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razorblade180 · 1 year

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Gods judgment

Furina:*bites cake* Ugh, why must being an Archon be so polarizing at times!? I’m near my wits end.

Ei:While I agree to the sentiment, you’d have much less to complain about if you were diligent in your duties.

Pleasant vibes stop

Venti:Oh boy…

Nahida:What’s happening.

Venti:Shhh, pretend you’re invisible,

Furina:Baal, I am positive you of all people didn’t just talk to me about diligence regarding my responsibilities.

Zhongli:She was merely giving you advice since-

Furina:Oh are we really doing this? Do I need to remind you that if anyone has to the authority to judge the ways of other gods it is I, Focalor. *stands up*

Zhongli:Failure to take criticism will only slow progress.

Furina:Don’t misunderstand my situation. You forget yourself, Morax. Criticism indeed has value, and I’d made certain not even I can go unchecked in my own nation. The problem here is that two of you dare to speak in a tone that implies superiority when all you hold is errors so catastrophic that it’s felt in every wave.

Ei:Are you truly one to talk about errors when your problems arise from negligence?

Furina:Ha! That’s rich coming from the Archon who literally made her problem. You dare speak of negligence when you all but abandoned your people to the whims of an unfeeling stand-in? My people and I face a catastrophe forced upon us while yours endured the weight of your grief. Do not speak to me about negligence.

Ei:…..

Furina:But hey, grief is a toxic and dangerous thing that mortals and the divine understand. I do not judge you for feeling pain. It is far more reasonable flaw than that of the eldest of us. *looks at Morax* You want to discuss slow progress and criticism? It took you ages to get to a mindset Barbatos applied from the start!

Venti:Oh, wow. Zhongli she might actually have a point.

Furina:*points* Don’t get too proud of yourself, Barbatos! You’re next.

Venti:Hehe, I figured….

Zhongli:The circumstances between Liyue’s development and Mondstat’s are vastly different in what problems stood in their wake. Liyue would not have lasted to this day without a firm hand guiding the way. Much like how your nation has greatly benefited from your Chief Justice.

Furina:I do not deny my Iudex has been indispensable in Fontaine’s development. However, once again, you are mistaken about the problem. I have no issue in the role you choose for yourself to craft your land. I think it’s quite magnificent. But a show and by extension, a role is only as good as its ending. The protractor of the land chooses to exit the stage with political and civil unrest due to scheme crafted by his truly. As the God of Contracts, could you not have made one with your people stating a resignation in the coming years. In that time you would sufficiently train them to live without you instead of awakening an old adversary.

Zhongli:Preparations only go so far. A test would have to come eventually to truly put my mind at ease.

Furina:A test that shouldn’t come from your hand and not as severe. Life is the test. Make no mistake, I fully believe you would’ve handled it if your people failed, but do you truly think you would’ve saved them all unscathed. You, who knows the chaos war and battle well? I recognize my bias when I say this but it truly disgusts me to see an Archon through the night of a perilous sea at it’s people just to see if they could retire to sipping tea. To make matters worse, you’re not even consistent.

Zhongli:What are you-

Furina:Did you tell your people about Azdaha? From what I gathered, not only did you handle that actual catastrophe discretely, but in a manor where it could still happen again. You want the best for your people, yet you deny them the opportunity to prepare for the future you yourself could prevent.

Zhongli:….

Furina:Barbatos!

Venti:Ley me guess, I’m too lazy?

Furina:Your nation speaks for itself. Calm, self sufficient, and joyous for extended periods of time. I would never say any of you aren’t attentive to your people.

Ei:This sounds like nothing but praise!

Venti:Maybe I’m just a champion of work life balance?

Furina:You sleep too late.

Venti:….*rubs head* I could see why you might say that.

Furina:So could anyone who knows your nation’s history. It’s never a question of if you show up, but when. Although I love a hero arriving in the nick of time, I’m sure your people would’ve loved to see you before the slavery was institutionalized. Not only that, but it’s your failure to arrive punctually that created a harbinger in the first place.

Venti:No god can be everywhere at once or go indefinitely without rest.

Furina:Correct, but no other god here besides Buer and myself have the means to have a steady pulse the people like you do. You are The God of Anemo. There is no whisper in your land that you can not hear. Frankly I wouldn’t have a reason to judge your methods if you didn’t sleep through the tragedies. I’ll admit, I am a tad envious of your prosperity.

Venti:Hmm, I can’t lie and say I don’t see a little merit in that criticism. Although if you ask me, I don’t it would solve as many problems as you believe. Even so, I can accept that perspective for what it is.

Nahida:(He’s rather accommodating to her outburst. Perhaps he’s trying to diffuse the situation?) Hmm!?

Furina:*staring*….

Nahida:H-Hello.

Furina:You understand I’m not above judging even you, a fellow young Archon? My dear Buer, I suspect you’re aware of your faults; or does your wisdom not extend to introspection?

Nahida:No, it does. *slouches* In a lot of ways, I let my nation unravel because of my own self pity.

Furina:I guess your wisdom is boundless if you can admit to that. Feeling unwanted and trapped, you thought it best to have them walk over you for their own benefit until you finally decided a line was crossed. Your wrongful imprisonment should’ve been that line. Though the irony of your situation is how you were never truly trapped, were you? Arriving in dreams and controlling minds without their knowledge was more than enough power to start a coup. No matter how you look at it Buer, you could have fought back. Instead you acted as powerless as they called you.

Nahida:Sigh… You’re right. That sort of force of authority though really isn’t in my nature.

Furina:You remind me of Neuvillette. So soft by nature. Far too conservative about exercising what is yours by right. That being said, people like you aren’t bad. Anyone could chalk it up to inexperience or a way of belief. In fact, that could be said about all of you.

Ei:If that’s apparent to you then what was the point of this so called “judgement?”

Furina:As I said earlier, I’m not above criticism. I’m not even claiming my way is the most splendid. That being said, do not speak to me as if your methods are correct. Look down on me all you want. I refuse to let anyone judge my methods against the likes of my fellow Archons as if anyone of you or doing this job “correctly.” Especially when one of the seven thrives in dangerous tension and another has the audacity to send her people to overthrow our nations. For as long as I reign, I, Focalor, will hold one thing as an absolute truth. I am not lesser than any other ruler. I rest my case.

Nahida:I thinks you’re doing your best.

Furina:….*wipes face* Thank you.

Zhongli and Ei: (So high strung) *pats her head*

Furina:Excuse me!? I -I don’t need to be coddled!

Venti:*plays calming music*

Furina:Sigh… *accepts comfort.

#genshin impact #gi furina #gi ei #venti the bard #nahida #zhongli

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fuwabloom · 2 years

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It's been a while since I posted anything! So sorry but I've been in a bit of creative funk and had to scrap a lot of the chapter I was working on so... I'm gonna post it here!

Context: Ayano is being discharged from the hospital after fainting due to stress. Her father is worried for her and she thinks back on a very specific memory of appeasing him as a child.

It took several more tests and evaluations before Ayano was finally released from the hospital. Her mother was, once again, roped into another meeting with Director Mukai and assured her family that they could leave without her.

The three idle outside the entrance of the hospital, her father carrying a bag of clothes in one hand and a paperbag full of books and other miscellaneous trinkets Ayano was gifted. Mukai Kinu was bashfully obvious with trying to win over the girl's affections,

She laughed off the concerns of the two, and gently patted them on the shoulders, affirming her initial offer,

"Now, now," she cooed, affection sparkling in her eyes. A wide grin blossomed on her lips, reaching her eyes with sheer delight. "I know today is our first day altogether out of the hospital, but duty calls! I'll have Mukai-kun drive me home and pay for some prime wagyu beef, doesn't that sound nice?"

Ayano isn't slow, she knows what her mother looks for with how she stares back, batting her lashes in am attempt to garner a favorable response. Her father is quick, a natural charmer when it came to Ryoba, and he utters a pathetic excuse of being concerned that maybe they should all take a night to relax. It's been so long, hasn't it? They've rarely had a chance to sit at the table and negotiate who gets to finish what side dish.

Ayano follows up, picking up the cue from her father's trailing pleas. She forces a heavy pout, eyes downcast, and as soon as she feels her mother's loving attention on her, she crosses her arms and turns away. Most parents would reprimand such insolence but Ryoba was an anomaly. She had no standard criteria. No control group to be compared to. Nothing. She was a being of whims and wants with no manual someone can pick up and read.

An adolescent of a parent with an ounce of normality would get scolded. But this was not that type of setting. Instead, Ryoba giggles, validating the poor acting, and gently kisses her daughter's temple. She's a woman who is not easily swayed and faulted to being amused than endeared.

"I wish you could act spoiled like this before you start high school," she sighs and her husband relents a nervous chuckle. "Maybe I'll also drop by Wakuri Bakery and pick up some cream puffs? I know my dearest Ayano's are the best but for now, you need to get reacquainted with our home after being away so long!"

She repeated her consolation until a man in a black suit arrived and cleared his throat. He was an older gentleman, clean shaven, with black hair swept over a pair of shades. His shoulders were broad and the way he stood made him appear bigger than he actually was for his average height. "Aishi-san," he calls, tapping on his wrist. A flash of light reflected on his watch, showing off a hint of his wage.

"Hmph!" Ryoba whines but laughs it off when the man refrains from flinching. "Oh you young blood," she chides and waves to her family. "Don't worry, my loves, just make sure not to eat too late!"

The two leave, approaching a loitering vehicle with the suit opening the passenger's door, waiting for Ryoba to slide in. She turns one last time and blows affectionate kisses to her husband and daughter and, finally, seats herself in the car. Visibly, the man's shoulders slack, and he hurries to the driver's seat. A few more seconds pass and the engine murmurs before the vehicle departs.

Ayano hears her father breathe out in an ironic mix of distress and relief. "How are you feeling, sweetie?" His tone is unsteady as his eyes are tracking the tail end of the car circling through the parking lot and entering the high way. "Mukai-sensei said everything was fine, great even, and praised how healthy you are... But, uh, how was your appetite? Was it okay? Did you eat enough?"

Her father danced around the worries of her well-being often. Meanwhile, Ryoba batted away such issues like they were someone else's problem or something absurd like the Aishi family's genes were above such trivial things like fevers. They both exercised caution of Ayano's health, leaving it to regular evaluations in school. There was never anything wrong outside of the mild concern that Ayano, as a growing child, didn't eat much compared to other children.

It wasn’t urgent nor something to worry about, but it left a gnawing feeling in his stomach. A worry that he once brought up when it was just him and a seven-year-old Ayano. They sat across each other at a quiet family restaurant. Laminated menus placed before them, wiped clean from previous diners, colorful to entice their childish patrons, and used silly names to further entrance curious eyes.

Sundae specials like 'A Berry Banana Bonanza' for a banana split chock-full of strawberries and raspberries; 'Choco-Mint Mayhem' where the sea green of mint was sprinkled with chocolate chunks and decorated with sticks of Pocky; and 'My Neopolitean Regime' is a strange name for a childish delight, what with its dedicated embodiment of its three flavors and candies that resided inside. It's supposed to be a statement, Ayano once thought, possibly one that denied dentists everywhere a smooth appointment.

Her father's eyes shone briefly after she rose her head, asking with eagerness if she wanted ice cream. She knows she needs to act spoiled, yanking at her father's shaky hands, and sobbing crocodile tears with a thousand pleases falling from her tongue. She knows he wants that, to witness an ounce of a normal child across him. She knows he is struggling, desperation the only thing he can feel when around his family.

She knows and yet, she can't act like what he wants. All she can do is pick up a mask that she made specifically for him and wear it while reciting a script. As the playwright, the producer, the actress, she performs and does it well.

"Daddy," she meekly began, batting her eyes like she's seen Midori do a thousand times. "Can I get the Neopolitean one?" She tapped her finger against the disgustingly bright photo of said dessert.

A smile escaped him and the crows feet around his eyes crinkle. "You can, but then you'll be too full for dinner," he gently reprimanded, relief flooding from his voice. His muscles loosen, as if something inside him unwound. "Can you promise me that you'll have room for some yummy dinner?"

Like he could breathe.

She figured this was enough for him to feel like this could be normal. So she nods, stubborn with cheeks puffed and brows furrowed, similar to Kuu who debated with her parents often. She'd fight for adding 'just one more book!' to the cart as they wandered from aisle to aisle in a bookstore. Funny faces seeped onto Kuu's parents' faces as though they were doing their best not to laugh, and were easily swayed by the soured look of their child. 'Okay,' they'd say with a shake of their head, 'just one more.'

So, as always, Ayano feeds off her companions' lives and processes it as artificially as possible.

"I promise!"

And that memory drifts into nothingness. Her stomach was too small to handle such a behemoth of a sundae and they wound up boxing it, brought it home, and had it as dessert for dinner. She recalled having stomach cramps but managed to hide it and finish dinner her mother crooned on about loving to make. Ayano excused herself to take a bath first and relished in the hot water for as long as she could.

Why would anyone want to eat more than one scoop of ice cream? Impossible. She felt her teeth decay at the thought of attempting it a second time.

And so, the feeling drifts again.

"Mukai-sensei made sure I've eaten everything on my plate," she assured, feigning bashfulness. "I might gain weight because of it..." Gingerly her hands pat at her nearly nonexistent flab. She always worked out, not even thinking about it, scultped by her mother's designed lifestyle. Her posture was always upright, she did light cardio, she put her all into physical education, and was on constant alert. If anything, the pink-haired nurse commented how Ayano had a surprising amount of muscle for someone who wasn't part of an athletic club.

"It's almost as if you're training to join a sports meet!"

It was a kind observation. Something someone innocent, ignorant, of the world would assume. Or someone normal.

Her father cracked a smile, crows feet prominent.

#yandere simulator #ys galatea au #fuwa writes #fuwa drafts #this can be found on ao3!#well the actual story #not the actual chapter

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tanenigiri · 2 years

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Review #28: Anti-Romance (Volume 1)

Japanese title: アンチロマンス (Anchi Romansu)

Story and art: Shoko Hidaka

English publisher: Seven Seas Entertainment

Number of volumes: 1 in English, 2 in Japanese (complete)

Ending six years of stasis.

(This review contains story spoilers.)

This was a last-minute addition to this project, as I bought the physical copy on a whim since I saw some pretty good reviews of it online. Went into it knowing nothing, and now I think I’m gonna hunt for the scanlations since I need to find out what happens next, and the English translation of Volume 2 isn’t coming out until next year.

But I’ll just focus on the first volume of Anti-Romance here, which revolves around childhood friends Ryou and Suou who have been roommates for the past six years. It just so happens that both of them have been individually dealing with their feelings for each other, and neither of them has brought it up due to their own excuses and insecurities. However, both Ryou and Suou can feel that they do care for each other, but the lack of any acknowledgment keeps them from acting on these feelings.

It’s an incredibly frustrating situation, but at the same time, it leads to a fascinating dynamic between Ryou and Suou. Here are two characters who know each other better than anyone, but at the same time, they both feel like they don’t know enough about the other. On top of all of that, since both of them are in their mid-20s, they have to deal with pressures from their respective jobs. And it’s the mixture of their personal and professional issues that the story revolves around.

I’ll start with Ryou, as I think he has the more interesting plot arc between the two leads. He’s a writer for an agency, and while he’s seen to be quite serious about it, he doesn’t seem to have the same passion for it in the same way that he does for his side-projects. The most notable thing about this plot arc, though, is how Ryou has a pretty complicated relationship with Towada, his direct superior in the agency.

My opinion of Towada changed pretty much after every scene he was in, as it caught me off-guard how this story treats him as a major presence, putting a lot of depth to his character and even giving him scenes where he’s the one narrating. It’s an interesting difference from the other series I’ve covered for this project that have a similar vibe to this one - most notably There Are Things I Can’t Tell You, which solely focuses on its two leads. By the end of this volume, though, Towada might actually be my favorite character, as his dissection of the two leads’ relationship is what makes it move forward from its six-year stasis.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. We find out from the first scene where he’s the one narrating that Towada finds Ryou cute, and this initially worried me as the power dynamic would put Ryou in a really unfavorable situation should Towada decide to pursue it. But not even a chapter later, I realized that Towada was being positioned as a mentor not only in Ryou’s job but also in his personal life, as from the single instance where he sees the two roommates interacting - Suou runs into Ryou and Towada while the latter two are heading to a bar after work, and Suou is seen to feel jealous as he wanted to spend the night drinking with Ryou - Towada’s already gotten a good idea of what’s going on between them.

True enough, when Towada invites Ryou to drink with him the night after the above encounter, Towada reads Ryou’s situation like an open book. Notably, he eggs him on by saying that there must be something going on between him and Suou if they’ve stayed as roommates for six years, and Towada says what is pretty much the thesis statement of this entire situation: “Perhaps you’re not the only one who knows how you feel, but pretends not to.” True enough, the scene right after this shows Ryou and Suou share their first kiss, and an internal monologue shortly after reveals that Ryou has been holding himself back from doing this for a long time.

But before we get to this confrontation, the story also spends some time exploring Suou’s professional life, though I personally think it’s not as interesting as Ryou’s half of the story. Suou works as a stylist in a hair salon, a path we’re told that he forced himself to take after the untimely death of his mother, which made him inherit the family salon. His own superior, Sakuma, is nowhere near as involved as Towada in terms of his relationship, but he does look after Suou as a junior, being strict with him but only doing so because he knows Suou will improve with that kind of treatment.

What Suou does get from his superior, though, is an offer to leave their current job and join Sakuma in his own salon business. At first I thought that this was gonna go down the route of Suou having to move out - especially since the parallel conflict in Ryou’s side is how he’s looking for a new apartment to live in - but we don’t really get that sense here. What I think is happening, though, is a different parallel, where this is supposed to represent how Suou’s “stuck” in many facets of his life. And true enough, Sakuma tells Suou an equally scathing line as Towada’s above: “People who can’t accept their current situation are bound to fall apart.”

I think this breaking down of the central conflict is where this story excels, as it’s able to tackle it even indirectly through the other plot arcs of the volume. I mentioned above that this story was going to mix Ryou and Suou’s personal struggles with their professional lives, but I didn’t realize that it was going to do so very closely. I think it’s a great decision, though, as it really allows the story to explore what’s going on with these characters and highlight their strengths and weaknesses.

In any case, it’s with those two scathing lines in their minds that Ryou and Suou share their first kiss, and I’m not surprised at all that they both seem to shut down because of it. This is where Ryou’s idea of looking for a new apartment comes into play, and when he confronts his roommate about it in the volume’s final chapter, Suou is understandably taken aback by the sudden decision. After all, six years of doing nothing about the situation and suddenly one of them wants to completely change it would catch anyone off-guard.

This confrontation proves to be the final spark needed for both of them to start admitting their feelings to each other, though. And while the volume doesn’t really end on a definitive note - we’re not exactly sure what Ryou’s and Suou’s decisions are regarding everything they’ve put on the table - we do get the sense that they’re finally doing something about their situation.

And that’s why I really wanna read the next chapters of Anti-Romance - Volume 1 doesn’t end on a cliffhanger per se, but rather a stop in the journey when there’s still a lot of ground left to cover. It’s been a really fascinating journey so far, and I can already tell that it’s gonna be even more interesting once that journey continues.

Random thoughts that I couldn’t fit elsewhere:

We find out in one of the story’s last scenes that one of the main reasons why Towada is so invested in Ryou and Suou’s relationship is because he seems to have had a similarly complicated relationship with another man when he was younger. We actually meet this man in this volume - Junichi, who’s the bartender in the place where Ryou and Towada have the revealing conversation I talk about above - and the second kiss of the volume even happens between Towada and Junichi. The latter even goes on to say that he “still loves” the former, but interestingly, Towada calls it a lie. There are a lot of things left unsaid between these two, and I’m almost certain that we’re gonna get more out of them in the next volume, and I have a feeling that it’s gonna be just as messy as the main relationship.

There’s one other slightly prominent character we’re introduced to in this volume that I haven’t mentioned above: Misono, Sakuma’s friend from high school who’s looking to help him with his business. We don’t really get much from Misono yet, but he does have a really interesting line after they first bring up the idea of the business to Suou. Once they’re left alone, Misono calls Sakuma out for his line that I point out above, saying that not everyone is able to “move forward without hesitation” like Sakuma can. I of course got the feeling that there’s something personal going on here, and while both Sakuma and Misono deny that something’s going on between them when asked by Suou, I’m pretty skeptical myself.

I’m still a bit confused about whatever Ryou was writing in that very first scene? He first says it’s an interview, but then Suou describes it as a novel, and the snippets both of them bring up make it sound like a diary. Whatever it is, Towada notes that Ryou’s the most passionate when he’s working on it, so I’m excited to see what that’s all about.

Thanks for reading! Like I said in the intro, Anti-Romance was the latest addition to this project, as this physical copy was only released earlier this month. I’m glad I decided to buy it, as it really turned out to be more enjoyable than I thought.

#Anti-Romance #Anchi Romansu #Shoko Hidaka #Kakitani Ryou #Hiroki Suou #Towada Atsushi #BL manga #manga review #manga

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mackenzielovee · 3 years

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my girl (part 4) - rafe cameron

a/n: SURPRISE! I wrote a part 4 ;) i had this idea right after i said i was only doing 3 parts - but this really is the final one! I really hope ya'll enjoy. It's a little shorter than the rest! (not my gif)

Summary: Nope sorry you have to read!

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, kissing, and test anxiety

Word Count: 4.4k

series masterlist

my writing

Your phone buzzing on your nightstand distracts you get again from cramming for your Chemistry final. The exam happens in two days, yet you feel like it might as well be in two hours with the amount of anxiety you have. It's your second year of college, and boy, it hasn't gotten any easier. Thankfully, your roommate is out for the night so you have your entire dorm to yourself to study.

You lean over and check your phone. Another missed call from your fiancee, Rafe. Beside your phone on your nightstand sits your engagement ring. You stare at it for a moment and swallow your feelings, then move back over to your chemistry textbook. Your phone buzzes again - a voicemail from Rafe this time, which you don't bother to listen to.

Chemistry is your focus tonight. Chemistry is what you need to be studying for, what you need to know inside and out. You throw yourself back into it, shutting off your phone when it buzzes yet again. You need absolutely zero distractions.

About twenty minutes into it, you hear a loud knock on the door. You sigh, figuring your roommate forgot her ID or keys again. You pull open the door and sigh, fully shocked when you find Rafe standing at your door. He's out of breath from running inside from the parking lot, and he looks pissed off.

"Oh, good, you're alive," he snaps, pushing his way into your room before you can even invite him.

"What are you doing here?" you ask him, closing the door so none of your nosy neighbors can listen to yet another argument between the two of you.

Things haven't been good. You're sick of him calling and texting you all the time, him begging you to come home, and constantly asking who you're with when you go out. On top of all of that, your classes this semester are harder than they've ever been, but Rafe never respects when you say you need space and time to study.

"Checking to see if my fucking fiancee is breathing!" he shouts, throwing his hands up in the air, "I mean, shit, Y/N, I called you, like, twenty times."

You glance over to the nightstand at your phone, realizing your ring was over there, too. You know he won't like that.

"I shut my phone off. I really need to study, Rafe," you tell him, but he's not listening.

Instead, he collapses onto your bed and puts his head in his hands, sitting directly on your Chem textbook and notes.

"Oh, my God, what the hell? Get up," you snap at him, walking over and pushing him off so he doesn't ruin your notes or textbook pages.

"It's fucking fine," he replies as he stands, barely glancing at your papers.

"No, it's not. I need this shit to pass my exam-" you hold the wrinkled papers up.

"They're literally fine, Y/N," his voice raises, "Stop being so dramatic."

You take a deep breath before you speak again, knowing whatever comes out will not be very nice. You've really been trying to be patient with him, but it's getting harder and harder.

"I'm not being dramatic, Rafe," you say calmly, "I just really need to study and I need peace and quiet."

He sighs and rubs the back of his neck as he debates what to say next. Neither of you want to start a fight, but you both have a lot of shit to say. His eye catches the shiny object on the nightstand and he looks over, figuring out it's your engagement ring.

"What the fuck?" he gasps, picking it up and holding it out to you, "Since when do you take this off?"

You put your hands on your forehead and sigh, realizing this is going to take up a lot of time that you don't have. And the fact that Rafe drove eight hours on a whim because you didn't pick up his calls all day has made you crazy.

"I cannot do this with you right now," you tell him, stepping toward your Chemistry stuff.

You'll just have to go to the library and study if he's going to be here. There's no way you can get any of your shit done with him bitching about your ring.

"Oh, my bad, when can you do it, then?" he rolls his eyes, "Huh? Can you give me, like, a window of time where you're actually available to talk?"

"Rafe-" you start, but he holds his hand up.

"No, because, I mean, I don't hear from you all day, and I'm fucking worried about you, so I make the long ass drive to come check on my soon-to-be wife, and now I'm the bad guy? Yeah, no, I get it now!" he exclaims.

"Jesus, okay, I have to go," you say, grabbing your backpack from the floor and sliding some slippers on.

"Right, to study," he grumbles.

"Yeah, to study," you snap back, "Just because you didn't go to school doesn't mean you can't at least try to understand!"

You rarely raise your voice at him, so Rafe knows you're mad. He stares at you for a second, deciding if he should acknowledge your comment about him not attending school.

"It's not about whether or not I understand, it's about time management," he lectures, making you roll your eyes, "Don't roll your fucking eyes at me."

"Don't show up at my dorm unannounced!" you yell back.

"I wouldn't have been unannounced if you would answer your goddamn phone!"

You take a deep breath and exhale loudly, then step closer to the door. Rafe walks over to you and grabs your arm, spinning you around. You stare up at him like he's crazy, he's never laid a hand on you like that before.

"Put your ring back on," he demands, holding it out in his hand.

"What the fuck is your problem, Rafe? You think I'm gonna get hit on walking to the damn library? Get a grip," you mutter, trying to yank your arm from his grasp but failing.

"I'm not playing," he tells you, holding the ring up in his other hand.

"Neither am I," you snap, "Let go of me."

He stares at you for another few seconds and then releases you, groaning loudly when he does. He steps away from you and runs his hand through his hair, then sets your ring back down on the nightstand.

"What's going on with us?" he grumbles, sitting down on your bed again.

You start to feel bad as you look at him, so you step closer and set your books down on you desk. You open your mouth to speak, to apologize and return your ring to your finger, when he speaks out again.

"Why didn't you answer the fucking phone when I called?"

You close your mouth quickly, swallowing the words you were about to say. You stare at him for a moment, then you decide that it's just best to tell him the absolute, stone cold truth.

"Because I have shit going on, Rafe. I have a Chem final in two days and I'm not at all prepared, I have other finals and an entire paper due by the end of the week, and I have you up my ass about everything in between and it's just a little overwhelming right now."

He brings his head out of his hands and looks up at you. His expression changes from hurt to angry in about one second, so you brace yourself.

"So what do you want me to do to help you, then?" he asks, his voice agitated. You can tell he's trying to be patient, but he really wants to yell.

"I just need you to give me some space right now," you state.

He nods his head, moving his eyes away from yours and down to the floor.

"Space," he repeats, "You want space."

You nod your head slowly, afraid now to speak. You can't tell what his reaction is about to be, but obviously it isn't going to be a good one.

"So, you ignore my phone calls," he holds up one finger, "You take off your engagement ring," another finger, "And now you want space. Do you think I'm a fucking moron?"

He stands up off the bed, now towering over you. Your hands come up to your face, rubbing your eyes to try and relieve some form of stress.

"God, Rafe, you're making this out to be something it's not-"

"Am I?" he shouts, "Do you want to marry me or not? I mean, I really think that's what this boils down to. Am I what you want, or not?"

His yelling combined with your stress and confusion makes you yell back at him.

"I don't know!"

He steps back, almost like you've hurt him, and stares at you with a look you've never seen before. It's anger, betrayal, confusion, and sadness all rolled into one, heartbroken expression. It makes your stomach turn thinking about the fact that you're hurting him.

"Well, there it is," he says, his voice cracking, "I'll just get out of your way, then."

He leans down and grabs the ring from your nightstand, wrapping his large hand around it and then stepping toward the door.

"Rafe, wait," you say, "Where are you going to go? You can't drive home in the dark."

He doesn't turn around, he can't look at you. Not when you're not sure what you want.

"I'll sleep in the truck," he says, his voice weak and quiet.

"No," you protest, "Rafe, I'm sorry."

He stands there for a few seconds, then turns, and you see the tears in his eyes. One has fallen, and rests on the bottom of his cheek. He wipes it away, but not quick enough.

"Why are you sorry? I'm not what you want anymore," he laughs, but nothing is funny.

Another tear falls and you step forward quickly, reaching up to wipe it away. He closes his eyes under your touch, always loving feeling your skin on his.

"I didn't say that," you say gently, tears welling in your eyes from seeing him like this.

"Just..." he trails off, finally opening his red eyes, "Go ace your Chem final. I'll see you at home in a few days."

He reaches up and grabs your hand, removing it from his cheek. He lays a quick kiss on your knuckles, then closes his eyes again when he lets go of you. Not sure if it's his last time feeling you.

He turns to leave, opening the door up before he turns back to you.

"I love you. I always will."

He doesn't wait for your response, he just closes the door behind him. You turn and look at the nightstand where your ring once sat, wishing to God that it was still there. You want to tun after him, but you know you can't. You two just need some cooling off time, you tell yourself. You'll come back again atfer finals when you get home for Christmas break. He'll hold onto your ring for you, you convince yourself of that.

You can't focus. The next day, you spend all your time in the library, staring at a page in your Chem textbook, and all you can focus on is your empty finger. No pretty ring that reflects every ounce of Rafe's love for you. You check your phone, but all you see is an empty screen. Your wallpaper is a cheesy picture of Rafe holding a wine glass. You took it on your anniversary last year and love everything about it, especially his cheesy grin.

Tears start to form in your eyes, so you do what you have to do. You call him. It rings and rings and rings, then you hear his familiar, raspy voice on his voicemail.

Yo, it's Rafe. Leave a message and I might hit you back.

You close your eyes, those two sentences being the most you've heard from him in almost twenty-four hours.

"Hey," you start your message, "Look, I'm sorry about last night. I really want to talk. Please call me back. Love you, bye."

You sigh and hang up the phone, then look down to your book again. You try and try to focus, but you can't. It just is impossible with everything spinning around your brain. You can still see the look on his face when you said you weren't sure, you can still hear him say 'I love you' right before he left.

And it's all you want to hear again.

You slam your book shut and grab your stuff, then make your way out of the library. Once you get outside, you call Rafe again. You hear the same ringing and the same message from his voicemail, so you leave another.

"Baby, please call me. I'm worried about you. I just want us to talk. Please call. I love you."

You hang up and walk back to your dorm, checking every five seconds to see if he's called you back. You really just want to hear his voice, to apologize, and to be able to focus on Chemistry again. Knowing that Rafe is out there hurting is just too distracting.

You call hm again after you get back to your dorm, giving him about thirty minutes to call back before you try him again. When he doesn't answer, you leave another message.

"Hey," you say, your voice sounding more desperate, "I'm going to call Dad and have him come get me. I'm skipping out on my Chem final. I just want to come home and work things out with you. Call me, please. Love you."

And you mean every word. You sit down on your bed and you remember how Rafe had helped you move in on your first day of freshman year. You remember how he made love to you and how he proposed to you in the parking lot before he left. And you remember all the times he came to visit and you two laid in bed and planned out your whole wedding reception together, laughing and joking about who to invite and who to sit together.

As you sit there and remember it all, remember the kisses and the laughs and the feelings you have when you're with him, you've never been more sure in your life. It's Rafe. It will always be Rafe.

You hear a knock on your dorm room door and hop out of bed, rushing over to it. It's him, you hope. Coming to rescue you, coming to hold you, coming to give you your ring back. You pull open the door with a big smile, only to find your roommate, Alex, standing on the other side.

"Hey," she says, looking confused at why you opened the door like that, "Sorry. I forgot my keys."

You drop your shoulders and nod, moving her out of the way. She leaves the door open as she moves over to her side of the room to search for them. You sit back down on your bed, checking your phone once again. He has to call back eventually.

"You're not ditching your Chemistry final."

You look up and see him, standing in the doorway, staring at you. His eyes are tired, his hair is a mess, and he looks like he's hung over. You don't even want to know where the hell he's been for the past day.

"Rafe," you breathe, hopping up from your bed.

You want to throw your arms around him, hug him, and have you hold him. He stops you when you get close to him, holding out his hand to keep distance between the two of you, which practically breaks your heart in two.

"You're not coming home until you take that test," he repeats, "You've been studying for it and if you don't take it, you fail. So, you're staying. I called your dad."

You frown. This is not how you imagined it. He seems colder somehow.

"Okay," you say, "Fine. But I want us to talk."

Rafe shakes his head, leaning against the doorframe. Alex walks up behind you, whispering she will be back later, and leaves with a quick smile to Rafe.

"I'm giving you your space so you can focus. We'll work on us when you're done with the semester."

He sounds firm, but you know you can win this one. You step forward, so close that he can almost feel your skin on his. Your scent fills the air, and you watch as he swallows his feelings.

"Rafe," you say, your voice soft, "I can't focus on anything knowing that I hurt you. I need to talk about us and figure things out. Please."

"Baby," he sighs, and you know you've won just by the return of your nickname. It's your favorite, which is why he calls you it so often.

"Please," you say, taking his hand. Your fingers wrap through his, pulling him inside.

He groans but enters anyway, both of you knowing that he would do anything for you. The door closes behind him, which you're thankful for. You sit him down on your bed and instantly crawl onto his lap, not caring if that's what he wants or not. That's what you need. Your head buries into his chest and your arms wrap around his neck.

"Baby," he says again, this time with more authority.

You bring your lips up to his neck to soften him up, listening to the small moans that come out of his mouth as you work.

"Rafe," you say against his skin, "I'm so sorry for what I said yesterday."

He hums, so you give him a few more kisses on his neck before you pull back to look at him. He stares at you with soft eyes, and you know you've already won him over. But you still need to say what you need to say.

"Truly, baby. I was wrong. I was angry. You are all I want in this world and I couldn't handle any of this without you. I was acting extremely ungrateful and I'm really, really sorry," you continue, watching him smile sadly at you.

"Well," he smirks, moving his hands from your back down to your butt, "I've always known you're a brat, so."

"Hey," you pretend to pout, but really, you just want a kiss. He gives you a slow, gentle one, one that makes you want to melt into him.

"You are the love of my life," he says, "You could never say anything to make me walk. And I'm sorry for being such a dick yesterday and for not respecting your school. I'm gonna get better. This shit is just hard for me, having you all the way here. I just miss you when I'm home."

You nod, reaching up and brushing his hair away from his eyes with your fingers. Even when he hasn't showered, is in the same clothes as yesterday, hasn't styled his hair or even slept well, he still is the most handsome to you.

"I understand. I'm sorry for being so hard on you," you say, kissing him on the cheek.

He smiles against your lips, bringing his hands up to your face to move you down to his lips.

"Are we okay?" he asks you in between kisses.

You hum against his lips, and he takes that as a yes, so he flips you over and lays down on top of you, kissing you like his life depends on it. He quickly moves down to your neck, his hands going underneath your shirt.

"Oh, my God, I missed you, baby," he tells you as you feel him leaving a hickey on your neck.

"Always marking me up," you laugh at him, feeling him smirk against you, "I missed you, too."

"It killed me not calling you back," he continues against your neck, "But I wanted to do right by you, you know?"

You gasp when he bites you slightly, then laugh when you feel his big grin on your neck.

"That's why I love you the way I do," you say sweetly.

He sits up and looks down at you, smirking widely, "Can you love me like you do right now and then get back to your studying?"

You bite your lip and nod, pulling him back down on top of you.

A little while later, you and Rafe lay naked in your bed, just breathing in the other. Rafe is drawing hearts into the skin on your stomach, leaving little kisses every so often on any inch of skin he could reach with his mouth.

"You need to get back to studying," he says, but doesn't stop with his kisses.

"Can I have my ring back first?"

He looks up at you with wide eyes, wondering if you really mean it. He didn't want to bring up the ring, just in case you had changed your mind about the engagement.

"You sure?" he asks quietly.

You grab his chin and pull him up to you, stroking his hair as you give him a couple quick kisses.

"I've never been more sure of anything," you tell him.

He nods and kisses you again, then hops off the bed and pulls the ring out of the zipped up pocket of his shorts. He grins at you and then jumps back in bed, of course landing on you when he does.

"This is a twin bed, you ogre. You can't be jumping and shit, there's not enough room for you!" you say as you try to free your left side from underneath him.

He moves and lets you get situated, then holds out the ring. You hold up your left hand for him ti put it on you once again.

"Will you marry me?" he asks, and you would've laughed at him if his voice wasn't so gentle and nervous.

"Of course I will, Rafe Cameron," you tell him, smiling.

He slides your ring back on your finger and you somehow feel more complete, more whole, knowing it's there.

"It's never coming off again," you tell him, meaning it.

He kisses you softly, "No, it's not."

Rafe takes a shower and then hangs out on your bed on his phone later on to keep himself occupied while you study for Chem at your desk. You ask him to quiz you and he does, even though he knows nothing about Chemistry.

It gets late, so you tell him you'll study the rest tomorrow and hope to be prepared the following day for the exam. You put your book and notes on your desk, then slide into bed with Rafe, who you made stay with you tonight. Although it didn't take much convincing.

"I can't believe your dad is just letting you take all this time off," you mumble against his chest.

"Hmm," Rafe hums, so you know you're wrong, "I've kinda been dodging his calls."

"He'll be mad," you tell him, and he nods.

"I don't care, though. I got what I came here for."

You spend all day the next day studying in the library for Chem and writing your paper, while Rafe packs your things for you. He figures it's one less thing for you to worry about, and then you can just come with him after you finish your exam. He had told you he wanted to be the one to bring you, his soon-to-be wife, home.

Rafe waits for you outside your building on exam day. One by one, students file out of the building, and he gets even more anxious every time you aren't one of them. Eventually, he stops pacing and sits down on a bench, praying that you do well.

He sees you emerge from the building with only ten minutes to spare, and jumps up to greet you.

"So?" he asks, his voice hopeful.

"I won't know for a few days," you tell him, "But I'm confident. I felt like I had most of it under control."

He smiles, taking your hand in his and kissing it, "I'm so proud of you, baby."

You smile and thank him, then put your head on his chest in hopes that he'll wrap his arms around you. With the amount of stress you've been under the past few days, all you want is just for him to hold you right now.

"I'm so proud of you," he repeats, swallowing you up in his arms.

You breathe in his scent and relax, knowing that even if you fail every class you ever take for the rest of your life, you will always have a place in the arms of this boy.

After a few minutes, you move to look up at him by resting your chin on his sternum, staring up at him. He smiles down at you, running a hand through your hair as an attempt to calm you down.

"Take me home, Rafe," you tell him quietly, and he nods.

He reaches down and takes your hand, leading you away from the building. You two go back and grab the remaining items you need to bring home, the rest Rafe already packed in the truck, and then go out to the parking lot to head home.

You feel relieved, ready to spend some quality time with Rafe and really make sure to work on things so that nothing ever gets bad between the two of you again.

He puts you into the truck and closes your door, then hops into the driver's side. He reaches over and takes your hand, staring at the ring on your finger and smiling softly.

"Let's just elope and get it over with," he looks up at you, already laughing because he knows you'll never agree.

"Yeah, I'm glad our wedding is something you just wanna get over with," you roll your eyes, but can't help your smile.

"You know what I mean," Rafe groans, "We don't need all the bullshit and the drama. I just need you. And a minister."

You laugh at him and nod, understanding what he means. He looks down at your hand in his, at the diamond on your finger, and so do you. You honestly can't remember why you took it off, you just know you never will again.

"A small wedding it is," you whisper.

He leans over and gives you a kiss. Then another. Then another. He pulls away and starts the truck, then looks back over a you.

"Baby, I'll do whatever you want."

That sentence combined with the cheesy smile he gives you afterward is what convinces you that, no matter what, Rafe will always be yours, and you will always be his.

Tags: @cmrxac

#drew starkey #rafe fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe #rafe imagine #rafe x y/n #rafe fanfiction #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #outer banks netflix #obx fic #obx fanfiction #obx netflix #outerbanks netflix

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Text

Initiative - aka NMJ and JYL get engaged - ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2

Jiang Yanli’s first engagement had been announced when she was three and a half years old – there had been a big party, festooned in color, exquisitely and meticulously planned out in advance, and she’d been obliged to stand on stage next to a baby in a cradle that had done nothing but cry and spit as all the adults around her congregated and congratulated each other on the excellent match.

She hadn’t enjoyed that at all.

Her second wedding announcement was simultaneously more casual and more noteworthy, and she enjoyed it tremendously.

Madame Jin had sent several invitations to Jiang Yanli to come visit Lanling in advance of the hunt planned for Phoenix Mountain, speaking of how beautiful it was and how much she looked forward to seeing her good friend’s daughter – talking about she’d always regretted how Jiang Yanli had been obligated by circumstances to take shelter at the Unclean Realm rather than in Lanling City, although she’d been pleased to hear from her son that she was doing well – all the right sort of words. The words might have been more welcome if Jiang Yanli hadn’t known that Madame Jin was still intent on securing the marriage she had arranged.

If she hadn’t been engaged, she would have accepted the invitation, hoping to form an alliance for her sect through a close relationship with Madame Jin even if she didn’t have one with Jin Zixuan (no matter what Madame Jin hoped), but as she was, in fact, engaged to another – even if it hadn’t been formally announced – it would be inappropriate to go. So she instead played ignorant and responded graciously, protesting that she couldn’t possibly impose, that the rebuilding at the Lotus Pier needed her, but that she would of course be happy to attend the hunt alongside the rest of her sect.

She arrived at her brother’s side, smiling all the while.

Her second engagement was announced like this: Sect Leader Jin, using his newly legitimized son as his mouthpiece, had brought forward some ghastly ‘entertainment’ that involved shooting at helpless prisoners, tied up in chains. Jin Zixuan had complied, but Wei Wuxian had marched out and disrupted everything by showing off to a ridiculous extent – Nie Mingjue, who had been watching with a black face full of rage but unable to speak due to propriety, had started applauding very loudly and very enthusiastically – and Sect Leader Jin had ordered the prisoners taken away.

“Well, then,” he said, clapping as if he had impressed himself: as if they hadn’t just been subjected to a powerplay under the guise of hospitality, as if everyone would be over-awed by his might now that they had seen him abuse the helpless while they were all forced by the rules of etiquette to say nothing or else risk carrying the blame for trying to start another war. “Absent anything else, we should proceed to the hunt itself, where await you only the finest of prey and the sharpest competition among your peers.”

For the further display of the power of the Jin sect, he meant.

“Actually,” Nie Mingjue said, interjecting in a moment in which Sect Leader Jin had paused to take a breath so that it was technically not an interruption, “there is one thing. A request, in fact.”

Sect Leader Jin’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he maintained his false smile. “Of course, Sect Leader Nie. What can I do for you?”

“I’m getting married,” Nie Mingjue said. “The bride is Young Mistress Jiang, of Yunmeng Jiang, and I would like –” He raised his voice to overcome the abrupt explosion of talk that had erupted. “– I would like to have her accompany my sect in today’s hunt. I hope that doesn’t interfere with your plans for a competition between the sects?”

There were those who said that Jiang Yanli’s chosen husband was bad at politics, and they might even be right. But it didn’t really matter in the end if he’d thought of the idea on a whim or if it’d been a prearranged plan by Nie Huaisang, who was cleverer than he liked to let on to people, Jiang Yanli’s future husband had still wiped away in a single sentence all memory of the farce they’d all just endured and of the hunt that was yet to come, ensuring that the only thing anyone would remember about today was the shocking news of the engagement of the leader of one Great Sect to the sister of another.

(And if everyone remembered that at the last celebration hosted by Sect Leader Jin, he had proposed to resurrect the marriage between Jiang Yanli and his own son, instead, forcing her to publicly demur on vague terms…well, that just made it all the more satisfying.)

Now it was Sect Leader Jin’s turn to scowl and glare, and Madame Jin’s expression looked no less thunderous, but in the end Jiang Yanli got to go with the Nie sect on the hunt.

“You know I’ll only slow you down,” she said to Nie Mingjue, who snorted.

“No more than Huaisang will,” he said, and if his face was stern and his voice gruff then she still thought she detected fondness and humor beneath it. “Besides, it’ll be a good opportunity to measure you.”

It turned out that he meant that more literally than she might have thought.

Jiang Yanli was promptly whisked away to the back of the Nie retinue by a small cadre of Nie disciples, men and women both. She was presented with a number of training sabers shaped out of wood and made to hold them in a variety of positions as they murmured things about stability and reach and balance as if they really, truly thought that she would actually use the saber they were preparing for her.

“This one,” Nie Jiahui, a steely older woman with silver in her hair and fierce eyes, eventually announced, and the practice saber Jiang Yanli had been waving around was taken away. She was then presented with one that was twice as heavy, for “practice”.

“Do you always practice with something heavier than the actual thing?” she asked, and Nie Jiahui nodded.

“Strengthens the shoulders,” she said, curt but not standoffish. “Have some candy.”

Jiang Yanli blinked, but smiled and accepted the offer. It was licorice, which she liked.

“Do you often carry candy with you on night-hunts?” she asked, listening to the sound of fighting from up ahead. Every so often, a disciple or two would trot by carrying the corpses of larger and larger creatures, slain in the fighting; it seemed that the Nie sect was not, in fact, being slowed down in the slightest by her presence.

Of course, she also wasn’t being tended to as if she were their chosen lady, either, as she might have otherwise expected – all pomp and flowery language, Nie Mingjue by her side at all times to show her around as if they were on a pleasure stroll – but in all honesty that would have been a little bewildering. It was very much not the Nie sect’s character, all practical and straightforward, and she found that she preferred it that way.

“It’s important to have something to replenish energy,” Nie Huaisang said, having dropped back to join them from the front. He looked tired and grumpy, but his saber appeared to have been put to some work; he immediately climbed up into the carriage that people were taking turns riding and started cleaning it. “And licorice candy clears the lungs.”

“Clears the lungs?” Jiang Yanli asked.

“It’s good for more than that,” Nie Jiahui said. “But that’s one of the uses, yes. Do you ever feel like your chest is too tight, especially when you move too much? Leading to coughing, shortness of breath, your lips turning blue?”

Jiang Yanli blinked. “Yes,” she said. “But that’s just because I was born with a weak body.”

Nie Jiahui scoffed and Nie Huaisang laughed. “Good luck with that,” he said cheerfully. “I was born with muscles that didn’t keep their tone: too flexible, incapable of gathering strength, requiring more energy to do less, making me twice as tired twice as fast – even sitting up straight can be a struggle in some extreme cases, though luckily not mine. And do you think that helped me one bit in getting out of saber training? It did not.”

“Early childhood intervention is best,” Nie Jiahui said. “But the next best is starting today. I’ll show you some low-impact exercises that you can start working on to strengthen your shoulders and stomach, as well as some balance movements to center yourself and improve your posture – that way, by the time your actual saber is ready, you’ll be able to take it through one of the basic routines.”

“I’m happy to learn whatever you have to teach,” Jiang Yanli said, ignoring Nie Huaisang’s dramatic cry of ‘And here I thought you’d be on my side!’ “I only regret troubling you.”

“Not at all,” Nie Jiahui said. “It’ll be good to have someone watching the Sect Leader’s back on night-hunts.”

Jiang Yanli felt a surge of terror and excitement in her belly. “He would trust me with that? You would trust me with that?”

“I did tell you that you’d need to keep up with him,” Nie Huaisang said mildly, and it was true, he had, only she’d assumed it was a bit more metaphorical. “You don’t have to fight or even walk too much, if it doesn’t suit you – my grandmother was lame in both her legs from a childhood illness, she rode everywhere, scariest woman I’ve ever met by far – but you do have to be there. Someone needs to be able to tell my brother to stop. Someone he’ll listen to.”

And wasn’t that something of a thrill to think of?

Jiang Yanli wasn’t someone anyone listened to – not her parents, not her brother, not her sect disciples. She’d always been the one who comforted them afterwards, who supported them; she made them food and tried to convince them to be kinder to each other, and sometimes they even tried for a while before getting into another tiff. They would kill for her if she so much as hinted at it, tear down the sky for her, but it was more in the nature of indulging her rather than actually allowing them to guide her.

Yet here was Chifeng-zun, a war hero and a sect leader, one of the most powerful men in the world, a man admired by men and sought after (even if only in their hearts) by women, and his family was telling her that he would listen to her.

“If you say so,” she demurred, but they insisted, and by the time the hunt was over Jiang Yanli was surprised to realize that she hadn’t needed to resort to sitting on the carriage more than twice the entire time.

“We’ll send Auntie Jiahui to the Lotus Pier after today’s hunt is done,” Nie Huaisang chattered cheerfully in her ear as they headed back towards Jinlin Tower. “She’ll work you through your paces, believe you me, and all the supplemental things, too – making sure you eat the right thing, take medicinal baths to improve your meridians, apply massages to loosen your joints…those parts are nice, actually. Take care of your body as you would your saber, take care of your saber as you would your wife! That’s how the saying goes. Trust me, you’ll be regretting the whole thing soon enough.”

Jiang Yanli didn’t think she would. “You seem very confident that A-Cheng will allow you to do as you please, even in the Lotus Pier.”

“I’ll tell him it concerns secret Nie sect marriage rituals,” Nie Jiahui interjected. “When two women are involved, men tend to run away when the words ‘marriage’ and ‘secret’ are combined.”

Sadly, she was probably right.

“Show me those exercises again,” she requested, and Nie Jiahui climbed up on to the carriage to show her the ones she could do even while sitting down.

Jiang Yanli might never have had the opportunity to strengthen herself before, and she was moderately certain that she wouldn’t have too much success now, as the various tricks Nie Jiahui had taught her were largely body refinement, barely reliant on qi, and her cultivation was still as low as ever.

But she was good at devoting herself to learning something when she wanted to, and as soon the hunt at Phoenix Mountain was over and they had shifted over to the various feasts and meetings that Lanling Jin had planned for the rest of the week, she began her efforts at self-improvement in earnest.

The weak body her mother had always despaired of might always be weak – Nie Jiahui had been quite blunt on that subject, making it clear that nothing she was suggesting was some sort of miracle pill, and furthermore that there was nothing wrong with being weak as long as she made an effort (Nie Huaisang had been the recipient of several pointed looks there) – but Jiang Yanli was determined to at least demonstrate that she was trying.

A gesture of good faith, perhaps. Some small show of initiative.

Nie Huaisang had said that Nie Mingjue appreciated her initiative.

“A-Xian,” she called one morning, only a few days later. “A-Xian, are you going out for a walk? Let me come with you.”

“You’ve gone on a lot of walks recently,” Wei Wuxian laughed, but allowed her to take his arm as they walked into the crowd. “Do you like Lanling City so much?”

“It’s the exercise I’m after,” she said, smiling at him. “The Nie sect is a martial sect, remember? I’ll be going on more night-hunts in the future, if all goes well, and I’ll need to keep up.”

“Oh, but surely they’ll bring a carriage..? I don’t know if you really need to go on night-hunts –”

“I want to! It’ll be nice. Don’t worry about me so much, A-Xian –”

Wei Wuxian was shaking his head, smiling, and he wasn’t looking where he was going; perhaps that was why he bumped into the young woman.

But then she looked up at him, and he looked down at her, and he froze.

“Wen Qing?”

#mdzs #jiang yanli #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #initiative #the untamed #includes my medical HCs for JYL and NHS #but no actual medical incidents

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atlabeth · 3 years

Text

hold onto me (im a little unsteady) - sokka x reader

i was listening to the song when i came up w this so feel free to listen to that if you want

summary: a late night with sokka reminds you that even on the worst days, you always have someone in your corner.

a/n: lmao this is 100% self indulgent i have no excuses. my parents are getting divorced and almost every time they're together they argue and so this is just a comfort fic after it happened again tonight bc GD i wish i had a sokka. this one goes out to all my divorce babies or people with parents that never stop arguing. you are very loved<3

wc: 1.7k, this got away from me lol

warning(s): mentions of parents arguing n shit, like the tiniest mentions of implying sex and problems with consent (in general, not with them), but this is all fluff

hey. i know you’re probably asleep right now but could you come over?

It was far too late at night when you sent the text. A question asked on a whim, an offer that would most likely go ignored due to the boy on the other end being asleep.

But goddammit, you really didn’t care. Even if he didn’t respond, just hitting ‘send’ made you feel slightly better. You had already taken refuge in one of the sweatshirts he had left at your house (read: one that you had stolen and refused to give back) and as your eyes fell on the glow of the digital clock on your bedside table, you were once again reminded of how stupid this was.

But you heard the telltale buzz of a notification and all but lunged for your phone, an uncontrollable smile tugging on your lips. You didn’t know why you ever doubted him.

sokka💙: you know i never sleep babe

sokka💙: a curse of my genius

sokka💙: im omw

you’re the best thank you love<3

A pair of fuzzy socks and a refilled water bottle later, you heard the sound of something hitting your window. Though you tensed up at first, a roll of your eyes was all it took before you remembered just who you had invited over. Another smile took over as you pushed yourself off of your bed, pushing the curtains aside in time to see another pebble hit the pane.

A physical effort took place to stifle the laugh as you pushed your window up, and you leaned against the sill on your elbows to get a better look at your ridiculous boyfriend.

“Throwing rocks at my window? I think I’m stuck in a bad romcom.”

He grinned and let the remaining pebbles fall to the ground. “It’s what’s to be expected from your Prince Charming, right? Besides, I’m assuming that your parents wouldn’t just let me walk through the front door at this hour.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. Just the sight of Sokka was always enough to make you feel better, and tonight was no exception. The vice on your heart was already starting to loosen. “Right as usual. Think you’ll catch me if I jump?”

He laughed and made a show of looking up and down the distance and then at his arms. “I’d like to say so, but I think we’d have better luck if I climb up.”

“You sure you can do that, big guy?” you asked with a teasing grin. He rolled his eyes with the same sentiment.

“Of course I can. I just thank nature that there’s a tree so close to your window. It’s saved me from a lot of embarrassing falls.”

You chuckled and backed away from the window, the slight chill from the night air beginning to get to you. “I’ll leave you to it while I get things ready.”

Truth be told, your room was a total mess at the moment. You knew Sokka wouldn’t care, especially not now, but it put you slightly more at ease to have something in your life that you could control. You were in the middle of shoving some previously strewn-about clothes into your closet when you heard the click of your window closing. When you turned around, you were met with your boyfriend’s smiling face.

“You’re so pretty,” you murmured as you walked over to him. He wrapped his arms around your waist as you kissed him lightly on the lips, unable to stop the blossoming smile nor the warmth that the action gave you. “Thank you for being here.”

“Of course.” The softness of his words were in stark contrast to the joking bravado from only minutes earlier, and as you stepped away from his embrace and pushed yourself onto your bed, he joined you on the other side. “And not that I’m not happy to be here, but I just wanna know. What’s going on?”

You sighed, letting one leg hang off the bed as you tucked the other in. It was a testament to Sokka’s power how quickly he had gotten you to forget about the new mess of the night. “The usual showing of fuckall and fuckup. I’m more impressed by how they never run out of things to scream at each other about.”

Your bad joke didn’t get a laugh out of him, which you were secretly glad for. Instead, he snaked an arm around your back and tugged you closer, a contented sigh falling from your lips as you nestled your head into the space between his shoulder and his head. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “You know it’s not your fault, right?”

The phrase had gone in one ear and out the other more times than you could count from your parents, but each time Sokka said it, the words held a different weight. You knew it wasn’t your fault in the first place, but guilt didn’t care all that much for logic. You knew he meant it though, and once more the vice loosened.

“I know. But it still helps to hear it.” You glanced up at him, reaching a hand up to twist a loose strand of his hair around your finger. “You should wear your hair down more often,” you mused. “It makes you look like a prince.”

He chuckled, amusement glinting through his ocean eyes. “I did say I was your Prince Charming, didn’t I?”

You smiled, slowly uncurling his hair from your finger. “Yeah.”

“That means I’ll always be there for you. Especially to save my royal from their evil stepparents.”

Another laugh bubbled in your chest at that, and you leaned closer into him. “Thank you. The more I visit your place, the more I want your family to be mine. Hakoda is like, the nicest man I’ve ever met, and your mom? She actually makes me want to cry with how sweet she is. I think I know where you get it from.”

He grinned and bumped your leg with his own. “You know you’re welcome over there any time. But maybe you shouldn’t — I think my mom might actually adopt you with how much she loves you. That… that would be really weird.”

His joy was infectious as you planted another kiss on his cheek, something that earned you a, as you liked to call it, dazzling Signature Sokka Smile. “I’ll make sure she holds off on the adoption papers for now.”

“I’d like that.”

And though the happiness you felt at the moment was almost overwhelming, that was just what caused that tiny sliver of doubt to come in. When people invited their partners over at three in the morning, it usually wasn’t to sit on the bed and talk about their problems. It was… it was for more, and you didn’t want that right now. And because you were an expert at it, you decided to put your foot in your mouth and start talking.

“I— I’m sorry that I called you over here so late, for no reason. I know you probably expected something else than me ranting, but…” you sighed, drawing your knees closer to your chest as you brought your other hand to Sokka’s resting on your shoulder. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea.”

He sighed at that, but you knew it wasn’t one of disappointment. “You know I’m here for you. I don’t care if you just want to sit in silence for the next five hours while we stare at the wall, or if you want to watch sappy rom coms until your eyes bleed. I’m more than okay with staying like this. I didn’t come over here because I expected anything from you — I came over here because you needed me, and so I’m here.” Sokka smiled, an image you didn’t think would ever stop making you melt, and intertwined your hand with his. “This is perfect. You’re perfect.”

You were so stunned at the brazen declaration that your voice got stuck in your throat for a moment, holding back tears. (Happy tears. They were never anything other than happy tears with Sokka.) It hit you then that you didn’t really know what it was like having someone get close to you without an ulterior motive.

“Thank you,” you murmured after a moment of comfortable silence. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You knew he was smiling, even without having to look up at him. You could hear it in his voice, feel it in the kiss he pressed to your hairline.

A comfortable silence hung in the air for a long time until you broke it. “You know… my dad kinda ran off to a motel for the night after this whole thing, and my mom leaves early in the morning. If you were serious about those rom coms…” You allowed the unsaid question of staying the night to fester so Sokka knew he could say no if he wanted to, but he didn’t even hesitate.

“Of course I was serious. I mean, I’ve gotta get the ideas for our future wedding from somewhere.”

You laughed, a sentiment that had occurred more times in the ten minutes he had been here than the past week, and picked the remote for your little box TV off of your bedside table. You clicked through various movies until you found one Sokka liked, and then you cuddled deeper into his side to prepare for the ride you had ahead of you.

Thirty minutes into 27 Dresses, he had fallen asleep, arm still around you and one of his legs slightly intertwined with one of your own. But it’s not like you minded — the familiar weight of Sokka in your bed had caused all your worries to melt away, if only for the night.

You didn’t expect him to last past the first movie, but you were sure you would at least get through until Katherine Heigl got the man. But there was an overwhelming feeling of safety permeating the air with Sokka’s arms around you, and you ended up knocked out before she could even get through all twenty seven dresses.

It wasn’t lost on you how fortunate you were — he didn’t expect anything like that from you, he just wanted you to be safe. He was there for you. You would never understand how you had gotten so lucky with your boyfriend, but you would never stop being grateful for him.

this is the most self indulgent thing ive ever written and i am NOT sorry

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

atla tags: @marianne1806 @brown-eyed-thang @akiris

#sokka x reader #sokka x you #sokka x y/n #sokka fic #sokka #sokka atla #atla #avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar fic #atla fic #sadie writes #everyone deserves him.... sokka im sorry u have 100 gfs and bfs

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gohyuck · 3 years

Text

the purge: society

pairing: firefighter!san x reader

genre: purge au, angst, some fluff

warnings: mentions of violence (especially violence against cops), murder, blood, injury, weapons (guns, knives, metal baseball bats)

word count: 2.4k

note: this was originally meant to be a drabble and it’s still pretty short so i didn’t get to elaborate on the characters but honestly maybe i’ll explore a purge universe with ateez someday because this was fun (i’ve never watched any of the movies though so i’ll have to get on that)

“What the fuck?”

He hadn’t expected to see anyone left alive on this street.

“Shut up and get down,” You hiss, reaching your good arm up to grab onto the man’s jacket collar before unceremoniously pulling him towards you. He stumbles, falling gracelessly onto you. A scream bubbles up in your throat as he accidentally puts pressure onto your already free-bleeding bicep, but you get ahold of yourself just in time, only letting the quietest of wounded moans escape you.

“You’re the first person that hasn’t tried to kill me before talking to me all night - oh, shit,” The stranger trails off, swearing when you effectively stop him from speaking further by placing your switchblade right under his skin. It’s only then that he even pauses to take you in: your back is up by the police car door, sure, and your left arm has a massive gash in it, but you’re armed. There’s a pistol laying idly in your lap, kept company by a metal baseball bat.

Not to mention, the knife at his neck.

“What the hell are you doing, walking around unarmed and with a first aid kit? Also, how the hell are you unarmed and with just a first aid kit? What the fuck?” You let the questions out in a rapidfire fashion, and he can’t help but clock the slight rasp in your voice. It’s easier to recognize than the pained wheeze you’re trying very, very hard to suppress, but neither escape him. He’s trained to notice the little things, anyways.

“You need to bandage that shit up,” The man ignores your questions, moving his head just enough to miss your blade but also enough to be able to look you in the eyes. “How long has it been bleeding?”

“That’s none of your business,” You grit out. “Answer my questions or I’ll kill you right here and now.”

“If I answer yours, will you answer mine?” For some reason, he doesn’t seem to be panicking just yet. His gaze is sincere, but it’s too solid to be that of a bona fide idiot. You suck in a breath of air. Threatening him would be so much easier if he didn’t seem like a nice guy. It’s hard enough to live through the night, you don’t need guilt on your hands, and you know you’re going to feel guilty when you kill him. And you will kill him.

You need that first aid kit. You’ll do anything for it.

Anything, starting off with lying.

“Sure,” You reply, steeling yourself for any sudden movements he might make now that you’re faking amicability. Maybe he’ll believe you to be vulnerable and try for your pistol or your bat, or maybe he’ll be properly cruel and finish off your arm. You don’t want to think about it. He lets out a sigh of relief, and you can’t help but wonder if you’ve actually affected him after all. “Now speak.”

“Not unarmed, there’s a police-issue pistol in my jacket and a tactical knife in my jeans. I’m not totally nuts. First aid kit’s for my buddy, though, I’ll be real, you need it way more than him.” There’s something resembling concern in his expression as his eyes flit between your torn arm and your face, but that barely interests you. You haven’t truly registered anything after ‘police-issue’.

You lean in, pressing the edge of your knife against the skin directly above his adam’s apple. For the first time since you’d cornered him, your mystery purger’s breath hitches. His eyebrows draw together in confusion. It’s no matter. You no longer regret the fact that you’ll have to tear his jugular out yourself.

“You’re a hog, huh,” You stare him down, any sympathy you might’ve had gone. For a moment, it seems as if he has no concept of what you’re saying. A second passes, though, and his gaze clears.

“Firefighter,” He responds, though the word is garbled due to him attempting to keep his movements to a minimum. You pull back slightly, very slightly, to let him explain. “I… found a dead cop, jacked his pistol. I’ll show you my ID, if you want.”

“Let me see it.” You nod your head at him as if giving him permission to live a little longer, though you both know full well that identity theft and identity fabrication are legal, too. Might as well see how much effort he puts into a fake. The man waits until you pull back just a bit more, enough to let him slowly reach his hand into his back pocket before producing a lanyard.

You grab it out of his grip with your hurt arm, not willing to move your knife too far away from his throat. You simply don’t have a good enough read on - you glance down - San Choi, ACT Firefighter, Employee ID: 018-102-4 to allow yourself any leeway with him.

His gently smiling face stares up at you from the plastic card, protected only by a clear sleeve connected to a red lanyard. San’s photo has black hair and an undercut, styled so his forehead is on display. A pair of dimples makes a guest appearance, and, overall, he seems like a genuinely sweet guy. The ID looks real, too, so maybe you aren’t totally fucked.

The San under your knife has bleach blond hair that almost falls over his eyes, though you suppose you can’t blame him for skipping out on the hair product tonight. He seems slightly tanner than his photo, his skin beautiful even now as dust from the aftermath of the explosion starts to settle against it.

Right. The explosion.

Recalling the events leading up to you meeting San forces you to remember that you have a gaping, bloody gash in your left arm. You’re honestly lucky to be alive, having ducked and used the car you’re against for cover from flying debris after a building down the block had exploded. You’d just finished driving your knife into a cop’s side - third cop of the night, eighth of your career as a purge cop killer - to make sure that he was dead when you’d heard the bomb go off, and you’d dropped before even thinking about it. Something had hit your arm on the way down, and when the adrenaline had finally left your system, you’d taken note of your blood-soaked sleeve.

You’d closed the car door after that, sealing your third murder of the night in the vehicle just so you could lean up against the door. It had been 6:31 in the morning then, and you had figured that someone would come by and kill you in the last moments before legality ensued again. You’d assumed that you’d fight, of course you would, but your arm being totally fucked definitely put a damper on your belief in your ability to overcome anyone or anything else.

Instead of the disgruntled, trigger-happy purger you’d expected to eventually find, though, you’d been found by San Choi. San Choi, who’s currently staring at your wounded arm like it’s grown eyes and can stare back.

“Come on, let me fix it up,” He pleads, lifting the kit up with the hand that’s farther from you. “You might not trust me, or whatever, but the purge is about to end as it is. I have a paramedic friend, Seonghwa, who’s taught me the basics of -”

“Shut the fuck up.” You tell him, though you’re quickly losing your bite. He obeys regardless. God, your arm really, really fucking hurts. Before pulling your knife back, you check the watch on your wrist. 6:47. Stay alive for 13 more minutes, 780 more seconds. You’ll be fine. You take the shakiest breath you’ve ever taken.

You pull your knife away from him.

Nothing happens.

“I’m going to use an alcohol free wipe and then wrap gauze around your arm, okay? You’ll just have to hold out until we can get you to a working hospital after that,” San speaks as if he’s talking to a child, or a scared animal, and you can’t blame him. He doesn’t seem like a purger, but you technically are one. You wouldn’t put it past yourself to attack on a whim if you were him. He, very slowly and with his hands in your full view at all times, opens the kit and pulls out the requisite materials.

“Gonna need you to rip your sleeve off above the cut.” He continues, leaning back as you bring your knife up to your clothes and slit the cloth right above your wound. You tear the remainder of the sleeve off your arm before throwing it behind you somewhere. San gently grabs ahold of your elbow - his palm is calloused in a way that tells you he lifts regularly, and you’re sure of this as he discards his jacket and you watch the muscles ripple in his arms under his thin black shirt - and places the wipe against your cut.

Your reaction is instantaneous: now that you’re completely past the adrenaline stage, the feeling of something, anything against the gash has you reeling to cry out. Before you can even process that you’ve made a sound, a hand presses hard against the back of your head, shoving your mouth against San’s.

He doesn’t know how else to shut you up.

His lips are chapped, but the sensation of being kissed so suddenly jars you out of your pain. San attempts to pull back, and you can already feel the apologetic wince he’s about to give you, but he brushes over your wound with the wipe again and your pain doubles back. It’s you that pulls him in this time, pressing your lips to his sloppily but forcefully as if it’ll alleviate the burn in your arm.

Kissing him only slightly muffles you at best, but you no longer care. The purge isn’t over yet. You could both die at any second. Hell, San could kill you at any second. His hand moves from the back of your head to cup your face as he leans in towards you to deepen the kiss. His lips are chapped, yes, but they’re soft. He tastes like mint and copper: there’s a cut in his lower lip. You don’t mind.

San pulls away for a moment, but only does so to grab the gauze from the kit. Once he’s wrapped it around your arm once, twice, thrice, he leans back in and your mouth accepts his own eagerly, your other hand coming up to drape over his shoulder. Neither of you know why you’re doing this, kissing a stranger with such fervor as one of you bandages the other up, but you both know that there’s really nothing else to do.

It’s only after he finishes taping you up that the two of you pull away fully. His eyes are still just as kind as you’d thought them to be at first, though his lips are far more swollen than they’d been mere minutes prior. You admire your handiwork, eyes tracing his features as he admires his own, thumb very, very gently running over your gauze. Both of you raise your heads to smile sheepishly at each other at the exact same time.

Three things happen in rapid succession.

“Good?” San’s voice is barely above a whisper, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Just as you’re about to speak -

“San!” A voice, low and hoarse, interrupts you, and you look up to see the barrel of a gun pointed directly at the space between your eyes. You’re frozen in place for a split second before you start reaching for your own pistol. Your fingers brush the grip when -

The clock strikes seven, and sirens go off all around you, signalling the end of the purge.

The gun is out of your face. Your hand moves off of your own.

“San,” The owner of the gun pays you no mind, suddenly, his entire focus on San. The gun-owner reaches a hand out, and the firefighter beside you takes it, allowing himself to get pulled up to his feet. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Yunho, I’m totally good,” San responds, giving the taller man a cat-like grin of reassurance. Yunho’s got a fireman’s helmet on, and you suppose it’s good as protection. He must be a fellow firefighter, then. He’s tall, and though he’d seemed nothing short of severe mere moments ago, he seems softer, kinder now that the purge is over. The transformation is enough to give you whiplash. His right hand is wrapped in bandages, and this catches San’s sight at the same time it catches your own. “What the hell happened to you, though?”

“That policeman you killed had buddies,” Yunho replies with ease, but you don’t miss San’s wince. Seems like he hadn’t just happened upon that police-issue pistol. You can’t help the small grin that fights to make its way across your face. “They tried to get into the station, we had to fortify ourselves. We’re mostly fine, just that Woo’s lost a finger. He’ll live once he stops whining about it. We were mostly worried about you, honestly, taking fucking forever just to find a first aid kit. Who’s this?”

Yunho moves the topic of conversation over to you so naturally that you barely even realize what has happened before San is reaching a hand out to you to pull you up to a standing position. You grab ahold of your pistol, though you shove the bat off your lap before allowing yourself to be brought up. Without thinking, you practically plaster yourself to San’s side. Now that he’s for sure what he told you he was, and now that you’re no longer in danger of dying, you can’t help but feel inexplicably connected to him even though neither of you know each other. San wraps an arm around your waist naturally, and neither of you miss Yunho’s eyebrow raise. Neither of you acknowledge it, either.

“This?” San asks rhetorically, turning his head slightly to look at you. He’s smiling again, and you find that you want to see it more often. Maybe you’re experiencing the onset of delirium. You hope not. “This is…”

“(Name),” You reply, being honest. There’s no need for you to lie. Besides, you owe San answers, right? You stick your uninjured arm out, letting Yunho shake your hand. San’s grip tightens around your waist.

“I’m (Name).”

#first #five #tags #dont #work #san #san fluff #san angst #ateez san #choi san #ateez angst #ateez fluff #san x reader #choi san x reader #san smut

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webcomixwastaken · 3 years

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Everyone I watched Tick Tick Boom last night on a total whim, just expecting to have some mild fun smirking at the Broadway references and cameos but...

I loved it.

I really loved it.

Like, even more than the original show which I've been singing to for maaaaaany years (I have even used two different songs from it for auditions!!)

I'm so overwhelmed by how much this movie hit me so hard in the heart, the feels, right in the gooey! Especially at age 31 (#finallylearningaboutcomix) when Larson's artistic anxiety still resonates strongly with me but I am already over the fact that my own Superbia (Bear Book, which I worked on for 7 years man) probably ain't it and what I need to do is keep writing the next thing, and the next thing, and the next. And keep putting yourself out there, keep taking the risks, keep laying out your soul on the table for people to poke and prod at because that's what being a writer is.

I can't stop thinking about it and why I think it just works so well:

Choosing to write a story about Larson's life around the actual Tick Tick Boom show was a smart move because it highlighted the strengths of both mediums, theatre and film: big heightened emotions for the former and the detailed intimate moments for the latter. It's a movie musical about writing a musical and it feels appropriately like BOTH things, something I think makes stage to screen adaptations work the best. Like with "Swimming" (loved the tiles turning into staff), "Sunday" (which was always meant to be a loving pastiche of Sondheim anyway) and the way they built the first emotional climax around "Come to Your Senses". I'm so relieved that they made sure Alexandra Shipp sang most of it instead of Vanessa Hudgens. No shade to Vanessa -- I'm so pleased to see her back in musicals!! -- but because you know, it is Susan's big song and she deserves to be the star of it.

...also because I watched Princess Switch 3 the night before and that movie is delightfully bad. Vanessa Hudgens is having the time of her life and my god that fictional country does not care at all about energy consumption, at least not during the month of December.

Speaking of actors, the casting was just lovely. I am always delighted to see Robin de Jesus (and now time for a brag that I met him stage door for In the Heights in 2009 and made him laugh by telling him he was amazing on Legally Brown lol uh huh yep be jealous) and Andrew Garfield was excellent! I don't think I'm raring to see him in more musicals the way I felt about Josh Groban after Great Comet, but he did wonderfully on this one and the fact that HE LOOKS SO MUCH LIKE JONATHAN LARSON IT'S SCARY was something I couldn't really get over for the first 5 minutes.

And compared to RENT, TTB handles the themes of how chasing art and dreams affects your relationships as well as the backdrop of the AIDS pandemic far better. RENT has aged extremely poorly and the enormous cast of characters make it hard to flesh any of them out so most of them remain very caricaturesque for the duration of the musical. In TTB you really only have Jon, Michael and Susan but even then, the real focus is on JON's relationships with the other two which stems from the fact that it started out as a one man show anyway. But this means that there's definitely enough space, enough attention to develop him and construct a true arc where he has goals, flaws, epiphanies and transformations that are shown and developed within two hours. The midpoint conflicts are properly resolved by the end of the film and it's way more satisfying than trying to make us forget about it due to the magical powah of Musetta's Waltz on electric guitar. My flatmate pointed out that RENT also suffers from being stuck as a 90s retelling of La Boheme instead of its own story, so that's there too.

SPOILER And/but being a theatre kid, there's the bittersweet realisation that time genuinely was ticking for Larson because we know how the rest of the 90s went for him. RENT is so obviously a rough draft that he fully intended to work on more ("Your Eyes" is by far the worst song and clearly a placeholder; I wish the team that produced it for Broadway hadn't been so precious about the show and done major tweaks) and thinking of what other things he could have written does fill me with sorrow. END SPOILER

But Tick Tick Boom is also better than RENT -- and a product of its time 30 years later in 2021 -- by not villainising the characters who decide to give up the bohemian artist's dream for whatever. It gently grimaces at the tiny cutting remarks of those who don't ~understand~ what it's like to make art, but no longer mocks those who value having support and stability. It recognises that the hustle does grind you down in mind and body, does damage the other aspects of your life, and can make you feel so small and worthless so if you can find fulfillment elsewhere, you are not bad for choosing that instead. Which also makes the determination to plough on so admirable and worth it. Everyone finds their own way. And someone else's is not necessarily the easier or better way. It's just... a way.

Anyway.

I loved Tick Tick Boom. It's on Netflix. Go watch it. Thanks LMM and the Dear Evan Hansen guy. I'm legit impressed.

I'm looking forward to watching it again, and I hope the OST blows up on Spotify.

#Tick Tick Boom #Jonathan Larson #Lin Manuel Miranda #musical #theatre #Comix rambles

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fernisworm · 3 years

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Lycan!Karl Heisenberg x Reader Headcanons (Pt3)

[an;

I haven’t posted in a while so I thought I’d upload this since it’s been sitting in my drafts for a while LMAO

(PSA: I touch on some of these HC’s in previous posts)

some more Lycan!Karl brainrot for the soul amirite 😎😎

🎕 You can find Pt 1 here! (& Pt 2 here!)

❀ Characters: Lycan!Karl Heisenberg x (Gender Neutral!) Reader

❀ Warnings: N/A

✿ You can find all my stories here!

✿ My requests guide is here! (And you can place a request here!)

🌟 Karl can actually understand the lycans almost perfectly, and funnily enough, they seem to understand basic English too

🌟 “ *assorted lycan growling and barking* “

🌟 “What? No, you aren’t all sleeping in the factory! I don’t care how cold it is outside, fur-for-brains!”

🌟 anyway, they all slept in the factory

🌟 Karl actually regards most of the lycans in a familial way and likes to take care of them in any small way he can

🌟 He even went as far as to reinforce the Stronghold for them to keep it warmer in the winter

🌟 While the lycans have names, they aren’t human names

🌟 It’s kind of hard to translate “grrrgrg BARK BARK BARK grgrgrgrg AWOOOO” into English

🌟 So instead Karl has various nicknames for the lycans, such as; fur-face, fur-for-brains, fur-freaks, etc. (Just to highlight the extent of his creativity)

🌟 You actually get along quite well with the lycans

🌟 Heisenberg is very protective of you, however

🌟 He doesn’t mind you interacting with the lycans but is always sure to keep a watchful eye on the situation

🌟 One time he actually got really jealous because you were giving a lycan more attention than him (which really wasn’t that much more, all things considered)

🌟 The following night he disappeared for a while and you heard loud snarling, barking and the like from outside the factory

🌟 Karl returned later looking rather pleased with himself

🌟 The lycans avoided you for nearly an entire month before you got Karl to confess that he had threatened all of them to stay away from you “or else”

🌟 You made him apologise and scolded him for being worried over such a thing

🌟 He blamed it on his wolf blood (being territorial and overprotective) but you knew better and that he was just a big whiny man-baby

🌟 Tying into my point from before; surprisingly, the lycans prefer the Stronghold over the factory itself and you guessed it had to do with the factory being too overwhelming for them (similarly to how it worked up Karl sometimes)

🌟 But every now and again it might get particularly cold and frosty and the lycans will ask Karl if he can let them into the factory for a while

🌟 Usually he says no, but you always try to convince him otherwise

🌟 “But Karl, it’s so cold outside! Pleeeease can you let them inside??? Just for the night!!! 🥺😢🙏🙏“

🌟 “(Y/n), if I keep caving to every request they ask of me they’re going to think I’m going soft!! I cannot have that, I am a very mean and tough alpha wolf!! >:(”

🌟 “ *you proceed to smooch Karl on the cheek* “

🌟 “...ⁱ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ⁱ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᶜᵃⁿ ˢᵗᵃʸ ᶠᵒʳ ᵒⁿᵉ ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ʷʰᵃᵗᵉᵛᵉʳ ⁱᵈᶜ”

🌟 It’s fair to say that you’re usually able to convince him to open the factory up to them

🌟 The lycans are often restricted to the lower levels, but they don’t mind since that’s where it’s the warmest anyway

🌟 When they do end up staying in the factory for a bit Karl makes sure to lock away the Soldats and Haulers

🌟 (mostly to stop the lycans from coming into harm’s way, but also because overall the lycans are probably a better defence system than Karl’s experiments lmao)

🌟 One of the biggest things you’ve had to help Karl work on is his ability to control his own emotions

🌟 Prior to you living in the factory with him he used to be very destructive, transforming on every whim he got without really trying to fight his werewolf blood

🌟 When you first moved in, and you didn’t know anything about Karl’s lycan side, it made things very difficult for him since he was so used to wolfing-out whenever he felt the need to

🌟 His complacency with random transformations actually caused him to wolf-out several times during meetings

🌟 You weren’t present for any of them but when he recalled the memories you could tell they were somewhat embarrassing for him

🌟 He told you that times like those were when Mother Miranda’s true disgust was on full display

🌟 Karl always insisted that he didn’t give a fuck about anything she said, but you knew it still affected him sometimes

🌟 After all, Mother Miranda was the only parental figure that he’d had in his life in a very long time. How could her words not have some affect on him?

🌟 It became a lot easier for Karl after he told you he was part lycan, but prior to that there were some very close calls

🌟 He would disappear randomly, and for varying amounts of time without an explanation

🌟 One time you nearly caught him wolfing out so he had to lock the door and find a way to the bottom levels of the factory so he could sneak out without you seeing him

🌟 Of course all of this was made ten times harder by the fact he was in werewolf form by that point

🌟 Heisenberg decided you had to know about his lycan side when you started blaming yourself for him acting out

🌟 He knew he wasn’t perfect, not in any capacity, but god forbid you blame any of that on yourself

🌟 He was relieved that his confessed seemed to disperse almost all of your worries

🌟 Due to your combined efforts, and some realistic practice on volunteers such as Lady Dimitrescu, Karl has a far better grip on his werewolf transformations

🌟 Even around full moons he finds himself able to calm his emotions and stop himself from wolfing out

🌟 Karl (along with all the other lords) are so very grateful for everything you’ve done to help him

🌟 But Heisenberg insists he’ll kill you if you ever tell a soul that he’s helping Moreau control his own unpredictable transformations

🌟 “Aren’t you just the sweetest big brother omg 🥺🥺“

🌟 “SHUT UP I WILL LITERALLY KILL YOU IF THIS GETS OUT”

🌟 Whenever Karl wolfs-out (or just transforms in general tbh) all his clothes get torn to smithereens, so you have to do your best to persuade Donna to make him some more

🌟 Especially now since he was literally down to his last set of clothes

🌟 But you can imagine she was still quite angry at Heisenberg for literally breaking into her house and gnawing on Angie like a chew-toy

🌟 But since she was the only seamstress in town you had to try an appease her in someway

🌟 It didn’t help that Karl had recently dug up her garden

🌟 Like what the fuck Karl we need Donna to like us you freak-show

🌟 Either way Karl was always running out of clothes, and fast

🌟 He had a small plethora of sewing knowledge, from years of patching up his own clothes, but that wouldn’t nearly be enough to fix the ribbons-worth of material he had left

🌟 Anyway you made Karl apologise to Donna and (especially) Angie

🌟 “I’m... sorry.”

🌟 “For...?”

🌟 “For being way too epic for you losers to handle hehehe 😎😎”

🌟 You slapped him behind the head and made him apologise again- properly this time

🌟 Donna (begrudgingly) decided to help out and make Karl some new clothes

🌟 Despite being an absolute menace, he was still her brother

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k-sci-janitor · 3 years

Text

So I finished DCWT last night and while I know this fic is quote unquote famous and also rightly contentious, I still had some thoughts on it that I wanted to spew out long form style on here, SO-

To be clear, this was a fic I avoided for a LONG TIME

You know when people hype up a thing as like, the pinnacle of whatever? And if you haven’t read it, you’re not a real fan? Yeah well, that was the vibe I got with this dumb fic for a long time while absolutely no one told me that, it was just my dumb brain being judgmental to myself really, lol. Anyway why would I wanna read a fic that famously doesn’t have any tags? I mean, who does that?? Anyway-

So what changed your mind?

Well I watched this wonderful video (everyone, GO WATCH THIS VIDEO) and even tho the creator simultaneously hyped and un-hyped DCWT, it got me intrigued and a little cautious about finally just giving it go. It had literally been sitting on my kindle for months and I just finally decided to see what it was I was missing.

So you got past that opening, huh?

MY GOD. My biggest initial hurtle getting thru this damn thing was just the opening. It was verbose. It didn’t make much sense. It didn’t even seem like this author and I had watched the same movie. Everything about it was off putting and strange and I must’ve picked it up and put it down like 10 times. Don’t do this. I’ve only written a little bit personally but the fastest way I chuck a book/fic/whatever away from me is a terrible opening or like, an opening so fucking confusing that it’s unclear that it’ll get better from here.

So it got better from there?

Okay yes, it did, thank goodness. At a certain point it became more clear and I realized the fic had started with a wildly confusing intro to show, you know, how m e s s e d up they were post-drift, cognitively, emotionally, etc. The story eventually started to speed up and I got engaged with the action and finally I couldn’t put it down. It took a while tho!! But I also HAD to put it down at some points.

Oh, why?

So, remember when I said there was no tags and everything I had gathered about this fic was secondhand knowledge? I didn’t really know how in depth the fic was going to describe disassociation and panic attacks. I don’t mind mentions of these things in other fics I've read but DCWT really delves into them in a way that made me, someone prone to panic attacks, really uncomfortable. It basically just hit a little too close to home for me and I occasionally had to put it down so I could breathe or find myself in a different headspace to be able to read these descriptions. This could easily affect someone else pretty harshly.

And like, I know these descriptions are fictional, they're not going to hurt me but they read real enough to me and they’re happening to a character I care a lot about and it was genuinely distressing to read. I also generally don’t read angsty fics because like I said, I don’t really like thinking deeply about Newt or Hermann having something overtly terrible to their bodies (sorry Kaiju!Newt fans, I get eeked out!!). Sometimes I can handle it if it’s abstract enough but sometimes I can’t. I especially find it hard if it's crouched in something I have personal experience with (the panic attacks, sigh). Tags, people, YOU USE THEM.

So did you even like this fic??? SPOILERS BELOW 👇👇👇

Omg so I actually did. Newt and Hermann’s characterizations were really good. Newt was quite possibly the world’s biggest asshole while I wanted nothing more than to give this Hermann a really big hug. Since this fic is so long, it gets a chance to really hone in on their dynamic and how they care for each other. They literally call each other their "life partners" before they examine if they're actually dating or not. I really enjoyed that a reader could interpret their relationship as ace, it totally works. And I still got my big damn kiss! Jokes that have been building up for like 100k words have an amazing pay off and was super funny to read. Also somehow NO ONE told me about the AI self-driving cars and were my surprise favorite characters. Mako's characterization was also some of the best things I've read about her and I loved her and Newt's relationship a lot.

So it was fine in the end?? MORE SPOILERS 👇👇👇

Well, no, I think I'm just sensitive to the idea that Newt's mind is tearing itself apart due to the kaiju, due to Hermann occasionally taking over, due to his own dumb hang-ups. It's a melancholy read is where I would place it. Their dynamic is difficult and real in it's terror of what's happened to them. A BIG SURPRISE for me was Newt's third drift and the fact the PPDC may or may not have coerced him to do it while he was on anti-seizure drugs?? IT'S REALLY UPSETTING. I don’t like the immediate alienation from the PPDC, I mean, I also don’t like the military but the idea that they would whisk Newt away like that is weird and I dunno. It’s fucked, whatever.

It was just a weird, hard read for me emotionally and I don’t blame anyone who decides to just put it down. And it has SUCH good stuff hidden in there (the AI cars, Hermann buying a Porsche on a whim and being a scary driver, that fucking hair stroking thing) but it’s a roller coaster and I honestly don’t know what to make of a fic that has it’s own PR person to hype it up, lmao.

So what do you recommend?

Approach cautiously! I’ll even make a short list of tags here: Descriptions of epilepsy, seizures, nosebleeds, disassociation, panic attacks, eye damage, hand surgery, Drinking and depictions of drunkenness, underage drinking mentions, implied drugging, descriptions of imagined head surgery, suicidal thoughts.

And hey, you might be a tough guy who reads fucked up fics all the time and I just sound like a wimp here, that’s fine!! I just felt complicated about this fic (liking and hating it, ugh) and wanted to get down what I thought about it while it was fresh. And like, y’all know me, I like cute, fluffy shit where they kiss for the first time or whatever. But I occasionally will dip into scarier stuff. I just don’t know if this is everyone’s cup of tea and wanted to elaborate. 😮‍💨

#pacific rim #DCWT #newmann #fic review #I’m just spewing here I’m not starting discourse as much as I’m just dropping an opinion #maybe I’ll do more fic reviews?? this was actually pretty interesting to write

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maxwell-grant · 3 years

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One last one for the moment; top five superheroes who definitely AREN'T Pulp Heroes, but could be with a little tweaking?

Oof, that's a hard one. It's a hard one because, again, there ultimately isn't that much separation between the two to the point there's enough of a hard line in there to work with, but I guess the cat's out of the bag now that I've staked claims on there being differences between them.

Okay so, not counting superheroes who are deliberately modeled after actual pulp heroes, so no Tom Strong or Night Raven here. I'm sticking mainly with comic book superheroes (barring one oddball exception) since the medium separation is important), who I think could become pulp heroes with some tweaking.

5: Captain America

Sort of cheating because I already covered it here, but I definitely have to include Captain America in here, especially in the stories they actively go for a "pulp" vibe as well as the earliest ones.

Fun fact about Marvel: As Timely, they actually began life as pulp publishers. Not just pulp publishers, but specializing in some of the sleaziest, ghastliest magazines of the era, and you can bet this carried over to their superheroes. Where as DC's superheroes took inspiration from the big pulp heroes such as The Shadow and Doc Savage, Timely's superheroes seemed instead much more inspired by Weird Tales stories and Poverty Row horror films, and even in the 60s, Marvel never really abandoned their horror roots, the trick was just using them as a baseline to create superheroes. In DC, the world's first contact with superheroes begins with the world looking in wonder at a friendly strongman. In Marvel, it began with the world looking in panicked horror at a flaming monster rampaging through the streets desperately trying to not burn everything it touches. It should come to little surprise then that the majority of characters I'm including in this list are Marvel characters.

People think Captain America's first comics largely consisted of him fighting Nazis left and right, but they were actually much more often based around him encountering monsters and creatures of horror, like the above panel where it looks like Cap's staring down the beginning of Berserk's Eclipse (RIP Miura).

The early Captain America comics pretty much consisted of Kirby dipping his toe into the monster comics he'd make in the 50s which would later bleed into the 60s Marvel entourage. They even tried repackaging Captain America into a horror anthology in the 50s titled "Captain America's Weird Tales", just imagine how different the character would be today if that somehow stuck.

Imagine a world where Steve Rogers never became leader of The Avengers, never got to become the shining beacon of heroism of an entire universe, and instead, when he was unfrosted, he woke up to find a world running rampant with crawling nightmares and Nazi tyranny, and he has no idea what's become of his former sidekick. That definitely sounds like the start of a promising pulp adventure.

4: Namor

Another Timely creation. In Namor's case, he didn't so much encounter horrors from beyond imagination, as much as HE was the terrifying thing beyond us ready to rampage upon mankind, whose first on-screen act consists of the calculated slaughter of a ship full of innocents. The first true villain protagonist of comic books. Not just an anti-hero, a villain intent on wiping out the human race.

And not just a cardboard supervillain, but the beautiful prince of a race of ugly fish monsters, a momma's boy who's doing what he thinks is right by warring with surface dwellers. While Namor's become largely defined by his gargantuan arrogance, here, he's almost childlike, despite being much more brutal and villainous here, spurred on by the whims of his mother, who even acknowledges that Namor had no real reason to kill the divers but did so anyway, and now encourages him to genocide. His mom even tells him "Go now, to the land of white people!", and the very last panel of the story even states he's on a "crusade against white men".

The massacre of explorers at the hands of something beyond their understanding. A monster born of an interracial coupling. A race of fish monsters with bulging eyes, antagonistic towards humanity but are shown to have positive traits just the same. A dash of racism. There is no mistaking The Sub-Mariner's pulp horror influence.

A non-white superhuman warrior born from a Lovecraftian horror story, who gradually moves away from his villainous crusade into becoming more of an anti-hero, never truly putting aside his hatred for humanity, remaining a temperamental, unpredictable outcast, with a strong, palpable undercurrent of anger in his stories. I could very easily buy Namor as having crawled out of a Weird Tales story and I can't think of other superheroes whose origins are as steeped deeply in pulp horror.

3: Doctor Fate

Technically we already have a pulp hero version of Doctor Fate in Doc Fate, and I'll get to him separately, but even besides him, the earliest Doctor Fate stories in particular feel very much like he's a character steeped in the worlds of pulp and pulp horror who decided to put on a superhero costume and show up in comic.

He's got a similar set-up to The Shadow, from the pulp Shadow in the sense that he's a mysterious, eerie crimefighter who dwells as a presence more often than an active character and who kills criminals without remorse, always watching and waiting for the right time to strike as a a wrathful old-testament force of vengeance, and from the radio Shadow due to him using superpowers to fight crime while being accompanied by a smart, fierce love interest.

Originally, Fate was not a sorcerer, but instead a scientist who discovered a way to manipulate atomic structure, of his and other things, thus making it appear that he can do magic (although we never see his face, and he's implied to be thousands of years old, before they settled on the Nabu origin). And going back to Lovecraft, a lot of it appears in the earliest Fate stories. Fate was given powers not by a sorcerer, but an alien worshipped as a god. He barely encounters traditional monsters, but instead contends with hidden races, zombie slaves, abandoned alien monoliths, and half man and half fish creatures. Fate may have actually been the very first pastiche of Lovecraft in pop culture.

And of course we can't forget the gloriousness of Doc Fate pulling an Indiana Jones on us.

2: Wolverine

I don't even think you'd have to tweak Wolverine at all. You'd just have to get him out of the costume and Avengers/X-Men associations (although the X-Men have a substantial background in pulp sci-fi stories like Slan and Odd John, so they aren't really at odds here), maybe tone down his powers a bit and, that's it. Logan's already the kind of character who has such a varied sandbox history, whose powers can lead to so many different scenarios, that it's not a stretch at all to picture Wolverine in the usual pulp hero scenarios.

You can have half-naked Wolverine running around in the jungle with animals Tarzan-style, take him to Savage Land if you wanna throw dinosaurs in there. He's already Marvel's foremost "wandering samurai/cowboy" character which was one of the stock and trade types of the pulps. Western? Done. Samurai? Done. Wuxia? Just put him in China and add a couple extra fantasy elements. Wanna make a sword and sorcery story with him? He already comes with a bunch of knives and savagery and ability to survive grisly injuries. Horror? The MCU is crawling with them, or alternatively, tell a story from the perspective of someone who's being hunted down by Wolverine. Wanna tell a detective/noir/post-apocalypse story? Logan's right there.

Wanna have him crossover with pulp heroes? He's lived through the 1800s and 1900s and traveled all over the world, you could feasibly have him meet up with just about any of them. Logan may actually be the purest example of your question, because he's very much not a Pulp Hero, and yet, he definitely feels like a character who could have been one, at just about any point in the history of pulp magazines. He's perfect for it.

1: Wario

WAAA-okay, look, bear with me for a second here, I'm not just picking Wario because I love oddball choices and he's one of my favorite characters, I got some logic to this.

Okay so, the first question here: is Mario a superhero? While I'm usually adverse to calling characters prominent outside of comic books superheroes (hence why I'm definitely not interested in debating whether Harry Potter or Goku or Link or Frodo are superheroes), I do think it's a pretty shut case that, yes, Mario is a superhero. Superheroes don't just come in the form of skintight crimefighters, right from the start comic books have had varied types of superheroes appearing in comics and comic strips. For example, the "funny animal" superheroes are a type older than superhero comics, and they were arguably not only the most successful type of superhero of the 40s-50s era, but arguably defined trends dominating nonfunny animal superheroes, traits that predated or influenced Captain Marvel as well as Otto Binder's reshaping of Superman that defined much of superhero convention as we know it. It's part of why the question of "Is Sonic a superhero" has a very clear Yes as an answer.

So upon establishing that, yes, funny cartoon characters can be and are superheroes too, is Mario one? Well, I'd say yes. He's got an iconic uniform, he's got superpowers, he goes on fantastical adventures, he is both a nebulously general do-gooder as well as having a clear mission as protector of the Mushroom Kingdom. His adventures span multiple storytelling formats, he's got catchphrases, he even dresses up in Superman's colors and has a Super prefix iconically associated with him. Not a superhero the way we usually think of, but a superhero nonetheless.

And Wario? Well, putting aside Wario-Man who's more of a running gag than anything, Wario does just about everything Mario does. He's got all the traits that define Mario as a superhero short of a Super prefix and the selfless mission (which isn't exactly a rule). He goes around and gets into crazy adventures, he picks up items, beats bad guys, conquers the odds, and gets some kind of prize for it. He's got Mario's physical traits, and Mario's costume, and just about the same name short of a single letter. The caveat being, of course, that he's Wario, and so everything Mario is or does has to be exaggerated to gross extreme.

Mario is paunchy and strong, Wario's round and built like a powerlifter. Mario's got a friendly face and a fluffy mustache, Wario's got a massive horrible grin and jagged razors for a stache. Mario is a bit of an overeater, Wario can and will eat anything in front of him. Mario gets around with acrobatics and magic power-ups, Wario brute forces his way through everything and just rolls with whatever injuries he picks up along the way.

Mario gets fire powers by consuming magic flowers. Wario sets himself on fire and barrels around destroying everything in his path. Mario harnesses the elements or abilities of beings around him to clear obstacles and solve puzzles, Wario gets turned into a zombie, a vampire or a drunk to get the same things done. Mario befriends and rides dinosaurs who raised him from infancy, Wario piledrives dinosaurs and then uses their bodies to beat up more dinosaurs. Mario pals around with fellow heroes, princesses and friendly fantasy creatures, Wario pals around with aliens, witches, mad scientists, cab drivers, and lanky weirdos. Mario always ends his adventures joyfully leaping to the next one, Wario usually ends up either cackling in a pile of treasure or completely broke.

Mario races through plains to rescue princesses, Wario invades pyramids to hunt for treasure. Mario jumps through planets with baby stars guiding his path, Wario crashes into the Amazon jungle and fistfights the devil. You can see where I'm going with this.

If you were to take one of Nintendo's heroes to make them into pulp heroes, Wario, specifically the Wario Land Wario, may be the only one who really could do it, because in essence, he's the videogame equivalent of Professor Challenger. He's Bluto moonlighting as Indiana Jones, the weird brute adventurer for weird brute adventures where everything's off limits and you can trust our intrepid hero, who really shouldn't be a hero on all accounts, to deliver us a good time, give or take a couple deaths, scams, shams and oh-damns to complete said mad treasure hunts.

#replies tag #not pulp heroes #comic books #dr fate #wolverine #captain america #namor #wario

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marshmallowloves · 2 years

Text

Zelda OC #5 - Koci and Rina

>> (list of posts for other OCs)

(Same warning as last time - due to the amount of development that went into this one, it's gonna be a real doozy! Be prepared for a very long read!)

Tesni's development from beginning to end took place over the course of several years, but I never considered her a self insert until very recently. I actually didn't start getting into making self inserts (the most thinly-veiled ones, anyway) as a whole until I had begun to flesh out Tesni's current origin story, but that was about to change!

On a whim one day, I thought about what race in the Zelda universe I might be if I were to just plop myself in there. I considered traits about the different races that I liked, what fit me most in terms of personality... Like my own completely-daydreamed uquiz, before I even knew uquiz existed. And in that imagined uquiz, I ended up with Kokiri - I'm short, look way younger than I actually am, love music and wooded areas, and am a child at heart. I thought it fit pretty well! Plus, I always did like the Kokiri for their whimsical forest-dwelling aesthetic - heck, Saria was literally the reason I made my very first Zelda OC!

So for shits and giggles, I scribbled on a paper, word for word, "If Cici were in Zelda, she'd be a Kokiri" and underneath that I drew the very first iterations of Koci and Rina, who would remain as my main Zelda OCs/self insert to this day.

Koci and Rina were actually first named Lyot and Zumi, respectively. "Lyot's" design would remain relatively consistent for a very long time throughout her development - a WW-style sleeveless tunic, detached sleeves with loose ends, and knee-high (sometimes thigh-high) boots. Her fairy only stays purple for this particular drawing, however. In fact, there was barely any time between this drawing and the next when I decided to change their names entirely.

"Lyot" simply became my name - Cici - which really just solidified the fact that this was a self insert through and through. Meanwhile "Zumi" became Rina - and Rina has a real life story!

To condense it as much as I can, I once had a very vivid dream about an angel with jade green rings around her wrists. In the dream, she'd transfer them onto my wrists as a form of protection and carry me around outside to show me how my neighborhood looked at night. I woke up with absolutely convinced I had met my guardian angel, but I lamented having never seen her face (specifically, her eyes were shadowed over) nor learned her name. I called her the "Ring Angel" for the longest time, but wanted to condense it whenever I wrote about her, so I shortened it to "Rina." So in this instance, Rina became Cici's guardian fairy.

Like I said, the designs remained largely the same. The differences here were Cici's longer hair (which from this point on tends to switch back and forth from the short hair again), the snowflake hair clip, and the diamond earring - which was absolutely 100% intended to mimic Ghirahim's earring, because I was still thirsty for him (I was still developing Tesni alongside Cici!) Later on, Cici also got glasses. Not really sure why I didn't draw them up there dkjfg.

Additionally, to reflect her origin, Rina's color changed from purple to a faded green, and I made it a point to always draw her with her eyes shut. After that, her design has barely changed to this day.

Being a self-insert, Cici's personality was more in line with mine - quiet, kind of weird, a bit childish, and naive to a degree. Despite her being a Kokiri, she had the mental maturity of an adult, since I would feel really weird making what was supposed to be a self insert have the mind of a literal child. It was more like "I am very much an adult in nearly every aspect but now I am just smaller."

Unlike my other OCs at the time, Cici didn't really have an origin story or a purpose. I mostly just drew her in random silly situations, comics, and RP'd with friends about various Zelda stuff. I didn't bother sticking to any one canon world - she'd interact with Ghirahim because at the time, I didn't consider Tesni a self insert, but now I was much more shameless about my attraction for him.

Since I had self inserts named Cici for other fandoms at the time, I referred to this one as Kokiri Cici and later shortened that to Kocici to save a little time. For the longest time Kocici remained this silly, fun little vessel for memes, doodles, and overall just having a good time while I played and talked about Zelda games with friends. In some instances, Kocici was just with Rina. In others she was with her Zora brother, Kodi, and in others still she was goofin' it up with my friends' self inserts - well, Lee's, mostly.

However, it was around the time I played BOTW and started shipping with Link that I decided to flesh out Kocici. One of the first things I did was change her name once more, to something that both held onto the origins of Kocici and sounded a little more "Zelda" to boot - Koci! And thanks to Lee's wonderful art skills, I was blessed with a concept for Koci that would become her staple design to this day~ Here's a quick, plain version of it!

Now's where things get juicy! Koci's personality remained about the same - she is a self insert, after all. However, her story changed heavily depending on what world she was in! I have three different versions of her, so three different stories! They're a bit of a read (I know, there's already so much in this post kjdfg) so feel free to skim or skip to the end.

After Tesni was finally christened a self insert, I no longer had a need for Koci and Ghirahim to interact, save for a bit of dialogue I wrote for shits and giggles if Koci were in Hyrule Warriors. So we can skip that. XD

In Breath of the Wild, Koci is born in the Korok Forest shortly before the Calamity, as the only Kokiri amongst her Korok siblings. The Goddess, anticipating this, instructs the Great Deku Tree to raise Koci so that she may learn to protect and bless the Master Sword for the hero to claim when the time comes. The Goddess sends down Rina, an angel in the form of a guardian fairy, to aid Koci in these blessings and teach her that this duty is given to her by the Goddess herself. In addition to Rina providing her with the sacred magic needed to bless the blade, Koci also grows up learning basic combat to fend off anyone who may threaten it.

Since Koci is sworn to the Master Sword's protection, when Link first comes to claim it, Koci and Rina accompany him in order to ensure it remains at its full strength. When Link is forced to undergo his restorative slumber, Koci and Rina return to the Korok forest to continue their duties while they wait for him to awaken. This version of Koci easily has had the most thought and substance put into her. This is the condensed version, and it would take a lot more text and time to explain it all! So I'll cut it here.

In Phantom Hourglass, Koci takes the role of Link and Hadiyah (Lee's self insert) takes the role of Tetra... though it's a bit different skdjf. Hadiyah has, to put it bluntly, gone on a fuck-quest to find Ganondorf... with the intention of bedding/marrying him... and not even saying bye??? So Koci, being a decent portion of Hadiyah's impulse control, sets off to search for her friend and hopefully knock some sense into her. With the minimal sailing knowledge she's inexplicably gained from Wind Waker (where did this happen? did she replace Link there too? who knows, not me kdjfg) she and Rina craft themselves a dingy little boat that promptly gets obliterated in a storm not 2 hours from their starting point...

Later, an unconscious Koci is discovered floating on a piece of her boat by none other than Linebeck who, despite being kind of a jerk is not actually a complete jerk. So he plucks her and the fairy bottle she's clutching from the water and at the very least ensures they don't succumb to hypothermia, and when Koci wakes, she and Rina explain that they're looking for their friend. From that point on, they basically follow the plot of the game~

And lastly, in A Link Between Worlds, old texts describe the Kokiri as an elusive race that were known and adored for their eternal, youthful beauty - so much so, that ages ago Kokiri were often captured and kept in the homes of corrupt Hylians as trophies. The Kokiri that avoided this fate sunk deeper into hiding until many thought they disappeared entirely. Koci grows up in her home village hearing these stories, and decides she doesn't want to hide like the rest of her people. She learns to defend herself and sets out with Rina to explore the rest of the world, but is still sometimes plagued with inexplicable nightmares of a particularly powerful captor who is rumored to still be alive today...

Yuga, still on his quest for beauty, decides based on these texts that he must have one of these lovely beings to himself to preserve in painting form. The "elusive" part holds true, as the sorcerer scours every corner of the land for one of these forest-dwelling treasures. When he happens upon Koci, he is upfront about his intentions. Koci, fearful that this is the captor from her nightmare but in disguise, fights back and manages to nearly kill him, but Yuga offers a deal - spare him, and he'll help her find the real captor. At first it's a thinly-veiled ploy to gain her trust and later backstab/capture her, and Koci knows this, but she agrees only because his power would be useful in the search for this person. Over time, their dynamic goes from "enemies" to "I'll tolerate you because you're useful to me" to "you're not the worst person on the earth" to "why do I like you" to "ah damn it we accidentally became romantically involved" kjdfhg

Though the stories are different, some things about Koci and Rina remain relatively consistent between them - Rina is always an angel in the form of a fairy, and Koci's weapons are always twin morningstar flails (though depending on what the story calls for, she can wield other basic items like bombs and such). I have other small headcanons about them, but I think this post is long enough!

And so ends the long road to crafting my main Zelda self insert that I use to this day! (And when BOTW2 finally comes out, expect to see a lot more of Koci and Rina~)

#zelda #legend of zelda #loz #oc #self insert #Koci #Rina #Koci and Rina

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calpops · 4 years

Text

seven months | c.h.

Seven months of pregnancy leave you and Calum with a world of love, happiness, trials and tribulations and brings an anticipated yet completely unexpected moment.

1.8k words

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The positive test result is confirmed and you and Calum feel like you’re floating. The first week of knowing that your family is growing comes with bliss. You can’t help but smile every time you see each other, Calum can’t keep his hands from settling around your waist or delicately resting on your stomach. Duke develops a newfound interest and need to be with you; his senses turning his protectiveness into overdrive. The first week blows by, little red slashes on the calendar keeping count of all the days it will take to greet the newest member of the family.

“I can’t wait to meet her,” Calum says, standing in the kitchen where he cooks up dinner. You haven’t quite developed any crazy cravings yet but it doesn’t stop him from making anything you desire.

“Her?” You ask with an arched eyebrow and smirk.

“Just a guess,” he says with a shrug and smile then adds on, “the right one.”

“I don’t know, love, I think my money’s on a boy,” you reply and let your hand settle on your stomach. As much as Calum’s made it a habit you’ve done so tenfold. You’re not showing yet but the habit comes from comfort.

“You wanna make a bet?” Calum asks, stalling his cooking to eye you. You shift in the stool you’re sat on and question him with a look. “A girl and I win. A boy and you win.”

“What do you propose we win?” you question.

Calum lets out a breath, turns off the stove and moves the pan from the hot burner before rounding the counter to be by your side. He slides his hands around you, holds you, kisses your forehead and smiles. “Bragging rights. And first choice at names,” he proposes and piques your interest. He knows you have a list of names that have swirled through your mind since you got serious together. You have a feeling even if he wins he’ll still consider what you want and you know you’d do the same for him. It’s all in good fun.

“Alright, deal, but we won’t know for a while,” you remind him and seal the deal with a kiss.

More days pass and the complications of pregnancy start to kick in. Cravings and sickness, fatigue and changes plague you. Calum is there for you through it all. He offers comfort and support, takes as much time as he can to be with you, cater to your every whim and need. Though there are challenges both of you stay optimistic and anxious, nearly unable to wait for the day you get to hold the product of love in your arms. You often find yourself speaking of it all, making plans. You’ve yet to tell anyone but Calum’s parents and sister about the pregnancy, opting to keep it to yourselves until enough time has passed that risk margins slim and complications start to fade.

“We should probably tell the guys, at least,” Calum mumbles one night. You lay on your side and gaze at him under thin streams of moonlight coming in through the slats of the blinds.

“Yeah,” you agree, knowing they’re family and should know soon.

“I can tell them at the studio tomorrow,” Calum offers and you watch his eyes shoot up to the ceiling. “Unless you want to be there when they find out.”

You nod. “Oh I think I have to be. Luke did walk me down the aisle,” you remind with a slight giggle and light up when Calum laughs too.

“Stop by for lunch and we’ll tell them together?” Calum offers and you nod, making the plan and looking forward to the reactions to come.

The next day you show up to the studio where Calum greets you with lunch, a smile and a kiss to the cheek. He holds your hand up to where the rest of the band convenes with a shroud of take out boxes around them. You go in without a game plan in place to break the news but feel that might be best, you want telling them to come naturally. You’ve started to show just a touch but it’s easy enough to o disguise with Calum’s hoodie. None of the boys are the wiser or suspect anything when you walk in with Calum.

You get halfway through your meal, making small talk and trading banter, filling the guys in on marital life and the happiness you share when Ashton eyes your odd combo of food and makes a quip.

“I’d say it’s the pregnancy cravings but I’ve always liked this, actually,” you reply without thought and only realize what you’ve said when Ashton laughs but Michael and Calum stay silent and then Ashton falls into the quiet as well.

“Wait, what?” Ashton asks and stands as if the news is so striking he’s not sure what to do with himself. Neither you or Calum respond, the lack of game plan not readying you for the varying responses of shock. “Shut up, are you really pregnant or just trying to give me chest pain?”

Calum laughs and you blush around a giggle. Michael and Luke lean forward, rapt with interest at what answer might come from you two. You start by nodding but it’s not enough for Ashton to believe you and sit back down. He waits for words, waits for Calum to also confirm and when the chorus of confirmation and explanation falls from the two of you he breaks into a grin and finally joins Luke and Michael back on the sofa.

“I really didn’t think Calum would be the first,” Michael muses, hands folded together under his chin, you can see the happiness in his eyes and the unrelenting tilt of his lips.

“The first to have a kid?” Calum asks and throws his arm around your shoulder to pull you closer.

“The first to find love, get married, have a kid, all of it,” Michael clarifies with fondness in his tone. “I’m happy for you,” he adds on and flickers his eyes from Calum to you, making it known he means both of you.

Luke joins in on the sentiment and congratulations, pulls you into a hug and promises he’ll be there whenever you need him, also mentions that he’s already vying for the position of favorite uncle.

“Does anyone else know?” Luke asks after.

“Just my parents and Mali,” Calum answers. “We want to keep it as private as possible for as long as possible.”

You and Calum are no strangers to privacy in your relationship. You’d kept your entire relationship a secret from the public for over a year before an accidental slip of paparazzi outed you, hate swirled and Calum took a stand to tell the world he loves you. Since then you’ve gone back under the radar, preferring to keep to yourselves. Keeping your pregnancy quiet feels only natural. You know there will come a time when it can’t be hidden, but in the meantime you’re going to enjoy every last minute of privacy and solace that you can.

You slowly break the news to other close friends as the weeks go on. It’s over dinner that Calum broaches the subject of making a public announcement. You know it’s time, you’re showing and the probability of being spotted and found out increases day by day. You nod in agreement at his words, how carefully he’s thought it through and what steps he wants to take to do it. A simple instagram post, a simple caption and the comments turned off. You agree and watch over Calum’s shoulder while he scrolls through near endless photos of you, you and him, all of the baby items you’ve obtained over the five months of the pregnancy. He finally decides on a simple photo of his hands on your bump and captions it with your due date and a heart. He posts it so the world knows but you keep your world inside the walls of your home and the love between the two of you.

You spend the next couple of months in an excited bliss. All of your appointments and classes go well. You both decide to be surprised by the gender, still waiting on your bet, still biding time on choosing a name. Calum always says you’ll know when you finally meet her—sticking to his guns about your baby being a daughter. You’ve bought almost everything for the nursery but have yet to get them all put together. The boxes leave a reminder of excitement and fondness in you every time you pass by the door. Habits begin to form as you get ready for the baby to come. Calum sings to your bump, talks to you and the baby, cradles you and speaks of the future so often and vividly you can nearly see it. Everything builds hope in your heart.

***

Calum’s at the studio late one night, texting you, promising you he’s trying to get home as soon as he can when the first sign occurs. Immediately and instinctively you know. You fumble with your phone and dial Calum’s number. It rings only once before he answers and you cut off his greeting.

“It’s happening,” you breathe out.

“Sweetheart, you’re barely seven months, are you sure it’s not Braxton-Hicks?” Calum asks, automatically knowing what you mean, concern is in his tone but the drone of background noise over the phone cuts through.

You nod, tears in your eyes, knowing he can’t see you and then manage to get out a cracked ‘yes’. It suddenly feels like the world you’ve been living in is moving too fast. It’s happening too soon and instead of an anticipated and joyous occasion you’re bombarded by a time unexpected and only worries following. You know complications exist with premature birth and they rattle through your brain and instill fear into you when all you want to be feeling is happiness.

Calum doesn’t hesitate when he knows you’re certain. “Mali’s closer, she’ll bring you to the hospital and I’ll meet you, okay? Ash will call her, just breathe, it’s gonna be okay.”

You want to believe him, have always been able to put your faith into his words. But this is out of his control.

“I’m scared,” you confide, voice small and shaking with the two words.

“Stay on the phone with me. I’m right here,” he soothes. “It’s gonna be okay,” he repeats and now you wonder if it’s for you or to convince himself, knowing that realizations of the situation have caught up with him. Noting the tiniest hint of fear in his voice.

You hold onto his words, the sentiment, the sound of his voice as he tries calming you. He stays on the phone with you as Mali shows up, through the car rides that separate you and only hangs up when he sees you being wheeled into the check in desk. He strides for you, takes your hand in his and repeats words that have become a mantra.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

You try to believe him as your world spins on and you’re powerless to the future. You don’t let go of his hand or his hope.

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