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jaal-ama-daravv · 1 month ago

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dissecting the mortal romance scene (both routes)

dissecting the graveyard scene dissecting the mortal romance path scene dissecting the mortal emmrich argument scene (all routes) emmrich x rook cinematic (mortal)

lich version dissecting the alternate romance path dissecting the argument scene (lich path) dissecting the emmrich romance scene (lich) mortal vs lich romance path emmrich x rook cinematic

home stretch baby, I have no idea how long this one will be as I'll save most of the nit grit for the master post

ALAS, lets go -

Emmrich, heart made of worry, mind racing a million miles. the relief in his voice, tainted with gratitude. he looks at rook like he has witnessed the sun and moon collide

Path 1 - I almost was. It was baffling.

I actually quite like this path - it has mourn watch specific dialogue, Rook is vunerable, and emmrich is a sweetheart at the end. there isn't much depth here - it feels like the logical dialogue piece, splash of optimism in there. its a refreshing piece for these two, but path 3 holds a mjority fo the emotion and fear and still tops my life in choices for this scene. ill expand below

Path 2 - It's all right. I'm safe.

in this path of dialogue, emmrich seems to have built some resilience and rook wants to push past the emotional side of it. this path feels, very 'lets just move on' if i'm being honest.

still feeling some distance in this dialogue - but this is probably due to the other paths having a more emotional side to them. emmrich also reaffirms to use here again about rook being remarkable in his eyes - their indomitability. and the, 'my love'. Oh he knows how to make us swoon.

Rook smiles at Emmrich.

Path 3 - Thought I'd be there forever.

this has to be my one and only choice in this scene as it represents rook ripping apart their own pride and ego, and allows them to be vulnerable with their love. with the knowledge of rook being stuck in the fade for weeks, this line hits even more harder than before. being teapped for weeks with your own regret, its horrifying. rook getting in touch with their emotions in this path is truly wonderful because emmrich respons with such glee and relief in his voice, he was terrfied. bar in mind the last conversation they had before rook dissappeared was the argument scene, so they both had so much regret and fear. gosh the love these two have.

BUT - I want to point out the mirroing of this scene in relation to Emmrich's fear of death and his lich path. "I was afraid I'd be there forever" and yes yes, I know its the same dialogue in the lich romance but in BOTH of them, it mirrors him somehow. Rook was not afraid of death, but afraid of mourning, and living with regret forever of losing emmrich. Mirroring how lich Emmrich would mourn Rook forever in the event of their death, per the argument scene. i just think its touching even if uninentional

the relief...oh my god the relief in his shaking voice. he is so grateful and ugh. We know emmrich doesn'y get over, and never will get over his fear of death, but being with rook has helped him in some way. even if slightly. He is given into himself being a fool in love and not worrying about how he is perceived as much. its beautiful, even if only a smidge.

Rook smiles at Emmrich.

All Paths Lead To

I AM INCONSOLABLE DO NOT TOUCH MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

I NEED NOT SAY ANY WORDS - LOOK AT THIS. THE TENDERNESS. THE LOVE. THE PLESE DONT GO. THE WAY ALL OF HIS FEARS DISSAPEAR LOOKING AT ROOK. THE WAY HE ACCEPTS THE LOVE HE THOUGHT HE WOULD NEVER RECIEVE. THE WAY FLASHES OF MARRAIGE AND A FAMILY DAWN ON HIM IN THIS MOMENT. THE WAY NOTHING ELSE MATTERS BUT ROOK. the way he grunts, TWICe. THE WAY I AM SOBBING ON THE FLOOR. IM GONNA SAY IT AGAIN - SOULMATES. FADE MATES, SOUL BOUND, DONT CARE. INEVITABLE.

anyway

look i can only say it so many times. the guy is obsessed, rook is obsessed. emmrich had so much shame around his besottedness of being a fool in love. emmrich watched his parents die, of course he is terrfied that the love of his LIFE, the person he has YEARNED, DREAMED of meeting for 40 ODD YEARS. the way emmrich is a hopeless romantic, and always has been. the way that this is relateable with each passing day. emmrich dreamed of marriage, and having a close family. but no one shared his affection the way he did. and thank the MAKER no one wanted him like rook does. his heart sparked not with love at first sight for rook, but familiarity, a love which then buried itself deep in his bones, sprouting the love he has always yearned of. his search for an eternal, enduring affection - like how he engraved on their tombstones, "they walk eternity hand in hand"

oh yeah, after the fade to black, its very cute dialogue choices - emmrich wanting to fetch rook some breakfast. Rook comments -

to which emmrich will respond - dialogue varies but has this line regardless. god he is so confident in their eternal love

Option 1 will see a more romantic dialogue as suggested with rook touching his face gently and -

Rook will respond with "I know" and the two will kiss passionately and my heart explodes

Option 2 will have rook and emmrich go to bone zone for the second time - our man knows how to keep it going thats for sure

rook will whisper in emmrichs ear, the two will giggle and laugh and kiss, and he will get on top of rook and then you can see me crying in the corner because i love them so much

usually we go abit deeper with the dissection but honestly, there isnt much to say. and words arent needed here, you can see and feel the love and enduring affection they share for eachother - into eternity.

I'm so excited to share the Act 3 dissection and overal character breakdown of emmrich with you guys soon ♥

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wooahaeproductions · 2 months ago

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Forging the Threads of Time

Professor/Greek God Hephaestus Wonwoo x Reincarnated Female Reader

Genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, reincarnation au, fantasy au

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: mentions of Greek myths, mentions of death and sickness, kissing, smut (grinding, unprotected sex, sort of sub!Wonwoo, classroom sex, penetrative sex)

Rating: 18+

Summary: Wonwoo never expected to meet the mortal love of his life ever again and you never thought you’d feel so drawn to your welding professor.

Taglist: @black-swan-blog27 @fullmindlady @bbybnnuy

A/N: Well, this certainly was a labor of love and I really wish I'd had the time to expand on this world further but I really hope you enjoy reading this. I was honored to be a co-host of The 13 Gods of Olympus collab with Aeris @beomcoups and write this piece for it.

A big thank you to my beta readers for making sense of this: Jupiter @cheolism, Tara @diamonddaze01, and Haneul @chanranghaeys 💕

Lastly, thank you Sevn @aaagustd for the most beautiful banner. ~Maren

Wonwoo hadn’t been banished to earth for long, a bitter taste left in his mouth after what his mother and supposed wife had done to him. He had taken to frequenting speakeasies, some fancy, some considered a bit dodgy. That didn’t matter when all he was seeking was alcohol to ease the injustice he felt. And that’s when he met you, a bartender at one of the fancier places he had gone to. The first time he sat at your bar, you took one look at him and said, “You look like you could use a strong drink,” and proceeded to pour him a whisky. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt drawn to you, and when you looked at him, he could tell you felt it too.

From then on, he only frequented your speakeasy. Then he got the courage to ask you on a date. He began to court you. Frequent dates turned into a committed relationship, which turned into the two of you living together, and eventually marrying each other. That day of your marriage was the happiest out of all his lives. He didn’t know how, but being with you healed wounds that Aphrodite, his first wife in Olympus, had left him with.

For the first and only time, Wonwoo had fallen in love with a mortal.

And then, you became ill and his new world collapsed.

In the present, Wonwoo tossed and turned under the covers as images playing in his head invaded his sleep, images of you. Images of the first time he met you at the speakeasy, of him seeing you walking down the aisle when you got married, and unfortunately of your last moments in the hospital when your mortality proved itself to be all too real.

He awoke with a start, feeling unsettled. He hadn’t dreamt of you in decades, or at least it felt like decades. He couldn’t be sure since time passed differently for him. You had been mortal but Wonwoo was not. He was immortal; a god. The god Hephaestus to be exact, but he hadn’t gone by that name since the moment his mother banished him.

Wonwoo sighed, flinging an arm over to cover his eyes for a few seconds. He waited in early morning silence before turning over to see the time on his bedside clock. He groaned, realizing it was twenty minutes before his alarm for work sounded. There was no way he was going back to sleep at this point. Pushing the dreams to the back of his mind, he flipped off the covers and begrudgingly rolled out of bed.

Wonwoo taught welding and metalworking at the local art college, and today was the beginning of the new semester. He had planned to be there early to make sure everything in his classroom was in order, but now he was kind of regretting that decision thanks to his disrupted sleep.

He got dressed in a nice button-up and some slacks he had set out the night before. If he was a teacher for a more fancy subject like literature or history, he might have worn a suit. That didn’t fit his personality though. Before his banishment, working with metal and fire had been his whole life; it was part of his identity and something he found he didn’t want to change.

He paused in his bathroom long enough to brush his teeth and glance at his reflection in the mirror. He ran a hand through his hair to make sure it wasn’t too messy before going down the hall to the living room. He grabbed his briefcase of class materials that were left on his desk when he finished planning the semester out last week and grabbed his phone from the charger that was there as well.

Finally, he made his way to the entry of his apartment and grabbed his welding helmet, gloves, and heavy-duty apron from the console table along with his keys before heading out the door. He took a quick glance at the time on his phone before pocketing it. He had plenty of time to grab coffee at the little shop near campus.

Wonwoo had never been a breakfast person, so it was always a cup of coffee, usually an Americano in the morning. The only exception was the very rare occasion when his friend Mingyu, who happened to be the god Hestia and the owner of a nightclub on Earth, would make him breakfast.

Reaching his truck in the parking lot, Wonwoo unlocked the doors and put all his teaching items in the passenger seat. He then got in the driver’s seat and when he put the key in the ignition, he was met with the classical music he had on when he was last in the car, specifically Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons”. He wasn’t much of a music person because it changed so much; He’d rather listen to things that hadn’t changed in the hundreds of years he had been earthbound.

He pulled out of his parking spot and started to drive toward the coffee shop. Autumn was beginning to edge out the summer, the leaves on trees and bushes near the sidewalks were slowly turning orange and red. Wonwoo had noticed there was a slight chill in the air that hadn’t been there a few weeks ago.

It was also Fall when he met you for the first time. Another thing that he chose to try to ignore and force to the depths of his brain, but a clenching in his heart and the feeling of helplessness happened anyway. He continued to stifle it down as he drove.

A quick few minutes later, he was pulling into a parking spot at the cafe. It was a little busier than usual, most likely due to it being the start of the new semester and more students were stopping by to get their caffeinated pick-me-ups. He got out of his truck and walked inside the shop, the door making a ringing sound to indicate a person had come in.

Wonwoo was very much a regular at the shop and before he could even think about getting in line, one of the baristas held up a to-go cup to indicate his drink was ready for him and set it by the register for when he got to the front of the line. They were moving quickly and it didn’t take long for him to get there.

“Good Morning, Wonwoo. Here is your Americano,” the girl at the register said as she handed him the drink and punched the correct codes into the register.

He stuffed a hand in his pocket, producing a five-dollar bill, and handed it to her. He still hadn’t gotten used to the idea of using a plastic card to pay for things. She handed him back his change, which was only a few cents, and he immediately stuck it in the tip jar in front. Despite always using cash, he didn’t like his pockets to jingle. He gave a small wave of thanks and then left the cafe.

He got back into his truck, setting his coffee down in the cup holder. He glanced at the truck’s console, checking the clock for a third time. By now, it was 7:30 AM and class started in an hour. He had plenty of time to get ready for class. He pulled out of the cafe’s parking lot and drove only a few streets over to where the college campus was located. The welding department was toward the back of campus and had its own little lot for parking with only a short walk to all the classrooms.

Getting out of the car, Wonwoo grabbed his coffee from the cup holder and set it on the roof of his truck. He reached back through the car, putting all the things he sat in the passenger seat earlier this morning in his arms before shutting the car door with his hip and grabbing his coffee cup once more.

Wonwoo walked to his classroom door and realized he didn’t have enough hands to pull the door key out of his pocket. He gave an exasperated sigh, setting the coffee cup on the ground just enough out of the way of the door so that he could get the keys out to unlock it. He unlocked the door and flung it open, his leg keeping it open long enough for him to slip the keys back into his pocket and get his abandoned coffee before it slammed shut behind him.

It was dark, the only light coming from the two windows in the front. Since he had no available hands to turn on the light switch, Wonwoo slowly made his way to his desk in the half-light and unloaded everything he had in his arms. He walked back over near the door and flipped the lights on, making himself squint slightly from the sudden light. Back at his desk, he finished off what was left of his coffee and went to work getting his classroom ready for the students who would arrive shortly.

Eventually, all the student desks had been set up with the supplies the school provided for each student, although today was mostly going to just be for talking about the class expectations. Wonwoo had planned to give them a small demonstration of what they would end up learning and had his own welding desk set up with a few metal sheets that he would weld together. They would use that process to make whatever project they picked out to make during the semester.

Wonwoo stood up from his desk and students started to trickle in, a stack of paper syllabi in his hands. He was old school in that way and he had printed them the night before and put them in his briefcase. As each student sat down, he set a syllabus on the desk in front of them. He had developed a bit of rhythm, that is until he saw you walk in the classroom and he came to a dead stop. There was no doubt in his mind who you were, you even looked identical despite wearing modern clothing. First, the dreams from this morning and now this. What sort of sick plan did fate have?

You walked into the welding classroom, your first class of the day. You weren’t even sure why you signed up for the class but it was a good elective to take, and maybe it might even turn out to be a fun one. As you made your way to a desk, you felt as if there were eyes on you. It didn’t feel uncomfortable though, like when you could tell a man was ogling you. You sat down at a desk and looked up to the front, finding who you assumed to be the teacher, frozen with papers in his hands and staring. His were the eyes that were staring at you, almost like they were trying to burn a hole through your body. Your eyes eventually met with his and unexpectedly, you couldn’t look away either. What was this sudden warm and magnetic feeling?

Finally, he looked away and it felt like someone had snapped a chord. It felt like you had been in a trance of sorts, and you hoped only a few minutes had passed. You put your school bag and materials for the class on the floor next to you and turned your focus on the syllabus that had been sitting on your desk while the rest of the students filled the classroom. Once the teacher, Mr. Jeon or Wonwoo, as he introduced himself as later, felt everyone had shown up for class, he started explaining the syllabus and demonstrating some of the things you would learn with him that semester including stick welding, which was the main type you’d be using for the project listed in the syllabus.

You kept stealing glances at the man, noticing how handsome he was. He was built, not in a bodybuilder way, but in a way you could tell had honed over time due to his metal working. Yet at the same time, he gave off a bookish aura when he occasionally slipped the pair of glasses he had sitting at his desk on. All the while you could not shake the feeling that he was familiar to you, that he was someone to you. You weren’t sure what it was, but you didn’t think it was necessarily a bad thing.

You left the class an hour later, still feeling bewildered. For the rest of the day, your thoughts were filled with him and who he could be. Did you know him as a child? Was this a deja vu situation? Or was this even deeper, like knowing him from a past life or something like that? You didn’t like this not knowing, so you decided there was really only one way to figure out what this was. You needed to get to know him. More precisely, you needed to ask him on a date. Sure, he was a teacher and that was generally taboo territory even if you were both adults but you needed to know what this feeling was, who he was.

Meanwhile, Wonwoo was apprehensive and questioned lots of things after class had ended. Was it actually you? It certainly felt like you. Just like the dream he had early that morning, he found himself wary of the timing. Why was the universe putting you here and now after all that time? Wonwoo knew what happened before. He didn’t think he could take it if he lost you the same way again. He nearly lost himself before and he couldn’t even fathom what it would be like if the same thing were to happen for a second time. So just like that, Wonwoo made up his mind. No matter how strong the connection felt between you two, he was determined to keep you at arm’s length.

A week or so had passed and to Wonwoo’s annoyance, the feeling had not gone away at all. In fact, he felt it was stronger. The more he tried to resist your stares and signs of flirting, the stronger the pull felt. He felt surges of electricity when your hands brushed against each other when he gave you handouts. He knew you purposely would ask for help when you were practicing welding techniques, just so that the two of you could have the slightest contact even though he knew darn well you didn’t need help at all. Wonwoo hated it. He wanted you so bad but at the same time, he didn’t. He couldn’t.

You didn’t understand.

You were pulling all the subtle advances you could think of without blatant flirting and your teacher would not budge. You could tell he felt the same things you did, the same charge when you touched. There was a familiar warmth and comfort when you felt his arms against your back while helping you weld, something that felt like love but there was no way you could feel that way this soon, right?

You had already decided to ask him out eventually, but you were hoping you could get him to warm up to you first so that it would be simple for him to say “yes” or perhaps even to ask you out instead. It seemed he wasn’t going to make it easy on you, hesitating for whatever reason unknown to you. You made the official decision, you would ask him out. Today.

You purposely waited until all the other students had left the classroom, putting your materials away slowly at your desk and in your book bag. Wonwoo had returned to sit at his desk, also cleaning up materials from today’s class. Once all the others were gone, you made your way to the front and stood in front of his desk. He didn’t look up for what felt like ten minutes but it was probably only a few. He was ignoring you, whether it was on purpose or not you didn’t know.

When Wonwoo finally did look up he asked, “Is there something else I can help you with Y/N?”

“Yeah, you can help me by going on a date with me,” you said boldly and matter-of-factly.

Wonwoo let out an audible sigh and rubbed at his face in unease. “Y/N, I’m your teacher,” he responded, using a more valid reason to refuse you instead of just his feelings.

“I know. It’s frowned upon, sure, but it’s not against the rules. I’ve never been one to shy away from taking risks. So let’s go on a date,” you persuaded.

“No.” Wonwoo definitely was not going to make this simple.

You scoffed. “Fine, but I’ll just ask you again until you agree to it.” Then you walked out of the classroom, leaving Wonwoo with a slight scowl on his face. There was no way you were going to give up that quickly. You needed to know what this was.

Over the next three days, you asked him out after class again and again, his answer always being a firm “no”. Wonwoo was determined not to let heartbreak and the complete destruction of his supposedly safer world happen again, even if that meant a mild version of it now from rejecting you so many times. To him, that would be a gentle pain compared to being together and losing you for a second time. And that was much more acceptable in his eyes.

On day four, Wonwoo was prepared with his repeated answer. Except you had a different question this time.

“Can I just ask why?” you asked, standing up at your desk before leaving class. “We both know the fact that you are my teacher isn’t the real reason.” You sounded a bit exasperated now, you had never been rejected this many times.

Wonwoo contemplated, coming to stand closer to you, almost nose to nose before he said, ”I’m not sure you would believe my real reason.”

“Try me,” you challenged, the now normal charge pulsing between you two.

Wonwoo gave you a hard stare. Maybe if he did tell you, you’d think he was insane and you would finally give up. “I’m not human,” he said simply.

You squinted at him. “What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“I’m not a human. I’m a God. They called me Hephaestus,” Wonwoo said, wincing a bit as he spoke his previous name. To his surprise, you didn’t call him crazy. He watched as the wheels in your mind turned.

You didn’t know if you believed him, but you didn’t exactly think he was lying either. You gave a small laugh thinking of how ironic it was for him to be a welding teacher.

“See. You think I’m nuts,” he said, misunderstanding your giggle.

“No, no, actually I’m pretty sure I believe you. But you being a god doesn’t deter me. In fact, it makes me more interested. There’s no way you just being a god or whatever is what is making me feel like I belong with you, like I need to be with you,” you clarified.

Wonwoo’s eyes widened a bit. He knew what he felt with you and he knew it was possible that you had too, but maybe not the magnitude of it. “You’re her reincarnation. She’s you. You’re her,” he said, softly. A note of sadness seeped through his words now.

“Who?” you asked, needing to know more.

“The only true love I ever had. After I was kicked out of Olympus and sent to Earth by my mother.”

Now you thought you got it. The reason you had all these unexplainable feelings, why you felt like you knew Wonwoo already, why you felt so connected to him. It was because you did know him, albeit in a different lifetime. You had been with him, you had loved him and he had definitely loved you. But there was still something you didn’t get. Why wouldn’t he want to be with you again then?

“There’s still something you aren’t telling me, isn’t there?” you questioned.

Wonwoo looked down at his feet and you barely made out the words that he responded with. “You were sick. You died.”

Your heart dropped and you felt a piece was broken, for him and for your previous self. But you were a new person now, it might not end that way with you. Next thing you knew, you were closing the space between the two of you and pressing your lips against his. He backed up, trying not to give in to you but all that resulted in was you pinning him against the classroom wall.

At first, he just stood there, frozen. However, he could no longer deny his body’s chemistry with yours and in a split second decided he no longer wanted to fight it. He kissed you back and somehow the entire universe felt like it had been righted after so long. Suddenly, he didn’t care that his heart could break again and never be repaired. Kissing you, touching you made it feel like that could never happen to him again.

Since he seemed to reciprocate your advances now, you moved your arms from caging him against the wall and instead ran your fingertips underneath his shirt, just at the edge of his slacks. Even touching his skin felt right and familiar to you. There really was this unparalleled feeling that was felt with nobody else but him. Despite being annoyed with him previously, you felt his devotion to the you from before and wanted to take your time with him.

You slowly pulled his shirt over his head, taking it off and revealing the abs you knew were under it. You knew they were there, yet you still gasped at how lovely they looked. Wonwoo reached forward and pulled your shirt off as well, leaving you in your bra. Soon both of your pants and undergarments had been taken off, the two of you completely exposed in the classroom.

Wonwoo ran his hands along various parts of your skin, igniting that ever-present electricity. He pushed you against the edge of his desk as his exposed length rubbed against you, making you wetter by the second.

You took back control, pulling his arm to make him sit in the chair behind the desk. He looked up at you, his face full of adoration as you moved to straddle him. You started slowly, gradually grinding against him, wanting to show him a more gentle side.

“Fuck.” He let out the word in a deep breath as you continued to grind your slit against him. The word seared straight to your core and you needed him in you now.

“Wonwoo, I need to ride you,” you whined, calling him by his first name. He nodded and let you gradually sink onto him, taking your hips into his warm, large hands once you bottomed out. A moment later, you had adjusted to his size and you began moving your hips which elicited a hiss from Wonwoo.

You glanced at him, making sure this was okay. “It’s okay, it feels really good,” He confirmed, encouraging you to keep moving.

You picked up the rhythm, creating a steady pace as you rode him in the chair. Both of your voices echoed in the classroom, moans confirming your pleasure and you were so glad he didn’t have any classes after yours.

Wonwoo’s hips began to stutter and the moans he was letting out before were turning into whimpers. You were sure he was getting close to a release. Then you shifted in his lap just slightly so that he was hitting that particular spot within you. “Y/N, I’m gonna…” He whispered.

“Me too,” you responded. As soon as you spoke those words, his hips stilled and ropes of his cum painted your insides. He leaned forward to kiss you while his length continued to jerk. The force of his orgasm led you to your own, one so intense it left you weak in the knees and lightheaded. You ended up slightly limp in his lap, resting your head on his broad shoulder.

You didn’t remember him pulling out or moving you to sit in his lap like a little kid. A minute or two later, the post-orgasm haze had worn off and you felt like you needed to say something. “I know we are connected and I kind of pushed you into kissing me first. I know I’m supposed to be a reincarnation of your true love but I didn’t mean for that to happen,” you said, rambling in a little embarrassment and a small bit of guilt for pulling Wonwoo further into this whole thing.

“So you regret it?” Wonwoo asked, a strange deadpan tone to his voice and he moved his hands that were just cradling the small of your back. He just made the choice to move ahead with you and now you were already regretting it?

“No, No. I didn’t mean that. I regret nothing. Do you?” You asked with a raised eyebrow at his reaction. It sounded like he was finally letting himself be free from what was holding him back from you. You didn’t mean for it to sound like you didn’t want everything you just did.

Eventually, he answered. “No, I don’t,” he said with a bit of a chuckle and kissed you on the forehead before you got up from his lap.

You smiled at him cheekily then. “Good.”

What’s the worst that could happen? Well, Wonwoo already knew the worst thing that could but maybe, just maybe fate wouldn’t be cruel and this time might end differently. He decided he would take that chance with you.

©️wooahaeproductions

All works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works.

#seventeen fanfic #kvanity #svthub #thediamondlifenetwork #greek god collab #seventeen wonwoo #seventeen smut #jeon wonwoo #svt angst #svt smut #svt wonwoo

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thatdeadaquarius · 9 months ago

Note

Topic: Genshin impact.

au: Sagau.

idea: So what if you had the powers of every character you played as in every game you played and then get isekaid into genshin impact with imposter au. I imagine it goes smth like

Zhongli: “I will have order!”

reader, Who played Roblox as someone who lagged the game (explanation: I’m pretty sure ping is also how time works in games. If you can control the flow of ping you can control the flow of time in games.): “ZA WARUDO!”

Heyyy!! Thanks for waiting for the reply/response from my slow ass :0

So they did clarify what they meant/expand so imma just copy paste that here!

“k now I remember. So basically imma write it here since it’s easier: Basically you don’t have to (but you can) transform into the character that has those set of powers but if you do those powers are enhanced.”

Sun: Reader (”you”/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish, Light Imposter AU (as in, NOT Yandere/Dark), mild crossover elements bc Shapeshifter Shenanigans™️

Stars: bro idek

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: mild cussing, genshin typical mild violence, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

so fair warning,, ive never seen jojo bizarre, but i appreciate i come off well-read/watched? LMAO

so im just gonna kinda,, guess? like just cycle thru diff. random media, and im hoping both me and you reading this will have a fun time (as this is a little challenge, but i like it so ill give it a shot, dont kno if its a good one but- 😅)

so to set the scene, of how u got to this point, ykno of running like ur life (maybe?) depends on u running around different teyvat countries,

u thought it was weird everyone knew a little too much about you?? (ofc theyve heard u during gaming, they know u the same way we all know Markiplier, get it?)

then a bunch of NPCs/Vision users/Archons?? were REALLY invested in talking to you, which freaked u out even more

and by the time you saw Zhongli, yknow, just the oldest god in game, making a fast-walk towards you, ykno the retired god who didnt move an inch when an old water god attacked Liyue for a test, is now hurrying to you???

ur logically get so fucking scared sm shits abt to go down, u just start running

it isnt until ur reaching for a ledge and some webbing shoots out of ur arm (from a glitchy little spot on ur arm, where it could be coming out of ur skin, but sometimes its a blue and red bracelet)

it latched onto the nearest building, and thats how u find out u can grapple ur way, literally Spiderman style, out of the harbor

and bro, idk if it would be fun, or confusing and stressful, or maybe both?? to just find out u can use any video game power from any game youve played before as you go running from countries bc for some freaky reason they know too much abt you/are pursuing you-

dUDE- they had small statues of you in like every little section of their cities

u head to Mondstadt and as Venti comes screaming and flying at you (in excitement, but ur freaked), u go to hold a hand up and suddenly ur holding a heavy stone tablet that unleashes some holographic yellow chains that freeze him in place-?? why is this familiar-

oh my god u have the sheikah slate from Breath of the Wild,

and as ur booking it out of there, u manage to get ahold of a sword, and u know exactly how to use it to knock back favonius knights trying to stop you (they are concerned for their god who is just unleashing random powers on ppl, pls let Grandmaster Jean just talk to you Your Majesty-!!)

by the time you teleport ur way to Inazuma, (bc u still have this worlds access to ur player/traveler’s powers), ur trying to find a nice place to stay for a little bit

at least in that sweet spot of the Raiden not noticing/finding you, while things cool down on the main continent, before moving on,

and u get some tools to help fashion just a little shelter, bc u dont have any money/mora rn, and ur able to literally build a house???

a mailbox pops up and thanks you for renting with Tom Nook???? As in Animal Crossing-

and rlly if the BOTW/slate thing didnt clue u into video game powers, then this definitely would tbh lmao

right as u see Yae Miko circling ur house, with an armful of books? ..is she planning to thru them at you??, u get the hell out of dodge before her favorite god can follow along

(she knows ur prefrences in books and got authors/trends to start so youd have plenty to read, and she was making sure it was ur house before politely dropping them off! how was she to know thatd spook their favorite God, Ei?!)

u get to Sumeru and think ur safe, hiding in an abandoned forest watcher outpost (1 person treehouse rlly) when Nahida shows up in ur dreams,

and u just,

walk out of the dream, into reality, and possess a nearby ruin guard so u can sleep in peace, bc she cant access a robot,

that one baffled u as you re-possessed ur own body before realizing-

Five Nights at Freddy’s. 💀

U cant do that forever, so u try Fontaine, hoping Neuvillette/Furina wont rlly give af abt you, plus theyre the latest region, so maybe they have the least exposure to whatever the other archons didnt like abt you??

u get there and are immediately summoned to court, and right as the mekas show up to escort you, jfc they have a mecha army

(meanwhile, theyre thinking, yknow. high profile guest/our god of gods. ofc we need state of the art mekas to escort them, its only polite-)

meanwhile ur cape has now become wings, and a mask covers ur face as you glide and fly ur way over the city in an attempt to get to where u assume Snezhnaya is

it doesnt occur to you the game until ur running out of stamnia and catch ur reflection in the waters of fontaine, Sky: Children of the Light

u hope the Tsaritsa’s dislike for other gods/Celestia doesnt extend to ur otherworldly presence so ur just hoping for the best atp tbh

tbh youd forget what all powers you have, and the absolute chaos ur causing urself as u try to desperately rememeber what games youve played thru ur entire life is NOT helping to reduce confusion when u randomly wake up with elf ears (legend of zelda/botw) or get dragged into another ruin machine when u fall asleep/faint/do smth u guess mimics death lmao- (fnaf) 💀

…

(meanwhile the Tsaritsa does get wind ur coming this way, and just, makes the people have a parade/festival to celebrate you coming,

she did also have to get Pierro/Captaino to physically restrain some of them from going ahead to meet/escort you to the palace, she’d heard how the others scared u off, and was, ironically, hoping the warm welcome would clear things up)

☆

well that was, something. 😃🫠

sorry lil car, that was such a fun idea idk if i did it justice!! i thought itd be too op to include every media youve consumed ever, so i kept it to video games, (which, could u cheat the system if youve played smash bros??)

i hope it was at least a decent read, and sorry im half asleep so i was not v funny this time around, but, again, hope u got smth out of it 😭

</3

on another note, im having my wisdom teeth surgery this friday, send whatever u got my way, prayers, blessings, good vibes, ill take anything im nervous 🙃

have a good week guys!

Safe Travels Lil Car,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit / @chinuneko / @silvers-tongue

If ur tag doesnt work, pls check ur settings to see if ur a "searchable blog"!! Its not the same as the Ai selling data thing.

#genshin isekai #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin imagines #genshin impact #my asks #genshin impact sagau #genshin x reader #aqua asks #aqua chats #10/10 rlly fun idea #this was fun to juggle and even tho i feel like i kinda flopped it #it was still a fun idea for future sagau endeavors tbh #:) <3 #no but srsly im getting wisdom teeth surgery pls send everything good u got my way im nervous #its just intimidating to be knocked out and drugged up what can i say #might even write some sagau angst abt it when im languishing my fate in bed afterwards

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miaoqing · 6 months ago

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svsss fact check/common misconceptions

"quick", i called it, and then it turned 8 pages long. sigh

this is a compilation of my own research (based on the english tl of the novel) and summaries of what @svsss-fanon-exposed has painstakingly examined; for more in-depth explanations/discussions + even more topics, please do check out @svsss-fanon-exposed <3 and of course, let me know if anything here is false, if you want a source for anything, or if there's anything else you'd like me to add!

this got quite long so! cut time!!

SHEN YUAN

death

Novel: not specified.

Donghua: choked on a bun (not food poisoning!)

(iirc the yoghurt/food poisoning thing is the ghost of either an early draft or something mxtx allegedly posted on social media but that never made it to canon. don't quote me on that tho)

terminal illness

Entirely fanon. svsss-fanon-exposed post here

age

He transmigrated at some point between 15 at the absolute youngest and 23 at the absolute oldest; most likely 19-21. (fun fact: if he was younger than 19, LBH is actually technically older than him post-canon)

did Shen Yuan wear glasses?

Never stated in either the novel or donghua but not contradicted either. svsss-fanon-exposed post here

is shen yuan an unreliable narrator?

close enough

LUO BINGHE

early years

Fishermen got Binghe out of the river and gave him his name (Luo as the river, Binghe meaning icy river). He then wandered the streets for a few years, and then he was adopted by the washerwoman. After she died when he was 10, he joined CQM.

hair

Binghe’s hair is not canonically curly </3

scars

The scar on his chest is from when SQQ stabbed him at the edge of the abyss. The one on his hand is from the Jinlan city arc. svsss-fanon-exposed post here

bingge’s harem

Novel: "nearing three digits", “three-digit number”, “innumerable”, “large”, “vast” ....

Donghua: around 3000

Not specified if this is just the wives or if it also includes concubines etc

xin mo

Bingmei is more prone to Xin Mo’s backlash than Bingge, as stated in the bingge/bingmei extra

demon mark

Binghe’s zui yin (not huadian, check entry in “misc.”) can change shape and expand. He can also hide it at will, but it seems to take some effort. svsss-fanon-exposed post here

head disciple

SQQ chooses Binghe as his head disciple, probably to explain why he let him move into the bamboo house. Ming Fan isn’t and never was the head disciple - check the entry “SQQ’s disciples”

Luo Binghe is big and buff and way taller than SQQ

False. Very in-depth svsss-fanon-exposed post about lbh’s appearance here but basically… he’s built like a kpop idol… personally i’m thinking Jeonghan or Haechan but could probably go as far as like… Taemin maybe. He’s also only like 2 cm (1in) taller than SQQ.

SHEN JIU

why did SJ hate LBH???

He was jealous of LBH for getting to join a sect and improve his cultivation at the best age and for having a mother who loved him. That's it lol. He also feared Binghe's power and potential which is why he made sure to sabotage him at every step. (ch 1)

“Envy that Luo Binghe had a mother who was “the kindest in all the world to him,” envy of Luo Binghe’s talent, envy that Luo Binghe would enter Cang Qiong Mountain Sect at the best age for cultivating.” - Ch. 19

qiu haitang called qiu jianluo "a-luo", which is why SJ hated binghe

Entirely fanon; she only ever calls him gege (also the "Luo" is a different character = slightly different pronunciation)

surely SJ wasn't thaaaat mean to LBH??

yeah no he really was just that much of a child abuser :/

fake cultivation manual

ch. 1 vol 1: "The cultivation manual Ming Fan had given Luo Binghe was a fake"

SQQ&YQY extra: “Luo Binghe was using the incorrect cultivation manual that Shen Qingqiu had handed him; he should have long since died bleeding from the seven apertures, his body rupturing down to his bones, skin, meridians, tendons, and flesh.”

ch. 2: "Shen Qingqiu had inspired Ming Fan to give Luo Binghe a fake cultivation manual."

SJ was SAd by QLJ

Not explicitly stated but definitely a possible interpretation

SJ only went to brothels to sleep

Fanon but likely; svsss-fanon-exposed post here

SHEN QINGQIU

SQQ’s disciples

The number is not specified. Only Ming Fan, Binghe, and Ning Yingying are mentioned by name, but there were at least a few more (eg. Ming Fan's lackeys, the disciples waiting by SQQ’s bedside when SY transmigrates, the group he passes by on the peak). Ming Fan is (presumably) the oldest and about 16 at the start of the story, Binghe is around 14 (or 12-13; mentioned in svsss-fanon-exposed post here) Ning Yingying is the youngest (svsss-fanon-exposed post here), so all his disciples are presumably between ~12-16. no new disciples were taken in after Binghe - he's still the newest shidi when SY transmigrates.

NYY might not be the only female disciple on QJP - in the bingge/bingmei extra, SQQ refers to some disciples as “a group of teal-robed boys and girls”, however, the Chinese word used for "boys and girls" here doesn't actually specify gender. NYY is referred to as "Shen Qingqiu's youngest female disciple" but it's hard to tell if it's meant to be interpreted as "youngest of the females" or "youngest and also female, unlike the others".

Ming Fan was never head disciple - he is only ever specified to be the oldest disciple/the first one to become their master’s student. however, if a head disciple isn’t chosen, is it usually the most senior disciple who does their work - which in this case is Ming Fan. svsss-fanon-exposed post here

There might be "outer disciples" on QJP, in which case Ming Fan would be SQQ's earliest disciple, not necessarily the first on the whole peak. However, there is no outright mention of any outer disciples on QJP; the only mention of outer disciples is in regards to An Ding.

SQQ’s eye colour

In the novel his eyes are described as black. however, in many official illustrations they are green, grey, or some other lighter colour.

svsss-fanon-exposed post(s) here

META

how long was pidw?

novel: LONG. Its posting time spanned 3-4 years (SY says 4 years in chapter 1, Airplane says 3 years in the Airplane extra). Airplane allegedly “updated ten thousand words a day, every day, for three years straight” with “periodic burst releases of eight whole chapters”. He had also written other works before PIDW.

PIDW covers 200 years of Binghe's life.

donghua: 6666 chapters

what’s the svsss timeline?

link to ao3 post by VagabondDawn

post examining the pre-canon timeline by svsss-fanon-exposed

CQM

peak lords’ ages

Shen Jiu was about 33 when he died. Yue Qingyuan is roughly three years older than him and Liu Qingge is a few years younger. others are unknown. check the svsss-fanon-exposed post re:the timeline linked above

• CQM's disciple robes are colour coded

canon. svsss-fanon-exposed post here

qing jing - the eng tl says teal but the Chinese character used to describe the color can mean one of several shades of green/blue-green/etc qiong ding - unclear but YQY wears black in the donghua and “dark-hued robes” in ch. 19 bai zhan - black disciple uniform, but LQG wears white (novel) xian shu - pink/purple (donghua) an ding - blue (official art)

others unknown :/

MISC.

how did Airplane die?

He spilled noodles onto his laptop while laughing at Peerless Cucumber's forum posts and electrocuted himself when he pulled the plug out trying to save his half-finished file. This is kind of weird because if Airplane had an unfinished draft on his laptop when he died, SY couldn’t have finished reading the entire novel; unless the system somehow finished the chapter, uploaded it as the final chapter after Airplane died, and did such a bad job that it killed SY. Alternatively, he could have been working on a bonus chapter after finishing the main story, in which case SY was already dead by this point :0

but yeah TECHNICALLY you could argue that cumplane indirectly killed each other lol

However, Airplane transmigrated into a baby Shang Qinghua; he spent probably at least 30 extra years in "PIDW" compared to SY

huan hua

little palace mistress is the old palace master’s daughter, not granddaughter

all demons have forehead marks

fanon, straight up contradicts the canon text. only heavenly demons have demon marks in the novel, despite what some of the official art suggests. also, this type of mark would be called a zui yin, not a huadian. svsss-fanon-exposed post here

Liu Mingyan

Liu Mingyan is not confirmed to be either head disciple or even the most senior disciple. she might be! but it’s not stated in canon. svsss-fanon-exposed post about head disciples here

that's it for now! again, lmk if there's anything i missed or anything else i should add!! + check notes for comments from others :)

#svsss #lbh #sqq #sj #sy #svsss meta #scum villain #scum villain's self saving system #mxtx #ren zha fanpai zijiu xitong #luo binghe #shen jiu #shen yuan #shen qingqiu #airplane shooting towards the sky #miao #argument ammunition #meta yapping

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stovetoast · 5 months ago

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pillow tpot headcanons (long ramble expanding on the ocd part under the cut)

ok so first warning: i am not a psychiatrist. this isnt a super educated essay on ocd, just me projecting my lived experience onto an object show character. this is just an observation. if i get something wrong feel free to correct me, ill add it here. (its also worth noting i am self diagnosed. not "quick google search" self dx though, ive gone over it with a therapist and everything)

and that leads into the second warning: this ramble will get a tad bit personal sorryyyy

and finally the third warning: i put she/it on the ref but im just using she/her for simplicity (+ i forgot LOL(

anyway so yeah i think that pillow has ocd and is basically the embodiment of "letting intrusive thoughts win" except like. actually. this headcanon didnt stem from the killing or the strange impulses though, i think she has it because of her fixation on good and bad luck in tpot 10.

for me it manifests in a few different ways. my main one is counting—i have good luck numbers and bad luck numbers. i need to take a specific number of snacks every time i have a bowl of them. i have to shake medicine bottles a certain amount of times before taking them. i am always counting the "syllables" of whatever im doing, and it always has to land on a multiple/factor of my lucky number. and if i break any of this, i (generally, if i cant convince myself its fine or if i dont notice) have to count to my lucky number otherwise something bad will happen. hell, i added more flags to this ref because the number of them was my unlucky number.

i have a few other things that affect it that are completely unrelated to counting, though. like a particularly bad one is that i straight up cant wear certain articles or clothing anymore because theyre bad luck. or my ungodly long night routine (which is probably more of an autism thing tbh. but certain parts of it are absolutely influenced by the ocd, like having to say goodnight to my dog).

that ^^ is what i saw in pillow. she was distraught that her team lost in 9, because not only did she think she was doing the challenge right, but killing people (bringing death) was good luck for her.

i think her killing people was a compulsion, and her whole thing in 10 was her scrambling to find a new one after that stopped working.

and before anyone tries to be all like "oh thats fucked up why would they portray ocd like that," one: i dont think this was on purpose this was just an observation, two: i mean..... fuck dude if i lived in a world where revival was incredibly accessible and one of my compulsions were to kill people, id do the same thing. death is fairly normal in bfdi, to the point everyone literally has a kill count on the fandom wiki (hers is 13 as of tpot 11 btw, a commonly unlucky number ironically enough. if she gets eliminated in 12 with an unlucky kill count thatd be so funny). once they get past the pain, its. really just an inconvenience to them.

when it comes to ocd, you. HAVE to do these things. its not a choice until you can get some outside help with it, and oftentimes its an inconvenience to those around you. i dont think its right for her to be going around killing her team, but when i get past the fact that is literally what made her my favorite, i get where shes coming from. shes trying to help in a way she "knows" will work.

or maybe shes just silly idk

#art #artists on tumblr #bfdi #bfb #tpot #battle for dream island #battle for bfdi #the power of two #pillow tpot #tpot pillow #bfdi pillow #pillow bfdi #bfb pillow #pillow bfb #bfdi tpot #object shows #object show community #soooo scared to post this

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bcacstuff · 1 day ago

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Sunrise somewhere near the east coast of Brazil.

I’m not sure what time it is, or really where I am. Somewhere near the coast of Brazil, I know that; sometime during my birthday - I know that, too. I've flown past the Hindu Kush Himalaya, Pamirs, Caucasus, and Atlas Mountains, and will soon cross the Andes. I'm headed to Chile to meet my family after a long time away. A blessing, to be sure, and made even more sweet coming as it is on the heels of an incredible adventure in Nepal.

I’ve spent much of the 12 hours since Istanbul sorting through photos, visual portals into experience far away yet close at hand, pixel-born reminders of a trip, a trail, impact and experience and immersion.

I’m never quite sure how to share tales of any adventure, less so one with such meaning (to me at least) as this past one. The standard travelogue seems too mundane, too pedantic, to capture it all. Some deep and philosophical tome equally missing the mark.

So, perhaps neither, maybe some of both, a hope of struck balance, or at minimum translation of time and place and experience and people. And not all at once: Like any expedition, these things must be savored, a bit at a time, building and percolating and settling and expanding yet again. So, first, the beginning…

Me on the Kongma La back in 1993, wondering about remote valleys less-trodden than Khumbu.

I guess it was about 31 years ago - December 1993 - that Stuart Sloat and I bashed our way across the lower Khumbu Glacier from Lobuche and, laden with heavy packs, made our way to the Kongma La. We had no map, just a vague point from locals and the knowledge that there was a lake up there somewhere. We found only a puddle and a frigid night, but awoke to a splendid sunrise and the Star Wars zaps of sun-warmed ice cracking, alerting us to the real lake on the east side of the pass (as opposed to our mud wallow on the west). Glorious views, backlit Lhotse and Nuptse and countless more unknowns behind, peak on peak and valley on valley leading who knows where. I knew someday, maybe, I’d get into those valleys, wander the paths away from it all.

Thirty years later, I sat in a teahouse in Chheskam, the northern triumvirate of Mahakulung, with Jhanak Karki and Harka Kulung Rai, talking about opportunity over a steaming mug of tongba. We had just trekked parts of the Mundum Trail from Phedi over Silicho to Mahakulung visiting dZi Foundation work and communities; and then we went up above, following the Hunku Khola just enough to get a taste, an idea of what may lay above. The townspeople and government were excited as we were, having had the same idea for years: create a trail up the Hunku, connecting Chheskam to Kongme Dingma and the quite-popular Mera Peak trek.

It was all possible, all doable, but like the proverbial tree falling silently in the woods, this new trail would be all for naught if no word got out about it. But, I had an idea, and it seemed possible.

Two months before, I shared coffee in a small cafe in Glasgow with Sam Heughan. We’d “met” months earlier on Zoom calls for an ill-fated film project, and then I stalked him down in Scotland; he was, as is his manner, kind enough to indulge me rather than call the cops. I mentioned this idea, going to Everest Basecamp, but doing it the back way, the hard way, the way no one would know or understand or really care about, but the way that would be far deeper, more profound, more meaningful and purposeful and fun. He was game, but I needed to see some of it, understand it more, before committing to guiding anyone up there.

Tongba steaming and heads spinning, Jhanak, Harka, and I knew now it was doable. A route possible, something that promised to bring meaningful tourism and tourist dollars to this long-forgotten part of Nepal, so close to Khumbu and yet utterly left out of the economic boon of the Everest economy. Now I just had to convince Sam.

Trekking to Basecamp is not for the faint of heart, even doing it the standard way from Lukla up the Khumbu Valley. There’s long days, cold nights, high altitudes and dry air and new foods and more. It kicks people’s butts with glee. But this route? It promised much more: camping rather than lodges; an unknown trail through unknown country (How steep would it be? How long each day? Would we find water where we needed it, flat ground?); a 19,000-foot, semi-technical pass to cross into Khumbu; and more.

As I thought and hoped, though, Sam took little convincing. An adventurous soul with a heart of gold, he was excited immediately about it all and was on board. And, to be honest, my little coffeeshop meeting was both to suss out his interest and let him meet me (and judge me) in person, but also, more importantly, to feel him out. Guiding for me is not simply an economic thing, transactional, but about time and people and experience. I’ve done too many “off-the-shelf” trips in the past to have zero tolerance for sharing the mountains with people whose goals and values are misaligned with mine. It took but minutes with Sam to know our worlds, while vastly different, were built upon similar ideas and ideals and approaches.

And so, on December 3, we met in Kathmandu, a year’s planning finally coming together.

Unfortunately for Sam, I don’t really believe in the sugar-coated version of Nepal; fancy hotels and windowed views of life are little more than television with smell. I want people to see the real Nepal, wander the back streets, immerse in the smoky incense of dawn on cobbled streets, bells chiming and dogs barking, ambling through the visceral reality that is Pashupatinath, taking in the respite of Bodhanath, embracing the comforting chaos of alleys and backways of Lalitpur.

Sam rose to it all, never flustered or bothered, always interested and engaged and inquisitive. We had but 24 hours in the Valley, but Sam saw and did and digested a lot.

And then we were off, an Altitude Air B-3 piloted expertly by Moreno whipping us up and out of Kathmandu, through the clenching smog of the city to sprawling views of the Himalaya: the Ganesh and Langtang ranges, on to Dorje Lhakpa and Gauri Shankar as we fluttered high over Kavre Palanchok. Then the jumbled jags of Rolwaling and behind, finally, the Everest range, giants piercing the morning sky, Cho Oyu, Nuptse, Lhotse, Everest. Makalu behind, hiding a bit, masked by multitudes, a distant Kangchenjunga almost a mirage eastward.

Before long, some 40 minutes, the show was over, the reality about to begin. We dropped down, our mark Chheskam, a small village clutching the flat ground hundreds of meters above the Hunku Khola, a river raging and carving down from above. Moreno, Swiss to the core, politely but abruptly ushered us out with our duffels and, counting fuel minutes, was off in a jiffy.

We were here, and town was ready.

Going into this trip, I knew Chheskam was excited. A new trail represents economic possibility for the village, the chance to not just be small pawns in the bigger Khumbu trekking economy, but rather to capture some of that themselves, to control it, to reap the benefits and build it out in a way that fits and flourishes.

I guess, though, I didn’t know how excited: We were met at the chopper by many, locals and officials, all adorning us with kathas and warm welcomes. We then walked around the village, Sam getting to see firsthand the impact of dZi Foundation’s work here, projects like one house-one tap, one house-one toilet, kitchen gardens, and more resulting in a very self-sufficient, healthy, clean, place with relative prosperity. Thanks to Jhanak’s connections, we met the oldest man in town as he demonstrated traditional weaving of nettle fabric, sipped raksi in our friend Prashanta’s house, and briefly sat with wedding guests tipsy from revelry. And then we were summoned to the local school for a bigger gathering.

Our team ready to leave Chheskam for the Hunku Khola valley and the new Muddhi-Kongme Dingma trail.

It was huge, much of the town was gathered, hundred of school children, the local government officials, and more, all in the school grounds. We were run through the welcome gauntlet of ceremonial recognition, our necks strung with dozens of kathas and marigold garlands before being treated to local cultural dances and speeches of excitement and gratitude and welcome. Gratitude and ceremony are big in Nepal, and it was strong enough in Chheskam to feel a bit awkward: after all, Sam and I and our team were here just to walk up the valley. We had no guarantees of success - for us or for the future trail. But, the point I think was far bigger than either of us, any of us; the celebration on that day was one of excitement for the future, of possibility, of potential signified by the two of us being willing, caring enough, to come and do this and see where it leads, literally and figuratively.

Thirty-one years before I stared off into these valleys, selfishly hoping that one day I’d wander them, filling my personal cup with some adventure. It took a long time, and was beyond gratifying to finally be here, but doing so with great people, a great team, and a goal beyond anything personal.

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bepp-ers · 9 months ago

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sorry for vanishing on yall i went to take a nap (for like 9 months)

headcanons about the obey me! brothers and the devildom that no-one asked for, in no particular order. because why not :)

> asmodeus is kind of against piercings that aren't in the ear because they're 'tacky' and unsavoury.

> mammon had an aeroplane phase. he eventually settled on cars, but there are still a few plane magazines stashed in his wardrobe.

> lucifer has grey hair but like. way more than you'd think. he's just really good at hiding it. he may or may not have used some sort of magic to hide it, until eventually he gives up and starts to let it show. that's why in some artwork/pictures he has grey streaks, and in some he has none.

> beelzebub has tried to eat so many of the paintings in the HoL that they have to be sealed with magic, lest he devour another family portrait.

> barbatos' tail is "slimy" or "slick" because it's actually poisonous, like those frogs. that's why he doesn't like people touching it, except for that one picture where Solomon tries to touch it (i reckon he got tired of him trying to touch it so he just allows him to be poisoned lmao)

> demons will eat humans. this is a known fact, although it's usually only very low-level demons who are starving, or have succumbed to their sins completely who eat humans. beelzebub has thought about it a few times but he likes MC far too much to truly consider eating them.

> expanding on the last point, the Devildom is overpopulated. im calling it. i headcanon that demons (particularly glutton demons) casually partake in cannibalism. there are too many demons/other species and as such, the laws basically don't exist. the answer to overpopulation is basically murder, or cannibalism.

> the brothers don't try and tone down the more "demon" elements of themselves around MC until someone mentions that humans don't really like that kind of thing. MC has seen some SHIT man.

> leviathan refuses to eat fish or seafood because of Henry 2.0. mammon has 100% tricked him into eating like a fishcake or something. he definitely cried a lot that day.

> i think all of the brothers snore, except for belphegor (ironic huh). asmodeus adamantly denies snoring, but he does. mammon snores the loudest obviously. everyone else just snores a normal amount, and lucifer falls asleep in his chair/on the sofa a lot so his snoring is heard the most. he's a dad at heart.

> satan hates that people mistake him for lucifer. that's obvious. he hates it so much that he once wrote a book on the subject, under a pen name, and it was surprisingly popular. he doesn't think anyone knows he wrote it, but lucifer knows. he simply never said anything because he was secretly proud of satan for how well he could write.

hopefully these make sense. god i forgot just how much this game actually made me think. i love world building yarhhhhggh

> asmodeus is deathly afraid of head lice. that's it that's the headcanon.

oh yeah the ole ask box is open. send me asks im so desperate ill take anything

#obey me #bepp-ers #obey me! shall we date?#omswd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me x reader #obey me headcanons #obey me x mc #obey me barbatos

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kitty-kat-art · 20 days ago

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🧍‍♂️Mental illness has won, I've written a little in-depth essay exploring Dale as a character and breaking down his personality, actions, and how it relates to Dev and Doug. Also I threw in a bunch of my own little headcanons 💀

⚠️ CONTENT WARNING ‼️ This post will contain mentions of abuse, mental illness, and eating disorders. I don't go into uncomfortable detail, but still! Keep this warning in mind when reading on. Obviously, you are very much free to disregard any takes I have if they don't align with what you perceive, especially in regards to what I personally headcannon lololol. I am highkey projecting onto Dale because I like where they took his character compared to his first appearance in the original FOP. It presents MANY questions regarding what led him to end up the way he did, and that's something I always LOVE exploring!

Anyways, please also feel free to expand on anything I bring up here! There's a LOT, and I'm sure I still forgot to mention something somewhere... 😭 (Also, keep in mind I am only on episode 20 atm, so I have more Dale content to analyze besides the fact, so I may add onto this in the future or change my onions JSKDJSKDJLSJDKSJ)

The way Dale has been portrayed in FOPANW as one of the main antagonists presents a compelling exploration of Dale's character development, particularly in relation to Dev and Doug. It suggests that Dale's journey to becoming the father he is today stems directly from the influence of Doug, who, upon Dale's release from Vicky's lemonade dungeon, very briefly acknowledges him before shifting his focus entirely to Timmy. Dale doesn't even get a moment to greet his father before Doug redirects his attention to Timmy... This moment encapsulates the emotional neglect Dale experiences at the hands of Doug literally in an instant, as Doug doesn't even let his son get a single word in before moving on to prioritizes another child he doesn't even know, no doubt leaving Dale caught in a whirlwind of emotions—from initial excitement to a profound sense of emptiness at the realization that he's just going from one location lacking in proper support to another.

(Literally "WOW IT'S MY DAD 😃" to "... 😐" in seconds when he is ignored after 7 years of trauma just so his dad can yap at some other kid 😭)

Moreover, I believe that Doug’s obsession with monetary success profoundly impacted Dale's own self-worth. Before living with Doug, Dale was already fixated on hard work to please Vicky, aiming to generate wealth. Living under Doug's influence only magnifies this mentality, leading Dale to internalize that his identity is tied to his status as a Dimmadome, where financial success equates to personal value. This relentless pursuit of wealth distorts Dale's perception of self-worth, establishing a direct correlation between his earnings and his sense of purpose. If he fails to meet his own financial expectations, he feels worthles. It's been pointed out before that he falls into despair when his ability to make money is hindered.

While I don't think Doug was as absent in Dale's life as Dale is in Dev's (obviously we can't know for sure unless ANW explores that), the emotional absence is certainly palpable. I personally like to think that Dale is aware of his own flaws, yet his pride prevents him from acknowledging them. Maybe he has the incessant voice of Doug in his head, reinforcing the belief that he must constantly generate income to avoid feeling useless... This toxic mindset might lead Dale to distance himself from Dev on purpose, as he recognizes the love he never received and perceives Dev’s lack of gratitude for his own circumstances as a stark reminder of his own impoverished childhood. Dale's bitterness and jealousy manifest in a misguided perception that Dev has everything he, Dale, has ever desired, failing to recognize that Dev's true yearning is for paternal love and attention—elements Dale is ill-equipped to provide due to his own upbringing and emotional immaturity due to having never received unconditional love and support from his own dad, which can be assumed based on Doug's priorities and personality as portrayed in the original show... (If we get more seasons for A New Wish, I hope that they get a chance to explore Dales dynamic with Doug one on one, that could be something very interesting, I think, even if it is only mentioned briefly...)

Dale's behavior is UNDENIABLY selfish and manipulative, painting him as a narcissist. However, these traits can also be viewed as a defense mechanism, a survival strategy developed in response to a lifetime of neglect and abuse. There is a possibility that throughout his life, Dale has learned to trust no one but himself, leading to a bottled-up emotional state that makes him appear aloof on the surface. Consequently, he mirrors the tactics used against him by Vicky, employing similar strategies to cope with his own vulnerabilities, manipulating others and prioritizing money over the well-being of others. To outsiders, he may appear as a self-important narcissist, but this could easily be a façade that masks his desperate need for validation on his self-worth, which he vainly seeks through material wealth and accolades. When someone has no control over their life, they seek control through other means...

The accumulation of wealth becomes a means for Dale to convince himself of his greatness. Surrounded by paintings and statues of himself, he clings to the notion that financial success equates to personal value. It's a tragic cycle of self-deception; he rationalizes his wealth as proof of his worthiness, seeking external validation to fill the void within with which he lacks the proper tools to confront in a meaningful and healthy way. This could very well be an example of him attempting to take control of his own thoughts and feelings towards himself.

Dale clings to his wealth as a tangible affirmation of his worth as an individual, a testament to his perceived success and brilliance. 'Look at all this money I have! I have literally everything I could ever want and more! Don't you agree? Don't you think I'm rich? Aren't I doing well carrying my father's legacy as a Dimmadome? (Please recognize my status. Tell me I’m good. Validate my worth by giving me money.)' That type of mentality. This desperate plea for acknowledgment underscores a deeper insecurity, revealing his need for external validation to reinforce his self-esteem. He is the kind of man who believes that money solves all your problems, and maybe there's a chance that he has told himself that enough times that he finally started to believe it. He even seems to speak of his own traumatic experience working for Vicky as something that built his character. He LITERALLY carries a picture of his trauma around in his pocket and happily shows it to Dev...

"When I was you're age, I spent my Saturdays working in a FACTORY underneath a lemonade stand, for SEVEN YEARS. That's 364 Saturdays, do you know how many Saturday morning cartoons I missed out on!? ALL OF THEM... And look at the man I turned out to be." This quote vividly paints him as a bitter and jealous adult because he missed out on having a proper childhood, all while emphasizing that he views his trauma almost like a GOOD thing... Because otherwise he wouldn't be where he is now, so it HAD to be good, right? Just look at the man he turned out to be! (This guy is coping so hard! 😭)

In contrast, Dev appears to be navigating his OWN identity through the lens of his father's image, perhaps in an attempt to earn his approval. It's a common phenomenon for children to reflect their parents' behaviors, whether through mimicking their language, fashion, or taking on their parent's interests as their own... I believe it was Dev's choice to emulate his father's style... The white jacket and boots with gold accents paired with dark pants and slicked back hair... It suggests a conscious effort to mirror Dale on Dev's part. It seems unlikely that Dale actively encourages this mimicry; rather, it appears to stem from Dev's own desire for recognition, and the age old inclination nearly every child has with idolizing their parents and wanting to grow up to be JUST like them... Whether Dale is oblivious to this or simply indifferent remains a bit of a mystery.

Something else I've thought about is that Dev's tendency to wear sunglasses could also signify his own struggle with vulnerability, as he often obscures his eyes, maybe in an attempt to shield himself from the world or prevent himself from revealing to much emotion, much like his father. Yet, I've noticed a pattern with Dev. Sometimes, when he is feeling particularly vulnerable or upset, he removes the shades, revealing a desire to be seen and understood— a stark contrast to Dale, who prefers to hide behind his wealth and image and avoid eye contact at all costs unless the topic of discussion is money.

I like to think that Dale’s tendency to avoid eye contact could be interpreted as a defense mechanism against the judgment he feels from others, as if he can't stand seeing the way people judge him (This is just my own personal HC). This avoidance would stem from a deep-seated insecurity that was planted in him at a young age and never got uprooted before it took hold. Perhaps he feels scrutinized and exposed, with the exception being when the conversation shifts to financials... In these instances, he may feel a temporary sense of control, something he has lacked his WHOLE life, on top of never being properly loved when it mattered most in regards to the development of his brain.

I feel like Dale's pride would keep him from confronting his emotional turmoil, leading him to suffer in silence. He guards his vulnerabilities closely, perhaps fearing that revealing his pain would make it 'real'. The prospect of others discovering his deep-seated feelings of inadequacy terrifies him, reinforcing his need to maintain a façade of success. Because of this, he ends up reflecting narcissistic traits on the surface to make up for his own incompetence.

I also HC that Dale's emotional distance from Dev is a conscious choice rooted in his own experiences of fatherly love—or rather, the lack thereof. His upbringing under Doug no doubt left Dale with a warped understanding of affection and how one goes about loving another person. I mean... Just look back at their first interaction in the original cartoon where Doug didn't even give Dale a second to say anything before turning his attention to Timmy, basically saying 'You are not as important as the thing that can give me money or free labor', which is an attitude he carries into adulthood with Dev.

Dale's perception of his son also seems clouded by envy, as he watches Dev embrace the childhood experiences he himself was deprived of. This dynamic could explain why Dale sometimes appears 'burdened' by Dev's presence; he may be grappling with the painful reminder of what he missed out on. The interplay between their identities and emotional needs highlights the complexities of familial relationships, particularly in the context of legacy and the expectations placed upon them. The cyclical nature of this dynamic becomes a poignant exploration of how unresolved issues from one generation can profoundly impact the next if left unresolved. In this context, it becomes apparent that Dale’s deliberate push against any emotional attatchment with Dev is a projection of his own unresolved feelings.

Dale's existence has been predominantly defined by work and money, reducing him to a mere instrument for generating wealth—essentially, the heir to the Dimmadome fortune. This is not a matter of opinion, but fact... And this type of upbringing has deprived him of the fundamental aspects of being treated as a person with emotional needs, to which he passes onto his own son. To Vicky, Dale was barely human. Left with a gaggle of other presumably kidnapped or trafficked children that she used to generate money for herself while neglecting their basic needs, like providing them with food, water, proper sunlight and places to sleep. Just look at Dale's body right after he is freed compared to his appearance when he's older. He was significantly skinnier and much paler than Timmy and his dad. Not to mention the tattered clothes that barely fit him and the dirt and grime covering his body.

Expanding off his abuse under Vicky, if we consider the realisfic ramifications regarding that whole situation, I HC that Dale would struggle with food consumption in the sense that he might over indulge due to the ingrained fear of not knowing the next time he's going to eat, and then feeling self conscious about himself after the fact and 'punishing' himself by not eating for extended periods of time. Additionally, though it's said as a joke in the original show, Dale expresses his discomfort seeing natural light... "The light! It burns!"

(Also note how skinny the kid in the background on the right is! Holy shit! Vicky was obviously NOT concerned with their well being, this would absolutely affect Dale mentally)

But if we take this throwaway line seriously, it's important to note that people who are kept in the dark for extended periods of time can have their vision permanently damaged. So, I like to imagine that Dale wears contacts or even reading glasses on occasion when no one else is around. (Just cause I think reading glasses are cute... 😭 Also I love over analyzing cartoon men... 🫶 Also I love taking things too seriously in regards to my headcanons teehee 😇)

Ultimately, Dale's emotional landscape is one of confusion and disconnection, leaving him with no framework for how to genuinely love someone. His interactions with Dev reveal a complex web of projection, unfulfilled desires, and a tragic inability to break free from the cycle of emotional neglect that has defined his life.

In conclusion...

#fairly oddparents #fopanw #fairly oddparents a new wish #dale dimmadome #dev dimmadome #doug dimmadome #headcanons #headcanon #long post #I enjoy psychoanalyzing cartoon characters 🫶

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cristaq · 1 month ago

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This is for us male readers! There is simply not enough content for us sometimes. So, best "mates" MReader x Captain John Soap Mactavish! Boys will be boys. (First time writing for reader so yeah, I might expand this one. I just love the man!)

You knock on the Captain’s door a bit too fast. A loud and stern “Come in!” can be heard so you enter the room. Soap is drowned in thought, resting his elbows on the hardwood desk, head bent over recon reports of future assignments. He raises his gaze and his features soften, infinitesimally so, when he lays his eyes on you.

“Soap…” Your voice trails off, letting the ellipsis buy you some time. “You haven’t joined cards tonight. Or lunch. Or dinner”

Soap scoffs and runs a hand through his hair. “I really wish I had time for that mate.” He shifts around some papers to showcase that. “Go on and have fun. I will be stuck here for a while.” You take a step closer and he raises his hand to stop you. “I mean it, Y/N.” He crunches his nose. Years of service together and he still has the same tell.

You nod, head for the exit but you spot Soap’s surprised expression when you comply. You spent a lot of time working together and only recently did Soap become your superior. Naturally you have issues with his authority. He is one of your best mates and who takes orders from their best mate? (At least outside of combat. During a firefight you have nothing but respect for the man.)

5 minutes later the door swings open and you struggle to carry two cups of coffee and some pastries left from dinner on a plate. You place them on the desk.

“Boss me around again like that and I’ll fuck you up.” You pull a chair next to him. “Do you want to die of starvation or in some cool way like getting blown up?” Oddly specific. “Eat.”

Soap smiles and picks up one of the pastries. It almost resembles a croissant. “Always with the attitude you bawbag.” He takes a big bite out of it.

“Your mom seems to love it!” You pick up one of the dossiers and fling it open, cup of coffee in your other hand. ‘Your mom’ jokes and mature men go hand in hand. Of course Soap’s response is a shove that almost knocks you over.

“Watch it!” Soap says, but there is no ill intent behind his words. His smile almost distracts you from the dark crescent moons below his eyes.

Your playful shoves turns into a bit of a wrestling match as you try to pin each other down. Your heart rate increases just by looking at him. You know how much he is hurting these days and you want nothing but to hug him and never let go. Tell him all the ways you love him, all the ways he drives you mad, kiss the scar running over his eye that looks like the last moments of an angry dying star.

He does pin you down on the floor at some point, not that you were putting much resistance and your stomach aches from laughter. Soap looks straight into your eyes, catching his own breath from laughter, squeezing your muscular arms which makes you feel like throwing up. There is a flash of sadness in his eyes though.

“What is going on with you? You’ve never hid things like this from me.” There is a tight knot in your throat but words manage to slip through.

Soap’s expression changes and he lets himself fall on the floor on his back next to you. “Maybe because I’ve never felt things like these before.” He focuses on a random point on the ceiling.

“I want nothing else than to support you.” You take a deep breath trying to calm your bottled up emotions. “Tell me how.”

You see him opening his mouth to speak but no sounds come out. You’ve never seen him speechless. He is a man with a lot to say and tell. Eventually though he manages to sort his thoughts. “Sometimes it all gets too much. Too much pressure. I feel like fucking drowning sometimes. I don’t know if I am ready to take over everything Price built.”

Here goes nothing. You search for his hand and squeeze it tight as he speaks and he doesn’t flinch. Both of you keep staring at the ceiling.

“Nobody is asking you to be Price. I think you are one of the most capable men I have ever met. Tough but fair, sharp, smart, loyal, well trained…” You turn your head to face him. “... and a good fucking friend. You are ready for this and I will be here every step of the way.”

You wait for his response and he finally turns his head to you. A light squeeze reminds you that you are still holding his hand.

“That was some sappy shite.” he says with a smile.

You snicker at his comment. “Don’t get used to it. You know I love you mate.” You thought about using his name, but you settled for ‘mate’. It’s nothing you haven’t said before. “You looked like you needed it. Now how about you stop feeling sorry for yourself and we eat…”

You end up eating your own words as Soap’s mouth clashes with yours as he fully turns his body towards you. He doesn’t let go of your hand but he places his free one on your cheek. It happens almost too fast for you to register what is going on. He backs away just as fast, terror on his face, searching your eyes for a sign.

“Tell me I read this wrong.”

There is only one suitable response to that, after years of pinning. You kiss him back. Angry at him for not saying anything these years. Angry at yourself for not doing it either. Angry at the world and man for inventing war. So you kiss him pouring all these thoughts and emotions onto him. He accepts it all immediately, pulling you closer. It all feels like a dream really. His calloused hands wrap your hips, his tongue parts your lips while your hands rush to cradle his face and touch him in ways you’ve only dreamed of.

He eventually gets back on his feet in a swift motion, extending his arm to help you get up. You grab his arm and as you get up he cradles your face and he brings your foreheads together in a desperate motion.

“I…” He mouths some words but then again no sounds seem to come out.

“All that talk about women and girlfriends…”

He scoffs. “You had to lie at some point about that too. Couldn’t raise suspicions.”

“I knew you were lying. I just thought you couldn’t get any woman to like you.”

He smiles and starts caressing your cheek. “Not interested in them anyway.” He steals another kiss from you. “You have no idea how glad I am that… There is no one this close to me I just…” His ramblings are cute, you think. “God I am shit at this…”

“Then why did I understand everything?”

Your mouths clash again with passion and fury. He can be a bit rough around the edges but so can you. That’s why you two always worked.

#call of duty #cod #modern warfare #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #modern warfare iii #john soap mactavish #soap cod #captain john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap x reader #john soap mctavish x you #john soap mctavish x male reader #call of duty x male reader #call of duty x reader

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ihopeinevergetsoberr · 11 months ago

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the counterpart

• chapter 1 — a welcome threatening stir

rating: explicit. please don’t skip straight to (future) smut parts though, i’m currently learning chess just for this fic /hj

word count: 4,5k

pairing: viktor x fem!reader (no use of ‘y/n’)

cw: alcohol, occasional cussing, reader is a smoker (she plays chess and lives in the 90s, how do you expect her to have healthy lungs in these conditions?). a LOT of tension, viktor is a certified brat tamer. i think that’s it — please come yell at me if i missed anything. basically just a silly little chess rivals (sort of) au.

i am finally writing this multichapter and i hope it will be a fun read for you and an excellent torture for me. i have a vision but i don’t know how to make shit perfectly executed. we’ll see how this goes. an ao3 link will be added later. any feedback is highly appreciated.

part 2

⸻

You weren’t obsessed with him.

Nor with the way his tongue would click against his teeth so astutely irritating — a gesture you grew to define as some brief foreplay before said appendage touched his palate precisely one torturous time, whispering a victorious ‘check’. Nor with the crease dissecting his forehead — a rare occasion you managed to grasp only twice: the first time being your failed attempt to capture his queen, and the second — a recent one, at that — being the foolish way you’ve lost a freshly promoted rook: concurrently the most humiliating way to jeopardize an intellectual sparring.

You weren’t obsessed with his bizarre contemplative humming, nor with his Czech last name — needless to mention the disheveled mayhem of dark hair: Viktor was just a mere enigma you fancied to occasionally demerge — sneakily, patiently, with a positive passion to it. Habitually in a private ambiance of either his or your dorm room, though actually more commonly his — something about it simply screamed peace, as contradictory as that sounds. Sweetly quiet, relatively neat, with a never properly made bed being the only truly concerning mess in it.

That apartment was the embodiment of a grandmaster’s mind, and it certainly had all the chances of belonging to one at some point: if only he kept up with the meticulous tactics you were (secretly) so jealous of.

“Envy is a waste of time,” he unkindly reminded you one particularly languid evening, “you should pursue ways to expand your knowledge — not to contract them with such trivialities.”

That reproach got into your ambitious head. Call it a reality check or a simple first impression — since that encounter was also the first one you two had ever shared.

Though could someone really blame you? You didn’t need humbling. Well, not any more of that crude one, at the very least — a local college chess club had more than enough of it to offer. You could consume their disdain for weeks and it still wouldn’t make them run out of it — they had plenty in stock specifically for women. That much was obvious the second you appeared before those arrogant, prejudiced fools. You stepped in there innocently hoping to enroll, but stormed off with a genuine intention to commit homicide — a manslaughter, to be precise, and god weren’t you going to be merciful.

‘You can’t enroll without a rating,’ hissed that bespectacled, caricaturely tall boy — all heavily starched collar, stupid chequered tie and a handful of dirty blonde hair plastered across his forehead.

Bullshit, you thought, gathering every last ounce of your forced politeness, who needs a rating to enroll into a college fucking chess club?

‘We don’t accept amateurs,’ assented his not any less grimy interlocutor, his expression a tad bit more bearable. ‘Please, leave,’ he demanded, lancing your face with his hostile eyes.

Well, it’s a good thing you accept ill-mannered bastards, you almost muttered, fists clenching hard into a white-knuckled disaster.

And perhaps you were even willing to negotiate, to have their best players all lined up in front of you — each waiting for a turn to be relentlessly put in his place by you; and you would certainly show them — quick, efficient and dangerous. You would force them into submission — professionally so, in a way that would make them all wonder whether the next Judit Poglar has decided to bless them with her presence.

Because, sure; you were certainly many things — an excellent mind, a trickster, a fanatic, but that list never included an amateur. The mere fact someone even dared to insult you in such a way — and without even sparing you one game of chess — was, frankly, deeply humiliating.

So you decided to let your pride win. Walked out of that damned club with an ostentatious huff, heels clacking loud enough to muffle their demeaningly misogynistic brouhaha — a tacit protest, an addendum to your passive-aggressive ‘good luck, gentlemen’.

They didn’t want you — fine, whatever, you didn’t want them either. You’ll find yourself a counterpart soon — not any less intelligent, and, most importantly, respectful. They’ll come crawling back to you once you gain a rating, mourning their loss and pathetically begging for sweet mercy. You could already imagine the holes rubbed through the nice fabric of their dress pants from all the kneeling you’ll make them do.

Besides, Jayce had already promised to introduce you to someone decent. ‘He’s sweet,’ he assured you, a friendly arm wrapped around your tense shoulder. ‘Incredibly smart,’ he proceeded with his wholehearted praise, proud grin so wide the corners of his mouth were definitely hurting. ‘Somewhat awkward,’ he mused, raising one eyebrow in consideration, ‘though I’m not entirely sure it’s awkwardness, per se, Viktor is simply… pensive.’

Viktor. Your eyes squeezed shut, offering the restless imagination a brief opportunity to brainstorm. A competent, pensive and sweet chess lover: what would his temper turn out to be like? Does he have a rating yet? What if he’s already playing professionally? Perhaps he even has a title?

Jayce’s next comment didn’t offer you much help though.

‘He’s handsome too,’ he whispered, a shit-eating smirk wiped instantly off his pleased physiognomy. Elbows become offensive weapons between the ribs of unfortunate matchmakers, you see.

Either way: the deal was sealed. You were going to meet Viktor the next chance you get, and Jayce’s upcoming birthday has provided you with precisely that convenience.

It still happened rather spontaneously — you can’t mentally prepare yourself for an encounter you don’t quite know what to expect of. Sure, Jayce’s complaisant flattery was still at your service — a source not exactly reliable, yet somewhat welcomed nonetheless: though only because you lacked any other information about this Viktor persona.

But you decided not to upset a dear friend on his birthday. Acting like Jayce was bearable to be around was a part of your gift, after all.

Unfortunately, the fact he was born on an awfully steamy July day wasn’t helping you accomplish that; you squinted, drowning a glass of that disgustingly warm bourbon, a couple of melted ice cubes in it slightly diluting the once-rich taste of liquor. The man of the hour had quickly dissolved into a mess of infuriatingly noisy people after only reserving you a quick hello, shiny eyes already evidently tipsy — either from all the attention or the contentious quality of the booze this bar had to offer.

You didn’t dare to complain. The tab was on a birthday boy, and you knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Knew better, yet still stared right at Jayce’s laughing physiognomy, grin so blindingly toothy it had you regretting ever sojourning this feast of life. Not that you had anything against attending birthday celebrations; but a cramped bar, a cheap drink and not a single minute spent with a man you came here for weren’t exactly your ideal perception of said… festivity. Not to mention that Viktor was terribly late — though your darling mutual acquaintance was in no state to properly introduce you to him anyway. You slipped out of your bar stool, rubbing an erratic little pattern into the weary skin of each heavy eyelid — but the sleepiness didn’t magically dissolve under the persistent pressure of your fingers. If there existed a thing you hated more than cocky men and bad booze — then it certainly had to be feeling hot, and this awful place has kindly reminded you of precisely that long forgotten loathing; air so sticky it was melting your brain into a tired, dysfunctional mush.

Somehow you managed to find an exit before the headache became borderline unbearable, letting the evening greet you with a chilly slap on precisely that slick place where a damp blouse kept clinging onto your sweaty back. Summer sure was relentless this year — the outdoors didn’t offer you much of that crispy gentle breeze, but it was still not nearly as suffocatingly hot as inside that grimy shelter for drunks.

Shaky hands slid inside the pocket of your pants, fumbling frantically with the contents of it: glistening candy wrappers, ringing keys and a handful of coins. Took you long enough to finally feel the shape of an old lighter, the spark wheel of it so terribly rusty the callus on your thumb started stinging as soon as you laid it on that rough little bump.

With a sigh, you fetched a folded pack of Camel out of the same stuffed sack, the state of said poor thing utterly matching its owner’s — all ruffled, messy, with the bottom of it barely still intact. Well, fine, perhaps that last trait was not precisely pertinent to you, but your rear was hurting quite palpably after an hour spent sitting on that awfully uncomfortable stool — which meant that relating to your poor box of cancer sticks was inevitable.

The spark wheel gave in after a few insistent pushes, and within seconds you were taking your first greedy drag, back pressed tightly against the cool wall; providing you much needed support for taming a headache with a smoke break that would undoubtedly cause a new one in an instant. The filth filled your lungs with sweet relief, and you let the sedation run slowly through your veins, squeezing the filter in an affectionate little embrace of trembling index and middle fingers.

And then your private moment was ruined. But not abruptly in the slightest, with just one simple call of your name – the most careful of all interventions, surprisingly quizzical and polite, heavily accented at the edge of the very last syllable. Still had you choking ungracefully on your tiny nicotine snack, filling the silence with awfully inelegant coughing.

“Apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you,” spoke your pensive intruder, causing you to sharply turn around, back clinging off the wall in one unsubtle movement.

That’s how all meaningful formal meetings happen. Unfailingly when you least expect them, or, even worse — when you stop expecting them at all, with every thought banished from your utterly relaxed mind. They sneak up on you under shitty bars, giving you a slight vertigo and then offering a polite smile to make amends, gripping the handles of their canes with pent up awkwardness. And god were they peculiar intrusions — matching your silly, much too improper manner to wear corporate clothes for a night out, with just a few buttons of their tight vest undone; limbs lanky, but not inept, eyes brimming with pretty copper right onto your astonished frame. Made you randomly embarrassed about your chipped nail polish and messy hair with just a mere presence of their flawlessness: you knew you were facing a tease before you even managed to acknowledge his appearance, brow raising curiously in a cautious attempt of a greeting.

“Well, you did startle me,” was the first thing to leave your mouth after the coughing assault had ended, lips stretching lazily into an involuntary grin. “How do you know my name?”

His eyes — oh those big shiny tormentors — widened in surprise, and one sinewy hand crawled somewhat haphazardly up his chest, fingers catching the knot of a red tie to pull on it firmly. To either adjust it or to make the clearing of a tender throat easier — you couldn’t quite place it, yet still watched him in silent astonishment, tasting the bitterish taste of tobacco on the tip of your tongue.

“Well,” he parroted your tone with sharp accuracy and proceeded with distinguished sass, “I believe a certain someone has introduced us to each other… in absentia, so to speak.”

Oh. So that was your new charming counterpart? Bravo, Jayce — there was actually something truthful about your flattering for the first time.

“For I am Viktor, in case you’re still confused,” he obligingly reminded, abandoning the brief fidgeting with his tie to offer you a handshake.

You gulped, almost extending a dominant arm to accept it, but some weird foreboding had once convinced you that to twine your still smelling of cigarettes fingers with a stranger would be somehow perceived as crude — and so you clumsily caught his palm with your other, less nimble limb. Let the heat of his touch engrave into your hand, eyes swirling the tiny mole above that defined cupid’s bow, making you feel stupid for stealing that innocent of a peek. Had you forgetting about the still stuffed into your mouth cigarette as it fell open in oblivious awe, almost dropping a decent bridge of ashes onto his pretty shoes.

Regaining the lost composure, you managed to introduce yourself in a manner similar to his — not that it was necessary since he seemed to remember what to call you exactly, but the gesture still felt right — you’d vowed to treat people with politeness and liked to think that it was going quite well for you.

“So,” he uttered somewhat approbatory, withdrawing his hand from your tender clasp, “normally I don’t… tutor. But Jayce was rather insistent I try — and he’d also assured me that you’re quite passionate about the subject.”

You huffed, letting out an undefinable sound of confusion. Not without a mixture of evident irritation to it, if you were to be frank — but that was entirely justified. A tutor? Is that how Jayce really took it?

“I’m not looking for a tutor,” you sassed matter-of-factly, angrily inhaling from your cigarette. “I’m looking for a counterpart. What makes you think that you’re competent enough to teach me anything at all?” you inquired with candid hostility, watching him go limp in silent panic.

You’d vowed to treat people with politeness and didn’t care if it wasn’t going well for you anymore. Quite a drastic change of plans, to be frank.

“Oh, I am not claiming that,” Viktor rushed to object, and the way a few strands of hair started shaking treacherously as he wagged his head had almost caused you to crack a pretentious smirk. But he quickly soothed the unkempt curl and proceeded with his explanation, “I was simply told you might need some help. Why the unnecessary attitude?”

“Because you were told wrong,” you practically spat the smoke into his face, lips smacking together with an audible pop. It made his textured nose wrinkle with a fed up sigh, entertaining you with an ungainly attempt of waving that livid cloud away.

“And that’s my fault… how, exactly?” he mumbled with an utterly puzzled glare, and you scoffed in silent rejoicement, leaning slightly closer to divert yourself with more of his emotiveness.

“You should have paid more attention to what Jayce told you,” you jumped over his rhetorical question paying it no mind whatsoever. Though, as you were reminiscing on the events of this exact conversation — your own audacity made you wonder how Viktor managed to refrain from slapping you across the face that very instant. The shitty booze must have turned out not so shitty after all — it sure gave you the nerve, and you were holding onto it a tad bit too tightly.

But your new companion didn’t take that well. His thick eyebrow protruded into a furious arc, lids twitching slightly at the outburst you were so pathetically proud about. Both hands returned to the handle of his cane, as if getting ready to transform it into a weapon — and he leaned his whole body weight on it with a displeased gasp, accented voice obtaining a lower, more threatening edge to it.

He’s sweet, you scoffed, ready to press your forehead against his like an uncivilized animal. It’s not like you were acting much better than that anyway.

Well, at least Jayce didn’t lie about the handsome part.

“I’ll have you know that I was, indeed, paying attention,” he hissed through gritted teeth, “and if you wish to quibble over the words that do not even belong to me — then fine: be my absolute guest, but do not except me to align with your enthusiasm and partake in useless insults.”

He cleared his throat again, evidently reluctant to indulge in whatever spectacle you were so clearly asking for. That man didn’t deserve your resentment, but now you certainly deserved his, and so you backed off, fingers twitching haphazardly as they curdled around your cigarette for one last awkward drag, lashes fluttering with palpable nervousness.

“I was told you needed a tutor — and I sincerely apologize if your request was miscomprehended,” Viktor sighed, and you blinked at him in baffled reverence. Wishing oh so desperately to burn your always looking for trouble tongue with that still somewhat smoldering tobacco stick.

“No, I…” you gasped in response, but Viktor held a soothing hand up, stopping you from puking out more of that guilty incoherent nonsense.

“Please, allow me to finish,” he demanded, and you obeyed — a mere culpable inch away from accidentally swallowing the filter still filling your mouth with a sharp savour of smoke.

And your submission was appreciated right away.

“So, as I was saying,” Viktor returned to his lecture with a distinguished cough, “I’m sorry if your request was miscomprehended. But it certainly wasn’t miscomprehended by me, which makes your reaction somewhat… unfair, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” you yielded, nodding in weak agreement. “Yes, totally unfair.”

“To say the least,” he was quick to add, emphasizing the last word especially heavy.

“To say the least,” you parroted in response — just like a tamed misbehaving brat. And that’s precisely what you were — humbled, put in your place and sorry. You were sorry, and it made you quiver as you timidly chewed on the inside of an already half-eaten cheek, frantically counting the numerous scratches on your shoes. Doing anything to escape the gentle orbs undressing you off your very flesh in an attempt to find something even you doubted was still there: some prudence.

“So, with that being said,” Viktor summarized, and you heard a resonant click of his cane against the concrete, “I suggest you take out your anger on someone who’s responsible for the incorrect wording.”

You dared to abandon your defeated position, head tilting slightly upwards to witness his departure — just as languid as this completely disastrous evening; no offense to Jayce and his special day, of course.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” he smiled, politely nodding at the establishment before you two, “I still ought to wish that someone a happy birthday.”

So that’s how you lose both a battle and a war. He’d just taught you a valuable lesson — and here you were, so appalled to the idea of being tutored. Oh how the tables have turned.

You reached out a hand for him, preliminarily putting out that damned cigarette to the sole of your messy shoe in a chaotic rush. Grazed his shoulder with a fleeting touch — so cowardly unsure if you were even allowed to pamper such luxury in these conditions. But he showed you some mercy — allowed it to linger there, slightly dipped into the curvature of his clavicle, awaiting your next move with a didactic frown.

A look of a man who’d put you in a checkmate before even pulling out a chess board.

“Viktor, I’m sorry,” you muttered with the most sincere remorseful look your face could even master, “I’m terribly sorry, actually. I shouldn’t have—“ but he interrupted you, eyes drifting playfully to the hand still invading his precious privacy.

“Oh, shit,” you cussed under your breath, hastily pulling it back as if it was leprotic, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—“

“Please, continue,” he insisted softly. Gave you a few seconds to finish crumbling into stupid tipsy pieces and stepped back, all of his attention centered precisely on your earnest apology.

Oh, nevermind, someone please scratch the ‘showed you some mercy’ part.

“I was rude,” you confessed (as if it wasn’t obvious enough already). “Unacceptably so. I’m not exactly… good with social cues — but it’s no excuse, I should never have said that. Especially within the first five minutes of meeting you,” the words were flowing out of your mouth so naturally — surprisingly smooth for someone who’d normally take three to five business days to come up with a proper atonement (or even consider the necessity of one whatsoever).

“Do you think I could somehow… make it up to you?” you hit him with your most pitiable arrow, the one you were saving up for special occasions when you really did mean to somehow atone for all the damage, eyes two pretty things seeking his forgiveness with a sporadic, perplexed blink. But they saw none — he’d frowned, hummed in consideration, and then tormented you with silence for just a few more everlasting seconds, making you sink your lips softly into the edge of your nail and scrape some polish off of it. Squinting instantly at the awful, chemical taste — and Viktor finally gave up.

You’d realized it was your first time hearing him laugh much later. It was, indeed, a thing to remember — all raspy, strangely domestic, not malicious or willing to destroy you any further. And yes — technically, he was laughing at you, but if that’s what you’d get every time this man filled the air with that soft laughter — then you may as well become a circus employee just to figure out how to make him emit more of it.

“All is forgiven,” he assured you, shaking his head, “the second you made that face, actually. But no more of that, please. If that’s how you plead — then I’m afraid I might someday forgive you something utterly unacceptable.”

He’s sweet, you sighed, an unsure smile returning plastered across your face once again.

Perhaps you should start listening to Jayce more often.

“But back to your request,” Viktor was quick not to let you turn into a puddle on that still scorched by the sun ground, “a counterpart — is that what you need? Why not join a chess club, then?”

His question didn’t mean any harm, and he obviously just asked it out of sheer curiosity — yet it still made you feel a tad bit demeaned. Not by him, of course, just by the fact those arrogant fucks still dared to coexist without you.

Perhaps they would be willing to reconsider if they saw your behavior tonight?

You sighed, shrugging off his query. “I tried to. They didn’t let me because I don’t have a rating.”

“Really? Well that’s just strange — since when does one need a rating for it?” his confusion was genuine, eyes widened drastically as if he’d just heard the biggest absurdity of his entire life.

“That’s what I said,” you whined in a tone of a natural gossip-girl, almost ready to chain-smoke the entire rest of your pack now that you were reminded of your misery.

“I see,” Viktor hummed, stroking a thumb over the line of his sharp chin in deep scrutiny, “hm, I’m certain I’ve never heard them demand a rating for enrollment before. A club is not a tournament, after all.”

“Wait, are you a member of our chess club?” the realization quickly absorbed you, but Viktor didn’t quite catch on to your astonishment.

“Yes,” he dryly confirmed, “yes, I am. Not that I spend much time there though — those gentlemen are simply… how do I put it politely? Mediocre. Incompetent. I don’t like careless opponents — what’s the point in playing them if you can picture how exactly you can win within seconds?”

Within seconds. You froze in apparent disbelief, trying to figure out whether he’s bluffing or actually being serious, awaiting tensely on something — anything — that might indicate a joke. But not a single muscle on his pale face twitched into a smile — he’d responded with a look as awfully inquisitive as yours, unsure of what exactly you expect him to do.

So he does mean it. In that case, he’s either very full of himself — or these boys are, in fact, that hopeless in chess. And something kept telling you that it most likely was the ladder.

“I’m jealous then, I suppose,” you offered him a safe answer, toying thoughtlessly with your poor, rusty lighter.

“Please don’t be,” he protested with a careful plea. “Envy is a waste of time. You should pursue ways to expand your knowledge — not to contract them with such trivialities.”

Bold of him to assume you might envy his skills. Well, yes — you were definitely beaming with envy, but he didn’t need to know that just yet.

You snorted, almost letting that toxic conceit take over whatever pieces of common sense Viktor had just punched back into you — and his words dwelled, slinking through your skull, filling you not with thirst for vengeance, but with inspiration. It gave you some time to form a decent comeback, so you used it wisely: by delivering precisely that kind of answer, eyes rolling playfully at his discreet lecture.

“I don’t envy your tactics,” you informed him, gracefully holding your head up, “I envy the fact you have someone to show them to.”

And that boy smiled again, forcing your light vertigo to return — but not out of tipsiness or so-called ‘arrogance poisoning’.

“So do you,” he whispered, and watched you derail with the most victorious countenance known to a man. Reminding you nonchalantly that he doesn’t need a single chess piece to have you in a stalemate.

That muggy bar might’ve offered you an experience of being trapped in a figurative, impossibly narrow coffin, but Viktor’s presence was the thing that truly made you feel like an actual cadaver — all empty thoughts, and stiffness, and skipped heartbeats.

But Jayce forgot to mention that your new competitor was also deeply laconic.

“Meet me in the library next… Friday, if you’re available?” he wasn’t generous enough to award you with any more seconds to recover from this exchange, impatiently expecting a confirmation. You could only manage a non-verbal one, nodding weakly at his offer.

“Say… somewhere around noon?” he mused, and you instantly nodded again, waiting obligingly for his next suggestion. What a pleasure it is to do business with you!

“Perfect,” he snatched the words out of your mouth, already half-turned to the bar entrance, “please bring a board, and I shall bring the clocks… Yes, the library should suffice — it’s not like a game of chess requires much conversation either way. Now, please do excuse me — I really need to steal Jayce away for a minute.”

You watched him vanish into that devilish, so utterly unfitting for a man of his kind place; eyes nailed into his back as the crowd of feasting people swallowed your new interlocutor. Letting an excited little breath slip past your open mouth, escorting him with an uncoordinated wave of a shaky hand — a rather silly, excessive gesture since he wasn’t able to see it, and yet it still felt right — like a perfect little farewell to strengthen this newfound friendship with.

That’s how you met your counterpart — or, perhaps, that’s what you used to see in him once.

What you were still oblivious about — is that this man will conquer you in much more capacities than just the game that brought you two together.

⸻

tags (please let me know if you’d like to be added to them) : @zaunitearchives @blissfulip

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x f!reader #arcane fanfic #viktor smut #*throws this thing at you and vanishes*#the cunterpart

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borzoilover69 · 9 months ago

Note

do you have any posts that kinda expand on jake as a character? i want to like him in theory, but i just dont Get him, you know? its kinda like that with me for all the alphas but its the most for jake.

Oh my gosh yes!! Yes i do!! Heres some i recommend rather than me typing at length points more articulately said before or by someone else. Please please PLEAAASE message me again after you’ve read some of these and tell me if your opinions changed and what you think you get abt him!!

Jake English writing guide - expansion on his mannerisms. : a rhetoric of shit hes said that made me side eye him.

Jake english: a fandom analysis : long discussion i had with two friends abt jake

Facade, dirk and jake: small but to the point

Jake english is a jackass, not an infant.

Why tony artreactor likes jake

Harlenglishes: “when you fuck up its ok! if i fuck up its the worst thing in the entire world.”

Not required but recommended:

His ass was not being serious with these comments man. : the caliborn jake convo is my fave out of these.

Alpha kids and why i like them : personal opinion alert

Other than that i asked my friend @tipsygnostalgy their opinion on jake and they gave these wise words (roughly paraphrased)

“for me jakes appeal is fundamentally about whether humanity can overcome their own insecurities in terms of engagement with others and grow to accept true love in this essay ill be pushing him into the neongenesisangelion shinji ikari role and analyzing him thr—

Kidding, but listen. The first sentence is the crux of it. He constructs personas (believing in himself but the facade version of it) and relies on hope ketamine (believing in others) because its easier to do than to confronting the reality that he doesnt know who he is or whether he likes that person at all. This doesnt mean he lacks a self; he cant fully break but he cant fully give either. he exists in this weird limbo state where he chooses neither to be completely passive (actually letting someone walk all over him) nor completely active (refusing it outright) demonstrated best by the way in which he "breaks up" with dirk i.e. he doesnt.

He doesnt like the status quo but also doesnt believe in himself to fix it proper and i think that signifies how a lot of people make decisions when youre in this weird passive middle area. the world fucking sucks but what can you do about it, youre just one guy. No business knowing how to do that. On the other hand the way he plays people should be studied.

the jane crocker patented question of "Does he know?" is what he asks himself every night and its so utterly interesting that hes not sure of the answer”

#homestuck #hom3stuck #jake english #borzoi talks #asks #borzoi meta #homestuck meta

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uchihaharlot · 11 months ago

Note

Hello! I hope you are fine <3🤲💗

I wanted to ask you about some Uchiha HCs as parents (especially Shisui haha). Idk, things like "How they would react if their Y/N told them they were going to be parents" or "How many children would they have if they had them and how would they treat them?"

🥹 mmm Shisui. Yes. 🙌🏻 Since I’m in a fog, I’ll choose Obito and Shisui — I will probably add more later and reblog then. Focusing more on Shisui though.

(I sort of expanded on this a bit. Leading up to birth etc).

Suggestive themes — mostly N/SFW; pregnancy reactions; and some other cute shit idk how to categorize. Ok yea, I went a bit crazy on Shisui, he’s my blorbo.

Obito:

• Even if it’s planned, he’s going to spiral. It worked on the first time? Duh, Uchiha. Really just stupid luck.

• ‘Already?’ — Obito; ‘….I mean…that’s what happens when you have sex..’ — her. She’s so patient though with him.

• Obito will spend the next few days not necessarily moping, but in minor distress. The whole thing about having a baby this soon, even though it was planned. Has really got him thinking.

• ‘I need to get my shit together.’ He’s not wrong, but they’re not in a bad place. All the financial matters were sorted out before she even went off the pill. She’s going to spend a lot of time easing his worries when he should be settling hers.

• He thinks they can’t have sex anymore 😂 ‘I’ll hurt the baby.’ This woman will have to coax him to satisfy her needs and being hormonal, he’s going to get scared and cave.

• Every time she’s sick, he’s sick. lol. Obito is one of those husbands that are sympathy ill when their wife is unwell, pregnant or not. Though the morning sickness he had worse than her.

• When she actually starts showing, the tables are turned. Obito can’t keep his hands off her. This is amazing! ‘I put that in you…’ —🫠 👈🏻 her. Yea, he did, that big dummy stuffed her good.

• When she is too big to do anything for herself, Obito takes center stage in everything. He matured rather quickly, strange how the prospect of becoming a dad alters an individual.

• 😅 Hit it from the back too rough and ultimately the orgasm she had made her go into labor (I know this is false advertisement but it’s Obito, he’s that guy).

• Nearly passes out as his wife is sprawled up on the stirrups, looks anyways and dear lord, ‘are you recording this?’ She says. Yea, he is. Unintentionally the sharingan populates and he might as well.

• Holds his son for the first time and cries. I think most men do, he’s the most precious thing in this world. Obito didn’t think he could ever make up for what he did in the past, but this one human. This tiny, itty bitty baby boy might just be his Hail Mary. That he could even bring something so good into the world makes him soften even more.

Shisui:

• Family man. 100%. They’ve been trying, and it’s not taking. Not because they’re incapable of it, both healthy and young. He’s just so busy. The days they end up trying don’t line up with her cycle and I mean they’re not just going to not have sex. Any chance he gets to put a bit of him and a little Uchiha inside her are precious moments.

• Firm believer in holding her legs up for a half hour 😂 ‘it has to marinate.’ Big eye rolls from his wife, who just lets him do things his way. After a few months, she finally begs him to just take a week off when she’s the most susceptible of his seed taking root.

• The mere idea that she is rearing and ready to go has Shisui taking his wife at the most unexpected of times. Maybe a week off was a good idea. Needless to say, the house chores are piling up. She wasn’t particularly fond of being shoved head first in the dryer either.

• ‘Making baby is the fun part…’ is his excuse when she chides him for it. Dear lord, this man shooting blanks and still trying.

• Then the unimaginable is announced, well not unimaginable but it felt like too long to actually confirm they were successful. Shisui from this point forward makes sure his pregnant wife gets everything she wants and then some.

• There is no shock period. This was all planned, Shisui is eternally grateful that his wife will be ushering their next of kin into the world. All the hard work is on her now and he is going to make sure she is treated like royalty.

• Though he questions some of her cravings, ‘…really? Ok….’ He won’t judge her, but goddamn it’s not something he’d eat.

• Copious amounts of pampering. Spends ridiculous amounts of money to have her swollen feet pedicured once a month, if she doesn’t want that he will do it himself. Her care is nonnegotiable and she is getting big with life inside of her! She needs some reprieve from the constant drain on her body.

• We aren’t even going to lie, they pretty much have sex up until the baby is born, though not like how Obito did. It’s maybe twice a week, which is less often but enough. If she’s not in the mood for it herself, she would offer to relieve him. Though he might feel guilty, so he would just use his mouth in return if she wasn’t opposed to something less invasive on her aching body. She’ll agree, Shisui is talented in those regards.

• She was making tea in the kitchen when her water broke, Shisui was out on a mission!!! She had to get Itachi to send word of bird and less than an hour he’s back. Exhausted and tired, he made it for the birth. He knew that he shouldn’t have taken that mission but she was adamant he do what he felt necessary for their village. Such a understanding woman!

• Is planting kisses to her forehead, cheeks and lips whenever she starts pushing. Holds one of her legs when the baby is finally crowning, and watches the miracle of birth. The fruit of their passion and love is wayfered into this big world. So beautiful and precious. A son, I often hc Shisui would name his first son Kagami. (I’m pretty sure the series alluded them being related).

• 🥹🥹🥹🥹 👈🏻 shisui 👉🏻 🥴😴 his wife after labor. He is wholly enamored at the tiny being in his arms. Takes the time to figure out which features their baby got from who. Undoubtedly this kid has his mop head of curls. Her nose and eye color, his eye shape and ears. 100% them.

#shisui headcanons #obito headcanons #shisui uchiha #obito uchiha #uchiha shisui #uchiha obito #uchiha clan #uchiha family

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