context is purple af
Mar. 30th, 2017 07:59 am![[personal profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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last_herald_mageI had writer's block for a sad long while aka 2016 but recently I put up the edited version of Strandline and a new Van/Stef pwp on AO3.
The pwp was a massive detour that came out of a Vanyel Sulking About His Lovelife scene from my snoverse file, which I figured I could share a bit more of here. It being snoverse only matters in that it's some context for Van wrestling with sexual trauma. Hoping I can liberate something else out of that file soon (there's even half a plot brewing there...)
He wanted to go home. It was a desperate fantasy. The moment he was alone, it sunk its claws into his heart; thoughts of Stef and Haven and a safe place to sleep, and Jisa, and the few other close ones he had still living. Mostly Stef.
And he knew, from hard experience, that going home was nothing like the fantasy of going home. Usually he slept for most of a few days, and when he was awake, Stef would be far too busy to offer what Vanyel needed, even if he wanted to. Months ago, he'd imagined gentle homecoming love with his partner. By now the thought of sex made his skin crawl, and he knew that if he ever did make it back to Haven, he'd be consigning them both to days of that dreary dance with his worst feelings. In his spare moments Stef would be patient, and would almost conceal his disappointment. He would endure without reproach, showering him with kindness and music. They'd play games to the brink of madness. Vanyel would, in great exasperation and turmoil, lose at games he was good at, repeatedly. Stef would smirk as if to maintain the pretence that he gave half a damn for such a victory while Vanyel's body still eluded him.
Eventually, Van's need for touch and pleasure would somehow strangle his self-revulsion and they would have relieving, life-affirming sex, sex that felt like dawn and healing and which he would curse himself for not finding his way to sooner. And Stef would say something romantic about how the time itself had added its mysterious value to that precious moment, but what he meant would be that the prize had been worth the excruciating hunt. Which it hadn't - neither of them gained one whit from the protracted charade Van would put them through. It was all just an indulgence for his fool-gotten wounds. And Stef would offer all his joy into that endless pit that kept him hostage. Because for all he could have had absolutely anyone, for all Van had at times begged him to abandon this thankless partnership, Stef only wanted Vanyel. He lets me neglect and desert him, and he calls it love!
The pwp was a massive detour that came out of a Vanyel Sulking About His Lovelife scene from my snoverse file, which I figured I could share a bit more of here. It being snoverse only matters in that it's some context for Van wrestling with sexual trauma. Hoping I can liberate something else out of that file soon (there's even half a plot brewing there...)
He wanted to go home. It was a desperate fantasy. The moment he was alone, it sunk its claws into his heart; thoughts of Stef and Haven and a safe place to sleep, and Jisa, and the few other close ones he had still living. Mostly Stef.
And he knew, from hard experience, that going home was nothing like the fantasy of going home. Usually he slept for most of a few days, and when he was awake, Stef would be far too busy to offer what Vanyel needed, even if he wanted to. Months ago, he'd imagined gentle homecoming love with his partner. By now the thought of sex made his skin crawl, and he knew that if he ever did make it back to Haven, he'd be consigning them both to days of that dreary dance with his worst feelings. In his spare moments Stef would be patient, and would almost conceal his disappointment. He would endure without reproach, showering him with kindness and music. They'd play games to the brink of madness. Vanyel would, in great exasperation and turmoil, lose at games he was good at, repeatedly. Stef would smirk as if to maintain the pretence that he gave half a damn for such a victory while Vanyel's body still eluded him.
Eventually, Van's need for touch and pleasure would somehow strangle his self-revulsion and they would have relieving, life-affirming sex, sex that felt like dawn and healing and which he would curse himself for not finding his way to sooner. And Stef would say something romantic about how the time itself had added its mysterious value to that precious moment, but what he meant would be that the prize had been worth the excruciating hunt. Which it hadn't - neither of them gained one whit from the protracted charade Van would put them through. It was all just an indulgence for his fool-gotten wounds. And Stef would offer all his joy into that endless pit that kept him hostage. Because for all he could have had absolutely anyone, for all Van had at times begged him to abandon this thankless partnership, Stef only wanted Vanyel. He lets me neglect and desert him, and he calls it love!
