#though I only trust it between two paragraphs

[widebrimmedhatsblog]

Onyx Storm Predictions!!

I wanted to do a full theory post but the clock is TICKING and I decided to get sick last week before I could write one up, so this will have to do!

Predictions below the cut! I'm going to re-blog and re-spoiler tag with extra info from the apple books preview, so no onyx storm spoilers on THIS post.

I'm going to start off with my most controversial prediction and say that I don't think Xaden is leaving! The bond is still in place (re: end of IF) and Sgaeyl evidently still gives a fuck about him (again, re: end of IF) and so I don't think she's going to break the bond! I DO think he might try and leave, but I think Violet will stop him.

This is probably the second most controversial (at least to me) but I do think Violet might be part/half venin. I think Lilith turned when she was pregnant with Violet. I don't fully know how being part venin would even work, but we know next to nothing about how being FULL venin would work, so I'm not gonna sweat it. There's a huge theme (motif?) of being two things at once in these books (violet's hair, her eyes, her two dragons, her two signets, scribe/rider, Xaden's two signets, etc.) Further, you have Lilith's cure-investigation, and also the matter of the extreme amount of parallels between Lilith and Xaden. I think they both turned to protect Violet.

The subsect of that prediction/theory/whatever is that I don't think Xaden can drain her! If you read the fight with JFB in FW wherein Vi is "shaken by an internal force (she doesn't) understand, as though he's forcing his own power into my body, shocking me with a thousand stings of vibrating energy" while he has his hands holding her face. A couple paragraphs later, it's confirmed his eyes are red-rimmed. (Fourth Wing pages 294-295). I think this is JFB draining her to a certain degree. It HURTS Violet, he gets power, but no hand prints! I actually really wanted Xaden to leave sexy handprints on her, but in the last like 4 days I've changed my mind. I foresee a sort of vampire-esque power drinking thing!

I keep calling myself controversial but I'm going to keep doing it. My NEXT controversial take is that I don't think they're going to the isles yet! I think Vi may WANT to go to the isles, but I think she'll have to go to Poromiel first, then head to the barrens!

I think Vi's second signet is one of two things: the type of mirroring signet I used in Teach Me, or a straight up inntinnsic. Both of these are used in the throne scene, as I spelled out in that fic! I don't mind Vi being an inntinnsic*, especially since all the men in her life have a direct line into her head. I really think it's only fair if she can get back at them, IDK.

I don't think we're meeting Xaden's mom this book! I think that's book 4. But while we're talking about her, I think she has a second kid Xaden doesn't know about, and I think they'll meet this secret sibling first and it will be a moment of tenuous trust between riorgail (in that Violet will have to grapple with the possibility of him keeping secrets from her AGAIN, only to find out her isn't)

I'm saving my thoughts on who dies for the spoilery part!

I don't think Xaden is getting "Cured". I'm not entirely sure there will be a cure on a person-to-person basis, because I frankly think that defeats the purpose of the metaphor.

This MAY be a book 4 thing, but I'm going to add it here anyway! My IRL bestie and I talk a lot about how the story of the 3 brothers here is the Deathly Hallows reborn, and we've been joking about how Violet must gather said hallows to defeat Voldemort etc. However, we joked about it a little too much, and now I'm convinced: at some point, Vi will be the dragon rider, the gryphon flier, and the venin

OR: Mira is the gryphon rider* and Brennan's the venin.

This is wishful thinking actually but the quest squad somehow ends up being just x, vi and the dragons!

This is more of a theme prediction, but every book thus far (all 2!) have been about unpacking a level of propaganda. FW is Navarre's propaganda about war, and IF is Navarre's propaganda about Poromiel. Therefore, we have at least 2 more forms of propaganda to unpack: whatever the fuck is going on with the dragons, and the idea that venin are inherently evil. I think we tackle one of these book 3 and one book 4! Or perhaps both together, because they are intertwined.

Crack Pot Theories

Papa Sorrengail's first name is Adam.

I don't think Halden is Violet's ex. I think it's literally two random ass infantry guys. Also Xaden gets to kill Halden :)

I think Brennan killed Naolin! I also think they were gay. I think it’s a mirror to a different way to handle someone turning venin for you than what Vi and X will do

I may edit this and add more. Why am I blanking on every thought I've ever had about onyx storm in my life.

[hyperpotamianarch]

Sha'ul HaMelech

So, I didn't get to write about Tanach lately. Since one of my daily studies (which only exists for my college, but it can still be fun sometimes) is a chapter from Nevi'im Rishonim, though, I have some stuff to say. Usually I pour my random thoughts on fellow Torah studiers around me, but that works best when they have a reason to study the same thing as me (Parashat Shavua`), or when they might have an interest in it for other reasons (Halacha). The study of the Tanach is a bit different, in that the people I'm around usually have a very different outlook on it than me, which makes talking to them about it a bit difficult. When I'm thinking of an original interpretation to a possuk, I'm not sure I want to hear the Midrash again. I know what it says, and I'm not sure this helps with the Pəshat, thank you very much.

So, that's just a preface to explain why I put my thoughts on Sha'ul HaMelech over here. To begin with that:

The perception of Sha'ul among Jewish circles is interesting. This is the failed king, after all. I hesitate to say which view is most common, because I was used to saying one is but have since (I think) encountered quite a few people who had the other, but two possible ways emerge: the sinful, bad king and the righteous king who fell and failed. As a general rule, I hold to the latter: Sha'ul had much potential, but he eventually failed. But today, I wish to talk about his coronation.

Now, picture this: you are but a humble shepherd (or maybe cowherd. Or just herd animals), of the youngest of the 12 tribes of Israel. You're not an important person, though you are remarkably tall.

Your father's donkeys have been lost, and naturally, you headed out with your servant to look for them all over the place. You might be vaguely aware that there is some turmoil among the Israelites - people asked the prophet for a king or something. That has nothing to do with you, though.

But you can't seem to find the donkeys, and you're hungry, and you tell your servant that at this point your father probably worries over you more than the donkeys. Your servant, however, remarks that there's a prophet close by and you could just ask him about the donkeys. When you raise objections over payments, the servant says he has some money. So they go there, and there seems to be a celebration or something.

To skip ahead a bit, when you meet the prophet, he starts telling you wierd things about greatness, telling him not to worry over the donkeys and that you'll eat with him. The next morning he talks to you alone, tells you of a few signs you will see on your way and anoints you as king. You go home and tell nobody about that, though they saw you start prophesizing, which is so odd there's a new phrase named after you: "Is Sha'ul among the prophets as well?"

A couple of days later, all the people of Israel come gather, for the occasion of crowning their first king. And how does Shəmu'el start this gathering?

“Thus said the Hashem, the G-d of Israel: ‘I brought Israel out of Egypt, and I delivered you from the hands of the Egyptians and of all the kingdoms that oppressed you.’ But today you have rejected your G-d who delivered you from all your troubles and calamities. For you said to Him: 'set up a king over us!’"

-1 Samuel 10, 18-19, Sefaria translation with minor edits

I don't know about you, but if I was Sha'ul in this situation, and I know that I am the king who is to be crowned today... I'd probably have hid too. Usually it's viewed as him simply being humble, and there are certainly other occasions where we see him being humble - such as him not telling his uncle of his anointment, but here... here, I found myself wondering if this threatening opening made Sha'ul scared. He's realizing that he's being put in this position not because it's G-d's will to give the Israelites a king, but because the Israelites insisted. It doesn't help that many people don't appreciate him being appointed king and mock him.

Then, of course, the whole story with Yavesh Gil`ad happens: king Naḥash comes to take over the east side of the Jordan river, and the Yaveshites ask for help. Now, in the Tanachic context we already know that Yavesh is tied to Binyamin, Sha'ul's tribe, through marriage (following the Levite's Concubine story in the book of Judges). That may or may not have had an effect on Sha'ul's decision. However, his next act of butchering two of his bulls and sending it all around Israek serves multiple purposes: firstly, Sha'ul is still dealing with his own cattle. That's not exactly a kingly job. Clearly, his coronation led to practically nothing. Secondly, Sha'ul does assert authority with this - by saying "if you don't come with me and with Shəmu'el I'll do that to your cattle" he's showing that he's the king and he can choose to do that. Thirdly, of course, this parallels the Levite cutting his own concubine to twelve parts and sending it all around Israel.

I don't see a need to detail what happened later. Suffice to say that Sha'ul won. His first act as the actual king following that is pardoning the people who refused to accept him, not wanting to sully the victory with executions. And Shəmu'el declares that they're all going to the Gilgal to renew Sha'ul kingship.

Picture yourselves in Sha'ul's place, again. You just won a battle against the `Amonites, and against a king who was probably much more experienced than you. You saved your kin from enslavement. Your kingship is widely accepted, and you're celebrating before G-d. Then Shəmu'el, your mentor, says he wants to say a few words. You know he led the Israelites up until now, and that now that he's giving the reins to you, he probably wants to make his final speech as a leader. He's still going to be here as a prophet, of course, but he's no longer the Judge.

He starts it up with asking if anyone has unfinished business with him. Did he take anything from anyone unjustly? Did he accept any payment for his role? The Israelites all answer what all of you already know they will: no, he hasn't. He asks G-d and you - G-d's Anointed One - to be witnesses to that, which you accept.

Then he starts another speech about the history of Israel. This time it's more detailed. And, once again, he reminds the Israelites how bad them asking for a king is,

Now, logically, I'm sure Sha'ul realized this had nothing to do with him specifically. The mere idea of a king, or perhaps the idea of asking for a king in this way during this time, is what Shəmu'el is speaking against. G-d chose Sha'ul because he's fit for the task, because he really is a good choice. The fact he was asked to choose a king was bad, but the chosen king wasn't. Logically, Sha'ul must know that.

But from his perspective, it's different. From his perspective, this is the second time Shəmu'el criticizes his role - which he didn't ask for. He was forced to enter a position that Shəmu'el had something against from the very beginning. In his day of victory, the day he was recrowned as king, what Shəmu'el has to say is that he really shouldn't have done this in the first place. Sha'ul starts his kingship feeling that Shəmu'el has something against him, and that quite possibly colors the rest of his reign. Maybe this explains a couple of his bad decisions later on.

[redflowersociety]

Saying “I Love You” for the first time. - Mouthwashing HC

These are written with the pretense that… THEY LIKE U BACK!! (Except for Swansea cause he’s married…sorri) THIS WAS SO PAINFUL CAUSE I WAS WRITING THEM IN PARAGRAPHS AND THEN… boom. 1000+ words lost. Never writing on tumblr again, rookie mistake. Anyways, enjoy!! Promise next post will be higher effort

Curly (Pre-Crash)

He’s quick to make a teasing comment on your unprofessionalism, confessing to your captain and all. But he’s honestly super flustered and trying not to grin like a kid on Christmas Day.

He takes a moment to sit with it. It’s likely that you two would have made advances toward each other for a while, as Curly is the type to take things slow if he’s serious. After a year of pining, you two were finally dating! But hearing those words from your lips brought him to such happiness because he knew you meant it unconditionally, without expecting anything from him.

After this instance, it became common practice for both of you to remind the other of your love. Curly had never been a “words-of-affirmation” kind of guy, but this was an exception. “I love you” turned into his favorite phrase, as it was the perfect way to release the tension building in his heart from just how badly he had fallen for you.

Curly (Post-Crash)

He honestly couldn’t believe that you could stomach looking at him, let alone still sit with romantic feelings for him. It brought him to tears when he heard it, unable to comprehend how somebody could show him such boundless affection and care. He wasn’t used to unconditional love.

He forced himself through the immense pain to slur the words back, and that’s when you began to cry. He forced it out again and again, until you convinced him through pleading not to speak. You knew how much it hurt him, so you assured him that knowing was enough. You didn’t need the reassurance.

Upon your return to Earth, Curly not only had surgeries to make his face a little more structurally sound, but he had attended speech therapy to make up for the years he spent in near silence. One of the first things he learned was your name, and then “I love you.” It brought you to tears hearing it again for the first time in so long. It was okay though, as he could hold you in his scarred arms as long as you needed to cry it all out.

Daisuke

At first, he thought you were being silly. “Aww, I love you too,” he giggled. It wasn’t until you spoke up again with a more serious tone that he realized, and you swear you’d never seen a man turn red so fast. He was so taken aback, asking you at least five times if you were serious and if you were sure. Once his nerves were satisfied, he returned the gesture.

“I love you too. Like a lot, a lot. Soooo much. Like, I really thought I was tweaking out or something from like, the way my whole body would go numb around you and my brain would get fuzzy-“ his drawn out explanation on how his romantic feelings for you overwhelmed him made you laugh. Within the next day, you two were dating.

Even before you two got together, Daisuke ranted to anybody who would listen about just how perfect you were. Now? Oh, man. Swansea has been really considering throwing him out into space after hearing about your confession for the twentieth time from his loud-ass mouth.

Anya

It was honestly a relief to her that you had said something first. She had been trying her best to stay professional, but seeing you all the time, your smile and laugh, the way you spoke passionately about what you loved; it made it harder every day as she fell further for you. You were one of the first people she grew close to on the Tulpar, and the first she went to when Jimmy… did what he did. The trust between you both was ample and strong.

She was quick to say it back, like it was a breath of air she’d been holding in way too long and needed out. You two laughed from the sheer relief on her face, teasing her thoroughly about it. She didn’t hesitate to grill you right back for being the one who confessed first. It shut you up pretty fast. You both agreed within the hour to start dating!

There were mixed reactions among the crew. Some extremely supportive, and then some straight up bitter and resentful (Jimbo). Jimmy began to treat you especially cruelly, and you refused to stand by and let it happen. Curly also helped to defend you when he could, seemingly coming to his senses about Jimmy’s behavior. You could tell that Anya felt intense guilt for your pain, but you assured her that it wasn’t her fault. It was your decision to date her knowing everything you did. You were happy by her side. She certainly cried over that privately, completely enamored.

Swansea

Swansea is married, so he knew to take your words in a familial sense. He didn’t return it, saying something like, “You’d better kid. With all I do for you.” But when you him on his lonesome in the utility room? Yeah, he smiled about it.

f you had a bad childhood due to your parents, Swansea could tell pretty quick. He never considered it his problem, but even still, he took you under his wing with Daisuke. He wanted to give you guidance in the ways he knew how. You deserved that, at least. He would go out of his way to help you when you needed, mostly with solving practical problems. He had never been the most emotionally aware, but he tried with you. He figured even if he couldn’t assist you much, it’d be good practice for his daughter on the way.

That’s not to say he never had any advice. He struggled to comfort, but he was quick to pick up on your mistakes and told you the blatant truth. You appreciated that, even if he was harsh at times, cause it helped you become a better person.

Jimmy

Your confession was certainly an ego boost, but nothing past that. He couldn’t believe that you could say something like “I love you” to someone like him without there being pity behind it. Even still, he returned the gesture because he knew that getting with you would make you so much easier to use. He took the opportunity.

The entire crew, aside from you two, were completely flabbergasted when they found out you two were together. Swansea was quick to ask “Why,” hoping to understand the reason behind such a horrible decision on your part. He didn’t get a good answer from you. Anya felt such pity for you, sure that a good person like you had been manipulated into that position. Even still, she couldn’t help you without putting herself in danger, so she kept her distance.

After the crash, Jimmy took out all his frustrations on you in private through abuse: sexual, physical, verbal, and however else he felt in the moment. Nobody was confused when you started wearing more covering clothes beneath your uniform. Swansea was the only one to really step up against Jimmy when he found that he was hurting you. You had to beg Swansea not to kill Jimmy for that alone, and even still, jimmy got a beating. Daisuke checked on you as much as possible, worrying constantly for your well being. Curly found your relationship to be one more thing to feel guilt over, as he once again couldn’t do a single thing to protect somebody from him.

[moongothic]

Crocodad AU where immidiately after having left Dragon and his baby boy Crocodile finds an 11 year old Robin. And while he's 100% only recruiting her so they can make a beeline for the Poneglyph and Pluton in Alabasta by the two of them... Crocodile accidentally sorta kinda adopts Robin.

At this point Robin's been running for her life from the Government for three years so her deep trust issues and fear of betrayal are starting to take root in her little heart. Like perhaps they haven't taken fully over yet, and being still a child I'm sure Robin might've still had that genuine hope that she could find a safe place to stay in. But I'm sure the though of "what'll he'll do with me once he gets what he wants?" would be nagging at her at the back of her mind. Meanwhile Crocodile's struggling between the pain and hurt he's already gone through and given him his trademark trust issues, as well as the aftermath of The Dragodile Divorce. But he also has his Fresh Paternal Instincts and probably misses his baby. So when given a small, scared child who is running for her life, being chased by the very same Government that'll want his son dead if they ever find out about him... Yeah that might fuck with your brain a little

You know this post was supposed to be just that first paragraph and just a few footnotes from the following two paragraphs. And then I kept on Having Thoughts. And I kept on writing them down. And oh no what happened when did this post get so long (Look I was going to either kept on writing my Additional Thoughts in the tags or I just put them in the actual fucking post)

Like considder this: based on this one SBS, we can kinda tell that if Crocodile was given a chance to raise a child, that child would be a spoiled little shit, right

So in this scenario, where Crocodile's looking after lil Robin, would he be kind of torn? Unsure how to feel about her?

Because on one hand, this strange child would have the potential to not only ruin his plans, strip him of his Shichibukai Privileges by outing him and his plans to the World Government, but also put his son in grave danger by extension (if she found out about him having been involved with the Revolutionaries and/or having a child). But on the other hand, his paternal instincts could make him want to spoil this poor little girl rotten. But only because he needs to (perhaps literally) buy her trust so she'll behave. No other reason, he doesn't feel sorry for her one bit, no sirree. (But maybe he did feel sorry for her, since his son could very well end up exactly like her. Poor little thing) (Which is why he needs to nuke Marijoa out of orbit as soon as possible, no matter the cost, and this child can't get in the way of Crocodile protecting his son) (But also this is a child. Like how bad could she be. Besides all he really needs to do to win her trust is be nice and make her feel safe, right?)

Of course, while I'm suggesting Crocodile could have some parental instincts, realistically, he hasn't actually spent any time being, you know, a father to a child (looking after his newborn for an unknown though short amount of time aside), so it's possible he wouldn't even know how to parent Robin even if he wanted to, would he? (Like taking care of a newborn and an 11 year old kid aren't the same either) So if he was kind of just emotionally flipflopping between No Trusting Ever and It's Just A Kid for God's Sake, Crocodile trying to be nice to Robin to make her feel safe and then telling himself to stop being so soft and vunerable... Yeah that would make for an absolute mess of a relationship. (Not to mention, let's be real, dude's a scary motherfucker too, and a bloody giant compared to itty bitty baby Robin. He could keep on accidentally scaring the shit out of Robin (who would be On Fucking Edge To Begin With) by just Being Himself. Like for example, can you fucking imagine if he caught Robin trying to cheer herself up with a little "dereshishishi" only to tell her to stop because "it was stupid"? 'Cause I can imagine him doing that, and boy howdy would that make Robin feel bad)

Or who knows, maybe Crocodile was just Born To Be A Dad, maybe he just Fucking Gets It. Like Crocodile is canonically pretty good at manipulating people to do what he wants them to do (see: how he played Vivi like a fiddle), so knowing Robin's position and understanding how she feels, maybe he COULD completely nail how she needed to be treated. Not being too familiar but still making her feel safe and happy, knowing exactly when to be stern and when to spoil her, etc. Dude just goes off and wins the Dad of the Year Award while being a deadbeat dad himself. The only thing Crocodile would have to worry about then would be making sure HE doesn't get too fond of her. And certainly that could never happen, he's so in-touch with his own feelings and so grounded, he's not a softie, get outta here. Or maybe he does but never realizes until it's too late and good luck backpedalling on those emotions now dumbass

Alright so, the reason I went on that whole rmble is just that like. I'm so interested in the relationship Robin and Crocodile already have in canon. I'm so facinated and curious about how the two feel about each other, considdering they did spend 4 whole years of their lives together as criminal business partners, though neither ever trusted the other. A partnership that was only ended because Robin betrayed Crocodile, out of her own trauma. (God, I want to see these two "reunite" so bad, I want to know how they feel about each other now after the timeskip and Robin joining the idiot in flipflops who foiled Croc's plans)

My question here is just that... if they had met 13 years earlier, would things have been different? Especially if Crocodad Real? Because as I mentioned in the begining, Robin would've been on the run for only 3 years by this point, as opposed to 16 years before running into Crocodile. Simultaneously, this would be before Crocodile went onto spend an entire decade all alone, slowly losing his marbles in his emotional solitude. They'd both be emotionally traumatized, yes, but would it have been as bad in this scenario? Like I did start this post kind of joking about Crocodile adopting Robin, and for clarity's sake I don't think they'd have like a father-daughter relationship nececarily. But it would be a strange relationship still, because we'd have two broken people, both struggling to trust anyone. One who had lost her mother and her only friends, leaving her all alone and afraid while running for her life. The other a father who had just given up his son whom he probably missed dearly. Both having these holes in their hearts from loss of family, holes that could not be filled with replacements. But could they find comfort in each other anyway, because they still as people occupy similar roles to their respective loved ones? If they both could just get over those trust issues?

Okay I've been going off on the Emotional Side Of Things for this AU Concept, THERE'S PLOT TOO

So if Crocodile did pick Robin up like 19 years ago, that should be before he set up base in Alabasta, long before he had built is homebase and financial empire etc.

Now the thing is, while we don't know when, where and how Crocodile learned about the Ancient Weapons, Pluton specifically and how the lead on it would be in Alabasta... Considdering Crocodile did once upon a time aim to become Pirate King, it would make perfect sense if he had learned about Poneglyphs during his past adventures, as he would have needed to get the Road Poneglyphs to find One Piece. And while the World Government did bury the truth about why Ohara had been burned down and why Robin had been given her bounty (remember, the WG claimed it was because she had sunken a fleet of battleships, which she had not, it was because she could read the Poneglyphs), considdering this is a Crocodad AU specifically, you could totally make an argument Crocodile could've learned about what actually happened to Ohara from Dragon and co. So, just to make this AU work, you could just assume Crocodile learned about the concept of the Ancient Weapons from Dragon. And who knows, maybe he overheard the truth about why Robin had been given her bounty from Dragon too (maybe Dragon was able to get intel from Garp in secret) or while going to Marijoa himself to attend a Shichibukai meeting or something IDK.

Maybe he learned about Pluton being in Alabasta before finding Robin by accident, and maybe they made a beeline for Alabasta the second Croc recruited Robin. Travelling takes time and the guy would've most likely had to find an Eternal Pose to Alabasta just to get there (also canonically Robin didn't enter the Grand Line until her 20s so they should've met in West Blue probably, since that's where Ohara was) Or maybe Crocodile had to haul Robin around for a few months while looking for That Missing Piece of Information that would lead him to Alabasta. (Imagine the two travelling from like island to island, library to library, Crocodile trying to find that leads while Robin's just so excited about ALL THESE BOOKS (she's helping too with the research) (but to her, research is playtime, so she's just having the time of her life) (Also, notice how Crocodile's Theoretical Child is a fucking loser ass nerd? Yeah Crocodile would encourage Robin reading and studying, surely. And that would be fucking cute))

But like, once they set sail to Alabasta...

Sure, Crocodile could try to do it The Slow Way that we know he tried in canon, building trust and creating his little empire etc. But also, in canon, Crocodile couldn't have jumped into action head first because without Robin, even if he had found the Poneglyph he couldn't have read it and found the location of Pluton. Crocodile choosing to do it the slow way may have been partially because he didn't have much of a choise and it could've felt like the smarter move long-term.

But in this scenario, he already has Robin. Yes, he could do it the slow, secure way.

But what'd be there stopping him from infiltrating Cobra's palace and kidnapping him (in the night, when nobody suspects a thing), demanding Cobra to spill the beans lest Crocodile kills him and/or his pregnant wife* (*Vivi was born 10 months after Luffy so depending on how long it's been between Crocodad leaving Luffy behind and this scenario... Yeah either the wife is there, still pregnant, or there's a newborn Baby Vivi)

Like it'd be a risky move but depending on how ballsy Croc's feeling and how confident he feels in being able to kidnap the king without being noticed... Yeah he could probably do it. And I'm sure he'd have no problem killing Cobra either, if anything it'd be required if he didn't want the Government to find out he was out to find Pluton, and god knows Cobra would tell on Crocodile if left alive. I could see Crocodad being maybe a little iffy about killing Baby Vivi though (it's not like the newborn baby could report him to the WG anyways), but if nothing else, he just needs to be able to pull off the bluff of his life to convince Cobra to do as he's told. And we all know Crocodile's good at convincing people.

The only question is, how would Robin take that?

Watching Crocodile go into Full Murder Mode, hearing him say he'd kill a pregnant woman/a newborn baby if he didn't get what he wanted? Like yeah, I'm sure 11 year old Robin would be fine with that, that wouldn't make any alarm bells go off in her head at all, it'd be fiiiine. IT WOULD NOT BE FINE, SHE'D BE SCARED SHITLESS. That fear of "what will he do with me when he gets what he wants"? Well, Robin may not have found the answer to that question in particular, but she certainly found the answer to the opposite question, and it's not good

So say Cobra, kidnapped (perhaps with Baby Vivi) by Crocodile in the night, guides the two to the Poneglyph under the tombs. Crocodile puts Cobra out of his misery because he's not needed anymore. And he asks Robin to read the Poneglyph for him.

Robin, who has spent the last little while, be it weeks or months with Crocodile, him having become her "guardian", the thing keeping her safe. Crocodile, who has now shown how cold blooded and cruel he can be. Robin, who might be scared out of her mind. Of him.

And the Poneglyph says Pluton, the thing Crocodile wants, isn't there. It's in Wano.

What's she going to do?

EDIT: I wrote a sequel post, enjoy

[prettyboykatsuki]

I LIKE IT BETTER WHEN YOU CAN'T KEEP WARM | ODXNY

✮ tags ; heavy themes, gender neutral reader, mentions of past suicidal ideation, getting together, romantic tension, angst to fluff, extremely lovey-dovey ending, some implicit and suggestive content (lit one paragraph n non descript), themes of touch starvation, small height difference (reader is shorter)

✮ wc ; 6.3k (this is so shameful bye forever)

✮ a/n ; every time a semester ends i lose my mind and me writing this in several hours straight is evidence. if i had a nickel for every time i wrote a character study with the central theme of loneliness, i'd have two nickels - which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

i will spare you the insane rambling for the authors note at the bottom of this fic.

✮ synopsis ; he wants something. to live maybe. and if he could be a little selfish, to be with you. he wants that, too.

Bright.

Could just be the dark room he keeps himself in talking. His computer system and encrypted Internet browsers are all in dark mode - and his desktop set-up doesn’t have any L.E.D. strip lights to keep him company. He prefers it that way, the ambiance a better environment to work in  when he’s doing his usual rounds. Down to the programs U.I. - Odxny spends most of his time in perpetual darkness. Cozy and familiar - totally safe and secure. Nothing but the low whirrs of a computers fan and the faint blinking of routers to keep him company.

You’re the brightest thing he’s had on his screen in a long time. You’ve got white walls and no precaution, really. You’re sitting at your own desktop - and he can see everything of your life in the background of where you sit. There are photos of you graduating high school, being around unnamed friends, vacations and trips, and head shots like the kind you take for a resume. It’s all so personal. Bookshelves, trinkets, poorly made clay sculptures. Posters of musicians you like and Studio Ghibli movies. Evidence of life surrounds you like a halo.

Awful. Angel comparisons to someone he’s only known for a day make him wonder if he’s more pathetic than he thought. He probably shouldn’t think so hard about a stranger, a real stranger. Thrim generated randomly, though he thinks it sounds like a name. Finds it fun to say, for better or worse.

Natural light pours in from a window nearby, casting shadows in your room. He already knows you, in a way. He did the background search. Where you were born, raised, grew up.  The schools you went too, the career you seek. Bits and pieces of you are all scattered in his memory and are not at all thorough. He wasn’t really trying for that at the time, just needed to know if you were dangerous. There’s a cognitive dissonance. To know a life so thoroughly and to witness it is completely, and utterly different.

There’s miles between you. Must be thousands. He can’t remember the last time he’s really met someone, though. It’s hard not to notice that this feels akin to that. Like the embers of a campfire, glowing but not burning. A comfortable warmth.

Bright. His screen is very bright talking to you. Even obscured behind the mask, it’s a little difficult to look at it and leaves him on edge - restless and mildly painful.

When his vision adjusts though, there’s clarity. A person, a stranger - with an exceptionally nice laugh and who is exceptionally trusting. Odxny tries not to think too hard about the feeling of warmth that flutters at your overflowing sincerity.

The conversation is easy.

“Does that mean you trust me now?”

Odxny pretends to think on it. “Enough to keep you around.”

“See you later.”

“See you.”

You accompany your last words with a wave - short and sweet. Darkness pulls him in, back where he started. He has a mild headache from all the light.

__

You pick up on the language better than he thought you would.

He underestimated you. Can you blame him? Your choice is language is ArnoldC, for fucksake. Sure, he has limited knowledge on esoteric languages but can it really be in-depth enough to show you the basics.

(It can. Or at least, Od presumes this to be the case because you’re rather helpful in Incri’s hacks and Incri is hardly helpful to anyone in the world, no less the server.)

You pick up on things quickly with little guidance - always to the point and not usually making many errors. He has to commend your abilities and give you credit where it’s due. It’s not a hard language to learn, but for anyone with no familiarity with coding at all he’d expect there to be a learning curve. Even if you had coding language, it’s not like you knew SQL coming in.

You fit strangely well into the server somehow. You’re happy to learn and nonplussed about helping with small things, though you don’t know these people at all and have no reason to participate in their nonsense. You talk to Incri fine, and manage to get Pep to accidentally reveal telling information. Odxny finds all of this rather… entertaining maybe. More than impressive, really.

He has a hard time making sense of the feeling. He would hope you don’t think you’re under duress - given the fact your relationship in two days has been pleasant. Then again - maybe he’s missed some social cue and you do think that. It’s possible. After all, he doesn’t actually remember the last time he’s spoken verbally to anyone with very, very few exceptions.

He manages to call you again after the fact - opens the call with sincere and heartfelt congrats and feels pleasant seeing you take the compliment in stride.

You land on the subject of programming again, inevitably. He interrogates you a little more over your choice in language - almost like he can’t help himself. It’s basic curiosity. You had said you were the best in ArnoldC. A little research proved that to be true, presence of you in the forums of various esolang pages. He landed on many things. You’re the best at ArnoldC, but you also know Brainfuck for some ridiculous reason.

He thinks you’re a little ridiculous in general.

“It’s really for the love of the game, huh?”

You nod when he asks this. Smiling, bright and unbothered with a soft edge of smug pride that makes the muscles of his face twitch up. “Mhm. I like my little collection.

Odxny doesn’t doubt it for even a minute. He’s seen the proof, but perhaps he doesn’t need to mention that. “Your trophy case of ridiculous language?”

Your eyes come to life all of a sudden. “Wait. A real trophy case would actually be so cool.”

He pauses, blinking as the words sink before a smile breaks onto his face helplessly. “That was not to enable you.”

“Too late. I’m already looking up the ugliest wood trim display cases I can find.”

The laugh comes naturally. “You really are just like this?”

You look proud again. “What? Fun?”

Yes, Odxny thinks but doesn’t say. “Baffling.”

You ask Odxny to elaborate and he does. The conversation flows with frustrating ease. So easily that he mouths off about his plans to you without a second thought. He doesn���t know why he does it. Not really. He’s thought it through over and over - so it’s not like he needs to disclose it. He made his choice.

He thinks about moving it along. About ending the call or simply brushing past without going into any detail.

When he glances at the screen, you’ve got a pillow in your lap and your eyes completely focused on him. There’s that feeling again, alarming clarity in your gaze and brightness that causes him immense unease in the world he’s made of nihilistic, apathetic darkness. There’s a plan, always has been. He’ll do this and disappear and the world will soon forget him. If it happens that way, than at least this loneliness is a choice he’s made for himself and not something the world has cruelly decided for him.

His lips move faster than his head, than even his heart. Compelled by a nameless and brilliant force. “I don’t have any reason to stay. I’m just — tired. Of everything.”

“No reasons? Nothing makes you happy here?”

His response is measured. Quiet. It’s not secret. He finds his voice crumbles around the words anyway as if they’re a confession. “Not for a long time. I don’t feel much of anything, really. It is what it is.”

You frown. He’s seen it all before. Heard it all before. “That’s…”

He cuts you off quickly.

“We just met. And we’ll be strangers again soon enough.” He says with as much conviction and resolve as he can possible manage. Who he’s convincing remains unclear. “So, not to be cold but..you know.”

The disappointment in your face leaves an impression, but you relent. He tries to make amends for the depressing conversation of talking again and you perk up so genuinely it makes want to cry, in a distant and foreign way.

“Catch you later, then.” He says, and closes at out the call. The room falls dark for the second time. He blinks a few times to get rid of the light clouding his vision.

__

Wnpep is eager to teach you on the third day.

You’re eager in reply - matching energy with sharp wit and enthusiasm. Wnepep is a better teacher than Incri by several miles. Evident in how much faster everything falls into place for you. Not that you really need too much help in the first place. You break down the crumbling walls of an insurance scam with ease and come out of the other side more accomplished.

It’s a noble last hack, Odxny thinks.  Not unsurprising from Pep - unofficially the most sane and likeable member. He figured it’d be something like this less than a matter of personal vengeance.

You go back and forth for a bit in admin chat. Od types an apology about winding you up and tries not to read too much into the innuendo of it as you reply back with your own faux offended replies. He insists he’s somewhat sorry, and you’re far from believing him.

He finds himself grinning at his screen while he texts you mid conversation. When the realization hits, he almost curls into himself from embarrassment - a hand covering his mouth like it’ll do away with the grave sin.

The inneundo happens twice in one conversation, before you get to call under the premise of a victory toast.

A brief conversation about the last hacks barely leaves room for much else except Odxny plans of total isolation.

“Mm. I should’ve known it would come back to this. Why do you care what I choose to do with myself?”

That baffles you in a terribly genuine way. “Am I not allowed to care about another person?”

Odxny speaks honestly. “You are but I mean…” He trails off. He knows how he feels. “I’m not really a person anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m no one. I’m going to be no one. You have other things to fill your life with.”

There’s a vulnerable edge to his voice that he winces at when he hears it. It’s true isn’t it? All of it is true to Odxny, but especially where he says you have other things to fill your life with. You might share the same hobbies, but he’s seen it. He’s seen how different you are - your livelihoods, your existence. You’d be missed if you suddenly disappeared. Odxny knows the same isn’t true for himself. It’s been like that for a long while now.

(It’s crushing. That’s what makes your very ephemeral existence feel like a burden. Why it casts the shadows of doubt on choices he made, about how he would live so long ago. You care, don’t you? At least, more than anyone else in his life in the present. You care so undeniably, and so obviously and it is all so simple to you.

He almost envies it. Almost resents it, too. It’s such a small shred of humanity, the barest forms of sincerity but it is painfully raw. A split nerve. An open wound It’s not like the server, all of whom have accepted this distant fondness. It’s a delicate thread - spider silk accuracy and just as much strength. There’s conviction in your missing him and it haunts him.)

You think of what to say for a long time before landing on it. “I do. But I can care about multiple things at once,”

It sounds like I care about you too closely. He finds himself shivering. He’s truthful with you, unsure of how else to be when it comes to these conversations.

“That sounds burdensome.” He says. “Isn’t that exhausting?”

You don’t lie to him either. “Sometimes. But it’s worth the trouble.”

“Why?”

“Because I like your company,” You reply. Soft sincerity in your words. More clarity. More painstaking light.

“It can’t be that simple.”

“Why not?”

“If it was that simple then -“ Then it makes it seem like things could be different. He doesn’t say that. Stops himself before it can happen. “I don’t know why I’m bothering to argue. Why do I feel like I need to prove this to you?”

He’s almost afraid to look at your face, wincing when he sees how knowing you look. Not in a condescending way - but genuine, full blown understanding. Like you see through him.

He wonders if he knows you as well as he thought he did.

Your face is so sympathetic. “Are you sure it’s me?”

He cuts the conversation short on his own - making an awkward transition from the topic at hand into whatever he can manage. It’s an awkward fumble - a poor attempt at distracting both of you from this line of thinking. You’re kind enough to let him have it. He asks about your hobbies. You tell him about how you like to try the weirdest things and combinations you can find in a restaurant.

He finds it suits you.

A lot of things suit you. Even your piss poor attempt at the Terminator that he quickly mimics - possessed by god knows what.

You laugh when he does. Brilliant and bubbly and characteristically warm. You say the words through giggles.

“That was so bad!”

“It was a lapse in judgment,” He replies back defensively, smiling against his will. He finds himself laughing too.

“I like your laugh, by the way.”

He pauses caught off-guard. “Oh? My laugh. Oh, uhm. Thank you.”

You make a face that he can’t read. Knowing. In a different way than the last. He feels nervous.

“I have been laughing quite a bit, haven’t I?”

You grin. Smug and deliriously happy. “Sure have.”

He looks away from you. “Ha...Odd.”

You giggle again. Your eyes crinkle at the corners, nose scrunched in genuine delight. It’s a pleasant sound but not because it’s particularly wispy or floaty or delicate. But it’s real. Pleasant in the way the white noise of park during summer. Pleasant like the varied playlist overhead in a record shop. Pleasant like a moment of humanity tucked between everyday. He clears his throat.

“I like your laugh, I think.”

You laugh again, gasping with faux offense. “You think???”

He tries not to feel so grounded by that sound and fails. “Yeah. I think. Laugh again.”

He tries not to add please. You shake your head like you’re reprimanding him.

“No, no, you have to earn that. Make me laugh.”

“Nevermind. Shut up.”

You do laugh again that time. He joins you soon after. “And now you laugh? At me?”

The conversation moves again, comfortable like a tide. You ask about his favorite language and he tells you as much. You’re quiet and growing cheeky, listening to him talk.

“So you do like coding.”

“Maybe a little.” He replies, not giving in. “You remember far too much of what I say.”

The conversation comes to a close again. He thanks you for how nice its been and you make an off-handed attempt to get him to change his mind. You could always talk more. The implication delicate beneath it.

We don’t have to forget each other. Odxny brushes past it - but says he’ll see you tomorrow anyway.

__

Extorting Elimfs childhood friend (?) is an easy enough endeavor. Odxny texts you through out - to ask advice on what things to take when he leaves.

He calls you again when its over too. He can’t find a reason for it - nothing that makes sense. He just wanted to call you. He hasn’t wanted something like that in a while,  but he tells himself its fine. This is the last time you’ll ever know each other.

So its fine. He won’t waver.

He’ll just.. call you.

He asks you on your weed habits, mildly surprised when you tell him you smoke and take edibles sometimes too. The conversation loops back to the fund at one point. You don’t hide your displeasure about the whole thing today.

You’ve talked about it already. No need to keep bringing up. But you seem to feel so strongly and Odxny can’t figure out why. Can’t shake the feeling of wanting to know why every single time.

“Is it really so hard to believe I’ve come to like you in a few days?”  You ask, after probing.

“In a way that matters, yes.”

You frown at him when he says that. It’s the most upset he’s seen you look, if he can call it that. You’ve never been upset when he’s been rude or insulting - but this is bothering you. It doesn’t help him pull away from you.

He says it again. Reinforces how temporary this all is. He’s trying to convince one of you. Both of you, maybe, of his unimportance.

“I don’t think that little of you.”

He finds it hard to reply to that. It’s that feeling against. It makes him uncomfortable. It’s not empty platitudes or some vague sense of responsibility for his life. All of it is real, and all of it is meaningful in how plain it is. You make it seem easy.

“It’s life. It’s normal. People come, people go.”

You shake your head. “Not for me. I can’t forget you that easily.”

He wishes you would. He’s painfully, painfully relieved that you wouldn’t it. He voices neither thought.

“Then- try! You’re putting so much on yourself, and for what? You don’t stand to gain anything.”

You shrug. “Peace of mind. Knowing you’re still out there.”

It’s heavy. The implication is heavy. He’s not going to kill himself. He doesn’t want that anymore, though he thought about it. At the beginning. Loneliness is more painful when you have memories of what not being that way was like - he thinks. At the start of all that loss, the hollowness bared an almost painful gravity inside of him.

It’s like being told to breathe or blink - becoming conscious of what was once a natural function, how full life was once when it’s escaped. He doesn’t want to kill himself, but living is meaningless.

 These things aren’t paradoxical to him. They haven’t been for all this time.

(They weren’t until he met you at least. A mirror of wanting. Odxny looks at you and sees life reflected back. Despite it not being his, its moving. It’s beautiful in a human way, reachable. Tangible. Earned.

Wherever you are. Whenever you’re together, the black hole inside of himself seems to fade back into average planetary darkness. He becomes cruelly human again, feeling warmth and laughter.

He’s tells himself he’s not afraid of dying and that’s mostly true. He’s most afraid of living. Afraid he won’t be able to learn it again.)

 He manages to tell you some of what he’s thinking. He has no clue how to start over. He doesn’t know if it’s possible. You don’t feed him any false hope, but he tells you how he sees it. You’re feeling pity for him right? And you should figure that out sooner rather than later.

“Is it really that easy for you?”

You shake your head. You’re smiling but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “It isn’t. But I have to try.”

“Is that what you’re doing with me?”

“What?”

“Is this…?”

He cuts the call off when he hears himself, unsure of what answer he’s hoping for. The realization dawns on him too much, too quickly. The feeling of hope is loud in his chest but there is another feeling, embarrassing in it’s swiftness that follows shortly after.

Oh.

Oh.

__

The servers shuts down after a mildly sappy adventure to close up shop. The closest Odxny has gotten to flirting with you in his own way. He’s sad to see everyone go, despite there being no other choice.

It’s easier than he thought it’d be. To give you his number he means, even after shutting the entire server down. After leaving everything behind. He gives you the choice to make. Call me if you still want it - a silent promise.

 Maybe because deep down - some part of him always wanted to make this choice. Just maybe.

Your voice is different over the phone line. A little clearer, spoken softer. Just as lovely as it was the first time he heard it. Maybe more. Maybe.

The city beneath him is bright. So bright. It doesn’t hurt to look at, he thinks.

__

You call him every day.

You’ve been doing it for months.

He thought, at some point, you’d let up or start to forget. He’s been waiting on it to happen as horrible as it sounds. Like some self-fulfilling prophecy, he’d slip back into the background as is natural. A proof of his nonexistence, if you will.

You don’t forget though. He almost wonders if he’s dreaming when it happens. There’s a routine between you two, these days. You have your own life that you’ve been living the same as normal. When it’s night time for you, though - you hop onto your desktop and call Od like you’re two very average people.

There’s nothing solid to define your relationship aside from friendship as is. This is less frustrating than he expected it to be. Getting to know you better has only made him like you more. Your relationship is solid in a strange way. It’s been about six months total, and as corny as it sounds - Odxny feels like he’s known you for his entire life. You understand him in an intimate way, with vulnerable tenderness and radical acceptance.

He kind of misses the privacy of his old stomping grounds, but he doesn’t mind speaking though discord. It feels… normal. In a not displeasing way. You mostly talk to talk about whatever comes to mind. Sometimes it’s your job search, other times it’s  your part-time or friend drama. You’re vibrant as always. Without the wall of anonymity, Odxny gets to know of you like he’s just your average person. He finds he really, really likes that.

You play games together frequently. He’s never been interested in cozy gaming, but you play Minecraft and Stardew Valley together per your request. Odxny streams himself playing Ocarina of Time for you on Discord in the background sometimes too, and you keep it on when you’ve got work to do or you’re cooking or something else. There’s something very mundane to it.

You’re not doing anything with him today though. You’re calling him on facetime, rather than at your desktop. You’ve made the executive decision to laze around and Odxny has no problem joining you though you speak less than usual as a result of being sleepy. You had a long shift yesterday so perhaps Odxny can’t blame you.

“Need to get better shoes. For walking and stuff.” You say thoughtlessly. The corners of his lips twitch up.

“Yeah?”

You nod. Your face is smushed against your pillow at an unflattering angle. He smiles a little.

“Yeah. I’m on my feet for like nine hours when I serve and it hurts wearing flats. Need something sturdier even it diminishes my drip.”

He laughs at that. “Please never say that again.”

You continue onwards. “Decreases my aura, even. But alas, utility comes first.”

He snickers as he glances at you through the phone. You’re propped against one of his monitors as he does work on his computer. He’s getting back into programming for the love of the game, just seeing what he can do.

“Want help looking?”

“Feels a little ridiculous asking a super pro-hacker to shop Sketchers with me.”

“You seriously thinking of buying Sketchers?”

You laugh lightly. “Maybe I’ll get tipped more if I get the light-up ones.”

“Please don’t.”

“Hater.”

You break out into genuine laughter as Odxny shakes his head in despair. It’s something you’d do, no doubt. You sigh.

“I really do want a break from work.” You roll around on your mattress. Odxny can hear your rustling but can’t see you much. “The chains of capitalism shackle me in place. Woe is me.”

Odxny thinks on what you’ve said for a long while in silence. The question comes up every now and again though he’s never brave enough to ask it. His ludicrous amount of disposable income however is still sitting in his bank, collecting dust. It’s been six months and he’s hardly made a dent in it.

“Do you want to come visit?” He asks, cringing at the sound of his own voice. The words are strained and a little too eager. “I can pay the difference for expenses for wages and stuff. And, uh. Uhm,”

He loses his train of thought trying to speak, worsened by the way you pop onto his screen when he says that. Your expression is unreadable to him, comfortable and even. You smile a little as you lift the phone so he can see what you look like laying in your bed. Your face is in full view.

“It’d be a little weird to visit you before we start dating officially, no?”

His eyes go wide at the implication. You grin, mischief and mirth making your eyes practically beam. He can feel a blush crawl up his neck as soon as he registers it.

“Excuse me? Why are you saying that like it’s already been decided?” He bites back, not sure what else he could say.

“So you don’t want to date me?”

“I didn’t- you - damn it,” He groans at his own bluster as he giggles on the other side of the line. So cheeky. Damn him for liking it and damn you for being cute. “…You are saying you like me right?”

Your face softens. He can feel his heartbeat quicken. “Uh-huh. Just wanted to take it slow. But I’ve liked you for a long time.”

“How long is that, exactly?”

You shrug playfully and the fact he can’t be within reach to kiss you feels especially harrowing. “A secret.” You smile again, all trouble. “So. Wanna date?”

“Terrible confession. Zero stars,” He says petulantly. He leans back in his chair and finds himself smiling uncontrollably. “Fine. I guess.”

Your laugh fills his room. He doesn’t get tired of hearing it. His face hurts from smiling.

__

He manages to stave off on the anxiety of you coming to see him for a lot longer than he thought possible.

Making arrangements proves to be a little difficult. You have to tell your roommates that you’ll be gone for a while but promise to still pay rent and explain to your boss where you’re going. You have a good enough relationship and have been working long enough for them to agree to keep a spot open so you can start working when you come back.

After that, there’s the matter of Visas. Odxny goes out of his way to make that process go much faster than normal, though he doesn’t actually tell you. Once all of that’s sorted, there’s living arrangements. Try as you might to insist to live somewhere else, his place is too spacious for him to let you stay anywhere else. You can take the guest room.

He pretends that all of this is just happening in his imagination. He doesn’t even know the last time anyone came over, let alone lived with him. He does his best to make things presentable, and makes a guest room for you to live in should you desire. He even buys more decor (plants and things) to make it look… less like a cave and more like a home.

Nothing really feels real until the day arrives though. It’s a long flight and difficult trip. You refused to let him pay for the tickets so he moved it around to get you into first class both ways through other methods.

You text him the terminal, the arrival time, any and all delays. Still. None of it feels real until he’s already waiting for you near the bags. He can feel his heart race, his lungs short of air. He’s never experienced something so ridiculously contradictory in his entire life. He wants to run away while feeling stuck in place.

The anticipation nearly kills him.

He would recognize your voice anywhere though. Like he did for so many days alone in the dark. A hand waves high, shouting as loud as it can.

“It’s you!”

The sound of sneakers skidding across tile floors make his breath hitch. His eyes go wide as you stand still in front of him, luggage in hand and a million-watt smile on your face. He feels his heart beat so loud, he wonders if he’s going to throw up.

“Hey.” He says, dumbly.

“Hi!”

__

The adjustment period to living together isn’t what he expects.

It’s been a long time since he’s been so close to another human being. It becomes clear that you’re really living together though when your things end up in the bathroom completely incidentally. There’s something about finding your sleep shirt on a towel rack that makes reality settle in. You’re living together.

He’d be stupid not to notice the purposeful distance between you. An attempt to be thoughtful and not overwhelm him. It’s never awkward when you’re together. You eat together, watch movies and play games while sitting too close on the couch. You’ve been on a date in the two weeks you’ve spent, and it barely took any convincing on your end to make him go along with you.

Isolation aside though, Odxny is not clueless to the conventions of modern dating. You avoid touching him too casually. He doesn’t blame you, but he can’t help but crave your presence with a little more bittersweet longing as the days pass. He has to get past it or bring it up eventually, but it feels like something he’s never going to get over somehow.

The opportunity to do so gets thrown at him all at once. You’ve been living together for sixteen days. A conversation about love languages is what undoes it.

“Whats your love language, Od?”

He gives you a quizzical look. “Dunno actually. Never bothered to look.”

“I’d guess… hm. Quality time maybe? Or words of affirmation.”

He shrugs as he sits next to you on the couch, glancing at your phone as you read through the different ones. “What’s yours?”

“Physical touch. I’m super touchy. With anyone who will let me, honestly. Bad habits.”

Odxny gives you a long look as you say it. He debates if he should bring it up.

“You don’t have to be so careful around me, you know?”

You look up at him, startled by the comment. Several things pass over your face before you settle on an apologetic smile. “Sorry. It’s not like I don’t want to. I just don’t want to be too much for you.”

“That wouldn’t happen.” He says automatically. You laugh good-naturedly.

“Your confidence is assuring, but you underestimate how touchy I am. I’m afraid of I get my hands on you, I’ll never let go again,”

He thinks he wants that more than is normal. He shakes his head. “I don’t mind.”

You give him a long look, seeming struck by an idea, before humming and standing up. You turn around with your hand out towards him. His brows furrow in bewilderment.

“Have some faith.”

He takes your hand and stands up with you. He likes that he’s taller than you. Staring at you, he feels your fingers clasp around his hand and his heart thuds - loud and messy.

“Your room or mine?”

“What?”

You laugh. “Get your mind out of the gutter. Or don’t actually, but I don’t bear lewd intentions.”

He crinkles his nose at the word usage and laughs. “Shut up.”

“Just trust me, okay?”

He concedes with embarassing swiftness.

“Okay.”

__

You lead Odxny to the guest room you’ve been living in for the last two weeks. The bed is well-made and all the new furniture he bought is occupying so many of your belongings. It makes him dizzy. You shut the door behind him as you lead him in. It just feels especially surreal.

Wordless, you let go of his hand and hop up onto your bed. Once you’re laying down, you prop up on your side with your elbow and pat the empty space next to you, smiling at him as you do. Once it clicks what your asking, he can feel his face grow hot. He can’t refuse it though, and he doesn’t want too.

The sheets you bought together smell like you. Between there’s practically no distance between you at this angle. He’s gotten to look at you plenty through these few days but it’s different. You scoot impossibly close to him until there’s nothing separating you.

Your breath is warm - a soft exhale leaving your lips as you inch closer.

“What’re we doing?” He asks in a murmur, stone stiff. You smile, coyly.

“Touching each other.”

He frowns at the joke. Your expression goes a touch serious right after. The sincerity is debilitating. “Can I touch you?”

He nods. Can’t do much more than that.

He stares at you with impending, long-suffering longing as you bring a single hand to his face and cradle his neck. He flinches unintentionally, but pulls your hand back when you try to move it. He wants this. You relax a little when he does that.

Your hands are softer. Softer than a heartbeat. He can feel the various cuts and scars from years of working against his skin but they’re still so soft. He can feel how warm you in such a brief touch his chest aches. Your hands cradle his face tenderly, thumb brushing across his lip with a smile brighter than thousands of lights. Something in your expression wreaks havoc on his heart. Something so raw and so gentle and so full within it - all directed towards him.

It’s been so long. So long. He’s never wanted something so bad  he couldn’t remember needing. He’s never wanted to be closer to someone than he does to you in the moment.

“You’re handsome,” You say, so sweetly. Not a confession, but gentle appraisal. It’s rare he cries but he wants too. “I like looking at you. Can I kiss you?”

“Please.” He rasps, gravel in his voice unfamiliar.

You hum a little. Closing the space between you with a press of lips. It’s not chaste. Odxny is grateful for how long and how deep you linger. He wants it so badly. He wants you in some damning and unforgiving way. How could a human being feel so warm? Feel so pleasant with so little?

You press your foreheads together. His hand trembles when they grip onto your waist but you encourage him just a little. It’s just a kiss. His heart might beat out of him. It’s just a kiss. He thinks he loves you.

Your hand moves away from his face. You let it go underneath his loose shirt to touch his shoulder, running your palm down the plane of his chest. You squeeze his waist, and wrap your arms around his back and pull him to you until your bodies touch somewhere in the middle.

You guide his face to your neck and chest as you hold him. He grips onto you tight in response, a gasp in the back of his lungs at the sudden sensation. You coo above him, soft and light - your fingers threading through his hair and nails massaging his scalp.

Your voice sounds above him, despite how deep in a haze he is. He can’t do anything but cling to you with impossible longing. You speak softly as you pet him. Your heartbeat soothes his.

“I’m glad you’re here.” You tell him. There’s that familiar clarity that makes him want to cry. “I’m glad you let me come with you.”

He can’t think of anything to say back. It’s a soul-shattering emotion. “I love you.”

You laugh wetly above him. “I love you, too. So much.” And then much softer. “Let’s be together for a long time.”

__

You lay in each others arms until sunset. In small talk and silent murmurs. It takes him hours to work up the courage to kiss you again - but only minutes to take it further.

It’s desperate. Terribly. Inevitable. You’re beautiful in a way that is undescribable, best expressed through his teeth on your neck and his hands all over where he can reach - each grip and thrust and bite a reminder. You’re pretty when you’re pleased, warmth reaching up inside of him whenever you make the right face.

He buries himself in you. You’re soft and warm and beautiful and he wants to stay with you. Time is a thief. He damns the sun when it tears you from him come morning.

__

He decides to make breakfast when you wake up. Nothing complicated. You go to shower after him and he plates up toast and eggs and other various things. It’s half done when you come downstairs.

Your skin is still damp, and you smell of vanilla and soap. Your coffee sits in a cup on the table as you pad over to him. He turns to look at you as you reach your hand up and cup his face. You pepper a kisses along his cheeks stopping at his lips for the last one before you’re satisfied.

He fails in his attempt not to blush.

“Morning.” You grin. He tries not to be sick at the domesticity of it all and fails.

“Yeah. Morning.”

You sit at the counter and drink your coffee, glancing outside the window. “It’s bright outside.”

Odxny can’t tear his eyes off of you. “Yeah...” He agrees. He’s not torn his gaze away. “Very bright.”

✮ a/n ; i want all real life compsci men to kick rocks but odxny sweeped me off my feet in a way i can only describe as humiliating. he is a bit like astarion for me in that i see a lot of myself in him at least in the past. he is also incredibly babygirl and uhm . other things (fine. he's very gorjus.) but i truthfully was most compelled by his idealized idea of isolation. as the fic will show it resonated with me as a fellow compsci dork who also tends to isolate like crazy LOL

this fic was like a demon that possessed me. literally no meds, no caffiene - just balls to the wall demonic possesion of needing something out of my system LMAOO. and adhd of course. im working on all the other stuff too i promise. consider this a short interlude 👍🏾

[darlingsblackbook]

Distant Echeos - 5

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Arranged marriage AU

Summary : Seeing how his behaviour has affected you, Gojo decided to change for the best. However, your trust has already been broken, is there still a chance he could mend it?

Warnings : Gojo

AN : Part one, Part two, Part Three, Part Four

The penthouse was quieter than ever. Even with Gojo back, the silence seemed heavier, thicker, like a blanket that smothered everything. I had gotten used to the silence, to the way it filled every room in his absence. When he was away, it felt like the space was my own—like I could navigate the days without walking on eggshells. Now that he was here, though, the quiet felt suffocating. Every noise, every subtle movement seemed to carry an unspoken tension.

I wasn’t sure why he’d started coming home more. For weeks—months, even—he was barely around. It had been easier that way. Easier to accept that our marriage was nothing more than an arrangement. Easier to believe that maybe he felt the same way I did—trapped, but resigned. Now, though, his sudden presence felt intrusive. I didn’t know how to act around him. Didn’t know what he was trying to accomplish by being here more often.

It wasn’t that I hated him. I didn’t. But I didn’t know him. Not really. And after so long of living in parallel lives, it felt impossible to bridge the gap between us.

That morning, like clockwork, I heard his footsteps in the kitchen. It had become a new routine of sorts—the only one we shared. He would come home, make coffee, sit at the table for a bit, and then leave again. Only now, he was staying longer. Lingering in the living room. Occasionally, I’d catch him glancing in my direction, as if he were trying to gauge my mood. But I avoided his eyes. It was easier that way.

I pretended to read a book, though my eyes kept wandering over the same paragraph. It was hard to focus when I knew he was there, moving around in the background. I heard the sound of a mug being set down on the coffee table. He was trying to be quiet, as if not to disturb me, but I could feel the tension radiating from him.

“Hey,” he said softly, and I stiffened slightly.

His voice was softer now, not the casual, confident tone I had come to expect. I hesitated before glancing up from the book. “Hi,” I mumbled, barely meeting his gaze before quickly looking away again.

There was a pause, and I could feel him watching me, as if waiting for me to say more. But I didn’t. The air between us felt thick, awkward. I shifted uncomfortably on the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around my legs.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked after another long silence.

I nodded. It wasn’t entirely true. My sleep had been restless lately, my mind a swirl of confusing emotions I didn’t know how to sort through. But I didn’t feel like explaining that to him. I wasn’t sure he even wanted to know.

Gojo sighed softly and leaned back in his chair. “I made coffee,” he added, as if that were some kind of peace offering.

I glanced at the cup sitting on the table, the steam curling lazily into the air. “Thanks,” I muttered, but I didn’t reach for it.

He watched me for a moment longer, then shifted in his seat. “I was thinking… maybe we could have breakfast together?”

The suggestion caught me off guard. I glanced up at him, blinking in surprise. “Breakfast?”

“Yeah,” he said, trying to sound casual, but there was something almost hesitant in his tone. “You know, we could sit down… talk a bit. If you’re up for it.”

My first instinct was to say no. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate the gesture, but the idea of sitting down with him, of trying to force a conversation when there was so much unspoken tension between us—it felt overwhelming. I didn’t know what to say to him, didn’t know how to act like everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t.

“I’m not really hungry,” I said quietly, looking back down at my book.

“Oh,” he said, and I could hear the faint note of disappointment in his voice. “That’s okay.”

He didn’t push. He just sat there for a moment longer, the silence growing heavier with each passing second. I felt guilty, but I didn’t know how to make things better. It wasn’t like I didn’t want to try… but everything felt so fragile, so uncertain.

Eventually, Gojo stood up. “I’ll be heading out later,” he said, his voice carefully neutral. “Work stuff. But I’ll be back tonight, so… if you change your mind, maybe we can have dinner instead?”

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure if I would actually take him up on the offer. He lingered in the doorway for a moment, as if waiting for me to say something more. But when I didn’t, he left the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

The day dragged on, uneventful as usual. I had gotten used to spending my days alone, filling the hours with meaningless tasks just to pass the time. I cleaned, I read, I wandered aimlessly through the penthouse. It was an empty routine, but it was mine. It was easier than facing the awkwardness that came with Gojo’s sudden attempts at closeness.

By the time evening rolled around, I had almost convinced myself that Gojo wouldn’t come home. That he would disappear again, like he always did, and I could go back to the familiar silence. But when the door opened, and I heard his footsteps in the hallway, I felt that same tightness in my chest—anxiety mixing with uncertainty.

I stayed in my room, not ready to face him. I heard him moving around, the sound of cabinets opening and closing in the kitchen. It was strange how aware I had become of his presence, like I could sense every little movement he made.

“Y/N?” His voice called from the other room, and I tensed slightly.

I didn’t respond right away. I wasn’t sure if I should. My mind raced with all the things I wanted to say, but the words seemed stuck in my throat. Why was he doing this now? Why, after so long of being distant, was he suddenly trying to act like we were… normal?

“I made dinner,” he said, his voice closer now. He must have been standing just outside my door. “I don’t know if you’re hungry, but… it’s there if you want it.”

I hesitated. Part of me wanted to go out, to sit with him and try to act like we could have a normal conversation. But the other part of me—the part that had spent months in silence, the part that had learned not to expect anything from him—kept me rooted in place.

“I’m not really hungry,” I said quietly, repeating the same excuse I had given him earlier.

There was a long pause, and I could feel the disappointment in the air, even without seeing his face. “Alright,” he said finally. “Maybe another time.”

I listened to his footsteps retreat down the hall, the sound of him moving back to the kitchen. I stayed in my room, curled up on my bed, my thoughts swirling in a mess of confusion. Why was he trying so hard all of a sudden? And why did it feel like the more he tried, the more distant I became?

Over the next few days, Gojo kept trying. He started small—offering to cook, making coffee, asking if I needed anything before he left for work. It was all things that should have made me feel… something.

Grateful, maybe. Or at least appreciative. But instead, I felt skeptical. Uncertain. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just temporary—that any moment now, he would go back to the way he was before.

One evening, I was sitting at the dining table, staring at the untouched plate of food he had made for me. He had gone out of his way to prepare something nice, something he thought I would like, but my appetite had been non-existent lately. I poked at the food with my fork, feeling a pang of guilt.

Gojo sat across from me, watching me with a careful expression. “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to,” he said after a long silence.

I glanced up at him, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” I murmured, my voice barely audible. “I’m just… not hungry.”

He nodded, but I could see the frustration flicker in his eyes. He was trying so hard, but it wasn’t working. I wasn’t responding the way he wanted me to, and I didn’t know how to fix that.

“Is everything okay?” he asked quietly, leaning forward slightly. “You’ve been… quiet. More than usual.”

I stiffened at his words, my fingers tightening around the fork. I didn’t know how to answer that. I didn’t know how to explain that I didn’t know what to feel anymore—that I was caught between wanting to try and being too afraid to trust his sudden change in behavior.

“I’m fine,” I said, though it sounded hollow, even to my own ears.

Gojo sighed softly, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t have to pretend, you know. If something’s bothering you, you can talk to me.”

Gojo's words hung in the air, and I felt a lump form in my throat. Could I talk to him? Could I open up after months of silence, after letting the gap between us grow wider and wider? He was trying—really trying—and part of me felt guilty for not meeting him halfway. But the other part of me was terrified. Terrified of what might happen if I let myself hope that things could be different.

"I don't..." I trailed off, unsure of what to say. "I don't know what to talk about."

It wasn’t a lie. I had spent so much time keeping my thoughts to myself, locking them away where they couldn’t hurt me, that now it felt impossible to untangle them. What would I even say? That I didn’t understand why he was acting differently? That I was afraid he’d leave again, that this new version of him wouldn’t last?

Gojo's blue eyes softened as he watched me. "We don’t have to talk about anything deep. Just... you. Your day. Anything, really."

His words were kind, but they only made the distance between us feel more suffocating. He was trying to reach out, and all I could do was pull back further. I stared at the untouched food on my plate, feeling my stomach twist with unease.

"There's nothing to talk about," I said quietly, pushing the plate away from me slightly. "Nothing’s changed."

I didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh, but Gojo’s expression shifted. There was a flicker of something—hurt, maybe—before he masked it with a sigh. He leaned back in his chair, his hand brushing over the back of his neck in frustration.

He was trying. I knew that. But I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t know how to be around him when things were so different now.

"I get it," Gojo said after a long pause, his voice quieter than usual. "You don't have to force yourself. If you need space... I understand."

It was supposed to be reassuring, but it only made me feel more conflicted. Space? Wasn't that what we had already? Wasn't that the problem? For months, we’d been distant, living separate lives under the same roof. And now, when he was finally trying to close that gap, I was the one pulling away.

I wanted to say something. I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t trying to push him away—that I just didn’t know how to deal with the sudden shift in our dynamic. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I just nodded, the tension between us thickening once again.

Over the next few days, Gojo's attempts to be present didn’t stop. He stayed home more, tried to engage in casual conversations, even offered to help with small tasks around the penthouse. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of skepticism that had settled in my chest. I kept wondering if this was temporary—if he would eventually get tired of trying and return to his old, distant self.

One evening, I was in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner. Gojo had offered to cook again, and I hadn’t had the heart to refuse. The meal was fine—good, even—but the unease I felt in his presence made it hard to enjoy anything.

As I scrubbed the dishes, I heard his footsteps approach. I didn’t look up, focusing on the water running over my hands. There was a moment of silence before Gojo spoke.

"Need any help?"

I shook my head. "No, I’ve got it."

He hesitated, and I could feel him watching me. I half-expected him to insist, to try and help despite my refusal. But instead, he just stood there for a moment longer before stepping back.

"Okay," he said quietly. "If you need anything, just let me know."

The silence that followed was heavy. I could feel the tension between us, the unspoken words lingering in the air. I wanted to tell him that I appreciated his efforts—that I saw what he was trying to do. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Why now? Why, after so long, was he suddenly trying to fix things? It didn’t make sense to me, and the uncertainty gnawed at my thoughts.

When I finished the dishes, I wiped my hands on a towel and turned to find Gojo sitting at the dining table, his head resting in one hand as he stared down at his phone. The light from the screen illuminated his features, and for a moment, he looked... tired. Not physically, but emotionally. Like he was carrying something heavy on his shoulders.

I hesitated in the doorway, unsure of what to do. Part of me wanted to approach him, to ask what was really going on. But another part of me—the part that had grown used to keeping my distance—held me back. I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear whatever he had to say.

So, instead, I quietly turned and headed to my room.

Days passed, and the tension only grew. Gojo was still trying—still making an effort to be around, to connect. But the more he tried, the more distant I felt. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate his gestures. I did. But I couldn’t stop questioning them, couldn’t stop wondering if this was just another part of the charade we were both trapped in.

One night, I was sitting on the couch, curled up in my usual spot with a blanket draped over my legs. Gojo had come home late, but instead of retreating to his room like he used to, he sat down on the opposite end of the couch.

He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at the TV screen, which I had left on for background noise. I didn’t look at him, keeping my focus on the show playing on the screen, though I wasn’t really paying attention to it.

After a few minutes, Gojo spoke.

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

The question caught me off guard. I blinked, turning my head slightly to glance at him. His blue eyes were fixed on me, a serious expression on his face. It wasn’t the casual, teasing tone he usually used. He looked... concerned. Genuine.

I hesitated, my throat tightening. “I’m fine,” I replied, though it felt like the most distant version of the truth.

He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned back on the couch, letting out a soft sigh.

“I know things have been... strange,” he said after a pause. “And I know I haven’t been the best... husband.” The word seemed to catch in his throat, as if it was unfamiliar. “But I’m trying.”

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “Why?” The question slipped out before I could stop it. My voice was quiet, almost hesitant, but it was the question that had been lingering in my mind for days.

Gojo looked at me, his brows furrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Why now?” I asked, my voice a little stronger this time. “Why are you suddenly trying to... fix things?”

He stared at me for a long moment, and I could see the conflict in his eyes. There was something he wasn’t saying—something deeper behind his sudden change in behavior. But instead of answering, he just sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, his voice quiet. “I just... don’t want things to stay the way they’ve been.”

I looked away, my heart sinking. His answer didn’t reassure me. It only made me feel more uncertain, more distant. I didn’t know how to trust him—not when things had been so strained for so long.

“I think I’m going to bed,” I said softly, standing up from the couch.

Gojo didn’t stop me, but as I walked away, I could feel his gaze lingering on me, heavy with something unspoken. And as I closed the door to my room behind me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how hard he tried, the distance between us wasn’t something we could fix overnight.

Alone in my room, I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the blank wall in front of me. Gojo’s words echoed in my mind, but they didn’t bring me any comfort. I wanted to believe that he was trying for the right reasons—that maybe we could find some way to make this work. But the walls I had built around myself felt impenetrable, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to let them down.

Maybe I never would be.

All Rights Reserved © 2024 DarlingsBlackBook

Taglist : @kalopsia-flaneur @lov3vivian @junslay @alinasromanova @tqd4455 @roscpctals99

[shinne55]

**Silent Confession**

Victor Grantz x Reader

Summary: Victor receives an anonymous letter on Valentine's Day.

Words in a conversation come and go: lies that hurt and secrets between paragraphs. Speaking in person is too complex. That’s why Victor took this job—nothing can escape in a letter. There are no hidden meanings; everything can be said from the depth of the heart. So, as a postman, he has the faithful task of delivering each letter to its destination.

It’s an honest and satisfying job. Happy, sad, bitter, or innocent faces hide behind every writer and their recipient. For the young man who didn’t speak, a letter is the purest and most sincere thing, more than an entire face-to-face conversation.

During the holidays, when the letters fill the mailbox, the busier he gets and the less time he has. Christmas, New Year, and birthdays follow, but above all, Valentine’s Day. A complicated date for a small postman, but highly appreciated by those who wish to find love. Knowing that within each envelope there is a destiny in motion made his young heart flutter.

Even though Victor had worked in his community for several months, he didn’t know the people by their names but by their letters.

The mother who writes with beautiful handwriting, pressing the pencil firmly as she writes to her husband and children away from the city.

The little ones who presumably write to Santa with scribbles and drawings.

And the lovers with their colored papers and perfumes.

On Valentine’s Day, the latter group increases noticeably.

During one of those nights, when he arrived home with his companion, Wick, a small dog that follows him everywhere, changed out of his uniform, and got ready to sleep, right after hanging his jacket and emptying his bag, a letter fell to the floor. Immediately, his eyes widened, and he looked inside his bag. It was the only letter that had slipped in the entire day, stuck with a cheap seal on the wall. A small square letter in a vermilion envelope with no name or address.

His eyebrows furrowed, and, determined to violate the author’s privacy, he opened the letter.

**To the postman

Thank you for your hard work**

No sender, no signature. An anonymous letter.

Was that it? A letter for him?

A thank you that would seem crude and silly to anyone else, but to the young mailman, a true feeling of recognition struck his chest, and immediately his cheeks turned peachy with happiness.

That night, he lay on his bed, thinking about the author. Whether it was a joke or not, he didn’t care. It moved him enough to appreciate the message. He slept with the letter open on his nightstand, and in the following days, when he returned home tired from work, he would look at that letter on his desk, under the bedside light. And his chest swelled with confidence.

The next of many letters came two weeks later. Same paper, same handwriting, and no sender.

**Dear postman

I don’t know if my letter really reached you. But I truly hope it did. Thank you for your service, without you, the community would have no real connection.**

The boy could feel the interaction as a small comfort or recognition, making him feel that his effort and dedication didn’t go unnoticed. If only he had their name, he would write them a thank-you letter. Sadly, many of these letters were taken from the mailbox. And very few were delivered directly to him.

Victor is, among many of the postman in his town, just another worker, and he didn’t have much speaking ability. He relied on listening and reading lost letters and pleasant conversations. Even so, he didn’t go unnoticed by some. Over time, he earned the trust of the older writers and neighbors who had the habit of writing almost daily and waiting for his response. So, thanks to that first letter, perhaps, Victor gained more confidence.

A couple of months later, with a one-sided connection on his part, and after several failed attempts to identify the address of the sender, he gave up and settled on reading them when he left work. A routine of preparing a cold glass of milk on the small table next to his bed, taking a couple of sips while reading these letters, which over time became longer. With little everyday things like the weather, funny town events, and annual celebrations. Until, weeks before Christmas, the last letter arrived.

**To the Dear Postman Victor**

He smiled. After several months, they had finally used his name in the letter, and that one-sided connection became more intimate. Sometimes it started with, *"My favorite postman,"* or a formal, *"Dear Victor."* All very polite until the author began recounting their day-to-day life. He knew much more about her life than his own. Everything except her name.

Calmly, with his dog snoring at the foot of the bed, he continued reading:

**"I’m sorry for sending these strange letters for so long. The truth is, I just wanted someone to talk to."**

Victor stopped reading and straightened his back against the headboard of the bed:

**"My mother passed away months ago, and my father three years ago. I’ve felt so alone, but the idea that someone would read one of these letters, and that it would be you, brings me comfort. But it’s also likely that I scared you or someone else. I’m truly sorry. It won’t happen again."**

No more letters arrived.

Was something happening to her during these months when she didn’t write? Was she feeling lonely and planning to do something drastic?

For many days, he was afraid. He knew loneliness and what it did to people firsthand. But it felt far worse knowing he couldn’t do anything to help her change her mind.

He waited a day, then a week, but that vermilion-colored paper, with those homemade seals, didn’t appear in any mailbox in the city. Victor was the only one responsible for collecting letters in that area, so it didn’t make sense for them not to show up.

“Are you looking for someone who lost her mother this year?” an old woman from the bakery he regularly visited asked. “Hmm, there’s a girl, yes. She hasn’t been seen lately. She usually comes to shop during the week. On Tuesdays, I think.”

*During the week—that’s when my shift begins, and I pick up the letters,* Victor thought.

Despite being reserved, the concern on his face and his written manner prompted the woman to share more details.

**[Who is she?]**

It was good he had his notebook on hand to communicate. Even though his hand trembled, and his writing was messy, the woman understood what he wanted to ask.

**[YN]**

**[Where does she live?]** he wrote quickly. Wrapped in his winter uniform and a scarf, he hid his nervousness with the cold.

“On Central Avenue, four blocks down.”

He grabbed his pencil again and wrote:

**[Do you know if she has any relatives or friends in the city?]**

The question puzzled the woman, and she hesitated to answer.

“You look like a good boy. You remind me of my grandson. No, she lives alone as far as I know. You know, he wasn't a... very good man. The poor girl has been accompanying her mother in mourning ever since. ”

Victor was already running, fast, faster than when he tried to deliver late packages or when chasing Wick for stealing his parcels.

He abandoned his usual calm demeanor and ran toward the address the woman had mentioned, clinging to hope. And there it was—a small house with a well-kept garden separating Victor from her. It was winter now, and a layer of snow covered everything in pristine white—the streets, rivers, and even her garden.

*Should I do this?* He didn’t know her in person, but after ten months of letters, he felt like he had known her his whole life.

Even so, he knocked gently, not brave enough to ring the doorbell further ahead.

Although she might not feel the same. Although she might think she was bothering him, Victor waited for her letter every day. He wanted to know about her life, every little detail. He wanted to hear her laugh, cry, and see her in person.

And even if they had never met before—

“Hello?”

He wanted to be by her side.

What words could he offer? What could he say when he had never spoken to her before?

“Victor?”

As he stood there, sweating, lungs and brain on the verge of collapsing, he stopped and saw her—you—for the first time. Just as he had imagined and more. His words couldn’t describe the wave of emotions he felt seeing you there, safe.

You were surprised it was him. He didn’t know your name or your address. That’s why you never included it. You had overthought it, assuming it would be awkward—and it was.

When Victor extended his arms with several letters in hand and a determined expression, your face shifted to concern and embarrassment.

“So, you read them all. I’m sorry.”

Quickly, he held the letters tightly to his chest, and his expression seemed to tell you not to apologize. Victor leaned down, his gaze full of tenderness, more so than Wick’s by his side. Somehow, the way his eyes reminded you of summer leaves and his hair of sunlight made you feel undeserving of something so good.

“You don’t know anything about me, you only know me through those silly letters.”

He shook his head, his eyebrows raising in protest. *Silly? Not at all.* When you saw him take out his notebook and scribble something with a pencil, you were puzzled to read it.

**[I know the girl who loves iced coffee at night, who loves animals as much as I love Wick.]**

“Please, go. You’re not doing any good staying here.”

You were about to turn and shut the door when Wick bit at the fabric of your pants. You tried shaking him off, only for Victor to grab your wrist.

His mouth trembled, his lips pressing together before forming anything more than a murmur. It felt cruel to turn your back on someone who, despite his disability, was trying to help you.

“I… like you.”

No one had ever heard him speak. People assumed he couldn’t. He spoke clumsily when it came to you, but he spoke. His voice, breathless yet soft, like cream in coffee, melted your heart to hear it.

“No! It’s impossible. No one could love me. You’re lying.”

Why wouldn’t anyone love you? Who had made you believe that? If someone thought they could never be loved that way, Victor assumed it would have been him—not someone like you.

He searched his pockets, his gaze panicking until Wick barked and placed an envelope on the ground. Victor patted his head and handed it to you.

Vermilion—the color of your letters. However, this one had a sender.

**To YN, from Victor.**

**[You opened your heart to me, YN, in a way no one else ever has. And now, I have to give you mine.]**

“Victor…” You clutched the letter.

He gave you a broken smile, encouraging you to read it fully.

**[You will live a long life, YN, watching the sunset every evening. You won’t ever be alone again. I just need one thing.]**

The letter ended there.

“But what is it that you want?”

He pointed to himself. He placed his hands, loosely balled into fists, over his heart, as if hugging something precious. Then, he took your hands and intertwined them over your chest.

“I don’t understand… Why? Aren’t you tired of hearing from me and reading about me?”

He wrote something else in his notebook:

**[I could listen to you my entire life.]**

You didn’t fully understand, but with him, words weren’t necessary.

**[I’ve met many people in my life, but none like you. I found you, YN. I won’t let you go. I love you.]**

You felt foolish. Every emotion you’d suppressed spilled out like crystalline pearls. You couldn’t say anything, but you hugged him like you’d always been searching for him, while he had been waiting for you.

In that moment, Victor knew he had found love in your silence.

[cowgurrrl]

Nobody asked but here are my headcanons for Joel as the ultimate girl dad™️

Gets Ellie into a routine as soon as possible so she knows what to expect in her day-to-day life. There’s not much he can guarantee outside of their home but he can make sure she eats, does her homework, and is off to bed at the same time every night.

Speaking of bed, he’s the dad who has a STRICT bedtime set. He can’t sleep until he knows Ellie is safe in bed and even though she’s a teenager he still makes her be in bed by 10 but he absolutely can be persuaded to let her stay up with a long game of cards, guitar lessons, or a movie.

Before Ellie, he would’ve been reckless if it meant keeping Jackson safe but now that he knows she’s relying on him he does things slower and safer.

Maria teaches him how to cut hair so he can help Ellie because he knows how hard it is for her to trust other people especially when they have something that could be used as a weapon so close to her head.

Definitely pushed her into the river while teaching her how to swim. She was pissed and didn’t talk to him until after dinner.

Ellie becomes known as “Joel’s girl” and neither of them correct anybody who says it

Slips notes into Ellie’s backpack when she’s not looking so when she gets to math class and opens her notebook, a sticky note with Joel all-caps handwriting falls out and reads, Why was the toilet paper unstoppable? And on the other side it says, because it was on a roll

He laughed about it for ten minutes before forgetting about it

Ellie secretly keeps all of his notes in a box under her bed

Teaches her how to play football in the spring when all the snow has melted and accuses her of cheating when she scores against him

“How could I cheat? It’s fucking football!” “You’re abusing an old man, you know that?”

Although Ellie never calls Joel dad, there’s an unspoken agreement between them. Joel hated Father’s Day after Sarah died but that Father’s Day they settled, two bouquets of flowers show up on the dining room table with a note from Ellie.

Saw these and thought of you, the note reads. One from me and one from her.

He cries the first time he gets them. He can’t remember the last time anyone gave him flowers.

Lord help the teacher who has to call Joel in for his first parent-teacher conference in twenty years. Everyone is Jackson knows how protective he is over Ellie and her teacher is only slightly terrified of him.

Ellie constantly steals Joel’s shirts and he pretends not to notice

He’s always looking for new tapes for her Walkman and asks every group that comes through Jackson if they have anything

Ellie ends up with three new tapes to listen to by the end of their first year of being settled

Joel knows he’s probably doing a million things wrong and danger is always lurking and the time they have together is fleeting but he does his best to be good for her. He apologizes when he yells, he shows up to her first guitar recital, and constantly reminds her how loved she is even if there aren’t always words exchanged

Sometimes it’s a hug, the squeeze of a hand, or a ruffle of hair but they both know it means so much more. Giving and receiving affection would’ve been seen as a show of weakness in Boston, a vulnerability that others can play into. Here, love doesn’t have to hide or be shunned to the dark corners of their lives. They can just be.

Who knew Ellie tripping Joel while playing football in the spring meadow meant so much more than anyone else thought?

Tumblr if you delete my last paragraph one more time I’m going to gnaw my arm off

[skufdaddyswansea]

Sorry for the kind of spam, but I’m also wondering about your thoughts on Anya? Despite her, Swansea, Jimmy and Curly being the older “OG” crew and Daisuke being the newbie, there’s more of a divide between her and the rest of the crew. It’s Daisuke and Swansea, Curly and Jimmy, and then Anya. She doesn’t really seem to be anyone’s first choice.

I have a lot of thoughts on Anya! They're all kind of scattered because I haven't put the time in to sort them out in my head yet, but I find her super interesting. Probably the most tragic member of the crew but maybe that's stating the obvious.

(Okay I blabbed for like 8+ paragraphs again so I'm putting a cut here to spare people. Sorry for talking your ear off, but also thanks for the questions!!)

You are right, Swansea and Daisuke grew much closer to each other than either seemed to be with Anya. It makes sense given the internship situation and how their own respective issues played into each other, but it does suck that Anya ended up being so isolated. Especially considering how much longer Anya must have known Swansea.

I wish we could have seen more of it, but we do get some little hints that she at least got along with Swansea and Daisuke. Like at the party, she and Swansea are the only two people standing together, and she teases him about actually enjoying the shitty cake. I thought that was really cute. It's interesting to see that they have kind of a positive relationship even though Swansea also says some pretty shitty stuff to/about her. I wonder if, like Daisuke, she can tell that it's just kind of how he speaks and he doesn't really mean anything by it. Especially because she trusts him enough to tell him about Jimmy. Although that could have been out of desperation at that point too. Curious to hear what other people think about their relationship!

With Daisuke, it seems like it's pretty difficult not to be cool with him. As for how close they actually were, there's the Ludo game where Curly talks about Anya getting super mad at him for being so lucky. For a person like Anya I feel like being able to show that means she was pretty comfortable with him. (It's also the correct response to playing Ludo. Fuck that game.)

As for some other off-the-cuff thoughts:

This is kind of a chicken or the egg situation, but she struggles a lot with her self confidence, and the way the crew treats her just reinforces it. Like, she's trying to do her job, but when the crew won't co-operate she literally can't, but even though she can't control that she just accepts that it's her own fault, because that's what everyone else says.

Jimmy always gives her shit about having to give Curly his medication, but when she tells him she can do it herself he just shuts her down. Even when she doesn't ask him to do it. So she internalizes that and convinces herself that she really can't. But she kept the guy alive in that condition, with limited supplies, for like, 3 or 4 months. She can't really be as incompetent as everyone is telling her she is. I know there's some suspension of belief involved as well but I still think she deserves that credit where it's due.

On a similar note, I think the other reason she has trouble giving Curly the medicine, and hearing him struggle in pain, is because she feels guilty. Like, I think she blames herself for the crash.

Remember that first time you give Curly the medicine? When you talk to Anya again she asks why he did it. Then later we find out that right before the crash, she was talking to him about Jimmy and the pregnancy again. She thinks she sent him over the edge. Not to mention she was supposed to be making sure they were both mentally fit to fly. Obviously it's not her fault that Jimmy assaulted her, and it's not her fault that they refused to be honest about their problems with her.

You could say that if Jimmy's problem is that he can't take responsibility, Anya's problem is that she takes on too much of it, even when it's not hers to carry. And sometimes against her own will.

One more half-baked thought: I don't like to diagnose characters when it's not a clear/important part of the narrative, but I do think Anya takes part in some potentially compulsive behaviour.

When she has her conversation with Curly about the crew quarters not having locks, Curly mentions safety. We then see the word flash on the screen in the way key words or phrases often do.

At some point later, Daisuke mentions that ever since the crash Anya has been religiously reading the safety manual. I thiiiink there was at least one more time where it pops up, but I might have to go through the game to refresh my memory. I thought that was an interesting but fairly easy to miss little Anya trait.

All this to say Anya deserved a nice beach vacation and a stiff drink. (One without any mouthwash OR isopropyl alcohol, even!)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA - me and my bestfriend (bsf) of six years recently got into a 2 week long argument and at this point have stopped talking. First i need to provide some back ground of the situation. Last November i became friends with “J”. This itself caused some arguments because they have similar names and sometimes i’d slip and call bsf, J, on accident and would immediately apologize. After a couple times of this happening she got really upset but i explained i’d been doing the same to J and she seemed to be less upset about it.

In the beginning of January, J and her bestfriend “E” got into some pretty serious drama where information from both sides never matched up but i’d known and used to be friends with E for a while. He is not a great guy speaking from past experience. (he constantly talks about how he’s a narcissist very proudly) He was claiming they had slept together and was telling all of his friends about it. She was saying they hadn’t. These rumors had been going around for months about them but had died down until this. the problem is i believed J but bsf was close with E and sided with him. I’d like to make a note through this entire situation neither me or bsf played any roll in it to my knowledge. this was just between E and J. Later on i found out they had slept together from J and asked why she had said they hadnt she said it was an agreement between the two of them that they wouldn’t say anything to anyone else because of the rumors people were already spreading about them being together. But once she found out it was definitely him telling people this time she told me the truth. yeah they had slept together then he forced her to take a plan B even though he knew she was on birth control and they’d used a condom. then ghosted her and pretended not to know her when asked by Js twins sisters best-friend.

Now it’s about 3 weeks ago where i posted two separate story’s saying how much i loved J and her sister and the other about how much i love bsf. about 10 minutes later bsf texted me “just delete this.” i of course asked why but she never responded so i took it down like she asked. later that day she reply’s to a text i had sent her the day before saying “nothing much just wishing i was hanging out with you” she replied “right.” at this point i’m genuinely confused what’s happening i had a feeling it was about J somehow because every time i posted about J it would be the one thing she didn’t like or comment on and she would get annoyed when i’d mention some thing me and J had done recently. i immediately replied with “of course, i love hanging out with you. your my best friend” A couple hours later she send me a three paragraph message saying how she didn’t think that anymore because i was ignoring everything she was telling me about what E was saying. That i was only taking J’s side and always talking about what J was saying about her side. She said I was using her as a separate option that if J couldn’t hang out i would call her. etc at the end of the message she told me she would never make me choose but that she will never trust anything J says. (they’ve literally never met or talked the only thing she hears about J is through E or me) she ends it with do whatever you want to do but don’t do anything for me. keep being friends with her idk i’m keeping my distance from all that. I replied with a message basically saying that she wasn’t the second option, i wasn’t sure who to trust, and that i try to avoid talking about the situation with J. we go back and forth with her apologizing for how she’s acting then getting mad about me not just believing her over everything else i’m being told. Then she tried to claim she never said J was wrong but that she knows she’s lied to me (the thing i mentioned in the first paragraph is the only time she’s lied to me) that she never picked a side and that she can’t believe how hurt she feels when “i’m supposed to be her bestfriend” i brought up the fact that i had asked her more than once if me being friends with her bothered her and she always said no. That this wouldn’t have exploded like this if we could have talked it out before. she took that as me saying this was all her fault.

A couple days later she messages me asking to talk in person i say when and where but she just send me a message about her feelings anyways again apologizing for how she’s acting and that she felt i wasn’t listening to her but it hurt more to lose me etc but continuing to say she doesn’t think i should be friends with J but it’s my choice. I reply i was listening but i think we were both just trying to find the facts in a situation we will never really know who was lying 100%. but i made a point in the massage to say i wasn’t going to stop being friends with J and that i didn’t understand why me and bsf relationship was so affected by me and J’s. She gets mad again bringing up a hate account that was made claiming J had made it but J had shown me that she hadn’t and it was investigated by our school who also said she didn’t do it. that it was my choice to be friends with her but that i don’t understand how it’s affecting her and that it wasn’t fair. at this point i was really mad because it really felt like she was trying to force me to choose between them two in a way. i replied saying she hadn’t made the account and said i don’t think J is the reason we stopped talking and that i feel like she was making me choose even though she was saying she wasn’t. she then replied saying she didn’t make me choose but that i had chose J over her and “that i guess you though she needed more attention” (yeah maybe because J is not mentally handling this well at all and your fine because your not actually involved with this drama) i didn’t reply to her but about another week later i texted her “i just want to be friends with both of you. why can’t i do that” she replied i understand but i don’t think you should be friends with she’s not a good person but hope your having fun it’s all i wanted for you. that’s the end of the messages at this point.

TLDR : (do we do those here??) bestfriend of three years stopped talking to me because i became friends with another girl who later got into drama with best friends close friend E (A PROUDLY SELF PROCLAIMED NARCISSIST I MIGHT ADD)

What are these acronyms?

[the-magiarcheologist]

The secret life of Mathilda Weasley

I have a lot of questions about the life of Prof. Weasley before she came to Hogwarts.

First of all, Madam Kogawa tells us that Prof. Weasley was a curse-breaker for the Ministry of Magic.

...and that already raises questions! As far as I know, in the Harry Potter books and in Hogwarts Legacy, the only curse-breakers that we know of work for Gringotts. I think Prof. Weasley is the only curse-breaker we ever encounter that works for the Ministry of Magic.

But was she really working for the Ministry of Magic? In the "Art and Making of Hogwarts Legacy" book, there is a small paragraph about Prof. Weasley:

In this it says that she worked for the Ministry (where she was an 'invaluable asset', being sent on 'assignments' 👀) and then became a 'freelance' curse-breaker after she met a dashing yound wizard and went off to explore the world. So that's slightly different than what Madam Kogowa says in-game. Between the two I trust the information that we get in-game more.

And besides, further in our conversation with Madam Kogawa, she says that she met Prof. Weasley when she was in Japan and they "coordinated defensive efforts" while Kogawa herself worked for the Japanese Ministry of Magic.

I don't about you but to me "defensive efforts" sounds more like the job of an auror and not a curse-breaker. And it definitely sounds like Prof. Weasley was working for the British Ministry of Magic at that time if she collaborated with Kogowa who was working for the Japanese Ministry. Kogawa also says that she cannot tell us the specifics of her work for the Japanese Minsitry, making it all sound like it's classified information!

In Madam Kogowa's office we also find a letter from Prof. Weasley:

So we learn that they worked together near Yokohama harbour. A little research on Wikipedia tells me that Yokohama harbour was Japan's first port open to foreign ships. It opened in 1859 and after 1868 the port started trading a lot of silk with Great Britain.

But it looks like Prof. Weasley travelled a lot because she also met Prof. Onaï in Uganda. Prof. Onaï tells us that Prof. Weasley was well-known in the region and worked on "sharing magical knowledge between countries".

One thing that is remarkable though is that both Madam Kogawa and Prof. Onaï tell MC that we shouldn't ask Prof. Weasley about her time before Hogwarts. They both give the impression that whatever work Prof. Weasley was doing is something we shouldn't be talking about.

Anyway, with all that information, my impression is that Prof. Weasley was working as some kind of spy for the Ministry of Magic abroad. She used the whole 'freelance curse-breaker' as a cover and was either coordinating some secret military operations (like with Kogawa in Yokohama harbour) or making connections and gathering intel (in Uganda).

And it seems like some habits die hard because she is sort of spying on the students in Hogwarts too! She knows a lot about what MC but also Natty are up to. (At one point Natty says: "she knows more about me than I thought"). We also find this letter on her desk from the Minister for Magic himself thanking her for her thoughts on the seventh year students to recruit them for a job at the Ministry. So she is reporting some information about the students to the Ministry. But I suppose that is sort of normal for a deputy headmistress.

Anyway, all the secrecy intrigues me and I feel like there is a story there that we weren't told!

[books]

Hi! So, I’ve struggled A LOT with this in the past, and I was just wondering what a good way to outline a book was? I understand that there are many different ways to do it, and that it’s different for each person, but it’s hard to find good examples online on the different methods.

When we talk about outlining, we're often talking about structure, even though I think the best outlining also offers some connective tissue between the events of the story and the motivations and consequences of those events. My personal favorite outlining method is what I call a narrative outline, which is kind of like a reverse synopsis. In a narrative outline, you pretend you're explaining your story to someone very invested in it, who wants to know all about it. It's in paragraph form and written in your voice. It can be casual and incomplete. You can fill in the gaps with things like [FIGURE THIS OUT LATER]. Then you can take each paragraph you've written and make it into a chapter.

Sometimes, though, I don't even know enough about what I'm working on to do a narrative outline, and that's when I break out the tried and true four-part structure. This structure has served me well for many years, and even if it doesn't work for you, it's at least a place to start. Long-form stories generally have four major parts: exposition, rising action, climax, and denouement. I like to think of them as buckets in which I toss various scene ideas. The scene where characters A and B meet probably goes in exposition, which is the part concerned with establishing context and leading to an inciting incident. My characters getting to know one another would fall into the rising action bucket. Rising action involves raising stakes and escalating the tension. Then, the climax. This is when the rising action culminates into a major breaking point. Maybe my characters have a fight and break up. And lastly, my denouement, the action that falls in the aftermath of the climax. Here's where my characters, after some time apart, reunite.

Generally speaking, the halfway point of a story parallels the ending. If your halfway point is a major success of some kind, you likely will also have a happy ending. If your halfway point is a failure or a loss, you're probably writing a tragedy. Deciding off the bat, "Will this have a happy ending or a sad one?" will help you start putting events in order. Of course, there are also complicated or bittersweet endings, and those will also be reflected at the halfway point. For a complicated ending, your halfway point may be the most complex part of the book, the point with the least clarity. And a bittersweet ending will have a bittersweet middle.

Other writers have other structures they employ. There's Freytag's pyramid, which is two parts only: rising and falling action. There's the three-act play and the five-act play. There are the six stages and the eight key turning points. I've used all of these just to test them out, but I always end up back at my four parts. The trick to choosing an outlining method or an existing structure is to use it only as a jumping off point. It's a lot easier for me to start writing something knowing my job is just to fill four buckets. Often I end up with five parts instead of four. Don't box yourself in too much; as you begin writing, your story will let you know how it wants to be written. Trust your process and your intuition.

For those just joining us, @bettsfic is running a writing workshop on @books this month. Want to know more? Start here.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Analysing my favourite lines from Six of Crows chapter by chapter: Chapter 3

As before, if there are any famous/popular lines missing it’s not because I don’t like them it’s just because I have nothing more to add to the analyses/ideas already present about them in the fandom. And if there are quotes that I haven’t analysed that’s just because I wanted to include it as a favourite quote but didn’t have anything to say explanation-wise.

This is a long chapter, so I’ll see how this goes and maybe split it into two parts.

“It would have been easy to make peace. Kaz could have told Jesper that he knew he wasn’t dirty, reminded him that he'd trusted him enough to make him his only real second in a fight that could have gone badly wrong tonight."

- this is really important for me because it tells us so much about Kaz and Jesper’s relationship in so few words, as well as telling us about the characters individually as well. Kaz trusts Jesper but he can’t tell him that and keeps him at arms length: we understand that Kaz has intimacy and/or commitment issues in both platonic and romantic relationships (since at this point in time the nature of their relationship hasn’t been explored but is presented as platonic, and Kaz had not been specifically stated to have a romantic interest this early on we as the reader make early assumptions). The specificity of the verb “knew” is SO important to me as well, because we have just seen Kaz have Big Bolliger shot in the stomach on the suspicion he was dirty based on a hunch about him going to a different cafe for breakfast but he ‘knows’ with complete certainty that Jesper is absolutely trustworthy. So within barely a paragraph of Kaz’s first POV chapter we understand that Jesper, even if their relationship is complex or rocky, is incredibly important to him and that he has considerable faith in him. The choice to not “make peace”, however, even though “it would have been easy” tells us that Kaz either feels the active need to keep Jesper at a distance or is incapable of expressing the closeness he feels in their friendship. Obviously later we’re able to learn that these are both true in their own way, but the importance of it in this moment is that we are immediately tuned in to Kaz’s fear of emotional connection and invested in understanding why this is, or exactly what he struggled with. Six of Crows is a novel I’d consider to be well balanced between plot-driven and character-driven, but I definitely think that these opening chapters are very character driven so this kind of set up is what pulls us into the book and makes us desperate to keep reading.

“ ‘Another bribe?’

‘I’m a creature of habit’

‘Lucky for you, I am too’ ”

“If you couldn’t walk out by yourself through Ketterdam after dark, then you might as well hang a sign around your neck that read “soft” and lie down for a beating” - I don’t know that I can coherently explain this I just love it; the worldbuilding??? the start of this brilliant presentation of the city as effectively it’s own character, which is one of my favourite things Bardugo does in her descriptions of Ketterdam?? The character implications about Kaz??? The way it ties into his initial judgements of Wylan!???? Perfection

“He realised he felt… Saints, he almost felt hopeful. Maybe he should see a medik” - I just love this so much, it’s so funny and it’s so quintessentially Kaz, I absolutely adore it

“Usually, he liked the quiet. In fact, he would’ve happily sewn most people’s lips shut” - we should talk about this quote more as a fandom, you know, because it’s brilliant and it’s so funny and again it’s just so brilliantly Kaz in the opening pages of his perspective we get so much information about his worldview and understand him to be quite a humorous character despite the initial appearance of him from Inej’s POV. As the novels go on we see the others notice his jokes more often, but in that introductory chapter it was incredibly important that the reader received the same image of Kaz that the Black Tips did, so now we get to be introduced to the closest thing to a real version of Kaz. I think there’s still a prevalent understanding that we’re seeing a mask, but this feels more real than Dirtyhands does… if that makes sense? I could be rambling about nonsense

"He'd heard other members of the gang say she moved like a cat, but he suspected cats would sit attentively at her feet to learn her methods" - this is just such a brilliant description of what Inej can do, it gives us such a clear image without having to overexplain anything and it also introduces us to this idea of Kaz putting her on a pedestal.

' "And what god do you serve, then?"

"Whichever will grant me good fortune"

"I don't think gods work that way,"

"I don't think I care," '

"He didn't see her go, only sensed her absence" - I can't explain it but something about this is so achingly romantic to me.

"But the fact that she could simply erase herself bothered him. She didn't even have a scent. All people carried scents, and those scents told stories -" - It wasn't until someone asked me to make a post about this quote that I really thought about it and realised why it has always stuck out to me. You can see the post on my page if you're interested, but in essence I think it's really important that Kaz struggles with any sense of permanence, so the idea that the one person he cares about more than anything else in the world could vanish so completely, as though she never even existed in the first place, is genuinely frightening - especially to a boy who several times in these novels fears that he has begun to hallucinate. Kaz seems very aware that he's on the edge of something he identifies as going mad, and the concept of visual and auditory hallucinations - Jordie's voice in his head, the panic at thinking he must have hallucinated when he first sees a Tidemaker walk through a wall, the immediate fear of being attacked by a ghost, etc - is something that constantly chases him. Kaz has also spent the last 8 years of his life living in a world that continued on as though his brother never existed, the salt in the wound being that not even Rollins remembers them, so the awareness of that happening to Inej, someone he has come to care for in a way that is entirely new and incredibly overwhelming for him - "there would be no grand funerals for them, no marble markers to remember their names" "What will you leave behind, but corpses to be burned on the Reaper's Barge?" "Out to the Reaper's Barge for burning, like all paupers go" - is a deeply upsetting. This then becomes a parallel with Kaz specifically noting that he can smell soap on her in the Crooked Kingdom Bathroom Scene; in this moment she us cemented so strongly in view and becomes the tether between Kaz and his sanity by continuing to so obstinately exist in a world that doesn't seem to want her to.

"Ghosts, Kaz thought. A boy's fear, but it came with absolute surety. Jordie had come for his vengeance at last" - oh my goodness there's so much to unpack here. I have talked about this a bit before, I think it was in my (very long) post about the potential for Wylan and Kaz to become each other, but it is SO important to look at this quote and remember that when we first read it we haven't the faintest idea who Jordie is or what happened to him. With the ousting of Big Bolliger and all the talk about your gang being your family and that even if you're a liar and a thief, you don't lie to or steal from your own gang, my initial assumption upon reading this was that Jordie had once been in a gang with Kaz, one of them had betrayed the other, and it had ended with Kaz murdering him. But, of course, this is very far from the truth and this tells us so much heart-breaking information about the fact that Kaz blames himself for what happened to them. He wonders later what might have happened to them if he hadn't insisted they go and find the magician that was the first step leading them to Rollins and to Jordie's death, but we never get anything about Kaz blaming himself quite as outrightly as this, the rest of it is usually just implied. So why show us this now? I would argue because this is how Kaz genuinely feels and in the moment he thinks it he is too terrified, confused, and to some extent concerned for his sanity to push the feeling away. Everything we see beyond this point id the construct that he has convinced himself is how he feels: that it's Rollins' fault. Obviously Rollins is at least partially to blame for Jordie's death, but if I may quote myself from a previous post It's the city that kills him, Rollins is just the weapon it chooses. Jordie even says it himself - "The city's winning now, but you'll see who wins in the end". Kaz's genuine belief is that Jordie's death is his fault, but he is in far too fragile a mental state to cope with that truth (and when I say truth I mean the that it's the truth he believes that, not that it;s the truth it's his fualt because he was jsut a nine-year-old who wanted to see a magician that's a more than innocent act and, again, he was nine) so he instead exists within a façade that he has built for himself - even on top of the one he's built for everyone else. We also see a hatred of the feeling towards blaming Jordie later on in the novels, and this is incredibly important. It's almost as if the idea that it's his fault isn't even the truth, but that's a façade to overcome the ultimate horror of seeing Jordie as accountable for it all - "What do you think my forgiveness looks like Jordie?". But ultimately, this is still the warped view of the world instilled in Kaz and so many of the other citizens of Ketterdam, possibly Kerch as a whole, arguably placing the city and its infrastructure as the ultimate villain rather than the tools of it. (Wherein the tools are Rollins and Van Eck).

"The phantom was upon him, and he felt the sharp jab of a needle in his neck. A ghost with a syringe?" - This is just so funny I love it so much I think I've read SOC and CK near to twenty times each now and this still makes me laugh every damn time.

I'm going to split this into two parts from here because this is the splitting point in the chapter and this is already a pretty long post. Thanks so much for reading this, sorry it's been a while for me to post it. I'm loving this line-by-line analysis series already (I know this is only the second post but I'm still excited) but they do take a long time to put together, particularly because at this time I don't currently have an annotated version of either book. Although I am planning to buy fresh copies for the purposes of annotating them when I get the opportunity, I currently don't have my ideas recorded anywhere except this account so whenever I write a post I'm working entirely from memory beyond the actual quotes themselves (and sometimes including them too haha) or even coming up with new ideas as I write. Thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and if you have any questions please keep sending them in I know I haven't responded to any for a little while but I love getting them and I am working through my inbox, if a bit slowly :)

[sailor-hufflepuff]

darklina (or any pair you’d like) + “Midnight Sun”

(Sorry, just realized that that’s a book in the Twilight series after typing it out. 😂)

That would actually be a perfect title for a fic I’ve had in mind for a couple of years, but haven’t written because I don’t know if I have the emotional fortitude.

I ended up doing five paragraphs instead of five lines, because I have no self control.

******

The Sun Queen sits where she always sits: at the window seat, gazing out into the world. It doesn’t matter what room she’s in, or who she’s with; her husband, the servants, foreign dignitaries, the Grisha council, in her chambers or the war room or the dining hall. If there is no seat, she stands. The one single exception is the throne room, and only because “sit on the throne beside me” had been one of the conditions of their marriage. Even then, though, she sits in the white marble seat with a straight back, hands in her lap, face blank and eyes staring over the heads of the court, unseeing. Aleksander spent the first few years of their marriage fighting it, then decided to “let her have her temper tantrum”, and allowed her to do what she wished. Two decades later there has been no change, and he is growing frustrated. This is not the marriage he had envisioned when he dreamed of his Sun Summoner.

******

Something was wrong. For weeks Aleksander had been fighting a growing sense of dread, well honed by centuries of life. He had spies sent out, did a security check of the staff, cancelled all possible public events, and hunted for any sign of a conspiracy. And still, it hung at the back of his mind, ice cold and firm. He was in the council room, going over security protocols when it snapped… the very moment the entire palace was rocked to its foundations. People screamed, furniture fell over, vases broke, but he was dead to it all, standing, hand clutched over his heart where the tether - that vital link between he and his wife, spun by antlers, and destiny, and the making itself - was suddenly, horribly, gone.

******

It took four hours for them pry Alina’s body from his arms. She looked so peaceful there, a smile on her face - the first he had seen since the war - and ink staining her fingers from the note she wrote him before downing the poison that had been carefully crafted to kill an immortal. Even after the healers had taken her away to examine and prepare for her funeral, he knelt on the floor, arms empty, staring at nothing. All alone, in his grand palace, where no one knew his name. Alone. Alone. Alone.

********

The funeral is grand. The entire country is ordered to wear mourning bands around their arms, businesses are closed, and no music may be played. The court are arrayed in mourning colors, the women veiled, the men unshaven. There is utter silence as he stares at her body on the pyre; one of his advisors has given a brief speech about her life, but they had only read the words he had given them, or what was publicly available. Nothing personal. Because no one knew her. Her otkazastya friends had died in the war. Her few Grisha friends had been executed for treason. She had no family, never spoke to the servants or nobles, never joined in any social activity. She may have only bred dead for a week, but she had been a ghost for decades.

********

He wakes up in a war tent, still feeling the phantom flames of the pyre he had thrown himself on, rather than face an eternity alone. As Ivan runs him through his schedule for the day, he is handed a manifest for a fold crossing and he stares, fixated on one name. Alina is here. She is alive. She believes herself otkazatsya, and when he cut away those ties he didn’t bother to make sure she had new ones. Alone amongst Grisha, and unable to trust him, she had been nothing and no one, her note said. The paper crumpled in his fist. Not this time. This time, would be different.

*****

[nerdieforpedro]

Part Seven of "The Lake Between Us"

Merging Star Clusters

Ezra AU x Seraphina (plus size OFC)

Word Count: 1252

Warnings: surprisingly none! 😄

Summary: Ezra's got all his favorite ladies in one place. Seraphina and Cee finally meet.

Notes: Usually, Nerdie brings the family drama, but for Ezra (and my last slivers of sanity), I left that alone this time. This fic is easy, like Sunday morning or whenever you happen to read this.

Main Masterlist/ Ezra Masterlist/ The Lake between Us Series

Cee noted that something was different about her guardian when he stood next to his truck to pick her and Zoe up. He of course took their suitcases like always and brought them in for hugs, never judging her for her choice of partner. Some days, she thought he preferred she was with a woman, she remembered him always telling her “never fully trust anyone even me, but especially men. Leave them alone as long as possible.” She’d been pretty sure he was saying that because he was her father figure as most of them seemed to she heard from her friends. That said, he looked brighter, like he actually slept and put a bit of his weight back on. Cee would never be foolish enough to tell him that last part. Ezra tended to gather it around his belly which despite never mentioning it, she knew he was sensitive about it. She was waiting for him to mention it first. The reason for his positive change. They had spoken about the person in question for the first time a few months ago but only in depth a few weeks ago.

Zora, Cee’s girlfriend of the past year, was never one to mince words or be delicate. Cee appreciated her directness but also her kindness as she was never rude with questions of comments. “So Mr. Wordsmith, this lady friend of yours, is she just that or your partner in you looking like a million dollars?” Ezra had grown accustomed to Zora’s nicknames for his expansive vocabulary and he chuckled at her question as he turned down the main road that led to his home. About twenty more minutes now. 

“She has become an essential fixture in my days and nights, so yes my partner.” Answering in a matter of fact manner without a full paragraph had Cee and Zora look at each other through his rear view mirror as Cee was sitting upfront. 

“I’m still in shock. She’s got to be an angel or something.” Zora exclaimed, patting Ezra’s shoulders to which he continued to smile. 

“Did you not tell Zora her name Cee?” Ezra asked with a raised eyebrow. Zora furrowed her brow at the blonde who appeared in thought.

“Wait, I thought I had. Her name is-“

“Seraphina. My lovely lady’s name is Seraphina.” Ezra hummed. Both women shivered.

“Please don’t say her name like that in front of us like that again. Save that for her.” Cee looked out the window, grinning. He’s smitten, the man who told her never to trust anyone is smitten.

“Never expected you to find an actual angel Mr. Ezra. Though I guess if anyone was, it would be you. You did find that 1st edition copy of ‘Love Poems’ by Nikki Giovanni for my twentieth birthday. Didn’t think one existed anymore.” Zora leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek as they pulled into the driveway and parked his truck. She hopped out along with Cee. Ezra went to grab their suitcases as the front door opened.

A woman clad in a yellow sundress with a bright smile and coiled hair up in a ponytail atop her head her copper skin shimmered from the humidity forming on her skin. She was wearing a bright fuschia lipstick on her full lips and wore blue rimmed glasses. She gave a small wave to which Cee and Zora matched. Ezra climbed the stairs and set the bags down to peck her lips then embrace her. The two young women collectively made an “ooo!” 

“These two uncouth creatins are Zora and Cee. Despite their teasing, they are excited to meet you. They’re mainly having fun at my expense, not yours Sundrop.” His smile nearly hurt, it was from ear to ear. The women that made his life brighter were all gathered here under one roof. Was it alright that he felt this happy? That his nightmares weren’t as frequent? With everyone making their way into his home, he watched as Cee went to the kitchen with Sera and they hugged, rocking back and forth as Sera often did with her own family. Did that mean Seraphina saw Cee as part of her family? Wait…were the two of them family now? Shaking his head, he felt he may be getting ahead of himself. 

Sundrop had already set the table while Ezra had been out. They just poured water and sweet tea and sat down together at the table. Eating and laughing all night, they asked each other questions. Eventually, Cee and Seraphina ended up outside on the porch to chat. They sat side by side, chuckling at how enamored both Zora and Ezra were with the books on the shelves. 

“I sometimes think she’s more of his charge than I am.” Cee laughs as Ezra and Zora are seen through the window exchanging some heightened words over a hardcover book. Their hands are moving back and forth, both excited and likely talking a mile a minute.

“I can see why he took a liking to her. They’re discussing those volumes with quite the fervor.” Sera commenced and Cee nodded. She smiled at Sera.

“I can also see why he’s taken a liking to you. Just sitting with you is pretty relaxing. He looks a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw him.” Seraphina laughed and Cee gasped, “Ah sorry. I sometimes-”

“I know. Ezra told me. I don’t mind. I know he doesn’t like it. He’s not out here is he?” Sera chuckled and Cee relaxed again. Thankfully she was the same as she had been around the dinner table. Personable and kind. “We’ve helped each other. He’s got quite a few layers but they’re warm.” Seraphina then looked out over the water. Cee followed her eyes and peered at the lake too.

“I’ve never heard him described like that, but also you’re the only woman I’ve seen him bring to his house to meet me.”

“That’s…” Sera pressed her hands together and looked over at Cee. She knew things had become more serious between the two of them. The significance wasn’t lost on her. It fell in line with Ezra meeting her mother and subsequently her brothers at a family dinner. Her father met Ezra later that night after his part time job. “I suppose a lot has happened between us.

“In any case, it’s good for him. He doesn’t do well when he’s idle. He’ll say he’s just fine but-”

“That’s when the very bad ideas start and even longer than normal prose starts and never stops?” Seraphina and Cee laugh on that one as Zora exits the back door with Ezra holding a book of poems by Robert Frost. 

“Can you believe he won’t let me borrow this?” Zora appears to be distraught, while Ezra’s arms are crossed defensively. 

“The condition of the Langston Hughes poems speaks volumes to your treatment and care of books. I’ll not have the pages of my collection bent, ripped or stained.” Ezra argued. Cee and Seraphina watched as they bickered a bit more and ushered them inside the house. 

Eventually, they simmered down and agreed that Zora could read it while staying at Ezra’s home and wouldn’t need to be supervised. Cee and Zora slept in Birdie’s old bedroom while Sera and Ezra retired to his. The soft taps of the wind on the sides of the house and the croaks of the crickets lulled them all to sleep for the night.

Interlude 2 Chapter eight

Chapter six

Taste-testers of Ezra’s gumbo 🍤: @rav3n-pascal22 @maggiemayhemnj @morallyinept @survivingandenduring @bonezone44 @magpiepillsjunior-deactivated20 @yorksgirl @gemmahale @missredherring @missladym1981 @alltheglitterandtheroar @megamindsecretlair @readingiskeepingmegoing @pedroshotwifey @tinytinymenace @inept-the-magnificent @vivian-pascal @jessthebaker

[brighteyedbushybrowed]

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 The Papas and Copia and how they react to your compliments. 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 Compliments 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩(𝐬) Cardinal Copia x GN!Reader, the paragraphs for the other Papas can also be interpreted as Papa x GN!Reader 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 No smut but mentions of sex in Copia's section so 18+ only, MINORS DNI 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 588 words. 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 My body is too warm and it's making sitting in front of my laptop uncomfortable so I'm using today to take a break from writing Mary fics. I've v briefly proofread this to make sure I don't use gendered pronouns or terms for reader but if I've missed any lmk! 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 𝐓𝐢𝐩 𝐉𝐚𝐫

When Primo receives a compliment from you, it’s usually waved away dismissively as he mumbles something along the lines of ‘you waste these words on an old man like me instead of one who would appreciate them more’. It doesn’t stop you giving them to him though, now written on a note attached to a new plant or flower you’ve bought for him to plant in the gardens so he can’t brush them off. He always finds you afterwards, lightly chastising you for being far too kind and generous to a man of his age. Every time, without fail, you press a kiss to his cheek and tell him to stop being silly. It makes him smile fondly.

Secondo pretends not to be affected by the compliments you give him. You tell him he doesn’t need to put on such an act around you, and yet he does it anyway. He grunts, muttering about how you’re exaggerating and trying to be modest. Your compliments are always accompanied with a pot of tea served with his favourite cups and saucers and a plate of amaretti biscuits that you’ve freshly baked that morning. Sure, he grumbles about being distracted from his duties whenever you enter with a tray laden with biscuits and beverages, but he makes sure to thank you before you leave every single time, lips pressed to your forehead in gratitude as he promises to thank you properly later.

Compliments between you and Terzo become a competition. You’ll engage in compliment combat each time you cross one another in the corridors, lashing one another with kind words and affection until one of you smiles or laughs first. It used to startle the siblings of sin when they passed you both in the corridor during these times but now it’s such a common occurrence that they merely shake their heads and chuckle before continuing on with whatever they were doing prior to encountering you both. Terzo has won more of these compliment battles than you have and you’re okay with that. Just getting to see him smile and bask in the affection you offer him brings you an endless amount of joy.

At first, Copia didn’t deal with compliments too well. Each time you complimented his outfit or his moustache or even something his office space he’d bristle, assuming you were making fun of him like your fellow cardinals used to before he became the frontman for Ghost. It took months of building up trust and friendship for him to realise that you were being genuine and honest, showering him with affectionate words and reassuring smiles. Lingering eye contact and the touch of an arm that lasted longer than perhaps was appropriate between the two of you became more and more frequent.

Eventually, the kind words and compliments you exchanged resulted in him bedding you. Featherlight touches exchanged between two cardinals pining after one another became caresses and kisses in places that had you arching your back, aching for him. Whispers and giggles became moans and whimpers as you explored one another’s bodies in the dead of night, sneaking around the cardinals’ quarters and other places in the abbey after curfew. Shared books passed to one another innocently in the library became an excuse to meet up there after hours and desecrate the librarian’s desk with your head between his thighs and vice versa. What had started out as acts of kindness turned into a relationship and sexual encounters that were etched into your memory long after they’d happened.