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weiying-lanzhan-fics · 2 years

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and having a marvelous time by varnes

A greatttt job weaving Sound of Music into the au. It really fit perfectly and was such a fun read. The time in the Burial Mounds of LZ and WY falling in love was funny, sweet, and perfect! The kids were the BEST ❤️

I also liked the JY and NHS’s stories. Their hard decisions and hidden depths were interesting to explore.

Really enjoyed this story 🥰

Quotes:

Seven children, living among ghosts. Untaught in the art of cultivation, but reliant on it nevertheless. Taught to believe that the world around them was made of only sharp and painful edges. Rejected by the man who refused to claim them as their father.

Wen Qionglin had told him, “Sometimes they do naughty things, but only because it’s very hard, living here, and they’re just babies.” In Lan Wangji’s many years as a teacher in Cloud Recesses, he has never met a child that acted out without cause.

Many years ago, Lan Wangji had knelt outside his mother’s house for days and days and days, waiting. He had been punished for it. He had kept kneeling anyway.

Discipline does not need to take the form of violence, he thinks.

Symptoms are not the root.

Decision made, Lan Wangji makes quick work of cleaning the dwelling before setting out to find Wen Qionglin. He is preparing dinner.

Dinner is radishes.

Lan Wangji believes in gratitude for all forms of services and sustenance, but this family truly eats an indecent amount of radishes.

————

“Xiansheng said we weren’t supposed to come in until you were better but then it was days and days and Qing-jie came out and Yuan-ge said how is baba and she said he’s even more stupid than usual and Zhen-ge said what’s that mean and Yi-ge said he’s dead probably and then I got scared that you were dead and then I came to check and you were lying here and you looked dead! So. I had to cry.”

Honestly, Wei Wuxian has to admit that Yuyu’s impressions are pretty good. He’s got the voices down, even while blubbering. Yuyu drags his arm across his nose, a trail of snot darkening his —

Wait.

“Are those Lan robes?” he asks, eyebrows shooting up and wishing desperately that he could sit up and turn his head. His intonation lacks something without the gestures, he thinks. Instead, his gaze darts to Lan Wangji, who is calmly and studiously arranging his own sleeves.

Yuyu nods. “Xiansheng said if we’re Lans we should dress neatly and app-rope-ree-at-ly,” he says, looking up at Lan Wangji for confirmation.

Lan Wangji, to Wei Wuxian’s amazement, nods seriously in agreement. “Lan Xuanyu,” he says, in his voice, that sounds — like that, still, which should be illegal, in Wei Wuxian’s opinion, “it is time for your lessons.”

“Lessons,” Wei Wuxian repeats dumbly, even as Yuyu scrambles up and off him, straightening his robes as he slides back down onto his feet. He presses a very wet, but careful, kiss to Wei Wuxian’s cheek.

“Yes, Xiansheng,” he chirps, before darting toward the door, then skidding to a stop and muttering to himself, “Do not rush too fast,” before proceeding again, much more slowly.

Wei Wuxian gapes.

“That’s not quite it,” Lan Wangji notes, voice edging toward dry. Wei Wuian has never heard his voice be dry before. When they had met during the war, he always just sounded like … like Wei Wuxian’s very existence made him mad. “But he is correct in essence.”

————

He blows out a long breath. “Okay,” he says again. “That’s enough for now. Finish your lessons. I’ve got — stuff. To do. In the Demon Subdue Palace. So don’t come in for a while. Be good for Lan Zhan, all right?”

Six little Lans gasp. “You can’t call him that,” Zizhen hisses, scandalized. “It’s Xiansheng!”

“He’s your xiansheng, not mine,” Wei Wuxian snorts. “Because you’re a baby, and I’m the terrifying Yiling Patriarch.”

“Terrifying, my foot,” Jingyi tells him. “You’re the least scary person in the whole world, other than jiujiu.”

“Jiujiu’s a fierce corpse,” Wei Wuxian points out.

Jingyi considers this. “Okay, you’re less scary than jiujiu, but it’s on a technicality.”

Hm. That’s not ... where Wei Wuxian was going with that.

“I’m going to do evil and scary experiments in the Demon Subdue Palace,” he announces, turning his nose up and handing Mianmian off to Yuyu.

E, 108k

Summary:

Wen Qing relaxes minutely, scrutinizing him. “Then,” she asks, “why are you here, Lan-er-gongzi?”

He thinks of seven children, living here, surrounded by ghosts, fathered — fathered? — by the one who harnesses resentment to command the dead. Children he has named, inexplicably, Lan. Wen Qionglin is a fierce corpse, and yet he apparently talks and thinks and makes his own decisions. The children call him jiujiu. The children climb on his lap and ignore his instructions and say things like “he’s dead” with a careless lilt in their voices.

Whatever the Yiling Patriarch is doing, whatever Wei Wuxian wants, Lan Wangji does not think it is an act of war.

So he does not say, “I am here to neutralize the Yiling Patriarch.”

He does not say, “Sentiment is gathering against you.”

He does not say, “First liberate, second suppress, third eliminate.”

Lying is forbidden, so Lan Wangji bows his head and says something true: “The Lan sect has very recently learned of seven disciples living in Yiling. I have come to attend their education.”

OR: It's a Sound of Music AU. Sort of.

#wangxian #wei wuxian #wei ying #lan wangji #lan zhan #wangxian fic rec #the untamed fic #the untamed fanfiction #untamed fic #mdzs fic #mdzs fanfiction #sound of music #alternate au #multiple povs

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ckjbun · 3 years

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What kind of ability would Higuchi have and its potential name?

Hi to whoever is reading this! This is my first self-written post so I’m still figuring out how all this works and I’m sorry, if it gets a bit chaotic. Anyways, recently, I came across a question regarding Higuchi from Bungou Stray Dogs. It was about what Higuchi’s ability would be called and what type it would be. So I won’t go into details whether she has an ability or not. I believe she has since she is named after an author (and Asagiri himself kinda confirmed it via Twitter). Thus, I just want to write my thoughts on the potential names and kind of ability.

Since abilities in the BSD world are always named after rather well-known works of the authors, I compared some of the famous works of Higuchi Ichiyo. Now mind you, I haven’t read her works myself. I mostly relied on comparing summaries and analyses of them. Since there are not a lot of summaries, I read two lesser-known stories myself. I will add the links of the summaries/analyses of the works down below. However, while comparing I found two works that would fit Higuchi. Now, first what do I mean by “fit”? Well, it might be best to start explaining what I think about the type of Higuchi’s ability.

I believe Higuchi has not an offensive type of ability. Nothing like Atsushi’s, Akutagawa’s, Kyouka’s etc. If she had, I’m sure she would have used it already, since she’s fighting a lot with her guns, why wouldn’t she use her ability as an addition, why would she hide it? There are two possibilities why we haven’t seen her ability yet. First possibility would be that her ability is not visible like Odasaku’s or Ango’s, maybe it’s even an ability that she hasn’t even discovered, just like Fukuzawa hasn’t realized he has one before the ADA. Second would be that she can use her ability only under stringent conditions. And I believe it’s the latter, hear me out.

Remember this scene from Chapter 14? Higuchi reaches out to hold Akutagawa’s hand but then pulls back because she remembered him saying that he doesn’t need her help. Now, you could argue that holding the hands of injured loved ones is a gesture of closeness, a way to show them your support, a way to tell them that you’re staying by their side. And Aku doesn’t want this support, so that’s why she retracted her hand. But something bothers me here. In this scene it looks like Aku slapped Higuchi’s hand away, doesn’t it? And then he says, he doesn’t need her help, instead of support. I know, you could say support and help are almost the same. But to me, help is something that you do more “actively”, while support can be something passive. What if Higuchi’s hand represents this “active” help? And what would actively help Akutagawa in this very moment? A healing ability for example. Coincidentally, in the panel before, Hirotsu asks Higuchi what power she posses to make them [the black lizard] obey. Is this a hint that there is a hint about Higuchi’s ability in the next panel? Maybe. But let’s look at the next panel. It’s the title page of this chapter.

As you can see, Higuchi has a bandage wrapped around her leg and they seem connected to Akutagawa. In this chapter, it is revealed that Higuchi contemplated about leaving the Port Mafia but her reason for staying is implied to be Akutagawa. This is perfectly symbolized by the bandages in this title page. The bandages coming from Akutagawa are holding her leg back, stopping her from walking away from the PM. But maybe there is a second interpretation? If you’re looking at Akutagawa’s left hand, the bandages are starting to come off. What if this means Akutagawa is healing and doesn’t need the bandages anymore? Instead it wraps around Higuchi’s leg, restricting her movement. What if Higuchi’s ability allows her to help someone else (doesn’t have to be necessarily a healing ability) but in exchange she needs to sacrifice something? Anyways, I think she has an ability which allows her to help other people in a non-combat way. With this in mind, I was looking through several works of Higuchi Ichiyo, searching for something that “fits”. Meaning that I was looking for parallels and themes in irl Higuchi’s stories that could be “converted” into an ability. Just like the coat that the protagonist of Rashomon stole in order to now die of hunger was used as Akutagawa’s ability which seems to be able to eat everything, or like the wish that one’s brother does not die in war in Thou Shalt Not Die became Yosano’s ability and serving as a basis of her background story. Anyways, I’d like to present the works that could be used for Higuchi’s ability and draw some parallels.

1. The Thirteen’s Night

The story revolves around a poor woman, called Oseki. Thanks to her marriage to a rich man, her family was able to live a better life and her brother found a job. But on the thirteenth night of the ninth month of the lunar calendar (one of two special nights for moon viewing), Oseki visited her parents with the intention on asking her parents for approval for divorcing her husband. Before entering, she overhears her parents talking about how lucky they are that they have such good children who don’t cause trouble and that they are very thankful for this marriage. Hesitating at first, she finally goes in and admits that she wants to divorce her husband because he abuses her mentally. He insults her constantly and tells her that she's worthless, stupid, and uneducated. Her mother is outraged. But her father, even though he acknowledges her suffering, reminds her what her husband has done for this family and that she would lose her son since women couldn’t get custody of their children after a divorce at that time. Agreeing with her father, Oseki decides to go back to her husband:

“It was selfish of me to think of a divorce. You're right. If I couldn't see Tarō, there'd be no point in living. I might flee my present sorrows, but what kind of future would I have? If I could think of myself as already dead, that would solve everything… Then Tarō would have both his parents with him. It was a foolish idea I had, and I've troubled you with the whole unpleasant business. From tonight I will consider myself dead — a spirit who watches over Tarō. That way I can bear Isamu's cruelty for a hundred years to come.”

– In The Shade of Spring Leaves, translated by Robert Lyons Danly

Just like BSD Higuchi contemplates leaving the PM, the protagonist here wants to leave her husband. The PM is like the husband. It allows her to support herself and probably her family (at least we saw that she has a sister). But there is constant abuse. Akutagawa is clearly the biggest source of abuse that we can see. But it’s not only him. In Chapter 14, Mori asks her if she is really suited for this job. Telling her indirectly that she is useless or that she is too weak for the PM. Later, you can see the Black Lizard doubting her capabilities, even threatening her. But just like Oseki she stays because of a loved one. What really concerns me is Oseki saying that she will consider herself as a dead spirit watching over Tarō. What if Higuchi, in order to use her ability, has to sacrifice part of her lifespan? Or maybe she loses a feeling? Like e.g. she loses the ability to feel happiness, making her a bit more dead inside? If you draw this parallel, you could also say that when ‘consider myself dead’ is the condition of the ability, then ‘watching over Tarō’ is a hint to Higuchi’s ability. An ability that allows her to watch over and protect her loved ones? This theme fits Higuchi perfectly, since a big topic in Higuchi’s story line is how she wants to help and protect Akutagawa. So it makes sense that her ability might be something that would help him (**intensely squinting at the recent events in the manga, especially chapter 88**). Moving on to the second possibility before the pain starts to set in.

2. Takekurabe (literally: "Comparing heights", "Child's Play" in the Robert Lyons Danly translation, "Growing Up" in the Edward Seidensticker translation)

Now this is considered as Higuchi Ichiyo’s masterpiece. So the chances are high that the ability is based on this story. The story accompanies a group of children who live next to the Yoshiwara quarter. There are two rival gangs: the main street gang (’omote-machi’), lead by Shōtarō, a cultivated young boy who is the grandson of the owner of a pawnshop, and the back street gang (’yoko-chō’), lead by Chōkichi, the impulsive firefighter’s son. (Maybe a parallel to the ADA with (cultivated) Fukuzawa and the PM with Mori who’s a doctor which belongs into the same category of occupation as firefighters?). Among the main street gang, there was Midori, popular and pretty, who lives in the brothel where her sister works. Shōtarō probably has a crush on her. But Midori probably has feelings for the other main character, Nobu, the son of a Buddhist priest. Even though he returns her feelings, he distances himself from her out of his self-consciousness. Later he joins the rival gang after repeated request by Chōkichi. Anyways, they spend their days very care-free, attending school, playing with each other after school. One day, some conflict arises between the gangs and Midori, while protecting someone else, gets slapped by Chōkichi with a sandal. He then proceeds to tell her that their gang is backed by no other than Nobu. Midori feels humiliated and stops going to school. Soon she also stops playing with the other children. After some time passed, Midori is seen with her hair all done up. She has become a distant, lady-like young woman. This probably means that she got her first period and is old enough to become a prostitute or that she just had her first client as a courtesan. Little by little, the children grow up. Nobu is sent off to be trained as a priest and Shōtarō has come to accept the responsibilities of his family’s shop.

There are several themes in this story that I’d like to point out, namely unrequited love, Midori’s transformation and underlying unchangeable fates. The first one is obviously a big theme in Higuchi’s story. Midori and Nobu are unable to express their love for each other because of their positions in life. Just like Higuchi is unable to express her feelings for Akutagawa. If you want some hope, AkuHigu shippers, maybe Aku has also feelings for Higuchi but is still very confused and self-conscious about it just like Nobu. Anyways, because of their positions in the PM, it would make everything very complicated if Higuchi confessed. Additionally, Midori feels like she was humiliated by her love when she got slapped by that sandal. I’m sure that Higuchi gets humiliated by Akutagawa a lot. The next theme is Midori’s transformation from a tomboyish to a lady-like, distant woman. We all know Higuchi looks really badass in her suits. But again, look at the title page of chapter 14. Higuchi is dressed up all prettily and lady-like in a dress, and her hair is done all up. Just like Midori after her transformation. Midori’s transformation stands for Midori accepting her occupation as a prostitute even though she doesn’t want to. In this chapter, we see that Higuchi has accepted her job in the PM, even though she doesn’t want to do this job. At the end Shōtarō sings the following:

"Growing up,

she plays among the butterflies

and flowers.

But she turns sixteen,

and all she knows

is work and sorrow."

– In The Shade of Spring Leaves, translated by Robert Lyons Danly

I don’t know about you guys, but to me that necklace that Higuchi is wearing in that title page looks like a butterfly to me. This is really farfetched but maybe this could be a hint about when Higuchi joined the Port Mafia? However, the biggest theme in Takekurabe is the underlying unchangeable fate of the children. Shōtarō was destined to become the next owner of the pawnshop, Nabu was destined to become a Buddhist monk and Midori would become a prostitute. Maybe this gives us some insight into why Higuchi joined the PM? Maybe one of her parents was a PM member? I also like to think that since Aku is in the PM, since she wants to be with him, she can’t but stay in the PM, and this is her fate. Nevertheless, fate is a central theme in Takekurabe. This is the reason why I think, if the ability is based on this story, Higuchi’s ability would be something like changing fates. Changing fate of someone else but in return she must sacrifice something.

Okay, so this post has become quite long. But I still wanted to mention two other stories Yamizakura (Flowers at Dusk) and The Sound of the Koto where I saw a lot of parallels. I just want to briefly tell you the story of The Sound of the Koto. In this story a woman abandons her son in order to leave her husband who has a bad reputation. The husband then turns into an alcoholic and dies later at a party because of alcohol intoxication. The boy becomes hardened to the world, despises his mother for leaving them, and even contemplates suicide. The story shifts then to a woman playing the koto. I want to give you an excerpt for the end of this story:

“On this night the sound of the woman’s playing helped another to be reborn. Through fourteen springs and fourteen autumns, the boy had been buffeted by the rains. His heart had gradually toughened until it had become as hard as stone. No arrow could penetrate it. He seemed destined to follow the example of his father, to die among the fields or in the mountains, where his remains would be bleached by the elements. Some were convinced the boy’s life would end in prison chains, while his bad name spread to every roadside.

But now, at once, the tenderness buried in his heart was freed by the midnight strains of the koto. For the first time in many years, he felt tears come to his eyes. Or were they jewelled drops of dew? He would not exchange them for anything.

He, who had known neither love nor compassion, and who had no idea what the player of these refrains could even look like, felt a moment of happiness as the music drifted over the garden wall. […]

[…] How could a stormy wind blow now? The clouds in his heart had disappeared. Once more the woman began to play. The sound of the koto would be his friend for a hundred years, the seed for a hundred years of yearning. He had entered a world where a hundred different flowers wer in bloom.

– In The Shade of Spring Leaves, translated by Robert Lyons Danly

This boy somehow just reminds me so much of Akutagawa. Just like this boy, without any parents and home, wandering around in this world, Akutagawa has become hardened to the world. I’d like to think that Higuchi’s ability could free Akutagawa from his pain, just like the sound of koto does for this boy.

So, now I said everything I wanted to say, I guess. If there is really anyone reading this and reading this until here, thank you so much! I appreciate it very much that you kept reading even though my thoughts are probably quite chaotic. I’m sorry if there are any grammar mistakes or weird sentence structures or anything like this. English is not my first language. I’m very happy, if you could point out any mistakes or have any suggestion for improvement. Lastly, I just want to remind you that these are my thoughts, I love discussing so feel free to comment your thoughts but I’d like you to keep in mind that there is not necessarily a wrong or right, theories are theories, interpretations are interpretations. Everyone has another interpretation. They can only be proven wrong by Asagiri sensei himself. Until then just keep the discussions friendly and tolerant towards other people’s thoughts and opinions.

Sources:

All manga panels used in this post are from easygoingscans

Higuchi Ichiyo (樋口一葉)

Higuchi Ichiyo: "In the Shade of Spring Leaves"

In The Shade Of Spring Leaves: The Life Of Higuchi Ichiyo, With Nine Of Her Best Stories, translated by Robert Lyons Danly

In the Shade of Spring Leaves – Ichiyō Higuchi, Part 1

“Flowers at Dusk” and Other Notes – Ichiyō Higuchi, Part 2

“Encounters on a Dark Night” and Other Notes – Ichiyō Higuchi, Part 3

“Child’s Play” and Other Notes – Ichiyō Higuchi, Part 4

HIGUCHI ICHIYŌ: BADASS WOMEN IN JAPANESE HISTORY

The Thirteenth Night (Wikipedia)

Female Subject, Interrupted in Higuchi Ichiyō's "The Thirteenth Night"

GAME OF TRADITIONS: TRADITION IN THE THIRTEENTH NIGHT AND DIARY OF A MAD MAN

HIGUCHI ICHIYŌ IN MODERN JAPANESE AND EUROPEAN DRESS: Modern Japanese versions (gendaigoyaku) of Higuchi Ichiyō’s Takekurabe and their Relationship with English, Castilian Spanish and Catalan Translations

Separate Ways Summary

Literary Analysis of “Separate Ways”

Flowers at Dusk

Nigorie (Wikipedia)

From the Margins of Meiji Society: Space and Gender in Higuchi Ichiyō's "Troubled Waters"

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calpalirwin · 3 years

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Phantom Pain

Summary: Trauma bonding turns into a full blown crush with Bucky

Word Count: 2.9k

And away, and away we go!

You heard the startled gasps behind you as you lowered your body before pulling yourself up on the pull up bar again. “Yes?” you questioned, repeating another rep.

“I-I-I-” a teenage boy's voice stuttered. “Mr. Stark!” he yelled in slight panic.

You sighed, letting go of the bar and landing on your feet. “Yes?” you repeated, turning to face the lanky teenager with his mop of brown hair, and his companion, a girl a few years older, stifling giggles into her hands, both of their cheeks flushed. “Oh,” you said in realization. “You must be Peter. Uh, Tony’s in the lab, I think.”

Peter nodded mutely, before quickly dashing out of the training room, leaving you face to face with the young woman. “Gay,” you said simply. “And I think Vision’s with Tony.”

Her blush deepened, as she too, hightailed it out of the room with a muttered “Tony has a brother?”

You chuckled quietly to yourself. Of course your brother wouldn’t have told his newest members about you. Something about it not being vital information, and liking the shock value of it.

“And this is the training room,” a voice you did recognize said as Steve came into your line of sight, a man matching his stature trailing behind him silently. “Oh, hey, Stark.”

“Capsicle,” you greeted with a salute.

“Stark?” the other man asked in confusion. “I thought-”

“Fortunately there’s two of us,” you corrected. “Or unfortunately, depending on your opinion of Starks in general. Y/N,” you introduced yourself, offering out your hand.

“Bucky,” the man said, shaking your hand.

“Nightmares, again?” Steve asked you, his eyes glancing about the room.

“Sometimes you frighten me with how observant you are, Rogers,” you said grimly.

“Nightmares?” Bucky questioned, intrigue painting the features of his perfectly sculpted face.

“An unfortunate lingering side effect of my time in the Army, yeah,” you explained. “Something I’m sure you can relate to,” you added with a pointed glance at Bucky’s left arm which was completely metal, your mind already curious to how it worked, and how to make it better. “Working out helps. Something about physical exertion canceling out mental exertion.”

“Well, I might have to join you some time. See if your theory holds up.”

You held out your arms, gesturing about the giant training room. “Feel free. Everything here is open 24/7 to accommodate the mad geniuses and PTSD freaks.”

“And which one are you?” Bucky asked. And you knew it was a stupid question given what little information you had already provided him with. But you could also recognize a flirting edge when you heard one.

“I feel like the answer’s obvious. But, in the event that it’s not, I’m both. Pleasure to meet you, Bucky. And welcome to Avengers headquarters.”

~~~

A couple nights later, you were in the lab tinkering about, when you saw Bucky walk by in gym shorts and a tank top, his hair pulled back in a small bun. “Can’t sleep, huh?” you called out.

His body tensed as he whirled around, relaxing when he saw it was you. “Yeah. Thought I’d try out your theory.”

“It’s a good theory,” you assured, before refocusing on what you’d been working on.

“You have a lot of faith in a theory I’ve yet to test for myself,” Bucky said, stepping into the lab with you.

“I don’t do faith. I do facts,” you replied bluntly.

“Mmm, then how do you know it’s a good theory?”

“A good theory isn't whether it’s proven to be correct or not. A good theory is about being able to be repeated and replicated. Tested multiple times over and over. My theory just also happens to be correct.”

“Wow, you are a Stark.”

“I’m not an idiot, is what you mean. But rest assured I don’t have the same level of arrogance my brother inherited from our father. Or at least, I like to believe I don’t. But, results don’t lie. The physical exertion that comes from working out is enough to distract the brain from the mental exertion that comes from unwanted memories. Is it perfect? No, because it’s not a cure. But it does well enough anyway. And you can take my word for it. Or Rhodey’s, or Sam’s, or Steve’s. And that’s just the military crew. Or, you can test it for yourself. As I said, it’s a good theory. Very testable.”

Bucky’s tongue clicked in his cheek. “Mmm, and if it’s such a good theory, why are you here in the lab instead of in the training room?”

“A distraction, is a distraction, is a distraction. And I have work to do.”

“And what is it that you’re working on?” he asked, stepping closer to peer over your shoulder.

“Prosthetic limbs for amputees. Ones that aren’t hunks of metal. No offense.”

“None taken. I didn’t exactly get a say in the matter.”

“Right… Sorry…”

“No, don’t apologize. Something more… realistic looking would be nice. But the metal’s worked so far. Enhances already enhanced abilities.”

A shudder went down your spine. “Right. Super soldier strength mixed in with whatever tech is loaded up in that thing. I’ve taken a lot of hits in my day that I’d hate to experience again, but I’d do it if it meant a guarantee of never being on the receiving end of being hit by that. Like… the damage you were able to inflict on Tony, even in his suit…” you let out a low whistle. “Damn… no thanks.”

“Sorry? I think?”

You laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “Please. It’s not that he didn’t deserve it. The amount of times I wish I could clock him myself… My only regret was having not been there to actually see it.”

“Why do I get the feeling you and Tony don’t actually get along?”

“Oh, we do. It’s just… typical sibling shit, I suppose. We had different ways of coping with our parents dying. He went the standard billionaire spoiled brat route. I went to the Army. He took over the company. I stayed in the Army. He realized the damage the company was actually doing and became Iron Man. I was part of that damage.”

“Shit…”

Again, you waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s my older brother. I love him. He’s rectified a lot of his past by helping turn Stark Industries into the Avengers. He's, dare I say, gained a conscience. But he’s also far from perfect. Still too arrogant for his own good. But I like him a lot better these days than I used to. I mean, I’m here.”

“So… you work for him? Doing what exactly?”

“Yes, and no. I live and work here, yes. But I don’t necessarily work for my brother. I help him and Bruce out a lot. Perks of not being an Avenger myself means I’m here to keep working when they’re gone. But, for the most part I keep to myself doing my own project.”

“Right, the prosthetic limbs. Personal reasons?”

“Yeah, you could say that. Seen my fair share of wounded vets. And seen my fair share of their struggle with shitty prosthetics. And even if they are complete shit, they’re also expensive. But I’m in a position where I can make non-shitty ones and, pun not intended, not have them cost people an arm and a leg. So, that’s what I do. Each prototype gets me closer and closer to making them as realistic as possible. Restoring range of motion you won’t get with cheap plastic wrapped around steel. It’s like… a complete limb transplant. Or that’s the ultimate goal anyway. Make prosthetics so real it’s like you never lost a limb in the first place.”

“That’s… noble of you.”

You shrugged. “Let’s just say I have a soft spot for broken things.”

Bucky smiled at that.

~~~

For the next handful of months, it wasn’t uncommon for Bucky to find you awake in the lab, or for you to find him awake in the training room.

Some nights, the two of you would work out your frustrations of the memories that haunted you both, and you’d tease him about how it wasn’t fair you always drenched through your shirt while he barely broke a sweat, smiling at the way he’d laugh.

Other nights, the two of you would swap war stories while he watched you work in the lab, and when you gathered up the courage to ask to run tests on how the tech in his arm worked to further your own research, he willingly obliged.

“So… were you just an enlisted soldier, or an officer?” he asked one night while you tinkered away.

“An officer. Made First Lieutenant.”

“That’s just below Steve. Which…”

“Is still lower than Sergeant, yes,” you laughed. “Technically anyway. But as an officer, I would still outrank you.”

“What happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… no offense, but First Lieutenant isn’t exactly brag worthy. I imagine you meant to go further. What happened? Was it the damage you mentioned with Tony?”

You nodded. “Yeah. The same accident that started his whole Iron Man gimmick was the same accident that ended my career.”

Bucky nodded, and you knew he wanted to ask more, but didn’t want to pry or overstep. And you were grateful for that. It was one thing to own up that your PTSD stemmed from an incident that ended your military career. It was also one thing to own up to how your experience in the military drove you towards creating prosthetic limbs. But to admit that there was a deep personal connection between the two? That wasn’t something you liked to fess up to. “I’m sorry,” Bucky finally said, feeling the need to say something about your half confession. To acknowledge it without asking more.

You smiled wryly at him. “It’s f-” Your face twisted, and your fingers white-knuckled the table as pain flashed through your leg.

Bucky’s eyes went wide. “You okay?” he asked, moving around the table towards you, his hands hovering nearby in case you fell.

“Knife!” you gasped out, gritting your teeth and humming loudly to keep from screaming out in the pain you knew wasn’t real. “Get me a knife!”

Bucky stood there, frozen, staring at you in horror.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” you barked at him. “I know you have a knife on you! Give it to me! That’s an order, Sergeant!”

That snapped Bucky into action. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, rummaging in his pockets. “Here!”

The sharp steel glinted in the lights as you took it from him and promptly shoved it deep into your right shin.

“What the fuck?!” Bucky yelped, jumping back. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” he repeated when no blood came pouring out of the wound as you yanked the knife back out.

“Aaaahhhh,” you sighed in relief, the pain ebbing away. You relaxed the tension in your body, breathing slowly. “Fuck… hate when that happens.”

“What… the… actual… fuck?” Bucky asked for a third time in a low whisper.

“Relax, it’s fake,” you said, flashing the knife. “See? No blood.”

“I- I-” he stammered.

“It’s called phantom limb pain. Happens in amputees all the time.” You took a seat, pushing up your pant leg to your knee, detaching the prosthetic and tossing it uselessly onto the work table. “Piece of shit,” you muttered, before pulling a tape-recorder out of your pocket. “Prototype 27. Failure, as of,” you spared a glance down at the date on your watch, speaking that into the tape recorder as well. “What?” you asked Bucky who was staring at you with his mouth hanging open.

“That explains… so much. But… why didn’t you just tell me?”

You shrugged. “It’s not something I tell people. Lost my leg in an explosion caused by weapons my family made? Yeah, not exactly a conversation starter.”

“I get that, but… c’mon. It’s me.” He gestured at his left arm.

“Yes, you who- and please don’t take offense to this- doesn’t remember the trauma of losing his arm, and has never experienced the pain that is phantom limb pain.”

“I don’t remember the trauma thanks to years of more trauma that is being brain-washed, and having my mind controlled,” he replied in a clipped tone.

“Yes, the entire world is aware of your trauma, Barnes. Must be nice to have people be aware of what you’ve gone through.”

“People would be aware of what you’ve gone through too, if you’d tell us instead of hiding in jeans and sweatpants!”

“Why would I tell people?! For sympathy?! Or to hear them tell me that I deserved it?! Because news flash, both of those outcomes fucking suck!”

His face crumpled. “Why would anyone think you deserved this?”

You scoffed at his naivety. “It’s poetic justice, Bucky. My own family took my leg. They took Tony’s heart, too, but hey! Look what he made as a result! Isn’t it fuckin’ marvelous?! Tony Stark loses his heart, but gains a soul. Y/N Stark. Loses his leg, and nobody cares.” The words were bitter on your tongue.

“You don’t strike me as the pity party type.”

“I’m not. That’s why I don’t tell people. And yes, maybe there’s a selfish part of me that does what I do strictly for me. Maybe I never would have thought to do all this if I wasn’t an amputee myself. But I’m here, and I’m doing it. And I’m not going to use my story to gain attention and credit that I don’t even want in the first place. Tony thrives in the spotlight. Me? Never been my thing.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think your project’s pretty great. And I don’t see your personal attachment to it as a hindrance. If anything, I bet it pushes you further. To keep trying, even when what you have is already worlds better than what’s available already. But I also get wanting to keep parts of you to yourself. The sympathy vote isn’t the best feeling.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled. “And I’m sorry for what I said about how it must be nice to have people aware of your trauma. Well… I’m sorry for how I said it. There’s quite a laundry list of things that will turn me into an asshole, and phantom limb pain ranks pretty high on that list. But I didn’t mean it as an attack, and if it came across that way, I do apologize.”

“Don’t worry about it. To an extent you’re right. The whole world knowing what happened to me… it dulls the shock value of a lot of things. Justifies a lot of my actions. So, for the most part, it’s incredibly beneficial. But sometimes I wish I could just… I dunno. Be Bucky without people making their assumptions about what that means.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I try to make it a habit of drawing my own conclusions about people rather than listening to the assumptions others have made about them. So, at least with me, you can be Bucky, and that can be however you want it to look.”

“Thanks. I’d uh… I’d like that.” He smiled softly at you, and you smiled back, watching as a blush crept over his face. “Um… Are you going to need help back to your room? Cuz I can help, if you need me to.” The blush grew darker as he shifted his eyes about the room.

“Uh…” you stammered, a blush coming to your own face. Normally when you tossed aside a rejected prosthetic, you either stayed in the lab until you made a new one, reattached the useless one and begrudgingly dealt with it until you felt up to making a new one, or, in super rare cases when you were sure you were alone, wheeled yourself about the headquarters in a chair. But, here was Bucky, offering to help hobble you off to your room. And the thought of him helping support your weight, or God forbid carry you was enough to make your heart sped up. “Even without the weight of a leg, I’m still not exactly light, or small,” you told him. You weren’t as tall as Bucky, that was true, and you certainly didn’t have super soldier serum running through your veins. But you were still very much the standard rugged American soldier type with broad shoulders and well-defined muscles of your own.

Bucky just scoffed at the notion before picking you up in his arms.

“Jesus, fuck!” you exclaimed, throwing an arm around his neck to help support your weight as he headed for the door of the lab. “I swear if you drop me…”

Bucky chuckled, his chest rumbling into your side. “Relax. I’m not gonna drop you. Now, tell me where I’m going.”

You rattled off the quickest route to your room, both hating the vulnerability of being carried in his arms, and loving the security of it.

“See?” he beamed proudly, as he set you on your bed. “Told ya I wouldn’t drop you.”

“Thanks…”

“Anytime.”

“Bucky, wait,” you called out when he turned to leave. “Um… Would you mind maybe staying?”

“Here? With you? In your room?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, the 1940s gentleman thing is real charming.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s um… You know I’m gay, right?”

“Well… That makes the, uh… oh, I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but that makes having a crush on you a lot easier. Or a lot worse, depending on how things go.”

He blinked at you in confusion, not sure if he was hearing you correctly.

“I like you, Bucky. So are you gonna stay?”

He grinned, happily walking back over to you. “I like you too. And yeah, I’ll stay.”

Tag List

@cxddlyash @stanofalotofthings @philthepegacorn @youngblood199456 @binxiboo @creator-appreciator @felixtok @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @jessalyn-jpeg @lilyoflower @mychemicalimagines @rougese7en @milea @partiesandblurrypolaroids @summerdaughter

#phantom pain #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #male reader #reader!stark #marvel #avengers #calpal irwin

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mcyt-imagines · 3 years

Note

hi hi ! first off, just a tip if you'd like more requests/asks in general you should prob turn on anon since this is like the only time i've sent a non-anon ask. but anyways, i'm assuming requests are open and i'd like to ask if you would write either just ranboo fluff in general or something like the tommy confession headcanons but w ranboo :D what you've posted so far is great <3

Thank you so much for letting me know! I thought I had anon turned on already, but it’s 100% turned on now! Regarding your request I got a little carried away and wrote both some general fluff and some confession headcanons for Ranboo so this post is a little long... Hope you enjoy! :D

(It’s important to note that these headcanons are a combination of ones pertaining to his Minecraft character in the dsmp and him outside of the dsmp roleplay!)

General Ranboo Fluff

- Dreamsmp Ranboo -

The first time Ranboo cries in front of you is when you confess to him and he is so happy and relieved that you reciprocate his feelings. He even smiles through the pain of his tears as you panic to cover the skin beneath his eyes, so your hands catch his tears to stop the pain.

Ranboo likes to ask if you need any resources from time to time and once you finally give in and answer, he spends the rest of his day trying to collect as much of it as he can. This has led to a few incidents in which you came back to your shared indent in the snowy mountain to find a chest stacked full with polished stone and countless ores. You’ve scolded him but the way he responds with big puppy dog eyes wishing to “just be helpful.” Sets the butterflies caged in your chest free every damn time.

Ranboo in addition to asking you for want you want he is also very observant in noticing what you need. Any tools close to breaking? Brilliant, he’s already got three more of the same tools ready for you to grab when you need it. He also names them using the anvil to some silly super cheesy pet names.

One of his favourite things to do with you is stargaze. You both travel to the top of your snowy mountain and clear out a space free of snow to lie down and simply hold each other. Ranboo has started asking Techno (on the nights you are away) to point out the stars and tell him their corresponding stories. He happily relays all of this information to you in exaggerated detail, looking at you in awe as your expressions change with the twinkling lights above.

Ranboo almost always carries a little umbrella around with him in case it begins to rain. Most of his friends notice and all start to buy him some. He now has a full collection that line his wall just next to the door. It’s those small things that allows him to remember who his real friends are.

Ranboo LOVES having his hair played with. He will fall asleep within minutes of you beginning to tousle his hair as he rests his head in your lap. He may make soft enderman noises, but you don’t dare tell him. Content on keeping that little secret to yourself.

Ranboo has to be kinda careful around snow considering that if it melts it will hurt him. Meaning he has to sit out on any snowball fights that occur. And they occur more frequently than you would think. It usually starts with Phil throwing a rogue snowball at Techno when Phil notices him slumping his shoulders. Which means it doesn’t take long until it’s a full-blown war. You usually find yourself smack bang in the middle of it and have to dive down to avoid getting pummelled in the crossfire. Ranboo will call you over to hide behind Techno’s house. As the onslaught continues between the two. you giggle and commentate over the fierce battle together.

- Outside of Dreamsmp Ranboo -

Ranboo enjoys watching you whenever you are focused on something. He’s incredibly observant and finds himself mimicking the small little nuances he sees you exhibit. He gets incredibly flustered whenever you notice that he’s picked up on them, but he doesn’t bother to deny it.

Ranboo finds himself staring at you a lot. He doesn’t mean to but he can’t help it. You catch him frequently, “Watching me real closely, hm?” He tries to stutter out an answer to defend himself, but you just smile and tell him it’s okay.

Ranboo finds a lot of comfort in doing ‘domestic’ activities with you. However, one of his personal favourites is when the two of you go out to get groceries together. His mum will give him a small list and he’ll try his best to dawdle around the store whilst swinging your intertwined hands to make the visit as long as possible. It makes him think of a future in which the two of you get to do this every single week and that alone warms his heart.

Ranboo always has to be near you, he doesn’t have to be physically touching you but he prefers to just be stupidly close to you. It always makes you laugh when he sits just close enough to you that you don’t touch, so now he has to do it forever.

Your laugh is one of his favourite sounds. To the point that if you giggle or laugh at something, he will just keep doing it over and over again for as long as you keep laughing at it. Which eventually leads to the both of you red-faced and gasping for air.

Ranboo is a terrible cook. But he tries so hard to follow recipes and they always flop. He also for some reason, cannot attempt cooking without making an utter mess of himself. Whether it’s spilling flour all over himself, getting egg yolk splatter somehow in his hair or just spilling copious amounts of milk on the floor so that he slips. This boy is a walking, talking kitchen DISASTER. So now he can only cook with you supervising him. Which turns out, wasn’t as much of a punishment as it should have been. As your tutelage seems to have slightly improved his cooking skills. However, now you also get flour spilt all over you as well.

Ranboo Confession Headcanons

- Realising he likes you -

Ranboo denies he has feelings for you at first. Believing that you’re just a good friend whose company he really enjoys. But the more he focuses on your friendship the quicker he realises he would prefer if you were more to him than that.

This thought alone sends him into a little bit of a spiral for a few days. Grappling with the thought of rejection and the guilt he would feel if he ever hurt you.

He spends most of the time grappling with his feelings he continues to try and act as normal as possible around you. You finding out would be his worst nightmare.

Ranboo realises he has absolutely no history in the dating department and desperately needs some guidance. He may ask Phil on a whim who would try his best to give the poor panicked boy some words of wisdom. Ranboo takes the advice to heart immediately, promising Phil he will update him on how his feelings for you turn out.

Ranboo finds himself writing about you in one of his many journals. He finds putting words on the page seems to help clear his mind. He tries to script his confession a few times. Desperately floundering to find the right words, but he always seems to fall short. He usually ends up scribbling all over those pages until you can barely tell someone had even written on them. Hoping to somehow erase the thoughts in the process.

He even tries drawing you a few times when he finds himself with enough spare time. He doesn’t think they’re any good though. Sure, the sketches look like you, but they don’t make him feel the way you do. When he looks at the page his chest doesn’t tighten because of your beauty, but instead because of the way you’ve made him feel. Which he comes to the sad conclusion is something he simply cannot capture in his words or his drawings. He has to show it through his actions. Not exactly his strong suit. But he’s determined to do right by you. So, he devises a plan.

- Confessing to you -

This boy plans the whole day down to a t, he has multiple back-up plans just in case his first one falls short.

Ranboo invites you over for lunch. Arriving at his place you notice how clean it is. He spent the last few days cleaning it top to bottom.

You spend a few minutes in the house chatting. You notice Ranboo is on edge almost immediately. Shoulders a pinch too tight, his smiles a little too wide and none of them reach his eyes.

You ask what you’re going to be having for lunch and he reveals a wicker basket from his kitchen. “A picnic!” Your heart warms, “I would’ve brought something if you’d told me beforehand.” He smiles at that, “Exactly. I even cooked without you, you should be proud.”

He shuffles on his feet a little, wishing to be praised, “We’ll see how the food tastes first, maybe then I’ll tell you how proud I am.” You tease, moving to elbow him lightly. You notice the way his face flushes as you move into his space. His mother appears from upstairs, “Are you two leaving? I could drive you, y’know!” “No thanks mom!!” He is quick to grab your hand and practically drag you out of the house and away from his all knowing mom.

The bus ride is on the longer side and you find yourself feeling brave enough to scoot a little closer to Ranboo. “Hey, is it okay if I?” You gesture between your head and his shoulder, the cute, shocked expression he sends you causes you to grin. “Uh s-sure!”

You softly press your head against his shoulder, “Thanks, pretty comfy shoulder you got here should’ve asked you to share it sooner.” You tease, nuzzling his shoulder lightly just for a reaction. And you get one alright, his skin goes such a lovely shade of red all the way up to the tips of his ears. You giggle softly, trying your best to hold it in and failing miserably.

You even manage to fall asleep despite your own heartbeat quickening at Ranboo’s closeness. You are tapped awake by him, “Hmm?” You rub one of your eyes knowingly appearing adorable and the way he looks at you makes it all worth it. “It’s our stop soon, we gotta get up.”

You nod and lazily stand and he follows suit. Only for the bus to brake abruptly, promptly shoving you into his chest. He wraps his arms around you quickly to steady you whilst you desperately cling to the wicker basket, “You okay?” You both mumble to each other before laughing it off and nodding. “Oh crap.” Ranboo grabs your free hand and you both scramble to get to the front of the bus to hop off. Sparks fly up your arm at the extended contact, even as you jump off the bus.

Ranboo happily leads you to a spot he had picked out earlier in the month. A soft patch of grass below a large willow tree that now sways softly in the warm breeze. You set up your carefully packaged feast with haste now that your stomachs are grumbling.

Ranboo forcefully tries to make himself relax knowing you’ve probably noticed his tense state by now. But you choose not to push him on it, taking an educated guess on why he’s so stressed.

You are quick to compliment his cooking skills when he divvies out a freshly baked quiche. Even though you know his mom for sure did most of the work. It’s the thought that counts. You hope that may snap him out of the stupor he seems to be in. However, no such luck.

“Hey Ranboo, do you want to talk about something?” Ranboo goes into full panic mode. He did not have a plan for you asking something like this. He thought you weren’t confrontational!! You watch as his expression changes rapidly. You look away, “You don’t have to tell me, it’s okay. I just thought you might want to-“

He takes one of your hands in his. Why is he doing this??? This isn’t part of the plan at all! “I…” His throat goes dry. All those hours obsessing over what he was going to say to you are sent out the window when he finally meets your eyes.

“I think I like you.” He hasn’t realised he’s even said it until its waaaaaay too late. Your eyes widen, you didn’t think he’d actually admit it to you. You squeeze his hand as you watch his eyes seem to lose focus, “I like you too.” He is silent for several long moments until he starts blinking rapidly, “Huh!?” The look of utter surprise on his face causes you to burst out laughing.

“Wait, wait, wait you’re serious?” He grabs your arm as a grin slowly starts to creep onto his face. “Sure am.” And as you meet his gaze you realise that his grin actually reached his eyes, for the first time in a long while.

“So, you gonna kiss me now or what?” You tease as his face shines a dark red. “W-well I, uh-“ His stuttering only allows for you to sneak closer and press a firm kiss to his cheek. Somehow, he grows even redder and you sigh pleasantly. “My heart definitely made the right choice with you Ranboo.”

Meanwhile Ranboo is too busy freaking out over the fact that you weren’t even meant to find out he liked you until you were stargazing together later tonight. His plans are utterly ruined! But as you squeeze his hand again to bring his thoughts back into the present, he wonders that perhaps spontaneity isn’t such a bad thing sometimes.

~My ask box is always open if you’ve got any requests or just want to vent about the dreamsmp lore!~

#mcyt #ranboo #x reader #ranboo x reader #fluff headcanons #mcyt x reader #confession headcanons #mcyt imagines #mcyt headcanons

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ellitx · 3 years

Text

Chapter 13: Fidelity

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

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art belongs to _suucrose

word count: 2.9k

In sun and clouds, the church spire reached into that every stretching blue. It was as if it spoke of the love of the community towards their god, that it too lasted in any weather and called on them to join and put their faith in him.

When Aether and Paimon walked along the nave, the church choir was different compared to the other choirs that didn’t sing hymns. Their voice was almost like angels, high notes soaring over the clouds, graceful notes dancing on the staves, and they sang for the Anemo Archon only.

The two waited to finish their practice before looking for a certain deaconess that might help them gather more information they needed. It wasn’t long before Barbara noticed them and approached the two with a welcoming smile.

“Hello, Honorary Knight. What brings you here today?”

Paimon flew over her and leaned closer for a much better closeness to ask.

“We would like to ask you something about Barbatos!” She exclaimed fervently whilst she placed her small arms in front of her chest. A bright smile was then donned on the deaconess’s face, her blue eyes sparkling in delight at her words.

“Oh! Are you two perhaps interested in serving Mondstadt’s very own Anemo archon as well?” Her tone had an obvious enthusiasm in it. Aether already felt bad that’s not what they were here for, and be that as it may, he still has to prioritize in searching for his lost sibling.

“That’s not the case. We wanted to ask if by any chance the Anemo archon has a lover.”

Barbara’s small pink lips parted trying to utter a single word however a short chuckle was what came from her mouth. It surprised them and was confused if they said something odd. Her delicate hands were now placed on her mouth to stifle her laughs, apologizing in between them, as small tears form from the corner of her eyes.

“Sorry for suddenly laughing. I wasn’t expecting that’ll be your question. But to answer that, there are no stories or mentions if Barbatos had a lover or not in the past. If he did, it would’ve already been written in the books and be sung by the bards everywhere. You celebrated the Windblume Festival, right?"

The two gestured their heads as a yes. "Since you already know it's a festival about love and freedom, wouldn't the Windblume Festival be celebrated for both of them instead of Barbatos only? But just as I have said before, there were no tales about the God of Freedom having a lover.”

Something clicked inside his head though it didn’t last for long as it suddenly fades away like a speckle of dust.

“That’s true…” He turned to look at Paimon who was all troubled and disturbed.

He continued to listen further if there’ll be more clues but it seems like that’s the only information he’ll get for now. His companion looked at him then held her aching head to alleviate the small ringing echoing in her ears.

“Paimon’s running out of brain juice and my head is hurting the more Paimon thinks about this…” The throbbing in her head told her it was time to rest someplace quiet, to ride out the pile of confusion within her brain.

Aether nodded and massaged his forehead in hopes to ease the pain. Why does he suddenly feel so lightheaded? He shook his head and pushed himself forward to carry out his plan on giving the pendant back to you. Words of gratitude were what Barbara received from the blonde and she waved them a goodbye to continue her choir practice with the other members of the Favonius Church.

“Are we going back to the lair?” Paimon asked. Aether hummed in affirmation as they stepped outside of the parish. The harsh sunlight caused him to squint his eyes and cover his face with his arm. Was it always this hot for this season? The sudden change of the climate made him so lightheaded than ever.

Paimon detected how pale he looks as if he’d been painted with white-wash— even his lips were barely there. It was as if his heart had suddenly stopped beating and all the blood had run down into his boots. He swayed just for a moment, then with one step backward, he crumpled like a puppet suddenly released of their strings.

—

Birds trill, sweetly high, the chorus as playful as the birds themselves. With closed eyes, Venti imagined their music to color, painting stairs in the same way grapevines grow - this way and that, in a beautiful harmony that isn't quite random.

Along with your soft humming, it made the ambiance much more relaxing and calm for him. In the calm of the day, his heartbeat is the steady drum to your melody and he seeps into the moment, allowing himself to drown in your beautiful voice.

You rubbed the petals of the red flower between your fingers, watching your skin take on the sunny hue. Venti had spent the entire afternoon lying down on your lap and listening to your canorous tunes that made him forget about everything— as if you two were the only ones in this world with no one to intervene in such a peaceful moment he has with you.

You watched the petal rotate and awed in admiration as a flower’s petal is able to spin like wind wheels.

“Hey, Venti,” You called out to him and peered down to peek at his sleeping face. Your lover hummed in drowsiness before opening one of his eyes to look at you. Dragging the flower close to him, he shifted to get a proper look at what you’re holding.

“What flower is this?”

You’ve always been a curious one. Even before you were in a coma. It’s like you have a passion in you to know every single thing about this world. From small creatures to rare species of beings in the wildlife, anything that catches your interest and you're eager to know more about it.

Your drive to find answers is one of your unique traits he’s grown to love the more he’s with you. You create yourself in that fire of ongoing need that focuses everything that you are. And you do it because it feels as if the finding of the answer is your personal mission, your reason for being, your way of belonging and giving.

It came to him if your curiosity will cross the line. Will it come to you that he’s been hiding his identity from you? Or will you still continue to live life with him in pure denseness? Either way, if you managed to find out he’ll find a way to have you forget what you witness.

For now, he has to be cautious and prevent you from exploring the outside world. Especially if that traveler is around in his land. It’s no good if you meet him. With the help of the humming winds to let him know what’s happening, it occurred to him that he has to just patiently wait and prevent you and Aether from crossing paths.

Venti held your soft hands in his palms and took the flower from you. A small and gentle smile appeared on his face as he leaned forward and pressed his temple against yours, placing the plant close to your chest.

“It’s Windwheel Asters.” He answered and observed how your eyes sparkled in joy when you watched the petals continue to spin.

“I haven’t seen these before.”

Venti lightly chuckled and placed the flower between your hands as he returned to resting himself against you, but this time his head was now on your shoulder. “Windwheel Asters cannot grow in places with no wind nor plagued by strong storms, only where the wind is gentle and nourishing.”

“Really?” You laid your head against his and fiddled with the stem. If these floras are really unable to grow in harsh winds, then it means Old Mondstadt’s storms have truly vanished without any traces left.

Peace and harmony at last.

Freedom is finally with you.

You lifted your hand up against the sunlight and marvel at how simple it is. It may not look as fancy as the cecilias nor does it resemble feathered wings of a dandelion when blown away, but you found yourself liking this more than what Venti had given you.

It’s not like you don’t appreciate his efforts for collecting every cecilias and dandelions in this region to create a wonderful garden for your eyes to fancy with, you still are grateful for it though you do wonder why did he not include these asters in the collection?

“I kind of like this. It reminds me of you.”

Now that made him fully awake.

“Me?”

The color-infused cheeks dimpled with the blossoming smile, your eyes shone in a way that only deep happiness can bring. It was the blush of roses, that peek of champagne pink. Nodding your head to him, you brought the flower close to your face to cover your flushing features.

“You were always fighting for freedom. If it weren’t for you, we won’t be able to see the skies and birds you’ve always wished for. I really admire your perseverance and passion to fight against my father to have the city liberated from his hands. Thank you. Thank you for revolting against him. Thank you for giving everyone freedom they’ve longed for.”

You suddenly felt your throat tightened and your breath hitching every now and then. With your shoulders shaking and chin trembling, you fear he might see you in such a vulnerable state. You lowered your head even more and let your hair cover your face. Even if you hide it from him, Venti can still see small drops of liquid falling from you until it turns into a small puddle on the back of your hand.

“[Name]…?”

“Even though I’m Decarabian’s daughter, you never looked or treated me differently. Even after the war has ended, you never leave me. And now father, mother, and the knight… they’re all gone and y-you survived. You still stayed with me until I woke up… I… I was so scared that once I awoke, I won’t be able to see you.”

You were wiping your cheeks every few seconds and gulping down the lump sitting on your throat. Sniffling quietly, the tears still threatened to spill from your eyes. Your lover gently clutched your hand and used his other hand to lift your chin up to look at him.

Your eyes were red and swollen. It shatters his heart seeing you like this as your tears split over and flowed down your face like a river escaping a dam. Using his finger to dry your damp face, he brushed his lips on your temple and laced your fingers together.

“I should be the one thanking you.” He muttered and brought your intertwined fingers up to his lips to kiss the back of your hand. “Without your support, I don’t know how things would end up. If he— if I hadn’t saved you back then, you’d be locked up in that tower. Things would go differently, wouldn’t they? I can’t bring myself the idea of leaving you there when they were chasing after you.”

He pushed you until your back was leaning against the rough trunk of the tree. His other arm was propped beside your face before he rested his head on your shoulder and nuzzled closely.

“Thank you. Thank you for always being here with me.” Even though his voice was muffled, you can hear him loud and clear through your teary state. A shaky smile came from you as you caressed his hair lovingly before leaning forward and wrapping your arms around him.

“I love you. I love you so much, Venti.”

He has lived long enough to know that what you share he can’t replicate it with another. This love, this feeling, is just you and him. He could travel the world and the seven regions to create new ballads; he’d still come right back at you if he wanted true love.

He has protected you for years, he’s your confidant, a true friend, and even a lover. The trust he gave you, you gave him, is what keeps both of you safe in this world, in this life. So whether his heart beats another day or another hundred years— it’s always yours.

Meeting Venti was more of a coincidence than a fate. Yet it was the first time in your life you felt like you could be yourself around him. Memories of meeting him have become the same as the dream you play time and time again. You felt good with him in a way you haven’t been before or since.

Hearing those three eternal words from you is surreal for him. His heart would beat madly and his stomach churn in such a way excitement and happiness is filling his entire system. He wants to hear from you again.

Just once more so he can finally have you all to himself.

His chest was burning hot and so was his heart that rapidly beats in great euphoria. He can sense your emotions when you cry but this feeling… it’s much more different than he had felt before. A burning desire. He’s so smitten of your entire existence. All words coming from you were all his, he grasps each phrase and corresponds with his own loving and affectionate words.

He was brought out from his trance when he felt how warm his palm is, and it’s when he became aware his hand was now placed on your cheek just like how he brings your hand to cup his face.

Venti felt his face heat up at such a simple gesture and when you give a short and quick chaste kiss on his lips, he recognized the first brightest and sweet smile for this day was painted on your graceful visage.

“I love you.”

His wish was heard when you repeated your confession at him. Is it finally working? Were his efforts finally paid off? Before Ludi Harpastum was the Windblume, a festival where they offer windblumes to their loved ones and to the Anemo Archon. Every year, every time Mondstadt celebrates Windblume, his first priority is to give you cecilias.

He collected them for you every year. He tends them very well until they bloom— until your eyes opened. For him, windblumes are the cecilias. A symbol of elegance, purity, and just as ethereal as your gentle heart. It may be different from what that really means as interpreted by the people of Mond, but for Venti, he feels freedom when he’s with you, he feels loved when he’s with you and it’s the reason why he gathered so many flowers for you while you were asleep.

The arrangement given to him by the former Dendro Archon— she proposed the idea to him to gather flowers for you every time they feast Windblume. He can still clearly remember her words, her voice echoing in his head saying that even she may part from this world.

Her predictions for her own life were accurate. As if she already expected this to happen to her and that’s why she’s planning ahead to list all the preconditions to him to keep you safe and harmless. Barbatos can’t keep relying on her on everything and that is why he put a lot of effort into maintaining the garden.

Yesterday night was the time of the ceremony. Venti prepped everything to make it perfect, he wanted it to be successful. A mimic of a dance he once saw when he and you were together ages ago, it was a secret you both hid but he knows this. Barbatos knows what happened during that time and pretended as if he weren't there.

But now that he was able to dance it with you, one would call him shameless for stealing you from him. The heavy weight on his shoulder was now lifted away, finally free from the guilt he’s been feeling for centuries. His inner battle with himself is fully resolved, inner conflicts vanished, a conflict between his love and longing for you.

Your words eased Venti and made him assured you love him back as well. If you haven’t said a single word about your own feelings, he’d be living in an illusory fantasy that you were only shy to tell him you love him very much. But ever since the bond has been created, all he hears is I love you’s from you for his ears to delight in.

“I love you,”

You repeated once, a faint brush of your lips against his made him shudder. Soft, gentle, and shy just like your personality. Twice when you parted away, grasping how he tastes like apples before meekly leaning on him once more for a kiss but with more vigor. Your hand clutched the front of his shirt when you felt him hold you the small of your waist to pull you against him.

“I love you.”

Thrice was words of tenderness and desire from you to him. At that moment, you felt your body flushed warm. This was a person you wanted to be with than you’d ever felt before.

Venti has always been the one you could love forever.

@trust-the-oxygen

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact venti x reader #venti x reader #genshin impact venti #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere venti x reader #yandere venti #yandere #Illusory Sense #elliwrites

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lazypeachsoul · 3 years

Text

alone together - edward the elder

Request: submission to Rosie's 250 followers challenge ( @for-bebbanburg ). Based of the prompt: "I said I liked being half-educated; you were so much more surprised at everything when you were ignorant." - Gerald Durrell

Warnings: Nothing, the situation is a bit sad but it's mostly fluff.

Word count: 1,6k

A/N: I'm really sorry about how late I'm posting this but health has not been that good this past few days. Also, can you tell I have trouble writing fics with already established relationships? I found this gif on google so if it's yours tell me so i can give you credit! 🌼

Masterlist.

To be added to my taglist use this forms or write me an ask!

Looking inside the room filled with parchments and writing tools you could clearly distinguish your friend’s figure looking at one of the stories. The past few days had been difficult on the entire family and you could see the toll it had on Edward, especially since he had tried to stay strong for his mother and for what would be his kingdom.

Even when you walked inside the room he seemed to be too concentrated on the page to listen to your entrance. He was about to turn the page when your hand stopped him, forcing him to finally look at you. His face was paler than usual and the dark circles under his eyes were visible, even if his expression showed nothing but strength and a little bit of surprise at the gesture.

“How did you manage to enter? I ordered Steapa-” He turned in the direction of the door to probably reprimand the guard, but you interrupted him. “Steapa thought some company would do you good and he allowed me in.”

He took a deep breath trying to calm himself and looked at your still touching hands. It wasn’t a completely rare gesture, even if the priests and ladies of the court thought it was too bold, but that day it felt different. It felt like there was so much you wanted to say but couldn’t, like you wished you could take the pain away.

Life in Wessex had been complicated since you could remember. You were born in a time of fighting and chaos caused by the incursions of the danes, and that’s all you had known your entire life. Sometimes a sliver of calm seemed to settle on the land but everybody knew it only the calm before the storm.

Even amongst the continuous hardships you had been extremely lucky. You were the second born and only daughter to a Lord from a land close to Winchester, a lord who was a member of the witan and very close to King Alfred himself. Your privileges meant you were to be saved among the first if a raid were to occur and you would be transported to Wincester to stay with the rest of the ladies.

It was during one of those raids that you became close friends with the Aetheling Edward. Or at least as close as the scary Lady Aelswith would allow you to get to her darling boy. During the long months that it took the Wessex army to defeat the danes and return to your family the land, and during that time you seemed to find in Edward a nice companion for the scary times.

During the years you had visited Winchester several times and always felt the excitement of seeing an old friend again. The times the both of you spent together on those visits had slowly decreased, Edward being whisked away for his education as a future King and you trying to make yourself known around the city as a respectable lady in training.

But every visit included an arduous negotiation with Steapa and your lady in waiting to allow you a visit to the gardens away from the queen, the priests and every nosy person at the court where you could get up to speed with your friend. Even if the meeting took place while you were seated in different stone benches and your guardians were standing two feet away.

Somewhere along those multiple visits and secret meetings feelings arose but were quickly shut down by your father. He would love to see his daughter married to the King of Wessex but it was not a reasonable thought. Everybody knew you were not Lady Aelswith’s favourite person and she would never allow for those feelings to be acted upon, so it was better to concentrate your efforts in finding a husband whose mother didn’t dislike you that much.

And you tried, but it was easier said than done. After your third meeting with a possible suitor went wrong your father asked the Lord King to give you shelter in the court and an occupation that might help you find a suitable husband.

The Lord King, who you suspected knew all along of your feelings for his son but probably thought it would be entertaining to see how things developed. The man who had treated you with the utmost respect and who was now dead.

You felt Edwards hand enveloping your hand and gently squeezing it. If it was to get out of your reverie or just for support you didn’t care, but it felt good. Your thumb started softly caressing the back of his hand, the biggest show of affection you were allowed even if what you wanted was to wrap him in your arms.

“What are you thinking about?” You spoke looking directly at his frowned face.

“Everything, nothing.” With a deep breath he tightly shut his eyes and rubbed them with his free hand. “I spent all my life getting ready for this moment and now that it’s here I feel like I’m unprepared. The witan will be meeting soon and I know that they see me as nothing but a child who is not fit to rule Wessex. I don’t know what will be of my mother now that my father is dead. I don’t know what would be of me now that he’s not here to guide me.”

His confession made your stomach turn and a lump formed in your throat. He had probably been feeling lost since his father died but he was only now talking about it. And it made you feel useless because the most you could do was support him.

“You are the son of a king, the grandson of a king and will be the father of a king, Edward. This is what you were born to do, rule Wessex and fulfill your father’s dream of a united land.” You could feel him tense but tried to ignore it, prefering to get your thoughts out of the way first. “The witan wouldn’t dare to choose a different king when they know you are the best option. They will probably debate for days, because the Lord knows they enjoy just discussing the most trivial of topics, but the decision has been made since you commanded the troops at Beamfleot.”

He sighed deeply before unlacing your hands and letting himself fall on a chair. Running his hands through his dirty blonde curls muttering something. When asked about what he said he just smiled sadly.

"I said I liked being half-educated; you were so much more surprised at everything when you were ignorant."

You laughed, remembering the amount of times the priests had called both of you ignorant during your childhood years just for asking questions. And he was right, life seemed to become more complicated when the joyful feelings of childhood started to vanish.

“We were surprised because we were innocent, I don’t think you have ever been ignorant.” You tried to argue, memories flashing back of all the trouble he had gotten you out of just by being educated and charming. “Maybe we were just sheltered and now the roof has blown off and for once we’re on our own.”

Silence set around the room, the only noise present was your breathing and the shifting of your dress every time you moved. He seemed to be deep in thought again and this time you didn’t dare to break him out of his constant thinking. It wasn’t until he leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees that you paid attention to him again.

“Maybe we were sheltered and a little bit ignorant. Maybe our parents tried to protect us from the disaster and pain surrounding us all the time. We never heard real stories about battle or war. We never learned what it really takes to thrive as a kingdom…” He pointed at the books filled with stories of his father’s life on the shelves. “But that doesn't mean we are alone.”

He got up quickly, maybe too quickly for you to fully understand what the words really meant. In a long stride he was back in front of you looking at your eyes with an intensity that you knew only meant trouble.

“You’ve been here since I can remember. I saw you when you were not taller than two feet and I see you now that you are a beautiful lady.” He continued his speech making your face flush. “You are the closest ally I have ever had and I would like it to stay that way no matter the circumstances”

You had thought of him as more than a friend often but now that you were on the receiving end of his words it almost didn’t feel real.

“Maybe we can be alone together.” He tried to explain, offering you a hand to take.

Your mind was going faster than you could keep up. In a small amount of time you thought about it, about what it might mean for you and him, your families...you even thought about what it might mean for the kingdom. And in all that thinking you couldn’t find a single reason to say no.

You placed your hand back in his, and if before it felt different now it felt otherworldly. With a smile he raised your hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss to the back of it. You couldn’t avoid but softly hitting his cheek like you did when you were younger and you wanted him to stop being mean, because some part of you hadn’t felt this close to him since before rules were placed for your interactions.

“I would love to be alone together with you, Edward.”

Taglist: @solinarimoon @webreathfandoms @thebohemianpenguin @filiandkili

#the last kingdom imagine #the last kingdom x reader #tlk imagine #tlk x reader #king edward x reader #edward x reader #king edward imagine #edward imagine #edward the elder #rosies250 #myfic

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contemplativepancakes · 3 years

Text

abs of steel

the 2.5k story of how Geralt came to have his season 2 armor, with some help from Jaskier, of course. read on ao3 here!

Jaskier putters around the room, with one of Geralt’s dozens of tiny bottles in his hand and a rag in the other. He gives it a half hearted shine before setting it back down and looking at Geralt.

Jaskier’s not sure how Geralt ever survived without him, honestly, because it seems like finding Geralt in varying states of unconsciousness is becoming a much too common occurrence. He supposes Geralt’s amount of passing out probably hasn’t changed, just the amount of times someone has coming looking for him. Jaskier’s heart does not ache at the thought.

Geralt’s chest moves shallowly under the blanket, and Jaskier goes to stoke the fire. He had sweetalked the innkeeper into giving them a better room when it had become apparent that their stay was going to be...extended, and he’s glad for it. The room has its own bath tub, and a fire place, and there’s even a soft rug by the bed where Jaskier can sit and compose without worrying about jostling Geralt’s injuries.

Jaskier casts a longing glance to his notebook, wishing that he could write and make the voices in his head stop whirling, but lyrics have been evading him ever since he found Geralt unconscious and even paler than usual.

Geralt had just been going after a lesser vampire, had reassured Jaskier that it wasn’t going to be a big deal, and to not wait up, but Jaskier’s glad he did.

Frankly, he doesn’t know why Geralt tells him not to do things when they both know he’s not going to listen.

He supposes it makes Geralt feel better. He doesn’t pretend to understand what happens in Geralt’s brain. He imagines it’s a lot of grunting and internal hmm-ing.

Geralt stirs under the covers, and Jaskier rushes across the room to stand by his side. Geralt blinks up at him, and Jaskier lets himself drift a hand over Geralt’s concerningly warm brow. He’s hot, but he’s not sweating, and Jaskier bites his lip. He gives Geralt what he hopes is a reassuring smile, but he thinks it might be more of a grimace.

Geralt slips a hand out from under the covers, and Jaskier takes the liberty of reaching out his own. Geralt could have died; he can’t be held responsible for his actions. “What happened?” Geralt groans, his voice scratchy and deep from disuse.

“Good question,” Jaskier says, glaring at him. Now that it doesn’t seem like Geralt is any imminent danger of never waking up again, it’s a little easier to be mad instead of just wracked with worry.

“It was...a pack of them,” Geralt remembers haltingly.

Jaskier hums, brushing a hand through Geralt’s hair. He wonders if Geralt would let him get away with brushing it. Maybe he’ll ask when Geralt doesn’t seem so groggy.

“It’s okay,” Jaskier soothes. “You need to rest.”

“I’m fine,” Geralt automatically protests, going to sit up.

“Geralt, you are not, your rib is broken and the healer said one of your intestines might be punctured. You could get sepsis.”

“Witchers don’t get infections. I’m fine,” Geralt says again, but it’s even less convincing this time.

“Just...stay in bed. Can you do that? I know it goes against everything in you to not do your utmost to aggravate me, but listen just this once.”

Geralt lays back against the pillow, his hair spreading out in a halo around his head. “Fine.”

“Don’t look so pleased about it, love.”

If looks could kill, Jaskier would be haunting one very grumpy witcher. “I’m sure you’ll survive,” Jaskier says breezily. “I know, it’s the epitome of cruelty to make you rest. Someone let witcher protective services know.”

“My swords?” Geralt asks gruffly, changing the topic.

Jaskier rolls his eyes and huffs. Like he would forget Geralt’s swords. “Oiled and put away.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t be grumpy just because you don’t have an excuse to get out of bed.”

“What about my armor?”

Jaskier casts a nervous glance to the corner. “I’m afraid that’s beyond my talents. They’re a little shredded.”

Geralt follows his line of sight to where his leather armor is in a pile on the ground, blood streaked and torn.

“Well, I need to get new, then,” Geralt says, attempting to sit up again.

He stops with a look from Jaskier, and Jaskier gives a hum of satisfaction. “I can get it for you.”

“Jaskier, you don’t even know what to look for.”

Jaskier glares at him. “How long have I been travelling with you for? And you don’t even think I know what you look for in your armor?”

Geralt harumphs. “Fine.”

“Fine?” Jaskier asks in delight. He wasn’t actually expecting to win that battle. Maybe he can get Geralt out of something black, for a change.

“Here,” Geralt says, leaning over the bed to rustle through his pack. Give the armorer this.”

Jaskier takes the drawing and instructions, and he’s ready to skip to the armorer’s, but Geralt’s expression pinches as he settles back into his spot on the bed, so he hurries back to his side. “What hurts?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier says, taking a page out of Geralt’s book.

Jaskier crosses his arms and stares at him for a solid minute before Geralt relents. “My ribs.”

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it? Now just let me see.”

He peels back the covers, wincing at the mess that is Geralt’s chest. By the time Jaskier had dragged him back to town, most of his wounds had started to clot, so the healer thought it was best to let them breathe, but now Jaskier has to look at them.

He carefully drifts his fingers over the torn tissue and mottled purple of what’s still intact, watching Geralt’s reaction carefully.

Eventually, he draws back. “I don’t think there’s anything else I can do,” he admits. “Let me get you something for the pain.”

Geralt grunts in annoyance, no doubt meaning something about witchers being nothing but vessels for pain or some other horrible thing that they ingrained in him during his nightmare of an upbringing. He goes over to Geralt’s bag, looking for the right roots and herbs to concoct his mixture. He pulls out Geralt’s mortar and pestle, grinding the ingredients together until he has a lumpy paste. He carefully scoops it out of the mortar and into a glass filled with water on the bedside table. He mixes it together vigorously and sets it back on the table for a moment while he helps Geralt sit up.

Geralt tries to wave him off, but Jaskier insists. Once there’s three pillows propping him up, Jaskier hands him the glass. Geralt sniffs at it doubtfully. “I think you might be trying to get ready of me,” he says.

Jaskier hides his laugh behind his hand. “I wouldn’t go through all this trouble if I was, now would I?”

“I suppose not,” Geralt sighs, grimacing as he knocks the whole thing back in one drag.

“That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

Geralt smacks his lips together, gesturing for Jaskier to get him some more water. “Terrible. Possibly life threatening.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “You’re welcome. Can I trust you to behave while I’m gone?”

Geralt chooses not to dignify that with an answer. “I’ll take that as a no, then,” Jaskier says. “The innkeeper has children, don’t make me make them come up here to watch after you.”

“I’ll behave,” Geralt says dryly.

“Good. You better be in that exact spot when I come back.”

“Hmm,” Geralt says, and Jaskier knows that means that Geralt is the one who’s going to be ignoring him, for a change.

Jaskier just hopes that Geralt won’t jostle himself too much as he steps out of the door and into the hallway.

He makes his way down the steps and out onto the dusty main road of the village, peeking at the other wares being sold, particularly eyeing a doublet with stunning embroidery that he can’t believe is being sold in this dank little town, of all places. He makes a mental note to come back after getting Geralt’s armor. Jaskier investigates the baked goods, inhaling the scent of bread and surveying the hand pies, looking at their delightfully golden exteriors longingly.

Jaskier makes it to the armorer without incident, a brass bell ringing overhead as he steps inside. The armorer crosses her arms as she regards Jaskier thoughtfully. “You lost?” she asks.

Jaskier flashes her a winning smile. “Not at all. I’m here for a friend.”

The armorer stares back at him, unimpressed. “You know, it’s important that I’m able to measure someone to give them the best fit. I don’t want someone getting killed and blaming it on my armor. No, if someone dies, it’s going to be because of their own ineptitude.”

“I’m certain that won’t be a problem,” Jaskier says. “Have you ever made armor for a witcher before?”

Her eyes light up. “Your friend is a witcher? To tell the truth, things have been a little slow around here since the war ended.”

“I’ll pay you well, don’t worry,” Jaskier says, producing the paper Geralt had given him from his cloak with a flourish.

She practically snatches the scroll out of Jaskier’s hands, her eyes roving over the paper. She mutters something to herself before turning back to look at Jaskier.

“I still need the measurements,” she says. “It’s even more crucial for such an important client.”

“Of course. Don’t worry, I have them right here.” Jaskier fishes his notebook from his satchel, flipping through until he finds the page with Geralt’s sizes on it. Jaskier swears that Geralt purposely ruins all of his fine clothing between banquets he drags him to, because Jaskier always has to buy Geralt new clothes.

Actually, come to think of it, he’s never seen the evidence of them being damaged, and it’s not like Geralt just wears them around. Jaskier shakes his head as he realizes Geralt probably just sells them. Jaskier supposes Geralt does always swear that will be the last banquet he ever attends after each one, just for Jaskier to talk him into one more, but that’s no excuse.

Jaskier tilts his head for a moment as he contemplates how to get his revenge, smirking when the idea dawns upon him. Jaskier sketches a quick picture and pushes it towards the armorer. “How much extra would this cost?”

She looks down at the page dubiously.

Jaskier gives her his most charming smile.

It’s been three days, and Geralt is sick of lying in bed. No matter how much he swears to Jaskier that he’s better, that his rib has knit itself back together, he doesn’t believe him.. It’s just a bruised rib at this point, but Jaskier doesn’t take pity on him, just offers a distraction for Geralt in the form of being better at gwent than he has any right to be.

Geralt sighs heavily, looking at Jaskier out of the corner of his eye.

“Don’t think that will make me take pity on you, Geralt,” Jaskier says, not even looking up from his composing notebook. “Besides, we have to wait for your armor anyway.”

“What’s taking so long?” Geralt complains.

“Perfection takes time. Besides, the armorer’s never seen any of your witcher-y things, so you have to give her time to figure it out.”

Geralt groans and sits up, swinging his legs out of the bed. “I can’t take it anymore.”

Jaskier rushes to him, but Geralt brushes him off. “I’m fine,” he growls.

Jaskier raises his hands and backs away. “Fine, fine. Don’t be so grumpy when all I’ve been doing is taking care of you.”

Geralt glares at him, and Jaskier strokes a hand through his soft hair. “You do deserve it, you know,” Jaskier says.

Geralt looks down, a bothersome flush creeping up his neck.

“I think I’ll go check on the armor, since you’re in such a rush.” Jaskier rolls his eyes. “She said it would be done sometime today.”

Geralt rummages through his pack, hardly looking up at Jaskier. “Good. Then we can finally move on. I was talking to the innkeeper about a wyvern a day’s ride away.”

“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves, here, hmm?”

Geralt grumbles as Jaskier leaves, finding himself excited to see the new armor against his will. He so rarely gets anything that doesn’t already have a crust of dirt on it that anytime he has a sword or armor made, he finds himself looking forward to it.

Geralt goes to the mirror in the corner of the room and lifts up his shirt, noting how the mottled purple has become large splotches of greenish brown. Everything’s looking good, so he sorts his satchel, shaking his head fondly as he reorganizes his elixirs. Whenever Jaskier gets his hands on them, he always sorts them by color, but that’s not what Geralt likes. He could just tell Jaskier to leave his things alone, but he doesn’t have the heart for it.

Geralt putters around the room, making the bed and hoping that if he’s ready to go by the time Jaskier gets back, he can convince him to move on. He can smell Jaskier’s anxious energy, anyway; he knows Jaskier is just staying here for his benefit.

Geralt finishes putting the last of his things into his pack and is just contemplating going down to the stables to see Roach when Jaskier bursts through the door, armor in hand.

Jaskier hands it off to him with a self satisfied flourish, and Geralt freezes as he looks at it. “You can’t be serious.”

“The armorer and I thought it would make you like quite fetching.”

“Jaskier.”

“What, don’t you like it? It’s a gift, Geralt, I’m offended.”

Geralt rubs his fingers over the indents in the chest plate. He has so many questions.

“It’s the new fashion,” Jaskier assures him.

“I’m a witcher, not a model.”

“Why not both?” Jaskier asks airily. He looks around the room. “So, are you ready to go then?”

Jaskier steps forward to help him buckle the new armor in place, Geralt eyeing it dubiously. Besides from the obvious issue of the chest piece, it’s not even black; it’s a dark green that catches and shimmers in the light. Geralt resists the urge to bury his face in his hands. No one is going to take him seriously now.

He huffs a sigh, trying to communicate his displeasure with Jaskier, but as ever, Jaskier seems immune to his glares. Geralt slings his satchel over his shoulder and steels himself.

As they walk down the street, it’s not as terrible as Geralt was expecting. Sure, the sun is glinting off of his abs and blinding him a little, but Geralt doesn’t hear anyone snickering at him. Everyone just walks by, looks at him, and quickly glances at their feet, which is par for the course for the life of a witcher.

Geralt tilts his chin a little higher, thinking maybe this won’t be so bad after all. He has a new spring in his step when he hears someone calling his name behind him. Geralt turns around, thinking it sounds an awful lot like his brother, and he’s proven right when Lambert skids to a stop in front of him.

“Hey, I’m glad I ran into you; I heard there’s a nest of wyverns a few towns over—” Lambert’s mouth flaps for a second. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

Geralt turns to glare at Jaskier, and he smiles innocently.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #geralt's ridiculous ridiculous armor that pains me to look at #contemplative writing

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wickedpact · 3 years

Text

A ranking of all the TTT stories in order of how much I liked them.

(Oh god this is so long)

1 My Mother's Axe

BABY ANDYYYYYYYYYYYY. Honestly this one had the trifecta of developing a character's motivations, developing a character's backstory, & developing their personality. The story starting out with Andy teaching Nile to use the axe was so charming and fun, and you could feel that chemistry they had in Opening Fire, the way they teased and bickered with each other so naturally. I loved the wedge between them on the subject of the axe, how Nile was perhaps a little too young to understand Andy's feelings about whether or not its the 'same' axe. I also love how the axe is obviously the symbol of the franchise and hugely important, but you never get a sense of exactly how important it is to Andy until you read the story.

I love the entire Ship of Theseus theme, and how it feels so natural that for Andy she has to get attached to the idea of things rather than the things themselves because she'll always outlive the things themselves-- the axe is symbolically her mom's axe, even if physically it isn't. And I love how she clearly clings to that concept so tightly. "This is the labrys she held in her hands...." IT GETS ME.

And the fact that this sense of BELONGING, of FAMILY, of CULTURE is so important to Andy that she clings to it (figuratively and literally) with both hands. And of course it's important to her, she spent so long alone that the woman doesn't even remember her birth name. That axe (or the idea of that axe) is all she has left of her mother and that family/culture she was born into.

PLUS on that note I love how Andy doesn't remember if her mom was her actual biological mother, but it doesn't matter to her. This woman was her mother in all the ways that counted. And how her mom BETRAYED AND KILLED Andy but Andy loved her so much that she avenged her and carried her axe for thousands of years. THOUSANDS OF YEARS!!!!!!

I also loved how the story transcends the timeline of the whole franchise and seeing Andy through the years. Loved seeing her with the varying squads and with varying axes. Also baby Andy was so cute. It was cool seeing her so young. like holy fuck. Andromache The Scythian, Immortal Warrior (but smol). Love that.

Also I think this one is one of the few ttt stories that doesn't suffer from length problems.

tldr: goddammit greg you've done it again.

2 Zanzibar and Other Harbors

Zanzibar my beloved. I've said before, but it's downright comedic how little regard there was for Joe and Nicky's character designs in this story. The same person who does the colors for the regular comic did the colors for this one too, and you can tell, every panel of this story was Beautiful.

Ik there was A Lot of criticism of this one (lmao @ how the fandom had no idea what was to come) but I thought a lot of The Discourse was a bit dramatic. I did think Nicky came off as a little oblivious to Joe's feelings in this story, but I've said before, I honestly think that was a 'tone not translating' thing. It felt like Nicky was nagging Joe for [checks notes] saving innocent people, but Joe was so amused by Nicky's complaints I really do think it was supposed to come off as teasing.

Plus I know the 'Joe running off into danger and Nicky reluctantly following' dynamic wasn't popular (I'm a pretty meh on it meself) but I did love how Joe's impulsiveness (if you want to call it that) was interpreted as heroism and not hot-hotheadedness. All of the examples Nicky and Joe talked about included Joe explicitly saving people. (and it also took A Lot for the nazi to actually provoke Joe).

I also feel like their characterization here was closest to the movie canon-- the bit where they hear the woman scream and Joe goes running in to save her while Nicky swoops in on Joe's heels to comfort her while Joe and the nazi were fighting reminds me of the train car scene. Joe had suggested First that they go find Nile because she needed to be protected, and Nicky later added that Nile probably also needed emotional support. Similar reactions.

But it was So Good, the themes of queer community and the enduring nature of queer culture are Not themes you see in media that often and it was such a delight how it was done. Also it's one of the few more modern TTT stories that has a completely valid excuse for taking place when it did. Chef's kiss.

3 Passchendaele

I love the Duality between seeing baby Andy and then seeing Mama Andy in the very next issue. This story doesn't have a ton of meat to it, but the entire concept of Andy adopting a war orphan straight off the battlefield PLUCKS MY TENDER LITTLE HEARTSTRINGS, and I think it's especially poignant for comic!Andy. I think most people wouldn't think twice about movie!Andy doing something like that but comic Andy is so hardened and almost cruel sometimes, and seeing that even for her the world hasn't beaten all of the compassion from her yet is SO!!!!!!! this woman contains MULTITUDES okay, she's violent and angry and tired and Done but she's also so kind and compassionate and THE STRENGTH OF HER!!!!! Also the idea of her and Yitzhak co-raising a kid together is so damn cute. It was #mysterious pre-Yitzhak-story but now it's cute. holy fuck. It's cute.

& the headbonk panel of her and Zeus lives in my heart. anyways.

4 Many Happy Returns

I Know people weren't thrilled about Booker being in this one, but I've developed a pet-peeve about that: this story was *not* booker-centric. Booker only exists in this story to the extent required to explain the importance of the gesture Nile makes towards him. If there was a story about Booker making some grand gesture of kindness to Nile no one would be saying it was Nile-centric. bc it wouldn't be! Booker exists in this story to explore Nile's kindness, its not about him. I saw that a couple times and it bothered me. anyways.

AAAAAAAAAA I loved this one, the art was beautiful, I loved how Andy Nile and Booker were drawn (like their comic selves but.. more looking like actual people). I loved Andy and Nile's Bants, how Andy wanted to jump right in and Do Violence but Nile was basically telling her to hold her horses.

I feel like I'm just repeating the post I made on this story a few days ago, but I LOVED how Nile's plan revolves not around violence or Cool Mercenary Skills but on Nile's own life skills (as she canonly did a lot of minimum wage job-hopping before the marines in comics canon). Her plan used her skills, not the skills of an immortal warrior, and HER SKILLS were in fact more useful for the situation! lov to see Nile's resourcefulness and planning skills.

AND HOW NILE WAS PROBABLY WATCHING BOOKER??? it's so Much bc 1.) nile knew booker A SINGLE DAY and yet he made such an impression on her emotionally that she had to keep an eye on him and 2.) she said in the movie she wanted Booker to get off free with an apology. Yes she's a member of the team but that doesn't mean she's necessarily going to follow orders like a good little soldier. I also love how she convinced Andy to go along with it. her HEART, her KINDNESS, her THOUGHTFULNESS, UGH.

5 The Bear

Honestly I have like no negative things to say about this one other than a.) character design issues which is less about the story itself and is more of a 'tog comic in general' criticism and b.) too short, but it was supposed to be a tease, so.

But I loved Yitzhak, I wasn't expecting to really like him at all but like I said in my other post, he tickled me. I love characters who are Kind™, especially if they have little reason to be so given their backgrounds. Chef's kiss. Lov him.

6 Bonsai Shokunin

I know this one was a little controversial bc of the outsider POV but whenever I see people upset about that they never point out that the Outsider Guy (the samurai) existed as a reflection on Noriko. His ideas are explained in the text to develop hers. The whole story follows how she gave mercy to a scared young man and in response he murdered Noriko, repeatedly! Who gave him the right to inflict such pain and suffering on the world? In his opinion, the lack of response from the gods was his permission. And for Noriko-- over and over again she dies and suffers because she gave mercy, which lines up with her ideas in FM about how it's their fate to rule mortals and if they don't align with that plan/fate/whatever then they suffer. It shows some background to those ideas and how they developed in her mind outside of Ocean Madness™. Additionally, his idea of 'the Gods have done nothing to strike me down so it's fine if I do these things' kind of explains how Noriko may justify her own morally corrupt actions-- she's died so many times and it's never stuck. Maybe if she did die any of those times, or while she was in the water, maybe that would've been a sign she was doing something right, or at least doing something normal. But she hasn't died. Fate isn't done with Noriko yet. And maybe there's a reason for that. In her mind, it's just not a very pleasant reason, is all.

There were things I was kind of meh about tho. I did kind of wish we saw something of Noriko and the team, or smth explaining the way she was before her dip in the pool-- personality, likes dislikes, etc. but it wasn't bad or anything. It was super vague tho, I had to read it a few times before I got what it was going for. Liked the art. Liked the bonsai metaphor. And of course I Respect the decision to use the 1300s (1200s? I don't remember off the top of my head) rather than using the last 200 years.

7 Strong Medicine

Honestly looking back, this one made me kind of sad because both this one and Bonsai Shokunin explored character's ideas on Fate and The Divine and how that intersects with immortality and I totally thought that theme would be continued, especially with Love Letters. But Then It Wasn't™.

Admittedly.... I had to re-read this one to remember most of it. I liked Booker's ideas on God, 'The conductor of the symphony just may not be very good at his trade' but the plot itself was kind of forgettable. Some fuckin cowboys try to kill a doctor (their second) because he couldn't save their sickly brother. Book tries to stop them, gets killed, and then comes back and kills them all before they get the doctor. Alright. I liked the artstyle because the characters were ugly in a similar way that leandro's are, but way more bearable.

I love the Irony of Booker concluding that there is no such thing as fate or destiny and nothing has meaning, AS HE UNKNOWINGLY SAVES MERRICK'S GRANDFATHER FROM BEING KILLED. Booker getting fucked over by life/god/destiny yet again. It also kind of explains about where the fuck hell Merrick's interest in immortal mercenaries even came from.

I originally had this one a lot higher and then I thought about it and moved it down like two spots.

8 Never Gets Old

I liked seeing Booker interact with his kid. And we got a name for the kid! Philippe was a little bitch though, he was a little obnoxious. I liked how Booker was so thrilled to experience a restaurant with his kid (and since we know he was there before, it can be assumed he went with all of his kids and yet he was so charmed each time). It fits with his line to Nicky in the moon landing story about how you don't appreciate beautiful things 'unless you have someone to share them with'. It was charming to see Booker interact with his kid, and to see him so happy. Also lmao @ Booker's big fat Ye Olde Crush on Andy.

However at the same time it was like.. of all the things to write about,,, I guess? Booker's Night Out...... alright. Especially since Book had so many stories.

I don't know, it was alright. The old man killing him really came out of nowhere, (but the 'Salut, asshole!' panel was funny tho).

9 How To Make a Ghost Town

I've hit a point where talking about these stories has gotten less fun. I liked this one but I felt like Achilles getting lynched was not really necessary for a story that was already tragic (a story that already involved Achilles doing a lot of suffering at the hand of bigots). When we first got the blurb for this story I thought it would be about Andy returning to the squad and making friends with Booker after losing Achilles and them butting heads on the idea of family and when to cut off ties. So a little bit of my underwhelmedness about this one might be just my expectations being different.

Honestly I was pretty interested in Andy and Achilles' relationship and I would've liked to see more of them-- like, what was their dynamic like? What did they love about each other?

But anyways Andy leaving and Achilles getting killed anyways feels so pointlessly tragic (which I suppose is the point..... I don't like tragedies) she left to save him and yet people killed him anyway. Meh.

I did love the bits about Andy wanting to have a domestic life (Andy and her multitudes again) and the little detail about how she buried her axe near the road but he buried his guns under his bed-- he was an escaped slave, he never had the luxury of assuredness like Andy did. It was a sad story.

10 Lacus Solitudinis

'You put this one above love letters crim??? how could you???' easy, lmao.

There was stuff in this one I liked. But to talk about stuff I didn't like: (I'll keep it brief, I know ragging on this story has been done time and time again)

UH, setting aside the 6 year cold shoulder between Joe and Nicky, I thought their chosen method of conflict resolution was... bad at best. Nicky's inability to talk about his feelings was also annoying, especially since the entire point of this story is a fight Joe and Nicky had, and yet we don't get both sides to the story, which is...... important? That fact is especially annoying bc in the absence of Nicky explaining his side of the story, it's absolutely a possible (and admittedly probably unintentional) interpretation of the text that we do get that Joe routinely resolves conflict between him and Nicky by simply cutting Nicky out of his life entirely until Nicky just. caves? Even if it takes years?

WHICH i could get into that interpretation and how fucked up i find it. but im not going to. out of restraint.

I don't know, I think there are a lot of interesting ways to go about this conflict but 'Nicky wants to kill a guy and Joe refuses to acknowledge his existence until he stops because he thinks Nicky is too much of a Good Boy to get his hands dirty like that' ('I wont watch as the world turns his (...) compassion into something ugly'. ) wasn't.. how I would've done it. (I mean you know Joe doesn't give a shit about what Nicky is doing in a moral way, because Joe doesn't even care or mention that Booker is killing those cops too. Joe only cares because he doesn't like the idea of Nicky changing in a way he finds undesirable.)

admittedly I've said before, I do like the emphasis Joe's reaction puts on Nicky's kindness. Joe has a complete inability to cope with Nicky simply Not Being Kind. It speaks to the steadiness of Nicky's compassion all those years. but still that fact doesn't make it the conflict feel worth it

hm. I said I would be brief and I wasn't.

oh well. basically I thought there was interesting conflict potential there but it wasn't done the way I would've liked, and the way it was done leaves a lot of disturbing (and again probably unintended) interpretations to lie.

What I did like? Andy and Joe having that pessimist/optimist dynamic. Joe nerding out about science. Andy not being impressed by The Achievements Of Man. I loved Booker needling at Nicky about his outdated slang and also trying to give him Older Brother advice practically in the same breath. I loved Booker giving The Worst relationship advice ever and Nicky being like 'I Will Not Do That, Ever, Thanks.' the family vibes were so good. The Joenicky vibes left a lot to be desired tho.

11 Love Letters

I talked about my problems with Nicky in this story (and Lacus Solitudinis). I don't know, the story isn't bad but I do hold a little bit of a grudge towards it because its very existence begs the existence of a solo Joe story and we didn't get one. If we never got this story, then we could happily count Lacus Solitudinis and Zanzibar as The Joenicky Stories™ and move on with our lives. sigh.

I remember when we first got the blurb for this story I was really curious about why Nicky specifically + the setting, and the answer kind of feels like 'the author had an idea for a story like this and saw ttt as a good enough place to utilize that idea'. Plus I was really underwhelmed by the Romantic Sentiment in the letter. If you look at it line-by-line, the majority of the letter is actually Nicky talking about how lonely and disturbed he is, rather than actual,, yknow,,, Romantic Sentiment. I mean, compare the van speech and this letter and this letter is just kind of meh in comparison. I liked nicky calling joe wise! and I liked the brief sun/moon metaphor! and otherwise it was eh. It didn't even have cute squad banter, which is why Lacus Solitudinis is above this one.

12 An Old Soul

Nun orgy. Nun orgy?????? Nun orgy.......

The whole story felt like a setup to have a nun orgy. Why did Booker have abs? Why did they do that to Andy's nose? ?????? the art was good at least.

nun orgy.

#tales through time spoilers #obviously #long post #seriously dont open that read more unless youre committed to scrolling past all these Words

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ibijau · 3 years

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Forbidden love pt5 / on AO3

Lan Xichen's first idea, upon learning that Wei Wuxian had returned to the world of the living, was that he must have done so through cruel and evil means. That possibility was considered, and quickly dismissed. Lan Qiren knew who his guest was, and he would never have tolerated the presence of a dark spirit inside the Cloud Recesses, least of all that particular one.

Guessing the reason for his silence, Wei Wuxian grinned awkwardly.

"Yes, you might wonder about this," he said gesturing at himself but careful not to wake the child sleeping on his lap. "I didn't steal this body, it was gifted to me. Against my will, might I add. That Mo Xuanyu kid was pushed into giving up his life, so I could be brought back and help some other kid named Xue Yang make sense of my own damn research."

That Xue Yang would be involved in whatever was happening surprised Lan Xichen very little. That boy and the work he'd done to decipher Wei Wuxian's notes were what had started this entire mess.

“Much as your inventions have increased their fortune,” Lan Xichen said, “I find it hard to believe the Jins would want you back.”

His eyes fell on Jin Ling as he said so, and to his credit, Wei Wuxian’s expression turned sombre at the reminder of what his actions had cost Lanling Jin.

“The Jins don’t know that I’m alive. Poor Mo Xuanyu didn’t have friends it seems, so nobody realised the change. And Xue Yang didn’t tell anyone. Even if Mo Xuanyu wasn’t very popular, I think Jin Guangshan might have taken offence if he’d realised that one of his bastards died to revive the man who killed his heir. It was our little secret, Xue Yang and I.”

“How long ago were you brought back?”

Wei Wuxian paused for a moment as he tried to remember.

“About a month, I’d say. We spent most of that stuck in a secret room where Xue Yang worked, so it was hard to tell how much time passed, at least until they sent us away a week ago.”

Saying this, Wei Wuxian glanced again at Jin ling, this time with an air of concern.

“I wasn’t given details at first,” he explained. “Just that Xue Yang, me, and some Jin disciples were to take Jin Ling to a secret location and keep him safe. I hadn’t really heard about their trouble with the Nie at that point, because Xue Yang didn't care about that. But the Jin disciples were a chatty bunch and I was able to get some news through them… and to guess the parts they weren't talking about.”

“Jin Ling really wasn’t kidnapped then,” Lan Xichen realised. “I knew da-ge would never have done that. Even at his worst, he would not harm a child.”

“But others might,” Wei Wuxian retorted, glancing at Lan Qiren, who appeared to have heard that whole story before. “See, our official instructions to keep Jin Ling hidden. But then, both those Jin disciples and Xue Yang were each given another set of secret instructions. I heard about Xue Yang’s first, but I think you’ll prefer to hear the other ones before. The Jin disciples were told that if other sects realised Jin Ling hadn’t been taken away by the Nie, Xue Yang was to be killed and blamed for the incident while I, or rather Xuanyu, would pretend to have been taken by force as well, and act as a witness.”

That was a cunning plan, and Lan Xichen wondered if it didn’t bear the mark of Jin Guangyao’s cleverness. After all, if Xue Yang died, there was much that might be blamed on him. The Jins might even try to make peace offerings to Qinghe Nie by showing they had finally done what Nie Mingjue had asked them to do for months now. Nie Mingjue would refuse. He would have refused if he had been in a healthy state of mind, too smart not to see this for a ruse, and he would refuse in his current state, too unwell to hear about peace. That might rally more sects to Lanlin Jin’s side, if Jin Guangshan and his son navigated the situation well and told everyone that Nie Mingjue was once more unreasonable.

It would even work on the Lan elders, too eager for peace to look at its cost.

“Now that’s bad enough,” Wei Wuxian agreed. “But Xue Yang had his own orders., in case the situation between Lanling and Qinghe got to a stalemate. He was told he’d need to kill all our guards, then kill Jin Ling and display his body in as awful a manner as possible, and in a way that would give the impression Qinghe Nie was responsible for it. He found it so funny he thought he’d share that plan with me, since he expected I’d have little love for my nephew.”

Feeling faint, Lan Xichen stumbled a few feet and had to lean against the nearest wall for fear he would collapse.

“Who gave that order?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“The one man who’d have everything to gain from being rid of Jin Guangshan’s heir,” Wei Wuxian answered. “And who most desperately needs for Qinghe Nie to be seen as evil, so people forget that he caused this war that’s waiting to happen.”

Even though this did but confirm his doubts, Lan Xichen was so shocked that all his strength left him and he nearly fell to his knees. Whatever else he had become, Jin Guangyao had once been his saviour during the war, then his friend, and eventually his sworn brother. He had kept the hope that things might be resolved in a peaceful manner, long after everything showed it to be impossible. And even if that friendship had shattered beyond what could be repaired, Lan Xichen had comforted himself with the thought that Jin Guangyao had only behaved in such a terrible manner because his father had forced him to choose filial loyalty over other duties.

It was a comfort Lan Xichen was now robbed of. Even if Jin Guangshan was sure to still carry his share of blame, it could not be denied anymore that Jin Guangyao was perfectly capable of evil on his own.

“When Xue Yang explained this, I decided I couldn’t stay out of it,” Wei Wuxian resumed. “I killed him without too much trouble, but it attracted the attention of those Jin disciples. I ended up forced to kill them too, but not until one of them explained what their instructions had been. That’s when I figured I had to get Jin Ling somewhere safe,” he added, looking mournful. “The best option would have been Yunmeng, but Jiang Cheng would skin me alive on sight."

Lan Xichen, still leaning with his shoulder against the wall, let out a joyless laugh.

"Most likely."

"So I decided I'd try to see if Lan Zhan might help. Even if we've not always seen eye to eye, he is the most honourable person I know, and I was sure he'd help with Jin Ling even if it was me asking."

Whatever strength had returned to Lan Xichen’s body nearly deserted him again at the thought of what his brother might do, when he would know Wei Wuxian to be alive again.

"I'm sure he would," he muttered.

"But when I arrived here, they told me Lan Zhan wasn't available,” Wei Wuxian continued as if he hadn’t heard. “I was lucky though, and someone recognised Mo Xuanyu’s face, but not Jin Ling's because I'd wrapped him in a shawl. They figured I couldn't be ignored, so they took me and little Jin Ling to see Lan-xiangsheng, who hid us here while he figured out what to do.”

“I won’t be able to hide you much longer,” Lan Qiren replied. “It will become noticed that I have been eating more than usual. It is only a shame I had not realised Xichen was helping his brother escape. The Jingshi would have made a great hiding place for you and that child until we decided how to handle that.”

“I did not want you to be blamed if Wangji’s escape was discovered,” Lan Xichen said.

"I’ve raised both of you,” Lan Qiren retorted, “And done a poor job of it if some elders are to be trusted. I’d have been blamed even if I protested my ignorance. Where is he?"

"Safe," Lan Xichen only said.

"Can we send those two to him?"

It was a good option to consider, but Lan Xichen still shook his head. Since the Jins had claimed Jin Ling was in the hands of the Nie, if he were discovered in a house that belonged to Nie Huaisang they could use it as proof that they’d said the truth. Likewise, if Nie Mingjue came to hear about it, he might take it as evidence that his brother was conspiring against him, and Lan Xichen could not do anything that might further endanger his dear friend.

Wei Wuxian agreed when Lan Xichen explained his reluctance.

“The best place for Jin Ling to be right now is Lotus Piers,” he claimed. “I can’t take him there, but as far as I know Jiang Cheng admires and respects both of you. If you bring him his nephew and explain what happened, he’ll listen.”

“He would at the very least declare himself neutral if his nephew were returned to him,” Lan Qiren agreed. “Or he might even join Nie Mingjue to demand Jin Guangyao be brought to justice. That would only leave the problem of what to do with you.”

“I’d quite like to stay out of this mess if I could,” Wei Wuxian retorted with a smirk. “But I can't do that until another matter is settled. I too must see Jin Guangyao punished for his crimes, even if they weren’t against me.”

As he said that, he lifted his left arm which had been wrapped around little Jin Ling, and cautiously lowered his sleeve to reveal a deep red cut which looked as if it were on the verge of an infection.

“I had two when I awoke in this body. The ritual mo Xuanyu uses demands that I accomplish his last requests, and those marks are a proof of that. The other went away when I killed Xue Yang, and since I’ve read Mo Xuanyu’s diaries, I have good reason to think this second one demands the death of Jin Guangyao. Poor kid had to blame someone for how miserable he was, and it’s his half-brother who assigned him to help Xue Yang.”

“And is there a time limit for Xuanyu’s revenge to be accomplished?”

“Probably, but I don’t know it. The wound has been getting a little painful lately, so I guess I should hurry.”

Presented with a problem to solve, Lan Xichen’s energy returned and he was finally able to stand straight again as he applied himself to finding a solution. The other two did the same, and silence fell onto the house.

“I have a suggestion,” Lan Xichen said after a moment. “Uncle, I think you should be the one to bring Jin Ling to Yunmeng. You are Jiang Cheng’s senior and his former teacher, so the respect he owes you will make it easier for him to accept what happened. For my part, I will take Wei Wuxian to the place where Lan Wangji is hidden. Wangji will be sure to keep an eye on him and on his health until other problems have been dealt with.”

Hearing this, Lan Qiren frowned. His nephew was hardly any happier at the idea of allowing a reunion between Lan Wangji and the man who had ruined his life, but leaving Wei Wuxian in the Cloud Recesses wasn’t an option, and neither was just releasing him without knowing what he might do while his life depended on Jin Guangyao’s death. But if Lan Wangji were told about the situation, he would do everything in his power to keep Wei Wuxian safe and out of trouble.

“When Wei Wuxian is safe,” Lan Xichen continued, “I will go to Qinghe and free Nie Huaisang.”

“That seems unwise,” Lan Qiren protested. “I like the boy well enough, but this is too dangerous. How would you even get inside the Unclean Realm?”

“It is not as impenetrable as it is reputed, and Nie Mingjue used to trust me enough to share some of its secrets with me when we were young.”

It was odd to think of that faraway youth, when they’d only been insouciant children. At the time, Nie Mingjue’s father had still been alive, and his eldest son hadn’t been forced yet to turn so serious. One afternoon, when Lan Xichen was visiting with his uncle, Nie Mingjue had shown him a secret passage so they could go play without anyone bothering them. It had been many years, but Lan Xichen was sure he would find that passage’s exit again. Then it would only be a matter of finding where Nie Huaisang had been imprisoned and releasing them.

“That’s still a great risk to take,” Lan Qiren insisted.

“It is,” Lan Xichen conceded. “And yet it must be attempted. Aside from Nie Huaisang, who has ever been known to convince Nie Mingjue to change his mind?”

Lan Qiren protested against that plan, as did Wei Wuxian, not that his opinion could have mattered to Lan Xichen. And yet, since neither could suggest anything better, that was the plan they adopted.

#xisang #lan xichen #lan qiren #wei wuxian #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #jau writes #forbidden romance au

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sirenprincess15 · 3 years

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Please Don't Leave Me Chapter 15

Title: Please Don’t Leave Me

Author: SirenPrincess

Description: What if Aleksander hadn’t answered the door when Ivan interrupted the war room kissing? What if Aleksander and Alina had a bit more time to get to know each other before Baghra told her his true identity? Alina is the only one who can comfort Aleksander through his nightmares. Will she leave once she knows who he is?

This story is based on the show version and features a soft on the inside, hard on the outside Aleksander with an emphasis on emotional hurt/comfort and angst. If you are looking for lots of hurt!Aleksander thoughts, then this story is for you. Mal exists but pretty much solely to cause Aleksander some angst. Don’t worry. It will be a Darklina ending.

Chapter 1 is a missing scene at the end of Ep 4, and Chapter 2 takes place alongside Ep 5 and then diverges from canon there.

Pairings: Aleksander Morozova/Alina Starkov, bits of Ivan/Fedyor

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Grisha are oppressed in this universe, and I don’t shy away from showing the horrors of that. There may eventually be mentions of canon-typical torture (Fjerdan pyres), death of family members, and cruelty to Grisha children. It’s not the focus, but that backdrop is definitely there and comes up as characters discuss their past.

In this chapter: Aleksander struggles to share his secrets with Alina until he finds her upset and needing him.

Recommended listening: Lady A "Need You Now"

Chapter 15

They went on that way for a couple of days. Alina spent most of her time with the tracker. It tore Aleksander up but he permitted it for her. Most of Aleksander’s time was spent handling details of the war, receiving intelligence reports, and managing Ravka. Keeping everyone alive kept him focused.

It was the evenings he spent alone that were driving him mad. He kept thinking of Alina’s desire to be fully honest with each other and Fedyor’s words of the importance of knowing and accepting a partner wholly, even with flaws. He had always been a strategist, always played through all scenarios in his head a thousand times until he arrived at one he liked. No matter what scenario he envisioned with Alina, none of them ever turned out as he desired. He desperately longed for the kind of love and acceptance that Alina called for. There had been so many years alone where he had yearned for someone to share things with. However, every time he tried to plan the discussion of one of his secrets, it all went to hell quickly. He had even spent one evening writing it all out for her in the hopes that would help him solidify his thoughts. It hadn’t, and he’d burned it all as he realized how beyond stupid it would be to give her such information in writing.

The problem, he realized, was that he could eloquently justify every decision he had made, but no matter how he poured his heart out into explaining it all, none of that would make the truth any less horrible. Marie was dead--that knowledge would hurt Alina, and he just couldn’t stand the idea of her experiencing all that pain. Genya was his spy--without the centuries of seeing Grisha persecuted to understand what it meant if they lost this war, without seeing the king’s ineptness firsthand, seeing the battalions they had lost because of inadequate supplies and wasted funds, she would never be able to understand this decision. It was unforgivable to leave Genya in that situation. He knew it was, even if Genya had agreed to stay in it herself. That didn’t mean it wasn’t the necessary decision, too. They weren’t mutually exclusive, but Alina would never be able to grasp that. He had a way to potentially take control of her power and use it against her will--would she ever believe he didn’t intend to use it? Was that even really true? He had always hated the idea and told everyone they would not be using it, but deep down he had always known it was the back-up plan. Could he even say he didn’t intend to use it if he knew there were circumstances where he would? All the thoughts swirled in his head and threatened to take him past his breaking point. And then she would be there to help him sleep and somehow it was enough to get him through the next day.

He was stuck, and he didn’t see a way out of this pattern. He couldn’t stop thinking of ways to try to explain things to her. He needed her. His desire for her to actually accept him was overwhelming. But how could she? As he imagined trying to explain things to her, he saw things through her eyes. It was a fresh perspective, and what he saw was horrifying. It all caused him horrible guilt, and, yet, he knew he would make the same decisions again. Over the centuries, he had become numb to accepting the small pains to prevent the true horrors. Alina had reignited emotion inside him, and suddenly everything was raw again.

Aleksander looked at the clock and groaned. It would still be several hours before Alina would visit his chambers to help him sleep. He could not take another night of tearing himself apart while trying to come up with words to help Alina understand how the murder and torture of Grisha over the centuries had forced him to make harder and harder choices. He should get up and do something productive, something, anything to keep his mind active. The library might be a good idea. He thought he had most of the good sources on the Stag in his chambers, but there could still be some good books with more information on relics in general that he and David had not yet read that could at least keep his mind engaged. There was the added bonus that the library reminded him of happier times with Alina. He had never seen someone smile so broadly at books. The memory of stolen kisses between the shelves brought a smile to his face.

Decision made, Aleksander strode to the library. He froze when he saw Ivan hovering near an alcove. Ivan was supposed to be guarding Alina. Aleksander raised an eyebrow, and Ivan gestured with his chin toward the alcove. Years of working together made a silent exchange possible. Alina was in the alcove, and Ivan thought Aleksander should go in there.

“Alina,” Aleksander gasped as he took in her appearance. In her nightgown and robe, she was disheveled, hair a mess, with tears in her eyes.

She desperately tried to wipe the tears away when she saw him. “Aleksander.”

“You’re crying,” he whispered as he closed the distance between them.

“It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”

He reached out and tilted her chin until she met his eyes. “You never let me get away with that line.”

The tears started to fall again. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. To his surprise, she started sobbing. He tentatively sent his power through to her. It caressed against hers and begged for a response. This time, she let the connection flow between them. Emotions echoed back and forth with the familiar comfort of each other. She was sad, confused, scared. He was concerned. He made sure to let her feel his love for her, whether she wanted it or not.

“I missed this,” she whispered after a long while.

He blinked. Didn’t she know she was in control of that? He constantly longed for the connection with her. She was the one who decided when they were allowed to have this. “I missed you.”

She sighed and finally let go of the stress in her. In their bond, she pulled for his comfort.

“Did he hurt you?” It was a quiet question, but there was a clear threat in his tone. If the tracker had harmed her, there was nothing that would stop him from enjoying that man’s death.

“No,” she responded quickly. “It’s nothing like that.”

“Are things not going the way you want with the tracker?” He tried not to enjoy that idea. Alina was hurting. That was bad even if it would result in the tracker being out of the picture.

“You’ll be relieved to know that we’ve realized what we are to each other and it’s family. I tried to kiss him. It was awful. So awful, Aleksander.” She made a face and then gave a soft little laugh. “I do love him, but that felt so wrong, and I realized it’s because he’s like my brother.”

“That is not why you are crying, though.” He could tell. He couldn’t let himself become distracted by the jealousy he felt at the idea of the tracker’s lips on hers, even if it was awful as she said. She was comfortable with the decision that the relationship with the tracker was not romantic. He might take more joy in that, but he could not because something else was devastating her. “Whatever it is, you know you can tell me.”

“I’m afraid it will upset you.”

Because the tracker had actually hurt her? Because she was going to say something against Aleksander? Something to break his heart? “I can take it.” He kissed the top of her forehead. “If I somehow found a way to talk to you about the Fold, you can share this with me.”

She looked up at him with uncertainty in her eyes. “I can’t. You’ll hurt him or ... lock him in the dungeons.”

So this was about the tracker. He might very much like to kill, mame, or at least imprison the tracker for whatever she was about to say next, but he knew she wouldn’t tell him unless he agreed not to hurt that idiot and she could feel that he meant it. He took her hand in his so she could get a strong read of his emotions. “I promise I won’t hurt him without your permission.” That, at least, he could agree to. He’d just convince her to let him kill the tracker if that was called for.

Unable to look him in the eye as she spoke, she focused her gaze on the floor and whispered. “He wants us to run away and hide. He has a whole plan. I tried to explain how I can’t do that. I can’t hide my power. I told him how sick it used to make me. I didn’t understand what was causing it at the time, but now I do and I can’t go back to not being able to eat or sleep, to feeling so exhausted constantly. Nadia told me some stories of Grisha who tried to suppress their powers and got seriously ill. But he just keeps saying it will be fine just for a little while.”

Aleksander tried not to react to the news that the tracker was trying to escape with her, but Alina could probably feel his response. Anger was there, of course, but more than anything it triggered his protective instincts. He swallowed as he tried to push away any concerns of the tracker stealing her out of his safe space in the Little Palace. That wasn’t why Alina had told him or what she was asking for his help with. “He doesn’t accept you as you are, but it’s only because he doesn’t understand you. What we are is impossible for him to comprehend.”

She leaned against his chest so he could wrap his arms back around her. “He keeps saying things against Grisha. Not against me, he says not me, but … I don’t even think he realizes he’s doing it half the time. ‘We can’t trust her, she’s Grisha.’ ‘Those people always have tricks up their sleeves.’ Please don’t be mad at him. He isn’t trying to hurt me, but it does.”

“Prejudice against our kind is something learned at an early age. It’s so ingrained in Ravkan society, worse so in other countries, he probably does not realize that it is hate he is speaking.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not trying to defend or slander him. It’s the truth you need to hear, Alina. He is otkazat’sya. You are Grisha. They have always hated our kind. Fight as we may to be accepted, we never are.”

“I’m tired of feeling so … foreign … other.” She sighed.

“Do you feel like that here at the Little Palace? When you are with me?”

“No, and when he says things like that … I … It’s stupid. I’m so stupid.”

She knew he couldn’t stand for her to put herself down, but he was trying to get her to open up and let all her feelings out, so he didn’t correct her. “Tell me. All of it.”

“I’m a mess, Aleksander. I’m such a mess.”

“You hold me together when I am a mess. I can do the same for you.”

“When he says things that hurt me, all I want is you. I miss you. I miss our connection. I find I can’t breathe when I’m not with you. There’s just this tightness in my chest that won’t go away. I long to reach out to our bond.”

“And that’s a bad thing? Maybe when he puts you down, you subconsciously reach for the only person who has ever made you feel like you are enough and worthy of being loved. I wanted to give that to you, Alina.”

“I’m so scared, Aleksander. I’m in here crying because I need you and I’m so scared to need you!”

“You have taught me it’s okay to need you. It’s okay to need acceptance and love, Alina. I offer those.”

“How can I need you if I don’t even know if I trust you?” Her voice cracked.

Aleksander sucked in a breath at the pain those words caused. “Because of what Baghra said?”

She nodded into his chest. “And the manipulation. If I didn’t know about the letters, what else don’t I know? What else are you doing to manipulate me? At times I think I am strong enough and I can tell when you are lying to me, so that will be enough for me to be able to stay in control of things with you. Other times I’m terrified that I’m still falling for you and I will end up your slave. I realize I’m not in control of anything. I don’t feel whole unless I’m with you! When I’m with Mal, I am constantly thinking of you. I thought that if I gave myself some space, I could separate from that and sort things out, but it’s only worse. It takes all my strength not to run to your rooms because I need you.”

He wanted to reassure her that he was worthy of her trust, but he wasn’t sure that was even true. Wasn’t he just a bit earlier going through the list of all the secrets he had kept from her? He hadn’t managed to confide any of them to her or even come up with a plan of how he could. “There’s so much you don’t know,” he admitted. “It terrifies me, too. Trying to find a way to share it all with you is destroying me.” It was the full truth for once. There were horrible secrets there. He did not want to be manipulating her. He truly did want her to know all of it now, but he wanted her to understand it all too. Figuring out how to make that happen was eating him alive. He focused on those feelings and opened their bond fully so she can know the truth of that. “I need you. I fear if I use the wrong words, you will leave me, and I will not survive.”

“So … we both are driving ourselves mad with self doubt and worry and the pain of being apart. What do we even do with that?”

“If I had come up with a solution, I would not still be tearing myself apart trying to figure it out.” He sighed at the familiar ache in his chest. “Do you … Do you want to just take a break from … trying to figure everything out? My only solace in life is you. If I am your only respite, can we not just give ourselves a night to have that?” He needed a break, and she needed his comfort. They both were in so much pain from trying to survive alone.

“I’d like that,” she admitted, finally looking up into his eyes.

Aleksander reached out his hand and cupped her cheek. She leaned into his touch, and the clenching in his chest finally relaxed. She wanted his comfort. He wasn’t quite sure what a break would look like to her. Would she just want to sit and read in the library? Hold each other perhaps?

Tentatively, he leaned forward to kiss her. Her lips parted, and her body arched into him as if she could not get enough of his touch. He was shocked at the flood of desire that she released through their bond. There was no doubt that she wanted more.

As much as he longed to make mad love to her right there in the bookshelves even with Ivan only an aisle away, it didn’t feel quite right to dive straight into ripping off her clothes. Their relationship was awkward and uncertain at the moment. They needed cuddles and contact and warmth before he reminded her what it felt like to have her body worshipped. An idea occurred to him. “Do you want to take a bath together?”

She smiled. “Yes, please.”

=========

Author Notes: I wrote this chapter a dozen times and deleted them all. Every attempt at writing Aleksander come clean was ridiculously bad. So I started writing about him feeling that way, and Lady A's "Need You Now" came on my station and inspired me. Aleksander was a mess of guilt, self-doubt, and fear until Alina needed him, and then the story just clicked and was so easy to write. All of the emotions felt right once he realized she needed him. He doesn't need to be perfect for her. He needs to be what she needs, and he can be that, even with the dark past. This version felt genuine to the characters, including Alina and Mal. Alina's future with Mal was miserable. I wanted to let her realize 'hey, I don't like this' and choose something else for herself.

#aleksander x alina #alina x aleksander #aleksander morovoza #kirigan x alina #alina x kirigan #general kirigan #darklina #the darkling #alina x darkling

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readerinsertfanfiction · 3 years

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Hello, dearest Nemo. Inspired by a matter you're probably aware of, here I come, to ask you for certain opinion, although perhaps in form of HeadCanons... Let's say we have Ghibli Movies and the Warlords. Which movie would be each warlord's favourite? What do you think?

Ooooh, lil'Lorei remembers my obsession with Studio Ghibli movies, I see. (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)(. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)(. ❛ ᴗ ❛.)

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Characters: All - Kanetsugu because idk I can’t find shit on him only that he is a tsun.

Prompt: The warlords and studio Ghibli movies. Disclaimer: I only listed the movies I have watched, which is a fair amount but by no means all.

To sit on the couch with a Sengoku warlord felt strange. No, it was definitely weird! All the more so when you put up a Studio Ghibli movie. Just any, because you felt like it. Little did you know that the warlord would take so well to it. He had been rather apprehensive at first, after all, moving pictures and that strange sound? But after a while the movies won him over. After all, who could resist the peaceful charm of Studio Ghibli, dreaming away at the romance of everyday life set in a beautiful landscape far away from all worry and chaos?

Nobunaga Oda: Spirited away

“The soot sprites have good taste,” the Oda leader pronounced, a proud smile etched on his face as he enjoyed the movie playing. On the screen the little black balls could be seen carrying off the konpeito, dancing around the little girl that had just lost her name to Yubaba, a move that Nobunaga had heartily laughed at. “I should consider doing this myself,” he had exclaimed, eyes glistening in mischief, “but I would rename them,” and to this remark you could only feel yourself sweatdrop, recalling the animal-inspired nicknames he tended to give his vassals.

Ieyasu Tokugawa: When Marnie was there

Something about the movie triggered something within him. The themes of loneliness, and constantly being moved around, but most of all, the trope of a found family and the concept of home. They resonated with his own childhood that he had resented so much. The past in which he was treated kindly, but also at times cruelly. All of these stories consolidated into one movie and two girls. “Marnie was weak,” he would later say, “good for Anna,” was his end review, but you could see the tears in the corner of his eyes. The movie had touched him.

Hideyoshi Toyotomi: Tales from Earthsea

A story of guilt and servitude? Prince Arren and the shadow that chases him? An inner fear, but yet a strong resolve to sacrifice all to reach ones goal? Hideyoshi is sold. The promise in the end is what gives that extra edge needed as Hideyoshi is weeping at the end of it all. “I will return to you, lord Nobunaga. I will repay all of my sins!” he wails and you know that he means it. Strangely enough, you have a feeling that Nobunaga would like the concept of ‘True Name’

Masamune Date: The wind rises

The story of a young boy whose dreams are shattered because of his weaknesses and then overcoming them? That’s his boy! Masamune has been cheering Jiro on since the opening of the movie and never stopped. Not until halfway through the movie and a frown settles on his face until the man has to gulp audibly to keep himself in check. All that chasing after a dream and the sacrifices made. It definitely hits a snare with the man who is quiet after the movie. He will need a cuddle or two.

Mitsuhide Akechi: Kiki’s delivery service

“There is just something about watching a little mouse grow up, isn’t there?” Mitsuhide teases with that lilting smile of his ever-present. But between the affectionate nickname and watching the movie there is something wistful about the man who sees the peaceful coming-of-age and finding identity and inspiration for live and passion within the little girl on her broom. He doesn’t say it, but he hopes that children in the future can grow up in such peace as Kiki does, able to adventure and a home to return to.

Kyubei: Whisper of the heart

Two kids chasing after their dreams, one set and the other just learning about it and a very capable cat that guides them. Kyubei enjoys the relationship that develops and the romance that comes with it, finding the fantasy element adorable. “I have a favourite person as well,” he tells you later with a mystifying smile, referring to the poster advertising the movie. A favourite person and a dream, he realises, which he hadn’t before.

Mitsunari Ishida: The secret world of Arrietty

“How very inventive!” the man constantly exclaims as he watches the little Arrietty move around in the garden. When she is fighting off bugs her own size Mitsunari clasps his hands together, as he rattles off on the many efficiencies they can make use of the bugs and employ the garden and the doll house. In the end Mitsunari feels only a little sad about Arrietty’s departure, though he has all faith that the friends will meet again, “is there a sequel,” he asks you for that, eager and beaming.

Keiji Maeda: Howl’s moving castle

Of course Howl’s theatrical ways are what enraptured the man at first, accompanied with Sophie’s determination and go-getters attitude. “That is no dull woman!” he exclaims happily as he watches the older sister fall to the curse cast by the witch. And though it is only vaguely implied Keiji comes to understand that it was something about the heart, just as Howl transforms because of his own heart. ‘A heart is a heavy burden.’ Sophie’s line catches him and Keiji agrees that Sophie’s hair is like starlight. He turns to you, however and tells you that you’re his starlight.

Ranmaru Mori: The cat returns

The cats, Baron the gentleman cat that just looks super cook and a whole slew of shenanigans about to happen. Secretly Ranmaru sees Kennyo in Baron, dreaming away watching his master be the cool hero that he was always meant to be. A little mysterious, totally awesome and can kick ass. Yes, that’s his favourite person!

Kennyo: My neighbour Totoro

There is something homely about the strange giant figure with its creepy smile and silent gestures. In fact, the whole movie endears the man. Two girls surrounded by the beauty of nature, growing up in peace and afraid of soot, catbus riding them to their mother. Kennyo can’t help but smile at the outrageousness of it all, finding it all very endearing. Secretly he thinks himself as Totoro, hiding in the forests and watching over the innocents.

Kenshin Uesugi: Princess Mononoke

A story about rulership, about how humanity ruins life eventually, about destruction and a lot of fighting. Kenshin loves it, especially for the last part. But as a former monk himself with a good appreciation for the gods and nature Kenshin relates to lady Eboshi who is willing to fight all if it means keeping her people safe and San, who fights to protect what she holds dear. He understands that and he relates to that.

Shingen Takeda: The tale of the princess Kaguya

A classic he is familiar with turned into an animation he has never experienced! Shingen loves it. Though he has to admit that he likes the story versions better he has a good appreciation for the artistry and the interpretation of the story, along with the pain of forgetting and leaving.

Yukimura Sanada: Porco Rosso

His favourite nickname turned into a character! Yukimura was flabbergasted at first, but then he came to understand that this was a spell of sorts, just as the movie itself was a trick of magic called science. But alas, that’s not why Yukimura was so in awe with the movie, it was the cool zeal in which the main character flies for his convictions. And somewhere deep down, though he will never admit such, the main character reminds him of Shingen.

Sasuke Sarutobi: Grave of the fireflies

Ah, the classic on which a whole generation was cruelly introduced to Studio Ghibli’s magic, the movie that started it all and above all: made everyone cry. Some may find him a bit of a weirdo to choose this as his favourite movie, after all it is such a sad movie. But it is the history, the message behind it, the themes dealt with and at last the pain and love of the siblings bereft by war. Sasuke’s heart is beaming just at the thought of the entire movie as his eyes start to tear up, dryly.

Kichou: Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind

There is no movie that quite agrees with him that the world is set out for doom than Nausicaä. The world is destroyed by humanity in a war, humans are still at war, but not only amongst each other for their greed but also with nature. Nature is trying to kill them for the sins committed by man. It all comes together and shows how the blight of this world truly is men and how the future that you come from is just an illusionary peace.

Yoshimoto Imagawa: Ocean Waves

Modern life poured into an artistic expression of young love. There is nothing quite more artistic than that in Yoshimoto’s opinion. The art is pretty, the story is enjoyable and not too riddled with all ugly traits and reminders of chaos and war and he gets to observe the modern world and its beauty a little more. Yes, Yoshimoto is indeed trying to forget about all the ugliness back in the Sengoku.

Motonari Mouri: Castle in the sky

Sky pirates, raiding a precious city, chaos overall and a booming ending? Sign him up. Motonari doesn’t really care for the main characters, finding them too sweet and innocent, but he has noticed that this is an overall trend within Studio Ghibli movies. Do, tell him more about the sky pirates, however and he definitely needs one of those flying machines.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikesen headcanons #ikesen nobunaga #ikesen masamune #ikesen ieyasu #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen hideyoshi #ikesen mitsunari #ikesen keiji #ikesen yukimura #ikesen shingen #ikesen kenshin #ikesen kennyo #ikesen sasuke #ikesen ranmaru #ikesen yoshimoto #ikesen motonari #ikesen kichou

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youalexturnermeon · 3 years

Text

Warm Beer and Cold Women Pt.3 (Johnny Lawrence x Reader)

Part 1

Part 2

Request: Hi! I absolutely love your work and I was wondering if I could get a Cobra Kai Johnny imagine where the reader is a bartender and starts crushing on him since he’s a regular and he flirts with her all the time and she pretends to hate it but she actually loves it? by Anon

A/N: Before you read you should know that I adjusted the timeline a little, all mistakes in the timeline that you are noticing are on purpose. Also I decided to let johnny keep his black Cobra Kai car in that one. Then I’m perfectly aware of the fact that I lowkey drifted away from the actual request but don’t worry, I’m coming back to that. It’s the second last part to this little series. Enjoy.

Warnings: badass reader, drinking, DUI, swearing, ANGST, a little fluff

Wordcount: 2650

"Jesus Christ, (Y/N), thank god you're finally here!" was the first thing you heard from Jenny as soon as you set foot into the bar for yet another late shift on a boring Thursday night.

"We've been waiting for you for hours!" Jenny said and grabbed your arm dragging you further inside. You were staggered, "What the fuck, Jen, I'm not even late, I know I was yesterday but I'm perfectly on time today! Look," you pointed towards a clock on the wall "8 pm sharp."

"Jesus, don't you ever check your phone?" she went on ignoring you. And as a matter of fact, you didn't. You trashed it a couple of days ago as a result of a drunk rage after another shift without your favourite regular. That's why you've been borrowing your colleague’s phone to call yourself an Uber home. But that was still not helping you understand why you were needed so much. Apparently, the bar was waiting for your arrival since the opening at last. In the distance, behind the almost empty counter you saw the staff door opening and Kenny making his way to you in a quick pace.

"She's is here!" Jenny called out to him as if he wasn't able to see that for himself.

"Finally."

"What the fuck?" you asked again, trying to think of all the things you could've done wrong in the past weeks, but you couldn't find any. You never messed up a drink, you always locked the doors, you even cleaned the puke in the men's bathroom. "Am I in trouble?"

Kenny shook his head, you looked at him quizzically.

"It's about your boyfriend," Jenny helped him out answering. You almost blurted out 'He's not my boyfriend' as it was already on the tip of your tongue because you were so deeply conditioned to say that. But when your glance skipped over the almost empty seats by the counter again, your heart suddenly skipped a beat and when it was back at keeping you alive it started beating so hard against your ribs as if it was about to burst. Johnny was back.

"He's been here since we opened at 5," Kenny said, sounding a little annoyed "He's drunk off his ass, came in drunk already, and refuses to leave until he sees you. We tried to throw him out but he's one persistent motherfucker and lowkey aggressive, muttering your name saying he needs to talk to you and nobody else."

"Yeah, maybe you should go and talk to him" Jenny affirmed. But you were already on your way. Without a word you almost stormed over.

At first you wouldn't have noticed him. He didn't look like himself, sitting there on his regular seat at the end, head hanging, covered by his hands. He looked rough.

The two weeks he didn't show himself, you almost started hating him. You thought him to be like any other man on earth who, after they broke you, finally got you to get soft towards them, waking your interest after hundreds of times trying, just disappeared without a trace. First you were blaming yourself, asking yourself if you went too far with your little game of pretend, whilst still waiting every day for him. Had it been too much for him saving you the other day and getting his face bashed in for you? You wished he'd come and tell you what a bitch he thought you were to your face. Then you despised him for giving you up so quickly. But as soon as you laid eyes on him all these negative thoughts disappeared, and you were just concerned. Concerned about his condition, only the question inside your head how on earth you, a simple barkeeper, were able to help him with that. You grabbed a bottle of whisky and simply headed to the other side of the counter, not standing in front but sitting next to him this time. The worst about it, he didn't even take notice of you at first.

"Johnny," you said softly placing a hand on his arm. Like being electrocuted by this touch, he winced but finally looked up. You almost gasped at his appearance. Normally he was always clean shaven, now he looked like hadn't shaved in days. Besides that, he was also hurt. At first you thought his injuries might still be from his encounter with the three men that were bothering you, but the scratches and bruises were fresh, and a band aid was sticking to his forehead that wasn't needed before. Johnny blankly stared at you from his bloodshot eyes and you suddenly felt the urge to hug him. But you resisted, first you had to get him to talk. Instead, you grabbed two of the glasses in front of Johnny uncorked the bottle of whisky and poured you one. You took a sip of the burning liquid hoping for some courage to miraculously appear as you watched Johnny silently drinking, too.

Kenny walked by on the way back to his office, judgingly eyeing you.

"Damn, I have to start taking all the booze you're drinking here from your paycheck, (Y/N), slow the fuck down, would you?" he said sighing with one foot already inside. Out of a sudden Johnny snapped.

"Jesus Kenny, don't wet your precious leather pants," he shouted out, slamming his glass on the counter "I'm gonna pay for it! Let a girl enjoy her drink for once" Some heads turned in your direction.

You held still for a second and didn't dare to breathe, afraid of another fight to happen since normally Kenny didn't allow anybody talk to him like that. But he simply shook his head and closed the door behind him, muttering something like "This girl actually has to work here, but whatever" leaving you alone with Johnny.

"You look hot, as always," he said trying to smile, yet the smile didn't reach his sad eyes. He almost looked like he's been crying.

"And you look like shit."

"You mean that?" he gestured at his face noticing your gaze upon his massive black eye. You nodded.

"That's nothing."

"What happened, Johnny?" you asked but he did not answer and just kept on sitting in silence, sipping his drink from time to time. Then, after what seemed like forever, he finally looked you straight in the eyes.

"I fucked up, (Y/N), that's what happened, I fucked up big time."

"Tell me!"

"As if you give two shits about it, you probably wouldn't care. You fucking despise me and my sorry ass."

"I do care!"

“Nah, you wouldn’t!”

You sprung off your seat, you did not expect that coming out of his mouth, also it hurt to hear him say that, because you really did care about him! You probably cared about him more than anything in your life at the moment. But if he was going to be a bitch to you so were you.

“Well, don’t waste my fucking time then!” you exclaimed “And stop annoying everyone that you need to see talk to me instead of fucking off. I can gladly leave you all by yourself so you can keep on pitying yourself. Nice seeing you, jerk!”

And you were about to storm off, go back to pretending to work just like you did every other day when there was nothing else to do, when you instantly heard a “(Y/N), wait!”

You turned around and saw Johnny, now more miserable than ever, showing at your seat inviting you to sit back down. You swallowed your pride and did so.

“I’m sorry,” he said “I just can’t believe that someone would actually give a shit about me at all. And I did want to talk to you, I still do. You’re the only one I want to see right now.” “Then tell me what’s going on.”

“There’s this kid,” he started sighed and stopped, then took another sip of his whisky and began again “I have a dojo in a strip mall, I’m a sensei,” “What’s that?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself and you felt stupid. Johnny looked at you, completely staggered, forgetting his pain for a moment. Proving you that it was in fact a probably very stupid question.

“It’s a Karate place, I teach Karate there.”

“Go on.”

“I have a shit ton of nerds that I teach but they’re mostly good kids, they got bullied a lot before, but I helped them, I showed them how to kick ass, so no one dares to fuck with them anymore. There’s this one kid, Miguel, I’ve been teaching him since the beginning, he actually gave me the idea to open a dojo, he begged me to and he’s a great kid, he really grew on me. He lives next door with his mom and grandma, they’re great people, Mexicans. I even learned a bit of Spanish from them. And I’ve been hanging out a lot with him lately. I really, really liked him.”

He rubbed his eyes and stopped talking.

“What do you mean you liked him?” you asked carefully and studied Johnny’s face that he covered with his hands again.

“There’s more to the story. There’s another dojo in town, fucking Miyagi-Do. Of course, you can’t expect only one dojo to be there in L.A but how I wish that at least that one wouldn’t exist. The sensei is a twat. I fucking hate this guy. And his kids started fighting with my kids at school and not like throwing some punches at each other and leaving it be after somebody starts crying. No, they started a fucking Karate War at school. I mean, I get it, when I was their age I also took Karate way too seriously but letting it go this far? I don’t know, I can’t really understand that. It got out of hand real quick two weeks ago.”

“Fuck, did something bad happen?” you wondered and poured yourself and Johnny another whisky.

He nodded and stared into the distance. You waited for him to answer.

“There was a fight two weeks ago and apparently it got really bad. Miguel got kicked off a balcony at school, he fell two stories deep, spine-first onto a handrail.” You gasped. You school also had problems with fighting, a lot to be precise but as far as you knew, no one got kicked off from somewhere.

“He’s been in a coma now for two weeks and they say that the chances of waking up from a coma after two weeks are pretty miserable. He might as well be dead by now.”

“It’s gonna be fine,” you said although not knowing shit about coma, you just wanted t comfort Johnny. You could not stand seeing him so broken you even wished he would go back to his old nature again, hitting on you, joking and just having a good time “He’s probably going to wake up soon and go back to Karate again.”

“You don’t know that!” Johnny said raising his voice, “He broke his fucking spine, (Y/N), even if he wakes up, he’s probably going to be crippled for his whole life.”

He took a deep breath and drank his whisky at once, grunting at the burning feeling in his throat.

“And now my own kid is in fucking juvie for kicking Miguel of a railing and he won’t even talk to me!”

“Wait, you have a kid?” you wondered and stared at Johnny wide-eyed, not knowing what else to say, this was surely a surprise for you. And Johnny went on with his rant.

“Yeah, Robby, he’s 17. But that doesn’t matter now, does it? He’s locked up, doesn’t want to hear a word from me, but that’s okay,” his voice was cynical, you could hear how much despised himself right in the moment and it was painful to see.

“I’ve been a shit father anyways, right? Every single day of his life I’ve been failing him. I wasn’t around much. I did nothing to keep him out of trouble. If so, I only made it worse, I only pushed him to train with Miyagi-Do and what happened to Miguel is all on me.” Despite calming himself down with a drink, Johnny’s voice got louder with every word he spoke. Again, heads were turning towards you, but you didn’t care.

“It’s not your fault what happened,” you said calmly and placed a hand on his shoulder, he was so tensed that you might as well have been touching a stone. And Johnny shook your hand of and let out a hateful laugh.

“Not my fault?” he shouted his lungs out “Who else’s fault is it then? Of course, it is mine. It is all on me, I fucked up. I fucked up both Robby’s and Miguel’s lives and on top of that mine’s not that great either. I spent the night in a fucking cell.”

“Calm down, Johnny,” you said softly and finally went in for a hug “It’s going to be okay; I promise!”

“No, it’s not!” he yelled as you wrapped your arms around him tightly pressing yourself against his trembling chest. At first, he let his arms sink and didn’t do anything, he kept on shouting, making even more heads turn towards all the noise, but then suddenly he buried his scrubby face into crook of your neck and sighed, finally placing his hands on your back, finally relaxing, firmly embracing you. You could’ve stayed like that for ever.

“C’mon, (Y/N), get him out of here!”, you suddenly heard Kenny who stood there, arms crossed, watching you, “He’s scaring off the people.”

You released Johnny from your hold who went back to staring down the counter whilst burying his face in his rough hands, just the way you have found him.

“Yeah, alright, I’ll bring him home.”

“Yeah, sure, feel free to come back to work whenever you’re ready, no rush. Or maybe you want to do home office instead?” said Kenny sarcastically and you rolled your eyes.

“C’mon Kenny, I can’t let him go home like this alone, he’ll kill himself on the way. Besides, he’s probably the reason this place still hasn’t gone bankrupt. And I’m the reason he keeps coming, so maybe we owe him that?”

The big biker in front of you didn’t look too happy but he knew you were right, still, he wasn’t that easy to convince.

“Come on,” you said putting on your best puppy eyes, trying to look all cute because you knew the old man liked you deep inside “I’ll do double shift tomorrow, I promise. But just please let me go.”

Kenny stood motionless.

“Please?”

“Alright, alright, I’ll cover for you. But if you don’t come in early tomorrow…” “I know, I know, you’ll fire me” you finished his sentence and smiled at him.

Then you nudged Johnny who was not getting any of the conversation you just had and told him about your plan about getting him home. He stood up and he clearly wasn’t very strong on his feet. He was swaying from side to side on the way out.

“Okay, give me your keys, Johnny,” you said when you arrived at his black dodge. Normally you would have made fun of the yellow stripes and snakes all over, but you weren’t in the mood for it.

“I think I remember you telling me that you don’t have a license anymore and that you’re not willing to get involved into DUIs anymore.” And yet he submissively handed you over his car keys. You shrugged and got in the car, waiting for him to take the shotgun seat.

“I guess we all have to make exceptions sometimes. Now concentrate and lead me the way.”

“Thank you” Johnny said, his voice now all raspy and he suddenly looked tired “Now you are saving my ass.”

**************************************************************************************

PART 4

Already working on part 4 whether you like it or not, I’m too invested in that one

Sorry to all waiting for their requests to be written, I’ll soon be on it

Thanks for reading!

Taglist: @lililolli (you want to be on the taglist, too? drop me a message)

#johnny lawrence #johnny lawrence x reader #johnny lawrence imagine #johnny lawrence x you #cobra kai #cobra kai imagine #johnny lawrence angst #johnny lawrence fluff #karate kid #karate kid imagine #billy zabka #william zabka

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veliseraptor · 3 years

Note

So this is in NO WAY PRESSURING, get to this whenever you're bored and have nothing better to do, but I (have still not watched The Untamed) would love to hear any disorganized rambles around your fic 'Punitive Measures', like your thoughts while writing it, how you view Xue Yang's fight/flight/freeze instinct, and/or where you would take the plot if you ever came back to it (again, not pressuring, I'm not asking for a sequel, I'm asking for director's commentary. Also I know the mysterious flute was implying Wei Wuxian, I know that much and not much more.) It's a really fun, quick fic that I enjoy reading through while I keep circling around your longer, more intimidating stories. I aspire to write like you.

oh boy, well, I don't know that I ever have nothing to do but here I am answering this ask anyway, because I like talking about my fic even if I get self-conscious about it.

this entire fic falls solidly into the genre of fic I write that is legitimately just “I’m gonna fuck up this character I love because it’ll be fun and I love to do that” and then just kinda...went for it. actually harder than I was initially planning! my vague sense of what I was going to do with this fic didn’t have Xue Yang down an eye at the end of it.

but when inspiration strikes, what’s a girl to do, etc.

I actually thought recently about writing a sequel to this fic (or, well, continuing into the AU it started, more like) because the concept of Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang being bloodthirsty vengeance brethren is a very good one for me, personally, and at the point their paths would be intersecting in this AU a more plausible one than it would be at pretty much any other time (I would argue, at least in CQLverse). And that’s where I think this would be going. Because Xue Yang would see Wei Wuxian, in his bloodiest frame of mind, powered up with a gorgeous flute of bad vibes and go “fuck yes” even if he wasn’t in a place where he really needed the help.

The question I had was whether Wei Wuxian would be interested in accepting company, and I feel like Xue Yang on that front could be convincing. And the way that the latter would both enable and egg on all the former’s darkest fantasies and impulses...I’m just saying, Wen Chao and everyone he has ever known is in for a very bad time, possibly even worse than they already were.

I invite you to picture in this AU the part where Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji find not just darker and edgier Wei Wuxian at the end of their scavenger hunt but darker and edgier Wei Wuxian with a friend. A familiar friend! Now down an eye and practically picking his teeth with Wen Chao’s finger bones. :D

since you asked for disorganized rambling I went back to reread and I’ll give you some director’s commentary on a few things

And he’d kind of hoped Wen Ruohan would be too busy figuring out how to deal with his brewing war to dedicate much attention to looking for one absent retainer. And even if he did, Xue Yang had sort of figured that finding him would fall to Wen Chao, who’d probably struggle to find his own ass with two hands.

kicking off this director’s commentary with Xue Yang’s brutal assessment of the competency of Wen Chao.

tbh one of my favorite things about CQL’s involving Xue Yang in the whole Sunshot storyline, despite the merry hell it plays with timeline stuff later, is how obviously little regard Xue Yang has for the Wens, even when they’re at the height of their power. He shows Wen Ruohan himself very little respect, and I can’t imagine anyone else getting more (except maybe Wen Qing, because Wen Qing is competent and if nothing else Xue Yang can respect competency).

and he just like. ditches them. walks out! promises to deliver very powerful magical artifact, and then gets what he wants and is like “smell ya later, peace” and they never catch him.

that’s just a kind of gutsiness and casual disregard for very powerful people that I really both love and respect about Xue Yang. and also that he has in common with Xiao Xingchen, tbh. and Song Lan (though him I think to a slightly lesser degree, partly because he has a little more tact and sense of societal norms as something relevant to be thinking about)! they can all vibe on that.

They took Jiangzai. Well. One of the Wen disciples took Jiangzai in the stomach and Xue Yang didn’t get it back.

this isn’t an important line or anything. I just like it a lot.

Wen Chao gestured again and he went down in a hail of fists and feet. Xue Yang tucked his chin down to protect his throat, curled his hands into his chest, and drew up his knees to guard his stomach.

He knew how this worked. Sure, it’d been a while since someone had beat him like this, but the lessons stuck. It was almost boring, really. If Wen Chao was going to play torture games then he could at least do Xue Yang the favor of trying to be creative.

He checked out the part of his brain that registered pain as anything other than a thing that was happening and focused instead on opportunities. Weaknesses in his assailants. Escape routes. Getting away would be the first thing. Nice if he could take a piece of Wen Chao with him on the way out - arm, or maybe even a head - but the priority was freedom and survival.

okay, this I feel like cuts into some of what you were talking about regarding Xue Yang’s fight/flight instinct, and also a lot of what if, I was feeling pretentious, I feel like this fic is digging into on a level under “what if I just tortured Xue Yang a whole bunch,” which is something about the relationship Xue Yang has to (a) pain and (b) his own body. Specifically, the relative indifference he has toward both. Or...not indifference, exactly, because it’s not like he’s enjoying himself, it still hurts. It’s just...expected.

unremarkable.

which is a lot of what I was trying to convey with Xue Yang’s narration during the whole torture sequence, with the commentary on methodology and how things are mundane or boring, because the suffering itself is mundane! as far as Xue Yang is concerned that’s exactly what suffering is! other peoples’, for sure, which is part of why it doesn’t matter, but also his own.

the world hurts and that’s just how it is and you learn how to cope with that. pain as...a thing that [is] happening.

I also, since you mentioned the fight/flight instinct, think a lot about how Xue Yang is, while he’s very proud and very stubborn, absolutely not someone to pick fights (in general) that he knows he can’t win. Xue Yang will almost always be on the side of “run and come back another day” over “stand and fight when all is lost.” survival, first and foremost.

which feeds into the weird paradox that I kind of hint toward at the end of this fic about Xue Yang as someone who has a definite death drive, who is profoundly obsessed with his own death in a lot of ways, and simultaneously is attached to staying alive above pretty much all else.

“Snap and snarl all you want,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere. And the only part of you I need intact is your tongue, so you can tell me where you hid the Yin Metal you promised. Everything else is optional.”

A prickle of fear rolled down Xue Yang’s spine and he flicked it away, baring his teeth.

I actually do think that, even before they get around to hand-specific trauma, permanent mutilation is one of those things that still scares Xue Yang. which is a short list! there isn’t much that actually either gets to or scares him, but I think the prospect of (further) mutilation does, because I think Xue Yang is very...acutely aware of the fact that his physical capability is a major factor in what has kept him alive and what, in all likelihood, is going to keep him alive moving forward. anything that threatens that capability, that limits him in terms of strength or mobility or otherwise has a disabling effect, is consequently going to be a short road to death, and Xue Yang would much rather die painfully fighting than die as a consequence of not being able to take care of himself.

for Xue Yang, the idea of a return to the kind of helplessness that is tied to his trauma is one of the worst possible prospects to contemplate. in my head this is exacerbated further by the fact that I figure Xue Yang didn’t get much if any medical care post hand incident, meaning that the recovery period was absolutely nightmarish and a whole stretch of time beyond the event itself where Xue Yang was struggling to survive because he’d been damaged.

in some ways I think that period of time probably did more to shape Xue Yang than the moment itself.

Wen Chao grabbed one of the branding irons from a disciple’s belt and pressed it to his stomach. That hurt. More. He clamped his back teeth together so he didn’t make any sound, absorbed the burn, owned it. His. You only hurt if you were alive. And anything you survived made you stronger.

Not that this was actually going to make him stronger. It was probably just going to make him dead. But then again, the worse this went the more resentment he’d have built up. He could use that. Would.

Dead didn’t have to mean finished.

obviously this is pulled almost direct from what Wei Wuxian himself says to Wen Chao. deliberate echoes based on character parallels! we love those.

and yeah, again here about Xue Yang and his relationship to pain, but in a less mundane way this time where it’s about pain as a tool, pain as something he can use. which is another thing about coping, I think - when pain and suffering are a regular part of your life, one way to deal with that can be to convert it into having some kind of purpose or benefit.

which in this case it definitely can. Xue Yang is definitely someone who, I think, has thought a lot about trying to arrange it so he becomes a ghost after he dies. or at least has thought a lot about what he’d do after dying to the person who killed him.

and when you’re a necromancer by trade death really isn’t the end of the line anymore, just the start of a something new. Xue Yang’s relationship to life itself: about as jacked up as his relationships in general.

He felt the snap of bone in his teeth. Pain shooting up the side of his hand, all the way to his wrist, and Xue Yang couldn’t keep himself still enough not to try to wrench himself away. He swallowed his scream and turned it into a laugh. It was funny, wasn’t it? Funny, that he was back here, again. It wasn’t as bad, though. He knew how to take pain, how to breathe it in, make it part of himself, later turn it outwards magnified tenfold. They were old friends. Practically lovers.

two things here:

1. the thread throughout this fic of Xue Yang making things funny so he can deal with them, here brought to you by reliving trauma! because it’s funny! right? laugh about it! just fucking hilarious.

I have a thing about characters basically deciding for themselves to make very unfunny situations funny because it makes them less awful.

2. and look, now he can deal with it better this time! he’s Learned. :) :) :)

Everything splintered. Splintered like bones under a wheel, and first thing he tried to struggle to get away but that just hurt worse and then old old old instincts kicked in and he went still, limp, dead.

“Did he faint?”

Someone nudged him with their foot. One part of him roared to grab that foot and rip it off along with the leg it was attached to. Immediately the same thing that’d made him play dead told him to wait.

at an end point where fighting is impossible and running is also impossible, the only thing left to do is play dead and wait it out. this is very much, in my head, a reversion to a tactic Xue Yang hasn’t used in a very long time and does not want to be using now, because it is absolutely the recourse of the extraordinarily helpless with no way out.

which he has been! and is now, but he really really really doesn’t want to be. Xue Yang has built his life around not being that, ever again.

but here it’s not a move he makes planning to turn it around the way he does, not at first. he gets there, but when he first does it I think it is literally just instinct that goes enough is enough and shuts down.

Wen Chao, Wen Chao, Xue Yang thought. My body’s going to give out before I do.

someone should remind me at some point maybe (or not) to write something coherent about my Xue Yang vs. his own body thoughts. specifically the way that, while Xue Yang is very physical and very grounded, I think he has a somewhat antagonistic relationship with his own body, actually. not completely! he definitely respects what it can do for him! but I think he also treats it a little as a slightly separate entity that’s capable of betraying him rather than as a fully integrated part of himself.

not always! but it’s a little bit there. this idea that sometimes his body, and its capacity to be hurt or damaged, is a weakness that he’d like to be able to forgo entirely, if only it wouldn’t mean losing all the good things about having a body. and that’s present here in this line, for me, where he thinks about himself and his body as slightly separate, and his body as something weaker than its Xue Yang core.

#hope that was enough rambling for you anon jesus christ #confessions of a frustrated writer #i don't even know what to tag this #anonymous #conversating

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drabsyo · 3 years

Note

What were some of your favorite fleurmione week fics? Any recommendations? (I didn't realize it was a thing until today and there are over forty stories.)

More Fleurmione fic recs here: Pt1 | Pt2 ✨💖💙📚

Dance Avec la Vie by Sosh_022 (Day 2: Dancing)

(Listen. Listen. Listen. This is on a whole other level. It gives you an intimate look to a ballerina's life except—and are you ready? It's through the eyes of Hermione Granger, herself. But listen, that isn't even the best part. The best part? She'll fall in love with Fleur Delacour, who is also a badass ballerina like her. If you can't already tell, I'm swooning.)

Summary: In 2016, New York City Ballet performed a total of 58 ballets. Not one was choreographed by a woman. | "Classical ballet is all about women and the female form, but it is controlled by men." | "As a dancer you see a lot of male duets but you don't see female duets very often. We can't lift each other above our heads but maybe we can partner each other a little bit more." | Or, two ballerinas dance together and spark a revolution.

Lights, Camera, Action! (Are We Canon Yet?) by Sosh_022 (Day 1: A Crush is Revealed)

(Cuteness overload. Couldn't stop grinning the entire time. And Fleur calling Hermione 'wifey'—hello??? Why isn't anyone talking about this???)

Summary: Fleur guest stars on a TV show that Hermione stars in.

Just Gals Being Pals by DisasterLesbean (Day 6: Babies)

(A well and truly delightful read. Fleur and Hermione just constantly skirting around each other, everyone knows we can never get enough of that. Bonus points if the brightest witch of her age is a little bit oblivious to that fact herself...)

Summary: “If you’ll sign here for guardianship.” The wizard gestures to a line. Fleur’s hand shakes as she lifts her wand to the line. “You as well, madam.” Hermione turns her empty gaze towards him. | “Me?” Hermione exclaims. | “They specifically listed the both of you as Josephine’s guardians." | The baby in question is chewing on the wizard’s hair.

I Only Have Eyes For You by lipeviez (Day 2: Dancing)

(Don't touch me. Don't look at me. Don't even breathe in my direction. This one HURTS. I love it.)

Summary: A dance introduces Hermione to possibilities she didn’t know existed, possibilities she didn’t know she wanted, but there’s nothing to be done when the source of those possibilities has just married someone else. | A prequel to You’ll Lose A Good Thing.

Mutually Assured Attraction by lipeviez (Day 1: A Crush is Revealed)

(Because you'll need something fluffy to combat the pain from the one before this. And nothing says fluff than teaching the person you want to date how to ride a motorcycle! Ya know... if Hermione manages to in the first place.)

Summary: Hermione Granger gets roped into giving motorcycle lessons to Fleur Delacour, and wants to ask her out, but very well may die before she gets to.

As You Wish by Kamaro0917 (Covers most prompts)

(Fleurmione As You Wish AU. Need I say more? This one is also a multi-chapter, completed story! Yay!)

Summary: There was a time when she dreamed of finding true love, being swept off her feet, and riding off into the sunset toward her happily ever after. She grew out of that mindset long ago. The idea of marrying for love was just a dream for fools to cling to, and Fleur Delacour was no fool. | Everything changed when the new farmhand showed up.

Neighbors by lipeviez (Day 3: Jealousy)

(The tension in this one is through the roof. No, not because they're neighbors—or wait, actually, you know what? Never mind. That's definitely it. Rated E!)

Summary: Hermione’s flat has windows that face the windows of a flat in the building next door. This wouldn’t be a problem except for the fact that Hermione can’t stop watching her neighbor. Oh, and her neighbor might just like her watching.

What We Are: Fleurmione Week Sneak Peeks by cationix, waxwing_Saint (Covers all prompts)

(THIS one is incredible. I smell a Fleurmione classic incoming. This is the BIG ONE.)

Summary: For Fleurmione Week March 2021, we're posting teasers from our Big Damn Project: | The Triwizard Tournament brought them together with a mysterious pull of attraction. Hermione wants answers but Fleur is willing to fight fate until it kills her. With a war going on--Fleur on the front lines and Hermione hunting for fragments of Voldemort’s soul--will they accept their destiny, or are they doomed to become a cautionary tale?

Once Upon a Time in New York City by drabbles (Day 6: Babies)

(Okay this one is just my measly attempt at writing a fanfiction for this fandom lmao because for some reason, Robert from the film reminds me so much of Hermione! Also, Disney Princess Fleur breathing whimsy into Hermione's colorless city life.)

Summary: When Hermione Granger and her six year old daughter moved to New York, she already had both their lives planned out. She would finally settle down with someone, give Rose the proper family life she deserved, and win as many cases as her law firm would allow. However, things take a whimsical turn when a strange Frenchwoman crashes into their lives, making Hermione question the true meaning of happiness and eventually, love. Or... the Fleurmione Enchanted AU.

I haven't been able to read everyone's contributions yet, but please I hope you take the time to read everyone's stories. Everyone's worked so hard during Fleurmione week, we're all just so lucky to have many talented writers for our rare pair 💖📚💙

And as always, I hope you enjoy reading! Please feel free to leave more fic recs on my ask box in case I missed any of your favorites, which I probably have! 🥺🥺💖

#fleurmione #fleur delacour #hermione granger #hermione x fleur #fleurmione fic rec #hp wlw #hp fanfic #fleurmione week #fleurmione week 2021 #drabstuff #I NEED TO GET MORE READING DONE JSLFSLFHG #sending my love to the fanfic writers!!!!#thank you thank you thank you sooo much to every single one who contributed #and no the colors of the titles don't mean anything i just like to add color to everything #i just think it's neat

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

Text

Stay With Me (Pt. 07 of 09)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Daryl found you surrounded by the dead, stuck in the backseat of a car. You were wishing for death to take you away for quite a while now, but, as you slid back and forth into consciousness, there was only one thing keeping you alive. Him, the man with blue, worried eyes and kind voice. Your beaten up body was ready to give up, too wounded and broken to keep going. But this man, who went out of his way to save your life is the only thing in the world holding you up. And, because of him, you feel something you haven't felt in a very long time: hope. Wherever he's taking you, you want to get there, and not only to be buried. For what it feels like the very first time, you want to live. He takes you back to Alexandria, but even there, the nightmares and the terror from all the torture and pain you've been through keeps creeping closer, and Daryl, your hero, is the only one who can keep that all away.

Warnings: Mentions and description (not graphic) of past abuse; post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD); some violence at the end of the story (a little bit graphic, but not so much); blood.

<- Previous part (06)

Next part (08) ->

{The Walking Dead Masterlist}

I want to thank my awesome friend @jodiereedus22, who helped me (and still does) a lot to get this story done. She's also a writer and she's amazing so please go check her work!!

If You Love Me...

You've seen death. Often, cruel, cold. From afar and from up close. You felt it, in many different ways. At first when your family passed away, then your friends... And you felt it in your body too, in the months you spent held captive, wishing for it. And in the car, as you waited for it.

But it's different now. You were holding onto Melanie when she stopped moving, stopped breathing, the second after the baby cried for the very first time. Her whole body went numb, turned off. She knew her pregnancy was dangerous. Melanie is old, and she had a heart condition. That was the reason why she never tried for a baby before. But now, with the world on its end, she decided to try. Death is certain, she told you once, and if she died in the process of delivering her child, she'd die happy. With a purpose.

But of course, you never thought it would actually happen.

The commotion that followed happened in a blur. Carol passed you the child in a hurry, pushing you out of the room.

You know what happens now. Daryl told you a while ago. Everyone who dies comes back. Everyone is infected. You try not to think about it, to focus on life instead of death.

And that's what you're holding in your arms now. Life. Tiny and fresh, his little cries making your body move out of instinct, slowly swinging from side to side until he's quiet again.

When it's done, and Melanie's dead body won't raise up again, Carol comes and you help her clean the baby. Luke, after her late husband. Denise is quick to gather all the baby supplies needed, and she starts telling you and Carol what to do. Carol already knows, of course, because of her daughter Sofia.

It's quite obvious Carol will take care of the child. It's implied by how Denise is so focused on her, talking fast, gesturing a lot. She's a little funny actually, and easy to talk to. Once little Luke is clean and dressed in his first clothes, in a pale shade of blue, Carol picks him up and he starts crying, with powerful lungs. She starts mumbling, talking to the baby, but he doesn't stop.

“Alright, alright.” She whispers. “Shh.”

“Does he need anything?” You ask, watching as Carol bounces him slowly.

“We did everything. Maybe he's in pain.” Denise removes some of the hair that has fallen on her face. “Let's take him to the infirmary so I can take a look.”

“Ok.” Carol agrees, raising her voice above the baby's cries. “(Y/N), can you carry him? These bags are too heavy for you and–” You quickly step forward, once again welcoming the baby into your arms “–you still need to be careful with your...” Her voice fades as Luke stops crying, his tears shining on his cheeks.

He's so light you feel like you're barely holding anything. “He stopped,” Denise mutters. “I don't think he was in pain.”

Looking down at the baby, you stand there, motionless. “What do you think it was?” You ask in a low voice.

“Uhm, I don't know. Maybe he likes you.” She mumbles, hands on her hips. “Carol, do you think you can take care of him? If not we'll have to find a family willing to adopt.”

“We can.” You burst out, because suddenly the idea of giving Like into another family sounds absurd. “Can we? I'm sure you can teach me and I'll help.”

“We sure can.” She affirms, and you smile. “Let's get going now. They will soon come to bury Melanie.” Her voice gets darker in the end, heavier.

The whole city attempted to Melanie's funeral. You stood there, beside Carol, little Luke in your arms. You felt anxious when some people came to meet the baby, offering you their condolences and any help you might need now. But eventually, she's buried, and you can't help but let a few tears roll down. Melanie was always kind and wise, and it breaks your heart that Luke won't get to know his mother.

In the next days, Carol has been teaching you everything about babies. Teaching you how to look after him. The baths, how to prepare the baby bottle, how to deal with fevers, and stuff like that. You make a hell lot of questions, eager to know every single thing you can.

Your days revolve around Luke, what is good because you don't have time to think about Daryl and the possibility of him not wanting anything with you. The possibility that those warm nights in his arms are over.

Carol helps you get into a good schedule with the baby. You take turns waking up when he starts crying at night, but despite him growing used to Carol, she takes longer to rock him to sleep again. Luke feels better around you, she says. And honestly, you don't mind one bit. Carol assures you the cryings will get worse. Newborn babies sleep a lot, and with time, he'll need less sleep and that's when things will get hectic. But you're ok with it. You're mesmerized by him, so tiny, so innocent. A beacon of light in such a dark world. It's like a miracle to have a baby here, in an Earth where now the dead can walk again.

As the days pass by, you notice that you easily learn your way with Luke. Carol calls it mother instinct, but you never thought you had it in you... You never really thought about kids, but now... Maybe you could have one...

This thought reminds you of Daryl. Having a baby means you'll have to be very intimate with someone. And you can't imagine being intimate with anyone who isn't Daryl. Sighing, you look through the window of Luke's bedroom. It used to be Daryl's, but since he's sleeping in yours, Carol thought it would be ok to change things. So all of his stuff were reallocated to give Luke his space. Even though he doesn't need much now, being so little.

You haven't told Daryl about it yet. Your talks are always brief, just enough for you to know he's alright and for him to know you're alright as well.

Today, another sweet and slow morning, you're at the couch, a sleepy Luke in your arms. Carol is doing the dishes and getting some stuff ready for lunch. The kids will be coming, so she has something special planned. You'll help her in a few moments when Luke is asleep enough so you can leave him in his crib upstairs.

“I'm going to make cookies for the afternoon. What do you think?” She asks from the kitchen in a low voice.

“The kids will love it.” You say, turning your head to look at her. “When are you going to tell me your secret ingredient?”

“Never, obviously.” She answers and you giggle. “You would have to–” Her voice fades suddenly, and you listen as she puts something down. “Honey, I think they're back.”

“What?” Your heart skips a beat. “Are you sure?”

“Let me check.” She says and walks out, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Well, not alone. Looking down at Luke, you smile when he moves his hand, grabbing something in his sleep. He's so oblivious to the war happening in your heart now. In your brain. This is it. He's back one day earlier than planned, but even though you knew the time was coming, you couldn't prepare yourself for it. Breathing deeply, you caress Luke's forehead, very lightly as if he's a fragile little thing. His mouth moves a little as if he's trying to speak and you giggle.

“What are you dreaming about, little one?” You ask him, wondering if babies can even dream. Maybe Denise knows, you'll ask her later.

“(Y/N).” His voice startles you, and you immediately look up from Luke, meeting Daryl's blue eyes as he stands by the door.

“D.” Smiling you quickly scan through his body, relieved not to find any sign of injury. “You're back.”

“Aye.” He mumbles. “Ya always have a kid with ya when I come back” He adds, stepping closer to the cough and giving the baby a look. “Who's this?”

“This is Luke. Melanie's baby, she... She couldn't make it.” The happiness fades a little, and Daryl seems a little sad as well.

“Was it her heart?”

“Yeah. It just stopped.” Sighing, you keep your eyes on Daryl. His face softens a little. “She told me once you know... That she'd rather die bringing her child to the world than in any other way but I never thought it would actually happen.”

“Who's gonna take care of him now?”

“I'm the designated mother.” You mumble, smiling.

Daryl looks up from the kid, eyes meeting yours. “By who?” You see a hint of anger in his eyes and you know why. He thinks someone pushed into it, and Daryl hates when people push you into things. Since the very beginning. He did have a fight with Rick when he first showed up here, wanting you to speak about your past. Now it's just a little bit worse. Daryl is very protective, and you can't help but smile to know this hasn't changed. Not yet.

“By him.” Tilting your head to the kid, you giggle when Daryl's face changes, softening again. “Kid likes me, what can I do?”

“Huh.”

“Wanna hold him?”

“Lemme shower. ‘M covered in mud and I don't wanna to give ya or the baby an infection or anythin’.” He says, already moving upstairs.

“Alright.” Settling down again, you bounce Luke a little, but by the looks of it, he's in deep sleep already. “What happens now, little one? Can you please tell me?” In a low voice, you ask him. If only anyone could answer that...

“Where's Daryl?” Carol asks as she comes inside, closing the door.

“Showering.”

“Let me put him in his crib.” She comes to the couch, and you carefully lies Luke in her arms. “You two need to talk.”

“Yeah.” You mutter, watching as she moves upstairs.

You don't want to talk to Daryl. Maybe you shouldn't have spoken to him about your feelings. What if it's too early? Things were perfect before and you don't think you can take it if he wants to... End things? Change things? “Shit.” Quickly, you get up, leaving the house. Running away is not your thing. Not when it comes to Daryl. The only running there is, is when you run into his arms. But now, you just can't. And you don't know where to go. So you just start walking downstreet, trying not to think too much. There isn't anywhere to hide here. If Daryl wants to find you, he will.

“(Y/N)!” Someone calls, and after the usual terror, you recognize Maggie's voice, turning on your heels to look at her. “Daryl's back. Go see him.”

“I-I know.” Stuttering, you look at the street, making sure Daryl isn't anywhere he can see you before you make your way over her. “I just...”

“I thought you two were ok. Before he left I swear to God I thought you'd kiss him.” She climbs down the few steps of the porch, but you gesture for her to go back inside.

“We are.” Maggie has become a close friend. And if you don't talk about this things with someone, nobody will be able to help. “Uhm... I...”

“C'mon in.” She opens the door and steps aside. “Glenn isn't here so don't worry.”

“Ok.” Sighing, you step in, moving to the couch and taking a seat.

“Now...” Maggie comes and sits beside you, a leg folded under herself. “...why aren't you in Daryl's arms right now?”

It's not a secret anymore, Daryl and you. It eventually got out of the house, you don't really know how. “Because I... Goddamn it! I told him I wanted us to be a couple. Right before he left so he could think about it and now I'm terrified of what he'll say and I'm running from him.” You speak fast, hands covering your face. “I freaking love him.”

That's it. The words just came out. You freeze, breathing fast, the weight of the acknowledgment making a few tears roll down. You lie back on the couch, eyes on the ceiling.

“So... Do you want me to act surprised?”

“I want him to love me too.” It comes out as a whisper because this can't be heard by anyone. Not even by Maggie. But that already happened.

“Daryl allowed you to touch him. In public. And he touched you. Again, in public.” Maggie touches your leg, shaking it a little to get your attention, only stopping when you sit up again. “If he didn't love you back, that wouldn't happen.”

“Daryl... May like me. He's very protective and I love that since... Well, since all that shit happened but... Maybe this is it.”

“I don't think so. Daryl always makes sure everyone is safe, but with you it's different.”

Sighing, you wonder if you should believe that. Maybe, if you keep your hopes low, you won't get hurt.

No. You'll get hurt anyways. “I think I should go...”

“Yeah, he'll come here looking for you.”

“Maybe...” Pushing yourself back at your feet, you take a deep breath. “I'll... Take a walk.”

“You know he'll find you, right?” She says, following you to the front door.

“I know... Thanks, Maggie.” Smiling at her, you walk away, always careful in the steps before heading to the garden on the West side of the city.

There are some people here, not much though, but you still keep a distance. By the wall, there's a small square, if you can call it that, with some benches and threes. The kids come to play here some days, but it's not their favorite place. Taking a sit, strategically by a three so it'll hide you, you cross your legs. The wind makes you shiver since the thought of bringing a coat didn't even cross your mind. But it's beautiful here, and lonely. Few people come here, and you rather be alone. At least now, to think.

“Never thought ya would run from me.” His voice makes your heart skip a bit, and you do feel a little guilty. You're not sure why though. Silently, you watch as he comes to stand before you.

“I'm not...” You're were running away. No reason to try to dissimulate. “I just needed some time. Thought you would need some too, so...”

“Had plenty of time out there.” Raising your head to look at him, you can't shake the feeling he always brings you. Safety, warmth, home...

“Yeah... But you don't have to... I mean, what I said before, you don't have to...”

“We need ta’ talk. But not here, c'mon.” He reaches out his hand and you take it, pulling yourself up. “Ya need me ta’ carry ya?”

“No, I can walk.” If he's about to end things, the best you can do it put some distance already.

You walk at the fastest pace you can, eager to just end this. To know what happens now and work from there.

The moment you get to the house, Carol leaves, telling you Luke is asleep and he won't be up for a few hours.

So you go back to the couch, sitting down and bracing yourself, preparing for the worst. Daryl sits beside you but doesn't say anything. Bouncing your leg, you curse yourself for what you did. You know Daryl isn't the one to talk about his feelings, and you don't want to push him to.

“I'm sorry for what I said. I shouldn't have–”

“Ya wanna be with me. Why?” He bursts out, and you look at him. Daryl has his elbows on his knees, eyes on the floor.

“Because I–” Are you really gonna say it? Can you tell him that? Isn't it too soon? Or too late? “I really, really like you... More than a friend or a protector.”

“Ya shouldn't. ‘M way older than ya and yer–”

“Daryl, it's not up to you to decide what I should or shouldn't do. Or feel.” Cutting him short, you turn your body towards him, touching his arm, relieved when he finally looks up into your eyes. “I know you think very low of yourself. I'm well aware of the age thing, but I don't care. What I need to know is how you feel about me.” Making a pause, you take a deep breath. This isn't easy, but you have to talk. To somehow make it easier for him, if that's even possible. “It's alright if you don't. I-I know you don't like talking about this, but I just need to know if... If there's anything else... If you feel this way about me too...”

“I like ya, (Y/N).” He says in a very low voice, you can barely hear it. “And ya shouldn't have feelings for me.”

“Daryl...”

“Nah, lemme talk.” He cuts you off, faking an angry tone. Raising an eyebrow, you nod. “Ya shouldn't. Yer... Young an’ pretty an’ I can't ruin ya. Ya deserve someone better than me.”

“I don't want anyone else, Dixon.” It breaks your heart when he talks like that. You wish he could see himself through your eyes. Who he really is, not this messed up an image he has of himself. “And you won't ruin me. I don't even know what you meant by that, but that's not true, Daryl, I... If you want this... If you want me, you won't ruin me. You'll make me very, very happy.”

You're happy you managed to say all that, despite the many pauses and all the stuttering. There is much more to say, but the time will come. For now, everything you need is to know how he feels.

“I think yer making a mistake, but... I've been thinkin’ and... I don't like bein’ away from ya.”

A smile starts making its way to your lips. “Does it mean that...”

“Yeah, I guess it means that.” He affirms, still not wanting to say the words.

“...Are we going to be a couple?” You have to be sure before celebrating it.

“Yeah.”

“Like... boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Ya need me ta’ drawn it to ya?” He bursts out, an annoyed expression on his face.

Giggling, you raise an eyebrow. You love this side of Daryl and you hope to see more of it. “Sassy Daryl is one of my favorite Daryls.” You say, moving to his lap, straddling his hip. A second later you realize what you did, your cheeks burning. Daryl is red too, and he's not sure what to do with his hands, but you soon feel them on your waist. “So... Oh, I don't know if you noticed but your room was claimed by a newborn child.”

“Yeah, I noticed the crib.”

“So you're now permanently stuck in my bedroom. Hope it's not a problem.” Smiling, you wrap your arms around his neck. You then realize you haven't kissed him yet. And, hell, you want to.

“Not at all.”

“Can I kiss you?” It comes out suddenly, too fast, and you look down, wondering if he can listen to your heart since it's beating insanely fast.

“Ya want to?” He almost stutters, his voice barely a whisper.

“Yeah...” Nodding, you move closer, eyes closing, and your skin burning in anticipation.

You jump to hear the front door opening, head immediately turning to find Carol. Her eyes go wide at the sight of you and Daryl like this...

“I–”

“Carol, I need you to go away. Like right now.” You tell her, urgency in your voice. You don't want the moment to pass, and you just need to kiss him. Right now. It's like a matter of life and death. “Please.” You decide to add.

“Alright, alright.” Raising her hands, she quickly goes upstairs, and you settle down again, hoping Daryl hasn't changed his mind.

“Ok... Can I–”

You feel his lips on yours before you can finish, and you don't mind at all. Pushing yourself closer to him, you deepen the kiss, completely inebriated by him. The pace is slow at first, as if you're getting to know each other, feeling each other, but then it changes, faster, full of need. You get the sensation he doesn't believe this is happening, by the way his arms hold you as if you would disappear. You won't. This is where you want to be, right here, with him.

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