#so I must refrain

[sanasanakun]

Going through my unfinished doodles and discovered I have at least five illustrations of Henry Creel looking extremely unsettling while standing by a bathroom sink. Clearly a concept not meant to be materialized and seen by the public eye given that I’ve not finished a single one of them. Also what-

[xqueenofthecraziesx]

The ungodly amount of self control I am exhibiting by not texting my friend to complain because I know she'll just hype me up in all my feelings

[untolduttering]

What Would I Do Without You?

Summary: You struggle with your emotions immensely, bottling them up and worried about being a burden. This has negative consequences, as it usually does, and it causes you to snap at Sanji.

Tags: Sanji x gn!reader, established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, self-loathing, reader is bad at feelings

Word Count: 4.8k

You were getting quite tired of the predictability of the human body and the human mind. There was a routine here, one you couldn’t break, and whose existence made everything all the more rotten. Small things would smart—dropping an apple as you helped bring the groceries onto the ship, a rope snapping as you tried to tie down a sail—and when that little hurt happened, it stacked itself on top of the previous one. It grew higher, the tightness in your chest winding and winding, the ache in your teeth growing as they clenched harder and harder. Until one more small thing made it all topple. And then your lip was curling and your teeth were snapping, all without your permission. You hadn’t even noticed the size of the stack and the weight it was causing until your own shame made you look back at it. The big thing now sitting exposed, having been hidden by the smaller things, and now faced with it, made you start running all over again. Ignoring it and pushing it somewhere else.

Yes, it was quite an exhausting and rotten routine. But an animal you were, and habits die hard, and so you started it from the top.

It was your worst trait, but thankfully one that didn’t show itself all too often. On the Sunny, surrounded by such an understanding and loving crew, it was difficult for any sort of anger or hard feelings to linger. There was bickering and fighting, mostly playful, that created a loose and welcoming atmosphere. Darker thoughts didn’t sit at the forefront. But maybe that’s what made them so dangerous at times. You let them stay passive, and that’s how they sink their claws in.

Luffy did not invite people into the crew based solely on their usefulness. He sometimes had a position in mind, but more times than not, it wasn’t even something that crossed his mind. His requirements were of a different caliber, some of it could be pinpointed, other aspects eluded the rest of you. Being on the crew meant you were family, and family did not care whether someone was useful or not, they simply loved you for you.

You, no matter how much you believed in that fact, always fancied yourself the exception because it was difficult not to. Luffy had a knack for choosing the exceptional, the absolute best. Each member on the crew was so unbelievably good at their one thing that they surpassed every other existing person who did it. And for most, being the best wasn’t even their dream, it just seemed to be the natural spot for them. You didn’t want to disregard all their efforts and hard work—it wasn’t easy for them to reach this point—but damn was it difficult to not think they were born for this. And you were born for nothing, it seemed.

It’s not that you were a hindrance. Anything that had been asked of you got done and adequately so. But that was the thing. Adequately so. Everything you did was so terribly average. You maintained what was already in place, never making something new or helpful. And they could all maintain the ship just fine, your hands were just another pair, ones that weren’t crucial. Ones that didn’t do anything special.

Their lack made you want to help more, in any way that you could. You’d lean over Nami’s shoulder, enamored by the charts and maps that she’d made. You’d stand on tip toes to get a look at whatever it was that Franky was working on. Person to person, you offered yourself. And sometimes they accepted it, and other times they didn’t. And both circumstances only served to highlight your uselessness. Too many hands in a kitchen could make for messy work if they didn’t know exactly, to the minute detail, what they were doing. It may take longer for one person to create a new sort of bullet, but too many muddled the process, and an unskilled hand making a mistake forced the other to halt their progress and fix yours. So you knew that when your help was accepted, it was because the task wasn’t all too crucial. It was something anyone could do, and if you made a mistake, it was one that didn’t matter all that much.

So that stack started as an itch until it became a sharper point over time. Every unintentional rebuff that had to be ignored because there was no insult behind it, simply fact, and no one could be faulted for that hurt. And worse, you feared if you ever brought it up, it would only make you seem too sensitive, more difficult, and someone to work around. That thought always made you burn the most, the fear that your own insecurities might tear down all that had been built and create an insurmountable rift between you and those you cared for most.

No, no, you could deal with the routine. Push it all down and find a way to keep your mouth muzzled. If only it were that simple. If only you could predict your anger that well.

As well as you thought that you hid it, Sanji had a chef’s nose, and could sniff out even the slightest shift in your mood. It was equal parts endearing and terrifying, because not even you felt it at times, and he’d know before you did. The most difficult part was telling him what was wrong. Your brain was a whirlwind of doubt when it came to your self-worth, and so even the smallest of confessions felt detrimental. What could this admittance change? What would change? Something always shifted when someone spoke out loud, and sometimes it was hard to discern just what that change would be. And it was worse when your guess was wrong, and you were either left to choose between accepting the misconstrued opinion of you and allowing yourself to be viewed incorrectly, or desperately trying to explain yourself and potentially dig a deeper hole.

So more times than not, you chose to pretend, and assured him everything was fine. And that slight bit of disappointment in his face always made that tear inside you rend deeper. It felt like telling him was just as doomed as not telling him. It felt like you were always going to fail him.

Which made it so much worse when it was his small action that made the tower crumble, and your teeth sink into him.

It had been a long two weeks at sea. The days moved slowly, each one copying the last, its consistency like the ticks on a clock. All meals were shared like usual, the conversations and close quarters creating a blanket of warmth and familiarity. You leaned into the voices swirling around you, or avidly answered someone’s question, all while playing with Sanji’s hand or the chain he wore on his waistband. It was the time in between those moments that usually turned dreadful. You had hobbies you enjoyed, reading in the aquarium for hours at a time or enjoying the sun as you drew. Sometimes you spent that time in the company of another; reading as Sanji toyed with recipes or as Nami worked at her charts. Letting the sounds of Franky hammering away lull you or the music from Brook wrap around you. Practicing with your blades to the sound of Zoro’s breathing and weights clacking. But even the comfort of that shared space would eat away at you because they were always doing something useful, creating or studying or finding. While you were just there. Sometimes you wanted to talk, bored by what you had for your entertainment but they needed to focus, and so you would set out to walk around. Again.

You felt like a ghost, wandering the ship, exploring the same whorls on planks of wood and counting the same fish in the aquarium, waiting for someone to go on break and bring you back into existence.

Sanji was your most stable rock. He’d hunt you down and bring you in from your drifting, asking for you to join him in the kitchen, or on the deck, or in his bed. Whatever he thought would bring you from the depths of your mind the best. He’d brush his fingers down your face, and further ask what was bothering you. But the right words never came to mind, nor the want to burden him, and so you’d just say you were taking a walk, that was all. And it wasn’t always as effective as you wished.

The call of land sighted brought new energy into you. Some time on different ground would bring a welcomed distraction. You hoped for one with a bustling city, or at least a quaint little town, but fate liked to toy with you at times, and instead it was an uninhabited forest. You’d take what you could, though. Adventuring through the lush landscape could still be nice; the forest looked beautiful from the ship. You disembarked as soon as the plank had dropped, eager to move your legs through unfamiliar territory. From behind, you heard Sanji call out to you. “Wait for me, my dear!”

You slowed your steps until he was by your side. He brought your hand to his mouth and added, “Wouldn’t want anything terrible to happen to my darling angel.”

His words grated along your spine. Usually, they would have you blushing and smiling, his mouth on your skin electric. But maybe you hadn’t slept enough or eaten enough, because this time they set your teeth on edge. Did he think you couldn’t take care of yourself? So useless, so untalented with the blades strapped to your body, that he had to babysit you? You swallowed it all down and forced a smile. “Of course not.”

Further in, your laces caught on a stick, which caused you to stumble, barely even a misstep really, but Sanji caught you anyway, slipping his arm around your waist without missing a beat. A warm gesture made sour by your mood, and you didn’t hesitate to pull away from him, mumbling your thanks as you did. You could walk just fine for fucks sake.

Since you were ahead of him now, you missed the way his face fell, the way his eyebrows twisted up in confusion. You continued on, however, pointing out something in the trees like everything was fine.

He didn’t try to touch you again, and you thought you could feel his hesitance to do so. He still walked close to you just in case—he was always incapable of keeping himself away from you—but didn’t say anything himself.

It was an odd and uncomfortable silence that followed, one that you weren’t used to having with Sanji. It wasn’t as though you spent all of your time talking; you would sit in a companionable quiet often, as you each worked at your own respective tasks. But this one was charged, and you already felt the hollow pit in your stomach growing. There wasn’t anything you felt you could do about it, however, as the burn of anger was just a little stronger.

As you forged ahead, you caught an odd sound in the air. A sort of soft thump that had lasted but a second. You paused, wondering if you really had heard anything at all, when a rustle of leaves followed. It did not come from behind you, where Sanji trudged along, but instead to your left. You drifted your hand to the knife strapped to your thigh, ghosting your fingertips along the handle while considering the foliage. Another rustle.

Sanji saw your stance and asked, “My dear?”

A flash of white and suddenly a mouthful of fangs was lurching towards you. You whipped your knife out, blade facing down and sharp side outwards, ready to slice at the throat that sat nicely at arm level. Sanji, however, had always been faster; his leg striking out, foot connecting with a loud crack to it’s skull. It’s head snapped to the side and fell with a thud to the ground. His arms were wrapped around you an instant after, pulling you close to him as well as away from the body. It had been a mountain lion.

“Are you alright, my love?” he asked. He tried to cup the back of your head so that he could look you in the face, but you stubbornly stared at the ground instead.

“I had it,” you said.

“I’m sorry?”

“I fucking had it,” you repeated. You planted two hands to his chest and shoved, hard. Once separated, you took a few more steps back to increase the distance.

“Oh,” a pause. “Well, I just, I wanted to make sure nothing bad happened. And it would have been so unfortunate for you to get blood on your nice clothes!”

“Because I can’t handle myself.”

Sanji’s face blanched. “No! No, I’m sure you can, I just—”

“You think I’m useless. ‘I’m sure you can.’ Don’t fucking mock me,” you hissed.

“That’s not at all—”

“No. You all think it. I see it, I can feel it. I simply don’t compare. I drag you all down. Have to stop whatever the fuck you’re doing to save me from that.” You flung a hand out towards the cooling corpse. You paced around, refusing to look at him and see what effect your words might be having. “Cause I’ll just make a goddamn mess of it, won’t I?”

Your limbs started to shake as you spoke, your throat getting tighter and tighter. You balled your hands into fists, nails brutally digging into your skin. Your chest heaved from your panting. A sudden need to hide, to run, filled you. You couldn’t stand to have Sanji looking at you. His gaze was burning, making you writhe in panic and shame.

“Y/n,” he said, taking a step towards you.

“Go away. Go make lunch or whatever.” Your breath hitched at the last word, a sniffle sneaking its way through. You bit down on your lip, furious with your body for betraying you. “Just fuck off.”

You stormed off before he could say anything back. Sticks and branches whipped across the exposed parts of your skin as you hurried your way through. You needed to move, to not think, to try and get rid of the awful feeling curdling your insides. Sanji did not follow, and it may have been what you wanted. You weren’t sure. It would have been worse and made it better if he had. You shook your head, you didn’t know what you wanted at all.

You eventually stopped at a fallen log and plopped down onto it. You buried your face in your hands and an unbidden sob tore up and out. You choked on the feeling, unprepared, and the one that followed hurt your throat just as badly.

What on earth was wrong with you? How could you have said that to him and shoved him like that? The disgust you felt with yourself was palpable. He did not deserve a single one of those harsh words, but you had thrown them at him anyway. It wasn’t even his fault but you treated it like it had been. He’d just been the closest target when it all suddenly snapped, and you had been gross enough to tear into him.

It was a long while before your sobbing ceased, leaving you spent and boneless. You thought of how you should probably make your way back, but still didn’t move. Your shame kept you rooted to the spot. You let your feelings get to you, and now you've ruined it all.

It was only when the shadows had started to grow longer and longer—when the bare spot on the log from your picking off the bark was just a little too large—that you decided you needed to go back. The warmth had left the forest and the sky was turning from that clear blue to a lighter purple. It wasn’t doing you any good to sit here, and it especially wouldn’t to do so all night. You picked your way back, wary of any errant roots or rustling leaves.

——

You slipped your way into the kitchen and stood in front of the door for a moment, simply watching Sanji as he moved. The dining room was dark—the only light coming from the kitchen—leaving you plenty of time to sulk in the darkness. He glowed under the warm, yellow hue as he cleaned, wiping down the counters after moving all the plates to the sink. A cigarette hung loosely from his lips, and you could see the growing stack in his ashtray that sat at the edge of the counter. Your stomach twisted, knowing you were at fault for all of them. Your heart hurt even more when he finally stopped in front of the sink, his hands clinging to the edge and his shoulders dropping, and let out a long sigh.

You walked up to the counter and settled yourself on the seat. You kept your head hung low in shame, and so you missed the way Sanji nearly jumped out of his skin.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” you apologized before he could say anything. “I know that none of what I… accused you of was what you meant. That wasn’t fair of me. I’m sorry.”

It was all you could get out before your throat started to close dangerously on you. You swallowed hard in the ensuing silence. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze the longer it went on and soon made to leave. He didn’t have to forgive you, you knew. All that was important was that you apologized and left the rest to him. You didn’t deserve his absolution anyway.

“You’re not useless.” His voice stopped you short. “I don’t believe that and neither does anyone else on this crew.”

That wasn’t what you had expected to hear, and wasn’t necessarily the conversation that was supposed to be had. You shrugged, rubbed your ear on your shoulder, not knowing what to say.

“You contribute plenty,” he continued. “You pull your weight in every adventure, you hold your own. You help maintain the ship and offer your help to us all constantly.”

“Everyone does that,” you said. “I don’t have a role here. There’s nothing special or important that I do. You could replace me and it wouldn’t make a difference at all.”

Another beat of silence. “Have you ever noticed how little sound you make?”

You lifted your head enough to look at his throat. He’d unbuttoned the top few, leaving his skin exposed, you noticed. It sat low enough that you could see a bit of his chest hair peeking through. You shrugged again. There were times you walked up to someone on the ship, scaring them as they hadn’t heard you. You felt some guilt more than anything each time it happened.

“That’s been useful. You sit down in a bar and no one thinks anything of it, and then they spill out all the information we need. And you bring it right back to us.”

“Unremarkable and easily forgotten. Right. Great. I knew that,” you huffed.

“Stop that.” He tried to harden his voice, but with you, it would always come out softer. “Don’t go twisting my words again. That’s not at all what I meant.”

What you had just apologized for. You really were hopeless, if you were going to say sorry and then just continue to be awful. “Right. I’m sorry.”

You saw him lift his hand towards you, but stopped to grip the counter, his thumb pressing circles into the surface as though he were feeling at the grain of the wood. “It’s okay. You have a way of pulling words out of people, too. When you ask for locations, for information, from people at the market, they’re happy to give it. You walked right up to an enemy once and he gladly told you all we needed to know. The rest of us aren’t always so successful.”

You frowned, continuing to stare at his hand. “The rest of you are plenty good at it, especially you and Nami and Robin.”

“Mmmm. Robin-Chan is very good at it, just so smart and beautiful, but the more the merrier, right? And Nami-san is quite the charmer, that absolute beauty, but she did get snappy last time… and I had to yell at the guy.”

You remembered. Nami had put on a good show, keeping her voice saccharine sweet and leaning forward enough to give him a good look down her shirt. The man didn’t budge though, just frowned deeper. She had indeed gotten snappy, and the guy got snappy right back. And Sanji had not hesitated to dig into him. “Yeah, you and your attitude problem.”

“Huh!?” You could imagine how his mouth dropped open. “Attitude problem?”

The corner of your mouth lifted. “Yeah, you get so snarky.”

“I only gave that brute what he deserved. What every brute I meet deserves.” You heard him mutter the word snarky to himself.

“Yeah,” you agreed. “You do.”

You dug a fingernail into the wood of the counter as the conversation trailed off. It was solid and your nail did nothing at all to it, but you worried away at it anyway. You still couldn’t look at him. There was more to it that he wasn’t seeing. This wasn’t something you were ready to let go of yet. He was painting you in too nice of a picture and it didn’t feel right.

“It’s just…” you started. “I don’t do anything useful on the ship. I’m not—I’m not contributing or doing anything productive with my time. You,” you lifted your hand to wave it at him, “cook for everyone. Nami makes maps, Brook plays music, you’re all doing something to— to improve. And I don’t.”

There was a pause again, as he weighed his words. “I see you do plenty to improve yourself, but I don’t think that’s where you should put your worth, necessarily. Tell me, what does Luffy do that’s so productive?”

“Well, that’s not—” you sputtered. “He isn’t like— I mean he’s the captain and he’s just him— He does some chores sometimes—”

“So do you think he’s useless? That he’s not contributing?” Sanji asked, cutting you off.

“No! No. He does a lot for us, he’s done everything for us, so I don’t expect more from him.” It was hard to put into words, the weight that Luffy carried, and the significance of his actions for his crew. But you didn’t have to word it right, for Sanji to know. You knew he understood perfectly.

“So why do you expect more of yourself?”

You didn’t think it would do much to argue anymore. There was a whole list you felt you could give, but you could also bet that Sanji would find a rebuff to each one. It felt a little nice, to think that he was always thinking the best of you, even if you didn’t agree, didn’t deserve it.

“I respect you an awful lot, Y/n. You are right where you are supposed to be.” His voice was soft, and he had leaned closer to you to say it.

Your eyes burned terribly and your lower lip wobbled dangerously as his words filled you with an almost unbearable warmth. There was a painful squeeze in your chest at hearing the exact words you needed to hear, from one of the mouths you wanted to hear it most from.

Sanji cupped your cheek, trying to finally bring your gaze to his, but you staunchly refused. “Come to bed with me then, yeah? You must be so tired,” he suggested.

“Oh Sanji, I’ve been rotten. I don’t deserve to share your bed.” It was difficult to speak around the thickness of your throat, and you could tell by the sound of your voice that there was no hiding the tears that threatened to spill over.

Sanji threw himself around the counter, unable to resist keeping his hands off of you any longer, and wrapped an arm around your waist. With his other hand, he forced you by the chin to finally look him in the face.

“Don’t say such a thing, there isn’t anything about you that could ever be considered rotten. It feels like blasphemy just to utter the word anywhere near you, when it has so little to do with you.” He brought his thumb to wipe away the tears that began to fall down your cheeks, and then dusted his fingers down your face, caressing you gently. “And you deserve even more than my bed, more than I can give you, but I want you all to myself anyway. Sharing it with you is the least I can do.”

“But I was mean—” your own hiccup cut you off.

“Because you were hurting and didn’t know what to do about it. That’s an easy thing to forgive.”

You couldn’t take it any longer and buried your face in his chest. He was just so understanding, so unbelievably sweet. He picked you apart so well, able to find the root of it without much effort. You didn’t deserve such pure love. Why didn’t he get that? He had never spoken to you the way you had to him. You’d been awful. You knotted your fists into his shirtfront, pulling him in as close as you could. You didn’t know how to handle such goodness, your body shaking with your sobs, and so all you could do was hold and be held.

Softly, Sanji cooed at you. Words said directly into your hair so that he could kiss your head danced around, a litany of “it’s okay” and “I’ve got you”. He squeezed you impossibly tight, as though he wanted to take all your hurt from you, and cupped the back of your head.

Only once your breathing slowed and ceased to only a few soft hitches and your grip went from brutal to lax on his shirt, did Sanji ask, “Is there anything you would like?”

You would like a lot of things, but at the moment, you did not feel you had a right to any of them. But you’d be selfish and take what was offered. “Sleep.”

“We can do that.”

“And maybe…” you frowned. You really shouldn’t be asking for more. Not now.

“And maybe?” he prompted. “Anything at all, I promise.”

“Hold me. And, I don’t know. Kiss me a little.” You toyed with the soft fabric between your fingers. “I appreciate you, I swear. I do like when you help me, save me. Stop me from tripping. I don’t want you to stop touching me.” Your voice went higher as you fought more tears. Fuck, you had just stopped, but your lip was ready to wobble anyway. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

He brought both hands to your face and immediately peppered you with kisses. “Oh, my love, of course I’ll do so. Just breath, okay? Breath.”

You sniffled and swallowed hard, nodding and trying to do as he said. “Do you still like me?” you asked.

His chuckle was a soft exhale, tickling your skin as he had not stopped kissing you. “Yes!” he spoke in between each one. “I always have and always will. There is nothing that could stop me from liking you, from loving you.”

A shaky inhale and exhale. “Okay. Okay.”

“Yeah,” he said back. “However, if I may suggest, are you sure you’re not hungry? I could bring your food to our room if you’d prefer. You skipped lunch and dinner. You had me worried.”

Your stomach rumbled at the reminder of food. “Oh. Maybe. Yeah. And I’m sorry. I hadn’t meant to.”

“It’s alright. Just… be angry here next time? Where I can know where you’re at?” he asked.

“Well, I don’t—” another hiccup. “I don’t plan to get upset, but yeah. I’ll do that.”

He pressed a long and lingering kiss to your forehead and breathed out, “Thank you.” He squeezed you against him, bringing you as close as possible for this hug, before he lifted you up and started the journey to your room.

“I love you,” you mumbled into his neck.

A smile stretched from ear to ear on his face. “I love you too.”

The rest of the night was spent in each other’s warmth and care. He fed you himself, adamant that you let him pamper you so. It was nice, since all that crying and the deliciousness of the food made it difficult to keep your eyelids from fluttering shut.

When you drifted off, it was to Sanji’s steady breathing and the soft beats of his heart, his arms firmly around you as he held you close.

[peteypiessuperfamily]

This is the worst day of my life.

[moon-buggg]

Haunted House Au; Please please please also tell us about the Virus in this au Im so curious the difference in personality and reaction especially toward staff and guest alike. Even toward each other! Would one change first or would it be gradually the same rate?

— 🍓

As much as I would absolutely love to get into my plans with the virus, I can't say too much

It's the main focus of the comic and I really don't want to spoil the fun >w< sorry!! It'll be way more satisfying if I leave this a mystery just trust me

What I will say, though, is that it's small things until it isn't. And you probably won't want to be around when it isn't small anymore

[cable-salamdr]

I’m on the fence abt shipping Citrus but either way I need every Citrusshipper to know it will have been Never Love An Anchor’s fault if I do pivot to y’all.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

I played romance Louis/save Violet for the first time (and last) in my life some days ago and I really didn't expect the game to feel so different without him. Not is his absence only extremely notorious but to quote one of your old posts, the game won't shut up about him.

EVERY SINGLE TIME. They didn't mention Violet even half the times they did with Louis, and it just feels. Awful. Constant reminder that you left him get taken, that he's being tortured and traumatized. It really did hit different, I wanted to think about all the details for Violet's route but I couldn't. THEY KEPT BRINGING HIM UP LIKE OK !! I GET IT !! I KNOW, IM COMING TO HIS RESCUE

and in the end I ended up getting mad Violet suddenly forgot about his existence. I remember you talked about that a lot but since I hadn't experienced it I hadn't realized how bad it was.

When she didn't mentioned him even ONCE, not in the cells, not in the walk home back to Ericson, nothing.

But back to Louis– the game says Louis' name over and over and it makes me feel guilty and I don't like it

That route haunts my nightmares.

When I used to stream, we called the romance Louis/save Violet [+don't trust AJ] route The Despair Route.... you can probably guess why. You're right, the whole thing hits differently when you've built up Clementine's romance with him, only for him to be taken away. Plus, when you do that, your relationship with Violet isn't as strong so not only do you miss out on a lot of Louis content, you miss out on Violet content for not romancing/best friending her.

And yeah, the game will not shut up about Louis when he gets taken. It's actually so fascinating, because Violet doesn't get mentioned nearly as much, so that begs the question of why? Y'know? I mean, we can look at Louis getting captured and conclude that they keep reminding us about him so that we're extra hurt and guilty when we find him in the cells.

But then with Violet? Louis is the one who brings her up most of the time, except when Ruby pulls out her file. But it's odd that the others don't make more comments like they do with Louis. I think we are kind of meant to forget about her? Well, okay, not forget about her but like... The fact that they don't talk about her as much makes her feeling pissed off, forgotten and abandoned all the more powerful, no?

As for Violet forgetting about him, in my opinion that's just a genuine flaw with the writing... because Violet would ask about Louis. I've played her romance route. I believe that in my heart of hearts that she would, and when she doesn't, I'm like ?????

Sure, you can say she's got her mind on other things, or that Aasim already told her what happened to Louis so she doesn't ask when they're in the cells... except she would ask if he's okay.

They're different characters who react to things differently, and that's not inherently good or bad.... but you're seriously going to tell me that the only thing Violet's says to Louis is a sad little, "Lou..." when meeting up with him on the beach? and then she only makes a minor mention of him when talking about pushing people away on the walk home?

No, sir. I think not. I think that's an oversight, especially if you're trying to sell their friendship in her route.

But I suppose in her defense, if you're a Louis fan, you're more likely to be angry about it. We're used to Louis mentioning Violet and then to see her not do the same isn't great. Whereas a Violet fan who prefers her route is more likely to justify why and how it makes sense, y'know? In fact, if a Violet fan plays Louis' route, they probably get mad that she's "forgotten" about a lot prior to the cells so I suppose it balances out?

Also, can I add for both routes how much I side eye the fact that captured Louis/Violet say nothing about the other if they died on the bridge? I get they didn't want to be a downer on the happy ending, and that time has passed so they probably already mourned......... but c'mon. I know Louis can't verbalize but he can write, he can stand by Violet's grave, something. Violet could've said something. Listen, if you're gonna make me suffer through that, give me some of the angst I actually want.

[gxlacticlove]

tfw one song from npmd comes on shuffle and suddenly you have to listen to the whole album

[jazzy-art-time]

Curious on how missingno plays a role within the au, are the twins not corrupted?

TLDR: Nope! The Pinkies are not corrupted by a Missingno in JarbleAU.

Maddox (Missingno) is it’s own person within the AU!

Originally in Jarble, the concept just didn’t exist at all. I was ripping them out of their current plot/setting so I didn’t see a need for it.

It wouldn’t make that much sense in the current setting/lore of Jarble. As it’s vastly different from all the blog counterparts.

Then I shifted and went “oh maybe MissingNo could be like, a metaphor for something”

But then shrugged that off, I figured what the characters were going through shouldn’t have been mixed up with metaphors or anything.

Then I thought “oh since they have weapons, maybe Missingno could be the names/symbolize their weapons!”

But then I didn’t like that either

EVENTUALLY I settled on a much funnier option. What if it was just a guy. What if I smashed Bones and Ghost together and made a guy. Originally was going to have another set of twins to be “rivals” to the Pinkies… but there are already another set of twins that fill that.

So I smashed Ghost/Bones together and made a single entity. He’s just a guy.

The “jarble” aspect making it so he’s no longer this super powered glitch entity but is instead… a little guy. Congrats on being a fupking kitty.

Maddox DOES have extreme story relevance still, as per my Jarble rules I can’t eliminate everything but. He isn’t some OP super glitch villain anymore. As for who/what he is in Jarble…

Maddox is a project created by the Mending Ring. I mean come on, can’t have the illegal science going on if they aren’t creating life!

He’s a test tube baby made by a sperm donation that Wem made when he was younger. Despite Maddox being a “”mew”” I still use heavy mewtwo symbolism because I think it’s funny.

Maddox was originally used for basic testing and whatnot. That old chestnut. But eventually showed stronger intelligence and eventually became a scientist himself, being one of the Mending Ring’s top scientists. Also him being the Mayor’s favorite/some weird parental relationship between them, Maddox gets a lot of special treatment.

He’s useful to the Mending Ring and the various studies and experiments that they do! However he does not really work with other scientists, he is still somewhat considered a threat due to him being a literal test tube baby experiment.

So, he lives in a basement type area that also functions as a laboratory! Socially isolated for the most part, he CAN technically leave if he wants to but he doesn’t. He actually enjoys it a lot and does his own thing.

That man is down there in his lab, in his boxers doing experiments and tinkering with things. OSHA and lab safety doesn’t exist to him, it’s his house and he will wear nothing but boxers if he so pleases. He will eat take out food and tinker with robotics while sitting like a shrimp. He does what he wants and he’s the Mayor’s special little guy.

He is technically Wem’s son, so he that means he is also the older brother (only by a few years) to The Pinkies. He dislikes this greatly however, he knows who his father is and hates him. He also knows of the pinkies and thinks they are annoying smelly spoiled brats.

I WOULD RAMBLE A LOT MORE but I fear I have done too much already… so…

Have some epic family drama snippets from vague toyhouse links

[papercrane]

Sucks seeing a blog you like reblogging some TERFS without seeming to realize

[petorahs]

me being so set on hating every fontaine character because their designs looked too much and only pulling for the sibs + arlecchino but then navia turned out lovable in the quest. they advertised wrio as a dogboy. neuvy is a dragon AND has elf ears.

ITS JOEVER

[space-arts]

It's not real until it's bedtime. Then it hits you.

Anyways what's that saying? When in Perim , make like the namesake and put yourself in Peri-l haha. haha.

[sonnykissed]

Must refrain from shading Britt

[whatareyoudoingwithamaserati]

live Illustration of rotting in bed

[youredreamingofroo]

I love looking at a post and being like "oh that's DEFINITELY [oc name]" like even if it's just an image, I love culminating the aesthetic of my OCs

[puffinpastry]

Hello!! I adore your writing, by the way, both fics from you I've read!! I had a hard time deciding between asking about New Growth and Cryptobotany, but!! In New Growth, what does Wolfwood think of what's going on between Knives and Vash? Like he was technically a part of the Eye and has got to have some complicated feelings on Knives himself, but he's still trying to play mediator himself. He seems pretty chill with Knives, all things considered, but he also yelled at him pretty quick when he set off a panic attack in Vash on accident. So I'm really curious on what Wolfwood is thinking through all of it!

First off:

Thank you SO much! Both Cryptobotany and New Growth have been so much fun to write and I had no idea that they'd get as much traction as they have.

Secondly! Answer under a cut here! I got a little (very) long winded.

OKAY SO!

There are a few reasons that he's so relaxed about Knives hanging around and it really boils down to three things.

First: Knives isn't the only one here that's chilled out since the end of trimax. This version of Wolfwood has had the time he needed to do some inward thinking and more or less come to terms with at least some of the suffering that he'd been subjected to and the actions that he was forced to take to keep himself alive and the orphanage safe. Less of the kind of healing that actual therapy sort of help would do for him and more the result of there no longer being a constant threat and end goal to keep his mind too busy to stop and go 'Man. Was that fucked or what?' But the peace made him have to address it on his own. (Mostly on his own. Ofc he had support from Vash, it would've been impossible for him to miss.) He was able to accept what had happened and that very little of it, if any, had been his own fault. None of that is to say that he no longer feels any guilt over what had happened or that it doesn't still keep him up at night from time to time, but he has healed from it enough that he no longer has nightmares about leaving bloody hand prints on anyone and anything he touches.

All of that is to say that he recognizes Knives and his influence and responsibility for the things that the Eye did, either directly or in a more roundabout way, but at the same time the Eye is gone, LivRaz is free from their influence, the kids in the orphanage are safe from the possibility of having to go through the same things that he did, and Chapel is dead. All that's left of it is Knives and, well... The first thing he saw when he tracked Knives down was this man that was so clearly exhausted and beaten down. There was no fight left in him at all, and it almost reminded him of when he'd finally found Vash hiding out in a little town and calling himself Eriks. Except Knives didn't even have that little town or a Sheryl or a Lina to lean on or give himself some semblance of purpose.

So he went looking for Knives he'd only seen a few times before. The Knives he'd once pointed a gun at and feared too much to pull the trigger. He knew that this Knives was de-powered and defeated, but he still wasn't prepared for the sad wet beast born in a cardboard box all alone version that he found. He didn't even know that was possible… and kicking that when he was already down would have felt shitty to say the least. It was a version that was a lot harder to dredge up any fear for.

Second: This one is simpler. He knows that despite everything that has been done to him that Vash still has some deep rooted desire to have his entire family back, even if that isn't possible for one reason (dead) or another (tree-d and disappeared). He understands Vash's complicated feelings on it to some degree from his own experiences with the orphanage after he left and for the extended period of time where he thought he would never be able to go home. Their situations weren't the same, but they were just close enough for him to empathize with Vash. But then there Knives is all of a sudden, and even if it isn't going to fit in with or match up to the sort of impossible, idealized, shameful daydreams that Vash has to have from time to time, it's suddenly possible for there to be some kind of reconcilliation and even if they try and fail then there's more closure there than there would be if Knives was chased off and Vash was left to wonder what-if for the rest of his life. So even if he still does rightfully hate Knives... He hates the idea of Vash suffering another regret and having to cope with another source of misplaced guilt more.

And he wasn't lying when he told Knives that he wanted the twins to have more family and more support in their lives. Yeah, they've got him and Vash, and they've got Meryl and Milly and LivRaz. They've got the help of Melanie and they've visited the kids in the orphanage before, and they even have a few of the townsfolk, but Knives would be an important addition for the fact that he is a plant, and the twins are going to need some sort of guidance and Vash can only offer so much of that himself. Especially as he is now without powers and after a lifetime of trying to distance himself from what he was and after receiving no guidance of his own. They each had to figure out everything as they grew and between the both of them then the girls might not have to struggle as much as they did.

Third: this is the most important point. In New Growth Wolfwood knows about Tesla. I'll actually be getting more into this and why Vash chose to actually share something THAT personal later on because the idea of a short Wolfwood focused prequel planted itself into my head recently and I'm going to be doing something about that as soon as New Growth is finished. But anyway! Wolfwood knows about Tesla, and he knows about how both Knives and Vash reacted to their discovery of her. He knows why Knives made the choices he did, and he understands why he made them. Knowing that all of his actions came from fear and exactly what caused it gave him everything he needed to know to feel safe in believing it when Knives says that he's done.

So he is more comfortable with Knives around than he would have been without that knowledge, without needing him around for the girls' sake, and if Vash didn't want anything to do with him, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't still hold any uncertainty about having him in their home. He's still worried about the very real possibility of the whole thing falling apart and going wrong. Accidents still happen, and the panic attack that Knives triggered is a perfect example of that.

Even if the mistake that triggered that whole thing was pretty much harmless, the picture it made was still startling enough that it set off some of those fears. His reaction wasn't warranted but it wasn't exactly unwarranted at the same time. Does he really think that Knives is a danger/is going to do something to hurt anyone there? No. But the anxiety is there and he's spent the whole time feeling like he's juggling the temperaments and the potential for violence of two pretty much wild animals, even if those wild animals are busy playing house.

So in short... outwardly he's pretty calm, and he's having a good time pretending that he's all chilled out and in total control of the situation (and he kind of is, Vash and Knives are struggling but he's really doing the best he can for them and it's working) but internally he's shaking like a nervous chihuahua.