#the hell option but imo likely | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pileofmush · 5 months

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you don't know what i deserve .·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·.

ft. okkotsu yuuta

it’s 1 a.m. on the fifteenth of February and there’s a corpse on your kitchen floor. still fresh: odorless and warm to the touch. you're on your own—just you and the dead body.

info : ̗̀➛ tags: gn!reader, neighbor au, strangers to lovers, yuuta & reader are a little strange, happy ending // cw: death, light angst, vulgar language, canon-typical violence...but pretty mild imo

thoughts : ̗̀➛ helllooo. back on my bullshit. let's call this a very belated birthday present to my beloved <3 // read this on ao3

wc : ̗̀➛ 5.1k

The human body contains a shit ton of blood.

Which is not something you think about often, but now you are forced to confront this fact in real-time. People… have a lot of blood.

And it stains. No matter how many times you wash your hands. There are still flakes of blood wedged underneath your fingernails. Part of you thinks it'll never go away.

...And then there's Sailor Moon.

“I am the pretty guardian who fights for love and justice! I am Sailor Moon! And now, in the name of the moon, I’ll punish you!”

Cue trumpets and flashy poses; the makings of a battle. Your comfort anime blares in the background of a morbid scene, the flickering TV casting a soft glow on a sight that will inevitably haunt your nightmares.

Because it's 1 a.m. on the fifteenth of February and there’s a corpse on your kitchen floor. Still fresh: odorless and warm to the touch. You pace in your tiny living room, unsure of what to do, of how to proceed. The pretty Sailor Guardians won’t save you now. You’re on your own. Just you and the dead body.

How romantic.

The chill from outside has swept into your apartment thanks to that annoying fucking prick who left your window open. Honestly, people these days have no decency. The least he could’ve done was close your shutters after tumbling through your bedroom window like a deranged acrobat. Now you’re, like, moderately cold.

“What a fucking mess,” you sigh.

Blood seeps into the earthy Persian rug that you got for half-price at a flea market a few months ago. It’s dark; puddling, like... like a knocked-over glass of chocolate milk, spilled all over the kitchen table. Or, maybe chocolate syrup would be more apt. It doesn’t matter, though. You can always get a new rug. You know, if you make it out of this situation of yours intact and not in a dingy prison cell for homicide.

Hmm. You might be sorta kinda screwed.

The police, of course, are out of the question. No matter your side of the story, it wouldn’t hold up in trial. No, no, no. A foreigner murdering a Japanese citizen? Even if it was in self-defense, it wouldn’t matter. Forget prison—you’ll probably be hanged.

So, you could run… But you probably wouldn’t get far. Or, you could do what every naive murderer in the movie about karmic retribution does and try your darnedest to get away with it.

“Option two it is!” you quit pacing and announce to the room. Thankfully, the body doesn’t respond.

A weak knock at the door sounds off—a gunshot. Your heart stalls, your head snapping to the entrance of the apartment. Who the hell is at your door? The person at the door knocks a second time, a little bit more insistently, and you start to sweat. “Hello, is everything alright? I—I heard a scream.”

You step up to the peephole and squint. A mild-looking man shuffles his feet outside your door. It’s your next-door neighbor, bathed in the ugly yellow lighting of your apartment complex. He smiles like he knows that you can see him.

This… isn’t ideal. You could choose to not answer him, but that probably wouldn’t work. What if he called the police? You take a breath. “Everything’s fine,” you call out.

The man’s smile freezes in place, somehow more eerie than a frown; his hands burrow deeper into his pockets. “Oh!” he says. “Are… Are you sure?”

You turn away from the peephole, a little unnerved. “Yeah, why?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to intrude, but I heard a lot more than a single scream.”

A slow, dreadful feeling starts to seep into your gut. “Pardon?”

There’s a pause. You swallow.

“These walls are thin.”

Fuck. He knows. Oh God, he knows.

No—that’s impossible. You were the only one to scream. Yasuhiro… He didn’t get the chance to. So this is just a concerned neighbor checking in on you. Nothing more, nothing less. You can prove it, prove that you’re okay.

You open the door a smidge so that you can peek through, then step outside and shut the door behind you. Your neighbor, what’s his name again? Okkotsu, right? Okkotsu’s brows lift at the sight of you, then relax. He’s wearing a plain white tee and a pair of grey sweats that should probably be criminal in Japan. His eyes flicker up and down your frame. You suppress a shiver.

“Just a horror movie,” you broach, offering him a polite smile. “I’m an easy fright.”

Okkotsu pulls a hand out of his pocket to awkwardly rub the back of his neck. His gentle smile has dimmed. “I’m not sure I believe you,” he says in an apologetic tone.

You both notice the tremor that runs through your body. Nosy fucking neighbors and their lack of sense when it comes to minding their own business. You stare mulishly at the floor. His shoes are simple. Black; scuffed. His left foot taps once against the floor. Whatever. You don't have to answer to him. Gathering up your resolve, you start to speak. “Listen, Okkotsu-san,” you say but are cut off quickly.

“Is that blood?”

That makes you freeze, eyes glued to the floor. A cold set of fingers dips under your chin and gently lifts it. Your gaze meets his: two pools of an endless, starless night. It flickers to a spot beside your ear knowingly and you reach for it.

He’s right. Blood sticks to your fingers, not yet dry. Lurking in the crevice behind your ear. You missed a spot.

“Well spotted.” It’s fruitless to lie now. You know it, he knows it. Now it’s a matter of who’ll crack first.

“Are you… Are you injured?”

Physically? No. Psychiatrically? Well, you just murdered a man, so.

“I’m unharmed.”

Okkotsu blinks owlishly. “Is that so?” He murmurs curiously, tilting your head to the side to observe the blood staining your skin.

You readjust your head and mimic him, blinking slowly. “Okkotsu—”

“Yuuta,” he interrupts.

You blink again. For such a mild, polite-seeming boy, he really is quite rude. And confusing. And terrifying. And you kinda sort of want him to die. “Okkotsu-san” you repeat. “I think it’s best if you leave.”

Okkotsu Yuuta’s smile returns, and it’s dangerously innocuous. He breathes your name out like a question. Starless eyes wander to your front door, then go back to studying your own. “Can I come inside?” he asks, quietly.

Everything stills, even your heart. You’re not quite certain you’re alive, when you ask, dubiously, “The apartment?”

Okkotsu just smiles.

You let Okkotsu come inside.

Which is absolutely fucking insane, but you have a feeling that your neighbor’s worse off than you are, and that’s truly saying something.

You hear him lock the door behind you before you start. Silently, you lead him past your living room, past Tsukino Usagi flying down the sidewalk on the way to school—the start of another episode, then—past your browning house plant hanging from the ceiling, into your quaint kitchen.

It’s nothing special. A small green stove with two bunsen burners on top. A sink; limited counter space. A couple of peeling cabinets. Tied in together with a white backsplash, shifting colors with each flicker of the TV. To the side, a small table sits, with two mismatched chairs tucked into it.

Oh, and there’s the dead body, too. Practically dribbling blood, painting your discounted rug muddy red and the surrounding blue tile purple.

Okkotsu lets out a soft sigh. “What a mess.”

You consider him from the corner of your eye. “That’s what I said,” you frown.

He shrugs, still looking at poor, dead, Yasuhiro. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”

Yeaaaah. It’s true.

A giggle escapes you, the reality of the situation finally hitting you. “Fuck,” you whisper in between the giggles. “I’m fucked.” It’s true. Utterly and thoroughly—no condom used.

“Not yet,” you barely hear him say over the fracturing of your composure. This is impossible. You killed a man tonight, then showed a stranger the corpse. You’re an idiot. You’re a freak. You can’t hide a dead body. You really might as well bend over and get it over with. Fuck.

Hands gripping your knees, you struggle to catch your breath. When did you lose it? Ah, who cares? Dead. You’re dead. The noose is looped around your hollowed throat, tightening by the second. Perhaps there’ll be two corpses on your kitchen floor by the time the sun is up. Perhaps you should’ve just let him kill—

“Breathe with me,” Okkotsu mutters, right in front of you, long hands gingerly clutching your shoulders. Which is strange. You had no idea he got so close. His thumbs swipe up and down, around and around, and you are flummoxed. But Okkotsu is patient, his chest compressing and expanding with each measured breath, and you are compelled to follow him. Slowly, you come down from your panicked high. You let out a shaky breath, eyes sliding back to the imposing guest in your apartment. The other imposing guest in your apartment.

The body in front of you lays eerily still, impervious to your mini breakdown. It’s not purple, or rotting, or excreting out the last remaining fluids left in its underwhelming husk. It’s just—laying there. Laying, not lying, because it is no longer a breathing thing that rests; now an object to be placed. Dehumanized, in every way. Then again, what is dehumanization if not just another word for murder? What is murder, if not just the taking away of a person’s autonomy? Dead bodies can’t rest. It will never lie again.

The dead body lays.

And you wonder for how much longer you’ll keep your own autonomy.

When do the dead start to attract flies? Realistically, you know it can range from a day to a few days for a decomposing body to become…obscene, depending on the environmental conditions. It hasn’t even been a few hours. You doubt flies will start buzzing around any time soon. If you move to crouch down and touch it, it’ll probably still be warm.

The swipe of a thumb over your shoulder brings your awareness back to your neighbor.

“Why are you helping me?” You ask, wiping the tears that have beaded up in the corners of your eyes. Your breathing is steadier now, but you’re still trembling. That damn window is still open.

The hands on your shoulders release, and you look up to gauge his thoughts. He’s frowning. His eyes cloud, then sharpen: lightning against a black sky. “You need to get rid of the body, don’t you?” It’s a rhetorical question, but you nod anyway.

“Then we’ll figure it out. Don’t worry. I bet we’ll be done before dawn.”

He makes to walk away but you stay rooted to your spot, trying to figure out why this strange, strange neighbor of yours who makes friends with stray cats and tends to the apartment garden is willing to become an accomplice of murder for you.

“Okkotsu, are… Are you in love with me or something?”

Your neighbor stops, then snorts, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He turns back to face you. A soft pout lies on his lips as he skillfully evades your question with a request of his own. “Hey, if you’re gonna ask me something like that, why don’t you use my name next time?”

You don’t ask again.

You have far bigger problems than interrogating Okkotsu Yuuta, so you push it aside and stalk toward the body. Okkotsu joins you, and the two of you peer at the deceased man before you. It’s… Still. The blood has stopped its puddling; a thin line stretches the column of its throat. His throat was slit neatly, gracefully, like an act of love. It wasn’t one, but, maybe you gave Yasuhiro what he wanted, in a terrible, twisted way. How magnanimous of you.

Yasuhiro wasn’t an attractive man. Limp brown hair framing a slightly uglier-than-average face. At least he had the decency to close his eyes before his last, dying breath. They were blood-shot and wiry, the last time you saw them open. Bouncing haphazardly in its sockets like they couldn’t discern which corner of the room you stood in.

Okkotsu perks up at the sound of your harrumph. “What?” he questions you, and you slide your eyes over to him. Okkotsu Yuuta is distinctly pale, a trait that you’ve always noticed and have always sort of admired on him. It suits the subdued, yet haunted look he’s got going on. Black lashes feather the whites of his eyes, as well as the endless void of his irises. Yeah, he’s almost doll-like, in that gentle, haunting way of his.

“You’re creepier than the corpse,” you tell him instead and turn away, just barely hiding your smile. The laugh that rings out from him sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard.

Just kidding. It actually sounds kind of sweet.

Okkotsu follows you to the bathroom, where you’ve grabbed pretty much all of your cleaning supplies. You stuff them in a bucket and he hauls it out of your arms, the two of you shuffling back to the kitchen.

“So how should we go about this?” You muse, staring at the body. The movies you’ve seen are the only reference you have for the disposal of dead bodies, but those usually end with the killer getting caught, so you’re not so sure about mimicking their methods.

“I’m not sure,” Okkotsu says, tilting his head in thought. “Severing his limbs without the proper tools would be difficult. I guess we could carry him and bury him somewhere unassuming—unless you have a car that we could use?” A quick glance at you confirms that you don’t. He rubs his chin, nodding to himself. “Right. A garden cart will do, then. We should check to see if he has any identifiers on him, first, though. Oh, and we can’t forget about the teeth. Do you have any pliers?” He turns to you casually, eyes widening at the sight of your awe.

Thin black brows furrow in confusion. “What?” He asks.

You blink. “Have you…ever…?” Your voice dies in your throat.

Thankfully, he gets it. “Oh. No! No, I’ve never murdered a person,” he denies, dipping his head and tugging the neckline of his plain white tee. A curious look crosses his face. “But I could,” he tacks on cautiously.

You hug your arms and give a half-assed shrug. You can almost feel the weight of a kitchen knife in your dominant hand; the quick, fluid motion of ending a life.

“Anyone could,” you acquiesce, dismissing the conversation. Okkotsu hums mournfully in return.

According to his ID, Yasuhiro Souta is a twenty-seven-year-old male who lives in Chiba. What he was doing tumbling through your window in the middle of the night is anyone’s guess. Well, he did tell you, sort of shakily before he made to lunge at you, that you were supposedly his Valentine for the night. How sweet!

Snip. You met him for the first time a little over two months ago. He dropped his wallet on the train, so you picked it up and handed it to him in a silly attempt to be a decent person. It resulted in the man refusing to let go of your hand for a solid five minutes. Yes, yes, what an adorable meet-cute! Snip. When you managed to pry your clammy hands out of his vice-like grip, it was your stop, and, oh, how fortuitous, it was Yasuhiro’s as well! He followed you off the train into a random coffee shop, and it was only when you got the help of the employees that he backed off, the doorbell chiming as the glass door swung behind his back. Snip.

You thought that was the end of it, and proceeded about your day, running errands for a few hours until you retreated home. It shook you up for a little, yes, but it was nothing too crazy. You doubted you’d ever see him again.

Snip.

You slice Yasuhiro’s ID with your scissors until it’s a pile of ashes.

Okkotsu’s on his knees, holding a pair of pliers to the light. Wedged between the metal lies a crooked tooth. He hums to himself, plopping the tooth in a ziplock bag. He wears a pair of green garden gloves he grabbed from his apartment; you’re wearing a matching set. The rubber’s a little too big for you, but you’re making it work.

It's as Okkotsu calmly adjusts the head in his lap, preparing to yank another tooth that you stare at your strange partner, wondering how in the hell you got yourself into this situation. It’s been happening every so often: your acceptance of reality swinging in the opposite direction like the pendulum on a grandfather clock.

You shouldn’t have killed him.

You don’t care for Yasuhiro Souta’s life. You don’t care for the man who intended to assault you. But there’s not a chance in hell that this won’t get traced back to you.

You're fucked.

Why did it have to be like this? Why do bad things happen to good people?

That’s the way the cookie crumbles, darling.

And you crumble—crumbled—are crumbling when you turn to your neighbor. “Okkotsu-san,” you say, picking at your dirty nails.

“Yuuta,” the man insists. What a freak. He's a freak, and he's good, and you don't deserve it.

You take a deep breath, mulling over your doomed fate. It doesn’t have to be his, too. “You should get out of here. While you still can.”

There's an awkward pause. The strange man pulls out another tooth and plops it in the baggy. “There,” he says warmly, then draws to his full height. “Do you have a coffee maker?” You ball your fists around the plastic handle in your hands. Calm, calm, stay calm. “Did you hear what I just said?” You ask.

“Oh, I did,” Okkotsu hums. “I chose to ignore it.”

Your hands begin to shake as you repeat his words. “Ch—Chose to—”

Okkotsu says your name pityingly. “I thought we already had this conversation," he questions with pinched brows. “Why are we—”

“We?!” You interrupt, incensed. We. It's as if the curtains have been drawn open, allowing the rays of the illuminating, scorching sun to trickle through. It blinds you, and you have the urge to pull your eyes out and shove them down his throat. “You thought we? Who are you? You don’t know a damn thing about me!”

“I think I know a few things about you,” Okkotsu smiles sweetly, gesturing to the dead body in your apartment.

“Do you, now?” You laugh and toss your hands up to the ceiling. “Great! I have an idea!" You glare, the metal edge of your scissors catching the light. "If you know what I’m capable of, then you should get the hell out."

A pause. You pant, more worked up than have been all night and it's fucking ridiculous and you hate it. You want to choke—you want him to choke. On your blood-soaked fingers, preferably. He'd probably lick them clean.

Unaware of your depraved thoughts, Okkotsu’s lips pull into a frown. He sighs, running a ghostly hand through his hair.

“I’m not scared of you,” he tells you, quietly.

You hold your breath. “Maybe you should be.”

Your insufferable neighbor takes a step forward, that stupid frown still on his stupid doll face. “What’s your plan?” He prompts. “Do you intend to confess? To go to prison?” You shake your head slowly and he softens. “You don’t deserve that,” he says, like he really means it.

Why did you let this man into your house? Why is he offering you hope? It’s too much. The scissors slide out of all your fingers save for one; your limbs sag with a weariness that’s settled deep in your bones.

“You don’t know what I deserve.”

Okkotsu stops and considers you. Your chest heaves, your heart pounds, and you want out. You want out, and he can get out, and you don’t know… You don’t know why…

“If you want me to judge you, I won’t,” says Okkotsu.

You shake your head at his dismissal, your eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t judge you,” he continues, and there goes his cold, calloused hand again, gingerly tilting your chin upwards. The pair of scissors in your clutches drops fruitlessly to the floor. When you look up, there’s something like pleading in his endless, starless eyes. “Trust me,” he begs.

You shouldn’t. You know it with every fiber of your being that you should not trust Okkotsu Yuuta. The man who blinks like an owl and stares at you like you’re a mouse he can’t wait to swallow whole. Who blushes pink whenever you hold the elevator door for him. Who has cold fingers that cradle you so gingerly—who touches you like he knows you—who doesn’t cringe at the sight of dead bodies but gives a damn about a bit of blood staining the outside of your ear.

You shouldn’t. Trust him. But you—you feel as if he’s reached inside your chest and plucked out your pulsing, blackened heart.

“Do you love me?” You ask Okkotsu Yuuta again, heart throbbing in his hand.

His eyes don’t stray from yours. “Ask me again with my name,” he says quietly.

…You don’t know if you want to.

Releasing a breath, you push past him, snatch the ziplock bag from the floor, and stride towards the stove. “I’ll make coffee,” you say, already fiddling with the grinder.

Okkotsu lets you depart with a sigh.

“So what do you like to do when you’re not helping random people bury bodies?” You ask Okkotsu a couple of hours later. You stumble over a root in the dark, and Okkotsu’s quick to grab you by the waist and steady you. You continue, a bag full of your keys, water, pepper spray, freshly-bleached gloves, a burner phone that Okkotsu already had, for some reason, and two sets of clean clothes swinging against your back. You fidget with the shovel in your hands mindlessly, trying to get it to spin. A garden cart with a tarp draped over it creaks along the grass floor. The two of you have walked for who knows how long, but, according to him, you’re getting close.

The man beside you hums, surprisingly chipper for the nefarious activities afoot. “When I’m not busy, I like to garden and crochet. I also like making food for my friends from time to time,” he says in a simple, humble manner. The last part doesn’t surprise you. He’s brought you helpings of food on the most random occasions, showing up at your doorstep with self-proclaimed “leftovers” and shoving full plates into your arms with a velvety smile. That does beg the question, though…

“Have you considered us friends this whole time?” You squint at him in the dark, only the moonlight carving out the contours of his subtle, delicate features. You’re kind of surprised. You two made decent neighbors but only ever talked in short bursts outside your rooms. Your conversations rarely ever broke past polite mumblings about the weather.

Okkotsu pouts. “You mean, we’re not friends yet?” He asks, before breaking into a twinkling laugh.

“Shut up,” you bite, but you laugh too, lightly shoving at his arm. Okkotsu, bless him, pretends to stumble. It takes you a moment to suppress the heat burning the tips of your ears, but you do get it under control, eventually. “I meant… Before?”

His expression smoothens out before he gives a soft shake of his head. “No, not quite. But, I wanted us to be."

It’s quiet for a moment, nothing but the rustling under your feet and the ever-present, cacophonous sounds of nature. You spot a nest of sleeping birds tucked in between the branches of a tree and smile.

“Well,” you try to keep your cool, eyes sweeping over the forest's shadows, “Better late than never.”

It strikes you halfway to the burial grounds that Yasuhiro didn’t bring his phone with him to your apartment in his depraved, intoxicated state. He crawled up a tree, through your cracked-open bedroom window—conveniently avoiding cameras. So, once you’re done with this, you very may well be free.

It’s a terrifying notion, freedom.

“What about you?” Okkotsu asks you, something like ten minutes later. “What do you like to do for fun? Besides watch Sailor Moon, I mean.”

You bite your lip to keep from grinning. “Well,” you wonder aloud. “This is pretty fun, wouldn’t you say?”

Okkotsu lets out a little breath before he softly admits his agreement.

It rained earlier today, you forgot. The ground crumbles like clay when you swing the shovel into the ground. You and Okkotsu take turns making a grave, taking water breaks in between. There is hope alive in you, you realize, as the two of you work in tandem.

Yasuhiro Souta is lowered into the ground with all the dignity a dead man could possess. He lays atop a tarp and your old Persian rug. A stream rushes somewhere nearby, bubbling like blood, and you pray that the body will make good fertilizer. When your hand shakes, Yuuta grabs it.

You bury your clothes on the way back, a mile out. The sun peaks over the horizon.

When you return to your room with Yuuta in tow, your emotions overwhelm you: you are terrified and gleeful and sorry for all you’ve done.

It is mournfully quiet as you mop the purple tiles blue, bleach burning your nostrils and freshly scrubbed gloves. Yuuta’s left to clean the garden cart in the gardens. He returns shortly, though, offers you a small smile, and helps you scrub every inch of your apartment.

You scrub, and scrub.

And scrub.

“You’re beautiful,” Yuuta says to you when you’re in the middle of wiping your brow. You’re sitting cross-legged on your rugless kitchen floor, where a dead body once lay. Sweat clings to your skin in uncomfortable places and you reek of bleach. “Shut the fuck up and scrub, Yuuta,” you command.

Yuuta’s serene smile is unparalleled to anything you’ve ever seen before.

You could probably fall in love with him, you contemplate as you watch your neighbor make fluffy pancakes in the comforts of his own kitchen. If you haven’t fallen in love with him, already, that is. You doubt you’ll ever have a connection with someone as profound as the bond you share with the soft-spoken man who helped you bury a dead body.

Love, you marvel, in the span of a few hours.

It’s disquieting.

After multiple showers, and after Yuuta’s stuffed you with more pancakes than you can chew, the pair of you are lounging on his tatami mat, a much-needed change in scenery. You have like, three hours before you need to go to work, which, Yuuta agrees, is crucial to maintaining a veneer of normalcy. Which means this impromptu nightmare date will have to come to an end—as all good things do.

“I should probably get to bed,” you say after a lull in conversation.

Yuuta nods, reasonably. “That makes sense, yeah.”

“Got work in the morning and all that,” you continue in a nonchalant tone.

“Make sure your window’s locked.”

Fine. “Walk me out, will you?” You request. Okkotsu Yuuta, ever the gentleman, agrees, even though the front door is only a handful of feet away. He pushes himself off his knees and stands at full height, though his starless eyes are, as always, trained on you. You would probably find Yuuta’s full attention a little unsettling if you had not just slit a man’s throat that night.

You avoid his gaze all the same—stopping at his doorstep with your hands twisting at your sides. Yuuta stops beside you and waits patiently for you to string your words together.

You clear your throat. “Hey, um—”

“Hi,” Yuuta interrupts, and you smile, filled with the courage to go on.

“So, the thing is… Well, I probably wouldn’t have made it anywhere far without you. I acted quite amateur back there, you’d think this was my first dead body I was trying to hide, or something, ha. Um, so yeah, thank you—from the most sincere and vulnerable depths of my heart. I guess I’ll see you around? Okay, bye.”

A hand wraps around your wrist before you can run home with your tail tucked between your legs. Yuuta murmurs your name in a soft, dulcet tone, and you’re not certain you’re prepared to hear whatever he has to say. You turn to face him anyway, because, well, you owe him that much.

“Yes?”

“Don’t you have something to ask me?” He chides.

The pit in your stomach swoops. “Not that I recall,” you lie with a straight face.

“Try again,” Yuuta smiles sweetly, like a haunted little doll.

“It’s been a long day, you know—”

“Cold, I’m afraid.”

“My brain isn’t functioning at its peak—”

“Hmm, getting colder!”

“I don’t think I can.”

A pause. You avert your gaze and allow yourself to get analyzed by Yuuta’s doleful, starless eyes. “Hey,” he calls your name, asks you to look at him.

You look at him.

“Good," he hums.

You roll your eyes, loop an arm around his long neck, and drag him to you.

Okkotsu Yuuta tastes like the earth. From dust to dust, you are at the end and beginning when you capture his lips between yours. He responds quickly, hands digging firmly into your waist as he knocks you into his door frame, and you quickly learn what it means to be savored. You intended the kiss to be a quick, rash, thing, but he slows you down, melds into you languidly like you have all the time in the world. When he sucks on your bottom lip, you both moan, breaking apart for air. Yuuta slips his hands underneath your shirt, and for once, his cold hands burn, lighting the fire for something you’re not certain you’ll be able to finish.

“Go ahead and ask me already, love,” Yuuta murmurs into your ear. And, well, fuck. You melt. “Yuuta,” you whisper as he nips at your neck. “You love me, yes?”

At that, he bites down at the hollow of your neck. You gasp, then sigh when he instantly cools the wound with his tongue. “Obviously,” he replies, quite simply, thumb swiping delicately at your stomach.

“Great,” you gasp, and Yuuta looks at you and beams.

And, there goes your heart again, pulsing in his cold, calloused hands. Cradle it gently, Yuuta, won’t you?

fin. if u made it this far, ily

#mushy writes .𖥔 ݁ ˖#yuuta x reader #yuta x reader #jjk x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuuta x you #yuta x you #jjk x gn!reader #jjk #tw: blood #tw: death #m.jjk #m.yuuta #battle scarred;#yuuta my beloved <3

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twost3ps · 5 months

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Since ya doing au and made Emily Michael and Adam's daughter what about an au where Charlie is Lucifer and Adam's daughter just curious how that would come out of your artistic mind. Love ur art is PEAK bro

AWWW thank you so much!!!! AUSGEHYSGEUSGSUWBSBS

But totes I’ve had thought of this b4. Thank you for giving this prompt so I had an excuse to draw and write it out!!!

An au where Adam and Lucifer are Charlie’s dad… umm well there are a couple of ways this could go….

But the first that comes to mind is the one where Adam falls with Lucifer and they have Charlie. Idk if either Lucifer seahorses it and has the baby or if Adam is the one that carries. Idk first man sure, but yk maybe god was like: hey idk what genitals to slap on this guy so let’s do both and gave him both. When Lilith’s gender was determined, it was a flip of a coin. Adam could have just been the mother if it landed on the other side lol. Or maybe if he falls, god strips him of his title as a man, like Lilith, and swaps his genitals. So basically intersex Adam.

Either way, silly girl Charlie, here ya go! (I don't draw her enough)

Even as Adam's kid, I don't actually think Charlie changes all that much. Personality wise, at least. She is very much like her dad lucifur- a silly lovable dreamer- but some of Adam still leaks through, obviously. She's definitely a mommy's girl, and in this case, I'd like to think Adam is the mom figure. So instead of taking liliths more regal and more elegant choices of fashion and way of goinh, she takes on more of a punk and grunge look with a mix of her original style and a bit more agression.

For her looks I think she'd have dirty blonde hair and it would be short (it's my preference, lol), and her clothes are a bit more... punk? She dresses much more losely imo , def because of Adam. She keeps her horns out for the fun of it and her emo face still kinda stays with her, especially after Adam praising her for her look when she was in that phase. She does some sick eyeliner and eyshadow. She HAS to play an instrument so she knows the bass and strangly enough the keytar. I also think she's a bit chubbier because she maybe shared her dad's appetite idk.

But overall, she is still a sweet girl with a dream to help sinners. She's just way more assertive and quick tempered.

I won't lie, I got inspired by one of my friends' relationships with her dad and both lovingly insult each other to death. They talk about how much they "hate" eachother, but everyone clearly understands that both would die for one another for sure, especially Adam.

He may say something like. "Oh Charlie? Yeah if it were up to me I'd sell her for a new guitar" right infront of her but she's laughing so hard as Adam holds her close in a side hug because she knows he's joking.

Idk how to explain it but ifkyk, they lovingly talk bad about eachother but somehow it makes you understand that they really do love eachother as parent and child.

As for Adam and Lucifurs relationship, I genuinely dunno. I kinda want them to be a bit strained because even after the fall, Adam is still loyal to heaven. He's not lilith, who wants freedom - Adam likes security, and even if rule under heaven is restrictive, atleast hes safe. Charlie, to Adam, is one of the only good things that ever came out of the fall, and he would fall again and again just so she could be his. Like Lilith, Charlie is mainly parented by Adam, but it's because Charlie was the only shining light Adam had down in hell. Overtime Adam and Lucifur possibly heal and truly get together, but when Charlie was really young, they were not an item at all.

Then there are other options of Charlie being Lucifur and Adam's baby-

Charlie is born under an angel Adam and fallen lucifur and Adam decides to take Charlie and raise her in heaven

Adam is in no way related to Charlie, but one way or meets her and kinda just adopts her. Lucifur doesn't know why but Adam stakes claim ig

There are more potential ones but I'm not really a writer or an idea maker lol. IM NOT THAT CREATINVE SJVDEHBSBS But I think that this is just a great concept lolol a bit harder to work with than the secret royal family stuff but still fun to think about overall

I might come back to this one day o3o

#hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel #adamsapple #adam hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x adam #lucifer hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #hazbin charlie

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decepti-thots · 6 months

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this is still such a bit of character and worldbuilding of all time to me. never becomes relevant again but SO good as a bit of character flavour. prowl comes from somewhere disparaging of him but refuses to rebel against it; isn't quite willing to agree with the underlying principles but still acts a little offended about chromedome speaking out. it's not actually the unquestioned norm at this point because chromedome brings it up without thinking. the whole discussion ultimately leans on the idea that your alt mode can be Better or Worse regardless of this. then later:

prowl asks if chromedome, who he respects, might go in for reclassification. not himself. if he tried, he apparently didn't succeed; or else he didn't try. both options suggest something really interesting. also, implicitly they are dating at this point given what we see later, which adds a whole additional level of subtext. 'sounds like hell' to 'oh, i don't know' is kind of the most interesting thing that mtmte did with its underdeveloped attempt at this idea of transplanting real life experiences to the cold construct metaphor imo, that sense of fitting in under duress. the subtext of chromedome not quite getting it is interesting with the assumption they are involved at this point. turns them around like a rubiks cube.

#mtmte reread 24

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kisakis-boyfriend · 11 months

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Hey! I just wanted to rant/thirst to you about Freminet, so spoiler warning for some of his locked/upcoming voice lines bc I’m going absolutely insane over how he manages to flirt so submissively. Freminet may be truly sweet and innocent, but you can’t tell me that he isn’t purposefully advertising his subby nature. This guy automatically declines tasks from ppl other than his family, but offers himself up to “be of some use to you” in the first greeting 🤨. He straight up asks for orders with zero shame but it’s really the subtle things that are making me obsessed. I can’t really explain properly but it’s kind of like how a brat baits a dom into being more aggressive except he does it in a soft way?? He’s almost one of those mildly manipulative uwu boys going “I’m so shy 🥺👉👈 plz fuck me.”

Example A: Probably the best known example of this is one of his ascension lines where he goes “You didn't have to do this for me, you know. I'd obey you regardless.” Wtf bro, you can’t just say that?!? Being a bad liar doesn’t excuse you from not even trying to hide the horny. Please stop before I bend you over. I know some ppl interpret this as sad but imo it’s one of the most boldly sexual things to come out of his mouth.

Example B: Freminet mentions always having a home at the House of Hearth. And when you ask him to join your party he either says “At your command.” or eagerly asks us to take him (with us). But in the last option he replies with “Well, *fake ass sigh* I’ve got nowhere to go…” like he’s actively fantasizing about us making him come (along). I can just tell he’s smiling while saying this shit, he ain’t slick.

Example C: In an upcoming event the Traveler jokes about wanting to try on his helmet. Immediately the whore behavior jumps out and Freminet responds with “Well, if it’s an order…” Then there’s legit an option to say back “Yep, that’s an order”. Excuse me?!? Are you fucking kidding?!? I am actually gonna go feral rn. Like ofc Paimon interrupts saying “Hey, now’s not the time!” Paimon knows Freminet won’t get anything done once I slut him out like he’s obviously begging to be. “We don’t want to bother him now.” Bother him??? Bitch, he won’t be able to talk or walk once I’m done with him.

Anyways, that’s the end of my rant, but like wtf Genshin? Atp they might as well just let us give the kinky mf a contract and a collar

Bonus Points: The way Freminet will use his soft, raspy voice to randomly bust out a line more romantic than the actual poet characters in-game is crazy. Traveler just said goodnight like a normal person, wdym "May your dreams be as dazzling as the starry night above the ocean, and your dreamless nights be naught but filled with serene respite." Excuse me Prince Charming, how the hell am I supposed to go to bed without you in it now?

HKJFKSFSBDKDJSF

Anon please, I thoroughly enjoyed your analysis and now I cannot unhear these voice lines as anything except subby begging behavior 😵‍💫

Freminet has us all whipped with his pretty voice, short-shorts, and flirting. He knows exactly what he's doing and has no shame, it seems

#mailbox #thirst #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #freminet #freminet smut #sub freminet #genshin thirst #gn reader #gender neutral reader

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yurislilygarden · 21 days

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ʚїɞ Self Aware! Hazbin Hotel

ʚїɞ Their reaction after becoming self-aware and first thoughts about reader!

ʚїɞ Charlie Morningstar and Vaggie / Part 3!

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ Word count: just below 1.2k

ʚїɞ Part 1! (Lucifer and Alastor) Part 2 (Angel Dust and Husk)

ʚїɞ Not me casually posting like it hasn't been months since the 2nd part... ANYWAY... This took WAY too long but it's here!!!! This is shorter than I wanted, but I already knew it would be short as I don't grasp these two too well imo, so I didn't have too much to say here. Probably will rewrite it one day if I ever decide I got better with their characters as I would love for this to be longer <3

Very few characters would notice something wrong on the first watch of the show, but wouldn't realize, nor become self-aware until the 2nd or further watch.

While everyone's reaction would be different with different amounts of stages before total acceptance of the situation, they all would share the first emotion, simple disbelief. They would first need to even process the fact that they're not real, that they were created solely for the purpose of entertaining… something? Someone? In a completely different Universe. That everything that they thought had happened to them before they died didn't actually happen, they were never alive in the first place. Only after that did the emotions and reactions differ. The very first emotion or actual personal reaction would be:

Charlie

Fright, confusion, frustration

Charlie didn't know what to think at first. On one side, she, and everyone else, are 2D characters on a show for fucks sake, but on the other side, you didn't do anything to them. She would be the only one (in hell) to not be outright negative about you, she started out at the neutral zone.

Whether the others were already aware or not, they could notice a change in her behavior for a few days after the situation hits her. To think that the 200+ years that she thought that she was alive was actually a lie, fake, would be a hard fact to swallow. Her being rightfully confused about the situation, many questions filled her head and she had no answers. Like father, like daughter, if you will.

What exactly do you want from them? Can you do something else besides watching them? Do you want to do something more? Would you talk to them directly if you could? Do you-

Yeah, she's like her father in that aspect.

She was curious on just how much would change if they weren't in a show, no, if they had a choice in anything, since they wouldn't exist without the show. The thought may give her nightmares. Could her relationship with her dad be better than what it is? Could she do more for hell? Would her mother still be here and not missing?

Some frustration could come in early on, as she was already stressed about the hotel, but also trying to keep everyone from being negative about you. While they didn't know much, you didn't show any malicious intent, which in her books was enough to not outright dislike you. She would be pretty close to the negative zone in the first few days, but it would quickly turn to neutral upon knowing she wasn't the only one to know, and being told what little they knew.

She didn't even look for the signs of everything around them being just wrong, she didn't need to. She would just sit there and realize how quiet everything was outside, how many memories that she previously thought she had, seemed to be actually lacking in existence.

As for whether she would be disappointed in herself for not noticing earlier or not, I see two options.

One, she wouldn't be necessarily really disappointed in herself for not noticing, at least not as much as some of the others upon finding out and processing the fact that there were people who noticed before her, but also that there were people who didn't realize after her.

Then there's the second option where I can imagine her being immensely disappointed in herself for not noticing much, much sooner. She’s the princess of hell, she should’ve noticed it! She would be overthinking that if something happened before she became self-aware, she wouldn't have been able to help in any way. She wouldn't be aware of it.

She may have not been the first to notice your presence, but she wasn't the last, which gave her a little bit of comfort either way.

She would be in the “can only watch” team with not much hesitation about it, and in the neutral zone from pretty much the start.

Vaggie

Anger, frustration and hatred

One of the few who would hate you the moment they processed everything. At first, her thoughts weren't the most rational, going off of negative feelings in panic and in general, but what she thought about you didn't change much even after she calmed down. She despised the thought of her, them all, being some bullshit made-up characters for someone to enjoy. She started out in the negative zone with no hesitation. She really tried not to think about the fact that she, none of them, were ever truly alive, that her whole life, existence, was fake to her very core.

After she became self-aware, she tried to find signs she missed before and it pained her when she realized how obvious everything was. She couldn't remember most of the things besides what was showed on the screen for you, the outside of the hotel wasn't filled with screaming 24/7 a day like she thought it was, there wasn't even anyone outside when she looked outside. It was painfully obvious and yet she, none of them, realized it fast enough for her liking.

She would be pissed and assume you like seeing them suffer, because why would you just watch as another character got rid of her eye? Why would you just watch bad things happen and do nothing? It’s frustrating as hell to her that she can’t do shit to you/your form and the only thing she can really do is sit back, observe, and watch as things happen, unable to do anything… ironic, isn’t it?

Unlike Charlie, she would for sure be heavily frustrated and disappointed in herself for not noticing anything earlier, the fact that she wasn't in the first 3 to notice after being told everything didn't help her inner thoughts, especially with how protective she can be.

If she became self-aware before Charlie, she would be unexplainably more protective of her (and others but she would try to not make it as obvious), until her girlfriend became self-aware herself and understood the reason (Charlie would still think its a little bit too much since she would think you were completely harmless to them). She would act in a similar fashion to finding out before Charlie if she were the latter to find out, but her actions wouldn't be as concealed due to the reasons already being known.

Would make her hatred clear whenever they were on the topic of you, or when your butterfly form was around them. Vaggie would throw you a glare the moment she knows you couldn't see her without hesitation. Tried to stab you through your small body or wing with her spear to see if she could (do some damage back) hurt you, only to be disappointed when it just phased right through you.

Vaggie would be on the “only watches but can do more” team, and start out heavily in the negative zone, before, Charlie would get her to the neutral zone with some time.

Notes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated

｡⋆｡˚ ʚ Taglist ɞ ˚｡⋆｡

@laundrybear413 @leathesimp

#I just know I will HAVE to rewatch hazbin before writing pentious and niffty part #I know and understand pretty much next to nothing abt their characters #and it will be useful to see the Vees and heaven charas again #I got reminded earlier of an idea i got months ago abt a what-if au where reader is actually a higher being instead of a watcher #and got ideas since it wouldn't be a self aware au like what I write lmao #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin #hazbin hotel #self aware hazbin hotel #self aware au #alastor x reader #lucifer x reader #charlie x reader #vaggie x reader #husk x reader #angel dust x reader

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atopvisenyashill · 8 months

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why do you think jonsa is happening tho? jonerys is different bc they are going to be enemies, but i don’t see what jonsa does for the story

so let me first lay out roughly what i think is going to happen should jonsa become canon. I personally love going down meta and graphic spirals, so I'm including links to other people’s theories/explanations/graphics of events too - also I would like to shout out @istumpysk because half these metas and gifsets were stuff I found on their blog initially, and also was the one who really convinced me that jonsa is less of a crackship and more of a contender for an actual canon theory, and from there i really found my niche in this fandom. specifically this meta about jon being the mummer's dragon is what pulled me out of my "we're never getting twow and if we do it's just gonna be that stupid dany has jon's magical baby while tyrion watches, then they all die theory" slump and lit my brain on fire again. let's goooo:

The Ashford Tourney Theory - Something Shady goes down at the tourney Petyr has planned that requires Sansa to make a quick getaway, and likely causes her to run into Brienne while fleeing. This theory for me is about hinting at Sansa's romantic future, allies, and how she's getting the hell out of the Vale: both the dark haired, Not Targ Looking Targ Prince that is the son of A Great Prince That Never Was being her romantic endgame but also it's about Brienne (/Dunk) getting her the hell out of there and becoming Sansa's number one ally and protector (with Sansa's number two being Bronze Yohn!! But he's not fleeing with her - if he helps her get out of the Vale, it'll be to cause a distraction or a fight so Sansa can slip away unnoticed. Bronze Yohn is coming with the knights of the Vale later to help defend his girl!).

The Girl In Grey - Out of options on where to go, Sansa & Brienne makes a long, fast, and dangerous trek to the only family she knows is still alive: Jon Snow at the Wall. No, I don't think Alys Karstark is the girl in grey on a dying horse; I think she's a red herring, the same as the scene where Sweetrobin destroys the snow castle, and that the real girl in grey (who slays the savage giant) is Sansa. Melisandre says that she sees "Jon's sister" but doesn't specify more than that, or how she knows it's Jon's sister, even - why would she assume Alys is Jon's sister and not some random Northern girl? Why was she so sure that it was his sister? It's because Alys isn't the girl in grey, it's Sansa, her horse dying because she's traveled halfway across the continent with Brienne and Pod, desperately trying to keep ahead of the dozens of people hunting her down.

The Blood of Winterfell - Sansa and Jon will reclaim winterfell together. This one is similar to above; just like Alys was a red herring, the scene where Sansa rebuilds the castle has a lot of foreshadowing (imo) but that isn't the moment in the prophecy Arya hears. The Savage Giant is Littlefinger, the castle of snow is Winterfell, and Sansa is going to liberate her home alongside Jon and what's left of the Northern lords.

Stone and Snow Remains - THIS is where Sansa and Jon will fall in love while fighting for the North. This is also the part where you lose a lot of people, because they think the evidence is real weak sauce but like, I also think the Jonerys "evidence" is weak af too (and no wonder, we have at minimum 2k pages left to get through!!). There's several believed foreshadowing points to this one, bare with me for this weird ass formatting because I can't do sub bullet points on tumblr:

1. Sansa's linking of snow with love and affection - "drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and melted on her cheeks...She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams." along with her snow maiden and snow knight.

2. Bael the Bard and the Rose of Winterfell - the chapter where Sansa gets her period for the first time, Cersei refers to it as “flowering” a dozen times, linking being a maiden (a young girl, not quite of age or just barely of age) to flowers and several people refer to sex as ~plucking. Also notice the one who stole her from KL is Lord BAELish.

3. Aemon the Dragonknight & Queen Naerys - Sansa compares herself to Naerys, Joffrey to Aegon, and wishes for an Aemon, among the many similarities between her life and Naerys'. Jon not only calls himself Aemon, he has a deep connection with a different Aemon Targaryen. And if you’re thinking “Sansa isn’t Naerys, X is Naerys” I would remind you that Sansa as a character existed first, George purposefully had her compare herself to Naerys, and parallels don't belong to just one character.

4. Jenny of Oldstones and The Prince of Dragonflies - there's honestly a lot of parallels between them but like the Aemon/Naerys parallel, the Jenny/Duncan one stands out to me.

5. Janos Slynt - I mean. Iconic. This was the scene that made me first think about what their relationship could be in the future and there’s a reason Jonsas fixate on it. It’s about Sansa being desperate for a hero and the hero she dreamed about being Jon the whole time. 6. Societal Alienation - There's the bastard parallels here, the "it would be so sweet to see him again", the "Winterfell belongs to my sister, Sansa." It's about how Jon, through circumstances of his birth, finds himself alienated from the rest of society and reconnects with his prim and proper sister Sansa, who finds herself alienated from the rest of society as well but for vastly different reasons.

Robb’s Will - Howland is going to show up in the North, along with Maege and Galbert, with some WILD news about why Jon can’t rule Winterfell. There’s a lot of contention around this. Bran probably shows up around this time too, and Arya gets to the Riverlands to discover Lady Stoneheart and give her the gift of mercy. This is where all the inheritance stuff is going to happen and I have no idea how it's going to go down besides it's going to be messy as all fuck.

The Pact Of Ice And Fire - Jon & Sansa get secret married bc they’re in love, not siblings, & jon is the only man she trusts not to steal her claim. This isn't the only possible foreshadowing instance of a marriage either - some believe the Sandor/Sansa scene during the Battle of the Blackwater is foreshadowing as well (personally I feel that's a bit of a stretch but I wanted to include it anyway).

Jon As An Envoy - I talked about this in my "what's Jon's ending" a little but I believe Jon will act as an envoy for either Sansa or Bran to Aegon VI, essentially playing out a similar story that he does in the show with Daenerys. By which I mean, Jon is not the King because the ruler themselves do not go as an envoy, that’s stupid and dangerous, but he goes as an ambassador for Sansa or Bran, to treat with a new claimant to the Iron Throne that is gaining support - Aegon VI & Jon Connington. They will probably clash, Jon will probably have yet another identity crisis, there had BETTER be gay incest subtext, then Aegon dies, and Jon has his sixth quarter life crisis in a row.

“King” of the Gift - again, something I touched on in my Jon meta is that I think he’s going to have a hand in resettling the Gift. Personally, I think it's likely that Jon leaves to protect the claims of his siblings (see: Duncan and Jenny) and goes to the Gift to help resettle it to keep out of the way. This ending is typically referred to as the "bael the bard" ending but i like to think of it as the "brandon's gift" ending instead - though he is not physically with his family, Jon feels fulfilled having confirmed his family loves him through reclaiming Winterfell and marrying Sansa, being reunited with Arya, and being given the Gift by Bran. Sansa claims her children were fathered by a wolf.

So…what does all this do for the story?

Well, in my opinion, several things.

I think the main barrier here is that most people in the greater fandom describe Sansa's story as ~growing past childish wants~ and Jon's as ~rejecting love~ and I do not agree with either of those takes even a little bit. This is where (imo) the dividing line between Jonsas and the rest of the fandom is. I don’t think the answer to Sansa’s question “will anyone ever marry me for love” is going to be “nah" - that's not just a sad story to me (wanting to be married isn't childish! craving intimacy and understanding isn't childish! it's also not wrong for a child to be childish!), I think the idea that Sansa (or Jon) will not find another love just doesn't line up with how George approaches his story. Who Sansa's husband will be has been such a big question, and her story is so heavy into the more romantic tropes like courtly love and chivalry and the line between politics and love and identity, that the question of Sansa's hand in marriage will be plot relevant. I also think it's kinda naive of people to pretend like George isn't very interested in the sexual dynamics of the characters he writes about (yeah, sure, no woman needs a man but "needing a man" is not what this is about. look at everything this man wrote in F&B and tell me he is going to write a female character that longs for sex and desire and doesn't get it!).

After AGOT, nearly every time Sansa thinks about marriage involves her longing for love but believing she will never get it because a man will only ever love her for her claim. Giving her a man - like Jon - who not only will not steal her claim and in fact has defended it twice over already, who will love her for who she is and not what she can give him, is a really important aspect of her story in my opinion.

As for Jon, I am even more firmly against the opinion that his story is about rejecting love; Jon’s story is about wanting to be a good man, to measure up to his father ~despite~ his bastard blood. When Aemon asks if Ned would choose honor over love and Jon stubbornly says yes, Jon is wrong and it’s important to not forget that. Ned has never once in his entire life chosen honor over love; he chooses his daughter’s life over his honor, he chooses his sister & her son’s life over honor, he chooses Arya & Nymeria over honor, and on and on!!! Ned chooses love at almost turn but none of his children know that just yet - look at Robb choosing Jeyne’s honor over his own and how upset he is at the idea that Ned would be disappointed despite the fact that Ned would have understand Robb’s decision! Jon's whole arc is tied up in realizing that it is not wrong or dirty to feel and choose love, passion, and desire and if he never has another romantic arc again, I think you lose the second part of that lesson which is "you are responsible for how you act when you feel love but that doesn't mean that simply choosing love makes you a bad person."

There's also the fact that George has talked a lot about "who lives, who dies, who gets married" and yet we have not one marriage at the end of the show AND there's not a lot of guesses at what "who gets married" means besides Jon/erys (and even if Jonsa doesn't happen, I simply do not see Jon/erys happening. they are not similar enough, they will not be in the same space for long enough, and they are on wildlly different trajectories for their story, they are not getting married let alone having sex). I think Jonsa fits that bill very well.

These various theories - from Sansa being queen, Jon living in exile, The Ashford Tourney Theory, the secret marriage, every one of them - are ideas and themes that I have really been thinking about for about 12 years now. I think Jon and Sansa's relationship could fit with the themes in their stories, the overarching themes in the books, and my own personal opinions. I think it gives George a great opportunity to delve into the courtly love aspects he enjoys so much, as well as delve into inheritance, legacy, legitimacy, honor, incest (yes, that too), and above all, what George himself has said the whole series is about - love. The human heart in conflict with itself is what I think Jon and Sansa as a romantic couple does for the series.

#okay if i don't post this now it's going to continue to sit in my drafts while i make minor edits oh my god #anyways behold my jonsa manifesto with sources. i'm gonna go kms now bye #jonsa meta #jonsa #jon snow #actually jonsa #sansa stark #fathered by a wolf #getting on my soap box #stone and snow remains #twow speculation #ados speculation #asks #anons #also stumpy's post being reblogged to asoiafuni just so people could dogpile her. is exactly why i stopped engaging with asoiaf fandom #after the show ended because it was just these obnoxious ass people dogpiling on fans with theories they didn't like over and over #annoying and not conducive to theory and analyzing!!#i hope i'm not missing some important meta here don't tell me if i am i'll die

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