the difference between zosopp and sanuso (romantic OR platonic) is that Usopp is Zoro's specialest little guy and Zoro is someone Usopp hangs out with and looks up to and hides behind when things get scary, but Sanji and Usopp are best friends. They horse around, they beat each other up, they confide their worst fears trying to one up each other. Usopp hides behind Sanji sometimes, sure, but idk, Sanji's weaknesses are more obvious (bugs, fighting women, etc) so there are times when Usopp has to stand in front of Sanji too, yknow?
Like, how do I say this, all the crewmates are equal- Usopp and Zoro are equals- but with Sanji it feels like more... comradery? Zoro's a rock in a terrible storm- even rocks tend to get weathered and chipped and worn down, but they overall stay strong and steady. He has trouble being vulnerable and there are times when the burden he's placed on himself to keep the crew safe is crushing his chest. Usopp would help with that and be very understanding, but the point I'm trying to get with that is that those moments are few and far between. So I feel like Usopp, especially after Water 7, would take Zoro's lead on something like that, and keep most of his worries to himself or only talk about them sparingly unless they're really bad and/or he can't hide them.
Sanji is like a tree in a storm; he can be strong, yes, but it feels like he bends and sways with the storm, and has more obvious breaking points. He can relate more to Usopp's struggles rather than resorting to blunt honesty that might border on callous like Zoro. And while, with Zosopp, I tend to think of scenarios with Zoro being blunt like that as a good thing- because sometimes when you're spiraling, it's nice to have someone say exactly what's great about you and shoot down all your worries with straight facts that you can't argue with- I can also see this as being a bad thing. Anxiety can really twist up your brain sometimes, you know? And despite the words, the tone could still mess someone up if they're already feeling like a burden on others in some way.
With Sanuso it's a lot more understanding and thoughtful words. It's distractions and comfort food and patience- the kind reserved for Usopp- until Usopp talks about whatever's troubling him. Compared to Zosopp, it doesn't take as long for Usopp to open up, since he's done the same thing to Sanji at times and it's more familiar to him to talk and commiserate with Sanji about his worries and doubts and such. However, there are times stuff like this has absolutely no effect and Sanji will end up at a loss, no idea what to do or how to help over the course of several days with Usopp being quiet and keeping his distance, and he'll end up working himself up about it which will only serve to make Usopp feel worse and. yeah. bit of a vicious cycle with them.
So it's like. Usopp can be weak with both of them, but since I see Sanji as the type of guy who'd be more open with his worries (at least compared to Zoro), there's less of a need to 'perform' and be his best self around him. He's comfortable around Zoro, yes, but he is constantly wanting to show that he won't be a problem to him. On the other hand, while he's more open with Sanji, and Sanji with him, they tend to relate a bit too much with each other and they both have issues with causing trouble for others and being 'deserving of love' so failed attempts at consoling one hurts the other and creates an unpleasant cycle of misery and avoidance before some other crewmate (Zoro) tells them to quit being stupid and just fucking talk to each other.
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Talk Shop Tuesday: what’s the most important thing to you when it comes to characterization?
[Sorry I am so behind on these I have been so fucking busy] CHARACTERIZATION I LOVE YOU SO. What a good question!!!!! I get compliments on my characterization a lot so I should probably think about this. Also @lazuliquetzal chime in if you want because you're just as good at this.
There's a lot of important things. The most important, I think, is that the character has consistent internal logic. It's like worldbuilding or magic. Their actions don't have to be objectively logical, but they do have to be consistent. The character has a framework for understanding the world, a way of perceiving the world and how it works, and an idea of how they think other people work. Everything that happens in their lives is filtered through that. They have to feel like a real person making real decisions, not an instrument of the plot.
Something I like to do is to make their greatest strength their greatest flaw. I think in writing there's no 'good' or 'bad' character traits - no virtues or sins. I think character traits are neutral, and that they can be used to good or bad effect. I think we do things because of other things that have happened to us, and that these things have positive and negative consequences.
Obviously a character has to have consistent motivations and to change over time. A character shouldn't end the story in the same place where they started. Character focused stories ought to have your characters change throughout the story - Sherlock Holmes doesn't have to have moments of character growth but your slice of life character definitely should. I think the setting around them really helps - giving them foils really helps develop and flesh out both characters.
I feel like that's all pretty basic notes though. For me and characters, there's way more to it than that. It's hard to explain. I think I can only ask that you make the plot and tropes fit the characters, not the characters fit the plot and tropes. Fanfic has a horrible habit of making characters one dimensional and stripping away a lot of nuance to fit in with different slots in relationship dynamic, roles in a team dynamic, or niches in an AU. The character should come first. And love of god if you make their personality seme or uke I will come find you with my yaoi baseball bat.
Oh and the best character-building exercise is to figure out if the character would ever be a cannibal or not and I am barely joking.
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Enough discourse, I wanna post about headcanons
The Vees are a polycule to me, but in a way that I can't even explain without an entire slowburn fanfic (stay tuned. I'm a slow writer). But I will try.
Velvette:
I do adhere to the lesbian Velvette headcanon. She's dating Vox and still occasionally joins Valentino for a threesome with him. When she first joined the Vees, Velvette used to identify as bisexual (and still loves the bi flag colors the most) and all three of them used to date, before Velvette realized that she's a lesbian.
She and Vox are still dating, and they have an open relationship.
Vox:
Vox's response to Velvette coming out was, "So you're breaking up with Val?" Yes, his pronouns are he/him. No, he's not a man. He'd long shed the fleshy confines of humanity and gender along with it.
Vox is aspec, agender, autistic. To me. He's sex favorable of the 'I want to do it for my partner's enjoyment' flavor. Watching from cameras brings him just as much enjoyment, and he watches everything and everyone, living vicariously, a voyer through the screen. As a result of that, he's so so touched starved, but his sense of feeling is muted (the consequences of betraying flesh in favor of the machine). Soft touches to his synthetic skin don't really register, his sense of feeling restricted to mostly pressure and pain, so he's become a bit of a masochist in response because that's something physical.
Valentino:
He just likes sex. He chases pleasure in any form he can find, dopamine rushes from numerous drugs, orgasmic release, the rush of power from crushing someone underfoot. Anything and everything, he'll try it all. And none of it is really enough, so he'll never stop chasing more.
Valentino doesn't consider his relationship with Vox romantic, even if Vox totally does. They're friends, sure, business partners, absolutely, and fuckbuddies wherever Val is in the mood for it. But romance isn't Val's thing. That's hard work, and Val saves romancing for potential new hires he wants to sign a contract with. What Vox and he have is also written down on a contract, joining their businesses together too closely to be parted without blood, but it's not the same. Not to Val. So, he wouldn't call Vox his boyfriend, but he also wouldn't correct anyone who said they were. Vox is someone he can let his guard down with, one of the few people who would never want to get out of the contract their names are signed on. They work well together. That's better than any romance you can get in Hell, Val thinks.
Val and Velvette are catty besties. Pan/Lesbian solidarity and hostility all in one.
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I've been scrolling through your psychic Dion headcanon and I saw the chronic migraines idea and I just thought of the cutest fluff idea of Dion's polycule trying to take care of him before Morris realizes that his psyonics being on the fritz is connected to his migraines!
The sun is setting behind the tree line when Dion feels a tingling behind his eyes, like fingers pressing on his optic nerves.
Not now. Please, not now.
He's sitting on the roof of the brain-shaped building he's grown so familiar with over the summer, his feet dangling twenty feet over the Quarry's lake.
Gisu's pressed to his left side, her hand linked in his as they watch the sky turn gold. Morris is on his right, his chair resting on the ground for once so he can rest his arm on Dion's shoulder. It's the end of the day and he just wants to spend his precious free time relaxing with his partners.
It's the water. It's always the water. He should have known better than to get so close to so much water, but the weather is so nice, and he's been doing better. He doesn't even get dizzy looking down at the lake.
Gisu and Morris's chatter floats over his head. The words garble together, bleeding into long strings of nonsense. Sunbeams bouncing off the water grow brighter, trailing in long wispy lines as he moves his head. It almost looks pretty.
The hand on his shoulder shakes him. He hunches over, neck muscles tightening like stretched rubber bands. Oh god, it's starting and he can't stop it. The pressure in his head builds slowly, like air filling a balloon.
"Dion? Awoka eenu ehligh?"
It takes a second for him to register his name. "Mmmph. I'm fine," he says automatically. He turns to look at Morris, and catches the sun behind his head, burning directly into his retinas. Red, green, and yellow and lights flash behind his eyelids as he squeezes them shut.
"Dion, abuu habing norah?"
He tries to focus on Gisu's voice. Her tone is full of concern, even if the meaning is hard to puzzle out.
His skull feels too small, like his brain is swelling up with water, threatening to crack the bones and explode like a horror movie prop. He presses his palms to his temples as a dozen little invisible needles pinprick his skull.
Warm hands hold his chin. They press against his jaw, coaxing him to unclench his teeth.
A hand pressed to his back, two more on his shoulders, pulling him to his feet. He wobbles, his legs tingling and half-asleep, but Morris and Gisu steady him.
They walk him back into the Motherlobe. Morris's levitation lifts Dion, supporting his weight as Gisu nudges him forward step by step.
He isn't sure how long it is they walk. Anyone they pass is sure to stare, but he can't tell with his eyes shut tight.
A door opens and closes behind him. A larger set of hands cup his head, fingers warm and rough. They rub delicately over his brows, the signal that it's safe to open his eyes.
The lights are off in the jr agents' dorm room, and it's getting darker as Gisu hurries to draw the blinds. Adam smiles down at Dion, cupping his cheeks.
"Apahhu nruv?"
Dion can't understand the words, but the tone of his boyfriend's soft British drawl brings his shoulders down from around his ears.
The dumpy couch in the dorms smells like Morris's cologne and Sam's woodland animal friends. He didn't used to like it, but now he relaxes into the familiar cushions, laying down and curling into a tiny ball. The dark helps. He can focus on breathing and not holding back vomit.
Gisu nudges him, and he lets her pick him up and deposit his head in her lap, careful not to jostle him. She pets his head as the others chat quietly.
He listens for as long as he can, holding on to the sound of their voices as his head splits down the middle. The pressure is the awful part. Something inside him banging on the inside of his head, trying to get out.
He might make a sound of pain— he can't hear himself if he does— because the talk around him stops. Gisu squeezes his arm as he wraps his hands around his head. The agony throbs with his heartbeat.
Someone else touches him. He tries to open his eyes, but the world is a swimming mess of color. Leaning into their hands, Dion lets them move him however they want.
They lightly touch his forehead, and he can feel cool breath on his face as his cheeks pinken. They're so close, and he doesn't need more blood rushing to his head from being flustered.
Then, miraculously, the pounding in his brain eases. Like air escaping from a leaky tire, the pressure in his head deflates. He gasps, nearly falling forward face-first.
When the touch pulls away, he whines, reaching back for them. His brain is still on fire, but it's more of a campfire and less of an incinerator. With relief so strong he can't keep himself up any longer.
The feeling is like cool water running over a blistering burn. It's enough that he can start to drift off. The only thing he can do is wait for the rest of the migraine to fade on its own, but now he can doze until it passes.
Gisu stares at the boy in her lap. His chest rises and falls steadily as he sleeps. Morris and Adam gape at Lizzie, kneeling in front of the couch, her hands hovering over Dion.
Lizzie's own shock is obvious. She closes her open mouth, one eyebrow quirked as she studies the boy in the center of them all.
"Lizzie… Did you…?"
"I thought a little ice would take the edge off. But then I felt his mind… there was so much energy, it's like a lightning storm in there. The static was gonna discharge eventually," she says, whispering.
"Psychic discharge. Hell, that means…" Adam kneels next to her and presses another kiss to Dion's forehead.
"Okay. Okay. I think we should talk about this when he's awake." Even with her mind racing on a superhighway of questions, Gisu can't help her own lips twitching up as she sees how calm Dion is. There will be a lot to talk about later, but for now it's enough that he's feeling better.
"Sounds good to me. Leave the serious stuff for later. I want to find some whipped cream and a feather." Morris rubs his hands together like a cartoon supervillain. He won't do anything, not when Dion is in pain, but the joke disperses some of their anxiety as Gisu whaps him on the hair.
Dion is psychic. It makes sense. The symptoms of psychic repression are weird, but the headaches and fatigue are classic. He's always been so firm and confident about it, and his family agreed that he never displayed any visible powers. But that's not a guarantee. People miss things, I should have considered the possibility….
Morris settles next to Lizzie on the couch while Adam slips under Dion's legs to sit in the middle. She puts the should haves away. For now, they'll keep each other company, watching anime without sound and texting each other memes until Dion wakes up.
When he does blink awake, Dion feels better than he ever has after an episode. His friends and partners are sleeping, flopped over him, limbs tangled together in such a mess he doesn't want to think about getting up.
Dion finds someone's hand and holds it tight, and he can almost feel his head clear even more. Love is funny like that.
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