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linklethehistorian · 1 year ago

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Alright, so, first of all, before I say anything else, let’s get just two things perfectly straight, in no uncertain terms: while, as you will be reading very soon enough in the rest of the post, Cherish is indeed many things, what it is very decidedly and explicitly not is a case of the author’s personal projection, nor is it a story that is intended to be viewed through the lens of it being in any way about the author themself.

While I absolutely believe that both of these things are fine to do in a fic if one should wish to and that it can absolutely serve as a healthy way of processing past or present experiences and/or feelings, I do not want to leave room for anything of what I am about to share to be interpreted in such a way, as that is not what Cherish is, nor what I intend it to be.

Cherish is a story wholly and strictly about those who are in it, and the lore within it both as a whole and for individual character backgrounds is, wherever reasonably possible given all of the information available to us today, deeply rooted in either official canon (in regards to BSD and its characters) or historical fact (in regards to the real life Arthur Rimbaud) — with, of course, a few minor but very noticeable AU exceptions made surrounding the life of the latter, for the sake of the plot requiring it in order to function — and thus, while I do want to open up about some things to y’all, under no circumstances do I want the amount of careful and thorough research I have put into writing and portraying these things to simply be swept under the rug just because this new information might (very wrongly) inspire some people to assume it has anything to do with the characterization, character backgrounds, or the chosen themes of the story. It does not.

That being said, the reason why I chose this story to prioritize out of all of literal hundreds or thousands of other long pre-conceived tales I have to tell and the reason why I am so absolutely dedicated to and passionate about it — along with the obvious truth that I very simply just already do love it and all of the main characters and pairings within it — is partly because the subject matter is…in a lot of ways, also very close to my heart and personal to me.

I think I have expressed a few times in the past, at least in passing when discussing other matters and on a very surface level, that I myself am a victim of abuse, and while I don’t really want to go into that too deeply, I do want to make it known that Arthur (both versions in different ways, but especially the version that lived here in our world) and I share more than a few similarities in the things that we have had to go through, and, to an extent, the ways that we tend to cope with those matters.

If I were to list everything out here — if I were yet quite brave and bold enough to do that, which at this stage in my life, I am not certain that I am — you would see that they are all eerily similar, but I think even my saying this should clue you in to a lot of the possibilities, if you know much of what he endured.

And…it is especially that similarity and those personal life experiences and convictions of my own that drive me to pour so much of my soul into the writing of this fic, to express to all of you here and now that so much of those feelings I put into Cherish come not just from a place of canonical or historical accuracy, but also from the heart — from a deep, personal place that’s more than just “I’ve done my research on these concepts, but only from the outside looking in”; because a lot of the themes and emotions touched on in Cherish, the overarching storyline, and a lot of the questions that get asked and expressed are…extremely relatable to me especially at this particular point in my life, I take the portrayal of those very dark subjects that it covers more seriously than ever, and with a lot of personal thought, care, and understanding as a result.

I want people who maybe have been through similar — whether to my experiences or those portrayed therein — to be able to look at it and feel heard, seen, and understood, and to feel hope and comfort in it.

I don’t want to say much more on the subject, for the fear of giving away accidental spoilers, but…yes, while Cherish already existed in a time long prior to me being able to say I knowingly related to it, and it is not at all its reason for existing, nor the sole or even the primary reason why I adore it so, a lot of what I have to put into it while writing nevertheless comes from a very real, very raw, very honest, and extremely thoughtful place in my heart as someone who has not only done their research into someone else’s experiences and thoughts, but also has experienced many of the same firsthand — and the often lifelong struggles that can come with it, especially in the aftermath of escaping one’s such abusers.

Alright Cherish fans, I think it might be time for a little personal chat and confession time from your dear fic author, what do you think…?

(Don’t worry! It’s not any sort of bad news about the fic lol, it is still very much alive and in production.)

#linklethehistorian #bsd #bungou stray dogs #my thoughts #thoughts #verrim #rimlaine #ChuuArt #my original content #my wriitng #my fanfic #reblog #and with that I will now go into hiding #and to bed since it’s super late #ah the anxiety that comes from admitting personal things #but yes #it’s true

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honey-tongued-devil · 2 months ago

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▶[Arcane preference] reacting to you wearing their clothes [Jayce, Viktor, Ekko, Vander, Silco, Jinx, Vi, Caitlyn, Mel, Sevika, ]

If you know me, hello little deers, I'm back! If you don’t know me, welcome! Just a heads-up that I don’t use "Y/N," but rather the impersonal "you," and even though I talk about clothes, no sizes or weight are involved. Enjoy the read!

Jayce:

- It’s not that rare when you’re together; he’s a real gentleman through and through. If it’s cold, he’ll give you his jacket, his scarf, anything to keep you warm

- But when you’re the one taking his clothes, it’s different

- When he sees you walking around the room in his shirt, just after waking up, something in his brain malfunctions

- It’s how it fits you, no matter how big or long it is, it seems like it was made just for you, to give you that look

- And to him, it feels like some kind of subliminal ad, as if the universe is making you so attractive in the simplicity of that gesture just to tell him he needs to hurry up and put a ring on your finger so he can enjoy that sight every day

- It’s hard for you to get anything done in the morning when he wakes up with those thoughts

- Those are the days when you stay in bed, cuddling under the covers, with him looking at you, hand on his cheek, getting more lost in you by the second

Viktor:

- For Viktor, the idea of a “little thief stealing his clothes” is an interesting one

- He’s never been a fan of tight-fitting clothes, plus, with his physique, it’s rare for anything to fit snugly anyway

- That’s why, except for his Academy uniform, the rest of his clothes are comfortable and at least two sizes too big for him, without mentioning Jayce's oversize ones in his closet

- What Viktor didn’t expect was that, once you started liking them, you’d just take them straight out of his drawer

- The first time he knocked on your door to ask if you’d seen his shirt —the very one you were wearing— he first stopped, confused, wondering how it had ended up on you

- And then, though he didn’t show it, he paused to notice with satisfaction how well it wrapped around your body

- Sometimes he pretends to forget his clothes at your place, just to see them on you, and to get them back with your scent on them

- For the nights when he feels lonelier

Ekko:

- Communism

- There’s not really a strong sense of what belongs to whom at the Tree, although some clothes (jackets in particular) eventually get so personalized that no one dares to take them anymore

- The first time you grabbed Ekko’s jacket, it was simply because you were freezing, it was really cold, and he was resting, so he didn’t need it

- But when he saw you wearing it, his pupils dilated so much you could notice it despite his very dark eyes

- Ever since then, it’s him who gives it to you and insists that you wear it, because he likes it: there’s something extremely intimate and deeply personal about walking around with you in his jacket

- It’s like marking you as his, but really, also reminding himself of it

- And Ekko may be proud, but one thing you quickly and painfully learn in the alleys is to say ‘I love you’ before it’s too late, and that small possessive gesture makes him feel fulfilled because it’s like he’s telling everyone that he couldn’t live without you

Vander:

- Vander’s clothes have this super-secret ability to change depending on who’s wearing them. For example, what are shirts on him turn into dresses on you

- When you put them on, even just for the sake of convenience, you find yourself laughing in front of every mirror you pass by

- And if he notices, he can’t help but hug you from behind, leaning down to rub his nose against your neck, smiling against your skin

- “You know,” he says every single time, “it looks better on you than it does on me,” and no matter how false it might be, in his eyes, it’s truer than almost anything else

- After seeing you a few times in his grown-up man's clothes, he decided to dig through an old box to find the clothes from when he was younger and mend them before leaving them folded on your side of the bed, like a little gift

Silco:

- Silco’s strangest habit was the connection he had with his clothes: they looked like Piltover garments, except for the boots and the shirt under the velvet vest, yet they were torn, poorly mended, and worn out in several places

- Despite being the richest man in the undercity, he never changed them

- The only newer piece in his wardrobe that he used to wear was his coat, which was in perfect condition, scented with cologne, and lined with soft velvet that followed the direction of your fingers when you touched it

- Sure, there were ceremonial outfits, pajamas, and something comfortable yet always elegant, but he had worn them so little that they almost didn’t seem like his

- That’s why one day you simply decided you were bored, and while he was in a meeting, you could take the opportunity to try on the ones that fit you

- But that little fashion show from his wardrobe to the mirror probably took longer than expected, and definitely you were too focused, because you didn’t notice the tall figure watching you, leaning against the doorframe

- “Don’t take that off, I’ve got an idea or two,” his voice broke the silence, making you jump

Jinx:

- Her clothes are more like a flea market than a wardrobe: there are men’s clothes, women’s clothes, from Piltover and Zaun, intact, held together by metal staples, clean, splattered with paint, torn from explosions, some so small you wonder who they could even fit, and some so large that you and at least four of her father’s henchmen could comfortably fit in them with room to spare

- She’s the one who tells you to grab something from the pile the first time you ask to help her with her calculations and experiments, and in the end, you choose something comfortable rather than something intact or clean

- It took her a good half hour to notice, and then another hour to stop talking about it

- It was something she hadn’t done since she had a family, sharing clothes with someone else, and suddenly she realized just how much she missed it

- Every now and then, she’d give you oversized shirts on purpose, just to disappear under the fabric and snuggle up to you, where she felt sheltered enough to feel less vulnerable

Vi:

- Vi’s mentality was interesting because, by accident, if she noticed you were eyeing someone’s clothes with interest, somehow the next day those clothes would end up on your bed

- Vi would do anything for you; if it were up to her, you’d be dressed in pearls and gold, but neither the place nor her situation allowed it

- That’s why she never offered you her clothes: the older ones were tattered, barely definable as rags, which she stubbornly patched up every month

- The new ones were stolen, spoils from street fights, but they always came in looking battered and worn, or worse, stained with blood or strange substances, so they weren’t good for you

- When she saw you wearing a sweater from her wardrobe, stained and burned in spots, the first thing she felt was guilt

- She hated not being able to treat you the way she wanted to

- But from that day on, she made sure to at least wash her clothes before putting them away, and slowly she learned to love the clothes you stole a little more than the others

- That sweater, for example, she would defend it with her life

Caitlyn:

- Whenever you stayed over at her place, she always made sure to provide everything for you: slippers, socks, pajamas, anything you might need

- And it was always the highest quality you had ever seen

- So seeing you in her clothes wasn’t new, although she sometimes liked to have you try on things she didn’t wear anymore, partly because she couldn’t due to her important name, and partly because she spent half her time in uniform

- Those little fashion shows almost always ended with her on top of you, while you are very busy figuring out how to stay quiet so none of the servants, or worse, her parents, would catch you

- It didn’t matter if the clothes didn’t suit you, being able to see you in so many different lights made her fall even more in love with everything about you

- The final blow? One day she decided to look through the enforcers’ uniforms to find one that would fit you, and for the first time, she saw you in clothes that matched hers

- There was something about it that made her hope that uniform would change the chemistry of your brain too and make you join the force, just so she could spend more time with you, just so she could see you like that more often

Mel:

- For Mel, it wasn’t an event: she was used to everything, mastering her emotions, and seeing you wearing something of hers had only left her confused for a second, from which she quickly recovered, smiling at you

- “It looks really good on you, you know?” she had asked

- It didn’t bother her. Objectively, you seemed stupid borrowing those elegant clothes tailored exactly to her body

- It almost felt like heresy to wear the clothes of a goddess-like figure. But the goddess had sensed something, and she began buying and commissioning outfits for both you and her, matching, so you wouldn’t feel like you were missing something

- But there was one moment, a specific one, where seeing you in one of her dresses had left her speechless

- When you told her that the sweater was so beautiful it was almost a shame knowing she couldn’t wear it on the day you’d marry her

- And Mel Medarda came from a land of war, where it was hard to get attached to people, let alone objects

- Yet from that day, that piece of clothing became a constant for her, even if it meant layering or pulling it down to keep her shoulders bare

- Because it no longer just warmed her skin; it began to warm something deeper, something she hadn’t even realized she had

Sevika:

- Her clothes reflected her line of work: dirty, unpleasant, dangerous

- But despite that, she would drape them over you herself, no matter how worn they were: if she thought you might be cold, without a word, you’d find a sweater or hoodie on your shoulders

- And even though she’d glance at you from the corner of her eye, she wouldn’t stop watching you for a single moment when you wore something of hers

- It was a matter of homeland—there was no ownership in Zaun, not even last names, as even the family you belonged to was irrelevant compared to what you could do

- And the gangs, thugs, and troublemakers wouldn’t hesitate to steal what was yours

- But you were hers, and you couldn’t be stolen. And that shirt was hers, but she didn’t feel mutilated, like she normally would, when you wore it

- In fact, she loved it, opening her arms to invite you to snuggle up, holding you carefully so the prosthetic wouldn’t bother you, adjusting the clothing on you ten, a hundred times, almost unconsciously

- And when you wore her clothes, it felt like for a little while, you could wear her skin too, to understand her better, and she suddenly seemed more vulnerable

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