One of Oda's great unappreciated talents is his ability to keep his world and story consistent even as the scope outgrew his original plans by several orders of magnitude. I think there's enough in Thriller Bark to know that Oda always planned for Kuma to be a secret Revolutionary, but I doubt anything but the broadest strokes of his backstory was hammered out until much later. The Eleven Supernovas, and thus Bonney, weren't even conceived until Saboady, and even if you wanted to say that Oda already knew Kuma let himself be turned into a robot because he had a kid, he had to twist the threads of the story to turn Bonney into that kid.
To be perfectly honest, Kuma during his introduction is a whole lotta smoke. All the reader knows is his moniker and that he had the reputation for committing atrocities. That's as close to a blank slate as you can get while still building hype, and that blank slate lets Oda slot in whatever he feels is appropriate once he gets to the point where Kuma's backstory is important. That flexibility is a wonderful tool, but Oda's careful to keep the old consistent with the new, and that's enormously difficult when writing serialized fiction over a period of 25+ years
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Neuvillette is in love with the concept of love; he just never thought he'd experience the complexity of it himself. Or rather, he'd never thought you'd make him experience it like this.
Of course, that in itself is a rather broad concept. He's not unfeeling; he knows what certain aspects of love feel like, or at least, what humans around him have described as love. If you were to ask anyone that observes him with a human's eye, they'd tell you "Monsieur Neuvillette loves a lot of things".
"Monsieur Neuvillette loves the melusines, I always see him talking to them!" - not untrue, but not so much love as it is a general appreciation in his eyes. And much less the kind of love he has in mind.
"Monsieur Neuvillette loves water the most! He has cabinets full of imported bottles in his office!" - elements of truth and fancy. A necessary (if a bit self indulgent) requirement for his continued health. You wouldn't go as far as to say you love air, would you? The concept is the same.
No, when Neuvillette thinks of love it's the kind he sees in couples on the streets of Fontaine. Hands held fast together, or a guiding hand in the small of one's back. Shy smiles and ruddy cheeks. Parted lips and gleaming eyes; a hopeful and expectant look before a kiss. The very image of romance that Lady Furina's novels would outline - novels that he's sure at this point, were left in his office by the former Archon in order to...guide him in a way.
And what poor guides those proved to be when it came to these...affections he has for you.
In those stories, it was simple. Understandable to an extent. The numerous versions and retellings of the same themes and tropes created a kind of cadence in his mind; an easy to digest pattern where one act of courting follows another in a beat-by-beat fashion. It's formulaic. An art perfected by years of practiced and perfected behaviors only menially guided by instinct.
Then why, Neuvillette often finds himself wondering, is it so difficult when it comes to applying that same formula to you?
Is it his tone? His behavior? Or has he made a general mistake with his leaps in assuming you might feel the same way as him? Your relationship with him is far less professional than when it started, yes, but that is the nature of working with someone long term. The expectation of professionality can only last so long, even with someone of his standing. This is something he's accustomed to. These developing feelings are not.
Even his attempts at more directly physical advances have proved unfruitful. If anything, the way you startled and stammered before returning to your work after he'd merely brushed a stray hair from your temple dissuaded him from ever attempting such a thing again.
And yet...the hint of heat in your cheeks at the action made him curious. Makes him...hopeful. If he was reading this correctly (and on his name as the Sovereign did he hope he was reading this correctly) then that could mean...well, it could imply mutual attraction.
Which has lead him to his current dilemma. He's spent days debating with himself, weighing his options, and attempting to reason that this warmth he feels around you is enough to allow him a brief break in his impartiality.
But then if he breaks here, where else would he break?
And would it be so wrong if he did? To pursue you, to court you, love you -
It stirs other emotions in him. Ones of excitement, of rage, of something deep and primal in his chest that has been buried deep after centuries of solitude - even amongst the people of Fontaine.
He wants this. He wants to experience this budding love in all its confusing facets. Wants to test the waters he's grown so accustomed to guarding and let himself feel something so innately alien to him. So...human.
Perhaps this is a trial left in place specifically for himself. To love and to be loved in return...it's almost enough to make him cry.
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Let me tell y'all what happened to me last week-
I'm hanging out with a group of friends and they're playing Mario Kart. I was sitting on the arm of the couch just watching them play and laughing at every betrayal that occured on the screen. They eventually finish the first tournament or whatever and decided to play Smash for a bit. At this point I'm hugging a friend I'll call Chris. So anyways I'm hugging Chris and give him a lil side tickle for good measure. He usually doesn't retaliate and opts for curling in on himself or swatting my hand away. BUT NOT THIS TIME. He grappled me and I was basically trapped in his arms as he tickles my ribs. Obviously I'm like dying as my other friends are just watching. Then my other friend who's recently gotten into tickling me a lot (even said that its one of their favourite things) says to tickle what they think is my worst spot which happened to be feet (in reality it is probably my back). Next thing you know I feel like 40 hands poking, prodding and tickling ME all over. Like hello where tf did this come from. Unfortunately for me I'm not that ticklish so I could definitely take it but if any of my mutuals were in my position I know they wouldn't fair as well (especially @b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b).
My other friends eventually stop but Chris and I are still going at it and eventually tumble onto the carpet. He was being so gentle with me despite being so much stronger than I am. I'm being held down at this point as he attacks me again but thankfully my long arms come to use and I started squeezing his hips which made him squeal and fall over which was just-.
Anyways I won't bore you all with the details anymore but it was so funny to see my friend group get bitten by the tickle bug. We literally spent the next hour or so wrestling and tickling each other it was such a pure moment and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it 🥲.
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Warmth
Eddie Munson x Reader
Summary: Eddie takes you home after work (1150 words)
Contents: Reader suffers from chronic pain, smoking weed, no gender descriptors for reader, reader is called Baby
Please note I am not a doctor and do not take any medical advice from me ok thanks also each person's health is different from someone elses so please be kind to each other thanks bye
You sigh as you finally lock the door for the store. You had started the day out with working your regular shift. Which had been fine, even if you had felt a little stiff. Then that coworker called in sick...again. And your boss begged you to stay late...again. You had wanted to say no, but the prospect of getting a bit extra in your paycheck, well, you couldn't pass it up.
But now your body was screaming at you. Working for twelve hours had your joints aching. Some days you could barely roll over in bed without the pain. Could barely think a coherent thought as your joints and muscles screamed at you.
And other days, the good days, you felt you could run a marathon. Not because of an absence of pain, but the pain was so little compared to what you were used to it felt like nothing. Some days started like this and ended like the bad days.
And today was ending like a bad day. Especially because that one manager, the one who seemed to not like you, was on duty. Your boss, the sweetest old man in the world, didn't care if you sat in a chair at your register. But the manager who came in for the evening shift once the boss was gone? Took it away and called you lazy, even if you were the best cashier they had.
You slowly but steadily made your way to the van that was sitting idle in the parking lot. Through the passenger window you can see Eddie smoking a joint. When you opened the door, startling Eddie, smoke furled out. You climbed in and slammed the door shut.
"You know this is just begging for someone to call Hopper right?" You groan as you turn to grab your seat belt. "Figured you'd wanna smoke and relax a bit, thought I'd get it started for you." Eddie's arm reaches across you grabbing the seat belt before you could and buckling you in. "I can do it myself," you mumble.
"Yeah, you can. But maybe I want to take care of my Baby, hm?" Eddie hands you the joint," When you said you'd be late earlier, you uh said you already weren't feeling the best. Figured I could do what I can to help. Not that you can't do it yourself, you can, but you know-" "I know. Thanks."
It still was hard to accept that this is how your life was. Even harder to accept help. The thought that people were helping out of pity made you want to scream, even if you knew some people, like Eddie, were helping because they loved you not because they pitied you.
The van roars to life as Eddie presses the gas a bit too hard, causing the entire van to lurch. Eddie winces and mutters an apology. You inhale on the joint, letting the smoke fill your lungs. You crack a window to let the smoke out, humming as you close your eyes.
By the time you make it to Eddie's, you can feel the weed in your system. Softening the edges of everything. The pain easing up slightly as you relax.
Eddie tumbles out of his side, almost face planting, as he rushes to get to your door. He throws the door open and bows, "My liege." You huff out a laugh as you graciously take his hand, gripping it tightly as you step down and out of the van. Eddie winks at you as he kisses the top of your hand, causing you to swat at him. Eddie chuckles as he drops your hand to go and open the door of the trailer.
You follow Eddie inside and to his room after kicking off your shoes. Your only thought is laying down and going to sleep. You barely shrug out of your uniform before collapsing onto his bed. Usually, Eddie would make some joke about getting naked, but tonight he forgoes that and instead dims he lights, sensing how tired you are.
Eddie's bed is old and yet somehow more comfortable then yours (probably because Eddie moves around so much in his sleep he doesn't stick to just one spot like you do, which causes your mattress to deflate and sink in one spot). You toss the nearest blanket over you, sighing in relief that you made it through the day.
You can hear Eddie enter and leave the room a few times, mumbling to himself. The sound of his rings hitting his dresser. The creaking of the drawers opening and shutting as he finds something to wear to bed. The distant beeping of a microwave going off before Eddie leaves the room again.
"Made you something," Eddie says as he reenters the room. "Not hungry," you mumble into the pillow. "Its not food- well, it is but not anymore? I mean we could eat it buuuuuttt..."
You peek an eye open to look at Eddie. In his hands is an oddly shaped lump. You can recognize the familiar pattern as the curtains in Eddie's room (and the realization there are no curtains anymore hits you). You can tell it was supposed to be a rectangle, but is more oblong like an oval.
Eddie gingerly places it against your back and- oh. It's warm.
Eddie crawls onto the bed next to you," Remember the heating pad? How it died? Well, figured might as well make my own and save us some money. Filled with rice, so if we really need to I guess we could eat it but I don't think that's uh the best idea."
"You sew?" You ask softly. Eddie grins at you," Mama taught me." Eddie readjusts the bag against you where it fell away. "Eds..." Eddie hums looking up at you," Yeah?"
"Thank you." "Anytime Baby. I'd do anything I can for you." You smirk at him," Anything?" Eddie rolls his eyes as he grins back," Weeelll-" you both chuckle. You roll back onto your side and close your eyes.
And as you lay there you think of how much Eddie loves you. How often he shows you his love. How he opens doors for you and closes them. How Eddie doesn't treat you as glass like some of your friends do, but how he still cares and makes you comfortable. How Eddie doesn't try to limit you and let's you set the pace for yourself. How Eddie took down his curtains to make you a heating pad because yours went out.
You reach back and slowly link your hand with his. Eddie hums slightly, linking your fingers, before shifting and wrapping his arm around you, drawing you closer.
You can feel the warmth from the rice. The warmth of Eddie's body. The warmth from his breath as he falls asleep. And the warmth from your heart as it yells out how in love you are.
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