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hysteriium · 3 years

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𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒆;

(𝐆𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞)

(𝐀/𝐧 ): This is the first I’ve posted in ages!!! I can’t recall how long it’s been, life has truly been hectic but I’m getting back on the saddle!!! We’re starting with my boi! I hope you enjoy it as much as I had fun writing this! I’ve been experimenting with the way he talks so it’s not as overt as I’ve previously written! I feel like the intonations may break the flow a bit so I’ve tried to make it more cohesive! Lmk what you guys think! Also shout out to my amazing partner @lilliryth they’re the light of my life and helped me edit this!! They’re such an amazing person and I would not be where I am today without them.

( 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ): Wedding. That is all. It’s not what you think.

( 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ): DK! Joker x Reader.

( 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ): 7,600+ k words!

( 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ): Angst (very little), swearing, violence.

The first time you’d asked, he simply stared in disbelief.

“Come again?” The bright red hues of confusion painted his husky voice.

The question had been wreaking havoc in your thoughts for the past month, unsure of how to slip out from ambiguity onto the sureness of the tongue. Such a bold yet silly little request was sure to be large and repugnant to the man hovering above you. While the darkness of his eyes was accentuated by his stygian greasepaint, hints of cocoa peeked through, prompting shy flutters of anxiety in your abdomen.

You can do this.

Your tongue slid across the arid cracks of your lips, wetting them. You cleared your throat, “I need a date to a wed–”

That was all you could get out before he blinked a few times and strode off.

The second time, albeit similar in difficulty, thankfully didn’t result in him running.

You tiptoed into his makeshift office with an air of mischief, his room sombre except for the lamp that spotlighted his desk. Hunched over blueprints which you suspected were his next big scheme, his eyes never drifted from the intricacies on the paper.

“Boo!” You shouted, catching his hips with an unbreakable hold when you closed the distance. While his body tensed, he couldn’t control the breath of amusement that left his nose.

“I can see you really tried there.”

You knew he followed your stare when his long fingers worked to roll the sheet. They were fast – so fast the pinched ends stuck out in layered rings that almost resembled winding mountainous trails. He couldn’t have curious eyes ogling his extra top secret will-have-to-kill-you-if-you-found-out criminal plans, now could he?

“What?” you started, while your hands fell and your footsteps whispered away from him. You felt the creases of your mouth wobble, ready to smile at any moment, and so you bit the inside of your tongue. “Don’t you trust me?”

“No,” he smirked, petting your head.

Curse his height.

“Now, uh, what is it, doll?”

You let your smile leap free, “I need to ask a super dooper big fav–”

“I’m not going.”

“But whyyyyyy? My parents are harassing me! They think their daughter’s going to grow old and grey and be alone forever.”

“Gee, I can’t imagine why.”

You shot him a look, one that only fuelled his amusement.

“J, I can’t just not show up.”

You watched his figure rise slightly as he drew and released a breath.

“I don’t like wed–” his tongue stuck out like he’d tasted something bad before he cleared his throat “–dings, they’re full of false hope, drunks and...” he shuddered, “romance. You see, they’ll end up killing each other in a few years. I can picture it now: dearly beloved wife kills cheating husband. Oh how could this have ever happened?”

He scoffed.

“You’re so dramatic. I promise it would only be for a few hours.”

“And pumpkin, how exactly are you gonna sneak me into a… place like that when I look like this,” he said, hands motioning to his face – mostly his scars.

It broke your heart. You could've sworn you heard it splinter, the downturn of your brows impossible to hold back. If only words were enough to convey complex feelings, to convey the pile of bricks nestled in your chest, to convey the desperate crave to comfort and rebut, the need to protect – even from himself. You had yet to find a way, and so you were stuck behind the thick lock and chain of language with no key in sight; restricted and bound to tools you never thought were enough, but could only hope were enough.

“Hey,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his face. In his eyes you saw the emotions flicker, almost as tangible as they were transparent – anger, fear, shock. Stood still and stiff, you nodded softly, giving him a smile of equal warmth. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

He squinted before hesitantly giving in, shifting so his cheek rested against your palm. He had to lower himself a little more to do so.

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with how you look. They’re beautiful, and I’ll keep saying so until there’s no breath left in my lungs.”

You held him ever so gently while he flitted his eyes shut. Your heart galloped then, its swell too big for your body and for a moment, brief as the breeze, the chaos he prided himself in was absent; for a moment there was peace.

“If you weren’t The Joker, I’d say go as is. Though, I have a plan!”

“Oh, do you now?” He said, shaking his head and returning to work. It was clear he was rapidly reaching his patience threshold.

Damn it.

“They have food!” You trailed off unsurely, as if it was a question – pinning your last hope on appealing to his raccoon inclinations.

It didn’t work.

The third, well…

You had just about given up and accepted the fact that it wasn’t his scene, that him meeting your parents would never be an option – a reality you had started to think of as a good thing the more you thought about it.

And so, the third day had been your acceptance. Self-care. Instead of chasing after an ideal, your hands were clutching a book, almost too hard, as the part you had been anticipating since very early had reached its finale. With your legs curled underneath you and practically asleep, your eyes flicked furiously from word to word–

That is until a looming figure shadowed the page completely, concealing all light from the lamp next to you.

Annoyance creased your features as you looked up at the clownish culprit. Your eyes met and a staring contest ensued, the intensity of his eyes beckoning a response until he, uncharacteristically, broke first.

“Will this make you, uh, happy?”

All traces of irritation were washed away by bewilderment, “sorry?”

“My being with you.”

“You mean to the wedding?” You asked, wide-eyed. If you hadn’t been as shocked as you were, you would have snorted at his continuous inability to say the word ‘wedding’.

He shifted on his feet, eyes darting away for a second before he licked his lips. “Yeah.”

“Is this a joke?”

“I’m not that cruel.”

You paused to hum obnoxiously, your finger tapping your chin to challenge the notion.

“Never mind,” he waved his hand in the air and was about to walk off before you grabbed his hand and sprung off your seat. You felt him try to wiggle out of your grasp with a grunt, but it was too late. “Thank you!” You shouted.

You missed the way his surprise melted into a genuine curl of his lips, twitching; the muscles unused. Instead, you were too busy stuffed in his vest, with your arms swathed around him. You both stayed there for a while basking in the warmth of each other, as his hands, which you guessed were hanging awkwardly in the air and unsure of what to do, encircled your waist.

Third time’s the charm.

Shaking fingers twirled sapphire silk, gliding over your cinched waist before finally moving up to the delicate exposed flesh of your neck. You glanced over the spaghetti straps that curved comfortably over your shoulder, and the simple silver circle necklace that laid between them, its chilled presence clashing with the heat of your skin.

Knock knock knock!

“Just a minute!” You said, jumping at the sudden rude intrusion.

“Not even funeral parlors take this long,” you heard J say from the other side, the distinctive departure of footsteps following promptly. They seemed faster than usual.

You puffed air at his complaint after calming your racing heart. Then you scrambled to finish up the final touches of makeup, at last winding the nude colored ribbons of your heels around your calves. Your head felt light, and your shoes only worsened the sudden gelatinous state your legs took on. Never before had you dressed up in such a way, not for years and much less in front of someone you dearly cherished. The line between fashionable and laughable was blurred and never truly had been exercised. Waving away the fuel your anxious thoughts provided, you decided to try and move. Your heels wobbled trying to avoid the flowing material pooled by your ankles, and you’d just managed to slip one foot out through the thigh-high slit. No matter how much you sighed, the pressure remained, weighing like an anvil. And so, with nothing much to lose, you made your way to the door; the dampness of your fingers leaving its foggy signature upon the knob.

This was it.

You breathed in one last time before opening the door.

“Okay, I’m re–”

You exhaled sharply, feeling the earlier intake of air leave you – taking with it the remaining wind in your lungs. You couldn’t control the twinkle of your eyes, nor the flip of your stomach as you gazed upon him.

His form was angled against the wall and his arms were crossed – that was, until he dragged his eyes over to you. His limbs then dropped to their sides and he quickly, almost stumbling over his shoes, righted his position. The bob of his Adam's apple was clear while both of you stood meters from each other with widened eyes. You knew he had the ability to pull off a suit, but the royal blue he donned was stunning. The stark colour complemented his blond locks, while his foulard tie with its blends of pinks, purples, and its navy base matched his socks.

It seemed you were both in the same boat, consumed by swells of giddiness and the need to fidget. The fingers that were dressed in dark brown leather gloves drummed against his thigh, while one of his cedar suede shoes tapped furiously against the floor.

“What.” He finally stated, rather than questioning.

You dropped the necklace your fingers had started circling.

“Nothing! You just look… really nice,” you uttered earnestly, unable to contain the sweet smile that broke through awe.

“Yeah, yeah. Uh… you too,” he said, the last part coming out less steady.

He avoided eye contact when you trotted over to him, fiddling with his cufflinks, though his tending to them immediately vanished when you began to accentuate the swish of your hips.

All fidgeting stopped.

You were sure he was expecting something else, rather than the delicate cupping of his cheek once you reached him, soft lips meeting with roughened skin as you kissed his scars. You took your time with each one, whispering affection, before claiming his mouth. He growled against you, and you could feel him tighten his hold.

The tip of his tongue traced the stain of lipstick, a wordless demand for entry which left you weak. Almost parting your lips to allow the gentle slide of his tongue, he suddenly reared back with a smirk.

“Peach,” he cooed.

You were going to have to reapply later.

With a small smile you extended your arm to the couch, and knowing time was beginning to pass, he complied. As he advanced, you peeked at the orange lining in his blazer. The hue was similar to his purple coat, though slightly lighter. You smiled to yourself, the small detail so characteristically him.

“Alright. Let’s get this over with,” he sighed, bracing himself.

Already a step ahead, you had brought out the makeup needed just prior to getting dressed. Sitting on one of the nearby surfaces, you picked up a small translucent bag with little red hearts on it – a fact he’d snickered to himself at when he first saw it – and walked over to him.

“As you wish, grumpy,” you simpered, “now hold still!”

True to his new title, you heard him mutter something unintelligible under his breath. The tap-tap-tap of his foot against the floor was most of the noise for a good while, and although distracting, the fidgeting of his hands was less noisy. You knew more than anyone he needed to squirm around, some movement at the very least, and so you endured. You deduced that he’d not been this close to someone in so very long, let alone allow them to do his makeup. That task, intimate and personal within itself, was not something others could be trusted with.

“Time to hide these little guys,” you murmured, focused as the beauty blender sat between your fingers and dabbed on concealer. “Not that they need hiding. I’ll miss them.”

“Really?” He chimed in, eyes shut while you did your work.

“Yeah, they’re a part of you and I’d never want you to hide or be ashamed of who you are.”

“Hmm,” he trailed off.

Occasionally his mouth quirked, his tongue darting out to lick his scars; an involuntary movement. You were patient, and even if he wasn’t overt about his guilt of messing up your progress, you reassured him lightly with a kiss on the head, sometimes playing with the dirty blond waves that lacked any sign of green.

The day before he’d washed out the colour in preparation for the big day, groaning until he caught sight of himself in the mirror; contemplative. Ethereal and almost delicate he seemed. How precious it was to witness such cracks in the fortress, where the basking rays of sun illuminated what once was – and still is, only shrouded by shrubbery and thorns, so overgrown and disordered that they had forgotten to take care of even themselves. Forgotten how.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he groaned as you finished blending the concealer on both cheeks. Grabbing the foundation you had colour matched, you dabbed a bit on your hand before applying that too.

“Honestly, me neither,” you replied, feeling no need to sugarcoat the shock from your tone. You knew he appreciated the truth. “But I’m glad you are! You’re doing so well!”

He squirmed a little at the compliment but settled seconds later. Soon after finishing the blending, you reared back and observed your labour. Although it wasn’t perfect, and if you looked hard enough you could still see the intricate crevices in his skin, it passed.

“All done!”

As soon as you spoke, J pushed off his palms. He was halfway off the chair when you stopped him.

“Wait! I have to walk you through something.”

At this, his eyebrows quirked up. You knew you had his attention.

“Conditions!” You announced.

“Ah. Now there are conditions.”

“Yes! I don’t want you to throw a tantrum and blow up the whole reception.”

“My my, aren’t you a little fire stopper.”

“Promise me.”

He flicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. With one hand on his chest and the other raised just next to his head, he bowed a little. “I swear.”

You wrinkled your nose, “I swear there will be no funny business, and I’ll be on my best behaviour – oh and no crossing your toes either!”

“You know me so well,” he sighed, admitting defeat, “Fine. I swear there’ll be no funny business and I’ll be on…” he cleared his throat and brought a closed fist to his mouth, “my best behaviour.” Then he shone his impishly wide grin, one that only intensified the pit of doubt in your stomach.

It would have to do, though.

“Okay,” you whispered.

He stood up now, towering over you.

“Okay,” he mimicked, dropping his hands at the base of your hips.

The last few days had been full of surprises, his agreement to attend trumping all. However, his overt display of affection was a close second. Never before had he been so forthcoming and so comfortable with physical contact.

As his hands laid there, unmoving and making their home in your curves, you inched closer to him; a specific craving only his warmth could ease. Though, those very same hands around you tightened when you tried to step forward, holding you in place. Curiously, you looked up at him, brows furrowed.

“What are you–”

It seemed he couldn’t help himself. The evil laughter he’d been trying to restrain bubbled from his throat and bounced off the walls. The eagerness to ask what he was doing quickly died – hard – when you could no longer feel the ground beneath your feet. It instead morphed into protests and occasional bouts of laughter as your arms dangled along his back, your pelvis against his shoulder. One gloved hand rested crudely just below the curve of your ass, occasionally squeezing your upper thigh and holding you in place, while his other arm hung unobstructed.

“We–” he clicked his tongue, “–wouldn’t want to be late now, would we?” He finished, purring.

The location was a couple hours outside of Gotham on the coastline in an area you’d practically never heard of. If it wasn’t for J’s gift for navigation, and his frustration when you kept leading him down wrong turns, you would have been hours late instead of just missing the ceremony. The last straw had been assuring him the early exit was your turn off despite his gut instinct, despite the countless times he asked ‘are you sure?’ and despite his sneaking glances – something he stopped doing when he almost crashed into the car next to you, too focused on craning his neck. All of this combined had resulted in the brutal demise of your map reading days.

Stopping where he could after taking the wrong exit he held out a gloved hand, a wordless demand for the navigator. Before long, you were back on the freeway, thankfully heading the right way. The directory rested in his lap as he balanced the seemingly breezy tasks of reading and driving.

Clearly safety was his middle name.

Once the two of you arrived at the venue, the first thing you both noticed was the heat. Warm and uncomfortable, the seabreeze made this bearable. The next notable feature was the rambunctious clamour of the crowd; music, laughter and shouting.

After worming your way out of the van, comically wedged between two much smaller cars, you headed towards the reception, stopping short from the asphalt-sand border. J stared at it as if it had foiled his genius villainous plots, as if it was the cause of all his misfortunes, as if it was responsible for the brutal murder of his first pet. Then, he made a face – a mixture between a scowl and disgust.

He sniffed, “it smells like...” he paused to grimace, “high society.”

The ghastly look was then directed ahead to each moving – breathing – organism he could see. There was no doubt in your mind the crowd had already made it on his hit list.

“For once I miss the stink of Gotham.”

“Well at least it’s at the beach!” You exclaimed, not recalling the last time you’d been. Trying to think that far back made your brain hurt, the tingle of overworked cogs and Brain Fog a lethal combination that coerced your forfeit in seconds. At the very least you were happy to be making new memories, hopefully some you’d be able to remember in the future; memories you prayed were not, later too, guarded by the merciless Brain Fog and his ravenous desire to generate headaches.

“I hate the beach,” J delivered flatly, hatred distilled rolling off his person in waves.

“Oh, you hate everything!” You pouted, brushing off his pessimism.

“It’s hard not to.”

“Well…” You stopped to think, wracking your brain to prove him wrong, “what about me?”

That had to get him.

“You especially,” he grinned, eyes twinkling with a mischief that spoke nothing other than ‘you walked right into that one, sweetheart.’

You were unable to help the sigh that sailed past your hued lips, “well, come on sunshine. You can’t stare daggers at them all day.”

“I can try,” he spat sourly.

You rolled your eyes and dragged him along but immediately dropped the act when you quickly realised it hauled unwanted eyes, like metal to magnets. Yet, J followed even though you were certain he saw the cursed asphalt-sand barrier as the very gates of hell themselves. In fact, he seemed a little bit too eager to start his anathematised exploration of the 9 circles as when you looked back, expecting to see his long limbs hanging in defeated protest, you were met with, well, nothing.

One moment he was there, the next he was gone seemingly stalking off into the unknown, hiding among the sea of people. It wasn’t like he was easy to lose either, his height and his aura of absolute discomfort is what set him apart from the rest. He protruded like a broken bone – so why couldn’t you find him?

“Damn it, J!” You harshly whispered to yourself, unknowingly stamping your foot until the insidious specks of sand tumbled their way into your shoe, under your feet and between your toes. Easily conquering your layer of protection, their coarse presence made you want to grind your teeth.

Maybe this was a mistake.

Before you could go off and search for the lost irritating puppy, you heard shouts. At first they seemed like ordinary yells, distinctive deviations from the crowd which happened to catch your attention at the right moment. Though, the more time passed and you wandered around like a newborn giraffe looking for its mother, you realised this was not the case. Most telling was the way those vague cries morphed into the familiar syllables of your name. And then finally in view, the supposed sweet comfort of childhood embodied neared; their worn features staring into your own, different from all those years ago.

You fought the urge to run.

“Hey honey!” Your dad beamed.

Two pairs of smothering arms made their way toward you, enveloping. With your fingers clutching separate materials, each as scratchy and glacial as each other, your head started to spin and you felt yourself holding your breath.

“Hey mum, hey dad, it’s nice to see you two again,” you said, feeling the slow ache from clenching your jaw starting to set in. You quickly swapped this expression for a small smile when they released you.

“How’ve you been?” Your dad inquired, the shimmer in his eyes a sight you couldn’t help but double take at. You noticed there was no glass in his hand.

“Don’t bombard her dear,” your mum rolled her eyes, “where’s this date you were telling me about?”

She lingered on the word with an emotion you couldn’t quite discern while her adjudicating eyes swept over your outfit. Her eyebrows then lifted, scrunching her nose with it. “Not bad.”

Her scanning forced you to shrink into yourself, the automatic motion of your palms relentless in their pursuit of wrinkles, a fact you did not pick up on until your mother cleared her throat at your unprompted staring contest.

“My question dear, it’s rude to ignore your mother,” her thin brows creased and the folds just above them rested along her forehead in a similar fashion.

You scrambled for an acceptable answer, the question just as ambiguous to yourself.

“He’s… um… getting us drinks! I was actually just about to go check up on–”

“Well if a man can’t even fetch you a drink he’s hardly useful,” she scoffed, turning to her husband to whisper, “can’t imagine what this prince charming looks like.”

Anger, lava-like and boiling, rose up in your throat. The pressure seemed unbearable as you tried to keep your mouth closed – tried not to defend the one you loved with your entire being. How dare she judge someone she had yet to even meet? She had yet to see the beauty that radiated in and out.

It had only been minutes and you’d already been zapped of your energy for the day.

“I think I should go check on him now.” “Yes, of course. Come back to me when you have something to show,” your mother smiled. You watched her lips stretch, her wine lipstick as pigmented as the red coating your vision.

Her hand clutched the necklace around her chest. Her fingers traced the glistening diamond which hung overtly, screaming it’s pricelessness to all passersby as she went to go have another sip of her champagne. At the corner of your eye you noticed movement, a pair of worn hands clutching suit pants. Hard. You turned automatically and when you met his eyes your dad shot you a strained smile. It almost looked like an apology.

Your stomach turned.

You tried your best to conceal the stomping as you promptly departed, promising yourself to at least wait until you were out of their view and blending in with the crowd. Once you merged with the patches, you quickly discovered that navigating your way out of it was going to be just as hard as trying to find J. Left and right amalgamated, looking the same no matter how many times you tried to compare differences and so did everyone’s outfits. You could have sworn you’d seen the same red dress three times, though you also could have sworn you went all different directions to the last; the truth was you were no more knowing than a sailor stranded at sea lacking a compass, the same indistinguishable shapelessness stretching out for miles and miles with no end in sight.

Then, a miracle – a clearing of people which shrieked hope and a long portable table with flowing white lace harbouring all kinds of food. Amongst the good news, a blotch of royal blue caught your eye and a flash of blond. Focusing your view on the table and its few inhabitants, one of which was the blue wearing stranger, you quickly realised your missing date was fixed and firm in place at the snack area. No sooner than this revelation processed you dashed over, the anger returning once the relief had run its fleeting course. As you stormed your way over to him he failed to look up, too preoccupied with the food he was collecting. Lacking in subtlety, you grabbed his arm.

“Jesus there you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

J, who had been waiting to stuff his face with what you identified as another cupcake, mouth ringed with strawberry frosting, crumbs and sprinkles, dropped it in surprise and turned to you with widened eyes. They shrunk as soon as they showed an inkling of surprise and instead shifted to speckled guilt.

“Cupcake,” he managed to mumble with a full mouth.

Your fiery frustration was immediately put out by how cute he was, and you felt a surge of guilt yourself. It wasn’t fair to be taking out your personal frustrations on him.

After closing your eyes and taking a breath, you reset.

“They think I’m lying about you.”

He swallowed.

“You wanna leave? I, uh, know I want to,” he said much louder than the whisper you wish he’d used.

Such a comment warranted an elbow jab into his waist as you smiled ear to ear and sickly sweet at the passing guest who had clearly heard J. The middle aged woman with short brunette hair, white pom-pom earrings and beady eyes shot you two a blazing look before rutting her nose into the air. The reek of pretension wafted off her. Now you could see what J was saying earlier.

Pee-yew.

Everyone here sucked.

“I’m gonna kill her later,” he murmured, squinting after her.

“J, you promised to be good!”

Even if she was a grandiloquent old bitch who deserved it.

His ominous response was to pour himself some punch, the clown-in-disguise bringing the plastic up to his lips. As the cup masked most of his face, the only thing visible was his deadly gaze which bounced from congregation to congregation.

“How much longer.” Again, it wasn’t phrased as a question, more a statement.

“The bride and groom haven’t even danced yet.”

He scrunched his nose, though dropped the subject. At least verbally.

“You’re so crabby. You do know that you’re drawing even more attention to yourself this way?”

“Hmmph.”

It was silent for a few minutes before, without warning, he grabbed your hand. The hesitant and jagged strokes of his thumb followed and even though they belonged to a novice, the delicacy was still there.

The message was clear:

I’m new to this.

Your lips upturned, the gentle quirk hidden by transient hair flowing along the salty breeze. His touch was warm and paradoxically amiable; his presence a shelter cutting the chilly current that had picked up around noon. Stained lips, of which you had forgotten about until the sticky residue imprinted boldly on his glove, aimed to ease his buzzing mind. Expecting a grumble for the lipstick mark, what you got in return was the soft gaze of dark brown eyes – a sign of taming raging waters. He didn’t seem to mind, in fact the window into his soul for once could be identified as just that – a window; crystal, without the dirtied stains of camouflage and trepidation.

Something had changed.

Before you could get another word in, it was announced the bride and groom were going to have their first dance. The crowd gathered around the newly wedded couple as the music suddenly switched. The speakers were loud as they played a waltz, the couple’s limbs intertwined and swaying to its dramatic pace. They twirled and swayed with the grace of swans tiptoeing and beguiling the creeping ocean on the golden sands. Even though you knew virtually nothing about them, and were convinced that in fact this whole invite was your mother’s scheme to pry, the sight was a beautiful one to behold. The epitome of love – reciprocal trust and utter surrender; it had you wondering where you’d gone wrong previously, and if such a thing was as formulaic as it seemed to be, or if they were freefalling into the abyss as much as everyone else was; blindfolded, but nonetheless with each other. Welded in each other’s hearts.

How long had you projected your yearning at the couple and vicariously lived through their magical moment? You couldn’t say, though it was only the sudden grip on your shoulder that had managed to break your fixed admiration. It was firm, but nowhere near the realm of rough, and it even contained a fraction of gentleness, an action that wordlessly said ‘are you okay?’

At the sudden presence, you looked over your shoulder to find J, his guarded eyes holding a knowledge which only deepened the crawling feeling of embarrassment. Blood rushed to your cheeks. As you rounded your gaze back to the couple, you quickly saw the crowd was beginning to join them, all dancing at their own pace as the music continued its intimate lull. J’s hand slid down your arm while you watched and returned to hold your hand. Content and about to lean into him, your sudden love struck daze pounced away when he started to walk, dragging you along with him.

“Hey– what are you doing?”

No response.

“Let me go!” You said, your tone coming out a lot angrier than you’d expected. You guessed this alerted him because even though you were mere meters away from the rest of the crowd he stopped to explain.

“I saw the way you were looking at them. You know, cupcake, you’re not hard to read,” he drawled.

You pursed your lips, looking away for a moment.

“So what? What are you doing?”

“What does it – ah – look like?”

He’d seemingly taken your lack of response as a positive and continued forward. He grinned once he had you in position and placed his palm on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing gentle circles. He then maneuvered his other hand to grab yours and stretched it forward. From his first few steps you knew immediately it was the Viennese Waltz. The fast tempoed dance was one you weren't all too familiar with, but you’d learned its slower English counterpart.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” you gasped, trying your best to conceal your astonishment. You didn’t want to seem rude, though he just didn’t seem like the person interested in such a thing. Nor have the time. You were certainly finding yourself more curious about the origin of such a talent, and all the other potential abilities that were sneakily tucked away.

“Well aren’t I just full of surprises.”

He dipped you slightly in time with the halt of the orchestra. He held you there for a moment before the tune resumed its boisterous charm, climbing steadily to its crescendo.

“Here’s to another,” he said, his smile widening. If you didn’t know him so well you would have believed the expression to be completely innocent and honeyed. Standing there intertwined with his limbs you knew that devilish gleam was anything but.

And, seconds later, this suspicion proved right.

Suddenly he lifted you, twirling you around in such a way that made you feel like you were the bride. You’d only seen such a thing in Disney movies and cheesy rom coms – to be cherished, to be loved and cared for in such a delicate way was a fantasy; a taste of nostalgia and a serenade to the hopeless romantic within.

“J, put me down! Put me down!” You felt yourself swallow when his hands tightly gripped your hips. For a moment the irritation you’d experienced all day from a full face of makeup and wandering had all been worth it.

His laughs slipped out, too; a direct contrast from his often irked facade, a musically heart-warming phenomenon which no instrument could emulate. The whole time you kept your eyes on each other and never once did they deter, focused on drinking in the beauty of each other. The cheers from the crowd you’d gathered fell upon both your deaf ears, transfixed by each other’s magic in your own closed off bubbles.

As you continued to dance, the act itself felt like flying. The crowd separated when you neared – that is, until everything stopped. Sharp and prompt.

Neither of you had much regard for the abrupt bump when it happened, there were people everywhere and mistakes occurred. It was no big deal. At least that’s what you told yourself until such a collision was followed by a violent shriek and a splash.

Loud gasps replaced the background noise of applause.

In a few frightening seconds your brain made the connection – linking who you’d just seen in the same area minutes before, inches from the ocean.

“Oops,” you squeaked, too scared to turn around. However, despite your better judgement you did just that.

The groom stood in shock, evidently unable to come to terms with the sight he was seeing. One moment his new wife was safe within his arms, dancing as if it was only two of them in the universe, the next she was below him, swimming with seaweed. Then, his form began to tremble, a telltale sign that what was to come was nowhere near the realms of good.

He turned around with searing red eyes, a wrinkled nose and bared teeth. The eyes of the bull met the petrified, and his stubby, squared and well-manicured finger pointed directly at you.

“You fucking bitch!” He roared.

You jumped, feeling yourself cling to J. His arm wrapped around you reassuringly and although you trusted him with your life, being confronted by a raging groom was still nonetheless intimidating. The groom who apparently cared more about telling you off than helping his wife, who was still floundering in the crashing waves, began his march over to you.

“Do you know who I am?” He continued, and you wondered if he was still aware there was a crowd around. J almost instantly stood in front of you and had to hunch further to scowl at your aggressor.

“What was that?” J grabbed the man in front of him and slipped the blade hidden in his sleeve between the groom’s lips, angling it against the crease of his mouth.

“Hmm? Why not try your luck, princess. Say it again.”

The groom froze, the flicker of fear evident even on your end, though he kept up his brutish facade.

“You’re both going to be 6 feet under when my dad’s through with you.”

“Aww… run along to daddy so he can fix all your problems,” you could hear the pout in your boyfriend’s voice, comfortable and in your eyes even elated, to spit out the toxins he’d been gathering from just being here all day.

“So you do know who I am–” “The second most spoiled kid of Gotham’s underbelly.”

“And yet, you’re still holding the knife.”

“Of course the first would be your brother though, hmm?” J continued, completely ignoring the man's statement.

The groom gritted his teeth.

“I bet it stings to not be the favourite. To not even have him here on your big day.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” The groom spat, bullseyeing J’s shoe. You saw red pooling at the corner of the man’s mouth, the mere act of expectorating on your boyfriend’s shoe more urgent than self-preservation.

Yeesh.

“Now that’s not very hygienic,” J growled, wrinkling his nose. His grip on the knife tightened and in one quick motion, the groom was screaming.

While you couldn’t see the infliction from where you were positioned, the blood dripping onto the sand was clear as crystal. The screams of those around you were piercing, their horror and disgust forcing you to cling tighter to your boyfriend.

“J, please! That’s enough, it’s okay!” You pulled on his blazer. Feeling the hundreds of widened eyes staring holes into your being was no longer a concern. What mattered most was him. Getting out of here.

With a quick glance to his right, J met you, then looked back at the groom.

He smacked his lips.

“Seems you are lucky,” he purred, the shimmer in his eye reflecting nothing of the warmth he concealed so carefully – nothing of the warmth of when your eyes met. Instead, it was serrated and reflected jeopardy. He possessed the force of a hurricane. A gravity; the way in which he commanded the direction of things and uprooted the fortitude of the righteous, the sure, a mothernatured finesse.

He looked back at you again before shifting his hold on the man, fisting his wrinkled and bloodied shirt, then barked, “why don’t you go join your blushing bride?”

With the element of surprise, J raised his knee and shot it between the man’s legs, the man falling down almost as fast as the foreign presence made an impact. You could have sworn someone at the corner of your eye jolted, most likely fearing the worst while others let out shrieks. Fear of the unknown, the seduction of one’s imagination and its ability to fill in blanks was the most manipulatable aspect of consciousness. Rather than bleeding out and rocking lifeless against the cradling waves like so many had thought, the groom sat there, soaking in the shame of defeat and crimson. He hollered while his new wife crawled to his side.

“Tell your precious father I said ‘hi.’”

All eyes now turned to you both as you speedily departed, J dragging you along once more. The colony of sand in your shoe that had begun its formation hours ago was well in its breeding season now, the leathery insole most likely buried along with the newly wed’s marriage. Before you fully exited the cooperative crowd, forever to forget the merging faces of horror, two familiar ones caught your eye.

Hah!

“Some date, huh?” You smiled, staring at your mother straight on. The way her face twisted up in a myriad of emotions – surprise, disgust, embarrassment – was something you’d never forget. You were sure you destroyed her little snobbish social circle by the mere association. Pride swelled in your chest, a childish victory that didn’t seem so childish when you later reflected on your relationship with her.

When the two of you escaped back to the van successfully, there was a moment of contemplation.

“I – heh – think that went well!” J laughed to himself, rounding his body to face you, “you think your parents like me?”

“I think I should be asking the same to myself,” you said.

“Cheer up buttercup, at least your parents know you’re not dying alone anymore.”

“To be honest, after that shitshow they’d probably prefer it,” a sigh left your lips and you began to bite them, unconscious of the small action until the taste of metal blew up your taste buds.

“Eh. Who needs parents, anyway?”

You began to fiddle with your hands, suddenly finding them incredibly interesting. From the lack of interruptions you concluded he knew you were miles away, trapped in the wilderness of your own thoughts.

“So I’m guessing you only came because you found out whose wedding it was.”

It took a lot to break the silence, and the air suddenly shifted to a heaviness. You weren’t sure you were the only one tensing.

J clicked his tongue but didn’t answer.

“It’s okay… I think I’ve had my fill of weddings for a while, anyway. And parents. And honestly, maybe people,” you answered for him, despite the swirl of hurt brewing in your gut.

He breathed out his amusement. The lack of transience had you swallowing, frantic to keep the growing weight on your chest from expanding – from consuming your entire being with emptiness. You didn’t know how long you had until the stampede made its mark, the thunderous thuds of terror already echoing in the distance.

Those were only thoughts you could entertain alone, sunken in the decaying paradise of your bed.

Silence prevailed again.

Dazed and lost of direction, you remained fixated on the lines of your palms.

“The husband had a temper. You know, I thought they were so lovely at first.”

“That’s what they want you to believe. Their little golden castles sparkle in the sun and it’s only until the rain pours that you can see them for what they really are. Wet cardboard. Looks can be deceiving.”

“They certainly can be,” you looked up at him, smiling softly.

Even with the friction, you slowly reached up to cup his face. This time on his end, there was no fear or hesitation. Instead, just an unspoken mutual trust between two wandering souls. You looked down at his lips while your thumbs stroked the hidden lines of his scars. The gentle caresses wore down the makeup until finally they were visible again.

The marks of a survivor – beautiful and bold.

“Wait,” he said, the word simple and yet so labyrinthine. He reared back and looked at his hands while your own moved to rest on your knees. Curled into fists, his slowly unclamped like a blooming flower. What they revealed had your heart thumping, dancing its rhythm in your throat. You felt your eyes widen and the sadness immediately leave you, as if all its colour had been drained from you. You felt like a 1930’s cartoon, so shaken to the core that all you could see was greyscale.

“It wasn’t the only reason,” he whispered, the commanding presence absent.

He cleared his throat and finally looked up at you, “in fact, these were my only reason.”

“You son of a bitch,” you bit your tongue in awe at the binding pieces of metal in his hands. They twinkled in the holiday rays, beckoning, unuttering whispers of fabrication. Was the weight of those dual bands as heavy as his heart? As heavy as the solemn expression as he processed your jabbing words?

“I-I know it’s not much but–” he stuttered, and was promptly interjected.

“Oh! No, no, no! I didn’t mean–”

You both smiled. Yours wide and brazen, his small and seraphic.

“My J. Always starting fights, always getting what he wants,” you took the ring from his finger and darted to your left hand, slipping it on its rightful throne, “how can I resist?”

You kissed him mellowed and full of saccharine and he sighed, his reciprocation just as tender despite the usual dash of coarseness.

“Mine,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. He fluttered his eyes shut and his breathing began to steady.

“Mine,” you whispered.

In all that was and all that ever could be, never would you have believed such a moment possible. Magical and idiosyncratic, you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Nothing big and extravagant in front of many eyes. Just the two of you, inside what you now considered the best moment of your life. What many described as a lock and chain, a prison for the rest of one’s life, you would describe as the only thing you had ever wanted. As much as before, everything felt complete.

Supernal.

You don’t know how long you stayed like that, breathing in unison, basking in each other. All you knew was that it was all too soon when you hit the road again, starting the long journey back to Gotham. After a lot of the same scenery – trees, cars, rocks, more cars and occasional bodies of water – your eyes had become leaden. Resting became impossible to oppose and before long your eyes gave into its stinging demand.

Somewhere within the haze of half-consciousness, a mysterious material was draped over you. It was silken on the inside, your arms softly grazing it occasionally, and linen on the outside, your chin brushing over it when passing uneven roads. Subtle ripples of cologne drifted from the fabric as you finally fell prey to sleep’s siren song.

“Sleep well, sweetpea,” lulled a sweet voice.

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funtimebunnyblog · 3 years

Text

Always remember Pillarmen-lovers and followers alike, no matter what you like to wear or what you like to put on your body; you are absolutely stunning! 😍😍😍 You rock those tattoos, piercings, whatever you wear; wear them with your head held high! 😇🥰😘 Don't let anyone tell you otherwise!

The Pillarmen with a Female s/o with tattoos (who also gets unwanted comments about them)...

(Under the cut for length!)

Kars:

• At first, Kars doesn't quite understand the exact appeal of tattoos.

• Sure, some of them admittedly looked nice and they were art in their own respect, but they were also known to be quite painful for Humans not to mention they were something very permanent to put on the body...

• He doesn't really understand why someone would go out of their way to get something so gaudy imprinted on their skin.

• You'll have to forgive him because when you're first getting to know him as he openly looks down on you for having some of your own; especially since you're a Woman.

• He states that you should treat your body like a temple and not "graffiti" it with something so "manish" and "distasteful" which you of course simply shrug off.

• You've heard this enough times to not care.

• However, after you give him some time and he's heard any stories you happen to have behind your tats or perhaps once he sees how truly harmless it all is, he comes around.

• Kars comes to realize that they're just another piece of what made you "you" and he supposed that you could be into far worse things than just simple pictures drawn on your skin...

• Besides... he has to admit you look very beautiful with them.

• From that moment on, if anyone happens to say anything negative about your ink, he puts haters and nay-sayers alike in their place.

• "You know, it's not very ladylike to have tattoos." You could feel the sneer of the Woman behind you as she let her poisonous words drip off her tongue but you didn't turn around.

• This wasn't the first time this happened and it was better to pretend you didn't hear.

• Kars, on the other hand, didn't miss a beat. "It's also not very ladylike to make bitchy comments but it appears that would just be your whole personality." He commented, cocking an eyebrow at the now gawking Woman from over his shoulder.

• You couldn't contain the snort of laughter that burst forth, Kars smiled softly as you clung to his arm with a wheeze. The offending Woman didn't make anymore comments.

• Kars was sure that if he could open his mind to see the beauty of tattoos and learn to accept them, others should do the same.

Esidisi:

• Hands down, Esidisi absolutely ADORES your tattoos!

• He thinks they're a beautiful form of art to display on the body and that they are something definitely to be admired.

• Most especially since they're on you!

• Even from the first time you two met, he wanted to see every single one you had and hear any stories you happened to have behind them.

• Even if the stories happened to go along the lines of "I got really drunk with some friends and--"

• For quite a while he's wanted to get tattoos of his own but never really found the time, not to mention something worthwhile to get.

• Millennium ago, tattoos were in fact quite time consuming to get done (they required not only a steady hand but the patience of a Saint as well) and he couldn't waste much time when on the hunt for the Aja afterall.

• However, once introduced to the modern tattooing art and with lots of time to spare, you were what inspired him to step up and finally get a few of his own done!

• What he really wants is to get his arms covered in intricate patterns and pictures.

• In fact, Esidisi is the kind of person to want to get a matching tattoo with you or at least one with your name somewhere on his body.

• Of course, he does not stand for anyone saying anything hurtful or negative about your own tats.

• "Hey!" The yelling of the guy calling out to you from his truck as you walked down the street instinctively made you freeze for only half-a-second. "I'd fuck you if you didn't have so many tattoos, bitch!"

• His words made an ickyness swirl up from your gut to your throat. Though disgusted, you kept your face carefully neutral and tried to keep walking.

• Those kinds of deragatory comments just weren't worth the effort of fighting back.

• Esidisi, however, wasn't one to stand back and let someone disrespect you like that.

• "Yeah? And maybe somebody would actually fuck you if you had some, dickhead!" He called back, grinning as the guys mouth immediately snapped shut.

• The Pillarman's quick clap-back was enough to make a huge smile stretch across your face; only fueled by the massive hand wrapping around yours as you both kept walking.

• With Esidisi around, you would never have to waste time or energy on derogatory comments ever again.

Wamuu:

• Wamuu had only seen these "tattoos" a handful of times in his life.

• He was well aware of the art and the practice took to create them but never had them done on himself or seen the action up close.

• The very few times he had seen tattoos on someone, it was for battle purposes.

• Most often worn by great Warriors who had fought many fights and had them done to commemorate victories won or even lives lost.

• Upon meeting you and spotting your ink, Wamuu was immediately under the impression that you were a Female Warrior (a rarity) and wanted to know everything about the tapestry of "victories" on your skin.

• "This tattoo, what is its symbolism? Was this to commemorate a fight? Battle, perhaps?" He questioned, a calloused finger poking you softly in your flesh as he spoke.

• You could only blink stupidly, not quite sure what he was going on about. "Wamuu... that's Hello Kitty."

• When you explain to him that your tattoos hold no great "symbolism" or "battle tributes" it takes a while for him to wrap his head around it.

• People nowadays did this... for fun? Simply "because"? Sometimes they did it to show love or appreciation to something?

• It was a strange phenomenon but he eventually finds himself nodding his head in understanding.

• If anything, even if it isn't for a Warriors devices, he finds all tattoos unique and something to behold.

• He even starts thinking about getting one of his own simply "for fun".

• What he still doesn't understand is why there are so many people who were so closed minded concerning these things, especially towards Women like yourself.

• He doesn't appreciate it when people are rude or disrespectful to the things you like; this being no exception.

• "Ugh! You should really cover those up!" You turned your head to find another Woman pointing accusingly at one of your tattoos, an ugly scowl etched into her face. "I shouldn't have to see something so distasteful!"

• You opened your mouth, prepared to tell her to mind her business and keep going about your own when suddenly Wamuu appeared right behind her. The massive man sternly pulled a bag right over her head, completely covering her face.

• "If you do not like the look of them, then perhaps you should simply cover your eyes, Human!" He growled, leaving the rude lady to try and pull the bag off her head as he took your hand and proudly walked off with you.

• Now if only everyone could live that philosophy, life would truly be peaceful for you. Until then, you were just happy you had Wamuu to spread those words of wisdom for you.

Santana:

• Upon first meeting you, your tattoos intrigued Santana more than anything.

• He had never really seen anything of the like before encountering you.

• At first, he thought that they were simply a born pigmentation to your skin. Perhaps you were a different kind of Human alltogether? Did this hold some sort of direct link to your kind attracting a Mate?

• If the latter by chance, he had to say it was working.

• You couldn't help but laugh, watching as he traced his fingers along the shapes and pictures of your ink; he was absolutely mesmerized by the artwork stretching across the canvas of your skin.

• This was definitely MUCH more preferable than someone looking down their nose at you for having them.

• However, once you explained to him that you had them physically drawn onto your skin with ink and needles it only intrigued him more.

• He wanted to know everything about these "tattoos" including just how they were done and why exactly some people took time to get them.

• This resulted you dragging him along to a tattoo parlor so he could watch and learn first hand; which then lead to Santana getting his first tattoo shortly after on his thigh.

• "Aww, now what's a pretty girl like you doing with something so ugly like that on her skin?" The lady behind the counter who was ringing up your items smiled almost sickeningly sweet as she spoke, making you only want to roll your eyes even more.

• Oh boy, here it comes. You just couldn't walk to the store to get a bag of chips and a drink without someone making a comment, could you?

• "You know, not a lot of men like those on a pretty girl, sweetie." She continued, as if unable to see you had no interest in what she had to say what-so-ever. "Maybe you should think about that if you ever want to find someone decent, hmm?"

• Santana's wild head of hair appeared out from behind the chip rack as she spoke, lips twisting as his eyebrows narrowed. He approached the counter with a huff, snatching the bag from it as he full on glared at the cashier.

• His eyes fell onto your bare skin, to the lovely shapes and colours that sparked all these unwanted comments. "Her skin is beautiful." He said, before his eyes fell onto the cashiers bare skin, his lips only pushing further downwards. "Your skin is boring, primitive."

• The look on the cashiers face after he said that only made your snacks taste even sweeter as you sat cuddled into the Pillarmans side back at Home.

#funnybunny #pillarmen #pillarmen headcanons #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #kars x reader #esidisi x reader #wamuu x reader #santana x reader #my writing

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loyally-unfaithful · 3 years

Text

—; it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas.

word count: 3.6k

pairing: razor/gn!reader; razor/traveler

genre: fluff

summary: « i remember… purple mentor say ‘mistletoe’ a big part of weihnachten. »

you looked at the plant in slight bewilderment, not quite sure what to make of this offering. it was cute.

« oh. »

razor stares expectantly at you as you watch him make no further attempt to move. you can’t help the laugh that escapes you, the banality of everything setting into your mind. or maybe you’re getting sleepy. you wonder: « do you know why, razor? »

a/n: secret santa secret santa secret santa anyway, this is my side of the secret santa gift for @absolutely-rational—i chose to write a thing for razor, but i barely play the game and i haven’t met him or own him* or anything so i apologise if it’s a little ooc ,,,, merry christmas and happy holidays ^^

p.s. as the man who’s good at saying very little in way too many words, the length of this fic just exploded and it’s alot longer than what i wanted it to be dskljfsldkja

heads-up

i write dialogues in what i will call the french/european system? anyway, i see that it's not the dialogue formatting that most english readers are accustomed to so i modified it slightly to be easier to understand basically dialogues will be within guillemets (« »), and words that are within the quotation marks but are italicised are actions and/or dialogue verbs.

hope that clears things out a bit and i hope you give me and my fic a chance :)

« weih… nachten…? »

he tilts his head slightly, not unlike a dog. what’s that? razor repeats your words slowly, tentatively, enunciating the foreign word with care. he wonders if the words sound strained coming from him. words are hard.

« that’s right! it’s a large festival in teyvat, and even more so in the city! you elaborated, sensing his confusion. here in mondstadt it’s called weihnachten and it’s supposed to be about, you know, spending time with friends and family, passing around gifts and presents to those you care about. »

you soon felt at ease as you continued: this world had its differences, but it had its similarities. it had its own equivalent of christmas. something that you know about. sure, maybe the origin is different, maybe it had different customs and traditions, but it was a comforting familiarity in the midst of everything that’s so staggeringly foreign. then again, you suppose that’s what drew you closer to the silver-haired boy: neither of you truly fit in, nor fully understood the strange world you happen to be in.

though at the very least, razor had his lupical. as bittersweet as it was, it warmed your heart to know that at least he had family to be around with during christmas, and well, around… in general.

« weihnachten. he says, this time with more conviction. how to celebrate? – well for starters, (where do you even begin?) we’d decorate our homes with all sorts of festive trinkets and we’d fill the streets with all sorts of sparkly things. garlands, lights, flowers, ribbons; decorations that’ll spruce up the place and make the city light up. it always made people cheer up and get in the holiday mood, especially at night when the fairy lights twinkle about! »

razor’s mouth moved in a silent gasp. then does that mean that those bright stars he liked so much were not stars, but rather lights? is that why they seemed to be brighter near the end of the year? the people from the city decorated, he considered. is that why the stars’ reflection, bouncing around in the lake, were an array of dazzling colours, from glittering red and shimmering green to captivating shade’s who’s name he doesn’t know?

« is why… sometimes stars explode? he wondered. – yup! though we don’t usually light up fireworks until new year’s. you wondered for a moment. do you like fireworks, razor? the silver-haired boy frowned, lost in thought, before shaking his head. – loud. scary. me and my lupical, we go hide. we don’t like… firework. »

you hummed in understanding. dogs have never been fond of fireworks and firecrackers either.

« fire is bad. why light firework? isn’t it big hassle? »

it reminded razor of the red, burny girl. fun person, friend! but the toys she uses are loud and dangerous, they create explosions and fire, just like fireworks.

« hmm, i guess… you pursed your lips in thought. good question. i guess that at this point we all just do it out of tradition. new year’s brings a lot of excitement, and people let it out by lighting them up. it’s also really pretty. »

the more he thought about it, and the more he learned about it, the less he understood the celebration. why? it’s loud and distracting. bright colours hurt eyes, doesn’t it? it’s time spent with your family, but razor is with his lupical everyday. do humans… not spend time with their lupical regularly? why is this specific day so special from the rest of the year? he doesn’t get all the funny dates and celebrations humans have to keep track of. seems like a big hassle. sounds complicated.

« no such thing as weihnachten in wolvendom, huh? »

he shook his head.

you tucked your finger under your chin, pondering, in slight puzzlement. back in your world, you would’ve been able to take pictures—maybe that would’ve helped him visualise it better—but you couldn’t here in teyvat. a sigh. anyway, it’s not like you had your camera on your person anymore, so you do your best to describe your happiest sensations, experiences, memories of christmas: the smell of hot cocoa on a cool winter morning, the crackle of firewood from the hearth, and the feeling of soft wool on your skin, hugging you from the biting cold. the merry and jovial carols sung by the star singers, the gleeful chattering between friends out on the street, and the boisterous cheering and partying coming from the many bars and restaurants in mondstadt. the comforting arias and prayers echoing from within the cathedral, the mouth-watering aroma and fragrance of treats from the christmas market, and the grand christmas tree placed at the heart of the city decorated with even more opulent and lavish garlands and baubles, the vivid glimmering lights reflected from your eyes.

describe the different little things that made christmas different and more special from the rest of the year.

somehow this time that you took to pay the wolf boy a visit was consumed by you rambling about the merry holiday, drivel that he listened to attentively and with a pure and honest kind of curiosity (even if he doesn’t always understand you) that you found endearing and made your heart flutter, until the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars adorning the city shined out, rivalling those peppering the night sky. until the howls from his family called him away from you, and until you motivated yourself to begin your trek back to mondstadt after sitting in the woods alone.

being with him was always a welcome distraction, you thought.

december 25th.

paimon was dozing off after stuffing her face full of the dishes from the christmas banquet (good for her!), the cup of tea you had between your hands had gotten cold, and your breath was fogging the frosted window in front of your desk. you mindlessly traced a smiley face on condensation. you can see the ever changing colourful lights blinking through the glass pane. you take another gulp of the unpleasant liquid, unsatisfying as you feel it slowly go down your throat. the calming and comforting scent it brought (it was chamomile) having long dissipated.

sighing, you pulled your fingers off the cold china, deciding it wasn’t worth finishing, and quietly slipped out of your room (which was graciously granted to you by the knights of favonius), taking care to slot the chair back under the desk and gently close the door behind you. you wondered if taking a walk would help you feel better. you tightened your shawl around you and buried your freezing hands into your pockets. head down, you quickened your pace to… wherever your legs were taking you.

another sigh.

you smiled almost bitterly to how much of a grinch you were being. you liked christmas, or rather, you liked what it stood for, and you liked the idea of spending the winter months with your closed ones.

a few hours ago, the knights of favonius had organised a small christmas party at angel’s share, and though they had thoroughly reassured you that you belonged and were included in this celebration, you couldn’t help but keep to yourself and stick to a corner of the bar. you couldn’t bring yourself to join in on the fun, or talk to others. you didn’t feel like it was your place to force yourself into their conversation, into their lives. you were grateful that they thought about you, and you didn’t want to question their kindness, but… you nursed your glass of virgin cocktail, peeling your eyes away from your wonky reflection on the liquid.

you weren’t exactly at home: you looked at jean and barbara, happily exchanging jokes and teases. a relaxed sort of conversation, banter which flowed, almost as if it were rehearsed, in a way that was only possible between sisters. that night, the deaconess wasn’t smiling as if she was holding back tears. the carefree girl was speaking with jean (rather than the acting grand master) who allowed herself some respite from the demanding position.

you look at the uncharacteristic smile on the bartender’s (who happened to be none other than diluc that evening) face, and you doubted that kaeya, sharp-eyed as ever, missed it either. it was subtle. but it was there. you don’t miss the way the cavalry captain held back on his sarcastic remarks or the way diluc wasn’t being “deliberately uncivil” (as kaeya would put it) either; the way the red-head indulges kaeya’s seemingly insatiable thirst for alcohol while the latter makes an effort to maintain a friendly, if curt, chatter.

a particularly loud giggle drew your gaze back at the two sisters: lisa seemed to have joined them. you sipped your beverage, half-hearted. the three seemed to have started a rather animate discussion. you hear them laugh again. it makes you frown, but you shake your head, pushing those angry thoughts out of your mind. just because you’re miserable (even though you shouldn’t be—your friends are with you) doesn’t mean they have to feel down with you.

setting your glass down on the table, you wondered if you would've felt better if you were with someone closer to your age, but amber had gone home early: she dropped by and hung out for a bit before going home to spend time with her family. your glass is empty now. you feel… envious. you wished you could spend this christmas season with your family. it’s not fair. it’s not fair.

your favonian family, and yet you were out of place.

you excused yourself early from the gathering, the other members politely bidding you farewell and a merry christmas (« frohe weichnachten! »), and quickly went up the path leading to the order’s headquarters, wanting to hide away in your room as soon as possible.

now, you stop before the lavish tree: it’s as grand and brilliant as it’s always been. but now it seems much too bright. the colours an eyesore. singing sounds more like knives being dug into your eardrums.

your head hurts.

a humourless chuckle escaped you. you used to take turns with your sibling on who got to slot in the christmas topper.

this year was their turn.

back then, your sibling made a point to hang gingerbread treats on the tree, and you made a point to eat them behind their back come christmas morning.

normally, you’d be sharing gifts with your sibling during this time of the year.

your entire life they’ve always been there by your side, and you by theirs. for better or for worse, you kept each other company. you’ve always spent christmas with them.

this was your first christmas without.

the rest of your thoughts are jumbled, incoherent. something your long term memory didn’t deem worthy of keeping, so they simply fizzled away. everything was a blur as your feet carried you outside the city, away from… it doesn't matter. just away. carried you away. happiest time of the year. but you’re here alone, with no one you know and to call home in a world you don’t recognise. far away from the land you once knew.

panting, you stopped in your tracks when you realised you’ve started sprinting. what were you doing, you chastised yourself. can’t you act a little more mature? finally lifting your gaze, you took in your surroundings; instinctively your feet must’ve taken you to wolvendom. you kicked a stray pebble under your boot. not like that afterthought was going to help much. it’s not like anyone was waiting for you here either, razor was probably with his lupical. hunting or snoozing away.

with little care, you let out an exasperated sigh as you let yourself plop ungracefully to the ground, listless.

you sit there in silence, nothing to accompany you except for the cacophonous ringing of crickets in the forest. you drew your knees closer to you. what were you doing here? it’s cold. you hear thistle crack, and so you defensively draw your sword as you rose to your feet, only to be met with a familiar mop of fluffy silver hair.

« it’s night. dangerous here. »

was his curt greeting. you lowered your sword, shoulders relaxing.

you opened your mouth, ready to apologise, make up some sort of excuse, let him know you’re leaving, when something else caught your eye: « you kept the scarf? »

he blinked. once, twice: « you gave it to me. he said, very matter-of-factly. you are my lupical. it is… treasure… razor paused, correcting himself. treasured, possession. »

having realised that the intruder was not dangerous, the wolf boy came closer and gently pressed his forehead against yours and nuzzled your face. a small laugh escaped you as you returned the affectionate gesture, something you’ve learned was his customary greeting. it was cold out, but his touch was enough to bring feeling back to your cold self and make you warm and fuzzy inside.

still resting your head on his, you asked, timidly: « is it ok if i stay here for a bit? » it came out as a whisper, unsure if you’re any better staying here rather than back in the city. but as he nodded in agreement, your shoulders loosened as you let go of tension you weren’t aware you were building up again. you slumped into him, burying your face into him and held him in a loose hug. razor, as for him, let himself be snuggled to your heart’s content, happy to receive such fondness.

« today is special day, isn’t it? » his blood-red eyes peered inquisitively back at you, arms wrapping around you as he tries to remain as close to you as physically possible.

« mhm. » you mumbled non-commitally into his shoulder, opting to pull yourself closer to him and nuzzle into the crook of his neck.

« not go celebrate in city? » razor asked, perplexed. he thought that you said this was a big celebration to be had around other people? despite his bemusement, he rested his chin on the top of your head. it makes him all warm and soft inside, the thought of you choosing to spend this special day with him of all people. it makes him happy. he hopes you’re happy too. the wold boy gives you a once-over and his brows creased in slight worry: you’re really quiet today. why?

« uh-uh. » you grunted, shaking your head against his shoulder, your hair brushing against his clothes. the chunky scarf you gave him, the one you were convinced he was going to throw out due to its garish colours, tickled your exposed skin. he kept it. you smiled, touched. he kept it. it still smelled faintly of fabric softener, but marked by the smell of pine trees and something sweet, something you associated with brewing thunderstorms. you’ve always found rain and thunder to be comforting.

being with razor comforts you.

he wasn’t much of a talker. you both knew this. silence is ok though. he’s happy to be with you. but razor wonders why you’re so quiet today. concern flashes through his mind and he turns your gaze upwards, making you face him. you can’t possibly imagine what pathetic expression you were pulling and you quickly try to cover your despondence—but it was a fruitless venture.

« you smell sad. he watched you, a worried look on his face. »

you scrambled for some explanation, reassuring him that it’s nothing. that you’re not being a downer. that you’re happy. but he’s decided: « wait here. »

knowing that there was no restraining him once he’s made up his mind, especially when it’s something to do with the ones he considered close to him, you reluctantly let razor peel you off of him. as you watch him scurry away, you find yourself dearly missing his warmth, the comfort and safety of his arms. was staying here a good idea? you wrapped your arms around yourself. maybe you should leave. you’re ruining the mood. you’re disturbing wolvendom’s peace. before you could finish that line of thought, the wolf boy returned, this time carrying a handful of… something with him.

they threatened to tumble out of his grasp, but ultimately stayed put as he returned to his original position and held them out into your general direction, showcasing whatever he had procured. in his hands were multiple plants which bore small scarlet berries and oval, evergreen leaves. a plant you immediately recognised.

« i remember… purple mentor say ‘mistletoe’ a big part of weihnachten. »

you looked at the plant in slight bewilderment, not quite sure what to make of this offering. it was cute.

« oh. »

he blinked, clueless, before looking at the mistletoes in his hand with confusion, coming to the realisation that no, he didn’t actually know why it’s so important. it’s not edible. maybe because it’s pretty? the city has many red lights and white lights. some mistletoes are red and others are white?

he continues to stare at the berry, as if it would cave in and reveal its secrets to him if he sustained his efforts. taking his prolonged silence as his answer (though you had expected for him to not actually know—knowing lisa, she would’ve just offhandedly mentioned them. and when razor would’ve asked her about what they meant, she’d just smile without answering him), you filled him in, your voice filled with mirth: « people usually kiss underneath mistletoes. »

he turned his gaze back to you before voicing the conclusion he had come to: « this mean, i have to kiss you? »

you chuckled. « only if you want to. »

he looks at the plant, giving it a long hard look, then back at you.

it wasn’t much, it wasn’t spectacular. hell, it was more of a ghost of a kiss than anything. but you still smiled as his lips brushed on yours. a peck, which lasted too long yet not long enough. awkward, but endearing. your textbook first kiss, including the warm fluttery feeling of butterflies that so often preached about, if only a little more clumsy.

it’s cute.

he’s so genuine, earnest, in his endeavours. it makes your heart soar. he’s sweet. you don’t deserve this kindness but he gives them away without a second thought.

you don’t deserve to be happy during christmas, especially not when your sibling was still out there, alone and potentially afraid. maybe, no, it definitely is selfish for you to enjoy this day. pretend like everything is alright just for this one moment. that you’re not some traveler stuck in a strange and unknown world, that you’re not desperately trying to find your sibling and a way out. act carefree, and get to be you. but goddammit does he make you so so happy that your heart clenches and that you can’t help but smile from ear to ear. you deserve to be miserable today; you feel like shit, really. but you’re also really happy, and glad, and relieved, and maybe a little tired.

it’s all too much, and you feel so much at once that you just don’t know how to handle this anymore. overwhelmed. you smiled and laughed giddily as the waterworks started (despite your best efforts), and you’re a mess, and definitely a bit sleepy, but you’re stupidly happy today. stupidly happy because of him.

this alarmed the boy, watching you laugh between hiccups, sobbing despite wearing a large smile. for humans, tears are sad. smiles are happy. were you ok? he’s confused. did he do something wrong?

« why crying? » he fretted, slightly panicked. he jumped to fuss over you, wipe away your tears, gently cradling your face with a gentleness that you would’ve never thought he was capable of when you first met.

you laughed as you wiped your face. « these are happy tears. » you try to explain.

he’s your home. your lupical. someone you’re at rest with, and safe with. you love him.

your words get caught in your throat, unable to express everything you want to tell him. so instead, you engulf him in a hug. something he was caught off guard from, stiffening, but quickly relaxed and embraced you back. still a little unsure, he comforts and reassures you the only way he knows how: patting your head. when he’s down head pats makes him feel better. he hopes you’ll feel better.

« thank you. » you said softly, shakily, sniffling. thank you for being here. thank you for being you.

you’re not as alone as you thought, you never really were. together, in your own small corner of the world. your home: razor.

as you cuddled together, passing the time by naming and pointing at the celestial canvas above you, you realised: maybe this year, as unfortunate as it had been, didn’t have to end on a bad note. at some point, razor had shared his ridiculously large scarf with you, wrapping it around the both of you. and slowly, your words slowed, your breaths evened out. you pressed more of your weight against him as you felt your eyes droop. you’re safe. you’re with razor. you’ll fall asleep, and when you wake up he’ll be there. as drowsiness takes you over, you think to yourself ‘yeah, i’m happy.’

you’re happy here. in this one time, one place, with razor, you’re happy.

and you hope that wherever they are, your sibling is happy too. and that they’ll forgive you for being selfish, for being happy despite everything.

you hoped that your mirror image had someone to spend christmas with.

somewhere—someone they felt at rest with.

LIKE MY WORK? CONSIDER BUYING ME A COFFEE // CHECKING OUT MY MASTERLIST | LINKS CAN BE FOUND ON MY DESC

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #razor x reader #genshin x reader #razor genshin impact #falselywrites #hope you like it ^^#trigger warning for bad use of german lmaoo #op learned about german and suddenly acts like hes an expert #if i knew mondstadt had so many references to german i wouldve paid more attention to duolingo #btw its implied established relationship but its not mentioned lol

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ssavanessa22 · 3 years

Text

BMO (part 2)

Warnings: there’s some mentions about diarrhoea and throwing up I think. As always if there’s anything I missed pls tell me

Brief: after dr y/n Lewis admits she finds Spencer attractive what will happen next 🤔

"you are attractive if that what you were gonna ask"

------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't even know what came over me to say something like that I mean in front of tara in front of all her co-workers IN FRONT OF HIM, I'm usually not that forward yes I have an outgoing personality and yes I'm confident but not when it comes to talking to guys I find attractive. they were a long moment of silence after I replied I don't think he expected me to say that and honestly me neither, he smiled back at me and was about to say something back before Rossi spoke.

"let's eat! we don't want to let my delicious pasta which I spent hours slaving over the stove to make get cold do we" Tara wasn't wrong Rossi's food is amazing, through the meal I asked tara's co-workers about their jobs their roles in the team and the cases they had done all of it was so interesting to me, continuously through the night I made great conversation with Emily and Garcia, I could tell they were the most fun if the group and I definitely planned to hang with Garcia whilst I was still in town. As the boys took all our plates going back inside to help Rossi with desert I was bombarded with a flurry of questions from the girls

“Ahhh you two are so cute together and can just see your babies being cute curly hair geniuses!”

"wow slow down Garcia she hasn't even had a full conversation with him yet" JJ replied

"okay well Garcia might be going a bit too fast but she isn't wrong you babies would be like smart cute hybrids with curly hair they would honestly be unstoppable"

"Tara you and Garcia need to slow down and calm down all I said is that he was attractive it's not like he freaking proposed to me or something, but if you all must know I think he's hot but like in the cute professor way where he's really smart and cute type of way and yes I did basically describe him and then proceeded to call him my dream man in front of you all but it's literally only been 2 hours so let's all slow down a bit okay?"

"okay okay y/n/n i’ll lay off it for a bit"

"thank you tara also where Is the toilet I really need to go"

when you walk back into the house keep walking straight until you reach the corridor then turn left and there should be a cream coloured door that's the toilet.

"okay thanks, ill see you guys in a min"

I began to walk out of the garden into the house

"wait tara that door leads to the kitchen, not the toilet," Emily said

"yeah I know if I'm right Spence will probably be rambling bout how much he likes her and that's gonna be fun"

"she is gonna kill you when she realises"

"I know but it will be all worth it and then she will thank me"

Spencer POV

"guys come on its not a big deal"

"uhh yes it is pretty Ricky you have a good looking girl who described you to a t calling you her dream man then she calls you attractive this is not a sign man this is a massive road sign telling you to go for it."

"morgens right I usually don't like to get involved with your love lives but its true she is female you and you should ask her out before she leaves for town." hotch said

"yeah but what if she ughh you know what never mind"

"no kid you were gonna say something what if -"

"what if she doesn't like me what if she thinks I'm weird"

"kid, I don't think she's gonna find she weird you shouldn't worry about what she thinks when you haven't even asked her out on a date yet"

"I know I shouldn't worry but you know how I am Derek I do this"

"look, Reid, I've been married three times so I know about asking a woman out you should just be confident and cool and just ask her"

"you guys know I'm not cool especially when its a pretty girl"

"okay spencer lets just start off with the basics what do you like about her"

"I mean what's there not to like shes smart shes funny and I can see her and tara are really close and I mean look at her she's gorgeous her eyes, her smile it's just so bright I couldn't stop looking at her face during dinner the way her skin looked so golden as it reflected of off Rossi's garden lights I mean she's the most beautiful girl I think I've ever seen."

just as I finished answering Dereks questions the kitchen door opened and she walked in

Y/n’s POV

"oh I'm sorry Tara told me this was the bathroom where is it actually"

"Reid go show Y/n where the bathroom is"

spencer gave a shocked look at hotch whilst he walked over to me form the kitchen table he muttered someone to the three of them that made Derek start laughing

"hey if you keep w..walking down to the right the toilet should be there, "he said whilst stuttering profusely

"oh ok thanks spencer"

I finished on the toilet and began to walk again to the kitchen I was gonna ask spencer out even I was fucking shitting it and didn't know what to do or how I was gonna do it I was

I walked into the kitchen and saw the cake Rossi was cutting into pieces

"omg is that chocolate cake"

"yeah, it is I made it myself you want a slice?"

"yes please Rossi tara hates when I eat chocolate cake because I'm lactose intolerant can i eat in here, Derek and hotch laughed when I said this"

"it will our little secret"

"uno Symptoms of lactose intolerance may include farting, stomach cramps or diarrhoea a few hours after having food or drink containing lactose, these effects often crop up 30 minutes to two hours after consuming dairy in people who are lactose intolerant. And the more milk products you consume, the worse you feel"

"Derek then hit spencer after he spoke only realising what he said after he looked at me I started to laugh and giggle"

"well then let's hope my bloating and diarrhoea are worth this cake"

"spencer looked at em first in shock the also started laughing as well"

"god I really shouldn't have sad that I just get really nervous and say stupid stuff around cute guys next thing you know I'm gonna start talking about my obsessions I with a doctor who and foreign films"

"you watch doctor who and you like foreign films"

"yeah, I do my favourite season is-"

"Season 5"

"How did you know that was my favourite season"

"anyone whos smart would say season 5 "

"yeah I guess they would"

"will you ask each other out already it's getting boring" Derek said

"spencer started to visibly blush and didn't say a word"

"spencer do you wanna maybe go on a date with me this week?"

"taken off guard he replied yeah yeah I would love that"

#wattpad #spencer walter reid #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #black reader #ari lennox

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aphrodite-would-be-proud · 3 years

Note

I just read the Erwin date scenarios and it’s so hood AGH could you please do one for armin? Plz 😚

You read my mind👀 ngl I think about Armin each time I write something for Erwin, despite them being alike i like to compare the differences and think they have different tastes and love languages.

Erwin strikes me a more act of services and gift giving guy while Armin would definitely go for words of affirmation and quality time.

Type of dates with Armin PT.1 {pt.2 in masterlist}

{ Armin x reader | tw: none | fluff, romance | modern }

{ "in bloom" by Abbott Fuller Graves 1859–1936 }

Ideal dates : these are dates he plans up ahead, makes sure they go smoothly and you're both are having fun. He really looks forward to these dates, they're like an event for him. He saves them up for important occasions like your anniversary, valentine's day, birthday, etc.

1. Spending a full day on the beach: when i say a full day I mean it, he's driving you there really early in the morning while you're struggling to stay awake in the passenger seat. He doesn't even need coffee he's running on 100% pure determination and will.

You'd arrive before anyone there, to get the best spot of course. It's close enough to the sea that you can feel the humidity of the water in the air, yet far enough from the rest of the beach that other people won't bother you.

He'd understand if you were too sleepy to help him set things up, he'd just kiss your forehead before letting you go back to sleep, promising he'll get you something to drink when the stores open.

You wake up to the smell of your favourite hot drink, just around 8am. The sun is up and the air is refreshing, you can hear the quiet chatter of people far away just arriving here. You sip your drink as Armin guides you to the small comfortable space he made, proudly showing off his work.

Please praise him and give him a kiss on the cheek, he will melt.

The rest of the day is spent with you two swimming lazily in the water, feeling the warm sunlight on your skin. Collecting whatever pretty seashell you see, using some to decorate the sandcastle Armin built with you. He takes a pictures of you at seemingly random moments, he promises to show you when he devolps them later.

You help him dry his hair afterwards, he take you to get ice cream. Despite getting you one too, he still ends up sharing his own with you, and if you're up for seconds he'd happily oblige.

When night falls and the people began leaving, the waves of the ocean get a little higher, wind turning colder. Don't worry, Armin thought about that, that's why he brought blankets.

He'd wrap you both in the same one, even holding you close to him, it's for warmth he says and yet he seems like he was looking forward for this. You help him in making a small bonfire, he brought marshmallows.

The rest of the night is spent with you laying against him while huddled in a blanket, looking at the heavens above and the constellation of the stars.

He takes your hand in his, guiding your finger to where polaris is. "It never changes" he says "no matter what" and from that star, he guides you through the formation of the little dipper.

Just right under it, directly under the polaris, begins the big dipper, a close replica to its little sister.

You spend hours like this, looking at the stars as new formations come and go with the time. You were early enough to catch Aries as it was leaving, pleiades, the seven sisters shining brightly next to it.

And just after midnight it was Sirius turn to say goodbye. That's when both of you decided to call it a night, he hugged you close to him, you could feel his heartbeat slowing down, he was oh so warm and tasted just like chocolate and marshmallows when you kissed goodnight.

2. Going on an adventure and trying new things: Armin has the need to try new things and gain new experiences, despite being someone who prefers small groups of friends and getting lost in a book than socialising. It's something that's been a part of him since he was a child, he wants to experience what the world has to offer and won't say no despite how utterly terrifying it can be to him.

And he wants to have those experiences with you, to share his love for the unknown with you, to see your reactions and share his own thoughts. The only thing that's better than going on adventures to him is going on adventures with you.

An adventure could be anything really, it could be going diving underwater or going to that creepy looking supermarket that never closes, you never know. An adventure is an adventure after all. The possibilities are endless.

So don't be surprised when he asks for you to go with him sky diving for his birthday despite knowing how terrfied he is of heights and how even a carnaval ride can make him sick.

Good or bad he doesn't care, he just wants to try and learn everything. He's full of curiosity and surprises that you'd never get bored, although a good thing about him is that he never is unprepared.

Yes he will take you on seemingly dangerous adventures but know that he really deeply thought about this before hand and is prepared for all the different scenarios that could happen, he likes the unknown but he's smart and cautious on how to approche it.

Not to mention that a single adventure can leave him satisfied for a long time before craving a new rush, probably once or twice a year. Just frequent enough to be something to look forward to but not too frequent that it becomes boring or too repetitive, he manages to keep that balance and walk on that thin line.

3. Hot air ballon ride: just imagine, it's early autumn, the weather is just right to wear those cozy yet good looking clothes, the earth seems like it's turning slower than usual as the trees change colours.

Around sunrise or sunset, both of you are high up in the air, the sun clearly in view with the golden clouds surrounding it. The world managing to look so small yet so vast at the same time.

Armin is wearing his favourite sweater and scarf combo, he's holding your hand in his pocket to keep it warm. It's just you and him isolated from the rest of the world like other people dont exist anymore, and strangely he's okay with that, at peace even.

He brings a camera and captures how the sun reflects in your eyes, how the chilly air makes you rub your hands together for warmth and how utterly breathtaking you look.

Beautiful, gorgeous even, these are the only thoughts in his mind at that moment.

And so Armin made a promise to himself that in the far future, when he wants to be even closer to you, to vow his life to yours, he'd propose on a hot air balloon.

But as much as he likes staying up in the air with you being his angel, the process of booking a ride is much more complicated and time consuming than he originally thought. Meaning he doesn't get to enjoy these rare heavenly moments as he wants to.

He needs to make reservations in advance, not to mention how important it is to choose a trustworthy company. Lastly how rides depend on the weather conditions, needing to reschedule if the weather takes a turn to the worse.

4. Visiting the aquarium or planetarium: he's just a boy with oceans for eyes and stars in his smile, can you really blame him for gravitating towards these places? Or for diving too deep in knowledge about the sky above and sea below?

Whenever the weather is too harsh for a beach trip or the sky is too cloudy for a stargazing night, these two places are his to go backups.

He's memorised the place like the back of his hand, no need for a map. Want to see the shark tanks and how they're doing? He'll take you there and introduce to them and the silly nicknames he gave them. Or how about saying hello to the dolphins who'll show off some moves just for your attention, or maybe you miss seeing the adorable penguins wobble around?

He knows endless facts about each fish kind, he makes it seem so fascinating and the way he phrases the information and coats them in milk and honey makes it impossible for you not to engage.

You both could have a slow with few words spoken walk and it still be as interesting, he'd even make special playlists to listen to while walking around and sharing his earphones.

Meanwhile at the planetarium, sometimes in the early mornings you'd run into kids just arriving for their school trip. Racing each other to the solar system panel and looking in amazement when the stars show begins. You and Armin have a nostalgic feeling when watching them, yet when you look at each other you remember how good it feels like to be grown and have someone special.

You never could get bored of seeing the stars, especially not with Armin.

5. Trying a new kind of art: one time you asked him what does he think the meaning of art is, what even is art?

"Art is communication" he said.

Armin has a deep love and appreciation for all kind of art, from classic oil canvas paintings to old greek sculptures. He doesn't pick a side, he likes both the modren and classic.

Music is art, writing is art and even making pottery is a form of art too. He wants to experience it, not for a need to acolmplish something or to rival Shakespeare, but for a need to communicate his emotions in a more subtle and personal way.

Like a secret language only he can decipher the meaning of, after all he was the one to create it.

Whenever he tries a new form of art, his usual fear of failure and absurdly high expectations actually go out the window. There isn't good and bad art, there's just different levels of communication and different styles.

So to him, the act of bringing you both some watercolours and cotton papers to paint on for a date is incredibly intimate, that's his true feelings and emotions he's showing you. But don't worry, he isn't here to take the whole thing seriously, he's actually playful and mellow most of the time.

Or maybe he'd like to make pottery with you, an excuse to put his hands around yours while sitting intimately close, maybe even give your shoulder a couple kisses while you shape the vase you agreed on making.

The next day, you find the finished vase near the window with a sunflower arrangements inside.

It also could be you two sitting next to each other, working together on a page of an adult colouring book or maybe to each one his own book. He'd hog the color blue most of the time so watch out, and don't lend him yours because he will hog it too.

Or maybe as a fun past time, you'd both attempt to make poetry, expect you're getting more and more drunk on the fruit flavoured beer he brought with him. You had fun laughing while reading what you came up with the next morning.

6. Going fruit picking in summer: it's his favourite way to celebrate the arrival of his favourite season, wear something light, pack some lemonade and go enjoy what mother nature has to offer.

You two would walk around in the fields, he's wearing a straw hat to block the sun, he thinks it looks better on you. Both of you looking at the fruits waiting to be picked, choosing the really unique shaped ones, the colourful ones and the especially delicious looking ones.

You might meet some small friends along the way, like a couple ladybugs that were crawling up Armin's arm. Two butterflies dancing in the air and even a frog that's taking a walk from its lake home nearby.

Going home that day with baskets full of different fruits waiting for your use, Armin and you discuss all the different ways you could use them for, like making delicious smoothies, or maybe saving them for baking a pie or cake. Maybe cutting them in small bites and covering them with different kinds of chocolate, maybe just making a fruits salad to enjoy while Armin reads you a book

Or maybe, maybe just washing them and eating them raw. Yeah that option sounds the most appealing after a day of walking through fields in the sun.

He'd feed you some, push them against your lips and smile when your eyes subtly light up at the sweet taste....maybe a kiss after so he could taste it too?

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pasteljeon · 4 years

Text

don’t need ur love (m)

❥ pairing: ot7/reader

❥ warnings: some vague descriptions of sex, just really angsty sorry :(

❥ based on this prompt: bts being in a relationship with y/n but then slowly all of them fell out of love with her and with another girl. from @/armyforlifelove :”)

❥ summary: four lessons on love.

❥ notes: exams are finally over so i’m super excited to share my upcoming projects soon <3 i hope you enjoy this little ficlet and lmk what you think!

One. Love is fickle.

There is not one boy, there are seven.

“Jimin, I’m not angry. I don’t blame you. You don’t feel the same for me anymore. I accept that. I can’t do anything about it, and I’m not going to sink down and beg you to love me. I know my own worth. I am worth loving, I am worth being cherished and treasured.” You give his cheek one last fond pat, smiling lopsidedly as you pick up the handle of your suitcase.

His lips are downturned, eyebrows pinched and body stiff.

They watch with mirroring expressions of guilt and sorrow as you give the place a final, lingering sweep. But there is also relief and gratitude. You have never been the petty type, never been vindictive. You have always been the mature one, the fun one, the level-headed one.

You say, “Thank you for the memories. I’ll see you around.”

Jimin opens his mouth, like he’s ready to apologize again, but all that comes out is an uncertain, “You too.”

The penthouse is the same as always, clothes scattered on couches and loveseats and hung over the dining table chairs. Yeontan’s toys lying in a pile next to his little bed. Your mug, your clothes, your books and papers, they’re all gone. It’s like you were never here.

The door shuts quietly.

You fall in love in summer.

They pluck you from the crowd, these gorgeous boys, and they carve a space in your heart and fill it with them, until your chest feels so full and warm.

You’re happy for a long time. Winters pass. Spring blooms, so lovely and sweet and it makes your nose itch. They’re soft and kind and their touch is reverent, sometimes bold and daring and always loving.

Then it stops.

He’s distant, shifty-eyed and avoids you like the plague. Slowly, they all become just as detached. And you realize.

Time’s up.

He cries and cries and begs for forgiveness, he buries his face in your stomach and his hands are shaky and cold. He’s sorry, he sobs. He’s sorry he fell in love with someone else.

Yeah, you think. You’re sorry too, because you could have saved yourself from it if you’d only looked hard enough.

Taehyung is the only one that stays with you that night. You send Jimin away, too anguished and defeated to comfort him.

He’s the last one, the one whose heart still flutters when he talks to you, touches you. But you know. You know that eventually, he will leave too.

He kisses your tears away and he holds you close, murmuring sweet nothings until you finally fall into fitful sleep, and his stomach hurts, hurts so much with the way you’re curled into him, so small and fragile, clutching at his shirt as your eyes flicker with whatever dream you’re having.

And he swears he’ll never let you go, never betray you.

“It didn’t break me. How could it? I loved them so much, yes, but this isn’t the end. It’s not the be all end all. It can’t be. I believe that there’s more out there.” You stare into the dark contents of your drink, your reflection rippling across the surface as you trace the handle absently.

The person across from you watches you with a startlingly intense gaze, fingers crossed as they lean in, arms braced on the table.

“It was like … there was a bullet to my heart and a hole in my chest, and sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night drowning in anguish and tears burning in my eyes and cheeks wet. Sometimes it’s a struggle to breathe when I think of them, when I do something that reminds me so vividly of them.”

Two. Love is painful.

There were seven boys, now there is only one.

You press your forehead against his. Your voice is soft, your breath is warm and your words are sweet. He thinks he’s dying. Your ache is palpable, your grief burns, lighting a dull pain travels, throbbing and expanding, at the base of his spine.

“It’s weird because it’s not like you wake up one day with this sudden revelation that you’ve fallen out of love. It happens slowly, over a period of time, when the things you did before and the things you liked about your partner no longer holds the same charm. Suddenly, the small things that had made you fall so hard for them are annoying. Their laugh is too loud, too ugly. They leave their utensils in the sink, they forget to separate the lights with the darks They look … ordinary. Just like everyone else you pass on the street. Suddenly, they’re just … somebody. Just not somebody to you.”

“It’s okay, Taehyung. You loved me, and that was enough.”

He sobs out a garble that sounds like your name. He puts a hand over his face, shame and guilt overwhelming him like a tide that threatens to choke the life out of him completely.

You pry them away gently, and you kiss him. It’s wet and uncoordinated, lips slick and salty with your mingled tears.

You stumble into the bedroom, and he presses you against the mattress, hands heavy and hot as he makes love to you one last time. He pours everything into it, everything you’ve been through together, everything he feels for you. Slowly, slowly, because he’s saying goodbye. For real this time, because he can never look back without this weight of failure and guilt.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, he chants, like a broken record, he sears the movement of his lips into your skin and you bear the scar even as you close the chapter for good.

Three. Love changes you.

“But then it starts to fade. The hurt, it lessens with every day that passes. The tightness in your chest loosens and the world starts to regain some of its colour, your body begins to stomach more, your taste buds remind you that food can taste brilliant.”

You find retain old habits and find new hobbies. You reconnect with old friends, make new ones. You go out for dinner, drinks, dessert, the movies, to their houses for barbeque, the skating rink, rollerblading, the occasional club. Not all at once, never in quick succession, but you go when called, go when you ask.

You are reminded that you still have a life outside of the all-consuming romance.

You learn how to draw the perfect wing, you shop, you redecorate, you work, and at the end of the year, you take a two-week vacation to travel somewhere new. You take pictures, write stories, finish your thesis and you graduate.

You enjoy your life.

You still see them, on billboards, TV shows, concerts, YouTube videos, articles, your friends buzz with news about them, at first hesitantly and apologetically, now eagerly and excitedly.

You are proud of them, of where they’ve come, where they are, who they are and what they’ve accomplished. They are an inspiration, legends, and you are grateful to have shared a part of your life with them, to have been born in the same era as them, because this universe makes no mistakes.

And you move on.

You are living.

Four. Love is worth it.

It is worth every tear, the anger and sorrow, the loss and the sacrifice.

And sometimes, the world works in mysterious ways.

Sometimes, you go full circle, only to end up where you should have been from the very beginning.

“Is it too late, have we been through too much, have I lost you? Is it unfair for me to ask if we could start again? The moment you left, I knew … I knew I’d given up something good. Something beautiful and I wasn’t ready to commit, couldn’t see all that I had in front of me. I was foolish, I was … a coward.” He reaches out to touch your hand gingerly, barely a graze, gauging your expression. You don’t move, and he curls his fingers over your palm.

“I thought … I thought that it was natural for me to follow, I thought I felt something for her, but I was wrong, I was so wrong. God, you have no idea how much I hated myself for hurting you like that. I … I love you, I have loved you all this time, and I miss you. I miss your smile, your laugh, the way you hold me, the way you touch me, the way you can comfort me with just your presence. I miss the way you loved me. I missed … you. I miss the colour of your soul.”

“So, I was wondering. If it isn’t too late, if we haven’t been through too much, if I haven’t lost all of you yet, would it be fair to ask you to start over again with me?” His warmth is familiar, his eyes are a burnished gold and the truth is, you are strangers. So much time has passed, he looks a ghost from the past, he talks like him, walks like him, still hates bitter things like him, but he’s not him anymore. You know this because his expression is wiser, he has looked in the mirror and found himself and he is ready to try again. To do better, to dare to become someone better.

But is it too late? Are you ready for the risk of your heart being broken all over again?

Isn’t life a game of risk and reward?

You squeeze his hand gently. “I would like that.”

Taehyung beams. His smile is still boxy, his jaw line sharper, silky hair permed, and it flops over his forehead. He looks older, is older. He pushes the black locks back and strokes his thumb over your knuckles. He’s more comfortable in his own skin, you think his chest is wider, shoulders broader.

“Can I buy you a coffee?”

#smutcentralnet #ksmutclub #btsghostie #jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #ot7 x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #jin x reader #taehyung smut #ggukienet #poly bts #bts angst #taehyung angst

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radiosandrecordings · 4 years

Text

There’s the person in me who loved psychology before I dropped out of that class and the one who currently studies moving image who really wants to run some kind of study on how fandom interprets things.

I’m gona take The Magnus Archives as a point of study for this. Say we have four test group:

Group 1 has watched every episode of TMA as it came out, episode one to two hundred as it airs, the full four year+ timeline. They have never interacted with the fandom and do not know anyone in real life who has listened to it.

Group 2 has also listened in real time, but interacts with fandom and talks about it regularly, consuming fan content like art and fics

Group 3 did what so many did and have binged all four seasons available to them before catching up and listening to season five in real time. They do not engage with fandom.

Group 4 does the same as group 3, but engages with fandom in the same way as group 2.

Readmore in case you don’t want to read 1000 words of me talking about media.

I really want to see how this shifts their interpretations of canon. My theory being, group 1 would probably have the clearest view of canon by itself, while group 4 would have the most warped. I’m not saying any of these have better interpretations the source, just that group one would view it more clearly as it was presented in its original format

The thing that prompted this was the treatment of the character of Martin Blackwood specifically. He’s one of if not the most popular character, and is often simplified in fan spaces as the soft, caretaking love interest, or in some interpretations popular in fandom during the airing of the fourth season, the ‘sassy gay’. I’d really want to test how much of that interpretation comes from canon itself, or how people warp canon to fit how they want to view the text.

I think it’s kind of similar of english class. Your teacher hands you a copy of Mice and Men and you read the book. As you go through, you discuss only what is in the text. You read and re-read the book until you have a good enough view of it that you can recall facts from memory and write an essay on it. What you don’t do, is read half the book, spend two months talking with your friends about it and reading and writing fanfiction about Lenny, George and Curly living on their ranch, just to be horrified and call it ‘OOC’ when somebody dies.

Back to the study of TMA, Martin specifically is a character who has grown and developed a lot over the four and a bit seasons the show has been running. At a certain point halfway through the series, it becomes clear that he has a romantic interest in the protagonist, and this is later reciprocated. I started listening to the show during it’s season break, with S3 being finished and S4 about to release. At the time it was implied that Martin had feelings, but it was unclear if this would be further expanded upon in canon. I want to know how far fan opinion of him differs from before and after this event, and further when his feelings are returned and the relationship becomes canon. Did the establishment of him as a romantic lead create a softer view of him in the listeners mind?

This is prompted by the fact that, after the relationship became official, his actions have been under much more of a microscope from fans than previously. Things that would be brushed off before, especially if said to another side character, are now scrutinised when he says them to his partner. Would this view be shared by someone who listened to the show in isolation, or is it purely a construct of a fan base who are more used to their own fan comics and fic of him where he’s the soft, doting boyfriend who would never offend his partner?

Because he has said things previously that are similar to how he is acting now, as episodes are released. He has been impulsive and inconsiderate with his words and missed cues in conversations, such as impulsively trying to touch some plastic explosives, or not getting a piece of self deprecating sarcasm and pointing out that the protagonist had just referred to himself as an idiot. This is where I would want to examine group 4 specifically. As people often listen to the whole four years of backlog in as short as a week, they often miss details such as this. They power through the source text, and then spend a longer amount of time immersed in fan interpretations, and my theory being that this long exposure overrides their memory of what his actions are in canon, and instead give a fan’s mental picture of him more of a fan created personality. They are more likely to remember something when it’s included in ten different fanfictions they read, all bouncing off each other, than an episode they listened sandwiched between two other episodes.

Fan headcanons are also a slippery slope, because often you can end up with things being perceived as canon which have little or no basis. This is usually all in good fun, but chasing rabbit hole after rabbit hole from au to headcanon to interpretation can often create something entirely indistinguishable from the source (Hell, remember the Onceler thing?). Plus, the creation of one interpretation of a character that inspires another will spread if it gains enough popularity, possibly even seeping down into the bare bones of the fan base until it’s somehow everywhere. An example of this is the almost always used design for the protagonist as a south asian man with long, dark hair, glasses and a largely green colour scheme. Someone with no fandom knowledge like groups 1 or 3 would have no idea this popular design for the man exists, but it is likely whenever listening to the show, groups 2 and 4 would picture a variant on this base design.

An added aspect of groups 1 & 2 that 3 & 4 don’t have is the fact that they get time to sit and theorise between episodes, whether alone or with a group respectively. When listening to a backlog like 3 & 4 you don’t need to sit and go ‘I wonder why he said that?’ because you can move on to the next episode and see why.

Basically, TL;DR: It’s here’s my hypothetical proposition for a psychology/anthropology study on how people’s perspectives on a media are shaped by the nature of how they consume it, focusing on the timeframe in which they consume it and their exposure to outside influence.

#My Post #I was trying to write this from an unbiased TMA fan perspective because I know I myself am subject to this just by being someone who listene #but I just wanted to examine this theory as a whole with TMA as the example study since it's something I know well AND has a clear example #CAN YOU TELL MY PARENTS HAVE ANTHROPOLOGY DEGREES #It doesn't even touch on web martin. i will write that sequel some day #neither of them have jobs to match but the curiosity rubbed off #The Magnus Archives #Martin Blackwood

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razieltwelve · 3 years

Text

Comparison (Final Rose AU)

Note: If Fang had a twin sister, she’d be called Claw. Because why not?

X X X

Fang raised one eyebrow as Diana clambered up onto the couch and wrapped her arms around her as tightly as she could. “Not that I mind getting a hug, but you’re not plotting again, are you?”

Diana tilted her head to one side and hummed thoughtfully. “Just give me a second, mommy...” She continued to hug Fang for a bit longer before nodding in satisfaction. “Hmm... interesting...”

Letting go of Fang, Diana moved over to Claw and wrapped her arms around the other woman. “Hmm...” She tightened her hold and moved her arms back and forth. “Not quite the same.”

“What’s not the same?” Claw asked.

Diana let go of her aunt and then rubbed her chin. “Aunt Vanille says you two are identical twins, but you don’t feel identical. I think mommy is roughly 2.7 Cuddle Units cuddlier than you.”

“Cuddle Units?” Fang asked. “What are those?”

“Aunt Vanille has been researching how cuddly things are. Cuddle Units are the unit of measurement she came up with.” Diana nodded firmly. “You’re just a little bit cuddlier than Aunt Claw, mommy.”

Claw snickered. “Should I feel bad that I’m not as cuddly as you, Fang?”

“It could just be personal preferences. After all, Diana is my kid.” Fang shrugged. “She might be biased.”

“I’m not biased, mommy.” Diana huffed. “I am being perfectly scientific and impartial. You measure exactly 132.7 Cuddle Units, but Aunt Claw is only 130 Cuddle Units.”

“For reference,” Claw asked. “Who is the cuddliest person in this house.”

Diana looked about furtively. “Promise you won’t tell?”

“Of course, we won’t.” Claw winked. “It’ll be our secret.”

Diana lowered her voice. “Mom is the cuddliest. She’s at least 150 Cuddle Units. It’s hard to be sure, though, since she doesn’t like people hugging her. Averia is around 140 Cuddle Units, but she’s been getting cuddlier over time, so she might catch up to mom. Plus, Averia lets me hug her.”

Fang and Claw exchanged grins. It wasn’t so much Averia letting Diana hug her, as Averia being a complete pushover when it came to Diana’s barnacle-like behaviour.

“Heh.” Claw chuckled. “Who would have guessed the hedgehog was so cuddly?”

“What was that?”

Claw froze and then turned. Lightning was standing behind the couch. “Oh, hey. Nice to see you, my wonderfully kind sister-in-law who would never dream of murdering her wife’s twin sister.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t murder you. Fang would be sad.” Lightning shrugged. “I’d just mangle you and let Vanille patch you back up.”

“...” Claw nudged Fang. “Remind me again how you’ve managed to survive this long.”

“Being pretty much indestructible helps,” Fang replied. She grinned at Lightning. “You’re back early. Where’s Averia?”

“She’s just cleaning up outside since she got pretty muddy at soccer practice.”

Diana’s eyes gleamed at the mention of mud. “Muddy? Can I go outside and spray her with the hose?”

Lightning pursed her lips. On one hand, letting Diana spray Averia with a hose would undoubtedly draw the pink-haired girl’s ire. On the other hand, it would be hilarious, and Averia was absolutely covered in mud. There was no way she’d be able to make it into the house without tracking it everywhere. “Sure. Have fun.”

Diana cackled evilly. “Averia!” she shouted as she ran for the front door. “Let me help you!”

“You know,” Fang said. “That’s just asking for trouble.” Moments later there was an outraged scream followed by maniacal cackling followed by more screaming and the sounds of a scuffle. “And people think I’m the evil one.”

“I do only what is necessary,” Lightning quipped. She nodded at Claw. “Is there a reason you’re hiding out at our house again? Please, don’t tell me you made Acier mad again.”

“You know, for a Dia she can be quite scary. It’s like the only thing she learned from Vanille was that if at first you don’t have a big enough gun, then you should just make a bigger one.” Claw smirked. “But, no, I did not get her mad at me again. She and the kids are off doing some experiments down at the lab with Vanille. I figured I’d come hang out with my favourite twin sister for a while.”

“I’m your only twin sister.”

“Which makes you my favourite by default.”

Fang’s lips twitched, and she ruffled Claw’s hair. “You’re lucky I love you. Otherwise, I’d have to stab you.”

“Lightning really has been rubbing off on you. Besides, you’d feel bad if you stabbed me. I might actually get hurt.”

“Depends on what I stabbed you with. A normal weapon? Not a chance.” Fang picked up the butter knife she’d been using to butter her scones and flicked it at her sister’s eye.

“Seriously?” Claw rolled her eyes, and the projectile bounced off her eyeball. For a brief moment, her entire body gleamed an eerie silvery colour before returning to normal. “That was immature.”

“Meh.” Fang waved off the comment. “But that’s new.” She tilted her head to one side. “Lunarium, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yeah. Vanille wasn’t keen on letting me eat a block of the stuff, but she figured it would be worth it in the end. Transmuting my entire body into lunarium is pretty handy since it’s impervious to chemical attack and durable enough that even a plasma forge struggles to work with it. It is magnetic, though, but I’m working on combining it with some other things to get rid of that as well.”

“Not bad. How are you going with processing that stuff I made for you?” Fang asked.

Claw chuckled. “The more exotic stuff that Ragnarok makes does take a while to process, and it is more energy-consuming to transmute myself into. However, it is pretty damn useful to have. That material you gave me is about 10,000 times stronger than perfect graphene with none of its weaknesses, so it’s handy to have access to. But lunarium is nice because of it’s Aura-related properties.”

“That’s right,” Lightning said. “If you transmute your body into lunarium, it should massively boost what you can do with your Aura due to how Aura sensitive lunarium is.”

“Yep.” Claw smirked. “In terms of efficiency, transmuting my body into lunarium lets me cut my typical Aura consumption by 90%. It also lets me boost my maximum output by at least 500%. So, yeah, I can fight for longer and hit way harder, even without counting the durability of lunarium.” Claw shrugged. “It does help that lunarium is also self-repairing when exposed to Aura. Unlike some people, I can’t simply laugh off a missing limb.” She looked pointedly at Fang. “That said, transmuting my body into lunarium lets me do that - assuming whoever I’m fighting can even sever a limb in the first place.”

“It’s a pity I can’t give you anything I make,” Lightning murmured.

“Heh. Saviour’s materials give me a really bad case of indigestion.” Claw shrugged. “But what can you do?”

“I can still hear screaming from outside,” Fang drawled. “Should we go and deal with the kids?”

“No.” Lightning’s Semblance flared for a moment to let her see through the walls of the house. Diana was clinging onto Averia’s back while trying to grab hold of the hose. “They should be done any second now.”

X X X

Author’s Notes

So, yeah, if Fang had a twin sister, that’s how she’d be. Her Semblance is a shard of Rangarok the same way that Lumina and Serah have Semblances that are shards of Saviour. In Claw’s case, it lets her transmute her body into various substances.

Initially, she could only transmute her body into a substance that she was in physical contact with, so she had to carry around bits of steel and so on. Later, she developed the ability to digest almost anything. Consuming enough of a material let her transmute herself into that material even without being in contact with it while also reducing the cost of transferring and speeding up the speed of the transformation.

Eventually, she gains the ability to selectively modify what she transmutes into based on the materials she has consumed. For example, not only can she transform into steel, but she can transmute into more exotic variants of steel with differing properties. Of course, steel is fairly pedestrian. Something that both her wife (Acier) and Vanille have made a point of doing is feeding her various materials to ensure she has proper coverage. Lunarium, for instance, is immensely Aura conductive, completely impervious to chemical attack, and has physical durability so great that it takes a high level plasma forge to even work on it at all. Its only real weakness is that it’s magnetic, but it won’t be long before Claw combines it with other substances to create a variant that can’t be influenced by magnetism. Likewise, Fang often feeds her things that Ragnarok has come up with.

Claw’s Semblance is completely reflexive. Even if she is unconscious, her body will automatically transmute to defend itself, provides she has enough Aura. The transmutation is total, meaning all of her tissue is transformed. This means that transmuting herself renders her immune to poisons, toxins, and other similar agents. Likewise, transmuting into a self-repairing substance like lunarium can also heal her injuries. For this reason, one of the most importance substances she can transmute into is the stuff that Vanille’s protospheres are made out of. That substance is a poly-mimetic alloy that can take on complex forms including, but not limited to blades, firearms, and so on.

At full mastery, her Semblance can also transmute her immediate surroundings although in combat, this is typically done by picking up objects. The transmutation, however, is not permanent and will wear off once the Aura invested into the object is depleted. Still, this means she can pick up a piece of paper and transmute it into a sheet of steel. Doing this on something she isn’t in direct physical contact with is immensely more difficult, and maintaining the transmutation is more difficult the further the object gets from her, which means it takes greater effort to transmute long-range projectiles than short-range ones.

But, yeah, that’s how Claw would be.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here or on Audible here.

#final rose #fanfiction #lightning farron #oerba yun fang #oerba yun claw #diana yun farron

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sanstropfremir · 3 years

Text

it’s the episode 8 review!!! how many episodes is this show supposed to even be?

the stages from the episode feel like such a grab bag.... i still don’t understand why they didn’t put all the skill stages together, and then did the normal two episodes of the third round. i guess it makes sense that they didn’t want to have six stages in one episode and then three in the other two, but eh.

feeling kinda average on these as a whole, there’s a lot of good elements going on here but probably because of my own preferences (i don’t listen to ballads or blackpink) none of them really hit all the buttons. hopefully this will be a shorter review because i'm only going to do a quick rundown of the vocal stages; i dont really have that much to say about them because they are (intentionally) not very stage picture focused. i'll do the normal stage breakdowns for the other two though, even though i won’t rank them because we still need to see the other four!

vocal stages

sf9 + tbz + ikon

not much to say here other than wow, that’s RED. glad to see some more specific use of spotlighting and i always love when they light things on fire. i do wish they had fill lit with a brighter amber so we could actually get a bit more detail on their faces, especially because there’s six of them. i appreciated the simple blocking and only using one of the ‘stages,’ this stage didn’t need to be anything complicated and it wasn’t. i don’t love spinning camera shots because they make me a bit ill, and i'll forgive the constant cutting because it's a vocal stage and there isn’t any other real movement that we should be paying attention to. not my favourite of the two, i found it visually a bit too repetitive and complex at the same time. always love a crushed velvet suit though, so bonus points for that.

atz + skz + btob

i was braced for the worst and i dont know what kind of miracle happened but it was listenable! like i said, not a ballad fan but i could listen to eunkwang all day. i love a good plinth for a ballad stage, they’re one of my favourite devices in kpop design and i especially love it with a good groundlevel fog. glad they kept it black and white for the first half of the stage, it was in line with the blooming flower projections, and it made a very clear colour arc. they kept the visuals clean and simple with very little blocking at all, a very smart choice for this stage. not sure why they decided it would be the chanel time stage, which i disapprove of because i don’t like chanel, but i do love eunkwang’s shirt with the cameo buttons and the massive turnback cuffs, very 17th and also 19th century. i know they never do it because they dont read on stage normally but yes absolutely more thin chain pendant chokers on men, thank you! i also liked that there was emphasis on a more traditional lighting scheme, there weren't any crazy concert effects, just some good directional beam spotlights and the rear stacks in the climax.

third round stages

ikon

costume

the first look for them is definitely my fabourite of theirs so far. there’s enough variation in the jackets that the base layer of tshirt and jeans don’t look too repetitive. and i do love a good statement jacket. my favourite is probably donghyuk’s because i'm a sucker for fringe always.

i don’t like the backup dancers costumes, but given the way i’ve reacted to every other all black outfit for this entire show i don’t think anyone was surprised about that. these ones particularly irk me because they’re very matte; there's pretty much no texture or pattern differentials to define the shape of the limb, which makes them disappear when theyre all grouped together (mostly on the women). i think they probably were intending to make a statement/emphasis on the hands because of the sleeve cutoff point, but there were so many arm movements that were just totally missed because the costumes were just black voids. most egregious parts are here, with the female dancers up center. i can barely tell what the movements are unless i’m paying specific attention to them because there's so many black shapes. maybe it was the point for it to be an indiscernable writhing mass, but it wasn’t my vibe.

don’t love this styling on lisa. i hate peeptoe shoes in general but peeptoe boots are the worst offenders. they make you look like you have duck feet, no matter who you are. especially with a flat cutout like that. a universally unflattering shoe, and i would know, i worked in a shoe store for two years. this whole look is just pg-13 rihanna cfda awards 2014 and really nobody should try to run up against rihanna.

also i have to mention this because it’s actually really bothering me, but lisa’s backup dancers are serving very allgemeine ss looks and i do not like it. generally when we see ‘military’ uniforms in kpop theyre usually modelled off older styles (pre wwii) of western uniforms that usually aren’t in circulation, and they’re usually non-matching and embellished in ways that are deliberately not military. i know logically that it's a budget constraint+they’re backup dancers+current trend thing but the clean lines with only button detailing and the all black and that specific harness shape? it hit my brain the wrong way. i mean, technically those uniforms are designer because hugo boss did them, but the uh..... girlboss move didn’t land for me.

this is my PERSONAL OPINION please for the love of all that is holy do not come yelling at me about this. it’s all under a cut, you chose to read the post.

set

very glad to see some busy kitschy sets! this is a massive build, since there’s essentially three full sets here: the temple, the jungle, and the first tiny room. and all of them are very heavily decorated.

the starting room is just five walls on casters (wheels), that have been set into place with the cameraman and ikon inside at the start, and then once they exit the walls can be easily struck and rolled off set. simple, smart, and convenient!

i missed it the first couple times around but glitching out the projections in the temple for a split second was a neat little trick.

the silver and polygonal nature of the tiger/panther/cat(?) head is a bit disconnected from the gold and the aesthetic of the rest of the stage for me. the difference between the original room set and the jungle tracks, but the cat head isnt able to make the same leap for me. i'm also not a fan of mixing metals so maybe that’s why.

the tiger/panther/cat(?) head is a fun physical transitional device; i'm a big fan of tunnels and small transitory spaces like that and if they’re well dressed like this one they do so much for establishing place and mood.

i'm very sure i’ve seen this style of polygonal animal head with laser eyes before....i cannot for the life of me remember where or for what. i know wang yibo did a panther stage for sdc3 that had a human formation panther with green laser eyes, i wonder if i'm just crossing wires.

OH nevermind it’s because it looks like the witcher medallion. wires were definitely crossed.

lighting

using purple/teal lighting for the jungle was a smart choice because purple is the direct compliment to the gold and also is much more flattering on humans than green. green is one of the colours that humans can see the most variations in, so when something is green when it's not supposed to be (like human skin), we register that very quickly and associate it with unease and sickness. you know how old fluorescent lights have that greenish tinge that kinda makes you feel ill? it's your cone cells and your brain recognizing that you’re looking at things that are not supposed to be green.

very clean colour arc, i love to see it.

sound

it’s.....fine? i don’t listen to blackpink and have no opinions on their music other than it's not my type. i dont really know what the thematic connection to the visuals is, which is not strictly necessary in a lot of cases, but i don’t particularly care for the conflation of ‘savage’ and a (presumably) precolonial religion that’s assembled from stereotypes of real colonized cultures. you can come at me about how ‘it's not that deep’ all you want but i am here specifically doing an in depth analysis, and i gotta point it out. i'm not here to pass judgement on you if you didn’t realize or don’t care or whatever, i'm just saying that it's important to consume content with a critical eye. what you do with that information is your own personal choice, but you should be aware of it at least.

staging

they took a big risk eating popcorn right before singing, and we definitely got some residual mouth noises of them trying to clean out their teeth. eating on stage is difficult in general because you have to make sure it's not going to dry out the performers mouths, because they dont have access to water and it takes WAY longer to chew and swallow something than you would expect. there’s a LOT of testing that goes into making stage food and guaranteed it’s not made out of what it looks like or what its supposed to be; i worked on a production of amadeus were we did literal weeks of testing amalgams of different desserts to make sure that salieri could actually eat the ones onstage without totally drying him out, because fun fact about that show, salieri doesnt leave stage like, at all, so there was no way to get him water. poor bloke.

i thought the blocking of this was really smart. the long take from the ‘normal’ room and transition into the jungle was super slick, even if that weird circle the camera did while pointed up at the ceiling was unnecessary and pointless.

bobby’s ‘acting’ was extremely funny and that’s the only way people are allowed to act surprised now. edvard munsch scream style only.

the pacing is a bit off and this time it wasn’t mnet’s editing that fucked it up. as fun as it is to have a feature, clearly she wasn’t allowed within proximity of the rest of them for covid or other yg related reasons, but it made for some extremely long transitions, especially the one out of her verse. it kills the momentum of the stage in that beat, even though they manage to pick it up after.

this is a very simple little narrative arc that’s easy to follow and doesn’t require any extra explaining. which is exactly the kind of arc that groups should be doing at this stage in the game. this is a good formic step up for ikon!

i thought the turning off of the monitor at the end was fun and a good callback to them watching the videos at the beginning of the stage. a nice clean way to make it circular.

skz

costume

FINALLY something different on the skz boys! these were mostly fun eboy looks for them, and i like it on the basis that it's not the same as the last set of costumes.

bang chan out there with his thigh OUT and a (fake) bridge piercing? LOVE to see it. great work.

(copy-paste every thing i’ve said about backup dancers wearing all black)

the backup dancers that were dressed as bystanders/extras were great! they should have kept that with all of them because it would have given a little more shape to the choreography and establishing what function the backup dancers were supposed to have.

set

that is meant to be a giant rice cooker on stage, right? i think so because it's a god’s menu mashup? if that's not a rice cooker i have NO idea what its supposed to be

there’s only two large setpieces here, which was a smart way to go. i LOVE the subway car doubling as the truck, even if the truck itself makes no narrative sense. what a fun way to double the use of a single big piece. you’ll be able to see the way it moves in the full cam but it splits down the centre and there entrance doors at the back with attached stairs that bang chan and the dancers use to climb up.

lighting

not a whole lot happening here. i like the cool white leds in the subway car and the contrast with the more warm tones of the outside, which is good atmospheric establishment, but i can't discern a visible arc.

not a fan of these projections; they’re in line with what we’ve seen from skz so far, which is: extremely literal. i dont think they’re that distracting, but they’re not to my personal taste. they really should have kept the comic panel theme that they did for changbin’s first verse, because that was inventive and fun to watch! and a great atmospheric indicator! i would love to see a bit more experimental projection use but it's hard when they don’t have a lot of time to build these stages and the lighting team is definitely working remotely.

sound

i love that they made the choice to do some actual talking, it’s a good gimmick and it works for the deadpool/comic book/fourth wall break theme, but australian accents take me the fuck out i am so sorry i cannot listen to either felix or bang chan speak english without laughing uncontrollably.

i don’t like this arrangement but i'm not surprised about that, given my predilections. i'm also tired of skz shouting STRAY KIDS in every performance they do. i know on music shows it's probably more relevant and yea producers tags are a thing but we’ve been watching this show for nearly two months at this point. we know who you are, you can stop yelling. be more creative with it!

staging

my biggest issue with this stage is that it doesn’t have a payoff. there is an arc here: they’re stealing the truck, but why are they stealing the truck? who are they stealing it from? who are they fighting against? it's kind of important in a stage where the theme is stealing and fighting someone that you tell us who that is. in both of ateez’s previous stages were they were both stealing (rhythm ta) and fighting (wonderland), they made sure to show us who the villain was. there needs to be tension for a big blowup climax to actually pay off. whether it be against a a balloon arm kraken or a fascist government. this stage could have reached that next step if they’d just done a little bit more exposition.

there were a lot of fun choreo moments here, and this is probably my favourite choreo of theirs so far. i thought the whole first bit in the subway car was excellent and a very fun play on those viral videos that we used to see roll around every so often of dancers doing routines in subway cars.

did it need the guns? not in the slightest. more on this point later. i could talk more about weapons and weight here, but i’ve done that several times already.

like with the tbz game of thrones stages, theyre relying a little too much on the audience's preconceptions of the source material in order to carry the theme. the guns are there because deadpool likes guns, but they don’t actually use the guns for anything? the most we get of the stealing segment is felix and the safe, which admittedly is a great bit with him leaping over and under the ‘laser’ lines (theyre likely led strips). because comic books are by nature procedural and deeply tied to narrative, it's unsatisfying when there’s no tension and no payoff.

HOW did we manage to get two stages that are blackpink covers with remote/tv static gimmick and durags? i know the slot machine of kpop tropes is not very big but surely the probability of hitting triple sevens on this one was pretty low. i’m pretty meh on both of these stages overall. skz was unsatisfying but i loved the choreo in the subway bit so that bumped it up a little ahead of ikon’s in my personal preferences, but i'm reserving my actual rankings for next week. assuming we get the other four stages next week and they dont do something stupid and only show two. which they very well might. i’ve stopped trying to understand why mnet does things the way that they do.

as always the ask box is open, drop your comments/questions/personal opinions, i love to hear ‘em! but don’t be rude just because some of this is touchier subject material.

#kingdom #ateez #btob #ikon #sf9 #the boyz #stray kids #military uniforms are a weird one and i always find it a bit....(squiggly face emoji) when they get used in kpop stages #everybody is one of the exceptions because its used as a direct critique #but this is a very personal opinion as someone who has done a lot of historical research on military uniforms in particular #so im hyperaware of that kind of thing #be cool about this one people please and thank you!#im so glad this came in under 3k #kingdom review #kpop analysis #text #ive had to write a lot of deeply critical art practice analysis in the last week and i would like to sleep

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