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cinnamonest · 3 years

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Zhongli (Genshin Impact) - Yandere Profile

This man's voice has a POWER over me I SWEAR

tws: yandere, mentions of n/sfw

tws (under the cut): very ddlg-esque vibes, sorta? infantilization, noncon

I'm sorry I get such strong daddy vibes it unintentionally went in this direction, hope that isn't too bad lmao

I’m working on all the prompts I’ve gotten in! I’ve gotten a few so I’ll be working on those.

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What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

He's one that might be likely to misunderstand his feelings at first, think that he sees himself as a mentor or maybe even an authority figure, someone to guide you and teach you and serve as a dependable partner to your travels. As time goes on, and he begins to recognize how utterly flustered he gets around you, he's forced to acknowledge the actual feelings he has.

While some yanderes with a slight aloofness or pride to them get worse when in love, such as Childe or Kaeya, his drops completely. You bring out a softer side of him, really, one that's protective and tender and loving, so very loving, wanting to be around you, with you. He's certainly an obsessive, protective type, ultimately allowing his protective nature to get the better of him as he demands to know everything you've done, account for your location at every moment, constantly keep track of your habits, inquire about very personal details of your life. If he realizes you're bothered by it, he might draw back a bit, but he's convinced that that's just your perception, that it's necessary, truly, and not at all unusual.

Pet names. Particularly fond of love, darling, and angel. Sweet things that represent what you mean to him -- something precious, something to represent his adoration and idolization.

The primary form of delusion comes from a perception of you. He's obsessive, and idolizes you to an extent. He perceives you as pure, innocent, angelic. The thing is, this applies regardless of whether or not you actually are. If you are, it will solidify the idea, but even if you're not, he will find a way to see you so, anyway. No matter how wise you are, no, you're naive. No matter how capable you are, no, you're weak and fragile. No matter how experienced you may be, no, you're pure. He can always keep this delusion running by bringing into account age and comparison - you'll never be as strong as him, so you might as well be frail and weak. You'll never have lived as long as him, so really, do you think there's that much difference between you and a child, when compared to someone like himself?

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

Actually highly likely, and pretty quickly. As he observes you, it becomes very clear to him how very fragile you are, how naive you are, you are quite literally too pure, too angelic, to be living in this world with such beings as humans. Fragile, beautiful little things have a place where they belong - protected. Where do we put fragile, beautiful things? We put them behind glass, behind ropes, in pretty cages, in secluded rooms. It's only natural that you, too, need a similar environment.

He's one of the ones that will... Elegantly kidnap you, as odd as it sounds. He's not a brute that would do something horrendous like knocking you out or drugging you, no, he'll find an excuse for you to come to his abode, invite you in, and you'll walk in none the wiser. Only after your in, and the doors close, does he guide you to your new room, calmly explaining that he's come to the realization that you're too fragile to continue your journey, and ought to simply give up on your travels. He knows you'll be upset at first. Like a child being denied, you'll get pouty, moody, you might cry, you might lash out at him. It's predictable. He'll dry your eyes and calm you down, brushing off any harsh words you may have, holding your wrists in his hands when you try to push him away, softly reassuring you that it will all be alright, that you're safe now, and you'll learn to accept this with time.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape?

He would want something... elaborate. He's a man with taste for the most beautiful of things, including yourself, and he won't settle for something as simple as a chain or ropes. No, that would be too simple and brutish, and you, one of the finest things in his life, deserve something equally beautiful and delicate.

He's one of the ones that would go to a great deal of preparation for your arrival. He'd have a room prepared just for you, very ornate, beautifully tailored to you -- the walls your favorite color, the bed made of the same material as your old one, and the whole room completely filled with things you're certain you never even told him you liked. Clothes that fit perfectly to your body. It's frightening how perfect it is, because you know he had to go out of his way to acquire the information to achieve such perfection, but you have no idea how.

Everything about it elegant and detailed, right down to the series of ornate locks on the door. They're some of the sturdiest available, made with essentially unbreakable metal alloys and the most intricate lock systems to date. The windows don't open, and he'd certainly find some way to ensure escape through them isn't an option -- perhaps metal bars, perhaps an unbreakable glass substitute, perhaps merely locating your new home right on the edge of one of Liyue's most beautiful mountains, so that if you were to go out the window you'd plummet to the earth below. He's a bit delusional, but he's not stupid, and he will think through every possibility. Every little detail he needs to keep you safe and confined.

He's certain that, perfect as it is, this room is all you will ever need to be happy. Should you desire anything else, he can bring it to you. You'll never have to leave.

So it goes without saying that it would be exceptionally difficult to escape him. You'd have to find a way through the locks, for which your best bet would be to get some hair pins or tiny writing utensils. Even if you managed it, though, which would frankly be a very difficult feat, you'll have to deal with staying free. Zhongli has ties to the people of Liyue as a whole, and needless to say, he has eyes everywhere. You can't risk appearing in the harbor area, there will be far too many people who would immediately report you, and you'd just be walking right to him anyhow. The surrounding areas also have ties to him, so you'd want to try and reach Mondstadt, as far as it is, which is a difficult travel by foot all alone. You won't get far. He's faster, he's wiser, and he will find you long before you could ever hope to make it there.

However, he's not quite as angry as some yanderes would be about it. He doesn't take your escape personally, no, he blames himself, only calculating his own mistakes as to how it happened. He sees you as something like... a little runaway pet, so naive and dull that you don't know any better than to go wandering off. Or perhaps like a child, just sheepishly curious and wanting to explore, not knowing the dangers of the world. Or, perhaps...

"I haven't been giving you enough attention, have I? That's why you pulled this little act of rebellion... you're hurt by my negligence and wanted to be reassured of my care for you. I'm so sorry... I understand now, love. This was my fault. I've been so caught up with work... I'll delegate some tasks to my workers, and I'll be able to spend more time with you from now on, alright? Don't worry, I'm not angry, I'll take full responsibility. I'll be sure to make it up to you... now, let's go home."

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

Much like Childe or Venti or anyone who has been around as long as he has, you really don't stand a chance. He's an incredibly perceptive man. There's not much to say on the matter, as any attempts will be quickly shut down.

He'd find it amusing, really. Like a child trying to lie, but the evidence is all over their face and hands - it's that obvious to him. It's cute enough that he almost hates having to discipline you for it, but, you have to learn.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

He wants his little angel to be safe - and unfortunately, you, being so naive and empty headed, don't always know what's best for you. He knows rules can be hard to follow perfectly, but they're there to keep you safe.

Extremely strict, will want to monitor every moment of your life, every little movement you take, and will insist on watching over you in every task. He'll pick out everything you wear, everything you eat.

Occasionally, if you ask very sweetly, he may take you out for walks in Liyue. Honestly, he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy taking you to what he knows are the finest locations, shops with the highest level of craftsmanship, restaurants with a high price tag and reputable food. He enjoys showing off his refined tastes and discerning selective abilities. And honestly? There's a certain... Powerful feeling to knowing you're made aware of the costs when he makes high purchases in front of you... even if you don't realize he's not always actually the one paying for it, or that he forgot mora again but promises the owner to pay later - but he'll make sure you don't know that. You hear the numbers, and your eyebrows raise, your eyes widen. You'd nearly faint if that total was on your responsibility, and he knows that. Which is why he'll simply smile at you, and tell you you're worth every last Mora. He'll buy you nearly anything you may desire. It seems like leniency, but in reality, it's his subtle way of locking control and dependency over you, making you respect him, making you love him.

"Don't worry, love. It's not a lot... Not to me, at least. Even if it were, my angel only deserves the best, no?"

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

Oh dear. Again, he's very strict, and wants to monitor everything you do, every little aspect of your life. He decides what you eat, portioning your meals to make sure you're eating enough, he worries about you going hungry during your travels, but luckily you'll never have to worry about that again. If you have a sweet tooth, he'll sigh and worry about your teeth and health, but he'll make sure to account for a little bit of sugar in your day, and will even pick up little treats from some of the most reputable places in Liyue.

He picks out clothes for you with each day. They're not... Normal clothes, per se. Certainly not what you'd normally wear on your travels. And it's not like anyone will see you except him - which is exactly why you'll have clothes he would never want anyone else to see you in. Frilly, lacey things, somehow both highly sexualized but also incredibly infantile, soft pinks, baby blues, gentle off-whites. They accentuate the curves of your body so perfectly, while just barely letting him see the parts of you normally kept hidden.

You'll have a schedule - a bath time, a bedtime, a wake-up time. He's weak to your requests, though, and may let you stay up a little late every now and then, or sleep in just a bit, if you make that soft pouting face and beg. He'll insist on bathing you, dressing you, so that you don't have to - and can't even if you wanted to - lift a finger even to wash yourself or put your clothes on.

He has a set of rules for you, very simple ones he hopes you can easily follow. No trying to leave. No doing anything dangerous. No talking to strangers when you go out. You must hold his hand whenever you're walking together, don't go wandering off.

He'll feel ashamed of the thought for a while, but eventually he'll cave and give into the desire, no, the security precaution, of a nice little collar for you. It's not too embarrassing, no, he went out of his way to find one that was delicate, almost like a necklace, made with fine materials, the engraving only visible up close. If you look closely, though, it clearly bears his name.

Breaking the rules is expected, he anticipates it. You're not the brightest, he might even view it as a mistake. A benefit is that you can easily pass it off as simply forgotten, or an accident. Hence, he's not too harsh - normally. He'll sigh, forgive you, and pat your head, contemplating how to prevent your access in the future.

Perhaps you wriggled out of his hand and ran off while walking? You were just excited, distracted, like a child. He might be able to procure a small leash, one that wouldn't be immediately obvious or embarrassing, to attach to your collar. Perhaps some cuff-like links to latch your arm to his.

You forgot the rule about not handling the kitchen knives and cut yourself? He'll have to get some kind of lock and simply keep them safely away from you. No big deal. Any measures are worth your safety.

If you push the limits, or have a defiant attitude, he might reach the point of punishment. As for not-unwholesome things, this would usually include taking away privileges, such as walks or sweets, but overall, punishment will mostly come in more impure forms.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

Not too much to say here - he has connections. He doesn't need to dirty his own hands. For all his supposed humility, if he truly dislikes someone, they're no more significant than an insect to him. He has no reservations about ridding the world of people who, in his mind, are obviously trying to deceive you, abuse you, corrupt you.

Thankfully, he is very capable of keeping a neutral face, even when he feels laughter building up. It would probably look strange if he were smiling over the newest body to come into his parlor.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

It's a slow buildup. He views restraint as a virtue, and looks down upon those who lack control over their own tempers. He's a man who strives to meet his own standards of character, and that very much applies to self control and ability to maintain a controlled demeanor, even when he feels a bit of frustration due to you being intentionally and deliberately defiant.

It's his responsibility to be a good role model for you and make sure you understand how to behave. However, in the end, he's very keen on properness and rules. If you have a tendency towards brattiness and pushing your limits, you may drive him to a boiling point.

However, even when expressing his anger, he's remarkably controlled. It's very mature, really. Nonetheless, he will have you shivering and tearful with his voice alone, booming with that depth that reverberates off the walls, that vibrates against your very core. His true anger is one that can strike fear even in the most courageous individuals - he's terrifying when he wants to be, fierce and intimidating, a sort of power just eminates from him.

Nonetheless, it's quick, he calms down very quickly, wipes the tears from your eyes, and sighs.

"I do hate having to be firm with you... but I can't have you thinking you can just act however you want. You understand that, don't you?"

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

Both? It's difficult to describe. You're an angel to him. You're the finest work of art, the most intricate creation, the kind of person whose body and likeness deserves to be preserved in art and tradition, one of those women who should be renowned for beauty even centuries long after you're gone from the earth. It's almost goddess-like. At the same time, there's a beautiful, tragic duality to your essence, he thinks. A fragility and a dependency that leaves you in need, but an inherent status of perfection that makes you deserve the utmost perfect of care. You need to be coddled, cared for, protected, but you deserve it. Like a deity incarnated into a mere fragile human form, a queen that needs support to retain her grace.

Unlike some, he doesn't view his care and protection as some kind of favor that should be repaid with your gratitude, no, really, he is grateful that he is the one who is even deserving of being your caretaker, your provider, your lover.

Even if he is the one who determined that he deserves that role.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

He's convinced that he can show you that he is your protector, your lover, that it's fate itself that has locked you together, not just his own will.

And he is, above all else, patient. One of the most patient you could encounter. You think a year is a long time? It's nothing to him. A century for you? More than a lifetime. For him? Nothing. He can and will wait, as long as it takes, and he will never falter in his continual care. He'll remind you frequently, he'll shower you in affection, but if you don't return it? It's not that bad. He has all the time in the world to fix you.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Moraless Sugar daddy

But in all seriousness, he is definitely of the gift-giving love language. He sees beautiful things, and beautiful things make him think of you! It's sweet, he thinks. So many little things he sees throughout his day make him think of you, and he has to have all of them, see your face when he gives them to you. He likes making you happy, for one, but he'd be lying if he said there wasn't a sort of satisfactory pride he gets from the power dynamic of it all. He wants to be the sole source of provision in your life, he wants your dependency.

If we're talking prior to the events of the game, it will be even more extreme. He treats it like it's truly nothing, throwing around massive purchases, seemingly as if he's not thinking about it at all. But he is - rest assured, he's taking it into consideration, at least, that is, how it will affect your attitude and perception of him.

General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

On the reserved side. He'd never conduct himself improperly in public, of course. It's out of the question. He cares about proper behavior and public image, and he'd never behave in a vulgar manner.

Even in private, he's certainly one of the ones that struggles with a certain guilt. To some degree, he would feel like you're so innocent and pure that he doesn't want to corrupt you. He goes through stages. First, he'll lie to himself, telling himself that the feelings he has for you are simply protective, platonic, a natural sense of responsibility for you. That becomes more and more difficult to convince himself of, the more excited he becomes around you, the more he finds his eyes drawn to whatever bits of skin are exposed on your body, finding himself drifting off to impure thoughts, trying to push them away.

Second, once he's forced to acknowledge the true nature of these feelings, he'll simply practice restraint, something he's rather good at in this area. He tries, he really does. He tells himself he can't do something so impure, that it would violate you, that he should be ashamed of himself for it. It becomes more and more and more difficult to restrain himself with time, the feelings rising and the thoughts become more difficult to push away, eventually entertaining the fantasies in his head in an attempt to rid himself of the urge in real life. It doesn't work, no, it only makes the urges worse, and he can't be around you without his body nearly commanding him to do something. And finally, he'll take a different stance entirely, telling himself that, no, it's not going to corrupt you, rather, it's taking care of you. If he really wants to love you, really wants to care for all of your needs, then surely that would include your physical needs, and therefore, really, it would be wrong of him not to help you.

As that shift in viewpoints goes on, he'll become more and more bold, hands lingering just a little longer, face coming just a little closer. It's a slow build of tension, just waiting to boil over.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

He understands you're nervous. Again, no matter how experienced you are, somehow in his head he makes it out to be insignificant. Even if you've had other relationships, he convinces himself - and tries to convince you - that they were inadequate, they didn't care about you, not like he does. And he'll treat it as that -- any resistance you put up is nervousness, nothing more, nothing less. He'll reassure you a million times that you won't feel pain, that he'll be gentle, that you'll feel good, even if his size and strength frankly is rather intimidating regardless of experience. He'll keep cooing in your ear, softly whispering reassurance, softly running hands over your skin, holding you in place as the last inch stretches you apart.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

Infantilization

Again, no matter how smart, experienced, and capable you may be, you're none of those things to him. You're a fragile, little thing. He has to take care of you at all times. It may not be evident at first, and he himself likely doesn't fully realize it, but there is something highly sexual to this for him. Caring for you puts him in a position of dominance, control. It gives him access to your privacy, dressing you up, fingers running over your skin, bathing you, watching your skin glisten. He'll talk to you in this way, too, often softly, remarking every little way in which you need him, and even condescendingly so. He wants you to be his, not only in a sense of love, but of possession.

Oral

Primarily giving. Even on its own, he loves the taste, but the effect it has on you makes it that much better. He loves anything that forces you to depend on him entirely for pleasure, that puts you at his mercy. And he'll be torturous about it too, restraining your arms and legs so you can't control anything, hold your hips down so you can't roll into him, so that only he can determine exactly how much pressure and speed you get. And he won't rush it, no, he'll go so slowly it's torturous, and telling you very simply that if you want any more, you'll have to beg.

Edging

For a variety of reasons. The power trip is as exhilarating as it is pleasurable, but he also loves watching your body writhe. Each little muscle that moves under the flesh when your arms strain against his hand holding your wrists together, the convulsing of your stomach muscles, the way your toes curl and legs spasm and the sweet little whimpers you make when he draws back just short of your high. He's mastered watching your reactions, knowing exactly when to stop, even if you try to mask it. He'll want you to tell him, though, nonetheless, tell him when you're close, if for nothing else but the sense of you obeying his commands.

Collaring

Similarly to infantilization, it gives him something of a sense of control, of possession. He loves seeing his name engraved on it, marking the whole of your being with his ownership. In his somewhat rare moments of roughness, he'll want to pull on it, use it to draw you towards him, in a moment of your defiance, in particular. If you're being mouthy, whiny, disobedient, and you finally make him snap, especially if you try to walk away from him, he'll yank you back with force, pulling you close to him, and when the force of it shuts you up, changes your demeanor, forces you to acknowledge your submission - the satisfaction he'll get from that is incomparable.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

As much as he likes the idea, to him, you're already like a child, naive and fragile. Could your body even handle a pregnancy, a birth? He'd likely try to avoid it, but in the end, if it happened by accident anyway, rest assured you'd be getting the best care of any woman to ever be pregnant in Teyvat, and he'd do everything in his power to ensure you were always comfortable, taking his caretaking to another level, almost never even letting you get up, insisting you stay still and calm and needy.

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

He'd be one to pull the "it doesn't hurt you as much as it does me" line, but really, even if he refuses to admit it to his own self, having you bent over his lap is just as much for his own enjoyment as it is a disciplinary measure. It's more humiliating than it is painful -- he'd hold back, afraid of hurting you with his strength, but taking in every little flinch and whimper you make as he brings his hand down on your ass, keeping your head pressed down, kneading at the flesh. He'd insist it's the most effective punishment measure, but you can feel the hard-on digging into your stomach. The worse the behavior, the worse the beating, but every time, after it's over, he'll hold you upright, wiping the tears from your eyes and asking you if you learned you lesson, if you intend to do it again, and smiling when you insist you won't.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

Your skin. It's beautiful, and he loves the way that light from the moon and sun look on your naked form. He loves the way your skin feels, soft and delicate, smooth, so paper thin and fragile, and so, so deliciously prone to showing marks from the slightest of harm - a simple smack can make the plump flesh darkened and reddened, the lightest suckling will leave beautiful hickeys all down your neck and chest. There are so many ways to mark his property, to stake a visible claim all over you, it's irresistible.

He also will go out of his way, when picking out all the things he wants you to wear, to find colors that best go with your skin tone, in a contrasting sense - particularly lacey, sheer things that contrast very well, so he can see your soft flesh perfectly defined against the little lace patterns.

#yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere zhongli #tw: noncon #tw: dark content

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penny-anna · 3 years

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you're so vain (you probably think this song is about you)

"I write songs about all sorts of people, you know, people I know very well and people I know very little. Beautiful women, beautiful men, beautiful sunsets – on one occasion an especially beautiful horse. So say, purely for the sake of argument, I had written a song about you – which I have not, and would not – it would indicate only an appreciation for your physique, which is objectively very pleasing to the eye, and would certainly not indicate any feelings for you.”

(on ao3!)

The tavern was thick with smoke and the mingling scents of ale and sweat. She picked her way across the sticky floor towards the bar, avoiding the patches of sawdust, and said, “Jaskier.”

He was leaning against the bar, dressed in a rather startling purple that did not become him, and she took no small amount of satisfaction at the ripple of tension that went through him at the mere sound of her voice. “Ah,” he said, whirling around to face her. “Yennefer. A delight as always. What brings you here?”

“None of your business,” she said.

“Reasonable,” he said, and sniffed. “I don’t actually care. When did you get here, by the by? Did you just arrive or –”

“I watched your whole performance,” she said.

“Fuck,” he said, and winced. “I mean. Not that it matters. I don’t care.” He waved his hand airily. “Nothing to me at all. I don’t care what you do,” he concluded, turning back to the bar. “Another, please.”

“Anything for your ladyfriend?” said the barmaid.

“My –” Jaskier glanced at Yennefer, standing conspicuously beside him. “Oh, you mean this ghastly witch? She’s not with me.” The barmaid shrugged and went to fetch his wine.

Yennefer waited till his drink arrived and as he peaceably sipped it said, “I liked your set.”

“No, you didn’t,” he said. “Did you want something?”

“I wanted to pass on my compliments,” she said. “It was very good. I especially liked the one about me.”

Jaskier choked on his wine. “I can’t imagine what you’re talking about,” he said. “I’ve never written or performed a song about you in my life. Honestly.”

“Oh, really?” she said. “It sounded as if it was about me.”

“Might I ask,” he said, “which of my songs you falsely interpreted as being about yourself?”

“She of the raven hair?” she said.

“Now, really, Yennefer,” he said. “Strange as it may seem to one so self-evidently conceited as yourself, the world does not in fact revolve around you. That song is about a completely different raven-haired lady.”

“With violet eyes?”

“Do you think your colouring unique across the entire continent?” he said. “Yes. It’s about an entirely different raven-haired lady with purple eyes – and a much more agreeable personality, I might add.”

“I see,” said Yennefer. “My apologies, then. What’s her name?”

“Claudia,” said Jaskier.

“When did you meet her?”

“Our love blossomed in the spring of last year,” said Jaskier. “A remarkable woman. Graceful. Charming. Excellent dancer. I treasured our time together.”

“She sounds like wonderful company,” said Yennefer. “I’d love to meet her. Maybe you could introduce us.”

“Absolutely not.” There was a delicious hint of panic in his eyes. “Out of the question. No. Impossible, in fact.”

“Impossible?”

“She’s dead,” said Jaskier. “Yes. She died.”

“Really?” said Yennefer, drawing the word out. “My condolences. You don’t seem very cut up about it.”

“Well, time heals all wounds and I only knew her a few weeks,” said Jaskier. “A few days, in fact. We weren’t close. I write songs about all sorts of people, you know, people I know very well and people I know very little. Beautiful women, beautiful men, beautiful sunsets – on one occasion an especially beautiful horse,” he went on. “So say, purely for the sake of argument, I had written a song about you – which I have not, and would not – it would indicate only an appreciation for your physique, which is objectively very pleasing to the eye, and would certainly not indicate any feelings for you.”

“Feelings?” Yennefer echoed. “I never supposed anything of the sort. Who said anything about feelings?”

“Nobody at all,” said Jaskier. “Certainly not me.”

“Yes, you did,” said Yennefer.

“When?” said Jaskier, who was really squirming now.

“Mere moments ago.”

Jaskier scoffed. “You’re imagining things.”

“You did, though,” said the barmaid. “You said it just now.”

Jaskier fixed her with a stare. “I’m sorry, is this any of your business?”

“That depends,” she said.

“On what?”

“Are you going to settle your tab for the night?”

Jaskier glowered. She stared unflinchingly back.

“Anyhow,” he said, fetching his purse. “My point still stands. It wouldn’t indicate anything about any feelings for your person. And it’s moot, because as I said, that song is about my dearly departs lover Claudette.”

“Claudia.”

“What?”

“You said Claudia just now.”

“She went by both,” said Jaskier without skipping a beat.

“I see,” said Yennefer. “Where was she from?”

“I don’t know,” said Jaskier. “Toussaint. Fuck off.” He drained his cup and slammed it down on the bar. “I’m retiring for the evening,” he said to the barmaid. “If anyone asks tell them I’m dead to the world.”

He stormed off in the direction of the stairs.

“I especially liked the verse about my eyes,” said Yennefer. “It had so many synonyms for purple.”

“Once again,” said Jaskier, “not about you. Not your eyes. Stop trying to steal my poor dead lover’s eyes. And stop following me!”

“I’m not following you,” said Yennefer, following him. “I’m merely walking in the same direction. I have a room upstairs.”

Reaching the stairs, Jaskier pivoted to face her. “Oh, really?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m going to bed. Is that so strange?”

“It’s just that I assumed that a creature of the night such as yourself never sleeps,” he said. “And at any rate, I know for a fact that all the rooms are booked. Go and find a different inn. This one’s mine.”

“Can I offer you some constructive criticism?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Chartreuse doesn’t mean purple,” she offered, “and if I hear you perform that verse about my breasts in public again I shall take your balls off.”

“How many times do I have to say that they are not your breasts?” He clasped his hands together in supplication. “Will you please leave me alone?”

“Absolutely not,” she said. “This is the best thing that’s happened to me all week.”

“What a sad life you must live,” he said. “I pity you. Now go away.”

“If you insist,” she said. “I was going to ask if you’d be interested in some new material.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he said.

“Never mind,” she said, turning to go. “I know where I’m not wanted.”

He caught her arm. “No, um, really,” he said, suddenly altogether more earnest. “What does that mean?”

Yennefer smiled at him serenely. “Why don’t we talk about this upstairs?”

“I’d like you to know,” he said afterwards muffled by the pillow, “that this did

not

constitute an admission that the song’s about you. Because it isn’t.”

“Naturally.” Yennefer skated her nails down the bare skin of his upper arm. He was quite cute, now that she’d got him out of that hideous doublet. “I shall expect my song presently, then.”

Jaskier blinked. He raised his head from the pillow. “What?”

“I’m given to understand that you write songs for anyone you’ve so much as kissed,” she said. “If I’m to believe that She of the raven hair is truly about Claudia or Claudette than I demand you write one that’s actually about me.”

He squinted at her. “What.”

“You can perform it tomorrow night,” she said. “I can’t wait to hear it. It better be good, considering we went three whole rounds.”

He propped himself up on an elbow and glowered, or tried to. It came off as more of a pout. “You’re despicable. Fine. Fine! I admit it. The damn song’s about you.”

“No – no,” she said. “You won’t get out of this that easily. You already said that it’s about Claudette or Claudia. I’m not willing to share with her, even if she is dead.”

“I made her up,” said Jaskier.

“Callous lies,” said Yennefer. “What an awful thing to say about your dead lover.”

“For fuck’s sake.”

“I shall expect you to come up with some all-new synonyms for purple.”

He buried his face in the pillow. “Fuck off.”

“Make sure to include a verse or two about how good I was in bed.”

“Go to hell, Yennefer,” he said into the pillow.

#the witcher #yennskier #yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier

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hb-writes · 3 years

Text

Thank you but no.

Inspired by my 100+ lovely followers, @love-me-a-good-prompt’s “THANK YOU IDEAS” prompt list, and request from a lovely anon.

Summary: When the Cullen siblings continuing pushing their human sister to play baseball with them even after she’s said no, Mia grows frustrated and storms off. Carlisle helps his daughter explore the feelings behind her outburst.

Featuring: Carlisle Cullen and Mia Cullen

Mia didn’t bother running when she stormed off. The speed of her departure never made any difference anyhow. If any of the others had felt inclined to stop her, they could make easy work of it, and it would have been done long before she reached the tree line.

She knew someone would come eventually. Someone always did, one of her siblings or her parents drawing the proverbial short straw, that person responsible for dealing with Mia’s frivolous human inconvenience of the day. Whoever came after her, it was almost always the right choice, like they all formed a little huddle to decide amongst themselves who could best manage her and her behavior and her mood, like she was something to be handled, a problem to be solved with efficiency and delicacy—a ticking bomb.

It sometimes felt that way to Mia, like she was an inconvenience or something that needed to be constantly managed by the rest of the family, in one way or another, their lives were constantly modified to accommodate her and ensure she didn’t feel left out or less than. But the modifications and accommodations did the opposite and Mia felt sick of it, sick of earning participation trophies when the others all easily took first place. She was sick of being merely mediocre at everything in comparison.

Mia settled on a rock beside the stream, rubbing her chilled hands together and wishing she remembered to grab her coat before coming out, already feeling the cold of the rock seeping through her jeans and into her skin, her thin shirt not nearly warm enough for any prolonged exposure. Shivering already at the wind's bite she knew she wouldn’t last long, but she wasn’t ready to admit defeat this soon so she focused her attention on pushing her heel through the mud, watching as the silt piled up at the end of her foot’s reach.

“I already said no,” Mia muttered, her eyes still on her feet as the leaves crunched behind her.

“Thank you, but no,“ she repeated the words she’d said to them all just before. "I don—” Mia stopped as her father’s shoes edged in beside the wall of mud and earth and she glanced up to him, a deep sigh heaving her shoulders as she pushed her foot forward once again.

“Hi, Dad.”

Carlisle smiled a bit at that, took it as a sign that this would all go a bit smoother than his wife and other children had suggested. His daughter had seemingly calmed herself at least a bit, her heart rate much slower and her words much kinder than they’d been a few minutes prior.

“Hello, Mia.”

Carlisle held the coat out for her and Mia fit her arms inside, wrapping the coat around her and shoving her hands into the pockets.

“Any room for me on that rock?”

“Depends on if you came out to yell at me." Mia mumbled her words, once again pushing her foot through the mud that had slid back into her trench.

“How often do I yell at you?”

Mia's heel worked on a stubborn bit of stone stuck in her path. Carlisle didn’t often yell at anyone, let alone her. Mia remembered only a handful of times in her whole life when she had been the intended audience. And those times weren’t borne from infractions like shouting at her siblings.

“Lecture, then,” she offered with a shrug as the stone broke free and she kicked it from her foot's path.

“Well, that’s a very different thing.” Carlisle smiled. “And I prefer to think of it as a discussion. It’s not often so one-sided between you and me, is it?”

Mia exhaled and scooted over, allowing Carlisle enough room to sit beside her, their timing coordinated near perfectly as she leaned into him and he fit his arm over her shoulder.

"So, what was all that about?” he asked.

“They just wouldn’t stop,” Mia said. “I said, ‘thank you, but no.’ And I tried to be nice about it, but they just wouldn’t let it go.”

“I believe there were a few other choice words you offered,” Carlisle said.

Mia snuggled closer and pushed her sneaker through the mud again. “Yeah, well, I didn’t mean any of that.”

“I believe you didn’t mean to say it in that way, but I know you well enough to know at least some of that was true,” he said.

“It’s just pointless, Dad,” she mumbled.

“What is?”

“Everything. All of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I may have an idea,” Carlisle said, “but I’d still like to hear it from you.”

He could prompt his daughter with open-ended questioning all day, had the sort of patience and genuine curiosity that would eventually bring them around to a point where Mia would give him a more complete answer, but they always played this song and dance in the beginning, always the vague, evasive answers on her part. It was something they’d taught her, how to answer without providing one, something which was often a help to them in many other aspects of their lives.

“You’ll just think it’s stupid,” she answered, pulling out of his hold to settle with her arms rested on her knees. She settled her head down on top of them, facing away from him.

Mia knew it wouldn’t sound as reasonable coming from her mouth as it seemed when it was nestled deep in her mind. How could she explain to him how pointless it all felt in the scheme of things? It wasn’t just about the baseball game. It wasn’t just about feeling as though every one of them held something back for her benefit, that she was holding them back, and the fact that she’d always be the weakest link, the interminable family liability.

“I won’t,” he answered, a hand moving down her back. “You know that.”

Mia shrugged, turning her head to watch the stream. Her father had never once made her feel stupid. Like Esme and Alice, the man didn’t have whatever was necessary to employ a condescending tone and for being the oldest vampire of them all, he was surprisingly in tune with and understanding of the human condition.

“I’ll never be as good as them,” Mia finally said, her eyes trained on the water.

“In what way?”

Mia took a deep breath, a part of her annoyed for having to explain, frustrated that Carlisle wanted her to tell him how it felt when the assignments she worked so hard on made their way to the fridge while the others got perfect scores on nearly everything without trying, and they didn’t even care. She had no desire to tell him that being celebrated by them felt forced because whatever she produced, whatever she achieved, it wasn't even worth being celebrated.

“I never win at anything, not really, and even if I do, it’s just because they’re going easy on me.”

“Because you’re human?”

Mia glanced at him and huffed. “And you’re all not.”

Carlisle frowned. “We have some additional skills at our disposal but—”

Mia rolled her eyes and groaned. “Dad."

"Everyone has their own strengths, Mia.”

“And weaknesses,” she answered. “And that’s me. The family weakness. I’ll never be as strong or fast or smart or clever or well-read or anything.”

“We’ve had much more time than you have. Your brothers and sisters have had a few collective centuries more than you to study and—”

“Exactly,” Mia answered, thinking of the wall of graduation caps, the family joke she wasn’t a part of and would barely ever contribute to. “I’ll never catch up. Even if I’m fast, I’ll never be the fastest. I could be smart but I’ll never be as smart as any of you, never be as good at anything. May as well just give up now.”

Carlisle nodded as she spoke. He didn’t love her phrasing, and he certainly wasn’t comforted by the expression coming from his daughter’s mouth.

“I didn’t mean that exactly how it sounded,” Mia added after a few seconds’ pause. “I just mean it seems a little…futile?”

“Your siblings would love another chance at being a teenager and human.”

“Well if that’s true, they can have it. I’d gladly trade any of them. It’d be nice to be something other than an unexceptional burden for a change.”

“You’re not a burden,” he answered. “Not a weakness.”

“Whatever you say,” she answered, turning back towards the water again.

“And you know, your siblings were all exceptional before. The things they have now, they had in them before the change, too.”

Carlisle gave that notion a moment to settle but Mia didn’t respond, still staring out at the stream and the woods beyond it.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Not really.”

“They didn’t all know what they were good at as humans. The transition helped some of them identify it, hone it, but there was always a natural predisposition. There always is.”

“Great and since I have no natural predisposition towards anything useful, I can someday be as boring and worthless as a vampire as I am as a human.”

Carlisle didn’t love discussing the prospect of his human child having a vampire life. Even if the possibility was always there, even if that had been the eventual plan since she joined their lives, the decree passed down from the Volturi, he still didn’t like discussing it.

“Do you truly believe that?”

Mia shrugged. She didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to believe she was merely ordinary or weak, but a part of her seemed determined to hold onto the notion.

“Everyone is good at something,” he answered. “What are you good at?”

“Nothing,” she answered. “I’m not good at anything.”

“Nothing?” he repeated. “Now, I kno—”

“Not comparatively,” she answered. “I’m okay at some things, but I’m not as good as any of you.”

“I don’t compare you to anyone else and neither should you,” Carlisle said. “Now, I could tell you what you’re good at, tell you all the wonderful things I see in you, but I don’t think you’re in a place to hear it. So you have to tell me— what’s something you’re good at? Don’t think about your brothers and sisters. Don’t think about the other kids at school. Just think about you.”

Mia glanced at him. “It’s not like that’s an easy question.”

“It’s not,” he answered. “People spend their whole lives trying to figure out the answer, trying to match that answer to another of life’s important questions. What makes you happy? The answers don’t have to be a perfect match, Mia,” he said. “They rarely ever are, and the answer to the second question is much more meaningful.”

Carlisle took the baseball from his pocket and slipped it into her hand. “If something makes you happy, it doesn’t much matter who wins, does it?”

Mia ran her thumb over the ball’s red stitching. “What if winning makes me happy?”

“Then I’d say you’re just as competitive as your brothers and sisters,” Carlisle answered. “But I would also say you shouldn’t give up on what makes you happy just because you don’t always win at it.”

“Are you trying to tell me I should play baseball?”

Carlisle nudged her shoulder. “If you don’t play, we lose our secret weapon.”

Mia smirked. Her human weaknesses were at least good for something. She forced her family to dial things back, forced them to lean into things they were no longer very good at— moving slowly and tempering their strength. None of them pitched as well at the speed she needed them to pitch at. None of them hit as well at the speed she needed them to match, but it was good for them to practice at playing human, necessary to their survival, even.

“I’m much better at being human than you all are,” Mia answered.

Carlisle laughed. “I would hope so.”

“I keep you all on your toes.”

“You do,” he answered. “And you remind us every day what a beautiful thing it is to be human.”

Twilight Masterlist

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #carlisle cullen #cullen sister #cullen daughter #mia cullen #100 follower thank you

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knuffled · 3 years

Text

some writing tips (pt. one)

warning: this is a long post bc brevity isn’t one of my strong suits. also another disclaimer: these are just things i have learned/have worked for me. feel free to ignore them if they don’t help you!

1. the crossroads of plot and character

there will often come times when writing where the plot must move in a direction that the characters don’t want to follow. this usually results in characters being forced to act in ways that are not congruous with who they are, making them feel wooden or inconsistent to the reader.

one thing that has really helped me is some advice i heard from the writer’s of breaking bad. they said that one thing that really helped them was to ask “where is character x’s head at?”, or basically “what is my character thinking/feeling at this point in the story?”. it is almost always superior to have character drive plot instead of the other way around, so this question can help solve the issue of plot not gelling with character. i like to ask myself this question and reorganize the plot around my answer, and i have found it very useful for combatting content-based writer’s block.

2. rethinking character flaws

i have only recently learned how to better write character flaws, and i have found that they are huge for making a character feel real. whenever i used to think about flaws, i thought of them as huge, character-warping traits that basically defined an individual (example: prince zuko), but i always struggled to write them myself. lately, i have come view them as subtle beliefs or tendencies my character has that frames the way they interact with the world and others, and that has been massively helpful for me.

as sleazy as it is, i’m going to use my own writing as an example because i don’t read books anymore lmfao. anyhow, in my fic, “just practice”, annabeth has a tendency to be self-absorbed, which manifests in her assuming everyone thinks the way she does. nothing impressive, really. we see a few examples of it in action sprinkled throughout the story, and at first, it seems harmless, but the more we see of it, the more we realize what a huge issue it is in the context of the narrative as a whole. we see that it cripples the way that she communicates with others, how it has led her to hurting people she cares about because she assumed things about them, etc.

the fic is written from her perspective, so when she interacts with people, we can see that she genuinely doesn’t mean any harm. she just has a certain way of thinking. but in reality, the way that her flaw impacts others in the story becomes a huge source of conflict. it requires people to call her out and make her reflect on things. this is something that i think a lot of people can relate to. pretty much everyone acts with good intentions, but in reality they could be causing a lot of harm to those around them without meaning to.

i have found that using subtle flaws like this can be really helpful in making a believable character. i would suggest looking at people in your own life and their flaws as material you can use. most of them aren’t prince zuko - they have much subtler flaws about them that still have a huge role in who they are. once you have a flaw in mind for a character, it should inform their psychological make up, in either a minor or major way. i like to make this influence as subtle as i possibly can because that is what i personally find to be most realistic (note: by influence, i mean the way that the flaw manifests itself).

these flaws can be used to completely drive the plot depending on your genre. romance, young adult, literary fiction, etc. are all great candidates. for example, “catcher in the rye” is literally a plotless story about a teenage boy navigating his flaws.

here is some additional advice: show examples of the character’s flaws in action, first without drawing much attention to them, but with each new instance, crank up the impact of the flaw. this results in a natural escalation that flows really well with character development.

3. choices and consequences

foreshadowing is one of the most important tools a writer has to creating a satisfying narrative. in contrast, poor foreshadowing can ruin a narrative. nearly everyone can attest to how a deus ex machina or “subversion” completely derailed an otherwise good story (looking at your Game of Thrones Season 8). at the same time, foreshadowing is really hard to do well because of how much foresight it requires. outliners have the luxury of accounting for this before they write, but as a discovery writer, foreshadowing can feel impossible during your first draft.

that being said, i have personally found a work-around as a discovery writer for this exact problem, and that answer is to have narrative consequences. pretty much every plot point in your story should have consequences for the rest of the narrative going forward. this makes it a lot more easy for a discovery writer to write a better first draft - you just have to think about what how current plot point impacts the story going forward.

example: character gets into a foolish fight and loses their sword-fighting arm. now for the rest of the narrative, they can no longer rely on their prowess as a swordsman.

the neat thing about consequences is that you don’t have to plan ahead of time, but they still function similarly to foreshadowing.

4. foreshadowing proper

okay, but what about actual foreshadowing, you might ask. i think this is really hard to give concrete advice for, but here are some things that have helped me. i tend to have a lose idea of really major plot points that need to happen in my stories (example: the kara conversation in chapter seven of just practice). then, i try and think about how i can lay a trail of bread crumbs for that plot point to happen and reverse engineer my way there (example: chapter six, kara is mentioned by annabeth’s friends as having done something unforgivable to percy).

more specifically, i like to use character flaws as set up for plot points (this ties into the idea of consequences above). example: annabeth is increasingly frustrated by percy’s hiding secrets from her, stoking her already inquisitive nature to a boiling point, leading her to confront kara when she gets the opportunity, even though she knows she shouldn’t.

i primarily write drama/romance, so using character flaws as foreshadowing is my favored way of foreshadowing. i don’t think it translates as well for a mystery or a fantasy, but in those cases, laying bread crumbs still helps. in the harry potter books, rowling was often fond of burying important clues in irrelevant information. example: in book two, there is a brief mention of tom riddle’s diary in ginny’s cauldron when lucius malfoy slips it there at diagon alley.

another thing she does is to include information against the backdrop of another, more urgent plot point. example: in book four, harry tries to steal from professor snape for a task in the triwizard tournament or something, and snape accuses him of stealing ingredients to make polyjuice potion but it was barty crouch jr. who needed it to disguise himself as professor moody. you don’t pay much attention at the time because the tournament is more pressing.

#this took for fucking ever #please reblog this im actually begging #if it does well i will do more #i have tried to include examples but i barely read so big oof #i barely remember harry potter so dont murder me for getting plot points wrong #i bolded the important take aways as well #feel free to ask me questions if something was unclear

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danganronpasurvivoraskblog · 3 years

Text

IMPORTANT NOTICE

[Please read this, it’s important.]

//Hey everyone, it’s the mod here.

//In case it wasn’t already obvious, I need to make a very relevant announcement, because it relates to the future of this blog.

//I did mention beforehand that I would be making this announcement, and whether or not it’s good or bad remains to be seen.

//I will say outright that I don’t plan on stopping the blog. I am determined to see this series all the way to the end, even if it takes me ages. And I know there have been many times that I’ve had to delay, or cut short posts because of personal reasons, and I cannot thank the people who follow this blog enough for continuing to read my stuff, despite all of this.

//Hence why today’s announcement is so important. I don’t know exactly how long ago it was, but between a few weeks and a month ago, I said I was going to delay the start of the current arc because of a personal thing I was dealing with. I then had to delay it longer because I got sick with COVID-19.

//I didn’t really shed any details about what that was, because I didn’t think it relevant, and thought it quite personal, but now that I’m officially in this phase, my situation is now going to affect my writing, so I’d rather make clear what it is to the followers of the story, so that we can all be on the same page.

//Tomorrow, I will be starting university.

//This is a big deal. My life is transitioning into a new phase, and with it comes many more challenges, but also many more opportunities.

//I’ll be studying animation for those who are curious. Perhaps I may be able to use some of the things I’ve learned on the blog? Who knows?

//Anyhow, the point is that I received my timetable, and in case it wasn’t already obvious, I am going to be very busy and jam-packed with assignments right from Day 1.

//So in order to make time for the blog, I have to rearrange some things relating to the schedule, and I would like to very quickly talk about this. I will be implementing some new rules for the followers and askers.

//THESE ARE SUBJECT TO CHANGE. Since I have yet to start Uni, I don’t actually know the full proceedings of my timetable, or what times I have available to myself. But for now, let’s go with it.

1: IT’S LIKELY I WILL NEED TO TAKE THURSDAY’S OFF AS WELL.

//As most of you know, I don’t do anything relating to the blog on Tuesday’s. The reason was because I started this blog back when I was in college, and Tuesday’s were days where I got home late in the evening, and couldn’t write because I didn’t have the energy.

//My current university timetable tells me that BOTH Tuesday’s AND Thursday’s will be the same case. My classes supposedly end at 9pm on those days, which I think is extraordinarily late to get out of class, but all the same, it’s usually the time that I write things for the blog.

//I simply won’t be able to make time for blog stuff on these days, so unless I get any further notice about my timetable, I won’t be able to do anything for the blog on Tuesday and Thursday.

2: CHANGES ARE GOING TO BE MADE TO SPRITE EDIT REQUESTS.

//As most of you probably already know, I’m not against creating sprites or sprite edits for the blog. Doing so is not only fun, but also helps enhance my drawing and ability to use programs like Photoshop.

//However, it’s become unfortunately clear to me that many people overestimate my ability, and send through requests that require me to completely change the characters outfit, hairstyle, just basically everything about it.

//To be honest, I simply do not have the time to go through all of these sprite edits I’ve been sent and make them. It’s far too much effort for something that happens way too often.

//As of such, I’m making some new rules regarding sprite edits, and that rule dictates if I deem a request for an edit too arduous, or too time consuming, I will delete it, and not answer the question.

//I know it’s not fair, and I know it’s hard to tell what edits are and aren’t low effort for me, but I am a single person with a limited range of talent and capability. I cannot handle to dubious amount of work I’m given, especially now I’m going to be crushed under assignments and everything of the like thanks to my new school.

3: TIME I SPEND ANSWERING ASKS IN THE EVENINGS WILL DECREASE.

//Usually, when I answer asks in the evenings, I tend to start at 9pm and answer asks until 10:30pm. On days where I’m tired, I usually knock that down to about 1 hour instead.

//Now, I feel the 1 hour mark will be a permanent thing I need to implement, meaning on most days I will only be doing 1 hours worth of answering.

//Emphasis however on MOST days. As I said already, Thursdays are out of the question depending on how my timetable shapes up in the end. I will probably do my regular format on Friday’s and weekends.

//This one probably matters the least, I just wanted to let people know in case they were curious.

//That’s all for now. I’ll repeat again, if it ends up being that my timetable goes through any last minute changes and we can simply go through the format we’re going through now, then I will make a future post explaining that.

//I apologize greatly if this ends up being an inconvenience for some. I know I’ve done this a lot, and I hope you can find it in you to understand that living two kinds of life is difficult.

-Mod

#important notice

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solastia · 3 years

Text

Love And Lies | 3

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x F!Reader

Summary: You are a simple maid. When your lady and dearest friend need help escaping an arranged marriage with King Seokjin so they might be together, you do the only thing you can - take her place.

You followed behind the man who introduced himself as Chancellor Namjoon Kim, listening to him halfheartedly as he explained that while that was his official title, he was more of a Jack-of-all-trades and preferred calling himself the King's right-hand man.

You smooth your hands down your gown, hoping it was grand enough to disguise the commoner wearing it. You’d changed for supper, something that Eleanor had told you was common for people at court. According to her, depending on the person they might even change outfits as many as three or four times a day! The nobility were a ridiculous bunch, you sniffed derisively to yourself. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for the maids that had to care for all that clothing and the laundresses that cleaned them. Two times a day - not counting your sleeping gown - was extravagant enough for the likes of you.

The ensemble that you had now made you feel like a fairy princess of legend. You were a shimmering cloud of pink and white as you glided along the stone floors. The dress was pink velvet lined with white silk, along with white ermine fur on the edges of the sleeves and bottom of the gown. The bust was embroidered with silver thread and decorated with glistening pearls. You were also very happy to note that the top was much more modest this time around, though not by much. Eleanor had let you pick the jewelry yourself, so you’d settled on a simple strand of pearls around your neck and tiny pearl earbobs. Your hair was left loose and free of any painful and tedious styling with the hot iron.

Truthfully, you rather liked this dress. The fabric was soft to the touch and very comfortable. You even liked the little slippers that matched. When you asked Eleanor why she was letting you wear something like this, she had told you that your previous ensemble had been to impress the King, and this one was to appeal to the man. It was an odd statement considering that your goal was to not appeal to him, and she’d seem rather conflicted saying such a thing. You wished you’d had the time to question her further, but the Chancellor had shown up before you could.

In the end, it wouldn’t matter if you looked rather pretty in your outfit because you knew that eventually, he’d move on to the other women. You had literally nothing of interest about you to keep royalty interested. After all, what could you speak to him about beyond stain removal techniques and how to haggle for the best prices at the market?

Chancellor Namjoon opens a door and ushers you inside, seeming to not notice or mind that you hadn’t even been listening to him talk this entire time.

“His Majesty will be with you in a moment.”

He nods and leaves briskly, closing the door behind him. You take the chance to look around, your mouth falling in awe as you take in the rows and rows of scrolls. So this was a library! You had heard of such things but had simply chalked it up to the fancies of nobles, but this was truly amazing. Beyond the scrolls, there were even parchment tied together filled with writing and little sketches. A few were even covered in decorated leather, something that boggled your mind. Books! You had never thought to see one in your life.

You adored the family you worked for, of course, but not a single one of them had any use for reading and writing. Eleanor could write a little, mostly her name and a list of things she needed that looked like badly designed inkblots. Jungkook was a little better but mostly relied on drawing things out. You remembered the departed Duchess had a slanting script that was like beautiful art to your young eyes. She’d taught you how to read and write before she’d passed, but you rarely got a chance to use that knowledge. You never had anyone to write to and the Duke saw no use for books.

Your hand trailed reverently across the hard leather of one of the bound pages, wishing you had the freedom to peer inside.

“Do you like to read?”

The voice startled you, and you gasped and turned with your hand on your chest.

“Goodness. I’m...sorry, Your Majesty.”

His smile was kind, but his eyes looked like he was laughing at you. “It’s quite alright. So, do you?”

“Hmm?” You hummed softly, distracted by the way his now silver tunic made him glow like an otherworldly being. “Oh, read?” You smile sheepishly, forcing yourself to focus on the conversation and not on his lips. “I don’t get to very often, but I like stories.”

He seemed pleased with your answer, gesturing towards the book. “We got this one from a visiting Monarch years ago. Livres des merveilles du monde. It’s about a merchant named Marco Polo who was an adventurer for a while and traveled through the Orient. I was certain I was going to grow up and conquer the world someday when I first read this.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Ah, the bane of my existence. Responsibilities,” he says dramatically, obviously trying to make you smile. “You may borrow it if you like. I’m not certain if it will be riveting enough for you, but you’re welcome to it. Or anything else here, during your stay.”

He picked up the book and handed it to you, his grin growing as he watched you cup it in your hands and stare at it in awe. A whole book!

You smile up at him genuinely for the first time, your smile wide and beaming with joy. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I’m not certain I’ll have time to finish it since I read so very slowly, but I thank you for the chance.”

He nods, his cheeks pinkened slightly. He gestures with a hand towards a table in the corner.

“I have some warm wine and honey pastries if you’d like to join me. I thought we might have a chance to get to know each other a little more before we have the pressure of an entire room watching our every move.”

“Oh...yes, that will be...tense” you gulp and sit as gracefully as you can in the highbacked wooden chair.

His smile is soft and kind as he pours you a drink. “I suppose despite your status you’re not quite used to court life. Your father mentioned you preferred staying home.”

“Yes,” you stuttered nervously. “I found I was more comfortable tutoring at home rather than being fostered out. I’m afraid the one time I tried, I found the group of ladies rather spiteful and begged Papa to come home after only three months.”

Which was a true story. Eleanor had been sent to the Duchesse Aline Villeneuve - the King’s very own aunt - to learn how to run a keep and other “women’s arts” not long after her mother had passed away from a sudden illness. According to Eleanor, she had been horribly bullied by the other ladies in the Duchesse’s care and she “hadn’t cared to make friends with such vain and heartless wenches, anyhow.”

Personally, you had rather fond memories of that summer, as with Eleanor away you’d had the freedom to do as you pleased and you’d even made a new friend for a few months - a village boy with the most annoying laugh you’d ever heard but had been sweet and fun. The two of you had been inseparable for the entire summer until one day he didn’t show up to the stream you often met at. You still thought of that boy from time to time and hoped he was doing well. You never did learn where he disappeared to.

King Seokjin nods in understanding. “Unfortunately, it’s not going to be much better here. Gossip is practically a form of currency, and whether it’s true or not doesn’t matter,” he rolls his eyes and sits back in his chair, bringing up a mug of steaming spiced wine to his lips. He gulps and sighs, setting the cup back on the table.

“And in your case, it will be twice as bad as you are...well…” he coughs lightly, his cheeks blushing once more. “A high contender to be Queen?”

You sputter on the drink of wine you’d just taken, trying to hastily wipe any spilled droplets before he sees them.

“Yes...err, I am...that.”

“So,” he says loudly, slapping his hands onto his thighs. “I mostly wanted to set aside some time right now so you can tell me things you like to do. I’m afraid I have to live my entire life by a set schedule, so if I had some ideas for my courting days with you that would help greatly.” “Oh,” you smile mischievously, “Yes, I imagine it must be difficult trying to balance so many suitors. Romantic sailing on Monday, serenading on Tuesday, kissing in a dark alcove on Wednesday...”

“You have no idea, “ he groans, only to still and gape at you in astonishment. “You’re making fun of me!”

“I would never, Your Majesty,” you drop your eyes to your lap, still smiling despite the way you were internally smacking yourself. This wasn’t home, you had to curb your tongue.

He squints at you suspiciously. “I have a feeling you would and will. You have some spirit hiding under that demure stance, don’t you Lady Eleanor?” He cocks his head and looks at you with an expression of pleased wonder.

“Perhaps, Your Majesty.”

“I think,” he begins softly, his tone making you lift your eyes to meet his. “In private settings like this, you may use my first name.”

Your eyes widen incredulously. “Oh, I couldn’t!”

“I can order you to if I must,” his smile is playful, even while his eyes are staring at you intensely.

“I...alright. Thank you...Seokjin,” you respond quietly and no doubt with crimson cheeks.

“There. That wasn’t so hard. And...I liked hearing it.”

He stands up and offers you his hand. “It’s time to head to supper. I can escort you as far as to the hall, but I have to go to the high table without anyone seeing you with me. Don’t want them to see you entering the dining hall on the King’s arm; that would make you a target for the harpies,” he winks, linking your arm in his. “You can send a list of activities we can do together later.”

The walk down the hall is too short, but you’d enjoyed the feeling of his strong arm encasing yours and the occasional sneaky peeks of his beautiful side profile. He releases you as soon as the noisy dining hall is close enough to hear.

“I must leave you here, but I look forward to speaking with you on the morrow. I’ll have someone bring the book to your room tonight.”

“Thank you, Your M…” you begin, only for him to raise an eyebrow at you daringly. You glance around you for eavesdropping servants and sigh. “Thank you, Seokjin.”

His beaming smile is worth your embarrassment. “Well done, lambkin. Be sure to try the custard tarts, they are the best!”

He waves and strides off, leaving you to find the waiting Jungkook and be escorted to your seat. Something pricked at the back of your mind, however. Lambkin? Why did that seem so familiar? Perhaps you were just overwhelmed. You shake your head and focus on the elegant supper in front of you as you find Jungkook waiting just inside the door, and he gestures for you to walk ahead of him. You can tell from the way his jaw is clenched he’s dying to ask you about the meeting, but there is no way to subtly speak to him at the moment.

The dining hall was brimming with people and you praised Eleanor for being the sort of noble who kept to herself, since the chances of anyone knowing her here were incredibly low. Your seat is incredibly close to the high table - in fact, it was directly above you. A few more steps to your right and His Majesty would be getting crumbs and wine on your head.

You’re not brave enough to look at him yet, though, and decide to look around for your “competition.”

Your table seems to be where they are all located, judging by the way most of the women gathered around you meet your curious gaze with measuring looks of their own. Most of them turn away after a few seconds, obviously dismissing you as not a threat.

One girl that looks similar to Eleanor all the way down to her bouncing curls grins at you playfully and waves at you with the chicken leg in her hand. You nod in answer, adding a slight smile as you decided she seemed nice enough.

A regal brunette meets your eyes with a quirk of her eyebrow, blatantly looking you up and down. Her lips thin and she pointedly turns away with a sneer, clutching her silverware almost threateningly. Alright, she will not be someone you want to know.

Directly across from you is a redhead and you snort, coming to the realization that His Majesty literally has every color of the rainbow to pick from for his bride. Variety is the spice of life, you suppose. This woman seems very disinterested in everything around her, however, focusing on her meal and only interacting with servants to refill her goblet.

At the head of the table and directly at your elbow is the one that you can only assume is the Princess. She is incredibly pretty, you have to admit. Her dark black hair is mostly loose and cascading about her in waves. The sides have been pulled back and secured with a large golden hairpin the size of a dagger with little jeweled flowers adorning it. Her dress is strange yet beautiful. Silk or satin, if you had to guess. The top was lavender and embroidered with flowers and some sort of serpent that vaguely looked like a dragon. The bottom was nearly peach-colored and consisted of the same decorations. Her features were sharp and sculpted, with high cheekbones and a thin nose. She looked exotic and lovely, but it wasn’t until her smile blinded you that you realized she was beautiful. She met your eyes with a twinkle in hers, reaching her delicate hand up to point at herself.

“I am Hosook. You?”

“I am Lady Eleanor Rose D’Aily, Your Highness,” you answer slowly, assuming that the way she was squinting while you spoke was her concentrating on your words. Perhaps she was learning the language still.

“You for him too?” she asked with a wave behind her at the high table.

“Yes, I was brought here for the King. I’m sure you’re a much better choice.”

The Princess smiles her understanding and waves away your compliment. “Too...ugg,” she grunts, obviously failing to find the word she wanted. She chose instead to flap in the general direction of King Seokjin like she was shooing away a fly.

“You...aren’t attracted to His Majesty?” you ask in a hushed voice. How could anyone not find him the most beautiful being to ever walk this earth?

She sticks out her tongue, “Reminds me of Haraboji...uh...Grandfather?”

You sputter a laugh which you know is too loud, but you can’t help yourself as Princess Hosook giggles with you. You feel yourself being watched and glance up to lock eyes with the very man in question. The King looks down at you curiously, his lips tilted in an amused smile as you can’t stop your giggles. Suddenly, he winks at you and you look away quickly as your laughter dies down into a shy smile.

“Oh,” Princess Hosook says slyly, clucking and patting your hand with a grin. “I see now. You nice, make pretty Queen.”

“Goodness, it’s not like that at all. We just met,” you rush to explain, your excuses being waved away yet again.

“I like…” she waves between the King and you. “Nice together. Uh...need more words,” she grumbles quietly, biting her lip.

“I could help, if you like? I helped my Lad...err...my Ladies Maid learn how to read and write.”

Her smile was beaming as she nodded her head in agreement. “Yes. Need be better to deal with them,” she nods her head towards the gaggle of noblewomen surrounding them.

“I understand. I have to wait to hear which days I need to spend with the King, and then we’ll set aside some time for us!” You smile kindly at the Princess, who grins back and attends her meal with much more gusto now that she had something to look forward to. You sigh and quietly thank the powers that be for making some sort of friend to get you through this, and one that you were able to fall back into your natural state of submission with. It would be easier to explain any lapses in your behavior if you were just a mere Duke’s daughter shadowing a Princess, rather than being with the other women who were basically your equals and expected you to be just as much of a spoiled prat as they were.

The meal comes to a close (and you were amazed that you only caught yourself staring at His Majesty less than five times), and Jungkook is back at your elbow to escort you to your rooms. As you accept his helping hand, you feel someone tap on your shoulder. Princess Hosook flicks her eyes up and down Jungkook with an exaggerated waggled of her eyebrows. Her hand goes to her chest and she mouths something that you assume is complimentary. Jungkook’s eyes are huge as he tries to follow what’s happening.

You giggle and slap his arm. “She thinks you’re handsome.”

“TAKEN…” he squeaks, “I’m taken. Sorry..uh...lady...majesty…”

“Always pretty ones,” Princess Hosook sighs and waves goodbye with fluttering fingers, disappearing with her own small army of attendants.

You continue to laugh quietly as Jungkook begs you to stop. You pause just before leaving the hall and catch the King’s eye right before he leaves for his own apartments. He smiles and shallowly bows, and you watch him until his broad shoulders disappear from sight.

“Sis,” Jungkook mutters quietly as he herds you back to your hallway. “You can’t…” he sighs. “I’m sure you think he’s handsome and he seems to be nice to you, but you can’t be with him. You remember that, right? You’re not who he thinks you are and he’d find that out if you were to marry him. I am literally stealing a potential bride from him, and the moment he finds out, he can kill us all.”

“I know, Jungkook. I’m not an imbecile.”

“I know that, but you’ve never been courted before. I forgot about that and now I’m worried that you’re over your head.”

You sigh and loop your arm in his as you walk. “I suppose I forgot that he’d be trying to win me over as much as the rest, at least at first. I might have let the sweet words and smiles affect me, but I promise Jungkook, I’ll remember. Besides, I saw the other potential brides. I am no match for them. The novelty of someone new will fade in a few days, and I pray that we have the deed to the keep no later than a month. Then, I will tell him that I don’t think I’m a good match for the Kingdom and we can be on our merry way.”

He sighs wearily and tugs you close for a quick hug. “I know, I trust you and your judgment, I just got worried. If he does anything that makes you uncomfortable or makes you feel compromised, let me know. I don’t care if he’s the king, I’ll throw down my glove.”

“You’ll not duel the King, Jungkook. Go seek your bed, brother dear,” you say with a tiny smile, pushing him away from you once you reach your room. “Tell Eleanor when she comes back from the kitchens she can go straight to her room. I won’t bother her tonight because I’m so exhausted from all this excitement I’m going to fall asleep the moment my head hits the mattress.”

Jungkook grins, a look you really don’t want to identity lighting his eyes. “Will do. Sweet dreams, sis.” He stomps off and leaves you to close the door to your opulent apartments.

You yawn and observe the room as you undress, leaving the layers of clothing across a chair to be taken care of the next day. The room was spacious and absolutely gorgeous, decorated in lovely shades of robin’s egg blue, white, and gold. There was an entire room just for clothing, one for washing, and yet another whole room for your ladies maid - something that Eleanor had seemed suspiciously excited about. You worried that she was going to try yet again to seduce her love now that she had a new sort of freedom without her father about.

You crawl onto the giant golden bed and arrange the blankets over you as you fight off another yawn. A full belly and an overwhelming day full of excitement seemed to be all your poor body could handle. Another yawn and you drift off to sleep, visions of warm brown eyes and smiling lips filling your dreams.

A/N:

1. Yes, that is Hoseok. He’s a pretty princess today.

2. I don’t really like using the term “exotic” but since this is a historical and being done from the viewpoint of a person in the middle ages, it seemed fitting.

3. Oh, look at that totally huge and obvious hint to the past. Hmmm....

#bts #bts fanfic #bts scenario #kim seokin #seokjin #jin #seokjin scenario #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #king seokjin #historical romance #solastia #love and lies #jin scenario #bts x reader

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franniebanana · 3 years

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CQL Rewatch - Ep 14

Hey, I’m getting all my screencaps from Netflix now, because I finally figured out how lol. That means I’m also getting the subtitles from there (and I’ve seen a lot of Netflix haters, but at lease we won’t get “Wei Ying, clam down” and other ridiculous errors). This is just for your reference. I hope the quality of the images will be a little bit better. So I’m both looking forward to and dreading this episode. On the plus side, the first half or so is wangxian, on the downside, the rest is not. And it marks the beginning of the Lan Wangji Drought™, and subsequently my least favorite part in the entire series (not counting the Yi City arc, which, as you may recall, I have not watched yet). But let’s get started, shall we?

We left our heroes in the Xuanyu Cave. Lan Wangji was asleep and Wei Wuxian as being thoughtful and adorable. Now they are both awake and hatching a plan to defeat the Tortoise of Slaughter. Wei Wuxian is talking about the fame and glory that they’ll receive if they defeat it, but on the other hand, if they are killed by the monster, that’s not a bad way to go. Again, even though Lan Wangji’s leg is doing better, even though they survived the first brushes with death with both the Wens and the mythical monster, here they are, about to face death again. But they have no choice, right? It’s either fight the Tortoise of Slaughter or starve. The crux of this whole arc for me is that it changes their relationship forever. You don’t almost die together and not have that change you and the relationship you have with that other person. And I think that’s what makes their reunion after several months so much harder and so much sadder (I’m itching to get to that scene, which is so far from here, ughhh).

Arts and crafts project with bae! Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. I kind of love this scene, though, for what it is: the two of them quietly working together, each with his own task. There’s something kind of domestic about it, even in this dire situation. Also Lan Wangji is doing most of the work. It’s fucking hard to string/unstring a bow.

And when they’re picking up all the bows and arrows, I’m always thinking that the others made such a mess! They just chucked the arrows everywhere, dropped their bows. But why are there so many arrows on the ground? You’d think they’d mostly be in the water, as that’s where the Tortoise of Slaughter was. You know? I’m not gonna think to hard about this.

Imagine that instead of the bowstring, it’s actually one of those sticky hand things that you can swing around and stick to walls.

I spent too much time on that, I’m sorry.

Again, Lan Wangji is reminded that he’s injured and can’t be a ton of help in this situation. And I think he’s bothered by this quite a bit—not because he wants to play hero and save Wei Wuxian, but I think because he doesn’t want Wei Wuxian to bear too great a burden alone. And I think Wei Wuxian is coming from a place of caring and kindness when he points all that out. It’s not as if he wants glory either: he realizes that he is their best chance of survival, and he also knows he can count on Lan Wangji to be there for him.

This smile is so warm, so kind, so loving. Yeah, it is loving. And I do think that this sort of relationship is a big deal in the context of this story. You have two people from different clans, who have vastly different upbringings (although there are similarities with their parents’ deaths), able to come together and genuinely feel friendship for one another. This kind of thing is not that common, seemingly, in this world. It happens, right? It happens for political reasons (sworn brothers, etc.), it happens when there are marriages between clans—but we know that it isn’t common to have this particular kind of friendship, because the script literally pointed it out to us: Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan. They are different—they are close, they are soulmates, even (in a platonic way). And Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are held up to them as a direct comparison (“Lan Zhan and I went on a night hunt together”). And wangxian isn’t a friendship of convenience—they weren’t forced here together and then they have to tough it out—this was all chosen. And I think this is where the whole “soulmate” conversation becomes important, in that them coming together and forming that bond in the Cloud Recesses was driven by some kind of fate. That initial meeting, those subsequent experiences they had—if those things hadn’t happened, they probably wouldn’t be in this cave together right now. That being said, the fact that they are in this cave together right now is definitely not fate. This was a choice—or a series of choices—made by the two of them. Had there been no friendship or love between these two, Lan Wangji would have left the cave with the others. Maybe Jiang Cheng would have stayed behind, or maybe someone else would have, or possibly no one! I like to think Lan Wangji would have stayed regardless of any feelings he has towards Wei Wuxian, simply because he’s that kind of person. He stands up for Mianmian because it’s the right thing to do, for example. But as things are, it’s important that Lan Wangji stayed because of Wei Wuxian—because of his feelings for him, because of their friendship, because they have this connection to each other. And I think it’s vital that Lan Wangji is the one to first see what the Yin Iron can do to a person, specifically the person he loves.

So I thought this whole little section here was just Wei Wuxian monologuing in his head the first time I watched this. And then he’s suddenly having a conversation with Lan Wangji, and I was like, “huh?” I am pretty sure I had to rewind and rewatch just so I could understand it with the newly-acquired knowledge that Wei Wuxian was actually talking to Lan Wangji. I’m find being a little confused, but would it have killed them to make Lan Wangji say, “Now we can communicate while you’re inside” or something to that extent, after using his little powers?

Anyhow, fuck, it’s horrible in there! I feel like the smell is visceral, even though I’m watching it on my laptop, it’s like I can feel the damp, air, thick with the smell of death and decay. Credit to Xiao Zhan for just really selling me on what it feels like to be in there. Also I’m so curious what they’ve got him walking through. I wish there were some BTS on that scene. I can imagine (because this is how my mind works) how difficult it was to clean his costume after that. Like that crap must have gotten into every tiny little nook and cranny of his shoes, and just YUCK! They were like, “Just throw them out. We have another pair.”

Since Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are in a sense psychically linked here, does that mean that Lan Wangji can feel the energy that Wei Wuxian feels from the sword? He’s definitely reacting to something going on, but then I think Wei Wuxian talks about it later as if Lan Wangji doesn’t know. The romantic in me says that Lan Wangji is reacting because they are so spiritually connected that he can feel when something is wrong.

And now we have this very long action sequence where Lan Wangji does a lot of flying around and Wei Wuxian clings to that sword like Harry Potter on that bucking broomstick in the first movie. I’m sorry, that’s all I think about, and that thought will never leave my mind. What’s kind of cool is that they remind us immediately that Lan Wangji is still injured, by showing us his bloody leg right at the start of this sequence. So he’s flying around, using everything he’s got left, while still being gravely injured—it shows you just how powerful Lan Wangji is. He’s no weakling.

Another cool detail is that you can actually see the staining on Wei Wuxian’s boots from the muck he was walking around in! Nice continuity!

I can’t help it, anytime Lan Wangji yells out, “Wei Ying!” I melt into a puddle on the floor. There’s something about how little he does talk that when he does, it’s important and meaningful and impactful. And, yes, most of his lines are yelling out Wei Ying’s name, but that doesn’t make it any less meaningful when he does it. Every time he says it, it’s a reminder that there is a strong relationship there. As I’ve said before, even Jiang Cheng doesn’t call him by his given name. This is not just an everyday friendship here—it’s more than that—it’s a bond that can’t be broken even in death. That might sound silly and dramatic, but it doesn’t make it any less true. And that’s why when I hear him say, “Wei Ying!” it draws to the surface all of these other feelings. It’s not just a name, it’s not just a line—it’s something so much more.

Also, I want to point out that as soon as Lan Wangji figures out something is indeed very wrong with Wei Wuxian, he goes into overdrive. His hands are bleeding from the bowstring in his hand, his teeth are gritted, he somehow reaches into himself for even more power to defeat this monster.

Seriously? How dare you interrupt my wangxian scene with this garbage? I could not care less about anything going on in this scene. Just fuck off. The worst cut ever. What a stupid cut.

So, as if the Tortoise of Slaughter wasn’t bad enough, this poor kid (because he is just a kid) is now traumatized by the voices coming out of that sword. The pain, the fear, the negative energy—all of it was coursing through him, and worst of all, perhaps, he was even able to use that energy to defeat the monster. And I think, now that he’s felt it and seen it and used it, there’s really no going back. Dangerous? Yes, it’s dangerous, but it’s also powerful, and it saved their lives.

This part kills me every time, though, no matter how many times I see it. Wei Wuxian is just a husk of the person he was ten minutes ago. Where’s that cocky, smirking smartass? Where’s the Wei Wuxian we all know and love? But the reality is, part of him is lost. And throughout the scene, he’s clutching that sword, as if his life still depended on it. He won’t let that thing go, and I also find that hard to watch. And Lan Wangji here is out of his mind, desperate to help him. He runs into the water so fast, as if there is no leg injury at all. And, of course, that’s adrenaline for you, but it’s also just a testament to his strength and resolve and his willingness to go into a literal hell for Wei Wuxian.

And even in his feverish state, Wei Wuxian can’t help but tease Lan Wangji a little, pointing out that he never expected Second Master Lan to be this concerned about him. But it’s interesting that he uses that formal title there, as if he’s putting distance between them. Wei Wuxian is just Wei Wuxian—Wei Ying—and Lan Wangji is Second Master Lan. Whether it’s intentional or not, he’s drawing attention to this hierarchical difference between them, and I don’t think it’s a self-worth issue at all, because I think Wei Wuxian is okay with who his is—I don’t think he has qualms about that really. It’s more driving home the point of we shouldn’t be this close. Or isn’t it funny that we are this close? And he later draws a parallel to Jiang Cheng (again) by saying that at least Jiang Cheng wouldn’t be a boring companion (EDIT: Okay, he doesn’t say that—maybe in the book?). Ironic, because their stay in Xuanwu cave has been anything but boring. But I also think Jiang Cheng would not have been able to maintain his cool at all in that cave. No, I think that Wei Wuxian needed Lan Wangji to survive. He needed someone a little cold, logical, quick-witted, but desperate.

OMG, ALSO! Can I point out the lovely, beautiful, haunting cello music that’s playing this whole time? Not on the OST, which is a damn shame. So you’ll have to watch the episode to hear it, but it’s just so beautiful.

And pause for the clip show that will also make you cry!

“Wangxian.” Yes, yes, the greatest mystery of this whole series—the name of the song and how Lan Wangji immediately recognized Wei Wuxian in the second episode. So I don’t think they ever actually tell you the name of the song, right? It’s like this fun little thing for the fans of the book, and maybe they couldn’t say it because of censorship (because of what it implies, you know?). I’m not a great lip reader, but it looks like “Wangxian” to me. And if he’s saying something else, I don’t care—it is going to be Wangxian to me, regardless.

Man, this scene, though. I can never really hear the humming because you have to turn up the volume so damn loud, and even then it’s hard to hear. Maybe it’s just me. The first time I watched it, I was like, is he actually humming? I don’t hear anything. I was, again, confused. But anyway, it’s good that we see all those scenes with Lan Wangji, because guess what? You’re not going to see him for three or four episodes, FML. FML. FML.

FML.

Can you tell I’m not excited about these upcoming parts? Honestly it’s so tempting to skip it, but that’s not the point of this rewatch. I likely won’t have a ton to say, though, so maybe I’ll do more than one a week (don’t count on it, though).

Okay, guys. Here we go. If you think Jiang Cheng is a kind, gentle soul with a rough exterior, then you may not want to read the next few episodes. I like Jiang Cheng. I do. However, he is an asshole. A complete and total asshole with the occasional kind word thrown someone’s way. I think he cares about Wei Wuxian, as I’ve said before, but that he cares about himself far more. He is the antithesis to Lan Wangji. And that’s definitely on purpose. So, feel free to send me asks or whatever (and that goes for anyone, by the way—I don’t bite and I like to chat with people), but you’re not going to be able to convince me even that CQL Jiang Cheng is a good guy. I think you could try and read him that way, but you’d be ignoring some key things in his behavior and his character.

All right. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s start anew. It fucking sucks that the first people Wei Wuxian sees upon waking up are Jin Zixuan and Jiang Cheng, both of which essentially scold him immediately, as if he didn’t fucking save their lives back there. I’m sorry, that guy right there—yeah, him—he was read to sacrifice himself to save you. Jin Zixuan, “I didn’t do it for you.” Then why? You did it for Lan Wangji? Or you did it because it would be politically advantageous to you because you were engaged to Jiang Yanli? I’m just saying, be nicer to the man who was willing to die for you, okay?

Oh, my god, as if that weren’t enough, Jiang Cheng actually gets angry that Wei Wuxian doesn’t thank him! And this isn’t some macho guy thing where he just can’t show that he cares about him—this is just who Jiang Cheng is. He thinks of himself first and others second. Period.

So aside from those two being assholes, we do at least get some information here. The clans are now all resolved to fight against the Wen Clan. They all know what’s going on and they’re finally ready to stand up against it. The Cloud Recesses is trashed and Lan Wangji left on his own to go back, presumably to take it back from the Wens. I would have loved a heartfelt scene of them getting out together, but that isn’t even in the book, so CQL isn’t going to add that kind of nice stuff, I guess. But they did add this scene, which is mostly just showcasing that Jin Zixuan and Wei Wuxian still don’t like each other, Jiang Cheng is an asshole, and the world is generally fucked up right now.

A reminder that even though he’s in the bright sunlight, Wei Wuxian still has this darkness. It’s permeated him now. He can’t turn away from it. It’s part of him. And it’s something he can’t really share with anyone else—Lan Wangji to a point, but even he doesn’t get to know everything. However, he is, I think, the only one who would have listened.

Cute detail from the book, that Wei Wuxian had carved this into his headboard. What a romantic lol. I don’t have anything special to say other than, y’know, those two could be both guys.

It’s hard to even know what to say here. So much is going on, so many emotions, so many accusations—and Wei Wuxian is caught up in all of this. Madam Yu starts by chastising him for making trouble when he didn’t need to (she thought it better to let the Jins and Lans handle things, no need for the Jiangs to get involved), and then it spirals into this horrible tirade about Jiang Fengmian being hung up on Wei Wuxian’s mother, and in turn favoring Wei Wuxian over his own son because of it. There is so much jealousy and hatred and guilt wrapped up in all of this, it’s hard to even comment. I can’t imagine growing up the way Jiang Cheng did, feeling second best in everything by someone who’s not even your actual brother, feeling like your own father doesn’t really love you as much as he loves someone else. And now throw in that your father doesn’t love your mother because he had an affair with another woman. I can’t imagine how awful that would be. And despite what people might say, it’s hard to really, truly, break away from your parents, especially in a culture like this. It’s important to honor your parents in everything, so standing up to them is a definite no-no. And Jiang Cheng probably feels like the only parent who really loves him is his mother, even though she is the worst person ever. This doesn’t excuse his behavior, but it does help explain a bit of why he does the things he does to Wei Wuxian. I think he’s itching to feel superior over him, and that he’s been extremely jealous of him for a long, long time.

And then, god, what Wei Wuxian is feeling here! He’s the first one to always take the hit for Jiang Cheng. He’s always going to do whatever he can to make him feel better. He makes the sacrifices. That’s part of who Wei Wuxian is—he’s very selfless and courageous. I also can’t imagine how he feels, to be stuck in the middle of this very personal, very private family argument. The kind of raw emotion that’s on display in this scene is hard for me to watch. It’s awkward, it’s ugly, it’s a dark side to family dynamics that a lot of us thankfully never have to experience. It’s horrible to think that even when Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji were basically awaiting death in that cave, it was quite peaceful, though the landscape was harsh. And now that he’s back in this peaceful setting of Lotus Pier, he’s faced with another monster in the form of his adoptive family.

Of course Wei Wuxian knows that Jiang Fengmian doesn’t love him more—he’s harsher with Jiang Cheng because he’s the heir and he needs to be tougher, he needs to be able to lead this clan. I’m curious if Jiang Fengmian actually did have an affair, but if anything, it was probably emotional. I don’t think that Wei Wuxian is his love child or anything. But at the end of the day, the way I read this is just that the man has trouble being there for his son on an emotional level, and he feels bad for Wei Wuxian and overcompensates for that by giving him more attention. The thing is, while I don’t agree with it, I think he’s harder on his son because Jiang Cheng needs to someday lead. All Wei Wuxian needs to do is support that. And he does. He always supports Jiang Cheng. Always, that is, until Wei Wuxian finally starts to think about what he wants to do with his life, and he doesn’t want to spend it torturing people who don’t deserve it.

The Twin Prides of Yunmeng. It’s a nice idea, but it relies on Wei Wuxian submitting himself to Jiang Cheng at all times for the rest of their lives. It makes Wei Wuxian give up his agency. It makes him give up his dream to do what’s right and always have a clear conscience. If he had followed Jiang Cheng into fire, he would have had to lose himself in the process. So this is a promise that Wei Wuxian could never hope to keep. Although it’s a nice promise, it was said to make Jiang Cheng feel better.

Other episodes: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 |

#wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #cql #the untamed #jiang cheng #jin zixuan #jiang fengmian #madam yu #wwx #lwj #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #cql rewatch

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yicruz48 · 4 years

Text

Teen Titans Review: Issue 42

Written: June/23/2020

The issue starts off with Damian recalling memories from the past that he had with Alfred. Damian looks back at this memory as a moment that Alfred gave him guidance when he felt lost in the past. And this is when we hit the biggest problem with this Issue:

I’m not denying that Alfred is not an actual support system to rely on and some sort of guiding force in his life because he is:

The thing I have an issue with, that I’ve discussed with @wesavegotham is that Alfred, primarily in Teen Titan’s has been everything but a support system to Damian. If anything, he is one of many who antagonizes him and claims that Damian knows exactly who is (When the core conflict in Damian’s character is not knowing who he is because of his upbringing in the league and his connection to Batman so that claim is stupid).

But most importantly, Alfred is portrayed as someone that Damian NEEDS in his life to make good, sensible moral decisions in this issue. And now that Damian doesn’t have him in his life he is incapable of telling good from bad.

Which if you have read Batman and Robin (2011) and R:SOB you know that Damian is self-aware of what is morally bad. As well as knowing what he did what he did in the past was wrong and why it was wrong. Sure, he had a push from Bruce but he mostly he reflected and discovered it on his own.

Writing it as if Damian doesn’t have the cognitive ability to understand that killing (even if they are evil) is wrong in current times without depending on someone else for guidance trashes his previous development. It makes it seem like Damian never learned anything from killing Nobody in Batman and Robin.

But moving on, the Issue continues with the members attempting to find out what is going to happen next with each other after breaking up last issue:

-> Damian attempting to figure out the next best way to end crime while stopping a bank robbery.

-> Crush somehow very open to becoming friends with Roundhouse after he trapped her...um...crush-love interest in her ring.

-> Wallace seemly out of no where having the desire to confess to Emiko even though there wasn’t really anything in the previous issues to make me think that he liked her. Would’ve made sense of Emiko was the one confessing since she has shown more interest in him, but whatever.

Later, the gods have appeared to have answered the members question about what to do next after breaking up: which is coming back together to find out who killed Brother Blood (not as a team as explicitly mentioned by the team several times but I guess as individuals who will work together for one last time(s?)).

Anyhow, they go into the sewers (where Brother Blood died) in order to find clues to who killed Brother Blood. As they are finding clues in a hidden location where Brother Blood had barrels of toxins to control his cronies they are interrupted by his cronies.

Their plan suddenly shifts from finding out who killed Brother Blood to stopping Brother Blood’s cronies. Once they do, they leave the scene quickly before the police catches sight of them.

The team again questions whether the death of Brother Blood was a good thing or a bad thing. Evidently having very conflicted feelings about it.

The team is ready to drift off their own ways again but Emiko is adamant about figuring out who killed Brother Blood. The team eventually decides to continue working together till they find out who killed Brother Blood.

Towards the end of the Issue Bruce suddenly remembers he has fucking son (that he probably should check on) and like Damian is very lost on how to approach and/or reconnect with Damian without Alfred around (and this my friends, is called a parallel. Which means we should probably remember this for future issues).

Conclusions:

-> So I am guessing Batman didn’t encounter the Teen Titans like in said in the solicitations? Because to me it just seemed like it picked off after where we left over last issue.

I’m guessing this was one of the changes Teen Titans took after quarantine hit? Because originally Eduardo Pansica was supposed to draw these issues (42-44) but it was suddenly switched to Javier Fernandez as if the story was scrapped.

-> Overall, surprisingly this issue wasn’t that bad besides that big issue I mentioned in the beginning.

-> It was enjoyable to see Damian not portrayed as an non-sympathetic asshole like Glass liked to portray him. With the added plus of vegan/vegetarian being brought back to canon after disappearing years ago.

-> Wished that Thompson would’ve focused more on the emotional aspect of Damian seeing his grandfather die in front of him rather than emotionally-dependent aspect of it.

-> Glad the team “broke up” I guess. Though I can’t get the feeling off like they are all in a toxic relationship they keep finding weak reasons to stay in. In the words of Roundhouse, “You all need therapy.”

-> Very confused as to why are they running away from the police when they did nothing. Was it because they trespassed?

-> There is apart of me that is questioning whether Damian did actually kill Brother Blood before meeting up with the Teen Titans and the cover was not just a ruse. It was Emiko, not Damian who brought the team together in Roundhouse’s home. Damian wasn’t interested enough to organize this meeting himself. And why would he if he was the one who killed him in the first place?

Also every time the team questioned Damian about what to do or what HE wanted to do, he kept getting flashbacks back to Alfred and him. As if he was conflicted about telling the Team something he did.

Also when he was asked if he wanted to find out how Brother Blood died he hesitated and said, “ I agree with Red Arrow. You need to know why.”

Not, “‘we’ need to know why”. Almost implicating that he knows why he died (obliviously, if he killed him) and wants to:

a) Play along because if he said no they might be suspicious of him.

b) He wants them to know it was him. Like the guilt is eating up at him or he thinks it will somehow convince him to see his way and join him.

Plus it seemed like Emiko was suspicious of Damian. She was in deep thought at Roundhouse’s home about something. She kept trying to bring the focus on the cause of Brother Blood’s death as if there was something crawling at her in the back of her mind.

But I could be wrong. it could be KG Beast who killed him (which starts off Damian on his hunt or something).

Anyways...let me know what you thought about this issue in the comments. I love to see discussions in the comments.

What is your guy’s impression on Robbie Thompson’s first issue alone?

#I imagine this issue worse in my head so I was kinda surprised #Damian Wayne #Teen Titans #Robin #Batman #Alfred Pennyworth #Crush #xiomara rojas #billy wu #roundhous #wallace west ii #kid flash #emiko queen #red arrow #flash #green arrow #yicruz48

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estellaestella · 3 years

Note

How do you generate those beautiful editing ideas？

Do you think that Oliver loves Elio as deeply as Elio does？

Sometimes it’s as simple as seeing a model/actor/actress in a striking pose/outift and wanting to edit Timmy into that and sometimes I’ll have a specific idea and keep a look out for photos that might help me make it. Those ones take ages. For example, with the backless bib edit (I’ll reblog it later today) I wanted to show Timmy without the jacket from the front, facing us (with Armie behind him, looking down at the ribbons) but gave up on that idea when I couldnt find the right photo of the bib. But then months later I came across a photo of Rooney Mara in a backless bib in profile view and instantly realised a side-view pic would actually be a much better idea for what I wanted to show. So that was man-ipulated to become Timmy’s body, then I tailored the bib around him, added the profile view of his face that went best with the mood of the piece, made the skin of that match up with the rest, added the ribbons. [For now the ribbons are tied. One day, I hope to add Armie to the edit with him pulling those strings open, with the arch of Timmy’s back showing off that tense pull between them.] Anyhow, not sure this answered the idea generating part properly but you can see how the edit has to actually flow with what I have available to me. Which is where I really envy artists who can draw or paint exactly what they want; my stuff is always dependent on what’s already available. I’m still tickled that someone thinks my editing ideas are beautiful. Thank you for that :D

Does Oliver love Elio as deeply as Elio does? I think what they feel is intense and soul-satiating for both of them but the way they are experiencing it is different. Elio is experiencing his first love as a teenager so it’s simply all-pervasive. He’s at a point of his life where he feels things from the curls of his head to the bottom of his soles. It’s not something you can compare to the experience of a twenty-something. Oliver is older and, as he likes to say, knows himself. So there is more discernment in his affections. When he says he values Elio’s intelligence and personality, it has more weight to it because he’s seen much more of life than Elio has. He knows that what he feels is not going to be fleeting. His heart didn’t catch on fire the way Elio’s did. He actually tries to stay away from it and then when he sees how gone Elio is for him, he walks into it almost for Elio’s sake rather than his own. I think that speaks volumes about his love.

And the film being framed from Elio’s perspective will always put Oliver at a disadvantage. We can only see a part of his actions or motivations. So if he seems less devastated at their separation it’s because we dont see the moment after the train pulls away, or when he puts down the phone after that conversation. And if you take the film as a separate entity from the book (and why not, it certainly is) then you might want to think over whether or not Oliver mentions the engagement to help Elio get over him. It’s a comforting thought.

<3 <3 <3

Thank you for this @cokor. Who do you think loved more: Elio or Olver?

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drawbauchery · 4 years

Text

The Second Session

fic by cartoons-tothemoon

“So, let’s review, last session, we broke you down to many of your core traits and neuroses.”

“Thanks for reminding me, it’s not like I have the capacity to remember last week.” Skipper muttered.

“Well, now we’re here to build you back up, and work from that onwards.” Hans said. He had his hands folded plainly in his lap, and he’d changed the lighting in the office. Skipper hated it. He hated having to sit across from a smug as shit Hans as he waited calmly and quietly for Skipper to begin talking, with that terrible, blinding light that gave off a strangely clinical feel that makes him more uneasy than anything else. He wonders if Hans would let him sleep for the hour he was meant to spend here. Sure, he’d be paying $35 for a nap, which was crazy in of itself, but he knows from experience that sometimes all you need is a good nap to be a functioning person again.

“I’m not in the position to really diagnose you with anything, and even if I was, I’d still need more time to get to know your mind before I could really prescribe anything for your current conditions.”

“Conditions?”

“Plural. Like children trying to sneak into a cineplex in a trench coat, what was once one turned out to be two or more disorders standing on top of one another’s shoulders. Bouts of aggression and insomnia tied to intense paranoia, a complex that comes from being a leader, and a fear of depending on others. Abandonment issues, repression-“

Skipper waved his hands in a forceful sort of wave, “yes, thank you. Just tell me what to do about it already.”

“What?”

“Just fix me already.” Skipper seemed frustrated. “You’re the one who thinks I’m broken in the first place, the only reason I’m here in the first place is to prevent any future surprise tea parties.”

Hans sighed. They were barely even 5 minutes in, and Hans just knew he was going to be spending the rest of the session constructing arguments for statements Skipper constructed in seconds.

“If this was only to prevent any more…surprise visits from moi, then I would’ve been fine with just the first session. And I think you know that.”

He did. He did know that. Hans suggested the idea of a second session, and so did Skipper, in the way that you do when you’re bonding with people you have a rather hostile history with. No commitment was really stated, which left the ball in Skipper’s court, but what was he supposed to do after that thorough deconstruction, let it simmer in his soul for the rest of his known life?

He couldn’t even let it simmer for a whole week at this point, after all, he was already considering asking RICO of all people if he was too arrogant a leader and intentionally pushing people away.

RICO.

It made sense at the time, Kowalski would question where he was learning such jargon and be able to draw conclusions based on his recent absence, and Private would do nothing but validate him. Because he was just that nice, he supposed.

“Second, it’s not about being “broken” or “fixed” or what have you, the fact of the matter is that you have the most high-stress job in your already high-stress career. As much as I enjoyed our battles in the fish markets of Denmark, it’s not like the experience hasn’t done something to me, or you for that matter.”

Hans sighed, he was already just so exhausted by this…session. He’d even revealed that he too shared in mental health struggles if Skipper was willing to pick up the scraps left behind for him. Skipper looked a little surprised, sure, but fell back into an understood complacency sooner than later.

Was this the closest they were ever going to get to a true understanding of the other?

He supposed he’d have to take it.

“And lastly, I can’t tell you how to “fix” yourself. I’m a therapist, not a life coach. I’m not here to give advice, I’m here to examine your trauma, and give you a better perspective on how to move forward. However, I can’t take those steps for you. You kinda have to figure out a lot of those things on your own.”

Skipper looked positively moody about this, but less in a spoiled, petulant five-year-old sort of way, and more…accepting of it. He looked tired, and less because it was barely just a quarter past 1. It was an abstract tiredness, one not born of resting or restlessness, but a thing all its own.

Skipper sighed. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“This is a timely process for a reason, Skipper. Many people can spend years in therapy trying to handle these exact issues.”

“I didn’t realize this was a life sentence in the making.” Skipper muttered.

God, this was already such a process. Hans could tell that Skipper couldn’t stand the vagueness of this all. He was an action guy, he wanted an easy solution of doing task A to accomplish thing B, and achieve reward C, and go on with his life.

No, not even an easy solution. A clear solution. Skipper was a problem solver. All of this was already so abstract, and he didn’t even know if he was so vehemently against this whole process just because it was him, or just because it was therapy at all. He even had a client who after a bad experience with a therapist in middle school decided to turn her sessions into stand-up, just because she was already so familiar and so bored with the process.

Maybe that’s what he needed to channel. Therapy in of itself was at the best of times uncomfortable and at the worst of times boring. He was already dealing with a high energy, high stress client, who was uncomfortable as all hell with being there. If he put him back into a comfortable situation, he may or may not get something out of him, and if he doesn’t, at the very least make him more comfortable with spending time with him at all, off the clock, at least.

“What do you like to do, Skipper? In your free-time?”

Skipper eyed him suspiciously. “Uh, why?”

“I’m trying something. Trust me here.”

That could’ve been phrased SO much better, from nemesis to nemesis, but Skipper seemed willing in the moment to run with that trust. “I like working on my combat capabilities, driving around, sometimes I watch TV and movies, I help Private bake when he feels like it, I nap, I gamble…”

Skipper seemed to be drawing a blank for whatever reason. Surely, he had things he did in his free time, right? It wasn’t like he was ALWAYS on the clock, he just never really thought of certain periods of time as…free. What even counted as free-time anyhow? Was it just time that wasn’t spent doing other things? Under that definition, no time was free.

“Can I say this to you as both a friend, an enemy, and somebody who’s known you for quite a few years at this point?”

Skipper nodded hesitantly.

“Jesus Christ, you need some hobbies.” Hans stated, matter of factly. “Working on your “combat capabilities,” as you put it, seems to be a literal constant considering your job as…however your job is defined, so it’s less play and more work than anything else. You mentioned helping Private bake “when he feels like it,” and I wouldn’t exactly call napping a hobby, or gambling a healthy one.”

Skipper shrugged. It’s not like “Stomp the Wombat” ever left the confines of the lair, anyhow.

“It just feels like you don’t have a lot of things you do just for yourself, you know? Driving around and watching TV are the only hobbies that feel wholly your own, something you don’t do for work or for others. Keep in mind that you can keep doing these things you enjoy, but perhaps you should find other things for yourself. Like an instrument, or a cooking class.”

“I told the boys that I joined a bowling league just to be here.”

“And did that seem believable enough for you to do to be here?”

His silence told Hans everything, but not the literal everything of Skipper “going to bed” at 8 just to climb through his window at 12:30, shimmy down the fire escape, and walk to Hans’s office.

But he probably could tell anyhow.

Of course, this kind of put a blight on Hans’s plans to make Skipper more comfortable while being here, and as he told him such, Skipper proceeded to lay down on the couch. Hans couldn’t tell the exact reason for the action, but it did seem to be a point of exasperation for him.

“Well, damn, sorry I “foiled your plot” to make myself comfortable in the den of the beast.”

“Skipper, you insult me. You really think I’d decorate my den with wooden sailboats? Absolutely criminal.”

“You seem to forget that.” He muttered. Hans ignored it.

“Although the hobby talk didn’t exactly lead where I thought it could…It did lead me elsewhere.”

“Goddamn it.”

“What skill have you always wanted to learn? What’s something that you’ve wanted to try for just, so long, and never got the chance to?”

Skipper began to pick at his lip. This whole talk already made him nervous, but now what was he supposed to say? That he figured he’d be in the back of a truck with is hand hanging out the taillight since he was 14, for whatever reason, so he didn’t even bother considering his top 3 colleges, let alone any future ambitions?

Still, if he was quiet for too long, either Hans would judge him, or he’d render his lips a bloody mess, and that’d be a whole different thing to deal with.

“…Archery sounds fun.” He said. Hans nodded.

“That’s interesting. It’s closely related to your pre-established interests but it’s closer to a sport now than something to be used in an actual combat situation, which sort of allows it to be separated from your work.”

Skipper nodded as well, allowing Hans to believe that that was his thought process from the start, and more of just curious to see if he could shoot a flame off a candle like Annie Oakley.

“You mentioned you liked baking with Private. Do you like the idea of baking itself, or just doing it with another person?”

“Food is meant to be shared?” Skipper seemed to be asking, but also stated in a very definitive way. “It’s a process. It’d be weird not to help in the process.”

Hans pulled his hand away from Skipper’s mouth, where a few small cuts were beginning to form. “If you’d like to have a session where we did a low-stress activity you wanted to do, and we talked while doing so, I think it’d put you in the best conductive environment possible to actually combat the problems that seem so visible to me. This was a good first development, though. I just don’t know if I can expect on accidental issues to identify and attack every time.”

Hans sighed and got up from his chair to stare out the window. Skipper didn’t know why he did this, outside of being a dramatic bitch, but it got him to look anyhow.

“It’s so incidental, many people struggle with balancing work and life as is, but this could easily be one of the main causes of your paranoia, as well as causing a level of detachment and depersonalization, which relates to how you relate to others.”

And well, damn. What was Skipper supposed to say to that?

“Our time’s almost up.” Hans said, checking his watch. Skipper was coming to realize how strange time in therapy was. It simultaneously felt like hours and seconds passing all at once. Perhaps it was because there were no clocks, like a casino. Or maybe it was because going to therapy at 1 in the morning didn’t exactly give you a sun to follow in terms of time. Hans handed Skipper a weird sort of rack with string on it, along with some tissues.

“It’s a loom. Fidget with something that won’t bleed for the next five minutes, if you would.”

Skipper glared at him for the snide comment, but Skipper didn’t exactly put it back where Hans had stored it originally. Picking at the strings inanely didn’t feel as satisfying as his usual fidgets, but it would work until he lost focus and the skin had time to heal.

“I’m giving you three assignments until our next session.” Skipper would’ve originally rolled his eyes at the idea of homework, but there was something that felt already strange about this session. Last session, he was so thoroughly antagonized and owned in such a way that his entire psychological history had been exposed, but this made last session feel like…a misstep. It was almost like Hans was trying to give the rug back to Skipper after it had already been so unceremoniously swept away from him.

He seemed as unsure about this as he was, he even confided about the state of his own mental health, something he probably wasn’t supposed to do. Which, honestly, made Skipper feel better about the whole thing. He didn’t like being guided, and as much as he detested having to do this whole thing with Hans in particular, the idea of having to figure out a stranger at the same time they were trying to figure out him sounded like a nightmare. More than this already was.

The whole session felt off, sure, but it wasn’t as off as it could’ve been, and he knows it could only be worse.

“I want you to begin researching archery, if you really want to pursue it as a hobby, you should try to learn what you can about it before jumping in and figuring out it isn’t what you thought it was.”

“I want you to pay a compliment to each of your team members in a casual way, this’ll strengthen your bonds with them, in a way that allows you to affirm that you appreciate them, as much as they appreciate you.”

Okay, that sounded like hippie nonsense, but who was he to judge at this point.

“And finally, I want you to pick out a recipe to prepare during our next session.”

“Wait, what?”

“A recipe. Something that’ll take less than an hour. I have a friend who’d give me access to their kitchen in the middle of the night, so we’ll be on neutral ground, and I’m sure it’ll be more believable to your “boys” that if you really are doing something in the middle of the night, that you have physical proof of it. Considering how weirdly secretive you are already, the idea you covered up secret cooking lessons with a bowling league doesn’t sound too far-fetched.” Hans was muttering at this point. All these things answered questions he figured he’d have, but nothing that helped with where he was NOW.

“I know it’s a weird idea, but the clients who have had the chance to do different, vaguely active things during our sessions tend to be more open and honest with me about things that they’re worried about, things that they struggle with, and they can make for more engaging sessions where you actually take in what I’m telling you, and makes it less of a lecture.” Hans sighed. “If you hate it, we never have to try anything like that again, but, I do really want you to give it a try. This is a two-way street, I can only give as much as I myself get. I just got lucky this week.”

Skipper stopped strumming the loom.

“Text me the address.” He said, and Hans would have burst with joy if such a thing was appropriate in present company, until he realized.

“I…don’t have your number?”

“Oh, no, session’s over! Wow, how did the time fly? Guess you’ll just have to figure that out for yourself, what a swell talk we had, doc,” Skipper yelled as he headed out the door.

“Pay at the front desk!” Hans yelled back before relaxing into his chair. Skipper was never going to be an easy client to deal with. Maybe he wouldn’t ALWAYS dance around the issues at hand, but he was never going to REALLY come clean about it. There may be things they never talk about, the same way Hans did.

And that was fine. Maybe it made what little he did learn all the more rewarding. Maybe it made what little he learned all the more meaningless if Skipper ever reached a point of complete and utter honesty with him, a fantasy he knew would never see come to light.

But who was to say, really?

It was all a matter of time.

After all, this was only the second session.

(Ahh! I can’t believe I didn’t post another fic for a whole! Month! I think it’s just because I didn’t really know what to do for the second session, and I think you can kinda tell, considering it’s not like Hans knows what to do either. Do you guys really want a whole fic series about Skipper going to therapy? I have no idea. It’s pretty fun, though. I don’t know how Hans became a therapist, either, but I guess that’s just what the dude does now. By the way, the client who turned her therapy sessions into stand-up comedy? That was just me in high school with my mandated therapist. I once gave a funeral to a squeaky toy I broke in the middle of the session. It was simultaneously so sad and so funny at the exact same time.

This fic will be up on my ao3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tadstrangerthings, as soon as @drawbauchery posts it!)

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reshirement · 3 years

Note

Sending one right back at you :) for the OTP questions, for bagginshield, 1, 6, 12, 27, and if you’re up for it 29 & 30! (no pressure of course I know it’s a lot)

hey, no worries @sunnibits! i love these! i used to have a friend where i’d post question lists that were sometimes a mile long, and she’d come into my inbox like ‘ALL OF THEM HAHAH’ so i’d have to spend two days writing an essay. 😂 not to say i didn’t do exactly the same thing 👀 but in any case thank you for the questions!

1. Who is the most affectionate?

This is a tough one because I think they’re both very affectionate, if in different ways. Physically affectionate, Thorin is going to top out on this one. If he wants to hold Bilbo (and Bilbo doesn’t seem to be in any kind of mood to stop him in a serious manner) he’s going to hold Bilbo or take his hand, give him a kiss, wrap him in his cloak and rest his chin on top of his head, that sort of thing so there’s absolutely no mistaking how he feels.

Bilbo, on the other hand, while he enjoys that sort of affection very much, I think would show it more in other ways. Rearranging meetings or taking on additional projects in Erebor when he thinks Thorin has too much on his plate, making sure Thorin eats more than once a day and eats well by cooking for him (honestly he will feed this dwarf hobbit style if he can get away with it, food is important), having a warm hearth, hot bath and a filled pipe ready for Thorin when he returns for the day from wherever he’s been, little daily things beyond the physical that absolutely radiate love and care.

6. What is their favorite feature of their partner’s?

Hm. If you asked him, I think Bilbo would mention Thorin’s blue-grey eyes, the strength of his arms, the silver-threaded fall of Thorin’s hair. Things you can wax lyrical about in a sonnet or a story, things that make sense to share in conversation. But really, his favorite bits of the dwarf are probably more intimate, personal details, like the curve of his ear, visible on the rare occasions Thorin puts his hair back in a loose tie, the slight curl of the smile hidden just under his beard when he’s teasing. The roughness of his hands, the paler, almost dainty skin of his feet always hidden by heavy boots (once he stops chuckling about them, anyhow). Pieces of Thorin that feel like they’re just Bilbo’s, those are his favorites.

As for Thorin, I think he mostly appreciates Bilbo’s softness both in face and body (something the dwarf has not had much of in his life, and indulges in with Bilbo), watching the laugh lines develop around his eyes and mouth, the smirk Bilbo gives him when the hobbit feels he’s done something exceptionally clever, or when they share a private joke.

I also think he probably also has a fascination with Bilbo’s ears, but never brings it up because that’s just asking for a teasing volley about their pointed similarity to the ears of elves (which Thorin would vehemently disagree with both on principle and because honestly they look absolutely nothing alike, he’s spent a lot of time considering this, you see).

12. Who initiates kisses?

Depends on which part you’d consider ‘initiating.’ Thorin, for sure, is the one to swoop in for a peck on the cheek, a full snog or anything in between whenever the whim strikes him, but Bilbo is what I like to call a kiss angler. He’s the one who is going to make eye contact and tilt his head just so, or lean in just a bit too close over Thorin’s shoulder to see what he’s working on, probably with an additional, unnecessary hand on the shoulder that will tilt their faces that much closer.

This tactic is often subtle, and is meant to draw the dwarf in without technically shifting his focus from anything else, and honestly is such a common occurrence that the movement won’t even register with Thorin before he complies and Bilbo gets his kiss (not that he would mind in the slightest!)

27. Who would sing to their child back to sleep?

Both of them. Thorin has nephews he raised, so I’m sure that move would be old-hat to him, and as a lighter sleeper, it would probably be him most often rising in the night to see about a child’s distress.

I think Thorin would absolutely sing to soothe a child as a go-to method, crooning a lullaby or two, and while I’m certain Bilbo would sing as well if a child wanted him to, he’d probably have to be asked first. After all, Bilbo’s a story-teller, and more likely to offer a tale over a song to calm and distract a little one from fears in the night.

29. One headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart.

I think Frodo is right, Bilbo knew the value of the mithril quite well, but I don’t believe he knew at first when it was given to him, or had any inkling of it’s value, other than as a gift from someone he loved (whether he realized it yet or not) that he was profoundly worried about given the dragonsickness and the armies at the time.

But eventually, Bilbo found out. Whether from a dwarf friend visiting him in his home, or an old history book he was perusing years down the line, eVENTUALLY Bilbo learned what the mithril was, how incredibly valuable, how profoundly irreplaceable, and Thorin had handed it over freely with his heartfelt ‘It is a gift’ to Bilbo whilst in the throes of dragonsickness where he trusted not even his own kin.

Now as I said, years down the line, Bilbo’s at home, he’s coping, he’s living. He’s pushed it down in the traditional hobbit style of ‘I’m going to keep everything right here and then one day I’ll die.’ (considering the people he lived with in the Shire, there wasn’t exactly another option for him.) He’d loved Thorin then, and still does, but it’s a painful, perhaps romanticized tragedy, one that exists solely in the writers’ mind. Perhaps other than a double-handful of small moments, there was no real tangible proof that Thorin felt as he did, and it would be easy to convince himself over the years that whatever connection they appeared to have was perhaps a one-sided one. That they were dear friends, nothing more. After all, it’s easier to grieve a personal loss if it’s confined to the tragedy, and not the shape your future might have taken.

But the mithril, once the gravity of that gesture truly sinks in, what it meant, what it means. I can imagine that unlocking some terrible floodgates, and all of a sudden the battle was only yesterday and he’s grieving because Thorin loved him too, and he’s angry, furious. Angry at Thorin, angry at the both of them for not saying anything sooner, angry at himself, the dragon, the armies, the sickness.

Angry at what he lost, what they all lost, and I can’t imagine him being anything but horrendously overwhelmed, and feeling heartbrokenly alone. I think the mithril shirt would in that very moment go from a nostalgic comfort to a terrible burden, and I believe the night that Bilbo discovered the true worth of the mithril was the same night it ended up in the mathom-house.

30. One headcanon about this OTP that mends it.

Now that that godawful headcanon is out of the way, how about this one for the book!verse? After the Battle of the Five Armies, Erebor held too many ghosts. Thorin did not fall, (though perhaps he meant to fall, what with the leaving behind of the armor before making that suicidal charge) and abdicating was not only the best option considering his actions under the goldsickness and how that might impact Erebor and future treaties with neighboring kingdoms, but also he fact that he’s lived his whole life for his people, he has succeeded in securing their ancestral home, and maybe carving his own path is now a desired option. He’s free.

Fili and Kili also live, but don’t want the throne. They’ve been raised in the Blue Mountains, and they love their uncle, love Erebor because of Thorin, and without him there, they’re not super interested in entering the line of succession, so Bilbo and Thorin travel to the Shire because Bilbo is adamant that it would be good for him, and Fili and Kili follow. It is closer to their mother, after all, to visit back and forth.

And perhaps the book Bilbo writes is helpful to them staying on the down-low. Everyone important in their life is sure to know the truth, so what if these three unnamed dwarves are the other hidden residents of Bag End (or perhaps, just one hidden resident and two visiting nephews), kept safe from discovery from friends and family both, and Bilbo and Thorin, somehow, had their happy ending?

tl;dr: THE LINE OF DURIN IS FINE, EVERYONE IS FINE.

#asks #otp questions #sunnibits #sorry i wanted to make sure i could sit down and answer in full <3 #thank you for the questions!!#that last one I guess isn’t technically an headcanon as much as wishful thinking but ah well

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evabellasworld · 4 years

Text

Acing it with Love

For Star Wars POC Week 2020

Day 4: Sexuality

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Summary: Commander Tori of the 101st Battalion, who is an asexual, took Ava Lira and Eva Bella Young to the park when they have a deep discussion with an old lady, who shares the same sexuality as the clone commander

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Laying on her bed with a datapad in her hands, Tori was reading over her reports that she made earlier to Admiral Sallis about the Battle of Reza. The casualties counts were less compared to the other battalions, but many of her brothers and sisters were receiving treatment in the med bay, hoping to get back into action.

Her head began to hurt as her eyelids felt heavy, forcing her to put down her datapad beside her. Goodness, I need to get myself some fresh air, she said to herself, rubbing between her eyebrows. I'll go mad if I stay here any longer now.

Lifting herself off from her bunk, she looked in a mirror and adjusted her curly, black locks. Like all the clone troopers that were cloned from Krystal Mereel, Tori had dark skin, buttoned nose and earth-coloured, round eyes, along with a full lips and puffy cheeks, that are often squished by her brothers like Cody as a way to annoy her.

Clones of Jango Fett, on the other hand, have tanned skin and a nose slightly sharper than their sisters, but their sibling-like bonds are much stronger than the pillars that hold every part of the building. Due to Jango and Krystal being siblings through adoption, both male and female soldiers were put together by the Kaminoans to help them get along with each other.

They may tease each other, they may bicker and argue, but they love each other, no matter what. Tori gets along with Cody, who is a few months older than her. From their days as clone cadets, Cody guides Tori and accompanies her whenever she gets sent to the med bay, due to her accident-prone nature. She had lost count of how many casts she has ever worn in her lifetime.

From arm injury to head concussion to even a pelvic fracture that almost cost her service as a commander of the 101st Battalion, somehow, like both her Jedi Generals Ava Lira and Eva Bella Young, who were only 10 years old, Tori had avoided the angel of Death many, many times.

Another brother Tori is close to is Rex, who is much younger than her. She basically acts bossy to him and orders him to do whatever she pleases just for fun, despite his irritation. Ironically though, Rex himself had made Tori wish she could murder him in his sleep and even thought about selling him to the black market just for a pack of two fours.

Of course, Tori does love him dearly, but at the same time, she would roast him with her crude humour and make sarcastic comments about his stupidity and rigidness towards everything, if he understands her perfectly well.

Passing by her comrades underneath her command, they give her a respectful salute, which Tori gestured to them back as she headed outside of the clone barrack and hopped onto her speeder that is parked in her designated spot.

The sky was still bright, with the hot, afternoon sun shining in the horizon, along with the thick, white clouds that resembled cotton candies that Lira and Eva indulged in at a local carnival on Coruscant.

From what she recalled, there were carousels that has horses spun around with a machine, there was a Ferris wheel that took them high above the ground, like a ship, and there were games that could let them win all sorts of prizes, like a black ring that Tori wore on her middle finger, which gives away to everyone that she’s an asexual.

Like her sisters, Tori does have a preference for dark-skinned men who are also tall and handsome, but she doesn’t think about sleeping with them, ever. Instead, she thinks of her man in a romantic way, such as taking her on a picnic beside a lake, or swimming together on a sandy beach.

But that doesn’t stop her from reading erotic literature that Odd Eye recommended to her, though. She enjoys reading from authors such as Vanka Pollak, who wrote Devilish Love, which was about a woman who has an intense love affair with a sex demon that she summoned from hell.

The book was quality writing for her, but in real life, Tori couldn’t feel lust towards strangers she just met at a bar, or even men and women that she knew very well. Her siblings don't insult her or belittle her for lacking sexual attractions, but that doesn’t make her immune to creeps, who don't seem to understand her boundaries she had set.

Stopping in front of the Jedi Temple, Tori stepped inside and took the elevator to the Jedi’s quarters. Noticing drawings of flowers in front of the door, the clone commander gave a knock. “Come in,” a child’s voice replied.

She walked in and found both her Jedi General, Ava Lira and Eva Bella Young, sitting on the floor, playing with their toys. “Tori,” Lira smiled and jumped onto her, prompting her to hold her with both arms.

“Hey, girls,” she greeted, putting Lira down. “How are you?”

“I’m okay,” Eva answered, hugging both of her dolls. “We’re just playing with each other, that’s all.”

“Is that so? Well, I was thinking I could go out with you both, if you’re okay with it,of course.”

“I want to,” Lira cheered, grabbing her backpack on Eva’s bed. “Where are we going?”

"I was thinking maybe we could go together, you know," shrugged Tori.

"Can Buttercup and Stripes come with us?" Eva asked, referring to her stuffed toys.

"Of course, sweetie. Your friends can come with us as well."

The redheaded twins with blue-green, almond-shaped eyes and fair skin yelled happily as they followed Tori to her speeder, sitting beside her.

"I hope both your masters are okay with this,” Tori informed them, driving through the smooth, Coruscanti traffic. “You know how protective they tend to be towards you.”

“They’re both at war right now,” Lira said.

“Oh,” one of her eyebrows raised. “What about General Skywalker and Commander Tano?”

“Same thing.”

Well, that explains why I didn’t see Codes or Rexster this morning. I thought they were hanging out together without me. Then again, I don’t blame them for wanting a guys only hangout. After all, even we ladies do the same as well.

As they arrived at the large public park that is located in the heart of the city, Lira and Eva rushed out of the vehicle and dashed towards the playground, causing Tori to chase after those troublesome twins. “Girls, wait up,” she laughed. “I’m not as fast as you both.”

That was a huge, fat lie. Tori is pretty fast, but only if her life heavily depends on it. Otherwise, she’ll have to catch up with Cody, Rex, and Mayyah whenever they’re on shore leave. Back on Kamino, Tori is the slowest among her batchmates, which was one of the reasons why she’s always in bandages every week.

She reached the playground's bench and saw Lira and Eva playing in the sandbox with their toys while building a sandcastle. Tori felt that the girls were lucky that they got to act like a child. Meanwhile, she had to train from 5 a.m. to 10 p.m. in Kamino when she's their age.

The playground was full of kids their age, with some of them playing on the swings, some hanging on the monkey bar, and the rest of them were just scattered everywhere.

Tori noticed their parents were sitting beside her, observing their kid's antics. "Conny, don't stand on that slide," one of the mothers yelled. "You're gonna fall, young man."

Must be one of the overbearing mothers, the commander rolled her eyes as she saw the twins sharing their toys with a little girl, who had purple skin and lekkus. "This is Buttercup," Lira introduced her rag doll. "She is very huggable."

She could only smile as the Twi'lek girl shook hands with Lira, who then introduced her to Eva, who was holding her sister's hand with fear in her eyes.

"Don't worry, Evie," Lira assured her. "She won't bite."

As Eva shook hands with the Twi'lek girl, Tori's lips curved upwards. That is sweet of Lira to introduce her new friends to Evie.

She recalled a time on Kamino when her comrade, Odd Eye, joined her class and was extremely timid and quiet to interact with her batchmates. It was Gowon, who was close to Odd Eye, helped her introduce her to Tori and Wollfe, who wanted to get to know Odd Eye very well. Odd Eye wasn’t an ace like Tori, but she validated her for her sexuality and her cheerful personality.

“I hardly see you around,” a dark, old lady with glasses spoke to her, holding her cane. “Do you always go here?”

Tori has never seen that old lady before, but regardless whether she’s a complete stranger or an old friend from the past, she wouldn’t mind some company anyhow. Though she was warned not to interact with someone she doesn’t know, she felt safe if a woman twice her age decided to talk to her.

“I come here sometimes,” she answered politely. “Usually, I would be fighting in another part of the galaxy or I would hang out with my brothers and sisters.”

“Is it scary for you to be out there, fighting and seeing your own siblings dying around you?”

Tori nodded, frowning. “Yes, ma’am. It is brutal, but we can’t do anything to bring them back, no matter how much you tried to protect them.”

“Do you cry when they die?”

“I do, but I try my best to be strong for the sake of others’, you know.”

“There is nothing with crying,” the old lady gave her the softest smile, which melts Tori’s gentle heart. “You are a person, after all. We all run on emotions and empathy.”

The clone commander was surprised. No one, except for her siblings and Lira and Eva, had ever called her a person, ever. She and the rest of her vods were just properties of the Republic. They were bred on Kamino to fight and die. They weren’t meant to have their own interest outside of war, or even bond with people they met. It shocks her whenever people like Lira and Eva and the old lady tell her that she is a sentient being.

“Is something wrong, sweetie?” the old lady asked, noticing her distress.

“My apologies, ma’am,” Tori replied. “But we clones aren’t people. We were meant to be expendable and replaceable, that’s all.”

“Not to me,” she squeezed her warm hand onto hers, making Tori blinked twice. “You and your comrades risked your lives to protect us from danger. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

She stuttered for a moment, before she was able to answer. “I’m not fishing for compliments, ma’am. We were just bred that way.”

“You may look the same as the rest of them, but your own personality and quirks is what stands you out. Like for instance, I saw you running with your kids in the park an hour ago.”

Tori chuckled. “I’m not their mother, ma’am. I’m just looking after Lira and Eva while their parents are away for war.”

By Lira and Eva’s parents, she meant General Doyvesky and General Kenobi. She was aware about the twin’s biological mother from what they told her. According to Eva, their mother resembled the twins, but with black, silky hair. The father, on the other hand, was not in the picture at all.

“Doesn’t matter whether you’re related or not,” the old lady laughed. “What matters is the bond that you and the kids had formed together and from what I can tell, they seemed to look at you as their mother figure.”

I would be surprised if that’s the case, Tori said to herself. I’m not as close to them as General Doyvesky and General Kenobi.

“Right, of course, ma’am.”

“You know, I didn’t get your name earlier,” she slapped her own forehead. “What do you call yourself, child?”

“I’m Tori,” the clone introduced herself. “Those girls you were referring to are Lira and Eva Young. It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“You can just call me Grandma, Tori,” the old woman glanced at Tori with her deep, dark eyes, as if she has seen a lot through her whole life. “You have such a beautiful name.”

Before Tori could say something, Lira and Eva ran up to her, holding their toys. “Tori, we’ve made a new friend,” said Lira, pointing at the Twi’lek child, who was with her mother. “Her name is Leta.”

“Well, that’s great,” Tori grinned, turning to the grandma. “Well, it’s been a pleasure to talk to you.”

“Of course, dearie. Let me know if you need anything.”

As Tori bobbed her head and stood up, she noticed the exact same black ring on her wrinkly finger, sparking a curiosity in Tori’s head. “Grandma, where did you get this ring?”

“This ring was given to me by a friend of mine when I came out as an asexual many years ago,” she narrated her story. “It was a proud moment in my life to gain my confidence in my sexuality. I saw that ring on you as well, my dear. Are you proud to be an ace as well?”

Tori smiled, realizing that she isn’t the only one who lacks sexual attraction towards others.All these while, the public sees asexuals as less than a person, causing Tori to doubt herself. But now, she’s not alone, and she felt validated.

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Commander Tori:

Ava Lira and Eva Bella Young:

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youllallriseintheink · 4 years

Text

A New Beginning

This is a shipping one-off I did for creepyalienghost. After this, I’m doing a request for loverofallarts12, and then I’m moving on to my BATDR story. The pairing of this story is Sammy x Nathan.

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“What do you mean, you said ‘no’?!” Sammy all but yelled at Henry, drawing the attention of the others in the breakroom.

Henry, who was used to Sammy’s lack of volume control, just sighed. It had been a difficult choice, and he really didn’t want to be badgered about it. “I didn’t think I could. I mean, moving halfway across the country and leaving behind everyone I know is just... a lot. And what if I do make the sacrifice, and Mr. Arch turns out to be just as bad, or worse? I’ll admit it- I’m a coward. I prefer the devil I know.”

Wally, who had been sitting with them, served Sammy a harsh look. “aren’t you the one always sayin’ that this studio is fine, and anyone who says otherwise should just get out of the kitchen or somethin’?”

Sammy prickled. “Well- yes! But think of it this way- if another kitchen- one which had reasonable fire safety- opened up, then wouldn’t you choose to cook in it? There’s shutting up and accepting hardship, and then there’s failing to avoid it. Henry, is Mr. Arch still in town?”

“Yes.”

“And you have his number, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, would you mind encouraging him to come back to the studio one last time, to see our award-winning music department?”

“Oh, Joey actually gave him a tour of the whole place. You were in your office. Joey knocked on your door when he was about to show him the music department, but you snapped at him that you were busy, so he left you be.”

Sammy turned pink. “Oh. Well, would you put in a word for me anyhow, Henry? Sorry for reacting badly, there. I think your dedication is admirable, honestly. But I feel like I deserve better than this studio.”

“I’ll call him. Not sure he’ll listen, though.”

“Thank you. I owe you, Henry.”

That night, Henry called him with the news that Nathan had agreed to come back to see their music department in action. The next day, Sammy put on the best clothes he could without seeming overdressed for a day at work. He moved up a scheduled recording session for one of the better songs he had on queue to eleven in the morning, and asked Wally to give the music department a thorough cleaning beforehand (Though Sammy poked his nose in himself to make sure it was to his standards).

Soon, the band was in full swing, with Sammy conducting it all. Even though it was a rather small music department, playing a cartoon song that certainly wasn’t to Sammy’s tastes, Sammy couldn’t help but get lost in his work. Conducting took concentration, and it was rather enjoyable. His focus on the flow of the music drowned out the sound of a door opening. Once the song had been recorded and the noise dulled down, Sammy heard a slow clap, and turned to face it.

The man standing at the doorway to the music department was portly, very expensively and stylishly dressed, and had his red hair elegantly slicked back. Sammy had never seen Mr. Arch before, but he was fairly certain that it was him.

Mr. Arch beckoned Sammy over, and he came. “So, an acquaintance told me that you were the true talent of this music department, and that you might be looking for a new place to work,” Nathan said.

“Well, I’m doing quite well here, but I’m always open to new opportunities,” Sammy replied. No need to look desperate.

Mr. Arch smiled at Sammy, and Sammy got the sense that Nathan didn’t believe him for a second. “Alright. Well, why don’t you meet me at seven tonight at Languid Lounge for a drink. Then we can discuss opportunities.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

Sammy wasn’t sure what, but something about the man made his heart flutter. Made him have to stop and stare, if he could get away with it.

A while after, Sammy wandered into the break room, a dreamy look on his face. “It went well, I take it?” Henry said, a teasing smile on his face.

“Naturally.”

Wally whispered something into Henry’s ear. Whatever it was, it made him laugh. Sammy decided to let it go. Which was stupid. After all, this was only a business meeting- Mr. Arch had said it was about opportunity, after all. “Did he give you his first name, Henry? Mr. Arch, I mean?”

“Yes. Nathan.”

“Nathan Arch.” He said, as though he was savouring the sound of it. “Alright.”

The date itself went very well. It started out all business- Nathan asking Sammy about his credentials. Sammy was rather embarrassed to say that he didn’t have any- no awards that Joey hadn’t snatched from him or even a finished music degree, since he’d been convinced to drop out to join the studio. Sammy could see Nathan’s face drop, and he was sure it was over for him.

“Well, that’s disappointing,” Nathan said. “But, what I’m suggesting is you moving to California and taking a job in an established studio with established standards. You’d be an idiot to come into that position just to get fired from it- and you will if you can’t take the heat. So, I’ll give you a chance anyhow. What do you say, Sammy? Think you can take it?”

Sammy locked eyes with him. “Yes, sir. I can take the heat.”

“Good. Now tell me, what instruments do you play?”

“Many. Banjo, piano, guitar, trumpet, clarinet-”

“Clarinet. That will do. I have a vacancy for a clarinet player. And I’ll keep in mind that you have experience in management, next time a music director position opens up. Assuming you do well, that it.”

“Thank you. If I can ask, why are you doing this? Coming to Joey Drew Studios to look for talent, I mean.”

Nathan sighed. “Between you and me, Sammy? I knew Joey as a child. He was always the type to take advantage of people and take credit for everything. It still didn’t get him all that far- but he wanted to fool me into thinking otherwise. And now that we’re adults, he keeps sending me these letters, full of blatant lies about how well he’s doing, and begging me to come visit his “studio.” And, well, I already had a business meeting in New York, so I thought, why not? And when I got there, it was so clearly a poorly managed wreck of a place filled with all these tired, angry people, and I wanted to show him just how dependent he is on the people around him. So, I decided to hire his best talent.”

Sammy was delighted. Finally, someone who understood his struggles with Joey. And who realized how important he was to the studio. And to think, he was not only getting away from Joey but actively taking revenge on him. “You have no idea what a dream this is for me.”

“You don’t like Joey either, do you?”

“No.”

“Want to spend the night hearing stories about the two of us growing up? He humiliates himself in most of them.”

Sammy chuckled. “Sounds like a plan.”

And so they did. And afterwards they talked about art, which turned into talking about their life stories. They got along very well. Sammy took keen interest in Nathan’s upper-crust lifestyle. “Well, you’re very well-spoken, considering your background,” Nathan said to Sammy.

“Hey, now. I was middle-class, not dirt poor.”

“Right. Well, tonight was fun. More fun than I expected. Want to come back to my hotel room with me? And, maybe since you’re quitting Joey Drew Studios anyhow, you’d like to call in sick and join me to see the sights of the city tomorrow?”

“I’d love to,” Sammy said. And that’s what they did.

Within a few weeks, Sammy was on a plane to California. He and Nathan had continued to correspond over letters. Nathan had admitted to Sammy that he had only really wanted a one-night stand out of him at the time, but since they had spent so long apart, Nathan had grown eager to see him again. Nathan had not asked if Sammy felt the same- it seemed safe for him to assume. Sammy replied that he, too, was anxious to see him again.

Who knew? This could be the start of something beautiful.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #nathan arch #sammy lawrence #nathan x sammy #my fanfiction

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