#anyway I can’t remember where this dialogue is from

[lintofleigh]

look me in the eyes and tell me this isn’t accurate

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

The Best Friend Showdown

Season four had many, many flaws. One of the big ones was the Rena Rouge vs Chat Noir conflict where Ladybug starts relying on Alya more and more, basically using her to replace Master Fu. We get a sense that Chat Noir feels inferior to Rena Rouge because of this change, but it’s never directly addressed. The most we get is this conversation from Hack-San:

Ladybug: I'm really sorry, Cat Noir. I should've told you. I mean, if I found out that you told someone about your secret identity, I'd... probably be upset, too. I'm really sorry I hurt your feelings. Cat Noir: You didn't hurt my feelings. You did everything right. 

Which is actually a really weird bit of dialogue because - as far as I can tell - nothing in the episode revealed that Scarabella knew Ladybug's identity. She hands out miraculous all the time and no one knows who she really is. Why would this time be different? Ladybug could just show up in costume, explain what's up, and then hand off the earrings while using yet another miraculous.

Anyway, the Rena Rouge vs Chat Noir conflict is “resolved” by Rena Rouge being outed again (and I guess that matters this time), leading her to give up her miraculous so that Gabriel can’t steal it away, which of course leads Gabriel to steal it away and fully disempower Ladybug’s larger team, leaving Chat Noir her only teammate.

How satisfying! This is such good, character-driven story telling!

It’s not. This is plot contrivances to the max with no meaningful character beats, but we’re not here to talk about that. We’re here to do one of my favorite things: gush about a relevant Kim Possible episode! Today’s topic is episode 12 of season one: Pain King vs. Cleopatra, the episode that introduces Kim’s female BFF, Monique!

This was a bit of a shocker for me because I didn’t realize that Kim and Monique weren’t pre-series friends. Turns out that, much like Alya, Monique is a new girl, which isn’t a bad call. This was a nice way to delay Monique’s introduction for a few episodes so that the writers could focus on establishing Kim’s relationship with other key members of the cast like her partner, Ron. Spacing out your intros is the way to go whenever you can pull it off as it’s a kindness to your audience that keeps them from feeling overwhelmed, making it more likely that they’ll remember your cast.

The other, more important similarity between Alya and Monique is that, when Kim’s hero partner and life-long friend finds out about Monique, he is less than thrilled:

Kim: I barely got to see them. Right after I hooked up with Monique, the museum was robbed by some glowing-headed animal guy. Ron: Oh, that's nice. Ron: Wait a minute, who's Monique? Kim New friend, really great. Anyway, the thief stole an enchanted ancient talisman. Ron: Whoa, whoa, back up! How can I not know about a new friend? Kim: I met her at Club Banana, then again at the museum before I chased the glowing robber. Ron: So what's she like? Kim: The robber? Ron: The friend, Kim, the "new friend".

Throughout the episode, Kim and Monique continue to bond without Ron, leaving Ron feeling left out:

Ron: Seein' a pattern here, Rufus: Kim does her thing, I do my thing, and pretty soon - we're doing different things.

Which leads him to get a little territorial:

Kim Ron! What are you doing here? Ron: Can I dine with my best friend and her new friend? Kim: Uuh, Ron, Monique, and vice versa. Ron: Bearclaw? Monique: No, thanks, I'm vegetarian. Ron: Uhm, I'm pretty sure it's imitation bear? Kim: She's joking, Ron. Ron: Good one, hahaha, ha, good one. So, did Kim tell you that I'm her sidekick? Cause that role is definitely taken by me. Monique: Riiiight. Well, in... you know I better get to class. Later, Kim. Um, n-nice meeting you, Ron. Ron: Likewise, I'm sure! Kim: What is your problem? You're acting really weird. Ron: Well, let's see. You went to the museum with Monique, not me. Monique was with you this morning, not me. Hmm, pattern? Kim: Yeah. You. Weird. Ron: No, we're drifting apart because you're excluding me. Kim: I am not excluding you. It's just that you and Monique are... different.

Noticing some similarities to Miraculous here?

So how does Kim Possible resolve this conflict?

Well, the plot of this episode resolves around Kim Possible’s version of professional wrestling, the GWA. There’s a competition going on that Kim has no interest in watching (mood), but when Kim mentions the GWA to Monique:

Monique: Why didn't you bring [Ron] along? Kim: Unless someone put a waiter in a headlock, this is definitely not Ron's scene. Besides, he had a date with "Steel Toe". Monique: He scored tickets to Mayhem in Middleton? The GWA rocks! Kim: What?

It turns out that Monique and Ron have a shared interest! Multiple shared interests, in fact! Interests that Kim does not share:

Monique: You know, I still can't believe you met Pain King and Steel Toe. Ron: I can't believe you're into wrestling. Kim: I can't believe I know either one of you.

By the end of the episode, the conflict is resolved not with Kim having to pick a BFF or with Monique somehow being demoted, but by showing that this didn’t need to be a conflict at all. Kim can have multiple close friends that she shares different interests with without any of those friends being lesser. Those friends can, in turn, have their own friendships that don’t always involve her.

It’s a genuinely lovely resolution that makes me love this little friend group because it now has added complexity. Monique and Ron are friends in their own right! Kim is not the center of the universe in spite of her main character status!

I also love that Kim isn’t vilified for having other friends or portrayed as constantly leaving Ron out of things that he'd want to do in favor of Monique. Ron genuinely would not enjoy most of the things that the girls love to do together. At the same time, Ron’s feeling aren’t treated as totally irrational either and Kim even admits to ditching him. It’s a genuine, complex conflict that is super common when someone enters a new relationship be it platonic or romantic.

Obviously Kim Possible’s version of this conflict feels far less complex than Miraculous’ because Kim Possible understood that Ron should be Kim’s one-and-only partner, so his position was really never threatened. Monique does not want to be an action hero and is never given the sort narrative weight that elevates her to Ron’s level or higher, but that doesn't matter. The basic lesson here is still relevant and super important for the intended audience of both of these shows.

There did not need to be a Rena Rouge vs Chat Noir conflict that never got properly resolved. Miraculous could have made these two friends and no, Scarabella doesn't count because Chat Noir has no idea that Scarabella is Rena Rouge/Furtive. Their relationship ended at the end of Hack-San. He didn't even know that Rena Furtive was a thing until she was in the process of being benched and that's the problem.

Kim Possible is not a team show, Miraculous is, and yet Kim Possible has better team dynamics than Miraculous. Monique could have joined Kim's team at the end of Pain King vs. Cleopatra and it would have felt natural because both Kim and Ron had welcomed Monique and formed a genuine bond with her. This is a true friend group that Miraculous can only dream of even though they've been adding new superheroes since season two.

We're going into a season with a full, massive team and yet that team has no established dynamics on the hero side. It's not a functional team! None of these characters have meaningful relationships with each other as heroes save for Alya and Nino since they know each other’s secret identities. The only relationships Miraculous cares about are the various romances and everyone's relationship to Marinette and everyone suffers for it.

The show would not have been harmed by Rena Rouge, Chat Noir, and Ladybug being a team. It was the thing I kept think after watching the Kim Possible episode. Since the team is the end game, why aren't we seeing them? It would have been so nice to have Hack-San end with Ladybug introducing Chat Noir to Rena Furtive instead of a nonsense discussion about an issue the episode didn't even address.

[nativegirltapes]

⸻ ┊͙ the one where drew sets boundaries with odessa !

warnings: just a little filler blurb kinda ¿ … more info / juiciness i guess. lots of dialogue sorry. i just wanted to give the perspective between drew and odessa + i think u guys like drew lowkey clocking O

it’s been 3 weeks without you and drew was not doing well. the guilt was hitting him harder than ever and he couldn’t live with it anymore, he couldn’t live without you anymore.

drew sat on the couch at a friends house, dissociating from everyone around him, your arguement from 3 weeks ago playing over and over on his head. there were so many things he wish he’d done differently.

���what’s wrong?” odessa took the opposite side of the couch, laying her legs on drew’s lap. to which he quickly shoved them off. “really?”

“what?” odessa giggled, although drew wasn’t finding anything funny. “what do you mean what?” drew looked over at odessa with furrowed brows. “i broke up with my girlfriend because of you. and you haven’t even fucking been there for me.”

“cmon, you’re better off without her anyways.” odessa rebutted, not realizing that drew was serious. he didn’t play about you. “she’s just a fucking jealous ass bitch anyway, told you about dating younger girls.” odessa laughed, making another attempt put her legs on drew. “be glad it’s over.”

“are you fucking serious odessa?” he shoved her legs off, this time standing up, looking down at odessa on the couch in disgust. “that’s what you think of her?” drew chuckled, not because anything was funny but because he was so angry. “well let me tell you that’s exactly what she thinks about you. and maybe she was actually right.”

“you can’t be serious right now drew.” odessa defensively sat up in her seat. “all she wanted was to tear us apart!”

“why are you saying ‘us’ like what was ever a thing? we’re friends odessa. nothing more.” drew questioned, wondering if maybe all along his closest friend wasn’t in his best interest at all.

“you remember our days of hooking up and shit.” odessa smirked, like that was going to reel drew back in.

“yeah and i strictly told you those days were over when i started seeing y/n. but you still just pushed boundaries that weren’t yours to push. and here i am, ruining my relationship all because i defended you. thinking that maybe you actually cared.”

“i do care drew.” odessa shot up from her seat, trying to sound soft, making any attempt to keep drew with her.

“bye odessa.”

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Jazz Fenton, after years of fixing her brother’s injuries, becomes a Doctor with an inclination towards behavioral health and psychology- In order to make the difference she wants to see in the world she joins Dr. Leslie Thompkin’s practice. 

Jazz Fenton, M.D. has spent years of her life doing research, doing the hard work and the emotional labor, and finally, finally, she’s joining a practice she can feel 100% confident in. She’s goddamn good doctor and she wants to make the biggest impact that she can. 

Dr. Thompkins (who insists that she call her Leslie as they’re colleagues now), is a kind woman, sharp as a tack and keeps her practice open at odd hours to help the most unfortunate. It took some time for them to bond and trust to be built, but now Jazz is being allotted a few night shifts here and there. 

It’s incredible. Jazz gets to spend time with the kids who come in and really talk to them (in addition to getting them antibiotics, heating pads and pokemon themed bandaids) to help equip them with a few coping skills. Her passion for psychology never disappeared after all, but the expansive knowledge of how to heal the human body has made her find a sense of fulfillment like no other.

Having proven herself and worn Leslie down, Jazz now takes up about 1/3 of all the night shifts in the month. She’s hoping to get to 50/50 by the end of the year but she’s content with what she has. Danny keeps odd hours anyway so calling him after work on her walk home can happen any time of day and he will always answer enthusiastically. 

It’s a particularly busy night before he comes in. The Red Hood. 

He was known for being an ally to Leslie, despite being on contentious terms with the Bats, but Jazz had never asked directly. Never one to turn away a patient with bullet hole wounds, she hops into action to get his wounds cleaned, sewed up and gauze wrapped. She’s handing him a sheet (an Infographic! Dani made it with her! Graphic design is her passion!) on how to care for his wounds when he first seems to recognize that she’s not Leslie. 

“No, Of course not. I’m Dr. Fenton. I can’t blame you for not remembering but I did introduce myself as you bled in the entry way. You’re Red Hood, right?” 

“Hm. Didn’t realize the practice was expanding. Where can I find-” He grumbles before pushing her hand aside from where she had still been supporting his shoulder.

“Hold on there, mister. You’re going home, you’re following this infographic and you’re going to get some sleep.” 

“Lady you don’t know-” His voice modulated ton came across antagonistically. As if he was trying to intimidate her. Ha, Jazz rolls her eyes at the inclination.

“Who I’m talking to? Who I’m dealing with? You’re hilarious. I can eat you vigilante’s hero complexes for breakfast. Tell me who I’m calling to pick you up and then you can say thank you.” Jazz snaps at him. It really had been a long night but his whole dialogue thus far is making her a bit batty. 

“Oh really Doc? You know Leslie’s tough shit, and from what I can tell you’ve got nothing on her-” 

“Trying to make me feel insufficient when I just saved your life? That’s cute. I’m sure a lifetime of abandonment by both of your parental figures gave you that. I’m also sure that you inherited this desire to prove you’re not going to be dependent on anyone who wants to help from whoever got you dressing up in tights to fight crime in the first place. Again, I’d love to talk at length about how predictable you-” 

“Bwah- wait- I’m Predictable? You’re probably some nepobaby who had parents who told her she could have the world-” But Jazz cuts him off with hysterical laughter- he couldn’t be further from the truth. Her parents loved her, but nepotism? With what, the ghosts? If anything she got that from Danny, but he doesn’t need to know about her ghostly titles. 

“You’re just some guy who came back from the dead and made his trauma everyone else’s issue. So shut it. And tell me how I’m getting you home from this clinic.” She seethes though her voice stays devastatingly level with each word. 

Speechless for a moment, he eventually relents to Jazz that he’s already called for help on the comms but it will be hours before they can come for a pick up. The sun had already come up and the night had been over for most of them before Hood had walked into trouble. She groans and the realizes the time for herself and the empty clinic around them.

“Fine. My shift just ended anyway. I’ll get you home in one piece and I swear to all the ancients that you’d better follow the directions on the infographic.” 

And that’s how Jazz ended up calling her brother while supporting the weight of a grown ass man (who no longer wanted to talk to her) on her walk home. 

The next time Red Hood appears in her clinic, he’s brought a dozen roses in addition to the cut on his neck that definitely needs to be pressurized like ASAP. Did he stop for the flowers on his way to the clinic? He’s going to pass out from blood loss! She doesn’t even like roses!

[rowenablade]

Okay. I’m going to wait to do a second watch before I articulate most of my other feelings here, but I want to address one thing.

I’m seeing a lot of posts like, “I related to Izzy because I am also queer and older/disabled/depressed. By killing him off, the writers are saying that I deserve to die.”

Guys.

I’m not saying your feelings aren’t valid. I totally understand grieving a character that you relate to. But speaking as a writer, I just want to point out that trying to write with the shadow of “what is the absolute worst and most harmful way a reader can interpret this” will smother your ability to create. Twisting yourself in knots, trying to think up the worst-faith takes possible and scotch-guarding all your writing decisions against them is exhausting to the point of making you just not want to write anymore.

And we’ve seen the writers deliberately choose not to do this in Season 1. Remember all those terrible “Izzy is racist” takes that the writers and cast seemed completely blindsided by? That happened because the writers and directors and actors weren’t going over every scene with a fine tooth comb, ferreting out every shot or line of dialogue or micro expression that could possibly be interpreted as racist, and scrubbing it off. Because there comes a point where your story is what it needs to be, and you have to accept that some people will interpret it in ways you didn’t intend them to. And if you can’t accept that, you’ll never find the courage to put your work out there.

The point of diverse casts and writing teams isn’t to achieve a state of, “Nothing bad ever happens to a character from a marginalized demographic ever again.” It’s to achieve a status quo of these types of characters just being people in the world of the story. Not symbols, not representation boxes to tick, not tokens that you can point to so that you can say, “Here, we acknowledged this type of person exists, now where’s our woke points?”

OFMD is full of characters of color, queer characters, older characters, characters of differing body types. And in stories, things happen to characters. Some fall in love. Some make the same mistakes over and over. Some turn into birds. Some die.

Izzy’s character represents a lot of things, but he does not represent every older, disabled fan or fan who has struggled with suicide, any more than Jim represents all genderqueer fans, or Olu represents all black fans. That’s not how the writers were handling him. They were handling him like a character, because that’s what you have to do.

Again, I understand being sad. I am so, so fucking sad. But this idea of, “Any time something bad happens to a character I relate to means that the writer thinks I deserve these bad things to happen to me,” will poison everything you engage with eventually. Because stories are full of things happening to characters, and they won’t all be good things. And the more representation we get, the more often bad things will happen to characters we relate to.

But good things will happen too.

Queer couples get married. Disabled women run off with their favorite husbands. Middle-aged characters change careers. A multiracial polycule finds a home at sea. A fat man covered in tattoos stars in a drag show and all his friends cheer. All these things happened in the same show as Izzy’s death. This is what this world is.

Anyway. I know emotions are running high and I’ll probably get blocked or unfollowed by a few people for this. But I’m just trying to find my peace where I can, and if anyone else finds this useful, cheers.

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

Remember that one scene where Arthur is training with Merlin and Merlin is fighting for his life while Arthur repeatedly knocks him on his arse? I can’t remember what episode but it was early in season 1.

I like to imagine Merlin starts being sarcastic with every hit in hopes it’ll piss Arthur off enough to storm off and leave him alone. It backfires when Arthur starts replying and it turns into a venting session.

Like, Uther said some dumb shit about Arthur? Merlin starts a fight about it.

The knights can’t follow orders? Merlin is disobedient enough that Arthur starts yelling about how dangerous it is when his men don’t follow orders.

Arthur’s feeling bad about someone he couldn’t save? Merlin makes him see why he’s doing enough by arguing with him about it and reminding him that he’s only human.

And Arthur knows what he’s doing, he catches on eventually and will occasionally walk up to Merlin, push his shoulder only enough to be annoying until Merlin stops whatever he’s doing, then Arthur will just say “Fight me.” and Merlin will either say something he knows will get Arthur angry or he’ll throw a punch he knows Arthur will block and they’ll start sparring. (Merlin learns to fight eventually, neither of them realise it’s happening until he sucker punches a bandit and he’s out cold)

Anyway, it becomes something they do to help Arthur vent his frustrations.

The best part? It works.

So Arthur sees Merlin upset. It goes on for about a week when Arthur realises what’s going on. He sits down next to Merlin on the floor one night, nudges his shoulder like he would if he wanted to fight, and says, “why are you upset? It’s not like you’ve got anything to worry about.” In a purposefully taunting way.

Merlin scowls and keeps working, and Arthur tries again, “Really. All you do is follow orders. It’s not hard.”

And so Merlin looks up, clearly angry until he sees what Arthur is trying to do, so he puts down what he’s doing and starts fighting back, “no, just exhausting when those orders are given by a prat.” Or “Maybe if I had a day off once in a while.” I don’t know, I suck at dialogue.

It goes on for a while, until they get too close to the issue, Merlin snaps, tells Arthur he’s a dick and sobs, yelling about magic, and the great dragon being manipulative, loosing his father, loosing Freya, Gaius lying to him about his father and thinking Uther is a good king and a good man, and literally everything else that’s gone wrong.

Arthur pulls him in and hugs him, then tells Merlin they’re fighting together from here on out. It takes a while, but they work it out.

There’s plenty of “fights” about Arthur feeling betrayed by Merlin keeping secrets and Merlin being mad at his situation in Camelot and then being frustrated that he can’t get himself to feel angry at Arthur (I’ve got a half baked character analysis for Merlin and Arthur’s codependency somewhere in my drafts. I’ll come back to it eventually.) but they’re okay and they figure it out and end up stronger for it.

I’m holding back on sharing the major character death/dark!Arthur angsty alternate ending for this, but let me know if you want to see it :)

Edit: Part 2 - (the angsty alternate ending)

[bigtreefest]

Details

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: Ransom can’t help the way he pays such close attention to every detail regarding you

Word count: 1,081

Content/warnings: very sappy Ransom, no dialogue, ransom’s internal monologue?, references to intimacy, kisses, lots of timeline switching? (Flashbacks and returns to present)

A/N: Below is the song which inspired this fic. It’s been a longtime favorite and I think it definitely fits the summer vibes

I guess we can call this a part of my summer celebration! It’s a vacation at a beach house, and probs an equal partnership? Based off a song. Yeah, I make the rules.

Anyway, comments, likes, reblogs, and asks are so appreciated. Thank you for reading!!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Main Masterlist

Ransom didn’t really have a name for this feeling, despite his vast vocabulary. The main reason was that he had never really felt it before, so how could he be sure? It was definitely beyond the simplicity of the lust he had felt on several occasions. Was it admiration, adoration? Whatever it was, he was sure it went both ways from the crooked smile you gave him as you stretched in the dim morning light.

After a week of your getaway, it was the last morning the two of you were waking up in his family’s coastal home. He loved the way the rays coming through the curtains graced your face, especially today, as you laid tangled in the sheets of the king-sized bed.

The past week had been filled with relaxation and enjoyment each day. Beach picnics, sunbathing, swimming, and…other…enjoyable…things. Those were his favorite. He was desperate to get to that, but not desperate in the moment, where he was worshipping you and your body, and every little thing that he could commit to memory. He never wanted to forget this time; it was simple, with no deadlines, no responsibilities besides each other, although he’d never call you a chore. You were a pleasure. One he was sure he didn’t deserve.

Ransom watched closely as you sat up, the sunshine creating a crown around your head and hair. He couldn’t help but notice you. All he saw was you.

His entire life, Ransom had always noticed the details. That was his strength: little things no one else picked up on, and they were all around him, but honestly, when he was looking at you, he couldn’t tell you anything going on in the background: what he had planned for today, or what he’d done before you woke up the day before.

When you’d gone out to eat at that one restaurant, the one that he thought probably had an ocean view, he couldn’t remember, he wouldn’t be able to recall a single song that had played during dinner.

What he does remember, though, is everything about you that night. The way the sea salt in the air from the long day had added a little extra wave to your hair- tightened the coil, how your skin glowed from the golden hour sunset shining through the glass by the table, the way you got a little tongue-tied after you shared your third glass of wine, which the waiter so rudely interrupted your story to ask if you wanted. No one deserved to stop your beautiful voice from talking, not even Ransom, and especially not the weirdly kind young man pouring the bottle. What was the waiter so nice for, anyway? That quickly left Ransom’s mind, though, attention switching to something much more important. He was completely focused, just not on the usual, external things. There were different details his brain favored these days.

Ransom had visited the coastal home since he was young, playing with the neighbor’s kids while his parents were off doing who knows what. Now, he couldn’t care enough to retain the name of the guy who lives next door. That sort of information was trivial when there was someone else who he would’ve rather had take up every corner of his mind.

That night after dinner, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you in the car, stealing every glance he could without veering off the road. Hundred dollar bills could be falling from the sky and he wouldn’t even notice, which carries its weight when all that Ransom’s ever valued, all that’s ever been steady in his life, is money. That was until you and whatever feeling you were giving him for the first time. It was as if he finally hit the threshold of realization to what’s been creeping up on him this whole time.

Upon your return to the beach house, the two of you laid in bed, cuddled up close as the light from the TV playing late night talk shows danced across the bedroom. You were tucked up into his side, your head on his shoulder as one hand crossed his body and rested on his hip, his one arm doing the same to you as the other tangled in your hair, gently massaging your scalp. He watched as your eyelids fluttered shut, heavy with tiredness of the day and comfort in his hold. Another moment to be savored: your absolute trust in the security of his arms. He smiled to himself as you mumbled in your sleep, studying every little quirk of your lips, every barely intelligible word he could catch, not judging, but committing to memory.

In another life, Ransom would’ve tried to deny that you were any more than just another girl, but there was no use. He was too far gone. Finding ways to surprise you, shower you in gifts, and all the quality time you asked for. Whatever you could desire, really, it was yours, and he had no business withholding from you. His heart wouldn’t allow him.

Ransom was in tune with everything you were doing right now. He pushed aside the thoughts of the week’s earlier memories with you for a second, and cleared everything else nonessential from his mind. He only needed space for what was going on currently. He observed as you scooted closer to him, pushing aside the pillows that were often just so as you slept. Absorbed the way your head tilted to the side at that certain angle when you were leaning in, just about to kiss him. He surely didn’t want to miss it as he closed his eyes and let you fall into him, tongues dancing in an amatory rhythm. So in sync, so naturally that he didn’t care about anything else. Every detail was something he wanted to devote his attention to; memorize and hold onto forever.

Yeah, he should probably get up and make you your coffee. How he loved to see you stir it, just the simplest task, but this felt more pressing. The warmth in his chest from your touch, the way your kisses filled his lungs with light, with life. How your fingertips traced up and down his chest, tucking into the waistband of his boxer briefs. He shuddered at the sensation, at what even your gentlest touch could do to him. Breakfast could wait. You offered enough to feed his soul forever. This feeling? The new wholeness? It was love.

Bonus A/N: Soft!Ran. I only know him. Could you imagine a nice little rainy day in bed, looking out the window at the coast?🥺

Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly

[physalian]

What No One Tells You About Writing #4 (100 Follower Special!)

Have you got any that deserve to be on these lists? Don’t be shy! Send ‘em over.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

*This list contains mentions of assault, #4

1. Zero cursing is better than censored cursing

I made the mistake in the early days of writing a self-censoring character, and every “curse” she said just took the teeth out of the rest of the statement. I’m talking gosh, darn, dang, etc, not world-specific idioms a la “scruffy nerf herder” or “dunderhead” instead of “dumbass”.

Look to any American TV show that so, so badly wants to use f*ck or sh*t but has to appease the sensitive conservatives who still somehow believe strong language is worse than graphic violence and horrifying psychological damage. For shame! Your characters can be angry without expletives, so rework your sentences to include equally damning insults that don’t resort to potty mouths if you’re concerned about ratings.

Or go full-throttle into the idioms of the world or the time period like Pirates of the Caribbean. Or just… don’t. There’s zero modern cursing in the Lord of the Rings adaptation and not a single sentence that censors itself. The dialogue is above vulgarity and feels more *fantastical* that way anyway.

2. “Yeah, you aren’t the target audience.”

It’s kind of hilarious seeing the range of reader reactions to two characters I intend to have a romantic relationship. Some will go “I ship it!” after the first page of them together… and another will go “wait, I thought they were just friends” up until they kiss. Sometimes you might be too subtle, other times it might be better to just accept that you can’t rewrite your entire book to please one naysayer.

When I’m pitched a fantasy adventure book that turns out to be a by-the-numbers romance where no one is allowed to be a peasant and every important character is royalty in some way, with a way cooler fantasy backdrop, I get severely disappointed. That doesn’t mean the book is bad, it just means I’m not the target audience.

3. There is no greater character sin than making them boring

Unless you live in the wacky world we find ourselves in where any flaws whatsoever are apparently harmful depictions of so-and-so and not at all written with things like ~nuance~. I will gush over your heinous villain committing atrocities because he’s *interesting*. I will not remember Bland Love Interest who’s a generic everyman with zero compelling or intriguing traits or flaws.

There’s another tumblr post out there that I cannot find that says something like this, and I believe the post goes “his crimes are fiction, my annoyance is real”. Swap annoyance for boredom and you get what I mean. So, I don’t care what your character does so long as they’re memorable. I will either root for their victory or their doom, but I do need *something* to root for.

4. The line between “gratuitous” and “respectful” is actually very thick

Less what no one tells *you* about writing and more what no one tells screenwriters. Y’all do realize you can write a character who experiences assault without actually writing the assault, right? Fade to black, have them mention it in their backstory, or have the horrific aftermath as they come to terms with it. An abrupt cut to this devastated character when it’s all over and they’re alone with themselves can be incredibly poignant and powerful. This goes with anything sensitive, especially if it’s not coming from experience.

If you want to write it or film it respectfully, romanticizing assault, for instance, is when it’s framed as if either character has earned or “deserves” it. If the narrative in any way argues that it's justified. The victim might have "earned" it for any of the BS reasons we use in the real world, or the perpetrator might've "earned" it because of temptation, desire, pressure to assert dominance, etc. Representation is important, but are you “representing” to shed light on a misunderstood and maligned topic, or are you doing it to satisfy a fetish or bias in yourself?

5. Don’t let your eyes get bigger than your stomach

Fantasy has no limitations, which means you can dig way deeper into the well of your worldbuilding than you realize, until you look up and realize you’re stuck down there. I have never seen a more obvious inevitable disaster looming than the pilot of GoT season 5. Why? Nobody has any plans. They’re all just led around by whatever side quest the writers throw them on, twiddling their thumbs until the writers deign to pull the trigger on the White Walkers.

To the point that what should be a major character can skip an entire season because his arc is meaningless. Everything in the last half of that show was one big “eventually” while the story toiled around in an ever-expanding cast of characters and set pieces (seriously, it’s hilarious how jarring the extended version of the theme music became compared to the pilot episode to fit all these locations).

When you have too many directionless characters, too many plot elements, too many ideas you want to fully mature and get their due spotlight and then somehow combine them all together for a common foe in the end, writing can get tedious and frustrating very quickly. Why, I imagine, the book series remains unfinished. Fantasy is great for being able to create such complex worlds, but don’t be the snake that eats its own tail trying too hard.

6. No one cares about your agenda if you insult them to push it

This deserves its own post but here we go. Peddling an agenda is a paradox: those who agree with you won’t need to be preached to, and those who you want to persuade will instead reject you further because they feel belittle and disrespected. This is why so many recent “strong female characters” fail on both sides of the aisle. Feminists see an annoying caricature of the movement they’re passionate about. Antifeminists see an insufferable, shallow, liberal mouthpiece when they just want to be entertained. You have failed both sides, congrats.

The answer? Write a strong, nuanced, well-developed character. Then make them a woman. I know this has been said before but this BS keeps happening so clearly the screenwriters aren’t listening. Entertain me first. Entertain me so well I don’t even realize I’m learning.

7. Today’s audiences won’t react the same way as tomorrow’s

Sometimes genres or tropes get oversaturated and need a few years to cool off before audiences are receptive to them again—teen dystopia, anyone?—that doesn’t mean your story is inherently bad because it’s unpopular (nor does it mean it’s amazing because it is popular).

You should always write the book you want to read, not the book that chases trends. I can pick up a well-written teen dystopia I’ve never read before and enjoy it. I can continue to ignore Divergent because it has nothing to say. Write the book you want to read, but then accept that you might make no money because no one else wants to read it, not because they think it’s bad. And, who knows? You might get a boom of chatter months or years down the line when readers stumble upon an uncut gem.

8. Your characters don’t age with you

Depending on how long you’ve been working on your world and what age you were when you started, the characters, concepts, morals, and story you set out to tell might no longer reflect who you want to be as an author when all is said and done. Writing can take years, some of which can be incredibly turbulent and life changing. I wrote the first draft of my first original novel in my freshman year of college. Those characters and that draft are now unrecognizable and has left a world I’ve poured my heart and soul into in limbo.

I’ve slowly creeped up my characters’ ages. My writing has matured dramatically. The themes I wanted to explore in the height of the 2016 election are just demoralizing now. That book was my therapeutic outlet and, as consequence, my characters sometimes reflect some awful moods and mindsets that I was in when writing them. But nothing in that world grows without me tending to it. It’s not alive. Despite all the work I’ve done, there’s still more to be done, maybe even restarting the plot from the ground up. When I think of what no one told me about writing, staring at characters designed by someone I’m not anymore is the hardest reality to accept.

—

If you think I missed something, check out parts 1-3 or toss your own hat into the ring. Give me romance tropes. Mystery, thriller, historical fiction, bildungsromans, memoires, children’s books, whatever you want! Give me stuff you wish you’d known before editing, publishing, marketing, and more. 

Also, don’t forget to vote in the dialogue poll!

[fatcatlittlebox]

I had an ask about my analysis of Galadriel’s mindset during the season finale and I’ve been avoiding it because I f*cking hated the dialogue they gave her. The more I thought about it though, the more it made sense to me. Galadriel doesn’t want to believe that any of what she shared with Halbrand was real. She doesn’t want to allow that possibility. As others have said, she didn’t just want what he offered. She wanted him. If “he” doesn’t exist, it makes it easier to “shut the door.” She may go her whole life convincing herself that it was a farce to him. Even if that’s how she comes to terms with it, is that really being healed?

From the beginning of their reunion, you could see Galadriel avoids facing Sauron. She doesn’t turn around when he approaches her from behind. She’s frozen. It’s because she doesn’t trust how she will react when she sees his face. Especially if he has the form of Halbrand. She’s terrified of him and she’s terrified of herself. Her mistrust is well placed as we see later. Then, it is only when Sauron faces away from her that she tries to strike him down. Because in confronting him this way, she won’t actually have to face him.

But of course, it doesn’t work. They both knew it wouldn’t. She won’t get off that easily. It’s also an attempt on her part to keep him at a distance. It’s her way of telling him, she’s not here to talk. Sauron flips it on her though. Because Galadriel isn’t a talker anyways. She’s a fighter and violence is a language he is fluent in. He turns their duel into a physical and symbolic conversation. And Galadriel hates it. She hates that he can singularly access her this way and the way no one else can. So she keeps pushing him back and shutting him down. The rest of their confrontation Galadriel volleys a series of sarcastic replies whenever Sauron tries to be sincere with her. She sneeringly asks if he wants to heal her. He says he wants “to heal…” and pauses.

The truth is in that silence. He wishes to heal. Sadly, now it’s established that they’re both going to be lying to themselves so why be honest and open with each other going forward? I think that’s for a multitude of reasons. One, if she deflects his entreaties with sarcasm, she’s not letting his words hit their mark. He can’t worm his way into her mind again. And after having heard Adar describe his own relationship and feelings with Sauron, then watching him get brutally murdured, she feels entirely justified in cosigning that Sauron is an insidious manipulator. That she is no different and would end up exactly as the fallen elf.

Sauron, she tells herself, is the embodiment of evil. She’s not wrong. However, evil can love. It can be twisted and fucked up but no less real. However, that kind of gray area would spell the collapse of her defenses. So she makes him to be this generic evil and responds to him with generic platitudes. It’s impersonal, detached. Business as usual. It’s survival. She has declared in her mind that Sauron is not Halbrand. Ignoring the fact that her mind is not where he slithered his way in. He found his way through her heart.

And Sauron, for his part does a shitty job of convincing her otherwise. There are moments of earnest vulnerability sprinkled in there but in the heat of her anger and outrage, she cannot see it. Their fight tells a story in itself and he toys with her. She knows it too. What’s more, the fight becomes a microcosm of their relationship. She pursues him and he bats her away. He nicks her in precise places on her body - her shoulder, where he saw Valandil pierce her with his sword and then her left flank, where Halbrand was injured - like he means to recall their shared history. But instead of a caress, it’s a cut.

Then he morphs into Halbrand, then Galadriel, then Celebrimbor. He’s telling her that he sees and remembers everything. What she feels is ridiculed and used like a puppet. Finally, the last place he cuts her is over her heart. An unhealing scar will be left. Still he sees and remembers everything. That wound is for the both of them.

By the end of their fight, Sauron has unintentionally reinforced what Galadriel had set out to prove in her mind, if not in her heart. Halbrand never existed. She feels triumphant over Sauron and over the darkness that haunts her. She believes she is “healed.” It’s a parallel of her leap from the ship bound for the Undying Lands. Instead of turning it away, she’s embracing her death and her closure. At the same time, Sauron reaches an epiphany that is similar to her own but fundamentally different: Halbrand is no more. As I had stated before, Sauron likely associates Halbrand as the most vulnerable version of himself even if it is the closest to the truth. It is the version of himself he saw ruling with Galadriel. But he sees this as a failed effort, so it wouldn’t serve a practical purpose to be Halbrand anymore. It was a risk he would rather avoid and he probably wants him gone as badly as she does.

However both of those premises are faulty. Because we, the viewers know what they deny: Halbrand is Sauron. He always will be. They are both lying to themselves. Which begs the question: Was Galadriel healed and reborn in light? Or was she rejected by death because her sacrifice was built on a half-truth? Had she been sent back because she had not completed her mission? She had said her task was to remove the stain of his evil from Middle Earth. Halbrand is Sauron. Even though the door to her mind is shut, the door to her heart is a different story. And his stain is still there.

[tkomptgoedluv]

icantbelieveiletyougetaway.

joost klein x f! reader

tags: dead dove do not eat, f! reader, non-famous! reader, reader really needs to see a therapist, established friendship, they’re so in love with each other it hurts but can’t admit it, joost just wants to be her everything, angst, hurt, comfort, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 4,156.

warnings: very brief allusion to drugging, heavy and frequent references to SA, violence, vague mentions of non-specific mental illness, rpf.

notes: in my head this takes place in 2021-2022 when joost had that really short, almost buzzcut like hair? like the wachtmuziek era. also, very sorry this is late!! it’s still only been half-proofread and i’m not even sure i like how i wrote the ending but here she is anyway. i love her and i hope you do too 💋.

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ── ── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ── ── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

with shaking hands, you fumbled around the bathroom floor to find your phone. your chest was heaving, the cries that you struggled to keep quiet were getting all caught up in your throat as you fought meekly through the nausea. you wiped at your face again, desperate to clear your vision and leaving behind a mixture of tears, snot, and smeared mascara on the back of your hand.

the room itself was dark, barely lit up by a singular dim, yellow light, though despite the shadows you could still see how everything was spinning. you couldn’t remember how many drinks you’d had — it hadn’t felt like a lot, you weren’t a lightweight by any means but you didn’t know how else to explain the state you were in. you couldn’t stand up even if you wanted to, your legs strangely numb to the touch and the pounding in your head made staying on the floor all the more appealing anyway.

face down on the grimey, tiled floor you found your phone laying just underneath the sink. you ignored the low battery warning as you swiped through your contacts, squinting through your tears at the screen as if it would actually help you see any better. you were only looking out for one name; the third out of the four that were listed under the letter ‘J’, and the only name to have an emoji next to it.

over the sound of the heavy, techno bass that seemed to shake the walls and the buzz of a hundred different people all talking amongst each other, you heard the line start to dial. it didn’t make sense to call him out of everyone else that could possibly help you; he was infamously known for never picking up the phone. it was ironic for someone so notoriously attached to their screens, his face typically glued to either his phone or his ipad.

but still, you hadn’t so much as thought twice about it as you clicked on his contact and then the call button. With your head tilted back against the wall and your knees curled up tightly against your chest, you prayed to any god listening that by some miracle, he wouldn’t be busy.

“hallo?”

you let out a whimper at the mere sound of his voice, a small, pathetic noise that quickly turned into a cry that you didn’t bother to stifle. he called out your name for a second time, though now in a tone that was much softer than the one before it.

“i’m sorry, i know it’s late.” you paused to take a breath, your voice having cracked like glass as you spoke. “but i need your help. i don’t…joost, i don’t know what to do.”

“it’s okay, just take a big breath for me.” for just a moment you heard shuffling around on the other end of the line. with each of his footsteps the background noise grew quieter until it disappeared completely, following the sound of a door being shut. “where are you?”

“i’m at…i’m at this house but i uh, i really don’t wanna be here anymore. do you think you could…can you just come get me, please? i’m sorry.”

over the sound of a drum and bass beat that played so obnoxiously loud, you struggled to catch all the whispers from joost’s side of the phone call. there was another voice there, that much you could hear, and you struggled to place it despite how familiar it sounded. you tried to concentrate on the faint muttering, straining your ears to hear it over the song that blared just below you.

but then you jumped when the banging started. a sudden flurry of fists pounding against the wood and making the bathroom door rattle within its hinges. from the deep laughs that followed, chances were it was just a group of guys trying to be funny, probably thinking it was one of their friends getting lucky on the other side. and yet still, you found yourself gasping for breath as you choked back fresh tears, all the blood that ran through your veins turning cold.

“schatje? did you hear me?”

you could only hum back in response.

“i said i need you to send me your location, okay? and then i’ll come get you, i promise.”

it was the moment you figured out how to do so that your phone finally gave up on you. after hitting send, the little map displaying your whereabouts popping up in yours and joost’s text chain, your screen began to freeze. in a moment of panic you managed to choke out that you were locked away in a bathroom before it all went black, leaving you to stare at the taunting dead battery symbol.

you weren’t oblivious to the irony of it all. in a house crammed full of people, perhaps even a few too many than it was built to hold, you felt alone. just a few minutes ago that was all you wanted, to be by yourself, but now it left you with a ringing in your ears. the absence of joost’s voice was enough to throw you inside what felt like a black hole, where time seemed to slow the longer you waited for him.

you found a brief comfort in watching the time pass on the old, analog clock that hung high on the wall opposite you; you figured it was a better thing to focus on besides the sharp ache between your legs. it helped keep you distracted from the way everything just hurt now, whatever it was that was in your system already starting to wear off. without it numbing you to the pain of it all, you could feel the headache brewing behind your eyes and the sting of your split lip.

with each minute that dragged by, the slow, high-pitched tick of the clock echoing inside your ears, your mind began to slip further and further away. every time that you closed your eyes you could see it happening all over again; you could feel his hands back on you, ripping at your clothes and bruising your skin.

all the tears that you had only just managed to blink away came rushing back, continuing to decorate your face with more long, dark streaks of black. surely, this was going to be the thing to finally break you. there would never be any redemption or recovery for you — he’d get to live the rest of his life without burden whilst this was bound to be the death of you.

the more you unravelled, the more erratic your cries grew with hiccups racking your body and a deep burning in your eyes. for once you found yourself grateful for the music’s mind-numbing volume, though somehow it still wasn’t enough to mask the sound of a soft tapping against the bathroom door. like a coward you froze, failing to answer back before you heard your own name being yelled out to you, followed by a harsher knock.

“hey it’s me, it’s joost. can you open the door please?”

as you steadily climbed to your feet, using the edge of the sink to help push you up, your knees began to shake. they threatened to buckle out from under you with every step that you took, each limp towards the door sending a short stabbing pain up to your abdomen. the sensation made you wince, your jaw clenched and a grip on the door handle so strong that it turned your knuckles white.

it was almost sardonic how despite being in a house so loud, everything went quiet as soon as that door swung open. the music never stopped nor did anyone dare to change its volume, but all joost could hear was his own heartbeat thumping in his ears as his eyes met yours. all he could do was swallow, pushing down the bile that was quickly rising up his throat.

even in the low, warm light of the bathroom, he could see the streaked mascara that painted your face and the bloodied lip that was still trickling down your chin. your favourite shirt, the one that he himself had bought you, was torn and just about hanging off your shoulders. it exposed a trail of black and blue spots that started along your shoulder and went all the way down your arms, a couple even dotted down your legs.

joost uttered your name, his voice barely audible over the music downstairs. the corners of your frown twitched, your bottom lip quivering as you shook your head, already answering the question he hadn’t even asked yet. from where you stood he could see you shaking, your knees weak and barely holding you up right. he didn’t hesitate to pull you into him, an arm locking around your waist as his hand found the back of your head, keeping you hidden in his chest.

“jesus christ, what happened to you?”

you couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the right words to even try and explain what it was you had gone through. you could only weep into the fabric of joost’s jacket, so exhausted and overwhelmed that you didn’t have the strength to hold yourself together in front of him. but it was more than enough of an answer for joost who just held you tighter the harder you cried, fighting back tears of his own.

pulling away as gently as he could, joost still kept you in his grasp. his hands cupped either side of your jaw, calloused thumbs wiping away stray-fallen tears as his eyes danced over your face. with a gaze so intense, you could see his eyes growing sadder the longer he looked you over in the dull light of the bathroom.

“i left stunts outside — he’s still in the car. we could…we should go to the hospital.”

“no!” your own dramatic change in tone caught even you off guard. you couldn’t help it, you were panicking now, pulling joost back by his sleeve as he tried to guide you out of the bathroom. the action made you wobble and almost trip over your own feet, flinching at the sudden cramp you felt deep in your stomach. joost’s grip on you hardened, not nearly enough to hurt but enough to keep you from falling back and hitting your head on the sink. “not tonight. please, i just wanna go home. i’ll be fine.”

“you can barely fucking stand, schatje. you need help.”

“then i promise i’ll go in the morning! but right now i just really need you to take me home, okay? i’m begging you.”

perhaps if joost had a little bit more of a backbone and wasn’t so hopelessly head over fucking heels for you, he would’ve had the courage to say no. he would have been able to look you in the eye and still say that he was going to get you to a doctor, whether you wanted to go or not. but no matter how much he wanted to, how much he hated what you were asking of him, he couldn’t. feeling you trembling in his hands and hearing the fear that shook your voice meant there was longer a single thing that joost wouldn’t do for you.

you were his best friend just as much as he was yours, regardless of all the very non-platonic things the two of you had done together over the years. as far as you were concerned it was just something that you’d do sometimes, only ever as friends. there were never any conversations about it the next morning, never any acknowledgment for what it was you had done the night before; it was almost like it never happened until it would undoubtedly happen again. you always liked it like that though — as long as it meant that you never had to think about how you really felt.

joost, on the other hand, was painfully aware of what he felt about your situation, about you. it was never just sex for him, not even once, and he wanted to talk about it. and he tried to, a couple of times, spending the first few mornings after trying to coax you back into bed just so he could hold you skin-to-skin for a little while longer. but you never wanted to stay and you never wanted to talk about it, either, so joost stopped. he let it become another pain he had to live with and spent each day telling himself that he was okay with that.

it was with only a slight hesitation that he nodded before standing back up straight, slipping his big black jacket off his arms and draping the material gently over your shoulders.

you let joost take on most of your weight as you leaned into his side, letting him guide you back through the house as you focused on just trying to make it down the stairs without tripping. to say that the place was packed was an understatement. people were crammed into every room like sardines, dancing and grinding against each other with stiff, swinging jaws. you hadn’t even heard what it was that had been said over the music, its volume still just as loud and disorienting as it had been when you first arrived.

but joost had heard every word, somehow, despite the sound of his own song polluting the room. it made him freeze on the spot, pulling you to a stop right along with him as he slowly turned to face the group of guys that were standing just in front of the front door. you felt your throat start to close at the sight of him amongst them, standing front and centre with a sick grin plastered across his face, his eyes darting between you and joost.

“what did you just say?”

it might have been the gruff, nauseating voice that you recognised, or maybe it was those ring-heavy hands of his that you could still feel pressed into your skin. you didn’t know, and it didn’t matter, because you knew it was him.

“i said good luck with that one, dude. she doesn’t go down easy; kept trying to fight me the whole time.” his stare then fell from joost onto you, his tongue gliding over his bottom lip as he looked you up and down. “but we still had our fun though, didn’t we schat?”

the crack of joost’s knuckles colliding with his jaw was something you heard before you saw it; the thud of him hitting the ground following soon after. a chorus of screams and cheers rang painfully in your ears as you watched a small circle quickly form around you. anyone that could still see straight had either ran from the fight or pushed forward to get a better view of it, their phones held high and already recording.

“bet that made you feel like a man, huh? forcing yourself on a girl half your size. you piece of fucking shit, i should fucking kill you!”

in all the years you’d known him, you had never seen joost like that before; his voice low and angry as his shouts drowned out the music. he hadn’t waited for him to get back up before throwing another punch, the sharp crunch of his noise breaking making you wince and your eyes water.

you went to step forward, your hands already reaching out to grab joost’s arm when one of his friends pounced. a shriek was ripped out from you when a fist struck joost right across the cheek, knocking him into you hard enough to almost send you both tumbling to the floor. any chance for you to try and intervene again vanished when you were pushed back before you could get close enough, joost quickly shoving you behind him as he swung for the other guy.

a strong pair of arms wrapped your middle and pulled you further back as you cried for them all to stop, keeping you locked against their chest no matter how hard you thrashed. distance was put between you and the fight when you were picked up and half-dragged out the door, joost’s blond hair disappearing from sight amongst the growing crowd around him.

the bitter air of the early morning stole your breath, your chest tight and aching as the cold consumed you. small flakes of snow drifted down from the paleing sky, dusting each rooftop and the old, cracked pavements in a thin layer of white. still, there were a handful of people gathered on the house’s front stairs, clad in various leather and latex, that only stood and watched as you were hauled away from the party.

“get the fuck off me! we’ve gotta go back, we can’t just leave him! stuntje, please!”

your feet only met the floor again once you were next to stunt’s car, safely across the street. even from there, you could hear the childish chanting of ‘fight! fight! fight!’ and the occasional glass break from inside.

“martijn -”

“- stay here; i’m gonna go get him.”

you weren’t allowed to argue, so you just did what you were told. for four minutes you sat waiting in the back of the car with the heaters on full blast and still shivering as you nestled yourself deeper into joost’s jacket. after another minute you saw them heading back your way, their pace fast as they slipped past the last few people that loitered on the steps. in the glow of the streetlights you could just about make out the soft shade of purple that was joost’s eye, and the deep scowl that contorted stuntje’s face.

neither of them spoke as they joined you in the car but for joost, you never really gave him the chance to. his seatbelt hadn’t even clicked into place yet before you were turning away from him, desperate to pretend that he wasn’t there burning holes into the side of your head. if joost knew that you could see him staring from the corner of your eye, he didn’t care. if anything, he probably would’ve hoped that it might have made you look back at him, because then that at least would’ve been something.

but seeing joost storm out of that house with a violet eye and raw knuckles, having just risked everything for you without a second thought, it scared you more than you wanted to admit. he was only supposed to come find you, and bring you back home. you never wanted a fight, never wanted joost to wind up with a black eye over you. so no, you couldn’t look at him — couldn’t even talk to him, either.

except your silent treatment didn't last very long, did it? it couldn’t, because joost wasn’t going to let you get away with it this time. for as long as he had known you, you always had this habit of internalising what you felt and shutting down. it never mattered what it was you were going through, you just wouldn’t talk about it.

this time though, he wasn’t going to let you disappear in on yourself again, and he wasn’t going to let you shut him out, either.

as soon as the car came to a stop, joost was up and already outside your car door. with a sweet smile, gentle hands were pulling you up and slowly helping you onto your feet before you had the chance to protest. there was a part of you that wanted to, now too proud to admit that you still needed his help. already, he had done more than enough, even too much, for you.

still, you didn’t dare to fight it — or him, rather. besides a small goodbye to stuntje, no words were spoken as he slipped an arm under your knees and pulled you up to his chest. it was like that, that he carried you up the three flights of stairs of your building, glancing down at you every so often with soft, worried eyes. it was miraculous how he managed to open your front door with you still in his arms, his very own key to your home dangling from the clip on his jeans.

it wasn’t long before the soft leather of your sofa was dipping underneath your weight, its cushion beneath you feeling cold against the bruised flesh of your thigh. joost left you for only a second, just to switch on a couple of the lamps you had dotted around and to dig out your old first aid kit from the bathroom.

you still weren’t really looking at him, not even as he perched on the edge of your coffee table and carefully took your jaw in his hold. the brush of the alcohol wipes along the small cuts that marked your face stung and made you wince, your nose scrunching up at the pain. a string of quiet apologies followed as joost concentrated on cleaning you up, wiping away each and every smear of blood and smudged makeup.

the longer that you sat there whilst joost devoted all of his time and energy to you, the more teary-eyed you felt yourself becoming again. it felt almost…foreign to feel so loved after everything, like you were still somehow worth saving. there was no way that you could possibly deserve it — nothing you could’ve done to deserve having someone adore you so unconditionally without earning it.

and yet here he was, your joost, doing anything and everything to try and help, and you couldn’t even fucking look at him.

the only thing you could do was cry. the way you clutched your mouth did little to muffle the sounds of your distress and it drew back his attention after he turned away only to throw out all of the dirty, used wipes. it was the guilt that was doing this to you, the guilt of knowing that you were the reason why joost now had a black eye. that joost had risked his whole career by starting that fight, and you had been the one to punish him for it.

a warm hand squeezed your knee as another tucked fallen strands of hair behind your ear. it took a few tries of quietly calling out your name to finally get you to meet his eyes, but eventually you got there. nothing could have prepared you for just how sick he looked, the bags under his eyes seeming considerably darker than before and a deep frown tugging at the corners of his lips.

“i’m sorry i did this. i never should’ve gone with him, i know i shouldn’t have because i know that i know better but i still went and i should’ve done something more, i could’ve hit him harder or yelled, and i’m sorry i called you because your eye, that was me, that was my fault and i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i -”

with your face pressed flat against his chest, his sudden embrace almost swallowing you whole, you couldn’t find the rest of your slurred, blubbering words. somehow, at some point, joost manoeuvred you both onto the sofa and with his arms around you, kept you curled up against his side. a few fingers moved up the back of your neck to scratch your scalp as others held onto your hip.

it was the only thing he could think to do to shut you up, to calm you down enough to take big, slow breaths, in and out.

he didn’t have it in him to let you finish that sentence.

delicate reassurances were mumbled into your hair, quiet ‘you’re okay’’s and faint ‘it wasn’t your fault’’s becoming mantras that helped soothe the pain in your chest. you wanted to believe him and knew that you didn’t. you knew that as the deep baritone of his whispers slowly lulled you to sleep, you’d wake up with that pain still very much there.

but joost wasn’t going to stop trying anytime soon, noor was he going anywhere. it was one of the few things you’d actually let him do for you, making himself a home on your sofa whenever you would have one of your episodes. he’d sleep there, eat there, work there. sometimes joost would spend entire weeks of his life in your living room just so that he could know for sure you were still alive and breathing.

he was the only thing offering you the slightest bit of comfort. you could feel his fingers running through your hair as you curled up even further into his side, his voice still low in your ear. it was becoming to struggle just to keep your eyes open, but you knew that he wouldn’t mind.

you could fall asleep just to wake up with that same ache in your heart still there, but joost would still be there too. for now, that was all you needed.

[daylighteclipsed]

Cloud and Tifa’s dialogue exchanges in Rebirth are banger after banger imo. But one of my absolute favorites is when they’re casually discussing food in the Bodybuilders in a Bind side quest.

I think it’s because it’s an unexpected but delightfully natural conversation? And it goes on for a while? This is a quest about working out, so you’d expect them to talk about workout routines or something. Instead, they end up talking about their food preferences after Tifa muses aloud what she should eat when they’re done. (She’s so real for thinking about food mid-workout btw.) She mentions steak, and Cloud makes a connection to Seventh Heaven’s menu. (This is news to us, as the audience; we never saw the menu in Remake.)

From the get-go, the dialogue communicates a lot without having to outright tell us everything. Tifa is the kind of person who thinks aloud without realizing it. She often plans meals/post-workout meals. She enjoys steak, and she put it on the Seventh Heaven menu, half of which — “the better half” — is (well, was) host to a number of meals she enjoys that Cloud also enjoys, as he laments not eating there more often. Tifa’s proud of her menu and cooking. And Cloud cares about the bar enough to remember the menu. While we’ve seen him express desire to rebuild Seventh Heaven before, this is the first time I really feel like he doesn’t want to rebuild it just to make Tifa happy. He cared about the place too. He misses it too.

The conversation continues with Tifa asking if Cloud’s a picky eater. Cloud replies that in the military, you eat what you’re fed. “SOLDIERs can’t be choosers.” Tifa mentions that she used to be a really picky eater. Cloud finds this surprising, and she emphasizes that she USED to be picky. “Can’t be choosers in the Slums, either.” Cloud, still curious, asks how Tifa feels about crab. She says that she’s not a fan, and he says that he’s not either.

Circumstances have made food more about survival. Cloud and Tifa are not in a position to choose, but they both still have preferences. I think this is interesting because this side quest comes right after Cloud’s side quest rendezvous with Aerith, where he sounds indifferent to what he eats. He expresses a little curiosity about how the clams/oysters/etc. from the shells they’re collecting might taste. Then Aerith says they could ask a local but she doesn’t think Cloud cares that much, and he just agrees. “I don’t. Food’s food.” And the conversation ends.

Cloud and Tifa talk about food almost this entire side quest lol. Clearly, food is not just food. Both characters have preferences, and they want to know each other’s preferences. There’s a sense of mutual interest and engagement, and a mutual ease of conversation flowing between them. (I think it’s fitting and a little humorous that Cloud brings up crab when they’re in a place like Costa del Sol. Crab is probably on every menu in town lmao He’s probably sick of seeing it.) Anyway, the most obvious takeaway from all this is that Cloud and Tifa have the same taste in food. But we’re not done yet.

From here, Tifa asks Cloud what the meals SOLDIERs eat taste like. Cloud replies that they’re healthy but not tasty, making a small disgusted “eugh” sound that earns a laugh from Tifa. Obviously, Cloud was never really in SOLDIER, but it’s safe to assume the average grunt also eats what they’re fed, and it doesn’t taste good. Cloud then begins to reminisce about their childhood. In hindsight, he realizes, they had it pretty good growing up. Tifa agrees. With fresh fruits and veggies, “and great chefs eager to use ‘em,” it’s hard to complain.

This isn’t the first time Cloud brings up their childhood in this side quest — he does very briefly at the start when he playfully asks Tifa what little Tifa would think of her adult self’s eagerness to kick some ass. But what’s so interesting is (if you play the game chronologically) I think this side quest is the first time Cloud brings up fond childhood memories without any prompting? He chooses to reflect on the past and steer his conversation with Tifa that way, to how they ate in Nibelheim, and it’s comfortable. It’s easy. A far cry from Tifa’s memory tests at the start of the game.

The past has been so tricky for Cloud and Tifa to navigate. It’s nice to see them reminisce about something so mundane and relatable like home-cooked meals. There’s some sadness in knowing neither of them can have that from their parents again… But there’s also the hope of rebuilding Seventh Heaven down the road. They — and their friends/found family — can always start a garden and enjoy homemade meals together someday, right? (Later in Gongaga, Barret mentions maybe starting a garden with Marlene. I think a shared/family garden when things settle down would be really sweet, but I digress.)

I think the dialogue in this side quest demonstrates the chemistry between Cloud and Tifa and quietly highlights their growing connection/reconnection. It flows so naturally (credit to the VAs for that as well). It really feels like two people hanging out and enjoying each other’s company, like they’re just going for a jog or grabbing a bite to eat or something instead of battling monsters. It paints a picture of what their casual/candid/low stakes dynamic is like, and it tells us more about them as individuals. It’s delightful. I love it.

[sparklingcid3r]

Do you have thoughts on Darry's pov about Pony getting jumped

If you guys ever want to just have a terrible night, go back and reread the way Pony describes Darry in the first chapter. It’s actually brutal and I can’t believe he let Darry read it😭🙏 He wanted that A bad

Because I swear, yall don’t need my thoughts on Darry’s pov because Pony is pretty much gifting to us, it’s just that it’s muddied by his own personal bias/narration that you miss just how much characterization Darry gets. If you take out Pony’s internal thoughts, you’d think Darry was the tamest/most thoughtful of the bunch through actions alone, even if he comes off a little heated.

I’m gonna go ahead and do it here anyway to show you what I mean. We’ll go in order from Darry’s first appearance to the end of the chapter, but I’m only giving you his actions and his dialogue. Toss up a prayer now bc Darry is done FILTHYYYY

(ignore my highlights, i j started annotating lol)

Immediately we’re introduced to Darry as the person who’s literally getting Pony back on his feet. He’s shaking Pony by the shoulders to get him to respond because he doesn’t always realize his own strength compared to Pony’s. This is probably the relationship he has with most of the gang since he’s most likely the one working out the most consistently of them all, what with his job and gym runs.

But when Pony tells Darry to stop, it’s not like Darry glares at him and says “I’m just checking on you.” Instantly, he recognizes he’s being too rough and apologizes.

This is a few lines later, after the description of Darry and their father, but Darry’s still the only one talking at this point. I thought it was interesting that he jams his fists into his pockets, and my thoughts are that he’s physically restraining himself from Pony as to not hurt him worse, especially since he’s asking Pony how badly he’s just been hurt.

This is Darry’s reaction to Soda calling Pony an okay kid and Pony grinning in response and calling Soda crazy. It’s the most sibling thing I’ve ever seen idk, especially when Darry just grins at Soda’s teasing and lets it go. It’s literally Darry being a softie in front of Pony, but it just doesn’t click for Pony yet give him a minute he’ll get there🙏 in two hundred more pages

I was pretty surprised when I went back and read the book. For some reason I misremembered Darry as being completely hypocritical whenever talking to Pony about school smarts vs street smarts, but he’s pretty much going out of his way to compliment Pony here.

And I mean, these are pretty tame bites at Pony, overall he’s being pretty lighthearted with his words. I wasn’t reading this with an angry Darry in mind, just an exasperated one that wishes his brother thought about his own safety more often so Darry didn’t have to do it for him.

Y’all probably remember this from the movie lmao, I love Patrick Swayze’s portrayal of Darry, I think he nails the character completely. Darry’s so obviously not angry at Pony here, especially not when he’s laying off when Soda tells him to.

Dally is figuring out who’s going to the Nightly Double with him, and I was surprised by Darry’s reaction. Canonically he doesn’t even like movies, Pony literally said it a few pages ago, so he’s either faking his disappointment (lmao) or would have actually gone for Dally, which was wild to think about.

So this was also pretty interesting. Even when I was a kid, my parents let me go outside and play with the neighbors for hours at a time, pretty much until it got dark. Things were veryyy different in the 60s, where it was normal for parents to go to sleep with their kids out in the night and wake up with them home, weekends especially. When considering that their parents are yk, dead, Darry wanting Pony to keep his grades in check on the weekdays only and handing off the reins on the weekend is pretty cool of him imo lol

And this was just adorable

But that’s it, the rest of the chapter is Soda and Pony talking about Darry, and then Pony’s internal monologue about how much he doesn’t need Darry and doesn’t care about him, but that he knows he lying to himself :(

Their relationship is one of the single greatest things in the book and honestly, Hinton makes it clear from the beginning what Pony realizes later: that Darry never once “didn’t care” about Pony or thought of him as a burden. Maybe he’s overbearing sometimes, but for someone who has so much pressure on him nearly all the time, he does a pretty good job with what he’s given 🤷‍♀️

His biggest flaw is his inability to communicate how he’s actually feeling to Pony, who he should know by now doesn’t take well to visual cues. But other than that, gold star for Darry Curtis!⭐️

[onlinekitsune]

LET ME IN: SAEYOUNG CHOI (PART TWO)

"make your way to me through the waves"

PAIRING, GENRE, WARNINGS ─ saeyoung choi x gnc!reader, not proofread, this is mostly comfort?? kinda just on saeyoung's side sorrryyy

SYNOPSIS ─ after a bit of an argument played out, between you. saeyoung returns back inside of the bedroom. unaware that you're actually awake, he begins to talk out his feelings.

WRITER’S NOTE ─ a handful of people requested a part two of the original!! which i honored and very gratful for!! i have a hard time liking my content, so when others tell me they enjoyed it, it means a lot! i tried my best with this but, kinda lost where i was going with it. again, a bit of dialogue is taken directly from the game. (day 8/9 iirc) i hope you enjoy! and again, thank you for all your kind words and support! i know i am off and on about posting content on here, but know that your words aren't just ignored!! so erm... anyways. do you think i could do a part three lmao

Your dreams were hard to recall as you continued to lay still in bed. Perhaps that was for the better, a dream about the argument prior or even recalling happier times in the chatroom would haunt you. You took a deep breath, not bothering to even open your eyes or get up. You felt exhausted, mentally and physically. It was ironic to you how crying provided the same effects as if you were to actually do something straining. Your hand slid through your sheets, blindingly guiding you to your phone. Before you could even reach it, you hear the door creak open. You laid completely still, unsure of what to do. Footsteps gently got closer, stopping as they reached right in front of you. The sound of fabric brushing against each other filled the room. Your heart raced, not sure what to expect. But you continued to stay still.

“You’re… asleep? Good.” Seven sighed, breaking the silence. He reached out his hand, brushing against the sheets. "You’re really quiet while you’re sleeping...” The room returned to its silence for a moment. You felt him lean his upper body on the bed, only being able to assume that he was kneeling before you. “You’re something, you know? I… must have hurt you by saying all those things, but you somehow manage to still be so bright. Even now. You remind me of the 707 I pretend to be in the chatroom. You have more in common with him than… Saeyoung.”

Your face slightly furrowed, hearing his voice become soft and vulnerable. You so desperately wanted to sit up and comfort him. But, you knew that if you did he’d immediately retreat. You continued pretending to be asleep, allowing him to continue. 

“Saeyoung is dark and pessimistic. His cold and complicated personality is the true me. I-I can’t wear the mask of the happy-go-lucky 707. I want you to realize that and be disappointed. I’m not a fun and cool person. I can put you in danger. So, don’t waste your feelings on me. I know telling you this won’t stop you. You’re so strange.” He continued. Hearing him talk bad about himself made your heart ache. If only he knew. If only he could see himself from your perspective. His hand hovered over yours before gently placing it on top, dissipating your thoughts. His touch was gentle, as if any friction could cause you to crumble beneath his fingers. “No, it's not you that's strange. It’s me. You’re actually… so nice and warm. You know, I… I sometimes dream about you accepting the real me. It’s a ridiculous dream, I know. But, thank you for allowing me to dream, at the very least.” His thumb brushed against the back of your hand before slipping away. 

The silence filled the room again, accompanied by your heartbeat in your ears. The weight on the bed returns to how it was, as he gets up. “Please, remember in your dreams that you can’t trust V… or even me. Be less nice to me, so that when I disappear, you won’t be hurt. Don’t trust anyone, and promise me you’ll stay safe. Allowing me to protect you is more than enough. It’s more than I deserve. It’s enough for Saeyoung.” He uttered, slowly turning away from you. You snuck a glance, seeing that he was now facing away from you but stood still.

“Saeyoung.” You let out, softly. You shifted from the bed, sitting up against the headboard. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just leaving-”

“Saeyoung. Please. Just wait a second.” You pleaded, looking up at him with soft eyes. He winced, hearing his name come from you a second time. He took a deep breath, and turned around to face you. He kept a straight face, but you could see the ache in his eyes. “Can we sit and talk?” You added. He hesitated, but ultimately gave in. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

“So, I can assume you heard everything?”

“I…Yes, I did. I didn’t want to pretend to be asleep but, also didn’t want you to run off.” you answered, grabbing onto your wrist. Your gaze met him as he turned his head to look at you. “Listen, I know how you feel. Pretending to be this happy-go-lucky person. I have experience with that, clearly. I don’t know how much you actually found out about me but… just know we have that in common, okay? I like yo-”

“Even if you say you like me, my life can’t embrace anything. You don’t know how it feels to live this kind of life. You shouldn’t be nice to me when you don’t know anything. The person you truly like is the 707 in the chatroom, just… forget about me. About this.” he interrupted, turning away from you. He was mere moments from leaving out the door, you felt it. And if he did, it’d return you back to where you were. In a moment of desperation, you bolted forward, hugging him from behind.

“Then please, help me understand the person in front of me…” You muttered, resting your head on his back. Saeyoung didn’t pull away, or even try to. He stood frozen, unable to comprehend what his mind was going through.

“You!” He let out, stunned. His eyes shut, slowly giving in to your affection. “Why are you doing this to me? You’re making this harder than it should. I live a dangerous life, one you don’t need to be involved in. I couldn't even protect my own brother… I have to abandon the person I adore. My life is good for nothing.”

“I’ve been through a bomb and a hacker, it’s a little too late for me to not be involved. I like the you that’s in front of me. Regardless of how complicated anything else is, I want to know you.”  

Saeyoung shook his head, taking a deep breath. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I… cherish you. I want to make you happy, but I can't! Why do you want to be with me when my life is so dangerous? Why do you… even like me?” He asked, his voice trailing off ever so subtly. You break off the hug, and sit beside him on the edge of the bed. 

“It’s more complicated than that. I can’t give a simple answer. I just like you, Saeyoung.”

“You’re impossible. What are you going to do if something happens to you because of me? What then?”

You gave him a soft smile, before reaching out to grab his hand. He didn’t bother to stop you, or even pull away. “No matter what happens, I won’t regret my feelings for you.” you uttered, now brushing your thumb across his hand. Another sigh, and again he shut his eyes for a moment. 

“I don’t know anymore. You’re so strange. I.. feel like i’m going strange too. No matter what I do… I can't seem to get rid of your feelings for me. Nothing good will happen by being close to me, you know. It’ll be too late to regret it later.” He muttered. You let go of his hand, placing it on his shoulder. You slightly tugged at him to turn. You two faced each other directly. You saw the sadness, the despair, the anguish in his eyes. Up close this time. 

“There’s no way I'll regret being with you, Saeyoung.” you softly replied, gently cupping his face. He stood there, as if he was afraid to touch you. To give into the affection. 

“You shouldn’t say that too easily. Ugh. I always told myself that I wouldn’t ever want to grow close to someone. But you’re making that so… complicated. I- I can’t believe you’re getting to me. Gods, what am I supposed to do now?” He asked, reaching to hold your forearms. You let out a soft breath, before leaning closer to him.

“First, just take some time and think about accepting my feelings. We can figure out the rest from there, alright?.” you answered, tilting your head slightly. You wanted to be his light, especially now.

“Alright… I’ll need some time.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll wait.”

[hifugoro]

Picturing Ren eventually distancing himself from Akechi after accepting Maruki’s deal.. Picturing him weighing the idea of them not being friends anymore in his head the night of 2/2—since he figures that Akechi wouldn’t want to—and slowly becoming more resolute to do it himself after seeing Akechi back to detective prince mode….

“Have your regrets begun?” is a scalding line in it’s own context of Akechi being gone but I think it applies twice as much in this scenario. Is Akechi really happy here? Was his TV persona drawing upon a place of real joy, or is this Maruki’s vision of a Happy Goro Akechi? Or, worse, Akechi had an OkumuraMadarame™ pulled on him. Ren’s wish was granted before he spent any time with the “real” Akechi (in quotes because I have other unrelated thoughts on his behavior during 3rd semester) in a way that didn’t end with one of them dying. Therefore it’s an admittedly reasonable assumption that those feelings of closeness came solely from Akechi’s other personality. There’s also the Vey Important dialogue with Maruki where Ren can say his heart aches when he gets betrayed. And I mean. You know.

So, let’s switch him back to the polite Akechi who would never betray anyone. He’s alive because Maruki wants him to live a good life as well, sure, but him being here was Ren’s wish. As messed up as it is it’s pretty obvious who comes first and foremost. Maruki thinks all happiness is real, even if it means entirely destroying who you are, anyway.

And I don’t think Ren would be able to come to terms with that. He’d try to reason it with himself for the first few weeks (maybe Akechi didn’t really think he was too unlovable to show any real parts of himself to the public. maybe this is genuine) but it wouldn’t work in the end. It doesn’t help that Akechi hadn’t even been angry when he said their deal was off, he just looked hurt. Acting like nothing is wrong after betraying someone like that, whether they remember or not, just isn’t something Ren could do forever.

So he doesn’t. He stops going to see him. Stops returning Akechi’s texts. Doesn’t reply to the follow up texts of Akechi being confused as to why they suddenly aren’t speaking anymore. He can’t even imagine going to the jazz club, the real Akechi’s safe haven, after everything is finished. The other thieves may talk about Akechi from time to time since they’re all friends now, which hurts him to hear, but guilt can’t be outweighed that easily.

Damning the entire world to save one person who didn’t even want to be saved is a selfish action born entirely of Ren’s own feelings towards letting Akechi die again. Does following that up with a selfless one—letting him drift away even if he desperately wants to reach out, because Ren knows Akechi wouldn’t realistically forgive him for taking the deal—cancel it out? Does it make anything better? Does it matter?

And at the end of the day, Akechi’s pain over losing the closest relationship he has likely wouldn’t even last. Sadness doesn’t mean anything here. After a while, Ren probably won’t even be missed. Maybe he realizes that this is the case and commits to it anyway. A roundabout apology for something Akechi doesn’t even know he did

[vinelark]

Do you have any more outtakes you'd be willing to share? I love seeing what did and didn't make the cut on fics

i do!! i remember doing a little roundup of some outtakes for chapters 1 - 3 (found it! here) and i have some similar snippets from chapters 4 & 5 ☺️

chapter 4

a bit of cut dialogue from the zoo rescue:

“Oh, I’m aware,” Nightwing says. “Atlanta, remember?”

“What happened in Atlanta?” Tim demands, ducking away from another bird.

Nightwing waves a hand. “Classified superhero business.”

“Superboy, what happened in Atlanta?”

In Atlanta, Kon yelled at Superman about Tim’s misinterpreted fear toxin hallucinations right in front of Batman and Nightwing, which still makes Kon cringe a bit to think about. “Uhh,” Kon says. “Yeah, classified.”

two cut texting exchanges after the date:

Text message: Clark & Kon

[Saturday, 10:21pm ET]

Clark

Hey Kon—is everything all right?

I can have someone cover the rest of my watch if need be.

Kon

no, all good

apparently mr. wayne’s lawyers are On It

whatever that means in rich people speak

sorry if you like. get asked about this by the press lol

like we weren’t trying for a photo op but i should’ve heard the drone earlier

Clark

This isn’t your fault.

And I’m sure Bruce’s lawyers will have it sorted out by morning

Kon

yeah that’s basically what tim said

Text message: Jon & Conner

[Saturday, 10:23pm ET]

Jon

Ok the live is gone now

Also pa’s asking where u are what do i tell him

I think i have to tell him the truth he sounds worried because earlier i said u went to rescue someone n you haven’t come back

I can’t lie about this i feel bad :(

oh i just heard your window open nvm !!

Conner

all good kiddo, thanks for looking out

in tim & bruce’s conversation, there was a longer section about tim leaning into the “socialite” civilian role, which included the following exchange:

“Like…Paris Fashion Week?” Tim says. That’s always a big one for Bruce Wayne to be caught ducking into dressing rooms with various models.

Bruce gives him a flat look. “You are welcome to attend Paris Fashion Week. Chaperoned.”

tim’s instagram post originally had comments:

briancollinsss i KNEW i saw superboy at car’s party!!!

jerseygirlsteph 👅👅👅

itsanickname_grayson Hope you stayed safe up there!

chapter 5

this exchange in the flashback at the top of chapter 5 was cut/altered for flow, but i still like it:

“Okay,” Tim had said. “And, um, if you can’t come get me, is there a plan B?”

“I will come for you,” Bruce repeated, at the same time Dick called: “Superman.”

extra banter (co-brainstormed by @tigerjpg) that got cut because it didn’t quite keep with the tone, but i still adore it:

“I’m not perfect, anyway,” Kon says. “I snore. Maybe next time make a specimen who doesn’t snore.”

“Sometimes his sneezes register on the Richter Scale,” Tim says.

“And I have a crooked tooth, though honestly that might be from the time I slammed face-first into a volcano.”

“He also thinks wearing sunglasses at night is cool.”

and a bit later, also cut for tone/flow:

“[…] Hey, how unhinged about eugenics do you have to be for Cadmus to send you packing as an intern?”

Cadmus. Did Kon—did he tell Tim the name Cadmus, earlier? He can’t remember—he doesn’t think he did—but it doesn’t matter, because his thoughts scatter as the guy whirls on Tim. The rod comes up, jams under Tim’s jaw, pressing into the side of his neck. Not on yet, but it could be. Kon freezes; Tim doesn’t react except to go rigid, still tracking the guy with his eyes.

“Tell me honestly,” Cadmus guy says, lip curling as he looks sideways to address Kon. “Do you even like this one, or was kissing him the only way you could get him to shut up?”

Kon’s heart pounds in his throat. “You’re so…obsessed with my dating life, dude,” he says. Every moment the guy is looking at him feels like one less moment the rod might switch on. “Sorry, but you’re a bit old for me.”

and i have some extra core four shenanigans that probably won’t fit into chapter 6 at this point, but i’ll wait til i’m done to share that 💪

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

“Love is a rebellious bird that none can tame”

After everything she’s been through, falling in love was the last thing she thought she’d ever achieve. And yet, even though she thought herself completely undeserving of anyone’s feelings, she still yearned for it… Maybe you’ll be the one to grant her wish.

characters: Furina x gn!reader

words: ~6360

warnings: spoilers for the 4.2 Archon Quest and Furina’s Story Quest

a/n: So I thought “let’s write something short for Furina, probably won't take too long”, and here I am now, writing this since thursday and with a total of 12 or so pages...

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Furina

There were many things that had changed in the life of the human once known as Fontaine’s beloved archon after the waters swept through Fontaine, engulfing the entire nation as prophesied and leaving her crying on the same chair she had sat down almost an hour before, still devastated from everything that had happened, only for the water to recede once more, leaving the city destroyed but its residents unharmed…

In those moments, Furina couldn’t imagine any of her past subjects being willing to ever look her in the eyes with anything but scorn again, considering how she had lied to them all for hundreds of years, pretending to be their Archon when she was nothing more than a normal human girl drawing nearer and nearer to unavoidable doom… She couldn’t imagine things to turn better in her personal life at all either, having been sentenced to death in front of everyone not too long ago… and yet here she was, reading through the script passed to her by the director, being asked for her opinion and recommendations the same way as when she was still putting on that horrible masquerade.

“My eyes can’t spot any glaring sins in writing in this dialogue… in other words, it’s good, as expected from someone as talented as you, director”, Furina responded once her eyes finally separated from the sheets of paper, catching herself falling back into those theatrical speech patterns she had grown so accustomed to, her lips curling into a polite smile as the director thanked her before quickly moving on to talk to another person.

It had taken Furina quite some time to return to the world of acting, and even after her appearance in the little Oceanid she tried restraining herself from diving head-first into the show-biz again and while there was barely a week she didn’t receive an invitation for a role for the next up-and-coming show, not even being asked for an interview first, acting played the second fiddle when compared to trying to get some time for herself. For centuries her every move was intensely watched, with the only hours she was truly alone being when she was asleep, so getting some time where she was free to try her hands at things in the comfort of her new home was a nice change of pace… especially since her cooking might have required some more refining.

But while Furina was finally free to live the life she always wanted… there still weren’t that many people she could call her friends. The traveler and their companion always on all sorts of adventures, while she still hesitated to reach out to her past colleagues, doubting if they even still wanted her around in the first place.

“Mhm, how could I forget I was dealing with the greatest of actors in all of Teyvat, just remember to look at the stairs the next time we’re on stage, we don’t want a repeat of last time, don’t we?”, the voice of one of her fellow actors rang out, causing Furina to look at the source of the sound, only to see a small group of her coworkers huddled around each other, joking and teasing around while rehearsing their lines and laughing at all kinds of stories of their past and inside jokes… both things still seemingly far out of reach for herself, at least for now. She didn’t like to admit it, but she felt a bit jealous.

Suddenly feeling out of place, Furina forced her eyes back onto the papers in her head, trying to read through her scenes once again, only to find her mind filled with all kinds of different thoughts.

Which sauce should I be trying today? Bolognese? Alfredo? Something new might be nice… but do I really feel like experimenting today? Maybe I should just go out to eat once in a while. It felt like a lifetime since I last visited that bakery near the city center… oh yeah, they shut down a generation ago.

Before she knew it, she sunk further and further into her thoughts, only to suddenly be startled when she felt a hand touch her shoulder, causing the culprit to follow suit.

“Oh, sorry! I was just trying to tell you that today’s rehearsal was over, but you seemed spaced out, so I thought…”, you apologized after quickly pulling your hand away, a look of slight embarrassment on your face before it quickly disappeared again, replaced by a smile that made her heart stop. For a split-second, Furina was about to refute your claim of her spacing out in public, her mouth still working on her centuries old autopilot, only for her to stop herself before a tone could come out, giving you a silent nod of her head.

But while this had ought to be it with your conversation for the day, Furina’s mouth refused to close, the realization that if she didn’t do anything about it, she was just going to go home, do the same thing she always did, eat the same meal she had… admittedly grown a bit sick off, even though she’d rather walk through hell and back before admitting to that flying companion of the traveler that they may have been somewhat right to judge her cooking skills, and get not a single step closer to finally using the chance at living the human life she had always wanted, instead just wasting her days with no meaningful connections until her time would run out quickly dawning on her. 

And so, before any of her anxieties could stop her words were pouring out of her mouth once again. 

“Do you have some spare time to rehearse our dialogues? I didn’t have the chance to see you in action yet, and I’d like to see if you’re worthy of acting alongside me.”

If it wasn’t for her self-control returning to her body at that exact moment, she would have facepalmed herself with enough force to leave an imprint, the cocky remark at the end a textbook example of the bad habits she still struggled getting rid off.

Surprisingly enough however, you didn’t seem insulted, nor disgusted by someone like her, who could not even do anything but watch in her nation's biggest crises, having the galls to look down on someone else. A grin that stretched from ear to ear finding itself on your face instead, your hand reaching out almost instantly as you offered her a handshake. 

“Sure, Miss Furina, let me show you what I’m made of.”

Before she could think things over however, her hand had already grown a mind of its own, shaking yours as she spouted out another confident boast.

“Are you out of your mind?! What good does it do to anyone if you go and throw your life away in a pointless duel? You could have at least asked me for my opinion before challenging him out of nowhere!”, you snapped, a mixture of anger and desperation seeping through your voice as you took a step towards Furina, leaning slightly forward, only to jerk back when she did the same, almost making your foreheads collide.

“I don’t belong to you, I don’t have to ask you for permission for anything. Challenging him might not have been the right course of action, I admit that, but at least it is an action. You hear the townsfolk weep whenever he and his band of mercenaries march into the townsquare and extort them for all their worth. So I’m not going to apologize for trying to help instead of just watching from the sidelines as you love to do”, before you could manage to say another word, Furina had turned around and stamped away, completely ignoring you calling out her name before you were all one… once again.

“Well, you are quite talented, I have to admit. I can see why you were hired to play alongside me. Although you still have a long way ahead of you if you wish to get as good as me”, Furina spoke half-jokingly, she never doubted your acting skills in the first place, she had heard of how talented you were after all, but given her excuse earlier, that wasn’t exactly something she could admit.

“Thanks Miss Furina, it’s an honor to hear someone like you say that. I hope I’ll be able to improve my acting while working alongside you”, you were quick to respond, putting your hand on your chest before giving her a small bow, leaving the actress stumped by your sudden modesty.

What’s this? Where are the competitive remarks you had been spewing out during the entirety of your private rehearsal? Why are you so… modest now?

Furina’s expression must have done a great job at revealing her inner monologue as you were quick to respond.

“Is something the matter, Miss Furina?”, you asked in the same calm tone, only for her to quickly turn her head away, as she realized she had been staring.

“N-nothing”, Furina responded in a subdued manner, looking out of the window and watching the streets grow less and less populated as the sun started to set, painting the skies in colors that made her want to whip out her camera and snap a picture or two.

As the silence stretched longer however, and the colors faded from the skies, Furina was teleported back into reality when your footsteps echoed through the room, approaching the front door one step at a time, causing her to turn around to face you once again.

“Thanks a lot, Miss Furina. I’ve learned a lot today”, you stated with a small smile, your hand already touching the doorknob when Furina interrupted your exit.

“Let’s go home together, I’m not too fond of the city's alleyways once they get covered in darkness”, she suggested. The phrase “not too fond” being a bit of an understatement considering her run-in with near death all those moons ago. And yet, Furina couldn’t help but feel a bit silly for asking you to accompany her, she was an adult after all, one that didn’t have that much of a chance to live life yet, but one nonetheless. But before she had the chance to open her mouth and spout an excuse you were already holding the door open for her, gesturing her to step out first.

“And we’ve arrived”, Furina announced, stopping in her tracks so suddenly that it took you a few steps to realize she was no longer by your side, quickly turning around and seeing her proudly point at the building in front of you. It was a lot smaller than you expected, considering she was the previous Archon and still widely appreciated as an actor. The burning lights in one of its windows made it pretty clear that her apartment wasn’t the only one in the building. But it was far from shabby. It had a nice exterior, was located near the city center and only a few steps away from some major shops, a nice house all in all.

“What? Left speechless by my abode? You flatter me”, she asked theatrically once the silence grew a bit too long to be considered anything but awkward, her voice hiding the faintest hint of nervousness.

“It’s pretty, I wish I’d have a place from which everything was as quickly reachable as from here”, you responded, a polite smile making its way onto your face as Furina’s head tilted by a bit. 

“Don’t you live somewhere near here?”

A shake of your head was enough to make her eyes widen, but once your response left your mouth, you saw her jaw hit the ground. “I live on the other side of the city, so it’s always a bit of a footmarch to get here.”

“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have asked you to accompany me if I knew you’d have to march all across the city to get home afterwards”, apologies quickly started flooding out of her mouth, obviously feeling bad about her previous request, but when you simply waved her worries off, she grew silent once again.

“It’s no problem. I look forward to our next rehearsal”, you said your goodbyes, only for Furina’s voice to once again stop you in your tracks. 

“Next rehearsal?”

At that exact moment, something in your brain clicked. Today was a one off thing, you had proven your worth as an acting colleague after all, so there was no reason for this to continue. The realization hit like a rock, you had enjoyed it after all, even if you had once again fallen into your old habits of becoming too boastful and competitive once your rehearsal’s started to get into motion.

“Sure, see you tomorrow!”, just as you were starting to think about breaking the silence by apologizing, her voice rang out to snap you out of it, a small smile on her face once you dared to look back up at her.

“Good work as always, Miss Furina. It really felt like I was talking to another person just now”, words of praise left your mouth in place of the line you were actually supposed to say, catching her completely off guard to the point her cheeks started to blush a bit. 

"T-Thanks? Did you forget your line all of a sudden or did the script change?”, she shot back with a tease, hoping it would be enough to serve as a distraction from her face. Instead of making your eyes look away however, your stare grew more intense, to the point she was fearing she might have said something very insensitive.

“I don’t forget my lines, Miss Furina, that’s not something that happens. Scratch that, I don’t forget lines at all, I’m pretty sure I could recite your part from memory at this point”, you shot back with a big grin on your face, your competitive spirit seemingly having been reawakened.

While Furina herself liked to indulge herself in boasting about her skills from time to time, she learned that there came a time when words alone were no longer satisfactory and had to be backed up by actions, so when she heard your remark she didn’t hesitate for even a second to take you up on it, laughter escaping her mouth as she struck a confident pose.

“Heh, well then, bless me with your performance, oh great and mighty one.”

What followed was silence, as you seemed to get lost in thought, your ear-to-ear grin slowly vanishing as your face returned to normal, but once the actress was finally about to offer you a chance out, you started your monologue. One, which while only seeming slightly familiar to her at first, quickly crystallized itself as none other than her character’s from the little oceanid. And while Furina had to admit to herself that you did a pretty good job remembering it, not only knowing what to say, but also when to pause, making it appear as easy as reading it from a script, the way you tried to imitate her voice even if yours was so different from hers made the corners of her lips curl into a smile. Whether it was out of admiration or meant as a parody of her she didn’t know, what she did know however, was that she couldn’t be angry at you even if you were trying to make fun of her, simply finding herself smiling at the thought.

“So you’re either so obsessed with the idea of impressing me that you learned every single one of my lines from heart, or you’re secretly my biggest fan”, Furina joked, only to find you shooting her a smile.

“I couldn’t help it, the little oceanid was just too good for me not to watch it more than once”, you refuted her accusation, finishing the graceful bow you had tried performing before being interrupted by the person in front of you.

“Well, Miss Furina. You’ve heard my rendition of your lines, so make sure to do your homework and read some of mine. Or are you scared you wouldn’t manage it as stunningly as me”, you challenged her before quickly putting on your jacket, opening the door and holding it open until the two of you had stepped outside.

There was no rational reason for her to accept. Taking on extra work when she already had to study enough lines for the play for no other reason than to fuel your urge for competition? That sounded a bit too absurd, even for her. Especially for her.

“Well, let yourself be amazed. Just don’t come crawling to me afterwards begging me to stop humiliating you so thoroughly.”

As Furina silently watched you chop together whatever ingredients she found at home from the dinner table, she couldn’t help but think about how wrong what was supposed to be nothing but another one of your private rehearsals had turned out…

“Bravo! It almost felt like looking into a mirror”, you exclaimed while clapping once Furina had finished reciting your lines perfectly, striking a pose that practically screamed at you to praise her more, a request you were all too willing to indulge her in.

“I’m starting to worry for every actor’s career, considering how you seem to be able to play every role you can get your hands on, Miss Furina”, you continued, only for her face to get happier with each passing word, before eventually raising her hand.

“This should suffice. Do not fret for your career, I’ll make sure to secure you a role alongside me if you ever find your pool of possibilities to suffer from a drought.”

You had a fully prepared response ready, but when you noticed the dark clouds covering the usually colorful sky, you quickly sidelined your current thoughts, choosing to focus on what seemed important.

“It might not be a bad idea to finish for today. It seems like it’s going to rain… and quite a lot at that”, you stated before pointing out of the window, causing Furina’s eyes to wander to where you’d been pointing, only for her to let out a deep groan.

“Rain? Why now? Couldn’t it have rained at night?” She complained to no one in particular, turning around and grabbing her jacket, giving you a small smile as you held the door open once again before speaking up.

“You should head straight home, or else you might not make it before the rain starts.”

“Heh, I’m not made out of sugar. I’ll be fine”, you joked in a confident tone, almost as if challenging the sky to try and wash you away with a flood, ignoring her attempts at playing the voice of reason…

“How’s the rain?”, you asked from the other room, trying your hardest to multitask everything from holding a conversation, walking around the kitchen, peeling some potatoes, cutting a carrot or two and not starting a house fire by accidentally leaving the stove on for a little too long.

“Not great, it seems to have gotten worse”, Furina responded in a meek voice, continuing to stare out of the window, refusing to look in your general direction, too scared of what sort of look she might find on your face.

“Something wrong? You’re unusually quiet”, you asked, only to get a semi-attentive hum as a response. 

If only you had agreed to go home on your own instead of accompanying her, maybe then you wouldn’t have to see the inside of her apartment. Sure, she wasn’t as depressed as she was before rekindling her passion for acting, leaving her home far more often and for different reasons than just to buy macaroni, but that still didn’t mean her home looked too much different from back then. 

With how little time she spent in it during the day, going to your private rehearsing sessions whenever she found the time… which she admittedly did have a lot of, and how tired she was when returning home, only wishing to grab a bowl of pasta and sauce before falling asleep almost instantly, there wasn’t exactly that much time she had for cleaning. But it was fine, she was eventually going to get around to do it, tomorrow maybe, she was tired already after all. Unfortunately for her however, the rain came before “tomorrow” could finally make its appearance. Now forced with the choice of either letting you see this rather pathetic side of her or forcing you to go home in this horrible storm, Furina couldn’t stomach the thought of shutting her door in front of you, and so… this happened.

“Here, it’s a recipe my father always used to make whenever there wasn’t much around. It requires little ingredients and tastes pretty good for how little time it takes”, you stated before setting down a plate in front of her, meeting her glance upwards with a smile you hoped would cheer her up somehow.

“Now that I think about it, you would have loved that old man. He had a lot of stories to tell, enough for him to write a small book about them. Apparently they found some popularity abroad for a few years, it would surprise you how much it netted him. Enough to take us on a small holiday abroad”, you talked to fill the silence, sitting down on the opposite chair from her, digging into your meal almost instantly.

“Was your father an adventurer?”, Furina eventually asked, catching you by surprise as you struggled to gulp down the last bite as quickly as possible, not wanting to leave her waiting for a response. 

“No, a clerk. Quite a boring job, but what his life missed in adventures, his imagination made up for”, you responded before just as quickly continuing, “My mother however was one, quite a passionate one at that. We couldn’t exactly see her too often because of that, but whenever we did, she returned with all kinds of treasures.”

“I’m sorry”, came the words from Furina’s mouth, almost silent enough for you to miss them, confusing you for a split second, but just as you were about to reassure her that it was fine and she had no need to feel bad for asking about your parents, her voice rang through the room once again. “I should have cleaned up, it’s just that I didn’t know you were going to come over today and… things have been a bit difficult.”

Only at that moment did you look around the room, trying to understand what she was talking about, and sure enough, there were quite a few things one could point out as not exactly being tidy, but considering how much worse apartments you had witnessed over the years, it was nothing too bad. No matter how much she talked herself down, Furina still made sure her home had a certain level of tidiness, after all.

“No need to apologize, it’s really not that bad, especially considering you probably weren’t too used to living alone before. If you need help with anything however, just tell me and I’ll lend you a hand. The only thing I’m judging you for are your acting skills after all”, you responded half-jokingly and while it didn’t seem to have too much of an effect at first, you did notice Furina gradually returning to her usual self during the course of your meal.

Eventually however, the storm finally subsided, leaving you free to finally return home. “Thanks a lot for today’s rehearsal and for letting me stay here instead of walking through the rain. Until next time, Furina”, you said your goodbyes only for Furina to quickly step forward and open the door for you, gesturing you to step through the door with a smile once again adorning her lips.

The following weeks brought surprisingly little changes to Furina’s schedule, something that would have usually meant a lot of discontent from her side, considering how she liked to spice things up every now and again, detesting the idea of living through the same cycle day in and day out. And yet, she found herself rather content with it all. And although your private rehearsals still continued outside of your normal one’s, they strayed further and further from their original goal as time went on, both of you starting to simply use it as a convenient excuse to hang out instead of solely using it to rehearse.

And so, after you had managed to rehearse the few remaining lines until you knew them from both heart and memory, the two of you still found yourself with a lot of time left, the sun still far from setting as it illuminated even the least accessible corners of Fontaine. Furina had nearly suggested parting for the day, when you had come up with a different idea, one she found herself easily getting on board with.

“Would you like to go eat somewhere? I feel like I’m starving”, if it hadn’t been for the sound of your stomach rumbling, Furina could have caught herself thinking you were simply too shy to ask her to spend a bit more time together, and while your face was as red as she imagined her own would be when asking you out on a date, it was a safe bet to say you blushing probably had a lot more to do with the previously mentioned reason than with anything romantic.

And here you were now, sitting at a table for two in a cafe she had always wanted to visit but didn’t find the time to, Furina already having placed her order while you still struggled with choosing what you’d like to eat, intensely staring at the menu in your hand while subconsciously making a… rather cute face. It had taken her quite a bit of convincing to make the cafe owner accept money from her, arguing that there was no reason to treat her any differently from the other citizens since she wasn’t their Archon any more, but even then the two of them could only agree on a discount, and yet all the conflicted feelings the undeserved, preferential treatment made her feel, vanished into thin air while she observed you, a small smile making its way onto her face when your eyes widened the moment they skimmed over the parfait section.

“Looks like you made your decision”, she joked as you got startled by the sound of her voice, your face turning red as you avoided eye-contact.

“No, I was just wondering why they were selling parfaits in a cafe like this. I doubt there’s any children visiting this place”, you argued back, only for the blue-haired girl's smile to get ever so slightly bigger.

Oh my, what happened to your usual self? Was all it took for you to get self-conscious to be surrounded by strangers in a public place? If so, she was surprised you could walk onto the stage as easily as you did, never so much as showing the slightest hint of nervousness while acting.

“Excuse me, could I have two parfaits please”, she asked the server passing by, only to receive a nod of acknowledgement before they wrote something down.

“Didn’t you already order something?”, was all you had to ask, the slightest hint of teasing in your voice, only for Furina to give you a small smile in return.

“Just demonstrating how easy it can be to pick something. Did it help?”

When she saw you struggle not to smile at her comment, she couldn’t help but congratulate herself by taking a sip of her drink and before she knew it, you had finally managed to order a drink, only for her second order to arrive merely moments after you had done so. Without saying a word, she slid one of the two desserts over to you before quickly making up an excuse to appease your mind.

“I may have ordered a bit too much for myself, would you mind sharing?”

When you finally finished your act of reluctantly accepting the food and took your first bite, only to throw any semblance of ego out of the window as you practically began melting in front of her the second your spoon made contact with the inside of your mouth. It was then that Furina caught herself shamelessly staring at you, ignoring her own food entirely as her stomach was filled with butterflies at the sight of how happy you were. It was cute, there was no use in calling it anything else anymore, and the thought that you were this happy just because of her filled her with an indescribable feeling. Sure, there had been many times she inspired positive feelings in others, but never before in her entire life was it anyone she considered close, so knowing she could make your days a little brighter with small deeds like these gave her hopes that she wasn’t completely without a purpose in life.

She hadn’t even noticed her mouth slightly opening before your voice had brought her back to reality, instantly causing her to turn away as her face heated up. 

“Do I have something on my face?”, you asked, only for Furina to try her best at playing it off, nervously piecing her response together word for word until she had found something workable, something that allowed the day to continue for a little bit longer before you eventually had to part ways.

As time went on, both of you began to care less and less about the big show on your doorstep, you had spent more time than anyone reciting your lines, learning them until you knew them better than their author, studied your choreography until you were certain you would be able to seamlessly perform your roles even in pitch-black darkness and were instead spending most of your time together doing what you wanted, already having practiced everything there was...

Well, there was one more scene left for the two of you to rehearse. One you two had procrastinated on for weeks. Was it because it was the final scene in the play or because the longer Furina got to know you, the more nervous she became whenever it got closer. You had miraculously avoided having to rehearse it with the others around, Furina bluffing her way out of it by telling the director doing so was just a waste of time, since it only required the two of you and you had practiced it often enough in private for there to be any need. The whole discussion was embarrassing, but far less mentally scarring than it would have been if she hadn’t said anything. 

That being said, today was the last chance to rehearse it, and while neither of you had any problems with anything up until now, you could see her grow more and more tense with every word you spoke.

“I have many regrets in my life, whether one of my many mistakes and shortcomings, or moments in which I stood and watched while I should have acted. I chose to follow you, even though it meant I’d see many of those I treasured the most leave without saying their goodbyes. I fought with you at least as often as I fought by your side, often facing death head on, and still I wear more scars on my heart than on my body”, you spoke with an aura of certainty, one that forced people to listen whether they wanted to or not, your voice was strict as if lecturing someone yet still carried a hint of gratitude, one getting more noticeable once your face softened, “And yet, if I were given the chance to go back in time and change things, I wouldn’t. Because no matter how much misery this path I took led me to, it also allowed me to stay by your side, something I wouldn’t trade for anything this world has to offer.”

“Why?”, Furina asked in a tone that was as soft as it was confused, only for you to smile in response, one, while amused in nature, still shined as radiantly as a stagelight.

“Because I love you.”

Furina was a masterful actress, being able to come up with suitable responses on the go and, with the exception of a few cases, never breaking character. And yet, even though she knew fully well what the script intended for you to do, when you started to slowly lean in, she just couldn’t do it, shutting her eyes in embarrassment as her face turned red enough to match a tomato.

“I-I’m sorry, I can’t!”, she practically screamed in your face, only to immediately apologize, feeling herself shrinking as she wished for nothing more than to sink through the floor. And yet, her wish wasn’t granted, and instead she found herself still standing in front of you the next time she opened her eyes, just in a far more pathetic manner than previously.

When Furina looked up at your face however, the shocked look on your face spoke more than a million words, your questions being so clearly on display that they might as well just be written all over your forehead.

“No problem, I’m sure it must be awkward to do this with a friend, even if it’s just for show… Ah, just imagine someone else, like a-... celebrity you had a crush on… or a cardboard cut-out of yourself”, you tried to lift the mood with a small joke, barely managing to raise the corners of your lips yourself when you saw her still worried face.

“I-... never did this before”, Furina murmured out, barely loud enough for it to be intelligible, and yet, you picked up on it, immediately raising your eyebrows.

“Kiss someone for a play?”, you asked, only for the former Archon to shake her head, her face turning a deep red as you saw her struggle to speak.

“Kiss… someone.” It shouldn’t be such a big deal, she spent the last 500 years playing the role of the Archon of Fontaine, never as much as making a single meaningful human connection, so her not having a slither of romantic experience was nothing surprising. Kissing anyone else for a play also wouldn’t have been that difficult, since Furina was sure she’d be able to enter her professional mode and just see it as a normal part of her career, and yet, with you, she found the task almost insurmountable, her heart beating with such ferocity and pace that it was a wonder you couldn’t hear it while she grew so nervous that it became difficult to breathe whenever you said or did anything romantic… even if it was clearly just part of the script. 

“Oh”, was all you managed to say, a downcast expression setting on your face for a split second before it quickly vanished, replaced with an apologetic smile. “I’m very sorry I have to be your first, I’m sure you’d want to save it for someone special, but considering we don’t have any rehearsals until the show anymore we have to practice the scene today”, you stated only for worry to once again fill your mind when Furina didn’t seem to react at all, simply having shut her eyes while taking deep breaths, only to suddenly spring in action the moment you opened your mouth to say something once again, pressing her lips against yours with such determination that it took you completely off-guard, before eventually pulling away.

“There’s no one else I’d want to give my first kiss to more than you”, Furina spoke, having summoned enough courage to finally speak again, although her voice was still somewhat shaky. It took you a few moments to finally comprehend what was happening, although by the time you did, she had already started her next sentence.

“I love you. I don’t know for how long, but I know why. I love to make you smile, I love to hear your laugh. I love that you didn’t judge me no matter how arrogant and overly brazen I can be from time to time or no matter what a mess I am outside of acting. Without you my only interactions would either be for work or with the shop owner. I’ve learned and experienced so much these past few months, and I know it wouldn’t have been possible on my own. You confide in me so much, and I wish for nothing more than to finally start doing the same, but I still can’t bring myself to do it when there’s just the smallest possibility of us not seeing each other again once this play is done. So will you please tell me how you feel so I can put either my wishes or fears to rest?”

Now that Furina voiced her feelings, she felt herself deflate like a balloon, all of her summoned courage leaving her body as she started to squirm at how cheesy she sounded, but before she could fall into old habits and start looking for an escape, she was brought back to reality by the feeling of her hands being taken into yours, causing her to look up for a split-second, one long enough for you to give her your answer by placing your lips on her’s.

“Was that enough to get my feelings across, Furina?” The moment the words left your mouth, Furina embraced you in a hug, holding onto you as if her life depended on it before you quickly put your arms around her as well, only for the sound of her sobbing to cause a mixture of worry and confusion to flare up inside of you. Just as you were about to comfort her however, you were interrupted by a giggle, faint at first but growing louder until Furina was laughing to herself in between her tears, her lips curled into a genuine smile as she pulled back and looked you in the eyes, her own slightly puffy.

“We can celebrate later, we still have a scene to practice.”