#there's a lot of messy shit going on there and it's not going to be fixed with this woowoo you-were-manipulated bullshit

[shy-writer-999]

It's getting hot in here...

Summary: After a nice meal, you start to feel weird. Did you eat something funny? It turns out everyone is feeling the same, and there's only one thing to do about it. Read content warnings please!

CW: Lots of nasty sex. Afab reader, G/N language. Aphrodisiacs. TONS of zosan gay shit (like 50% of this fic). Could be considered dubcon because the aphrodisiacs are strong and reader keeps losing touch with reality, but it is consensual >_> Voyerusim, dacryphilia, begging, dry humping, edging, masturbation, "good boy," riding, prone bone, you name it. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, THIS IS (VERY) NSFW CONTENT.

Something was in the water at the new island the Sunny anchored on. Or was it in the wine? The bread? The butter? You couldn’t remember what you ate. Your memory of the night was blurred—scattered scenes played through your mind the next day. Your recollection was… messy and nonsensical. You tried to recount the night.

In the early hours of the night in question, Sanji went into the island’s town to get supplies and ingredients for dinner. It was a nice day full of free time, clear skies with a slight breeze.

Nami and Robin went shopping and they wouldn’t be back on the ship in time for dinner. Brook, Usopp, Chopper, and Franky went off and did god knows what. Similarly, they wouldn’t be back in time for the evening meal. Sanji promised to make enough so they could have leftovers later.

When everyone went on their separate outings, that left you, Luffy, Zoro, and Sanji on the ship.

It was a small, simple, and delicious dinner that night. An intimate setting with just you four, a nice opportunity to hang out with part of the East Blue crew. You were soaking in some modicum of silence and peace (whenever Luffy allowed it) on the mostly empty ship.

Aside from Luffy’s chomping and smacking noises while he ate, dinner was relatively silent. Sanji and Zoro weren’t butting heads for once, either. You sat at the table, talked sparingly, and drank some of the wine that Sanji bought in town.

When dinner was over, you helped Sanji wash up (like usual), then you sat at the dinner table and did some reading.

An hour or so passed. You read your book while Sanji prepped food and cleaned the kitchen a few feet away. Gradually, the room got warmer. You opened a window, letting in some of the cool evening air, propped a door open, and sat back down again.

After a few minutes, you noticed that you felt a bit ill. Lightly perspiring, you almost shivered—your limbs felt heavy, you felt light-headed. You tried to reason it away. Did you have too much wine?

No, you didn’t. You stood up, and as you rose to your feet you realized that you felt like you were going to pass out. At the same time, your body started to buzz. You had never felt like this before. Something was seriously off.

Sanji was still in the kitchen cleaning up, and you staggered in his direction, stopping at the sink to splash some water on your face. The cold water felt great on your hot cheeks, and you could have sworn you saw steam rise up from where the cool droplets met your skin.

“My love, are you alright?” Sanji’s sweet voice shocked you out of your feverish stupor. You had almost forgotten he was there. When you turned to face him, your body pulsed and heat tingled outwards from between your legs, radiating to your whole body. He had never looked so good before.

The blonde’s eyes widened in shock—your pupils were dilated, your breathing was shallow and quick, and your face was covered in a sheen of sweat. He brought a hand to your forehead and confirmed that you had a fever. “Are you sick, dearest? You don’t look well.”

When his skin touched yours, your breath hitched. “Sanji, I don’t feel too good.”

“Do you need to go lay down? I’ll get Chopper to come take your temperature and give you something to help you feel better, okay?”

You didn’t know it, but Sanji was starting to feel ill, too. He was sweating just barely and had, up until that point, been blaming it on the fact that he just cooked and cleaned and was a bit exhausted. But what was more concerning to him was that in your feverish state you looked even more beautiful than usual—no, beautiful wasn’t the right word. In his mind he remarked that you looked fucking hot. Stunning. Sexy, even.

He could rip your clothes off here and now and ravage you, had you been up for it. But that sentiment wasn’t necessarily out of the norm, rather, it was that you were evidently sick, and he was starting to feel a bit woozy himself.

Maybe the food had turned, and he didn’t realize it, so you were both suffering from food poisoning. But that would have been very unlike him to not pick up on the food tasting rotten. It must have been something else. Did you both pick up some virus from the last island you were on? Like Nami on Little Garden that one time?

A soft whine slipped out of your lips. The noise made his stomach flip. You sounded like you were in pain but… you also sounded a bit erotic to him. In this state, his mind raced. Is that what you would sound like in bed? Whining like that?

Sanji mentally berated himself more than ever before, letting self-disgust wash over for a moment before he shook it off. When he got back to his senses (he had been staring at you for only a couple of seconds), he started to guide you to your cabin for some rest. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s get you to bed.”

But no matter how many internal curses he threw at himself, he felt a tent forming in his pants. Something weird was happening.

He balked at the idea that seeing you in your current state was getting him so flustered. You were ill, after all. What sort of gentleman would he be right now, if he was thirsting over you while you had a dangerously high fever and were obviously in pain?

As he tried to shrug off how odd he was starting to feel, the blonde chef guided you down the hallway and towards your room. You walked behind him and your vision started to get splotchy. With every degree your fever worsened, you felt something get more intense—was this feeling arousal? At a time like this?  

Sure enough, heat bloomed between your legs; small zaps of pleasure radiated

outwards with each step. The arousal-sickness combination was disorienting and concerning.

And not only were you just aroused, but it was coupled with wild sensitivity—as you moved, the fabric of your pants brushed down there, sending an electric shock up your spine as the tingling sensation intensified. Were you hallucinating, or was wetness seeping out of your core, saturating your panties?

The walk down the hallway felt like years.

By the time you were almost to your bed, you were soaking wet from nothing other than walking. You tried to squeeze your legs together. Was there a stain on your pants from how unreasonably wet you were? Should you hide it? The fabric of your pants was rubbing you just right, and, in the moment you sat on the bed, you convulsed in pleasure. Undeniably, you moaned. A quiet one, but a moan, no less.

You sat there for a few seconds, eyes closed and mouth hanging open as you positively buzzed in pleasure. You didn’t know what was happening, and you were unaware that you were slowly rubbing your thighs together, drawing out more tingles of pleasure. Was that an orgasm?

Sanji’s mind was racing, and he was hyperaware of everything—every shallow breath and flutter of your eyes was making his heart patter and the tent in his pants grow. He was fully erect now, and his mind was so scrambled that he didn’t even think of hiding it. He almost couldn’t breathe. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

It was from this point on that you started to question if any of this was real or if you were just having a fever dream.

Sanji stood over you, watching in what could be called a mixture of concern and rabid desire. Your eyes opened finally, and it felt like you had tunnel vision. You noticed it then—his erection, hard and big. There was a visible stain on his bulge where precum pooled into the fabric. His cock twitched when he realized your eyes were focused on it.

“A-are you okay?” Sanji asked. He didn’t know what to say. He needed to drag himself away to a bathroom and deal with this.

His words got caught in his throat as your body literally worked against your own whims. Your fingers moved like they were being controlled by a puppeteer—you watched them in third person as they trailed down your abdomen and came to rest over your throbbing core.

Looking up at him, you gave yourself a squeeze through your pants. Some erotic sound tumbled from your lips. Your fingers started to circle over the fabric of your pants where your clit must have been, and you spread your thighs a bit. You couldn’t control yourself.

“Help, Sanji,” you whispered, mouth dry. “Don’t know what’s happening. Can’t stop.” Your fingers moved faster, building a crescendo of pleasure that would crash onto you soon. You felt like you were going crazy with need. No longer focused on the fever wracking your body, your mind knew only one thing: you needed pleasure.

If you didn’t get more soon, you were worried you’d pass out. Or something would happen. Would you go crazy?

“H-help?” Sanji’s voice cracked. “What do you mean?”

“Touch me,” you whimpered, fingers moving faster now. His jaw dropped.

Luffy suddenly staggered to the door and leaned on the frame. He was unbothered by the sight in front of him and, quite frankly, he looked a damn mess. His hair was plastered down on his forehead in sweat, he had no shirt on, and his pajama pants were riding down, showing the band of his boxers.

“Guys,” Luffy’s voice was strained. “I feel really weird.”

Your eyes darted down. Luffy was rock hard, bulge standing out against the gray fabric of his pants. His cloudy vision came to rest on your chest. With no care in the world, one of his hands reached down to start rubbing himself.

“It won’t go away no matter what I do,” Luffy rubbed the heel of his hand down the outline of his erection, and his words were broken by a loud grunt. “I came here to ask for help but it—it looks like you beat me to it.” He cracked a grimace/smile and threw his head back after a moment, leaning his whole weight on the door frame as he touched himself through the fabric.

You snuck a hand into your pants. Brushing your clit gently, you keened. You were on autopilot, incapable of controlling your actions and not the most cognizant. All you knew was you needed more, and if you didn’t get more, something bad would happen.

“Mmmphhhh,” Luffy stifled a groan as he squeezed himself, lost in his own world. “It’s like my body is on fire.”

Your vision went black around the edges—you started to rub faster, spreading your legs open wide and creeping your fingers under your panties.

Burying your hand in your underwear, you hissed in air at your teeth as your fingertips came in contact with your hot folds. Your back arched and a needy sound trickled out. “F-fuck, Sanji help me.”

Sanji froze, eyes glued on your hand that was shoved down your pants, stirring under the fabric. The stain on his pants got bigger and wetter—it was very noticeable.  

“What do you want me to do love?” He asked in a hushed, hesitant tone. He was holding onto his last shreds of reason, trying not to pounce on you, but those shreds of rationality were slipping out of his grasp like sand.

Your vision started to go black. You closed your eyes, lost in the pleasure that you pulled from yourself in a daze. Sanji reached a hand up to your core and ran a thumb up and down over the fabric above your clit. Your wetness was seeping through the layers already.

Some amount of time passed. You came and it helped you regain lucidity. When you opened your eyes—you had no clue how long it had been—you were laying on the bed and Luffy stood over you, watching intently.

Sanji was sitting at the end of the bed, now shamelessly digging his thumb into the tip of his cock, playing with his slit as clear precum seeped out of it. His hips bucked upwards a few times and you watched. You realized that you were touching yourself, moving your fingers in swift and messy need.

Luffy leaned in and pressed his lips on yours. The first few kisses were surprisingly sweet, loving, even, but they quickly turned sloppy. He maneuvered onto the bed—now, his knee was pressed against your core, a hand braced on one side of your head, and the other rested on your cheek as he kissed you passionately.

You made out for a few seconds, grinding down onto his knee a bit, aiming for friction. Your mewls were driving him and Sanji insane—the blonde continued to tease himself and stroke slowly while he watched Luffy take in every inch of you with his lips. The captain’s lips moved south.

He pulled your pants and panties off quickly, spread your thighs wide, and started to eat you out on the spot. Pressing his tongue on your clit, the captain drew soft circles around your sensitive bud, then he swiped his tongue up and down along your entrance. Luffy wasted no time slurping and greedily licking every inch and crevice of you that he could.

You started to lose touch with reality again—you realized, distantly and in third person, that whatever was wrong with you seemed like you would start to black out any time you went too long without an orgasm. As you were making this conclusion, a loud thud at the door distracted you once again.

Zoro’s body had dragged him across the ship, bringing him to your room of its own accord. He could hardly walk, slamming into the door frame, and before he knew it, he was sitting on the bed next to Sanji, eyes darting between Luffy eating you out and the blonde’s fist stroking and squeezed his hard on.

Your eyes shifted to Zoro, sitting with his legs spread wide on the bed next to Sanji. The swordsman started running a palm over his clothed erection. His breaths were fast, his cheeks were bright pink, he didn’t seem fully cognizant of the fact his eyes were glued on his nemesis/frenemy’s fist pumping over his cock. No one said a word for a few moments. It was a silent agreement—whatever was happening needed to be addressed, and there was only one thing to do.

It had been too long without an orgasm again for you. Your vision went black and your mind went blank. When an orgasm finally crashed into you, minutes later, it brought you back to reality and a few moments of lucidity. Your ears were greeted by a cacophony of ragged breaths and deep groans to your left.

Turning your head, your eyes were met with the sight of two people (who you thought utterly hated each other) entangled on the bed.

Sanji was completely naked, while Zoro had on short, tight, black boxer-briefs. He was on top of Sanji, rubbing and humping his own erection on Sanji’s while his brows furrowed and needy sounds trickled out of his mouth. Every few seconds, Sanji let out a whimper and arched his back off the bed.

“Don’t stop,” Sanji gasped, grabbing fistfuls of sheets as Zoro’s muscles rippled and his clothed cock brushed onto Sanji’s aching, red one.

“I f-fucking can’t,” the swordsman grunted in response, his tone tinged with annoyance.

Your eyes stayed glued on the pair, bewildered and feral, until Luffy’s tongue, buried inside of you, demanded your attention. Was he using his devil fruit powers? Head had never felt this good before. His tongue prodded the pulsing hotness of your core, sliding up and down greedily between your lips before pushing inside of you again.

The slurping noises from your captain were sinful. Your eyes crept from his head buried between your legs to the sight of his hips rutting on the sheets beneath. His cock craved friction. He wished his tongue wasn’t buried in you but something else instead.

Grabbing tufts of Luffy’s hair, you dragged his mouth closer, pressing his roaming tongue as deep as physically possible.

“L-luffy, need m-more. Please.” You begged, vision getting blurry around the edges. You felt hotter than before.

Instead of your captain’s voice in response, a loud moan from Sanji answered your pleading. Your eyes snapped to the pair of men again—Sanji was squirming under the swordsman, shuddering and clawing at Zoro’s biceps now as he grinded up into his cock.

“Cumming,” the blonde grunted, pushing his hips upward, grinding harder onto Zoro. “I’m c-cumming, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The chef came on his own stomach while Zoro rocked his hips into the blonde’s shaft with more urgency, overstimulating him and eliciting desperate cries.

“Can’t stop,” Zoro choked out amidst his own moans and heaves for air. You were speechless. You had never witnessed this level of pure desire before.

Tears pricked in the corner of the chef’s eyes, but he didn’t tell the swordsman to stop, in fact, he rutted his hips up again and again. He was gearing up for yet another orgasm when Zoro brought him into a kiss and trailed his fingers towards the blonde’s erection.

More moments fleeted by—more gut-wrenching pleasure from Luffy’s tongue inside of you, hazy images of Sanji and Zoro grinding on each other, smearing the milky puddle of cum all over Sanji’s abdomen on Zoro’s underwear and abs.

Your eyes fixated on the outline of Zoro’s erection through the damp fabric. You were mesmerized.

Time faded into oblivion. The next memory you had was of Zoro flipping you over, onto your stomach, and climbing on top of you. He positioned you in prone bone, pressing his chest on your back. Trailing his fingers down and squeezing a rough handful of your ass, he then dipped two fingers into your hot folds and coaxed fireworks of pleasure from you.

Zoro relished how wet and ready you were for him thanks to Luffy’s previous work. He played with you for a little while, dragging his finger pads across your g-spot repeatedly and curling them upwards inside of you until you begged for more. When he pushed his cock inside, he felt so big that it was almost painful. He entered you centimeters at a time, and when he finally bottomed out and the ring of hair around the base of his cock met your flesh, his hips started to pump into yours rhythmically, gaining speed each moment that passed.

“Feels hot and s-sticky inside,” he gasped, hips shuddering into you as his tip passed your g-spot. You shifted under him the slightest bit, drawing a sensitive gasp from the swordsman. Every movement from him felt euphoric—and coupled with his weight on top of you, you felt like you were doing crazy with desire. He couldn’t fuck you fast enough.

Turning your head, you realized that Sanji had one hand wrapped around his cock again but was now in a similar position to you. He was flush with the bed, chest pressing on the covers, simultaneously stroking himself and humping the sheets as he watched Zoro fuck you.

Zoro groaned pure filth in your ear. “Just like that, baby. Fuhccckkk. Feels so good.”

Each pass of Zoro’s length inside of you and past your g-spot was met with a squelching noise from how wet you were—every roll of his hips pushed him deeper inside of you and it felt like you were floating.

As Sanji watched, his fist moved faster and so did his hips. He roughly jerked his length and rubbed his glistening tip into the covers. His cock felt hot, it was pulsing, and each brush of his flesh against the fabric made him shiver. He was working off of animal instinct alone, eyes so dilated and mind so foggy that all he knew was that he felt good and he didn’t want it to stop. He could watch the pair of you for hours. He didn’t care.

Voice husky and bathed in lust, Zoro was getting more worked up. “Say my name,” he groaned as his length passed in and out of you. “Say it.”

Before his name could exit your lips, Sanji moaned into the sheets below. “Zoro. Zoro. Hah, fuck, Zoro.” Moments later, you watched him orgasm all over the sheets below, mouth agape and eyes squeezed shut.

Hearing the chef’s desperate, pathetic mewls made Zoro fuck you faster. The tip of his cock bullied your g-spot repeatedly. And just when you thought you were at the precipice of orgasm, Zoro reached a hand under you and started to rub your clit, then he bit your shoulder. The pain felt good, and the combination of sensations was overwhelming—your orgasm was intense, shocking, and ecstatic.

A fleeting thought passed through your mind—where’s Luffy?

He was perched at the end of the bed, touching himself to the sight, waiting for his turn, which he promptly took when Zoro was done with you.

The next scene in your memory was Luffy fucking you, but you weren’t quite sure how you got there. You did remember that right before Luffy touched you, he asked you softly, “Do you want to keep going? Or have you had enough?”

You croaked out an eager, “more.”

“On top?” Luffy asked, waiting for your confirmation. And when you again agreed, he shifted, so he was laying on the bed, and you were on top of him.

Sinking down on his cock, you started to ride him. His hands came to rest on your hips and his eyes looked hungry. As if he wasn’t full from the ridiculously huge meal he just ate.

Parallel to you and Luffy, Zoro had Sanji on his lap. Zoro’s chest pressed on Sanji’s back, so the chef was facing you and Luffy. The swordsman’s large, rough hand wrapped around Sanji’s front. Languidly, Zoro played with Sanji’s shaft, teasing him at a snail’s pace.

Zoro wasn’t all there mentally because of (what you deduced to be) the aphrodisiacs. It’s like he was running on pure thirst. Something in him wanted Sanji to beg and wanted to see you getting off to the sight. He was getting a kick out of the cook being absolutely pathetic. He wanted to see him be utterly shameless.

“’m gonna cum,” Sanji whimpered, writhing around on the stocky pair of hair thighs underneath him.

“Shhh. Not yet, cook. Can’t you hold on for a little bit longer? Don’t you want to watch?”

Sanji got quieter and nodded, holding his orgasm at bay as best he could while he watched you ride Luffy, who was practically growling out commands faster than you could keep up.

 “Faster.” “Faster.” “Harder.” “More.” Every time he spoke, you did as he said. You did so until your legs started to burn, until your thighs started to shake, until he was doing all the work for you, lifting you up and down on his shaft.

He pressed his tip on your spongey hot spot and wrenched pleasure from you. Zoro edged and teased Sanji within an inch of his life while the pair of them watched—it was almost cruel. The cook was in tears over how good it felt, how badly he wanted to keep cumming, and how much it was getting to his head.

“Please Z-zoro, fuck, please.” Sanji was close to his breaking point.

“Just a bit longer, curly brows, hold on.”

A few more seconds passed. It didn’t take long for Luffy to bring you to the brink of orgasm, which was what Zoro was hoping for. As you started to shake, eyes rolling back in white-hot pleasure from your orgasm, Zoro finally gave Sanji permission to cum.

You hadn’t expected the swordsman to be this controlling, this mean, and this verbal.

“Mmmphhhh. Just like that,” Zoro exhaled while he watched you cum all over Luffy’s cock. “Now you can cum.” He then murmured something in Sanji’s ear that would have left you gob smacked if you had enough wherewithal to think. “There’s a good boy.”

While Sanji painted his own stomach white, you collapsed on top of Luffy. He kissed the side of your head and started to pet your hair.

“You need a break?” He asked you, voice tender and kinder than usual. You nodded and then drifted into unconsciousness for some period of time.

Memories after this point completely faded to black. You had some notion of waking up and sucking Zoro off and then riding Sanji until he cried again, but… the images were blurred. Someone came on your face, two indiscernible figures in your memory were entangled on the sheets again, but… you drew a blank after a point.

---

When you finally came to, you concluded that whatever the fuck that was must have been a very strong aphrodisiac. You couldn’t figure out what it was in though—the wine? The water? Something in the food? Whatever it was, it must have gotten out of your system through sheer number of orgasms and hours of fucking.

You were still on your bed, under the covers and tucked in along with Luffy. Sanji and Zoro were off somewhere, presumably getting cleaned up but…? Who knows. 

You checked the clock—it was around 10:00PM. You, Sanji, Luffy, and Zoro had been going at it since 5:00PM, shortly after your early dinner. So… almost five whole hours? But you didn’t feel like it, really. You weren’t sore or anything which was a feat in itself.

Putting some clothes on, you wandered to the kitchen for a glass of water. You were parched. You’d have to wait to debrief until you saw Zoro or Sanji, or until Luffy woke up.

You walked into the kitchen and were met with a sight that broke your brain for a second. Nami, Robin, Franky and Usopp were at the dinner table, chowing down on the dinner leftovers Sanji packaged up for them in cute little serving boxes. They must have just gotten back from their outings.

Your eyes flashed around the room—wine bottles were open. They were having a grand old time.

Your stomach sank. Fuck. They were about to have even grander of a time if they kept eating and drinking like that. You’d have to sit yourself out for round two—not sure you could handle it, honestly.

After that night, you came to a good understanding of the dynamics with each man in bed. Not only from your memory, but because you went in for seconds with each of them at some point. Luffy was greedy and forthcoming, but kind, like usual. Zoro was an absolute machine, filthy and verbose. And Sanji was, well, Sanji. He was doting, pathetic, and desperate. What a good variety to choose from—you were never left wanting again.

ik im gonna look back at this later and go GOD DAMN woman, were you okay? frothing at the mouth. anyway...

thanks for reading!! this was pretty challenging for me, i wanted it to be halfway decent but just couldn't get it anywhere i wanted really T-T idk if i'll ever live up to the luffy aphrodisiac kinktober fic i wrote :p

here's my masterlist if you're interested!

dividers courtesy of @issysh3ll taglist @eggrollforyou !

[kattmeithmath]

Ok, a few of these things are being taken out of context, which is not to downplay people’s experiences but quick rundown of what people in the notes have pointed out:

1. Yes HOAs can regulate they don’t want you growing seeds, but that’s pretty rare and most places do allow vegetable and flower gardens. There are also plenty of places where growing seeds are perfectly fine. This may be referencing how we’re technically not allowed to plant on public land or other private property without permission(hence seed bombing).

Someone said it could be referencing how Farmers are regulated in the seeds they buy, with companies suing if they aren’t using their particular brand. That is real, although I don’t on hand know if this happens in other countries besides ours.

2. Mowing your lawn can have city ordinances, but in certain places this is to avoid hazards like fires(re: California), pests, and public health risks. It’s less about the lawn being messy, and if it is that’s most likely again an HOA.

3. The last one about fees seems to be a story about someone recently being fined at a clinic, but I’ll need to research that one more. I’ll come back and edit this once I find it, but I’ve never heard of something like that. It may be hospitals and insurance being dicks before you ask for itemized charges, just to see what they can get away with, which is a well known practice.

There’s a lot of shit we do have going on, and the other stuff mentioned are definitely real. It’s just these things that may need extra information or context.

being on this app is so surreal. americans are usually the ones that learn about other places and people everywhere else already know about america because we're everywhere online. we've never been on the opposite side where other people are learning about us -- and they are horrified about our "normal"

the country america spent our whole lives trying to convince us is miserable and suffering under an oppressive government that starves everyone and controls their media? that's just projection. turns out besides like... housing prices and few available jobs, china is doing pretty great. they originally believed we were all living it up "the american dream" way and now they're all thankful they were born in china and have no idea how any of us are even alive

[tossawary]

It's very common for sports-centric original fiction to make up teams and players from scratch, so as to avoid writing even adjacent Real Person Fiction and any potential difficulties that might come from that.

The author goes: "This romance novel takes place in an AU where the Toronto Blue Jays don't exist and the main character plays for the only baseball team that Toronto has ever had, the Beavermooses, so that I don't get sued into the ground." And the readers go: "👍 Understood. Have a nice day."

I was browsing through my local library's online catalogue the other day and happened across "The Foxhole Court", which I vaguely remembered being a somewhat popular sports-based series on here about 10 years ago, so I clicked on it out of curiosity. Had a bit of a journey that started with "Oh, there's serious organized crime in this college sports story???" and continued on with "There is A Lot Happening here all of the time, huh..." and ultimately ended with "Okay, I see how that was originally conceived as a sports anime type of thing!" Quite violent! Entertaining in a "I would want to know none of you messy, tragically abused and traumatized people in real life" kind of way.

But what tickles me most about this book is that this is the first time I've encountered a novel just make up a sport from scratch for plot reasons and fun. That's such a delightfully funny writing choice. "AU where the U.S.A. got reeeeeaaaaally into Squash Lacrosse Fight Ball!" I had no idea. It's already funny in sports anime when high schoolers are saying shit like, "But curling is my entire life!!! I'd DIE for curling!!!" but it's even funnier seeing a main character actually risk his life to play [stickball sport made up for this series].

[burr-ell]

I'm gonna be real, as a Southern white woman: the way some folks in the CR fandom have been talking about Southern white women and the South in general in relation to Imogen (and by extension Liliana) is weird, infantilizing, and distinctly indifferent to the actual voices and lived experiences of nonwhite people. It claims to be critical, but it has more interest in sympathy and pity and making excuses than anyone ever having to face realistic, justified consequences. Your pain is valid, but your white middle class experience—whether you're queer, a woman, neurodivergent, or some combination thereof—is not the central lens through which your favorite stories must be viewed lest the rest of us be misogynist lesbophobes. The fact that the litmus test for who is and isn't a true feminist activist is whether or not you endlessly coo and simper over the feelings of a skinny femme white woman (and have all the "correct" headcanons about her) does not give me confidence that any of you are interested in a perspective remotely different from your own—or indeed, actually doing any of the hard work necessary to help make things materially better for the South in real life.

[trippinsorrows]

trials of love + two

authors note: friendly, gentle reminder that while drunk hookups are popular in today's culture, inebriation prohibits consent as someone cannot legally consent when intoxicated.

also.....this shit about to be messy as hell.

one

warnings: angst, inebriation, slight spice, and intoxication impairing judgment/consent

words: 3.7k

****gif credit goes to my chica @dejameflorecer

song inspo: evermore by josh groban

“She’s missing.” 

It’s the first thing Roman hears when he walks into the sanctuary. Nervous, frantic, rapid voices exchanging dialogue in hushed tones, some not so hushed. And because he’s him, it’s not difficult for Roman to catch onto what has everyone so worked up, his mother looking irritated and his father pissed. 

Not that he gives a shit about that.

He partially, however, gives a shit that she is, in fact, missing.

Solana.

His wife-to-be.

Apparently, she’s nowhere to be found on the property, an unfortunate and stressful thing for almost everyone it seems, sans one person.

She sits calmly in one of the pews, a crossword puzzle across her lap, the most relaxed expression on her face. It’s a stark contrast to the pandemonium surrounding them, which also includes Jey and Nicki on the other side of the church arguing, and Jimmy trying to get the caterers to let him “sample” the food. 

Roman shakes his head. 

Some things never change.

Strolling over to the older woman, Roman moves to sit in front of her, angling her body so he’s facing her, forearm across the top of the pew. 

She looks up, and it’s only then he realizes Solana inherited her eyes from her grandmother. 

“Roman,” she says it so formally, so casually, an introduction of sorts that’s followed by her refocusing back on the task at hand.

He chuckles. She reminds him a lot of Fetu.

They’ll either get along great, or it’s going to be clash of the fucking titans. 

“You know where she is, don’t you?” It’s not a question. Just a statement he’s waiting for her to confirm or deny.

Light brown eyes briefly dart up only to return back down under. “I know my granddaughter has always loved the ocean and often goes to the beach when she needs to think or clear her head.”

Roman offers a small smile. 

Yeah, a lot like Fetu.

“Thank you,” he says with a small nod.

She lifts her brow and shrugs once more. “I didn’t say anything.”

Roman doesn’t say anything either and manages to walk out of the chaos without anyone stopping him, not that he really cares. 

He just needs to find his bride, or rather, he’d prefer to be the one to find her for reasons he can’t quite explain or provide.

Just knows that it would make him feel better, or something, to bring her back.

Whatever that means.

He locates her exactly where her grandma “told” him she would be. On the beach, standing close enough to the tide where the water brushes against her bare feet. Her back toward him, arms crossed over her body, Roman approaches her, only inches away when she finally notices him.

Gasping, she jumps back a bit, eyes focused on him. It’s only then Roman can see it. See that she’s crying.

He frowns.

There’s something….something off about that that he doesn’t like. 

That doesn’t sit well with him.

“Roman….” Her voice is so soft and soothing, but there’s a sadness about it that also bothers him. “I’m—I’m sorry.” She wipes at her eyes and shakes her head. “I just—I wasn’t leaving. I just—”

“Solana,” he interrupts in an uncharacteristically gentle voice. “It’s fine.” Because if he wasn’t in a foreign country, he’d have probably done the same. Her…..dissatisfaction with this union is a mutually shared thing. “I know you weren’t.”

She nods, something like appreciation flashing across her pretty face. He’s briefly taken back. While marriage is the last thing Roman wants, to be married to someone like Solana isn’t a hard sell. Not only does she have the kind of body he could spend an eternity studying and worshipping, she’s absolutely breathtaking in every sense of the word.

Has a kind, caring spirit about her that's unlike anything he's used to.

But, it's something he feels like he could most definitely get used to.

Feeling himself staring, Roman motions to the ocean. He needs a distraction. “It’s beautiful.”

She follows his line of vision, smile growing. “It is.” Solana sighs, obviously taking it all in. “I’m—I’m gonna miss it.”

Roman’s expression shifts into something almost regretful.

Like, he regrets even putting her in this situation.

"Solana...." He strokes his beard, navigating how to explain himself. “For you to return back home so soon after the wedding would…..it wouldn’t be a good look.” He’s careful in the way he approaches this, a caution that’s a bit unfamiliar. Roman has never been one to choose his words carefully, unless in life or death situations. “But, after a few months pass, you can visit whenever you want.”

She turns toward him, eyes wide and hopeful. “R—really?”

Roman nods. “Yes.” 

Because while Roman can count on one hand how many family members he’d miss if separated from them for some reason, he can see that’s not the case for her. Solana seems deeply attached and close with all of her family, especially her sisters, Isabella and Zuri, connected with her home. 

And it’s that separation that she’s clearly struggling with the most, so the least he can do is provide her some assurance that being apart isn’t a forever thing.

He’d probably prefer for her to come visit more often than not. Gives him some much needed alone time. Roman has never lived with another person before as an adult. Let alone a woman. Let alone a woman who’s his wife, so that might take….an adjustment, to say the least.

He'd bet the watering of her eyes is for an entirely different reason now. “Thank you.” She sounds so grateful, so appreciative, so relieved. 

It’s hard for him to not be moved by it, even if it is completely unlike him to be move.

To feel. 

It’s uncomfortable as shit too, prompting him to clear his throat and gesture toward the opposite side of the ocean. “You ready?”

She nods, taking one last look at the water before turning to walk, clearly tripping over something in the sand. One minute, she’s about to fall, the next, Roman is in front of her, shielding said fall.

They stare at each other, her head lifted, gaze on him, hands on his chest, his on her waist, holding her up.

“S–sorry,” she apologizes in that same small voice, but for some reason, he can only focus on the aroma of her sweet perfume, the feel of her body so close to his, the alluring hue of her pretty brown eyes.

“It’s fine,” he says, distractedly. He’s still staring at her the same way she’s staring at him. One of them, he doesn't know who, finally breaks it, moving so that they can walk off.  He’s also unsure just who reaches for whose hand. Just knows that their hands are interlocked as they walk away from the present and prepare to head into the future.

Their future. 

-----------

Solana has always been a dreamer. Always lived with her “head in the clouds.” Something told to her from practically every family member, starting with her abuela, all the way to her adorable five year-old niece, Sophia. 

It’s something she’s never really denied, either. She knows she’s always been one to hope and aspire for the most, the best, even when told it might never happen. But, it’s never bothered her. Not really. Not when her life has always been filled with so much love, happiness, and fulfillment.

A wonderful family. Great friends. The honor of taking over her abuela’s bakery. An establishment that’s been in her family for generations.

The only thing missing has been love. 

Not familial. Not platonic. Romantic.

She’s dated, had relationships, and all of the above. And nothing ever moved her, ever left her feel the beautiful love she’s always witnessed with her parents. And her oldest sister, Zuri, has always advised her that her expectations are too high, too aligned with “Disney shit." Isabella has always told her to never settle. Her parents have always said she’ll know when she’s found the one. And Solana has always taken a bit of all of their advice, never once giving up her dream of finding “true love.” Of finding the man who would, maybe even literally, swipe her off her feet. 

The dreamlike courting, romantic proposal, perfect wedding, intimate wedding night where she’d finally lose her virginity to the man who’d one day be the father of her children. The perfect ending to a wonderful life.

A fucking lie.

Solana stares at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, a reflection she once appreciated, maybe not always loved, but liked well enough. Now though, now, she doesn’t even recognize what she sees. Who she sees.

She’s always been happy and joyful, but there’s nothing happy about the puffiness and redness around her eyes. The way her lips are in a permanent frown that’s been present for the past few days. She looks every bit as sad and miserable as she feels.

And, it’s all because of one man. 

Roman Reigns.

Her husband.

The man she hates more than she’s ever hated anyone before in her life.

She’d never heard anything nice about him, heard that he was a heartless bastard. But, in meeting him shortly before their wedding, in interacting with him on a few occasions, he’d been…..okay. Not overtly nice but nothing like the asshole he’s been since….since that night.

The night…..

Solana sniffles, feeling and seeing the watering of her eyes. That’s got her more fucked up than anything else. She always dreamed her wedding night, her first time, would be a beautiful thing. And, it was. Roman was…...he was kind to her, gentle with her, good to her.

And, then she woke up.

Because everything since that night has been nothing short of a nightmare.

Roman isn’t her knight in shining armor. 

He’s the demon in her dreams.

A demon she can’t escape.

Dulce’s quiet snoring in her room, a random room she’s commandeered and made her own, moving all of her stuff into it from Roman’s the second day of his MIA episode. Solana smiles. Seeing and having her sweet dog with her was definitely something she could have never guessed happening.

Could have never anticipated waking up and finding her baby girl in a crate being held by Roman's Wise Man, Dulce nearly losing her shit, same with Solana, in seeing her mother for the first time in too long.

Solana can still recall the physical pain she felt when she was informed Roman doesn't like pets, and that she had to leave Dulce home in Mexico with her family. It practically killed her. Made this whole thing so much worse. 

Dulce, a tiny little thing, is hands down Solana’s best friend. They’ve been connected since the moment Solana held the Pomeranian four years prior. She’s been there for her during the best and worst of times, so not having her for, inarguably, the worst thing she’s ever been through in life has been torture. 

Truth be told, Solana hasn’t the slightest clue why Roman changed his mind, what made him make arrangements to have Dulce brought to her, and while she’s beyond grateful to have at least someone in that house, she couldn’t bring herself to thank him.

For what?

What has he done to deserve thanks? Letting her have her pet is only a common decency. The latter word being something foreign to him, clearly.

Because Roman is every bit the bastard she heard about. She only wishes she wasn’t stupid enough before to believe he could be anything different. 

But, she’s learned her lesson.

Learned to heed to his words.

This isn’t a real marriage. It doesn't mean anything to him. She doesn’t mean anything to him. 

So, he doesn't mean anything to her.

And, he never will. 

He isn’t home, but that’s not surprising. He’s never home. Her now preference.

As much space away from him that she can manage is for the best. 

Not to mention, it allows her to prepare for her night without his intrusions or thoughts of how he’d respond or even feel. A stupid thing, really. Especially considering he made it painfully clear that he doesn’t care what or who she does. 

Bet.

Solana takes the red lipstick, applying it to her lips, the last and final step of a makeup routine that took much longer than what was probably necessary. But, the end product seems worth it. Dark, sultry eyes, highlighted and blushed cheeks, with blood red lipstick to match her red dress that shows more of her breast than most of her bikini tops. Her ass is only one bend away from being exposed, the body of it nice and tight, hugging all her generous curves.. It’s a look she’d not even wear in her dreams, far too risque and revealing, but it’s exactly what she’s wearing tonight. 

Because she just doesn’t care anymore. 

If Roman can do whatever he wants, then so can she. 

Spraying perfume on her pulse points and on her dress, Solana takes a final look at herself in the mirror before hitting the lights and grabbing her small Gucci bag off the counter. 

Walking in heels has always been a bit difficult for her, but the heels complete the look, so it’s one of many sacrifices she’s willing to make tonight. 

Solana cuddles with Dulce for a few minutes, making sure she’s straight and instructing the security that patrol the house to check on her baby every so often.

She’s not certain she’ll make it home tonight.

And speaking of home, Solana turns the hall and meets Dre’s always watchful gaze. She doesn’t miss the way he gives her a double take. The same way she gives him one.

Her head of security isn’t ugly by any means. Tall with a nice, lean but muscular build, pretty light eyes and almost model-like facial features. He looks more like the type to be in Vogue versus being assigned the head of her security detail. On the quiet side, too, only having only said a few words to her.

But, the way he’s looking at her now suggests she might be able to evoke a couple more words out of him. At least, for tonight.

“I want to go out,” she informs, crossing her arms over her body.  “A nightclub. Whatever is most popular in this town.”

Dre lifts a brow. “Mrs. Reigns—”

“Solana,” she corrects. “My name is Solana.” 

“Solana.” There’s almost something suggestive about the way he says it. A way she both likes and dislikes. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.” Solana scowls, already knowing she’s not going to like what he says. “With The Tribal Chief being out of town—”

“I said—” Solana steps forward, head tilted, again not missing how Dre’s eyes drop to her chest. “I want to go out.” Mustering a small smile and batted eyelashes, she tilts her head and innocently places her hands on his chest. “Now, let’s go.”

—--------

It’s all so loud and borderline suffocating. The music booms, the people move and grind together with a familiarity that contrasts the fact that most of them only met just this night. A situation she too, ironically, finds herself in, because Solana hasn’t the slightest clue who she’s dancing with. Just knows that he’s only a couple inches taller than her, even in her heels, and he can’t seem to keep his hands off her ass.

And if not for the liquor coursing through her body, it’s something she’d be uncomfortable with. She partially is but not enough to stop, to tell him to leave her alone. This is what she needs. To let loose, to not give a fuck. 

To be less like herself and more like him.

Because being Solana, being kind and sweet and understanding, got her nowhere but broken heart city, and she’s tired of feeling so hurt and broken. She needs to feel something, anything else, and this is the perfect way. 

The song comes to an end, random man whispering something in her ear about being right back. She jumps when he squeezes her ass and slithers away. Solana feels a bit silly just standing there, so she makes her way back over to the bar.

A small, inebriated smile on her face, she’s pleased to see the same bartender. 

“Another shot, p–please.”

The woman, tall and dark in every aspect outside of her almost pale complexion, with tattoos covering her body gives her an almost hesitant look. “You sure about that, babe? You’ve had quite a bit to drink already.”

Solana rolls her eyes. “I’m not a child." Gesturing to her outfit, her nipples milliseconds from popping out, prompting her to adjust her top, she repeats her request. “A shot, please.”

Striking blue eyes gleam with continued reticence as the tall woman turns away to fulfil the order. 

Solana leans back against the bar, closing her eyes and taking in the environment. She feels so free, so liberated from the shackles of hurt, pain, and betrayal that have consumed her since she was ripped away from her home and life and everything she loves only to be dumped into this shitshow of a storm.

It’s unfair. All of it, but she’s done letting it drown her.

She can’t.

“Well damn.” Her head snaps up to the sound of the voice that’s much closer than what’s necessary. “You sure look like you know how to have a good time.”

Solana studies the man before her, his complexion a few shades darker than her own. His brown eyes are warm but intense and contrast his short, onyx hair and thick brows that have cutouts on the end. His build is more on the stocky side but still muscular.

A small smile falls on her face. “Something like that.” Taking him in one time, she offers her name. “I’m Solana.”

“Zilla,” he answers with a confident smirk. “You not from around here.”

She nods, recognizing it’s more of a statement than anything. “I’m….new to town.”

Unfortunately.

He makes a sound, eyes focusing on her breast. “Lucky us, huh?”

Giggling, she teases, largely fueled by the liquor, “maybe.”

“Zilla.” Another voice sounds, not as deep, but still smooth. Accented. Solana turns to see another man with a similar complexion, lithe yet muscular build and almost angular features. He's older than the shorter man, clearly. Not that that really matters to her.

His gaze quickly settles on her, revealing a gleam of lust. “Who is this?”

“S–solana,” she answers matter-of-factly. “W–who are you?”

He smirks. “Tama.”

Solana snorts and rolls her eyes. “I—interesting.” It’s not missed on her how the both of them continue to focus on everything but her face, namely her chest. “Let’s just s–skip to the good part boys, why don’t we?” They both look curious as she asks with batted eyelashes. “Let’s get out of here.”

It’s a statement that, in actuality, surprises all three of them. Solana knows what she’s saying, knows what she’s asking, but there’s still something about it that feels….non-autonomous. Like she’s in control, but she’s not actually in control. 

Something she should probably think more about, but thinking and feeling have done her no good these past few weeks, so fuck it.

“Which one of us?” Zilla is the one to ask, licking his lips, hand reaching out and brushing his fingers over her forearm. Tama remains watchful and attentive but keeping his hands to himself.

For now.

And with a wry smile, glazed eyes, and fiery, drunken determination, she answers boldly, “both.”

—--------

Solana moans at the set of lips that suck on her neck and the set of hands—she’s not sure whose—that squeeze at her breast.

Lips parted, eyes closed, she’s fully immersed in this moment, solely focused on the hands that touch and grab all over her body.

“Shit,” she hisses when someone moves their hand in between her thighs, nudging them open and feeling at her thong.

Zilla smirks and teases his finger in a circle against the inside of her thigh. “That pussy nice and wet for us already, man.”

Tama makes a sound, moving his hand to Solana’s hair, yanking her head back and forcing her eyes open. “You’re a good,submissive little bitch, aren’t you?”

There’s something both erotic and disrespectful about it, about his statement, about his delivery, about the way he tightens his grip in her hair. But, she doesn’t care, she’s too caught in the moment, too consumed by the alcohol. 

“Take that shit off her,” Zilla directs Tama, the older man easily guiding her onto her knees on the bed. His hands go to the bottom of her dress, pulling it up and off her, leaving her in just a thong.

Something strange washes over her, Solana naturally moving her hands across her chest, suddenly feeling a sense of unease and discomfort. Like something is…..off. 

Like she shouldn’t have told Dre to mind his business and wait outside in the SUV as she prepares to engage in the unthinkable. 

“Wait…..” She murmurs, maybe to them, maybe to herself. She’s not entirely sure. 

Tama, however, ushers her arms down and guides her to lay down. Solana readies to protest again when he latches his mouth onto her nipple, evoking a moan from her, the pleasure easily overpowering the logic. 

Her hand moves to the back of his short hair, her body writhing underneath him as he slides his hand down her belly and slips it into her thong. She whimpers when he teases his fingers against her wet, velvety opening.

“Goddamn, you got some big ass titties,” Zilla makes a sound from where he stands at the foot of the bed, Solana briefly opening her eyes to see he’s messing with something, something she can’t seem to make out, just that he’s situating it on the dresser in front of the bed. A perfect view of what’s about to transpire. 

For a second, the slightest second, she’s reluctant.

“What—what are you doing?” Furrowed brows as Tama sits up and also goes to remove his shirt, Solana leaning up on her elbows. 

“Nothing, baby,” Zilla answers, standing directly in front of her. He goes to undo his belt when he pauses to look at her, asking, “you sure you wanna do this?”

Solana stills, noticing how Tama is also looking at her with an expectant expression.

No. She’s not sure, but yet she is. She wants to, but she’s also nervous. She’s only had sex once, but it’s that one time, albeit amazing and wonderful, that led to this emotional spiral she’s been on. It’s what led her to stepping away from the good, innocent path she’s always been on and entered her onto whatever this is. 

So, not, she’s absolutely not sure.

But, what she is sure of is that she’s tired of crying all the time, tired of thinking of Roman, of trying to figure out how he went from being almost kind to her to basically telling her she means nothing to him. That the night they spent together, her first time, him taking her virginity, something she always imagined giving to the one, meant nothing. 

Roman can’t be her one and only anymore. 

Especially when she was never and will never be his. 

Solana moves her fingers to her thong, sliding them down and off her body, laying on the bed and giggling while throwing them toward the two men.

“Let’s do it.”

[genericpuff]

Who is your favorite LO character? Who is your favorite LR character?

i feeeeel like my answers change every time i get asked this question JFDSKLAFJSDALK but that's okay because it just means i'm constantly finding new ways to analyze and explore these characters >:3

LO faves: Minthe and Hephaestus.

Minthe because she obviously gets such shit treatment in the comic and subsequently from the fanbase, but she's a lot more relatable than 99% of the characters in the plot, she feels like she has actual depth and a real character arc, even if that arc ended with an unceremonious whisper. It goes to show how great of a character she was that Rachel practically had to nerf her out of the plot, because it was often only ever at its best when she was present. Funny how as soon as she was written out, there was nothing interesting going on with Hades or Persephone anymore - the plot was literally so boring without her that Rachel literally tried to create a Minthe 2.0 through Leuce, and we all know how well that went /s

As for Hephaestus, nothing super specific, I just like his vibes. Maybe it's just my absent older brother issues, but I would love to just like, hang out with him, game in the same room as him, just autistic parallel play stuff, I think he would be into that. Only complaint is the design flaw of giving him running blades as the default prosthetic, that can't be comfortable for his hips and joints. But that's not his fault u.u and that's basically my only complaint about him which makes him a winner in my book, esp compared to the rest of the cast. He might not be in the comic all that much, but that was clearly to his benefit because it seems the more attention Rachel pays to a character, the worse they wind up being in the long run due to poor writing. Hephaestus is in the comic just enough, not too little, not too often.

So yeah, Minthe and Hephaestus are both 10/10 characters written by a 0/10 writer. They did the best they could... not Rachel of course, she did literally the bare minimum of "representation" which often came across as ignorant white knighting at best and blatant stereotyping / stigmatizing at worst, I mean that Hephaestus and Minthe did the best they could as genuinely interesting characters with unique circumstances and disabilities who were being written by an amateur Wattpad-level writer with a privileged white guilt complex lmao

LR faves (within the cast that's currently been introduced): Persephone and Dionysus.

I know, very different from my LO choices, esp considering Persephone herself within LO is literally one of the most insufferable characters by the end, but I'm frankly having a great time rewriting her in my own way, especially in regards to her specific role as the "wrathful side" of Kore. I know I've gotten questions regarding the interpretation of Kore as a DID system, and while that interpretation is totally valid, the angle I always approached it from was that repressed trauma and emotional bottlenecking. Obviously those two things are, in and of themselves, contributing factors to DID, so far be it from me to tell people they can't identify with Kore / Persephone as DID representation. It just motivates me even more to give her the character arc she deserves and never got. It's gonna be messy. It's even gonna be downright ugly at times.

But I hope, in the end, that anyone who identifies with her struggles will find closure and comfort in the resolution of her story. It's certainly a challenging tightrope to walk, between honoring the themes of her original myth, retelling a version of her that almost existed in LO (a version that I was hoping for and never got), and dissecting the implications of my own version of her throughout LR's narrative, but it's a challenge that I've been having a great time undertaking and all I can hope for is that I can meet and possibly exceed my own expectations - as well as the readers - in the end. This is Kore's story - it's also Persephone's.

As for Dionysus... he's just a very, very fun character to write, and someone who I had the advantage of introducing before he was depicted in LO. It wasn't intentional but it sure as shit paid off because even though I'm sure some will assume that this is my own re-interpretation of Rachel's version of the character, myself and anyone else who was there at the time can vouch that Dionysus was aaaalllll me, baby LMAO

All that said, we're obviously going at it from a VERY different angle than how he was tackled in LO, but I'm hoping people enjoy his presence in the story, especially as he becomes more involved (which is very, very soon wink wink) The roles have definitely reversed here with Dionysus taking on more of a "parental" role to Kore rather than the other way around. I feel like his characterization has only grown stronger in hindsight compared to what we got in LO, especially where he's one of the only characters who beat LO to the punch and wound up being in a sort of arms race with Rachel's depiction ─=≡Σ((( つ•̀ω•́)つ

[shyve3]

Messy Season 1 Finale Rant

SPOILERS!!

first things first:

i owe the "Buddy is a key theorists" a MASSIVE apology. holy shit you guys are actually geniuses.

i read some of the finale theories, and one of them mentioned that the fact that Nox referred to one of the keys as an "it" in the first few episodes, meaning it could've been possible he was turned into a key at some point, leading him to refer to Violet as an actual person.

Dreams by Night was a really confusing episode to me, but i feel like it ties in a lot with what happened this season and possibly WHY he's a key.

The lock suggests that he's been trapped, and later in Dreams by day we see another panel of him locked up. That also makes me wonder if it was around this time he was turned into a key, and his "original" body or however he looked in stories was TRAPPED in a coffin like this one.

Anyone else who theorized about Dreams by Day, maybe I'm wrong, but I feel like this dream wasn't JUST a thing Chase imagined. It was also Nox's story.

like he looked absolutely terrified in both panels, and we can assume that maybe this was a memory of Nox's that we witnessed?

it would also make sense why "Buddy" had the number "2" written on the back of him. it would be like he wasn't a key at the time.

Even before we saw this episode, I always used to wonder how the keys really came to be. I know they're meant to go into stories, but I genuinely feel like they were once human. Especially after seeing this episode, where he had a desire to be free.

At first I think his wish would've been directed to his "leaders" of Ex-Libris, probably something selfish and horrible assuming they're basically holding Buddy hostage.

Maybe after he was turned into a key he has a little less anger towards Chase?? Now, the conversation with Violet shows his desire to be free.

But it hurt my heart to see his hopelessness even after kissing Chase. For Chase, it was amazing, but to Buddy it was "nothing could come out of this" ARGHHH

This is also so huge because guys, the Keys are People Too ;) But literally this time!! I KNEW it but this is so amazing

There were 4 missing keys, hence the 4 marks on his chest. We know where 3 of the keys are, but we know nothing of the 1 key. What if Buddy was turned into a key because of this, as a "punishment" ?

this rant literally makes no sense but im NOT okay after the finale and i need to think about this more because what the hell. i seriously need time to piece things together.

yes thats me right now.

[saturnniidae]

Other than the blatant sexism of it, I think part of why it bothers me so much that Valka was reduced to 'Mother figure' in the third movie because I've always felt that despite their efforts, Hiccup will probably never genuinely see Valka as a mother figure since she didn't actually raise him and he's an adult by the time they meet. Like yes, of course he knows she's his mom but they don't have that kind of relationship and likely never will.

I've always thought this based on a few things, mostly when she apologizes and says "can you give me another chance" because all Hiccup does in response is smile sadly, he never verbally forgives her (that I can remember) so she immediately starts going on about how she can teach him about dragons and that's what connects them, but very little else because they don't actually know each other (And it's so sad because you can tell Valka's trying so hard, she loves Hiccup and he loves her but no amount of talking about dragons will make up for two decades of absence).

The other main thing that I think about with this is that cut footage from when Valka was still planned to be the antagonist, where Hiccup says: "fine! I guess I kinda like the idea of having a mom, alright?" Despite being scrapped, it ties in well with how excited he was for them to all be a family again when Stoick shows up because that excitement is definitely based on the very unrealistic, idealized version of what a 'complete' family is, what Hiccup didn't get to grow up with but probably fantasized about having.

I think the way circumstances kind of forced Hiccup and Valka together could've been really interesting to explore, them mourning Stoick together, exchanging stories about him, Hiccup actually getting to know her outside of the very surface level 'expert dragon lady'. I think Gobber could've really helped with this, bridging the gap between them since he actually knew Valka and has known Hiccup for his entire life (and has experience doing this exact thing with Hiccup and Stoick years ago).

The single year between httyd2 and thw would definitely not have been long enough for it, but I think after a while Hiccup and Valka could be good friends. But they'll never be as close as they could've been and they both know that.

[revenantghost]

Oh my god oh my god oh my god

There's a Vash and Wolfwood dog papercraft

[ambrosiagourmet]

I haven't thought about pacific rim for so very long but drift compatible Laios & Marcille is gonna make me lose it

[khattikeri]

i don't think enough people talk about how the backbone of nie huaisang's plan hinged heavily upon jin guangyao's low birth, and the jianghu's willingness to dogpile on such people.

nie huaisang is upper class. he's specifically stated in the novel as behaving more like the idle rich than like a distinguished second young master of one of the five great cultivation sects, but he's still an heir by birth. even if nie huaisang had been more openly caught, who would do anything to him?

wei wuxian notices that bicao's testimony was bought with a few shiny baubles— that nie huaisang was the one who bribed her with a nice bracelet for her testimony. he intentionally kept his own sect half dead, barely afloat for years, just to keep up the guise of an incompetent loser!

but the only actual consequence he's faced for such poor leadership that probably hurt a lot of common folks in his territory over 13 years is that people think nie huaisang is an annoying, useless crybaby. nie huaisang has a level of protection from consequences that jin guangyao had to fight much harder for (and that jin guangyao ultimately never truly got).

nie huaisang knew his own class and social position extremely well, and he knew how most people of that position behave and think. he was more than willing to use this in his revenge.

we know lan wangji is the type to use his wealth and position to do good for others. nie huaisang is the opposite— he's the type to use his wealth and position for himself and his own personal goals.

and this wasn't just something that started after his brother died! avoiding responsibilities, never carrying his sword, ignoring the fact that he wasn't honoring his sect or ancestors the way others wanted… his underground ring of selling porn as a teenager even got him out of the worst part of the wen indoctrination camps, because he bribed the wen cultivators overseeing everyone else.

my point is, nie huaisang is self-aware enough to know he doesn't really ever do the "right" thing! at no point in the story does he delude himself or others with grand ideals of how one ought to behave. he doesn't care.

unlike almost every single other upper class cultivator in the story— jiang cheng, jin zixuan, nie mingjue, lan xichen— who all think of themselves as righteous in a way, who are always able to justify their thoughts and actions, rarely if ever able to conceive of those thoughts and actions as flawed or wrong... nie huaisang KNOWS his own selfishness.

like lan wangji, nie huaisang recognizes that his class can easily be used as a shield to do whatever he wants. while lan wangji at worst uses this nifty privilege to silence people he doesn't like, refuse to explain himself in inconvenient situations, and bring wei wuxian along with him everywhere, nie huaisang uses it to shirk his duties for decades and tear jin guangyao apart in revenge.

jin guangyao being the son of a prostitute automatically amplifies bad rumors around him. bringing to light his incestuous marriage and the gruesome way he murdered his upper class father, however deserved, is obviously going to impact him in a way that someone higher class wouldn't be as hurt by. combining that with a final lie to get his sworn brother to stab him in a flash of doubt, and well...

is that good or righteous or just? no, of course not. nie huaisang doesn't spend any time pretending that his actions were conducted based on morality, or that he "had no choice".

nie huaisang just wanted to destroy jin guangyao, and damn did it feel good to finally do it.

[jade-len]

okaaaayy, so, i saw a post that i think was sort of targeted towards one of my posts talking about how "lbh was better than me bc i too would've gone bat shit insane"

"I've seen a post saying that that they understand LBH going bat-shit crazy because one guy (Shen Jiu) rejected him, and that they would've done the same."

and i would just like to say that i am in no way justifying bingge or bingmei's actions, and i think i made it pretty clear that i knew how fucked and unhinged lbh was ahaha..? though it's not just because one guy rejected him, but because of the terrible side dishes, nasty after taste, and tragedy galore!

all i was rlly doing was putting myself in lbh's shoes. in my post, i was saying how if i was thoroughly bullied and alone throughout my whole life and then was randomly taken cared of by someone and proceeded to fall completely in love with them, and then out of nowhere they turned a complete 180 and pretty much told me to fuck myself bc of my race and pushed me down into literal hell, i think i would've gone crazy! absolutely bonkers. then that person kept running away from me when i'm just trying to talk to them? i don't know how my mental health would be able to take that! the post was more placed in a joke-y manner, but i do think that i would've done the same if that was my situation. is that okay? hell to the fucking no, i'd be horrified of myself if i were to see me doing that no matter the reason. the same goes for the og, the pidw binghe's situation

and really, the same goes for sj as well. if throughout my whole life i was on the streets and then a slave and beaten etc... shit, i probably would've turned out just like him. it doesn't make it right, and i'm not justifying it, but i'm placing myself in the characters' shoes and understanding how they came to be such a way

so, i was pretty much saying that i understood luo binghe, though in no way did i mean to excuse his actions. but i understand that it sounded like i was justifying it, so i can 100% see that now looking back which i am completely at fault for. and, i for one also dislike it when people try to downplay luo binghe's actions or justify what he did

"by your logic, can we excuse serial killers going on a rampage because the person they liked refused them?" no, absolutely not. and no, i wouldn't be okay with a crazy bastard taking it out on someone i cherish for a stupid reason. i wouldn't be okay with someone taking it out on anyone for any reason. there is a line between reality and fiction that i do not cross, and even in fiction i can very thoroughly recognize the fucked up side of my favorite characters

lbh's fucked and definitely a little more than unhinged, and i don't truly think that he's a completely good or even bad person, but i do appreciate that (at least, to me) he seems to try to become a better one after all of that at the end of the series and recognizes that he can't own sqq

and, hey, sj is one of my favorite characters! i enjoy how mxtx made the svsss characters be fucked in some degree. like how lqg thinks just beating up his disciples is a valid teaching method. i enjoy stories with characters who aren't necessarily "good" or "bad" only. moral ambiguity with characters is so interesting!

i really don't think that we should be putting lbh stans and sj stans against each other because, well, there will always be people on both sides who justify the characters' actions. it's not just one side is doing this and the other side isn't doing that, ykwim? and this isn't even just about lbh and sj when we think about it, it's how some people perceive characters who are morally questionable and don't truly look at all sides of the character! the bad, the good, and the ugly

i love sj and lbh, i love my characters with ambiguous morals, and i love that i can put myself in their shoes and see where they're coming from/why they're the way they are no matter how delightfully screwed it is. especially bingge, he's a deliciously tragic and horrible person

so, if i were to believe that lbh's (or tbh any svsss's characters') actions were okay and justified, and also proceeded to believe so if it took place in real life, then there "might" just be something wrong with me

[camgoloud]

you ever just. become overwhelmed by a sudden out-of-nowhere wave of tenderness and affection and longing for reconnection directed towards someone to whom you no longer speak for Very Good Reasons

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

Of my 2% capacity to be attracted to anyone, my type is like 90% women, 5% pretty men and 5% men you would swear are super fucking manly, and never questioned being straight and cis, but are now suddenly *stressed* that they can't figure out why their attraction to me [fully socially interpreted as a woman and labelled that way up until relatively recently] feels incredibly fucking gay

[orcelito]

Like OK so I've been reading a fic with trans wolfwood in it that is so. HONEST. About how it affected him and still affects him. In a way that's very much not an average cis writer portrayal of a trans character.

Like. Either this writer is trans or did plenty of research, but it just feels REAL to me. And it has me thinking about my own way of writing trans Wolfwood.

I'm not there yet. But I've been thinking about it. The ways that what the EOM did fucked him up... but it also acted as HRT that affirmed his gender. So what do you do when you're in a body you don't recognize, but looks much more like a man than ever before? There's some gender euphoria in a way, but dysphoria at the same time bc you didn't grow into this. You didn't watch yourself transition. Suddenly you just Were this, and it's not you, but also it's nice to finally be seen as a man, but it also feels wrong to feel grateful for any part of what they did to you...

On and on and on

You see? This is what I want to think about with him. This is why trans Wolfwood is so compelling to me. It's just so Complicated, he'd have such Complicated feelings about his body and the way he lives with it. He learns this new body, it starts to feel more like his, but he also mourns the fact that he didn't get to watch it grow into this like he should've.

That kind of thing.

[hyp3rfixation-h3ll]

alright chat . it's time for "dissecting the inherent tragedy of transformers: botbots and the relationships in them":

toxic doomed yuri edition ( referring to these two ↑ )

(yes, i made this picmix myself 4 this. i have no regrets. also no tl;dr because you guys NEED to read this)

something i want y'all to understand is that it is Not about the idea that spud wasn't loved. he was VERY much loved by everyone, ESPECIALLY burgertron.

the whole point is that he sabotaged himself in the process of ruining someone else's life, someone who valued him and his word above others. he and burgertron BOTH let their ego get in the way of their personal lives, the only difference is that burgertron at least had the dignity to swallow his pride and apologise when it mattered most.

He gave spud a second chance because he loved him. because he recognised that he does deserve redemption, and above all else, he wants spud to know he cares, even if that means he'll never see him again, or they'll never be friends. (Even in light of the "sidekick" comment, i genuinely don't think he held any inherent malice in that statement. even if burgs was an egotist, he still loved him.)

the worst thing burgertron did in their relationship was be unaware, and im sure that despite his ego, he never meant for spud to get hurt. that's why he went out of his way to protect him, when he couldve just stood there and let spud get put on the back of a truck to never be seen again. it would have been easy.

but he didn't. he did the hard thing. the Right thing. he stood up for someone who never did the same for him.

Spud Was Loved. Spud Is loved. and sometimes love isn't going to look pretty, or manifest in holding hands and cuddling, and it isn't all rainbows and sunshine. it can hurt. it can be letting go of someone who you hurt by accident, who you never meant to harm, but it happened anyways because you made the fatal mistake of being oblivious.

And that's what Burgertron did. he let Spud go, because he understood they both needed time to heal on their own terms. regardless of if he's mad at him or not, he does still harbor positive feelings for him, and he stood up for him during times he probably shouldn't have. If he ACTUALLY hated spud, he wouldn't have stuck his neck out for him at bot prom. or believe spud when he was lying through his teeth in the games.

And that's what makes them so tragic. perhaps in another world, another life, they'd have been Actual good friends, who truly stuck by each other. maybe things would have been different.

But we'll never know that now, will we?