weird, with Jormag stirring from slumber leading the young man to run off as though following a silent call, before eventually returning seemingly with no memory of whatever happened.

During IBS, he starts acting even weirder, with people mysteriously going missing when left alone with him, as though spirited away. The Commander and Braham confront him, wishing to get to the bottom of what's happening to their friend, only for the reveal to happen.

He was never a norn, but the shapeshifter Numen, the One Who Opens the Door. Every cycle this happens, the scion's memory is wiped and they're found and taken in by the living races, they come to be loved, grow into an identity, only for that love to become everyone's downfall. In Jormag's own words,

"You'll sleep now, and be their child. But you will always wake, and be my child first."

The character could go a traditional villainous betrayal route or (maybe preferably) an "I never wanted this but I can't refuse my creator" tragic route. Two personalities fighting inside, the servant of the Ice Dragon and the personality developed during his time in Hoelbrak and then, with the party. But most importantly, the Commander has to make a choice between saving many people via slaying Numen during a Dragon Response mission or trying to save him, in whatever way they might devise.

Naturally, if they do slay him, Jormag's only got one thing to say: "I see you're more than willing to discard love... if it only aligns with your heroic ideals. Weighing lives on a scale when patience cannot be afforded. Well, no matter. Raven taught you well. I wonder just how easily you could do the same to Aurene?"

"Tell me, o Commander of Tyria, what's worth more to you? The world, or her?"

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #jormag #gw2 jormag #dragon scion #gw2 dragon scion #scion of jormag #gw2 oc #dragon #quen's ocs #Numen #my art #dragon art #the fullbody is a rough WIP and may change but the general body plan stays! imagine a mix of barioth and jabberwocky from the 2010 AiW movi #If you want pleeease do tell me how your Comm would handle this plot :)))#About the Scion

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shippofuri · 4 months ago

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Thoughts on Lycion's identity, species, gender. (CW: mentions of internalized transphobia)

as someone who is trans and has species dysphoria (and whose transness is intrinsically linked to species dysphoria, the human female form being too exaggeratedly human to feel comfortable in) it feels a bit odd when people exclusively discuss Lycion's body dysmorphia as exclusively a trans allegory (which is a perfectly reasonable read! but it can be more than that...) seemingly without much awareness that people who are like him, and especially trans people who are like him in a more literal sense exist... So I figure, as one of those people, I might give some observations on Lycion, along with some anecdotes of my own experience and how it parallels it, how his characterization reflects real-world struggles- both literally and as a trans narrative, and why I appreciate characters like him so much.

What is fascinating (but also so relatable!) to me, both when viewed in a literal sense and as a trans allegory, is that Lycion does not actually have a particular affinity to another species, but rather feels a visceral discomfort with his own elven body.

We even see in his raceswap portraits, Lycion is visibly happier as anything but an elf. Unlike Laios, who wants to become a monster, Lycion doesn't want to become anything in particular, he simply wants to stop being an elf.

Most depictions of transgender characters in media are focused on the idea of wanting to become something. Feeling in your heart you were always meant to be a boy or a girl or perhaps some secret third thing. Having a specific goal. What is less often depicted is the experience of I don't want to be what i was born as, I'd rather be anything else but this. anything is better than this. And, in both my struggles with gender and with my own humanity, this has been my experience!

Of course, there are a great many creatures I look at and think "I would be much happier if i were one of them", but those feelings are broader and less pressing than the overwhelming discomfort with my own body, and the desire to be less human. I aspired to masculinity and ultimately pursued transition not out of a particular affinity with any idea of maleness, but because masculine human features, to me, appear more animalistic, less of a strange naked thing that sticks out like a sore thumb in the grand scheme of things. And so too did Lycion pursue becoming a beastman, not because he felt a particular affinity with being a wolf, but because it would make him less of an elf.

And after pursuing it, even though he still has to spend much of his time as an elf, Lycion is far more comfortable, no longer nihilistic and self-destructive. He's confident, prideful even! He has a body that doesn't feel wrong, even if he can only wear it sometimes.

And, myself having been on HRT for nearly four years now, i have to say my experience has been much the same! Even though, of course, I'm still human, my dysphoria has essentially been eliminated, I feel comfortable in my body, and I genuinely like the way I look. I admire my reflection and find joy even in the changes that i was merely indifferent to the possibility of when beginning my treatment, and it even eased some issues completely unrelated to gender...!

Finally, Laios' dismissal of Lycion's identity here feels very reminiscent of people casting doubt on a trans (most often nonbinary) individual's identity due to transitioning for what they view as "the wrong reason", even at times arguing that only people who meet their personal standard for transness should be allowed access to transition. And like with Laios, who himself wishes to become a monster, these arguments are often coming from within, from others in the trans community.

Is someone who identifies as male because they don't want to be female less justified in their desire to pursue transition than someone who doesn't want to be female because they identify as male...? Should people be denied the right to feel comfortable in their own skin because they are seeking to escape something, rather than reaching for something specific...? Of course, you know what my answer is, but I digress.

#dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #lycion #cicada's analysis #also: my gf has expressed similar feelings about tobias from animorphs but i have not personally read it yet #but if you have and would like to share some insight on the similar themes going on i would love to hear it :)#a bit nervous posting this idk how receptive tumblr is to this stuff lol #sidenote: i am genderfluid #cicada's thoughts

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arcane-vagabond · 1 year ago

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The Beginning

Stranger Like Me: The Beginning

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: From a young age, the animal kingdom had fascinated you, and maybe that's why you chose to pursue that passion. You quickly became a force within the field, becoming the leading expert on ape social structures, which is how you found yourself on an expedition into the African jungles searching for a troop of gorillas. What you weren't expecting, however, was to run into the local wild man on one of your excursions... (Tarzan!AU)

Trigger Warnings: Talk of loneliness, Inaccurate scientific descriptions and terminology, Flirty Jake, Allusions to loss of parents, Talk of reintigrating someone into society...I think that's it.

Word Count: 1,263

A/N: Here it is! I hope y'all don't mind me making you wait too long! This blog is 18+ ONLY! As always, reblogs and comments are welcomed and encouraged!! Find me on AO3 under arcane_vagabond where all of my stories and drabbles are posted!

Series Masterlist || Moodboard 1 || Moodboard 2 || Moodboard 3

You had a running theory that there were two types of people in this world: plant people and animal people. You? You were most definitely an animal person. Growing up, you visited the zoo frequently, the employees practically knowing you by name. You did your best to memorize as many facts as you could about the different animals in each exhibit, knowing from an early age that you wanted to work with animals for the rest of your life.

You’d spend hours at the primate exhibits, watching the way the different apes and monkeys interact with each other, and you wished you could fast forward to the moment where you got to study it day in and day out.

So, you worked hard, graduating high school with honors before moving on to study zoology in undergrad, and then skipping straight to your doctorate program after that. It had been a long, grueling road that left little time for much else, but it was your passion, and once you had been greeted with the title of “doctor,” you knew it had all been worth it.

That didn’t stop your bouts of loneliness though. While your friends all went out to party, you were usually found with your nose buried in a book. And it wasn’t like you wanted to go out partying, but it still hurt when your friends stopped asking.

And then there was Jake Seresin, your handsome best friend of several years who knew he looked good and never failed to own it. The two of you had met in the early days of undergrad, having been partnered up in a biology lab, and you had hit it off immediately. Jake wasn’t interested in primates, his focus turned towards botany of all things, but he loved to tease you about your love of great apes.

“A cute girl like you studying monkeys?” He had chuckled with a shake of his head, mossy green eyes glimmering with mischief. “You must have had a wild fascination with Boots the monkey, huh?”

“First of all, peabrain,” you scowled at him, fighting back the smile that threatened to take over your face as his jaw dropped, “I study apes, not monkeys. Second of all, my fascination with Boots is none of your business.”

“Whatever you say, Boots.”

And the nickname had stuck. It followed you through undergrad and all the way through to your now budding career as one of the leading researchers in gorilla social structures. Which is also how you found yourself invited to the North Island Research Camp in the Republic of the Congo.

The camp wasn’t some grand research center, but it was well respected amongst the scientific community for gathering the most up-to-date research and hands-on experiences between researchers and local fauna. The camp was run by Dr. Pete Mitchell and Dr. Tom Kazansky, both legends within the field and rarely opening up their camp to other researchers. You had been thrilled to receive the invitation, and even more thrilled when you found out that Jake had also received an invitation to the camp to continue his research on tropical plants.

The two of you had made plans to fly out of San Diego at the same time, even choosing to stay at his place the night before your flight.

“The early bird gets the worm, Boots!” He chirped, loading up the trunk of the Uber with your luggage. How he was so cheerful at three in the morning was beyond you.

The flight to your destination was uneventful, choosing to catch up on some of your reading as well as sleep for the majority of the flight. The two of you were greeted by a bespectacled man once you departed the plane, his demeanor relaxed but his face shy as he helped you with your bags.

“I’m Bob,” he said, loading the back of his jeep with your belongings. “I’m helping out Pete and Tom with their research. The other researcher is already at the camp. He got here about a month ago.”

“Who is it?” You asked him, hopping into the front seat of the car as Jake clambered into the back.

“Javy Machado,” Bob answered, already making his way through the city and towards the jungle. “He’s doing research into termite colonies.”

“Javy’s gonna be there?” Jake asked, leaning forward with a grin. You rolled your eyes at him. Javy and Jake almost went as far back as you two did, having first met in a chemistry course their junior year of college. While you and Jake had gone to the same university for your doctorate programs, Javy had ventured elsewhere, making a name for himself within the world of entomology. The two together was almost insufferable.

“You two better behave,” you groused, settling into your seat with a glare in his direction.

“Boots,” he gasped, placing a hand over his heart in faux hurt, “I am absolutely shocked that you think we would be anything other than complete professionals.”

“Don’t give me that crap,” you snapped, turning to face Bob who glanced at you two wearily. “Those two are going to be a nightmare, I’m just warning you now.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask,” he chuckled.

The three of you settled into a comfortable conversation as Bob continued to drive towards the camp, the jungle becoming denser the longer he went. Soon, the sun was hidden behind the canopy, and you got the sense that you were truly in the wild.

“Are you sure about this, Mav,” Ice hummed, hands clasped firmly in front of him as he eyed his fellow researcher. Mav spared him a smile, running a hand through his hair as he sat on the bench opposite his companion.

“He’s been on his own for decades, Ice,” Mav grimaced, glancing into the trees. “He deserves to know companionship beyond just us.”

“He has Bob and Javy.”

“He deserves more than just four other people in his life,” he amended, rolling his eyes. “We’re lucky we found him when we did, otherwise I’m not sure he would have survived on his own. Besides, Nick and Carole wouldn’t have wanted this for him. They would have wanted him to see the world, to meet other people.”

Ice hummed at that. Of course, Maverick had a point. They couldn’t keep the boy isolated for forever. He was already butting heads more and more with the troop leader and spending more nights in the observation tower as a result. It also wasn’t like Ice wanted to keep him isolated for selfish reasons. No, quite the opposite in fact. The kid had spent most of his life right there in the jungle, never having contact with another human being until the two men had opened up the research camp once more ten years before.

And that’s what had Ice so apprehensive. The boy had little to no experience with humans, and what he did have was from the time spent with the two older men who weren’t exactly the greatest of company at the best of times. How would he react to a camp full of people his own age? Would it be too much for him?

“Bradley is smart, Ice,” Mav continued, knocking his knuckles against the table. “He’s already been asking questions about the people in the movies and photos he sees. He wants to know about the outside world. Let’s let him have that chance.”

Ice didn’t answer. Instead, he sighed, leaning back in his chair. This would be good for Bradley. It had to be.

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster imagine #rooster fanfiction #top gun rooster #rooster top gun

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ss-skyearn · 2 years ago

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Ketamine

❝Are you floating again?❞

PAIRING : Lee Felix x female reader.

WORD COUNT : 4.6k.

GENRE : Smut, Angst, Fluff.

WARNINGS/CONTENT : Felix freckles appreciation, substance abuse (mentioned; not too graphic), I can't write him without glorifying his cunty voice so there's that.

SMUT WARNINGS : Soft dom!felix, sub!reader, praise, gentle dirty talk, choking that's more of just throat holding, size kink for like a second, unprotected intercourse, some of the hottest and most explicit shit I've written in forever 🔞

Seizing kisses. Skin hot to the touch. Burning mouths. Blood ready to boil over.

There's not much it takes to be riled up all over again, not when it's him in question.

Mind growing soft with a single touch, numb with a single caress, blacking out with a single press, you wish you had time enough to find out if he could someday anaesthetise you better than ketamine.

You're pretty sure of the answer regardless.

The floor buzzes beneath feet thumping to the music, disoriented, uncoordinated, moving along to a rhythm all together different, hazy minds conjuring up varying interpretations of the EDM pulsating through the crowded nightclub, swarms of bodies lost in a world far off from reality.

But you are focused on just one. The one who happens to be in your arms. Lost in a world you so wish to be a part of— come to think of it, maybe you are, for his hold on you, your waist tightens a measure, pulling you into his frame, all lithe figure and lean muscles, no damn given to the sweat running down your backs.

"Hey, pretty," he grins. Mischievous. Risqué. Indecorous.

"Hey, pretty," you echo. Capitulating. Yielding. Succumbing.

It's been far too long of this already.

Wrapping arms around the long neck that's entirely too unmarked for your liking, you lean forward, press your mouth to the sweaty skin of his earlobe, let out a confession, soft and sultry, "Care to help get the bead off my bracelet?"

He chuckles, pulls back enough to fix you with a look so deep you feel you're drowning, smirking as your eyes linger on his lips which he then licks, slowly, as if savouring his own taste, "That's one hell of a unique preposition," voice a striking undertone to the bass of the jazz infiltrating the club, you wish the ketamine had been a little stronger.

You shrug, the leer to your mouth unrelenting, "What can I say, I'm full of surprises."

"How many?"

"Why don't you find out?"

He laughs again, this one high pitched, leaking delight. The contrast baffles you— the low baritone to his voice when he commands it, the joyous shrill when he lets go. The itch to uncover its various pitches, vibrations and frequencies runs rampant, deep to the bones, the urge far from being tamable by now, and really, you hold no desire to pursue such fruitless a task.

You encircle your palm around his wrist, secure, enough to let him know of your intentions, and he does— well, he thinks he does.

You tug him along, him following willingly, and breeze past the turn to the rooms—

"Where are we—"

—to stop right in front of the round table, barely visible in the darkness engulfing the space, if not for the neon paints and brushes thrown astrew, the wooden surface marked with streaks of neon.

"Let me paint you," you breathe, looking straight into his eyes, expression unreadable.

He laughs again, this one deep and low, and you resist the shiver that's already threatening to move up your spine, "Huh, full of surprises indeed," he says in lieu of an answer.

You'll assume it's a yes.

So you put your palms flat on his shoulders, forcing him down on the chair in an unexpected display of impatience, and he squeaks, "I don't think it's allowed. Only the artist can use the paints—"

A finger to his lips, his mouth sealing shut, the almost immediate obedience a cause to your smile turning saccharine, "Don't you worry about that. Stay here."

You make your way over to the artists behind the counter, a few feet away from the workstation Felix is sat at, and true to form, make your way back to him with a stamp in your hand.

His eyes widen in intrigued surprise and you smile, wordlessly tugging his wrist and pressing the bottom of the stamp, it leaving a blue hued clover leaf on his pale skin, indicative of the liberty you're both now allowed of indulging in the wide variety of the UV paints decorating the table top.

"How did you manage that?"

You shrug again, amused at his bafflement, "I just don't like hearing no."

"Good thing I didn't say it, then," he says, alluding to the conversation you had the day prior, on the wet sand, by the shore, under the moonlight.

"Good thing you didn't," you agree with a grin.

The brush calls out to you, drawing you in like a magnet would an iron nail. You dip it in the neon green colour squirted onto the pallet from earlier, swirling till the bristles saturate with tincture.

The first press of the tip of the brush to his cheek causes him to gasp, the cold paint a bright contrast against his overheated skin, one you try to ease with the moulding of your lips to the opposite cheek, planting a loud, wet kiss.

He sighs at that, hand reaching forward to rest on your bare thigh, a silent appreciation to your display of affection.

You smile against his skin, taking it as the cue to continue, repeating the process over and over— meeting just the tip of the brush to the skin on one side of his face, brushing your lips to the side opposite.

By the time you're done with him, his cheekbones are dusted pink, lips parted to give way for silent, laboured breaths, chest heaving, both hands now gripping onto the flesh of your thighs.

"There you are," you reward his patience with a kiss to his slightly open mouth, knowing the effect the temperature play had on him.

"Done?"

"Yeah, just—"

"Is it done or not?"

"Yeah, it is, just—"

You don't get to complete the sentence, for the second it makes its way past your lips, he's already hauling you up and away from the metal stools, weaving the way around sweaty bodies a little too precisely given his dazed state, and you attempt to stop yourself from letting out the endeared chortle tickling your throat.

You fail.

The laugh is genuine, a rarity for you as of late, "Don't you want to see the design on your face?"

Grip on your wrist tightening, he mutters something incoherent— and impatient, if your ears don't fail you— and your laugh only augments, the flutter to your heart almost as genuine as one a long time love would elicit.

That's cause enough for the laugh to die out, and there it is again, the voice in your head, the gaping to your heart— what if you don't see it through, what if it isn't enough, what if all the beads to your bracelet are gone but it still doesn't amount to anything, what if, what if—

"What is it, angel?" his voice is gentle to a degree of surprise, only further confirming of your apprehension of the outcome to this idea, this stupid idea you once thought would be the answer to all that is wrong with you, the mindless proposition you let sweep you off your feet, the scheme no longer seeming likely to be met with a satiating ending, after all.

Is there a way for it to be? Is there really such a thing as a satiating ending?

The graze of fingers against your cheek is grounding, clementing, nurturing in a way it's not allowed to be, you're sure, but you lean into it all the same, the urge to be taken care of encompassing all else.

"Look at me," the taste of his Martini breath in your mouth is what lets you know of his sudden proximity, for your mind has long since lost the ability to pick up on the ongoings of your surrounding, doing the only thing it's good for lately— turning and turning, overthinking, not thinking, processing, comprehending, giving up, crying out to be shut down.

"Angel," the word is lost between your mouths, the Martini flavour so much more prominent now that you feel in it straight on your taste buds, and maybe it's your brain playing tricks that it so loves to, but you swear it tastes better on his tongue than it did on the sugar coated rim of the lowball glass; enough to render you dizzy with a wet contact lasting no more than a few seconds, something seven glasses of watered down alcohol couldn't achieve.

The touch ends before you've had the opportunity to savour it for what it was, and you find Felix looking down at you with so tender a look, you almost wish it didn't have to end like this, that maybe, just maybe, you would've stood a chance, had fate not been so cruel, "Are you floating again?"

You smile, a bearing you've taken to displaying on occasions where emotions fail you, where your feelings are too complicated to be picked apart and be presented with a singular expression, and it's only with years of conditioning that you've trained yourself to perfect it, the reality of it being unalike from the humorous stretch of lips not something anyone is able to pick up on— not that they care enough to anyway.

But he does.

He does pick up. He does care.

You almost believe it.

"Mm," you hum in place of an answer, neither confirming nor refuting, and much like it's always been, you assume there's that, an open ending, a loose offer to mark the end of this discussion, for surely no one is interested in actually knowing you, not now at least, even if they once did, not when it's this close.

But he doesn't.

He doesn't ignore it. He does care.

"I told you not to do that when you're with me."

"Couldn't help it," you despise it, you hate it; the wobble to your voice, the wetness to your tone, the perspiration already forming around your orbs, you hate it all.

He thumbs the tears yet to be shed, wipes them before they have a chance to taint your skin with a wet trail, "That's why I'm here, aren't I? So that you don't float away from me?"

"Then make me stay," you say, without thinking much of the ambiguity of that which you just uttered, and you wouldn't, not if he didn't suddenly look so stricken, "I-I mean—"

"I know, angel, I know what you mean," understanding to a fault, he'd make for a good partner your betraying mind tells you, for all the act of non-functioning it put forth, it certainly has no problem coming up with this particular notion.

Your hand has a mind of its own, reaching forward to trace the specks of neon green dusting his cheekbones, and it's like he suddenly remembers they are there at all, "What did you draw on my face anyway?"

The smirk you sport is more endeared than anything, but it's reason enough for him to cock up an eyebrow nonetheless, "Angel. What did you draw?" there it is, the low baritone, the bass so low. Chill. Arousing.

"Just made you look prettier," you shrug, as though the sentiment was at all possible. Lee Felix looked like a heart attack at the worst of times, bad for the weak of heart, lethal for the thrill-seekers. Gorgeous. Deadly.

"Come on," the tug to your wrist isn't as tight at it once was, but you don't, for once, think about the fact that your stalling might have dampened the urgency of the affair, for as much as you despise yourself for doing just that, you'd despise him even more for tending to your needs so sincerely when it wasn't his care to give in the first place.

So you don't think about it. You let yourself be swept up in the thump of the track, the jostle of the bodies as you make your way to God knows where, the security of his hand wrapped around your wrist, just a tad above the bracelet left with a lone bead, the last one. Bright green, almost the same as the paint decorating his face.

The door collides with your back, closing with the impact of your body, and you barely register the click of the automated lock, as your mind is otherwise occupied with a swollen mouth, soft tongue, sticky lips, all over your own.

He kisses you like he's consuming you, licks you like he's tasting you, bites into you like he's considering cannibalism.

How do you know? Because you feel the same. Or maybe you're projecting. Maybe. It's hard to think when he's pressed up against you like this, the perfect moor to grip on to, the desired anchor to your ever floating mind.

Hands on either side of your head, he parts from you, the reluctance written all over the lines of his face, popping open the buttons to his silk shirt with no small amount of ungrace.

"Fuck," he utters as the third button pushes back into the slit he just so tiringly worked it out of, hands slick with a nonexistent lubricant, for surely getting a simple button undone isn't as tedious a task as he's making it out to be, the booze in his system not withstanding.

The thought gets a laugh out of you, genuine and happy, and the lust brewing up in his orbs dims just a little as he catches your gaze, hands slipping from the cursed button to find purchase on your waist, "Help a pretty boy out?"

You snort even as you reach forward to oblige, "Full of ourselves, are we?"

"It's hard not to be when the sexiest girl just spent almost an hour painting my face," he chuckles, as self assured as ever.

Was that really a whole hour?

"Your horny was showing, babe," he winks, cheeky and all sorts of suggestive.

You swat at his arm, only half trying to escape his grip on you, the subsequent sigh of defeat more for show than anything.

"Speaking of," he pulls back only from the waist up, his hips very distractingly still pressed into yours, "what did you even do up there for all that long?"

As his eyes latch onto something on the bedside wall, you see the playfulness drain from his face, lips parting into a silent gasp, eyes the widest they are able to go, "Holy shit."

You turn your head to catch sight of his reflection in the mirror, the way his eyes glide over the constellation of the varying dots and sparkle-shaped neon face paint scattered across his face, carefully marked exactly over each of his freckles.

One of his hands snakes its way up to his face, fingers hovering over each spot as he maps out the path trailed by the paint, as if himself paying attention to the position of the beauty spots marking his skin, "You drew my freckles," he whispers, voice sounding far away, as if emerging from somewhere deep under the water, muffled by the current of the flow, suppressed under the weight of the fauna, the food chain, crushed by the waterspout of emotions, knowing the futility of trying to voice out his feelings over the violent buzz of the storm, and so doesn't even try.

"I told you I made you look prettier. The prettiest," you fake nonchalance, trying to mask how much your heart wants to leap into a giddy dance at his reaction, trying so hard to not let it say : See, I told you. He sees it, sees it for what it is. Not a casual painting. He sees me in it, no matter how much you try to hide it.

You take his face in your hands, the shock and awe and whatever else that he's feeling having made him numb, soft, pliant, and guide him back to your mouth.

I cannot be hidden, your unforgiving heart echoes.

You push at his chest, willing for desire to overtake the ringing in your head, back him up until the back of his knees touch the edge of the bed, until he buckles under the momentum and falls on his back, one hand still lightly touching a painted heart on his left cheek, over the most prominent one of his freckles, one that stood out to you the most every time you tried to memorise the pattern the marks on his skin make, one you deemed fit to be assigned a different shape, a heart no less. He touches it softly, tenderly, as if afraid to smudge it away should the pressure at the pad of his finger be too much.

But it is too much. It's all too damn much.

"Let's not talk about it," before the sentiment could even make its way out of your mouth, you had known yourself to be a vile creature to even say it out loud, but the bile clogging up your throat is just the cherry on top. Great. Even your body agrees with how deplorable you really are.

But he smiles. Your heart breaks into a million little shards of ice, sticking into your soft organs, threatening to slit open your skin and fly out of your being.

It's not so bad, you think, at least the blood pumping beast is no longer there to echo how much it yearns for him anymore.

"Got it. Got you," he says, slipping into the role previously requested, taking the signals of start now when you don't even remember giving them away.

He flips the two of you over, bracing himself above you, bringing his mouth towards yours slowly, in a fashion completely opposed to the hungry way he lashes onto you awaiting lips.

He tastes as bitter as alcohol, as sweet as the cranberry juice mixed somewhere in the cocktail, as tart as the lemon he bit into not long after. He tastes like want, like ardour, like a mistake that's not a mistake if you don't let it be, like a regret waiting to be felt that doesn't need to be present at all, like everything that you could ever want, like everything you can't have, not in this lifetime.

Seizing kisses. Skin hot to the touch. Burning mouths. Blood ready to boil over.

There's not much it takes to be riled up all over again, not when it's him in question.

Mind growing soft with a single touch, numb with a single caress, blacking out with a single press, you wish you had time enough to find out if he could someday anaesthetise you better than ketamine.

You're pretty sure of the answer regardless.

Shucking off the rest of your clothes is a frenzy, one you don't remember amidst the clatter of teeth and clash of tongues, but you're elated that it's over all the same, and it's with barely controlled impatience that you manage to urge him to hurry along.

The sink stings a little, like it always does the first time, but you're not too proud to admit that his size might have something to do with it burning a little brighter than it has with past partners.

"That's it angel, nice and wet for me, that's it," he rasps from somewhere deep in his throat, deep voice turning down another octave, working you up even more, enough to allow him free access into your inviting heat, all restraints barred.

"That's it," he hums, hands grasping your waist, thumbs rounding gentle circles on your hip, letting you adjust.

Little does he know, you don't want to.

"Move, Felix—"

He chuckles, that throaty voice doing more for you than you care admit, leaning down to his elbows, swiping his nose left and right, across your own, "Is my angel impatient, hm?"

You whine, having had enough of his teasing, burning hot to the touch, and in this moment, it's all you can do to not snap.

"Felix, I swear to fucking god—"

He just laughs, apparently amused by your misery, head dropping down even lower, long platinum strands tickling your forehead.

In a momentary lapse of judgement, you wrap your legs around his waist, arms around neck, arching up, building the momentum to flip the two of you over, and you swear you're this close to having him on his back, so so close—

A click of tongue, a shove to your calves, and you're flat on your back again, caged in by his weight.

"None of that," he tsks, "you just lie there and look pretty for me, okay angel?"

You whine again, patience hanging onto the last fucking straw, "I don't think—" you gasp, the palladium of his rings cool against your neck. He applies no pressure at all, but the mere act of him wrapping his hand around your throat has you panting, eyes drooping with arousal, vision blurred even more.

"You were saying?" though unaffected at the surface, his fingers are burning hot on your neck, a sweet juxtaposition to the chill of the metal.

"Fuck—"

"That's what I thought," just like that, he's pulling out so far that you fear he's taking it all away from you, before gliding right back in with a loud slap of his pelvis to yours.

"Oh s-shit."

"This what you wanted?" he sounds cocky, painfully so, and if you were of a more sound mind, you might think of riding the attitude off of him, but as you continue to stare up at him and his stupid pretty eyes, accentuated by the stupid attractive face painting on even more stupid face, you just huff. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Aww," he coos, trails a single lean finger across your jaw, ghost touches over your front, down to your waist where he grips it, hard, "can't speak?"

Oh, this motherfucker.

"You know I could—"

"I know, I know. You could dom the hell out of me. But that's not what you want, is it?" he licks your lower lip, thrusts coming to a stop just to prove a point.

"N-no."

"There's a good girl," the haze to your mind from being handled this way might have something to do with it you assume, but you swear his thrusts are more controlled, more dominating, more demanding, "Just like that, baby. Just lie pretty for me. Just for me, right?"

"Fuck, babe—"

"Answer me. You're pretty just for me, aren't you?"

"I-I'm—"

The condescendance to his smile is something you never thought you'd end up liking, but when he's giving it to you so good, you doubt anything he does will be off putting at all, the power he holds reaching concerning heights, but in this moment, it's all you can do to not give in completely.

"I'm aware angel, it's difficult to talk, isn't it?" he coos, and the subsequent pout that settles on your lips is entirely involuntarily, "I'll help you, it's okay. I'm here, right?"

Your hands reach forward, clawing at his biceps that flex with every forward push of his lower half, forcing your body up with each motion, only to bring you back down with the unyielding grip on your waist, the bruises forming there something you look forward to cherishing, long after the lone bead to your bracelet is gone.

"Say 'I'm pretty. Just for you,' " each word is punctuated with a thrust unlike the ones he's given to you up until now, long and hard, unforgiving, not like you want to. Be forgiven, that is.

"I'm p-pretty—"

"Mhm, that you are."

"For.. f-for—"

"For who, princess?"

"Y-you. Fuck, you-"

"And who am I?"

Your eyes snap open, wide and glassy, and looking up at him, the knot to your tongue tightens, the words you were barely able to string together on the plastic rope now spilling out of it, the bracelet you so hoped to make now gone, leaving behind just the string hanging off from the eye of the metaphorical needle.

You whimper, a sound you barely recognise, the first tear rolling down your temple to find home in your already damp locks, only for another one to follow the wet trail it created.

"Easy, angel," he's a little late in thumbing away your tears this time, them having already marked the skin with their sticky essence, "You do know who I am, right?"

You do, you really do. How could you not? He's the one, the company to your last trip, the shoulder so generously offered, the warm body to your cold nights in the unknown city. The one.

But no matter how hard you try, how much you attempt to channel your thoughts, the name at the edge of your mouth, yet it fizzles out the second you try to force it out. It burns on your tongue, the familiar taste of it, and it's so close, you can feel the silky texture of the way it sounds, it's just there—

"Felix!"

Your body tightens, strains, then convulses with intensity more befitting a seizure, eyes barely coloured, for your irises have all but disappeared in their chase to roll as far back as is humanly possible, a string of nonsensical gibberish falling from your lips, his name suddenly tearing its way past your throat, and once it's said, it's the only thing your vocal chords are capable of vibrating out.

This seems to have awoken something in him, as he yanks at your wrist with unadulterated force, biting into the string of your bracelet, snapping the it with a fierce pull of his teeth, the single bead clattering onto the ground, the resounding bounces clear even amidst the sounds blanketing the room.

"Yes, that's right, that's me," he growls, claiming, animalistic, hips unrelenting in their chase to unmake you, pushing your body up with each stroke, "Say it again, say my name again."

"Fuck. Felix, Felix, Felix, fucking hell—"

"That's it, that's it. Keep calling me. I'm right here."

Your voice grows small, heart thumping loud enough to mask the sound of his body colliding with yours, all that wetness, all that want, all that ardour, it masks it all, "Felix," the name ends with a sob, your mouth parted, body arching up into his.

"You know me now? You know who I am?"

You're still shaking, your thighs trembling, high lasting longer than it ever has, and you are left to wonder if you've begun coming down at all. Indeed, the white hot pleasure has spread all around your field of vision, blending, merging, no longer distinguishable. You don't know where your pleasure ends and his begins, but you behold the scrunch of his face, the slack to his jaw, the shutting of his eyes, the deep moan he tries and fails to stifle with a sink of his teeth into the plush red carpet that is his lower lip.

He catches himself at the last moment as his elbows give out, face mere inches above you, long silver locks having been segregated into sweaty ropes to curtain his forehead and temples, and he looks down at you, panting hard, breath condensing onto your skin.

He's dishevelled. Far gone. Broken.

He still looks like a heart attack.

"Thank you," you whisper, nuzzle into his chest further, plant a grateful kiss to his pectoral.

Perhaps it'd be foolish to thank him for spending a night with you.

It would be, had it been that— a mere night, living on the edge of pleasure, with a warm body, never to meet again.

But it's not, and so it's not.

It's not a mere night. So it's not foolish.

He knows as much, it's reflective in the way his arms wind around you in a fashion that makes you fear he doesn't plan on letting go, and despite the alarms blaring in your head, you lie there, pliant and unmoving, blaming the fact on your exhaustion, "Will you be here when I wake up?" a kiss is pressed to the top of your head, an act somehow more intimate than the activities partaken in thus far.

If he thought that simple action might convince you to change your mind, you're afraid you'll have to let him down.

"You know the answer," you stay still, barely breathing.

"I do," he stays still, mimicking the stance you uphold.

Both still, wide awake, trying to commit the warmth of the other's body to memory, for the night is over, and so is your stay here.

[I plan on writing a spin off to this piece explaining all that's left unanswered; the bracelet, the reason for the main character's departure, why they can't be together, etc. Send an ask if you wish to be tagged when it drops. Meanwhile, you could send me your hypotheses and what you think could be the reasons for the aforementioned events, my ask box is always open to chat. ♡]

Feedback and reblogs are very highly appreciated. They're what keep the community alive and help content creators stay motivated.

[Send an ask if you wish to be added to the permanent taglist.♡]

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literatureloverx · 5 months ago

Note

To frame this analysis, I want to first point out a letter written by fyodor. For a letter most don't have access to, it puts into perspective a LOT about fyodor's character that was previously only speculated through analysis. It was given out during the manga's 10 year anniversary, you can search it up by typing 'fyodor letter bsd'.

But I will copy it here: "I have nothing to say. There is no one who supported me anyway. That's why there is no word I have to say. To anyone at all. Let alone words of celebration. It is impossible. I have always been alone. And that is fine by me. Has been, and always will be. Well... I felt a little less bored when I was playing chess with Dazai-kun. But that's it."

Now this points out something especially interesting, that out of all the people that served him, all the people who worshipped him through his manipulation, for hundreds and hundreds of his years of living, Fyodor found no substance through any of it. Fyodor is lonely, inevitably lonely not only because he has never let anyone into his mind (and uh. Not many people want to hang out with the guy who straps bombs onto kids), but because near nobody can understand him because, as pretentious as it sounds, he lives in a realm of "genius".

Fyodor lives in a world of sin that he sees himself as above, and wishes to find the book and write a "correct" world under God where there is no sin. And he also lives in a world he is bored of because nobody can challenge him. He explicitly uses the word "bored" in his letter. He is never shown to "like" his servants being completely submissive for pleasure, he just does it because he cannot trust anything straying. Now does this mean Fyodor wants to control those around him? Yes. Does this show that Fyodor finds this obedience engaging? No.

The only person he has shown interest in (not in a romantic way) is Dazai, who is the only one who can level at his playing field. This makes me wonder, is Fyodor's "type" someone far from who he would actually fall for? I feel that to grow interested in someone, Fyodor needs someone who can challenge him. Someone out of his control because they understand him on a level that others cannot, because they are on his equal. Fyodor left his life of boredom through one-sided "companionship" with Dazai.

Note: I find it kinda pathetic of Fyodor to seem so eager about their meet-ups too, since Dazai seems to hate it LMAO

Now I can see Fyodor WANTING to control someone for that safety net and I definitely can't see him going out of his way to get with someone if they're in the way of what he's after, no matter how much he loves them. Bro straight up tries to kill his favorite "chess partner". But it seems that if Fyodor ever wants to pursue a GENUINE relationship, he needs to leave his comfort zone because the only ones who will give him substance will be far outside.

This wasn't meaning any hate or anything, I just wanted to point out traits about Fyodor's character that i've observed, but also to hear your thoughts :D

(Also I can see Fyodor falling for not only someone who can challenge him but someone with a great love for humanity and empathy)

Wow, this was so detailed and awesome to read! Thank you very much for writing this. ❤️

I will break down my perspective on this analysis as you asked me to, but I can say that I agree with most of your points. ❤️

First of all, I know the letter you’re talking about. It actually made me sob for a while when I first read it. I felt the loneliness almost in my own body—the situation he’s in must be so dehumanizing for him.

That being said, I considered many of Asagiri’s explanations about the characters (the letter you cited, the one about White Day, their ideal types, etc.) and formed my interpretation of Fyodor this way.

I absolutely agree with the point that Fyodor is bothered by boredom and that he needs someone who can challenge him.

The question here is, what kind of challenge?

In this case, my point was: someone who can challenge him emotionally (as this is an underdeveloped aspect of his, since he really doesn’t have much opportunity to form meaningful connections with others). Not someone who matches his own mastermind (like Dazai, for example). He values Dazai's ability to read his mind but is not particularly invested in any kind of connection besides that of rivals since he can’t trust him. There is no longing for friendship (a meaningful connection) there. Just Do, Do, Do, and win.

Now, I also believe, like you said, since his motives are not bound to himself but rather the greater good of humanity, the most important thing for him to do is indeed—to win. How is he supposed to cleanse humanity of their sins otherwise?

Where my interpretation differs from yours is that I genuinely think he is very comfortable with being the lead in any kind of situation. What he is uncomfortable with is—guess what? Vulnerability, in general. Just like Dazai. And the most challenging vulnerability to overcome, in my interpretation, would be emotional vulnerability.

In my opinion, he would be interested in someone who can challenge him mentally but not strategically. He knows that feeling. It is true that Dazai quenches his thirst for competence and competition in that sense, but is such a person truly fit for Fyodor?

My main issue with a strategically competent partner is the high possibility of Fyodor never being able to fully trust her. I’ve read many headcanons and fanfictions about him and such a partner, but it never really clicked in my mind.

The aspect of him preferring an intelligent individual over a shallow one is, I think, a very common perception of his character in the fandom, which I wholeheartedly agree with.

But: emotional intelligence is a very powerful aspect of intelligence, as well.

Him wanting to control her for security reasons is absolutely valid in my opinion and interpretation too, since it was what I meant in the first place anyway. He wouldn’t manipulate his partner just for the sake of it—he is too deep of a character for that.

Overall, I hope I haven’t missed any of the aspects you were referring to. I’ll gladly edit my post if anything is missing! ❤️

In conclusion, I LOVED your analysis. I’m very glad when someone makes me think deeper about my own thought process and interpretations. Anything of that kind is deeply welcomed and appreciated! ❤️

To read my other works => MASTERLIST

#bsd fyodor #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #fyodor x you #yandere bsd #bsd

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multiplicity-positivity · 1 month ago

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Any advice on how to be less controlling as host?

Hey, I’m the host of our system, and I’d like to think that I’ve made a lot of progress in not being as controlling over my fellow alters. For me, the things that caused that shift were:

Therapy and outside support. Our therapist has had a huge positive influence on our system. He really encouraged me to start viewing my alters as people with wants, needs, and desires of their own, rather than just aspects of my own identity for me to dictate and control how I wished. I really learned to start viewing my alters as both parts and people, and learned that I was no more important than the rest of my system due to his guidance and advice. Our partner system also was really helpful with this, as she took a keen interest in getting to know my parts and asking how they felt whenever I made a big decision. So having that outside support was really helpful for me.

Noticing when I was being controlling. Our system functioned for a very long time with me lashing out at my parts to keep us masking and safe. This may have been necessary when we are a child in physical danger, but as an adult in a safe place, it became a maladaptive coping method. So the first step in changing that was just trying to notice when I was being controlling or when other alters got scared around me. I asked my parts to be honest with me when they felt like I was unfairly influencing their decisions. I didn’t try to consciously change my behaviors right away… I just spent time keeping track of when I was causing harm.

Asking myself “how would I feel if I was being treated the way I treat my alters?” How would it feel to not be able to play the games I wanted, pursue my passions, dress how I wished, engage with other people on my own terms? How would it feel if someone was micromanaging me and forcing their own say into many aspects of my life? How would I feel if, when I tried to do what I wanted anyway, I was belittled and shouted at? Not good. Not good at all. This was a huge eye-opening moment for me, and I was able to start making small changes after I realized how my controlling nature has been affecting my alters.

Talking to my alters. I tried to get to know them for who they are, not who I wanted them to be. I tried to have an open mind, and to the credit of many of my parts, they were patient and understanding. They told me about their roles, their identities, their ideas about the world, their goals and wants. They reminded me that we each had a purpose in our system, myself included. We had lots of conversations just trying to start over and get to know each other as individuals. Eventually I apologized to every part I could access individually for my past behaviors. I still wasn’t perfect and I definitely slipped up sometimes, but I was making real progress.

Attending in-system meetings. As soon as we started having them, I did my best to remain focused and present. It showed me a whole new side to my system I had never really considered. During our meetings I got to really understand the complexities and unique differences between us. It made it easier to compromise. It made it easier to humanize my alters, who I had spent many years treating like trash. It made it easier for me to step back and listen to them (I tried to make a concerted effort to not speak, only listen, during meetings at first).

For me, coming to terms with my trauma history was also important. In the months and first year after our syscovery, I was adamant that we had no significant trauma history to speak of. Being in denial of my trauma made it easier for me to deny the validity of my alters. It was a really difficult road, and even now I’m not aware of the full scope of the trauma we endured as a child. But I know and accept that we suffered, even if I don’t have access to those memories. And accepting my system’s trauma, accepting my status as a survivor, and understanding how trauma has impacted the whole collective… that also helped me step back and let my alters live their lives in the ways they want. We formed to protect each other. We are a team, and it’s important for us to care about each other. It’s not their fault they exist. It’s not my fault either. But they’re here, they do exist, and they deserve to heal and live their lives on their own terms just as much as me.

Damn this got long. I’m sorry. There’s just a lot that went into me being able to change my attitude and behaviors towards my parts. At this point I can say with pride that I’m just one of the guys, and it took a lot of effort and hard work to reach this point. Idk if everything that worked for me will be applicable for you, but I hope something could be useful. Sorry if you weren’t able to get through this whole post due to the density. But there was a lot of stuff I felt I needed to say on this topic.

#system host #host #trauma #trauma mention #masking #controlling #control #long post

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veersnz · 5 months ago

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News of a new Beginning

I am beyond exhausted right now but I wanted at least try and write something tonight. And where do I even begin… I’m overwhelmed by emotions right now, good ones I promise.

As today marks the day I finally graduated high-school. And some may wonder; « but Veer, you’re 22, how come you’re only graduating now ? »

The story is a little complicated but yes, I did start high-school just like everyone else my age over 8 years ago. 8 years ago was also when I started my recovery journey, and as with any journey, nothing is ever goes smoothly and to fulfill it I had to drop out of school. I tried my best over the years to go back and finish my education but I faced many challenges that made it nearly impossible. I managed to finish two of the three years of high-school over a period of 7 years between many hospital stays and periods of great difficulties. In my heart I knew I was getting too old to go back to high school, the gap between me and my peers was widening each year and with it grew the fear of going back, of feeling out of place, alone and crushed by the weight of my own expectations. I was raised believing my academic achievements made my worth and I’m sure many will relate to that, this fear of never being enough. So I almost made peace with never having the future I wished for. But truthfully, this future I had imagined for myself wasn’t mine, it was someone else’s dream. And I was left stranded on the shores of those wishes, not having the faintest idea of what my life would become. And I almost made peace with that.

I clung to those realizations until last September when I enrolled in this special needs school far away from my home. One last time, I thought, one more chance. I didn’t know what I wanted to do after that, if I even managed to stay until the end. But it didn’t matter, my family believed in me, so did my therapist and my friends, even after so many failed attempts they kept their faith intact. And this love, I think that’s what helped me make the decision.

So I took that leap of faith, got a small room and started living on my own for the first time while pursuing my education. I would lie if I said it was an easy ordeal, many obstacles came in my way and I almost gave up, many times. But with the help of my family, friends and the incredible people I met at this school I persevered. I am very aware of the incredible luck I had that September of 2023, being surrounded by so many loving and caring people. I couldn’t be more grateful. And you all count to, it may seem silly because this is « just a kink community » but I’ve met so many brave souls, incredible people and so much love even from afar. Having this positive presence in my life has brought me strength and respite sometimes from the outside world, even just for a moment sometimes. And for that I am eternally grateful.

And so after 11 months I am graduating with the highest honors and finally putting an end to this journey of 8 years. Of course the path to recovery will continue on, but I am turning to a new page of my life’s story and I couldn’t be happier and grateful. I’m still probably in shock and the realization will settle over me in the next few days. But today, today I know that I’ve reclaimed my future.

I know there will be many more challenges, uncertainty and pain to face but tonight I am basking in the happiness of having accomplished something my past self could only dream about. And I hope the parts of myself I left behind are proud of me.

Thank you ❤️

#This is very emotional and I will probably cringe tomorrow #but I wrote this with only happiness and gratefulness in my heart #so I think it will be okay #I think of all my friends who couldn't graduate #I did it for myself but also for them #and for my past self who doubted so much #not snz

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koiir · 6 months ago

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IF THE SUN REFUSED TO SHINE, BABY WOULD I STILL BE YOUR LOVER? — Satoru gojo x gn!reader

In which he reflects the truth of what his heart holds for you, numbing the pain he’s about to undergo.

Notes: spoilers to chp 236 . Angst with no comfort . Gojos my fav character but all I want to do is write angst for him so !! not proofread

Gojo satoru is a weapon, that’s the life he has endured throughout birth till the end and after.

The feeling of dehumanizing yourself is one he mastered quick, altering his own being and soul to make a facade where others don’t see the utter despair of his existence.

Even now, his body nearing its end as he has been sliced off, not putting an end to being the strongest.

They say in the last moments one remembers the best moments of their lives, although satoru wonders why you are the first to light his brain in past remembrance for the last time.

His heart cannot be one to give out, the man has long known this since it would only ignite a light to despair. But people have desires, even if they are not meant for such ideals he stills dreams of a life where he can experience love without fear and a clear understanding of what it means be to be free of fear.

The most common curse is that of love, something he’s known his whole life. And also the solitary love of longing for another. One he wishes he could erase from his existence.

But he also views it as a beautiful thing that he has been given to experience.

Admiration is a feeling indescribable to gojo, it creeps up to him enveloping him in a warmth that vanishes the minute you are out of sight. He first experiences this when you two are 18, almost ten years ago he thinks.

“Do you ever wonder what a life without curses would be like?”

“Of course I do! Just means i wouldn’t be the strongest.”

He can tell your eyes are rolling due to his teasing, but he can’t ignore the stare you hold onto him as he keeps his eyes closed. You know he’s thinking about it, thinking about a world where he isn’t truly alone. Alone in the way that Satoru Gojo can feel like he isn’t object that acts as a pillar to all.

“What makes you so extroverted satoru?”

“Well… it makes me feel normal for once.”

The first time he opens up to you is when you two are 19, he wishes he could be stronger and dispute his devoid of emotion. Though he knows this might help, just a bit on his end.

What breaks him is the face you hold of melancholy, eyes dusted over with a hint of despair as you had watched him endure a rather harsh mission. He doesn’t tease you for it, but rather apologizes for making you worry so much. It’s brushed off but the time spent between you two is one of ease.

It fills his soul with a warmth he long has longed for, the light igniting in him as he gazes over to your figure that keeps its stance on the sea ahead.

The waves seem to replicate his overall form, the fact in which he wants to wash away his life to one of normality. Water is that of depth and darkness, he finds himself almost connecting to water itself as it’s a need for many, but never cared for with tenderness.

Throughout the course of your time as classmates, up till adulthood, the everlasting emotion of longing seems to be his strong suit. It’s as though his soul burns with a fire you give him, unknown of the bittersweet feeling his heart is enduring endlessly.

He doesn’t mind, he doesn’t push anything. He knows that his longing will only worsen if ever dares to try and push you away. Though you’ve already placed a home of thorns in his heart, growing as time progresses with no means of stopping. But never does he dare push to pursue, it’s as if a broken curse of fortune placed upon him.

You two seem to understand this prophecy, because you also know that satoru can’t live a life wear he acts upon his emotions. It’s the worse cure you think, that a boy birthed into a weapon is chained down to a scarcity of loneliness.

He knows others have cared for him, he has his students and others who though he does annoy ever now and then, gojo knows they deeply care for him through the years of shared experiences with the harsh world of curses.But he’s never felt deserving of that honor, feeling like one day he will be a failure to them and be the cause of their lives.

All he wants is to protect them and never let them experience what he and others had to endure. His students are those he loves, so the fact that they will see his body defeated and blood casting over him, his heart burns with pain at the thought that he has failed them and everyone.

“See you.”

Your words are mellow, face firm with eyes swarmed in fear. He stares at you, its only you two gojo feels his heart beat fast at the mixture of emotions he is holding in his soul right now. It’s fast due to seeing you for possibly the last time. You being the last person to say goodbye to him.

You holding back your pain and uttering words that don’t translate to this weapon of him. Himself.

You overthink a lot. Satoru has always known this since you two were teenagers, even know, you don’t want to say “do your best,” or “give it your all,” because he knows you don’t wish to envision him dying due to this. But you both know better.

He wants to break free from this curse, it’s the last time he sees you. Though the pain this will cause you, he doesn’t want to imagine how much his final words to you will impact you. But he knows closure is a gift, because at least you know the truth and can close the wound of uncertainty.

“Thank you, for everything.”

The embrace is one of passion, his thoughts run as he can finally hold onto you just this once. He wishes maybe someday, he can feel this again. From you. Your body shakes and you can’t hug him back, you don’t meet his stare as you finally let go.

The pain is overwhelming, because you know for a fact you won’t ever get to experience this from satoru. The boy who has long held a special place in your heart and through a bond that cannot be broken.

Gojo feels the pain they call “despair” he’s never dared to admit it, but now he has nothing to lose. This feeling is all that of a weapon, that has succumbed to the feeling of love.

“I love you.”

His eyes flutter open as he now understands the feelings he has held for you, the light from the sun above is truly the last thing he sees. His eyes shut, for the final time being. Gojo Satoru lays onto the blood of his own, death taking his life away as he no longer will be the strongest.

Maybe in another life he could be strong, not physically, but in being able to fight for you and love you without any curse holding him back. In another life, he would be free of any pain.

#koiir writes #koiir *:ꔫ:*✧･ﾟ #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk angst #jjk gojo #jjk fanfic #jujustu kaisen fanfic #jujustu kaisen angst #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo saturo #jjk imagines #gojo imagine #gojo scenario

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stackslip · 3 months ago

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your post about fma03 are good and i'm stuck thinking about scar for hours at a time again. stories talking about 'revenge' can read really bad to me because a lot use 'this oppressed minority trying to fight state violence is bad' plotline. fma03 was honestly pretty unique in that scar was this tragic hero instead. it's sad, it's clearly difficult for him and he see him struggle, but everything he does was also necessary to prevent further genocide.

YEAH, it's a trope i absolutely loathe and scar in the og manga is its poster boy and everyone and their mom loves to pretend it's super progressive or something lol. there are aspects to scar's manga character i wish i could have enjoyed more were he not constantly scolded by half the cast for being an Evil Murderer when the war criminals' redemption arcs are assumed to be done by now and they're good people we should all root for. bc like. i genuinely LIKE the idea of scar's brother's other arm being about reconstruction. i LIKE the concept of scar holding destruction and rebuilding at once, and being able to one day move on and participate in the rebuilding of ishbal! but it comes with the idea that he is wrong for wanting to destroy amestris's military and the people who've murdered his people in the first place, it comes with him calling himself scum for being a Bad Murderer, it comes with the only other major talking ishbalan character BEING A MEMBER OF AMESTRIS'S MILITARY, UNDER THE COMMAND OF A WOMAN WHO CURSES HER BROTHER OUT FOR NOT HAVING JOINED IN THE GENOCIDE, basically scolding scar in turn for daring to want revenge. lol. i likewise would like the thing between him and mei a lot better if it didn't feel like it didn't play in tropes of "this big brown scary man is actually sweet bc this cute pale skinned girl makes him Soft" which.... i'm not fond of. i like mei and his relationship to her a lot, I Do Not Like The Framing. i do not like what arakawa does with scar in the manga, and this will always, ALWAYS be my biggest contention with fma, my line in the sand that i refuse to back down. so many things i can chalk up to taste, but i'm never not going to argue that scar's treatment in the og manga is absolutely abysmal.

in comparison, the way 03 reframes scar from his very first appearance as someone a lot more vulnerable/human and understandable, how his violence is put into context for what amestris has done to him and how al and him have this direct connection and mutual understanding, down to al flat out saying "if someone killed my brother i'd probably want to burn down the world too".... it's just. really good all around. scar's arc does not revolve around the elrics' plot, but when he does encounter them it's not so ed can scold him for being a murderer--because scar can and does bite back ed for participating in the military in the first place. his encounter with lust, the dynamic between him, his brother and his brother's love and how all three of them have been denied even their very names and identity in the aftermath of the genocide..... unbelievably bleak. how lust and scar likewise are trying to reclaim an identity as specifically Ishbalan in different ways too! lust by remembering what she was made from, going against dante and realizing what has been taken away from her, dying while proclaiming I WAS A WOMAN FROM ISHBAL. and then you have scar, who refuses his past name because he died with his brother and he died with the old ishbal. amestris murdered him along his people. there's no coming back from this. and like.... it's tragic, because it means scar is doomed from the start. he sees himself as a ghost and he is unable to not be one. but he also *chooses* to do something of it. to not simply pursue revenge but to actively stop amestris's military from repeating the genocide in liore! he is STILL enacting violence, he is using ishbal's own old alchemy and usurping amestris's claims so he can turn their own weapon back on them. ishbal was murdered for amestris's principles, and likewise scar is going to destroy as much of the amestrian military as he can in the name of not only avenging ishbal but stopping it from ever happening again! and his plan works. it works, and it's tragic, but also triumphant. it's tragic because scar was a good man.

that's the difference between the treatment of scar in og fma and 03. in the former, scar is the one character who has to Grow Into A Good Person, because it is assumed that no good person should use violence even to defend their people and avenge genocide. because violence is the prerogative of the protagonists, and because it is easy to remove the "bad people" from the premise--you can just excise them as a tumour, and then amestris is no longer a fascist and genocidal hell state. never mind that a sympathetic character (one often touted as a feminist icon ffs) is actively defending her choice to participate in the genocide to the end and derides another for NOT participating in it, but apparently she's fine! but scar has to Learn To Forgive and becoming a good person means settling down and things will magically improve. and scar has to learn this from the elrics, even as they talk down to him and see him in a very negative light, because apparently the two blonde protagonists understand violence better than a survivor of genocide does.

in 03, scar is a good person. or at the very least, he's entirely justified. and he might not be right 100% of the time, but he is from the beginning considered to understand a lot more of the world than the elrics are! he is a tragic hero because he died long ago, and there was no other path for him. and he isn't.... wrong. it's been shown in 03 that ishbalan survivors literally get hunted and displaced wherever they go. they can't rebuild, as long as amestris is as it is! you can't just spout platitudes about how violence is bad, because even if you give up violence it will show up at your door and burn your refugee camp and the only way to counter is meeting it with violence yourself. where ed sacrifices himself at the end for his brother in another tragic hero ending, scar sacrifices himself for not only the memory of his brother but for all of ishbal AND liore to be able to live. and he's right! he's destabilized the military enough that when roy makes his choice and kills bradley, the military has been crippled and is forced to take a step back, and amestris is suddenly on the defensive and no longer able to take on offensive wars. ishbalans and liorites are shown rebuilding in peace, as amestrian soldiers are no longer able to attack them. scar's sacrifice worked. he took on the identity of old ishbal's avenging ghost, and he pushed it to the end. he finally accepted his brother's love and sacrifice, and sacrificed himself in turn--like the elrics do! his last words are words of love. they're tender. in the moment that he kills hundreds of amestrian soldiers, music swells. yes, it's tragic. fma 03 isn't saying that justified violence is all glory and roses, it's still painful--the soldiers' death isn't a fun happy time, but.... they were coming in to murder thousands of liorites, possibly rape some of them like they did rose. their lives, 03 says again and again, are *not* more important than the lives of marginalized people. they've made their choice. violence here was the right call, it was an act of love, and it is framed as such. scar's final act is mirrored by the final act of the protagonists, there too an act of love. scar in 03 is so much more humanized and respected a character than he is in the manga, and regardless of 03's other failings or differences in taste, i will argue that his story in 03 is more relevant and real as ever today as it was during the political context of 2003-04

#eli talks #fma 2003

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utilitycaster · 1 year ago

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In the most recent CR episode I found it really interesting (and really concerning) that it Laudna's truth about wanting Bells Hells to ripcord out of saving the world came hot on the heels of Imogen's truth about not wanting to save the gods

Idk it could just be me, but it seemed like her truth was just another attempt to placate Imogen's moral confusion, while simultaneously pushing those things back onto the whole group

All it makes me think of is the fanon and 4SD discussions about Imogen and Laudna retiring to a farm and living happily ever after. What are either of their reasons for remaining with Bells Hells at this point, if their truths are that they don't want to save the world?

See, that actually seemed fine to me! Fearne had earlier admitted she felt they were ill-equipped for the job and likely to fail, so it's not just them who feel it, and honestly I think that Laudna's confession was one of the more valid ones that I hope get unpacked. Fjord and Jester made a very similar admission to each in both episode 72 and episode 118 of Campaign 2, of "hey, wouldn't it be nice if we just ran away somewhere quiet and never had to deal with this again" and I think that having that admission and then finding a way forward anyway is a really great moment. I didn't write at length about how Orym's "but we have to work together and do this" has also been a really big factor in the party's dysfunction because I covered a lot of that in my discussion of how he handles his own grief well and the grief and pain of others very badly, but honestly it's good that Fearne and Laudna are getting to "we don't have to do this, this was always thrust upon us because an old guy brought us to a cool orc who hired us to look into some stuff and in the process found out that the comparatively small-time political crook was tangentially involved in a a vast cosmic death cult conspiracy that several of our parents are also involved with."

My issue with Imogen is that she literally said two episodes ago she's never prayed and now she's claiming the gods never listened to her, as well as that her reasoning is the horrifyingly self-absorbed "they don't love her", but I actually think it's fine if this party does not wish to save the gods on the grounds of "we feel underqualified and overwhelmed and like we've been at the mercy of many (mortal) masters with no time to pursue our own interests." And I think that Laudna didn't force this specific thing on the rest of the party; she said they could all ripcord, but didn't say who should do it or who felt that way or force them into agreement.

I've talked about the campaign's earlier pacing at length and I don't want to revisit it at length because it evened out, but more so than any other party, Bells Hells has rarely had self-directed adventures. That's a big reason why they're such a mess; they didn't need to develop the tools to come to consensus because Eshteross or Ryn or Keyleth would give them tasks, so we never actually have delved particularly deeply into what most of the party members want to be doing, which is why we're here with this group that's mostly stuck together because they've had jobs to do. I think acknowledging that is an important step, because the task at hand (scouting on Ruidus) is in my opinion within their abilities, but they've been pushed and pushed and have finally reached a point where they can't just keep going. (This by the way is the underlying premise of this post; this is the fundamental reality of Bells Hells as a party. If you like that the most then hell yeah, but a lot of people who claim to love C3 are blaming the entire plot of the campaign for why the party is a mess which is like, so you like the premises of these characters and dislike the vast majority of the actual story in which they exist, and you really just want the story of Campaign 1 or Campaign 2 but Ashton is there.)

With that said though, I do agree that's kind of at the core of Imogen and Laudna. They're so insular, and that's been claimed as a feature, not a bug, for much of the fanon of that relationship. Like, I think Laudna is valid for this specific statement, but unlike Fjord and Jester, who had established in through the course of the campaign both deep ties to each of the rest of the Mighty Nein and a profound sense of responsibility in general, I find myself wondering why Imogen and Laudna don't go off and live in a cottage together and leave the rest of the party to handle this. I mean, Imogen is also impossibly tied up in the fate of Ruidus, but she dithers about the approach so much I wonder why she doesn't decide that perhaps she should stay out of it altogether and retire to that cottage with Laudna until it's all over.

Personally, my thought is that Imogen does in fact secretly like being the special Ruidusborn Exaltant On The Other Side, especially since she's realized her mother wasn't that (as she had hoped). I agree with the fairly common opinion that Imogen and Ashton are in many ways extremely similar people, but whereas Ashton just got a very brutal wake up call of "your parents did fuck up and you're not built different and your desperate attempt to be something special could have hurt everyone" Imogen is still out here going full Javert on everyone's personal thoughts. So I suspect she won't ripcord out in the end, and therefore Laudna won't. But I do think it's valid for Laudna to bring up, and indeed, one of the many things that would make great progress in fixing this party dynamic would be Laudna independently expressing her own needs some more instead of being Imogen's Yes-Woman or projecting her own desires onto other people as I suspect she's doing with Fearne and the shard.

#answered #Anonymous #maintagging bc i think this covers a lot of the nuances that were out of scope for two bigger past posts #critical role

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misshoneyimhome · 1 year ago

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GIRL this Willy content is going to drive me mad I swear! I am needing a lil fic about maybe you meeting the fam for the first time on this international trip and you’re so excited, but also nervous because in Toronto he’s a star but in Sweden he’s the fucking sun!! And he looks so happy and fucking good that he’s willing to take you just about anywhere he can find to take away the nerves and get you to loosen up and enjoy yourself😭😭💀💀

Oh bb! Your wish is my command! ❤️ bc let’s be honest, this kind of scenario has definitely been on my mind a lot as well!

I might have been a little too excited about the idea, so I apologise in advance for any mistakes and errors 😅

➼｡ﾟ

We are Family I William Nylander

One hour.

In just one more hour, the plane would land in Stockholm, the capital of Sweden. And as the minutes ticked by, you could sense your breaths becoming uneven, and your leg trembling with anticipation.

The reason for your anticipation? This journey wasn’t just about the destination itself; no, it held a lot more significant to it. It was the other place on earth your boyfriend, William Nylander, called his home.

Willy, your boyfriend of about six months, or maybe a bit longer or shorter - the dating phase and the decision to commit had been a bit of a whirlwind, so you weren’t entirely sure, for exactly how long you’d been together.

You'd first met William a couple of months before the playoffs and hit it off immediately. His energy yet calm and confident demeanour was unlike many others you’d ever dated, and you were captured in an instant.

But dating an NHL player during the playoffs, was close to the impossible and it had been nothing but challenging. However, somehow, amid the chaos of that time William had made his way directly to your heart, and he had found comfort in having you around. You’d quickly become his anchor throughout the tumultuous period.

Then, during the off-season, both of you felt the need for some space. Not that there were any issues between you; it was simply a desire for some individual journeys and some time to think and breath apart. So, William had travelled across Europe with friends and family, while you pursued your own adventures with some girlfriends.

However, upon returning to Toronto and meeting up again, there was no doubt: you both wanted to be together, romantically committed and all that came with it. William, as unbothered as ever, wasn't really one to overthink it, but you had had your doubts whether he truly meant it, or if you were just another fling. But then just like that, all your concerns were suddenly gone, as William asked you to join the Global Series tour, where the Leafs would play two regular season games in Sweden.

He had practically pleaded for you to come along, now that you'd officially been together for months, and he was eager to introduce you to his family. Which, for the record, and in your opinion, was a monumental step for your relationship, considering how much his family meant to him. And to top it off, you’d be meeting them in what he referred to as his home country.

As you knew he was a bloody star in Toronto – in Sweden, he was the fucking sun. He was a walking monument within the sport, and though you were used to the attention in the Canadian city, it was nothing compared to his status in the Swedish hockey world.

So, as the vibrant city came into view, your nerves were on edge, and your excitement beaming. You were longing to see William, and soon you’d be in his arms again.

After landing, you wasted no time grabbing your luggage and swiftly hopped onto the Arlanda Express, a quick 20-minute ride that placed you right in the heart of Stockholm. Here, William welcomed you with the most radiant smile on his wonderful face, pulling you into a deep, affectionate kiss. Despite the lingering effects of jet lag, you couldn't care less.

The team, naturally, had travelled together and arrived a few days earlier to tackle their own jet lag a head of the games. They went for team meetings before heading out to dine together, embracing the finest Swedish customs. And all the Swedish players were even invited to a premiere of the Börje Salming tribute movie, accompanied by family and friends – which had been a truly special occasion. And amidst hockey training and probably a fair share of media engagements, William had planned to devote his time to you.

So, on the following day, once you'd somewhat adjusted to a more normal state of mind, William took you out. Sensing your nerves, he made every effort to keep you distracted and calm, showcasing the most splendid places and attractions in Stockholm and introducing you to the renowned concept of Fika, Swedish style.

You could sense his pride in sharing this part of his life with you, and despite the dull, grey weather, the time spent together in his "home" city was what mattered most. And eventually, you found yourself completely at ease in his presence.

Up until the next crucial moment: meeting his family.

William loved his family very much. He cherished every single one of his relatives deeply, and to put it mildly, there were quite a lot of them. And naturally, he had invited the whole clan to the major hockey event.

"Hey," he spoke in a gentle voice as the two of you were getting ready in the hotel room. "Baby, please try to relax," his soft chuckle filled the room, but his words didn't immediately ease your nerves.

"Willy, I’m trying… but I'm meeting your parents," you replied with worried brows. You could feel how your nerves were showing, despite your best attempts to stay calm and confident by wearing your favourite outfit.

"I know, and I get that you're nervous. But there's really nothing for you to worry about."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course! Besides, I'm just really happy that you're here.” He stepped a little closer, and gently wrapped his arms around your waist. “This means the world to me. You're finally meeting my parents, and I'm just so excited, you know…"

There was no falsehood in his words. His eyes shone like bright Christmas lights, and his smile was wider than you’d ever seen before.

"I know, I'm excited too – I just really hope they’ll like me… I know how much your family means to you. The worst thing would be if we couldn’t be together, because they didn't approve of me, and then, you'd have to choose, which would be even worse, since-"

William interrupted your ramble with a kiss.

"They'll definitely like you, don't worry," he almost whispered, keeping your faces close while his arms enveloped you. It was a gentle, heartfelt moment as the two of you stood motionless in the serene room. Only the sound of your synchronized breaths filled the small space between you, his rhythm guiding yours.

And gazing into his eyes, a realization began to dawn. William wouldn't have you meet his family if he wasn't absolutely certain it would go well.

And so, you made your way out of the hotel, heading towards the restaurant where you'd meet a part of his closest family, both of you unable to contain wide smiles. His hand tightly held yours, providing the reassurance you sought. And with each step towards the door, all you felt was joy, simply being by his side.

***

"Hey!" a group of incredibly good-looking Swedes exclaimed as you headed towards the back of the restaurant, where William had ensured there was enough space for everyone and allowing a degree of privacy.

"Hej," William addressed his parents as they approached, exchanging hugs and kisses. "Mom, Dad, this is my girlfriend, y/n."

"Hello, y/n," the two tall Swedes smiled, extending their hands for you to shake, which you accepted eagerly before speaking.

"Hej, hur mår du? Det är verkligen trevligt att träffa er båda," (Hey, how are you? It’s really nice to neet toy both), you greeted as confident as possible, earning astonished wide eyes from your boyfriend, leaving him completely baffled. This he had not expected.

"Vi är mycket bra, tack. Det är fantastiskt att träffa dig också," (We’re very good, thanks. It’s really wonderful to meet you too), his mother replied with a beautiful smile, and you couldn't help but chuckle as William stood stunned beside you.

"When did you learn that?" he exclaimed with a laugh.

"What?" you innocently asked. "I just wanted to pick up a few phrases… you know, to impress you." You flashed him a sweet smile, while his parents responded with hearty laughter. "Besides, all that effort to see that look on your face? Totally worth it."

"Oh, I like this one," his father Michael remarked, before all of you continued to join the rest of the company.

William was genuinely impressed. Mission accomplished. And so were his parents. Bonus points.

You had practised a few sentences just for fun, aiming to make an impression and show how much you were in fact interested in getting to know this part of your boyfriend better. And it seemed your plan had worked.

Although following along with the Swedish conversations was challenging, William, his parents, and sisters made an incredibly sweet effort to involve you in everything. They were exceedingly kind and welcoming, and it didn't take long for you to feel like a part of the family. What a relief.

"You know, y/n, Willy couldn’t stop talking about you all summer," Stephanie chuckled.

"Oh, come on, let's not go into that," William almost whined.

"Oh, we're definitely going there, big brother," Jacqueline chimed in with a grin, before adding, "He was glued to his phone, waiting for you to text or call..."

"Why hasn't she called me?" Stephanie playfully mimicked her brother's whiny voice, prompting Jacqueline to continue.

"Should I call her?"

"What if she doesn't pick up?"

"What if she does pick up?"

His sisters teasingly taunted him, recalling how much William had talked about you during the off-season. And amidst their banter, there was nothing but laughter from your end. Despite William's potential embarrassment in that moment, or as much as he could show, you found yourself incredibly happy. Not only was his family immensely sweet, but you also discovered that he had been thinking about you as much as you had been thinking about him. Furthermore, he had even shared details about you with his family.

"Alright, enough," William chuckled. "Just because I'm finally in love and happy, doesn't mean you get to give me a hard time."

And with smiles and laughter, the girls relented from their teasing.

For you, however, your heart skipped a beat. Warmth filled your entire being as you absorbed his words. In love.

****

After a delightful evening of dinner, conversation, and mingling, you and William found yourselves back in your hotel room. A serene silence enveloped the room as both of you slowly unwound, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere.

"Hey, are you okay?" your boyfriend inquired as you were about to join him on the bed.

"Of course," you reassured him with a soft smile.

"You're just unusually quiet... Was tonight not okay?" he probed, a hint of concern in his voice.

With a smile slowly spreading across your face, you knelt on the bed in front of him, lightly pressing your lips together before speaking.

"Willy, tonight was perfect. Your family is wonderful, and I've never seen you this happy," you said with genuine sincerity. "Not even when the team made it into the second round."

William chuckled in response, but he could read you too well, and he sensed there was more. "So, there's nothing else on your mind?"

Once more, you pursed your lips, briefly glanced down, then locked eyes with his once more.

"Did you truly mean it?"

"Mean what?" he asked, curiosity dancing in his eyes.

"That you're in love with me?"

William's smile widened at your question as he leaned closer, gently cupping your cheek with a hand.

"Absolutely, y/n/n," his voice tender and soft. "In fact, I think I love you."

With your heart overflowing with affection for this man, you closed the distance between you in a heartfelt kiss, before pulling back just a tad.

"I love you too, Willy."

#william nylander imagine #nhl hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #willy styles #my asks #wn88 imagine

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letsgetrowdy43 · 1 year ago

Text

The Timeline ☆—

Au Masterlist!!

Honey was born and raised in Plymouth, Michigan.

Her father was the equipment manager for the USNTDP U18 team, meaning that she spent a lot of time surrounding the sport and the culture.

Her whole life revolved around training camps, away games, spending most of her Christmases in other countries to attend the world juniors

With this lifestyle of constantly being on the move, she spent a good portion of her life taking in new cultures, learning and admiring travelling around the world, which led to her love of photography

Quinn was the first Hughes she met in Michigan before the rest of the family moved down for Jack to follow in his footsteps.

The other Hughes' moved into town and basically took over the hockey scene, meaning that she spent a lot of time around the family of five

When Quinn and her had originally met it was around their sophomore year of High school and Quinn was all heart eyes for her.

The poor boy could not form a coherent sentence around her, everything was mumbles and whispers until she was asked to photograph some portraits for the USNTDP

Her father had gotten her an internship with the communication team for the program, and after many complaints about how the teams needed better graphics, they finally gave her creative liberty over the Instagram page.

So now they sat in an overly lit room, a camera in her hands and him in full gear as she listened to his coach's wishes for the photos.

At this point in their life, they had only ever talked within classes when their moms were carpooling their brothers, or in passing.

So the moment the coach left the only noise remaining in the room was the humming of the air-conditioning.

Quinn's mouth ran dry as she put the camera up to her eye to size him up in the viewfinder, her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink as she examined his side profile. Quietly thinking to herself "omg this guy is like extremely attractive" her eyes roamed around his features.

"I had no idea you were into photography," he said sheepishly as she messed around with the lighting and the backdrop, she moved over to reposition his stance and position now, fixing the jersey that draped over his frame to better show off the Team USA logo

"It's a hobby I picked up in junior high, while in Sweden for a tournament," a smile danced on her lips as he mimicked the pose she wanted him in.

Memories of that particular WJC flashed through her mind as she remembered her and her older brother opening a gift each on Christmas Day, hers being a new Canon camera. Something she'd never expressed an interest in, but something that soon became one of her greatest passions.

"The media thing is something my dad wants me to pursue" She shrugged as she found herself standing in front of him, fingers raking through his hair to make it sit just right.

She had barely noticed that she had done it until her eyes met his, shock displayed across his features as his cheeks turned bright pink.

From that day on she had basically been attached at the hip to Quinn, wherever he was, so was she.

The nickname stemmed from Ellen calling her honey, Quinn thought it was endearing thus forth he claimed it as his own.

Luke and Jack had settled for the nickname Hun, at first it was mockingly, but then it just stuck.

She was his best friend throughout his time on the U18 USNTDP Team, his runs at the WJCs, his draft day, and up into his time in the NCAA

Her original plan was to attend MSU and gain a degree in communications through their program, but the thought of growing apart from her favourite Hughes felt too bitter

So instead, and after quite a bit of convincing from Quinn, she followed him all the way to Umich to pursue a career in media and sports management.

The summer going into their sophomore year was his NHL draft, the entire Hughes family was in Dallas, nerves racking their brains as they awaited Quinn's name to be called.

Honey sat prettily, dressed up in his favourite colour (to match his suit) as his name was picked to go 7th overall.

A wide grin on her face as she watched him hug all of the friends and family around him, landing lastly on his best friend who he just smiled at softly and hugged tenderly, allowing her to place a kiss on his cheek before he walked up to receive his Canucks jersey.

they began to date in their sophomore year, after a lot of dancing around the subject Honey.

Honey was the one who made the first move as they unpacked his thing sin his and josh's new dorm room. A shy smile of his face as she pulled away breatlessly, smirking at the flush on hi cheeks.

they dated throughout their sophomore year, it felt like they were on a tightrope for a good amount of the year though, knowing that by the end of the school year, it was more than likely that Quinn was to be sent out to Canada.

And just as expected Quinn was in Vancouver by the end of the spring semester.

The long-distance was definitely not kind to them, with the time difference and the fast pace of their lives, both decided it was best for them to take a break.

They sat down during Christmas of her junior year and his off-week and decided it was for the best for them to break up, and then possibly pick up where they left off after she finished her schooling

That didn't exactly go to plan, because as soon as the off-season started and she was home for her summer break the two of them were literally attached to each other once again.

Let's just say although they were not together they were definitely taking advantage of being able to hook up at any given opportunity

Luke and Jack definitely chirped the fuck out of Quinn, they had seen and heard their fair share of the couple over the summer

The summer came to an end, and although it had been a whirlwind of emotion Quinn thought it was still a better idea to let Honey go out and be single for her last year.

On the day of her graduation Quinn showed up on her front door step in a suit and a gift in his hand, he didn't know how she still felt about him but he wanted to make it known that he wanted her.

she opened the door, a grin on her lips as he blushed at her pretty appearance, and pressed a small gift box in her hand.

"I do not expect you to uproot your life for me, but I want you to know that I want you in my life" he whispered, as she opened the gift box in her had to reveal a key to his apartment.

Two months later and the two of them were packing up all of her essentials and sending them off to Vancouver.

Honey started a job as a media manager for a Bridal store, acclimating to the life of an NHL girlfriend (too which she slayed)

The following Christmas (2021) was when they found out that they were expecting warren, too which prompted Quinn proposing to her

I love a good shotgun wedding and 100% this wedding was an outcome of the unplanned pregnancy but Quinn and Honey were on cloud 9 the moment they find out that they were going to be parents

Ellen and Jim were just over the moon, they love Honey, they love Quinn, and they love the couple, and they were just so excited to be grandparents.

Warren was born in October, in Vancouver, both sets of in-laws flew in along with the couple’s brothers.

Parenthood came on extremely easy for Quinn, and a little less easy for Honey, but eventually, they worked out the kinks and she finally figured out motherhood but in her own light.

They had their second baby in the summer of 2024, welcoming their baby girl Hayden into the world

Life was perfect for them, their two babies, and their happy marriage, and then a media manager position opens up for Honey which opened many more opportunities for the content family

#thelittlesthughesau!!#quinn hughes #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes fanfiction #dad!quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #vancouver canucks #umich hockey

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