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pearlywritings · 1 year

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Come with me, my love

synopsis: the best way to heal is to go somewhere else. Do not worry, your lover has already taken care of that.

pairing and characters: Albedo, Diluc, Kaeya, Zhongli x reader (separately)

tw: pure fluff, hurt/comfort

word count: 2.9k+ words in total

author’s note: I dedicate it to my dear @lunargrapejuice , I hope this will bring you comfort you need, my dear 💛 and also to anyone else who is in desperate need of it☺

Albedo

The concept of relationship is fairly new to Albedo, he’s still exploring the field and is learning new things, even though you two have already changed the status to official. However, he is unbelievably observant, and his ability to note anomalies comes in handy when it concerns you.

Lately he’s noticed how you haven’t been your usual self - the bubbly, smiley, affectionate, lively self with energy almost bursting out of your body. You’ve become grim, sluggish, and didn't come to him for a kiss or a hug unless it was him who approached you and gave you those. In the moments like this you were clinging to him, as if fearing he’d break the comforting atmosphere and go back to his research. But the one thing the young man understood about relationships is the importance of being there for your partner.

Albedo didn’t ask you to tell him what’s wrong - you’ll open up to him when you are ready if you’d ever feel like that - he knows and trusts you. He just holds you close until you doze off and only then comes back to his work table to wrap up whatever is hanging and call it a night.

When it goes like this for over a week, the blond becomes really concerned and understands that it requires some more drastic measures. He officially submits documents for a couple of days off to Jean, informs his alchemist team about his absence and starts researching and planning an immaculate solution to the issue before him.

The gathered data eventually suggests that going out somewhere away from bustling places of constant presence and unwinding is what usually helps to deal with growing depression. You might think his first thought would be taking you out to Dragonspine. After all, the scenery is breath-taking (when there are no raging blizzards), it’s serene and mostly quiet, and no one can disturb you two.

…well, he considered it.

But ultimately he decided on a beach day. Just you, and him, and Klee, since he knows how strongly you adore the little troublemaker. Listen, maybe taking a child who loves fish blasting to the lake isn’t the best idea, but Albedo checked and rechecked her belongings to make sure everything exploding was left home before actually going there.

Weaponizing Klee's charms was a clever decision and proved to be effective. The pyro user becomes your energizer as she constantly asks you to search for seashells, play with her in the water, draw Dodoko on the sand (Albedo, who joins you in almost every activity, undoubtedly wins this one), search for seashells some more, play with a ball, build sand castles…

You plop onto your towel only when the girl starts chasing the crabs, gleefully laughing and swinging her bucket in which she was going to put her new "friend". Your lover hums, keeping an eye out for her to not get into any sort of predicament and sits down next to you, side by side, bending one leg and resting his arm on the knee.

“How’s the vitamin D absorption going?” You chuckle at his choice of words, but then again, you spent so much time inside your shared apartment, of course your organism started lacking the sun rays.

“Pretty awesome, I must admit,” rearranging your body so you could lie down with the man still sitting close, you give your body a good stretch, contently sighing.

“Glad to hear that,” elegant artistic fingers reach out to brush the stray locks from your face, and you quickly catch his wrist, bringing it to your lips to leave a soft kiss.

“Thank you, ‘bedo. I am sorry if I caused you trouble with my… well…” You trail off, but of course he understands what you mean.

“No need to apologize,” a small, but warm smile graces his lips, “You didn’t cause me any trouble, sunshine.”

At the sweet petname your heart skips a beat and mouth twists in your attempts to not reveal a stupid grin. The Chief Alchemist is enchanted by you, so bright and shining, drinking in your soft expressions and bashful body language.

The mission deems to be a success, but solidifying the results with late night cuddles back home wouldn’t hurt.

Diluc

The owner of the Dawn Winery hates parting with you for longer than a work day, even though sometimes the list of his duties keeps him away from you for exactly over a full work day. That’s why he loathes business trips that require his presence.

You hate those too, because it means you won’t get to get a morning kiss from him and give him one, share breakfast with him, see him throughout a day and sneak sweet kisses and hand holdings in private of the backroom of the tavern, walk with him or welcome him home, feel his arms around you when he climbs through the window of your shared bedroom at the winery after his late night endeavors…

You won’t get to see his vibrant eyes - hazy with sleep, sharp when annoyed and absolutely swirling with adoration when he gazes at you. You won’t get to whine for him to stay in bed for just a little longer, because the warmth of his body is too precious to lose so easily. You won’t get to drag his gloves off of his hands when he doesn’t go out in the city at night, preferring to go to sleep with you. You won’t get to braid or unbraid his flaming hair, massage his scalp and listen to his calm content breathing, as he eagerly leans in your arms.

You get the point - business trips are the worst.

And your feelings are completely mutual on Diluc’s end, even if some of the reasons for him feeling agitated may vary.

This is exactly why you are planting your feet on one of the streets of Fontaine, holding onto your fiance’s hand and curiously looking around you. This time the man’s heart ached when he saw an absolutely heart-broken look on your face when he informed you of yet another we-cannot-sign-this-deal-without-you business trip. The past two weeks had been hard for both of you, and the lack of seeing each other only worsened your mood and made you feel so miserable. A week more without him? You didn’t think you’d endure it without crying, because everything was pressing on your shoulders and it was suffocating, nearly crushing.

The decision was fast and simple - going there together. While Diluc Ragnvindr enjoys privacy, he feels pride at the idea of showing his amazing significant other - soon to become a spouse - off. The amount of mischief concealed within the multiple walls of his character can’t help but look forward to you cutting off the suitors that inevitably come after the young wine tycoon. He knows you can do it just with a single glance and that’s one of the things he loves about you - the power of your beautiful eyes. He himself is weak before the effect of them.

“So… This is Fontaine…” You whisper in awe, still observing everything your gaze has an opportunity to be cast upon. Your hand is still clinging onto his, and something flutters in the male’s chest, when you gently tug on it, urging him to move after you.

“First things first - we are purchasing the Kamera. I want to capture all the moments we’ll share here,” at your proclamation Diluc softly chuckles, briefly turning around and signaling for the servants to unload your carriage and bring everything into the house he rented for you to stay in.

“Sure, my flame. I’d love that as well.”

You grin happily - looks like there is no trace of your previous depressed state anymore. A day in the carriage huddled in blankets together managed to heal your sullen mood and partially feed your desire for being close with him. Don’t think he didn’t enjoy it too, only Celestia above knows how desperately this man craved your presence and affection - it’s just that you and your satisfaction come first.

This trip must give you many memories and Diluc will make sure to spend all the free time he’ll have with you. Oh, but to think of it, in his busy time he also can have you there, because what are they gonna do? Revoke the deal they themselves begged him to consider? Exactly - no.

You are stuck with him, and honestly, this is the best thing when we are talking about two touch-starved and presence-craving lovers.

Kaeya

“Kaeya, I am nervous.”

“You better not be, she’ll sense that you are not in control.”

“You are not helping!”

The man, whose leg literally brushes against yours, as the two horses - a pitch black one and golden with flaxen mane and tail one - slowly march side by side along the road of a Starfell Valley, finds it cute. Finds you cute. A crease between your eyebrows from before disappeared and the look on your face was replaced with such adorable concern. You really don’t have anything to worry about, the girl he chose for you is the calmest specimen he has in stables, very docile and friendly, having been won by you with a piece of apple you offered to her prior to this walk. It is really much better when getting you on his stallion, who is not that tolerant to the people who are not Kaeya himself.

“Do not worry, I am not letting go of her reins until you are ready to try it yourself,” he assures you in a soft voice, which smoothness infiltrates all your senses and lulls the rising unease. “Swing your body lightly back and forth with the horse’s steps, it’ll help you to stay in the saddle and help you feel the movement under you. Trust me, it’ll help.”

“O-oh, alright,” with his palm pressed against the small of your back, you try doing as he says, carefully moving your body. His thumb gently rubs your skin under a thin blouse, assuring you that everything is okay, and, when you glance at him from the corner of your eyes, he offers you a sweet smile, murmuring ‘god job, snowflake’ just above the whisper. It makes your heart flutter and lips form a small smile of your own. Your lover is your salvation, really. The moment he saw your gloomy face upon arriving home, he knew he’d go any lengths to bring a smile back to your face. Kaeya consoled and cuddled you that evening, and a couple of days later took you out of the city to spend his day off together.

A horse walk idea has been stuck in his mind for a month already, after you became a witness of him training recruits, the ones that signed for cavalry. Him, on his stallion, with reins in one hand and a training sword in another, entranced you, to the point you snapped out of your stupor only when he hopped on the ground and approached you with a teasing smirk.

Now his words and expressions lack the usual banter, the softness of his cerulean eye blending with the spotless sky above, the rustle of his lips being like one of the grass and leaves the wind plays with, and his smile warmer than the afternoon sun. He belongs in Mondstadt so much. He belongs next to you so much.

Wouldn’t have it any other way.

Kaeya’s visible eye widens when you, using stirrups, rise and reach to him, pressing your lips together. The hand on your back instantly slides further and settles on your hip, keeping you steadied, as his mouth slowly devours yours. He senses no more negative feelings inside your body, and it sparks joy in his chest, which spreads through his body in waves of lingering warmth.

Your eyes sparkle when you separate and the man nearly lets go of both his and your reins, reprimanded by his horse’s disgruntled snort.

“Thank you, Kae,” Archons your smile is blinding, “I needed it.”

“No need to thank me. I got you. Always,” and you giggle when he smooches right under your chin.

“So, when can I trot?”

“Trot?” He nearly snorts at your zeal. “Haven’t even held the reins, and wanna trot already?”

“But you looked so elegant while doing so!”

“Got you mesmerized, eh?” You lightly pinch a hand still resting on your hip. “Ouch! Goodness, Y/n, can’t you admit you are head over heels for this Cavalry Captain?”

“In your dreams, Alberich,” you stick a tongue at him and the man is completely reassured that his Y/n is back.

“Then I’ll be waiting in my dreams. As for reality, I wouldn’t be opposed to giving my love private lessons in horse-riding.”

“Oh! Can we start today?” Eager, aren’t you? How lovely.

“Consider we’ve already started.”

Zhongli

The snowflakes are dancing in the sky, twirling and slowly lowering to the snow-covered ground, pristine whiteness almost blinding with how every tiny frozen crystal reflects the sunlight and sparkles like the finest gems of the Liyue mines. The crust is crunching under your legs, as you and your husband are taking your morning walk in the vast lands of Snezhnaya.

Truth to be spoken, Zhongli would’ve probably never found himself on the territory of the Cryo Archon, but this is a special case. He knew how badly you needed a change of place and new experience in your current dispirited state. No surprise he agreed almost immediately, when during his last visit to the land of Morax Childe invited the two of you to stay with him and his wife in their homeland. He promised no interruption from the Tsaritsa or the Harbingers, and, knowing that partially the invitation was surely coming from the ginger’s lover, whom he had met and whom both him and you found very pleasant to be around, the man believed it.

At first the idea of coming to Snezhnaya worried you, but Zhongli didn’t miss the curious and excited glint in your pretty eyes. He gave you time to consider the idea, and a week later the three of you were on a ship, half-way to the country of snow. The woman carrying Ajax’ real last name welcomed you warmly and with a big smile on her face, chewing her husband lightly for not having invited you two earlier.

The atmosphere that prevailed in this house surely helped distract you from oppressive thoughts, and exploring outside with your caring husband made you so tired, but in a pleased kind of sense, that you didn’t have the energy to spend it on anything but share a goodnight kiss with Zhongli and fall asleep in his comforting embrace. You were healing, and it couldn’t but delight him.

You took a liking to the walks in the early hours of morning, because it, as you proclaimed, was very refreshing for the beginning of the day. Being a morning person Zhongli always joins you on your little outings. Childe introduced a thermos to you two, and ever since your husband tends to have it on him whenever you are outside. The tea in there has a calming and soothing effect, meticulously prepared by skillful hands with love and care.

Another thing you both became fond of was dancing. Just like snowflakes in the air you spin in each other’s embrace, heavy cloaks with fur collars barely swiping the snow under your feet. A soft melody hummed in deep voice mixed with gleeful giggles, turning into a shared laughter soon into the dance that really didn’t have any name.

Sometimes though the quietness around you awakes a feeling of loneliness and you can’t help but shed tears, face pressed to his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around your form. He lets you cry and release the negative emotions, gently swaying your bodies to some rhythm existing only in the beat of his heart. He tries to swipe your tears before they turn into the frozen droplets and sting your eyes or bite your cheeks.

The usual expensive leather of his gloves is replaced by thick wool and feels warm against your face, as his big palms cradle it in his delicate hold.

“My gem…” the puff of hot air from his mouth caresses your nose - that’s how close he is - and you cutely wrinkle it. “Don’t you think we should return? It’s been almost an hour, your skin is burning from the cold already.”

“Must we really?” An adorable pout doesn’t work on a stoic man, as he lets go of your face and, to the accompaniment of your squeals, hoists you in his arms bridal style.

“If you refuse to use your two legs, then I’ll just carry you,” his smile is disarming, damn him.

“All the way back?”

“Why, of course, my dear. Do you question my strength?”

“No, of course not! It’s just…” Though your cheeks are already red, he doesn’t mistake the way you avert your eyes in quiet embarrassment.

“Oh, is this position making you shy? Don’t worry, I am sure our hosts will understand.”

“You..!” The man chuckles lightheartedly, not having it in him to stop himself from teasing you. Ah, this truly is refreshing, and Zhongli is so elated to see a once again happy smile that you desperately try to hide in the fur of your coat.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #albedo x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #zhongli x reader #albedo kreideprinz #diluc ragnvindr #kaeya alberich #zhongli #albedo kreideprinz x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin impact fluff

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rymndsmth · 3 years

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querencia (jang han seo)

🎤 hello and gather around fellow himbo lovers, here is a small fic about our beloved and his life after That guy kicks the bucket. also idk how i managed to turn this into a love story? anyways lmfao, hope y’all enjoy!

Everything felt so different.

Truthfully, Han Seo never imagined what his life could be like, would be like, without the proverbial ever tightening noose around his neck. One that had been unexpectedly and disappointingly placed on him as a child by the one person that was supposed to remove such things. He was now free of that person, and the fear that stemmed from veering off the path set by them, but wasn’t entirely too certain that he was free of that feeling.

His muscles couldn’t shake it. The sudden chill to the bone, the anticipation of retaliation from an act that hadn’t yet occurred. Such an act that could never occur anymore given that his brother was dead. He knew this, but his mind had never been good at accepting possibilities that were positive.

This much was evident in the case of his relationship with Vincenzo. There was no reason why the stoic yet baby faced Mafia member would want to keep him around, at least not any that he could see. So, Han Seo spent the first few weeks asking the question both silently and aloud, will you kill me? Vincenzo had the motive, it’s not exactly like his hands were clean in his previous dealings with Babel, and he most certainly had the means.

It wasn’t until Han Seo was told that because he was trying to make amends, he wouldn’t end up in the Jang family crypt well before his time that he started to feel at ease. Still, for months after that conversation, he still had the nagging feeling that some invisible fist was lurking around every bend.

Regardless of that, Han Seo decided he would not waste his liberation however short lived it might have been. He made up his mind that he was going to do all the things that he was either too scared or outright forbidden to do before. The first thing on his list was to clean up his business. Luckily for him, the Guillotine file made it easy to weed out the snakes in the grass and allow him to steer Babel in the direction that the core of the business was about.

The hardest part was going to be restoring the public’s faith in the organization. Cha Young told him as much, and advised him not to agonize over it as there will be new corruption that will grab their attention (and hers). He intended to be the Chairman that such a company deserved, and therefore continued to study no matter how nonsensical and outdated the information seemed.

The second order of business was moving out of the place that felt more like a prison than a home to one that he liked. The realtor immediately recommended a few luxury places, but he turned them down to their surprise. Maybe it was due to the fact that he had seen what the quest for material wealth had done to his family (or more realistically because he wanted to be closer to newfound hyung and his girlfriend).

Either way, the house he settled on had its luxuries, but in a more affordable and quaint neighborhood. Han Seo even went as far as to attempt painting on his own, which went as well as expected for someone that didn’t even know the difference between a brush and a roller.

Being able to do what he wanted proved to be chaotic at times. There was no one to stop him from going on last minute trips to Jeju just for oranges and a quick dip into the ocean. Or to take away all the sweet and savory snacks that he found at these things called convenience stores.

He would stay up all night sometimes, not to binge watch all the shows he missed out on, but just to sit in silence. He didn’t know that the quiet could be so nice. That it was a space of tranquility and relaxation rather than one filled with anxiety. Of course, Han Seo more often than not regretted the choice not to sleep and ended up at the cafe a few blocks from his place.

While obviously no one had better coffee than the one at Babel, he found himself going to the cozy spot with increasing frequency because of her. The first time he saw her, she was deciding on which apple to choose from the basket beside the register. He then noticed that her canvas bag was filled with art supplies, and decided that it was a brilliant idea to draw a conclusion.

I think the one to the right would make a great subject on paper, he grinned.

She stared at him in a way that made him contemplate whether to not she was related to Vincenzo hyung before replying flatly:

I’m looking for the tartest one to go with my tea.

He was left a bumbling mess of flustered sounds and rapidly blinks, not getting the opportunity to insert some retort that undoubtably would’ve put him deeper into the realm of idiot.

The following morning he went again. No cup of coffee, not even the ridiculously overpriced espresso at Babel, would give him that jolt of electricity he felt under her gaze. And sure enough, she was there. This time her apple sat upon a folded napkin right beside her tea, and in front of them both was her sketchpad. On the page? A picture of the fruit. He couldn’t control the noise of exasperation that left him as he passed her table. On his way out he tossed over his shoulder with a grin so wide it hurt:

Nice drawing.

Their interactions continued in that same vein. Short, filled with just the right amount of bite. The balance of who had the best and last say constantly shifting, becoming somewhat of a competition.

You’re outside today, is that weed your subject?

As if there weren’t enough clowns in this neighborhood already.

You buy a lot of lattes for an artist that’s supposed to be starving.

Ironic coming from the gentrifier walking around a working class neighborhood in thousand dollar shoes.

He had look up what that g word meant after their last exchange.

There was something else he never got to do in his past. Sure, Han Seo had the occasional date or two, but commitment? That was out of the question. It wouldn’t have served his brother well if there was anyone around that would motivate him to step out from his hold. The realization that he never had a serious relationship hadn’t hit him until he started to have inconvenient thoughts during board meetings about stuff like taking a long afternoon stroll, and holding hands with her.

Han Seo could barely focus on the stack of jargon dense reading before him. He sent Vincenzo a text saying that he was coming over with soju, not waiting for a reply before making the short journey to Geumga. Cha Young’s face fell when she answered the door, muttering that she thought he was her delivery, but lit up once she saw he brought along alcohol. After poking around the rice he begged for them to share and sighing loudly for half an hour, Vincenzo ushered him out. He implored him to get a hobby so that these late night visits wouldn’t become a habit.

He was confused by that. Weren’t studying and running a company hobbies? On his walk back home he spotted a flyer that someone was offering private classes for beginners painting. The nightmare of a time he had trying to get the walls in his kitchen evenly colored popped up in his brain, instantly making him tear off one of the numbers. He didn’t exactly know how learning to paint homes was going to be a practical hobby, but hell, he would have something to show Vincenzo later.

While he was on one of his impromptu trips to the seaside, Han Seo had his assistant set up the class for him to take when he returned. As a gift for the instructor, he thought it would be nice to bring them an extra bag of oranges. If the session sucked, or if he hated it, at the very least there was going to be something to brighten the mood.

The day he got back, he even went as far as to tidy up the place on his own and put some fresh flowers around so the air was lightly scented. He practically waited at the door until the alarm sounded to let him know that his instructor arrived.

Is this a joke? She huffed.

No, I didn’t even know you were the teacher! His protest was adamant. I was on a trip and even brought back Jeju- He paused. Han Seo knew he wasn’t the brightest, but bringing up the oranges seemed like it would upset her given their previous history.

You brought back what? Her brow raised.

Mmm, good energy! Don’t you feel the vibes from the ocean? He spread his arms wide.

Han Seo waved her inside hurriedly, trying desperately to get past the awkward exchange. Of all people, he never would’ve thought it would be the neighborhood’s cute sass machine. A small noise of happiness couldn’t be stopped from escaping him as she accepted the invitation. Her eyes scanned the place without restraint, nose wrinkling when she took a look at the kitchen.

Where are your supplies? A slender finger ran across the surface of his counter.

Supplies? He thought that was included in the price for the lessons.

She sighed, placing a sketchbook, brushes, and small pots of paint onto the table. It was now very apparent to him that the advertisement did not mean what he thought it did. Thank goodness he also didn’t decide to open his mouth about that beforehand, it probably would’ve made her smack him with her bag.

Here, the materials were slid over when he sat. Paint something.

His facial expression surely mirrored what he was thinking. Han Seo had no recollection of ever trying to do this, not even during the course of his way overpriced private school education. She urged him on with a nod, only relaxing into her chair when he flipped open the book and picked up a fine brush.

There was nothing in particular he wanted to paint. Hell, he didn’t even know if he wanted to paint at all. This was simply something random that came up when he needed it.

To avoid being chastised, he dipped his brush into the light blue color and started swiping randomly across the blank page. He swapped the brush and added some dark green, then pink, and finished if off with small dots of white. At the end it looked like something a toddler would’ve considered a masterpiece. She eyed it with surprising interest.

You clearly didn’t know what you wanted to achieve with this, or why you were doing it at all.

Han Seo was about to interject with a prideful defense before she continued.

That’s good. It’s better to work with an unbiased mind. Her eyes met his. Your technique is shit though.

He laughed, like truly laughed. It was a full bellied, unashamedly loud, attack of sonic waves. She seemed to find it amusing, a hint of a smile dancing across her lips.

Alright, let’s start with how to actually hold a paintbrush.

There was no telling when their interactions had gone from less than playful banter to warm and friendly (still with a side of joking). Han Seo couldn’t put his finger on it. Did it happen during the second lesson where he mistakenly put paint on her hands, and didn’t settle for no when he said he would wash them off for her?

Or was it the time he was running late for work, but the barista already had his order prepared because she told them that he was on the way? Perhaps it was the time she had to reschedule their Saturday morning for the evening instead, and all he could think about was trying to replicate the color of her alcohol flushed cheeks onto the page before him.

Han Seo had never done the whole confession thing before, so he wasn’t sure about how it worked. An unfamiliar kind of anxiety crept up his spine as he poured glasses of wine and organized a fruit plate. Soft music played in the background accompanied by the crackle of the expensive candles he bought specifically for the occasion. Her mouth parted slightly as she took everything in once she arrived for what was supposed to be an ordinary session involving watercolors.

Wow, got a hot date later or something? Her legs seemed to automatically take her to the table.

Actually, He brought the glasses over to where she sat. It’s for you.

Oh…She gasped. A few seconds passed that felt more like minutes before she picked one up and held it high. Cheers then!

Something about it made him feel like he made a mistake. Did he misread their change in demeanor towards one another? Was she truly just being kinder to him because she considered him to only be a friend? Han Seo tried to not let the embarrassment he felt seep into the room, keeping a smile locked and loaded for when she made a witty remark about stuff like him painting in the most inappropriate white button down.

Don’t you have something to say to me? She quipped, neatly putting her things away after he finished.

Me? I- no…I... He clenched his fists. Why couldn’t he come out and say it?! This was as good as a chance as he was ever going to get. If he let this opportunity slip, he wasn’t sure if there would be one again. He had to act, he had to-

What sounded like a small growl came from her as she raked her hand through her hair. She pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt, her nose just shy of rubbing against his.

Jang Han Seo, when are you gonna stop driving me insane? She murmured, labored breaths dancing across his cupid’s bow.

If only she knew how true and reciprocated that question was to him too. From the moment he couldn’t fight against thoughts about her entering his mind, to the smile she wore when he stepped across his threshold, and the way she said his goddamned name, it was all enough to make him want to combust. To burst out of his skin, transforming into something or someone else entirely. A person that fully accepted that there were no more restraints on their lives, that they was no more fear and no more betrayal. Someone that was completely in control, and free to take what was theirs. And so he did.

It was painful, almost, the first time he kissed her. The second time even more so. By the third time, coupled with the question of her tongue prodding at his bottom lip, Han Seo had shedded the last of his previous being. He cupped her face, thumbs toying with her curled sideburns as he consumed her. Quiet whimpers made way for desperate cries, shivers were replaced by the searing heat of skin on skin.

The high he’d chased fruitlessly so many times throughout his life was finally achieved with his arms wrapped tightly around her, their bodies pressed together as she shuddered and sighed his name. He was in disbelief that what he had experienced was real, so he chased it again and again, receiving the same result each time his sweat slicked forehead bowed to meet hers.

Han Seo would learn that it could be obtained outside of that space they filled with the tangible evidence of their desire. It was also in buying melon flavored ice pops to eat in the park together on sunny days. The look on Vincenzo and Cha Young’s face when he timidly made the introduction. Her expression when she took her first bite of Hee Soo’s tteokbokki. When Mr. Nam and her had an hour long debate on which shade of red made the most realistic fake blood color. The flashing Best Chairman Ever coming from her phone when Babel secured their biggest deal yet without any dirty deals behind the scenes.

That feeling, one that outshone the other by such a long shot that it was nearly eradicated, had been there all along in the life he’d made. She just helped him see it.

#*throws this and runs to take my dog for a walk*#jang han seo #vincenzo #fics.n

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into-the-afterlife · 3 years

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Why I Ship Johnny/Female V: Part 2

[Part 1] [Part 2]

This is Part 2 of my essay series on why I ship Johnny and female V. Back in part 1, I covered why I ship female V specifically with Johnny and not male V, as well as some thoughts on Johnny’s sexuality. This time, I’m looking at Johnny himself. (Content warning: there is some discussion of rape and how rape is handled in fiction.)

Johnny, ambiguity and age-old romantic tropes

Look, I’m just going to come out and say this: part of my interest in this ship is thirsting over Johnny. And when I’m interested in something, whether it’s an intellectual, creative or sexual interest, I like to do what I always do – analyse it to death. So what is it about the actor, the performance and the character that makes Johnny as attractive as he is?

Keanu Reeves himself, obviously, can’t be ignored here. He has a gorgeous face and voice, but crucially, he’s distinctively beautiful. Obviously, everyone has the right to be into what they’re into, and I don’t want to shame anyone for their tastes. But I do not understand people who are into the blandly beautiful. Sure, there’s nothing wrong about, let’s say, Chris Evans. But what’s right about him? Where are the snags that catch your attention and hold it? Where’s the life?

Reeves, meanwhile, is attractive because he’s unusual. He has long, dark hair, but he’s regularly photographed at public events with it mussed-up. He has a chiselled face, but his cheekbones are high enough that he looks alien. He has all the charisma of any Hollywood actor, but, whether this is him as he is or an especially well-calculated image choice, it comes off as genuine. When watching interviews with him, you feel less in the presence of a star and more an especially fascinating stranger at a party, one who, despite bursting with witticisms and stories, somehow wants to talk to you most of all.

There’s also an element of age ambiguity here. Reeves is in his fifties, and while age suits his looks better than youth did, it shows. Meanwhile, Johnny the character is in his thirties when he dies, and to match this, the animators smooth out Reeves’ face and darken his beard. They also give Johnny the (unrealistic but glorious) organic arms of a dedicated bodybuilder. So what Johnny ends up with is the presence, confidence and charisma of an older guy, combined with the physicality of someone younger. It’s potent, to say the least. It also adds to Johnny’s uncanniness as a character. He’s caught between maturity and youth, life and death, humanity and machine; he’s hard to pinpoint no matter where you look. And whether you express this academia-style, as, ‘the gothic associates uncanniness with sexuality’, or internet-style, as, ‘I’m a monster/robotfucker’, this is, as the kids say, pretty damn hot.

This uncanniness, as well as Reeves’ looks and performance, also offset some of the more unlikeable aspects of Johnny’s personality. This is best illustrated by the concept art created for Johnny before Reeves was brought on board. (Found courtesy of the lovely folks at r/LowSodiumCyberpunk.)

As you can see, they had a lot of Johnny’s look already nailed down. But this makes the differences all the more startling. This Johnny looks like he’s been dragged through the wringer. His hair is messier, and he seems to be getting premature wrinkles and balding. He’s strung-out, with a genuinely hopeless cast to his face. His look is also a lot more dated. While our Johnny has elements of the old rocker, the jean jacket, bandana, V-necked black jumper and aviators clipped to the tank top root this Johnny inescapably in 1980s music and fashion.

Why is all this relevant to shipping Johnny with V? Partially because I’m shallow, I’m not going to lie. But it’s also because making Johnny look like this would have made him much more obviously an intrusion. A guy dressed like this next to 2077’s booty shorts and space buns is like a ghost in a ballgown next to a woman in jeans. He’s not just out of time; he’s been irrevocably left behind. Johnny’s face here also has much less in the way of possibility. Where our Johnny says, ‘maybe your life would be better if you listened to me’, this Johnny screams, ‘my way is hopeless, but you can’t ignore it’. It’s leaning much more into the tragic aspects of Johnny’s character and of the genre of cyberpunk. And don’t get me wrong – I love that artwork, and think that angle would be an interesting artistic choice.

But making Johnny a tragic intrusion like this removes the element of seduction, so to speak, from his character. What makes Johnny attractive, ideologically, sexually and romantically, is a balance of certainty and uncertainty. On the surface, he’s passionately, blazingly certain of his politics, his music and himself. If you’re taking a leap of faith, whether that’s fighting against the corpos that rule your life or hopping into bed with an engram, what draws you to it is the kind of confidence that makes you doubt your own certainties. Yet too much of that can be off-putting. Nobody wants a partner who’s so cocksure (pardon the pun) that they don’t listen to what you want, and nobody wants a political ally who’s gone so far into their own rhetoric that they can’t convince those outside it.

Therefore, the common factor across all the ways Reeves’ looks impact our perception of Johnny is the balancing of two seemingly opposing things. Keep that in mind, because it only gets more relevant the deeper into this ship, and Johnny’s attractiveness, we go.

Of course, Reeves’ looks are far from the only thing he brings to the table. His acting, across body language, facial expressions and voice acting, is incredible. I want to take a look at his voice acting, as well as his voice generally, first.

I’m not familiar enough with the subtleties of American accents to pinpoint why, but Reeves’ accent sounds slightly different to the more generic accents of other famous actors. Perhaps it’s because he’s Canadian. Either way, his consonants are less harsh on the ear than other A-list actors, his vowels less elongated. He speaks slowly, sounding as if he just woke up. His voice is mellow and soothing; it’s the sort of sound you could take a bath in.

(For reference purposes, I’m listening to this Cyberpunk trailer as I write this, as well as, um, this video that I’ve watched far too many times. XD)

Obviously, to play Johnny he has to modify that laid-back aspect of his voice. But it’s interesting how his natural voice and his ‘Johnny’ voice bounce off each other. Reeves is able to pull off a much more belligerent Johnny than many actors could, precisely because of that laid-back quality his natural voice has. Think of that ‘impressive cock’ line. It’s made as funny as it is because of the total lack of shame in how Reeves delivers it. But in the mouth of an actor like, let’s say, Robert Downey Jr, that level of shamelessness would just come off as annoying. Reeves uses his natural voice to amp up Johnny’s, for lack of a better word, Chad-ness, far beyond the place another actor could manage. Because he has that base of softness, he can go hard on Johnny’s arrogance.

Why is this relevant to Johnny’s attractiveness as a character, as well as why Johnny/F!V are a fascinating ship? To develop a character well, you have to have an extremely solid base to start on – and that base is where a lot of writing and acting falls down. The audience has to know intimately what a character is usually like, or who they seem to be, before burrowing into the character further is made effective. That equal hard/soft approach means that when Johnny does soften later in the game, it seems both unexpected and inevitable. Even as the harsh tone and words were conveying one thing, that softness underneath was always conveying another. But the fact that Reeves can go hard on the arrogance makes that change much more impactful than it would be in another character. Once again, we’re seeing an equal balance of two seemingly opposing qualities, not openly leaning towards one or the other.

There’s also some aspects of the body language Reeves and the animators give to Johnny I’d like to focus in on. While I’m not an actor, nor am I a psychologist, and therefore am likely to have missed things, there were a few things I noticed when going through footage of Johnny in pivotal scenes. (If you spot something I haven’t talked about, please reply or reblog! I’d love to get a back-and-forth discussion going.)

Over and over again, Johnny’s body language has two layers. There’s what I’m calling the ‘douchebag’ layer, which is where Johnny seems insultingly relaxed. The scene when V and Johnny first meet, as well as the scene at the diner, have two great examples of this. Johnny gets into V’s space, but it’s slow, catlike. There’s no urgency when he leans in, nor when he stands over V.

Similarly, at the diner, he tells V he doesn’t want to kill her anymore – something pivotally important for their relationship and the plot - while putting his arms behind his head and his feet up on the table. It communicates, at least on the surface, a real sense of disrespect. ‘I don’t give a shit’, says his posture, ‘whether you hate and fear me or not’. His threatening slowness when they first meet, meanwhile, communicates that he doesn’t think V is a competent opponent. Why should he hurry if he can get her any time?

At least, that’s what it looks like. Take a look from 9:40 onwards here. Sure, he swings his legs up on the table – but not before hurrying into the diner booth and tapping his fingers rapidly on the table. Even when he gets into that relaxed posture, he’s bouncing his leg the entire time. Those catlike movements I talked about when they first meet? If you look from 5:42 here, they’re there. But they’re also interspersed with banging his head incessantly against the wall, pacing back and forth and glitching unpredictably all around the room.

This is where the second layer of Johnny’s body language comes in. Underneath all that casual condescension, he communicates constant, frenetic energy, even anxiety. Even in his default, idle animations, it’s extremely rarely that Johnny communicates real coolness and calm. He covers constantly racing thoughts and feelings with a slick persona.

What this does is very like the hard/soft balance of the voice acting I talked about earlier. Because the ‘douchebag’ layer of body language is the most obvious one, you pick up on that first. But the other layer is there throughout Johnny’s entire arc, and it goes into your brain on a much more subconscious level. Then, when Johnny’s guard does come down, it seems like a natural development of his character while still being a surprise. Once again, there’s that knife-edge balance between two disparate qualities. And for me, attraction always lies in the space between.

There’s also something highly sexual about the way he gets into V’s space when they first meet, the way he stands over her. When first playing the scene where they first meet, it felt like watching the moments before an act of rape. You see him first as he leans over you while you’re still in bed. He beats you to the ground, smashes your head into the window, and towers over you while you’re collapsed on the floor. Given the context of him taking over your body, the overtones are unmistakeable.

But again, crucially, that frantic body language and his lines are the complete opposite of how someone behaves when making the kind of power play that rape is. The pacing, the panicked words and the fact that he’s caught off guard all communicate disempowerment. While it’s still a violent, frightening scene, it’s not a monstrous one.

Why is that relevant to discussing Johnny’s attractiveness, and Johnny/V? Because rape fantasies and male domination are some of the oldest tropes in the book for M/F romantic arcs. Done properly, they play on desires of sexual submission without explicitly acknowledging the kink, depict the eroticism of that liminal space between humanity and monstrosity I talked about earlier and allow you to fantasise about being deeply wanted. Of course, that last bit isn’t a factual depiction of rape in real life. But in the fantasy, the story, the idea of being ravished is partially about being special, being so uniquely attractive that the guy loses all control of himself. If you have a more conservative or repressed view of your sexuality, the ravishment/rape fantasy also allows you to fantasise about sex without seeing yourself as a slut. (This post is a great look at that last idea as applied to the movie Labyrinth, if you want to find out more.)

The idea of sexualised monstrosity is also everywhere in the tropes used to characterise Johnny. He’s a troubled rockstar, an angst-ridden artist who died tragically young, a violent political rebel, part human and part supernatural creature, a charismatic, cocky, seemingly heartless guy, who just might have a heart if you look deep enough. What all these tropes have in common is the promise of both reassuring humanity and fascinating, exciting monstrosity.

Reeves’ and Johnny’s looks combine strangeness and humanity. Reeves’ voice acting moves between soaring arrogance and languid softness. Johnny’s body language combines fear and overconfidence. And the use of age-old romantic tropes in an unexpected context, as well as the use of these specific romantic tropes, knit all the effects of the other things together to create that balance between the human and the strange. He’s unusual enough to be interesting, human enough to seem real and associated with all our cultural symbolism of an attractive man. With all that going on, how could you not find him hot as hell?

But the thing about these tropes is, they’re also so common they’re clichéd. Not just in fandom, but all across Western media and art. So what lifts Johnny and Johnny/V out of being something generic? What makes them so fascinating that I’ve written thousands of words about them? What, in short, makes them different?

That’s what I’ll go into next time.

[Part 1] [Part 2]

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honestgrins · 3 years

Note

could you do a continuation of chapter 29/49??

I'm glad you liked Reflection and Retribution, but I think I'm done with that universe. Could I interest you in Private Investigator!Caroline hired to infiltrate a criminal organization instead?

Also, many thanks to @recyclingss for being a kind ear and a supportive voice as I try to find my writing groove again. Thanks for the love, lovely (and sorry it’s not a new chapter of Burned)!!

Wanted || Klaroline

A squeak of hinges was all she had in the way of warning. Hurrying to tuck the files she'd been snooping through back into their respective cabinets, Caroline needed an excuse for her presence in the boss's office - and she needed one fast.

To give herself a bit more time, she slipped into the private bathroom. Her purse was lighter than her usual go-bag for an investigation, but that was the peril of working undercover. She shuffled through it anyway, only to find the makeup she needed to reapply between shifts, her wallet, car keys, and Taser. Fortunately, she had learned to be resourceful, and a plan quickly formed with what she had.

Unfortunately, the plan could go very wrong. As footsteps sounded through the door, however, her time to improvise had run out. Slathering on a fresh layer of lipstick for luck, Caroline fluffed her hair and made her presence known. "Sorry to intrude, Mr. Mikaelson, I just— Who the hell are you?”

Her winning smile had fallen flat at the stranger making eyes down the line of her mostly bare leg. True, the outfit had been meant to draw attention, but he wasn't her intended target. She'd been expecting the fastidious Elijah Mikaelson, with perfectly tailored suits and a too polite charm that just screamed serial killer underneath. This guy was far messier with untidy curls and the paint-splattered jeans. Cute, though. And that smirk.

"Mr. Mikaelson," he answered cheekily, "but please, call me Klaus." Making himself a drink from the bar cart, he poured a second glass for her. His brow arched when she refused. "Come to ask favors of the boss, but you won't drink his liquor. I assure you, he only buys the good stuff."

"I'm fine, thanks." She narrowed her gaze as he draped himself over one of the armchairs, giving her another appreciative look. "I thought the brother's name was Kol?"

His nose scrunched. "Unfortunately, there are five Mikaelson brothers. A sister, too. Nosy for a dancer, aren't you? Most of those 'Lijah keeps on the roster know to mind their business."

A mild panic took over; she was usually better at playing it cool. Now, she was going to get busted for asking too many questions. If she couldn't handle the unexpected brother, she really had no chance at taking on the mob boss himself. "Not a dancer yet," Caroline answered, aiming for sheepish with her hands tucked into the tight back pockets of her shorts. "I'm just a waitress until a stage shift opens up."

Ideally, she would be long gone before that happened, if only to avoid breaking an ankle in the heels. Not even her most rigorous pageant training could have prepared her for the skill those things took to work. That, and she needed to tidy up this case fast to get Damon Salvatore off her speed dial. And Stefan - she never would have accepted the job had he not played the friend card. Her only solace was the fact they agreed to double her usual rate for a job like this.

The tips were pretty great, too. Even just waitressing had earned her some nice spending money to splurge on clothes and pampering. Had the high-end strip club not been a front for Elijah Mikaelson to launder his ill-gotten gains, she might seriously consider moonlighting once the gig was over.

With the way the boss’s brother was eyeing her, though, that might happen sooner than she’d like. It wouldn’t do to get found out before she could track down what Damon asked her to find, and she did not relish the idea of handing back the hefty check he’d already given. Bristling, she crossed her arms, hoping to annoy him off the scent of her subterfuge. “Can I help you?”

Klaus, however, seemed unperturbed by her attitude. “If it’s better pay you’re after, I might have an opportunity for you.” When she gave an outraged splutter, he merely waved her off. “Not quite what you’re thinking, love, though I apologize for any offense. I’m in the market for a new model.”

“For your burgeoning porn empire? No, thanks.”

“I’m an artist, I would like to paint you,” he clarified with a wry grin. Leaning forward on his knees, he lowered his voice as though letting her in on a secret. “Any wardrobe choices — or lack thereof — would be entirely up to you.”

Sensing his interest wasn’t entirely aesthetic, Caroline figured she might as well learn what she could from the cad. “Don’t try to play me. The girls at the club talk, you know. I heard a rumor the Mikaelsons were, like, connected. The whole starving artist thing doesn’t really add up, so I’ll pass.”

Again, his gaze focused on her in an assessing way, lips still curled up. He took the bait. This was almost too easy. “I do alright, family connections aside,” he joked. “Perhaps you’d like to see some of my work...” Trailing off, he left her with an expectant look.

She pretends to cover a flattered expression with irritation. “Candy.”

“And if I were to check Elijah’s meticulous hiring paperwork?”

A beat passed. “Candice,” she relented with a sigh, reminding herself to buy Bonnie something gorgeous to thank her for crafting a bulletproof identity, complete with an otherwise authentic Social Security card and active social media accounts. “Candice Moore.”

That smirk of his spread to a full smile, and she was a bit stunned to see the utter delight on his face. “Funny,” he said, standing to move closer. Without meaning to, she swayed toward him in return, only to catch herself when he gave a teasing tug to her tousled braid. All her attention snapped to the mere foot between them, then to the intense blue of his eyes. "You look more like a Caroline to me."

Rearing back, she blindly reached into her bag. But Klaus was calm and collected as he plucked the Taser from her grasp. "Now, no need to panic, Ms. Forbes. I merely want to talk."

"Bullshit," she huffed. "How—”

He sat back in his chair, watching her with obvious amusement. "You're good. The cover might have worked had your application not been flagged by my security team. Don't feel bad, they're very thorough.”

The pieces were falling into place faster than she realized they were even missing. Unfortunately, she couldn't make herself focus past the first big answer. She finally took the drink he'd poured for her and downed it in one gulp. More potent than she thought, her voice was hoarse after a bracing cough. "Your security team."

His smirk was positively evil. "You seemed determined to learn the particulars of my organization, sweetheart, though I'm sorry to disappoint that Elijah's file cabinet wasn't able to satisfy your...professional curiosity. I, however, am more than interested in your questions."

With a snap of his fingers, the office door squeaked, and Caroline caught only a peek of the guard she hadn't even noticed lurking outside before the lock clicked into place. Alone with an underground kingpin without a weapon, she fell back into the other chair like the sitting duck she was. "I don't suppose I could distract you by accepting the modeling offer," she tried with a weak laugh.

Ever the surprise, he chuckled with her. "Always. But if you tell me what I want to know, I can offer you a far more lucrative employment. Good private eyes are hard to find, and you're the first to get this far without ruffling feathers."

"I ruffled yours, didn't I?"

If his smirk was evil, his bright smile was disarming. "Who hired you? I believe I owe them a nice thank you for this introduction."

Caroline watched him carefully, confused at the game he was playing. "My clients pay for results and discretion," she answered politely. "If you were to secure my services, with a healthy retainer fee—"

"Of course."

"—I would promise you the same. Unfortunately," she sighed with a pout, "I think this little mishap constitutes a conflict of interest. But thank you for your interest in Forbes Investigations. Can I go now?"

He leaned forward on his knees, his hands folded in front of him. "You know, I might be of some help to your current clients. Were I to assist in your investigation, there would be no conflict at all. The opposite, in fact."

Chewing her lip in thought, she shook her head and decided to cut her losses. "It has nothing to do with the business, not really," she promised. "I've been tasked with finding someone, someone I thought your brother might be supporting with some creative accounting. That's all."

"Don't tell me," Klaus groaned. "Katerina conned your clients then clawed her way back into Elijah's good graces to hide from the consequences of her own actions."

She scoffed. "Says the guy who lets the world think his brother is a criminal mastermind while he's pulling the strings behind the scenes."

Smirking, he didn't seem offended in the slightest. "Elijah's better with paperwork, but his decision-making is unreliable. I think Katerina is example enough of that."

"Fair." Caroline only met her once, but everything she had learned since Damon hired her painted quite the picture. That, and the fact she all but disappeared after he gave her an heirloom engagement ring, despite the fact she was openly gunning for Stefan throughout their entire relationship. "But it sounds like this was a surprise to you, too, so you probably can't be of much help to me in finding her."

"Reverse psychology is beneath you," he flirted. "And I've already offered to help. You're the one being stubborn."

With a roll of her eyes, she finally stood to pour herself another drink. "Yeah, I'm the stubborn one. You probably have a hundred investigators already on staff. What do you want with little, old me?"

He just smiled. "You want my secrets, you'll have to earn them, love. Now, do we have a deal?"

Oh, she was going to regret this; if only she wasn't so damn intrigued. Draining her glass, she set it on the table between them with a thunk before stretching out her hand. "Deal."

Klaus shook her hand with a firm grip, the contact distracting to say the least. Then, he just had to open his mouth. "The modeling job is a standing offer, by the way."

"Good to know."

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #fic: wanted #anon anon #to rely on the kindness of strangers #miss me?

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dourpeep · 3 years

Text

Some indulgent college student Albedo hc’s because I too, am an exhausted college student. There may be a part 2 later on because this is kinda long, we'll see...

I even cut out a ton because I got carried away with the experiments oifhiehf but also feel free to guess what's based off what I do as a science major

Contains: description of experiments in biology that deal with deceased animals (brief), mention of dry heaving (brief), bugs (caterpillar)

While I do like art student Albedo, I can't help but apply my past knowledge with double majoring in biology + chemistry...

Ironically, though he really would be the Exhausted College Student aesthetic

For lecture days, he comes to class with bed hair (not the pretty kind, either) and glasses perched on his nose, wearing pajama pants

Except the days where he's dressed in nice jeans and a sweater (naturally, non-synthetic fibers due to the amount of time he spends in the labs), his lab coat very neatly kept in his backpack

It's extremely likely that he's that one student that's taking 18 hours worth of classes per semester which does and doesn't work out

Exceptionally smart, he's able to handle all the class load effortlessly and does really well in all the classes he takes...

But, on the flip side, he rarely gets a full night's rest and he lives in the research section of the library and the chem lab

Well versed in lab safety because he's dropped his fair share of test tubes, burettes and (very unfortunately) reaction flasks...luckily he had an ample amount of financial aid left over to pay for the equipment without making too much of a dent

Speaking of chemistry, his absolute favorite of experiments are titration labs and conducting qualitative analysis of an unknown solution

Titrations don't require too much effort save for ensuring you're only dropping a single drop of reactant to your solution and keeping track of how many milliliters you've dropped

It's relaxing, easy, and very pleasing to watch the color of your solution change

Also swirling liquid goes brrrrrrr

Similarly, those qualitative analysis labs are just as exciting

This is usually what most college students dread over due to how time consuming it is, but there's something entirely relaxing in going through the process of determining each possible reagent

Especially once you get towards the more difficult bits

Despite this being his favorite, there's definitely a special kind of frustration that occurs when, 3/4ths through you realize you messed up early on and have to restart with a fresh batch of that unknown solution

Yeah...

Anyway, he's the student that will get through the process quickly (almost inhumanly so) and finish the whole lab in about 40 minutes including downtime waiting for the solution to heat up properly

But, as always, he's also the last to leave because he'll go around and help any of his peers if they're stuck or just need a trustworthy assistant

With biology, he appreciates the change in pace of observational study versus the hands-on application of chemistry

You know how you need to doodle out an approximate of what you're studying either as an example or diagram?

That's where his artistic side come out

He has somewhat messy handwriting, but the accompanying drawings of specimen are incredible

Detailed, concise, and labeled immaculately

You can tell that he likes identifying types of plants because his notebook is filled with outside observations of the plant life around campus

Albedo also does well with dissections

Quick to pick up on correct placements and identifying the sex characteristics if necessary, any student who's grouped with him will leave that day's lab with excellent notes and a full understanding of the specimen studied

But the smell of the preserving formaldehyde...is definitely one he had to get used to

Let's just say that for one of the larger lifeform dissections he had to periodically leave the class dry heaving and tears streaming down his cheeks

Anyway, a few big gulps of fresh, outside air later, he's back in the lab and sketching out the specimen diagram for the assignment

Another thing that he's definitely glad for is the local butterfly population

Though their lives are short, it gives him a chance to inspect the plant life all over campus for any sign of caterpillars or the very small eggs on the tops and bottoms of leaves

With the permission of the dean, he carefully gathers a few specimen and takes them home to observe the butterfly life cycle

It's interesting to him, to see how the little creatures consume so much and spend about two weeks encased in a pretty little chrysalis to emerge as a physically different organism

It's also funny to see Albedo out and about looking for the little beings because sometimes he'll be laying flat on the concrete walkway searching under leaves or halfway in a bush trying to reach a chrysalis hanging on the wall behind it

MOVING ON

Commonly, he'll have enough time between class for a nap

Albedo isn't particularly picky about his sleeping places, so he'll lay on one of the benches beneath a large tree, head on his backpack and arm draped over his eyes while he catches up on much needed sleep

He also will sleep in one of the library's many many (very comfortable) armchairs while trying to skim through a reference book of his choice

Despite his odd mannerisms, he's viewed as exceptionally attractive

He's intelligent, observant, kind, and handsome

Even with his bed head and rumpled pajamas, he has his fair share of fans

But he's also a bit dense

He's so used to helping people with class assignments and tutoring that if anyone asks him to hang out, he'll assume it's for that

Especially because it's commonplace to study at the local cafe

--that's it for headcanons for now iaehfieh

#peep peep #albedo #genshin impact albedo #genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #college au #college student albedo #adventures in college #albedo headcanons

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nbrook29 · 3 years

Note

11 goofy kiss pls<33

4, 7 for Sobbe omg👀💫👀💫 your talent kgnfjfnlfkf ...

Can you do 15 or 20? Or both for sobbe

Sooo this isn't really on the list of prompts but maybe you could write something about Robbe being totally obsessed with Sander's pouty bottom lip - whenever he sees it he has to pounce on it and kisses/bites/touches/pulls on it. Sander is either turned into a wreck or he teasingly indulges Robbe's obsession

Hi! :)

based on But do you REALLY want the K?

Goofy kiss + Eyelid kiss + Distract kiss + Shut up kiss + Asker’s Choice

In hindsight, Robbe should have seen it coming.

When his school announced that they had received funding to organize free 6-month workshops for their students and local college students after hours, it got his interest right away. Especially when it turned out that the offered courses focused on more niche subjects.

Robbe has always felt some inexplicable fascination with Scandi culture, Norwegian in particular. In fact, ever since he discovered the multiverse theory he’s been half-convinced there must be a Norwegian version of him existing somewhere out there, which would explain this unusual interest of his.

So when he was scanning the list of available courses and his eyes caught Norwegian 101, his heart beat a little faster and he giddily signed up right away.

And then Sander signed up too, claiming that a) if there’s a Norwegian version of Robbe there must be a Norwegian version of Sander too, thank you very much, so it is his duty to learn a little bit of his alter ego’s language, and b) it’s going to be a perfect opportunity for them to make up for the fact that they didn’t experience being in high school together. He’s always all pouty when he talks about it, mourning all those lost opportunities of them making out against a window sill in biology classroom or having secret meetings in the bathroom during class and demands compensation in the form of extra long makeout sessions in Robbe’s bed.

Robbe doesn’t exactly mind, neither the joint classes nor kissing the pout away, which always effectively shuts him up. Quite the contrary actually. Ever since Sander texted him a screenshot of the participants list with DRIESEN SANDER under D, he’s been all hyped up at the prospect of the two of them studying together.

His friends don’t exactly understand why he’s willing to spend his free time in their school building but at least Yasmina shows interest in the workshops as well, signing up for a few, Norwegian included.

He and Sander are the first ones to arrive to the Monday session, and when Sander notices that the classroom is still empty he wiggles his eyebrows grinning at Robbe cheekily, spins him around in a swift move and pins him to the window sill, his hands going around his thighs to make him sit down on it.

“Is this everything you dreamed about and more?” Robbe chuckles at the delighted look on Sander’s face, legs snaking around his waist to hold him tighter.

“Yes, I got you right where I want you,” he replies smugly and doesn’t wait another second before pressing a tiny kiss to his lips, then another one, and another, until Robbe makes a soft noise of protest making Sander finally give in and kiss him properly, dipping his tongue past his lips in no time. Robbe lets one of his hands slip down, making his path down his back over the black denim jacket, stopping barely above Sander’s belt, and then without second-guessing himself goes down even lower to give his butt a firm squeeze, because it’s just so... deliciously squeezable.

They only break apart when they hear someone clearing their throat and when Robbe catches the sight of Yasmina regarding them with amusement, he quickly disentangles himself from Sander, wiping at his mouth with poorly hidden embarrassment. Sander is unfazed, as always, turning around with a swagger and shooting Yasmina one of his most charming smiles. She’s not a sucker for it though, contrary to Robbe, so she just fondly rolls her eyes shaking her head at their antics.

The classroom starts to fill in quickly after and before they realize the only empty seats left are placed in the back. Only Yasmina manages to snatch herself one closer to the front. Sander graciously allows Robbe to take the only unoccupied spot in the sixth row and he himself marches over to row eight.

The first hour and a half flies by and Robbe is having more fun than he anticipated. The teacher, Vilde, is young, she’s quirky in that positive way and her approach to the subject differs from what Robbe is used to during his regular classes.

He takes notes diligently and tries to participate as much as possible but he struggles with pronunciation when asked for reading a few words out loud. When Vilde asks Sander to read them, he does it with flying colors, the jerk, and the girl is so impressed that she calls him a natural, praising his perfect pronunciation of “engelsk” and “kjole” while smiling a bit too much and too wide at him. In Robbe’s humble opinion.

Once she goes back to writing on the board, he turns around to see Sander giving him a shit-eating grin so he does the only right thing in this situation and sticks his tongue out at him.

They are two hours in when Robbe gets hit in the ear with a small paper ball which then lands perfectly in the middle of his notebook. He throws a glance at the obvious suspect but Sander seems to be deep into copying the grammar rules from the board to his MacBook.

His elegant handwriting gives him away though.

Du er digg 🖤

Vilde mentioned that last word just five minutes ago, more as a fun fact than anything else but of course Sander caught and remembered it.

He’s fighting against the beaming smile that threatens to take over his face because he doesn’t want to look like a lunatic to everybody around. Sander isn’t bothered by things like that though so when Robbe looks at him again he’s resting his chin on his hand, staring at him unabashedly with a grin of his own as he notices the flush on Robbe’s cheeks.

He tells him as quietly as he can to quit distracting him to which Sander raises his arms in surrender and with a feigned-serious expression busies himself with the given exercise. If Robbe then tucks the note into the back of his notebook no one needs to know.

Not even a full five minutes pass when another paper ball lands on his desk. Robbe heaves a long-suffering sigh and raises his eyes to the heavens because yes, now he has to deal with a rebel of a boyfriend.

When he straightens out the note, he snorts.

Do you like me?

Circle YES or NO

🖤

Seems like Sander is having lots of fun acting out this high school romance fantasy.

He decides to indulge him and reaches for a red ink pen to circle YES. Then, he adds a bunch of crooked hearts (because he’s not the artist in this relationship) on a whim. Once he makes sure Vilde isn’t looking in their direction, he throws the note back to Sander, but not without catching the disapproving look from Yasmina who rolls her eyes so hard Robbe is surprised they aren’t stuck. He just shrugs at her without remorse.

Sander opens the paper ball as delighted as a child opening their Christmas gift and when he sees the answer he pretends to swoon in his chair, blowing him a long kiss from above his notes.

“Sander, I think you should be paying attention.” Vilde’s reproach pulls Robbe from gazing at his boyfriend like a love-struck puppy and he immediately shoots him a cheeky grin because it’s just really satisfying to watch him being scolded by a teacher.

“Yes, yes, you’re right,” Sander clears his throat as he straightens on his chair before he glances at his laptop and adds with a smirk, “Or, rather, Du har rett, Vilde.”

Then he winks at her and his confident demeanor clearly succeeds to appease her because she starts to wax lyrical about his oh so amazing pronunciation again.

Ugh. What a show off.

Though, Robbe has to admit that it sounds kinda hot when he speaks Norwegian but it’s not like he’s going to go and tell him that. Instead, he reaches for his phone to shoot him a quick text.

R: You’re such a teacher’s pet oh my god

R: Also stop flirting with her, she’s seconds away from swooning

S: Are we jealous?

R: Yes, very, I’m worried you’re gonna run away to norway with her and have viking children together 🤭

S: 😘

There is no bell signaling the end of the class but at 17:15 Vilde thanks them for today’s lesson and everybody starts to pack and gradually leave. Robbe is shoving his stuff into his backpack when he feels fingers in his hair pulling his head back without real force to angle it better. Then, Sander places a big loud smooch on his lips making him giggle and swipe at him lightly.

“You’re such a dork.”

He reaches to put the strands hanging over his forehead back in their place, scratching at his scalp a little and when Sander leans into the touch, closing his eyes with a pleased purr, he stands on his tiptoes and presses a tiny kiss to his left eyelid, which earns him one of Sander’s sweetest smiles.

Once his bag is packed, they leave the classroom with their index fingers entwined, swaying their hands a little as they walk. “So, did you like that class?”

Sander nods. “Yeah, it was cool. You?”

“You know, I thought those three hours are gonna be a bitch but it was actually pretty fucking nice.”

Sander pushes his tongue in his cheek, wiggling his eyebrows at him. “And did you like my notes?”

Robbe pretends to scrunch up his face, trying not to laugh at Sander’s offended huff. “Hey! Well, okay then, if you’re like that I’m not gonna send you any next time.”

He juts out his bottom lip and honestly, it’s Robbe’s kryptonite, and he’s long made peace with a fact that he’s weirdly obsessed with it; it’s just so plush and enticing and he has spent hours upon hours kissing and biting it, the fact that it made Sander go weak in the knees for him an additional bonus.

So Robbe uses it against him to distract him from pouting, and this time it’s him who pushes Sander against the wall close to the school exit. He pulls their bodies together, delighted at the surprised hitch in Sander’s breath when he sticks out his tongue to drag it along his bottom lip, pulling it with his teeth to nip it a little, to then soothe the sting with his tongue again. He can feel his ministrations are starting to work and with each second Sander is turning into a pile of goo in his arms.

A voice in the back of his head tells him the school corridor is probably not the best place for this so he eventually pulls back and drags him away from the wall to the school yard. Sander follows him but not without half-hearted protests that stop only when Robbe kisses him hard to shut him up in the middle of the school yard.

“Come on, there’s a bed in my room with our names on it and my mom works until 20 tonight.”

“Is there a shower with our names on it too?”

“If you’re good,” Robbe pretends to think about it, “then I guess that can be arranged.”

#wtfock #wtfock fanfic

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ellewords · 3 years

Note

(not me reading this back and thinking you could make a drinking game out of this ask because of how many times i say “because” lmaooooo)

i’ve never actually seen wgm but i really love the idea of hinata being on the show, because i feel like he would be so starry-eyed the entire time. literal ✨👄✨ at everything because he’s never thought about what being married would be like and now suddenly he gets to experience it??!!?! he fumbles through all of it, and the fans love him for it because a lot of the other participants seem so smooth and suave, but not with hinata! he blurts his thoughts out as they come, he’s clumsy in situations that would normally require him to be put-together, he makes a huge deal out of every little thing. the first time his partner brought him a bouquet of flowers, hinata literally turns bright red and starts rambling so fast the audio just barely picks it up—

“you didn’t have to but that was really nice of you, i’ll get you something next time, hey, the flowers smell sweet, oh no, that’s actually you, you smell so nice, have you always smelt that way, you should definitely tell me what body spray you use because i might just have to get some of that—“

and the fans eat it up. and so does their partner who absolutely adores him even if hinata doesn’t quite get/see it.

i feel like it would also be hilarious if the partner was someone who isn’t necessarily the biggest (by choice, they don’t want to be in the spotlight all that much) but because of a really big project they have out soon, their team thinks they should get some of that pr. maybe a painter or a sculpture? one that has gotten a lot of attention as of late because their art is a little controversial/suggestive but has somehow managed to keep most of the media on the actual art and not on themself. they come off as really shy and recluse, but the second they get on the show, hinata brings them out of their shell, and that makes the fans like them even more. they love getting to see the artist behind everything and they especially love seeing how their artist brain translates into the real world. and just the idea of hinata being the kind of person who would be able to make even the most introverted person go a little crazy is something i think would be hilarious on reality tv.

anyway, hinata gets a lot smoother as they continue on, and it absolutely floors the fans because he’s so different from when he started. he holds his partner’s hand like it’s nothing, he says super sweet things without missing a beat, he holds eye contact without looking like he’s trying to win some unproclaimed competition. but he doesn’t realize he’s doing it, and the partner is too nervous that he’ll get weird about it to say anything.

by the end of their time on the show, fans can see how deflated the partner is even though they’re really good at hiding it still, and hinata is off too, but he can’t tell why. he is still chipper and all over the place, and the partner is still more open and engaging, but their energy is off. hinata chalks it up to them going to miss the time they shared together, but even that doesn’t feel quite right.

after they leave the show, hinata is super excited to see that the partner has started doing more community stuff (charities where they show up in person, giving art classes to people that donate certain amounts to organizations and projects that they support, going out in public and doing sketches/paintings of people on the street for reference later and recording tiny interviews with them as they do it to make a new documentary of the process or something). he gushes about it all over his social medias and anywhere else he can get someone to listen because they don’t have the time to actually ever meet up with the way their schedules are. he even starts posting behind-the-scenes clips that he had taken (with the permission of the partner) to engage with both parts of their fan bases.

and the partner does the same for hinata. they do a bunch of pieces of the jackals and sells them to get both of their communities involved and supporting them even if they can’t go to the actual games. their instagram is flooded with designs of new projects for them and even more of them of just hinata, all of which have captions that target just hinata (“wow, my ex-husband is so fine 🥵” “that’s your man? mhm! look at him! yeah, that’s mine” and other stupid, cheesy ones that make the fans feral because damn, they really have come out of their shell, huh?!)

the internet loves it, and they love even more that hinata seems to become the person at the beginning of the show all over again, flustered and a mess and tripping over his feet. a new hashtag starts because of it about the two of them being in love still (as a joke) and people upload some of their favorite moments of the pair together. when hinata sees it, he tries to play it off (horribly) but when he finally gets to talk to their partner about it, there’s a calmness in their voice that eases him just a little bit, and suddenly he’s aware of why exactly leaving felt so wrong.

this got a little sidetracked, but i don’t even mind, lololol. also, i definitely need to check out the show after this because i love the fake dating/marriage idea. thanks for putting me on to it! make sure to drink water, have a snack if you haven’t eaten in a bit, and take deep breaths! -🌙

— from elle ! okay but hinata and a painter/artist!partner is literally such an amazing idea to dive into, this now lives in my head and i will continue thinking about it for days on end. i absolutely love everything that you’ve sent aaa i’m actually screaming, i had a difficult time picking which part of your hc to focus on bec so many things popped into my head. but i ended up choosing to kind of pick up where you left off for my little addition (under the cut as usual) tysm for this 🌙 anon ! take care <3

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

hinata’s blush grows redder every second he spent staring at his phone, his twitter mentions filled with photos, edits, and even fanmade animations of the two of you. your shipname was trending again, all after you posted a rare photo of yourself in msby merch. you looked cute, that much was evident to hinata. then again, he always thought of you as cute — from the second you walked into set, all shy and nervous, from the minute you left it, your arms wrapped wrapped around his neck. why was he acting like this? filming had ended months ago; he’d grown more confident around you, hadn’t he?

your name flashed across his phone screen, interrupting his train of thought — you were calling him. his heart beat sped up, fingertips immediately moving towards the ‘answer’ button.

“hey shoyo!” you greeted, enthusiasm very much evident in your voice, “did you see the picture i just posted?”

“i did! um...you look great.” he mumbled, unsure if you had heard him, heat continuing to rush towards the apples of his cheeks.

“thanks!” he hears your chuckling from the other end of the line, and a small part of his mind convinces himself that you were somehow teasing him. “you’re coming tomorrow, right?”

“what’s tomorrow?”

“my photo exhibit, silly.”

ah, that. hinata could imagine you shaking your head, biting your lip as you attempt not to burst out into laughter at his cluelessness. the beating of his heart is more rapid now, thinking of how you anticipated his answer, how you wanted him to be there. “i was only kidding, of course i’ll be there.”

“sure,” you replied like you didn’t really believe him, “i’ll see you then.”

—

hinata was the one who convinced you to get into photography. truthfully, you wanted to try and exploring other mediums beside your usual set of paint and pencils.

“maybe i should try taking photos.” you joked, gently nudging his shoulders as the two of you browsed various film cameras. the crew had taken a brief break from filming, but you and hinata still wanted to continue exploring the various antique shops that lined the street.

“go for it!” he replied without missing a single beat, quickly rattling off a list of potential subjects, “you can take photos of plants, or maybe animals, really pretty scenery...it’s not even going to matter because i know you’ll end up taking really amazing photos.”

and when hinata insisted that he pay for the camera you chose, you decide on a subject.

the gallery is empty. well, at least the reception area is.

hinata’s dressed in his finest button-down and slacks, black dress shoes clicking against the white granite tiles. the receptionist directs him to the floor where your exhibition is meant to be held — right at the very top.

his brows furrow, there should be more people here. photographers, critics, fans even. he should’ve been greeted by reporters, by the surely hundreds of people all excited to see your work. you had only grown in popularity since your appearance on wgm, the number of people going to your exhibits only ever increasing. he should know, hinata’s been to every single one over the course of the show’s run. he knew what to expect. and it was certainly not this.

the elevator dings, indicating that he had reached the top floor. still, not a single person there. the frown on his face only deepens. hinata catches a glimpse of the exhibition’s title, “beyond the cameras: a retrospective”

the glass door is unlocked, hinata pushes through them only to be greeted with pictures of the last subject he expected: himself.

framed on the white walls of what possibly was tokyo’s most famous gallery were photos of him, glossy and bright, colors vivid and alluring. and they weren’t just any photos too, they were photos taken on the rare occasions wherein cameras weren’t following your every move. there were photos of him from nights he snuck you in the gym to teach you how to play volleyball, ones of him covered in paint taken in your studio, ones of him attempting to make you breakfast. all of which had him looking away from the camera.

that is until he reaches the final photo, the only one that had you in it as well, taken the night before the final day of filming. he was looking at the camera, but you were looking right at him — your gaze soft, the corners of your lips forming the smallest of smiles.

“so maybe i lied,” hinata heard a voice speak from beside him, recognizing it as yours almost immediately, “the exhibition is actually tomorrow. i just wanted you to see it first.”

“but why me?” he asked, biting the inside of his cheek.

“just because.” you shrugged, not even turning to look at him, gazing at your final photo — just like he was.

but hinata feels it, the tightening in his chest, the tension that enveloped your bodies as the two of you continued to stare straight ahead. he hears it, the ringing in his hears, the hammering of his heart, the unevenness of his breath.

you stand next to him, just a few inches separating you. hinata’s hand is drawn like a magnet to yours. at first your knuckles graze, and hinata holds his breath. then his fingertips push in between yours, you bite your lip. finally he he grasps your hand, a quiet exhale escapes you both.

you tear your eyes away from the photograph at the same time he does; your gazes meet. and just like that, you finally reach the same understanding as him, of just why leaving felt so wrong.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

a question: how would the hq boys (specifically timeskip) act on a variety show like we got married? | written on the margins masterlist

taglist : @haikyuutothetop @crystal-lilac @tobioespresso @sushijimawakatoshi @itsmeaudrieee @pantherhappy @jesssobs @mysticstrawberryballoon @cloudedsky_29

join my hq taglist here. <3

#my lil scenario ended up so long #why do i keep getting carried away im so sorry #written on the margins 🔖#hinata scenarios #hinata x reader #🎐 — 🌙anon! <3

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drjackandmissjo · 3 years

Text

it’s nice to have a friend

previous chapter --- chapter 6 --- next chapter

feysand masterlist

“church bells ring, carry me home. Rice on the ground looks like snow”

"You may kiss the bride."

Feyre had almost missed the words the priestess had said, loudly to let even those at the end of the church ear. She was too focused on gazing into his violet eyes, categorizing each silver swirl that she never managed to capture properly with her paints, to notice anything but him, anything but his strong hands intertwined in hers. His smile was blinding and threatened to completely undo her fully, yet she couldn't bring herself to care, not when his eyes glimmered in the light. She would welcome Death with open arms if it meant remaining in that moment for eternity, just the two of them.

She could feel him move, slowly tying his arms against her back, trapping her into a prison she would never willingly leave. Rhys' lips were gentle against hers and he smiled softly into the kiss, her own response suit behind. It ended way too quickly, as they both rested one against the other, noses touching lovingly. All around them joyous yellings erupted, people clapping and cheering for the newlyweds. Yet they didn't matter; all Feyre could feel was the soft texture of his suit and the warmth he spread through her with a single touch.

Someone, undoubtedly Cassian, broke their little bubble by whistling and yelling them to ' go get a room ' despite that being their wedding day and despite the kiss having been extremely soft and chaste. Rhys threw a rude gesture towards his brother standing behind him, his eyes never once leaving here, and tightened his arms around her, bringing her as close as her dress allowed. She molded against him as she sank into his lips once more, her own arms encircling his neck and bringing him down to her.

"This is what Heaven feels like" she thought smiling as he raised up in the air and swirled her around, neither caring if they hit someone, lips still connected and wishing to never be apart.

The new and unfamiliar weight on her left hand was welcomed immensely, as had been the momentary pain on her right arm a year prior, when she got herself a fully tattooed sleeve and hand in traditional Illyrian markings, claiming herself for him. She had asked Azriel for help in the translation and to accompany her, to have someone's hand to hold when the pain became unbearable. That same night Rhys had planned on proposing and she had surprised him in the best way possible. "I cannot believe you've beaten me once more!" he had lamented that night, playing with her hair as she rested against his chest, their legs tangled in the covers. "Do you mind?" she had asked, suddenly self conscious; " Not at all, Darling " came his reply, silencing as usual all her doubts.

All too soon he had put her down, hands linking in each other's. Feyre could've sworn she was glowing then, such was the happiness coursing through her veins. The reverence and love in his eyes had been enough to choke her and leave her breathless. He had looked at her in that same way during the whole ceremony, a bright grin and wet eyes as he first saw her approach from the other side of the aisle. She had barely been able to keep her own tears at bay as he turned around, perfect in the black suit with silver threads while the glowing light of the altar painted a halo around his head. Her personal angel, dressed every inch the fallen demon. She stored the memory dearly, ready to transfer it in one of her canvases that she didn't have to hide anymore. It had been an incredibly embarrassing moment for her when he found her secret stash of drawings of him. He had the most stupefied look on his face, hands shaking as he stood up and kissed there on the spot, three little words spilling of her lips freely at his reaction as he replied not even a heartbeat later, laughing and kissing her.

They both were incredibly aware of the countless eyes on them, waiting for pictures and to give their congratulations, yet they couldn't let go of each other for a second.

Mor brought them both back to reality, showing her cousin out of the way to embrace her best friend. Feyre hugged her back with fervour, both careful not to mess the make-up they had spent too long applying. When the blonde moved away, arms still around Feyre, her brown eyes were rimmed with silver that she was willing not to spill. Feyre knew she must've had a mirroring look on her own face. "Officially welcome to the family!" Mor said sweetly and that undid both: they crashed once more into each other's arms, tears falling freely.

"Mor, your mascara!" mused Feyre as she tried not to ruin her own eyes too much. Elain laughed freely at her concern, "Don't worry, it's all waterproof!" she claimed while taking her turn congratulating her younger sister. One after the other, her family and friends came closer. Rhys' mother hugged her tightly as his father whispered something to him that had left him beaming as the older man wrapped his son in a tight embrace as well.

He had walked her down the aisle as the ceremony began. Nesta was slightly offended by that, since she was promised the honour as that their own father had passed away, but she let him take her place with minimal complaining. After her own father had died four years prior, not managing to reach her birthday and let alone Christmas, Rhys' had became a solid point for her, giving suggestions and caring dearly for her. Rhys' mother had also done the same, replacing one by one the scars of neglect Feyre's own mother had left from such a young age.

Feyre couldn't do anything other than tighten her grip on that wonderful family that had welcomed her fully.

When the photographer had finished taking the pictures from the inside in all the possible angles that as an artist Feyre appreciated but as a bride she didn't mind particularly, they slowly moved on the outside of the church, the night sky gleaming above them. It hadn't been easy organizing the wedding to fit both common and Illyrian traditions, but they had managed wonderfully. The ceremony was done during the night, as the Illyrian custom demanded, and the party would happen the next evening. When Feyre had proposed the idea, her then fiancée had reacted rather vividly, leaving the actual planning for very much later, after they were both spent.

"My love" he had whispered as they exited through the main doors, shielding themselves from the rice shower that left the pavement looking like their own little snowstorm in the middle of August. The majority of their guests had enjoyed greatly the choice for a night ceremony, avoiding the summer heat as a chilled breeze washed the small square.

Feyre then smiled up at her husband, profoundly and widely, trying to convey all the love she felt for that man into the simple action.

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dangerouscommiesubversive · 4 years

Note

Can you do a , smug and mean character of your choice, Z?

Anon, did you want me to write about Sengoku Ryouma? Because this is exactly how you get Sengoku Ryouma. (Kureshima Takatora is in here too, not that he’s at all smug or mean.) Z is my choice, so

C is for colors--and, if you’d also like musical accompaniment, M is for music and “you should see me in a crown,” by Billie Eilish, is available on Spotify and YouTube.

The first time Ryouma agrees to share a meal with Takatora, he brings a sketchbook with him. He’s drawing when Takatora approaches the table, in fact, drink in one hand and pencil in the other, intent on his work until he realizes that he’s not alone. Then the sketchbook closes, but not before Takatora can catch a glimpse of what looks like a cross-section of a plant. “What are you drawing?”

A smile like lightning--Takatora finds himself briefly wondering when the thunder will hit, and what might be burned to ashes in its wake. “Vegetation from Helheim. I’m exercising my botanical illustration muscles. I don’t imagine you’d be much interested, though.”

“No, no, I’m actually very curious. Your scientific work intrigues me as it is; I didn’t know you were also the artistic type. May I take a look?”

Ryouma gives him a look which might be considering or might just be shy; Takatora doesn’t yet know well enough to be able to tell which. “If you’re really interested...” He slides the sketchbook across the table. “Look away.”

They end up losing half of lunch to Ryouma’s drawings, Takatora turning pages in rapt fascination as he examines the fractal layout of crystalline seeds within those ever-dangerous fruits, the labeled diagrams of alien plants, the beautifully watercolored illustration of a Helheim vine overtaking a maple tree. Ryouma is delighted to explain them, his soft voice making it more an intimate conversation than a lecture. One pen sketch is so shockingly realistic that Takatora nearly reaches for it, wanting to see if he might pick a fruit directly from the page, only to pull his hand back before he can risk smudging the ink. “I think these might be almost as dangerous as the real thing, Dr. Sengoku.”

“Oh, please.” The lightning smile comes back, and this time Takatora is certain he can hear the rumble of thunder in the distance. “I may not have a lot of friends, but the ones I do have all call me Ryouma.”

Ryouma’s insouciant smile and elaborate courtesy tend to strike others as at least mildly disrespectful, if not outright rude. Takatora, of course, knows that it’s just how he is, that he doesn’t mean anything by it. The sketching during R&D meetings is a little irritating, but after the first couple of times it comes up he finds that the scratching of the pencil is oddly soothing, enough that finally he gives into the temptation to ask again, “What are you drawing?”

One of the other researchers rolls her eyes when she hears this, but Ryouma just smiles. “Lockseeds, of course.” He holds out his sketchbook for Takatora to take. “I think I’ve designed, hm, at least fifty at this point.”

The sketchbook is open to an exploded mechanical diagram, far more complicated than Takatora is prepared to try to make sense of. He tries anyway, nodding absently as the other researchers start to trickle out of the room, squinting at Ryouma’s tiny labels. “Fifty? Do we need to many?”

“Well, Takatora--” the last researcher heading out the door huffs irritably at Ryouma’s casual tone, “I don’t know about you, but I certainly can’t live on oranges alone. And they’ll do different things, of course, once I’ve perfected the driver designs. What’s your favorite fruit again?”

Takatora blinks. “Melon. I really only eat it at breakfast, but I do like it best.”

Lightning strikes. “Wonderful, I did remember correctly. Turn back a few pages--yes, there.”

“This is...a Melon Lockseed?”

“Yes, do you like it?”

The sketch is colored in with pencils, and it’s--beautiful, in the strange way that all of Ryouma’s creations are beautiful. “It’s lovely.” Takatora reads over the notes along one side. “I...’authorized by providence,’ Ryouma?” He raises his eyebrows. “What is?”

“You are.” Ryouma bows, one hand on his heart and a mocking smile on his face. “You’re the prince, aren’t you? I thought perhaps you deserved the reminder. And I am merely your humble advisor.”

“I don’t think there’s ever been anything humble about you, Ryouma.”

“Maybe not. I am very good at what I do, I don’t see any reason to lie about it.” A pause, and then Ryouma cocks his head to one side and the smile goes from mocking to teasing, sly and friendly. “I may have some melon at home, if you’d like to come over.”

“...for...breakfast?”

“Well, yes, eventually.”

Takatora feels his face go hot, and hopes he hasn’t turned too pink, and then furthermore hopes that no one else is lingering outside the conference room door as he says, “That sounds very nice.”

There are more armor designs than will probably ever get used, and Takatora says so. “Why so many?”

"I enjoy designing them. Although of course most people won't get to see more than the very basic one." Ryouma is settled comfortably against his shoulder, sketchbook balanced on one pulled-up knee. "I'm not going to share my best art with just anyone, you know."

"Oh, no?" Takatora cranes his neck to see the sketchbook over the top of Ryouma's head. "How are you going to manage that?"

"A series of if-then statements in the Sengoku Driver. They have to be able to scan the user's body and brain, you know, to do what they do; I don't see why I shouldn't have them test for particularly desirable personal qualities at the same time." Ryouma's pencil dances over the page. "For example, if it were to detect, say...hm." A sly glance upward at Takatora. "A noble soul, a cutting intellect, clarity of purpose, and oh, let’s say an offensively nice ass, it might produce...something like this."

He holds up the sketchbook, so that Takatora can finally get a proper look at it--a samurai, sleek and elegant but with a science-fiction edge. “This is...armor for me?”

“Roughly, this is a preliminary.”

“It’s beautiful.”

The smugness radiates from the line of Ryouma’s back against Takatora’s arm. “Thank you, I’m very pleased with it.” The sketchbook and pencil go on the bedside table, and then Ryouma turns around looking even more sly. “Of course, I’ll need to tailor the design to suit you better. I think I’ll need to make some figure studies, you’ll have to pose for me.”

Takatora raises an eyebrow. “Naked, I’m sure.”

“Oh, naturally, I’ll want to make a detailed study of your best qualities.”

“I think you said something about an offensively nice ass?”

“I am an artist, I want to display my subject to best effect.”

“So I’m your subject now.”

Lightning-flash smile, and Ryouma runs his fingers down the side of Takatora’s face, tips his chin up as if to study his profile. “No more and no less than I am yours. I ought to draw you with a crown on your head.”

When Takatora wakes from the coma--is woken from the coma, by the grace of a power he suspects he may never entirely understand--it still takes another two weeks before he’s discharged from the hospital and declared fit to go about whatever business he may have, and one of the first tasks that confronts him is the disposition of Ryouma’s notes. He can’t possibly ask Mitsuzane to take care of it, wouldn’t even want to mention the man’s name in his brother’s presence. Ryouma was, in the end, his fault and his responsibility. This is his cleaning up to do.

Mostly it’s straightforward. The laboratory equipment has already mostly been confiscated or destroyed; researchers and technicians have already scoured his computer files. It’s just the actual papers that are left to take care of, organized by some system that only Ryouma himself and perhaps Yoko ever understood, box after box of them. Takatora embarks on the project with four helpers--two from the Ministry of Internal Affairs, one from the Ministry of Health, and a man from the Ministry of Agriculture who seems to have an unwholesome interest in the actual growth capacity of Helheim plants.

“He didn’t go into the most technical details of his work with me,” Takatora says after the third question about what a particular notation might mean. “He was an...idiosyncratic man, to say the least.”

And then, near the back of the room, one of the Internal Affairs people says, “This box seems to be full of artwork.”

Takatora only freezes for a moment before saying, “Yes, Professor Sengoku was very passionate about the design aspects of his work. I’ll come over and take a look through them, there may be sketches of interest to more than one of you.”

Unlike most of the other papers and boxes, the sketchbooks are mostly clearly marked. Lockseeds, Vol. 1, says the label on one; Sengoku Driver Preliminary Sketches, says another. A third is, Armors, and Takatora recognizes its blue cover and thinks, suddenly, I never did ask him how he intended to have the Drivers identify desirable qualities in people, or why. That should have been a warning sign by itself.

Near the bottom of the box, though, is a sketchbook marked, Personal, and Takatora picks it up as quickly as he possibly can while still looking casual. He recognizes that cover too, and would rather not have people from the government seeing some of the drawings in it. “I’d like to keep this one, actually. I assure you, there’s nothing dangerous in it.”

The man from the Ministry of Agriculture says, frowning, “You’re familiar with the contents of this one?”

“I’m familiar with most of them, actually, the professor was very proud of his design work and shared it with me frequently.”

The sketchbook goes into Takatora’s briefcase, and he waits until he’s home and in his own bedroom to open it, because, yes--there, three pages in, is the first of several drawings of him. Most of them, as he flips through, are unremarkable, but a few are of an intimate character that he’s glad he wasn’t forced to share publicly. One in particular brings a blush to Takatora’s cheeks as he remembers the night it was drawn. On the facing page of the sketchbook there are a few lines scrawled in Arabic, a language that Ryouma read excellently and spoke passably, with a translation underneath:

He is a veiled one; but were he to pass in a darkness black as his forelock, his blazing face would suffice him light.

So if I stray for a night in his black locks, his brow’s bright morn will give guidance to my eyes.

Which does nothing but make Takatora’s blush much worse.

Of course, there aren’t only nude drawings of him, which is something of a relief. There’s a self-portrait on one page, a few sketches of Yoko on another, drawings of the various Beat Riders in a set near the back. It almost brings a smile to Takatora’s face, seeing how Ryouma managed to capture Yoko’s solemn resting expression and the angry twist of Kumon Kaito’s mouth. Sketches of animals, of plants, a cartoon of Oren that actually makes Takatora laugh.

Near the middle of the sketchbook, not far past the most memorable “figure study” and its snatch of poetry, is a drawing of the Yggdrasil logo. Or at least, Takatora takes it for that at first, but when he reaches the end of the sketchbook he realizes that something about it bothers him and has to flip back and look more closely. It is the Yggdrasil Corporation tree, but with grasping roots growing down beneath it, crushing something that Takatora realizes after a moment is the Earth.

Beneath it, in Ryouma’s neat, precise handwriting, is a note:

Unfortunately it has become clear that Takatora’s desires and mine are no longer in alignment.

Takatora shudders and closes the sketchbook, and when he finally manages to fall asleep, much later, he dreams of being struck by lightning.

#sengoku ryouma #kureshima takatora #fanfiction #anonamouse

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joeinfurnari · 4 years

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My Dinner with Andre

My Dinner with Andre might be one of the most difficult movies for many viewers to watch. The artsy crowd would call it minimalist while the more lowbrow among us would say it’s boring! There’s just so little to it that there is a valid case for both. The story is simply a struggling young playwright, Wally agrees to meet an acquaintance, Andre, for dinner at a nice restaurant in decaying New York city and conversation ensues. The end. But like so many things in life, My Dinner with Andre gives you so much more if you really listen closely. I recently watched it again and I forgot just how great it is and how it continues to speak to us today.

It’s so stark and unapologetic about being without plot that it’s become the subject of many pop culture parodies. I know there is a Simpson’s reference to it but I most enjoyed the episode of Community that spoofs it. You may think that this comes from a place of common dislike for the movie but it’s actually the opposite. The parodies just prove how influential and beloved it is. Why? For me, the appeal is the conversation itself. It’s been celebrated for being a complete fiction that does a great job at coming across as a documentary but that’s just appreciation on a formal level. It’s not just that they had a conversation that’s important, it’s what they talk about that matters. The content of that discussion is so important, the writers and filmmaker felt it merited being the subject of a film without any distraction. To say that Louis Malle created My Dinner with Andre for the iconoclasm alone, misses the point.

The two men seated at dinner are artists/playwrights and catch up on the long period since they last encountered each other. They’re not really friends and Wally even debates cancelling the dinner before ultimately opting to go. He’s a working writer and artist making ends meet in New York City while Andre has had a long hiatus from creative life spent on travel and self examination. Wally confirms their community speculation that Andre has money that allows his adventures. Andre at first spends dominates the conversation with anecdotes about mutual acquaintances and talks about some of the retreats and workshops he’s attended recently. Andre has dropped out of the arts and has been on a personal quest to find himself after becoming disillusioned with his life.

In the time since they last spoke Andre describes a crisis in his creative life. He left the theater and traveled to Poland where he spent time with strangers in the woods creating experimental theater. He didn’t speak or understand Polish and they didn’t understand English but the time spent together was transformative. What began for him as creative exploration in the woods forced him to act as himself and in so doing he was forced to examine his life and how he acts when he plays himself:

So, you follow the same law of improvisation…which is that you do whatever your impulse, as the character, tells you to do…but in this case, you are the character. So there's no imaginary situation to hide behind…and there's no other person to hide behind. What you're doing, in fact, is you're asking those same questions…that Stanislavsky said the actor should constantly ask himself as a character:

Who am I? Why am I here? Where do I come from, and where am I going?

But instead of applying them to a role, you apply them to yourself.

Andre tells more stories of his spiritual and creative adventures. For him, his journey to this dinner has been full of magic, mystery, serendipity and travel to exotic locations including India and even a Saharan Oasis. The restaurant is quite nice but it is still remarkably banal compared to Andre’s monstrous hallucinations and descriptions of his process of personal exploration. It culminates in a description of being buried alive in Montauk, NY. From that point on, Andre becomes surprised by his own reactions to things in his life. He even begins to look at himself and the sort of person who would spend his time the way he has. People in his life who he called friends, repulse him. Figures on television appear to be objectively horrible people. He says,

And I suddenly had this feeling I was just as creepy as they were…and that my whole life had been a sham…

…

I mean, I really feel that I'm just washed up, wiped out. I feel I've just squandered my life.

Moments later he goes on to say,

Well, you know, I may be in a very emotional state right now, Wally.…but since I've come back home I've just been finding the world we're living in…more and more upsetting.

It’s as though Andre has a new perception of the world that is in stark contrast to his former self. He’s alone in this perspective until he sees a woman working in the theater who recognizes the trouble on his face. Where everyone else he encountered commented on how great he looked, this woman somehow knew by looking at him, the emotional state he was in. Because of this woman’s recent loss of her mother, she was able to see him clearly. Andre says,

She didn't know anything about what I'd been going through. But the other people, what they saw was this tan, or this shirt…or the fact that the shirt goes well with the tan.

So they said, " Gee, you look wonderful." Now, they're living in an insane dreamworld.

They're not looking.

That seems very strange to me. Right, because they just didn'ts ee anything, somehow.…except, uh, the few little things that they wanted to see.

All of this has resonated with me very personally. I similarly feel as though my perspective on the world has shifted and it has made me incompatible with things as they are and people who aren’t looking. It’s as though my prior life was a dream, honestly. When I think of how I thought about the world and other people for most of my life, I also hate that prior self. I agree with Andre that that earlier version of myself inhabited an insane dreamworld. Andre describes it using the example of his dying mother. Although she was terminally ill and appeared only minutes away from death, the specialist was beaming at all the progress she was making. For this doctor, he had so narrowed his goals/perception to her arm that any healing on that front was cause for celebration. Insane.

I mean, we're just walking around in some kind of fog. I think we're all in a trance. We're walking around like zombies. I don't…I don't think we're even aware of ourselves or our own reaction to things.

We…We're just going around all day like unconscious machines…and meanwhile there's all of this rage and worry and uneasiness…just building up and building up inside us.

And later, Andre continues to describe this state of mind:

Isn't it amazing how often a doctor…will live up to our expectation of how a doctor should look? When you see a terrorist on television, he looks just like a terrorist. I mean, we live in a world in which fathers…or single people, or artists…are all trying to live up to someone's fantasy…of how a father, or a single person,or an artist should look and behave.

They all act as if they know exactly how they ought to conduct themselves…at every single moment…and they all seem totally self-confident.

For two men involved in theater, they are approaching the idea that who we fashion ourselves to be, is selected from clearly defined character behaviors and appearance. For an actor, it must be disturbing for there to be no leap between the actor and the character. Why is it that someone who adopts the role of artist in real life, chooses to look like what we expect? As average people in our world, we’re acting our roles as they have been defined for us by someone else. This should be alarming to everyone and not just Andre and Wally.

I mean, we just put no value at all on perceiving reality. I mean, on the contrary, this incredible emphasis that we all place now.…on our so-called careers…automatically makes perceiving reality a very low priority…because if your life is organized around trying to be successful in a career…well, it just doesn't matter what you perceive or what you experience. You can really sort of shut your mind off for years ahead, in a way. You can sort of turn on the automatic pilot.

How many of us are doing this right now? I did it for many years, always overlooking the here and now for some future reward that all of it was building towards. I also think if your focus is on a career, it’s less on the experience and wisdom needed to fully embody that role. This is why this is such a great film. It may not wow you with realistic explosions but it challenges you to question your view on your life and your world. You shouldn’t be content with the way things are. If you are, you are part of a very fortunate few and you may be overlooking much of the world to do so.

people's concentration is on their goals.…in their life they just live each moment by habit.

…

And if you're just operating by habit…then you're not really living. I mean, you know, in Sanskrit, the root of the verb " to be".…is the same as " to grow" or " to make grow. "

This is something I think about a lot. I live as a cartoonist dedicated to writing and drawing and designing and promoting and tweeting and posting and editing etc. in a driving need to produce, produce, produce. Am I really living? I don’t think so. It’s okay to admit it. This wasn’t a world of my creation but if I’m alive and active in it, I can change it. This film gave me a way to understand the things that I’ve gone through over the last few years. Without art, I wouldn’t have evidence that others have been where I stand. I feel less alone and more hopeful.

Wally talks about the need for escapism and comfort from art against the harsh reality of every day life. The choice is to create art that is comforting but for all its warmth, fails to acknowledge reality and might contribute to a collective disengaging with reality and most importantly, each other.

…we're starving because we're so cut off from contact with reality…that we're not getting any real sustenance,'cause we don't see the world. We don't see ourselves. We don't see how our actions affect other people.

This is heady stuff, for sure. All of this is to get us thinking about the nature of our lives and really see the things we’ve chosen for ourselves. To truly be free is to be able to think outside the characters and roles defined for us…even the ones we think we chose but didn’t create. Only by looking at ourselves honestly and as objectively as possible can we see how far from our own humanity we have come. Andre went through a personal crisis in which he went through a dramatization of his own death and rebirth. The fresh eyes this has given him as illuminated a very dark reality. There are no fancy distractions in this film because it is a battle cry for humanity’s future. Under the guise of a polite conversation about things most average people would discount as having no bearing on reality is actually about a fundamental reality that has changed without our conscious consent. His advise:

Get out of here.

…

the 1960s.…represented the last burst of the human being before he was extinguished…and that this is the beginning of the rest of the future, now…and that from now on there'll simply be all these robots walking around…feeling nothing, thinking nothing. And there'll be nobody left almost to remind them.…that there once was a species called a human being…with feelings and thoughts…and that history and memory are right now being erased…and soon nobody will really remember.…that life existed on the planet.

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takonei · 4 years

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Beta AU - Main story, Chapter 4, daily life (Part 2)

Note of the author: Ok uhhhhhh I didn’t expect that shit to be that long so the daily life parts (normally ‘1 part = 1 day’) are going to be '2 parts = 1 day’.

Chapter 4: Dance, dance, hanged puppets - Daily life

Day 14 since the beginning of the game.

7:30 AM.

Shuichi woke up earlier than expected.

Not because he gave up on sleeping. He simply didn't feel like going back to sleep.

He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the grey card on the table, in the middle of the room.

The ‘Sanzu key’ as Monokuma called it.

What was he even planning?

The violinist took a shower, trying to forget about those worries for a while.

But he couldn’t.

Monokuma’s motive always came the day after the new labs opened. This time they had a part of the motive, but the bear specified that the whole thing was not ready yet.

What did that even mean?

After his usual routine, he left his room. Surprisingly, Kirumi was leaning against a pillar, and Miu was laying on the ground, head resting on her arms, staring at the ceiling.

Ryoma was also there, fidgeting with his Sanzu key.

The others turned to Shuichi.

“G’morning. Breakfast canceled, we stay here.” the street artist said with a hint of sarcasm.

He blinked. “What’s... Happening?”

Kirumi shrugged. “No one knows. The dormitories’ door is locked, so we can’t go out. We’re locked here.”

... What? Was that the motive? Being quarantined in their rooms? That sounded like a bad joke.

“We tried calling Monokuma and even the monokubs and no one came.” Ryoma explained.

That sounded fishy. Extremely fishy.

They could only wait.

Rantaro, Kiyo, and Tsumugi came out of their rooms one by one. The situation had to be explained each time.

...

8:00 AM.

The morning announcement rang, but the message was different.

“All students are required to go out of their rooms, this is a direct order from the principal of the academy!”

Did Monokuma want them all at once? Usually, when an announcement was made they were all supposed to go to the gym. Why the dormitories this time?

Speaking of the devil, the bear and his cubs appeared before them.

“My, my! It’s as though almost everyone is here!” he cackled. “Only Mr. grumps and Mr. gloomy are missing!”

Shuichi flinched at the nicknames.

The two cubs started their shenanigans that Shuichi didn’t even bother listening to.

The only emotion he could feel when the monokubs appeared was a pure annoyance. Not even hatred. Pure annoyance.

He couldn’t even bother being mad at them. It just felt like each time they visited them, his only desire was to see them disappear forever.

Minutes felt like hours, Shuichi silently praying for Kaito and Kokichi to just come out from their room already so the green and red bears would shut up.

Kaito was the first to come out, surprisingly. his appearance was less messy than yesterday.

Shuichi noticed him glancing at Miu, the latter avoiding his gaze.

He muttered a quiet “Hey.” as he came down the stairs. The biker immediately separated himself from the group to lean against a pillar.

After another couple of minutes waiting for Kokichi, the boy opened his door, stumbling out of his room. He didn't seem to have slept well.

“Next time, do not come late to the principal’s announcement! I’ve waited way too long for you two to come out!” he raised his paws in the air, voice a bit too loud for the two who had woken up minutes ago.

“So, what do you want from us this time?” Rantaro was straight to the point.

“Sheesh, stop being so eager for the motive, I can’t even prepare the surprise!”

So it was the motive.

“Anyway, let me present you the next motive, starting from today to the moment someone dies...”

“... The Sanzu garden!”

That raised more questions than answered them.

“And what is the ‘Sanzu garden’?” Ryoma raised an eyebrow.

“To put it simply, this entire academy was renovated just for you guys!”

Something that involved the whole academy?

“Before explaining the motive, perhaps I should tell you a story passed through generations... Have any of you heard the legend of the Sanzu river?”

Tsumugi put a finger on her chin. “From what I’ve heard, the Sanzu River is a mythological river of the Buddhist religion. Souls joining the afterlife must pass the river by one of the three crossing points, depending on the actions they made in their life, also known as ‘karma’.”

Kokichi visibly flinched at the explanation.

“Great! I may also add that a cost is required to cross the river. Six mon to be specific.” the bear explained.

“In other words, this academy has been transformed into a great garden! And the cost of living for another day must be paid! However, the cost isn’t six mon like the legends told since we live in a modern society with better ways to pay your lovely headmaster!”

Kaito raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. “So what, someone must kill within 24 hours so the others can live?”

“Better! That’s where your Sanzu keys play their part! They serve as bank cards to pay your fee to live for the next 24 hours!”

“Wh- bank cards??” Miu exclaimed, taking out the card.

“There are two locks with your icons hidden in the academy, specific to each of you. You will have to activate the locks each day with your card keys to continue living. One lock must be activated between 8 AM and 3 PM, and the other between 3 PM and 10 PM. It doesn’t matter in which order you activate the locks.” the bear explained as everyone listened carefully.

“Also, do not even try to activate another person’s lock! This will not work in the slightest! And the locks’ placements will be different each day! They can be in the labs, common rooms, and even outside!”

Rantaro, who had sat down, joined his hands. “Let me get this straight. We have to use cards on locks two times a day and look around the academy to find them?”

“Where’s the catch.” Ryoma bluntly asked. “That’s way too easy. There’s a catch.”

The bear laughed. “Puhuhuhuhu... I’m glad you asked! The catch is also the reason why we are meeting in the dormitories after all!”

This did not reassure Shuichi in the slightest.

“Did you know? The Sanzu river takes its name directly from the Japanese ‘San’, meaning ‘three’ and ‘Zu’, meaning ‘way’ for our non-japanese audience!”

... What?

“This garden has a similar mechanic! There are only three choices offered to those entering it!”

“... To die, to kill or to suffer.”

... Huh?

“This academy is a garden of traps in every corner. Both outside and inside. From pitfalls to spears to arrows to spikes, everything is here to hurt you. But my favorite part is...”

“... Some rooms will lock themselves and whisper your worst fears to you.”

“Of course, none of the traps will actually kill you, that would be a shame if someone was accidentally killed!”

“But I meticulously put everything in place so you guys could enjoy this academy of nightmares!”

Monokuma raised his paws in the air with excitement.

... This could not be real.

An academy of nightmares??

“There is one zone that is free of danger, which is where we’re standing!”

“The dorms are safe?” Kirumi raised an eyebrow.

“Thaaaat’s right! The dormitories are the only place without any traps!”

Shuichi couldn't even say anything.

As if the academy wasn't already the place where they all had to kill each other, it just had to be trapped for the sole purpose of making them suffer?

What did whoever put them into the killing game even want from them?

If he even dared to ask Monokuma he would probably say "despair".

And at this point, is the truth even worth knowing?

Was there even an explanation of why they had to endure this?

"Of course it would take a loooong time to search through the whole academy for the locks, so I'm giving you one hint each day! They will be available on your monopads! How generous of me!"

Shuichi wanted to vomit.

This entire motive made no sense.

"That was all the explanations for the motive! Any questions?"

No one even dared to speak.

That was even worse than the last motive.

Even if he even managed to survive, what even would be the next motive?

"No? Then good luck! And don't forget..." the bear smiled.

"The garden will be shut down when a dead body gets discovered."

He left immediately after, the two remaining monokubs following behind.

Everyone stared at each other.

Rantaro slowly approached the door and opened it.

No traps were visible, but Shuichi knew the moment someone would set a foot outside a trap would activate.

"Give me a sec." Ryoma approached his dorm and entered the room.

About a minute later, he came out with a set of tennis balls, supposedly won at the monomono machine. He took a ball out and threw it outside.

... Nothing happened.

"Was Monokuma lying about the traps?" Shuichi raised an eyebrow.

"I think it just means that it's not a trap activated with a motion sensor. There's a possibility the trap is activated when you step foot on one of the path stones." Kirumi shook her head.

"Before we go head first and get us all killed how about we get organized? We know the dorms are the safe spot of the academy, so we'll likely spend most of our time here." Rantaro turned to the others.

"We'll still have to go outside to find the locks." Kiyo added. "We will have to think collectively or else we will not keep up for long."

Shuichi checked his monopad to see what the hints were.

Memories of lavender.

Senses and intuition ~ Follow your heart.

Of course it was going to be some kind of riddle that he didn't get.

"So? What's your plan, boss?" Ryoma asked Rantaro, hands in his pockets.

He pondered for a moment. "First off we should move as much food as we can to the dorms. It will be safer to eat here than in the dining hall."

Kirumi nodded. "Although for now, we should focus on searching at least one of our locks. We have a time limit for each of them."

"But... Do we separate or do we go in groups?" Miu asked.

Rantaro sat down to think. "There are nine of us. Since I think it's too dangerous to leave someone by themselves, I suggest we go by groups of 3 whenever we move from here."

"And our groups shouldn't change for the day so no one gets confused." Ryoma added.

... This clearly wasn't appreciated by some of them. Noticeably Kaito and Kokichi.

Tsumugi crossed her arms. "So? Who gets with who?"

"I suggest we separate Ryoma, you and I since we're probably the most qualified to detect the traps." Kirumi raised a hand. "One in each of the groups seems reasonable."

The prodigy nodded. "That is fair."

She took a few steps away, and so did Ryoma.

After some debating, the groups were made.

Rantaro, Ryoma, and Kaito were the first group.

Kirumi, Kokichi and Miu were the second.

And finally, Shuichi, Tsumugi, and Kiyo formed the last group.

"So now it's pretty much 'the first group finding all their morning locks gets the food'?" Tsumugi fiddled with her hair.

"For now, that is the plan. If we find each others' locks, we share the info however we can." Kiyo replied.

"Well, how do we even do that?" Miu tilted her head to the side. "If we're separated, we can't do anything."

Shuichi pondered. "The most we can do is yelling, I mean my hearing is pretty developed but there are limits to it..."

Ryoma fixed his beanie. "We'll only better our strategy if we face the danger at least once. Staying here won't do any good."

The others agreed.

The strategy was fixed.

The groups would go out one by one by intervals of five minutes to investigate where their lockers would be.

Kaito, Rantaro, and Ryoma left first. The others watched them go to see if everything was fine. They were walking slowly to make sure they didn't activate anything.

For now, everything seemed fine. But Shuichi preferred not to get his hopes up.

The two remaining groups talked about their riddles. They looked pretty strange.

"Hey, Kiyo... Do you have an idea of what my riddle could mean?" he asked the therapist.

"Let's see..." he took the violinist's monopad and read the two sentences. "I don't think your riddle is too far fetched. Does the color purple remind you of something nostalgic and positive?"

He pondered. "I... No, I don't think that's it."

Kiyo shook his head. "All theories could be right. Your riddle says to 'follow your heart'. Your answer could be right."

He looked at the tablet for a moment. "My... My cousin has lavender hair. And I do miss her."

Then it clicked. "Ah! My lab! That's where Miu made her portrait when we got the motive videos!"

Kiyo weakly smiled. "That sounds plausible. We will check your lab once we get to the main building."

Shuichi stared back at the tablet. "So was that the first or the second quote?"

The therapist shook his head. "I don't think one quote is for one lock. Both locks must be linked somehow."

"So the other lock is also hinted by the riddle?"

"I think so." Kiyo nodded. "Perhaps..."

He pointed at the second quote. "You found a potential solution with your intuition. So the second could be linked to your senses."

"My senses...? Something purple that could be linked to my senses?"

Hearing? No. His lab was already for one lock.

Taste? The only thing popping in his mind was that type of soda with a taste you could only describe as 'purple'. Which he didn't like in the slightest.

Touch? That would be unlikely...

Sight? Too vague...

Smell? That could be it since the riddle said 'lavender'. Perhaps...

"The wisterias from the courtyard? They're purple, right?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Does it remind you of something nostalgic?" Kiyo asked.

Shuichi weakly chuckled. "My cousin always had two long braids. Somehow it always reminded me of those flowers..."

Kiyo put a finger on his chin. "So both of your locks are related to one person. To me, we are on the right path."

Just as they stopped talking, Kirumi's group was prepared to go.

Well, Miu and Kirumi were prepared to go. Kokichi was barely keeping up.

The two girls made sure the smaller boy was following when they left, nervousness written all over their faces.

The three ones left in the dorms looked at each other.

"So, did you two find out where your locks could be?" the prodigy asked.

"I'm guessing one is in my lab, and the other should be at the pool." the therapist replied.

Tsumugi nodded. "Good, good. And you?" she turned to Shuichi.

"Oh, um... I think one is near the wisterias and the other should be in my lab as well..."

She frowned. "Three in a row."

"Huh?"

"All of us have a lock in our respective labs. I'm thinking Monokuma put them here as some sort of guide for the first day. The next days are probably going to get harder and harder."

... What did 'harder' mean?

"What about you, then?" Kiyo asked.

"One should be in my lab. The other in the library."

The therapist nodded. "I see. Do you have a strategy for which places we check?"

She started pacing around slowly. "We have both of them in the main building except Shuichi who has one in front of the dorms."

She stopped. "For now we are also requested to help to transport food to the dorms, but there's a possibility the other groups will be done with the locks before us. So I think we should go to the ones that are not in our labs." She narrowed her eyes. "Although for the next days we should find out the locks' locations before forming the groups."

They nodded.

Enough time had passed since the last group left, so they decided to go as well.

They reached the wisterias with no problem, and a black podium with an icon was indeed there.

Before they could go under the pergola, Tsumugi glanced at the structure. She took off her jacket and threw it on the table. Spikes suddenly rose from above, impaling the piece of cloth before it could reach the table.

"... We'll have to find ways to activate traps in advance. We won't use my jacket each time. The tennis balls were pretty effective." the prodigy picked up the jacket from the floor where it had fallen.

The three made their way to the podium, which had Shuichi's icon on it. A red LED was on, indicating that the violinist had not yet activated it.

After taking out the Sanzu key and approaching it to the icon, a small jingle rang, with the LED turning green.

At least the 'paying' process was easy.

"Next up is mine, at the pool." Kiyo turned to the two.

Surprisingly, their way to the main building was quite silent.

Perhaps the paths outside were never trapped, and it was only the main structures?

Kiyo carefully opened the door.

A black podium was right beside the deckchairs.

He glanced around to see if there were any traps, and carefully approached the podium. After the small jingle rang, he joined the others so they could move on.

Two out of three.

Something didn't feel right for Shuichi. That motive looked way too simple.

Would it be like Tsumugi said, that this was going to get harder and harder with time?

They left the pool and approached the door to the main building.

When they opened it, Shuichi took a step and immediately stopped when an arrow was shot right in front of his face.

"Ah!-"

He took a step backwards and touched the bridge of his nose.

Pecks of blood tainted his fingers.

"Are you okay, Shuichi?" Kiyo asked, worried.

He turned to the therapist. "I'm- I'm fine, this just surprised me. Perhaps we should crouch to pass this door."

He rubbed his nose with his wrist. The wound was pretty light, but it still stung.

The three made their way to the central hall, luckily not activating any more traps.

"Now let's go to the basement. Once we're done with the library we'll be free for now." Tsumugi declared.

They slowly went to the corridor leading to the stairs, until...

*click*

They stopped and looked at their feet.

Kiyo had just stepped onto a pressure plate.

Shuichi's heart skipped a beat when a wall of concrete came down from the ceiling behind them, crushing the grass on the floor.

Then another. And another.

They ran as fast as they could to the stairs, walls menacing to crush them if they were not fast enough.

The trio tripped, fell down the stairs and crashed against the wall.

"Ouch..."

"At least we're alive."

"Even though Monokuma said those traps were not going to kill us we almost ended up crushed."

"Could you two move? I can't breathe..."

"Tsumugi is on top of me, I cannot move either."

The prodigy stood up, brushing dust off her skirt. "I thought you two would be physically stronger than that."

Shuichi could barely mutter under Kiyo's weight. "Well, I'm a violinist, not a biker nor a soldier..."

The therapist stood up and helped Shuichi get on his feet.

Just as the three recovered from their fall, Rantaro's group appeared.

The medic blinked a few times in confusion. "Are you three okay?"

Shuichi rubbed the bridge of his nose to wipe off the rest of the blood from earlier. "We're fine. It could be worse."

Ryoma appeared from behind. "Tsumugi, there's a lock for you in the library. We deactivated the trap here so don't worry about anything."

"I guessed it from my riddle, but thank you."

Kaito was also there but did not seem to want to contribute to the conversation.

"Anyway, our group is done with the morning locks. We'll be getting the food." Rantaro cracked his knuckles.

Kiyo pondered. "Our group only has one more morning lock to activate. We'll be able to join you shortly."

"In that case, we should go to your lab, Rantaro." Ryoma crossed his arms. "We'll need medical supplies in case someone gets injured."

The medic nodded. "Sounds good. So you three can bring the food in the meantime?" he turned to Kiyo.

"Count on us."

The two groups separated. The concrete walls were gone- they were made to make them hurry, not to lock them in the basement, fortunately.

Just as Ryoma said, the trap was deactivated in the library. It seemed to have made some of the bookshelves fall. Tsumugi's lock was right in front of a table.

The jingle rang as she approached her key.

They left the basement to get to the dining hall. No one seemed to have gone there yet.

Shuichi approached the pantry but suddenly...

The floor disappeared beneath his feet.

Kiyo thankfully caught his arm before he could fall.

Don't look down don't look down don't look down don't look down-

"T-Thanks a lot, Kiyo..." he mumbled.

The two others helped him up.

He sat on the ground for a minute, trying to calm down.

How deep was that hole?

"Tch. I knew something would happen." Tsumugi quietly spat.

"Then why didn't you say anything?" Kiyo narrowed his eyes at her.

"Excuse me if I don't express every single intuition I have."

"We're in a situation where we could die instantly. Every single intuition could save a life."

"It could also make us paranoid for nothing. You should know as a therapist that paranoia could also kill us."

"I prefer to be paranoid over careless."

Shuichi knew that is he didn't stop them they could argue for hours.

"Guys! Please..." he stood up despite his feet trembling. "I'm fine. Let's just... Get the food."

The two exchanged glances and stepped in the pantry, avoiding the giant hole in the ground.

"We don't have a refrigerator in the dorms, so we'll have to take durable food." Tsumugi noted.

"We have access to drinkable water in the dorms, I don't think drinks will be necessary." Shuichi added.

Tsumugi looked around. "We don't have any bags. And my jacket is too small to make a substitute.

Shuichi thought back at when Himiko and Kokichi here going to the dorms using their jackets as bags for objects they won at the monomono machine. But...

The astronomer wasn't here anymore. He had to accept it.

He shook his head. "That's better than nothing. I still have my own just in case."

"And mine." Kiyo added.

"Also, perhaps we should take cutlery. To eat and to serve as a decoy for the traps." Tsumugi suggested.

The three started taking food. Mostly canned food since it was the safest option.

Shuichi had suggested taking rice and other starchy foods, but since there was no way to cook them in the dorms, the idea was rejected.

Shortly after, Kirumi, Miu, and Kokichi joined them.

"It's nice to take food that doesn't expire soon, but we should take food that doesn't take much space." Kirumi explained. "We will not go in this building too much, so we'll have to take as much as we possibly can."

Miu pondered for a second. "How about we use kitchen furniture to transport food? That's two in one!"

Tsumugi perked up. "I didn't think about that."

"However the kitchen furniture will be useless to us since we do not have anything to cook food." Kiyo advised.

"But that's still better than using our jackets to transport food... And perhaps we'll find a way to cook." Shuichi countered.

"Then the pots will be the best for both cooking and transport." Tsumugi declared.

The 6 of them took time to choose which food to take. Canned food, rice, noodles, dry food but also some fruits. They took enough cutlery for both the group and to use it as a trap decoy.

They left the dining hall with all the furniture.

Shuichi hoped they wouldn't have to run with that much in their hands.

Miu looked at the pot she was transporting, full of fruits. "We said we would take the pots but any idea on what to use to cook? We know there's no lighter or some kind of portable stove..."

Tsumugi pondered. "We have the candles on the fourth floor and wood in Angie's lab. But that will require maintenance."

"I believe there are tools to keep the fire alive in my lab since there is a fireplace. We should take a look this afternoon." Kiyo suggested.

"That sounds fair to m-" Tsumugi interrupted herself when she heard a click.

A series of needles was shot from the walls on the group, stabbing each of them in all places.

They ran as fast as they could to get out of the building. Shuichi is pretty sure some of the food fell on the floor, but now was not the time to retrieve it.

His cheeks hurt.

They pushed the door to get out of the building.

Shuichi heard a loud noise, of someone falling to the ground.

When he turned around, his eyes widened.

Miu was less covered than the majority of them. She only had a crop top and a short overall. The needles did much more damage on her than on the others.

She wasn't bleeding, but there were way too many of them, on her arms, legs, and even her face.

"Miu!!" he kneeled before her. "Are you feeling okay?"

"I-I'm fine. D-Don't worry about me." she stuttered.

Everyone took off the needles that stuck on their bodies, Shuichi helping Miu get hers off.

Kiyo helped her getting up. "Rantaro's group went on the third floor for medical supplies. He'll help you once they come back."

She weakly nodded.

Kirumi had taken Kiyo's pot so he could help Miu walk.

Fortunately, no more traps activated on their way to the dorms.

When they opened the door, they realized Rantaro's group was already there, organizing the medical supplies.

The medic rushed to the group. "Are you guys okay?"

"We activated a trap and Miu ended up getting more injured than us. She needs your help, Rantaro." Kiyo explained.

The group organized the food and cutlery, except for Miu and Rantaro, the latter disinfecting the former's wounds.

Kirumi prepared lunch with Ryoma since Miu was unable to do anything. Shuichi hadn't realized they took that long to activate a few locks and transport food. But at least they had enough for the day, and perhaps the day after if they managed to save enough.

For some reason, Rantaro, Ryoma, Kirumi, and Kokichi already seemed to be used to be light on food, considering how little they ate.

The group ate in silence on the floor of the dorms. Canned food was not the tastiest, especially considering what Kirumi and Miu could usually cook, but they didn't have a choice.

This motive was already starting to get the better of them. Would they even be able to continue like this for long? Long enough for Monokuma to perhaps get bored and stop the motive?

Since there wasn't much to do, everyone either stayed in their rooms or talked in the lobby.

Shuichi was already tired from the morning, so he laid on his bed for the time being.

They could only use the locks after 3 PM. Monokuma already knew they would be going to rush and unlock both if he didn't add the rule.

He thought about the situation. They were surprisingly organized.

Surprising...

Was it, though?

Their group had two soldiers, a mercenary, an intellectual genius, and a therapist to help them get organized.

They were teenagers more mature than any normal person their age.

A maturity that came from the harshness of their past.

The fact that they were able to get organized so well...

... That was definitely not surprising.

At around 2:50 PM, he left his room to join the others. (The others being: Kirumi and Rantaro).

He only noticed after that Ryoma was knocking on Tsumugi's door.

"Um... Is everything alright?" the violinist asked the two.

"Well, we're trying to think about how the traps work, and that's why we need Tsumugi." Kirumi explained.

Speaking of which, the prodigy joined them with Ryoma.

"We need your opinion on this, Tsumugi." Rantaro looked serious.

"I'm listening."

Kirumi crossed her arms. "We're saying that the more we are in a group, the higher are the chances of activating a trap, and possibly a huge one."

She pondered for a second. "From the traps we activated, I think that could be true. The needles were quite ferocious, even if they didn't look like it."

She perked up. "You're saying we should try to go individually and not by groups?"

Shuichi blinked. "Go individually? Isn't there a risk we could get injured without being able to be helped?"

Rantaro nervously bounced his leg. "I've inspected Miu's injuries earlier. This was not pretty to look at. I'm the only one who can treat serious wounds, so I have to admit going separately would be safer."

So the opposite strategy from earlier.

But if that was the best strategy, then it could be for the best.

...

Shuichi wished he could be as smart and strong as them.

At 3:00 PM, the others came out of their rooms.

After a short explanation, they decided to go by groups of two, even though they would separate at some point.

They also decided that those on the fourth floor would bring candles and wood, and Kiyo would get the tools for the fire.

Kirumi and Ryoma went first.

Then Rantaro and Kaito.

Tsumugi went alone.

Then it was Shuichi and Kiyo's turn. They wished Miu and Kokichi good luck and left.

"... I'm still nervous about this strategy." Shuichi admitted.

"For now it's for the best. This is the first day, we will decide which strategy is the best for tomorrow." Kiyo replied. "However we can go together with a distance between us so we do not activate unnecessary traps."

Shuichi smiled. "If it doesn't bother you of course."

"At the sole condition that you help me carry the tools from the fireplace."

He chuckled. "Alright. I accept."

They reached the building, and Shuichi crouched to enter the entrance hall. Perhaps the arrow trap wasn't there anymore, but he preferred not to take a risk.

The walk to the second floor was silent and surprisingly peaceful. They avoided a few traps in the corridors, going one after the other.

This strategy seemed to work.

The fewer people were together, the lower are the chances to activate a trap.

...

Monokuma wanted to separate them. Even Shuichi realized that.

The violinist entered his lab and activated the locker.

He sighed in relief. At least this was over for now.

Just as he stepped out of the lab, he joined back Kiyo, who was waiting for him near the stairs to the third floor.

"So, was your lock in your lab?" he asked.

"Yes, I managed to activate it." Shuichi nodded. "Thank you for helping me this morning."

The two made their way to the fifth floor.

...

This was too silent. Something was wrong.

"Are you coming, Shuichi?" Kiyo asked when he saw that Shuichi slowed down.

"Ah yes I'm..." he trailed off when he heard a faint noise. A voice?

He paused to focus.

"Shuichi?-"

"Shhh!" he raised a hand to ask him to be quiet.

There was a voice. It was definitely a voice.

Wait-

It was not a voice. It was several unfamiliar voices.

Kiyo raised an eyebrow.

...

Something wasn't right.

He walked down the upper set of stairs since the voices were definitely below them- on the fourth floor.

Kiyo followed him.

He could barely hear anything, but voices were coming from somewhere, he was sure of it.

"..."

"... -where... ... stops-"

"..."

"... Rats..."

"..."

"... Rats..."

"..."

"... Rats... Rats... Rats..."

Shuichi had a very bad feeling.

He stepped forward to go down the other set of stairs...

... But stopped when he heard a blood curling scream. Not a scream of pain. A scream of pure terror.

And by the pitch of the voice, it was...

"... Kokichi?" he instinctively muttered.

The violinist and the therapist exchanged quick glances.

Shuichi panicked.

He ran.

He didn't even care if a trap activated. He knew where the voices were from. Where the scream came from.

He ran through the fourth floor despite Kiyo telling him to stop.

The voices were louder and louder as he ran.

Some were talking and panicking. Some were repeating the same word over and over.

"Rats."

"They're everywhere- Someone just kill them!"

"Rats. Rats."

"Stay away from me!"

"Rats. Rats. Rats. Rats."

"God please have mercy on our souls- There's no God! We're going to die like rats!"

"Ratsratsratsratsratsratsratsrats"

"I- I think I'm infected too- STAY AWAY FROM ME!!"

"Ratsratsratsratsratsratsratsratsratsratsratsrats"

"WHAT DID WE DO TO DESERVE THIS??"

"Ratsratsratsratsratsratsratsratsratsratsratsratsratsratsratsratsratsratsrats-"

Suddenly the voices stopped all at once.

Shuichi entered the corridor leading to Kokichi's lab. A second door had shut down, eliminating every possibility of entering the lab.

"Kokichi!! Kokichi!!!!"

... Nothing.

Kiyo joined him, his monopad in hand. "Kokichi isn't the only one in here."

He looked at the therapist.

"Miu is here as well."

Shuichi kept slamming the door with his fist.

"Kokichi!! Miu!! Say something!!"

No one was answering. The second door was soundproofing the lab. Which was why the voices had 'stopped'.

They didn't stop, they were just contained in the lab.

Shuichi couldn't hear Miu and Kokichi, and neither of them could hear Shuichi banging at the door.

"Miu!! Kokichi!!!"

... This was hopeless.

He thought back at what Monokuma said earlier.

“... Some rooms will lock themselves to whisper your worst fears to you.”

That was what he meant.

He meant psychological torture.

Shuichi and Kiyo would only wait, powerless over the situation.

The violinist fell on his knees.

Just the thought made him want to puke.

Kokichi and Miu were stuck in a room made for psychological torture.

And they had no way of getting out.

#ndrv3 #danganronpa v3 #ndrv3 au #beta au #main story

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amarantine-amirite · 4 years

Text

Life in a Nutshell

“Laurie, how did you get tickets to this thing?” Marty asked. He still couldn’t believe that she got tickets to Worldstock, Miami’s newest and supposedly hottest world music festival. “tickets for this thing usually go for 700 bucks a pop.”

“Easy” Laurie said, “the school gave them to me as compensation for the spring play getting cancelled.”

Marty nodded. “Oh, yeah,” he said, “that crazy, Wild-West version of Cinderella. Why did they cancel it?”

“Well,” Laurie began, “the ‘Cinderella’ (well, Stacy, anyway) was supposed to wear this bright pink saloon girl outfit. I looked terrible in it, it clashed really, really badly with the red hair. As a result, they kicked me out of the play.”

Marty’s eyes widened. “They kicked you out because you didn’t look good in a costume? That’s awful!”

Laurie nodded and smiled deviously. “Oh, it gets better” she said, “I told Prudence about it, and somehow, her parents got wind of it, and they complained to the school. They didn't complain about me getting kicked out of the play for not looking good in the costume.”

“They didn’t?”

“No.” Laurie laughed, “They complained about the fact that the play had saloon girls in it, thus making it somehow inappropriate, since, according to them, saloon girls are basically ‘early American Hooter's girls’ and thus overly sexual. Long story short, the school cancelled the play.”

Meanwhile, Gwen overheard everything Laurie said. “You know,” she chimed in, “none of that would have happened if you could do a chin up.”

Laurie raised an eyebrow. Her jaw dropped slightly. “Are you insinuating this is my fault, Gwen?”

“No” Gwen said in the most monotone voice she could muster, “I’m stressed, what happened to you really upset me, I didn’t know what else to say.”

Marty looked at Gwen. “What are you doing here?” he asked her.

“Strings band,” she said, “we’re opening for Loreena McKennitt.”

The three of them continued to talk. Well, actually, Laurie and Marty talked, Gwen couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Eventually, the bus pulled up to the front gates. The gates to Worldstock opened.

Contrary to what Laurie, Marty, Gwen, and thousands of others had been told; Worldstock actually took place in an abandoned resort development full of roads that led to nowhere. No infrastructure, only half-finished skeletons of actual stages, and no hope.

To make matters worse, Worldstock fell on the same weekend as a major pre-Olympic sailing race series that utilized all of the local hotels, vacation rentals and resources.

“What the fuck?!” someone said.

“Turn this bus around!” said another.

“Is this supposed to be a music festival?” a third person demanded, “If it is, it’s about as slapped together as what Judy’s currently wearing.”

“Hey, shut up!” Judy barked.

If the Worldstock music festival were a piece of architecture, it would be a flight of stairs consisting of three cement blocks held together by a carpet. On top of the nearly nonexistent infrastructure, staff frequently damaged luggage, drank on the job, and in general, had no clue what the fuck they were doing. When Laurie and Marty went to pick up their bags, Marty caught baggage handlers trying to steal the urn out of his suitcase immediately after they threw it onto the ground and the suitcase split open.

“Hey!“ he barked, “those are my dad’s ashes!” He totally forgot that the ashes were in his suitcase. Three years ago, his family planned to take the ashes to New Orleans and scatter them in the front yard of the house where his dad grew up, but such a trip never materialized.

The baggage handlers continued to play football with the urn, until summer to get through it and it landed on the ground and broke. Almost immediately afterwards, a stray cat walked up to the ashes, dug a hole, and went to the bathroom.

The musicians didn’t have it any easier than the guests. When Gwen (along with the few other musical acts that hadn’t pulled out) attempted to find the artist sign in booth, a disorganized and clueless staff member just handed them a booklet for the event.

On top of problems with the staff, the organizers of the event also forgot something crucial: toilets! Many people who tried to look for the bathrooms only found one port-a-potty, with of course, no toilet paper. Seriously! There wasn’t a square to spare.

It took Gwen way too long to sign in, and even longer to find where her peers in the band were supposed to meet. But once Gwen got there, she would be in for a shock. “Ah, Gwen,” said her band teacher, Mr. Barclay, “glad you could make it. There’s actually something I wanna tell you.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Gwen replied, “couldn’t find the place because these idiots don’t know what they’re doing. I ask for directions, they give me a brochure for the event!”

“It’s OK, Gwen.” said Mr. Barclay, “You weren’t actually supposed to show up.”

Gwen couldn’t believe what she just heard. “What?”

“Didn’t anyone tell you? We kicked you out.”

Gwen’s eyes widened. Her jaw dropped. “Seriously? You kicked me out?” She spoke in a way that her words felt like getting stuck with a long, thick needle, “you mean I memorized the song from Lord of the Rings for nothing?!”

“Well,” Mr. Barclay continued, “we didn’t really have a choice but to get rid of you. You play the violin left-handed.”

“Bullshit!” she shouted.

“It’s a safety issue. All the bows have to go in the same direction, otherwise you risk taking someone’s eye out. Either get with the program and play violin normally, or go play the violin somewhere else.”

Gwen struggled to comprehend the feeling of what had just happened. She was unable to catch her breath. A passerby would have assumed that she was either panting so much from running the New York Marathon or panicking because she was afraid of getting busted for cheating during the New York Marathon by taking the subway. Either way, she stood there, out of breath and visibly sweaty.

What they couldn't see was her numb right arm. They couldn't see the chest pains. They couldn't see her oxygen starved heart cells die off like flies.

"WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!? CAN'T YOU SEE HOW HURT I AM??!! BAND MEANT THE WORLD TO ME AND NOW YOU'RE KICKING ME OUT FOR BEING LEFT HANDED?!?! FUCK YOU!! FUCK YOU AND EVERYONE YOU- ", she shouted at her band teacher. Before she could finish, a stream of vomit exited her mouth at a 30 degree angle and landed in the bell of some poor guy's tuba. Despite being at a healthy weight of 113 pounds for her 5'2" frame, she actually had a heart attack. She may have been thin, but she still had a heart attack, as evidenced by the chest pains, racing heart, and second stream of barf that just flew out of her mouth.

Why? Her heart just plain couldn’t cope with the shock of Mr. Barclay ejecting from band the way her body ejected vomit from her mouth as increasing volumes of her heart cells died from lack of oxygen.

"NOW LOOK WHAT YOU BASTARDS DID!! CALL AN AMBULANCE, I'M HAVING A HEART ATTACK BECAUSE OF YOU!!!" she shouted as she ran away, "MR. BARCLAY, THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!!!"

Laurie didn't even get the chance to tell Marty that there was no way that their first legit date could go any worse. Before she could even open her mouth, Gwen snuck up behind her. "Laurie, you, 911, now!"

Laurie turned around. She glared at Gwen "I'm on a date," she barked, "so can you leave me alone?"

"No!" Gwen said sharply "this is an emergency!"

Between the festival turning out to be an actual dumpster and all the stuff that happened with the play getting cancelled, Laurie just lost it. "OK, I see, but take your emergency somewhere else." she nearly growled at Gwen "I'm on a date"

Gwen stood there in shock. “Who are you?” she asked.

Laurie shook her head, flabbergasted. “I’m your best friend. We’ve known each other our whole lives!”

Yeah, Gwen thought, if you really were my best friend, you'd call 911. "Can you put the date thing aside and just call 911 before I collapse?"

Laurie started to flare her nostrils and stomp her feet. "What part of I'm on a date do you not understand?! I can't call 911, I'm busy; so, just cheese it!"

Gwen fell to her knees. She dry heaved twice before any actual words came out of her mouth. “You’re not the same." she gasped, "I don’t know who you are anymore.”

"I haven't changed here, but that's beside the issue" bellowed a now fuming and frantically pointing Laurie, "The problem here is that the school cancelled my play because the morons in costume design couldn't be bothered with designing a costume that would go with my red hair, and the consolation the school gave me were these tickets to a dumpster fire of a music festival. I need to be the centre of attention right now, not you; so make like a tree and get out!"

Gwen threw up on Laurie. It was her only defense.

@justsomewritingprompts

#writing #writers #writers on tumblr #short fiction #creative writing

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imaginativecrime · 4 years

Text

7 reasons The Witcher series is a mess (or damn I need to vent)

Unpopular opinion time! For the record, I’ve read the books, played the games, hell, I’ve binged the Polish movie and series (because my love for Michal Zebrowski and Zbigniew Zamachowski is undying, sue me), and I was super hyped. Then I spent the entire series yelling at the TV, so I made a handy numbered list of the reasons why I personally consider it mediocre at best.

Because I’m fucking disappointed and I’ll never not be bitter about it. Fact.

Be warned, there are all sorts of spoilers below.

Let’s look at some of the issues that affected the show as a whole:

1) Adaptation is hard work - but you have to do it right

Adapting a story from one medium to another is difficult, you inevitably have to change things to make it suitable to the new form of expression and also, everybody wants their adaptation to be unique, to emphasize points they think are important, to reflect on the current times, you name it. But changes in an adaptation should make sense and lend themselves to the storytelling.

Many changes in the series were arbitrary, nonsensical and contributed absolutely nothing. One such example is the Battle of Sodden Hill, a terribly executed “siege” with not enough extras to fill a classroom instead of a battle of 100 000 people. Writing out Redania, Aedirn and the Brotherhood of Sorcerers from the conflict doesn’t seem to have a point to it, while the delayed arrival of the armies of Temeria and Kaedwen is both unexplained, unlikely and underwhelming, not to mention that it completely undermines the Nilfgaardian threat as a whole. This, of course, is just the tip of the iceberg of all the things that are wrong with Sodden Hill in the series.

Or take Foltest and his affair with Adda. It is perfectly clear in the books that after seven years of wizards, witchers and all manner of frauds coming and going while Foltest is obsessed with breaking the curse instead of killing his daughter, even the very last blind and deaf peasant knows about his shenanigans. It’s only logical, too. The story is relayed to Geralt in no uncertain terms at the very beginning. Now in the show the whole episode is too short to set up a murder mystery that requires Geralt’s incredible detective skills (uhuh) to unravel. What is worse is that you cannot make a big reveal of something that your audience actually has previous knowledge about. So why even bother to have Foltest deny it and have Geralt beat it out of Ostrit?

Which brings us to point two:

2) We all know which way to Temeria, don’t we?

Even if you have popular source material, you cannot expect everyone to know it. An adaptation has to consider people who are just getting their first introduction to the sandbox. When your lore is as rich as that of the Witcher, you need time and careful effort to set up your world. The show made a total shit job of this one. As in the above example, sometimes the show ignores that we, as an audience, know things.

Another example is Vilgefortz. We know him, his plans, abilities and allegiances, we have very specific expectations of his character. Besides completely failing these expectations (and doing a very unconvincing early reveal of his true colors), the show goes as far as taking Vilgefortz’s iconic sentence (You mistake stars reflected in a pond for the night sky.) and putting it in Fringilla’s mouth. Like did they actually think we wouldn’t notice? Or not be pissed?

At other times the show expects us to fill in its glaring blanks exactly by knowing our lore and characters. One obvious, overarching example of this is the issue of the separate timelines, that sometimes left even fans a little confused. Also, fun fact: one of my friends (who has no idea about anything in the Witcher’s world) for instance needed some time to realize Pavetta wasn’t, in fact, a grown-up Ciri, and he remains to this day very confused about Blaviken.

Basically, we are on a swing here, which is actually made even worse by another thing: bad pacing.

3) Hold your Roach for a moment

The first season wants to cram too much into its limited time and it has a severe negative impact on worldbuilding and character development. By bringing in all three timelines from the beginning, the show has to juggle time allotted to each.

To be frank, Ciri’s timeline at this point consists of a lot of running and screaming, which in itself hardly merits all the time we spend with her. It could have been utilized in part to provide us with a view of the war from ‘below’, to show that beyond the high politics and heroic battles there are burned villages, dead peasants, people who lost everything, cripples, deserters, ruined fields, and so on. Instead, we get one refugee camp of neat tents, actual beds, food and complaints about Calanthe (though not of dead husbands, lost homes or winter). Though I guess it should come as no surprise that the shock value of paint being made from a woman’s reproductory organs (that never happened in the books) is more important than actual large scale human suffering.

Now giving Yennefer an extended back story is great. But by that level of extension once again time is being consumed that is taking other opportunities away. Opportunities like giving Geralt himself a bit more background, clarifying points for fresh faces in the audience, giving characters more time for meaningful interaction. Because there is not enough time to let the story breathe and progress naturally, episodes are often rushed, choppy, and shallow.

4) Reverse worldbuilding, aka welcome to nowhere

Another serious issue with worldbuilding is what I suspect to be a deliberate departure from the game visuals and aesthetic. One of the things I adore most about the games is that it built heavily on Eastern European history and folk tradition. Nothing compares to the feeling when you ride into a village and you feel right at home because things are inherently familiar, or you go out into the woods and hear the exact bird song you are used to.

Netflix is very careful not to even offer a whiff of this particular identity to its show, but it doesn’t seem to have a clear artistic vision beyond that. Thus while landscapes are nice enough, other settings such as cities, taverns, ballrooms and the like are horribly bland in that “this is how we imagine the middle ages in Hollywood” way and look exactly what they are: sets. While one is not likely to quickly forget the red rooftops of Novigrad or the wild beauty of the Kaer Morhen pass from the games, there is nothing memorable about the locations presented in the series. (Even more bewildering is the depiction of the elite boarding school of Aretuza as a creepy dungeon with elf skulls everywhere. I cannot even begin to address this one unless it is all in caps.)

Point being that the show lacks an actual visual identity that would distinguish it from any other dime a dozen medieval fantasy.

5) My kingdom for a decent wardrobe

Sadly enough, the bland and flavorless visuals have a terrible effect on something else: clothes and armor. While some costumes are well done, there are way too many examples of the opposite. One very obviously is Nilfgaardian armor, which looks like fossilized trash bags with sad dick helmets. The fact that armor in the show is treated as the equivalent of cardboard is doing no one any favors. Please do your homework next time. Please?

Another inexplicable departure from the books and games is the appearance of the nobility, and most jarringly, sorceresses. That dress Yennefer picks out the first time? It’s literally the drabbest, ugliest thing I’ve ever seen, and the others are not much better. When it comes to period-accurate choices, the range is just so wide: we are talking cambric, velvet, silk, cloth of gold and silver. We are talking luxurious furs, embroidery, colorful feathers, bright dyes, coats of arms and jewelry. Brooches, necklaces, bracelets, rings, hat badges, belt buckles, hairpins, you name it. People wore their wealth. Making them look like sad orphans will not make them look any more medieval.

Peasant clothes also had their decorations, though to a lesser degree than nobles, obviously. But I guess it’s too much to hope that those would get any attention when queens are dressed like they lost a bet.

6) I see your people and I raise you mine

Including people of color in the casting choices caused a lot of heated debate amongst the fans, but at least it means that the show cares about minority representation, right? Right?

The world of the Witcher has its own minorities, and what we have seen of them so far is so incredibly pathetic that I haven’t the words. For one thing, they look so terrible that elves in the Polish series actually look better, and that was so not a high bar to exceed. To make matters worse, they again seem to lack any sort of distinguishing visual identity (except for the Dryads. I’m also willing to make an exception for Chireadan, as he actually looks right and he’s a settled elf.)

Sadly, unlike the games, the series also fails to establish even the beginnings of a compelling narrative for its minorities, which definitely needs to be in place by the time Thanedd happens at the very latest. What is more, we seem to be given something called the Great Cleansing, which is plenty obscure but comes across as a Night of Broken Glass sort of thing (though that could be just me). While still salvageable at this point, this shift in narrative is cause for some concern, and so far doesn’t make much sense.

7) Your villains are not my villains

Unlike the books and games, the Witcher series sadly doesn’t seem to excel at presenting opposing sides without the need to vilify one (which again, makes me worried about what they are going to do to the Scoia’tael later).

Nilfgaard is now an Empire of Evil (TM) that lives for killing and religious fanaticism, Fringilla is a psychopath, and Cahir... Well, Cahir is a thousand shades of wrong all on his own. Stregobor and Istredd are now assholes of a whole different caliber, and even poor Eyck of Denesle gets to enjoy his five minutes of fame as a madman frothing at the mouth instead of a paragon of knightly virtue.

This is going so well.

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #the witcher spoilers #the witcher netflix spoilers #review #crit #i am so disappointed in you #I'm legit afraid of s2

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oldloveatz · 5 years

Text

dance with me | san

— TYPE: prince!au, somewhat requested, princess!reader, fluff

— WORD COUNT: 2.8k

— SYNOPSIS: the annual grand ball takes place in your father’s palace, and on that night you meet a particular someone you become very interested in.

— MESSAGE: hi, i see that you’re getting so many requests so idk if you’re still accepting them but if yes, then i would like to request anything san related. it’s completely up to you to choose the plot, i just need more san scenarios in my life 😩 also, you’re such an amazing writer and my fav blog on tumblr so yeah, ty for taking your time to write for us!

— AUTHOR’S MESSAGE: so thank you for requesting a san scenario and thank you so much for reading all of my stuff im devastated ): but since you didn’t request anything specific, i took one idea from a few ideas i came up with and wrote it for san! please enjoy this omg im so sorry if it’s bad

you dreaded the grand ball your father throws annually. you had to get in a very tight corset (tight enough to constrict your lungs) and dance with strangers in some painful heels. on top of that, you had to wear a very tiring dress which you know your parents had picked for you to wear. it wasn’t that you hated the grand ball, you liked them, in fact. they were a bit socially tiring, however. you were constantly pulled left and right by your mother and father to introduce you to some family that you care less about. they weren’t even the same family you meet each year!

“a-are you sure you don’t want to wear your hair up for the ball?” your helper, elena, asked. she was verifying the clothes, shoes, makeup and accessories, hairstyle and even perfume that you’d be wearing for the ball. she offered to wear your hair up, but you insisted to not even touch your hair. “oh, your father-“

“i don’t care!” you exclaimed, which frightened her a little. “i’m sorry. but just sprinkle glitter in it, it’s fine.”

“i understand your frustrations,” elena said, pulling your velvet stool to sit down. and she was right, you were frustrated. frustrated that you had to wear whatever she was ordered to dress you in. “but, listen to me, dear. the ball will be a fun experience for you to meet other people.”

“oh, i meet so many people,” you cut in. “way too many people for my liking.”

all elena could do was sigh, thinking of another response to your remark. “alright, i’m not going to touch your hair. but you will wear your cor-“

“please, lose the corset,” you insisted. “if i breathe in that fucking-“

“language,” she warned. no wonder they soft-banned you from going outside. you were learning foul words from the people outside the castle you lived in, which was also alright because you liked them.

“well, if i breathe in a corset, either it will break or my ribs will,” you explained, hopefully it was enough to convince her to not put you in a tightly tied corset. god, you didn’t want to spend 45 minutes just putting on a corset. “and puncture my lungs, which you all do not want to happen.”

“alright, fine,” elena said, getting up from the raspberry-colored velvet stool to cross off the hairstyle and the corset from her list. “anything else you want to lose?”

“uh, yes,” you started, getting up from your king sized bed and beginning to pace across your shiny, marble floor. the reflection perfectly mimicked the ceiling, a clean tiled dark ceiling with gold intricates. the walls were white and the familiar intricates like the ceiling. you loved your room, in fact you spend a lot of time in your room. “i’d like to lose the heels.”

“but, darling they’re designer heels,” elena said, completely unfazed with the things you wished to not wear.

“so? my feet are murdered by the end of the day if i wore those heels,” you reasoned. the sound of scratches on her clipboard definitely fueled your victory, a smile playing on your lips. “and i think that’s it. yeah, that’s it.”

“rather plain, but simple,” she commented, clipboard in hand before heading for the door to leave. “lunch is ready, by the way.”

“oh, sweet.”

your darling parents discussed the ball for tonight, giggling to each other as if it was the first ball they had ever organized. your parents were the king and queen of the land, holding power but they take advantage of the said power by being kind to those who lived outside the castle. they were loved by many, which is why it was perfectly fine for you to step outside and spend the day out for hours. and you have done it.

after lunch, you bid your goodbye to go hang out with your friends (or non-royal as those who worked for your family would say). the village was a sight to behold, and you adored seeing paintings of talented artists that live within the village. you bought about fifty paintings, maybe more.

“y/n! i thought you said you weren’t coming by today?” your friend, jaehyun, asked, getting up from his spot and giving you a side hug.

you trusted jaehyun, he was the boy who helped you become comfortable with the world outside the walls of your castle. he introduced you to his friends, befriending the girls and the boys easily and connecting with them in an instant. jaehyun whistled at his friends, stealing their attention from the marbles they were playing with and running up to you and him.

“i wasn’t, but they let me go out today,” you told him with a smile. “i came to give you an invitation actually! i stole one from my parents, and you are invited to the ball tonight.”

you earned groans from the invitation, as for sure the others wanted to go too. you placed a finger on your lips, hoping to shush them and they did.

the enveloped was gorgeous. it was parchment-colored, beige and blotched. the sound that it makes when it gets touched was the most satisfying thing ever, and hearing jaehyun fumble with a fancy royal-like envelope was making you nervous. you didn’t want him to drop the letter. it was sealed by a custom-made wax and stamp for your family, and the wax was sparkling under the bright sunlight as it was mixed with gold particles. you did the honors of writing his name at the front, though calligraphy was difficult to do so you printed his name in your normal handwriting.

jaehyun lifted the flap carefully, hoping he wouldn’t ruin the wax at all and whispered a ‘yes!’ when he didn’t tear it apart. you snickered at his action, covering your mouth and the others mirrored your action. “what does the letter say?”

“it just says i’m invited to the castle,” jaehyun said, stuffing the letter back into the envelope in a delicate manner. he then slipped the letter into his pants’ pockets, patting it from the outside to make sure it wasn’t folded in any way. “i’ll see if i can go. i.. i don’t have anything nice to wear.”

“it’ll be lovely if you can,” you told him with a smile, placing a hand on his shoulder to reassure him that it was okay if he couldn’t attend. “i won’t hate you if you couldn’t. plus i have all the time to come out here and hang out with you guys! a ball means nothing.”

you went back a couple of hours later to get ready for the ball, silently cursing in your head each step on the track on your way back. the guards opened the tall, dark oak doors for you and you stepped in, the sound of dry track silenced as soon as your shoes met the smooth, marble floor. the environment of the castle was much different than the village. the castle was huge, but echo-y and quiet - obnoxiously quiet. on the other hand, the village was small, but a lot of children run around and kiosks that contained things to catch attention from anyone. you liked both on some days.

“it is about time you returned from your trip,” elena said, standing at the bottom of the grand staircase with her iconic clipboard wrapped in her arm. she had been waiting for you to get home, rather patiently but as soon as she watched you enter through the tall doors, all of her contained patience went down the drain. “shall we get started then, dear?”

“do we have food? i’m quite famished,” you told her, hoping to get through with this excuse and stall. but, elena saw through your excuse and shook your head. you weren’t too hungry anyway, you hoped for the dress to be loose enough for you to eat later on. you and elena headed up the grand staircase, hand resting on the gold-engraved wooden railing for support as you made your way up in your room.

elena had sent you to the bathroom to take a long, refreshing bubble bath. so, you sat in the bathtub filled with bubbles that spilled over the tub. your eyes stared blankly at the white-tiled wall, ignoring the anxiety building up in your chest but also the excitement slowly mixing with the feeling. of course, you were excited. maybe there will be a cute boy you’d want to dance with, or other people you’d eventually want to meet. it wasn’t like you had a choice though, your parents will pull you left and right meeting families you didn’t even know existed.

your thoughts were disrupted by elena pounding her fist on the door, “hurry up, darling! we still have to get you in our dress!”

you stepped out of the tub, grabbing the beige towel sitting on a golden rack next to the tub and began patting it throughout your body and rubbing it around your hair to soak up any water in your mop of hair. you wrapped your body in your soft plush robe, tiptoeing back into your room where everything was set up around your vanity.

elyssio was standing by your vanity with a hairbrush with a smile on his face, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you wanted to do something simple for the night. you hoped elena told him, maybe that’s what the hairbrush is for. “hey, elyssio! it’s nice to see you again.”

“very nice to see you too, princess!” elyssio said, placing the big hairbrush down on the surface of the vanity that had been littered with various boxes filled with shiny and elegant jewelry. you looked over at the headless mannequin standing still a few feet away from the vanity, and you fell in love with your dress. it was everything you had dreamed of wearing. “your parents did a very good job picking your dress for the night.”

“they took note of how you reacted to each dress they picked for every ball occasion,” elena said, sitting on the velvet stool located at the foot of your grand bed. you smiled, taking the skirt-part of the dress in your hand, and god you were thankful the dress was just right for you. “so, do you want to get the hair and makeup out of the way or get in the dress first?”

the process of the get-up ran faster than you thought, as you were in the empty hallways wandering with your dress on complete with the slightly elevated flats, waiting for the ball to start. it was 7:15 in the night, and guests were expected to pile in the grandeur room for the ball. you wanted to kill time, so you went into the kitchen to see what kinds of hors d’oeuvre and appetizers they had for the guests.

“kingston, what are you cooking for tonight?”

“hey! you’re not supposed to be here!” kingston pushed you out of the kitchen. “we don’t want you smelling like the food. you’ll see them when it’s out.”

you wandered the walls again, deciding to head to the library to kill time by reading the big books you had been putting off to the side. you’ve read the the smaller ones, at least. you grabbed the nearest big binded book in sight and sat yourself down on the velvet chair, opening up the hard cover and reading the very first page. you thought that you’d just fall asleep, assuming it’d be a boring book mostly about the geography of the earth, but that really wasn’t the case.

you had been in the castle’s library burning through time by reading the book you had grabbed, clearly and deeply into the topic of geography. what was it about the book that made the concept of geography so interesting? you were so into the book that you hadn’t realize the ball started. you wouldn’t have known if elena hadn’t gone in the library to tell you.

the room was filled with many people, a few minutes in when it started. more and more citizens and visitors made their way through the door, hearing a lot of ‘woah’s and such. as the usual, you were introduced to royal families. handshakes and smiles and nods had already gotten you worn out, but you carried on.

you pranced to the food section, grabbing a ceramic plate decorated with faint pink flowers and gold specks all around it and began walking down the table to see what the chefs had to offer. you ended up not bothering to ask what food is what, whatever looked good to you - you took it.

“that’s a lot of food you’re getting there,” a voice said from behind you. upon turning around, the owner of the voice must be an angel. he was a bit tall, he had the eyes of the fox and cheekbones made from the greek gods and goddesses. he had think yet so pink lips, if he told you he was an alien you’d believe him. how could someone be so gorgeous? “are you the king and queen’s daughter?”

“u-uhm, yes- yes i am,” you stuttered, moving on along down the table. you glanced at what he was wearing, and gosh was he a gem. the only difference between his suit and the other young boys in the room was he was adorned in gold chains, from head to toe. even his ears were littered with gold. “what’s your name?”

“san,” he replied. you took note of how nice his voice sounded in your ears, you wanted to hear more of him. “i don’t think we’ve met yet.”

“yeah, i don’t think so either,” you responded, reaching the end of the table and standing off to the side. you wondered if you should wait for him and talk more. “i’ll see you around..?”

san turned his head from the bread and butter presented in of him, flashing a small smile in his face that made your heart thump like a rabbit’s foot. he nodded, “you will.”

you sat down to eat, fending off your parents’ random arm grabs to leave you alone because you were eating. you sure got a lot of food, some of it you didn’t even get to finish at all. maybe you were rushing to find him, maybe that was it.

“you’re done eating, princess?” elena asked, dabbing on a handkerchief to her lips to get rid off of the sauce from the spaghetti. you nodded, dusting off any food on your dress and yourself to make sure you don’t make a fool out of yourself when you see san again. you checked your hair too. “you look great, sweetheart. go out there and dance.”

“thank you, i will!” you hopped off the platform which your table had been on top of and began to walk around, simply disguising it as meeting other families and attendees, but you only wanted to look for san.

you found him in a group of girls, gushing and poking his gold-adorned suit as they giggled so loudly. you didn’t think much of it and approached san, tapping on his shoulder to get his attention. he swiveled around, a smile creeping on his face as if he knew you’d come to him.

“oh my gosh, it’s the princess..”

“winnie, shut up..!”

“hey,” he greeted with his cute smile. you noticed his dimples, smiling even more at this. “i knew you’d come see me.”

you blushed, knowing that he had known you’d come for him. “uhm.. yeah.. so-”

“does the princess want to dance with the prince?” he asked, the girls behind him muttering to each other and gasping. your eyes peeked at them, before training them on san. his hand reached out to you, offering it for you to take and dance with him.

you took his hand, and in an instant he led you to the dance floor among other pairs dancing with each other. he grabbed your other hand, placing it on his shoulder and attaching his hand onto your waist. your hands still intertwined together when he offered you his hand. you got the idea that he must be a romantic person.

“where have you been all my life?” you whispered, eyes so lost in the void of his eyes. a smirk appeared on his lips, that later transformed into the sweetest smile you have ever seen. you just thought out loud, and felt so embarrassed that you said that to him. but.. san didn’t mind. “i’m sorry i said that.”

“i was just going to ask the same thing,” he said, his eyes were soon beginning to fill the dark void with adoration, like falling in love at first sight. “i’m glad you came to me tonight.”

jaehyun witnessed them dance together to the slow and perfect classical melody, his heart slowly falling off of its place. he left the venue, knowing that she was never interested in him in that way in the first place.

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