#ahhhh the childhood trauma
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alilaro · 2 years ago
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those damned anime weebs were right, Neon Genesis Evangelion really does go fucking hard
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gentil-minou · 1 year ago
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okay another Wei Wuxian thought about how living on the streets affected him forever:
Sleep
Cause of course A-Ying can't sleep at night even if he does manage to find suitable shelter that isn't just a tree or an awning. He has to keep his eyes wide open as long as he can, especially when the moon peaks and dogs start howling...how can he sleep at night when he needs to be aware of his surroundings and of doom on every corner?
It's much better to sleep later when it's closer to morning and the earliest risers are around to at least patrol the streets, or better yet he can sleep when early shoppers check out the morning market, letting the sound of their chatter soothe him to sleep.
Even years later when he has a roof over his head and bed that's all his own and no dogs anywhere, he can't just get over this habit of his? He's too used to sleeping late, so even if Wei Wuxian doesn't remember why he can't fall asleep until well after everyone else and why he gets his best sleep when the suns starting to rise, he doesn't just stop.
He can't stop.
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haylee-bb · 2 years ago
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Thank you for clearing this up! I always assumed it was to make themselves feel better about venting and relying too much on a child.
Now I know my lack of a carefree childhood was not the fault of the adults in my life. I was simply born depressed.
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rainrot4me · 5 months ago
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Whats the request you're most excited to write???? Also can you make a list of all the requests you've gotten so far? I just want to see how far down mine is LOL
So basically, I’m going to make it easier on myself to pump these out and fill requests so here’s what I’m planning on doing:
A lot of you have just requested simple “Can you write character x reader?” and left it up to me, but the other half of you (whom i could kiss on the lips ily all) have wrote a detailed, lengthy explanation of what you want and it makes it soooooo easy and enjoyable to just pump my brain to write without having to come up with a plot. So! I’m going to be combining requests and writing for requested characters, but using the specific prompts requested to actually post. I hope that makes sense… you’ll understand when I start posting lol
Anyways- here’s the current list! (I’ve shortened it down, as I look at my inbox I easily have 50 requests I’m just not going to write each individual one)
- Jeff the Killer x Female Reader (on her period) (currently writing!)
- Jeff the Killer x Female Reader x Ben Drowned
- Fluffy Kirishima x Female Reader
- Nina x Female Reader
- Clockwork x Female Reader (strapon yum)
- Hoodie x Female Reader x Masky (hunters x prey)
- Toby, Masky, Hoodie x Female Reader (this one is definitely the one I’m most excited for, already have a draft written up 🔥)
- Toby x Chubby Female Reader x Eyeless Jack
- Continuation of Just Relax (cockwarming and relationship building 😵‍💫 fwb turned deep)
- Kate the Chaser x Female Reader (more strapon YUM)
- Stalker Ben Drowned x Female Reader
- Hoodie x Female Reader (he chases you in a corn maze AHHHH)
- Toby x Clockwork (so excited for this omg)
- Slenderman x Female Reader (maybe a continuation of WITT)
- Toby x Transmasc Reader (clawing at the walls to write this)
- Bloody Painter x Female Reader (“let me help you love yourself” EEEE)
- Jeff the Killer x CVI Female Reader (basically reader is blind and isn’t afraid of him, it’s gonna be so fluffy)
- Jeff the Killer x Toby x Female Reader (Toby is whipped for Jeff and needs an excuse to get with him, so he uses you AHH)
- Toby x Female Reader (they’re childhood friends, major fluff in this one, lots of trauma too)
- Eyeless Jack x Medic Female Reader (basically Jeff and Jack fight over you, BUT JACK WINS!!!! gonna be a good possessive one trust)
- Jessica x Female Reader (very soft very cute)
- Tim Wright x Female Reader (christmas themed!!!!!!!) (might save this one for actual christmas cause it’s gonna be so good)
- Eyeless Jack x Artist Female Reader (you’re lonely, Jack thinks you’re adorable)
- Kagekao x Female Reader (i’m not very familiar with this character but i’ll do my research!!!)
- Jeff the Killer x Female Reader x Toby (heavy non-con)
- Ben Drowned x Tall Female Reader (climb that tree boy!)
- AFAB Jeff the Killer x Reader (considering i don’t want to be insensitive at all, i’m going to converse with the requester and get a more in depth feel of how they want this written! but i’m planning on t4t)
- X-Virus x Female Reader
- Toby x Female Reader x Masky (heavy power struggle)
- Eyeless Jack x Author Female Reader (he begs for your attention YUM)
- Evan/Habit x Female Reader (killer x stalker vibes!)
I’m sure this list will severely change before I know it, but I promise to work as quickly as I can and make all of you happy! I’m so excited for all of these!!!!! Thank you all so much for reading and requesting!!
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nightcolorz · 7 months ago
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Going to vent to you because this seems like a safe space for Armand sympathizers lol…
LIKE obviously Armand is doing all the wrongs, he didn't have to agree to literally any of this, blah blah etc etc BUT GIRL. if the guy i had been casually dating for two years because he had great benefits one day revealed to me that he was a child sex slave, the thing i would not do is be like 'wow, i guess what you're secretly saying is you want me to turn our relationship into an unnegotiated 24/7 TPE huh'.
And then when he came to me in a panic to tell me his life is falling apart and his employees are plotting to kill him and his protection isn't going to last much longer and i should flee the country for my own safety because he's the most vulnerable he's ever been since the time he was abducted by the crazy torture cult, the thing i absolutely would not do at that moment is surprise him by introducing that dynamic into our relationship completely out of nowhere and then order him to stay right here because I've got a totally cool plan to outmanipulate his enemies and I'll be his master now :)
And then I orchestrate a series of hot public encounters where i blur the lines of being angry and disgusted with him right up against ignoring the boundaries he sets and telling him to do whatever i want wherever i want. and because i never bothered to ask him, i don't know if he's genuinely into it or if it's because i've weaponised his trauma when he's feeling unstable, but like, he's the one who manipulated me into doing this anyway by telling me his sad backstory, so actually i'm the victim here??
AND THEN when I tell him my awesome idea of turning a nazi collaborator into a human eating monster machine and I want him to do it even though he is clearly revulsed by this idea from every angle, I'll berate him endlessly for refusing and be annoyed with him because by saying no he's making me turn her and that's not cool bro, and when he begs me not to do it, or at least not to tell him because it's breaking the rules and he's vulnerable to the machinations of the coven rn, I'll shut him up with my dom routine, and then tell him to come watch because he'll realize he does actually want it after he does it.
and when he asks me whether this is a genuine invitation in this moment or if I'm ordering him to do it and will be upset if he doesn't, I'll be so hurt and angry with him because wow, I can't believe after months of using my nonconsensual game of acting like his childhood master to get him to do things for me, he's acting like I'd use my nonconsensual game of pretending to be his childhood master against him, fuck you for trying to manipulate me right now you worthless piece of shit </3.
like even daniel, the most neutral and ethical judge of whether it's okay to make someone a vampire, can tell the only reason he'd set his one boundary at murdering and cursing another human being for eternity is because it's not hot or convenient, and not because of 500 years of witnessing the most insane vampire maker shenanigans known to Europe.
and then the entire audience claps because honestly i'm just trying so hard and my boyfriend just keeps fucking it all up for me and taking away my choices. literally what else could i have done in this situation :(
AHHHH ANON U ATE THIS UP ‼️🙏 and Yes this is absolutely THE safe place for Armand sympathizers!! I am the Armand sympathizer king and u have just brought me an Armand sympathizer gift lined with gold and jewels and placed it in front of my thrown and I’m knighting u Armand sympathizer general as I bow before u
ur so right and it’s actually so crazy to me that this isn’t a more popular take. it’s insane to me bcus im remembering how seriously this fandom was taking Claudia’s s1 sexual assault and how sensitively it was being discussed and now these same ppl r insisting that it’s unfair to “demonize” Louis for preforming non consensual bdsm with a csa victim without any safe word or prior discussion specifically because he told him about his csa and Louis found a chance to leverage control in this relationship. I saw someone insisting that it’s ridiculous to interpret Louis as sexually exploitative for being a pimp because he was a nice pimp and he was self aware about how pimping was bad and like ??? 😭😭 how do I even argue with that, that is just so absurd I’m lost for words. No guys he was one of the good pimps because he “didnt take advantage of his position” (😭⁉️) and he knew that it was wrong to sexually exploit vulnerable women and just chose to do it anyway so see it wasn’t that bad. And because Louis knows sexual abuse is wrong and chooses to do it anyway despite this he clearly isn’t mirroring the sexual abuse Armand experienced in his non consensual power play dynamic with him because uh yeah he wouldn’t do that ig 😭. It’s not like Louis canonically is capable of using sexual exploitation to manipulate people’s vulnerabilities for his stability and gain. Like guys book Louis also felt guilty for being a slave owner and knew it was wrong 😭😭 am I gonna hear “it’s unfair to say Louis being a slave owner was indicative of his negative traits cuz he felt bad about it” come out of ur mouths 😭⁉️cuz oh my god I hope not 😭 “Louis was only a pimp because pimping was his way of keeping his family afloat and asserting the masculine identity he felt obligated to preform for his safety” and he is doing the same thing with Armand guys obviously??!! He is taking advantage of armand’s history of sexual abuse to keep himself safe from vulnerability with the coven and to assert his masculine identity as a shield like 😭 and that doesn’t stop what he’s doing from being wrong like no fucking shit. He’s a complex character and his actions come from a place of fear and not straight forward evil, but that doesn’t mean u have to defend literal sexual abuse to analyze that and to enjoy Louis as ur favorite character 😭 I keep saying this but louis is a great character and there’s nothing wrong with him being ur fav but it is pretty mf weird to insist that everything he does is ok when things that he do include like, non consent 😭
I feel ur annoyances so hard anon, it’s driving me a lil crazy rn cuz in s2 ep6’s wake i have barely seen anyone discuss the Louis fucking Armand in the coffin scene like it was pretty shitty and abusive and not like, non complexly hot and fun and nothing else. Like, Armand has been panicking for a while and insisting to Louis that he is loosing respect from the coven and therefore his control and he’s in danger because of it, and Louis decides to stroll into Armand’s office unannounced, demand he strip for him immediately, demand again without any room for argument when Armand says he can’t, and then fuck Armand in view and ear shot of the whole coven in a degrading power assertion that Louis knows will put Armand in even more of a vulnerable and compromising position, like ?? I get it read the pages to me while I fuck u was pretty hot but omg can we talk about this with some nuance 😭⁉️ this is possibly the most overt instance of Louis not asking, *demanding* that Armand sexually submit and preform for him specifically as a grab to assert dominance over the coven. And Armand of course won’t say no, he’s been quite literally trained to believe that he has services that people r entitled to take from him at any time because he’s a product to be used. He also believes that saying no is not an option because submitting to the master will keep him safe, and Louis I think knows this to an extent and knows that taking advantage of this will help him stay afloat. I believe that this scene was a significant contributor to Armand deciding to betray Louis, because Louis’s actions *do* put him in danger with the coven and cause him to loose his position of power (Santiago mocking him for getting fucked by Louis cough cough). And Armand at this point is realizing, I can choose to be in a relationship with Louis that is causing my sense of stability and safety to fall apart, or I can choose to regain my position of power by forgoing Louis and getting to retain my safety. When u think about it like that it makes perfect sense for him to do that 😭 and I’m tired of seeing takes treating Armand like he’s a sneaky little snake and not a cornered animal
on the subject of Daniel because u mentioned him at the end there, oh my god it has pissed me off since the beginning how a lot of people act like Daniel is the embodiment of the neutral, unbiased correct word of god figure who is just telling the audience how it really is. Like?? No??? 😭😭 Daniel is a shitty journalist and a shitty person, he’s borderline racist and ignorant, he is not looking to expand his perspective or approach his subjects with any empathy or nuance because he decided going in that he hates them and they r bad, which is like?? Defeats the entire purpose of the affective journalism that he is trying to preform 😭😭 He is NOT the guy u should be getting ur takes from, he is a character like any other, he is not a source for correct analysis or meta or unfiltered truth.
But anyways lol, not to be personal and vulnerable in the gay vampire sex tv show post but it’s rlly disheartening for me to witness this blatant excusing and downplaying of a sexually abusive dynamic as someone who has experienced a very similar type of “but was it technicallyyy non consensual though..?” Sexual abuse. Like guys pls 😭🙏 I thought that “bdsm dynamic that merges with actual, genuine grabs for control and blurs the line between fun sex and real demands or anger” was like considered unambiguously bad? 😭 There asses do NOT have a safe word. In conclusion anon u r everything to me and everyone else um USE UR BRAIN🔥🔥🔥🔥
thank u sm for the ask OMGG ur so well spoken and correct and I enjoyed reading ur ask so so much
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slowcatsisland · 5 days ago
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Love your thoughts on Zoro 💯😍. How about dating & sexuality of Sanji? Is this pervert maybe still a virgin? 😅 I love this boy. 🐻
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Black Leg Sanji; Ability to Date, Sexuality, & Trauma Responses (ft. Kamabakka Kingdom & Germa 66)
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Oooh I was waiting for this one!!
As always, this is my interpretation of Sanji’s character so take my opinion with a grain of salt lol
We’ll discuss Sanji’s trauma and how this makes him view men and women, my take on his sexuality, if him having a partner is plausible within the canon right now, and his most popular ships.
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I’ve always thought about how his interactions with women and men in the show almost always have the same tone
Ykwim? He is always treating the ladies kindly, offering them warmth, food, protection, and a smile.
He always treats the men harshly, always being curt with them, acting disinterested and annoyed at what they say with his teeth bared.
And I don’t really know how aware Sanji is to his initial behavior and how much they vary between man and woman.
Do you ever just instinctively get annoyed when that one person tries to talk to you? No matter what they say bitterness seeps out of your tone when you respond to them and you can’t help but ridicule whatever they said regardless if it needs any scrutinizing or not?
And it’s not like you’re doing on purpose, it just flows through your body like rain.
That’s what I think Sanji feels towards men whenever he interacts with them.
He only ever doesn’t really act standoff ish to Usopp and sometimes Luffy.
This all stems from his childhood. From the beatings he took from his brothers, from the snare in their smiles as they spoke the most hurtful things to him when he couldn’t do anything to defend himself. From the way Judge- from the way adults(adult men/the soldiers of germa 66) never tried to help him.
It all stems from his childhood. From the soft tones that the maids would use with him when he would visit his mother, from the gentleness of the lady cooks who let him stay in the kitchen when he asked (even though they technically couldn’t refuse). From the way his sister was always the one to patch him up and how she never laid a hand on him. From the way his mother would praise him just for being kind and would stroke his hair so lightly.
This bias that Sanji developed is so deeply ingrained in him.
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This bias leads me to my next section, what’s Sanji’s sexuality?
I really think he’s bi. But it’s complicated.
He rejects key parts of himself all the time.
He rejects his natural femininity - always wearing a traditional masculine suit, always smoking a cigarette, having a rumbly, more manly voice (TRUST i believe his voice is actually a lot higher pitched but the cigarettes and his own training to get rid of his French accent dulls it down- IN FRENCH HE SPEAKS HIGH PITCHED AHHHH)
He rejects his need for outside help to cope with his trauma - he has not once that I truly remember outside of Onigashima against his ‘battle’ with Black Maria has ever asked for help. He tries to handle things on his own not to burden those he’s around no matter how much he’s hurting and needs someone.
He rejects the fondness he could potentially have for a man - the only way I could explain this is like, internalized homophobia??
I will expand more on this when I get to his Zosan ship with Zoro. But it’s also from the way he is scared of men. Because men have only ever hurt him. It’s this wall that he’s built so high he can’t grasp the concept of outwardly loving another male.
His conditions in Germa 66 changed his perception of how acceptable it would be to love a guy. Guys scare him, no guy would be accepted by Germa 66 as well. They would think that’s a joke, that one of the princes could love his own gender. It isn’t a welcoming environment for queer tendencies nor people (cough cough Sanji)
- Sanji was made from his mother’s love, and he was the only one out of his siblings made to love. He was meant to love the world, to love others, that’s who Sanji is deep down.
Sanji doesn’t really seem to like that idea, he rejects it. It’s so much easier for him to love women.
Sanji himself would probably tell you that he’s straight and only likes girls. It’s easier, it’s traditional, it’s safer. And he does like girls. He likes them sexually, he likes them physically and emotionally (ish on emotional lowkey lowkey). He also likes the idea of loving a woman. It’s ‘right’- for him to love a woman.
Yk?? He could imagine himself fighting for and protecting a woman, baking her food, snuggling with her at night, worshipping her hips in the lust filled hours of dusk.
I don’t think he could imagine all that with a man.
And that’s okay, in a way. He’s a tormented babe.
THIS IS WHY KAMABAKKA KINGDOM WAS SO IMPORTANT FOR SANJI IN MY OPINION. (GUYSSSS)
It probably wasn’t Kuma’s intention. But Sanji being exposed and exiled to a queer island for two whole years had to have healed his inner troubles in some capacity.
There aren’t social norms, no traditional role to play in Kamabakka Kingdom. It’s just..people. Unapologetic, true natured people.
It’s what a healthy society looks like- at least to me. It’s crazy how I feel like I perceive queer communities in media to be the perfect place of self acceptance because all normal social roles/gender roles/and modest constrictions are just not there? (Example: I could kiss a girl I’ve been wanting to without having that itching voice in the back of my head go ‘your friends would make fun of you for that, you’ll be looked at differently if you do that’ or ‘this doesn’t look right, it would look better if you were a guy or she were a guy’ LIKE?! There’s a line that is crossed in traditional communities that just aren’t in queer communities when it comes to expressing yourself I feel like 🧍‍♀️)
It’s so freeing to be yourself the way that you define it and I so hope that is what Sanji experienced during his time there.
He was surrounded by drag queens who fully embraced themselves. They knew they liked men, they were okay with it. They knew they liked to dress feminine, they were okay with it. They knew they were strong and could fight, they were okay with it.
Hmm I don’t think I’m really articulating how it was important to him in a -accepting yourself is healthy and you’re not disappointing anybody- way and not a -go kiss this guy that dresses as a gal you’ll love it here wear this dress so you fit in with us you secret freak- kind way
Yk??
Anyway -
I feel like he’s bisexual with a heavy lean towards women. This comes from his upbringing in Germa 66 because it changed his view on men but deep down I feel like he still has the capability of loving a man- just in different way he would love a woman.
It’ll always be a different way.
Sanji himself would tell you he’s straight.
If this were an au untraumatized Sanji, he would be regular bi without a preference imo.
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I headcanon him as still being a virgin in the One Piece story right now. There’s not much logic behind it. More of a feeling.
His trauma almost prohibits him from getting to close to a woman imo, I think he would freak out and have to back out of such an intimate act.
It would also probably have to be someone that Sanji knows well, I don’t see him hooking up with someone that is more a stranger or acquaintance than friend or loved one.
I do think that he has successfully wooed women during his time at the Baratie, but he never ended up sharing more than a few kisses with one or two of them and maybe a rare blowjob or fingering session before something happened.
I do think that sex is something he wants. I think Sanji is a character that wants to devote himself to something real that he can touch. Like a person. Though again with the whole perception thing- he couldn’t see himself being sexual with another man. And that’s okay- love comes in other forms of intimacy, we’ll talk abt this in his Zosan part soon too.
OMG a creator on this app - onlymurphy- has really good Sanji fanfics that cover his need for intimacy, how his trauma causes him to crave physical closeness, how he always strives to please/pleasure his partner, and they do a really good job at conveying the depth of his character so def check them out too if you haven’t before
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Would Sanji have a partner in the story anytime soon? Nah. But- I do think he is someone that needs or would benefit greatly from a partner.
A partner would help him through his issues. He could heal so well if he had someone there for him that loved him in a way no one else could. A way that no one else has.
He’s a hopeless romantic imo, he puts relationships on a pedestal. For him to have that for his own is something so special yk?
However I still do think that he needs to change his bias towards both men and women before he gets a partner.
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This leads me to my next point, my preferences in Sanji’s partner.
I want him to have someone that doesn’t suit his biases so badly!! Someone that challenges him to face the fact not all people fit into his preconceived notions about them.
Ugh
Like. Have him with a masculine woman, someone who isn’t dainty, someone who doesn’t want all his sugar coated assertions of affection, praise, and admiration. Someone who doesn’t want his snacks that he made for her just because he thought she might be hungry even though everyone else on the crew I’d probably just as hungry yk?
Have him with a woman that’s a genuine fighter. Not someone who learned to fight to survive in the sense that Robin is a fighter. Someone more like Vi from Arcane that settles things with her fists. A woman that’s up front and center during the battles with the other members of the monster trio. Yk??
Have him with a woman with rough, ugly scars. Better yet, facial scars. A woman that would be unattractive by normal social standards. We both know he’ll still find her beautiful, but it’s about the fact that others won’t. That’s she’s different.
Have him with a woman that’s a little morally grey. Maybe she’s closed off and rough around the edges to everyone, even him. She kills people, she hurts people, but she’s still good. Ish. People aren’t one thing, everyone is a little bit of everything. (Idk if this one is as big of a deal as the others listed above imo he’s the type of guy to go ‘I support women’s wrongs/women do no wrongs/what murdahh?? Ykwim?)
Men
Have Sanji with a man that’s more feminine coded. Something that almost gives him flashbacks to Kamabakka Kingdom. A guy that’s just pretty, there’s no other word to describe him. He’s handsome ish yeah, but he’s not really hot or sexy even if he is-he’s mostly pretty. This guy could have feminine coded hobbies too. He doesn’t have to be a fighter, he could be more of a lover. He could be a painter- someone who sculpts and makes creations out of color and draws emotion out of a blank canvas.
Have him with a guy that’s very emotional too. Maybe more emotionally aware? He would sit Sanji down for a discussion about their relationship because he knows damn well Sanji won’t.
Maybe a guy that is deadly and masculine and all the other things that scare Sanji. But to Sanji, around Sanji, with Sanji, he’s soft. Sanji could never provoke such violence and cruelty because he can’t eve imagine doing things like that to someone like Sanji. (Zosan lowkey lowkey lowkey)
Regardless of my wish for him to fall in love with someone outside of his normal biased preference, Sanji’s partner needs to be someone gentle and kind to him. He needs someone to give him grace, give him a safe spot.
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Okay, last bit of this post- Sanji’s popular ships. (Zoro, Usopp, Luffy, Nami, Pudding, Viola)
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Sanji x Zoro: yes, but in a specific way.
I mentioned this in my Zoro post with Zoro’s ability to date, but Zosan is something more spiritual you could say.
I don’t see it begin sexual, I don’t think they would ever have feelings for each other like that. Sorry, no Zosan kisses from over here ☝️
They have a companionship that is deep and neither of them dare think about it because they don’t know what the other thinks about it nor how it could affect the Straw Hats. They’re like two sides of the same coin. They belong to each other but in the same breath they can’t stand to let the other know that they are dependent on them.
They’re complicated but that’s how they’re supposed to be.
They’re not supposed to be traditional in any sense of the word, at least not to me.
Maybe their relationship could be something deeper if Sanji ever talked to Zoro about it, but it’s highly unlikely.
Zosan is also where Sanji’s internalized homophobia comes in to play imo. Sanji would never admit to anyone, especially not Zoro, that he might feel some type of way about him that’s not negative. It doesn’t seem right to Sanji, and he probably despises the tightness in his chest he gets around Zoro. He also probably can’t discern whether it’s from a threat or from fond feelings.
Sanji would also imo always try to take how he feels when he looks at Zoro and how he looks at a woman and tell himself that the ladder is appropriate and is actual ‘love’ (ish)
Zosan is baked in layers of angst for me too, I don’t ever see Zosan as something cutesy. It just can’t be, not with how the way they are. It can be funny, duh, but not all happy and cute. There’s always gonna be complicated and abrupt and dangerous feelings with them.
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Sanji x Usopp: I didn’t know this was a genuine ship until recently. I think they’re better as close friends.
Sanji and Usopp understand each other really well.
Sanji was always the one to back Usopp up first and it showed a lot in pretimeskip when they had more shown interactions.
Usopp knows that feeling of being weak, not enough, unworthy, of being a burden. Just like Sanji does.
So I do understand why some people shop them together, but they work better as a duo.
I might actually prefer them as a duo over Zoro and Sanji as a duo.
Usopp and Sanji is what Zosan shippers sometimes make Zosan out to be. Something cutesy and fluffy- something it’s not.
(Aka pls make fluffy Sanuso content I need-)
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Sanji x Luffy: I think they work something like Zolu works but to a lesser degree.
Luffy is Sanji’s savior in a way. He gave him the road to the All Blue. He showed him not all men will hurt you. He let Sanji be his cook and put so much love and trust into Sanji on behalf of the crew.
Which is why their fight on Whole Cake Island is so, so sad. It was their own breakup. Sanji never wanted to leave, he never wanted to hurt Luffy nor the crew, he wanted to keep them save at the expense of his own life, hands, and freedom.
Sanji’s loyalty to Luffy is tragic because it comes from a place of Sanji feeling unworthy of Luffy’s generosity too.
Ugh
I don’t see them sexually, I don’t see them romantically, all though I could see Sanji potentially like loving Luffy in a romantic way. But that specific form of love wouldn’t be reciprocated by Luffy yk? Idk it’s hard to explain.
They’re precious and they’re a true bond, but not in a traditional way.
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Sanji x Ace: hmm. I never knew this was a genuine ship either.
I mean, nothings like wrong with it
I just don’t see it yk?
They had limited interaction, even if it was good interactions.
Ace is dead..
Idk how they would feel given their relationship with Luffy, like Sanji with his captain’s older brother and Ace with his little brother’s cook.
It feels like an overstep for them to do that to Luffy?
I don’t see Sanji developing feelings, and I think Ace was being his charming usual self. lol they’re both charming guys with suave personas I just realized
So yeah, it’s a no for me. I don’t see this in a shop in any way but if they had more time maybe a duo? But their affiliations to delegate pirate crews also is a big deal so
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Sanji x Nami: quick disclaimer, I don’t ship Sanji with any women in One Piece. I don’t think Sanami works and this is mainly on Nami’s part.
Nami imo, is what Sanji’s like perfect woman is. She’s beautiful, she’s funny, she’s smart, she’s a little flirty at times, she’s independent but still kinda relies on others, she’s seen the horrors of the world but didn’t let that change her, she is someone who would rather have someone else fight her battles for her.
I’m not saying Sanji doesn’t like Nami for who she is, but I think he likes the idea of her more than her and the idea of being with her more than she would actually like being with her.
But Nami just can’t reciprocate his feelings. I don’t really ship her with anyone, which does play a part in me saying this fyi. I feel like she might be asexual, or at the very least she doesn’t prioritize romance over her duties yk?
Given her childhood I think this makes sense. She’s constipated. In a way. Ykwim??
So, they don’t work for me. They’re a gag. They need to stop being a gag too especially since Oda’s rewritten Sanji’s behavior towards women as something more lustful and predatory. Sigh
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Sanji x Pudding: NO. guys. No.
They’re not for me, they never will be. Lemme explain
Pudding is a minor, Sanji is an adult.
It was a pressured situation- arranged marriage in the first place. Nothing except the last moments from when Sanji saw her third eye up until he left Whole Cake Island was organic- and all the organicness was on Pudding’s side.
Pudding is a victim of her mother and she needs to heal from that before she has a partner imo.
Pudding said awful things about Sanji in the scene when she captured Rejiu too. That broke him for a good while. And Pudding can’t change what she said despite her change in feelings.
I also think her change in feelings towards Sanji is more of a trauma response to. Because he accepts her. And no one else really does nor has. It isn’t real imo. It’s kinda like Boa’s love for Luffy, it’s just not totally right imo.
Pudding isn’t a member of the Strawhats, and I don’t see any of the Strawhats, especially not Sanji that would want to be with his lover 25/8 being in a relationship with someone that isn’t a Strawhat. Yk? It’s a breach in loyalty to the crew as well.
I actually really like Pudding’s character but I don’t think she should have a love interest. I understand her catching feelings for Sanji but I respected her a lot when she shoved them down to put her priority of stopping Big Mom’s hunger pains, her duty as the minister of chocolate, and her responsibility as one of Big Mom’s children first. Yk?
They just don’t work in my opinion, I don’t want them to work either. But they’re good character foils and they represent some of the same stuff which is really interesting to me.
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Sanji x Viola: I also didn’t realize this was a genuine ship either lol.
Idk, I just don’t feel anything about it.
I don’t think they are a serious ship or pair because of a couple things.
Sanji fell in love with her body and faux behavior first. Which is something I don’t like seeing in Sanji’s potential love interests.
Viola was using him for the majority of their time together. And no hate to her, she just didn’t have any genuine feelings and I don’t think she ever gained them either.
Viola also has a duty to her people of Dressrosa, something she fought to regain for 13 years. She wouldn’t give that up for a man, a pirate.
They have different loyalties and paths in life
I don’t think Sanji’s feelings for Viola were ever real either. He just ‘saw the good’ in her.
I also don’t think I realized how close he was to like. Running off with her? Which weirded me out when he had to make himself reflect on his actions before deciding to help his crew.
So like.
They’re mid imo. They never had a chance, nor any solid footing as a ship at all.
Not saying they weren’t a little cute for like the half day they spent together but then again, they had different wants out of that.
Sanji also was more into the idea of her imo.
Yeah.. anyway
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Sanji has more minor female love interests like sprinkled around but none of them are serious yk? They’re more to show how his perception of women is challenged throughout the One Piece world
(Cosette, Ossan mainly speaking)
I’d write a little piece for Sanji x Robin but guys, don’t be silly there’s nothing for that ship and if u ship it live ur life brother don’t let me stop you
Mwah 😽
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icanseethefuture333 · 1 year ago
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spirit baby reading 🧸
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Disclaimer: I usually speak to the feminine collective when I do these so if you’re not mom and you’ll be dad switch things up so they may resonate for you. <3
I’ve literally always been so obsessed with Bey as a mother so I refuse to use anybody else for my banner. Sue me if you’re mad, otherwise have a great time, I’m gonna do these as channeled messages this time, so if you’re in a high-level soulmate or twin flame connection these could be really good to get some insight and understanding from a different perspective. When we talk about spirit babies, we’re speaking of the spirit or the souls of babies that are waiting to be born and spiritually connected to you.
Often when you’re in a soul connection or a twin flame connection, the person you’re connected with is part of your soul family and the children you’re meant to have will choose the two of you as parents are a part of your soul family as well. They love you both unconditionally, free of judgment and misunderstanding because they see everything before they come to you and forget everything about their soul's purpose and about why they chose you as a parent, and what it was like to choose you. They often play a huge role in you and their other parent getting together as well. They protect and guide your connection just as much as the divine. Hope that this is helpful if you’re in a high-level soulmate connection or a twin flame connection, love you! 🧸
pile one:
Before I begin, I just want to say someone’s child is really obsessed with the chicken dance song, idk if you remember what that was from when you were a child but here’s a link to a weird YouTube video with the audio.
“Mom, the best thing you can do right now is to relax and release your control and enjoy yourself. I know that dad is taking a long time but he’s coming to marry you and be with you very soon and you just have to be patient.” For some reason, I’m getting we you could be expecting multiples at some point soon. “We know how much you care about Dad and how patient and gentle you’ve been with him and we ask that you send him lots of love and encouragement even though you guys aren’t speaking that much.
Don’t think that he doesn’t love you or doesn’t want you just because he hasn’t said so because he does. All he wants is to be with you and to build a family with you and that time is coming. He’s closing out karmic cycles and making sure that everything is perfect before he comes towards you because he knows it’s what you deserve. We told you this when we spoke to you in your dream. Dad is making sure that he gets lots of money and gets everything ready so that you will be comfortable and well taken care of and he can buy us lots of stuff.
Please don’t become discouraged or try to forget about Daddy because it hurts that he’s away. We connect with you every day and we’ve been sending you messages through your social media so that you know we’re here waiting for you. Remember that separation and time apart are only an illusion and only exist in one realm of existence. Time to us over here goes by very quickly and you and Dad are not truly separated because you are connected spiritually and are married and in union with one another in spirit.
You and Dad are taking the time out to do the inner work and grow and that’s why you’ve been given this time apart by the universe so that everything can be perfect and ready when you guys come together because the two of you deserve nothing less than perfection. You and Daddy both are doing the inner work and have been working very hard. Continue to do things that you care about and enjoy and take care of yourself in the ways you deserve. Dad is releasing karmic energy within his life, leaving behind third-party interferences that are standing in his way because he’s no longer going to allow anything to get in his way of loving you and being with you. He’s learning to love beyond his fears and his ego and he’s learning to follow his heart every single day after a long time of living for others.
And when he comes to you, he will be completely unrecognizable and he’ll be different from who he was before, when he had a hard time and couldn’t be there for you the way you wanted him to. You’re going to be so proud of him and so happy to see him again. Let go of any self-doubt Mom or any negative ideas about if Dad loves you or if he’s coming. I know you know he is so hold onto what your heart and your spirit are telling you and just relax. Everything is going to be okay.
Dad needs you to release the past and fully let go of past versions of your connection and even let go of the present because it is not a full representation of what he feels for you. After all, he’s not where he truly wants to be right now which is right by your side. There was a lot of hardship that the two of you went through but even you feel in your heart that it was ages ago and we know that you love him and we know that you love him because you can forgive him and show him so much grace even the second he makes a mistake. Cycles are coming to a close. Your time is coming. Please, just rest. “
channeled messages or things I picked up on during the reading 👣:
multiples or a set of twins to be specific (a boy and a girl)
“Take me out to the ballgame” one of these children may really like baseball or grow to like baseball as a sport. You could have an elder family member who enjoys baseball as well.
May enjoy gardening as a hobby
Blue and green as well as purple and orange
Heavily adorned scrapbooks or photo albums
A boy or son being born first or older. He protects.
Close sibling/twin relationship. Irreplaceable to each other. Incomplete without each other. They may grow to enjoy a lot of the same hobbies, I'm getting swimming and recreational sports or arts and crafts they may share together. Not shying away from twin-ness and pride themselves in being very much alike because they respect one another so much.
Boy/son is very caring and emotionally intelligent and compassionate
The girl/daughter may be very shy in nature and very petite and take after her mother in face and stature. I'm hearing she's a diamond. People will really be fond of her beauty and adore her and people who know you or knew you may find her face very nostalgic because she looks so much like you.
I'm also getting that she's got a timeless beauty. She's someone who will grow up to be very stunning and beautiful and would've been that in every era or point in time.
I'm also getting that she may grow up to be fond of music and the arts.
She may like to dance (getting ballet) or do gymnastics.
I'm hearing whoever she marries Daddy is gonna make them pay a big fat dowry or go to the ends of the earth for her and her brother will see it through
***
pile two:
The divine masculine in your life could be tall or something or this baby may come out heavy or just be in a larger percentile for his age group. I instantly got that song Sza sang on SNL “I Need a big boy”
“Mom, things will be made right. I really don't want you and Dad to fight or have trouble but sometimes conflict is necessary because things have to fall away and come out in relationships and sometimes things go wrong for a reason and we have to be strong enough to deal with them. I know that you're sad or you're not feeling hopeful right now. And you may feel like everything is going wrong and everything is against you but that’s just not true. You have to trust in the divine and trust that things will come together and work out for you in the end.
I know that there have been delays and blockages within your and dad’s relationship and with you really getting what you truly desire. And these circumstances have given you bad dreams and made you very scared and anxious but I want you to get some rest and relax. Nothing good comes of being tired and exhausted. Take care of yourself and focus hard on what you can do to make things good around you and enjoy yourself even if things are rough with you and Dad or in other areas of your life. Remember that you and Dad are both growing and sometimes we don’t have all of the answers and don’t have the solution to everything.
The universe is trying to teach you to find wholeness and happiness within yourself right now Mom because that’s what you need the most. You may feel like you need dad or other people and things to feel happy and that’s not true. All the things you’re stressed about aren’t good for your health and aren’t all your responsibility to carry with you so you have to take some time to release your control and release all of this stress. I see what’s going on and I know that you’re unhappy and having a hard time with your current circumstances but things are always capable of getting better and these feelings and these times are temporary.
This is a good time to decide what you want to do with your time Mom or want you want to do with your life and how you want to live. Sometimes when there are blockages, separations, or dramatic changes and events in our lives that means that we need to focus on ourselves more. Dad has lots of internal wounds, karmic cycles, and blockages that he needs to work through before he can be there for you the way you need him to and so the best thing to do is to show him grace and compassion and focus on finding happiness and support within yourself. “
channelled messages or things I picked up on in the reading 👣:
TikTok, social media, or clinging to social media or using social media as a distraction or a way to cope with emotional pain
Umbrella by Rihanna “ooo baby it’s rainin’ rainin’”.
NFL babies /sports babies
“Somewhere over the rainbow” and it’s lyrics
The Wizard of Oz, the cowardly lion, or the Tin Man and their meanings
Miscarriages/infertility/struggle to conceive or complications during pregnancy, or post partum
Plays, performances, or the theater
A boy/ a son
The color blue
Sports teams/mascots
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***
pile three:
“I see that you’ve been working very hard Mom, taking care of yourself and taking care of your responsibilities and taking responsibility over your life. It’s time you start thinking about what direction you’d like to take in life or what you really truly want to do so that we have a good foundation for ourselves. Sometimes I’ve seen that you’ve had a hard time focusing or a tempted to put your energy into other things. But you know that nows not the time to be distracted and it’s a lot of progress being able to be tempted and have the strength to stay focused and I’m very proud of you. I know that you’ve been feeling alone or have been alone but I want you to know that in isolation the universe brings us growth.
And that sometimes in life people have to walk away from us or we have to walk away from people and even sometimes we drift apart from our friends and loved ones. It’s a natural part of life and when doors close new doors open Mom. The universe gave you time alone so that you can establish things for yourself and really decide what you want for yourself and take initiative over the directory in which you’re going. All the times we’ve had a hard time. All the times we’ve undergone lots of change in your life, all the times there was chaos and we were confused were all for a good reason, and in life we have to learn to see the lessons in our experiences.
It’s time for you to branch out on your own mom and remove your dependence on others and other things in your life that keep you from living authentically and really growing into the beautiful woman you’re meant to be. And one day you’ll be happy and you’ll be celebrating just how far you’ve come all along. There’s so much potential for you to grow and for experiences and endless opportunities to reach you. And don’t worry about not having found Dad yet Mom because soon you will meet him and soon you’ll finally get the love and the relationship you’ve dreamed of all along, all this time. “
channelled messages or things I picked up on in the reading 👣:
This sounds like a girl or a daughter
“Alright” by Kendrick Lamar
You may choose to be a single mother or look for a donor when you’re ready to have a child
You may not know who your person is or haven’t met your divine counterpart yet or received the love or the relationship that you’ve desired for a long time
This child is going to be really attached to you and take after you in many ways. The two of you may bond over fashion or you may end up being the primary parent and main support system
This child may come at a time where you’re going through a large transition or you’re entering a stage in life where you want something new or different
This is a big girly girl. A huge fan of pink and flowers and may like to get her nails done with you.
She may come out looking a whole lot like you as a child or as a baby
This baby is going to heal your inner child by being able to live the life or have some of the experiences you would’ve wanted for yourself.
***
I hope this gave you some guidance or was something you really wanted to hear tonight 💕 If you ever need a personal reading, you may go to my Instagram and click the link in my bio to book a reading with me! Love you!
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istherewifiinhell · 4 months ago
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scheduled hopefully for appropriate insanity causing hours
304 cant believe everyone in gin.tama just lives like this. the. speech convictions dramatic childhood flashbacks promises lifestyle. not just for main characters i guess (is this guy the shogun.....)
yay yay yippppppe the guys. yay ayay yippeee flashbacks. DONT DIE.
kaaaaaaruga. always suspected. if i understood her more id be obsessed. Confirmed. 2 second in pulling that. i was waiting for ur weakness bullshit. BEAT UP UR OLDER BROTHER. (<- comma. gay? ) kagura born on this planet.... half a second of taka.gin grappling could sustain me for a life time (gin puts his hands on him to throw him) hey fellas i know this is the Sword Penis show but have u considered going at it meg.op. style. for me?
omg baby flashback leftest infighting. sugi ur not the most oppressed person in the world u know. well u would say that scholarship baby zura. diddddddd they shape each others ideologies like that. where they reading theory together as shitty little kids -> well prob not this show but lets indulge
oh right gin former. ghost eating thing. showing up to the school yard beef with a real sword.
HI SHOU.YOU. HI. his little pogchamps
loveeee how they do the blood in this show looks like velvet, alll dark shimmery. also the editing. wooooo.
bushido speech. this shit is cool actually. also leon.ardo the ninja turtle would love it (03)
zura giving him fooooood oh no. little. verbal redirects of kindness transparency
NOOOO SUGI beats gin for the first time clip NO NONO SUGI LAUGHING SLOW MO CLIP (already tearing up)
ahhhh the position of the school and the attitudes of the backgrounder kids actually very affecting and interesting isnt it.... shou.youuuuuuuu the man(thing) that u are....
ep. 305
theeeeee babies. the babies.... the babiest guys. so so charmedddd by them charmeddd again by how. unexpected? maybe. sugi and zura stick together.... the remainers..... kidtoki why are uuuu such a perfectly cromulent. thing. little. video game character ass look. perfect. shitty cool affect. wanna pinch his little cheeks 10/10 letting this kid be the leader of the playground gang.
shou.youuuuuu shou.youuuuuu. such a. believably. man with his complexities but hes being around children so (friendly voice) 'thats right. what do you think' sooooo. yeah immediately believes 100 thousand percent he means everything he says so truly yeah i probably would get. horrible weird trauma give the givens too
THROW THE SWORDS AWAY YAYYYYYY. flashback. ohhhhhhh sugi. i little. weird bitch (said in. desperate scrambling fondness. i love the things that are wrong with him)
gin boots are so hot...
SOMEONE INTIMATE TO CUT AND CURSE!!!!!!! ohhhhh babes (what could i possible say abt it that hasnt been said) well i hope they fuck themselves to death about it
fightscene styles gt vs tf <- place holder i left for myself. that will be extricated to a diff post.
gin scrambling in the blood and dirt under all the promises he has given his loved one. YES BABE. thats exactly what ur supposed to be going
ohhhhhh godddddddd the fucking beheading scene back to back from both of their perspectives oh jesus fuck oh hell. im going to. cut and curse at someone else. i guess. THANKS HIM. THANKS HIM FOR IT. (crying) cool. thats normal. i feel normal about the man (shou.you)(gin)
what the fuck. oboro real? thats fucked up. THATS WHO TAKES THE EYE? (knew this techincally) WHO THE FUCK IS OBORO. (am seeing him) why is he a grown ass man i thought he was a kicked dog of a boy.
SUGI. SUGI YOU DUMB BITCH (loves him)(loves intractable positions)(loves the emotional incommunicability of reality)(loves an emotional confliction you can never resolve and just have to die about) he did it to save u fucking losers. cause his fucking teacher dad man asked him too. and thanked him for the service. ohhhhh u miserable fucks
why did you SAVE US. say it like that. damn.
oh youd do anything. youd kill shou.you. youd kill sugi himself. just to save the student your teacher loved. okay. okay. jesus. so you are the same. so your exactly the same person. your saying things that dont even make sense youve both lost any plane of reality cause you cant separate the things youve lost from the things you have. the very people youve saved are now reflected in those youve lost and youll both kill them to keep them alive. okay. no yeah thats fine cool lol.
(i guess sugis version would technically be said in reverse, you cant separate what youve have from what youve lost and the very person you lost are reflect in the one who saved you. and to keep him alive (crying gin.toki) youd kill him)
and MOST IMPORTANTLY. because you are the same person. you see yourself in him and him in yourself and u cant figure out where you end and he begins and your diametric opposed mirror reflection goals that lead you to taking. the exact same actions. okay. lol. OKAY. lol.
WHO THE FUCK IS OBORO. GET OUT OF HERE FREAK. i was talking.
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id alt. im always saying this. or even just. Why is Oboro.
ep 306
heyyyyyy kagura! hiiiiii. youre not dead yay! hi. older brother. youre still here.
squints ohhhh these are. the cops? mayo man and. is this the other canonical gay sex haver or. (only has the normalest of second hand knowledge)
'if im just gonna end up as fertilizer anyway, i dont care if my path there is paved by roses or thorns.' damn dude. get out of the fucking. whatever ur in. and go become a metal music lyricist. what the fuck
oh shin.pachi. ur in this show.
googling. cant figure it out. whoever this green zombie bitch is sounds familiar. wish he had a name or smth.
damn there really is space in this show huh. thats crazy thats crazy. planet of the big hats vs planet of. umbrellas? anyone wanna watch space military anime.....
shogun 'i will protect the country were my friends live' what kagura said abt the planet. 'and to fulfill that goal, you'll even endure the deaths of your friends here?' gestures at the shou.you trolley problem. wow. that is tidy. good job recursive gin.tama
why do you grip that broken sword. you killed your teacher. you battled your friend. - my enemy is right here. WEVE NEVER CHANGED. weve all been fighting our own selves. ill stop him. even if it means having to kill him. but im also the one who understands how he feels better than anyone else
ohhhhhh gin. tama. ohhhhh gin. toki. i love u. i love u so much for just. saying insane thesis shit. like. yeah! YEAH OKAY! yeah thats. making out sloppy style with the narrative theming <- what do i mean by that.
be it killing him or protecting him. their both my job (gets so hard i pass out)
gin: says the most homoerotic twisted identity shit ive ever heard in my life that rests solely on. how unextractable gin. and sugi both are from each other due to. their love of shou.you. and thus. reflectionally. each other. oboro: his students are burning with hatred. <- IS HE STUPID?
and second question. upon reflection, looking at this grown ass man thing. do we have a classic ninja turtles adult beefing with teenagers situation. please tell me yes i will roast this man to shit.
(sugi also say gay twisted identity shit) [impact image font] we are. we are going to beat you to death.
[ending bumper comedy thing] u cannot deny their commitment to the bittism. need this shit for my annoying nitpick continuity fandoms. yeah no it was cause he pooped his pants. he shitted and farted.
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inevitably-johnlocked · 6 months ago
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Hi!!!! I love all your fanfic recs so much. It has made finding great fics to read so much easier.
I was wondering if you happen to know any fics where either Sherlock or John had a childhood or general past where they were abused or had unhealthy relationships. Specifically diving into how that past effects their relationship in the present. Many thanks! :D
Hey Nonny!
Ahhhh, I've had a few asks in the past, and I've consolidated all the links on the posts:
Abuse in Sherlock’s Past (Apr 2020)
Sherlock/Mycroft abused as Children
John’s Homophobic Past
And I know that this series deals with past trauma:
The Summer Boy Series by khorazir (M, 168,598+ w. across 4 works || Series WiP || Post-TAB, Flashbacks, Kid Sherlock, Inexperienced Sherlock, Bullying, Sussex, Grief/Mourning, First Kiss/Time, Folklore, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, BAMF John, Kidnapping, Past Torture, Developing Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Bed Sharing, Caring John/Sherlock) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock.
=====
If anyone has more relevant links, please share them with us!!
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fandomwe1rd0 · 9 months ago
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To the creators of Rick and Morty, please stop sidelining Morty's trauma in favor of Rick's trauma I beg. Don't get me wrong, Rick deserves to heal...but what about Morty?? How's he's doing?? Show me the effects of him only hanging out with his 70-year-old abusive grandpa most of the time. Show me how Rick's consistent emotional abuse affects the poor boy. Show me how him having no friends his age (Besides Jessica but she's more like an on-again, off-again girlfriend) affects him! Show me how he feels being one of the only if not the only stabilizing presence in Rick's life! Show me how he struggles and crumbles under the responsibility of Rick, how him sacrificing his childhood in favor of Rick's healing affects him! Make more episodes focusing on Morty's trauma! SHOW ME MORTY'S TRAUMA! I WANNA SEE MORTY'S TRAUMA AHHHH!!!!!!!!!! Oops- I'm sorry for shaking you I'll put you down now. :) Hm? Why are you slowly backing away? Why are you running away?
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quinnyundertow · 3 months ago
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QUINNY HELLO!! Its me aleks @yuutito
I have been following both the time travel fic (when I catch you gege) and the asylum one since day one! But I’ve been really shy to make new moots so I haven’t made the effort to come and say hi >.<
But I want to pick your brain about the time travel fic hehe so here I am !!
- since JJK has ended, has your plans for the story changed at all? Like have any plot lines or your planned story been altered by the ending gege gave us?
- since we haven’t met yuuji or megumi or Nobara yet, I’m wondering.. will our MC stop Yuuji from eating the finger? You don’t have to answer but I’m so curious if you will loosely follow JJK storyline or if you will make sweeping changes… vague/nonspoiler answer is ok ^^
- I really like what you did with suguru’s character. I was actually shocked when we met him in the ryokan and he was like “why would I take Rika from Yuta?” I was like OH like we are ACTUALLY making a difference I was so happy 😭 but now I’m here wondering what will kenjaku do if the night parade never happens… I wonder if he’s still in kaoru’s body.. aaaa I have so many questions I’m so very excited you see..
- loosely speaking, I know it’s a reverse harem so MC will have lots of romantic interests, but does MC have romantic feelings for one person or all of them? Or is it more that she’s being swept away in the moment by all these guys? I want to root for an endgame couple (not naming any names, definitely not biased 😌) but I’m also having lots of fun watching MC romance them all!!
- I also really like what you did with Junpei. The eren jaeger hair is a LOOK I’m living for it truly… he looks so handsome in my mind…
Sorry if you’ve answered any of these before but I reread your whole fic last night and my mind is buzzing..
🥰 Ahhhh don’t feel shy about saying Hi I’m just a humble trash gremlin. I’m so glad you’ve continued to like the fics from so early on. 🥺 Thank you for the kind words and support!
These are some interesting questions! Let me see if I can give answers to them 🤭 Potential manga/anime spoilers below. I definitely got carried away responding.These are simply my opinions from watching/reading interviews and the source material.
- since JJK has ended, has your plans for the story changed at all? Like have any plot lines or your planned story been altered by the ending gege gave us?
For a little while I was pretty concerned about how the ending would affect the fic but to be honest almost all the tragedy we are focused around stopping is in the anime (Junpei, Haibara, Nanami, Suguru, Toji, Yuji’s Trauma, Childhood trauma for Gumi, Mechamaru, Tsumiki etc etc.). So no changes to the story line based off of the manga ending. That actually goes for all my fics. Phew.😅
- since we haven’t met yuuji or megumi or Nobara yet, I’m wondering.. will our MC stop Yuuji from eating the finger? You don’t have to answer but I’m so curious if you will loosely follow JJK storyline or if you will make sweeping changes… vague/nonspoiler answer is ok ^^
There will be sweeping changes while loosely following the storyline. 😅 MC will be doing her damndest to avoid Yuji chowing on the finger. That’s all I’ll say on that.
- I really like what you did with suguru’s character. I was actually shocked when we met him in the ryokan and he was like “why would I take Rika from Yuta?” I was like OH like we are ACTUALLY making a difference I was so happy 😭 but now I’m here wondering what will kenjaku do if the night parade never happens… I wonder if he’s still in kaoru’s body.. aaaa I have so many questions I’m so very excited you see..
I feel like I need to explain how I see Suguru’s character to respond to this. Suguru is such a fascinating character. Even if you think early intervention could have stopped his whole “Monkey” era. He has to have something innately inside him that is broken for him to be able to flip that hard (Nurture vs Nature argument). Yes he goes through extreme trauma but lots of people go through extreme trauma and don’t become racially charged serial killers.
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In the show he goes from (arguably) Lawful Good to Chaotic Evil. In WICYG I want to explore Geto as a Chaotic Neutral.
Why didn’t Suguru even THINK of taking Rika from Yuta in WICYG? This stems from my analysis in his canon choices. Some of the decisions Geto makes in JJK 0 frankly don’t make sense if he wanted to achieve his goals of a non-sorcerer free world. Suguru is very intelligent and capable of understanding others deeply and in canon manipulating them.
I think in JJK 0 Geto was fucking exhausted by having to bare the weight of the world on his shoulders but felt totally pigeonholed into his choices and was past the point of no return. Geto knew what would goad Gojo into killing him. Targeting young children, attacking Gojo’s students, declaring a public war so Gojo couldn’t back out. Geto gave Gojo no choice but to kill him. Maybe he wasn’t fully cognizant of making that decision but I think he did. Geto could have easily killed Yuta and Stolen Rika when Toge and Yuta encounter Geto at the abandoned mall. He didn’t do it because he didn’t want to.
The WICYG Geto can’t even fathom murdering a young sorcerer with potential just to become more powerful himself. We will get more into these choices as Suguru’s story progresses!
- loosely speaking, I know it’s a reverse harem so MC will have lots of romantic interests, but does MC have romantic feelings for one person or all of them? Or is it more that she’s being swept away in the moment by all these guys? I want to root for an endgame couple (not naming any names, definitely not biased 😌) but I’m also having lots of fun watching MC romance them all!!
Reader x all is the ending. I’ve thought about it a lot. This was the first thing I needed to establish before starting the story. How to have a believable happy harem ending. Trust in me 🙏
- I also really like what you did with Junpei. The eren jaeger hair is a LOOK I’m living for it truly… he looks so handsome in my mind…
I needed him to have a hairdo with his forehead exposed because it’s a visible sign of readers success in Jupei’s story so far. He was never bullied to the point of cigarettes being put out on his face. Go reader! Also Man buns 🙌 Now I need to pay someone to draw him like that hehe I’m glad you approve.
Thank you for all the questions and kind words and sorry for the rambling. I enjoyed responding ❤️
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lorelune · 1 year ago
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part iv
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|| diluc ragnvindr x f! reader || E/18+ || hurt/comfort, fluff, post-trauma || wc: 13.3k  || ao3 || masterlist || ← PREVIOUS + NEXT → ||
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As much as you allow yourself to, you 'settle' in.
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❁ my heart, your song - @firein-thesky ❁
minors & ageless blogs dni
a/n: a!!! chunk!!! AHHHH!!! i'm so excited to finally share more of this piece :'^) thank you endlessly to mao (@itoshisoup) and collab-partner cielo (@firein-thesky) for beta-reading and riffing throughout this piece. their input and edits have been vital to polishing this story and getting it all the way here!! to posting!!! thank you both!!!!! check out the masterlist above to read cielo's piece for this collab <3 leave them and kaeya some love 💓 please enjoy this next chapter, with all its sharp-teeth and softness (and some oral 😎😎!!!!) ENJOY loves!!! <333
...
tags: smoking, vague descriptions of dissociation, references to reader's past, almost-wife (an unnamed oc), some smut (as a treat), soggy soggy soggggy!!!
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PART iv: the thaw
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Adelinde comes to your door the next day and takes your measurements. Circling you with a sewer’s tape here and there, she records numbers on a little notepad. 
“The Wind’s Breath dance is in a few days.” She tells you. Days have been blurring together. “Master Diluc has requested that an outfit be fetched for you for it.”
You should be upset, it seems like an overstep. It is. But, for ‘staying for Windblume’, you haven’t been back to Mond proper since you’ve settled down in the Winery. The Wind’s Breath dance, or rather night of fucking debauchery does have somewhat of a dress code. There’s a traditional style of Mondstadan clothing that most wear, aside from perhaps knights and some merchants. The colors align with Windblume’s yellow, soft teal and creamy ivory. 
Certainly clothing you don’t have now, and a night of drinking and dancing sounds absolutely lovely. You remember enjoying the ceremony of it, in your youth. 
“... Did you hear Diluc and I last night?” You ask Adelinde when she has the tape around your bust. 
Adelinde chooses her words carefully, more interested in the measurements than your question, “I heard shouting by the hearth, but nothing after. Should I have heard more after?”
You flush at her insinuation, “Adelinde—”
“Sorry, sorry,” She laughs without a bite, going to your inseam. “It’s a little too easy to tease you, dear. Forgive me.”
You narrow your eyes at her in jest, rolling them a moment later and let her prod you for the length of your wingspan. 
“I did shout at him though.” You admit. “I could’ve chewed him out more. He deserved more, maybe. I don’t know. It feels confusing.”
“Why confusing?”
“Because—” You rub a hand over your face and your balance wobbles. “It’s Diluc. There’s just so much there, good and bad. I don’t know how or if I should broach it.”
Adelinde thinks for a moment, gives a thoughtful hum, and rises, “That’s entirely up to you, whether you choose to examine or confront your history with Diluc, and I’d say the winery, as well. I know that he has caused you a great deal of suffering and grief.”
You laugh, “It sounds like there’s a ‘but’ coming.”
“But,” She smiles. Smooths your collar down. “You also loved him, didn’t you?”
You stew for a moment.
Of course you loved him. Love, still. You’ve buried it so deep in you, but it won’t suffocate. You haven’t fed it in years, starved it from light and air, but it still knows yearning and want better than any other part of you.
You lie, “Once. Maybe.”
“And he loved you too, yes?”
(Oh, he did. He told you so, showed you so, over and over again. In the little gestures of childhood, to firsts that you shared, to the way his eyes shone so brightly for no one other than you. He had always been such a caring boy, and you were the subject of his greatest attentions.)
(Such knowledge has tormented you. To be loved in such a way, and have it ripped away in the way he did—)
“You know this already, Adelinde.” You side-step her question and go the vanity. Fidget with a bottle of perfume left by a previous guest. The glass bottle is small and amber, half-full. It smells floral with a hint of musk; you can tell even before you uncork it.
Adelinde watches you as you do. You can feel her gaze on you. When you dare to look— she keeps a soft expression. Wizened, and perhaps a bit sad. It aches to see her that way. She was there. She had taken care of Kaeya, Diluc and you in your youth. She’d been a fixture. Seen the lot of you through it all. 
You wonder how she has beared it.
“Such care does not go away easily.” She says gently. “Even if we would like it to. Even if living would be easier if they did. I think both you and the master of the house know this well.”
You pop the cork on the perfume. It’s oily, and sticks to the tips of your fingers. You grimace. “It is... difficult to imagine Diluc caring about me, even residually, after his departure.”
“I imagine so.” Adelinde says so kindly. “But, I know the Master well enough to say he wouldn’t have invited you back to the manor so openly if he didn’t care for you. He’s not the type of man to do things he doesn’t want to do.”
(She’s right.)
(You remember Diluc dragging his feet and bemoaning having to wash up after days on the riverbank, covered in sand and dirt. How his hair would snarl and get so knotted— he hated brushing it, his scalp too tender and Crepus was, respectfully, a bit clueless on how to manage Diluc’s hair. You wonder—)
You rub your forehead, then your cheeks. “Even still. It’s hard—”
(Because you simply cannot fathom Diluc loving you still. Such a reality cannot exist. If it did— if that’s true—)
Adelinde must see your panic and redirects. “I think it would serve you well to try and remember where you are. Stay grounded in the good things you can find in the present, here, rather than a past that hasn’t been kind to you.”
“... I don’t have to forgive him, do I?”
“No. Not unless you want to.” Adelinde grabs your shoulders and squeezes. “Enjoy the fields. Visit your friends. Catch up with Elzer, if you can too. Maybe Kaeya—”
“Not Kaeya.” You don’t mean to snap, but you do.
“No Kaeya, then.” Adelinde seems unaffected. She smooths your collar and tucks your hair behind your ear. “Lisa, then. I’m sure there are folks who will continue to need your healing, too. Not to mention I do think Diluc will give you as much wine as you’d like.”
“Please, I’d rather he didn’t think of me as a drunk.” You paw at your cheeks as Adelinde pulls your ear with a cheeky smile.
“Does that mean we can’t share a bottle by the hearth? That’s a shame.”
“Oh, I never said that. We’ll just have to wait until Diluc goes to bed.”
“That’s not necessary.” Your statement gives Adelinde pause. You catch it, how Adelinde schools her expression and straightens herself. “I’ll be sure the master doesn’t give us any grief.” 
You could pry. There’s something there. You know how to smell out a secret— half of being a physician traveling from citadels to isolated villages is picking out people’s hidden aches and pains. Ones they come accustomed to hiding or have become used to. It’s a learned skill, one you did not have in your naivete and youth, but you’ve honed it now. You see Adelinde falter. 
Diluc has always been dawn— the insinuation of Diluc and the night causes her to stumble.
You do not pry. You school yourself. Because you are here for Windblume. And to find this damn healer. And if Diluc hadn’t invited you to his (not your) home, you’d be happily sleeping in your tent just outside of Mondstadt proper. 
You do not need to entangle yourself more than necessary.
(You’ve already stepped too close to a chasm that you’ve avoided for far too long. You do not realize how steep its edges are or how fragile its cliffs.) 
You laugh to yourself, “As if I’d let him.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t.” Adelinde softens once more. You can see the wrinkles around her eyes and in the center of her forehead. Thick patches of freckles on her nose. “ You, though. Take your time. Rest. Be good to yourself. I’m always here to talk, if you would need or like... and if I may?”
“Of course.”
“I’ve given the Master similar advice. He’s more affected than he lets on.” Adelinde reveals and presses her lips to your forehead. “You are both dear to me, and I don’t wish to watch either of you suffer in the ways you have. Though, I won’t mettle more than this.”
You sit with the knowledge she’s presented.
“Thank you, Adelinde.” And you hug her hard like you’re trying to suck the wisdom from her body into your own. “May I ask you one other thing?”
“Of course, dear.”
(You feel unsteady. You don’t want to think about this. But, perhaps, it’ll provide you some stability. Assuredness.)
“Did you ever end up telling Diluc about what happened while he was gone?” You can’t look at her. Even if you were, your gaze would be elsewhere. Even acknowledging ‘it’ (forget, forget, forget) has you feeling untethered. 
Adelinde grabs your hands in hers and intertwines your fingers. They’re worn, calloused from washing and carrying burdens she shouldn’t have to.
“No, I didn’t,” Adelinde says, softly. “Both Elzer and I have kept true to what we promised you when you left for Snezhnaya. Though Diluc has... asked, we’ve been vague about it over the years.”
You’re grateful. Endlessly. 
(It means that something is still sealed, well-bottled and shoved away, and hidden. It was the only request you made of them upon your departure.)
“Thank you.” You hug her, but Adelinde is already moving to pull you close. She strokes the back of your head like a mother would.
“Always, dear.” Adelinde assures you. You scrunch the fabric of her dress in your fists and bite your tongue.
(Lest you reveal too much, or break something that should stay fractured but whole.)
...
The Winery gets pleasantly warm during the spring afternoons. The sun slants just right, and the light that spills in heats the manor better than any of its many hearths could. You leave your window open, soaking in the bird songs and petrichor from the morning drizzles. You’re half-tempted to wander in the vining fields, but abstain. 
You’ve spent the afternoon mulling over Adelinde’s advice. You trust her and her sagely wisdom. Without her guidance, you surely would’ve crumbled during your tenure as the winery’s unofficial master. You had no reason to doubt her, or think that she was leading you astray with her words—
And yet.
(How could Diluc care about you? How, how, how—)
You fist into your own skull, as if you could quiet your thoughts with nothing more than brute force. 
The day lazily slinks by, and you meander to the kitchens for a meal as the sun goes gold with the evening.
You’re surprised to find Diluc there.
The kitchen is an organized mess, notably. Bowls and latched boxes of dry ingredients lay out on the countertops, and the center prep station is dusted in flour with several round balls of dough at the ready. You see a bottle of milk and bright yellow dust in a jar.
Diluc’s jacket has been discarded, hung on a hook near the back door entry to shield it from any potential mess. He’s left in his trousers and waistcoat, any of the more ornamental gold bits have had their sheen dulled by baking dust. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. He kneads a ball of dough with a motion that looks far too practiced for someone who was once a knight, and now a businessman. Strong, worn hands, ducking into the dough, then out, smearing it on the butcherblock. His forearms bulge. It’s obscene. 
He must notice you, but he doesn’t stop. You side-step him to the icebox, fish out a handful of berries and a wedge of cheese. You perch on one of the counters and fold your legs under you, stretching to grab a knife from a block.
“... Are you going to spectate?” Diluc asks, pausing, only to look at you for a brief moment before continuing his kneading.
You hum, combining a bite of berry and cheese and speaking through it, “I suppose. What are you making?”
“Sweetbread.”
“When did you learn to make bread?” You ask, a bit baffled. He’d always been a rather poor cook, and an even worse baker. 
“Sometime back. I was forced to, while I was away.” 
“... Oh?”
Diluc doesn’t look at you, “A comrade’s wife taught me how to. She said it was an important life skill.”
“That sounds about right.” You’d never mastered sweetbreads, but you feel quite adept at making flatbreads on round stones.
“These were supposed to be a bit of a surprise,” He grumbles under his breath. Almost pouting. “A gift... And perhaps, an apology— for you. For yesterday.”
“... Oh?”
“... ‘Oh’?”
You trip over your words, shoving a berry into your mouth to try and disguise your stumbling, “I didn’t expect you to apologize.”
“I’m not yet, the bread isn’t done.” Diluc sets the finished ball into another bowl, greased with oil and butter. 
“I see.” You raise an eyebrow and take another bite. The berries stain your fingertips wine red. “Why are you apologizing?”
“I overstepped,” Diluc says simply, adjusting his sleeves and going to work the next dough ball. 
“No— I. That’s not—” You groan, and throw your face in your hands. It feels warm. “It’s fine, Diluc.”
“Denying it won’t stop me from apologizing.” He shoots back. “You have every reason to be angry with me. Besides, this bread will go to waste otherwise.”
You shoot him a half-baked smile. A distraction, for both you and him. Hopefully, it’s enough to disguise the way your shoulders go rigid and the way you white-knuckle the lip of the corner of the counter. His words bounce around in your skull, like a mocking echo that just won’t shut up—
(How long had you waited for that admission from Diluc? How many star-filled nights have you toiled, once, craving that validation from him? You wanted him to balm the wound that he left, even if you knew it was impossible.)
(At some point you asphyxiated the want. Crushed it down into something that could be swallowed but never digested. Hope can’t be killed, but archons, did you try.)
Diluc’s words unearth the dormant thing. You don't think Diluc understands the gravity of what he’s said to you, and you hope he doesn’t put it together. 
(It feels raw. He’s cut you and bared your insides without regard.)
“… Fine.” You concede to him (hopefully he doesn’t prod you further. Bear your neck to him and perhaps the action will be enough to keep him interested and tempted but not to bite down.)
You refuse to look at him. You smash the last bits of a raspberry between your forefinger and thumb and watch the juices drip down your skin. It’s a pretty red that you suck off when it reaches the knuckle.
Diluc sighs, and perhaps scoffs, before the sound and motion of dough kneading resumes in your periphery.
“I’m sorry too,” you say, breaking the fragile reverie. 
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Diluc speaks quickly. He’s not wrong, but you feel inclined to anyway.
(Your rage is more than justified. The thing bubbling under your skin— guilt, regret, topped with dread— is as well.)
You hop off the counter and teeter to bear your weight on your good foot. A hiss of pain gets caught behind your teeth and you chew the inside of your teeth. Diluc regards you, expectantly, hair spilling over his shoulders, half-hunched over his last ball of dough.
“I should give you the benefit of the doubt, at least a little.” You sigh. “I jumped for your throat, and that perhaps, wasn’t fair. You had a point, it was a long time ago—“
“Stop diminishing yourself. It’s painful.” Diluc interrupts you for once. “I deserve your ire. My reaction to your anger wasn’t justified or appropriate.”
“You stop being self-deprecating.” Guilt-ridden bastard. “Regardless of what you deserve, which I won’t be debating with you, I still care about you.”
(Love, probably. Most certainly.)
It’s an admission you don’t mean to give him. You instantly feel too vulnerable with the feelings; you wish you had kept it close to your chest and hidden. You watch your words cut him, and Diluc freezes. He’s so plain with his reaction that it’s almost comical. His eyes go wide and he goes stiff as a board. You don’t fare any better. You feel as though you’ve revealed a card in your hand that you shouldn’t have. 
(You trade blows. One for one, flayed flesh for a split spine.)
You chew the inside of your cheek. You taste blood. Diluc clears his throat and collects himself. You leer away, laughing under your breath. 
(A younger Diluc would’ve jumped at your words. Shown so brightly he could rival any hearth, become a human sun, if only for a moment. He would’ve gleamed. It’s difficult to admit that he’s darkened.)
He doesn’t return the sentiment— not directly. Not the same way. 
Diluc finishes his dough and leaves it to rest before exiting the room without a word. You don’t get a chance to protest, he’s back so quickly, with a —staff— cane in his hand. A metal-caste owl sits at the top while the wood is stained a rich burgundy.
Diluc hands it to you.
“I don’t know if it’s sized correctly. I based it on the measurements Adelinde provided me.”
“… Thank you.” 
You swallow and accept the gift. It is sized correctly, perfectly even, and it takes some adjusting to re-remember how to bear your weight on it. The ache in your foot lessens almost instantly, quelled. 
“It surprised me, when you didn’t have a cane with a limp that severe,” Diluc says, watching you take a few test steps.
“I did have one— several. Previously.” You examine the metal owl with a frown. “Where did you get this?”
“My father’s study.”
“Diluc.” You freeze. “I can’t possibly accept a Ragnvindr family heirloom.”
“Nonsense.” He rolls his eyes. “It’s been collecting dust for decades. Make good use of it.”
“Diluc—”
“Take it. Don’t be so stubborn. You can hardly walk.” Diluc huffs, though the blush on his cheeks hasn’t waned. “What happened to your previous canes? 
“Uhhh—” You drawl, clicking your tongue and examining the floor. “One was surely stolen. At least two broke? I definitely lost one at a pub— in Fontaine? I never got a chance to go back for it.” There was a village victim to a particularly bad flood that needed tending to. Canes can be replaced.
It takes you a moment to place the look on his face. His brows pinch. Mouth set in a line. Creases under his eyes—
Disapproving? 
It snaps to something more neutral, a moment later. Unreadable and guarded, entirely expected and perhaps welcome. He returns to his baking, tidying up the kitchen with his back to you. You open your mouth, then close it a moment later. 
(Later, there’s a knock on your door accompanied by a tray of steaming sweetbread, the rounds decorated with edible flowers and dusted with sweet flower pollen. Diluc apologizes, barely able to meet your eye. It should be insulting, but it’s cute, in a boyish way. You let it be cute. It doesn’t silence the pangs and pains in your chest, but it makes them easier to bear.)
(The sweetbread is delicious, and you half-wonder about the star map that led him to learn a skill so foreign to a lord like him.)
You aren’t sleeping well. Maybe it’s penance, for how well you slept your first days at the winery. Your body is, overall, less fatigued than before. The sleep debt you’d run up was somewhat satiated, which apparently meant not fucking sleeping—
(You could fall asleep, mind you. You just couldn’t stay that way. Dreams woke you each night, of memories and flashes, rib-breaking sensations, and the crunching of bone. Rain-soaked silk clinging to your arms and legs. A bloody nose. A hangover so bad you vomit red and black. A garnet red stone, set in black leather, round as low-set sun.)
(Fragments, really. Twisted and mangled together.)
You shoot up in bed, again, sweat dripping down your sternum, sticky on your forehead. The throb in your chest hardly wanes as you struggle to catch your breath. You clutch at the fabric over your collarbones, breathing through your mouth in light pants.
Your thoughts spin and tumble. It takes you a moment to distinguish moment from moment. Where you are. What you are. When you are. 
Shifting for a sip of water, a shot of pain tangles around your foot and ankle. The muscle is drawn too tight with your fear, panic tugging the tendons wrong. You muffle your own pained wince, keeping it just a wince, and bite down on your lip.
You try to settle, after a while, praying that a few deep breaths release enough tension for a proper sleep. The electric zing that eats at your ankle keeps you awake, uncomfortable to the point of being unbearable. Your heart won’t stop racing with it.
You give up trying to sleep, instead wandering from your room with your new cane, and situate yourself in front of the great room’s dim hearth. You fuss with it, tossing another log and a bit of Pyro starter on the spitting embers. It catches, lights the room soft amber and you collapse on the lounge closest to it. You face your right foot toward the heat of the fire, hoping the heat loosens some of the bound-up muscle.
You splay out. Veg. Keep your eyes half-lidded and watch the fire lazily. Fixate on the licking flames and let the heat burn away your dream and hope it chases the physical pains too.
There’s a slam, when you’re beginning to nod off. Wood on wood— a door near the back of the manor. There are a few more bumps and thuds, ones you can’t place or recognize. You straighten up and listen to the heavy steps that follow. No one would be stupid enough to just break into Dawn Winery, not when Diluc’s fighting prowess is somewhat legendary in Mondstadt. 
You don’t see Diluc enter, only hear him. His stride is wrong. 
“You smell like blood.” You say with the tempo of the crackling flame. “Is it yours?”
Diluc freezes, just behind the lounge. Caught.
“Why are you awake?” He asks, unmoving.
You crane your neck and assess his condition as quickly as you can, “Couldn’t sleep. Are you injured?”
He sighs, “Not severely, it’s nothing you need to worry about.”
“Oh no, nuh-uh, let me see.” You reach for him around the lounge. “You can’t board a physician and then expect them to ignore you when you come back in the early hours of the morning blood-soaked. Besides, I’d be breaking oath.”
Diluc grumbles something under his breath but regardless comes around to you.
He’s not really bloodsoaked. Not entirely. He’s missing a glove and there’s a slice through the sleeve of his jacket, burnt at the edges. Dried blood coats his palm. You ask him to move his jacket, and you see a red stain blooming over his abdomen.
“Can you take off your jacket?”
“That’s not necessary.” He straightens his lapels and takes a step back. “My injuries are minor. Don’t strain yourself.”
“Diluc.” You narrow your eyes. “Let. Me. Help. This is literally my job.”
“You’re sleep-deprived.”
“Healing a flesh wound takes as much effort for me as it would take you to lift your sword.” You scoot forward on the couch, resisting tugging him closer. “It’s really no trouble. Please, Diluc.”
It must be your begging, maybe. You’re too engrossed in Diluc’s condition to notice how his cheeks pink. He shrugs off his overcoat, and you cajole him into peeling off his waistcoat as well. It sticks to his undershirt and you wince.
It’s easy to slip into your role as a healer. It’s a clinical way of thought, you’re presented with a problem and the way to fix it is apparent and well within your abilities. Seeing Diluc as a patient rather than… Diluc is a cheap trick, and perhaps if you were well-rested and less dissociative, you’d feel guilty. 
“Were you burned?” 
“Only singed.”
You hum thoughtfully, “I need to touch you to heal you. Is that alright?”
He nods, slowly, deliberately, “That’s fine.”
He’s not fully bare, so you need to do some exploratory touching. You’re not sure which is more vulnerable— for Diluc to be shirtless in front of you in the firelight or the way you lay your hands gently over his sides (ticklish, you recall. You watch him suppress a jump.) Your fingertips skim over his ribs, flares of Dendro wiggling into his skin. It bounces around, then back to you.
Three bruised ribs on his left side. Four-inch laceration on his right side.
“This will only take a moment.” You send a strong thread of Dendro through him. Liquid and lengthy, and carefully stitch the wound closed. The skin knits back together easily, clean and free of infection. 
You move on to his next wound and Diluc moves a step closer.
“Your hand, please?” You ask, soft. The heat of the room has lulled you.
(The contact is weakening you.)
Diluc offers it to you, and you take it, as gently as you can. This wound has more burning, but nothing too severe. 
Second-degree burns affecting seven inches of cumulative skin. 
“Who the hell were you fighting?” You ask, brows furrowing as you cleansed and balmed the wound. You wince as your Dendro eats away the burn. “ What were you fighting?”
“Unimportant.”
“I hardly think so.”
“Drop it.”
“ Diluc—”
“Something that deserved it.”
You huff. “Fine, keep your secrets.”
We all have them.
The wound has healed, but you find it... hard let go of Diluc’s hand. It hits you how close he is. You sit with your legs spread and splayed, and he stands between them. He’s inches away, and you’re level to his navel. 
You look up at him, swallowing the heat in your cheeks.
Diluc has always been pretty. Since he was little, just a cherubian boy running about the prairie grasses. He grew into it well, though he has gotten a bit more rugged over the time you were apart. You recognized scars littering his forearms, and felt scar tissue buried in new flesh. His hair has grown obscenely long, tied back with a ribbon into a bow. It's only half-up, now, spilling over his shoulder as he looks down at you. 
Your breath catches in your throat. He swallows and you fixate on the bob of his throat.
(You haven’t been close to him like this in so long. Since you were young, having so many firsts together in his too-big bed. His hands look bigger, warmer. How many times did you crave him, the comfort and heat of him? How many times did you wish the stars were twisted and angled just a little differently, so that you never lost him in such a way?)
(To be so close— it’s an unavoidable thought.)
You squeeze his hand, “Do you want to be farther away?”
“No.” He squeezes yours back— harder. Longer. Like he’s afraid. It makes a fragile thing buried in your shake and fracture. “Do you?”
“No.” You swallow, but it’s late. And you’re weak. All crushed bones and scar tissue. “This might even be nice.”
‘This’ is loaded. Bigger than the word, bigger than the distance your traveled while crisscrossing Teyvat. Maybe bigger than the distance between the stars you scorn.
Diluc rubs a thumb over the back of your hand. It shakes. The heat of the fire and Diluc are making something warm and tender rise up from the base of your spine to the back of your skull. You shake with it.
“It is,” Diluc admits, voice thick and sticky. “Thank you.”
“Of course. It’s my job.”
“Not just that.” Diluc squeezes your hand again. Harder. Searing. “For allowing me this. You shouldn’t.”
“Don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t do.” You frown. “You’re being silly. And self-loathing. Lord Ragnvindr, I wouldn’t ever expect such a thing from you.”
Diluc sputters a half-laugh, and for a moment, he sounds like the knight you first held hands with when you were young. 
“I only mean to say that you have every reason to be upset and keep me at arm's length. I wouldn’t hold it against you if you did.” 
“It’s not like I’m not upset with you.” You worry the fraying skin around his cuticle. “I’m indulging myself too, you know.”
(You dance around what this means so well. When did you both learn the steps, as aptly as you twirl now?)
“That’s comforting.” Diluc pulls his hand from yours and it flexes into a fist. He surprises you then— kneels, lowering onto his knees between your legs. You’re at eye level. You feel pleasantly faint. “You must tell me if I misstep.”
“Oh, you know I will.” You give a warbling laugh and your stomach flips.
So much of Diluc is unfamiliar, but proximity with him isn’t. The heat he radiates is the same as you remember, even if he’s a bit rougher and far more wilted. He hovers close, tentative, but not in the boyish, inexperienced way you once knew. He’s not expectant, he’s not taking and tugging and searching— he lingers but only comes so close, giving you the ability to make the first move. 
He sets up the pieces but doesn’t force your hand to play. It’s wretched. It’s thoughtful, or it’s cowardice— either way, it's to your benefit. 
Diluc licks his lips, throat bobbing. You can’t meet his eyes for too long— there, you see searching. He’s lost his way with words, and you can see the way he grapples for the right ones now.
“I missed you.”
(‘Right ones’. Subjective. The ones he gives you are objectively the wrong ones. Only because they force another fissure into you.)
(You’ve spent so long swallowing your own desires and convincing yourself that there was no possible way for Diluc to feel that way about you. You created any number of mental theses as to why Diluc discarded you. Anything to make it bearable.)
(Anything to make the past palatable and controllable.)
(Forget, forget, forget—)
You tense with the thought. Your wound pulls wrong and you yip. Shooting away from Diluc, you double over to your right side. You wrap your hand around your foot (wishing praying cursing that your Vision doesn’t allow you to touch your own wounds) and slap a hand over your mouth. The pain brings nausea and the last thing you want to do is vomit on Diluc.
Diluc immediately fusses, hands hovering over your shoulders and neck, but never touching. His Vision must be alight— you swear you can feel the lick of imaginary flames off his skin. 
“You’re unwell.” Diluc kneels lower, hands apparently alright to touch, and he tries to shoo yours away from your ankle.
You hold fast, “It’s just a temperamental wound.” Your voice wavers and you rest your forehead on your knee. “I’m sorry for ruining the moment.”
“Hush, nothing’s ruined.” He idles his hand over your own. Your vision blurs and you really think you might throw up. “Let me see.”
“No.”
He says your name, like a cut.
“It’s already healed, Diluc. Just wrong. This happens. There’s no use poking at it.”
“Satiate my curiosity, then.”
“Why should I?”
“Because I’m asking honestly.” 
You hesitate. Think if this is going to unearth something that you’d rather have stayed buried. Perhaps it was the distance, the heat from the hearth and Diluc in tandem making you melt into the couch—
“Fine. Only because of those sweetbreads the other day.” 
You attempt to peel off your stocking, trembling, but Diluc stops you. His palm (so, so warm. Like the kindest flame) wrap around your wrist and places it back on your lap.
“Let me.”
Your mouth dries, tongue going heavy and useless. Tentatively, you scoot back on the couch and adjust so your right leg is fully extended. Your belly feels exposed, the softest parts of you bared in a way that feels foreign and uncomfortable. 
Diluc waits until you situate yourself, resting patiently on folded knees. Palms on his thighs. 
(He looks like he’s praying, like you’re the altar. This is both an indulgence and a rite.)
One of his wide hands hooks under your knees and lifts your injured foot from the ground. Diluc pushes your night clothes aside, finding the top edge of your stocking and slips his fingertips just below its edge. You jolt with the contact (what’s beyond touch starvation?) and hiss under your breath.
He pauses, flame licking in the reflection of his eyes, “Is this alright?”
You nod, his touch sears you. 
He peels your stocking away. His touch drifts to the arch of your foot, wrapping his fingers around with enough force to be comfortable, secure. It almost burns— but in the good way. Open flame on nearly-frost-bitten fingers. The hot springs in Inazuma or the hot stone massages they favor in Natlan. It seeps into you.
The heat goes cold when Diluc stills, eyes widening and shoulders drawing up. You watch his jaw lock and you nearly rip your foot from his grip. Gruesome—
“How did this happen?” There are visible ridges of shattered bone, prominent enough to catch the shadows the fire throws. Two toes with mutilated nails, still. A scar or two.
“I fell.”
“Don’t lie.” snaps Diluc. “This is not the kind of injury you obtain from a ‘fall’.”
You start to sigh his name, but he cuts you off—
“How.”
“I. Fell.” You grit out. Your chest hurts again. 
Diluc traces the worst of it— a diagonal scar on the bottom of your foot, from the ball of it to your big toe. (You don’t remember the moment, only the sensations. The feeling of the knife slicing, hitting things it shouldn’t—)
You jolt, squirm, protest under your breath but Diluc tightens his grip, firm and unyielding.
“P-Please—” Your voice breaks and you lurch and grab his shoulders without thinking. Steadying yourself, grounding yourself on the bulk of him. “Please, don’t pry on this one, Diluc. Not tonight.”
(Perhaps you’ll muddle through the memory of it to give to Diluc. One day. Not now, when you feel like the gooey center of you shifts a little too close to seeping out of the spaces between your ribs. If you fall apart, will you ever collect yourself back up again?)
Diluc stills and stares at you. Into you. A little wrinkle appears between his brows, a half-scowl formed in the curve of his pretty lips. It makes your heart pound. You nearly backpedal, tell him the whole truth, the one you’ve shoved down your throat like chrysanthemum petals. The garden you’d throw up—
He relents. Allows you respite. You take it greedily.
Diluc coaxes you to lie back down on the couch, touch hovering most of the time. His contact ginger, “You don’t have to give me anything you don’t want to.”
The assurance hits you in the chest. Like a crack that bludgeons your sternum in three.  
“‘Kay. Thanks.” You say. Two words is all you can get out around the threads that bind you upright and together.
Diluc sits back on his haunches, going back to your foot. The pads of his thumbs massage at your ankle, slow and light at first as he gauges your reaction. You swallow thick, watching him with darkening pupils. His touch moves higher, up your calf, shifting your bed clothes aside.
He’s more worn. Calluses make the skin of his thumbs just a bit rougher than you expect. The vision on his waist thrums and throws light as he touches you. Pressing his heat into you. His touch makes you goopy. You slouch into the couch. 
He never ventures higher than your knee, but it’s enough. Maybe it’s too much. The lack of sleep and the fucking heat put you in a state just above sleep. He’s horribly gentle with you, pausing and noting every twitch and jolt you shake out. Asks low and quiet if a certain touch is too much. It’s all overwhelming— decadent. You glut yourself on it, just a bit. The pain of the injury dissolves and all that you’re left with is Diluc. Dutifully petting you and soaking you in something rich and spiced. 
You only feel warm. It spreads up your body— cows the shaking little thing between your ribs. Diluc relaxes you into a slump that has you sleepily blinking, perhaps keening once or twice— you can’t recall. Perhaps Diluc slides back on your stocking and helps you up. Perhaps he guides you up the stairs and back to your guest room. 
(You think about inviting him in. You think about dragging him down and in to bring him closer to that thing in your chest that festers, balm it.)
(You think better of it.)
(You’re too tired to notice the way he lingers on you. His hands, holding you a moment too long. The squeezes to your sides and arms as he walks with you up the stairs. Even when your own breath stutters, you’re unaware. Blissfully ignorant to the effect you have on Diluc.)
You dream of it, maybe. Warmth and heat and familiarity that isn’t wretched. You dream of favorable stars and a warm bed.
...
Something shifts between the two of you after that. Even if the moment of vulnerability was brief, it's like a rift has opened up in your chest. Split. Cleaved. Archons. 
You feel the inexplicable urge to be near Diluc, despite all of the unsettled anger that burns in your belly. The memory of the heat of him is an intoxicant in and of itself. The way Diluc touched you like you were something fragile— cherished. 
(Archons, you’re fucked, aren’t you?)
You avoid Diluc, somewhat. You take to watching him instead. Perching in your bay window, you watch him work in the fields during the mornings and evenings, and listen to him thump around in his office during the midday when the sun is high. He receives a guest or two, maybe, there’s always activity in the main foyer of the winery. You suppose, given that the manor functions as both a home and a business, and it’s the busiest season for Dawn Winery, it makes sense. 
Elzer, actually, is the one who gives you a bit of grief for it.
“He doesn’t bite, you know,” Elzer tells you when you perch on his desk, early one morning while Diluc is out. “You may even enjoy talking to him.”
“We have talked.” You clear your throat, pounding your chest. “Just. It’s complicated.”
“I’m aware.”
Elzer was around, during your tenure as ‘master’ of Dawn Winery. Though Adelinde grew closer to you, Elzer was still a reliable and kind confidant. More-versed in the business end of things than either of you were, and from him you learned a great deal. He, in turn, learned a great deal about you. Adelinde too. Gods, how many nights did you sit at this same desk, organizing mislabeled paperwork over goblets of wine and teacakes? 
“Does your wrist still bother you?” you ask.
“You’re deflecting,” deadpans Elzer.
“You’re not answering my question, either.”
He rolls his eyes. “Yes. It does. I take a tincture for it sometimes.”
“... Can I see it— your wrist? Let me have a look.”
He holds out his arm and you shift around the desk to prop yourself up on the same side he sits on. Your cane lays idle against the matching mahogany. There’s a reluctant pull at his brow, but he still scoots forward on his seat, rolling up his sleeve. 
Taking his arm in a gentle, practiced grip, you send sparks of Dendro through him. Elzer’s brow scrunches with the feeling— you’ve been told it can be jarring if you’ve never experienced Vision healing before. You tighten your grip. 
You smooth a finger over the meat of his thumb. “Tendonitis, still?” 
“You always said that’s what it was, but never gave me anything conclusive back then.”
“Well, it certainly is,” you huff. Inflammation crawls around the tendons of his hand and wrist, stretching into his shoulder.
You sink a balm of Dendro into him, rather than sparks, more like a sheet. Elzer visibly relaxes, hand going a bit more slack and loose in your grip. Sagging forward, like a ragdoll with half-cut string. Your other hand rises to steady him, firm and solid against his shoulder. 
“Does Diluc work you too hard?” You send another wave of it through. “I’ll chew him out, if you want. I have nothing to lose.”
“He doesn’t.”
“Oh, so it’s just the bad posture?”
Elzer snorts and you can’t help but laugh with him. It’s easy to rib him, like a little brother. He was practically your same age, but he always kept the aura of someone your junior. As adept as he was at everything he did, there’s a boyish charm to him that hasn’t faded with time.
You barely see him out of the corner of your eye— Diluc. Rounding a corner with an armful of papers. His grip goes tight and his steps stutter as he enters the little atrium. Elzer tenses behind you. The Dendro lingering in him bounces back to you.
Diluc clears his throat, fist over his mouth. He looks at Elzer, then you, and clears his throat again—
“Ah, I suppose I’m interrupting working hours. Apologies.” You shrug and hop off the desk. Wobbling past Diluc, you disappear into the shadows of the house.
It’s intentional, really. You don’t want to give Diluc any more of an opening than he already had and fuck— you saw him, didn’t you? The way he drew up, the fire that ignited in his eyes at the closeness—
Archons, Diluc, jealous?
The thought is too sticky to cope with. You retire for a nap early in the afternoon.
...
Nightmares come for you again, and you busy yourself wandering the halls of Dawn Winery.  It’s a moonless night, and far too dark to be wandering without a lantern or candle, but you do so anyway. Adelinde and Elzer are surely asleep, as with the rest of the staff. You assume that Diluc is out, as he tends to be late at night. The tap of your cane against the wooden floors echoes against the silence of the rest of the winery.
Your latest nightmare felt repetitive. The same images, the same feeling of being untethered against an unstoppable swell. Drowning but without water. Asphyxiating on something that crawls up from your lungs. 
(Red, rotten memories. Rotten.)
(Forget, Forget, Forget.)
You pause in front of a particular door in the south wing. Ambient light from the manor bounces off its brass handle, polished by clearly tarnished with time. Its design is different from the crystal doorknobs Diluc has replaced around the rest of Dawn Winery. Its original, untouched— a relic.
You pause in front of a particular door in the south wing. You know this door. The wood, unlike most of the rest of the manor, hasn’t been re-stained or replaced. It’s the same dark tone you remember from your youth, and the knob shines the same brassy gold. It appears unchanged.
You wonder if you’re still dreaming.
Clearly, you aren’t, as you enter the room. Your nose burns as you do. A layer of dust covers everything— the table that cuts the room in two, the stacks of discarded books, and old, dry quill. An untouched pile of blankets and pillows in the corner appears to be lightened, sun-bleached.
You kick the pile and laugh, something low and a little defeated.
The Small Study hasn’t been touched. Never redone, not even cleaned. It’s entirely preserved and more painful to see because of it.
(So much tied up in a simple room. You had avoided it at first, didn’t you? You knew everything that happened here. A love that bloomed, a betrayal, your own decay.)
All that’s left is the skeleton of the room. Flesh eaten by time and memory, consumed to this point where there’s nothing further to rot. Just a vague shape to mourn.
Based on the absolute state of neglect and disuse, you assume that Diluc hasn’t poked around this room much, or at all, in the time since he returned. You’re grateful that— you hid a secret or two here that now feel too dangerous to have in the open.
(Despite the fact that it’s clear this place is too painful for Diluc to touch, too. He’d never find the bits of you that you buried here.)
You tug down a leather-bound book from a shelf, eye-level (still), and rub dust off the spine. Over the cover is embossed some type of Fontainisian design, swirls of gold concentric circles and feathering blots of blue and purple over the leather. It was a gift, back then. Something artisanal that a craftsperson brought to Mond’s market—  One of the many gifts Crepus gave to you in the months before his passing. 
You curse under your breath, pressing your fingertips in the cover. There’s a ring of teeth marks on one corner— your teeth. Had you really bitten the cover in a fit of frustration?
(Probably. Your memory feels fuzzy and fragmented. Broken glass— you can’t pick them up without risking slicing your hand wide and bloody.)
A door shuts, a heavy one, somewhere else in the manor. Diluc has returned. Part of you itches to seek him out, survey him for injuries and help where you can. It takes you nothing to stitch and sew him up. Healing a wound for Diluc feels like a twisted debt paid, maybe. He isn’t aware of it. 
Being in the Small Study makes you horribly aware of it.
The pages of your old journal feel brittle and dry against your fingers. Some stick together, even now, with dried ink that you spilled over the pages. Some of the script is illegible, your pen having muddled into something beyond understanding. What you are able to read, you try not to absorb. It’s only morbid curiosity that has you peeking at it, at all. 
(You should probably burn the thing. It has far too many secrets written in it.)
Diluc calls your name from the door, and you freeze. The journal is easily tucked back in place.
“Yes?” You don’t look at him, but twirl on your heel to the middle of the room. As if you should be there.
(Maybe you should be, for him. All you are is a relic to him, maybe. Something from the past that should stay that way. Aren’t you just a skeletal remain?)
(The thought persists.) 
“What are you doing in here?” Diluc asks, lacking any edge. He rests his hip on the long table.
You consider the question, mull over it and roll your answer around on your tongue. 
“Reminiscing, I guess,” you say, it’s too late to be dishonest. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“That seems to be a pattern.”
“Reminiscing?”
“I meant your inability to sleep through the night.” Diluc sees through your diversion. You let him, cow your barely there instinct to fight him. 
You sigh and laugh, weak, “I suppose.”
Diluc’s gaze is on you— you can feel it. You kick at the floorboards, counting the swirls and irregular notches. It’s easy to imagine the look he must be wearing. Pity, maybe. You feel like a stray cat, cornered and hungry, but ever-wary. 
“May I ask why?”
You click your tongue, “Guess, and if you’re right, I’ll tell you.”
“Isn’t it a bit late for a game like this?”
“Call me a night owl.” You clamor on top of the table and sit semi-cross-legged, with your injured ankle extended.
“... Your injury?” Diluc asks.
You shake your head.
“... You always ran cooler. Are you cold?”
“Maybe a bit, but not really.”
Diluc stalls, and you can see him sort out the correct answer. He’s known it since the beginning of this conversation, but you’re both so fluent in denial, you might as well dance together in it for a while.
“Dreams?”
You nod.
Diluc opens his pretty, petal lips to speak, then thinks better of it. Instead, he removes his jacket and lays it over his arm. You expect him to prod you. 
“Would you like some tea?” Diluc asks. “It may settle you, allow you a proper rest.”
Tea sounds nice, you think. Something warm and someone warm. You know better than to walk so close to him when you’re so shredded at the ribs and tummy. Vulnerable. You know better.
(Then why is the idea of closeness with him so intoxicating? You don’t care about the potential consequences, not really. Your tangle of emotions feels superseded by desire, and you’re barely holding onto self-control.)
(Archons, you want to let go, just a little.)
The threads loosen, just a fraction.
“I’ll take tea,” you admit. “I think there’s some of the sweet bread rounds left too.”
When you look up, Diluc has a simple smile painting the edges of his lips. It’s small, nearly uncatchable, but you recognize it immediately. You resist the urge to go to him and press into the dimple that carves his right cheek. 
It’s awful, the way your heart seizes in your chest, nearly breaking you down your center. You twin him with your own smile, a small one— lest you burst in the middle of the Small Study. 
(Where everything began to fall apart.)
(Forget, forget, forget.)
...
You both sip cups of tea and pass a packed, cherrywood pipe back and forth on Diluc’s balcony. It’s sizable, enough room for you to curl up against the railing, far enough from Diluc to not feel crowded, but still accept the pipe each time he passes it to you. The tobacco smoke feels thick and rich in your mouth, and you resist the urge to draw it too far back into your throat. You instead distract yourself with the smoke that lazily curls from your lips with each exhale.
(You catch Diluc entranced by it as well, the way your lips fall open.)
The sky feels starless; heavy clouds cover the cosmos low. You imagine it’ll rain again in the next few days, especially with the ache in your injury. The air bears down on you, just like the clouds do. You crave a moon or single star to fixate on, rather than proximity or the inevitability of an interaction. 
You’ve become truly versed in avoidance.
Diluc looks... perplexed. Perhaps lighter than he did in the study. His shoulders sag more than they did before, and he almost looks to be melting into the chair he sits in. His heavy coat had been left behind in his room as you passed through, leaving him more bare. You can see blood seep up from flesh wounds, staining the white of his shirt, but he’d already brushed off your concern that evening. You didn’t have it in you to fight him on it— you vow to patch him up in the morning if you can catch him before he starts his daily business.
You must, really.
The quirk between his brows bothers you. The draw of his lips and the way he’s purely staring at you.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” You frown. Prodding seems like a bad idea, given your exhaustion and the maw that’s cracked open between your ribs.
Diluc seems to stare harder. If that is possible. He sits before, elbows on his knees, and folds his hands. Covers his mouth with them. They’re thick and worn, unfamiliar to you. You can’t stop looking at them. You recall him having beautiful pianist’s hands, slender and sure-fingered. It’s easier to fixate on some trivial, physical difference rather than his expression. It’s verging on vulnerable. He withdraws to take a drag.
“I don’t know how to put you together,” Diluc admits. He snaps his teeth around the smoke. 
You tilt your head quizzically.
Diluc chews on his words, looks at you, and then away. He takes another draw from the pipe and sighs. “You confuse me. You never used to confuse me.”
There’s a pressure behind your eyes that wasn’t there before. “How do I confuse you now?” 
Diluc exhales. He smells like fresh smoke, ash, and the heat from a flame. And he looks at you and his gaze is soft. The pull of his lip and brow, the shine to his eyes— he looks hopelessly fond and sad. Heartbroken, even. There’s a smear of soot under his eye and you resist the buried impulse to wipe it away as something in your cracks. Threads snap.
“I’m not sure I know you anymore.” 
(It hurts, it hurts, it hurts to hear— no one knew you better than Diluc. You’ve made yourself a stranger, and you must now reap what you’ve sewn. You’re just a vagrant in his home, fit for healing and burden and nothing more—)
Your eyes burn and you tear your gaze to the fields, “What a surprise. It’s not as if I’ve been around for your to be familiar with.”
“I understand why you left Mondstadt,” Diluc tells you, hushed like he is speaking to a frightened cat. Maybe that’s what you are. “I know it must’ve been very lonely.”
You almost snap at him. You almost scream—
(“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you for knowing me and knowing how I felt and being gone and leaving me here to ache all alone. I hate that you know me so well and forgot.”)
You don’t. 
“I had Elzer and Adelinde,” you say. “Dawn Winery was hardly empty. I don’t need your pity.”
“It’s not pity.” Diluc doesn’t sound offended. “Never pity.”
“Sure.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Not entirely.” You wish the stars were out. You’d have something tangible to direct your ire toward. “What else would it be?”
Diluc sighs, not resigned, but you can hear the exhaustion in it. He’s wounded, he needs rest. You both do.
(You both need so much rest.)
Your nose burns and you sniffle.
“I still care for you, even if you are unfamiliar to me.” He says quietly, low, sweet, and gentle because it's only meant for the two of you to hear. 
You meet his gaze violently. Your neck nearly snaps turning to him, and you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from crying. You feel fragile, so close to crumbling.
“Don’t toy with me.” Your voice wobbles, your conviction does not.
“I’m not.” He assures you. “I wouldn’t.” 
“You’re a wretched man.” You tell him. There’s no bite to your words. 
“For you, I’d be better.”
“No— that’s—” You rub your eyes. “ Stop it.” 
“Stop what? I’m not sure I can.”
(You don’t say: “Please stop being so kind. If you keep being kind to me, I’ll never leave. I’ll take every scrap you feed me and pretend it makes me a king. I’ll open myself up for heartbreak to be by your side. If you keep being kind to me—”)
(You don’t say: “I’ll think that you love me still.”)
Diluc cups your jaw and says your name, soft and slow and easy. 
You’re sedated, because Diluc looks just as frightened as you feel, and speaks as earnestly as he did when he was young. When you used to lay over his chest and count the summer freckles he was blessed with. When he used to hold your cheeks, pressing your lips together, overzealous and honest, like how young lovers do. Like the young lovers you were.
Would this be easier, if you really were two strangers, sharing a pipe and tea? If there really was an ocean and deep sea more than changes of appearance or the way you hold yourself. You know it’s you— that you’ve changed since Diluc saw you. Last saw you— the day of his eighteenth birthday—
The feeling in your chest is violent. Shreds you. Tears you open. You ball the fabric of your sleep clothes in your fist, over your heart, and almost wince. 
“I’m sorry,” is the first thing you think to say. You don’t know what you’re apologizing for.
“Don’t apologize, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He rubs a thumb over your cheek, and his touch and voice tremble.
“What if I have?” you half-admit, flashing him a withered smile.
(Forget, forget, forget.)
(A red stone like the garnet they tug out of the Chasm’s walls. Rounded. Pulsing. In the left palm of a man who could’ve been your father.)
“Then, I’ll help you fix it if you like.” He can’t. Diluc lets go of you, only to stand and fix a hold on your wrist. 
“It’s not that simple.” You’re already saying too much. Forget, forget, forget. Shove it down into your chest, to the back of your mind.
You remain sitting on the cold ground of the balcony. Your leg remains splayed on the cobblestones, splinted and aching. You can’t bear to look up at him. You want to cry. Maybe, in the daylight, past dawn— you’d be better at facing this. You want tea. You want to sleep. You want to weep—
(into Diluc’s lap. To beg him for things that feel unfair to ask.)
“Why did you ask me to have tea with you?” you ask. “If it was to share smoke and try to have this conversation or two when we’re both clearly”— you gesture to yourself, balled up, and Diluc, bloodied— “not our best, I will retire to my room. I don’t want to... I can’t broach this.”
(“Yet.”)
(It’s inevitable, isn’t it? One you feel in the stars, rushing toward you.)
“It was never my intention to push you.” Diluc rushes to assure you. You look out the pitch-black vineyard, and Diluc kneels in front of you. “I didn’t—”
You snap, voice wobbling, “What do you want—?”
“I want to know you again,” Diluc tells you, confesses, breathlessly. He sounds like a (your) lover again. “I want nothing more. Just let me, please.”
(You haven’t heard Diluc beg in so long. You remember how he’d beg you for the extra candies that Teacher would give you after lessons. Diluc would beg you to trace shapes on his arm and the nape of his neck when you’d stay up whispering to each other during Mond’s cruelest winter nights. He’d plead for you to ride on his horse, with him, rather than your own.)
You squirm under your skin and refuse to look at him. If you do, you’ll shatter. You have to hold it together, just a little longer— until the end of Windblume, then you’ll leave, you’ll fucking run—
And Diluc says your name, begs you, “Look at me, please.”
“If I do, I’ll cry.” Your voice wobbles far more than you thought it would. 
“That’s okay.”
“It’s not—” You laugh, and barely look at him out of the corner of your eyes. “I can’t start crying, Diluc. I’ll never stop.”
“That’s alright.” Diluc sounds like he might cry. “I’ll take you, however you are.”
He sounds romantic. 
You look at him.
He looks soggy— wilted, like the way two-day-old cut flowers do. Still beautiful, because Diluc Ragnvindr is nothing if not attractive. Hair spilling down his shoulders, a fresh scrape over his cheek, eyes that crinkle in between because he looks as gutted as you feel.
And you laugh, something weak and small and feeble. A barely there noise you only let out to distract from the tears that wet your bottom lashes. 
“... What do you want to know?” you ask him. Forcing yourself to settle, bear it, and look at him. 
Diluc’s eyes go wide. The barest hints of joy squeeze the skin around his eyes and you see a boyish smile on his lips you’d forgotten he knew how to wear. You want to kiss it, him, because the feeling in your chest is bursting. The craving, need— to kiss him stupid and share it with him is overwhelming. 
“Everything.”
You’re damned, surely.
“I don’t think I can give you that yet,” you tell him, honestly. “I’m still mad at you.”
“That’s alright,” he placates you. “I want to know about that, too. Anything you’ll give me.”
It’s an awful admission, really. That he cares to know you.
(Some part of you, festered for so long. Convinced yourself of untrue things because it was easier than facing an uncertain reality. The mere idea of Diluc caring for you breaks a small delusion that you wouldn’t be welcomed. That the boy you’d love and linked pinkies with was dead and gone far from you.)
(He’s here, right in front of you.)
You shift forward without thinking. Onto your knees, with your injured side limp, and you press your forehead into Diluc’s shoulder. It’s stiff, with your arms still tucked to your center, protecting your most soft and vulnerable bits. It’s all you can give him. 
Diluc turns tense, then slack, so slack, like he’s been doused in warm water and left to dry in midday sun. You feel the muscle against your cheek go limp and you press your eyes into the smokey fabric. It dampens beneath you and you’re too tired to care. 
(You’re being chipped down— It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Returning to Mond meant this. Part of you always knew that.)
His hand cups the back of your skull and you shiver with it. Warm and big, just like he has become with the years. He presses his thumb and ring finger into your scalp, scratching, and something between a sob and a wince gets caught in your throat.
“Is this alright?” Diluc asks.
“More than.” You keep yourself from weeping on him, barely. Instead, you grip the loose fabric against his chest and smother yourself in him.
...
There’s a part of you that you can’t quiet— the fragment that whispers and thrashes “this is an awful idea” and “stop it, before you get sucked so deep into him that you can’t climb out.” It’s the part of you that keeps your arms wrapped around your middle and only lets you drag your lips over Diluc’s throat without rhyme or reason. It’s mindless, never a kiss, because that would cross an invisible gulf you dare not to breach.
Diluc leads you inside, hand in hand. You wonder if he can feel how you’re shaking, beginning to fracture from the inside out. You already have been. You’re pouring out from your seams.
“I’m going to fetch more tea, I’ll be back in a moment.” Diluc steps toward the door and a bolt of panic shoots through you. It hurts, physical, dread-filled pain that has you stumble up, toward him, reaching out desperately for him.
(“Please don’t go, please don’t go, please don’t go. Not again.”)
You grab his sleeve and ball your fist in the fabric. 
Diluc attempts to placate you. “Rest, it’s alright. I’m just going to the kitchens.”
You say nothing and tug him tighter. Closer. 
(Part of you wants to kick Diluc away and lock the door behind him. There’s another that wants you to fall to your knees, and beg him to stay close. He’s given you a morsel and you should know better than to roll over for scraps but—)
(You’re so scared. So scared you’ll lose his heat all over again.
You listen to the latter part as you drop to your knees in front of Diluc, just steps into his bedroom. 
You’re not sure what possesses you—
(You do. You’re distracting Diluc from whatever sticky, honeyed thoughts he is having by replacing them with something more carnal. Physicality is just that— physical. Tangible and touchable and far easier to fixate on the immaterial.)
(... Right?)
Diluc breathes your name, wide-eyed as you brace your palms on his thighs. You can feel how tense he is. The thick rug against the floor cushions your knees. 
“What are you doing?” His voice is small. 
“I want to make you feel good.” You ask, running your hands up to his waistband and begin to untuck his dirtied shirt, “May I?”
Diluc gives you a look. It’s all apprehension and worry, creasing the lines of his pretty face. He works his jaw as you toy with the leather of his belt.
(You understand it, really.)
(You don’t like the look he gives you, but you don’t know which one you’d rather see him wear. Hatred would perhaps be better. Desire would be the worst.)
(Diluc had always been the sure-footed one. Confident, but never cocky or boisterous. Even in the ways you’ve seen him now, he’s been firm and familiarly stubborn. But, at the sight of you below him, offering, he’s creased over in apprehension.)
Diluc gives you an almost imperceptible nod and tucks his bottom lip between his teeth. You smother your smile into the fabric of his trousers before palming him. He’s soft, though hardening under the layers of fabric. Your hands tremble as you undo his belt— maybe they’re going numb at your fingertips. It’s hard to tell. 
It’s easier to pull Diluc’s cock free and stroke idly. You flash him a smile, you don’t know how real it looks. 
(You love him.)
He is pretty. It’s not the first time you’ve seen his cock— hardly, but it’s been so long and his body is in so many ways unrecognizable. Even from the sliver of skin visible at his waistline, he has scars. Thick and thin, burns— he’s decorated in them. 
(You wonder how many you could’ve prevented.)
The thought rots something in you and your hands tremble. 
His cock though— his dick, that’s what you’re focused on. You fixate on the head of him, half-hard, pitching forward to press a kiss to him. Diluc makes an unholy, high noise, and you latch on to the sound of it. You lap at his slit and savor any pearls of precum that you taste. 
Pulling away, you spit into your hand, and stroke the length of him. Your ears are ringing.
You look up at him, neck aching, and push the bottom of his shirt up. “You should hold this between your teeth, hm?”
Diluc’s almost trembling, shaking as he nods and puts the hem of the shirt between his teeth. It’s compromising, surely. He’s suddenly so bare, and you’re on his floor, clothed. Mostly. Your robe is slipping, revealing bare shoulders and an unblemished collar. You’re sure it’s doing something to him. It has to, you hope it does.
You stall as he bares his chest to you. 
(So many wounds, healed and sealed. Most of these are new. Even with his battle prowess— what has he been doing to himself? To be so battered must mean that he put himself in harm’s way, above his abilities. Or face a foe he hadn’t expected.)
You tremble. 
You purse your lips and flatten your tongue. The taste of him is distracting, pleasantly. It’s more musk than smoke, all him in a way that makes you swallow him down more. One of his hands hesitantly rests against the side of your head. He doesn’t push or shove you. The contact is so light, it almost feels like he’s hovering rather than making contact. 
(Is he in pain? Does he have old wounds, like yours, that he’s just better at hiding? He was always the type to suffer in silence. Diluc wouldn’t tell you if he was hurting, would he? You’d only been able to goad him into letting you heal him when he was clearly returning home from a brawl, blood-stained, or both.)
You hum around his length and dig your fingertips into his thighs. Corded muscle covered by a layer of fat. Your mouth waters at the thought of taking a bite of him. 
(You know he bruises easily.)
It’s hard to breathe— you hadn’t realized Diluc’s size when you endeavored to suck his cock, but you’re feeling it now. You bully him further down, forcing yourself to relax until the head of his cock nudges the back of your throat.
Diluc says your name so breathlessly, pinched around the edges. Your eyes stay shut and you anchor yourself on sensation. The heat of Diluc, radiating into you from the inside, the desperate way he breathes through his teeth and the shirt tucked between them. You hum around him and relish the choked sound that he can’t hold back. 
(Like this, whatever is simmering under your skin and behind your eyes feels duller. You can chase sensation, grip it so hard it hurts, and bring pleasure at the same time. Isn’t this—)
You begin to bob your head, shallow, once, twice, and then a third time— And with a broken-sounding groan, Diluc comes down your throat.
It’s fast. It’s unexpected. The only warning you had was the way Diluc’s hand tightened around your skull, not pushing, but firm. Your eyes stretch wide as you try to swallow his release. It’s— a lot, more than you expect, and it spills from the corners of your mouth. Diluc jerks his hips, clearly involuntary, and you properly choke on him.
And then he pulls out of your mouth, dripping and sticky and softening, and you hang your head, swallowing thickly and coughing. The ringing in your ears is worse, and the world feels far away. Even Diluc’s heat feels lukewarm. It’s not peace, nor unsettling, something in the middle that is more unpleasant than pleasant. It’s hard to focus.
It’s easier, when Diluc goes to his knees next to you. He’s hastily tucked his cock away, belt still unbuckled. There’s dirt and singed fabric on his knees— you still haven’t checked his injuries. Foolish.
You reach out a hand (are you really shaking that hard?), Dendro curling around your fingers. Diluc catches your wrist and holds it steady. 
The ringing in your ears clears enough to hear him say your name. It’s hard to register. You send the Dendro through his wrist instead— how many fractures has he had on that bone? The scar tissue—
Diluc says your name once more, more sharply, more worried— and he cups your jaw and tilts your face up to his.
“Oh,” you reply softly. Your voice is wrecked. “Hi.”
“Hello.” Diluc’s brow is creased, relief bleeding in his voice. “Are you—”
“I’m fine.” You pat his hand that’s on your jaw. “Peachy. You taste good.”
It’s fun to watch Diluc flush even more— he always has always blushed easily. It spreads down his neck and up to his ears. You mindlessly lay the back of your free hand over the cheek to feel how warm he is. Burning. You swear he’ll scorch you alive.
“I don’t—” Diluc shakes his head, rubbing at your cheeks. It’s intimate. If your ears weren’t ringing, you’d be on the other side of the room by now. Maybe Mond. Maybe Teyvat. 
“What’s wrong?” you ask him. You feel breakable beneath your haze. “Is something wrong?”
Diluc looks at you. Really looks at you. Though you look back at him, the world is too fuzzy to take account of details. 
(If you could, you’d see concern. Wretched, awful concern and care that he has kept tucked so far away from you since you’ve returned. You closed the distance so swiftly between the two of you, violently, and Diluc is split wide with it.)
“You’re—” Diluc presses a finger down to your pulse point. “Your heart’s beating so fast.”
“Uh-huh.” You nod. “I couldn’t breathe for a moment there.”
“That’s not it.” Diluc counters you, but doesn’t argue. Instead, he strokes over your cheeks, conflicted. 
You reach out without thinking and tug the black ribbon from his hair. It spills over his shoulders— the waves are a mess. You see snarls and soot. Maybe even chunks burned together.
“Can I brush your hair?” You ask, running a hand through it and grimacing as your fingers get caught. “No, I should wash it first.”
“No,” Diluc says sharply. It startles you enough that you jump. It makes him wilt even more. “You won’t.”
“But I can—?”
“That doesn’t mean you should,” Diluc says softly, squeezing your shoulder.
Diluc has been so incredibly tentative, almost unsure, about any sort of physical contact with you prior. But, in this moment, he’s so sure.
He presses his lips to your forehead, firm and unyielding. It’s so warm— like a hearth that’s always been lit and rolling. High enough to cook a pot over but not enough to burn you down. You’d forgotten this part of his heat.
(How could you?)
“Indulge me?” he asks, lips soft against your skin. 
“... In what way?”
“Sleep in my bed,” he says softly. “With me.”
You frown. “You don’t need to return the gesture.”
“That’s not why I’m asking.” Diluc pulls away and presses his lips to your wrist instead. He must be able to feel your pulse. 
You consider. 
(You’re not within yourself. You’re floating; it’s not his fault. Circumstance and sleeplessness and the horror of intimacy do such things, you know. It’s a tempting offer when Diluc’s heat is so comforting.)
(When he is so comforting.)
“Are you sure?” you ask.
Diluc nods. “More than.”
(Is it really greed, if he invites you?)
“Okay.”
Diluc makes you tea. Scenes seem to skip before your eyes. One moment, Diluc is gone, then in the en suite bathroom, then beside you with a warm cup. The order of these events changes the longer you think about it. 
The tea grows colder in your hands and Diluc coaxes you to drink it.
He’s thrown on some soft linen sleep clothes. You get distracted by the obscenely deep-v of the cut, and it takes Diluc repeating your name a few more times to bring you back, closer to the present moment.
Exhaustion catches you quickly once you’re horizontal. It’s easier to fall into and accept when you’re surrounded by the smell of Diluc and his heat. Him. It’s too daunting to touch him fully like this, but you face him when you lie down. You both grab the other’s hand, and squeeze in tandem. 
“Is this alright?” he asks.
You nod, burying your nose in the sheets. “Yeah. Was earlier bad?”
“No,” Diluc says quickly. It’s too dark with the candles blown out, but you imagine him blushing. “Strange, maybe, but not bad. I didn’t expect it. I would prefer some notice, if you’re going to proposition me again.”
There’s something left unsaid after, but you can’t make yourself pry. 
You’re so whittled down, really. You’re just bones and cracking flesh and tears burgeoning before falling. The idea of sharing a big, warm bed with Diluc, despite everything unresolved and open and festering, breaks something in you. 
(You’ve been so hungry. Starved. Emaciated and just fucking dealing with it. And now you’re offered a feast on a platter and you’re horribly loyal, at your core.)
“I don’t share beds often.” A memory bubbles up to the surface. 
Diluc plays with your hair, scratching at your scalp, motions nearly scalding and circular. “It doesn’t seem like you’ve kept much company on your travels.”
“Only a few times.” A melancholy smile twists your lips. A memory drags you down from floating. “I was engaged, once, you know.”
Maybe it’s cruel to say, and part of you revels in the way Diluc squeezes your hand so tightly it almost hurts. “... You were?”
“Yes.”
“Betrothed?”
“Yeah.” You smother a laugh into the buttery sheets. “She was a healer in Fontaine. We met when I stayed in her village to tend to victims of a fungal plague. She asked me to marry her after I’d stayed with her for a while.”
“But, you didn’t go through with it?” Diluc's voice sounds tight. Or, you’re imagining it. 
“No.” You bring your legs up, curling around yourself. “I couldn’t. I called things off a few weeks before the wedding.”
“Why?” 
You think, think— because it’s been a long time, and the memory has become scattered. The face of the woman who was almost your wife is nearly gone in your memory. You remember the sound of her laugh, the color of her hair, and the way her home smelled when she burned her favorite candles. But— but—
“I couldn’t do it.” You feel withered. “She treated me so well. I could have lived well. The village cared for me and it would’ve been a kind life.”
You choke on the sound of your own laughter. Morose. You wrap your arms around Diluc’s one, burying your face in his bicep like it’ll take the burning away from your chest. 
“... Why couldn’t you?” he asks.
(Because it wasn’t here. It wasn’t him.)
“You know, at the Akademiya, there’s a whole Darshan dedicated to studying stars and the alignment of the cosmos.” You tangle a leg with Diluc’s. You’ll give him this much, another admission. “They say that fate’s written up there— for all of us.”
Diluc pulls you closer, under your thighs, slotting you together. It’s like you were made to be that way.
“I guess Celestia didn’t deign for me to stay in that village forever and get married.” You ache, all over. 
(But the stars did bring you back here. To Mond. To him.)
Diluc’s breath catches. He holds you tighter.
“They took you away too, though.” You curl the fabric of his shirt in your chest, over his heart. Like you could rip it out— (just like how he ripped out yours.) “ You left. Chasing something, right?”
And you throw your head back and laugh. You turn away from Diluc, something rotten bringing you back into yourself. Not memories, but dread and panic (forget, forget, forget.) You hate the feeling. You shove your face into the sheets and savor the feeling of it. The smell and the heat that you’re sure will be ripped away from you. It’s Diluc’s scent. Cecilia and oat soap and stale cologne. You indulge.
“You said you hate me.” Diluc’s voice is close. You lay on your stomach, twisted at the hips, and Diluc looms over you. His hands bunch in the sheets on either side of your shoulders. 
“I do, at least a little,” you admit, awful, wretched— “Maybe a lot.”
(As much as you love him.)
“You have every reason to.”
“So you keep reminding me.”
“I don’t regret it.”
It burns to hear. “I wouldn’t expect you to. A chance to play knight— hero?” 
“Did you expect me to not do anything?” 
“I expected you to at least say goodbye—!” You turn, sharp, and spit the words in his face even as your voice breaks. He’s closer than you thought, hovering so that you’re nose to nose.
A few tears slip, dripping down to your hairline. It takes every last shred and thread holding you together to keep from shattering. Diluc looks like he’s been slapped, shiny ruby eyes polished. Candlelight flickers in them, flame on flame.
You bite your tongue until you taste blood. Because, Archons, if you say anything else, you’ll regret it. 
“I’m sor—”
“Tell me in the morning,” you cut him off with a smile, one that makes him frown. “Please?”
And Diluc is nothing, if not weak for you.
It’s an easy shift, for him to drag you to the center of the bed, close to his chest, and pull the duvet over the two of you.
When Diluc presses you, front to front, with your head wedged under his chin, he says soft and breaking, “You worry me.”
You nearly laugh again. “Don’t.”
He just squeezes you, hard enough that you might break.
(You feel like you’re going to shatter. You don’t know if you’re ready.)
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rollinouttahere-writes · 5 months ago
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Ahhhh the little bit at the end about law only getting interviewed about his mom is soooo funny but I love bullying law so it just makes sense for me. We can't let him be too cool, he's gotta be humbled in relatively painless ways like that!
I love taking away Law's seriousness in this au lmao
Sure, he has gone through an unspeakable amount of trauma in his life, but he gets a new family to heal with in this au, so now he gets to be a little silly.
It doesn't help that his siblings absolutely would take the opportunity to embarrass him with childhood stories. If the reporters track down Angel, she's going to start showing off pictures.
Ain't no one taking him seriously in this au until it's too late
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one0p1nk · 7 months ago
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In your opinion what would your friends arts taste like?
// Ahhhh I won't exactly describe everyone's art here so I'll only describe based on what I recently ste :3
Klai's art tastes like Oreo... why? How to explain this,,, You know the many things you can do with oreo like split in half, dip it in milk, add cream on it, and whatever crazy stuff people do on it before eating it--- That's what Klai's art feels like. You savor it in different emotions... it can be unhinged, wild, wholesome, makes you crying... or multiple at the same time. 😭
Beth's art tastes like egg tarts. Sweet on the center for its content while bordered by slightly crunchy edges... yum yum yum.
Fifi's art tastes like... these Danish butter style cookies. Her drawings are like treats of surprises, you wouldn't know what kind of shape of cookie you'll get next once devouring the first level of the cookies.;;; and you'll never get tired of it bc I luv butter cookies so much nom nom nom nom---
Yami's art tastes like fruit gummies,, usually cherry flavored gummies. It looks bouncy and feels squishy, and tastes sweet. Sometimes, even soursweet when art makes you cry in tears;;;/lh
Joe's art tastes like bubble gums-- so many flavors of bubble gums. But in general, you would get this strong black mint flavored type of gum if I describe the communion and tricksterherald content she gives---/lh like is so powerful and refreshing I feel edgy when brainrotting about the communion rahhh 🔥🔥🔥
Mandi's art tastes like... André's chocolates??? Tbf, It's an extra dark chocolate bar, one of my favorite treats since childhood ngl. The bitterness and strong flavor are so yummy it makes me cry or go silly sometimes hehehehehehe;;;. The dark themes, angst, ocs just havibg trauma stuff going on--- chef's kiss✨️ The art she gives reminds me of that treat/lh
Kory's art tastes like Pirulin. Like her art treats are so silly good, it's a bit rare for me to see her delicious drawings,,,/lh It feels like how I rarely get to eat Pirulin sticks when I was younger;;;😭🥺
Nezumi's art tastes like lollipops. They give a big variety of flavors that make your mouth have different colors-- she has almost all the themes (fluff, comedy, piece of life, angst). You suck on one, and before you know it, it's already gone. Shows how I love their art so much I would always look forward to cherish it whenever they decided to bless my eyes with another drawing hhh;;;
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signed-sapphire · 4 months ago
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Hiiii! I was gonna post this under your question about Asha in your AU, but I wanted to send a more personal one here.
As someone who was inspired by your rewrite, I think Princess Asha is a great take! (Definitely has more personality) Its hilarious how she's like Kuzco and she works great with Cielo! I never found her to be a stereotype when reading it, I always considered her to be a more arrogant version of Canon Asha, since a lot people considered her to be a jerk. 😂 (But I can understand your concern)
Part of what I was most worried about in my rewrite was if I made Asha interesting enough compared Star being a ball of energy and she's the opposite. I wasn't sure if I made her boring or not as interesting compared to other AUs or characters in Wish Granted. I just had the idea of making Asha the only sane person while everyone else is kind of eccentric or crazy would be funny contrast. (Like with Shrek being normal compared to the other characters) So hearing you found her backstory compelling and love her sarcasm with Star made me so happy!
Princess Asha is hilarious, she's got sass, there's great banter with the Teens (calling them by their dwarf names was perfect) she's got an interesting backstory, I LOVE WHEN SHE TALKS TO CIELO AND SHE HATES FEELINGS THINGS!!! 😂😂
Heck, I'm even amazed WG!Asha mostly gets along with her (which is hilarious) even though TFS!Asha was raised by the royals! And trust me, it takes time for WG!Asha to make friends in both my rewrite and the Wishverse! (Cause you know, trust issues due to trauma)
So anyways, I say keep writing the sassy princess! We love her even if she think we're peasants. 😅 (SHE KEEPS CALLING ME MUTT, WHYYYYY 😭)
Ahhhh thank you Rascal 😭
(The post Rascal is talking about is right here, if you're curious.)
The thing is, when I first watched Wish, I was a bit of a sheep in that whole "Asha is selfish, Magnifico was justified" train. But then I rewatched the movie and read other rewrites and thought about how I wanted to portray Disney in my rewrite, and I realized Wish just did a shitty job at making character motivations clear. Everyone is morally grey, which isn't necessarily a bad thing! But with how little time the movie devoted towards character arcs, it was for its own detriment
What I'm trying to do in The Fallen Star is make everyone's character arc clear, so I'm upping the extremes in their personalities. Asha was a young kid and didn't think about saving an entire kingdom by herself at first? TFS!Asha purposefully doesn't think about anyone except her family. Let her grow as a person by understanding other people's stories and letting others in.
Magnifico is scared of Stars because of some vague childhood trauma? Lean into that and make TFS!Mag see Stars almost kill his family so he believes he's justified in doing wrong, even if he knows it is! Let the dark magic corrupt his mind, make it a tragic story.
I was mainly worried that TFS!Asha would be too much, you know? The Sapphire stereotype that may have overshadowed her growth as a person. But I'm glad you and @oh-shtars never saw her that way! (If anyone else had, please let me know and tell me what you think I can do to improve Asha's character!)
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ta-ni-ya · 1 year ago
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Wanted to post the backstory of my kny oc in details to work with @kiyokatokito 🤭🫶🏻
Let's start from the very beginning, Kirika lived in the same village as Sanemi and they are childhood friends due to that. She would often spend time together with sanemi's siblings and genya too.
Kirika knew about how his father was and she wanted to help but was always stopped from doing so by Sanemi.
When his mother becomes a demon, we all know what happened but kirika was also attacked and she has a scar at her back from it.
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After that she was unconscious they both never saw each other again.
This whole incident changed her personality giving her trauma obviously, she was cheerful all the time but that changed. She's became more quiet and calm and somehow forgot all about sanemi, this was the result of pure shock from the incident ofc. But she can't forget about the demon as the scar proves it.
As time went she came across the demon slayer corps and wanted to join in order to atleast save other families and friends.
She trained under the water hashira tomioka giyuu, along with Aoi. During her final selection she meets muichiro too who soon becomes a hashira. Though she was kinda sad that aoi quit.
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Kirika would often visit muichiro and also aoi in the butterfly mansion, and that's when sanemi sees her and recognizes her. He was shocked when he sees kirika but it seemed like kirika doesn't know him at all!
After learning from shinobu and aoi about kirika's condition he tries to understand and not make her remember any more of her trauma, taking things slow and often trying to make small conversations with her.
I suddenly feel cringe narrating this help-
Kirika was calmer than before and seemed to get along well with the water hashira, but needless to say she made friends pretty easily. She acts like a mother to her younger comrades.
Talking about younger comrades, during another final selection, when tanjiro and the others join, she meets genya who also seemed to recognize her, genya was also surprised at the sudden appearance and realizes kirika doesn't remember him.
As time went by, kirika started interacting with genya and sanemi more as they both often tried to talk to her.
Kirika might or might not have already remembered them and maybe pretending to not know them as the time went, because it was clear to everyone that they were both indeed happy around each other.
Ahhhh ok ok I don't wanna continue more it's getting long and maybe the rest might reveal some spoilers for some? Because idk who has read the manga 😀
Also this is the shorter version ig? ♡
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