#<- the- what was it. The mortifying ordeal of being known? me when I post art I did for fun in my free time | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

walpu · 1 year ago

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hey, hey, I don't know how many times I've read your post "pre-relationship" especially aventurine part (omg i love how you write abt him 😭). I wonder how it will be once they are in a relationship and the kissing part please :3 thank u and have a nice day!

THANK YOUUUUU

Hope you'll enjoy this post too💛💛💛

being in a relationship with Aventurine

characters - Aventurine notes - gn!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort (do I even write something other that hurt/comfort for him lmao), no beta

can be seen as a part 2 of this post but it can stan on it's own as well

Aventurine

It would take quite some time for Aventurine to move from the pre-relationship stage with you. Will dance around the subject, throwing hints and flirty remarks but as for making an actual move? Oof.

Would cling to your side and shamelessly say something like "aww, can't get enough of me? people may think we're dating <З unless that's what you want them to think haha"

Pathetic. /affectionally.

But seriously, he really wants to be sure that you like him before making a move. That you like him, not his money, not the idea of him. At least that's what he tells himself. And while this is part of the reason, the actual thing is that he's simply... confused. He's already more vulnerable around you than he ever was around anyone else. And dating means being even more vulnerable.

While he yearns for this genuine connection he's also a scared of it. Tim Kreider wrote the line "If we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known" about him actually.

It would take some time for him to get used to being in relationship. In the previous post I've mentioned that he, most likely, had some short flings in the past. I seriously doubt that he ever had any serious relationship before you though. It's so new to him. At first it would seem like nothing has changed between the two of you at all. Surprisingly, it looks like he even became a bit more distant.

Aventurine doesn't want to attract any unwanted attention to your relationship since it will only endanger you. Plus he doesn't want to overwhelm you. Plus he doesn't want to overwhelm himself. Plus he is scared shitless.

He can't help but feel that he looses everything he holds dear. After all, it's been like that for all of his life. And he simply can't loose you.

Mini spoiler for his leaked character story, but there is a moment there when he looks at the aventurine stone Diamond gave him and he realizes that despite the fact that he worked so hard for it, now that he has it, it holds no real value since it doesn't fill the emptiness inside of him. Logically, he knows that this won't happen with you. He loves you too much. But there's this subconscious fear inside of him that he's just so messed up inside that he simply would not be able to love you like you deserve.

Be patient with him, this mans doesn't know what he's doing. Don't give up on him and he'll crawl to your side, holding onto you for dear life.

Once he will calm down a bit, he'll make it up for all those times when you were the one reaching out to him. Texts you, calls you, arranges spontaneous dates.

In the beginning of relationship would spoil you with expensive gifts. He knows what it's like to have nothing so he doesn't want you to ever feel this way. And the best way to prevent it? To make sure that you will have anything and everything. Maybe it's a subconscious way to bribe you. Maybe. Not like he realizes it himself.

Once he'll feel more stable and more confident, his gift giving tendencies will get less overwhelming. He still like giving you gifts but now he picks and chooses. His sugar darling deserves only the best, after all.

Acts all clingy, playful and unserious but actually listens to your every word and is ready to fulfil your every need.

Is actually very caring. Shows his care by pestering you and easing you tho.

If you feel down, will sit stay by your side. May randomly start tickling you, if you're ticklish. If not, will find another way to touch you in a playful and somewhat annoying way. After you cheer up a bit, Aven will put his chin on your shoulder and hugs your waist, softly asking what happen and why is his dearest darling seems sad.

As for kisses. Aven will loooove covering your face with butterfly kisses. And not only your face. Will randomly grab your hand and kiss your knuckles and fingertips. If you've made a mistake of exposing your shoulder then be ready for it to be kissed endlessly.

Adores kissing those parts of your body that are usually covered with clothes. It feels fore intimate for him.

And if you have freckles or/and beauty marks. Oh well. Will trace them with his fingertips, connecting them with some invisible lines and sometimes gasp playfully, saying that he found his constellation. Just a silly little guy being a silly little guy.

So touch-starved it's unreal.

Has very mixed feeling about his tattoo being kissed. Would feel... weirs if you would kiss it during your casual cuddling session. He exposes it for the world to see, yes. But still, when it attracts attention of someone who knows the meaning behind it... Makes him a bit tense, it catches him off-guard. However, if you kiss it after a lovemaking session or when he shares some painful memories with you, he will feel reassured.

Will slowly start crawling out of his shell when he's with you. Before he only shared some brief memories of his past with you, now he'll start slowly opening up about other, much more painful stuff.

It still happens randomly and out of the blue. He remembers something, he tenses up. But now, instead of repressing this feelings, he shares them with you.

Don't push him too talk, he'll slowly open up on his own.

Loves waking up next to you. Especially if you're still asleep. Seeing the sun shining on your face fills him with love and tenderness. Only with you by his side he feels truly safe.

#one day i'll learn to control my word vomit and my post'll stop being so fuckass long #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine #walp's writing #reader insert

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thewinter-eden · 1 month ago

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Blood Sugar Virus (16)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Genre: Horror, zombies, strangers to lovers, angst, suspense Pairing: Kang Yeosang x female!reader Warnings: based on the Wanteez Zombie episode, ages are based on current Ateez rather than the time at which the actual episode was filmed, zombies, language, some gore, there's another bug - this was influenced by wine and therefore very soft (FLUFF WARNING) Also inspired by Yeosang's cherry blossom Insta post <3

Story Summary: You (stage name Sugar) are the co-captain of a horror acting group. You and your guys are the ones the companies hire when they want to stage a zombie, ghost, or any vaguely horrific and dystopian episode. So when you get hired by Ateez to develop a zombie program, it's just another routine that you've done a million times. Everything's going exactly according to script--until suddenly it isn't, and it starts getting a little too real.

🏆 Esteemed Moot: @ramadiiiisme

⭐️ Reader Spotlight: @furfoxsake22

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“You know, yesterday, I would have given anything for just a day off.”

Your blonde companion turns his head towards you as you break the stretch of silence. He’s silent, thoughtful, waiting for you to finish whatever it is you’re trying to say.

“I’ve been daydreaming about the perfect day off for months.”

He matches your wistful little smile, resting the crown of his head against the wall.

“I’d sleep in—until ten o’clock. A goddamn luxury. Then I’d get up and make a cup of coffee, and drink it on my balcony, and not open my banking app to make sure my autopay bills haven’t overdrawn me.”

You close your eyes and wish the thought of a peaceful morning didn’t make you want to cry right now. “I’d do nothing. For hours. Have some lunch, watch the sky, listen to music, curl up on the couch and read my magazines.”

His eyes are still on you as you shake off the hundreds of memories of your childhood, of busy yard work Saturdays and house cleaning Sundays and evenings during the week vacuuming the floors and washing dishes and doing laundry until the day has run out of hours.

“I’ve never done nothing. God, just once, I wanted to do nothing for a day. A day without chugging through homework and listening to lectures. A day without slogging through paperwork and memorizing scripts. A weekend without raking leaves or mowing the lawn or cleaning something that doesn’t need to be cleaned.”

Inexplicably, there are tears pricking at your eyes. You don’t know why you’re talking about this.

It doesn’t matter.

And Yeosang doesn’t care.

Why are you telling him about your ideal day off in the middle of a parasite-infested zombie apocalypse?

Maybe, you think, it’s because people want their innermost desires to see the light of day before the end.

And what a pitiful desire yours is.

“So why haven’t you had one?” He asks quietly, in that thickly low tone of his.

“It feels wrong.” You can’t help the sheepish grin. “I try sleeping in some weekends, and I wake up at 9:30 feeling like I’ve wasted my morning, and therefore I’ve already lost at the day. As though you can win days. I try having a slow morning, sipping a coffee and nibbling a donut or something equally sinful, and I just start staring at the dishes in the sink. Or the pages in my work bag. I can’t just do nothing without feeling guilty about it.”

His eyes are soft as they hold yours, shining gently in the fluorescent lights. “What would you do after you read your magazines?”

The mortifying ordeal of being known strikes you then as blood rushes to your cheeks and heat rises in your neck at the realization that he’s listening to you, internalizing your stupid words, spending potentially the last day of his life listening to you spout nonsense.

A shameful laugh topples out of your mouth gracelessly. “Ah, forget it. What’s the point, right?”

He pushes out a foot to nudge yours again. “Tell me. I want to know.”

For a minute you’re frozen, debating. Do you crack open your chest and bleed out all of your softest, silliest daydreams of the perfect Studio Ghibli-type day? Or do you seal yourself up and distract from the mess of vulnerable truth that you’ve already vomited all over the both of you?

But he just relaxes against the wall, his eyelids lowering ever so slightly as though you’ve got him in some sort of peaceful trance, waiting for your next words.

So you suck in a breath and avoid his eyes with all of your strength. “I’d put on clothes that make me feel confident. And maybe that’s why I haven’t had my perfect day yet. I’m still waiting for those clothes or that body to come along. I’d pack my book and my music and my camera and I’d find somewhere beautiful to walk. I’d stop somewhere along the way for a hot drink to carry with me, and take a hundred pictures of the sky. Maybe it’ll be late enough in the afternoon to watch a pink sunset.”

Yeosang’s lips part as he smiles at the embarrassed words that are fighting past your nervously tight throat, and you see glimpses of the sharpness of his teeth.

You would think that after a night like this, the thought of sharp teeth would turn your stomach and give you nightmares, but when Yeosang smiles that canine, wolfy smile, you have to stop yourself from staring at him long enough to memorize every stroke of his features.

Your mind has turned to pudding.

There’s something wrong with you.

You must actually think you’re going to die.

“Then what?” He nudges gently.

“A morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs.” You quote timidly. “I’d find the prettiest, most aesthetic restaurant within walking distance. Maybe I’d sit inside a warmly lit dining room, with pretty dishes and good food, or maybe I’d order street food from a vendor and eat the best food I’ve ever had while the cold of evening makes my nose numb. I’d love to watch the stars come out, and walk back to my apartment underneath them. Go back home, feed my cat, watch my favorite movie, have a glass of wine, boring stuff.”

“You have a cat?”

A smile tilts your cheeks. “Yeah.”

“What’s their name?”

“Ponk.”

Yeosang’s face screws up with a confused, unbelieving expression. “Ponk?”

Laughing at the downward slant of his mouth and the side-eye he gives you without reservation, you kick at his foot. “She headbutts things to get attention. That’s the sound it makes. Ponk. Ponk. Ponk.”

He laughs back, grinning wide and eyes narrowing, mimicking your little ponk, ponk, ponk as he taps his head against the wall. “Her name is Ponk,” he croons lowly. “That’s so cute.”

You sigh heavily, hoping with everything in you that your sweet little cat will be okay. That you’ll be back in time to feed her and be greeted by her happy little chirps and listen to her ponk her little head against the wall as she wraps her body around the doorframe.

“Jeju Island,” he says suddenly. “In the spring you can walk among the prettiest cherry blossoms you’ve ever seen. There’s a market vendor there with the best street food, and you can eat it next to the water and watch the stars. As for your hot drink, Cafe 9 is so pretty. There’s a view of the rolling hills from every window. You can stop in and get your drink on the way.”

You watch him fill in the missing details to your day dream with far too much emotion in your chest for the subject matter, and he isn’t even looking at you. He’s watching his hands tie knots into a piece of thread he’d pulled from his pants.

“Jeju Island,” you choke out quietly.

His eyes lift to yours, and he smiles at you. “And Cafe 9.”

“I’ll do it,” you say. “Someday.”

“Someday,” he says.

You swallow thickly, completely embarrassed by your raw display of yearning, and do your best to scoop out a little of his heart, too, while you’re still wielding the shovel. “What about you? What’s your perfect day?”

He takes in a long, thoughtful sigh, and then settles back in and smiles at you with a little shrug. “I would take some time to myself to spend in the gym in the morning,” he clears his throat and glances back down at his busy fingers. “But other than that, your picturesque do-nothing day sounds perfect to me.”

You’re struck still, and for no good reason.

It’s a meaningless conversation, an unimportant topic.

So why do you feel like you’re going to melt directly into the floor?

“I think, if I survive this—”

“Shhh,” he stops you abruptly, pressing a finger to his lips, and you’re reminded of his self appointed role earlier in the evening, shushing everybody for the slightest sound.

You scowl and kick his foot again.

You don’t take kindly to being shushed.

“Sugar.” He grabs your flailing foot and levels you with a serious look. “Shh.”

And that’s when you hear it.

The wooden scrabbling of the third parasite. You launch yourself to your feet, scooping up your weapons. The same awful, sickening feeling is still rooted in your gut, but your ego can’t quite take another mortifying display of pathetic fear right now, so you do your best to pretend to be brave.

Yeosang tugs you back by the sleeve, ushering you behind him. “I got it, stay back.”

You try to move up next to him, insisting that you can help, that he doesn’t have to do it alone, that you’re not sacrificing him or relying on him to save you.

He just sweeps you back with one arm. “I’ve got it.” He says again. “It’s the last one anyway.”

And he does, killing the hideous wasp just as quickly as he killed the second one, and you finally, finally let yourself relax.

JIMIN

He’s halfway through his twentieth attempt at plugging in the same two passcodes (the only ones he’s ever been given), spitting obscenities into the abused keyboard, when he feels it. A sharp, stabbing sting in his lower leg, digging deep into the muscle. “Shit—what the fuck!” He kicks his chair away from the desk, flinging his leg out reflexively.

Something hard and heavy flies off his ankle, striking the wall. He sees it right as it skitters frantically away to a dark corner of the room, something big and black and vaguely insect.

His leg is still throbbing, a trickle of blood running into his sock. He yanks his pant leg up and sees a deep puncture wound, now ebbing a steady stream of red. “What the fuck?” Jimin leans down, staring at the wound, eyes wide with shock. “The fuck.”

He drops his pant leg and spins the chair, peering into the shadows of the corner at the huge bug thing had fled to. Passcode and lockdown forgotten, he crosses the room and squints into the darkness, hearing the scrabble of tiny legs as he gets closer.

Frightened by his approach, the thing bursts into the light to run from him, and he jumps back.

It’s a giant insect. He thinks maybe a beetle or an ant, or, seeing the stinger on the rear, some kind of wasp.

“Ugh, hell no.” He finds his footing, watching it scurry desperately for a hiding place, and leaps forward with angry vindication. Jimin’s shoe comes down on the creature as hard as he can stomp it. His shoe cracks through the hard shell of the insect’s back, and it gives a tiny squeal. Jimin stomps it again, crushing the head and body into the floor.

It dies in a slimy mess of broken shell and blackish blue flesh, coating the bottom of his shoe.

“Gross.” He scrapes his sole against the floor and watches the viscous trail of dark insides smear the linoleum. Satisfied that the thing is nothing more than a pile of slime, he hops away from it and looks for something to clean the rest of his shoe.

Under the desk there’s nothing but a couple of cardboard file boxes, one of them with the lid askew. He grabs it and sits back down in the chair, scraping the bottom of his shoe with it.

As he does, he catches a glimpse of the contents. A container with air holes, one side eaten through.

It must have been what the wasp thing had crawled out of, he reasons, and carefully pulls the box closer with his other foot.

Once sure that there was only the one, now empty, bug box, he plucks it out with two fingers and tosses it towards the obliterated carcass behind him. In the bottom of the file box is, naturally, a handful of Manila files, which he pulls out and tosses on top of the desk.

The puncture in his calf tugs at his frustrated attention, and he quickly scans the room for a first aid kit. His eyes fall on the side wall where the medical supplies are clearly stocked on a shelf: a selection of generic first aid kits, a fire extinguisher, an AED kit, a few baskets of bandages and sports compresses.

Limping to collect one of the kits, he returns to the chair and focuses the next few minutes on doing what he can to soothe the aching sting in his leg.

“This is fucked.” He mutters, working. “This whole goddamn day. This whole fucking, dystopian, apocalyptic, goddamn fever dream.” The wound spray sets his leg on fire all over again. “God, shit, fuck.”

Dropping the remainder of the kit unceremoniously on the floor next to him, Jimin’s eyes fall to the other file boxes, his mind returning to the hellish wasp that stabbed him after eating it’s way out of containment. “What kind of fucking high school science experiment—this whole building is a film set, why the hell is there actual lab shit in here?”

He grabs the rest of the boxes and pulls them out from under the desk, flinging the lids off and peering inside with his good leg hoisted up in preparation to stomp the shit out of whatever’s inside.

Just papers.

More files and pages and loose leaf note paper.

No insects.

“Thank god.” He grumbles, turning back to the computer to resume his initial, rudely interrupted task. “Why the hell isn’t this passcode working.”

SUGAR | YEOSANG

“How long has it been?” Yeosang groans, stretching, adjusting his uncomfortable posture. All of the chairs are jammed into the makeshift barricade, which, theoretically, could be dismantled at this point, but neither of you want to get up and move closer to the three bodies and the mangled wasp remains.

You crane your neck to find the clock on the wall. “About half an hour.”

“This was supposed to be restful.” He gives a half laugh, repositioning his legs, and then repositioning again. “You didn’t say we’d be locked in a room with parasites.”

The mention of the god-awful insects turns your lips downwards, fixing him with an unimpressed glare. “Say parasites one more time, I think I forgot the worst thing I’ve ever lived through.”

Snickering, pulling his leg out of reach of your half-hearted kick, Yeosang lifts his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, sorry. No more discussion of insects.”

You’re halfway ready to pick up one of the books that you’d hurled at the wasp and lob it at your decidedly not funny companion, but it’s about ten feet away from you and splashed with insect guts so you can’t even convince yourself it’s worth it.

“I could sing to you.” He suggests playfully, testing your wrath again.

Since you know he’s teasing, pushing your buttons, merely attempting a complete diversion of conversation topics to get your mind off of the nastiness at the other end of the room, you turn mock-interested eyes to him. “Really?”

His face flushes pink again and he stammers for a second before managing an awkward smile that looks absolutely full of regret. “Uh…sure, if you really want me to.”

You can tell he really, really doesn’t want to serenade you in the middle of this miserable situation, and you absolutely don’t want to sit on the floor and listen to him croon some acapella version of a pop song that was designed to be performed practically with exploding cannons and a million screaming girls as a backtrack. “No. I don’t. It’s not really the time.”

Yeosang actually takes in a full, relieved breath. “True, true, not really the time.” He’s seconds away from thanking you for not calling his bluff when he notices the teasing smirk finally surface on your face. He rolls his eyes and huffs, awkward shyness making way for exasperated defeat. “Okay, yeah, make fun of the guy who’s just trying to make light of a difficult situation.”

“You’re right, I should have politely shut up so you could sing a lullaby to me and the dead guys over there.” You feel terrible, absolutely sucky, destined for hell, for referring to the deceased men at the front of the room so casually, but if you spend one more minute thinking about how they ended up that way, you’re going to sob all over yourself, and that would be worse than Kang Yeosang of Ateez singing his way through the zombie apocalypse.

“I wasn’t going to!” He complains. “I was kidding, I didn't think you'd actually want me to sing to you.”

Taking mercy, you let the topic drop and return your gaze to your hands in your lap. There’s blood under your fingernails, sweat and grime dried in the creases of your fingers. Your nose wrinkles in disgust as the scent of blood from your saturated clothes finally reaches you, and you find yourself scooting further away from Yeosang.

You had been appropriately spaced before, a good few feet between you, but now you edge yourself a significant distance away from him and settle yourself on the cold hardwood floor near the opposite wall. When you look up, he’s watching you with confusion.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, and lifts his shirt to give it a sniff. “Is it that bad?”

Waving a hand dismissively at his worry, you pluck at the damp redness of your clothes. “It’s not you. I’m covered in…the man who died…and I can smell it. And if I can smell it, I’m sure you can smell it, and it’s not a very pleasant…” You drift off, not even really knowing why you’re trying to explain yourself. You had been laying in a pool of a dead man’s blood and it’s painted the entire back of your clothes, seeped down to your skin and hair, making you look and smell like some kind of gruesome mortuary accident.

“Oh.” His eyes coast the seams of your clothes from your collar to the hem of your pants, and he abruptly pushes himself to his feet. In the next second, he’s flung the door of the closet open, digging through the shelves and boxes back here. “Uh…” His thoughtful voice emerges from the space, followed by sounds of scraping cardboard and scooting plastic.

You’re entirely too confused to move.

“Here’s a lost and found box.” You hear him say from deep within the closet. “Hmm,” A few seconds pass and then you hear him make a small sound of success. “I found a sweater, it’s an extra large though. Should work.” More rustling, more scraping, a grunt of exertion and you imagine he’s reaching for something.

“Uh, Yeosang, it’s fine—” It’s not, you’re hoping beyond hope that he finds even more than a musty abandoned sweatshirt, but you suddenly feel embarrassed that he’s digging through a classroom closet that hasn’t been used for actual education since the nineties. “It’s probably been cleaned out since anybody stored anything that isn’t a prop in there.”

“Yeah but groups like ours have come through here, doing programs like this—well, not like this, but you get me—” His muffled voice floats to you. “It’s more than likely that terrified suckers have left things behind, or actors even. You know, a lost shoe here, soiled pants there—”

“Yeah, you can leave any soiled pants where you find them, thanks anyway.”

Soft laughter rewards your glib comment and you find yourself smiling.

“Success!” He exclaims softly, and emerges from the closet, covered in dust bunnies but carrying a thick gray sweatshirt and a pair of pink sweatpants. He also has two packages of wipes in his hands that you recognize as the brand that your company keeps on hand to help clean the actors and clients of the sticky, syrupy, fake blood once the programs are over. “They smell clean, I promise. The sweater smells like somebody wore it but it’s not sweaty and it’s definitely not soaked in blood so I’d call it a win.” He holds the items out to you proudly, and you lift yourself to your feet with a sensation of awe that would be more suitably matched to being presented with a million dollars.

“Oh my god.” You have got to stop tearing up at the most mundane things. “Oh my god, you’re an angel, I’m…” You reach to take the clothes and stop at the sight of dried blood on your palms and forearms. “Ugh. I’m covered.”

His eyebrows jump with realization at your conundrum, and he places the clothes on the nearest window sill, focusing instead on the packages of wipes. “Here, I found these too. They say they’re for use on skin, I checked.” He pries the plastic lid off and peels back the sticky flap, tugging out three or four big wipes.

“Yeah, they’re ours, we use them for—” You’re stunned into silence when he steps into your space, taking one of your hands and gently scrubbing the soapy wipe over your stained skin. His hand is wrapped around the back of yours, his brow furrowed with intense concentration as he drags the quickly reddening towelette across the skin of your hands and forearms, completely oblivious to the warm flood of shock running through your body.

Yeosang works in complete silence, so busy cleaning the dried blood off your palms and the spaces between your fingers that he hasn’t noticed that you never finished your sentence. Finished with your left hand, he drops it and tosses the soiled wipes to the floor, snatching up another few from the package and scooping up your right hand.

It’s adrenaline making your heart pound in your chest like you just chugged an entire bottle of wine. It’s residual panic, leftover fear, old traces of frantic disgust at being chased by zombies and bugs. It’s definitely not the heat of his breath on your wrist, or the scent of whatever he puts in his hair mixed with perspiration and old perfume, or the fact that now you know what his skin smells like, or the feeling of his slender fingers wrapped around the back of your hand.

You’re not having warm fluttery feelings for a freaking pop star in the middle of a zombie outbreak.

It doesn’t matter that he keeps making little low humming noises in the back of his throat as he makes progress in breaking the crust of dried blood on your skin. It doesn’t matter that when he readjusts his grip on you and turns your hand so he can wipe at the crease of your thumb, he leans even closer into your space to see if he’s still seeing traces or if he’s just scrubbed your skin pink.

You’ve been silent for too long. “Um…I…” You choke on the words that barely pass your lips, clear your throat, and try again. “Thank you, I think it’s good now.” You have to get out of his grip. You have to get your personal space back before you do something really, really stupid. You tug your arm back, and with your skin moist with soapy residue, your hand just slips right out of his.

He drops the dirty wipes and lifts his head, flipping his hair out of his eyes, and blinks at you. “Oh, there were a few towels in there, too. You can go in there to change and use the towels. They’re on one of the shelves on the right, at about my shoulder level.” He gestures at the approximate height, which is roughly at your chin.

When you hesitate, he lets his arm drop. “It’s safe. No one in there.”

Like you’re a child afraid of the monster in the closet, or under the bed. It’s not why you hesitated, but it’s a good enough excuse that you don’t argue it.

“Okay, thank you.” You back away from him, scooping up the blessed clothes, and slip around him before you can say anything else. The closet is cramped and messy where he had shoved things around to look for your replacement clothes, but you step in cautiously and turn to grab the doorknob.

He’s already there, dutifully pushing the door shut.

Except, as soon as he does, you’re absolutely shrouded in complete darkness. “Aw, shit.” You mutter.

“What? What is it?” The door cracks, letting in a sliver of light. “Oh, it’s dark in there, isn’t it?” His hand slips through the narrow space, slapping at the wall around the door frame. “I’m not feeling a light switch. Is there a light in there?”

You don’t know.

How would you know?

It’s too dark to see your own feet, much less a lightbulb on the ceiling. “I have no idea, I can’t see shit.”

“Okay, hold on.” He swings the door wide open, and then steps away, out of sight. “I’ll go back to where I was sitting. You can change with the door open.”

This does not make your conflicted brain work any better. Yes, you can now see in the small space, but now you’re about to strip in virtually the same room as a very attractive and kind person whom you’re supposed to regard with only the utmost professionalism. “I mean, I don’t need the door open.” You try, reaching shakily for the knob. “I’ll be fine. I’ll just go by feel and if I’m wearing it backwards by the end of it then who cares?”

“No, leave the door open.” He says, his voice traveling from the other side of the room. “There’s stuff all over the floor and your socks are already wet anyway. You don’t want to slip and hit a shelf or a mop bucket or something.”

“How do you know my socks are wet?” What a fucking weird detail to say out loud.

“There are bloody footprints on the floor.”

“Oh.”

He’s right, anyway, your socks are sopping. It’s been irking you for the past thirty or forty minutes.

“I’ll stay over here. I promise.”

You believe him. Trying desperately to calm your anxious nerves, you peel your sticky shirt off your back and tug as many wipes from the package as you can fit in your palm, making awkward work of trying to clean your back and neck of the poor man’s blood. When you think you’re sufficiently soaped, you find one of the towels he’d indicated and hope you get the rest of it off your skin.

In a few minutes you’re changed into the clean sweats, your hair bundled in your fist, your arms and shoulders weary from reaching to try to clean yourself. You step into the doorway so you can hold onto the frame and flip your hair forward, scrubbing two handfuls of the wipes through your hair and over your scalp. The cleaning solution is probably going to be hell on your hair but anything is better than the current state of it.

By the time you’re done, you’re surrounded by discarded pinkish towelettes, your hair smells like baby wipes, and you’re wearing a towel turban like you’ve just stepped out of the shower. “I look ridiculous, I’m wearing strange clothes from a strange closet, and my hair is full of hand soap.” You grumble, staring down at your bare feet. You wish with all your might that he had magically found a perfectly clean pair of socks back there, but it is what it is. Maybe after the lockdown lifts you can find your duffel bag.

You don’t even know where you dropped it.

Maybe in the office downstairs with Rose?

Wherever it is, there’s fresh socks and underwear in it, and deodorant—all of which you’re no longer wearing.

Yeosang chuckles softly, looking up at you from where he’s drawing on the chalkboard. “Well, you look great.”

“I look like shit,” You argue, making your way over to see that he’s made an empty tic-tac-toe board. “But thank you for finding these, I feel like a whole new person.”

He smiles at you and nods meekly, handing you a piece of chalk. “It’s this or Hangman.”

You draw a big X in the upper right hand corner of the board. “I’ll play Hangman next but if your word is ‘zombie’ I will kick you.”

< last chapter | masterlist | next chapter >

tag list : @mysterysold @threevracha @igotajuicyass @velvetmoonlght @ramadiiiisme @mrsminseochoi @nightshadeblooming @furfoxsake22 @marvolos @lunaryoongie @latisthegenderfluidwannabealone

#ateez #kang yeosang #yeosang #ateez x reader #kang yeosang x reader #yeosang x reader #bts #black pink #park jimin

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tide-locked · 6 months ago

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ok, you know what, fuck it, fic recs post. historically i try not to rec works in progress or things i haven't commented on and i'm throwing that fully out the window for this because honestly, fucking whatever.

if you're on this list and i haven't been fully unhinged at you in the comments, please know that it's because (1) i'm the worst and (2) i'm trying desperately to calibrate so i hit 'enthusiastic' and not 'kind of frightening, actually'. i swear that i have written at least several sentences of a comment for every fic on this list, it's just that i'm genuinely impossibly slow, sometimes. it's me, not you.

my previous rec post is here, in case you missed that. as a bonus, special for this rec list and as a concession to the horrors, i am attempting to guess how much any given fic will fuck up the average person. obviously this is a ymmv kind of situation, but i'm trying, at least?

everything else under a cut because i am longwinded.

and found by @dangerouscommiesubversive, explicit, every possible combination of di feisheng/fang duobing/li lianhua | li xiangyi; bless, but i am not typing all that out. starting off with a wip where i haven't left a comment in like four fuckin' chapters, breaking those rules real good. this fic is a fucking ride. i will admit that i wasn't entirely convinced by the premise when i saw the blurb, but i am nothing if not willing to admit when i was wrong, and i was—once again—totally wrong. this is the fic where i was like 'ok but…is anyone really, like, desperate for gen z li xiangyi?' and then i read it and i was like 'ohhhhhh fuck yeah, ok, i get it, i was actually fully desperate for gen z li xiangyi.' he is. such a little prick. i love him. there has been something unexpected and delightful in every single chapter of this so far, plus a number of impressively memorable one-liners. this fic is fun and distracting and at least as of chapter seven, i'm gonna say it's not even gonna fuck you up. (please note that this is only through chapter seven!)

and the days are bright red by @junemermaid, explicit, di feisheng/fang duobing/li lianhua. rip to my beloved tumblr mutual @junemermaid, because they're getting called out twice in this list, but: tough. this fic is so delightful. featuring: memories of slut era li lianhua, the mortifying ordeal of being known, an entire box of historically accurate sex toys, fang duobing and di feisheng communicating (sometimes silently) in a way that unsettles li lianhua (back from his months-long sojourn), some very hot sex that is both very much about sex and also about trust and being perceived, casual intimacy, and fledgling tenderness. there are Emotions in this, and they get moderately intense, but it's a very kind and surprisingly gentle feel-good fic.

a drink under a clear window by @momosandlemonsoda, explicit, di feisheng/fang duobing and fang duobing/qiao wanmian. a fic that tackles the dreaded v-shaped polycule and makes it work. it seems like perhaps it shouldn't: fang duobing as the hinge, with di feisheng and qiao wanmian on either side, but actually it works perfectly, and is a lovely little glimpse at who they could become and the relationships they could have. i love the thought of qiao wanmian having come into her own as a leader in her own right, as more than just the representative of the ghost of li xiangyi, and this does a wonderful job of letting her be her own person. also, yes, ok, passing fang duobing back and forth like a party favour. this is a post-canon fic in which li lianhua is dead, but the fic itself a straightforward delight that is not at all fucky uppy.

the floating clouds, no resting place, again by @junemermaid (not sorry), technically gen and no ship, but functionally pre-di feisheng/fang duobing/li lianhua. the hair-washing fic. ohhhhhh. i started jotting notes for this post the day that i finished this fic, and i really thought that they were in any way comprehensive, but instead, what i typed and left as a note to myself was this:

and honestly. you're right, hypothetical reader, that doesn't totally make sense, but i stand by it regardless, because i apparently had that thought in [checks date i last saved the file] fucking august, and i'm still nodding along with myself. that is that this is like. this fic is very beautiful and will make you ache and will leave you slightly better at the end of it than you were at the beginning. it may also make you cry; this seems to me a fair enough trade.

the floating lotus by @anndramarama, not rated, di feisheng/li xiangyi. pre-canon stuff doesn't always work super well for me, but i really enjoyed this one, featuring di feisheng and li xiangyi when they're both so young and arrogant and full of themselves—and stupid and naïve and young and almost hopeful in a way that they're often not, in fic, for all that they were barely but children at the point of the donghai fight. they just seem…vulnerable, i guess, in this, in a way that i find touching. seasonal bonus: a ghost story, of a sort. given that this is set pre-canon, i think it's hard to come in any softer than bittersweet, which this very much is.

from here one's hand could pluck the stars by @howlingmoonrise, explicit, di feisheng/fang duobing. sex pollen fic! also featuring, a little surprisingly, given the premise, incredibly explicit and enthusiastic consent. look, this does what it says on the tin. di feisheng gets sex pollened. fang duobing is left to stay with him. the obvious ensues. unfortunately, it is also devastatingly charming? fang duobing is earnest and sweet; di feisheng is suffering beautifully terribly and trying so hard not to impose on fang duobing. they're both trying so hard to be respectful of what the other person needs, but they're also still bratty and argumentative and exasperated/exasperating, and it's very entertaining. this will fuck you up none percent, and may even make you laugh.

my war is done by @orchisailsa, explicit, di feisheng/fang duobing/li lianhua. another wip, with the first of three chapters posted, but please understand that this chapter is nearly 15k and so fucking good and compelling. li lianhua lives! and returns to find that things have changed in his absence, and perhaps that he has also changed in his absence, and now wants things that he had told himself he didn't mind not even having to lose. bonus: road trip and—delight!—only one room at the inn. also some other stuff that i'm not spoiling, but that made me absolutely gleeful. this is definitely a work in progress, and while i don't think there's anything particularly upsetting in the chapter, it does end on something of a cliffhanger. i personally do not feel that this is an upsetting cliffhanger, given the information about the fic that's presented in the tags, but it is technically a cliffhanger.

awkward paragraph break, but it's also important, i think, to mention the absolutely stunning (and not at all safe for work) companion piece to my war is done, you'd be there calling my name, by saki the cup bearer, who i don't think is on tumblr. it's fucking incredible; i am very decidedly not an artist but i cannot begin to imagine how much effort went into this. just. holy shit.

not unlike him in shape and form by @philologicalbat, explicit, fang duobing/li lianhua. ok look. i fucking love when things are deeply emotionally messy, and this is so emotionally messy. li lianhua who's been attracted to fang duobing and not doing anything about it, then discovering that fang duobing is shan gudao's son and is very much going to do something about it. he wants in this, and he's cunty and manipulative and mean about it, and sometimes also almost sweet, almost tender, and i love that, because i feel like li lianhua is very often an object of desire and very rarely gets to desire. i love how human he gets to be in this fic. this is not a sweet or gentle fic, but it does end in a moderately tender place that is tentatively hopeful, i think.

unbecoming heir by @bettercostume, explicit, di feisheng/princess zhaoling. i am taking your hand in mine and begging you to trust me. i know what this fic looks like. it's noncon and a weird pairing and you might look at it and expect it to go in the obvious direction and: it does not. this fic is so good that it makes me angry. it makes me miserable and everyone in this fic is trying so miserably, miserably hard, and it's fucking devastating. i spent literally thirty minutes earlier today yelling at my wife about it. i cannot rec this fic strongly enough. this is not a happy fic, but it is a good fic. it will absolutely fuck you up. this is very complimentary but also you will be fucked up.

until you are its primary evidence by @ilgaksu, mature, di feisheng/fang duobing/li lianhua. the single most effective use of what is effectively a prologue that i've ever seen in fic, are you kidding me. this fic is nothing at all like what i expected it to be, and is something far better than what i could have imagined. it's fang duobing's point of view, which is a rarity already, and it's so well done, and it allows him so much humanity and so much anger and grace alike. there are so many tricky things about this fic—the prologue, the fact that it's set in the amnesia arc, fang duobing's pov, the fact that it actually addresses canonical disabilities and illnesses without being fucking weird about it, the tension between the three of them—and it's all balanced so well. this has some emotionally heavier moments but ends tentatively happily; tentative only because it's set during the amnesia arc, and, well. we know what comes next.

as a final note: if you wrote one of these fics and feel that i've wildly misinterpreted the emotional tenor of the ending, please message me in whatever way you prefer and i will correct it. i would not normally presume to guess how things are likely hit people, as i am in many ways not anyone's ideal reader, but today it seemed like it was kinder to at least try.

#mysterious lotus casebook #fic recs #mlc fic #difanghua #liansanjiao #difang #fanghua #feihua #sorry to everyone who's seeing this post twice! it's just that i tried to correct one thing (missed a tag) and tumblr ate the whole post 💀#anyhow!#this is not what i had planned to do with my overnight last night #but it was an enjoyable couple of hours rereading all of these #so thank you very much for that #hopefully someone else who wants distraction will also find this useful #everyone please rest up and take care of yourself and stay hydrated and stuff ok? ok. good talk.#echoes linger #also i swear that i'm working on the comments thing #it's just that sometimes forming my thoughts into something audible to other people #feels very much like diy tooth extraction #the kind with rusty pliers and a shot of vodka #you know?#i'm working on it 💕

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buddierecs · 8 months ago

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break up/make up buddie fics

this list has different rated fics, so please look at the rating (no explicit tho) make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

let the golden hour wash through the room by: hattalove "in which there is a breakup, a doorway, and four years of building a life." word count: 2k rating: teen and up audiences important tags: post-break up, getting back together, ex-lovers after the fire, after all the rain by: wenttoafortuneteller "two weeks after eddie breaks up with buck, a storm traps the two of them together." word count: 5.6k rating: teen and up important tags: post-break up, angst, the mortifying ordeal of being known, getting back together i'll feel you forget me like i used to feel you breathe

by: turningthepages

"just another hollywood amnesia story the fandom probably didn't need but lived in my head rent free for too long." word count: 128k rating: mature important tags: married!buddie, car accidents, hurt/comfort, family feels, insecure!evan buckley, future fic in the cracks of lights (i dreamed of you) by: cuddlyobrien "a month after buck breaks up with eddie, he’s trapped underneath rubble with a life threatening injury and asking to speak to eddie over the radio." word count: 4k rating: mature important tags: near death experiences, post-break up, dispatcher!eddie diaz when it comes back to you by: giselleslash "the one where eddie and buck meet when they work together on eddie’s uncle’s ranch, and again when eddie walks into the 118 eight years later." word count: 21k rating: mature important tags: different first meeting au, first love, internalised homophobia, emotional hurt/comfort, soft!buddie, boys in love, past and present timelines all these broken hearts, but mine's the one bleeding by: smilingbuckley "buck figures out a new step-parent struggle when he has to discipline christopher, and the boy tells him buck isn't his father. this causes buck to spiral, thinking christopher disagrees with buck being his step-parent, so he breaks up with eddie even though he's madly in love with him. what he doesn't realize is that chris is becoming a teenager, and teenagers say stupid shit like that when they're angry at their parents." word count: 5k rating: mature important tags: miscommunication, emotional hurt/comfort, fighting, step parenting freedom ain't nothing but missing you by: justhockey "it was a gentle love, so warm that buck couldn’t ever fully believe that he deserved it. so he had to go and ruin it, because that’s all buck is good for, all he knows how to do." word count: 4.7k rating: not rated important tags: insecure!evan buckley, protective!eddie diaz, emotional hurt/comfort, idiots in love i was getting kinda used to being someone you loved by: zashizawa "eddie and buck break up and find their way back to each other." word count: 2.7k rating: not rated important tags: angst, hurt/comfort, hurt!eddie diaz, crying, getting back together my words are paper tigers by: hattalove "buck breaks up with eddie, even if it means losing a part of himself, because it's the right thing to do. the universe decides to test that conviction." word count: 19k rating: teen and up important tags: time loop, pining, angst, temporary character death, emotional hurt/comfort, happy ending home by: bccalling "nine weeks after he and eddie ended things, buck finds the ring. post break-up au." word count: 2.8k rating: teen and up important tags: post-break up, angst with happy ending, TW: suicidal thoughts, self-hatred

waiting room (two part fic) by: goforeddie "buck and eddie break up, buck and eddie make up" word count: 2.8k rating: general audiences important tags: emotional hurt, boys in love, angst, pining, getting back together without you by: orphan_account "a buddie sweet home alabama au" word count: 43k rating: mature important tags: exes to lovers, married buddie, falling in love again, jealous!evan buckley, hurt/comfort, getting back together

#buck x eddie fic #buddie fic #buck x eddie #buddie fics #eddie diaz #buddie fic rec #evan buckley #911 abc #911 show #911 fandom #buddie 911 #buddie fanfic #buddie recommendations #buddie recs #buck x eddie fanfics

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neuroticbookworm · 2 months ago

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Theory of Love Romcom Rewatch Episode 4: Crazy, Stupid, Love

Finally, I got to watch a movie for this project that did not make me wanna facepalm as the credits rolled. As always, @lurkingshan has summarized the movie in her post, so I will jump straight into adding my 2 cents. The film was really well-written, the relationships had more complexity than I had expected, and the commentary on love and what it means to be vulnerable was moving. The late-night conversation scene between Jacob and Hannah after their makeout, where Jacob finally opened up about his past, and the scene where Emily calls Cal under the pretence of fixing a heater, when in reality she just wanted to hear his voice, and him watching her from the garden that he tends to in secret even after their split were two of my favorite scenes in the movie. Both scenes show us the characters struggling with and overcoming the mortifying ordeal of being known, in order to win the prize that is love and affection.

I also thoroughly enjoyed the com part of this romcom, the comedic reveals were well-timed and always hit their mark. I was a bit irritated by Robbie running around trying to win his babysitter’s heart with grand gestures, but then later I watched Cal hijack his son’s middle school graduation (???) for his grand gesture, so I can’t be too mad at Robbie for working with the genetic knowledge he’s given. I also see why Third likes this movie that houses a reformed hoe, and a lot of scenes where characters confess their love for another. But I am also confident that Third (at this point in the show) had missed the nuances in the themes of the movie, on the value of earnestness in relationships (@bengiyo)

Now, I’ll be honest with y’all: I got got by this episode. I did not remember the exact series of events that unfolds in episode 4 of Theory of Love, and I got thoroughly hoodwinked by the romantic vibes. My brain realized what was about to happen just as Third walked towards the bathroom where he overheard Khai and Bone discussing the results of their scheme, designed to expose Third’s feelings for Khai. I remember feeling so surprised, betrayed, and nauseated on Third’s behalf when I first watched this scene, and I felt those same emotions again during rewatch. Khai and Bone were extremely in the wrong for playing this game on their friend, and the anger and betrayal Third feels is extremely understandable. It is also very relatable because, well, this is the flip side of being vulnerable and open to experiences in life. You run the risk of getting your heart trampled by assholes and their asshole behavior.

I like that we watched Crazy, Stupid; Love with this episode because the film begins with a betrayal that shakes a 20-year long marriage, and we watch Cal and Emily make more mistakes, scream at each other, and then finally find a way to work towards a path of reconciliation. Theory of Love episode 4 ends with a betrayal that shakes a one-sided infatuation that’s been precariously hiding behind a friendship, involving two people who have very different understanding of the place they hold in each other’s lives, and we know that neither of them are capable of discussing and working their way through this fuck-up with any emotional maturity whatsoever. I am so looking forward to tomorrow’s episode, and this week’s romcom pick, 10 Things I Hate About You.

#tol romcom rewatch #crazy stupid love (2011)#theory of love #thai bl

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who-is-page · 6 months ago

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Consider Community Writings

Author: Page Type: Essay Words: 920 Summary: Page talks about the importance of personal writings, but acknowledges that they may not be for everyone (including himself). A discussion on the oft-overlooked relevancy of community writings and why you, the person reading this summary, should try to make some.

[Part of the Sol System’s Alterhuman Writing Project for 2024. If you don’t want to see these posts, block the tag #inkedclaws]

There are thousands upon thousands of intricate, detailed writings about individuals’ personal alterhuman experiences and identities. These intimate pieces are a foundational part of our community: in recording its history, in leaving tracks and marks of the ways we’ve changed it (and in turn been changed by it), and in inspiring others to do the same. I can’t emphasize enough how important these types of works are to the very essence of alterhuman subculture and its continuation. As an archivist, I always strive to encourage people to talk about their unique experiences for these reasons. After all, if you don’t write about your experiences, no one will.

But, as an artist myself, only a small fraction of my works talk about my own personal alterhumanity— on my website, only 11 of the 33 pieces that I’ve written go into detail on specifically my alterhumanity (these numbers are excluding essays posted elsewhere that haven’t been posted on the website yet, but let’s assume that the 1 out of every 3 ratio holds). For such a big proponent of folks writing about themselves, at first glance it would appear that I’m not practicing what I preach! Most of what I write isn’t about me!

But that’s the thing: for all that I encourage and want to see people writing about themselves, I also want everyone to recognize that the community is not owed sensitive or intimate information about you if you’re genuinely uncomfortable with sharing it. You don’t have to expose your sensitive underbelly for acceptance. You can write about yourself as much or as little as you want, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. There is the caveat that you won’t be able to experience the euphoria of being understood by others unless you submit to that mortifying ordeal of being known, but how much of yourself you want to put out there is always your choice to make. And for all that we rightfully celebrate personal writings within the community, there are other extremely important types of written work that I don’t often see talked about in this regard enough: perspectives on community phenomena, history, terminology, and similar.

One-off works that discuss the community and aspects of it are invaluable time capsules. They let us glimpse into the ways the community has changed or stayed the same and they show us what people found important, when, and what aspects of it. They show the rhetoric and discourse that was actively being used, and which may not still be in use five or ten years down the line (or may be used in radically different ways). And years in the future they sometimes provide sources and links that would have otherwise disappeared to the sands of time, or otherwise by themselves go on to be used in dozens of other projects and works. While they’re something that can’t necessarily be written by someone who’s only just found the community for the very first time and doesn’t understand it well, that factor also makes them that much more vital for not only historical preservation, but also for folks who are still learning and exploring about it. It gives them information into the community side of alterhumanity, a glimpse into the things that are interwoven collectively between us all and why and how we see ourselves as a community.

It used to be that it was much more common for individual otherkin to have their own F.A.Qs and personal glossaries on their blogs, but nowadays it isn’t something you see often, if at all. And I wish it weren’t the case! I want there to be more F.A.Qs, more personal glossaries, more introductory resources, more discourse essays, more guides, more satire pieces, and more timelines. I love the ways we celebrate ourselves individually, but I also don’t want people to feel like they have to restrict their non-fiction writing to only ever being strictly about themselves. The commentary that people have on the community around them and their place in it is important and relevant— even if it’s the same subject by different people! It’s all useful, it allows us to preserve more of our community history, and at the end of the day, it’s also just downright fun.

I’ve made so many things that boil down to: please write. And this essay might be wearing a different shirt than some of my others, but its message still stays the same. If you’re shy, or anxious, or just don’t want to talk about yourself in detail, that’s fair and understandable. I don’t want people to feel pressured into putting information out there about themselves that they’re uncomfortable with, though I do want to empower everyone to say “fuck you!” to respectability politics and flaunt their unique perspectives and experiences. But if that is something that’s just never going to gel with you (or even if personal writings are something you enjoy writing), I want you to consider every time you’ve had a strong opinion about something in the community, or every time there was a community event or group or time period you found especially fascinating or emotional to experience, or every time you’ve seen someone ask a question that you’ve seen a thousand times before and felt compelled to answer. And I want you to give writing about it a shot. Because if not you, who? And if not now, when? You might end up finding these types of things more fun or satisfying to write than you could’ve ever imagined.

#inkedclaws #alterhuman #written while sick as a dog (pun intended) which is also why we missed yesterday's piece u_u #ahpi writing challenge

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flores-desyatov · 7 months ago

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hi i've been in my feels a little bit since vanya posted the family pics and i just need to share it with someone. i am very much following all the competition updates and polls and rankings and techical elements and sport mumbo jumbo, but that's not what i'm in the mood to talk about. i need to rant about mushy emotional things.

i don't know, i just feel like this partnership/friendship/whatevership that b&v have has helped them so much in growing into good grown people and we're still only at the start of it. i can see it in vanya specifically. over the course of this last year he's becoming softer and more relaxed in his own skin and his new life. you can tell that this place bella lead him to has allowed him to be more carefree than he was before. which is especially important considering he lost his parents so young and had to leave his home to escape war. all people he knew before coming to the us, sadly including his brother, he has to chase around the world to actually be with them in real life. places he considered important to him he won't be able to see for years. i can't imagine not being able to see my family home or visit my family cemetary. those are very emotionally difficult things to deal with at such a young age and of course i'm just a spectator on the internet, but i feel like this place he managed to find half way across the world is safe and caring. and he found it by meeting the world's sweetest girl. a girl that believes in herself in spite of the odds and loves people very openly. she is fucking lightning in a bottle and her smile could power cities!!! people like that are rare to find and that girl is his partner. her energy and light make it so easy to forget how hard life can be. it's such an admirable quality of character. it's why people connect to her and her videos, she's welcoming and she radiates warmth and joy. she spreads it wherever she goes. i just find all of that so very moving. there's something so vulnerable and human in their circumstances. because if you really dissect it, them becoming partners saved her career and his life. they found each other by chance, managed to understand each other beyond language barriers and chose to do this thing they love more than anything else together. he repaired the trust her ex-partner broke. he never lets her doubt herself and always tries to catch her when she falls. she gives him peace and space to be childish and silly, even if it's at her expense. again i'm just a spectator, but i think he makes her bolder and she makes him softer. whatever they may be to each other, there's no doubt that they truly enjoy one another. i think that's the exact thing people get so attached to beyond the whole will-they-won't-they booktok fantasy. they make each other grow and you can feel it!!

sorry for waxing poetic about random athletes we found on the internet hahaha. there's just something very "mortifying ordeal of being known" about them, you know? kinda makes me slightly believe that the right circumstances will just find you when you least expect them.

My first instinct was to kinda deflect and say they're in their 'character development era' but honestly this is just such a beautiful message you sent here. I just wanna let it see the light of day (hope you don't mind) because I'm sure others have felt the same about B&V. I know I have.

It's part of what makes their chemistry to interesting to watch. Here are two people who have found themselves in the same place (for a second time), both of them with a dream of success, both of them going through a big change, adjusting to a new reality and still managing to make each other better people in the process. It's a beautiful story, even from the outside looking in 🤍

#i do not condone writing fanfiction about B&V (if you do i have no real way of stopping you ofc) but their story is so 🥹#since i found them I've been thinking it'd make for a great book or show #asks #flores/desyatov #isabella flores #ivan desyatov

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pebblume · 1 year ago

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I never realized how liberating writing fanfiction would be. I hadn’t written creatively in years. It’s been so long that I kind of forgot what it felt like. The childlike rush of pouring your heart out onto a blank page, not caring about the results as long as you were having fun. I’ve tried writing fanfic a couple of times, for different fandoms across the years, but never finished anything I was really happy with, nothing that I felt comfortable sharing with the world. But something just clicked for me this past week. I realized how much fun it was to stretch out my writing muscles, to get inside the heads of my favorite characters. I realized that it didn’t have to be perfect to be worthy of being shared and loved by others. I realized that I had so many stories inside myself - more than I thought possible.

But perhaps what I’m most in awe of is fanfic readers. The people who read my work and leave kudos and bookmarks and comments - one word comments, sweet comments, silly comments, paragraph-long comments. I love them all. I used to be afraid of leaving comments on AO3, afraid I wouldn’t have enough words, wouldn’t have the right words, to depict how I felt. But when I felt firsthand how much those comments meant to me I started leaving more and more of them, spreading a digital paper trail of love to all my favorite authors. More and more often I recognize the profile names and images in my comment section and think, Hey, I know you! Now I’m not just a guest on AO3, or a passive reader. I belong here.

I won’t lie and say I don’t miss drawing a bit, my previous creative outlet. There are plenty of drawings inside me too, itching to be realized. I really just don’t have the time for two time extensive hobbies, not when I need to balance school and practicing and little things like sleeping and eating and relaxing. I miss it, but not as much as I thought I would. There’s a level of investment to sharing a story online that feels…special. When I post my art, I get engagement, and it feels nice, but ultimately, most people are only spending about ten seconds looking at the work I spent eight hours on, if that. When someone reads my fics, we’ve now spent time together. You’ve lived inside my head for a bit, made it your home. It’s about feeling seen, I think. Writing makes me feel understood in a way visual art sometimes doesn’t. It makes me feel vulnerable in the same way performing music does, but less exposed too. It’s interesting to me.

The only downside, if you can call it that, is now that the writing bug has infected me, I’m finding it harder and harder to stop. I’ll have an idea and then suddenly five hours have flown by because I’m on a creative streak and I just want to write one more idea down, which turns into two, and so on and so forth. I dread stopping, because what if I forget something? What if I get into a writing block later? Suddenly I have people who want to read the things I write and I want to provide it, I really do, but I also have responsibilities. I say, as I write this, ignoring my audition tomorrow afternoon.

I still have a bit of embarrassment attached to fandom works. When I tell acquaintances that I like to draw or write, I rarely tell them I mean fanart and fanfiction. As if loving something that deeply, that sincerely, is inherently shameful in this age of irony and soulless remakes. Especially when my interests usually consist of media marketed towards children, nevermind the fact that it has more emotional maturity than most ‘adult’ works. But I’m trying to get better about it. A lot of my closest friends know about my hobbies, and some I’ve even let see my work. It’s terrifying but also giddying, seeing them like an art post or comment on a fic. After all, to reap the rewards of being loved, one must submit themselves to the mortifying ordeal of being known, or something like that.

I realized today that I’ve written over 30,000 words in the past two weeks about about two characters who don’t belong to me, but whom I’ve made my own.

And I’ve never felt happier

#some sily thoughts i had today #might delete later #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #archive of our own #ao3 writer #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #fandom #the mortifying ordeal of being known

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odessa-castle · 2 years ago

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I'm bouncing around a larger post about Nishiki and the mortifying ordeal of being known, but in the meantime I'm thinking about Nishiki and Kiryu and how the clothes make (or don't make) the man. Like, beyond my visceral horror that Kiryu begged Nishiki to pick out a safe and boring suit for him in Y0 and then said he was envisioning something purple with gold stripes.

I'm thinking about Nishiki's incredible sensitivity to image and his need to control how he's perceived. I'm thinking about Kiryu's inability to let go of the past. I'm thinking about how KIryu dresses like who he thinks he is, and Nishiki dresses like who he thinks he wants to be.

There's some interesting incidental dialogue between Nishiki and Kiryu in Y0 while they're en route to the men's suit store. I wish it wasn't so easy to miss, because there's a lot to unpack here. (I'm just transcribing the English in-game subtitles here; I don't speak Japanese so I have no idea how loose vs. direct the localization is in this part.)

NISHIKI: …now that I think about it, you've been dressing like an old man since we were kids. KIRYU: Have I? NISHIKI: Yeah. The few times we got to pick our clothes, it was always like, "you're choosing THAT?" NISHIKI: I wouldn't say you're a plain guy…You'd pick shirts with weird prints though. KIRYU: Guess I forgot all that. It's weirder to me that you haven't. NISHIKI: Well, confession time. You're why I started caring about fashion. I swore I'd never go out dressed like you. KIRYU: Come on, I'm not THAT bad. [we have already discussed why kiryu is, in fact, that bad.] NISHIKI: [laughing] Aww, did I hurt your feelings? NISHIKI: Well, this time you've got me with you. I'll see my bro gets taken care of. KIRYU: Heh. What an honor. NISHIKI: Leave it to me.

Nishiki doesn't bring up Sunflower Orphanage much; when he does share memories of his childhood, those memories are kind of painful (see: "do orphans not get to dream?"). Kiryu's surprised that Nishiki remembers how they dressed as kids, but it makes sense that wearing a limited selection of hand-me-downs stuck with Nishiki so strongly. His clothes announced his poverty, and they weren't even his -- he had to share them with the other orphans, so what he wore showed he belonged to yet another stigmatized group. And I'm sure people picked up on those visual signals, especially other kids. Kids can be vicious, and appearance is an easy and immediate target! We don't know for sure how young Nishiki interacted with his peers and teachers, but given what the Morning Glory kids go through in Y3 (and given, like, everything about Nishiki), he probably didn't have a great time.

Kiryu frames his childhood as poor but loving, and places much more emphasis on the latter. There might be some rose-colored glasses at work there -- let's look at the flashback where Kazama tries (and fails) to violently dissuade Kiryu and Nishiki from joining the yakuza.

KIRYU: I owe you everything, but this isn’t about that. [...] We’ve looked up to you for all this time. Your car. Your confidence… The way everybody bows to you. We idolized you. I want that life, too. Is that so wrong!?

Nishiki doesn't really speak in this flashback, but like, Kiryu uses "we" enough for us to draw some obvious conclusions about Nishiki's own motivations. That being said, I don't think Kiryu's being dishonest or disingenuous when he describes his childhood as happy, and himself as well-loved. He's not ashamed of his upbringing, and he doesn't hide where he came from. Nishiki seems to have the inverse view. It's not that he doesn't love (at least some of) the people he grew up with, but what comes up first for him is what he didn't have. He didn't have money. He didn't have respect. He didn't have a cure for his little sister. He didn't have a lot of choice, right down to the clothes he wore.

(There's a whole other essay here about why Kiryu's and Nishiki's perspectives diverge on this, but I'm trying to limit the scope of this post. Suffice to say that, while I don't think game canon gives a timeline, I do think Nishiki was a little older when his parents were killed -- old enough that he actually remembers them, at least.)

The same mindset fuels Nishiki's interest in fashion. Yeah, part of it is that he's ribbing Kiryu, but I think it goes deeper than Kiryu wearing ugly shirts. Nishiki doesn't want people to look at him and see what's missing. Fashion isn't a means of personal expression for him, really. It's a message. It's the interplay of knowledge and resources and presentation: knowing what clothes read as successful and trendy and expensive, being able to afford those things, and convincing people that your successful important outfit makes you a successful important person. And he's not wrong about the social dimensions of fashion.

NISHIKI: Try sporting a suit that runs 500 grand for once. Trust me, you’ll see the world in a whole new light. KIRYU: Fashion’s not my thing. Besides, Kazama-san never wore flashy clothes. NISHIKI: You do realize he’s the family captain, right? Number two in the whole Dojima operation? You get to that level, you can wear whatever you damn well please. But for the rest of us, “flashy” is part of the business. KIRYU: So that fancy new car you bought was just “business”. NISHIKI: Yeah, and that fancy lighter of mine, too. Which you still haven’t given back. KIRYU: You want to play the rich guy, quit being so stingy. NISHIKI: But you get what I’m saying, right? People see the expensive car, the designer jacket, and the gleam of that little Dojima pin, they pay attention. A yakuza’s only as good as his image. [...] Take your buddy today. These squeaky-clean idiots, borrowing money just to blow on tits and booze… Nobody in this town gives a crap about substance. What you see is what you get.

That's our first take on one of the major themes of the game: what does it mean to be yakuza? Again, there is truth to what Nishiki's saying here, particularly in terms of the ethos of the eighties. I'm not an expert on the bubble era, but the worldbuilding in the game speaks for itself. People hail taxis with 10,000-yen bills. You punch money out of punks during random street battles. Nishiki keeps a personal bottle of high-end booze at a bar he's visited twice, mostly because he "can’t stand being taken for a bum." The act of spending is important, not what you're spending it on.

Nishiki's outfit in Y0 is perfectly suited (heh) to that outlook. And look, I might be inviting controversy here, but in context, I think it's a werq. Yes, it's loud. But the silhouette -- squared shoulders, single breasted, thinner peaked lapel -- is right on trend for the time period, and it fits him well. The colors look good on him. The bold pattern (no, it's not animal print) under the solid maroon is a risk, but he pulls it off. And excess aside, he knows when to pull back on the accessories. It's bright and confident and memorable, and boy would Nishiki like to be all of those things.

Also -- and importantly -- Kiryu would never go out dressed like that. Because we can't talk about Nishiki and Kiryu without talking about Nishiki's Mt. Fuji-sized inferiority complex. Mastering image doesn't just make Nishiki stand out; it makes him stand out from Kiryu. Let's go back to the beginning of the game.

NISHIKI: I’ll admit, though, you’re finally starting to look the part. You make a pretty convincing yakuza. You’re done with collections today, right? KIRYU: Yeah. NISHIKI: Good. That should put Kazama-san’s mind at ease a bit. KIRYU: Heh, dunno about that. But he always knew all I could do is fight. You’re the one who’s good at the dance.

Nishiki then calls attention to the "rags" that Kiryu's wearing, which...is not an unfair assessment. (TUCK IN YOUR SHIRT, KIRYU. HEM YOUR PANTS.) As the two of them walk around Kamurocho, Nishiki offers Kiryu plenty of hot tips, from meeting girls to making big bucks to cozying up to the brass. But even when Nishiki's opining on his area of expertise, there's a competitive edge to it. "You asking me to pick out clothes for you means you admit you have terrible taste," he tells Kiryu on the way to the suit shop. Kiryu tells him to shut up, but there's no actual hurt behind it. Kiryu doesn't really care that his taste in clothes sucks. Fashion isn't important to him. Most of the things Nishiki knows so much about don't really matter to Kiryu. And that makes Nishiki feel more insecure! Because if Kiryu rolls out of bed looking like a yakuza, if Nishiki's image counseling sessions aren't helpful or meaningful, if Kiryu can skip the dance and get to the top on the strength of his fists and convictions, then who cares about Nishiki's 500 grand suit or his hourlong hair care routine? If image isn't what makes a yakuza, what does that make Nishiki?

At the end of Chapter 6, Nishiki tries to look out for Kiryu again -- this time, by granting him a merciful death before the Dojima Family drags him to the Hole. It's one of my favorite scenes in the game. Nishiki's crying too hard to aim the gun properly; Kiryu tells him to man up and shoot. Finally, Nishiki collapses.

NISHIKI: Can’t do it… How could I shoot you!? Without you, I’ll always be nothing. Can’t make it as a yakuza… No. I wouldn’t even still be alive now if I didn’t have you beside me! I’m just… If you’re not with me, I’m useless! Nothing means anything!

Mastering image hasn't granted Nishiki anything of substance. At the end of the day, Nishiki's playing dress-up, and he knows it.

And I'm almost certainly getting into overthinking-this territory now (if I haven't gotten there already), but I kind of like the spin this puts on Nishiki ripping his expensive suit off in Chapter 14 when he decides to fight the Dojima Family at Kiryu's side. Like yes, ripping off your outer layers to get at the naked (so to speak) truth -- your irezumi, and what it represents -- is just Yakuza Storytelling 101. It's decisive, it's kind of dumb, it's great, it gets me hyped every time. But I like that Nishiki's honest answer to "what does it mean to be a yakuza?" isn't about looking the part. I am genuinely trying not to end this paragraph by saying that Nishiki must become like a dragon, but like...you get where I'm going with this.

Of course, Nishiki's back to playing dress-up in Y1/Kiwami. I'm not the first to call the Patriarch Nishikiyama look a glow-down (though I like the patterned white tie). Like, fashion-conscious Nishiki would look good in a Hedi Slimane/Tom Ford-esque skinny black suit. But he picks a silhouette you'd expect to see on a much older man, torso-swallowing pants and all. The slicked-back hair doesn't help. He's just so transparently trying to look bigger and broader and older, and he doesn't pull it off. Big Bad Patriarch isn't a good look for him, in any sense of the phrase.

A final thought: Kiryu's clothes, and Nishiki's commentary on them, are the subject of their first conversation in Y0 -- and of their last. Kiryu's costume progression in Y0 is a pretty obvious commentary on his journey, to the point where Kiryu and Nishiki explicitly call attention to the color connotations in their final exchange. As a Dojima grunt, he wears black, and it doesn't look good on him because "brutish thug who keeps his head down and does what he's told" isn't a role he's comfortable with. He wears white when he works in real estate, but the change in color isn't enough to sell anyone on his transformation into a civilian. Although it's a little rich for Oda "Red Clown Shoes" Jun to chide someone for not wearing a proper suit. At the end of the game, Kiryu's in his classic grey suit, and well, the game spells it out:

KIRYU: I’m not feeling black or white these days. This is where I’m at right now. I chose it myself. I’m making it a fresh start. NISHIKI: Fine, fine. See if I care! Wear it the rest of your life!

Nishiki, dismayed, tells Kiryu that the grey suit already looks dated, but for Kiryu, "fresh start" doesn't mean "on trend". His image might be out of step with how other yakuza view themselves, or want to be seen, but if he's always going to look like a yakuza, he might as well stake his claim on what being a yakuza means. Still, it's telling that, even as a young man, Kiryu looks like a throwback to an earlier era. As the series progresses, the games hammer this home more and more. How many antagonists tell Kiryu that he's out of touch with the modern world, that he represents a version of the yakuza that no longer exists, that it's time for him to make way for the next generation?

"Wear it the rest of your life!" is a funny little in-joke, yeah, but...it's a little sad when you think about it, isn't it? Kiryu gets new outfits from Y3 on -- and in every game, he ultimately puts the suit back on and heads to Kamurocho. It's exactly of a piece with how Kiryu views being yakuza. We, and he, can debate the exact extent of his retirement from the Tojo Clan's affairs, but the yakuza isn't a career for Kiryu, it's a set of beliefs he carries with him. He wears the suit the same way he wears the dragon on his back: as an indelible part of his self-image.

#yakuza #ryu ga gotoku #yakuza meta #kiryu kazuma #nishikiyama akira #kazuma kiryu #akira nishikiyama #i've been poking at this thing intermittently for months but a certain tournament really got my mental gears going again #yakuza's just really fun to put under a microscope #i'm interested in the way the games do things even when i don't like what they do #(although to be clear i *do* generally like how rgg dresses its cast)#(even the outfits i make fun of are usually like...coherently delivering a statement about the character wearing them)#genuinely did not think i'd spend so much time writing this but hey #maybe i'll do these kinds of posts more than like...biannually...if they're sufficiently interesting #meta

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fountainpenguin · 10 months ago

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🌆 Heroes' Journey 🌆

WordGirl

Pulling back the curtain on a world where mere mortals possess wild superpowers, with a focus on WordGirl and Kid Math's mentor-apprentice-equals relationship. Heavy consideration on how superpowers affect society, with emphasis on found families, secrets, and the mortifying ordeal of being known.

#ridwork guides

What Is This AU?

A slice-of-life WordGirl period piece that expands on the worldbuilding and character relationships seen in the show. Worldbuilding is thoughtful, lightly angsty, but mostly lighthearted with a goal to avoid infodumping and serious angst.

Give it up for Rex trying to hide his powers while more and more people grow convinced he's only hiding them due to abusive upbringing. Shout-out to Becky juggling his superhero training with her fractured social life.

AO3 Series - Heroes' Journey

WG Character Study Series - 28 Million Degrees

All WordGirl 'fics - Any series

WordGirl blog tag - #Satirical vocab alien child show

Posts about Rex and Becky as a comedic duo - #LexiHexa duo

Tone

Serious, but sprinkled with fluff and general tomfoolery. Cute and goofy moments interspersed with light relationship drama. Blends cartoony vibes and a thoughtful take on the worldbuilding.

Ex: Chuck has a broken foot that takes him out of the villain game while he recovers. Becky has to do homework. Yet we still have the Narrator and featured words :)

Characters

Heroes' Journey is a relationship study focusing mostly on Becky, Rex, and Huggy. Parents, friend groups, and neighbors play supporting roles.

Factor It In spotlights Rose Franklin, Victor Best, Eileen, and Granny May, as I figured they could use some extra love. Most villains show up at some point in the Heroes' Journey timeline.

Ships

Canon-compliant within the show's timeline. For me, this means Tobey has a crush on WordGirl, who doesn't reciprocate. Becky has a crush on Scoops, and Scoops/Violet is mutual. Also, Brent/Miss Question, who I definitely don't call [‽] in my head.

Romantic ships are not a big focus in the series as I prefer emphasis on friendships and rivalries, but you'll see romance in the background. Exposition Guy/Exposition Guy's Wife OTP SWEEP! ... Tim and Sally are there too, I guess.

- I write Becky as asexual with no interest in sex, pregnancy, or kids. She loves romance books and would like a fairytale romance, but... her true love is unlearning guilt, taking breaks, and finding peace with herself, I think :)

- Rex sort of has a crush on her, by which I mean he's convinced it's "obvious" the two alien superheroes will end up together. I see them growing up to have a pretty queerplatonic relationship. As he grows, he also develops a crush on Violet (She's kind to him) and Tobey (He uses calculations to build robots; idk what you expected).

- It's important to me that you know Rex is bisexual and when he's an adult, he will tell you this and giggle because "bisect" is a math term and he thinks it's funny every time he says it.

Setting

Fair City, which I've set in the state of Washington (Spotted owls and sasquatches represent!)

"AlgoRhythm" takes place December 1997 and the main 'fic - Factor It In - opens January 1998. This series may range from as early as Huggy's pilot years and Becky's infancy to as late as their adulthood.

Is It For Me?

If you like Becky, Huggy, Rex, the Narrator, thoughtful character relationships, and deeper worldbuilding about life in a world of superpowers, this series may be up your alley! I strive for canon-compliancy for pieces set during show canon.

I try to spotlight less popular characters in the show. Popular villains like Dr. Two-Brains are definitely there, but I try to give folks like Hal Hardbargain, Timmy Timbo, and the Coach their chance to shine as well (both as villains and civilians).

I have no "Becky's family finds out she's WordGirl reveal planned for this story," at least not in Becky's youth.

Major Themes

Expectations, pressure, stability, control, culture, conforming vs. self-expression, envy, trust, pride, guilt, secret-keeping, growth, self-reflection, moving on, and found family

Plot Highlights

- "AlgoRhythm" follows Kid Math as WordGirl introduces him to the Evil Villains Association at an overstimulating party.

- Factor It In bridges the gap between Rex's arrival in "Kid Math" and his cameos in both his Rex and Kid Math clothes in later episodes.

Other works in this series further develop the relationship between straightforward Rex and wishy-washy Becky, with plots ranging from teaching Rex about life on Earth to teaching Becky about the culture of Lexicon and Hexagon.

- Generally, the vibe is that Kid Math is inexperienced and therefore falls for tricks that don't feel WordGirl, so people try to take advantage of him. He gets frustrated when he doesn't understand why he has to follow certain rules and she gets frustrated by his stubborn pride. Shenanigans occur and require problem solving.

- "Flypaper" depicts The Gang in their late teens and young adulthood. Becky is now in college and left Huggy with Rex, who's Fair City's main hero until she returns. She feels detached and uncertain about where she is in life. Also, WordGirl and Super Why speak on a panel together and I badly need you to know.

Ongoing?

I wrote a one-shot in 2018. In 2023, I posted more content. This series is ongoing with infrequent updates at the time of posting.

- On hiatus & in need of buffer building. Intent to finish.

Warnings, notes, and explanations below so readers can learn more about this AU.

👀 Take a Peek

New here? You might like to start with these:

These character studies take place within this universe, though they're not listed as Heroes' Journey content since they focus on side characters:

- "Your family is doing okay" (G - 4400 words) - First meeting of Exposition Guy (Milo) and his to-be wife (Miah)

- "A penny for your thoughts (Oh no)" (G - 7000 words) - A zero-dialogue challenge with Captain Tangent

- "28 Cities" (G - 25k words) - A one-shot series focused on queerplatonic Rhyme and Reason. A taste of childhood with powers vs. without powers. Ongoing, but on hiatus.

Start Reading

Recommended ways to get into the full AU

"AlgoRhythm"

- Get started with a fluffy piece about Kid Math training under WordGirl, then attending a party so she can introduce him to different villains.

- Intro to basics like character dynamics, superpowers, and how Rex thinks

- Fluff, humor, & found family vibes

- Large cast of characters

🗺️ Worldbuilding

- It's rare to be born with powers, but not unheard of. The determining factor is genetics, as is the case with Kid Potato and the Butcher, or the Bests.

-> In-story, there's a character called the Nightmare King: father of Exposition Guy, the Narrator [and his twin], and Invisi-Bill. Their abilities range from semi-omniscience to invisibility, with the Narrator having both.

- Those who have powers are charmed. Doctor Two-Brains is not charmed as he relies on tech, and neither is Captain Tangent, who replies on a curse and his hook.

- Miss Question is not technically classified as charmed due to receiving her powers from lightning. However, she's found acceptance in the charmed community and she can use the label if she wants to. Chuck IS technically charmed, but doesn't identify with the label because he doesn't consider himself to have powers; it's just part of his family history.

-> Chuck would register as charmed on a blood test while Miss Question would not.

- It can take years for powers to show themselves. Most people show theirs as a toddler or during puberty. It's very rare for someone to spontaneously discover powers as an adult. There is seemingly no limit to the types of powers people can have. 1 power is the standard, but some people have as many as 3. It's very, very rare to have more than 3.

-> Rhyme has about 4 powers depending on how you classify things like super strength and durability alongside her super speed and freeze breath. Her dad has wind powers and her mom had water powers. Her family has a long history of charmed genes while Reason's has a long history of none.

- Charmed individuals may study in public school or in specialized charm schools that tailor teaching and accommodations to better suit them. Becky fears that if her parents learn about her flight and super strength, they'll send her to charm school (away from her friends).

-> Becky and Rex are not charmed because they're aliens; their powers follow special rules. However, Becky is "out" as a charmed individual who can speak with monkeys.

- All Lexiconians and Hexagonians have the potential for superhuman abilities. However, these abilities are nullified when they're on their planets, which contain trace amounts of Lexonite / Hexanite in the soil and ground them like average people.

-> Rex was raised with the intention of leaving Hexagon to pursue life as a hero somewhere else. He has the book knowledge for his powers, but no practical experience until coming to Earth.

- During Factor It In, Rex tries to conceal his powers while moving between foster homes, unaware that his caseworker found out about his quick healing and flight. Miah hints to him several times that she and Milo [Exposition Guy] are "a very charm-friendly household."

-> Flight is a rare ability. Miah suspects Rex may be lying low to avoid being traced by an abusive supervillain relative. Beyond that, she's surprised he would hide his powers, as it's not like they're unheard of in this world.

- There's a lot of depth to my takes on Lexiconian and Hexagonian culture, such as Lexicon being more into exploring nature and hunting or gathering food while Hexagon is more into mechanical things and agriculture. Rex is scared of storms because he grew up on a planet that had weather under control, and it's overstimulating for him.

- Both Rex and Becky have synesthesia. Rex can't read because "that's a Lexiconian's job." Also, Hexagon apparently had unicorns and Becky is jealous. My 'fics trickle details like this in over time.

- Last thing worth mentioning is that Huggy grew up with a lot of simians. Some he's on good terms with, others he has rocky history with, but it's generally accepted that Lexiconian monkeys are very intelligent and make great pilots.

- You can also send an Ask if you want to hear me talk about this world. I tag WordGirl content as #Satirical vocab alien child show

📋 Notes & Warnings

- Canon-typical violence (It's taken seriously and people do get injured, but the vibe is what you'd expect for goofy superhero content).

-> Cuts, scrapes, and wooziness are fair game, but no blood or gore. The most serious injury is probably Chuck's broken foot.

-> You should assume all robots are fair game to be destroyed.

-> No serious injuries or character death. Death mentions are backstory only

- Abuse mentions (Adults suspect Rex ran from an abusive home). However, no on-screen abuse besides the basics like family pressure from the Bests and Doctor Two-Brains having a rough go of it.

-> In "28 Cities," it's implied that Rhyme's dad pushed her superhero training pretty far and that she was emotionally and/or physically abused in the process. Reason only hears about this later.

- Rex has canon-typical morbid commentary (which is funny if you take it as "ha ha logic boy" but you could also read it as "Oh that's super dark Rex wtf?")

-> Ex: wanting to tear down the city

- Rare mentions of death (Ex: Rhyme's backstory ("28 Cities") where it's said her dad is a hero turned villain since his hero work didn't pay well enough to provide for Rhyme after his wife died.

More details about Rex's crush on Becky:

Rex sees himself as "Becky's obvious choice in partner someday" and is repeatedly flummoxed when she rejects his elaborate plans to court her 15 years from now.

Becky's asexual with no desire for pregnancy, but as they get older, people definitely try shipping her with Kid Math. She does go out with him in their teens/young adulthood in "A Little Ambiguity," which is a lovely date where no one has childhood baggage weighing them down.

As years pass, a young adult Becky starts seriously debating if she should "settle" with him because there are just so many parts of marrying Rex that are easier than trying to date other people, like the fact that he knows her superhero identity, doesn't think she's fragile, and he can take care of himself in the event that he's targeted.

-> It's the inherent angst of "I don't want kids anyway and I would really like a companion and he knows me so well, but WOW is he going to be so smug about it and I hate that."

It's this weird QPR where Becky's not sure if she feels "love" in the ways it's commonly defined and she's upset and burned out and lonely. Meanwhile Rex has gone on lots of dates, but always felt like she was the clearly logical option. Ah yes, Lexiconian definition crisis meets Hexagonian practicality.

-> I can't even say that I ship them because I Don't Romantically, but I need to study her chronic wishy-washiness & his refusal to look beyond surface-level understanding of things. Do u see my vision?

- All my WordGirl 'fics

- Want more info? Send an Ask!

You can create works based on this AU. Please cite me and/or the AU as appropriate (i.e. for things very specific to this AU). You are free to expand on ideas you've thought of thanks to my AU as a jumping off point. I'd love to reblog or link things to my AO3 works if I see them!

I write content with morally gray characters. Please don't portray my story events or worldbuilding out of context with intentional malice. As in, I request you do not post things created for the specific intention of bashing me or the AU

#WordGirl #Kid Math #ridwork guides #ridwriting #apparently art #Grammar queen #Arithmetic Lad #AlgoRhythm #Factor It In #Satirical vocab alien child show #LexiHexa duo #Long post #Rhyme and Reason

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