#the apology may make sense later. what can i say that book makes you a little insane
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GymRat!Miguel Part 4
content warning: mentions of sexual coercion (may be triggering to some so I marked the area where I talk about this subject with 🎧, the story will still make sense if you have to skip it), the word assault is used once in regards to Miguel’s situation at the party, fluff to make up for the last part, Miguel’s biological father is Tyler Stone here but he IS NOT comic book Miguel physically by ANY MEANS 😭, the progression might be a little fast?? I hope not though I want them to kith 👩🏾❤️💋👨🏽, a little suggestive at one part but nothing serious
word count: 2.4k (at this point y'all...you must know that I like telling stories because wtf), kinda proofread
Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist
GymRat!Miguel who set his alarm for 8 am the next morning. It rings long enough for his roommate to get up and shove him in his side.
“Shit. Sorry,” Miguel groans. His head is splitting and he feels like he’s been run over.
“Coming in at ass o’clock in the morning and letting your alarm ring past 12 rings? What happened to my roomie?” Peter muses, scratching is stomach. His own eyes are tired as he blinks at Miguel’s body slumped against the bed.
“A party that I should’ve never gone to,” Miguel says, bringing the ends of his palms to his eyes and breathing deep. “Nothing went how I wanted it to.”
“It looks to me that you got everything you wanted,” Peter yawned, going to grab a water from the mini fridge. He handed it to Miguel who thanked him and emptied the whole thing in one go.
“I left a girl that I really liked alone there,” Miguel replies, voice broken. “Was stuck in a room with a bunch of girls I didn’t even know. I was gone way too long and she left.”
“Shit, O’Hara,” Peter said, eyebrows raised. “Did they do anything to you?”
“No. After they realized I wasn’t trying to do anything, they just tried to bring the party upstairs. I didn’t get back downstairs until two hours later.”
“Did you reach out to your girl, at least?”
Miguel reached for his phone, “She texted me when she left and I texted back later.”
He looked at his phone, going to your messages. “And still no reply.”
“Can you blame her?” Peter asked, getting back in his own bed. “If I left my girlfriend anywhere while we’re out, she would literally have my head on a wall.”
Miguel wanted to cry. How could he fuck up something so badly?
He sighed as he brought his knees up, resting his arms on his knees. He put his head on his arms, trying to think.
“What should I do? I really like her,” he asks, voice watery.
“Not to be that guy, but there’s no time like the present,” Peter says. “Tell her the truth. Explain things to her. If you’re feeling that awful, do something for her.”
Miguel sniffles and groans out, deciding to get up.
“You’re right,” he says. “No time like the present.”
GymRat!Miguel who grabs a light breakfast and gets straight to work. He thanks the universe that his mom packed a bunch of aimless art supplies in one of his bins. He gets to crafting, putting his heart into everything. He’s freshening up, spraying on cologne, bringing out the slacks that make his ass look great, tightening his belt, fixing his hair. He tightens up so well that even Peter whistles when he walks out of the bathroom. He grabs his craft and goes off campus to a store, buying a few snacks, a circus animal cookie plush, and a gatorade in case you happened to be a little hungover too. He even goes the extra mile and finds a cute apology card. If anything, he hope you could get a laugh out if it.
GymRat!Miguel who makes his way to your dorm building, some guy letting him in after he saw him lingering around the door like a kicked puppy. He thanks him profusely and runs up the stairs to your door. He stands outside in the hallway for a minute and catches his breath, trying to still his beating heart. He gives a light knock, hoping you were there.
The door opens, revealing another girl who looks Miguel up and down with a scowl. Her hand is on her hip and her bonnet moves with her head as she stares Miguel down.
Miguel stutters, asking if you were there.
“Maybe, depending on what you’re about to say next,” she says.
“Look, can you tell her that I’m deeply sorry. I should have never left her alone last night. She didn’t deserve that. I apologize for even accepting the invitation to go. I should have known better. Nothing was worth me staying upstairs that long. Can I just- please, let me just talk to her,” Miguel pleads, desperate.
Your roommate just goes “hmph” under her breath and closes the door in his face.
Miguel’s arms drop and he gapes at the door like a fish. He’s willing to stand here until you have to come out, but isn’t sure what to do.
Just when he considers knocking again, the door swings open again and you’re standing there in a giant t-shirt and pajama pants with pokeman balls printed on them. A giant blanket is wrapped around your body.
You look at him, eyes cautious, “Jess said you were groveling. I’ll give you 5 minutes of my precious time. Something you clearly know how to waste.”
You sounded hurt and Miguel felt like dying.
He takes a deep breath calls out your name.
“I am so sorry for leaving you the other night. It was extremely fucked up, especially when I made sure that you could come. Anything could have happened to you and it was careless of me to not see that. I promise you my mom raised me better,” he says, looking down at your face.
You just crossed your arms and scrunched your mouth up. Even now, Miguel was still infatuated with you.
“I’m glad that you understand how fucked up that was. I was worried about you. I waited. For hours. I didn’t know anyone there and it was nerve wracking,” you say, words coming out like ice.
“I know and I apologize. Truly. Please just,” Miguel hands you his gifts. A gift bag full of the goodies he bought and an origami flower bouquet with a few lilies of the valley sprinkled throughout. A flower for renewal. A flower that he hopes speaks to you. “Please accept this and my honest apology.”
You look down at the flowers, taken aback. “Did you make these?” you ask, a little awed.
Miguel rubs one of his wrists, completely nervous, “Yes, I did. The lilies are real, though.”
“Well, obviously, Miguel,” you laugh softly at him. You start to go through the bag, heart warming at his initial gift.
“If you’ll accept my apology, I really would like to try taking you out. Again,” he says, shifting his weight to another leg.
“Wasn’t aware that last night was a date but slow down, tiger. I didn’t say I would forgive you yet.”
“Right!”
You took out the cookie plushie, cursing in your head about how cute it was. He really did know you. You kept going, heart melting the further in the bag you got. You finally got to the card, taking it out of the envelope.
You laugh at the cute seal, “You were an ‘ice hole.’”
Miguel heart sings at your laugh, happy that you were finding joy in this somehow.
You start to read the card, eyes wandering the page. His heart is hammering. Not only did he write his heart out, he dropped his confession of love like for you at the end. Whether or not you accepted it would make or break the rest of Miguel’s week.
Your eyes slowly drifted and you started to blink faster.
“Our time together has been short, but I think of you day and night. I dream about you. Your eyes, your smile, your laugh, your touch. It sounds sudden and cheesy but none of these parts of you escape my mind. I’m not sure what it felt like for you, but as soon as I was lucky enough to be graced with you in my lab group, I was stuck. To me, you lit up the room. I want to continue to explore that light, if you are willing to have me. May you please forgive me and consider going out with me?”
“If this feels like too much, I completely understand and I’ll-”
“Shut up,” you say, eyes teary. “Do you really mean this, Miguel?”
He stares at you, itching to reach out and hug you, “Every word.”
You wipe at your cheeks, a little overwhelmed. “Come here, you big goof.”
Miguel practically teleports the short distance, wrapping his arms around you. You sniffle in his chest, warmed up in his arms.
“I forgive you,” you say, words muffled into his shirt. “Just don’t ever do that shit again.”
He brings his hand to his head in a salute, “I won’t. Scout’s honor.”
“Of course you were a Boy Scout,” you say, giggling as you look up at him. He smelled really good and looked delectable. If you were weaker, you would have answered the door instead of Jess and filled the hallway with obscenities.
🎧
“Tell me though,” you say, trying to ground yourself. “What does one do when he leaves me for two hours?”
Miguel felt a groan in his chest, “Those girls were trying to do some weird harem thing. I was stuck in a room telling them no, trying to drink my way out of there. They kept trying to add more people to the mix, thinking I would go along with it. I didn’t want a case on my hands so it took me a while to get out of there without force.”
You went rigid in his arms, “Oh my god, Miguel!That’s assault.”
“Nothing crazy happened. I made sure that none of them got handsy.”
You bring your hand to his face, “That’s great, but there was still alcohol involved, which makes that coercion. Did you tell anyone about this?”
“Just my roommate, Peter. He sounded a little worried, but we were more focused on getting me to this point with you.”
You remove yourself from his arms and step back into your dorm.
“Stay right here. The council needs to discuss and Jess is on the Student Association,” you say, leaving a crack in the door.
GymRat!Miguel who is sat on the floor of your dorm room and explained the implications of what he went through. Jess ensures him that she’ll get somebody on the case despite Miguel saying that he was ok. You both ensure him that nothing will happen on his end and that this should stop those girls from doing this to anyone else in the future. Miguel is on board with that and you give him one more tight hug.
“Although you didn’t have to, I wish you would have told me. I would have came barging through those doors,” you say, a frown on your face.
“Really, it’s fine. I feel a little silly going along with the whole ordeal anyway.”
“None of that is your fault though, Miguel. You didn’t know what they were going to do or what they were trying to do,” you say, voice firm.
Miguel was enamored by your passion, “Thank you for saying that. If it helps, my father is Tyler Stone.”
Jess turns her body completely to you both on the floor, mouth dropping in shock, “Oh yeah, that entire organization is getting shut down.”
🎧
GymRat!Miguel who walks you out of your dorm, hand in hand with you. You two agreed on a nice coffee date. Something light after so much turmoil. You looked adorable, running around the room frantic and getting all dolled up just for him. He’s happy that he was able to work things out.
GymRat!Miguel who sits across from you, rubbing your hand with his thumb as you both sip your drinks. He begs for bites of your chocolate cake and you roll your eyes and feed it to him, a little shy at the PDA.
GymRat!Miguel who explains his family tree to you. You're still shocked at the Tyler Stone name drop. You're empathetic to his situation, agreeing with how tough it was to find out someone you knew for so long wasn't your actual father. He assures you that he's settled with the feelings for now, just happy to still have a connection with both of his dads and his mom. Plus, the money Tyler sends him was not anything to be sad over.
GymRat!Miguel who learns of your dating history. You've had a boyfriend and few meaningless dates. As you describe how he treated you, it makes sense that you were ready to completely block Miguel out of your life. Who stands up their prom date that they did a promposal for?
GymRat!Miguel who takes you shopping at the bookstore. Letting you get just about anything. Some romance books? Grab it. A plushie? Of course. A Beyoncé vinyl? No need to even ask. He was happy following you around the store as you squealed over certain things. Your eyes twinkled as you explained a series about a deaf girl falling in love and her boyfriend learning sign language to communicate with her. Miguel responds accordingly, humming at whatever you say.
GymRat!Miguel who feels crazy watching you eat a strawberry ring pop that he got from candy machine. You placed it on your left ring finger and he watched as your lips kept puckering around the crown of the candy diamond, taking it to the hilt and pushing it back out. Your tongue would come out occasionally as you slid the candy down it.
"Is it good?" he asks, mind in the gutter.
"Mm hm," you say, a smile on your face, ring pop popping from your mouth.
Lord help Miguel.
GymRat!Miguel who opens his car door for you. He also reaches across and buckles your seatbelt for you, body close to yours.
GymRat!Miguel who walks you to your dorm room, hand still in yours. You both linger there for a moment, taking in each other's space. You peer up at Miguel with those Bambi eyes again.
"I had a really great time with you Miguel," you say, holding your new bag to your chest. "I'm glad you came here this morning."
"I'm glad too," Miguel says looking at you, hearts in his eyes.
You bite your lip, rocking on your feet before you decide to do something.
You reach up on your tip toes and kiss Miguel on his cheek.
He stares at you, shocked. He stares at you a little longer, then begins to lean down. You get excited, hoping that he'll do what you were scared to do.
Jess swings the door open, "Aht aht! Come on inside, girl."
Miguel stands straight, face in flames.
"Good night, Miguel," you say, cheeks feeling hot.
"Good night," Miguel watches as Jess smirks at him before she closes the door.
GymRat!Miguel who floats all the way back to his dorm. Peter grins and tussles with him in excitement after taking in Miguel's appearance. He texts Gabriel while he gets ready for bed:
"When have I ever lost?"
"I kicked your ass in Mario Party last week but go off Ig"
"🖕🏽"
"🫰🏽"
Miguel went to sleep once more, having thoughts of you.
dividers by: @yeribbon 🩵
a/n: I’m almost certain that this is the LAST time something this serious happens in this series. It will be pretty fluffy for a while...I think 🫣
As always, thank you for reading! Leave a like and a reblog. Please comment! I love to hear what you guys have to say 🥺 🩵
taglist: @ghost-lantern @miguelhugger2099 @slushycoookie @emelie-s-h @lake-lili @obsessed-with-miguels-ass @scaleniusrm @superiorspiderass @lexluvswriting @flordelalunas @froggygal @vmpz8sauceee @famouscattale @nixinluv02 @jada-of-arcadia @spideykid22 @what-the-jams @julia4today @tojishugetiddies @samjinxx @sleeklyalisha @the-pan-liquid @prongs-lover @kikaaauu @urlocallocachica @wanderlustingcastaway @peachey-pie @ch3rry-bl1ss @girl-of-multi-fandoms @love-kha1 @manlikemilesmyguy @sillysillygoofygoose @monticellohoe @kodzuminx @lauraolar14 @bruhhvv @m4dyy @farrowroyale @ce3stvu @ohara-whore
#love lab drabbles 💊#GymRat!Miguel 💪🏾#miguel o'hara x chubby!reader#miguel o'hara x plussize!reader#miguel o'hara x chubby reader#miguel o'hara x plus size reader#plus size reader#chubby reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel x reader#spiderman 2099 x you#miguel o'hara au#miguel o'hara imagine#spiderman 2099 x reader#miguel o'hara
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IN THE ALCOVE
azriel x reader
summary ; reader owns a shop in velaris that azriel happens to stumble upon. he can’t seem to stay away.
a/n ; gonna be so fr with y’all. the ending is not my favorite, but i’ve rewritten it a million times so please let me know what you think!
word count ; 2.2k
warnings; none!
Azriel isn’t sure what called him to this little shop hidden in an alcove somewhere along the Rainbow. He doesn’t remember much of what happened while walking here, only that he was in an entirely foul mood after an unsuccessful scouting in the Autumn Court. But that doesn’t matter to him now.
No, the moment he set foot in the Palace of Thread and Jewels he felt it. Something telling him to go this way, then turn the corner, keep walking, turn again, until finally he stood in front of the door to your shop. His hazel eyes glance to the intricately carved wooden sign hanging above the door.
Velaris Thread & Stitch.
The Shadowsinger peers in the window first. There are mannequins in the window—one in a suit, the other in a dress—and behind those mannequins he spots different articles of clothing hanging on the walls, displayed on the racks placed in the space between.
He enters without thinking any further, taking in just how many pieces there truly are on display. Then he sees you.
Pretty little you, brows furrowed as you lean over the checkout counter with your face near buried in the pages of a leather-bound book. You’re wearing an outfit similar to what Amren would wear—baggy pants and a cropped shirt, true Night court fashion—with your hair falling in your face, one hand barely keeping the locks from your eyes. You don’t seem to care, though. He’s thankful you haven’t noticed him yet, thankful for his stealthiness because he can spend a while longer admiring you.
He stops himself before his staring would turn creepy to fold his hands behind his back and tentatively clearing his throat. “Excuse me,”
Your yelp makes the corner of his lip twitch, but he’s quick to shove the smirk away when you finally meet his gaze.
“Mother above,” you rasp, the hand that previously held the hair from your face is now clutching at your chest.
“I apologize,” Azriel expresses, though his amusement is barely hidden. “I did not mean to startle you.”
You smile and gods he’s not sure what’s taken over him. He breathes in sharply to suppress the beat of his heart.
He watches you take him in. How it takes you barely any time to recognize who he is, ow your spine straightens moments after. “Shadowsinger—how may I help you?
Azriel considers your words, feeling your eyes track his every movement. From the back of his head to his neck, his wings, the length of his powerful body, he feels your gaze take him in when you think he won’t notice. “I,” he pauses. His hesitation is both from your staring and that he really hadn’t thought about what he would say. New tunic? New pants? New…socks? Fuck. “Show me your finest…tunic.”
If you sense his hesitation, you don’t speak on it. Instead, you nod warmly and shut your notebook. “Any color or fabric preferences?”
“Just your finest.”
Humming, you stroll to the back. It’s Azriel’s turn to watch you, eyes tracking the sway of your hips and the swish of your pants. He takes pride in the way you shiver before disappearing behind the curtain.
You emerge from that same curtain minutes later, a pile of tunics layered on top of your arms. “These are my latest additions,” you explain, laying the garments on the counter. “The embroidery on the neckline and tops of the sleeves of this one is a work in progress…I have yet to decide how I want to finalize the design. But you’re free to try them on if you so wish. Dressing rooms are down the hall.”
Azriel inspects the tunic with your embroidery on it first, tilting his head in thought. The design is similar to that of his own Illyrian whorls, and he’s in awe of how well you managed to capture the essence of it, even if you hadn’t realized what you were designing.
He decides to try them all on if only to spend more time in the shop, so he gathers the up with one hand and sets for the dressing room without a word.
He hears you huff a quiet laugh before the rustling of pages follows its melodic sound.
+++
“Shit.”
Trying to stitch the design you and Azriel had come up with for his latest purchase, a custom suit jacket for Starfall in a month, was a nightmare. You’re sure the sharp needle has pricked your skin at least seven times within the past three minutes, and you’re starting to lose your sanity.
Azriel’s come into your shop frequently as of late, each time an excuse rolling off the tip of his tongue the moment you ask how you can help him.
“My leathers need mending.”
“That sweater you made me—I would like to purchase more.”
“I..need a…scarf?”
The last one had you grinning, tilting your head at him while you asked, “Well, do you?”
He shrugged then, asking to see what you had. You spent the next hour going through the scarves you already made, then you went through yarn in the back of the shop, and finally, after another twenty minutes of just chatting, he left. The scarf was forgotten and Azriel never mentioned it again.
Safe to say, he didn’t need the scarf.
You scrub your eyes to rid the memory of that night from your mind. It would do you no good to involve yourself with the Shadowsinger anymore than you already were. He was near royalty to you: a member of the Inner Circle, a close friend of the High Lord…he was something out of your reach. It didn’t matter how much he frequented your shop, nor did it matter how many times your friends told you he clearly was interested. Just because he came to the shop almost every day that doesn’t mean he likes you, right?
Maybe he just needs clothes.
The fabric of his suit jacket under your fingertips does little to distract you. You let Azriel know when he came in a few days ago that his sweaters would be ready today, and that he could come in to pick them up whenever. He nodded in understanding, saying he would be here before he left without another word.
A ring pulls you from your thoughts. The bell on your door—Azriel.
His work-in-progress order almost falls to the floor with how quick you jump up. You place the jacket on the table hastily, hands smoothing the fabric of your pants and brushing your hair from your face to look somewhat presentable.
Your appearance is forgotten when you exit the back room and see those wings, that face.
“You’re early today,” You remark, smiling softly at him as you slide up to the register.
Azriel shrugs, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I wasn’t lying when I said I liked those sweaters.”
“Are you sure you aren’t in need of a new wardrobe?” You tease the Illyrian whilst gathering his latest order from under the counter.
Azriel cracks a smile. It’s one that you’ve been blessed with seeing as of late: gentle, relaxed, joyful. His hands drag along a rack of dresses mindlessly as he makes his way to you. “Nothing I own is as beautiful as what you have made for me.”
Your hands falter. “Well then,” you dip your head to try and hide the heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m honored, Shadowsinger.”
He makes it to your counter, leaning against it with his head tipped sideways as he studies you in a way that makes your heart race. “Azriel.” He speaks after a long stretch of silence. “Call me Azriel.”
Again, you dip your head. Is it possible for your cheeks to get any hotter? “Of course.” You mumble, fingers fumbling for a bag to put his sweaters in.
The colors are…very Azriel. One dark blue, one ash grey, and one inky black. His original sweater was dark blue as well, but a shade darker than the one he recently ordered. Shocking.
It’s silent while you package the sweaters, but Azriel’s eyes on you is loud enough. You know if you squirm, he’ll clock the movement and you would rather not have him knowing just how much of an affect he has on you.
After what feels like an eternity, you slide the bag of sweaters over to him.
“Here,” Azriel grunts, pushing you a pouch containing an excessive number of marks. He holds up a hand as you begin to protest. “It’s a thank you on top of my payment.”
You frown, brows knitting together. “That’s—
“Please,” He whispers, eyes pleading with you. “I’ve made some absurd requests since I’ve been coming here, and you’ve fulfilled all of them. It’s a thank you for my…bullshit.”
Your lips slowly stretch into a smile before you’re taking the pouch of marks from him with a hum. “Your bullshit is appreciated.”
“Is that so?” Forearms now resting on the counter, he gives you a lazy smile. You curse him internally for it.
Coughing, you turn from the counter to busy yourself with cleaning. “Yes,” you hum. “You’re a nice change of pace compared to my typical customers.”
You see him nod but he doesn’t say anything, another round of silence stretching on between the two of you. This is something you’ve grown to like. Azriel looks around at your work, you fuss about brushing the dust from racks and the wiping away the smudges on your store front window, and the both of you enjoy each other’s company.
“I’ll be gone for a few weeks.” He says quietly, as if he was hesitant to break the comfortable silence. There’s no explanation to follow it because you already know what he means.
“I see,” you mumble, shuffling back to the front counter. The room seems gloomy now, knowing that you won’t see him every other day disappointing you more than you would ever like to admit. You try to smile at him, but it’s forced and there’s no doubt he notices. “How very boring my job will be without you asking for special projects.”
Azriel gives a hint of a smile, leaning against the counter as he does whenever he’s giving you his full attention. “I have one thing to request of you before I leave.” He cocks his head, inky black hair falling from its haphazard style. Your fingers itch to reach out and brush it back. “If you’re willing, that is.”
“You know I am.” You shrug, trying to give that impression of carelessness that you’ve seen him pull off from time to time.
“Let me take you to dinner.”
“What?” you choke, blinking rapidly. All your disappointment is forgotten for the time being and replaced by a racing heart. “What about your…duties?”
A shake of his head. “Rhysand can come find me if he really needs me.” He gives you that pleading look again, twin to the look he gave you earlier. “A new place on the Sidra just opened. I’ve heard it’s lovely.”
“Oh,” you breathe, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face. It feels strange to hear that Azriel, the Night Court’s feared Shadowsinger and spymaster is asking you on… “A date?”
“If you want it to be.”
Folded in your lap are your hands, fingers messing with the fabric of your pants. Azriel leans closer, and it’s harder for you to focus the closer he gets. A date. If your friends were here, they would be screaming at you to say yes. After they all laughed and said, “I told you so!”
Maybe you would wait a bit to tell them. You’re not sure your want to give them the satisfaction yet.
You clear your throat, meeting his gaze. “I…that would be nice.”
Azriel smiles brighter than you’ve ever seen, straightening to his full height. “Alright. I’ll pick you up tomorrow after sundown?”
“Sure,” you grin. “Don’t be late.”
“I would never,” he says softly, giving you one last smile before he turns to the door.
He barely makes it our of view before you’re running to the back so no one could see you squeal and dance in a circle.
+++
Azriel shoots to the skies after rounding the corner, thanking the Mother that you said yes.
He’d told no one, but Nesta was able to spot his odd behavior with ease. She pestered him weeks ago about it, saying he was acting like a “lovesick fool”. He spent the night talking about you, about how many random clothing items he’s gotten rid of just to replace with your pieces. She’d laughed so hard that he nearly threw himself out the window.
“So, you aren’t just acting like a lovesick fool, you are a lovesick fool.”
He’d rolled his eyes and wrapped up their conversation quickly, claiming he had a headache. Her knowing scoff followed him all the way back to his room. It was the same scoff she gave whenever he came back from his visits without asking you to dinner.
Nesta would be pleased to hear that he did, in fact, ask you to dinner this time. And you said yes.
Azriel lands on the balcony of the House of Wind, making his way into Nesta’s home with a grin. She’s sitting in a cushy chair next to the window, a book in her hand that she snaps shut as soon as she spots the look on Azriel’s face.
“Well?” she asks, humor lacing the single word.
Azriel flops into the chair across from her and he launches into the story.
Who knew that little alcove would lead him to his mate?
#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel x y/n#acotar x reader#acotar x you#acotar x y/n#azriel acotar x reader#azriel acotar x you#azriel acotar x y/n#azriel fanfic
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König x Reader Headcanons
this is my first post!!!! im so excited!!
i have had an extremely annoying day and just wanted to write these down to cheer me up a bit- hope you guys like them as well :) some of these are self indulgent so forgive me. im writing my könig fic but its taking a while since finals are upon me :/
Warnings: NSFW at the bottom, I put an indicator before :)
He is an extremely active listener. If he’s standing and you are talking to him, he has his feet pointed towards you and his head ducked down a bit so he can hear you better since he’s so tall. Nods along to whatever you say and generally has attentive body language
Remembers the smallest details from any conversation. You tell him a story about your childhood pet and months later he will casually say the pet’s name in another conversation. It always takes you off guard a little
When he realizes he likes you, he panics. Writes frantically in his journal for about 3 hours about it.
You catch on to his little crush pretty quickly, given how he lingers near you more than anyone else and gets shy at the smallest interactions
When you finally confess to him that you feel similarly he is so incredibly happy but flustered. Had to take a cold shower that night to calm himself down
Gives you little gifts all the time (one of his love languages for sure). A drawing he did, a flower he saw on the side of the road, some candy he brought from home, etc
Also collects anything you may gift him. Hoards them and protects them like they are living and breathing
Goes through them on nights when you two have to be apart. He can be extremely sentimental
If you are an artist in anyway, he is your HYPE MAN. Hangs up your drawings/poems/photographs, whatever it may be, in his little dorm room
He melts if you cook/bake him something homemade. Like seriously might get choked up. He loves the smell of baked goods, it always makes him feel right at home. You always try to bake him something on his birthday and he is over the moon about it
Protective but knows you can handle yourself most of the time. Despite his introverted nature he will defend you loudly and aggressively if he senses that it’s necessary
He loves any little weird quirks you may have. You love the smell of clean laundry? He thought it was so cute when you would sniff the shirts coming out of the dryer
OH OH OH LOVES THE THING WHERE YOU HAVE ONE HEADPHONE AND HE HAS THE OTHER AND YOU LISTEN TO THE SAME MUSIC AND JUST HANG OUT. oh man
Accidentally bumps into/knocks you with his hands or arms soooo often. He’s a big boy who doesnt quite have spatial awareness sometimes
He feels so bad everytime it happens and just cradles your face in his hands and apologizing so rapidly (it never really hurts but you like the attention so)
If you dont know german he will give you a “german word of the day” and will say it to you the entire day in context until you guess what it means
Is so excited when you guess right
Not gonna be into PDA it’s too much for him. He’s just constantly your shadow 24/7 in public. The most is having a hand on your back or shoulder so you don’t get lost in a crowd
In private however. Clingiest boy alive (his other love language is physical touch)
Lives for you laying your head on his lap. Plays with your hair or traces your features while he talks to you about his day or a book he started reading
Has the most expressive eyes in the world
I headcannon him as ginger, his hair slightly shaggy (haircuts give him anxiety so he does it himself when it starts to get in his eyes) and wavy
light freckles on his cheeks and across his nose!!!
With his blue eyes he is truly such a picture of beauty
He isn’t super weird about showing his face to you. When you start hanging out outside of work duties he doesn’t wear it, and appreciates that you dont bring attention to it
Sometimes you make a little comment about him being pretty and his face is on FIRE but he just quietly says thank you and has a little smile on his face
Compliments you shyly but often, will not make eye contact with you when he says it
Writes you super heartfelt notes that he will leave you to find because he can better express himself that way
Don’t get me wrong though he has his moments where he can be very very cocky!!
For example: right after a successful mission when he is still riding the adrenaline rush, he is much touchier with you even in front of others
If you need him to reach something he loves that and gets a little power trip. Teases you and makes you jump to get it from him a bit
If he notices that he made YOU blush, wooo boy he loves to tease you. “Did you like that, hmm?”, with a sickly sweet smile
NSFW BELOW
The first time was extremely soft and slow and sweet. He was very eager but very unsure of himself. Didn’t know where to put his hands. You had to guide him and reassure him and he didn’t last very long but it was sweet
He whimpered the entire time
After that, he slowly gains confidence and learns what works for you two
Still likes for you to be in control mostly, with rare soft dom moments
Will try almost anything once!!
Loves praise. Too insecure for degradation and absolutely can’t degrade you either
Loves to eat pussy sooooo much… You have a bad day? He’s on his knees in the shower with one of you thighs on his shoulder. Its your birthday? He got you like 9 presents but the finale is cumming on his tongue 4 times
He fucking growls sometimes when he’s overstimulated and its the greatest thing to grace your ears
Says “I love you” like a chant when he’s cumming in you
Wants to see your face the whole time
Ironically he is great at making eye contact in the bedroom
He has the sexiest thighs in the world
#konig#konig x reader#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare 2#send me YOUR hcs i would love to hear#könig#könig x reader
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All The Ways To Say “You Mean The World To Me”
Alhaitham x female reader
Warnings -> Fluff, use of several different languages (Google translate was involved so apologies if anything is incorrect), one comfort scene
The lamp on the desk provided ample light, the patter of rain hitting the window filling the quiet study. Paper crinkled as pages turned, teal-brown eyes soaked up information and filed it away for later. A warm cup of coffee filled the air with a pleasant aroma, the steam rising from the cup setting a cozy mood. The house was silent, not a peep from his roommate who may or may not have left the house already.
The creak of the door opening couldn’t be missed, nor could the quiet tapping of shoes against the wooden floor. “All this time we’ve been together and only now am I finding out you can speak multiple languages?”
The scribe didn’t look up from his book, but that didn’t stop the woman from taking a seat in the chair across from him. She crossed her arms and rested them on the surface of the table, waiting for a reply.
Alhaitham turned the page. “It never came up.”
“Could have come up while we were getting to know each other. I told you about my treasured stuffed bear from my dad, yet somehow, you completely missed that aspect of yourself.”
His gaze finally lifted to meet hers. “You do know I graduated from Haravatat, right? I thought my knowledge in languages would have been a given.”
(Y/N) puffed her cheeks out in a way that reminded him of the pufferfish swimming in the river near Port Ormos. “You and I both know you’re the smart one in the relationship, not me.” Her eyes suddenly lit up, lips curling into a grin as she reached across the table to place her hands on top of his. “Say something romantic in another language.”
“Why?”
She bounced in her seat. “Please?”
Alhaitham sighed and flipped his hand so he could properly hold hers. He thought for a moment, then, he spoke. “Poté den tha agapíso perissótero tin antanáklasí mou ótan emfanisteí sta mátia sou.”
𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴.
(Y/N) giggled as her hand squeezed his. “What does that mean?”
“It means you spend too much time with my roommate, and that he’s a bad influence on you.”
Her shoulders dropped, lips pulling into a pout. “You suck.”
Alhaitham lifted her hand and placed a kiss against her knuckles, then went back to reading. “If you would like to borrow a few of my old books, you are more then welcome to translate what I said yourself.”
“No, forget it. Something tells me I’d rather not know.” Pulling free from his grasp, she stood up. “But, thanks to you, I lost my bet with Kaveh so I’m off to suffer defeat now. Bye bye.”
She spun on her heel and skipped out the door. (Y/N) came into his life like a whirlwind and the winds haven’t been calm since. Though, at this point, the man felt a silent breeze would be eerie.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sight of (Y/N) in the kitchen was much more welcome then walking in to find the other resident raiding a fridge he didn’t fill. Any room she was in took on a new sense of home, but in the early morning light, surrounded by the smell of coffee and breakfast, Alhaitham was slowly but surely starting to associate the first hours of a new day with this woman.
Alhaitham walked up behind (Y/N) as she stood at the counter chopping up a bell pepper and wrapped his arms around her waist, chin falling to rest on her shoulder.
She jumped, the knife almost falling from her hand. “Archons, Alhaitham! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
“Sorry. I thought you heard me coming.” He kissed the side of her neck as an apology. “Cítíš se tak dobře v mém náručí.”
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴.
(Y/N) snorted and added the diced peppers into the egg mixture. “What did you say this time? That the egg to pepper ratio is off?”
One corner of his mouth turned up. “No. I said I’ll start making the coffee.”
“Good, make yourself useful.” Pulling open the cabinet above her head, she grabbed a mug and held it out. “You know how I like mine.”
The scribe chuckled and took the mug, giving her waist a gentle squeeze before releasing her. “Pokud jsi teď tak drzý, nemůžu se dočkat, až uvidím, jak odvážný se staneš, když ti navléknu prsten na prst.”
𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳.
“What was that?” The woman asked, shooting him a pointed look.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hey,” The sound of his roommate’s voice almost made him scowl. “(Y/N) just got here. She looks upset.”
Leaving the sentence he was reading unfinished, Alhaitham set his bookmark between the pages and closed the cover. “Where is she?”
Kaveh, who was leaning against the doorframe, jerked his head towards the hallway. “She went straight to your room. I tried to ask what was bothering her, but I guess she needs her boyfriend more then her childhood friend right now.”
Alhaitham ignored the venom that slipped out with the word ‘boyfriend’. He could understand Kaveh’s frustration to some extent - the blond, much like everyone else, had no idea romantic feelings would spark between his best friend and non-preferred roommate. If he thought something like this would happen in advance, he never would have started inviting her over.
Walking past Kaveh, Alhaitham navigated the house until he reached the door connecting to his bedroom. He turned the handle and entered, immediately spotting a figure sitting on his bed, the blanket covering them completely.
Closing the door, he approached and sat on the side of the bed. “Are you going to hide under there all evening, or would you like to share what’s got you so upset?”
His choice of words weren’t the gentlest but his tone was soft and his volume low. (Y/N) never seemed to mind his blunt way of communicating, but early on he learned that while his choice of words didn’t phase her, his tone did. The worst argument they’ve ever had revolved around such a thing.
The blanketed figure sniffled. “It’s just been a bad day, Alhaitham. I was told my presentation was cancelled only to learn that the professor choose to replace me with someone else instead. I’ve spent months putting this presentation on behalf of my darshan together for the little ones.”
You didn’t need to explain - Alhaitham knew how excited you were when the Akademiya contacted you with the offer, he knew how dedicated you were when selecting the topic and angle you wanted to take, knew the hours you sacrificed researching and fact-checking. He knew how bad you wanted this, and part of him felt that if he had agreed to become grand sage, he could have prevented this. ‘No. This isn’t anyone’s fault. It’s just how things happened.’
“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I know how badly you wanted this opportunity.” Alhaitham wasn’t the bed at comforting others. His expertise laid in fact and logic, not soothing words. “I doubt it was personal. The reason for the switch could simply be because the Akademiya determined the other party’s research to be more compelling.”
Finally, she pulled the blanket off her head and let it fall around her shoulders. Her cheeks were damp with smeared tears, eyes still glossy. “I can accept that, as much as it hurts. I want my darshan to be represented it’s best to the youth. It’s what the scholar said that’s bothering me more…”
The scribe titled his head. “Go on.”
She lowered her gaze. “She said I was an embarrassment. Not only to the Akademiya, but to you, too.” A short, pitiful laugh escaped her. “I don’t know what’s more pathetic. The fact that I’m so bothered by it, or the fact that it’s true.”
“That is not true. Not in the slightest.” Alhaitham said with a shake of his head. “You have more then proven that you deserve the standing you have within the Akademiya. As for me, when have I ever cared for outside opinions? The only voices that matter regarding our relationship is ours.” He paused. “Have you ever been embarrassed of me?”
She shook her head. “No, of course not. I’m proud to have you, Alhaitham.”
“I share the same sentiment.” Cupping her wet cheeks in his hands, he wiped the tear steaks away with his thumbs. “Wenn jemand in mein Leben treten und mich dazu bringen musste, mich zu verlieben, bin ich froh, dass du es warst.”
𝘐𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
Tilting her head down a little, he leaned over and pressed a lingering kiss just below her hairline. He felt her posture relax as she hummed.
“Are you ever gonna tell me what it is you’re really saying?” She asked.
“When I feel like it.” He smiled at her. “Just be patient. One day, you’ll know.”
~~~~~~~~~~~
The skies of Sumeru were painted in pastels of pink and purple, highlighted with gold as it stretched over the rainforest. The river sparkled beneath the light of dusk, the sounds and smells of nature pleasant background noise. Alhaitham sat in the grass, his back against a tree, one hand holding a book while the other traced shapes onto the thigh of the woman sitting between his legs. She leaned against his chest, absorbed in a book of her own.
Reaching a good stopping point, Alhaitham glanced at the sky and calculated how much daylight he would have left. ‘Better get to it now.’
He closed his book and set it on the ground next to him. His movements pulled the woman from her story. “Are you ready to go?”
“Not just yet. I have something for you, actually.”
Reaching for the bag he brought with him on this outing, he pulled out a leather notebook and waited for her to set her book down before passing it off. Alhaitham couldn’t see her face, but he could perfectly picture the confused look she was undoubtedly wearing.
Alhaitham watched over her shoulder as she removed the strap that kept the journal closed and opened it. The first page, and dozens of other pages laying in wait to be read, were filled with his handwriting. To be more specific…
(Y/N) gasped suddenly. “No way. Is this…?” She quickly flipped through a few more pages as if checking to be sure. “Are these translations?”
The scribe hummed. “Of everything I’ve ever said to you in foreign languages? Yes.”
“I can’t believe this.” Her voice was quiet with disbelief but so full of astonishment. “All this time, all these years, you’ve been writing this stuff down. Why not just tell me what you were saying in the moment?”
“Because I was waiting for today.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her further against him. “Go to the last page.”
She did without question, but once she reached it, her head titled in confusion. “You didn’t translate this one.”
“I figured you would prefer it if I translated that one in person.” Alhaitham said, removing one of his arms from her waist so he could reach into his pouch. “Visne me nubere?’ It’s a simple question, but the most important question anyone can ask their partner. To translate,” Flipping the lid of the little black box open, he presented her with the ring. “𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘦, (𝘠/𝘕)?”
(Y/N) gasped again and clasped a hand over her mouth, body turning so she could stare at him with watery eyes. “Are you freaking serious?”
“Would I have bought you a ring if I wasn’t?”
She squealed and threw her weight into him, arms wrapping tightly around his neck. “Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you, Alhaitham!”
A weight lifted off his shoulders as he gave her body a gentle squeeze, face burying in the crook between his neck and shoulder as he breathed his fiancée in. “I love you, (Y/N). So, so much.”
𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥. 𝘓𝘦𝘵’𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘢 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?
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The Fox Hunt (Yandere Mafia!Cyno, Tighnari, and Alhaitham/Reader)
A very brief summary of chapter 2 for those who had to skip due to CWs: You had been bottling your grief. You hired Alhaitham as an underboss and he tagged along when you negotiated with Diluc. (Thanks to his presence, you avoided getting kidnapped by the Visconti). When you visited the church, Rosaria offered to help you track Tighnari down and Cyno shared his story about losing his younger brother later on. At night, you decided to visit your old underboss's grave. An old friend, Dainsleif, found you in the cemetery, and helped you finally cry your eyes out for all the lives you lost that day.
CW: yandere & religious themes, mafia syndicates (therefore guns, violence, etc). Possible major character death. THIS IS AN INTERACTIVE FIC: YOUR CHOICES MATTER.
"O Capo! My Capo!" - Chapter 3
Previous chapter
—----
[4 years ago:]
"You seem to be stealing fleeting glances earwards the whole time I've been leafing pages."
"Ah, so you've noticed." You spoke sheepishly. "My apologies, Professor, but your ears are…"
Tighnari's ears boastfully straightened as he shrugged with a tiny smile.
"They do not feel as nice as you're imagining. They honestly just feel like any regular cat's or dog's."
"Your behavior says otherwise." You said. "But it's deserved. You groom it every other hour, don't you?"
"Hah?"
On a late 1910s night, renowned writer Professor Tighnari prepared his next discussion in the Innamorati Familia’s mansion.
Why inside such a dangerous place? Well, what is Teyvat without corruption? The Syndicates remained in control for most of Teyvat, and no military forces can quell their power. It reached a period where people cannot envision life without these organizations as detrimental to society. No man can exhaust the flames that burn brightly amongst the Fatui mafiosos, and should they try, they'll only find smoke in their wounded chest.
Professor Tighnari joined the Innamorati Familia when several academics from his university inexplicably vanished. The fox believes they'll target him next based on their trend of research topics. He initially gave his services in exchange for the security of his research, but unanticipatedly discovered that everyone in the Familia has values, culture– precious lives of their own. They were kind people who simply had a penchant for violence. As strange of a revelation as it may sound, they lived their lives hurting as little as they could with their religious restrictions upheld by their capo.
Not long after that, the hitherto snarky professor had become close friends with the aforementioned boss.
"Don't think I don't notice that every time I'm about to enter the room, you brush your fur like you're five minutes late to a party."
"I-I just wanted to look presentable, that's all. Do you think I'd show up to work with bed hair? Who am I? Dimitri?"
Aware of his sharp tongue but lacking the means to keep it in check, Tighnari accidentally insulted your underboss. The hairs on his body stood and he was ready to make a fool of himself by offering an apology, but your usually unreadable resting face looked warm.
"Mhm. Sure. I'll choose to believe that." Without hiding your curiosity, you turned back to his ears. His ears were not touched, despite your hands being close to his head.
"A-as you should." Fortunately, Tighnari is good at masking his emotions. If cowardice overcame him, he would encounter a blade's glimmer rather than your gaze. Tighnari digressed by returning to his books while maintaining the illusion that his thoughts were clear.
"Alright then. Platonically, can I pet you?"
"... Excuse me?"
"You're one of those Vulpes who always wondered why close friends would think touching your ears would make you angry right?" You told him in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone.
Tighnari is a smart man, yet he is unable to understand how your mind may go in circles and still arrive at a logical conclusion. He did ask, but it didn't make sense. You sincerely advised him to give up most possessions and gain a new perspective from the experience when he sought guidance on how your deduction functions. There is no way in hell that he would act in that manner.
You continued. "I'm just skipping that whole step. So, are we intimate enough for me to run my fingers through your hair?"
Tighnari snorted. "Phrasing, Capo."
"So, am I a close enough friend to touch you in that special area?"
"You'll never get me flustered– I might just bite you instead if you keep testing me."
"What a major shame."
Your gaze lowered to the pages he was writing. Tighnari is a well-known botanist at the University of Teyvat, a public university for bright students with limited financial resources. His intricate writing style regarding the fundamentals of bryophytes speaks volumes. You doubt that students can understand what he jotted down, but then again, Tighnari's an effective communicator.
In all honesty, you hated those books, not because of their contents, but because of the memories laced within them.
These were the type of pages you sift through in hopes that you will be the one to decipher a cure. Dottore used to help you sort through whatever books were more easily digestible. Nowadays staring at something related to moss feels akin to reading about an end of a long relationship. It was fun and exciting, but ultimately the compatibility led nowhere. As much as you want to tell him that he should take his research elsewhere, he'd probably reply with a sassy "Or what? Are you going cage me?" reply. Simply not worth the effort or time.
He cleared his throat, his cheeks dusted in a pinkish hue. "Whatever. You can pet me if y–"
"Mosses huh? Why this area of study?" Those words left your mouth before you could stop them.
Tighnari tucked his tail underneath his chair, his eyes unblinking.
" … I have a theory."
You nodded, recognizing the shift in his tone. "Go on."
"The Goddess of Flowers often described in their books that Sumeru's mosses have an intricate healing property in them that can only be harnessed by those who are as knowledgeable as the Scarlet King."
"I never thought you were a devotee."
"I'm not," Tighnari answered. "I only believe in Gnosticism when it benefits me."
Spoken like a true University of Teyvat graduate.
"But phytotherapy is a rather complex and time-consuming field– why focus on this?"
"And why does a Capo like you know that?" Tighnari asked, and you digressed immediately to avoid him probing on things he need not know.
"–Our familia is doing fine, Professor. Hmm... Is there someone in particular that you're praying for good health–"
"You have Eleazar, don't you, Capo?"
You knew it. He saw the recollection in your gaze when you glanced at his books. You weren't surprised that he figured it out quickly. You were just waiting for him to confess that he knew your condition. However, you just didn't expect him to ask at that very moment.
This time, you patted his head without asking, tracing your fingers around his fluffy ears. You grinned. Your smile was just a centimeter off and your shoulders were square; neither of those rigid signs sent him a positive response. The way you held his ears was restrictive, far from the quote-unquote "platonic" gesture you offered earlier. Your soft chortles sent chills down his spine and your glare froze his nerves akin to Snezhnayan rivers.
"Hoping to sell that information, Vulpes?"
"Of course not!" Tighnari was shocked to hear himself raise his voice. "I'm not stupid."
You hummed and pulled your hand away. Tighnari may have acted tough, but you knew he was shaken by that exchange.
Oh well, it's not like you were being serious.
You just did that so you can hold his ears. (By the way, he lied. They're even fluffier than most animals.)
Unbeknownst to you, Tighnari found your touch enthralling. He shook by an entirely different reason compared to your assumption.
Talking to you was addictive. Tighnari could take his studies elsewhere, but what's the point if you're not there?
He chuckled.
Save for the low-volume classic jazz the fox played in the background, you both indulged in the comfortable silence of each other's presence. An atmosphere as cozy as this makes it tempting to brush your cheek against his shoulder and flutter your eyes shut– but the dawn hasn't crept in and you will not be deterred from your sleep schedule. Tighnari's pleasant pen strokes came to a halt, releasing you from your trance.
"Capo?"
"... Yes?" You sucked your yawn in.
"If– If I told you I could find you a cure, but I'd have to sell my soul for it, what would you do?"
"Easy question: don't."
He was taken aback. Tighnari did not expect that answer.
"But why?"
"I know that look in your eyes, Tighnari." You shifted on the sofa, doing your utmost to stay awake. "Those were the same eyes Dimitri had when he killed his step-sister. That's the gaze of a feral animal. You're part of my familia, Tighnari– I'm not letting another fratello of mine lose himself to greedy impulse."
"What if–"
"No."
You spoke dangerously low in the tone Tighnari hears when you interrogate those who were chained in your basement. This was not the voice you used to talk to your men. This (Y/n) was not just commanding– this Capo was daunting and domineering. And he would loathe being at the receiving end of your torturous whip and fingers.
Suddenly, Tighnari had an epiphany.
Before he could save a kind friend, the professor would have to save a cold-blooded murderer first.
"Alright. Fine then. If you don't want to be the patient who'll help me get a Nobel Prize then have it your way." Tighnari joked, but his mind was made up.
He won't do as you commanded.
"But don't think I'll stop studying mosses. The world doesn't revolve around you, Capo, I still have many to save."
And just like that, he retired for the night.
Once upon a time, these half-asleep conversations were routinely done in order to check up on one another. A Capo is the busiest person one could be in Snezhnaya, and it warmed his heart to know you allot some time for his mundane conversations. But these heartfelt gestures are now mere ashes behind Tighnari.
Never to return.
—----
[Morning, 1 AM:]
The Fatui Headquarters is a daunting place.
Filled to the brim with murderous sociopaths, no sane man would act juvenile amongst your crowd. This room never fails to make you feel small. Everyone, from 2nd to 10th, showed up dressed to the nines with capes and fur, which was slightly less grand than the funeral clothes everyone wore for La Signora. Their extravagant yet sensible winter attire contrasts sharply with your unimpressive standard Prussian-blue coat in the sea of whites and blacks.
"Can't believe you showed up."
You turned to face the front. Scaramouche, in his custom-made Kasa hat, sat on the opposite end and sneered with disdain.
This gremlin never took a shine to you. The feeling is mutual. Whenever he utters a nasty word, the impulse to clothesline him to the nearest tree arises.
"It's not a habit of mine to miss meetings, it's not gonna change now no matter your wishes, Scaramouche."
"You dare use that tone against me? Remember who you are talking to, number eight."
As the 8th Capo– higher only for Tartaglia (10th) and the 9th– you were looked down on by the rest of the Harbingers. Had the 1st rank not been filled by a fellow Khaenri'ahn, Archons know how mistreated you would've been.
"I have a firm grasp of my identity. Never have I shared your indecisiveness, number six." You spat. "What about you? Have you decided on whether or not you're human yet?"
Everyone knows that Scaramouche may not even be human, but no one would open that can of worms other than you.
He crossed his arms.
"Maybe after you figure out whose fault it was that your men died, you… or that fox?"
"SHHH!!!" Tartaglia shook his pointer finger near his lips. When he noticed you staring, he donned his best brotherly smile. "H-Hey (Y/n), what do you think about the rising inflation in Mondstadt City?"
Tartaglia actively avoided talks about the Innamorati Arson Incident. It's been days and he has not once brought it up. You recalled how when you first visited his manor, he asked about your experience in the church of Sumeru– and it was solely focused on what happened AFTER the incident.
… Now that you think about it, he probably made those stupid jokes about Alhaitham that day because he didn't want you to look so grim.
"More problems with their funds, considering how most of it is all gone." The shorter man managed to still find a quip along the way. "Honestly, why are they even here? Shouldn't they go back to selling matchsticks by now?"
You visibly stiffened.
"Shut it, Scaramouche." Arlecchino interjected with a sympathetic yet mildly condescending outlook. "They're still a Capo through and through, even if they're past their prime."
Prime.
That's how they referred to the Dottore who had never taken a dose of canned knowledge. The youthful and composed Dottore you were once friends with.
You've always dealt with the very murky morality of your line of work by contrasting the transgressions of your coworkers. At least you went through rehab and detox when you were hooked on heroin. Meanwhile, he hasn't done anything other than feed his addiction. Truly, Zandik is fortunate to receive a wage that exceeds his necessities.
You and a monster like him are not so different, not anymore. He is no longer human; instead, he is a corpse that runs back home covered in more scrapes than on his previous visit. As for you? Well…
Batting your eyes, you scoffed breathlessly. Are you really past your prime? Words failed to come up when you tried thinking of a retort, and perhaps that was for the best.
Finally, the man of the hour entered the room.
Like many Khaenri'ahn kids, you formerly held Pierro in high regard. He was the gleam of hope that even impoverished and orphaned immigrants might change the tides, even if it was in a world other than their home country. For most, he's the one who would nod his head upward. Pierro, the first Khaenri'ahn Capo, was the hero in the eyes of your younger self who lived off thanks to the table scraps of your even younger foster siblings. Tsaritsa knows you fumbled on your first meeting, and you were proud that was the only time you embarrassed yourself in front of him.
Considering how things are now, it certainly wasn't the case.
Pierro took a proud stance and showed no remorse for what had happened to you. His gaze veered in your direction. At that very moment, if you had been blinking, you would have missed the disappointed expression on his face. He promptly rotated the whiteboard after removing his sheets from his folders.
You stood up. "Lord Pier–"
"Let's start."
You sat back down again.
The entire meeting was a blur. You felt like you weren't there the entire time. Arlecchino eagerly chatted about her child soldiers whilst the other occasionally quipped a word or two. When her turn was done, it was Scaramouche, then Capitano, then Tartaglia– not once had the bottle turned to face you. The reason behind that is simple:
Pierro did not plan to call you, Number 8th, during any of his discussions.
—---
The meeting was adjourned, but far from over. Just as you were about to head to the cathedral, a lithe hand pulled your coat sleeve, stopping you from reaching the front gates.
You sighed, looking at their perfect doll-like fingers, there's no one else it could be other than…
"Shylock businesses aren't my style– ask Tartaglia instead."
"You know damn well that's not what I'm gonna ask, Brighella?"
"Then what is it, Kunikuzushi?"
He flushed red at your venomous retort.
Neither of you liked those names– unlike you, who dislike your Harbinger title purely because it sounds stupid– Scaramouche doesn't like hearing his baptismal name out of family reasons. Guess who's the more insecure one between the both of you.
"Are… Are you al– tch. Forget it." He paused before he scoffed and pointed his finger accusingly. Scaramouche grumbled. "I invested a lot of money in your casino project, so there better be some results!"
You nodded, barely paying attention to his tirades. His infantile behavior was never endearing to you; you either find it repulsive or boring. With the weighing pressure on your mental state, you were quick to chuck his new burlesque anger as mind-numbingly monotonous this time.
"Sure."
"Sure? Sure what, worm?"
"The Casino is not affected– the men who handled it are all alive. Zero casualties."
Unless you count Dimitri who used to manage the Casino in his spare time.
"That's good to hear." Surprisingly, he sounded genuinely relieved for what felt like their safety rather than financial compensation.
"Agreed. Are we done here?"
His grip on your sleeve tightened.
"One final thing." Scaramouche leaned closer. "Use caution. Tighnari had likely received divine favors."
"Maybe you're stupid or you just don't care, but my devotion to Gnosticism is just a front. I appreciate your concern, though."
"I wasn't concerned. Just can't have my idiotic colleague underestimate what the divine can do." He smirked. "Can't have you burning another property you don't deserve."
You yanked your sleeve away.
Heartless puppet.
"Goodbye, Balladeer."
—----
[Morning, 3 AM:]
With Felix trailing behind you (Alhaitham was in his Akademiya job), you both entered the church searching for Sister Rosaria.
The stained glass of the church had recently been updated. No one was surprised when disciples started taking away any hydro-related emblems from all northern churches. Even if those pieces of art are incredibly captivating, the fascists had already started utilizing them as a sign of movement, thus they are deemed not worth saving for future generations.
"Since when did they begin removing those things?"
"Since yesterday," Felix said with bags under his eyes. It's clear to you that he genuinely didn't want to be here. "Under Architect Kaveh's orders."
"I see. Go get some rest, Felix. There are surely some empty rooms in the convent."
"Thank you, Capo."
You let him leave.
Should you die today, you've already written a will that Felix will be the one to inherit your position. You'll let him have his quite-possibly-last good sleep before the Capo life keeps him busy.
You stared back at the glass.
In a way, architect Kaveh was similar to Alhaitham in that you were familiar with their names but not their faces. Even though he is consistently the first to offer to assist you with construction, this man always finds a way to decline your requests for an audience. The last time it was because he caught boar fever (how? ), but that was nothing compared to the time he wrote you a disorganized handwritten letter about how an Akademiyan spy sabotaged his clothes after breaking into his home and harassing him to gain confidential information.
... At least he has extraordinary talent. You can excuse any eccentric traits as long as a person's value outweighs the costs. That is the same reasoning you employed when you hired Alhaitham.
"(Y/n), is it true that you're going to find Tighnari?"
That voice couldn't be anyone else but your little fratella.
You were about to answer with a firm "yes", but when you turned around you felt a pang of guilt seeing how troubled she looked. Her hands gripped the hem of her dress in a suffocating hold and her eyebrows were knitted together.
"In Sumeru City? Of all places?" Barbara scurried and hugged your arm.
"Don't go. Please."
[CHOSE: REASSURE BARBARA]
"Mia sorella, don't worry…" you cooed and soothingly lowered your gaze before bluffing. "Sumeru City's a lot safer nowadays. Alhaitham told me so."
[DID NOT CHOOSE: SAY "GOODBYE"]
[FAILED TO UNLOCK CHANCE FOR SECRET ROUTE: "MUSICIAN VENTI"]
"No…" Barbara stiffened and tore herself away. She clenched her fist, but everything else about her was calm and resolved.
Barbara looks exactly like you when she's mad. She mimicked your traits so perfectly.
"No. You're lying. I heard Sister Rosaria talk to Inquisitor Cyno– it's not safe there."
"Barbara…" You traced your thumbs against her cheek. Her heartfelt display of anger almost successfully beseech you to reconsider. She slapped your hand away, but you kept talking. "I have to go."
“No. No, you don't– don’t be prideful! At least bring some of your men with you.” Barbara argued.
You can’t. Some are stationed to help with church work while others are with Visconti Diluc. You purposely made them preoccupied so that they won’t put themselves in danger (like you.) Besides Tartaglia, there’s no other Capo who loves their people more than you– and perhaps this overprotective nature will be your cause of death, but so be it.
“Sister Rosaria will tag along. I'll be back soon– like I always do." You scooted closer to her, bending your knees a bit. With an unnoticeably forced chuckle, you shook her slightly. "C'mon, it's me, your very cool older Capo sibling. Don't you have faith in me?"
"I-I…"
There are two things that can convince a pure-minded individual like her who has been sheltered from harm: a prayer and a cheerful smile.
"If you're worried about me, why don't you pray for my safe return?"
And you know damn those are the only thing that helps Barbara keep moving forward– the two things that help keep her sanity intact or else she'll break down. Religion is her sole solace. Despite living in poverty, she wouldn't sin. She's "used to hunger", that's just the type of person she was. Without prayers and smiles, nothing can help Barbara forget how her real biological sister left her in this chapel.
"Can you do that for me, sorella?"
Barbara paused.
Snezhnayan men are the most religious. The people of Mondstadt nor Sumeru couldn't possibly compare with how Snezhnaya rears their impressionable children. Barbara was raised in this chapel and Snezhnayan culture ran deep in her veins.
“F-Fine.” Barbara sighed. “I’ll pray for you.”
You ruffled her hair.
“Grazie, sorella.”
—----
After reassuring Barbara that you will be safe and praying to an archon you don’t believe in, you slithered behind the church.
"You watched everything earlier, I presume?"
Inquisitor Cyno didn’t move a muscle from his position. He was leaning by the wall, staring at the church cemetery. Still, he cracked up a small yet wholesome smile. He seemed pleased by your response.
[AFFECTION METER: 39.05%]
"It's in my job description."
You smiled sweetly. "Forgive my sins, Inquisitor, I forgot you were a professional stalker."
"Not stalking; I'm monitoring you."
"What's the difference?"
"Stalking has a more sinister connotation."
"Oh, then forgive me, your holiness." You theatrically bowed.
Cyno nodded. "You are forgiven."
You laughed loudly.
The inquisitor innocently raised his eyebrow and tilted his head. His pup-like demeanor shut you up. Apparently, that response wasn't a joke. Ex-priest Cyno wholeheartedly forgave you in a religious fashion.
Why is he only hilarious when he's not trying to be?
You cleared your throat. "My apologies, I suddenly remembered a joke, that's all."
"Would you mind sharing?" Cyno asked. "I want to find new comedy material. My previous jokes didn't seem to work."
You were about to cut it straight that he's the joke but ultimately decided to keep your mouth shut. 'You mean 'ALL your jokes don't seem to work.'' is what you wanted to say, but kindness is not the absence of mean-spiritedness. It is when you are restricting such actions.
“I don’t think you’d find it funny.”
“Is it an inside joke?”
How very kind of him to offer you a way out of this one.
“Something like that.”
“Then I won’t ask.” The Inquisitor nodded. "But there’s something else I want to request. Won’t you allow me to join you–"
"No."
[CHOSE: DO NOT INVITE INQUISITOR CYNO]
[AFFECTION METER: 25.00%]
Cyno paused.
You cannot allow him to join. Since you observed how the inquisitor and your new underboss interacted, you had a feeling that Cyno's presence would cause more issues than they would solve. He knew Tighnari well. He might even kill him before you do if he is provoked. Besides, it's not as though any sane man would hold an Inquisitor captive if given the chance; that would be like trying to wrestle an alligator to scare a dog.
Plus, you want to exploit Cyno and Tighnari's previous friendship against him. The safest course of action is to bluff and say you'll kill Cyno should that bastard try anything funny.
“Why not?”
“I hate to impose or be more indebted to you, Inquisitor. My conscience will not allow it.”
Cyno frowned.
“You shouldn’t be afraid to rely on others, Capo.”
“How very strange that I’ll hear that coming from you,” You said. “I know it is not my place to say this, but I’ve done my research and found out that you fulfill your duties alone. Candace kindly told me that you’ve always been a lone wolf, so I can’t say I’m persuaded by your advice.”
“Hmm. Understandable.” That’s all he could say. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”
You held his hand. He flinched, both shoulders tensed up like a shocked cat.
Your hands weren’t warm. They were cold. But as a desert dweller his hands oddly fit well with yours– a perfect balance. Unlike you, however, he had never used these hands to do evil. The Inquisitor silently wondered how would it feel like if these fingers wrung his neck–
Cyno closed his eyes.
He cannot think of such sinful thoughts.
“Please relax, Inquisitor.” You spoke, circling the back of his palm. “I know what I’m doing.”
Should those words be the whole truth, then you must know unsavory your actions must be behind the pretense of kindness.
You debaucher.
“Do you now…”
You grinned.
That effectively made his heart skip a beat.
Cyno doubts you somehow knew about your hold on him.
“Hmm!”
“Fine. Then I’ll let you be.”
—----
He shouldn’t do this.
He’s worried. The Inquisitor did work with the spy before–
But Cyno doesn’t trust Alhaitham.
Cyno handed the disciple a dagger.
Alhaitham is calculating and most of all selfish. This was the man who actively disobeyed the church’s teachings unapologetically. Perhaps such behavior is cultured in the Akademiya but Cyno cannot stand it.
Maybe that's why he tried stopping himself first, but after that fire…
Cyno's overprotective nature worsened.
He convinced himself that this feeling was a product of his past losses and argues that this is just a precaution. The Goddess has given him a second person to watch over. A second Usir. A new blessing to make up for his past transgressions.
And he will not waste this second chance.
"Take this. And do not forget my orders."
—---
[Morning, 4 AM]
Towering dome buildings, abundance of trees yet eerily silent streets– Sumeru City was not a tourist spot for amusement.
Considering these facts, Dunyarzard, in all her former glory, still built a large theater underground called The Zubayr Theater. She had the intention of making the city a more joyous location with her contributions, and it's sad to see that it had done little to brighten up its citizens. Then again, Dunyarzard probably won’t be bothered by this if she lived longer.
You would know this because she was once your friend too.
Dunyarzard...
It’s a shame an invasive fox is hiding inside her paradise-on-earth.
That, and a troublesome dog too.
You glanced at Alhaitham. He behaved strangely the entire time, glancing at his watch as if he were counting his seconds down. Soon enough, he walked closer and tapped your shoulder.
"(N/n)."
Assuming this is about the akasha terminal he let you borrow, you let him talk. "Go on, speak."
[AFFECTION METER: 28.00%]
"Tuqburni."
"… what?"
"Means you bury me in Sumeru," Alhaitham said, looking away sheepishly. "I decided it'd be best if you heard it again, even if Cyno isn’t here."
Is he trying to imply that an Inquisitor would care enough to kill him? Please. He’s an insignificant cog in the grand scheme of things. If he’s so sure you’ll lead him to his death then he should just quit. Go back to being an Akademiyan spy, it’s not that hard.
"Good to know." You'll forget about that word in ten minutes, tops.
He pursed his lips, troubled. "You don't remember what Tuqburni means?"
"Can't remember something I never learned."
Alhaitham frowned.
"I see…"
Sister Rosaria swerved her way between you two before pushing Alhaitham away with little force. "Take a hike. We don't have time to entertain you, underboss."
His nose scrunched. "Sister Rosaria, age 25. Weight 80kg, height 5'9, address–"
"Yeah, no shit I know where I live, so what?" The nun retorted. "Think you can take me on with your calculator, kid?"
You snorted.
"I'm not trying to intimidate you," Alhaitham spoke. "I'm letting you know that–"
"Whatever." Rosaria clicked her tongue. "Capo, what're your orders?"
Thank the Tsaritsa that Rosaria is here.
“We’ll split.” You pointed at the theater. “There are three main sections in Zabayr.”
You handed Rosaria a map. Alhaitham didn’t ask for a copy– he presumed that you already trust that he knew the location with the help of new technology. Instead, it was Rosaria who had a follow-up question.
“Where’s your copy, Capo?”
“They don’t need one,” Alhaitham answered. “They were here when the place was built– they helped Lady Dunyarzard build her dream theater.”
“I didn’t issue any orders for you to speak.” You glared. “Know where you stand, underboss.”
You cleared your throat. "As I was saying, we'll split up. I'll scout the theater, Rosaria outside the buildings, and you're on the apex building. Understood?"
"Yes."
"Of course."
—----
Despite saying "of course" confidently, Alhaitham found himself in a small library.
This was likely NOT the place you ordered him to find, but the wealth of information stored around here was relevant to your investigation. Why? Because these were records haphazardly left by the fascists.
Their intel was right. The theater was one of their headquarters.
"These runes…" His eyebrows furrowed. “‘A tool that can only be used if the wielder upholds absolute justice above all else and would sacrifice the means for a satisfactory end.’ None of these descriptors match the Akademiya’s records at all, except...”
Alhaitham's eyes widened.
This specific piece of information corroborates how Tighnari behaved thus far.
"However, if the Archons live with us and not Celestia then isn't it possible that Focalor is–"
His fingernails dug into the papyrus while his eyes frantically skimmed through its contents. If the contents of this papyrus were true, then what the hell was that collaboration between La Signora and the Adepti about? What the hell did they exchange?
Alhaitham heard the sound of breathing.
He turned around and turned on his terminal, hoping to reach you before the assailant stops him.
"(N/n), be careful! Whatever Tighnari's holding, that's a gn–"
[SHUTTING DOWN…]
—---
The Akasha Terminal buzzed, the signal muffling its voice. You surmise that this was caused by the theater's layout. The architect of the Zubayr Theater– which is funny enough, still Kaveh– specifically chose this location for its lack of noise. That being said, it would be nice to watch an actual play here now that Alhaitham wouldn't bother you with his senseless blather. Pity that no one's performing.
"… B… c…ful! Wh….. na… ri…ho…."
"T…s … ...sis!"
You shook your head and nonchalantly thought out loud.
"The terminal must be acting up."
There's no one there to accompany you in your confrontation with Tighnari should you encounter him, and you preferred it this way.
You opened the door to the main stage.
And you finally found him.
You spotted the back of his silhouette lingering on the theater’s second floor. Props were crushed and some built-in chairs were knocked over. Whoever wreaked havoc around Dunyarzard’s theater had to pay– but that isn’t your main priority. Your target is already right here.
The professor no longer wore his cotton dark caramel coat– instead, he replaced it with a blander yet bolder black one that made his figure look larger. His eyes were vacant, looking forward as if a person would warp from near the ceiling. The bastard appeared to be waiting for someone.
Someone that isn’t you.
"Hello, professor."
A chill shot down his spine as his eyes met yours. Tighnari looked down, seeing you stare at him with a small smile. There was malice behind your peaceful expression. He made indescribable noises when he took a step back. No one else was in the vicinity except for the two of you, but his thoughts screamed that there was nowhere else to run. Tighnari knew that look was nothing he had ever seen before– a look of pity and anger reserved only for a dead man walking.
He sensed bloodlust, and it was consumingly relentless.
"It's been a while. Mind if I bother you outside office hours?"
Tighnari's hands were trembling but the rest of his limbs were frozen. He couldn't completely deny the possibility that he could die at this very moment. After all, he had seen your agility wipe out an entire floor of men with two dull daggers. If that was lazily done to protect him, he can only imagine the full extent of your abilities. On the bright side, at least you were below him and he could sprint somewhere– he just didn’t know where that is.
When you go on a hunt, you don’t stop until you catch your prey.
The professor knows that damn well.
"N-No," Tighnari answered with false confidence. "No, I don't."
"Can I ask a few questions, then?"
Your way of speaking contradicts whatever thoughts you both had in mind. Your voice inflection bounced off lightly, but the air shifted as soon as you traced your holster.
He didn't reply, and you took that as a yes.
[FREE TALK EVENT: START]
[READER REPLIES MARKED IN RED]
"Why."
It came out more like a general statement than a question, so you repeated it with added conviction. You're not a static force. You're here because you willed it– you're here to satisfy your demands. Your lust for revenge.
"Why did you do it? Why did you burn my manor?"
Like a grim reaper appeasing their curiosity, you spoke calmly while simultaneously patronizing his inconsequential life.
Tighnari bit his lip. "You already know why–"
"But I need the confirmation, the closure. Any reason to make your death tenfold more satisfying."
"I did it so that you'd get your cure."
Your eyes squinted.
Of course he did. You don't doubt him. You've known his obsession with Eleazar and how he rightfully suspected that you're burdened by this illness.
But he took the whole truth and poured some out.
"That still doesn’t make sense, Professor Tighnari."
He took a sharp yet deep breath. Tighnari's treading on thin ice. He was scared not just for his life. He was scared that this would be his final moment when he had yet to give you what you needed.
"I had to–"
"Surely the cure for Eleazar doesn't involve mass murder."
You were remarkably calm. As opposed to your uncharacteristically feral actions during the previous few days, this argument was entirely typical of you. Strategic and reserved, but ready to unleash everything in a single strike.
"I…" Tighnari bit his cheek. He sighed exasperatedly. "Just. Just trust me for once, Capo–"
"Don't call me that." You tensed up. "You lost the right to call me Capo the moment you betrayed your familia. How can I trust you when I don't forgive you? Why trouble yourself so much when you can rip my head off my shoulders right now? I'm just another body between you and your precious cure, correct?"
He almost didn't notice how you threw a dagger mid-talk like pelting a mere pebble. Tighnari dodged it, albeit barely, and you calculated as much. You won't let him die until he hears everything.
You spat lowly. "You snuffed the lives out of the only people that mattered to me."
"Please don't be mad. I had to–" Tighnari spilled. "I had to or else Focalor wouldn't help me."
"How the fuck can I not be mad? You're a fox, I'm sure you can smell the hatred I have for you. Your olfactory system is sensitive, after all." You masterfully kept your voice calm despite the severity of your words.
"Your associates are such idiotic bastards then if they have to kill my men for a cure." Your eyebrows furrowed. "Where is it? Where the fuck is the correlation, Professor?"
"It's to prove my loyalt–"
"The only thing you've proven is that you're a piece of shit. Is this what fascism is about? I can't see why you'd ever want to be one."
Tighnari looked down and muttered something you didn't hear.
"Who said I wanted this to happen?"
You continued. "I know I was only spared because I was in the chapel– so take out your gun so we can settle this already."
You fired a warning shot, this time with a bullet and not a dagger, burying another close call between his tall ears.
There were so many things to worry about, but Tighnari relied on hopeless dialogue. It's the only tool he has left to de-escalate the situation.
Unfortunately for him, you're better with words.
"I don't want to kill you."
"Teppei."
"... What?"
"Lyudochka, Kazari, Bao'er, Viktor… " You cocked your gun. "Lindhart. Did you regret killing them?"
"Capo, I know what you're trying to do."
"You should or else we'd both look stupid."
"But saying their names won't change my mind. I've already decided that they're replaceable as friends."
Replaceable?!
"You bastardo–"
You fired a second shot– it missed. With a bit of spite, you aimed higher knowing that he'd evade. You didn't repeat the same mistake.
He ducked behind the second-floor barrier.
But didn't take its spiral pillar designs into account, and the gaps were exactly where you aimed at.
"GAH–"
His guttural scream echoed across the theater.
You shot him in the leg.
Whoever designed that barrier had great tastes– you'll thank the architect for this later.
It'd be so easy to just kill him now.
"Your fur will look better draped around my shoulders, Vulpes." You aimed with Tartaglia's revolver. "It's winter, is it not? Don't worry, I'll put it to good use."
The most significant thing he would do with his life is dying.
Lucky for him, you can’t grant him that just yet.
You still have hope.
You still believe that there’s a way to get rid of Eleazar.
And as much as you hate it, you also believe in Tighnari.
Rather, you believe in his abilities and nothing more.
With the "goodness" in your heart, you’ll let him finish what he started.
"But I’ll suffer through the winter for now. That cure is the only thing keeping you alive. The day you finish your research will be the day I finish you. After that, I’ll make sure to kill every last person you hold dear."
Tighnari huffed self-deprecatingly, clinging onto his wounded leg by the theater's second floor. gazing at you with a melancholic stare. "Jokes on you (Y/n), there's no one else but y–"
"Cyno. Collei."
His eyes widened.
You smirked jadedly. "I had Inquisitor Cyno keep her in our custody. Did you know that pain is heightened ten times more for those of us suffering from Eleazar?"
You traced your old battle scars. They were all healed, but their numbers will keep multiplying.
Each time you pinch, no matter how dated these may be, it's as painful as yesterday's wounds. Nothing prepared you when you were diagnosed with Eleazar. Each wound, each papercut– the pain clings onto you like a leech that can never be scrubbed out, or else it'll cling tighter.
"It's excruciating. That's why I was addicted to heroin– it numbs everything. Have you heard? Children are more vulnerable when it comes to drug addiction–"
"Don't." He faltered, lowering his gun. "Please. Don't touch them."
Bullseye.
Them. He used the word “them” instead of “her.” Despite Cyno’s impression, the fox still cares about him.
Maybe you should’ve invited Cyno to tag along.
You tilted the revolver sideways.
You want him to inflict even more pain.
If Cyno were here, you would’ve made sure he said all the wrong things and watched Tighnari squirm. After all, you do have the uncanny ability to get people to behave in the way you want them to, don’t you?
"Then parry this."
But you didn’t pull the trigger.
Surprisingly, Tighnari bravely climbed up and hung his leg by the barrier, making him more susceptible if you attacked. You can’t tell if you hesitated or you’re curious as to what he’s trying to accomplish– the second floor was meters high above your station– he’ll surely die if he jumped.
Sister Rosaria emerged from your peripheral vision, ragged and stripped of breath. It's a long way from the main theater to the bazaar– she ran when she heard your argument as soon as possible.
Tighnari fished something out of his pocket.
A blue light shimmered in what appeared to be a chess bishop.
… What kind of trick is this?
"Tighnari, what the hell are you holding?" Your nose scrunched, squinting at the small piece. You could've sworn you've seen that symbol somewhere– in large glass-stained imageries.
"Can't you see?" Tighnari croaked, angrily crying out in a desperate attempt to make deaf men such as yourself hear. "Focalor is the Hydro Archon– there's no better healer than her if you would just allow us to help you find a cure."
His eyes… Whatever it is you’ve said, it had its impact.
Tighnari lost his mind.
Sister Rosaria's breath hitched. Fortunately for both of you, she understood the situation.
"CAPO, GET BEHIND ME–"
"This is the Hydro Archon's gnosis," Tighnari yelled. "I'll prove to you– I'll show you that all those sacrifices were worth every drop of blood I had to spill. Maybe I haven't figured out how to heal with it now but destroying things has always been easier than fixing them!"
Gnosis?
What the fuck is he talking about?
Like the 7 gnosis the Tsaritsa collected?
That bedtime story?
"Fox, where on earth did you get that?!" Sister Rosaria pushed you near the exit door, mediating the argument. "Where did you steal that divine artifact?!"
"Dear sister…" Tighnari chuckled darkly.
"If there's a will, there's a way."
He raised the chess piece to the sky.
"I'm sorry Capo– but this I swear: I never betrayed you." He spoke softly while his ears lowered. "Open your eyes– everything I do is all for your health and wellbeing. This little thing right here is worth more than your men. Easier to do things first before apologizing later, that's what you told me last time, right?"
"Fuck off." You didn't take a step forward. In this instance, Rosaria would handle this better than you could. "Take a swim in the river Cocytus for all I care– but don't you fucking dare dedicate that slaughter under my name."
[FREE TALK EVENT: END]
Tighnari grinned emptily.
[AFFECTION METER: ERROR.]
[AKASHA TERMINAL STATUS: DISABLED]
“I’ll never know.” He spoke softly. “I’ll never know why I like you so much. At this rate, I’m too afraid to find out.”
His hold on the “gnosis” tightened.
The bishop piece beamed.
“Farewell, my Capo.”
—-----
[6 years ago]
Alhaitham lived a monotonous life.
The same old nine-to-five schedule: wash up, dress up, eat, work, eat, sleep, and repeat the following day. When compared to his former self, he had a professional short haircut and was dressed in white dress shirts that were buttoned up. Alhaitham has the appearance of a plastic toy. Too typical and bland. Nothing exuded uniqueness.
He thought he got what he wanted. Alhaitham graduated and became an accountant, just like what he aimed for for years. As a child, he grew up under the misconception that he had something special. Alhaitham was the boy every parent preached about when their lackluster children produced little results. Maybe he was the smart kid everyone loathed– but his repertoire was genuine. The world handed him an easy-to-follow script, and he mindlessly fulfilled it with his innate abilities.
But for goodness' sake, if this is what success is, then why is it so empty?
His purpose in living had turned into nothing more than a bank's problem fixer until he returns to doing what he loved most:
Nothing.
What the hell is life boring him for?
"Tired of life, tesoro?"
Alhaitham looked up.
He saw an underdressed person wearing a white tattered shirt and lousily safety-pinned flip-flops. Had they worn white instead, they would be easily mistaken as a hospital escapee.
More specifically, they looked like they just got out of the heroin rehabilitation center just a few blocks down the street.
Alhaitham didn't send them away. They had a sparkle in their eyes, something that he lacked nowadays. However, there's something about it that made it more noteworthy compared to civilians around here.
Those pupils are (e/c) Khaenri'ahn eyes.
A natural trait, but its presence alludes to artificial happiness in the same manner endomorphs appear friendly and kind. No matter how lifeless a Khaenri'ahn may be, the gem in their eyes will always make them look more alive than the rest of the world.
They covered their mouth.
"Oh, pardon. I can't help but ask. You're rather down and I thought you needed a distraction..."
They didn't seem all that sorry when they immediately sat down beside him after that apology.
"Incorrect." He bluffed. "What makes you assume that?"
They smiled.
"I dare say you look like you've achieved everything you thought you wanted in life, but you're still feeling empty inside, aren't you?"
Alhaitham's head snapped back in their direction.
"What do you mean?"
"You work for the Banco Di Snezhnaya, around age 23, have a wage of 500 thousand mora per week," they chuckled, gesturing at his hair. "Aaand you probably don't own a hair dryer."
Stalkerish-ly spot on.
"How did you–" He clicked his tongue, disappointed at himself for becoming immersed in parlor tricks. "Nevermind. I'm not buying into whatever astrology thingamajig you're selling."
"Oh please, the only thing I'm selling are matchsticks. Hair dryers ain't astrology, ya dumbass, they're a new Fontaine invention." They huffed. "If my matchsticks could tell the future I would've achieved my dreams by now."
Alhaitham still can't phantom why, but he's oddly intrigued by whatever came out of their mouth.
"And your dreams are?"
"I want to become a journalist." They said, softly knocking their chest with a closed fist. "Future Teyvat Times journalist. The best of the best."
"Unlikely." Alhaitham muffled his laughter. Unlike most people, he can regulate his emotions masterfully well. "Someone like you who obviously achieved no real education? Give up on that dream while you're still ahead."
"Yikes. Already sizing up my intellectual capacity? That's rude."
"I'll see your dreams if it happens." He continued. "But it's my turn to guess things about you– you're a heroin addict who just got out of rehab and now you're stuck doing community service by selling matchsticks. Not only are you uneducated, but you also have a drug record so say goodbye to any stable employment."
They smirked. They were right– he's not the type to hold his tongue. That just makes him a better conversationalist.
"Close, but no dice." They snapped their fingers, pretending to be saddened by his faulty inference. "EX-heroin addict. I got out of rehab a year ago and I'm not selling matchsticks because of community service– that sure sounds better than the actual truth, though."
He'd rather they communicate properly with little subtext and implications. Alhaitham sighed. "Alright, fine. I'm hooked, what's the truth?"
"Don't tell me you can't tell." They raised an eyebrow before they pried their left eye open, showing off their unique pupil. "I'm an immigrant, so of course finding a job is as easy as becoming the seventh archon, ragazzo."
Their butchering of the Snezhnayan language further cemented that they're not from here.
"I didn't get any quote-unquote "real" education, but living on the streets? You'd be caught dead if you're not skilled at inferences." They said grimly, but the smile on their face never left. "That's why I know how to spot a person easily. I know a guilty murderer when I see one, and I know an unsatisfied man once I look down on him sulking by the fountain."
"Right. I forgot you're Khaenri'ahn." Alhaitham muttered.
"Well, then you must be the first person to do so. That's literally what everyone points out after looking at my eyes. Congratulations." They snickered.
"Why am I even talking to someone as arrogant as you?"
"I may be arrogant, but you're a lot happier now that I'm here, aren't you?"
Alhaitham froze.
"See? I'm pretty good at swaying people into behaving the way I want them to."
"What's your goal exactly?" Alhaitham pulled out his wallet. "Need me to buy a pack of cigars? I'm not funding your addiction."
He said that but he already took out 150 bills.
"Nah. That sounds great though but I was just trying to practice my conversation skills." They sheepishly told him. "I want to practice speaking Snezhnayan, and also cause I want to seem friendly."
"'Seem' friendly?"
They laughed. "Well, we all have secrets, don't we? There's something powerful about being charismatic yet setting boundaries all the same. Master both and you might just get somewhere."
"I'll keep that in mind," Alhaitham grunted.
"We've been talking for a while now– I'm (N/n), and yours?"
"That's…"
Alhaitham subconsciously glanced around.
Morepesok was not one of Teyvat's safest plazas. And they look Khaenri'ahn in the worst place possible, not that anyone besides him would appreciate that. Drugs are prevalent but it's not the only social cancer in the plaza. Petty thievery, human trafficking, money laundering, the list is bottomless and in no small thanks to the syndicates. Immigrants especially get a bad rep around here as either helpless victims or eager puppets, so forgive him for exercising caution based on generalizations.
They cringed. "Ah, right. Don't worry– no need to spill your real name, just give me something I can call you."
He paused.
"... Deshret."
"Well, well, nice to meet you Deshret. Is that from The Scarlet King's Court Jester?"
"Nevermind. Let's just change it to–"
"No no no! It's perfect." They said. "Very underrated bedtime story. The kids loved it… even though it was pretty dark and abusive."
"Many say it's a real tale."
"Do you believe that?"
It was also his favorite story as a child.
"Yes."
"Heh. I don't, but I don't want to make little Kaeya cry." They laughed. "As you can probably tell, I'm Khaenri'ahn, and we just don't have all these strange cultural beliefs you people have…"
They gazed down his thighs.
"Hey Deshret, isn't sitting with your legs together uncomfortable? Go on, cross your legs, or whatever. I don't mind."
Alhaitham raised an eyebrow before he slowly did what he was told. It's been a while since he sat this way. He trained himself to stop since it wasn't appropriate in the office, and somehow he forgot he could still do it outside work.
He relaxed. The change in posture was effective.
"... You're creepily perceptive."
"As I said, gotta be more observant." They chuckled. "Being liked is key to survival–"
Out of the blue, a loud metallic thud reverberated around the plaza. The both of them flinched at the sound and everyone turned their heads to its source.
"Hey, isn't that Adepti Underboss, Xiao?" They whispered.
The Adepti were incredibly busy that year. By June, a rat published a book entitled "Rex Incognito" where they detailed and provided evidence that Morax is the Geo Archon himself, which makes the piece both heretical AND entertaining.
The man, whom they both assumed was underboss Xiao, tossed a man upward till they landed on the roof of a nearby car. With his lithe yet muscular form, he swiftly disposed of a 70kg policeman like a garbage bag. No one moved a muscle in their direction. Not a single person showed empathy for the nose-bleeding cop in the middle of the plaza. The civilians pitied the car owner and not the injured man. Only children shrieked at the sound. For the rest? Just another Wednesday garbage cleanup.
There's no semblance of justice in Teyvat that remains in broad daylight.
Alhaitham closed his eyes, disappointed.
"Pathetic how the tri-mafia overpowers the military police in every way. The police are useless."
"Yeah man, fuck the system."
"Fuck the system indeed." Alhaitham nodded solemnly. They nearly laughed at how strangely innocent the word 'fuck' sounds coming from him.
"Wanna know what we should do?"
"I genuinely don't."
"Let's join the mafia together."
Alhaitham snorted. It's funny how he considered himself a pro at regulating his emotions moments prior because now he couldn't hold back the cute little chuckles that betrayed his lips. His shoulders trembled as well as his hands while he composed himself.
That was the stupidest idea he had ever heard.
"W-What?" They asked mid-laughter as well, clearly not considering their own enthusiastic suggestion. "Don't think we can overthrow the government together? Tsk, tsk."
They look positively malnourished. Alhaitham would bet on the chance that they'd achieve their dream journalist career rather than a stable life as a future mafioso.
Then again, Alhaitham looked very straight-laced and put-together before he joined Akademiya.
"Ah yes, an accountant and a matchstick vendor joining the mafia together; one of them might even become the next leader. Find out next time in chapter 3."
"Coglione, I'm the one who's going to be a journalist here, not you."
"Not with that awful pronunciation you're not."
They frowned. "You Teyvatans are so strict with your stupid lingua francas."
"But still, it's not a bad idea, isn't it? Let's meet each other again after we join the mafia." They nudged his side. "Same time, same place. C'mon, it'd be funny if the next time we meet you'd be holding your head thinking that there's too much excitement in your life now."
Alhaitham rolled his eyes before he looked down at his watch.
"At 6 in the morning?" He looked rather amused for someone who claimed to be uninterested.
They bantered back with the same vigor. "6 AM sharp of course, tesoro."
Alhaitham chuckled.
They laughed along with him.
"Heh. Anyways, say, what's it like being an accountant?"
"Well…"
Since then, the two of them began meeting weekly as Deshret and (N/n). They've used their morning hours as an excuse to get drunk in the crack of dawn. Both have forgotten what the true purpose of that time was,
But it's not as if they'd both remember that joke, right?
—---
Well, if that's true, then Alhaitham doesn't know what the fuck he's doing.
Something about that small conversation rekindled a fire in him– a torch he had never once touched for he saw no need for it. But after seeing how empty those cubicles were– how mechanical the bigger picture was– nothing had been the same for him. His conversations with coworkers were barely anything compared to what he shared with (N/n). Dialogues in the office were canned scripts, and they were oh-so-predictable.
And so that morning, he went up and quit his job before accepting the offer to be the Akademiya Syndicate's bookkeeper.
But (N/n) was nowhere to be found in their usual spot.
Not in the fountain– not in the old bar.
Where the hell were they?
Alhaitham asked the people of Morepesok if they'd seen them, but these efforts were futile. Some were eager to point out that they know what's-their-name-s, but none led back to where they were. And the street urchins that were familiar with the name (N/n) assumed they'd departed the country and gone back to their homeland.
He refused to believe that. Passions quite like theirs do not burn out as easily as he did.
As a result, waiting in Morepesok for (N/n) in the hopes that they'll return has become a daily ritual. For the first few days, no one was eager to approach the new Akademiyan mafioso; instead, he would monitor the time with a feverish bloodlust. Even in Snezhnaya's harsh winters, he is frequently observed by numerous concerned bystanders who urge him to get inside because it is cold out. None of their worries stopped him. He saw waiting as a chance to relieve stress. These quiet moments remind him of his humble humanity, and he was grateful to have ever met (N/n) because of this.
Yet they never came back.
But Alhaitham never held it against them. It's alright.
Thanks to them, he lived the kind of life he never knew he dreamed of.
"6 AM sharp, huh?"
The more he hung around the square, the more people thought they understood him. They were under the impression that this immovable man was not on a syndicate mission– he was just a lovelorn yet patient man.
"But I doubt I'm far gone. I just appreciate them. That's all there is to it." These were the words that helped him sleep at night. But if the term "lovelorn" simply means "unrequited" then perhaps the way he feels while waiting for them to return fits the description.
He was still sitting upright by the fountain in Morepesok Plaza, waiting expectantly for (N/n) to return like a dog.
—----
And even now, he waited.
Until (Y/n), Capo of the Innamorati family, found him lying on the ground.
(N/n) didn't come.
"(Y/n)..." Rosaria whispered while her face grimaced at the pungent and metallic smell. You both observed the pool of blood on the ground.
You and Rosaria narrowly escaped the blast of whatever divine power Tighnari conjured– and you’re still processing what happened in the theatre that you couldn’t comprehend the body right in front of you. If Rosaria wasn’t there to lift you on her shoulders you would’ve stood and resigned to your fate. Thankfully, you weren’t wounded, but the bump you had on the seats when the water pressure pushed you back nearly gave you a concussion.
In the end, you both came back for Alhaitham with soaked coats and socks, dripping from head to toe. Rosaria’s veil was discarded and left by the doorsteps as it was distractingly clinging to her skin– you would’ve done the same with your coat had it not been one of your favorite ones. Your cold and quivering limbs weep for respite but you remained steadfast. However, your mind does not share the same willpower. Your thoughts were slow but chaotic.
Just how did Tighnari flood the underground theater earlier?
Was that really a gnosis?
Why did he have one?
Where did Tighnari flee now?
You shook your head in an attempt to focus on what was in front of you.
Who attacked Alhaitham?
His neck is bleeding and there's a clean stab wound on his neck. The crimson trail trickled down to his exposed arm. With his back leaning on the wall and head facing down, Alhaitham did not move a muscle. You know little about Alhaitham but you did know one thing: he wanted to work with you far longer than your first guess.
Suppose he’s underqualified to be an underboss, after all, failing his first (and last) mission like this. You once heard Pantalone say that "Akademiyan spies are the weakest species in Teyvat" and your new "underboss" proved that right by messing up the marble tiles with his blood.
The collar you were supposed to give him feels useless in your pocket.
Maybe you should've picked Enjou instead. That crazy maniac would survive better than him, and he's just a merchant in the Abyss Market you like to gossip with.
Alhaitham is pathetic. Was pathetic.
"One of those fascists likely killed your underboss," Rosaria said, sounding awful like she was reading from a script. "It seems that Tighnari will do anything to stop you from maintaining your position."
That's funny, cause the only way those shits can achieve that is by burying you alive– and they failed miserably– comically, even.
Did they seriously think you'd weep for Alhaitham?
For someone as “replaceable” as him, as Tighnari would put it?
You've said it once and you'll say it again: that's fucking hilarious. Tartaglia would love this story– you're sure. They've already taken your best friend Dimitri, everyone else is secondary. You love your men, but they know they can never be him. Hell, you'd argue that if the others were equally loved, Alhaitham would be "less equal" than the others.
You didn't take a second look at Alhaitham, and not because you lack remorse.
The real reason is too boring.
He's not dead.
He's just unconscious.
Sadly no, that was not just the first stage of grief speaking. There's still some life left in him. He's nowhere near as cold as a corpse shouldn't be. Would've made your job a lot easier if he was, but he's still breathing, albeit shallow and excruciatingly so. However, that doesn't change the fact that he'll survive. All for one damn good reason–
Sister Rosaria was the one who attacked him.
The inquisitor must've left him like this hoping that fate will decide whether he lives or not, which means she was hesitant to kill him. In a way, your casual friendship with the nun saved your second underboss. This isn't your first rodeo– you've had good friends who tried to kill you once and vice versa, and it's nothing a visit to Angel's Share can't fix. Rosaria was merely a tool. Her feelings had nothing to do with this. It's a good thing your conversations with Sister Rosaria are never dull, you hate to imagine what you would've done to her otherwise.
Lucky bastards, both Alhaitham AND Sister Rosaria.
Still, this meant that someone else ordered you to assassinate your underboss.
Someone from the church. The very same cathedral you swore fealty to and devoted half of your life's work on.
You laughed furiously.
"Hahahaha! I see!"
Who the FUCK is the rat that tried to take what's YOURS?
You wrapped the scarf around his neck taut like a gauze and propped him upward. Alhaitham's weight leaned on your right side as you began lazily carrying him. It doesn't look like he'll wake up soon, so at least he wouldn't be bragging about getting carried by his boss.
Rosaria wore a stiff expression.
You both know the truth, and she's wholly aware you've pieced everything together. But you're not mad at her– any sister of Barbara is a familia to you. She's just following orders, and if what the church wanted was to frame Tighnari for this…
Then who's to say they haven't pinned someone else for any other crime?
But that's not what matters now– Alhaitham's situation is urgent compared to these half-baked conspiracies.
"He lives." You said. "Don't worry Rosaria."
Neither of you addressed how you subtly forgave her.
She placed two fingers on his wrist. The nun sighed a little too relieved when she felt his pulse.
"Good. Then we should go find help."
You smirked. "Oh, no need to worry. I know a medical professional nearby."
"Whoever it is you have in mind, you better make the right call, we're losing him." She spoke casually.
Neither of you showed any semblance of panic over a dying man.
Sister Rosaria, a child of the Archons, was more afraid of your fury than his stripping lifeline.
"Of course, Sister Rosaria."
In all honesty, he's by no means the "right call" for this scenario. But who else can you turn to,
other than Il Dottore himself?
—---
→ Common Route First Half Complete!!! ←
A/n: Did y'all think Alhaitham was going to die? Me too. Trust me, I'd give you guys a lot of chances to kill these three.
Btw, did some of their dialogue sound familiar? You're all very creative!!! I had to cut some responses off (I'm sorry.) because some were already similar while others currently don't fit the situation… But I hope some of you read it and went "oh, this is MY answer from the open-ended question ( ꈍᴗꈍ)!!!" I want you all to feel like you're part of what builds Capo!Reader's personality!
Same as usual, the underlined word (Il Dottore) leads to the polls. Have fun voting!!!
Deadline: TBA
Taglist, thank you all for reading "OC!MC!" ❤️: @scaranaris-lil-niko @ruru-senpai-is-an-infp @vienettacream @theglowfly @vermillionite @nasidibakar
#tag: ocmc - cta#yandere genshin x reader#yandere#yandere genshin#yandere x reader#yandere genshin impact#yandere fanfiction#yandere tighnari#yandere cyno#yandere tighnari x reader#yandere cyno x reader#yandere alhaitham#yandere alhaitham x reader#yandere al haitham x reader#yandere al haitham#yandere mafia#yandere male#male yandere#tw yandere#ansy-writes
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Kazu Kibuishi nearly died while making ‘Amulet.’ Two decades later, he’s completed it. – Orange County Register (ocregister.com)
A passage from the article:
But in the decade since his recovery, Kibuishi says he still feels the effects.
“It changed my life, for sure. That’s part of the reason why I can’t write as fast as I used to. I can definitely draw just as quickly; that’s just motor skill. But writing is really what takes the most time,” he says, adding his memory has been affected – sometimes he’d finish a page only to realize he’d already drawn it before. “There are certain obstacles and hurdles I have to get over. I don’t want to use it as an excuse but … I have set a standard with my former self that is very hard for this brain to match.”
Kibuishi’s memory came up when I mention an earlier meeting we’d had. Years ago, not long after he’d recovered, I’d reached out to tell him how much my family enjoyed his books and Kibuishi had invited us to visit his Bolt City Productions studio in Alhambra. While a memorable event for us, Kibuishi says he can’t remember much from that period.
“That time in my life, I just have to accept that I was a bit of an amnesiac. There’s like a crater in my memory,” he says. “I don’t know if I’ll ever fully recover from it, but I manage well, I think, despite all of that.”
That explains why Amulet turned out the way it did. I deeply regret the harsher points of my criticisms, but my points about flaws of the series still stand.
On one thing, I presumed that his injury may have played a factor, something that severe especially in the brain is not something you would 100% recover from. On the other hand, I thought it is pretty wrong to speculate or assume further about Kazu’s medical history because that’s ultimately his business to divulge or not.
So I assumed it was arrogance. I assumed that since he’s secured a good number of loyal readers, he’s just putting whatever because a.) he’s done with Amulet, and b.) people would read his books either way, so why bother with quality? Which is not only extremely bad faith of me, but also deeply insulting to Kazu as an artist. To which I am regretful, and I do apologize. He really just can’t remember. The Amulet we started with isn’t the Amulet we ended with.
That also explains his process. He’s made around 1000 draft pages for book 9, then pick and discard what he wanted to keep and honestly, I’m pretty sure someone with a direction for their story wouldn’t have such ramblings that would take 1000 pages (I myself who also draws a lot wouldn’t make that high of a number), the process overall was just yonkers. But for someone with a spotty memory… That’s probably the best method he could come up with.
But in all honesty, reading this article gave me an overwhelming sense of peace. I could live with Kazu’s reasons if it was because he’s done with Amulet, or if it was because of executive meddling, or if it was for medical reasons. Mostly because these are all problems that can be fixed. A better project, a better employer, a better work schedule, better accommodations. I still think the writing is awful and declined badly, but I’m more relieved that it isn’t because Kazu no longer cares or values his work. Ultimately, he genuinely did the best he could.
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It's been awhile since I've done an ask in tumbler but it's time for me to slowly get out from my shy box. Anyways, these are questions for Aster:
1. How easy is it to earn his trust?
2. How easy is it to earn his mistrust?
3. Would he prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth?
4. What memory does he revisit often?
5. How easy is it for him to ignore flaws in other people?
6. How sensitive is he to his own flaws?
7. How hard is it for him to shake a sense of guilt?
I hope these aren't too much to ask, i'm really really curious about Aster as a character 😅
1. That’s a tricky question because it really depends on the person he’s interacting with, since he can see people’s star’s, that is, their deepest desires and essentially their soul. So for example, he took one look at Magnifico’s star, that was actually a black hole, and now he doesn’t trust Magnifico’s at all, sure he might get tricked by the guy but he would never trust him. However, even people with good in their heart can do bad things, but Aster kinda blindly trusts people that have bright stars. So I’d say: if you’re anyone other than King Magnifico and Queen Amable, then yes it’s very easy to earn his trust.
2. Okay, let’s say you’re someone with a good heart and you did something bad to Aster… They’ll most likely still trust you later if you apologize. Aster sees the best in people and believes everyone can do better, so I’d say you’d have to screw up REEEEEAALLY badly to earn his mistrust, it’s very difficult.
3. Hmm that’s interesting 🤔 I’d say he’d prefer an unpleasant truth, although he omitted the truth about him knowing Asha her whole life for most of the story, Aster hates lies, that’s actually something I was gonna implement in the story as “A star thing” like, Aster would mention all stars hate lying, as a reference to how the Blue Fairy made Pinocchio’s nose grow every time he lied. And that’s also why he hates the king and queen so much, they always lie. Also, no matter how unpleasant a truth may be, he’d probably find the bright side in it.
4. His memories are mostly from watching people bellow, and mostly watching Asha. I’d say his favorite memory is seeing Asha reading story books with her grandfather, she did it often, but he loved listening to the fairytales.
5. Really easy.
6. I’d say he’s sensitive about them, but not too much, as in, they manage to work through them, but when the insecurities hit they REALLY HIT.
7. Aster hasn’t shown it that much but he still feels guilty about how that plan he had about singing at the plaza (chapter 9, which btw you guys should revisit, I updated the song they play, now there’s ACTUALLY a song and not just me describing it) so yeah he feels guilty that the plan kinda backfired, and he also feels guilty for not realizing Asha got captured right behind his back, those guilts are still in him, but he doesn’t let it show since he internalizes it all a lot, I was gonna make him show that guilt more in chapter 12 but then I realized that was too much of a downer and would make it feel like Aster was making himself more of the victim than Asha, when they both equally went through a lot. So I decided to keep those feelings of guilt more subtle and implicit.
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first of all I love long answers, so no apologies in fact I'll apologize because I plan to ramble on.
I also love the movie but I have so many problems with how little we were given of the Plinth family, that they didn't fully exploit Marcus and Sejanus relationship and the sandwich scene (no ironically I have so much to say about that I may do another post explaining in depth why I hate how they executed that scene) so I feel you buddy
Yes I also think it was a bit of an unnecessary change in that regard, I'm not complaining at all about a scene of Coriolanus crying while looking at a picture of him and Sejanus together, it's cute to see him that pathetic crying and my heart was broken bc we could see again that Coriolanus means the world to Sejanus and yet that happen, but still I think it's more interesting, dramatic and hilarious to witness Coriolanus frustration at seeing that there's a picture of Marcus, of all the people.
Is someone else and NOT HIM, THE ONE THAT INSPIRE SEJANUS. Like as a snowjanus fan Im more into that shit of Coryo in denial screaming and thwroing bc ITS NOT HIM. But thats probably only me /j
You summarized very well many of the aspects in Marcus and Sejanus relationship that drive me crazy. I also belive they had such an unique relationship in the saga, Im so angry bc the movie dont fucking explore them in depth.
AND I AGREED WITH EVERY WORD YOU SAID ABOUT SEJANUS, THAT MOMENT OF KIDNESS IN THE END IT DEFINED HIS CORE, YEARS LATER HE MADE THE CONSCIOUS DECISION TO BE GUIDED BY THE ONE MOMENT WHEN A STRANGER OFFERED HIM HELP AND COMFORT OUT OF COMMUNITY AND EMPATHY.
Yeah it's obvious that much of his character is ultimately shaped by his mother, but he makes a very conscious decision to live by that interaction, to decide that if no one else is willing to make that selfless gesture, he'll be the one to take care of it. Even if the world tells him he's crazy and wrong for going in that direction.
About Marcus I agree that he probably thought that and it makes me so sad because I can't help but wonder what it was like for him, again I know in the book they mention they were more classmates than friends but I don't know, childhood in itself seems to me a stage where you tend to connect deeply with others as you are not yet fully aware of the barriers, and while I can see some classmates already having reservations towards Sejanus because of what Strabo had done and what their parents told lf Plinth family, it seems to me it shows that Marcus was not one of those kids.
So I like to think he thought in his own way about Sejanus. About how nice he was despite the nasty reputation that was forming of his family until finally Sejanus moves in and people tell Marcus that the Plinth's are traitors and other terrible things.
How to reconcile that image with that of the scared little boy he helped and thanked him deeply for it? I think it takes years (and the games ultimately help deepen the rift because Sejanus is safe and they in the district aren't) for him to come to that conclusion.
Then Marcus is reaping and it must have been painful and horrible to see Sejanus standing behind a fence, in an expensive and extravagant uniform, trying to offer him a very hearty sandwich. We know it is a gesture of help and comes from a place of compassion but god I can also see how it is at the same time a kind of cruel mockery.
Because Marcus is going to die and he doesn't need a sandwich, or an apology, he needs to be taken out of there, he needs to do not be killed and forced to kill others. So it makes sense his resentfulness will grow, also the image of Sejanus in his memory as his classmate who did wear a nice suit more expensive than others yes but still was from district 2, still live and suffer the war with them, was destroyed, now he can only think of this Sejanus totally capitol from his eyes, a fucking traitor in a red like blood uniform.
Marcus must have been totally hopeless... We know the people in the capitol saw him as a possible winner but I don't think this was his vision. Like the rest he was a scared kid, probably resigned to his death.
He could not give in to ask for Sejanus' help, to take his hand because what would that mean? That he too would become a traitor, that he was not loyal enough to his family and community? He did not want to die with that weight on his conscience and also facing Sejanus sounds anything but helpful.
He doesn't even know from the sandwich act if Sejanus is the same. He already looks different. What if he turned into one of those whimsical, conceited children? Will he be able to stand talking to him? And what could Plinth do for him? Give him a better weapon? Give him a fucking cake?
There was no point in saying anything. Nor to do it.
I believe the bombing and when he sees a way out is the only time Marcus regains hope and we know what happens to him because of that...
I love recommending caifanes songs that reminds me of Sejanus too much what can I say... And I love even more that you listen to them and see the vision. Im out of caifanes songs for now but if you can handle the trigger warning of spain spanish I can give you:
From the treasure planet the spanish dubb version of Im still here / Estoy aquí by Alex ubago. Its so Sejanus CODED. I choose the spanish version bc its a more youthful voice than the original.
I always apologize for answering too long answers, I genuinely fear being annoying for it 😭
yessss!!! in the movie, I have the feeling that excluding so much of the plinths didn't really show the impact of how fucked up it was what coriolanus did by the end. he stole a boy's whole life. he knew his parents, he knew his mother, and still, he got him killed and stole his life anyway. it's so disturbing when you stop to think about it, but since we don't really see much from the plinths in the movie, I feel like it weights much less than it should (ALSO, YES, THE SANDWICH SCENE WAS A CRIME, it was really poorly executed and another point where it seems to make coryo better imo)
it's so funny to me that scene in the book bc coriolanus says with all his chest that it shows "where sejanus' loyalty laid with". bro really came to the conclusion JUST NOW that maybe, and just maybe, he isn't the center of the world and neither is the capitol 😭 while reading I though of him turning to the camera like a the office episode plssssss (and I absolutely AGREE HELPP, coriolanus screaming crying throwing up because sejanus has a pic of MARCUS, of ALL PEOPLE)
the movie had so much potential to explore their relationship in a more visual way. I absolutely understand why storytelling-wise they would rather to explore of sejanus and coriolanus' relationship.... but marcus and sejanus are so important and interesting and UGHHHHH (and plus, they remind me so much of katniss and peeta, I've seen some parallels that DRIVE ME INSANE and I would actually kill for a 4 hour cut with scenes of them together)
AND YESSSS!!! everything regarding the districts in tbosas, everytime we see something about their lifestyle, is about community. marcus and sejanus were not even friends in his words, they were classmates, and marcus went and helped a child that was probably left out and despised by most of his classmates, and he didn't want anything in return (another thing that drives me insane is how coriolanus is quite the reverse of this; he helped sejanus out of interest, pure interest, and how this is pure capitol, while marcus is pure district).
at that point of the rebellion, the plinths were probably so despised at D2, because the way sejanus cherishes that memory is just so important to me. it's the kind of thing you'd probably forget, but he remembered marcus' name, he kept his pic and everything, and he probably talked about it at home enough for his father to know about marcus and. yk. do what he did at the games to "teach sejanus a lesson". marcus' kindness was THAT remarkable. another thing that I think abt 24/7: what was marcus thinking all this time? we never even see him talking. what were his thoughts? I would actually pay suzanne collins just to KNOW.
during the zoo scene, I felt physical pain because I could only think about how OFFENDED marcus probably felt. because, in his place, I at least would feel extremely offended. because let me get this straight: after your father betrays our district, you leave for this fancy town, with fancy clothing, and now I'm about to die, and then you come here offering me a sandwich? (also, this sets another interesting thing about marcus, he's so proud, and I'm just mentioning it bc it seems like a common trait between people from D2 in the future) and plus, he probably saw coriolanus going to talk to lucy gray for the first time at the train. okay that coriolanus' intentions weren't pure, but how marcus felt that sejanus actually KNEW HIM and didn't go to see him, but this boy who never met this girl actually went to the train station? and then his first interaction with sejanus is him offering him food as if he's an animal?
one thing I read once, and I really can't recall from where, was an interpretation that marcus never even spoke to sejanus (not even to curse him or tell him to fuck off) because it was much better to die with the little boy he knew still on his mind, kind and gentle, than to talk to the boy he doesn't know and discover how he actually changed into something marcus despised.
I also do think marcus was resigned to his death. the way he doesn't even try says a lot, even though everyone agreed that he was the tribute with the most chances. D2 is big, it's not like D12, which is smaller. what would it mean for marcus to return after accepting help from a plinth? what would it mean for him to return after 23 another children getting killed just so he could get out alive?
also, in some form, I think marcus and sejanus' dynamic as tribute and mentor as some sort of anti-lucy gray and coriolanus. they're the reverse of each other.
it's so tragic, really, that he had hope for the first time just to end tragically like that. now, I'm going to punch a wall and cry for at least two days in a corner, because marcus is genuinely one of the most interesting tributes and he didn't even got to fight in the games to be this interesting.
(suzanne collins really went HARD on creating characters this time, not that in thg she didn't, but how is almost every character in tbosas is special and iconic to me?)
and I love getting recommended songs!!! ☝️ NOT THE SPAIN SPANISH TRIGGER WARNING (spain spanish and portugal portuguese are really cousins, it seems) ☠️ first, omg, I was just today thinking abt the characters as disney songs, I'm kinda screaming that you sent me this!!! specially bc as a kid my hobby was listening to different versions of the same disney song, and I RECOGNIZED IT, but I never actually stopped to pay attention to the lyrics and YOU'RE SO RIGHT, I get amazed bc every single song you recommend I stop and stare at the wall thinking of how, actually, it makes total sense 😭
#ask#anon ask#tbosas#sejanus plinth#marcus thg#sejarcus#something something me rambling a lot about how much marcus is my 2nd fav tribute bc lamina is the first something something#they're so tragic I want to die
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25 for homewell? 👀
25- Write about your ship bathing or swimming together.
"Want to join me?"
Her body is submerged in the water, only her head peeking out from between the soft silvery bubbles. There's a smile on her face, and he tries to focus on that. Perhaps she's not mad at him. (Her heart is beating a little fast, but it almost always does. It doesn't have to mean anything.)
When she caught him, he expected to be scolded. Instead, she asked him to open the door to her bathroom and come inside, forced him to look her in the eyes.
And now, this.
"There’s enough room for both of us."
She's looking at him expectantly, but his mind is blank. Nothing exists except her eyes, her smile, her voice, her breath, her angry heartbeat. He looks down, shuffles his feet, tries and fails yet again to come up with a response.
This is another test, he knows, one of those that are impossible to pass because he does not understand the rules. Of course he is supposed to refuse, but will she sit him down later and analyze each minute detail, pointing out where he went wrong, which unspoken social rules he broke this time? Of course she will. Everything is always a test with her.
The books he's read won't help him here, and neither will the movies he's watched, not even the etiquette guides she's given him to read. There's nothing he can think of that covers how to behave when you've been trapped like this.
How does she always manage to get him into these types of situations?
Don't worry, she says, her heartbeat still contradicting her words: I'm not mad at you, and he wonders if that is a test, too, what exactly it is that she wants him to apologize for.
I may have broken something, is all he can think of. It was what gave him away. I'm sorry, he says, I'll go clean it up. The words sound clumsy, incoherent, helpless, stupid. She'll think he's stupid.
Her smile is widening; he can sense the muscles on her face contract. No need, she says, I'll take care of it later.
When he raises his eyes a little, he realizes he can see through the walls of the tub, but the water is distorting the shape of her body. He was vaguely aware he couldn't see through water the way he could see through her walls, her desk, her clothes, but he always assumed that was because whenever he tried he was under water himself.
Disappointment mixes with relief.
She notices his gaze, and all he wants is to reassure her that he's not spying on her, that she's safe in the water even from his eyes, but would it really be reassuring to tell her that he looked, if only by accident? (Don't pierce my clothes, I'll know if you do, she told him in their first year, and he almost never does, not when he's in her line of vision at least.)
It was an accident, he says. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Perhaps if he keeps repeating those words, she'll take pity on him and tell him what exactly he has to do, how he can make it up to her.
Take off your clothes, she says, more demanding now. I want you to join me. Don't make me come out of the water.
Everything is a blur as he peels off his gloves before slipping out of his suit.
She's watching him as he folds it and places it on the toilet seat. Somehow taking off his suit top feels a lot stranger than slipping out of his briefs; she's seen him naked below the waist a few times before but never above. Even if he tried to cover his chest, she would still see his shoulders, his arms.
"Come."
One arm emerges from the water, beckoning him closer. There's a smell of alcohol on her breath; her glass by the side of the tub is almost empty. It feels wrong, misplaced; she never drinks when she's with him at the Tower.
But they aren't at the Tower.
He carefully steps into the water, grabbing the side of the tub as if his life depended on it. Her eyes are still on him, so he quickly lowers himself into the water, comforted by the protection it offers; she, too, can't see him underneath layers of bubbles and water.
His head is spinning as she pulls him towards her until his body rests against hers, wrapping her arms around his chest.
I'm sorry- he starts again, but she shushes him and draws him closer, nuzzling her face against his neck.
Don't forget to breathe, she says, or perhaps it's just her constant voice talking in his head again; this keeps happening. Doesn't matter. He takes a deep breath as he sinks a little deeper into the water, closing his eyes and resting his head on her shoulder.
She takes a handful of bubble foam and rubs it into his hair and on his nose until they both have to giggle.
Oh, what am I going to with you, she says, her voice almost sleepy now, but her heart has calmed down and her breathing has slowed.
It takes Homelander a while before he understands that she's neither angry nor afraid nor even displeased by him.
She is fully at ease, and that is the most beautiful realization he has had all day.
#Thank you for the ask!#soft otp meme#anon#asks#homewell#homelander#madelyn stillwell#this fic snippet was created by the magic of deleting the first 500 words I wrote and changing POV#I got the 25 prompt twice but I suppose I can use the second one for Butchlander#soft and gentle enough that it needs no warnings I think
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I can't believe I'm going to say this but... HotD writers should take a page from Philippa Gregory's playbook (the writer of the books that became the white princess/queen).
She is infamous for saying "ok this sure didn't happen and it's just a rumor BUT WOULDN'T IT BE COOL"and that's how you end up with Elizabeth and her mother being witches, Lizzie and Katherine being more active instead of English flowers, the princes in the tower living, and Elizabeth threatening herself.That woman may have many critics but making her women passive is not one.
Alicent should have been more politically active (just like the books SAY), Rhaenyra shouldn't have lost her fire, Rhaenys and Laena just didn't, nothing they did with them was right and we should spend more time with the children.Baela's arc of being attached to Jace and fighting to the end for Rhaenyra is one that should have been told.What it meant for Rhaena not to have a dragon should have been explored not as the show does (which in the end is still about Daemon and Aemond and not about her) but because her family is under threat and possible attack And she can't be an active part, does she struggle with taking a political role? Does she feel helpless or confident in her abilities?
There is literally a lot of fabric to cut and explore, even with Helaena.Helaena as a dreamer not only contributes nothing to the plot but also made her more boring because it made her "out of reality"Helaena knew that her father was sick, does she know why they are looking for Aegon? How much did she know about the conspiracy?She is calm during b&c until she has to pick and choose what is apparently most politically expedient. How did she feel about her role in the usurpation and since she is the only one Rhaenyra speaks warmly about what was their relationship before?Did she also think that her position of queen (consort) was owed to her?
With Baela and Rhaena it was to delve into what we already had with Helaena they had to ask themselves the questions above and decide how to answer them to create their character, a character that regardless of Whatever they chose would be convincing.Having an ability never explored or used and no history around her simply makes her... As important as a table.
Excelent points, anon. To quickly discuss this part alone more time:
She is calm during b&c until she has to pick and choose what is apparently most politically expedient.
This is honestly what kills me the most abt her character in the show and having those "dreams"--I can put aside (with great restraint to bite) the lore-stomping act of making her not only not actually dream but never try to communicate with her non-offspring family about them...but if she supposedly knows about her kids' dying....she's just going to sit there and LET IT HAPPEN? Until the very last minute?!!!! How does that make sense? How is this not a parallel to that atrocious moment where Alicent--after years of telling all her kids to prepare against Rhaenyra and that she doesn't deserve the throne and perhaps has stolen it from them, that she is an enemy to their very lives--"forgive" Rhaenyra when she apologizes in episode 8?!!!! how does Alicent justify this to her children?! to herself? See, this was the beginning of my hate spiral towards her writing, before I was just annoyed and stupidly hopeful, but this broke the last straw. It's so clearly sexist bc it cuts off the rage a woman accrues until a man interjects with some passionate demand or imploration to stop--a way to "lay down the law" self-sacrificingly!!! It flips into her becoming "helpless" in the face of male violence seconds later with Aemond as she's unbale to stop him from confronting his nephews.
Back to the ask. Very much all this. I love how you expanded on Rhaena, but esp Helaena. That's what i meant by people using the text, context, etc. already present in the work:
Helaena knew that her father was sick, does she know why they are looking for Aegon? How much did she know about the conspiracy?She is calm during b&c until she has to pick and choose what is apparently most politically expedient. How did she feel about her role in the usurpation and since she is the only one Rhaenyra speaks warmly about what was their relationship before?Did she also think that her position of queen (consort) was owed to her?
TANGENT: When adapting, think of the questions you have or others first/second times had when you/they read the text!!! Not the "it has to be this, because that's how we'd treat it in real life". If you really cared to portray women as people with a determination to claim agency even when all seeming signs show attempts to smother that (just bc you were in a socially oppressive society, doesn't mean that you were going to always accept being a victim), you can still present disturbing shit in a relationship, but of a certain kid of interaction is not indicated in text....DON'T INCLUDE IT!!! Don't go the easy route! (HBO and most projects fo into DV without really enabling the women to resist or punish that, so it's the "solution" to the problem of not knowing how to develop female characters who have had all this power but also many obstacles)
Those first/second questions inspire the imagination for more questions which breed possible different paths of character development. That's exaclt what Philippa Gregory did when she was presented with the opportunity to create strong female chaarcters when she could have gone the aged-old white mane route and did what Condal did.
Never read her books, I'm banking on anon and my having watched both The White Queen and The White Princess, which I loved! Yes, very diff authors, diff stories, different worlds, relaity vs fictional historical...but doesn't GRRM not take inspiration from those real texts to make F&B? And do not Condal/Hess and Gregory share the same position of using "historical" reputations and descriptions of noteworthy women that were written by old tired men with agendas (as most European histories before the industrial era--and even then--are ) to create their own versions of that given information?
Go nuts but think first within what is in the text/context the writer wrote out and then let the fandom decide for themselves what is "possible".
I miss Domina. A historical drama right up my alley, that one was.
Really, it's more a matter of faith or belief, but still.
#alicent hightower#character comparison#helaena targaryen#hotd characterization#hotd sexism#hotd writing#Philippa Gregory#the white queen#the white princess#media comparison
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Jess and Rory are no jerk and no failure and they got together.
I just read too many things about Jess being a jerk and about Rory being a failure that I could not take it anymore and I know I am late to the party but I was not sure I wanted to watch the revival or seasons four to seven. I have only been able to watch it because I saw a post with Jess looking Rory through a window and just thought, ey, they meet again, they are together. And here I am. I will just let it out.
When we meet Jess in season two he is a seventeen years old, an adolescent no one believes in. No one. I love season two: Jess and Rory have all these beautiful moments and he makes me laugh so much, they both do. But if you listen carefully you understand what kind of life Jess has been having and how he feels about it. I won’t defend every decision Jess made but the conversation with Rory in the car is so meaningful: “Ask my mother, principal or even your mother who does not even know me” no one, absolutely no one expects anything from him. The principal in school tells Luke he has no interest in the subjects, other students or anything else and if you think about it, it makes sense: he has grown up probably by himself, no one really took care of him so he found refuge in his books and sarcasm. He needs really loud music to sleep, probably not to hear whatever was going on at home. He is not good with the small talk because he is use to be by his own and once again: he is seventeen, can we not forget this? In fact I find he has quite a lot self control sometimes (specially in 2x05) but that would take too long to elaborate here.
And Rory is just so sweet. The only one able to connect with him, and to realize the potential he has got. I love how she tries to fight against this general opinion against Jess, she is the best. The problem with Rory is that she has been living in a bubble where she is perfection and she thinks she needs to keep it like that and this is really difficult to break. All these feelings she is having, she is constantly doubting them because no one is able to validate them. To tell her, ey, it is normal, tell me about Jess, why is he so interesting? Instead of that her mother and best friend is constantly acting like if she was going crazy for becoming friends with him and risking his relationship with Dean (do not get me started with him…) From minute one, she is so unfair with them that it really hurts. Lorelai is really unbearable in relation to Jess).
It is just specially painful to see that even when they are wonderful together they drift apart because they both have issues they need to work on. They could have done it together but in order to do that they would have need some adult support and they do not have it (Jess not at all and Rory not in the way she needs it). And I do not want to be unfair with Luke, he is a good soul, he tries… Jess understands it years later but at that moment it does not feel like real support, and it is not.
Jess gets lost and he hurts her deeply because she will never be able to find that level of connection again and she is so afraid of suffering again the same way that she would never go for it.
When Jess comes back in season four he his still not ready. I could write an essay about how he is right in a lot of the things he says and feels but he does not know how to articulate them. Rory loves him, she does and she always will but she is still hurting. He does not apologize, he does not tell her why even feeling what he feels. he did what he did. On both occasions he just drops the bomb and leaves ( I think second one happens mainly because Dean was there. He would probably have said something different in other circumstances) And it breaks my heart. Rory needed an I am sorry I hurt you, an explanation of why she was abandoned and the reassurance it will not happen again. She needed to hear an ‘I will wait for you no matter how long and no matter where’ He may had the intention to say it but he can’t deliver it because he is not ready yet: he has too much unresolved trauma and seeing Dean just brings everything out.
So she gets in this absurd relationships with Dean and Logan (the worst, absolutely the worst, no doubt) . When the bubble breaks she is just not able to navigate through life.
And life goes by, it turns out Jess finds himself. Jess finally starts believing in himself. He is resilient and he has held onto the feeling he could do anything he wanted Rory had about him. He could not have written the book without her because he has held onto his love for her and doing so he wrote a book, got it published and pushed through life the same way he always has. He has found people that get him and he gets to be in a good place. He has matured.
Next two times he sees Rory, he is in the position to say it, to offer her everything to really start a beautiful life together. He has put his pieces together, he is calm and happy with what he is doing. But guess what, Rory is a mess. And it is ok, it is totally believable. Sometimes in life, things don’t go as we want and you are a mess and you throw everything away and you just let it go. Jess just helps her to go back ( partially) on her feet. . He doesn’t try to win her back because he understands it is not the right moment. He is ready, she is not. And she tells him she loves Logan ( Logan of all: the one he has nothing in common with, the one that cheats on her, the one who does not care if she leaves Yale or anything she does, the kind of guy they made fun of) because to ‘love’ Logan is easier, because if she does not have the deep connection, it won’t hurt that much and it doesn’t. She finally rejects his proposal and he leaves and she is fine, it does not hurt that much because it was not real love. He is not her soul mate. He will never be.
And now they are both 32 and Jess has grown better and better. Although we do not get to know a lot about his relationships he has nothing permanent. He could have found love, we could have seen him happy. That also happens in real life. You really move on, you are lucky enough to have a mature fulfilling relationship and live a happy life but he does not. Jess had a lot things going on in his life but he has never cheated on anyone or lied to himself about his feelings, so probably just casual relationships without attachment because he knows it would not work, he is not over her.
The thing is that she is still having issues. Awful relationships she knows are not going anywhere and same thing with jobs. She has lost contact with her feelings and her passions and when that happens it is not easy to go on. But guess who is going to put her in contact with her feelings again. He does. Starting with the book. And when she goes on writing, well that will make her remember how it was to feel real love. And well yeah, we have an open ending, which is not my favorite but I get to write my own ending and to play it in my head. Because that look through the window, that happiness when she showed him the three chapters, that is a lot. And they will need to talk about feelings, about wounds and also about books and about the future because now they are ready to heal and to start over no matter where. Together.
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Essential Avengers: Avengers West Coast #51: I SING OF ARMS AND HEROES...
November, 1989
Guess who's BACK... and guess who aren't too sure they're HAPPY about it...
Well, Hank and Jan don't look too happy about it. Neither does US Agent. Lookit him frown, the gwumpy pumpkin. Wonder Man looks like he has dull surprise going on. I cannot fathom Robot Human Torch's expression. The man would do great at poker. Wanda looks like she's offended. That's a "how dare?!" expression if I've seen one. And Vision looks like he's staring directly at the sun and isn't sure why people keep screaming at him to stop.
So my guess is that Hank, Jan, John, and Wanda aren't happy about it and the others may or may not be happy about it.
They might have been more pleased to see Iron Man if he hadn't just flown through a perfectly good wall for no reason.
Last times in Avengers West Coast: Iron Man left the West Coast Avengers because of the Armor Wars arc in his own book. Wow, that was a while ago.
At the end of Armor Wars, Iron Man faked his own death by letting the government blow up an armor full of blood. When more Iron Manning was needed, Tony Stark just built a new suit and claimed he'd hired a new bodyguard/superhero.
And now, all these issues later, he's back to rejoin the Avengers because he's become more dependent on his armor due to stuff happening in his solo. He figures more time stuck in the armor, might as well be putting it to good use.
Also happening, Wanda has had the worst fucking period of her life (so far). Her husband got disassembled by the government, her teammates don't seem to care, her children keep blinking in and out of existence whenever she's not paying attention, evil bacteria shoved her full of goo until she became a mutant supremacist, the robot Human Torch came back to life to take the hottest robot on the team role from Vision. Just a lot going on!
I sure did talk about Wanda a lot in this issue featuring Iron Man.
Anyway.
Iron Man.
What a shiny guy he is.
Yeah. The Avengers (West Coast) aren't thrilled to see Iron Man.
Because: who even is this Iron Man?
US Agent John Walker is not privy to all the details of Iron Man's identity. But he does know that the original Iron Man was supposedly killed and a new guy took over.
Original Iron Man may have been a founder of the Avengers but New Iron Man is just Some Guy. Some Guy who can fuck off if he thinks he gets to swan in and get automatically put on the team.
Iron Man understands that he doesn't get any special consideration and says he's willing to go through whatever initiation process the Avengers consider necessary.
US Agent is a big company man so even though he's maybe the leader of the Avengers possibly? (he's done literally zero leading and nearly zero interacting with the team), he storms off to go call his handlers in Washington so they can tell him what to do.
With him gone, that just leaves Hank, Wasp, and Wonder Man who all know that Tony Stark is Iron Man. Or was. They know that at certain points, Tony Stark has been Iron Man.
(Way to just spill the beans in front of an Iron Man that you don't know whether he's Tony or not, guys)
So they ask Iron Man straight up if he's Tony.
For some reason that would probably make sense if I was reading Iron Man, Iron Man apologizes and says he can't say.
I do want to read olde Iron Man. One of these days, I want to dig into that backlog. He's one of the prominent Marvel characters I haven't read significant material from pre-2000.
Anyway.
On the other side of the compound, Scarlet Wanda and Vision.
Wanda is in a mood. Because she's been in a mood Byrne's whole run because shit keeps happening to her. Possibly goo related shit.
Vision: "It surprises me that you did not wish to stay for the meeting with Iron man, my wife. I am curious as to your reason..."
Scarlet Witch: "Please, Vision... I know you're programmed to use words like 'surprised' and 'curious,' but I wish you wouldn't. It only emphasizes how much more robotic you've become."
Vision: "My apologies, Wanda. It was my impression you wished me to sound as human as possible."
Scarlet Witch: "Human? Why would I wish that, husband? Why would any mutant worthy of the name wish to associate herself with humans?"
Vision: "And yet... you are a mutant, and for years, you have gladly associated with the Avengers -- most of whom are human."
Scarlet Witch: "A passing weakness, Vision."
Okay. Seriously. Did nobody think to de-gooify her after that Absolom University adventure? Give her a medical check or anything?
I'm getting a little perturbed with how little a shit this era of the West Coast Avengers seem to give about each other.
Nobody noticed Tigra was going nuts. Nobody bothered to do anything as Wanda has clearly been emotionally spiraling. Wasp decides to help Wonder Man undermine Wanda's marriage.
You all suck.
Wanda is behaving like a jerk now but at least we know external factors contributed. The rest of you just suck.
Anyway, Wanda and Vision reach their quarters and find Agatha Harkness waiting for them there.
Hi, Agatha.
Are you the Agatha that does horrible shit to Wanda to teach her something or the Agatha that's helpful without being traumatizing?
I feel like Wanda is a couple pieces of straw from just breaking so maybe considering the latter approach today.
Also, maybe consider calling ahead.
The last time Wanda and Vision saw Agatha, in the second Vision and the Scarlet Witch series, Agatha was burned at the stake.
She tells them that being burned at the stake sucked but that's not what she's here to talk about.
She's here to talk about Wanda's kids.
Wanda's weirdo kids. To talk about them and to understand what precisely they are.
Scarlet Witch: "They are only children. Normal in every way!"
Agatha Harkness: "Normal, Wanda? With a mother who is a mutant and a father who is a synthezoid?"
Rude.
Agatha tells Wanda that her kids are far from normal and if she hadn't been busy resurrecting herself, she would have been here sooner.
Agatha Harkness: "But you already know yourself, that when you are not thinking about them... they disappear!"
Vision asks if that's true but Wanda denies it. BECAUSE OBVIOUSLY AS A GOOD MOM SHE IS ALWAYS THINKING OF HER KIDS AT ALL TIMES 100%.
Agatha pulls the nuh uh on this. There have been recent times where she was too distracted in battle or knocked unconscious where obviously she wasn't thinking about her kids. And wee baby Thomas and William just cease to exist during those times.
Remember those times? All those times they disappeared, freaking out the governesses? Who tried to report it to Wanda and got fired for it?
Wanda refuses to listen to this. Literally putting her hands over her ears and shouting she won't hear it.
Eesh.
Agatha tells Vision that Wanda will need his strength and love more than ever and oof is she behind the times. The government took away his capacity to love! Bad timing!
Elsewhere, up in the sky, a bird, a comet, a (robot) human torch!
Jim Hammond took off when the Avengers grouped up to meet with Iron Man. He took the time to fly over the countryside for about a half hour, just get an idea of how much things have changed.
And he's amazed! To him, it looks like 400 years have passed instead of just 40.
He lands back at the Avengers West Coast Compound and lands right into some drama without even trying.
Ann Raymond saw him being all human torchy and mistakes him for Toro. And when she realizes he's Jim Hammond instead, she, of course, gets upset because for an instant she let her hopes get up and now she's been reconfronted with the fact that her husband died in an entirely stupid and unnecessary way.
And now Jim knows Toro's dead too and is also emotionally staggered by the news.
Also: demons.
Flaming fireballs! Demons!!
Robot Human Torch gets immediately slapped into the pool. A sad casualty of being the first one the demons run into.
But Ann screaming alerted the other Avengers and they assemble and start walloping demons.
Hank Pym suggests that if a bunch of demons suddenly show up to the Avengers West Coast Compound, why there's only possible explanation.
Iron Man: "You mean it's MASTER PANDEMONIUM?? But the last we saw of him, he was being swept away by the river of oblivion... deep in the realm of Mephisto!"
Hank Pym makes a mental note of Iron Man knowing about the Avengers' last encounter with Master Pandemonium. Because Tony Stark Iron Man was on the team at the time. So is this Tony or did Tony just brief New Iron Man on all his Avengers' cases?
I don't know why Tony isn't telling the Avengers he's him so I don't know how tense it should be that Hank is piecing things together.
Anyway!
US Agent comes out to yell at the commotion and he's not really alarmed by a sudden invasion of demons. It does make him punchy so he starts punching.
Robot Human Torch pulls himself out of the pool. He's soaking wet but all he has to do is FLAME ON! to boil the water away.
Then he can "show these demonic delinquents how we used to deal with their kind back in the 50's!"
Did... you deal with a lot of demons in the 50's specifically?
Wasp takes note that the demons don't seem to be after anything and aren't really trying that hard to kill the Avengers. So why are they here?
Whoops, they're a distraction.
While the Avengers are outside fighting the demons, Master Pandemonium busts into Wanda and Vision's quarters right when Wanda is about to have a nervous breakdown over everything that's happened to her over the past few weeks.
Agatha Harkness tries to ward off the demons with her witchcraft but Master Pandemonium tries belches hellfire in her face.
Gross.
Vision tries to do the intangible fisting thing he does which either works great or doesn't work at all.
Whoops, this is one of the times it doesn't work at all.
Master Pandmemonium just blasts out demons from his arms to overwhelm Vision.
Leaving only Wanda to face him, as she boasts that nothing can withstand her hex power.
Although she seems to fend him off and force him to retreat, she doesn't notice until he's gone that one of his demons snuck behind her and yoinked the children.
He drags the poor, probably innocent tots down to probably Hell.
What does he want from them?
Well, first, he wants a captive audience to recap his entire backstory.
Villains gonna villain.
He was an actor man who drunk drove himself into a bad car crash that cost him his arm. As a big Hollywood type in the 80s, he was big into the occult?? Apparently? So he called upon dark powers, promising his soul for his arm back.
Mephisto was bored and decided this would be funny so he replaced the guy's arm with demons. And then he replaced all his limbs with demons.
Mephisto's sense of humor is beyond me.
He didn't want the guy's soul so he ripped it out, broke it into five pieces, and scattered them around.
Master Pandemonium has been searching for them since, trying to become whole.
He found one with the Cat Demon People of Tigra's origin. But whatever Englehart was planning for this dude, he didn't get around to. Guy got one soul piece back and then dropped out of the plot.
So Byrne is bringing back that plot thread.
Master Pandeominum declares to these two stupid children who don't understand any of this that kidnapping them will allow him to replace his missing 4/5ths of a soul much more efficiently than all his aimless searching up until now.
Now, I know where this is going already. It is renowned, infamously.
But try to make your best guesses before I get to the end of the issue. See how close you get.
Anyway.
In the pressing urgency of some innocent children being kidnapped... the Avengers all sit down to discuss classic sitcoms.
That's a fair response, to be honest.
But here's how the conversation unfolds.
Instead of leaping into action, the Avengers sit around and quiz Agatha on how she's alive again. Even though she keeps telling them it was fucking magic and it's not going to make sense to their science brains.
Wonder Man chimes in that HE's seen Bewitched so he can vouch for Agatha's point.
So Wanda starts yelling at him for talking about television when her children are kidnapped.
Wasp tells Wanda to settle down. Clearly they're treating this with all due urgency! Since, y'know, maybe her kids are fake as shit. Maybe they've just stopped existing again like all the governesses said.
And that's when Wanda does her a slap.
Granted, her mutant supremacy is not called for but, yeah, the Avengers are all a bunch of jerks now who can't muster a bit of urgency when a demon man kidnaps some children.
Wasp isn't even hurt because of her small size. But she is concerned that Wanda said that thing the way she did about humans.
Anyone else concerned? Nobody else reacting? Okay.
Wanda begs Agatha to help her follow Master Pandemonium.
I'm surprised we didn't start with that but I've already made clear how I feel about how the team is reacting to this.
Master Pandemonium tried to hide his path but Agatha took precautions when he first arrived so she can trace him. But Wanda can't do it alone! So... will the Avengers step up to action when a witch very lightly implies that they should?
Yes. They finally get their asses in gear and jump through the swirling magic portal.
Even US Agent agrees that where Wanda goes, the Avengers go too. Which is a big team player moment from the guy who doesn't seem to realize he's leading a superhero team.
Watching from the time Limbo that isn't the demonic Limbo or the game Limbo, Immortus freaks the fuck out.
This wasn't how things were supposed to go for his vague yet menacing plan!
And he can't do anything to alter the flow of events because, I dunno, he can't touch demonic realms. So if anything happens to Wanda, he won't be able to protect her!
Dun dun dun??
I wonder what his vague yet menacing evil plan needs Wanda for?
Back at the Avengers, Hank Pym asks Jim Hammond Human Torch to stay behind to watch the Compound.
So despite making a big deal about him joining the team last issue, with WANDA BRINGING HIM BACK FROM THE DEAD, he gets to sit on his ass for the rest of this story.
What a weird writing decision.
Byrne is all over the place with all the subplots he's juggling for this book and a lot of them just get backburnered hard.
Iron Man gets to go. And he hasn't even officially (re)joined the Avengers at this point. They don't even know if they can trust him because he won't admit to being Tony Stark to his closest friends, for some reason.
The Avengers and Iron Man arrive in a seemingly peaceful fairy tale glade but Agatha's floating head warns them not to trust it.
And the very scenery attacks them a few panels later so. Yeah. Floating Head Agatha called it.
In the distance, past all the killer foliage, Wasp spots a building made of twisted agony.
The Avengers fight their way through the angry vegetation and Scarlet Witch blows open the twisted agony fortress front door with her probability manipulation.
But they find that Master Pandemonium is ready for them. Waiting for them.
And he's done the dumbest thing possible.
He's attached Billy and Tommy to his arms so now he has literal baby hands.
It's horrifying.
It's also the dumbest thing possible.
He's so proud of himself for thinking of this.
Was this where you would have guessed him kidnapping some babies was going to go?
Also, jamming babies onto his arms seems to have filled in two points on the star shaped hole in his tum tum.
I used to like what a silly concept Master Pandemonium's entire deal was. But he's ruined it by going even dumber.
For shame, everything that went into making, publishing, and printing this comic book. For shame. You took a perfectly goofy villain and you ruined him.
Follow @essential-avengers and maybe like or reblog. I appreciate being appreciated.
#avengers#essential avengers#west coast avengers#Master Pandemonium#US Agent#Wonder Man#the Wasp#hank pym#dr pym#Scarlet Witch#the Vision#robot Human Torch#Iron Man#Agatha Harkness#Immortus#for some damn reason#this ends on a really dumb note
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Of course!!! Anytime!!
In the case of matchups, could I maybe get one? For the outsiders? You probably already sort of know my personality from @rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me, but I guess, I’m sort of sarcastic but am actually a good person, even if I act like a jerk sometimes. I really like to read and write. I crochet in my free time and I figure skate! I have a tendency to hyperfixate on stuff so I know a lot about a lot of various topics-
hello! apologizes that it took me a bit to get back to you! i hope you like your match up! i love your work!
thank you!
OUTSIDERS:
i have the feeling you and ponyboy would make sense. you both love reading and you two might have library dates. you two have lunch together at school, you might be writing and he is finishing up last minute school work. when he is at track practice and you are waiting for him to finish up you are most likely reading a book that is new and halfway done. you have tried multiple times to teach him how to figure skate because he wants to take an interest in things that make you happy but he can’t seem to get the hang of it. sometimes you two will study together and you two will up up just reading a book that caught your eyes. he loves that you know all these little facts and tips, he never gets bored about hearing about them because you light up when your talking about them and it makes him blush. although he may not be that sarcastic you do bring that small side of him out and you two always end up laughing after it. sometimes he will go on a run and try to make you come and you try but something else about two minutes in catch’s your eyes or maybe you secretly take a book with you and end up walking and reading it. you will crochet and make things for him and he will never get rid of them. he treasures them deeply and nobody can touch them but him and you. he much prefers your crochet gifts over anything else. he loves writing you letters and you have them keep safe in a box somewhere in your book and notebook filled room.
little drabble/skit
sitting on the bleachers as your boyfriend finishers up track practice. your scribbling down story ideas in your filled to the brim notebook. you look up to see ponyboy sprinted down the track which makes you laugh because to be honest he looks a little silly.
sooner or later he is finally ready to walk you home. hand in hand, you walk out of the school heading down the busy road.
“how was is your story going?” he ask, giving you a kiss on the cheek
“good! i am almost done. how did track go?” you ask with a big smile
“good, i could have done better.” he says with a sigh
“well from what i saw, i think you didn’t do to shabby.” you say trying to comfort the dark dirty blond
“thanks babe.” he said, looking you in the eyes with a smile
#the outsiders#safe haven#the outsiders x reader#the outsiders imagine#safe haven asks :)#ponyboy curtis#ponyboy curtis x reader#dillo
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YALL I found my old diary from when I was 13 and I was NOT prepared for how much it swings between “pretentious wannabe Romantic poet” and “cripplingly self-aware middle schooler”
So right away this is hardcore. Comes with a warning that my ghost will haunt whoever reads it after my death.
“The account of Ocean Waves [for some reason, I was convinced I would be published under that name lol] ^ otherwise known by a less appealing name, is enclosed. Please do not read until you are sure my name is carved into a headstone. If I am killed for the sole purpose of reading this, however far-fetched that may seem, I will hunt you down.”
Happy reading,
- Ocean.
P.S.- You can, however, read this with permission. Good luck with that. Also, if you do decide to kill me, I would prefer a peaceful death. And by the way, I would prefer even more if you didn’t try to kill me. Oh, and if this is read while I’m still alive, I will still hunt you down.”
Already, you can see the makings of a future historian in the works.
“In this somewhat girly journal [it was Disney Princess themed] is the somewhat boring account of a 13-year-old girl. I, Sophia [last name], also known as Ocean Waves, am recording things in here in hopes of future discovery. As I will not share this to [sic] the outside world, I hope this journal will be preserved so that future civilization may find out about my time. However, as a writer and an artist, my goal is to be noticed, not especially famous.”
I give some hilarious takes here:
“I also have artist’s block. I tried drawing a picture earlier; but I didn’t feel like finishing it. I wonder if I’ll ever draw with a passion again.”
(No, younger me, you were just undiagnosed with ADHD.)
Notably, I don’t think I was the Medieval history expert I thought I was at the time:
“I don’t wish to have a boyfriend, and at 13, I don’t think I’m ready to. In the dark ages, girls my age would have already been grandmothers. I think that’s revolting.”
I get very pretentious about my English classes, although I have to say, I still agree with my criticisms of the school system.
“This is my own personal thought, and I prefer it not to be read, as I think differently at night. I think the school system does not have a very good idea of what language arts should be like. We spend hours picking apart and dissecting poems, like they are carcasses and we vultures. Poems aren’t made to be dissected, they’re made to be felt. And all we write are expository essays. Of course this is important, but there’s no way to express how we feel. After all, who decided to put “art” in “language arts” when there is no art to it at all; just mindless examining? I’m sorry for my rant [not sure why I keep apologizing to my private diary], but that’s what journals are for. Until tomorrow,
- Ocean”
I also write about my own art with self-loathing that would put a sexually-repressed 17th century Puritan to shame. You can see me dot my “i” with circles now because I saw a Buzzfeed video once that said people who do that are creative. And I get very passionate about Edgar Allan Poe for some reason:
“I experimented with my new copic markers today, and everyone who saw my drawings seemed to like them. I’m disgraced to say that I had a sense of overwhelming pride, but I’m not used to people noticing my art too often. In first period (aka so called “Language Arts”), we read “The Raven” by Edgar Allan Poe. Most people in the class didn’t seem to appreciate it, but I did. It tore open the hearts of both the reader + the main character, exposing his grief + longing towards Lenore, who [sic] he can never see again, so much that the stoic raven drives him to insanity and later, death. And to think that Poe got barely any recognition in his time! I’m not expecting much publicity from my books, but I do hope I’ll be able to write gripping + chilling stories like Poe did, without his own troubles (…)”
… In summary, I think 13 year old me would be very happy to know that in the years since, I majored in English, still draw, still single, and own a Poe anthology I bought while visiting the museum dedicated to him in Virginia.
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Follow up on the Tune In ask, Thank you for your response!! And please, never apologize for the length, it was greatly insightful. I actually haven't started on the book yet but it came highly recommended to me as The definitive Beatles biography so I was looking around to see what others think of it. Most of the critical opinions I found on this site seem consistent with your criticisms especially about Lewisohn's tendency to cherry pick quotes or imposing a new context on them...
Well, that formatted weird. Sorry. Anyway, I will definitely try to give as thorough an answer as I have time for, so that may mean just a few examples. If you want a deeper dive I can recommend the Another Kind of Mind Series, Fine Tuning. I don't agree entirely with their approach, but I agree for the most part with their findings and concerns, if that makes sense. And then there's Serene's blog entry which does a more thorough examination of the way Lewisohn ... hrm, shall we say, stretches citations to mean... whatever he wants.
I don't know that I am going to be able to go into quite as much detail here as I didn't keep these good notes while reading. But I can think of a few things that stuck out to me before I listened/read these other takes. And I'm happy to keep talking about this or expand, I'm not saying I don't like doing this, just that I am not gonna ... okay I'm going to write an essay? But I won't be as meticulous as I should be.
The first thing that made me stop reading and just go track down what was actually going on was a passage in which Lewisohn is talking about teen Paul's resistance to getting a job, going against Jim. From Tune In:
Paul still hated anyone telling him what to do -- 'It just never occurred to me to listen to other people' -- but when Jim insisted, sometimes Paul did as bid... as John scathingly noted. He went down to the Labour Exchange and Renshaw Hall and landed a £10-a-week Christmas-period job with SPD Ltd, Speedy Prompt Deliveries.
Now, all on its own without context this is a great Paul McCartney quote because you go, "yeah that checks out." I plan on using it as a sort of Macca meme, you know? But it was soooo Paul I thought, "wait, in what context did he say that? Like, he doesn't listen ever? He's admitting he just doesn't listen to anyone?"
So weirdly, it's not actually footnoted, but I found the source. It's a 1980 interview with Tim Rice, which is entertaining in its own right because he tells the guy who co-wrote Jesus Christ Superstar and Evita and later The Lion King that, you know, musicals are boring. Anyway, not the point.
It took me awhile to find the actual quote, because it's really a throwaway, almost self-deprecating aside, in the context of how he's listening to people more now because he's realized too many smart people just talk and it might be good to listen some.
So okay. Paul did say that, and he's admitting there was a time he didn't take the time to listen, but he's doing it in a sort of jokey way. I guess it's fair to say, generally, sure, Paul has a tendency to be headstrong and go his own way and that certainly would have been a factor in his psychological battle with Jim Mac over going to get his teaching license or whatever. It's not like Lewisohn is bending the facts of anything. It's not really a big deal. But it was the moment that clued me in that he's not necessarily using like for like. There's plenty of quotes about how Paul felt about this time in his life without using a joke from 1980 to shore up your point about his resistance to dad, in a paragraph that implies he's saying it about his resistance to dad. And when you've decide that "it just never occurred to me to listen to other people" can mean "and that's why he didn't listen to Jim about work, except this time he did," I don't know. It leaves a funny taste in my mouth because then you could use it for anything Paul decides to do differently. If that makes sense. If it applies there, it applies to anything Paul does. And Paul obviously didn't mean that in 1980.
Also maybe this is more nuanced, but while "Paul still hated anyone telling him what to do" is a true statement in any time in his life, that quote itself? Is neither necessarily relevant to being told what to do or very revealing. It actually is entirely unnecessary. The passage would be completely benign and throw me no red flags without it.
Like any of the points I make or, frankly, I've heard others make, it's less that he's saying untrue things and more that by using these citations in ways that remove them from context and add them to a different context, he is painting a picture but passing it off as fact. In addition, he often will use a quote from John's angry, Lennon Remembers period to interpret Paul's motives in the early 60s, rather than using, oh I dunno, a quote from.... Paul? Or a nicer quote from John when he's contradicted himself again? Again it's all legit sourcing and citing! But the contextualizing creates something he's selling as free of interpretation which is anything but.
The other one I've been thinking about is laid out quite well in I think episode 3 of the AKOM pod, and it's about Paul's creative development. While John's is described as original and a free spirit and rebellious in his artistic ambitions--which he was--Paul's artistic endeavors almost always come with a weasel word or caveat. What I mean is, John is always described as inventive; Paul is a gifted mimic. This despite a lot of attention paid to how John was basically copying his favorite cartoonists and artists--he even says at some point everything he does is Just William and Lewis Carroll. But somehow when he does it, it's extraordinary. He's got his own voice, while Paul is a talented parrot. Lewisohn gives props to all of Paul's many accomplishments but there's always either some kind of adjective like that to take away from it or this thing that creeps in where everything Paul does is for show. There are numerous places in Tune In where Paul is ostentatiously reading difficult books so he can be seen reading them. Anytime he's trying something new or going to explore a new art form or theater experience, Lewisohn has to point out that he wants to be seen to be doing something clever. When he writes songs, Lewisohn points out that he's not just writing songs, he's thinking about the image of being a writer or something like that. It's never because he's artistic, or likes the thing. He needs to be seen as someone liking the thing.
Now, we do have a quote from Paul about this. He does mention thinking about the image of a poet with the pipe and the leather patches, and he does at one point get a pipe and you know, famously pretend to be French to try to pull birds. (He does this again on that little week off he takes in France, years later, reminiscing about imagining he's a novelist in a cafe.) It's not that I'm saying Paul isn't capable of being pretentious! (I still have the beret I insisted on getting for my birthday when I was 16. I'm not immune. I still look great in it.) But Paul's, again, self-deprecating description of himself as a goofy teen appears to be the only 'proof' Lewisohn has that his reading, his art, his going to shows alone no one else cares about, is a pretense.
Again. It's not a huge deal and it's not like Paul didn't factually do all of this. It's that in a text that he's insisted in the front matter is free of speculation, Lewisohn's included numerous interpretations of Paul's (and others') motives without any direct proof/citation for those interpretations. That, I'm afraid, is speculative. And that's fine for an author to engage in--but he needs to be clear about it.
For the record he does this with John, too. He interprets numerous, sometimes almost contradictory actions of John's as "evidence" of his ability to lead. Sometimes he's like, in front and sometimes he's doing nothing and Lewisohn will conclude this was John also leading.
The point of all this isn't, like I said in my original post, that I think any one of these things is that bad. Paul's kinda pretentious? Maybe sometimes he did like to be seen reading War and Peace or whatever? Maybe John sitting back and watching what his mates are going to do is leadership? The problem, for me, is that it's not presented in a way that meets the premise of Lewisohn's introduction, which promises a work free of the prejudices and unsubstantiated speculation of his forebears. And I really do think that Lewisohn has convinced himself that he's done enough research and been a keen enough "Paul watcher" that it no longer counts as interpretation. I fear he may actually believe that he's done the math.
Again, I think you should read it. I loved the attention to detail and you'll get a lot out of it. But just be aware of this tendency, which I no longer think I'm imagining. And these are just the first two things I thought of and wanted to rant about.
#oh man thank you so much for enabling me#you don't know how great it feels to get to just babble about my thoughts lol#i'm really touched that whoever you are thinks my opinion is even worthy!!#kris reads tune in#kris talks a lot#tune in anon#anon asks
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hello hello, this is one of the most requested asks on Reddit and the like, so I'm sorry if it's already been asked here as well but can you recommend any good grovels??
Unfortunately I'm the most picky reader when it comes to grovels cuz the ones that I got just -mostly- suck :/ like I generally liked Lady Isabella's scandalous marriage (and the entire Mackenzie series, thankyouthankyouthankyou lives were changed <3) but it still suffers from the main grovel problem, the groveling by seducing her back into the sack ://
So the -often-MMC cheated on the FMC/killed her child and/or parent/ caused her miscarriage/ kicked her puppy or whatever and when he eventually decides to get his shit together, his only plan is to seduce the girl back to his bed??? Like?? Sir the passion was never the problem?? Some grand gesture in or out of the bedroom is not the answer here??!!
I'd just love it if just for once the MMC begged for ten minutes of the heart broken fmc's time to just genuinely apologize and gets a chance to show her he's truly sorry and really a shell of a man without her(👌🏻) and than they slowly, tentatively start building their relationship a new...
^^the reason why this example is so specific is because it's from a beloved darklina fic lmao
Anyway that's the ask and I'm sorry it got so long and straight up turned into a rant by the end -_-
❤👋🏻❤
Hmm, so where I may struggle with this is that I actually like a situation wherein the hero is trying to seduce her back or grand-gesture-ing, lol. Not ALWAYS, but when it's done well (Lady Isabella's Scandalous Marriage does it well, imo) it works for me, and here's why:
a) I actually think it's super human to try to get someone you love who's separated from you back with like... sex? If sex was a big part of the good aspects of your relationship, that is, which it usually is for romance novel couples. Now, do you have to do more? For sure. But I think the impulse to start with where you KNOW you're good is so realistic. And I don't even necessarily think it's always a bad thing, YMMV, but it is bad if you stop there. Which leads to...
b) A lot of the time, the key lies in the fact that the sex is the first thing pursued but it's not enough. To reference LISM again, Mac and Isabella get sexual pretty quickly. HOWEVER, that's not what brings them back together for good, and his thinking that he can sweep her off her feet and it'll be fine is flawed. They do have to confront what happened that drove them apart (his immature behavior, etc--the miscarriage and his inability to support her through the grief was really just the final straw) and find a way to move forward.
The Day of The Duchess by Sarah MacLean is another example, to me--it does begin as "I'll just sweep her off her feet/into bed", and going back to bed together does happen first (to an extent) because it is EASIER on both parts. If you're the hurt party, it's way easier to say "okay just give me orgasms" than to have a hard conversation. Orgasms feel good, hard conversations suck. So to me, even if I'm writing it? A lot of the time, having them fuck first makes more sense, because it's like... You are giving the reader something fun AND setting up the later acknowledgment/realization that it's just a band-aid and it's not enough.
c) One thing lends itself to a faster pace, the other lends itself to a slower pace. Now Iiiiii as a reader tend to prefer a faster pace? And I think that fic lends itself more easily to a slower pace, tbh, because books are written with a certain structure and word count in mind a lot of the time (and when they aren't, they often end up being verrrrry flabby, something that fics can be too, but it's more noticeable with a book because it's consumed all at once whereas fic is more broken up/serialized).
Basically: if I'm writing a book and I want the plot to move along, a grand gesture in or out of bed is going to move it along more than a conversation will. And I feel the same way when I read a book. So when I look at my shelf of grovels, a loooot of them fit the "start with sex/grand gesture" thing, even if there's work that has to be done after?
I'd try:
Act Your Age by Eve Dangerfield. This comes to mind because I consider it a softer grovel, and it feels more realistic in some ways and rooted in them spending actual time apart. I think that part of why this works is because their relationship is purely sexual in the beginning, so she needs the distance.
The Master by Kresley Cole. Again, a book that begins with a very sexual relationship, and his gestures are more in supporting her from afar. But I wouldn't say it's a slow rebuild after that.
Give Me More by Sara Cate. This is again one where it's kinda less of a grovel and more of (one of) the heroes realizing he needs to go work on himself to be better for his partners and coming back after taking the time?
Glitterland by Alexis Hall. This is definitely a verbal grovel, not a huge grand gesture or seduction. It's probably the clooooosest I've got lol, there's a lovely speech towards the end, but you don't see a lot of the rebuild on the page because it is again towards the end.
The Bride Goes Rogue by Joanna Shupe. He does a gesture grovel and they fuck a lot, but it's not *enough* which leads to him then having to do the work. But it's still a gesture to be fair lol
I wish I could offer something more strictly along the lines of what you're looking for! I'm just more of a "make him rip his own heart out and leave it on the table and/or eat her out until he grows gills" reader. It's the drama lover in me. You're not wrong to want what you want, to be clear! My instincts just swing to something different.
#romance novel blogging#book recs#romance novels#i do have grovels with pleading it's just usually with a gesture and also sex lol
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