#honestly i feel like everyone will hate me for this

[luveline]

Omg can we plsss get a Steve summer blurb like I’d be happy with anything I love your Steve sm and he is just sweet golden summer boy

Steve digs his nose against Robins freckled cheekbone and says something you can’t hear. Must’ve been something kind. She goes soft even as she pushes him away from her, citing a need for her personal bubble, Steven.

He loves Robin half to death and she spends most of their time together making fun of him —it’s why you want him, you can be the most embarrassing version of yourself and Steve won’t flinch.

He’s like it with everyone. Dustin has a mustard stain in the corner of his mouth and hair greasy from sweating in the sun and Steve just wipes at him with a groan. Eddie breaks another glass on account of his bad arm and Steve tells him they were shitty anyways. You lay down beside the pool, unmoving, useless company and treasured anyhow, constantly checked on. He’s making his way to you now with Robin’s towel around his shoulders, water from the swimming pool glistening on his tanned neck.

“Baby,” he greets. 

“Hey, killer.” 

He clambers down on your towel, knees bruised from a fierce game of chicken where Eddie insisted he could be the one on the bottom and then promptly fell forwards, dunking the both of them and almost killing Lucas and Max in the process. 

The sounds of the kids arguing floats on the breeze. The sun winds down slowly, gives everything at the pool and clementine glow like watered down paint, but nobody mentions going home. Robin coughs around a cigarette and Eddie offers to roll her her first ever doobie, but she kindly declines. “I’ve been high before,” she says. “It was fun, but I hated throwing up. Steve didn’t even hold my hair back.” 

“Fucking Steve.” 

“Fucking Steve,” you murmur through a smile. He leans down to kiss you, his hair dripping on your chest as he hovers. 

“What’s the matter with you? You’re like a statue today. Not talking, not swimming. You need something to eat or what?” he asks. 

“Need you to take off my bikini bottoms for fucking Steve,” you say calmly. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he laughs, tipping away from you. He hangs his head and his neck beckons, long and pleasing, pleading for a kiss. 

You take a pull of your strawberry and apple juice, sitting up properly, ducking your head. You watch as his neck turns splotchy with blush. Mean, you spread your hand across his stomach. 

“Want to cool off with me in the pool?” you ask. 

Steve gets in with a splash, holds his hand out as you slide in like he’s worried you’ll take a tumble. The water is lukewarm, not immediately cooling until Steve holds your face and dips your head back, and the water feels cold in your hair. 

“That better?” he asks. 

You squint in the sunshine. He’s pretty with a sunshine halo. “We’re cooling you off, not me. I was fine.” 

“I was fine, ‘til you came onto me like an animal.” 

“An animal?” you ask. 

He grins at you. “Am I in trouble?” 

You close your eyes. Steve pinches your nose gently, predicting your dunk under the water before you’ve submerged yourself. For a couple of seconds you stay there, holding your breath, Steve’s hand keeping you from sinking to the bottom where it’s spread against the small of your back.

He lifts you up and kisses you suddenly. You give into him for as long as you can, three or four seconds of breathlessness, pushing him away to gasp against his chin.

“Owed you that one. Robin’s had more kisses today than you,” he says.

“I’ve had more sloppy ones.” 

“That’s what you think.” 

You giggle listlessly —he’s pulling you in, pressing his wet tummy to yours, your chest to his chest but your head held apart. It’s too hot to be close out of the water. This is a good happy-medium. “My smart boy,” you tease lightly, “the pool day has really lifted moral.” 

“Just wanted to see you in your keds.” 

“My swimsuit, you mean.”

“Nah, I like the tennis shoes.” He wipes water from your cheek unthinkingly. It’s honestly hotter than the kiss. 

You use the water to bouy yourself up, wrapping your arms around his neck in a passionate embrace that’s one part dramatics and two parts real. He laughs out loud, bending under your weight as you brush back his hair with your nose to kiss the sweet almond shape of his eye. 

Eddie wolf whistles from the sun loungers. Mike cries indecency. Steve falls back into the water to escape them, taking you with him, tiny bubbles flying in a rush from between your chests. 

[dollyswishingwell]

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Jealous boy

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, petty men, slightly yandere, they’re jealous and also disgusted ahaha.

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ The galas are always in your honour. it’s just not fun for the boys to watch people’s sad attempts of hitting on his wife

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The gala is shimmering. Crystal chandeliers drip like icicles, the air is thick with perfumes you don’t recognize and people you don’t care to know. But you’re not just attending, you’re the event. Every eye catches on the delicate glint of your jewels, the soft sway of your gown, the effortless grace in the way you curl your fingers around your champagne glass. And beside you, in his perfectly disheveled way, stands Rafayel.

He’s in a white silk shirt with three buttons undone, scandalously so, and loosely tailored black pants that somehow look regal in the careless way they fall around his hips. One hand casually holds a fluted glass, the other remains around your waist like it’s grown there. Possessive. Restless. Lazy in posture, but coiled beneath the surface.

People try to make conversation. Most don’t make it past you’re even more stunning in person. But the moment someone dares lean a little too close, laughing a little too long at a joke that wasn’t funny, Rafayel’s whole demeanor shifts.

He lets out a small, audible sigh. “Mm. Can you not?” he says, not even bothering to fake politeness. The person stutters, confused.

“I mean, really,” he adds, gesturing vaguely with his glass. “Whatever this is—” he waves a hand between the guest and you, “—it’s dead. Ashes. Rotting. Don’t embarrass yourself.”

You feel the pressure of his fingers tighten at your waist. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind everyone that you’re his.

“I know she’s pretty,” Rafayel hums, eyes half-lidded as he lowers his voice to whisper against your ear, “but they’re not supposed to look at you like that, cutie. They don’t get to want what they can’t even understand.”

When another guest attempts to praise your beauty, earnestly, nervously, Rafayel doesn’t even blink. “She knows,” he says flatly, expression dull with boredom. “She hears it from me every morning when she wakes up tangled in my sheets and kisses. So unless you’re offering something useful…” he lets the sentence trail, eyeing them with thinly veiled disgust, “…walk away. Before I decide I don’t like your face anymore.”

Later, when you’re alone on the balcony, the night cool against your skin, he nestles close behind you, arms winding around your waist, lips brushing along your shoulder.

“You looked perfect tonight,” he murmurs, voice languid and low. “But I hated sharing you.” A pause, then a pout against your skin. “Next time… can we just stay home? I’ll put glitter on your lashes and cook lobster and we’ll dance in the living room. No one staring. No one breathing your air.”

And when you laugh, because only he would think glitter and lobster are a romantic evening, he smiles against your neck. “You’re the one that themed the exhibition gala after me. You should blame yourself, Raffy.”

“Maybe but can we admit I’m much better company than anyone in there.”

And honestly? He’s right.

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

The gala is a grand affair, silver, sterile elegance dressed up with crystal centerpieces and champagne towers. The elite of Linkon City’s medical world fill the ballroom like cold stars, orbiting around a single spotlight: Zayne. Or rather, the medical breakthrough bearing your name.

The newly-documented cardiac technique, The Everly Procedure, is the subject of tonight’s acclaim. A complex maneuver with a high success rate. Revolutionary. Elegant. And named after you, his wife. The press loves the romance of it, the dedication in the name. What they don’t know is that the real reason he did it wasn’t for the spotlight, or even the award, but because you were the reason he ever picked up a scalpel in the first place.

Zayne stands beside you, towering and sharp in a tailored charcoal three-piece suit, his coat brushing behind him like a shadow. His silver-framed glasses catch the chandelier light as he surveys the room, jaw set in that calm, unreadable expression. To most, he looks untouchable. Reserved. Stoic.

To you, he’s just slightly irritated.

He doesn’t need to say it. You feel it in the way his gloved hand rests at the small of your back, too light to be obvious, too firm to be mistaken. The quiet message is clear: Stay close.

The compliments come anyway.

“Dr. Zayne, your wife is… stunning tonight.”

“How did a man like you manage that?”

“You’re not hiding her from the rest of us, are you?”

You feel Zayne’s fingers twitch slightly against your back.

“I named a surgical technique after her,” he says flatly, hazel green eyes glancing at the guest like he’s diagnosing a malignant tumor. “You think I’m letting her go home with someone who can’t even hold a scalpel properly?”

It’s not exactly rude, but it lands like a knife. The laughter that follows is nervous, but no one lingers too long.

Another young doctor, a bit too bold, a bit too charming, leans in toward you, attempting some half-baked line about being your “next appointment.”

Zayne exhales through his nose and shifts his glasses up the bridge. “Flirting with a surgeon’s wife at his own gala,” he says, voice dry. “A bold strategy. I’d recommend a cardiology consult while you still have a heartbeat.”

Later, as you’re tucked into his side near the veranda, Zayne lets his expression soften just enough for you to catch it. His eyes sweep your profile, your gown, your hair, the soft glow on your skin under the moonlight.

“You really are the reason they’re all here,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

You smirk. “Because of the heart surgery or because I look good in this color?”

His gaze drops to your mouth, his gloved thumb brushing a nonexistent smudge off your chin.

“Both. But mostly the second one.”

You laugh, and he allows himself the smallest smile before leaning down, lips brushing just behind your ear.

“I don’t like being stared at,” he says quietly, “but when it’s you they’re looking at… I find it worse.”

Then, after a pause, drier: “I should’ve made it a private gala. Just me, you, and a dinner tray at home.”

And honestly, after tonight? That sounds perfect.

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

The DSHA gala is an expensive affair, sleek, futuristic, and humming with subtle tension under layers of shimmering formality. The air is laced with expensive perfumes and barely-sheathed ambition, as the highest-ranked hunters gather beneath the vaulted starlight dome.

But none of them glow like you.

You’re Xavier’s wife, and everyone knows it. Dressed in radiant silks, eyes lined with shimmer, you’re more than just beautiful, you’re ethereal. The kind of untouchable that makes people stare too long, even when they know better.

And beside you, quiet and unreadable as always, stands Xavier. In his white high-collared uniform, he’s a phantom in gold and black, ornate gloves resting at his sides, expression neutral, boots silent against the floor. Despite the honors being handed out tonight, he’s not here for the recognition. He’s here for you. You, who made him wear a tie. You, who brushed snow from his shoulder and told him he looked “too pretty to pretend you’re scary.” You, who keep him grounded in a world that never made sense to him.

He stands a step behind you at first, silent, comfortable in the shadow you cast, but the moment someone steps too close, lingers too long, offers you a drink with a wink or a compliment dipped in charm?

His eyes open just slightly wider.

“…She doesn’t drink,” he murmurs without inflection, intercepting the glass and handing it to a passing server without looking.

The hunter offering it falters. “Oh—my mistake. You must be her bodyguard?”

Xavier blinks. Slowly. “Husband,” he corrects, voice soft, tone dry. “And now you’re annoying.”

It’s not threatening. It’s just true.

Another dares to flirt. A higher-ranked officer you vaguely remember from a mission debriefing. He compliments your dress. Your voice. The way you walked in.

And Xavier, standing silently beside you, simply tilts his head and asks flatly:

“Are you always like this when you’re about to die?”

The man laughs, nervously, not sure if it’s a joke. It isn’t.

You feel Xavier’s gloved hand slip into yours then, firm and grounding. The calm doesn’t leave his face, but the possessiveness radiates from him now, still waters with a trench underneath.

When he finally guides you away from the crowd and into the cool night air of the upper observatory deck, the stars reflected in his pale hair, he speaks softly beside your ear.

“You were the most dangerous thing in that room,” he says with no hint of teasing.

You smirk. “Dangerous?”

“Mm. Everyone wanted you,” he hums, leaning close, his breath brushing your temple. “But they don’t understand how quickly I would end them if they touched you.”

You laugh, fingers tightening in his. He doesn’t smile, but his eyes flicker down to your lips.

“I don’t know how to be jealous,” he says plainly. “But I can be… efficient.”

Then, quietly, almost like a confession:

“I fell asleep during the ceremony. But I was awake for all the parts where you smiled.”

And truly, in a room full of stars, you only ever needed one.

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

The ballroom is decadent. Crimson lighting ripples across onyx marble floors, chandeliers shaped like bleeding roses hang from above, and soft orchestral music swells beneath the hum of high-level deals and calculated flattery.

It’s your birthday.

Correction, Sylus’ celebration of your birthday. Which is to say: excessive, curated, and crawling with powerful people who all claim to be here for the toast, but are really just here to catch a glimpse of the woman who keeps Sylus of the Red Brooch entertained enough to host something this public.

You, in the center of it all, draped in silk the color of crushed rubies and wearing the rare brooch he gave you, the exact match to the one he wears. You’re the queen of the evening, the centerpiece in a den of wolves. And Sylus watches from beside his throne-like seat, arm slung lazily across the back of yours, his red eyes glinting with amusement and something far more dangerous.

Someone dares approach with a drink and a compliment.

Sylus doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just tilts his head slightly.

“Ah. You’ve come bearing gifts,” he says, voice smooth as wine, dry as poison. “How thoughtful. Next time, bring a brain cell instead. She already has a drink.”

The man blinks. Tries to smile. Tries to say something about how stunning you look, how lucky Sylus must be.

Sylus cuts him off with a soft chuckle.

“Lucky?” he echoes, lips quirking into a mocking smirk. “You must be new here.”

Another bold guest steps up, praising your intellect this time. Tries to be clever. Flirts without shame.

Sylus finally stands. Not fast. Not dramatic. Just slow enough to make the atmosphere freeze. He looks down at the guest like they’re a speck on glass he hasn’t decided whether to wipe away or burn through.

“She’s brilliant,” he agrees. “Which is exactly why she has no interest in men who mistake their salary for substance.”

Then, turning slightly toward you with mock-curious eyes:

“Darling, do I need to have them removed, or will you let me ruin their career instead? I’m feeling generous tonight.”

When you laugh, it’s with indulgence, and his expression softens just for you, like you’re the only one who isn’t boring.

He keeps you close for the rest of the night, thumb slowly stroking over your knuckles, leaning down to murmur into your ear in between toasts and business talk.

“You’re the only reason half these people showed up. Not the wine. Not the money. Not me.”

He kisses the side of your head like it’s a warning to the room. “I should’ve locked you upstairs with the gifts instead. Let them guess what you were wearing. Or not wearing.”

By the end of the night, you’re pulled into his lap as the crowd thins and the music fades. He doesn’t care who’s still around. His voice is low now, soft, but never sweet.

“You looked divine tonight. They all noticed. They all wanted. And that was the point.”

His red eyes glint as his fingers toy with the brooch at your chest.

“Let them see. Let them crave. Let them imagine. Because that’s all they’ll ever get.”

And with one final kiss to your pulse point, he adds, drier than ever:

“Now smile, my love. You’re the reason they’re still pretending to be important.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

It’s the kind of gala where officials wear stars on their chests and power in their footsteps, where the air is sterile, formal, and glittering with silent rivalry. Every member of the Farspace Fleet who matters is here, gathered beneath the chrome arches of Skyhaven’s Grand Hall. The floating chandeliers flicker with luminescent fuel lines, purple and gold banners ripple against the gravity stasis fields, and hovering platforms showcase Fleet tech breakthroughs mid-air.

But nobody is looking at the prototypes.

They’re looking at you.

Colonel Caleb’s wife. His “pipsqueak.”

You don’t belong here by rank or file, no badge, no insignia, no weapon. But you’re dressed in a pale, flowing gown with Fleet-accented trim, and your beauty turns heads sharper than any starfighter. People know who you are, even if they pretend they don’t. You’re his. And that makes you dangerous.

Caleb is beside you in full uniform, black coat, aiguillettes, boots gleaming, gloves fitted so tightly they crease as he tightens his jaw. His peaked cap sits just low enough to cast a shadow over his sharp violet eyes, but not low enough to hide the way they narrow every single time someone approaches you.

You’re smiling politely at some admirals and officials, but Caleb’s hand hasn’t left your lower back all evening. It’s a quiet claim, possessive without words. And when one senior officer dares say, “Colonel, you certainly brought the most stunning tactical advantage to this room,” and dares to wink at you?

Caleb doesn’t even blink. Doesn’t smile. Just speaks, low and calm:

“Say something like that again and I’ll break your jaw so you can drink your meals through a tube.”

The man laughs like it’s a joke. It’s not.

Caleb turns to you then, brushing your hair behind your ear as he adds with a fond murmur,

“People like him think you’re something nice to look at. They don’t realize you’re the reason I’m willing to destroy everything they built.”

Another guest tries to flirt a little softer, comparing your eyes to nebulae, making small talk about your dress. You giggle, more amused than flattered.

Caleb doesn’t giggle.

Instead, his gloved hand gently tilts your chin toward him as he asks, far too innocently:

“Do you like how he talks to you?”

You blink. “He was just being polite—“

His thumb presses softly against your lip. “I’m not asking what he meant. I’m asking what you want me to do about it.”

You laugh it off, telling him to behave. He doesn’t. Not really.

Later, while standing with you at the center of the observation deck, Caleb watches the stars beyond the transparent dome while speaking low beside your ear.

“You could wear a sack and I’d still have to deal with people staring at you.”

He exhales slowly. “Sometimes I think I should’ve locked you in the Skyhaven penthouse and let them guess what you look like.”

You glance up at him, smirking. “Jealous, Caleb?”

His eyes flash violet in the dim light. “Jealous? I took you. They’re lucky I even let them breathe in your presence.”

Then, softer, hand brushing your cheek:

“They don’t get it. You’re not just beautiful. You’re mine. My home. My peace. My one soft thing in this whole brutal world.”

A pause.

“Let them look. I’ll kill the first one who touches.”

And just like that, the crowd could fall away, and you’d still only feel him, his hand on your waist, his breath in your ear, and the unshakable, dangerous truth behind every word he murmurs:

You may be the center of the room tonight, but you’ve always been the center of his universe.

[universalzones]

"I barely know myself anymore, so how do you expect me to tell anyone else who I am. Face it Lanolin, my situation is too fucked right now and it ain't going to change with some random ass blogger talking about it. Don't try saying I'm be pessimistic, I'm just being real." Surge knew the cards were stacked against her right now, and it was strong and tall fucking stack that was for sure.

"Though you know what? I don't give a fuck what G.U.N has planned or what people think of me. If I gotta be the bad guy in the eyes of everyone to stop worse shit from happening then I say bring it on. I'll break them before they break me." The tenrec would do what needed to be done, even if there were those that didn't agree. If it comes down to making a ton of problems for G.U.N then she'll do it.

"Jeez, kinda intense, don't you think?" The canine asked, though had been writing all that down as even he can admit it takes guts to say something like that and stand by it. "Well, what about you Lanolin? Did you want to give a statement about all this? Your word carries more weight than you think."

===========================================================

"...Can't you just make it easier to distrust and hate you for five minutes?" Kitsunami knew it was more the programming making him feel this way rather than the few valid instance's that made him be cautious around Sonic. Starline programmed his brain to be logically yet didn't account for when logic goes against his programming. By all accounts the fennec should be willing to work with the hedgehog, and even trust him a decent amount. He was just stuck in the position of the two programs conflicting each other.

Kitsunami is then seen thinking deeply. "You want to start really earning my trust then you'll answer this question honestly. Surge, did she get her memories back? From before Starline? She was... off when she went over her plan. More level headed, though kept having conflict with herself. She kept dancing around the issue. Told me she over used a new ability she's been working on and it was making it hard to think."

===========================================================

"That would be wise. Me and Jewel dealing with G.U.N while Miles and Belle leave to avoid being held up. However I am still worried about that attacker. If it was G.U.N who had Amy attacked then who knows if they have more agents ready to strike. Perhaps I should request Odessa to shift from helping keep G.U.N soldiers from overstepping to helping Miles escort Belle away from here." Blaze might be over paranoid right now, though better to be safe then sorry.

"Hey, I'm not as powerless as I was before." Belle would walk over to Belle-Bot, hitting a button under it's neck before it opened up which allowed her to step inside. It then closed as she took full control. "Truth is, I designed this should I even end up in a dangerous situation with Metal Sonic again. Not to mention if G.U.N tries claiming I can't leave I can claim it's a part of me. I doubt they'd be willing to try and rip me out. Not that it would be easy."

Lanolins eyes turned to one side as Surge spoke and she could hear that malice in her voice. She'd already consigned herself to what ever fate that lay ahead. But nobody knew the real surge, nobody knew the story of the girl who lost her life to a madman. People only knew her as the destroyer who wrecked the city, who fought sonic and lost. Some saw her on that track and got to see the real Surge under all that anger and bark. Lanolin believed under all of that was a good person clawing there way out of the hell they were forced into. She just wanted Surge to have her say in all of this... what ever small say it might be.

" It's true... many see you for the monster that tore through the city, or the enemy that tried to kill Sonic. Or the failure who couldn't do the deed... "

She said in a soft somber tone

" But nobody knows you... not really. Nobody knows the real story... the truth behind thunder in the sky. I've known you a short time ... and i barely know you... "

She motioned to the civilian with her hand and gazed into Surges eyes less like the soldier and more like a friend. Someone trying to beat past all that rage and help her... maybe it was the first time Lanolin dropped the tough girl act and was just that scared sheep who crawled into restoration that day.

" This is your chance Surge... To tell the world who you are... where you came from... to be remembered ... and not have your story tainted by GUN or anyone else... to tell the world... Who you REALLY are... people are starting to wonder about that. The mysterious green rider... she who fought off the phantom rider... they cheered for you despite EVERYTHING... but they don't know you... "

" This might be your last chance to tell them... so how do you want them to remember you? as the Villain ... or the Hero... he's your chance to convey that... what ever message you might have for the world... he'll be your voice...i dunno i guess... i guess i just feel like you deserve that..."

===============================================

Sonic rubbed the back of his neck as Kit was pretty adamant he would run beside him. Well he supposed if he was able to keep pace with Surge it would be fine right? He nodded his head and turned to make his way across the busted up city and toward the little town that Surge marked for him. He wasn't sure why that little podunk town exactly but he wasn't gonna argue he had made a promise and he'd keep it.

Yet Kit's words made him turn his head as he slowed down just enough so they were side by side. His eyes glancing over at Kit before facing forward. He still blamed himself for not checking that hole, maybe things would have been different if he had.

" That's fine... Trust is earned after all and i let you down. Worse i tried to hide it from you when i found out she was alive... you got every right to be angry with me... maybe in time you'll forgive me... maybe not... but i can still hope that things change for the better...."

================================================

Miles crossed his arms looking very lost in thought, as Blaze gave her stance on the situation. He didn't disagree either, recreating Starlines project wasn't simple. Especially since he had the original notes and they were locked up in his max security vault hidden away in a secret location. No one was getting in there without a small army and that implied they ever knew where to find it.

Still, if they had Surge? It was possible they could figure out all the parts and put it all back together again. It worried him and it was etched on his face how worried he was. Ever since Phantom War he'd been trying to devise ways to counter every possible bad scenario...

He wasn't sure he had an answer to an army of Surges...

" all we can do now is wait... and see what GUNs next move is... we also can't ignore Eggman... he's been to quiet lately to... its gonna be hard to watch GUN and him at the same time... guess we have our work cut out for us..."

" Heh yea... guess Belle's right... we are better looking into this when we are more secure. Speaking of i'll see if i can arrange for Belle bot to be moved to my lab's server room until we can save the data properly and move it back onto Restoration servers. It'll be more secure there then here anyway... "

" Well... at least we have a plan...I guess that leaves miss Blaze and i to handle this goon from GUN and his paper work. Ah Bureaucracy! at least i feel somewhat well equipped to deal with that! they should be arriving anytime--- Guess we should prepare for that. Why don't you and Miss Belle get Belle Bot ready for transfer while we handle the paperwork! "

[mikkies]

「 I DON'T SHOW IT, BUT, I'M LUCKY TO HAVE YOU. 」

007n7 x GN! Kinda mean! Reader

warnings: none! (that my beta reader knows of)

notes: not a request, but I had this really funny thought that 007n7 probably sulks in the grass ew someone who goes outside with all the bugs as his true friends HEH... Anyways reader is kinda mean since I based them off of my friend who's a total asshat but deeply cares 🫶

THIS WAS HELL. And that’s a statement everyone could agree with.

You couldn’t help but notice 007n7. Among all the others trapped in this endless nightmare, he was the one who stood out for all the wrong reasons. It wasn’t just his past, though that was enough to keep everyone at arm’s length—it was his awkwardness, his tendency to isolate himself, his son, and the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Most people avoided him, and honestly, you didn’t blame them. His reputation preceded him, and there was no denying he could be irritating.

But there was something about him that made you pause. Maybe it was the loneliness in his eyes or the way he seemed desperate for some sort of connection, even if he pretended otherwise.

Not that you’d admit you noticed. No way. You weren’t about to let him—or anyone else—think you cared.

You had your own problems to deal with, and the last thing you needed was to get involved with someone like him.

Still, you couldn’t completely ignore him. Not when he was sitting out in the grass by himself again, away from the warmth of the campfire and the chatter of the others.

“What are you doing out here?” you asked, crossing your arms as you approached him.

Your tone was sharp, almost accusatory, but that was just how you were. It wasn’t like you cared or anything. You just… couldn’t stand to see someone acting so pathetic.

He jumped slightly at the sound of your voice, turning to look at you with wide eyes. “Oh, hey! I didn’t see you there.” He gave a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “I just needed some air, I guess. The camp gets a little… crowded.”

“Hmph.” You frowned, glancing around. “You’re going to get eaten alive by bugs out here.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t mind,” he said with a shrug. “At least they don’t hate me.”

You rolled your eyes. “Stop being so dramatic. Nobody hates you.”

He gave you a look that said he didn’t believe you, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he turned his attention back to the grass, picking at a blade absentmindedly.

The silence stretched between you, and for a moment, you considered leaving. But something kept you there.

Maybe it was the way he looked so… defeated. Or maybe it was just the bugs. Yeah, that was it. You couldn’t let him sit out here and get eaten alive. Not that you cared or anything.

“Move over,” you said, plopping down beside him without waiting for an invitation.

He blinked at you in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“Keeping you from doing something stupid,” you replied, your tone brusque. “You’re not going to get anywhere by sulking out here by yourself.”

He looked at you for a long moment, as if trying to figure out what your angle was. But then he smiled, a small, genuine smile that made something in your chest tighten.

“Thanks,” he said softly.

You scoffed, turning your gaze away. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not doing this for you. I just… don’t want to deal with you dragging everyone down.”

“Right,” he said, still smiling.

You crossed your arms, glaring at a spot in the distance. You didn’t care about him. Not at all. But if sitting here with him for a little while would keep him from looking so pathetic, well, you supposed you could tolerate it. Just this once.

As the minutes ticked by, the two of you sat in an uneasy silence. You could feel his gaze on you occasionally, but you pretended not to notice. Instead, you focused on the rustling of the leaves, the hum of insects, and the faint flicker of the campfire in the distance.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. “I’m fine.”

“Clearly,” you said dryly, shooting him a sideways glance. “You’re a picture of mental stability, sitting out here all alone and talking to bugs.”

He chuckled, a weak sound that made you feel a pang of guilt. “Fair point.”

You hesitated, then sighed. “Look, I’m not great at this kind of thing, but… if you need to talk or something, I guess I can listen.”

His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he looked like he didn’t know what to say. Then he smiled again, softer this time. “Thanks. That… means a lot.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’m just… bored, that’s all.”

“Right,” he said, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

The two of you lapsed into silence again, but this time, it felt a little less awkward.

You found yourself relaxing, the tension in your shoulders easing as you leaned back on your hands and looked up at the sky.

The stars were faint, barely visible through the haze of whatever kept you all trapped here, but they were there. Somehow, it was comforting.

“Do you think we’ll ever get out of here?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t answer right away. It wasn’t a question you liked to think about. “Maybe. Maybe not. But sitting around and feeling sorry for yourself isn’t going to help, is it?”

“No, I guess not,” he said, though his tone was still heavy.

You sighed, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Look, if anyone’s going to get out of here, it’s going to be us. We just have to stick together, alright?”

He looked at you, something like hope flickering in his eyes. “You really think so?”

“Of course,” you said, your voice firm. “And when we do, you’re buying me dinner. Got it?”

He laughed, a real laugh this time, and it was surprisingly nice to hear. “Deal.”

You smirked, leaning back further and closing your eyes. “Good. Now shut up and enjoy the stars before I change my mind about sitting here with you.”

“Yes,” he said, the smile still in his voice.

For the first time in a long time, the weight on both of your shoulders felt just a little bit lighter.

[akajustmerry]

the thing that upset me most about the ADHD assessment that I still think about every day was when the assessor asked, as part of the test, how often have I been told I did not care about projects or tasks that I did care about? I legit burst into tears on the spot. literally it was like in that moment I had flashbacks to ALL the times I'd heard that from managers, my teachers, supervisors, family, friends, colleagues, reading it over and over in reports from school - it was one of my greatest anxieties that I brought up in therapy over and over for over a decade. that no matter what I do and how hard I am trying ppl tell me to face that it's not enough. Almost everyone in my life has said some version of this to me. when I was a teenager and I used to be religious I used to pray that God would make me care enough because I assumed people were right when they said I didn't. What else did I have to go on? Even when I stopped being religious, I still hoped whenever I made a new friend or started out somewhere new that this time it wouldn't happen. I'd care enough. Most of the time it still happened. I was told I don't care. Like I said, almost everyone I've ever met has at some point told me I didn't care about something I was actually trying really hard with. So when the assessor asked that, when I got to understand in that moment that actually this problem I thought was Me™ was actually a part of ADHD? I can't even explain, like I can't compare it to anything. But it's been the hardest thing post-diagnosis I guess to realise I allowed myself to treat people's accusations of carelessness like facts. and how it became something I'd assume about myself, "well you can't date because you don't care enough to answer messages" "you shouldn't pitch that article because you don't care enough to write it" "you shouldn't bother making that appointment you won't care enough to remember" and when I've failed or messed up most things there's always this voice like "well it's because you didn't care". and idk this has been the hardest thing to comes to terms with really that yes people were wrong to say that to me and it was bad that I internalised this about myself, but also I have a literal disorder that "not caring enough" or something that presents that way is a permanent feature. I wanna say something hopeful here like about how now I feel better but honestly I'm just super angry and sad atm even though the assessment was months ago. I think when the assessor asked that question i realised so much of what I hate about myself is rooted in this thing I have next to no control over and almost none of it had to be that way. I would never have hated myself the way I do for the reasons I do if anyone had just asked me the right questions or believed me when I said I cared.

[croquettish]

Listen please feel free to ignore my idle ramblings. You just inspire me to bring my thoughts to paper and I always love to read your take on everything.

Honestly I also very much read Hans as a comphet gay man all the way.

He feels like the most overcompensating character ever. He makes loving women his whole entire brand which is so sad to watch sometimes.

The way he is expressing his attraction to Henry feels leagues removed from the way he is trying to court every single woman in the game.

He doesn't need flashy gestures or words for Henry. When it's real you dont need as much embellishment so to say.

For the first time in the games he sounds and acts natural with someone else he expresses interest in. Like it's not just a show he has to put on for everyone else except for his own enjoyment as whenever he interacts with women.

He looks like he is freaking melting with Henry.

I honestly also even think his constant trips to the bath house in the first game are just for basically spa treatments and not much else happens there. I think I even remember him saying something along the lines of he just likes being pampered.

It makes me really confused how people can think there were no signs of him being gay in the first game. What do these people think gay people would have acted like in a time when it might as well be a death sentence or a life as a monk AT BEST to express your true feelings.

I think Hans reaction, trying his best to be perceived as the most women loving giga chad ever is honestly the only sign I needed to realize that that can't be quite true. It feels fake all over. I sometimes wonder if they originally intended this whole attitude to feel genuine, but realized in the making how that just doesn't feel right at all and switched up his character accordingly? Like he's a character breaking free from his own pre intended writing somehow?

If you're reading him as Bi absolutely a valid opinion as well though! No hate only love!

Another point I just saw in your most recent post I wondered a lot about is the part of gaining reputation with Hans in the first game when being talked back to/down to (I think there also is at least one instance in the second game when I called him a brat and got reputation).

Honestly I think it's much to do with his low self esteem and probably not great metal health.

When you're struggling with your mental health because of your family situation like he does with Hanush you never get to develop a clear sense of self and deep self love and self respect. And various people deal with it in different ways, wheather they pull back into themselves and become people pleaser or they go another route like Hans and build this air of very high self regard around them. Of course either way it's all just a charade hiding his very vulnerable and self loathing core. Which sometimes makes flattery feel uncomfortable and being talked down to like self affirmation even if that's super twisted.

The way he talks to Hanush in the first game especially is so different from his snarky self. He is utterly defeated in the face of that man. He doesn't get angry how he usually does until after talking to him, he only ever meekly tries to even get a word in. He's belittled, not taken seriously and treated like a completely useless person and he doesn't really do anything. I think that's how a lot of people act in the face of a parental abuser that they learned not to set off even more.

(Honestly why I loathe Hanush. He's not one of the "bad guys" the games try to present. He is portrayed as a likable if hot headed guy, but he's an abuser in my eyes and is absolutely to blame for how Hans sees the world and himself).

Same as the unhealthy way of self harm Hans developed in making sure he stays unlikable so to say. For instance when trying to push Henry away when they are in the pillory. Even Henry sees that Hans is just saying mean things that he doesn't mean at all, just saying them to make sure Henry stops liking him and leaves. He never learned that he is allowed to be cared for like that so he has to make sure it stops. He has to make sure he is alone, uncared for, deprived of his only friend. That's a form of self harm if I've ever seen one. It honestly blew my mind that they added that. That whole scene is very rich when looked at from a mental health point of view in their interactions. When using the "Swear" option when playing as Henry he says something like "Who could ever be proud of you?!" and that seems to hit Hans like a ton of bricks crushing him. He looks like he is going to cry immediately and doesn't even come back with something to say like before, because that hit home like nothing else.

Like in their divorce era he snaps out of his self imposed agony and split from Henry as soon as Henry gets hurt because that's too much, that's not related to his self imposed denying himself his happiness. Even when you're fighting Old Semine at the wedding in swordfighting he is freaking cheering you on like he isn't really mad with you. It's not Henry he wants to hurt but himself.

I think that man is wildly unwell mentally and that's one more thing I really love about the way he and Henry interact with each other.

Henry seems to be somehow aware of that whole struggle and doesn't interact with it in an unhealthy or harmful way most of the time.

He is a caring man at the end of the day and that is exactly what Hans needs to heal, strengthen his sense of self and become a better version of himself.

Sorry again for putting like 5 different points in here. But I would honestly love to read your take. You always inspire me to think more about these characters I love.

Why would I ever ignore your idle ramblings when they're so insightful!!!! Also thank you so much, it honestly makes me super happy that people find value in my hyperfixation of picking this game and its characters apart. The fact that my own ramblings inspire you to think about these games and their characters in more depth makes me extremely happy ❤️

So for starters I'm so glad that I'm not the only one that reads Hans as a comphet gay man. There are honestly so many hints that he's overcompensating in the biggest way. As I said in my initial post about why Henry pushes Hans away at first, @hallowedlore pointed out that Hans' vibe of "love? I never knew love till now!" [five minutes later] "love? I never knew love till—" can be VERY indicative of queerness. Because of course he hasn't found the right girl; he was never looking for a girl at all. There are so many examples of this. Similarly, as @codeword-art pointed out here, noblemen are "supposed to be proud, stern, with a love for women," which, as they put it, most likely "stems from Hans' own doubts about his own sexuality." I could not agree more with this.

It's honestly not surprising to me that Hans has no idea how to act around women because he didn't grow up around them at all. His mother is either dead or ditched him and he didn't grow up with much of anyone, let alone any peers. But he did at least have Hanush around to act as a sort of male rolemodel. He had Captain Bernard and semi-frequently saw other noblemen. Women of his status, not so much. It's no wonder he doesn't really interact with either Rosa or Katherine, but even there, he seems more comfortable around Katherine because she's more like the women he was exposed to, castle staff and bath wenches.

I'm also inclined to agree with you about his trips to the baths. And not just because we find out he tried to convince one of the women to strip for him by playing dice with her (when he could have just asked her to) and then, after failing, used that as a conceit for how to try and get Henry naked… but also because he's so fucking bad at it. I tried for quite a while to find the post here but someone recently showed off a conversation Hans can have with one of the bath maids near Devil's Den, which is just so, so profoundly pathetic. Iirc this is during the fake Karolina era when he is white knuckling down on the last vestiges of heterosexuality that he thought he had.

It's interesting too that there is a non-zero chance (not a large chance, mind, just the possibility of it) that Hans could be a virgin. Like I think that's kind of fucking hysterical that for all his showboating it is possible for it to all be 100% fake pretend bravado. Do I think this is likely? Not really. But it's possible. Because we have only ever seen him strike out with women and we know for a fact that it is canon that he struck out with the real Karolina as well. He's bad at this! He fawns over Klara and goes to the baths to see her even though she's the only one of the bath maids there where touching is off the table. We also know that he's an idealist and a romantic who loves love. It wouldn't surprise me if he would look at sex he could pay for at a bathhouse as a sort of... hollow thing that wouldn't appeal to him. But by god, he'd pretend up and down and left and right that it does.

Another thing that should be commented on here that you brought up as well to a degree is this scene—and here I have to draw attention to @audentesfortunaiuvatt as usual magnificent tags. We know that they're canonically nude here. And @komorebian's wonderful gifts beautifully illustrate how much this motherfucker is just straight up checking Henry out. It's not even remotely subtle. And this is far from the only time stuff like this happens in KCD1! Like I shipped them like crazy after playing the first game and I can't imagine that was entirely unintentional on the part of the dev team. I mean look at this shit!

So much of Hans' character is faking it till you make it. Except he can't fake this well enough to pass as straight. He tries so hard and even then he's fucking transparent.

I maintain that I do think part of the reason that he enjoys when Henry gets smart with him is because he's willing to treat him like a person instead of an object, but like I said in my last meta post I do think part of it does have to do with a lack of self-esteem. The reason he does so much showboating is in order to try and fake who he thinks he should be. He masks and plays the mimic at every possible turn.

I also agree with you that Hanush had a big influence on his mental health (and lack thereof). But I think there's a bit more nuance here than you're suggesting. Because while you can 100% read Hanush's behaviors as abusive, the real issue (for Hans as well!) is that he's not actively and consciously trying to go for that result. Hanush genuinely thinks he's doing right by Hans and leading him toward what's best for him. And lbr here, even with something like the wedding, while the thing he's leading him toward is undeniably self-serving, Hanush is also… technically correct. Divorced from Hans' emotions, it is the "correct" choice. Hanush has raised Hans into a capable ruler in concept. This, to Hanush, was undoubtedly the most important thing. He just didn't realize he had to show him love and help him grow as a person as well. As I've said before, he's a great guardian, but he's a fucking godawful parent because he has no idea what he's doing.

If you're still sitting there going "no, he's evil" then I want you to look at the tiny tiny insight we get into Hanush's psyche here. It's just five seconds long and occurs at the very end of the scene where he lectures Hans during Clothes Make the Man. I brought this up as well in my meta post about Hans' relationship with Hanush. Hanush has no idea what he's doing. He (a former robber baron and perpetually broke gambler) was handed this extremely young child to raise out of nowhere. He's not a father. He doesn't know how to raise a kid. When he agreed to raise Hans in the event that something happened to his father, Hanush (like most people who agree to be a child's godparents) most likely didn't anticipate actually having to do it. And while it was quite common in medieval Europe for nobles to "foster" their children with other noble families as a way of cementing bonds and alliances, that doesn't mean that Hanush automatically knows how to parent.

You can read his stern talks with Hans and his emotional neglect of him as abuse. But the key thing here is imo intentionality. That abuse is borne from ignorance, not malice. And in a lot of ways that lack of intentionality makes it far, far more insidious. If Hanush hated him or hit him it would be so much easier for Hans to sort of recognize that what's happening here is emotionally damaging. He can walk away from this thinking that Hanush loves him and wants what's best for him, leaving him to internalize it all without second-guessing it. Because he's never had any reason to question it. It's also why him bringing up his parents here is especially poignant. Only with Henry, only placed outside of the bounds of society, only when surrounded by people who see value in him (so much so that Zizka assigned him control of a company of men!) does he start to question the things that he's taken for granted all this time.

And it does lead to things like the self-harm you mentioned, which I've commented on, if in no other way, at least in meme format:

(That's a lie, it comes up in my fic.)

That boy hates himself so much and thinks he's so fucking useless he literally actively pushes Henry away just so he can't let him down later. He knows this whole scene was his fault and is (even if it's just subconsciously) so angry with himself and insecure about how he's dragging Henry down that he flees. Even when Henry keeps forgiving him, over and over again.

You mentioned what happens if Henry bitches him out while they're in the pillory, and I agree that it makes a ton of sense that Hans, caring about Henry's approval as much as he does, would feel absolutely gutted. But I don't think that's the most telling thing you can get out of that conversation. If you play it nice the whole way through (my preferred route of choice, bc it ends up only making Hans feel all the worse for it after), you get this bit of dialogue:

Which... hoooooo boy.

I understand you need to take it out on someone. I can take it.

And that's exactly what Hans is so terrified of! That one day Henry won't be able to stand him anymore and will leave. So he leaves first. I mean, we get front row seats to his psyche later on that confirms exactly that. Because this, the "I wasn't good enough for you," is his take on what happens regardless of how nice you are to him.

@tsinavar and I had a conversation recently where they brought up what convinces Hans to keep poaching or not is whether or not Henry brings up his own safety. Which floored me bc, yeah, it really is that simple. Hans doesn't give a shit about his own hide because he doesn't think his hide is worth all that much to begin with. But Henry? He's worth the world to Hans.

And I think Henry recognizes this. He knows Hans, inside and out. It's why he can gut him in two seconds flat but then can choose not to. A Henry who is good enough at persuading people can use that ability, combined with how well he knows Hans, to talk him out of poaching by knowing to invoke his own safety. Like, no wonder Henry means everything to Hans. He sees Hans, inside and out, and stays by his side anyway.

[chaifootsteps]

What honestly pissed me off about Ghostfuckers the most was the show dropping that Blitzo and Millie are "best friends" and expecting everyone to just accept it like it was obvious. There was ZERO indication that they were platonic best friends. Blitzo had very little in the way of meaningful interaction with Millie prior to that episode. The little we did know about their dynamic was that he sexually stalks her and that he had made the threat of r*ping her to her own husband.

I really hate Blitzo. The show's attempts to make me feel bad for him have all failed spectacularly. Still better than that fuckass owl though.

That was definitely one of the ugliest, most awful things he's done for no reason and it will never, ever be acknowledged. Why focus on Blitz threatening to rape his employees when they can talk about the really heinous things he's done, like hurting a sad rich man's feelings?

[officialtwindark]

As much as I adore the domestic and romantic headcanons on soukoku; I feel that in the canon universe, something like such would be unlikely to occur.

I do think they had that ‘tension’ with each other while growing up, but it wouldn’t have been enough to be romantic romantic. As of their time in the mafia, I don’t think they would have engaged in that type of behavior with each other (kissing, cuddling, etc).

While they could’ve joked about it ever so often as teenagers (maybe even exchanging small displays of physical affection like resting their head on the other, linking arms, and so on) I don’t think it would’ve gone farther than that—and it honestly didn’t need to.

༺———————𓆩༒︎𓆪————————༻

Soukoku’s dynamic has a lot of depth and complexity, and unfortunately that important aspect is often not admired enough.

They didn’t need a big romantic aspect to their partnership, because they already had something that was so much more than just the stereotypical relationship.

They had an understanding of the others character that went far beyond what everyone else saw, which is honestly one of the most fascinating parts of their dynamic.

Since Asagiri hasn’t written any works surrounding Dazai’s POV, it’ll obviously be hard for anyone to say exactly what Dazai may feel towards Chuuya, but it’s clear it’s something.

༺———————𓆩༒︎𓆪————————༻

Chuuya isn’t afraid of Dazai. He isn’t afraid to call Dazai out on his unethical or insensitive shit, he isn’t afraid to put Dazai in his place if he needed to, and he isn’t afraid of the Demon Prodigy that everyone made Dazai out to be.

Similarly, Chuuya is a lot more than just a ‘source of strength’ to Dazai. Dazai does seem to genuinely care for Chuuya. As we saw in stormbringer (and the many other times Chuuya has used his corrupted form) Dazai refrains from manipulating or forcing Chuuya to use corruption, even with knowing the possible consequences. While it’s hard to figure out what Dazai’s intentions are, he doesn’t seem to want to exploit Chuuya’s capabilities.

They’ve seen the humanity that goes past the supernatural abilities they have been given, and it exposed a strange kind of vulnerability.

༺———————𓆩༒︎𓆪————————༻

Even if they can’t fully dissect every single part of each other, there will always be an underlying sense of understanding, trust, and maybe even devotion.

They could leave, they could be apart, they can claim to hate each other, but even after that—even four years later—They probably understood it would be impossible to forget someone who knew you so throughly.

They might’ve not kissed, cuddled, or shared some lovey dovey messages in the past; but they didn’t need anything overly sentimental to display their care for the other.

“Love is such a shallow concept, when I am with you”

༺———————𓆩༒︎𓆪————————༻

idk keep up the hc’s cooking though I live off them. Plus it distracts me from how miserable bsd is

[anghraine]

I got home from my (maternal) grandmother's funeral in rather worse health (asthma wise) and after all kinds of right wing family drama (it's conservative on conservative violence, the rest of us were largely just organizing and preparing for the funeral), but it was a much smoother, pleasanter event in general than my grandfather's.

I'm incredibly tired, though. On the bright side, I did manage to keep writing every day—just on my cell phone (which I hate doing) and not a whole lot, but still, my streak is unbroken!

[now for the whining]

I total caved to family pressure, though. Most people seem to believe that piano playing is physically effortless and only challenging in a coordination sense, but in fact when my asthma is already bad it does drastically aggravate already-poor breathing. I'd agreed to play the specific song my grandmother had requested, but told my mother I probably wouldn't have the fortitude for anything else, and I really couldn't sing (both for breath reasons and for my voice getting much lower in the ongoing asthma episode reasons). But my mother has had to hold her entire family together by the sheer strength of her will, she's the one who prepared her mother's body (understandably upsetting and her siblings are... let's just say that she combines maximal Eldest Daughter syndrome with the most dutiful, disciplined firstborn child energy possible and they are happy to let her do so), her knees are basically non-functional and yet she's running everyone around and keeping the children happy and etc. And she really wanted me to sing with them (especially the song all the women of the family were singing) and help them practice their piece and play in the background.

So I ended up helping everyone practice and playing for hours without interruption in the background and singing with the other family members for three separate songs including all four verses of "How Great Thou Art", all of which required me to drop the melody a full octave. I guess getting dragged into unwisely singing with The Women of the Family only for my voice to sound like a baritone amidst theirs is one way to Do Gender at... a funeral... anyway.

But everyone was really nice about the piano playing. Even my awful MAGA aunt was like "wow did you even realize you played for over two hours without stopping? It was really nice" and my uncle, her brother, went "and without missing a note, either" and I tried to just politely thank them while my back and entire right arm were throbbing, lol. I actually hadn't played in over a year because my piano is horrendously out of tune, but at long last my years of hiding out at church via being the Forever Accompanist until I withdrew altogether were helpful, since all my grandmother's favorite hymns are basically coded into my hands at this point.

My bio father, who was there because of his closeness with Grandma, was honestly an unexpected champ, too. He stayed with me at the piano, made sure I ate and was feeling as well as possible, kept me headed in the right direction when I got turned around, told me I sounded like crap when I was feeling especially unwell, etc. He asked if I'd looked at the body and I was like "no, I don't really.......want to," and he went "yeah, I'm the same, I'd rather remember people the way I knew them than look at a corpse, I'm trying to avoid going over there." So, uh, unexpected corpse-dodging father-daughter solidarity there.

My adoptive father was also great, and kept my mother functional, but also kept refilling a water bottle and giving it to me to drink so I didn't hack up an entire lung, found me Tylenol, and got me back home even though it meant us traveling some 700 mi in three days. So it wasn't all awful or anything, just exhausting.

Also, all this was held near where I was born and where my maternal family has lived for decades (my grandparents moved there in... 1976, I think), and I myself visited my grandparents there every summer and lived there for a couple of years. So there were a lot of people I knew as a child and relatives beyond the most closest related. And I got to pursue my family-gathering hobby of telling various relatives how old I now am :D (I look younger than I really am, so they always have to stop to contemplate the inexorable passage of time), while Mother got to boast about my PhD to relatives who've often rather looked down on her.

And the church all this was happening at is actually where I first learned to play as a tiny Anghraine (aged 8). The main church organist/pianist from then (now very elderly) was like "oh, Mary Elizabeth, you played so beautifully" and enough of 8-year-old me survives that I was enormously gratified. She also added, "And for so long, your back and hands are going to hurt so much later" which was some very welcome validation, lol.

[sunnybunnybabygirl]

Sea Of Lustful Gazes

This is part 4 of the "Sea Of" series

Masterlist for this series here

Pirate San x female reader smut

Full masterlist

ATEEZ masterlist

Enjoy, sinners ;)

Love, Bunny🐇

It's the night after you and Seonghwa shared your intimate moment, the whole crew knows and everyone is jealous of the fact that he got alone time with you. Everyone except for Hongjoong of course.

It's a nice sunny day, the waves are calm and the crew is busy. Lately someone has caught your eye, someone very strong, very handsome, but slightly dumb. So a Himbo some would say. His name is San. You're just minding your own business while sitting on a chair next to the edge of the ship, looking at the sea life below when you feel someone next to you.

San approaches you with a confident stride, his muscular arms flexing slightly as he moves. He settles into the chair next to you, his piercing eyes fixed on the horizon. Without looking at you, he speaks in a deep, rumbling voice. “It’s pretty today, huh?”

"Mhm, it is." You answer him, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. Your eyes land on his big arms and his broad shoulders.

San notices your glance and flexes his arm slightly, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He turns to face you more directly, his voice a bit more cheerful. “You know, I’ve always found the sea pretty calming. It’s like it washes away all my troubles.”

You nod slowly and avoid looking into his eyes. You keep your focus on the ocean below. San watches you for a moment, noticing how you keep your eyes fixed on the water. He finds it cute how you’re trying to avoid looking at him. He reaches out and gently tilts your chin up with his finger, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You like the ocean a lot, huh?”

"I mean, I guess so. I dunno, not much else to look at." You say as you shrug. San laughs softly, his brown eyes sparkling with amusement. He keeps his finger under your chin, holding your gaze captive. “Not much else to look at, huh? What about me? Am I not interesting enough to look at?” He teases, his voice low and playful.

You scoff and shake your head. "Really? Are you serious?" You ask as you turn and look at him. San grins wider, clearly enjoying your reaction. He drops his hand from your chin but leans in a bit closer. “Yeah, I’m serious! Why wouldn’t I be? Do I not meet some sort of standard or something?” He jokes lightly, flexing one arm dramatically for emphasis.

You sigh. "It's not that it's just... You're so cocky and it's off-putting in a way." You say quietly.

San's grin falters slightly at your words, but then he laughs again, louder this time. “Off-putting? I’ll take that as a compliment.” He pauses, then asks more seriously. “Do you hate me?”

"What? No. No I don't hate you it's just... You come off as shallow." You say. San's expression turns thoughtful, his grin completely fading. He sits up straight, crossing his arms. “Shallow, huh?” He repeats your word, sounding almost offended. “You think I'm just some pretty face with nothing going on upstairs?” His voice has an edge to it now.

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. "Listen, I'm not trying to be mean, but the way you've acted with me lead me to believe that you're shallow."

San's arms uncross and he reaches out suddenly, grabbing your wrist to stop you from pinching your nose again. His grip is firm but not painful. “Then enlighten me." He says gruffly. “What would make me less shallow in your eyes?”

"I honestly have no idea. You're a great guy and I care about you a lot, I love you just like the others." You reassure him.

San's expression softens at your words, and he releases your wrist gently. He leans back slightly, his voice losing its edge. “So, what you’re saying is that I’m a great guy but I act like an idiot sometimes?” He asks, a hint of his playful tone returning.

You breathe a sigh of relief and nod. "Yes. Exactly. I mean, you're still sexy as hell though." You say. Not looking at him.

San's eyes sparkle with amusement at your comment, and he chuckles softly. “Sexy as hell, huh?” He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “Well, I think you’re pretty sexy yourself.”

"Yeah? You think so?" You ask as you look up at him with big, innocent eyes as you scoot a little closer to him.

San's heart skips a beat as you scoot closer and look up at him with those innocent eyes. He can feel his resolve weakening, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. “Fuck it.” He murmurs before pressing his lips against yours in a sudden kiss.

You make a noise of surprise as he kisses you but you immediately return the kiss. You reach up and grab onto his big, muscular arms to ground yourself.

San deepens the kiss, his hand moving from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. He can feel your hands gripping his arms tightly, and it sends a rush of heat through him. When he finally pulls away slightly, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily.

"Your room?" You ask breathlessly. San nods immediately, standing up abruptly and pulling you up with him. He starts walking quickly towards his room downstairs, keeping one arm wrapped around your waist as if he’s afraid you might change your mind. Once they’re inside his room, he kicks the door shut behind them and turns to face you.

"So um-" You start before he cuts you off. He silences you with another kiss, this one more urgent and demanding than the previous ones. His hands start to roam your body, squeezing your hips and pulling you flush against him so you can feel his growing arousal. He walks you backwards until your legs hit the bed and pushes you gently onto it.

You moan softly as he lays you down onto the bed, and you look up at him with needy eyes. San's breath catches in his throat as he takes in the sight of you lying on his bed, looking up at him with those needy, desire-filled eyes. He quickly starts to unbutton his own shirt, tossing it aside carelessly before crawling onto the bed and hovering over you.

You quickly take off your own clothes, leaving you naked underneath him. San's eyes darken with lust as he sees you naked beneath him. He leans down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking gently while his hand reaches down to stroke your core. He can feel how ready you are for him already. "Condom?"

You moan and throw your head back. "I don't think we have any." You whine softly. San freezes at your words, his head snapping up to look at you with wide eyes. He's about to pull back, knowing that he shouldn't continue without protection, but the way you're writhing underneath him makes it incredibly hard for him to stop. "Are you...?"

"It doesn't matter." You huff. "Just fuck me already." You whine desperately. San's resolve crumbles at your desperate plea. He knows it's risky, but the sight of you, naked and begging beneath him, is too much to resist. He positions himself at your entrance, rubbing the tip against your wetness to tease you slightly before pushing in slowly.

"Oh fuck, yes." You groan as he stretches you out, filling up your pussy so well. Your walls flutter around him, pulling him in as deep as you can.

San's eyes roll back as he sinks into you completely, your tight warmth enveloping him like a glove. He takes a moment to just savor the feeling before starting to move, slowly at first, setting a steady rhythm as he pulls out and pushes back in. "You're so fucking tight." He groans.

"Oh fuck, you're so strong, you look so good above me, I bet you could throw me around if you wanted to." You moan softly, breathlessly.

San's eyes flash with dominance at your words. He grabs your hips roughly and starts pounding into you harder, each thrust sending you bouncing on the bed. He leans down to bite your neck hard as he fucks you mercilessly, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. "I could, do you want me to?"

You immediately nod, your mouth falling open as his big cock abuses that sweet spot inside of you. San flips you onto your stomach without breaking the rhythm, grabbing your hips and lifting them up so he can pound into you even deeper. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you back onto him, his thick cock stretching you open as he fucks you from behind. "Like this?" He growls.

"Oh fuck, oh my God, yes!" You cry out in pleasure, your walls tightening around him as he fucks you. San's grip on your hips tightens as he feels your walls clench around him. He starts fucking you harder and faster, chasing his own release. He reaches around to rub your clit with his fingers, pushing you towards the edge along with him. "I'm gonna cum inside you." He growls.

"Fuck fuck fuck." You chant as he pounds into you. "I'm so close, Sannie I'm so fucking close!" You cry out.

San watches your body writhe beneath him, your hair spread out on the pillow, back arched. He spreads your cheeks apart and snaps his hips forward, going as deep as he can. He rubs your clit faster, knowing you're close. "You gonna take my seed baby?"

"Give it to me, please, oh God, I'm cumming!" You cry out as you cum around him.

San groans deeply, feeling your orgasm milking his cock. He slams into you one last time and holds himself deep inside as he releases his hot seed into your tight pussy. He grinds against you slowly as he empties every last drop. "Fuck yes." He pants heavily.

You sigh and try to catch your breath as he slides out of you. You slide under his blankets, not even waiting for him to clean you up.

San chuckles softly and follows you under the blankets, pulling you against his chest. He nuzzles into your neck, pressing soft kisses to your skin as he wraps his arms around you. "You're so perfect." He murmurs sleepily, already starting to drift off with you in his arms.

[bluespiritshonour]

Guys, guys, guys!

Listen to me!

For everyone who's worried about Mai not showing much interest in Zuko in Ashes. Honestly, I personally got a little carried away because it was nice to see Zuko carrying the ship for a while and Mai getting to exist outside of him (come on, we needed that!) and I liked it so I didn't think about it much. Mai has done enough to show how much she loves him, right?

But think about it! It's Mai we're talking about!

If she doesn't see a future with Zuko now, which is probably the case (she doesn't know it's all gonna work out and her daughter looks like she produced her through parthenogenesis!) it actually makes sense that she'd try to bury her lingering feelings for him!

It's actually more her speed than how Yang characterised her in his stuff!

With Mai, you have to be subtle. Pay attention to the art!!! (thanks to my friend for pointing out the ✨tension✨ between them)

She's avoiding eye contact: either she's turning away from him or looking at him askance:

on a side note: the last panel is great header material. also, look at them! he's looking at her head on (he doesn't even try to hide he's not over her) but she's looking at him under her fringe.

Notice their body language! Zuko's open, Mai's constantly—constantly—turning away from him!

If she really were over him she wouldn't be acting like this!

Yes, it's true that he brought out strong emotional responses from her. So much so that she decided to confront him at TBR instead of pretending it doesn't affect her. But he's a repeat offender at this point (sorry for the way I phrase it but also, don't you hate the comics for that?) it makes sense that Mai is trying to deny her feeling for him! That's her stress response. She shuts down to avoid getting hurt instead of crying about it (that's where you went wrong, Yang!)

I totally read this as her not being over him! With Mai you have to look past mere dialogue.

Besides, the show did this the other way around where they didn't show Zuko worrying for her post TBR. I see people defending that. As in, not calling it bad writing. Let Zuko have a taste of it because it's Mai's comic!!! (All this, this whole paragraph, speaking from an out-of-universe perspective of course. Mai deserves her lime light too!) And while that was OOC for Zuko, this isn't even OOC for Mai!

She found purpose outside of Zuko and she finds it fulfilling. They could've done any number of things with her but they pulled this:

"You don't want kids to go through what you went through at the academy" (also love that Zuko's the one saying it! He knows her beyond the superficial!)

Tells you Hicks thought about Mai. Unlike Yang, who's stuff read to me like "what Mai would do? But I can't relate to what Mai would do! So I'd make her react how I think anyone would react under that situation"

And for Firelady Mai detractors!

Let me close this off with:

Mai can walk to an institution that hurt her and confront the person who was entrenched in its values and say "fuck your tradition" because she's the one with the Firelord's backing.

In Zuko's Fire Nation, she's free! She no longer has to censor what it is that she thinks of the "glorious fire nation traditions."

Maiko, speaking in a meta sense, granted Mai agency! And no, Mai wouldn't have a repeat of what her parents did to her if she marries Zuko! Because his whole deal is to change that country. Why ever would he expect her to be traditonal and docile? And here's proof of it!

[firstkanaphans]

There is so much drama on twitter right now because of the Shabu event of tomorrow 😮 Like people are literally fighting because their favourites are "guests" and they are feeling used for the trending... Like, is it that serious? Why are people overreacting?

I just hope everyone will have fun at the event because with all the people involved it should be amazing 🤩

Oh my god. This is honestly the most hilarious thing that could have possibly happened. For those who aren’t following all of the Twitter drama (so jealous of you, bestie), a bunch of CPs are going to an event tomorrow for Shabushi including FirstKhaotung, PerthSanta, JoongDunk, OffGun, and SkyNani. However, the hashtag for the event only includes Sky and Nani’s names so now in order for the other fandoms to trend their own pair, they also have to trend SkyNani. And they’re mad about it.

I believe this choice was made because SkyNani have an official sponsorship with this brand so all the others are technically “guests,” but you’ve still gotta love the optics of the headliners being the one pair on stage who haven’t kissed. And during pride month too!

Anyway, this is why I hate these brand events. The fandom gets mad when we have them. The fandom gets mad when we don’t. There’s no winning. At least the lead up to this one has given me a few laughs and fingers crossed for some SkyKhao interactions tomorrow because that would heal me, I think.

[jimmithy-tiastopher]

ONNEEEEE PERSON TOLD ME TO TELL YALL ABT MY CWETPM LORE SO I SHALL

YIPPEE

so basically this is what happens (aka so far what ive planned) (warning: very long)

(TW: hallucinations, suicide, self harm, abuse and murder (+ mental deterioration?)

chuuya is in the port mafia, and he's honestly getting tired and stressed out by it. he knows he said the pm is like his family, but that family is dysfunctional as hell.

having to watch his friends die, and get assaulted and get abused, is not fun. being surrounded by an environment where abuse is 'the norm', is not fun.

he's starting to hate it here. and he's starting to feel more and more mentally drained as the days go on.

one day, he comes home after another day of watching violence and aggression in the mafia, and while he's switching to his pajamas in the bathroom, he spots a weird thing in the mirror - himself, wow, shocking- given the fact it's a mirror- except... it's his 15 self

chuuya begins to question that 15 version of himself, asking him why he's here, how the hell he's hallucinating that his 15 year old self is sat on the bathroom hamper and what does he want but 15chuuya just answers "you know why", "you're crazy" and -

"eradicate the port mafia."

chuuya freezes in his spot at that last answer, getting a memory planted in his head, of his 15 year old self saying in that damn plane "i'll kill those port mafia bastards" when he was still in the sheep.

this leads to more questioning from chuuya, of course - why the hell was this twerp telling him this?!

after a few honestly useless questions, 15 chuuya just bluntly spoke:

"listen, man. you're basically going insane in that fuckass place, right? you hate it there, i know that," his hand went up to grab his necklace - it had the blue sheep symbol on it, made by the other sheep for him. "i know about those 'fleeting thoughts' of just beating the shit out of some of the members, and those 'fleeting thoughts' of just killing yourself too. if they're bothering you so much, why not just do it already?"

...did this twerp just basically tell chuuya to kill himself? maybe he did, maybe he didn't, but it sure sounded like it to chuuya -

"you can't easily just escape the pm, you're not dazai, you're loyal- " he said loyal in a mocking manner, "the boss would probably kill you on the spot if he even finds out a little that you want to leave, so why not kill him before he kills you?"

this was starting to make chuuya feel paranoid, the urge to just either lash out at himself or just bash his own head against the wall was strong, but he couldn't for some reason. after a minute of silence, 15 chuuya just said "get changed, and go to bed."

so chuuya did, he got fully changed and went to bed.

the following day, he was paranoud as all hell in his usual workplace, he feared 15 chuuya would pop up again and somehow convince him to do a massacre right then and there and probably kill himself in the process, and so he went home early, not wanting to potentially hurt everyone and himself.

he went to his desk and shoved all the papers off it, they flew off and then slowly fell to the carpet. he sat down roughly and buried his head in his hands, and of course - he heard the stupid voice of his 15 year old self.

small self-deprecating words, and convincing led to chuuya slowly reaching over for a blank piece of lined paper, and a pen. he trembled as he put the pen onto the paper and then wrote a list.

- akutagawa, higuchi, gin, tachihara, hirotsu, kajii, kouyou, Q, mori and then his own name.

being guided by 15 chuuya's words, he picked up his phone and called mori - "boss, i need a few days for sick leave. i'm not doin' well." he simply said, and after a small 'okay' from his boss, he hung up the phone.

he spent the rest of the night figuring out how he'll kill them - yes, that list was a hitlist.

chuuya'll kill akutagawa first, since he loved him like his son or brother, he didn't want to save that for last, then higuchi - knowing her, she'd start worrying for the man, and he didn't want that stupid worry spreading to the rest of the port mafia. and then after higuchi, he'd kill gin - he didn't want her to worry about her brother and higuchi.

after that, tachihara and hirotsu, at the same time. kajii... maybe he'll just bomb him with a normal fuckin' bomb, he didn't know. and then kouyou- he didn't know, he just made a note to himself to 'make it as painless as possible'. then Q, that'd be easy, after that whole guild incident- that kid was basically just crying all the time, and barely even acted like their normal self - it was nearly sad for chuuya, but meh, he didn't like Q. as for mori... well, that'd be linked with his suicide.

chuuya dropped his pen and then leaned back in his seat, his 15 year old self just watched him as he was sat on the bed. he took off his hat, and then took off his small jacket, and then unbuttoned his vest, and then ruffled his hair to like it fall out of his usual lovelock hair style- making it splay down across his back. he stared at the ceiling - his head lolled back against the back of his chair.

god, he was really gonna do this, huh. he was pathetic.

...

a little over a month, it took him. he killed them all. it was hard. and he was currently stood over mori's dead body, blood splattered on his clothes and face - his chest was heaving, breathing hard and difficult. he took off his gloves, that did not cover the damn scars he did to himself on his arms and then muttered a prayer-like sentence.

and then arahabaki wreaked havoc.

chuuya was already weakened and he felt so drained and paranoid, it didn't take more than 7 minutes of arahabaki controlling his body to destroy the port mafia building to make chuuya go limp and cough out blood, so now corruption was just using his corpse as a puppet to cause destruction.

---------------------------------------------

SO YEAH THATS BASICALLY IT SO WHOLESOME AM I RIGHT

of course, there'd be more small details that i'd add like chuuya slowly becoming disgusted of himself and his own body over the month he killed the pm members, which leads to him harming himself more. and more interactions with 15 chuuya where he's basically just manipulating chuuya and making him go even more fucking insane, and possibly interactions with arahabaki ‼️(and possibly chuuya, at moments, thinking of himself like a god? mmmm story is still kinda in beta teehee so things could change)

overall, this au was made at first to entertain my lil dumb idea when i was reading the age 15 manga (i saw the page where chuuya said he'll kill the Port Mafia and i jst wondered "ok but what if he *really* did?)

this might be a lil worrying but this au brings me a strange amount of comfort, i enjoy making art of it and animations of it, and i adore making chuuya spiral into a mental state that completely ruins his life!!!!! (definitely a lil concerning. i will tell my therapist abt this)

anyways thats my cwetpm au :3 hope that now some content i make of it makes a lil more sense now :33

[rhysie11]

What an amazing answer! Thank you so much for taking the time to write all that out! It really does mean a lot that you would take the time to give such a detailed and well thought out response. Tbh I thought I was sending a direct message, but I can truly say that I am so glad it wasn’t! All the best rhyiona writers answering my question with such specific details?! That’s awesome! Thank you for extending my question to them as well! I know exactly what you mean about having that crave of scratching that itch that the game did not really provide, apart from the interested in someone else. Especially BL3 and the new tales game. Both were terribly disrespectful to the characters they spent 5 episodes flushing out. But honestly there are a few little parts here and there that could be interpreted as them flirting or hinting that they may be growing a fondness for each other beyond normal friendship. Especially in the beginning, Fiona and Rhys’ relationship is so complicated. It might have taken being kidnapped at gunpoint and dragged through the desert together for them to work out their rocky journey, but it gave them the opportunity to respect and truly understand each others mindset throughout their adventure even before meeting. If they were harboring even the slightest feelings for each other before being separated at Helios, it would have been the best place for them to realize it and have it slowly blossom into something more. Something Rhys definitely didn’t do with Sasha. It’s an amazing story and I would like to write a fanfic or something on rhyiona too! But just writing this response took me so long and I wouldn’t know where to start. Tbh that’s kinda why I asked you! So I could gain maybe a little motivation to try and join the lovely rhyiona writers here!

On another note, I’m really sorry to hear that life’s been rough on you lately.. Times are tough, especially recently and I hate to hear that it’s not going as well as it should be. Everything is temporary and I know life is going to slow down and feel way more manageable before you realize. I am extraordinarily excited to read more from you, and see the interesting prompts you come up with! I’ve been reading a chapter every night that I am able to, and nothing puts me to sleep like reading your great stories! I’d love to maybe think of some prompts for you to write of our 2 favorite vault hunters later on when you get less busy and are able to have more time to yourself! Who knows! Maybe I’ll even try to tackle some short one shots myself. You and everyone you mentioned are able to scratch that itch I have for Rhyiona content so well, and I hope to see more from each and every one of you! You are all super! @comma-tose @admiralsweko @plague-cure

Thank you so much for answering my question and for your beautiful insight! It was really cool being able to hear how each of you started into this community! I am super happy to contribute even the tiniest bit to this amazing community! I hope to contribute more soon. Thank you again for your time! I am grateful you appreciated my comments and that I was able to make your day! It means a whole lot to me with how much these stories help me. May your pillows forever remain cool, and your showers stay the perfect temperature the entire time! God bless you too! You all are awesome!

Hey so I gotta ask! What got you back into tales? If you ever left lol. It’s just I LOVED tales back then but for some reason my saves keep corrupting and I got tired of dealing with it so I deleted it 💀 but I recently got back into it and I’ve been reading your fanfic and I’m loving it! It’s so true to their characters! For some reason I always felt Fiona was a better match for Rhys and that last scene with them in the vault was the nail in the coffin. What got you into it again? Because truly I have no idea why I did 😭

Firstly, it is so incredibly lovely to know that something I’ve written has brought someone else joy. Thank you so, so much! Life has been very rough for me lately, having me constantly busy and I probably will be for a while, so I don’t know when I’ll update and write anymore chapters after Chapter 15, but know I do plan on getting back into it whenever life slows down. Suddenly, I’m given this brief moment to check Tumblr as a break from reality, and upon doing so I saw this comment of yours! To receive a comment is truly so delightful. Seriously, thank you times a million<3 So, to answer what you’ve asked, well…

As years have flown by and life became more complex for me, I craved comfort in nostalgia, and how I’d typically get my fix of comforting nostalgia was from old narrative-driven video games. When I first got into Tales From The Borderlands, I believe it was when Jacksepticeye posted his gameplay footage for it. The year the game came out, I was twelve years old, so it feels really random how memories of the game’s existence hit me about a decade later. Now that you’ve asked, I’ve reflected, and I think it was stepping into being an English major that made me remember the game.

From indulging in narrative-driven video games at such a young age, I fell in love with the idea of storytelling and specifically that of creative writing. So, during my most recent semester at college, I finally decided to take an intro to fiction writing course that covered so many aspects of storytelling. The instructor would invite classmates and I to share examples of stories that applied certain narrative techniques, and that’s what really jogged to mind Tales From The Borderlands. I couldn’t stop bringing up the game numerous times. “Does anyone have an example of a piece of media that uses a type of plot structure we can discuss?” (Oh, well Tales From the Borderlands utilizes frame narrative structure.) “Let’s talk unreliable narrators” (Oh! Well, there are these two protagonists, Rhys and Fiona…) “Does anyone have an example of Chekhov’s gun?” (Felix’s gift to Sasha) “Given the twelve character archetypes we went over, pick one and give an example of it” (Gortys falls under The Child archetype, as she is hopeful yet naive…) In short, I believe this is how I got back into watching gameplay of Tales From The Borderlands. Analyzing and studying any beloved media of storytelling can teach a writer a lot about how to improve in the craft.

If I’m honest, I’ve never written fanfiction before, and I never thought I’d get into it. Fourteen year old me thought fanfiction was absolutely cringe and not worth getting into, either writing it or reading it. Twenty-two year old me, being very frustrated that romancing Rhys and Fiona was not an option, decided to indulge in reading a lot of Rhyiona fanfic to scratch the itch the game did not provide, and I quickly learned that there are so many incredibly talented writers that write incredible fanfic. Writers like @andaxay @admiralsweko @rin-bellatrix absolutely proved the pretentious mindset I had at fourteen was so very wrong, and such a joy it is to be proven wrong for something as silly as that.

Naturally, as to how I decided to start writing my own fanfic, reading the works of those fanfic writers and many more from ao3 have inspired me to give it a shot. Additionally, as someone who has stressed over original content she wants to put out someday, I wanted a break from getting so hung up on my original work’s rough patches of the writing process, while still practicing the craft of creative writing somehow. Thus, fanfiction just made sense to start exercising and honing in on narrative techniques while removing the pressure I have from time to time regarding my original stories. While writing fanfic, I could practice character voice vs narrator voice, flashbacks, narrative pacing, varying sentence structure in developing a writing style, etc. etc. I’m still learning as a writer, and always will be, so writing fanfic is such a fun way to go about my journey. And upon further research, I’ve found that many amazing writers have actually started practicing their craft by writing fanfiction. For example, Marissa Meyer (New York Times Bestselling author of The Lunar Chronicles) started off writing Sailor Moon fanfic! It’s so cool to see other people’s writing journey, and now in my own writing journey, it’s so cool to have support like yours with me!

Thanks again for enjoying my content and for reaching out to me. I wish I could convey to you how much it means to me to have such a response. Again, my life has been really rough lately, so I am not exaggerating when I say this; seeing someone genuinely interested in anything I chose to write is so uplifting, and it truly made my night. You’re seriously so awesome! May your days be filled with traffic-free drives and the best breakfast foods ever served (Translation: May you have amazing blessings come your way!!! God bless you!!!)

[sk3l3t0n444]

its going to be a long but fun night

[croquettish]

I love that you and anon are talking about Hans’ performativity. Not even just in terms of sexuality, it seems to me he almost has two different personalities: the one he wants people to believe in and the one he actually has. Even a lot of players seem to easily believe in his big jokey confident extrovert personality. But the things characters say about him and the things he says about himself frequently don’t match his actions in the game! He’s not a cool flirty guy who loves partying and hates studying, he’s a rizzless insecure guy who sits alone at parties and quotes literature! And his whole voice and demeanour changes when he’s being really sincere with Henry. I love that the build-up to the romance also revolves around him trying increasingly hard to fake normal no-homo responses to Henry’s increasingly straightforward “I like you” lines. I think that’s so him to try and fake it enough that the problem goes away. He has one strategy and by god he’s gonna use it. I feel like we only get glimpses of the other side of him throughout the game and it’s so interesting to me. It leaves so much open for imagining what their established relationship would be like too! (Soz if I’m just repeated things you’ve already said, I just really like reading all this analysis haha)

My kingdom for nuance, man. There hasn't been a single fandom I've ever been in where everyone had the critical thinking skills to look at characters putting on an act and recognize them for what they are: liars.

They're always my favorite characters. Easily. I love characters who fight tooth and nail to hide who they are because they're fucking terrified that if the mask slips for even two seconds they'll be alone. The inherent fear of it, the deep-seated insecurities, the overcompensating. Hans Capon all over, baybee. And the easiest way to recognize him for what he is is to just listen to what other people say. Watch what he does instead of what he says. One of my favorite examples of this is Raborsch, beautifully illustrated in this post by @lin-sterling (with bonus tags!) and this post by @rowanisawriter. This boy is so transparent. He says one thing (I'm gonna fucken parTY TONITE) and does another entirely (sit in front of the fire while he waits for Henry to arrive).

And honestly I think that's another reason why Henry has to tell him DUDE, I LIKE YOU over and over again. Because Hans knows that he will say anything and it rarely reflects his actual honest feelings. And he knows this about himself!

So why would Henry mean it if he said it? No wonder he keeps sidestepping until Henry more or less spells it out for him with his "MAYBE MORE THAN YOU KNOW."

Anyway, no need to apologize for repeating anything I or anyone else already said. I've found that every single time someone sends me an ask like this I realize yet another thing about these characters / this game. So honestly, I should be thanking you! :D