#this is my first time doing this lol my bad
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Lol this poll didn't let me vote, and it's good too cause I undercounted.
There was the time I slipped while walking on an oil drum (I had learned it in a circus workshop, but you shouldn't do it with shoes on wet grass) and I sprained my ankle real bad. (Forgot on my first, second and third count)
And that time a couple weeks later when my toes were turning blue and I was still in my cast. (I was fine.) (Forgot on my first, second and third count)
That time I had my tonsils out. (Forgot on first count.)
That time I was riding my bike to school, I got hit by a car and I was actually in an ambulance (just a black eye, it was an ultra-low-speed collision)
That time I had sinus-surgery. (Forgot on first count.)
That time I was riding my bike to college and there were roadworks and I took a 4m tumble onto the quay below and I was lucky enough to only have a mild concussion, some bruises and a factured metacarpal.
And that time after the metacarpal surgery when they'd replaced the initial open plaster-of-paris cast with a synthetic one, and my arm and fingers started to swell up real bad and they had to cut off the cast around midnight and I had to sit with my arm vertically up in the air for like two hours before they put on a new cast. (Forgot on first and second count.)
That time I was actually in real danger when I had a deep vein thrombosis and I learnt that not every visit to the emergency room is a bunch of sitting around waiting to be seen and it's actually really scary when the ER doctor already has a consulting specialist at your bedside before you're even wheeled in back from imaging. (Forgot on the first and second count.)
Of course my first and second C-sections.
Oh and my first and second IVF egg retrievals. The second one was really bad. (Forgot on the first, second and third count.)
Oh and probably the Christmas incident when I was like ... 3/4/5-ish and all us grandkids were playing in my grandmother's back room and I tumbled crotch-first onto the pointy corner of a wooden toy chest and bled like you wouldn't believe, but I'm not sure if I actually went to hospital for that, or if I just ruined our GP's Christmas. (Forgot on my first and second count.)
Oh and I wouldn't list my current IUD placement, that was more of a routine placement, but for my first ever IUD I nearly passed out at the initial appointment so I had it placed under sedation. (Forgot on first, second, third and fourth count. I had to be cleared for the procedure because I was still on bloodthinners after the deep vein thrombosis. It's minor but it wasn't routine so I feel like it still counts.)
So euhm... I was going to have voted 3-4, then 5-6, then 7-8 but I'm definitely in the 11 or more bucket.
And this, my dears, is why self-reported findings are not to be trusted. People's memories suck and also it's not always clear if an event is qualifying or not.
For the purposes of this poll, do NOT count the following:
Your own birth (unless there were complications/urgent concerns)
Routine check-ups or scheduled-in-advance appointments that just happened to be at a hospital
Visiting or accompanying someone else to the hospital
Use your discretion as to whether to count visits to urgent care.
–
We ask your questions anonymously so you don’t have to! Submissions are open on the 1st and 15th of the month.
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A post-mortem of "Good Morning, Rose"
A few weeks ago, I posted my addition to the comic anthology GLIMM*R, a short comic called "Good Morning, Rose".
The reaction to it has been so uplifting and exciting. It really seemed to struck a cord with people, which, really, the best thing for me to hear as a creator. I absolutely love writing and making short comics, you can do much with so little, explore such interesting stories. The feedback I've gotten has been very heartwarming! It makes me want to explore short stories even more!
But, first, I want to talk about some of my feelings and about the process of making "Good Morning, Rose". This got a bit long, so you'll have to indulge me a bit. You should also read the comic first before reading this. Don't worry, it's only 8 pages.
Now the preamble is out of the way, lets go back to the beginning.
The idea of "Good Morning, Rose" was a nugget in my brain for a long time! Originally it was actually from the Dreamwalker's point of view, where she was a faceless entity who had a long term relationship with Rose and was trying to figure out how to explain that their relationships only were in Rose's dreams. It was a story about seeing, accepting, and loving each other truly and fully, and the trials and tribulations of getting there. Also a cute girl with an ancient eldrich being is always fun to explore.
A lot of it was too convoluted, emotionally and storywise. It also required to get into what the Dreamwalker actually was, which I ended up really not liking. So, ultimately, the idea didn't work, and I put it down. I ended up going to do my short comic Twigs instead.
When I was invited into the wlw anthology GLIMM*R and was told that the theme was "dreams", I decided to take another stab at the concept. This time, I inverted the pov, it's now Rose's story. And instead of a long term relationship, it was about the powerful first feeling of a perfect (maybe even too perfect?) first date.
One of the hardest thing to write in romance is getting readers to care about the relationship in the first place. To have the readers believe in the character's feeling, to be invested in their romance. This is even harder to do when you only have 8 pages to do it. Focusing it around a first date helped a lot in that case. There I'm not trying to sell that these two character will love each other forever and forever, just the fluttering first butterflies of realizing you're developing feeling for someone. It's why I leave it so open-ended about whether the two of them meet again at the end of the comic, or even if it was real in the first place. It's just not the point of the story.
That's something important about writing short stories, I find. You really have to hone in on an idea, on a thought. Take a simple idea and try to find all of the interesting layers. It's too easy to try to stuff a short story with too many ideas that ultimately go unfulfilled. In fact, the first draft of the comic, at the time called "Dream Date", there was a big problem with this and the pacing.
Here, take a look at the first stab at the roughs:
(BTW, there is something so fun about roughs for me lol. The art is so kinetic and loose, all about just getting the story across)/
As you can see, a lot of the ideas and imagery made to the final version of the comic. But both the initial readers and I agreed that the beginning and end were good, but the middle was messy and slowed things down. You can also see that I got stuck in the same problem I did when I first conceived of the story, it's bogged down trying to understand the Dreamwalker in a way that actually hurts the story. You simply dont have any room for bad pacing a short comic like this. I need to focus more on the character's and their emotions and exploring their actual relationship rather than blandly trying to explain the situation. A friend also suggested that I should hone in on the fluid dream-like aspects of the first couple of pages, especially since it's so fun to explore in the medium of comics. So I got to work gutting it out and trying again with the new, much stronger imo, direction.
Also there were some issues with the page format that needed changes for printing, thus the final spread had to be split up. Which is a shame, but oh well, it still works. I also honed in a lot more on Rose and her insecurities. I ended up putting a lot of myself into Rose. I'm glad readers seems to able to relate to her.
After figuring out the the story and the pacing, I went and, well, made the comic. Once you've done as many comic pages I have at this point, once you figure out a process, the actual drawing is fairly straightforward. Eventually, after thinking, and drawing, and toiling, and revising, and thinking hard about my life choices, I come out of the other end of the tunnel with a comic. One that I ended up really liking. One that other people ended up liking, which is always crazy to me.
I got a lot of interesting reactions to the comic. One demographic thinking it was sweet, wanting more of it (always a flattering thought), and enjoying the romance. Other remarking on the bittersweetness of it all, finding your soulmate in a dream, maybe never to see them again if they were even real in the first place. There were a lot of people remarking how they had a similar dream, one where they met someone they seemed totally and completely convinced that they were real and told the dreamer so, until the dreamer woke up. There was one person who asked if I had met the dreamwalker myself. Alas, my dreams are not this romantic and straightforward.
But all of us can hold hands, nod at each other, united by one universally true statement: big eldritch lady hot.
There's a lot of little bits I can talk about, like how Rose's dress is actively modeled after selkie dresses because I think they're cute, or some other trials and tribulations. But I think I've finished all I have had to say. I hope you enjoyed this and will stick around for my future projects! I definitely want to explore more short stories in the next year, especially as I am illustrating big graphic novels for my day job and don't have the time or energy for huge projects.
Till then, thank you so much! Happy holidays and have a good new year!
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Okay so this has been something I've been chewing on for a long while. About making this post I mean.
This one is to those who actively ingest fanfiction but seem to think it's okay to just read free fiction that people have put time and thought and crafted prose for your enjoyment and do nothing in return.
All we ever ask for and all we ever want is for y'all to AT THE VERY LEAST hit that kudos button if you like the work. That is the BARE MINIMUM of what you SHOULD be doing. Especially all of you who say you're too nervous to comment or don't wish to be perceived. And if you don't want your account on the list, you can log out and send a guest kudos.
But as I said, BARE MINIMUM. If you loved the fic, if you got something out of it that left you feeling good and energized (or whatever angst does for y'all) then I want to take a moment and strongly urge you to comment, subscribe (if a wip), and bookmark those works. Did you know there's an option to even mark it as a Fic Recommendation? You can put notes in to and say why you liked it and things like that (DO NOT DO A RATING IN PUBLIC BOOKMARKS HOWEVER). And, you can indeed make them private! The writer still gets the number added to their stats but your bookmark we won't see.
Anyway, I now wanna turn your attention to Exhibit A:
This is a list of my best performing fics. Do you see the problem with this? The green highlights are the hits I've received for those fics. The red is the Kudos and comment threads. Now the kudos is obviously right?
Let's look at my number one fic right now, Accidentally in Love (a Malleyuu fic from Twisted Wonderland fandom). It's the seventh fic in a romance series. As you can see, it's doing great as far as hits, right? And I know it's an amazing fic from the comments I have received and just from rereading it myself. Note, I am probably the biggest bully to myself as @sunshineandteddybears and @mellosdrawings and @romantichopelessly can tell you in great detail. So when I am saying it's really damn good, you can probably trust it's gonna be pretty damn good. And yet, a fic that has 4K hits only has 119 kudos. And now to bring your attention to the comment threads. So honestly with how bad readers are on actually commenting (which by the way if you log off you can send anonymously as a guest—you'll have to put in your email address but we authors won't see that)... 107 seems pretty good right? But you guys don't see that. You see what's on the info for the story. Unfortunately, on the fic info at the top of the story, it counts every single comment (including the Author's). (The comment threads is just every single starting comment, i.e. the first comment received from each commenter.)
The thing is, I—and probably quite a few other writers—do respond to every single comment.
So that means where the info on my fic itself says 230 comments, in reality, I'm at half that when I subtract my half of the comments. So that's actually 115 comments from other people. So some people might see that 230 and think oh they got a lot of comments so I don't think they want to hear from me or I can't be fucked and they're already doing good so.
NO. NO. NO. Do not look at the numbers as a guide if a fic is good or not. Do not look at the numbers and think that we don't need or deserve to get any more. And finally WE WANT TO HEAR FROM Y'ALL.
Excuses need to stop.
Speaking of numbers. Here's my over all stats current on AO3.
In the 3 years on this AO3 account (I've had others in the past and accounts on ff.net and live journal. I'm an oldie fanfic writer lol. 21 years of fanfic. My gods. 🤣) It didn't used to be like this guys. Back in the day I'd get 12 plus comments on a chapter and this is on stuff a teenager wrote.
We have got to get back to the point of supporting each other and building each other up. Also while I'm at it, I have a huge beef with the fact that fanartists get so much more positive feedback and replies and comments, but the thing is, even their numbers are skewed. You can go into the notes of a fanart on here that has 10k notes to see they have maybe 100-1K reblogs (if that, I'm being generous) and maybe 10 or so replies (if turned on) and the rest are all likes. EVERYONE has been on here long enough by now to know that likes do nothing to get a post in the algorithm and tags only do so much. Reblogs are the only way their art (or our fanfictions for people who post them on here) gets seen! By sharing!
So y'all gotta get better. Yes, we write for ourselves first, but ultimately a story is meant to be shared with everyone and feedback should not be optional if you're actively reading the fics or viewing the art for free and enjoyed it!
TLDR:
IF YOU FUCKING LIKE A FANFIC. KUDOS AT THE VERY LEAST BUT BE BETTER. COMMENT. BOOKMARK. SUBSCRIBE IF IT'S A WIP YOU LOVE. (Like, comment and reblog if on Tumblr)
IF YOU FUCKING LIKE A FANART ON TUMBLR. COMMENT. LIKE. REBLOG.
DO BETTER AS READERS AND US WRITERS AND ARTISTS WILL GIVE YOU THE WORLD (AND MANY OTHER WORLDS TO BOOT)
That is all. Please reblog the fuck out of this if you agree.
(and tagging my current and last fandoms so this can get in fandom spaces where it needs to be.)
#twst#disney twst#twisted wonderland#twst fanfic#twst fanart#fe3h#fe3h fanfic#fe3h fanart#fire emblem three houses#writing#fanfiction#fanfiction writer#fanfic#fanart#fanartist#fan artist#fandom#fe3h fandom#twst fandom
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okay so.
hi lol
the rumours are true, they didn’t want me to return to tumblr but God did. did you guys think i was dead, be honest. how did you think it happened? tiger mauling? did you think i, like, rose to the occasion with the tiger? like did i put up a fight, in your mind? let me know i’m serious
anyway yes. hey all.
happy holidays, happy early new year, and happy belated *checks notes* CEO assassination?
i guess you’re wondering where i’ve been (hadestown reference for all who have the ears to listen; who’s heard the west end recording btw? good right??) and, too, why i left.
concisely, things were a little tough. things are still a little tough. but so persists the body, whether fond thereof or not ! and anyway if i was successful and well adjusted then i wouldn’t be able to write fanfics centred around pathetically hapless young adult main characters so really you guys are very supportive of my potential gap year next year, right? you are, aren’t you? please tell my mom.
i’ve been up to some stuff. i flunked my first year. i ghosted my therapist (shoutout georgia, that was my bad). i proceeded to be admitted into outpatient treatment. trigger warning? you can fill in the blanks. i watched west side story with my little brother on four separate occasions, not kidding. i held space for the lyrics of defying gravity. i missed you all. lots and lots. please don’t think i didn’t.
i’m still not totally well, but i’m alive and i’m happy to be back and do y’all still give a fuck about challengers?? be fr.
because i do !
in fact i have something for you, if you want it. the haters want to say i’m not an art girl sooooo bad. you will be dealt with.
but BEFORE any of that !! i want to know what i’ve missed. please tell me !!! is everyone still here?? did anyone have a baby? did you name it challengers ??
seriously do tell
i am accepting any and all news and, most importantly, any and all recs !!
any writing posted in the last 2 months that moved you, that flayed your heart, that made you shut your phone off at the dinner table, puhleaseee let me know
and that includes your own stuff !! save your shame for the vicar !!! i want all the self-promo, i will take it as a personal offence if no one recommends something of their own to me !!!!
i’ll post the thing i’m working on either tomorrow or sunday (holy day, which is actually pretty topical, you’ll see), but in the meantime i just wanna spend some time reading and interacting with some good shit so nothing is off limits !!
also once again i missed you.
really i did.
and i really really appreciate anyone missing me back
i love you guys, and i love tashi duncan, and i love mike faist. (but if i speak on the josh o’connor developments.. yeah let’s keep it cordial.)
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as a nearsighted glasses wearer this is very accurate, i think it should be very helpful! :)
if it's ok, i'd also like to add a few things:
sports are not usually an issue with glasses (except when you get hit directly in the face with a ball and your glasses get shoved into your nose, which really fucking hurts!) for example, i do gymnastics and my glasses have fallen off about 3 times in 9 years of doing cartwheels and flipping around bars and all sorts of stuff. i have, however, recently smacked myself in the face with my leg and bent my glasses slightly out of shape, which is kinda annoying lol
if you have worn glasses for long enough it is possible for them to just become like a part of your body. i've had glasses for 9 years and i sometimes forget to take them off before i get in the shower!
people who see you without your glasses for the first time WILL comment on how different you look, and sometimes might not recognise you at first
if you are drinking a hot drink and breathe into your mug, your glasses will fog up. it usually goes away within a few seconds.
a nearsighted character might rest their glasses on their forehead while reading or using their phone. i know bc i do this all the time
not sure if this is true for other vision impairments, but for nearsighted people, water can refract light in a similar way to their glasses, so they can see a bit better underwater even when wearing normal goggles. my underwater vision is almost perfectly clear, but my eyes aren't that bad.
in australia we usually call nearsighted "short-sighted" and farsighted "long-sighted". this seems to be true for the uk as well
hope this helps! and to op, if you're uncomfortable with me adding to your post, just let me know and i'll delete my reblog :)
How to write a character with glasses
A guide for anyone wanting to write characters with glasses, but doesn’t know how yet.
Different types of visual impairment
Near-sighted – not being able to see stuff in the distance
Far-sighted – not being able to see stuff up close
Presbyopia – easier in German: Altersweitsichtigkeit = elderly far-sightedness, not being able to read small print when you’re older, sometimes end up being far- and near-sighted at the same time
Astigmatism – light is not focused evenly on the retina, results in distorted and blurry vision
it’s also pretty normal to have different prescriptions for both eyes, one being stronger/weaker than the other one
Different types of visual aids
Eyeglasses with actual glasses – easier to break, so more dangerous, can be grinded and polished differently than other material
Plastic glasses – lighter than the real glass, not that easy to get damaged
Reading glasses – only needed for reading and driving
Monocle – old-fashioned aesthetic
Bifocals – glasses that correct presbyopia, bottom is seeing closer, top for seeing in the distance
Contact lenses – different types (post about it coming soon)
How to write it?
think about what kind of visual impairment does your character have?
what are they able to see?
can they see basically everything, but cannot read correctly?
can they see enough to get by, but cannot read and drive and get headaches without their glasses?
can they only see blurred images and colours?
do not change it halfway through the story! Choose their impairment and then stick with it.
what are situations where the glasses could hinder them?
are they doing a lot of sport, are they getting into fights, situations where they don’t want to wear them for aesthetic reasons?
can they not do something because of their impairment? (joining security forces, driving big trucks, etc.)
are they annoyed that they have to wear them? Are they only wearing contact lenses or are they just avoiding wearing anything even though they can’t see everything?
you don’t have to make a big deal out of your character wearing glasses, but it does play a big part in your character’s life
remember to put in a few references about it here and there throughout the story
things to consider
glasses fog up
through temperature changes
while going outside or coming in
while sweating
glasses need to be adjusted
they will never stay where they are supposed to be
especially when moving around and keeping your head down
the character will need to adjust them from time to time and push them up again
glasses need to be cleaned a lot
everything will make them dirty
best option are specific cleaners
if you don’t have them handy a shirt will have to do, but it needs to be the right material, synthetic stuff is not working
people with glasses will ask their friends for their shirts if they have to
sunglasses, swim goggles and 3D glasses are impractical
3D glasses need to be over the glasses and it can be tricky to get it right
sunglasses need the right prescription and then you would have to change glasses every time you enter a building
there are clips that go over the normal glasses, but they have to be exact to look fine
swim goggles can also be with prescription, but you would also have to get your glasses as soon as you’re out of the water to take the goggles off and still see enough
there are also special glasses for other sports (it’s not great to do sports with real glasses, because if they break it can severely damage your eyes)
times where you have to take the glasses off
when showering
when going to bed
when putting on shirts with a tight neckline
glasses are expensive
some insurances pay for them, a lot don’t
the worse the eyesight the more expensive they get
glasses and frames are two different things and get sold separately (you can have really expensive glasses in a cheap frame or vice versa)
you also need a spare pair of glasses, if you lose yours or they get damaged (often this is just an old pair, where the prescription is no longer strong enough)
more things to consider
a new partner cannot just take the glasses and throw them to the side, when the fun starts, if it leaves the character without being able to see properly, there needs to be some more trust there
people will take the glasses and put them on, yelling ‘OMG you’re really blind!’ and then ask you how they look like, especially funny when you really can’t see them
people asking ‘how many fingers can you see?’
light hits differently, which means you see light differently and also, it’s hard to take good pictures with glasses
rain is a nightmare, it’s like driving through rain without a windshield wiper
having to be careful on roller coasters and other stuff, because they can and will fly off
especially with astigmatism it’s hard to drive at night
going to the hair dresser can be annoying when they take your glasses off and then ask you if that’s the right length to cut it and you can’t see it
you cannot lie in bed (except on the back) without the glasses pressing uncomfortable in your face
mascara definitely will end up on the glasses and getting that cleaned is a nightmare
wearing hats, beanies, giant headphones and even facemasks can be extra annoying, because the arms of the frame will get in the way
you can get headaches from not wearing your glasses, from the pressure of the frame of the glasses and from wearing new and therefore glasses with a stronger prescription
small children love glasses, as soon as they can grab stuff, they will yank them off your face if you let them get close enough
kids will tease you about them, but after middle school it’s not really a thing anymore (mostly and as adults it’s really nothing special)
glasses have blind spots on the sides and top and bottom, so you sometimes have to move your head more
Tropes
Blind without glasses and dropped glasses
I actually only have sharp vision for a distance of 10 cm, which means I would not get home save if I had to cross a street to get to my building without glasses
but I very rarely lose my glasses
so, the trope of someone not being able to see without them is correct in some cases, but it’s definitely not hilarious and there are not often situations where they are just without glasses and fumbling around
Being smart
people wearing glasses can be just as dumb as everyone else
try not to make the only one wearing glasses be the smart kid
The Cure
often found in fantasy books, people will somehow get cured from needing glasses
getting some superpowers that eradicate their visual impairment and ‘fixing’ them
The Makeover scene
I love makeover scenes just like everybody else does
but: it’s not really cool to see the ‘ugly duckling’ suddenly becoming a beautiful swan by throwing away their glasses
and it’s impractical, if they just put them away and it was established that they can’t really see that well without them it’s just stupid to leave them at home
if they get new and cooler glasses, the person giving them to them would have needed to know their exact prescription, glasses are expensive and it takes time before they are ready
if they wear contact lenses from now on, they would also need to know the prescription and if they have never worn contact lenses before it will take some time to get used to putting them in and wearing them
Finally… please write characters with glasses. This sounds like a lot of hassle, but for most people it’s the most normal thing in the world. Studies show that soon half the world population will need glasses and I still didn’t really have a cool girl with glasses as a role model in literature when I grew up. It’s just another form of representation and I hope I can help you with this post to create some cool characters!
If you like my blog and want to support me, you can buy me a coffee! 🥰
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i think i have the unpopular opinion that airplane is an egotist lol
i do enjoy reading fics where he's like "i dont deserve good things, this guy is way out of my league" and i do totally get where people are coming from when they characterize him that way but more and more lately im just like
"what about the comments?"
like i dont think that airplane has a SUPER high opinion of himself, but i think he's just kinda... confident? like when he reads fucking essays online about how his writing sucks he's able to laugh his ass off over it and even join in the fray. so i keep thinking rather than him being like "i dont deserve this nice thing", he'd more have a "SCORE! nice thing for me!! WHOO!" reaction. and when a bad thing happened, instead of being super "this is the saddest day of my life, someone was mean to me", he'd be more "omfg did you like fr waste your time being mean to me? thats actually pretty embarrassing for you lmfao, r u oki bro?"
like kinda that terminally online asshole internet troll of a person who just doesnt take shit seriously and has enough self esteem to just legitimately not give a fuck when someone is shitty
ofc it's different with demons who can literally skin him alive, theres a huge difference between someone saying "youre ugly" and someone breaking every bone in his body, so its not like he doesn't cower when necessary
but also inwardly he just has the confidence to not be effected much by cowering. like "lol imma hug this thigh bc i aint stupid but the fact that this asshole needs me to hug his thigh says a looottttt more about him than it says about me"
idk im just kinda wanting to see more unapologetically confident airplane who just does not give a fuck about anyones opinion so long as the opinion is coming from someone who cant actually fuck him over in a significant way. like sha hualing? obvs care about her opinion, she can gut him. some rando disciple? "lmfao out of my way loser, im gay"
also i kinda wanna see that confidence stripped away until he's a mewling mess but thats just my desire to break down confident characters and make them cry pfff
its so much funnier to me if airplane was actually a pretty impervious sort of person, it's only the extreme nature of his current situation that turned him into a crybaby lmfao
idk if im making sense, i just kinda think of airplane as being a hilarious mixture of "the most self assured guy you've ever met, to an obnoxious extent" and "wait does he have any self esteem at all?!? is he okay?!?" in a fun contradictory way, cuz thats the impression i got of him from canon
also modern au mobei jun getting Very upset bc it feels absolutely impossible to get under airplane's skin. like he's sitting here trying his best to get a reaction and airplane is just "lmfao yea but idgaf abt your opinion sooooooooo"
look, i also think it'd just be awesome if mobei jun is actually most attracted to the egotistical side of shang qinghua. like sure, he thinks that cowering sobbing pathetic hamster shang qinghua is delicious, but give him shang qinghua cackling arrogantly at his detractors with the air of an emperor? mobei jun might actually faint with desire
so like, mobei jun visiting an ding peak so much initially because shang qinghua is sus as fuck and all that jazz, but eventually he's sneaking in as often as possible so that he gets to peak that side of shang qinghua.
like he first notices it when shang qinghua is too absorbed in his paperwork to remember there's a demon lord casually napping on his bed and starts making fun of the lousy penmanship, his fellow disciples, other peak lords, no one is except from his sharp mocking tongue and laughing criticism. but he notices it more and more
someone comes to qinghua's door to throw their weight around? sure, qinghua acts all small and harmless with them there but when they leave, he's cackling about "annndd that pathetic loser thinks that no one knows abt his porn stache, pssshhh, get on my level pleb. especially with your frankly boring as fuck tastes" and qinghua has a dirty sense of humor too and it's sort of driving mobei jun insane
so maybe sometimes he shows up at the peak without announcing his presence, trying to peak what sort of shit that shang qinghua might say about him behind his back and mmaaaayyybbe mobei jun is a bit excited at the prospect and disappointed when it's difficult to hear his name on shang qinghua's tongue
until one glorious day when his timing is just right and shang qinghua is neck deep in the middle of northern desert paperwork and he lets loose and mobei jun isnt sure whats worse: the things that shang qinghua's biting insults are doing to him or how, in stark comparison to the way that shang qinghua insults to others, all of shang qinghua's insults are accompanied by dirty commentary about mobei jun's body and potential sexual prowess in a quite positive light. normally shang qinghua is all "lmfao mr. never-gonna-get-fucked qi-ge is gonna tell me what to do? tough shit my lil bitch, i might be your daddy but i know the full depth of malicious compliance! go back to your brat-kink with jiu-whatever. you might as well be dickless for all the success you've had, mr. virgin mcbitch" but with mobei jun it's a lot more like "oh so mr. sexier than the fucking literal god of this world could have imagined in his dirtiest dreams wants this paperwork by next week? unreasonable brat, so spoiled, i should spoil him, he'd look reeeeaallly hot when spoiled absolutely rotten beneath me hehehh wait above me? hm, anyway, he's being a little bitch but i'll forgive it for that face but also man i wanna just pinch those fucking cheeks sometimes and then--man i bet he'd be really fucking wild in the sack to and--"
absolutely charmed by the display, mobei jun immediately reveals himself and beats shang qinghua senseless as a very clear indication of his intentions. to his absolute dismay, he never hears shang qinghua insulting him again and he doubles the beatings in desperation to somehow get shang qinghua's attention
(shang qinghua does not, in fact, have any actual bad blood against his zhangmen-shixiong, he just has a bad habit of going for the throat when he's in the middle of a tirade bc he was once an internet troll who shamelessly thrived on the anonymity of being able to say anything to anyone. he just really likes to talk shit and if he was in a position of power, would absolutely abuse it to talk shit alllll the time lmfao)
anyway i got pretty off topic bUT MY POINT IS that shang qinghua is best (imho) when he is a shameless egotistical shit-talker who's more or less impervious to the criticism of others
((man just fucking IMAGINE mobei jun's reaction when the ascension ceremony happens? like he FINALLY gets shang qinghua to talk shit to his face no less and then IMMEDIATELY gets abandoned. and like, it was kinda Really Bad Timing and also mobei jun never really wanted to just be a passive participant! he wanted to retort back! he wanted a back and forth! he wanted to refute shang qinghua's claims that he was spoiled just as much as he wanted to hear those claims! he wants the push and pull!!!! SO WHY IS SHANG QINGHUA RUNNING AWAY THAT FUCKING TEASE?!?!))
also as a general note i do think that shang qinghua's whole impervious thing is prolly routed in a lot of the trauma of being unwanted by family and all of that stuff, there was no one around to build his ego up so he built it up all on his own and he's really fucking good at building things up
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Fairytales & Firesides - Bodyguard!John Wick x Fem!Reader ❥ 6.1k Words
A/N: My Keanuverse Secret Santa gift for @at-wicks-end, hosted by @97keanu ! I hope you love it! P.S. I don't live in an area that gets snow, sorry if this is inaccurate! 🫶🏼
Before You Read: bodyguard AU, fluff, canon typical violence/descriptions of violence, short-ish slow burn (I tried lol), angst, no beta, use of Y/N, :3c
gif creds to dalekinapaintedparadise - divider by bleachbambi
Archive of Our Own Link
Winter crashes into the mountains like a raging bull, forcing you inside for the foreseeable future. Sleet and snow dominate the weather forecast, rendering the outdoors dangerous in more ways than one. While the snow comes down, you could usually be found tucked away in your home library. Warm light from the fireplace bathes you in an orange and red glow as you curl up in your comfiest chair with one of your many books. This has always been your treasured safe space.
At least, it was, until things with your uncle got more complicated. For a while now, you've been living in one of your uncle's mansions, kind of doing whatever you want. He allows you to stay there only because you promised to look after the place every winter when there aren't as many people around to help on the property due to the snowfall in the mountains.
Your uncle, Diego, is into some pretty shady stuff. Gangs, drugs, secret societies? You name it, he has his fingers in it. Recently, Diego had some kind of drug deal gone bad with a very prestigious group of people involved. Since then, they've hired a hit on your uncle and any of your family that they can get their hands on. A distant cousin, one aunt, and your great grandfather have all fallen victim to revenge killings. Diego fears that you could be next since you live in one of his properties, so he's hired a selection of bodyguards for your protection.
Unfortunately, the newly hired muscle made your comfort space feel more like a prison. As silly as it might sound, you felt like a princess locked away in her secluded tower. Being a full grown adult, something like this seemed like overkill. You didn't need twenty four seven protection from everything that goes bump in the night, but you were dependent on Diego’s generosity, so you accepted his offer of security with gritted teeth.
As the time passed, your bodyguards came and went. You never had the same one for more than a week at a time. Many of them were kind to you, and thankfully, only one of them had been a creep. They were promptly dealt with (according to Diego, anyway).
It didn't take too long for daily life to start losing its spark. You plowed through a good portion of your books in the first couple of weeks. This prompted you to start writing your own book. Really, it was more of a journal documenting your experience, but who said it couldn't be both?
The guards were usually your only contact with the outside world, so you appreciated your conversations with them. Trading stories of their heroic actions for your recounts of the fantasy books you had been reading, you were able to keep your imagination running wild and your notebooks full of ideas.
After one particularly difficult week, Sunday rolled around and it was time for a new guard. You bid farewell to the previous one and patiently waited to meet the lucky new bodyguard. Diego would brief them on their duties before they were dispatched to your side. You just hope they were kinder than the last.
Your newest guard is set to find you on the floor in your library, busy reviewing pieces of your story journal. The click of the door opening snatches you back to reality, turning your attention to the man entering your sanctuary. Standing up, you step over your journal and various papers scattered around the floor, and slowly walk over to where he stood.
“Good Morning, Ms.Y/N,” His voice is as smooth as honey.
“It's nice to meet you,” You offer your hand and he takes it, giving it a firm shake, ”What's your name?”
“John. I see that you're busy, I'll keep out of your way.”
John looks past you, at the chaos spread about the room, and gives you a curt nod before assuming his post by the door. You return to work on your journal, hoping he doesn't notice the urgency in your writing as you occasionally steal glances at him, documenting the handsome new guard.
John is not a bad looking man. He stands a good bit taller than you with slicked back, dark hair and a matching, well groomed beard. He has beautiful brown eyes that twinkle as though they hold the secrets to the universe. Maybe that last part is all in your head, but there's certainly something mysterious about this man that captivates you.
Out of your way is where John stays for the next couple of days, quiet and mostly indifferent to your presence. He followed you whenever you left your library but kept a distance either in front or behind you. At night, he sat on the couch in the far corner of your room. Under normal circumstances, it would have made you too uneasy to have someone watching you sleep, but after weeks of constant surveillance, you were used to it.
Come the third day, you are determined to break the ice with him. Two days of no conversation other than one word responses was driving you mad. It never took this long for a guard to warm up to you. So, you decide that you are going to try your best to get some kind of response out of him.
Small talk definitely isn't going to work. This man is clearly not one to gossip or discuss the weather with. Your first attempt is to ask him about current events. ‘What's the world like out there right now? Anything important happening that I should know about?’ You're met with only a shrug and a small, well meaning smile. Strike one.
Next, you try asking him about himself and his home life. ‘Have anyone at home missing you while you're busy here? Do you have any pets?’ Unfortunately, these questions don't receive much of a response either, not even so much as a shrug. The look in his eyes hardened after the first question, though. You figure it's best not to push it. Strike two.
For your last attempt, you decide to ask him if he has any interesting stories about jobs he's had in the past. This was a common question you had for your guards as their answers would usually help inspire your writing. ‘Do you have any cool action stories or experiences you could share? I can tell you about some of the books I've been reading in exchange!’ Finally, John looks at you with somewhat of an amused expression on his face. It's the most emotion you've gotten out of him, so far, but he doesn't say anything. Strike three. You're out!
…Or are you?
John shifts on his feet before clearing his throat to speak, “I suppose there are a few I could share with you.”
“Awesome. Let me grab my notebook,” you say incredibly calmly, desperate not to give away your excitement. Mentally, you're doing a celebratory victory dance.
-
For hours, you two trade stories. His were outlandish, but true. Each story is more nail bitingly exciting than the last. Yours range from the worst romance novels you've ever read, to the best fantasy books you have shelved in your library. You filled half your journal with wonderful ideas thanks to John. And on top of that, it seems like he is getting more comfortable with talking to you. It's an overall win-win for you.
That night, you become keenly aware of John in the corner of your room, reading one of the books you suggested to him. You're not sure what changed, but you feel very differently about having him here. Sure, you feel protected, but something inside you has started to feel warm and gooey knowing he's always nearby. Maybe you just need a good night's rest. It's been a long day. You snuggle up underneath your comforter and drift off to sleep.
The next morning you wake yourself up from tossing and turning. You can't catch your breath, you're completely flushed, and your heart is racing. It takes a moment, but suddenly your dream from last night comes flooding back and you're blushing like a schoolgirl.
You had a dream about John. Oh God. Your cheeks must be burning bright red from embarrassment. Looking over at John, he is seemingly still asleep. His eyes are closed, head leaned back, arms crossed on his chest, and legs spread wide. You wonder what would happen if you were to crawl between those long legs and… Nope! Nuh uh! Shaking the rogue thoughts from your head, you promptly get out of bed and make your way to the bathroom. You need a cold shower, pronto.
Upon returning from your shower, John was finally awake, reading the same book from the night before. Realizing you’re back and wearing only a towel, John excuses himself and steps outside the door to wait for you to change.
You don't know how you're supposed to face him, but you know that the thoughts you're having aren't fair towards him. John has been completely professional with you while he's been here and it would be inappropriate of you to cross that line.
Getting dressed quickly, you pick out a pair of plaid pajama pants and a long sleeved shirt. Never leaving the house has some perks. You rarely have to get dressed up in stiff, fancy clothes unless you really want to. Days like today, you can lounge around in pajamas with no consequence.
Once you’re finished dressing, you leave your room and briskly walk past John without a word. You don't necessarily want to be cold towards him, but until you get a grip on yourself, it's probably better that way.
John dutifully follows you back to the library and posts up by the door. You tend to the fireplace, rekindle it as needed, and then plop yourself onto the bench next to the window adjacent to the hearth. Frost is crawling up the edges of the window, obscuring your view only slightly. As you stare out into the wintry wonderland, you try your best not to think about John and the contents of your dream.
Instead, you focus on the snowflakes as they dance down from the sky in a flurry and collect on the ground below. With how soft the snow looks, you have no trouble imagining yourself making the perfect snow angel, right in the front yard. You're not sure if going out there is the best idea, given the weather and the unpredictable danger, but a little freedom might just be what you need right now.
Maybe if you move fast enough, you could get past John and escape outside. It was worth a shot. You nonchalantly rise up from the bench and silently shuffle back to your room. John trails along behind you, looking moderately confused. You hurriedly shut the bedroom door, accidentally closing it in his face.
“Sorry, John! Give me a minute, I'm changing again,” You call out.
A muffled ‘Okay’ can be heard as you dig through your closet looking for your puffy winter coat. You find it half shoved in the back corner, dangling precariously on its hanger. After pulling your coat on, you slide into your snow boots, wriggle your fingers into your gloves, and head towards the front door.
As fate would have it, a big coat and snow boots are not the smartest choices when you're trying to move fast. You make it as far as the foyer, reaching for the door handle before he stops you. So much for keeping your distance from him today.
“Ms. Y/N, where do you think you're going?” John grabs your arm tightly enough to keep you in place. You try shrugging him off, but he's got too strong of a grip on you.
“Outside. I want to see the snow.”
“You can see the snow from in here,” He responds as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
“I want to feel it, John. I want to remember what it's like to breathe fresh air.”
“It's my job to keep you safe. Inside,” He replies sternly.
“I'm going out and you are not going to stop me,” You spit back at him, putting your foot down.
John reluctantly lets you go and takes a step back. He considers you for a moment before he speaks again.
“Fine. Diego won't be pleased, but at least let me put on my coat.”
You oblige his request and wait for him patiently until he returns wearing his heavy, black coat. Though you do feel a little bad for how you spoke to him, you don't regret it. You have been cooped up in this house for far too long.
John insists on stepping outside first to make sure it's clear before allowing you to follow him. The second you cross the threshold, cold, crisp air hits your face and you breathe a sigh of relief. Being inside all the time gets incredibly stuffy and winter isn't the ideal time to be opening windows to air things out. You stare up into the sky as snowflakes land on your face, only to melt against your skin.
Everything is still and quiet. From the house to the trees, it's a peaceful, untouched spread of snow, give or take a few sparse animal tracks. Off to the side, John is watching you and your surroundings with a sharp eye.
You trudge around in the snow looking for the best place to make your masterpiece. Just in front of the windows to the library, you find the perfect spot.
Without another thought, you fall back into the snow, moving your arms and legs to create the shape of a snow angel. You feel as giddy as a kid, smiling ear to ear and laughing like a fool. Who knew something as simple as playing in the snow could make you feel so happy, so free?
“John, come on! Make a snow angel with me. Please?” You’re begging him to have some fun with you even though half an hour ago you were plotting how you could avoid him indefinitely.
His footsteps crunch in the snow until he's standing over you with a smile almost as wide as yours as you look up at him. You feel as though the heavens have opened up and you're staring directly at an angel. The frost nipping at your nose pales in comparison to the heat bursting inside your chest.
He solemnly shakes his head at you, “I can't, I'm sorry.”
You stay like that for a bit until the cold from the snow starts to overwhelm you through your coat and pajama pants, sending chills down your spine. You stand up from the ground to admire your handiwork. It's a solid outline if you ignore John's big footprints in the snow above the head. You decide it's an easy eight out of ten.
Satisfied with your creation, you move on to your next activity. You scoop up a handful of snow and pat it into a ball in your hands. Luckily for you, John is turned away, distracted by something off in the distance near the trees. Now’s the perfect chance to strike.
You wind up your arm and toss the snowball at him, smacking him squarely between the shoulder blades. Pumping your fist in the air, you holler out a loud ‘Yes!’
You hear an exasperated sigh come from John, and quickly, you realize you may have messed up and taken things too far.
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-” Your apology is cut off by John whipping around, grabbing a fistful of snow, forming it hastily in his hands, and then throwing it at you, landing in the center of your chest.
Stunned, you let out a loud laugh before returning fire. John obviously has the better aim of you two. Missing every other shot was an improvement for you, while he was landing every hit flawlessly.
Unsurprising to you, John ends up as the winner of the snowball fight. You gave up once your stomach started rumbling and you realized that you hadn't eaten any breakfast yet. Hungry and defeated, you head back inside with your bodyguard in tow.
In the foyer, you strip off your coat, gloves, and boots, tossing them to the side. You had plenty of time to worry about them later. John hangs his coat up carefully on the coat rack and turns to you expectantly.
“Thank you for going out there with me. That was a lot of fun,” You exclaim while rubbing your hands together to bring back the feeling in them.
“It can't happen again, but you're welcome,” He looks genuinely sorry.
“I know,” You understand the danger, but you wish things were different, “Are you hungry? I can make us some mean pancakes.”
“Sure, Ms. Y/N,” Once again, John is smiling at you and it's enough to ignite even the coldest parts of you. There was no way on earth you could keep trying to avoid him when he made you feel this way with just a smile.
-
Breakfast went off without a hitch. Well, there may have been a minor hitch involving the pancake batter, but John stepped in and saved the day. He ended up offering to take over the process entirely, and you agreed. That gave you a chance to watch him do something besides stand still and look all serious.
Once you’re done eating and all the breakfast dishes are clean, you scurry back to your library with John right behind you. Your journal and miscellaneous papers are still spread around the floor from the night before. John had really given you some wonderful stories to fuel your imagination, and now it's time to incorporate them into your book.
By the door, John stands perfectly still, aside from the sly glances he throws your way. Seeing him stand over there by himself tugged at your heartstrings a bit after the eventful morning you've had. It suddenly felt very selfish to have someone on their feet, at attention, all day and night just for you. From your seat on the floor, you gesture to the chair right beside you.
“You can sit down if you want. I'm sure you can still protect me from any threats just as well over here.”
“Thank you for the offer, Ms. Y/N, but it's in your best interest if I stay here.”
“Are you sure?” You think for a moment and then continue, “What if I said I felt way more safe with you sitting next to me?”
John gives you a hint of a smile before quickly resuming his professional poker face, “I really shouldn't… but if it makes you feel safer, I guess I can do that.”
You lean over and pat the cushion of your comfy chair, encouraging him to sit. He makes his way over to you and sits in your chair, sinking down into it like it was made for him. After a few minutes of sitting together in silence as you worked, you begin to wonder when the last time he was truly able to relax was.
“Hey John?” You look up at him, journal in hand.
“Mhm?” His voice thick with unease as he looks down at you.
“Can I read you some of what I have written so far? Will you tell me what you think?”
“Sure.”
Ever so slowly, John starts to truly relax as he listens to you. He spreads his legs just so and lets his shoulders ease back into a comfortable position, listening to you intently as you tell him your story enthusiastically. You stop occasionally to get his opinion on a set of dialogue or how a sentence is phrased and he's more than happy to advise you. By the end of the day with him, you've completely filled another notebook and you've fallen totally head over heels for John.
-
The next few days pass by in a blur. John assists you in nearly completing your book, lets you sneak outside again (a couple, glorious times), and he even makes breakfast for you on Saturday morning.
On Saturday evening, knowing that he'll have to leave soon, you convince him to have a movie night with you by letting him pick whatever movie he wants. You make a huge bowl of popcorn for the occasion and get settled on the couch while John peruses your Uncle's movie collection. He decides on an obscure western you've never heard of, and settles onto the couch, leaving one seat's worth of space between you for the popcorn bowl.
Subconsciously, you wish he was sitting closer, but you'll have to settle for accidentally touching hands while reaching for popcorn at the same time.
So far, the movie is a total snoozefest. You wouldn't dare say that to John, considering he seems to be enjoying it. If it weren't for his proximity to you keeping your heart racing, you definitely would have nodded off by now. Surprisingly quickly you run out of popcorn, so you set the bowl on the coffee table to get it out of the way and break down that final barrier between you and John.
Half way through the movie, you find yourself scooting inches closer to John. You hope he doesn't notice, but something about him just has a magnetic pull that draws you in effortlessly.
-
Now three fourths of the way through the movie, you start to feel brave. Taking notice of how lonely his hand looks resting on his thigh, you make the bold move to place your hand over his during a particularly high action scene. His hand is warm against yours and the feeling sends tingles through your fingertips.
You're pleasantly surprised when John doesn't shrug you off, but instead looks over at you with a small smile, before lacing his fingers with yours. Your heart is thumping inside your chest as he gives your hand a squeeze, but you're sure it's going to explode when he lets go of your hand to pull you into his lap.
Your senses are overwhelmed as you get a light whiff of the warm spice of his cologne as you lean in close, taking all of him in. His hands are gently holding your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck. You look to him for silent permission before closing the gap between you, pressing your lips against his. The feeling in the air is positively electric as his lips meet yours.
-
The two of you stay like that for what feels like hours. John's the one who breaks away from you first, looking absolutely debauched. His hair is slightly tousled, cheeks and lips are brushed red, and the lustful look in his eye is burning a hole right through to your center.
It's him who decides to ignore the tenting in his pants and politely recommends that you go to bed. As much as it kills you to do so, you reluctantly peel yourself off of him and go straight to your room to take another painfully cold shower.
Your entire night is filled with another round of tossing and turning mixed with racy dreams featuring your bodyguard, who never finds his way into your room throughout the night. You assume he's keeping watch from the living room, only slightly neglecting his duties of having an eye on you at all times.
-
Saying goodbye to John the next morning may have been one of the most difficult things you've ever had to do. No amount of begging or tears could have changed Diego's mind. ‘Getting attached to these people is like falling in love with a mutt you know you can't keep. They're here for your protection, Y/N, not for you to play with.’ His words stung. Even if it was the truth, you didn't want to hear it.
With tears in your eyes, you watch through one of the library windows as John's car retreats down the driveway. The hole in your chest feels massive, like it’s destined to swallow you whole if you aren't careful. Holding yourself tight, you curl up in your comfy chair and cry. It's the only thing you can muster the energy for.
-
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!
You're startled awake from your sleep by loud, insistent thuds of the brass door knocker echoing throughout the otherwise silent house. You're not sure how long you’ve been out for, but the sun has gone down and the only light left is coming from the crackling embers in the fireplace. Rubbing your eyes, you drag your feet to the front door and open it without thinking twice.
Standing on the other side is a wall of a man. He has to be taller than John by at least half a foot, and twice as wide. He's wearing a simple black suit, not unlike something one of your bodyguards would wear during their time here. That must be it, he’s the newest guard hired by Diego. Since you had been asleep, you haven't checked your phone yet to see if you had any missed calls from him.
“Y/N, I assume?” His voice sounds like gravel, in an unpleasant sort of way. It lands roughly on your ears and makes you wince.
“That would be me. Did Diego send you?”
The man ignores your question and gestures towards the foyer, “Can I come in? It's freezing out here.”
“Uh, yeah, sorry, come on in.”
As you step back to allow him through, he slams a massive hand against the door, knocking it wide open and shoving you harshly onto the floor. Before you can make sense of what's going on, he's got a hand in your hair, dragging you further into the house.
You kick and scream as he lugs you down the hall and into one of the spare bedrooms. You try digging your nails into the back of his hand but he doesn't seem affected by the pain as he picks you up off the floor and tosses you onto the bed. The second he lets go of your hair, you scramble off the bed and towards the door. In a flash, the man grabs you by the ankles and drags you back over to the bed.
This time, when he chunks you on the mattress, he produces a gun from his waistband and places the cold barrel directly against your forehead.
“Don't move again or I'm gonna blow your fuckin’ brains out.”
Your eye twitches as you stare at him, afraid to even blink. He puts the gun back in his waistband and reaches into a pocket inside of his suit jacket. Out of his it, he pulls a pair of shiny metallic handcuffs.
You're tempted to make another run for it, but you recall the feeling of his gun against your skin and you decide better of it. He grabs one of your wrists and slaps a cuff onto it, and when he reaches for your other wrist, you snatch it away.
This appears to be your second mistake of the night. The man rears back and slaps you harder than you've ever felt before.
“Stop acting like a brat,” He hisses at you.
Tears well up in the corners of your eyes as pain shoots through the side of your face. You barely register it as he successfully grabs your hand and places the remaining cuff around your wrist a little too tightly. The cuffs dig into your skin painfully, taking your mind off of the pounding in your head.
The mystery man paces around the room checking the windows and shutting the bedroom door before stopping in front of you. He places a hand on your shoulder and clears his throat to speak.
“All right, listen. Here's how this is gonna go. When I get the go ahead from my Boss, I'm gonna kill you. Until then, we wait.”
You shrug his hand off your shoulder and your brain starts to spiral into full blown panic mode. There's no way you can muscle your way out of this. You could try playing the money card, he might fall for it.
“You don't have to do this. Do you want money? My uncle can pay you double whatever your boss is paying. Call him, I'm sure he-” The man presses a finger to your lips, shutting you up.
“Stop talking.”
With that, he goes back to pacing around the room, occasionally checking his phone for that green light to take you out. Your mind races a million miles an hour as you pull against the handcuffs, knowing you can't slip out of them. Sniffles fill the room while your eyes start watering again. The man gives you a disgusted look as your breathing quickens and your lip trembles.
“Are you really crying right now? Give me a fuckin’ break. This is just business. Eye for an eye type deal,” He snarls before going back to the window.
“Shit. Shit!”
He sees something he clearly doesn't like, and backs away from the window. In a huff, he's grabbing your arm, and snatching you off of the bed. You resist, pulling away from him and stumbling backwards. The man growls before charging at you, grabbing your waist, and hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“Put me down!” You scream and pound your fists against his back to no avail.
With his other hand, he pulls out his cell phone and makes a call that goes unanswered. He hastily leaves the bedroom and carries you down the hall, heading towards the kitchen. You try to grab everything you can as you pass by to try and slow him down: the walls, picture frames, even a curio cabinet that only topples over and smashes, littering the floor with glass. Unaffected by your attempts, he stops in front of the back door, overlooking the patio.
“Hope you like the cold,” He grumbles and opens the door, cold air blasting into the house.
Not giving you a chance to resist this time, he walks out into the snow and tosses you on the ground, landing you hard in the snow.
“Get up, come on,” He's got his gun out again, pointed directly at you, “Towards the trees. Go!”
You try to collect yourself to stand up, but you're shaking so bad that you can barely keep your balance on your bare feet. Lacking the patience to wait for you to get a grip, he tucks an arm underneath yours and starts dragging you along again.
The cold bites against the skin around your cuffed wrists. Your feet are so painfully frozen, they almost feel warm as you try to keep up with the man holding a gun to your head.
It's a long walk to the tree line and by the time you make it there, you can't feel your feet or hands anymore. Your pajama bottoms are soaked through from the snow and you're convinced there's no possible way you can take another step, so you don't. You collapse at the base of the nearest tree, slipping out of his grip.
“Any last words?” The man raises his pistol to your head once more, “I'll make this quick.”
As you look up at him, your attention is drawn to the black outline of a figure running through the snow behind him, about halfway between the house and the trees. Your brows furrow in confusion, prompting the man to turn around and follow your gaze.
“What the fu-” You watch in disbelief as a sickening splatter of blood, bone, and brain matter explodes from one side of his head, tainting the bright white snow with a glistening red. All that can be heard besides your own heavy breathing is the loud crack echoing against the mountains. The light disappears from his eyes as his body crumples beneath him, landing with a soft crunch as the snow packs down underneath.
You'd scream if you could feel any part of your body, but the best you can do is screw your eyes shut and hope you're not next. Your tears freeze against your cheeks as you cry and hold your arms as close to your body as you can for warmth, even if it's futile.
Not long after, you hear fast approaching footsteps stomping through the snow, headed right your way.
“Y/N?!” Your eyes snap open. You know that voice.
“J-J-” With how bad your teeth are chattering, it's hard to speak.
In an instant, John is in front of you, pulling off his coat to wrap around you. He crouches down to eye level with you and places both hands on your cheeks, looking at you, his deep, brown eyes are full of concern.
“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”
You're not sure how to answer that question without crying even harder, so you just lift your hands up to show him the cuffs digging into your wrists. He seemingly understands what you're trying to say and turns towards the unmoving heap of a man on the ground. He searches through the man's pockets, pulling out a wallet, a cell phone, car keys, and finally, the keys to the handcuffs. John unlocks the cuffs quickly and tosses them into the snow beside you before gently rubbing the sore areas around your wrists.
“Let's get you inside, hm?”
You nod eagerly and try to stand up with him, but you can't feel your legs and you end up losing your balance again, almost toppling over into the snow. Thankfully, John catches you before you hit the ground.
“I c-can't-”
“Shh, I've got you. Hold on to me,” He reassures you.
With that, John is placing your arm around his neck and picking you up bridal style. The walk back to the house seems even longer and colder than before. You hug his neck tightly as he carries you, hoping that your shaking doesn't bother him too much.
-
John carries you into the house, past the broken glass and snow that's blown in from the open doors, not stopping until he reaches your safe space, your library. He sets you down in your comfy chair and kneels down while holding your hand.
“We have to get you out of these wet clothes, is that okay?” His tone is soft and sweet, yet urgent.
Again, you nod and let him help you out of your freezing, wet pajamas. He starts with your bottoms, tucking his fingers under the waistband and pulling them down your legs. Next, he pushes the coat he gave you off your shoulders and carefully helps you lift your arms up to slide off your shirt. He dumps them in a soggy pile on the floor next to your chair.
“I'll be right back,” He pats your knee comfortingly before leaving the library.
You sit alone and shivering for a minute until John returns with a big, fluffy blanket.
“Do you think you can take your underwear off by yourself?”
You look at him with wide eyes and then down at your hands. With how bad they are still shaking, and the fact you only kind of have feeling in them now, you aren't sure what you could do by yourself.
“I'll help you. I won't look, just wrap yourself up in this.”
John wraps the blanket around the front of your body, then reaches around behind you to unclasp your bra and places it on top of your shirt in the pile. He kneels down again and reaches beneath the blanket, slowly pulling off your underwear and dropping them on top of your bra. You can feel your cheeks heating up from embarrassment, and you're glad at least some part of you seems to be warming up.
Now that you're free from the clutches of the wet clothes, John turns away from you to relight the fireplace. While he's occupied, you pull the blanket around your shoulders and hold it closed in front of you, still partially numb to the fact that it was John who came to save you and you did not die back there.
When he's finished with the fireplace, John comes back over and kneels on the floor in front of you, grabbing your hand and holding it tightly, like you'd float away if he lets you go. He still bears a twinkle of concern in his eyes but he doesn't say anything else. Together, you sit quietly, thawing out your extremities and regaining some of your composure.
You’re first to break the silence once you're feeling properly warm again.
“You came back?” You whisper.
“Of course I did, Y/N. I couldn't stay away.”
#keanuverse secret santa#john wick x you#john wick x reader#bodyguard au#keanu reeves x reader#keanu reeves x you#john wick#keanuverse#fem!reader
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*coughcough* lando/kimi/ollie/oscar/lance/yuki (separate not polyam lol) and their reactions to a) reader leaving them limping and b) readers back being a scratched up MESS
(sorry if this is too much 🤪)
love ya (hehehehehehehe) 😘
-bear ❤️
love you bear <3
under cut bc nsfw. obviously.
kimi antonelli:
at first he's soooooo bitter about not being able to walk normally
he's cussing you out in italian under his breath
i mean he literally told you he wanted you to go as hard as you could
but he doesn't like dealing with the consequences of his actions
he's making the most exaggerated wincing faces whenever he passes you with his limp
you don't say anything for a while
but when he starts being too much of a brat
you'll take your shirt off and turn around to show him the deep red lines going down the length of your back
kimi's blushing like crazy but
he's also proud
like yeah
his bf is so good you got him to do THAT to you without even knowing it
lance stroll:
i've said it before and i'll say it again
lance is a princess
more than that, he's your princess
which means you leave him limping frequently, and he leaves intricately scratched patterns on your back just as often
he'll be so whiny and demanding about it but in a cute way?
like he doesn't really need much. he asks you to lie down on your stomach while he takes a picture of your back for his collection, asks you to carry him to the sofa and get him some food
and then he's pretty content to watch a tv show while you do whatever because he can still see you
the only hard and fast rule is that you must never wear a shirt at home when your back's scratched up
be proud of his work please and thank you
lando norris:
brat
you know how the most pampered dog in existence sighs like he's had the most terribly horrible pathetic life
that's what lando does
he'll sleep later than you, so you're already dressed by the time he wakes up
you bring him breakfast in bed, kiss his forehead, make sure his water is still cold, and let him ramble to you about whatever strange dream he had the night before like you always do
but then he'll shift and feel that ache (totally whines about how unfair it is that something that feels soooo good can then make him feel bad things. calls it a sex hangover)
and he'll definitely drop food on your shirt specifically
neither of you know how it always hits you and not him but lando's certainly not complaining
breakfast in bed + his boyfriends gorgeous body? what more could a guy want
immediately shuts up and stops being obnoxious when he sees how he's basically shredded your back
k bear i'm gonna ask you to send me this again with ollie oscar and yuki bc i wanna get this out now as a thank you for helping tonight but i am also almost falling asleep at my computer 💔 i will definitely write the other half, just ... when i can see the keyboard again lol
#vinnie's 250#formula 1 x male reader#kimi antonelli x male reader#lance stroll x male reader#lando norris x male reader#🐻 anon
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How many fics have you worked on since January?
Worked on about 55? I think? Its hard to calculate as I posted whumptober and febuwhump as individual stories but they exist in one doc each on my computer. I've worked on 6 fics that are either as of yet unposted, unprinted in a zine, or just lost unfinished limbo (I need to work on my merrin-focused post nur fic omg)
2. What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?
I guess I've tried to play more with present vs past tense, and finishing multichapter fics before posting. Did try out a time loop for the first time during whumptober and had fun with that!
3. What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)
I feel like Star Wars is the pretty obvious answer, though right at the end of the year here comes Dragon Age with a steel chair after 4 years of not really being involved in the fandom
4. How many fandoms did you write for this year?
Seven, I think! Jedi Fallen Order & Survivor, The Bad Batch, Dragon Age Inquisition & Veilguard, FFXV, FFXVI, Horizon Zero Dawn & Forbidden West, and Twisted Wonderland
5. What ships captured your heart?
As a gen writer its rare for ships to catch me, but thank you Veilguard for giving me Rook x Harding, and M!Rook x Emmrich. (Not a fan of F!Rook x Emmrich sorry yall)
7. What characters captured your heart?
As always Cal remains number 1 in my heart. I love him so much, along with the whole Mantis crew <3 For new this year, I am bewitched body and soul by the Veilguard crew. The writers were cooking with all of them, they're all amazing!!
8. Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?
...Does Veilguard count lol? For new fandoms I wrote one FFXVI fic early in the year.
I've got two fics for Rook x Harding and one wip for Rook x Emmrich as new ships!
9. What fic meant the most to you to write?
That's a hard question!! I think I poured a lot of my own personal emotional anguish into a lot of the fics I wrote this year. It's been a rough year for many reasons, and writing out all that angsty hurt/comfort helped a lot
10. What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?
I think finishing 'what makes a family' was honestly one of the best feelings ever! And the fact that I still get comments on it from time to time about people binge-reading it.
11. What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?
I guess I could go with the above, but actually completing whumptober was pretty satisfying.
12. What fic was the most difficult to write?
'i do not love the bright sword for its sharpness' is at the top of this pile. i think about it constantly but actually writing it is proving super difficult, and it remains unfinished...
13. What fic was the easiest to write?
The one for the Pabu Days zine!! I wrote the first draft in just over an hour, and it was about 1k too many words lol
14. What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?
of the ones written entirely in this year, 'take a breath before the plunge' wins with its 11k words. If we count just completed this year, 'what makes a family' wins at just shy of 70k
The shortest was one of the whumptober fics, 'where flesh and metal meet'
15. What were your go-to writing songs?
The Horizon games' soundtracks! Less of a song list, but there's too many to put in here.
What was the hardest fic to title?
...all of them. Titling things is the hardest part of writing fics
16. What's your favorite title of the year?
Love and Blood Both Run Red, or maybe Cold But For Your Company
17. Share your favorite opening line
In some way, Tech thinks, it is poetic to die for his family.
From here, at the bottom
18. Share your favorite ending line
He turned, and came face to face with a skull staring back at him. There were holes through the skull, and though everything had been decayed by time, Cal could still see that the skeleton wore Jedi robes.
From then there was nothing
19. Share your favorite piece of dialogue
ooh i don't know! If its humorous then assume its one of my favourites
20. Share your funniest line
see above
21. What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?
I think being able to slip back into old fandoms and characters for whumptober was a surprise. it didn't change the story but it was surprisingly quick to get back into things i hadn't touched in years
22. What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?
I use microsoft word for all my fics. which isn't great for longform fic and probably why i don't write too much of it
23. If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?
Again, actually managing to complete whumptober felt really good!! I've never managed to finish a writing challenge like that so it was a really proud moment
24. Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?
I don't think I've ever done anything?? Though I am thinking about starting a lil scrapbook of comments or smth like that
25. How did you recharge between fics?
what is this recharge you speak of? I am either possessed by ideas that demand attention or left in a drought of creativity
26. Did you create fanworks other than fic?
I do playlists for myself sometimes. I have ones for Cal, Crosshair, and Omega right now. I constantly wish i had the patience to improve my art skills to do fanart
27. How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)
4 if you count febuwhump and whumptober. I'm in a Bad Batch zine that's in preorders right now - Pabu Days, and participating in a fic/art exchange for new years for Twisted Wonderland
28. If this were an awards show, who would you thank?
firstly I'd like to thank my cat for being the one to hear me talk out plot points and details. I'd also like to thank @pennflinn and @breakfastteatime for being both supportive of all my j:fo fics as well as being inspirations themselves in that fandom! And the whole j:fo fandom at large for being awesome and supportive of each other's works. And I need to mention @fanfoolishness for joining me in not one, not two, but THREE! fandoms here!! As well, shoutout to @shadowcrow for yelling on my rook x harding fics! it's a small corner of the fandom but at least it's got you there!
29. What's left on your to-do list for 2024?
Finish this fic for the new years exchange, and get another chapter of Blood and Love Both Run Red up! Though it may only be one of those that happens...
30. What would you like to write next year?
I wanna finish bright sword and get that post nur Merrin fic postable! And since I'm currently consumed by Veilguard I wanna write more of that next year too!
A slightly revised version of last year's questions! Two ways to play: Reblog and have your followers send you numbers, or answer the whole list!
How many fics have you worked on since January?
What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?
What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.)
How many fandoms did you write for this year?
What ships captured your heart?
What characters captured your heart?
Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?
What fic meant the most to you to write?
What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?
What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?
What fic was the most difficult to write?
What fic was the easiest to write?
What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?
What were your go-to writing songs?
What was the hardest fic to title?
What's your favorite title of the year?
Share your favorite opening line
Share your favorite ending line
Share your favorite piece of dialogue
Share your funniest line
What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?
What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?
If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?
Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?
How did you recharge between fics?
Did you create fanworks other than fic?
How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)
If this were an awards show, who would you thank?
What's left on your to-do list for 2024?
What would you like to write next year?
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deck the halls.
‣ pairing — ransom drysdale x f!reader
‣ contents — oneshot, coarse language, fluff, xmas/holidays, mutual disdain but it’s actually just mutual not-so-secret shameful pining
‣ synopsis — for the first time, you think that working for linda drysdale the night before christmas might not be such a bad thing after all.
‣ word count — 3.4k
‣ notes — tbh i’m not very happy with how this turned out but whatever, i’ve been stressing about this for way too long because it’s my first ransom fic, and i’m just done lol. shout out to @intrepidacious though for chatting with me about this fic all winter while i struggled, doing her best to motivate me and letting me vent my writing frustrations through the entire process. ilysm nika 💕
✩ read on ao3 ✩ janie’s masterlist ✩ library blog
Christmastime is here Happiness and cheer Fun for all that children call Their favourite time of yea—
You angrily jam the pad of your finger against the speaker’s power button, cutting off the quaint holiday music and plummeting Linda Drysdale’s normally busy real estate office into silence.
For someone who consistently prides themselves on being so sensible and logical, you sure can be stupid sometimes.
Because you drag a free office chair towards you, anchoring it against the wall as best as you can before climbing on top of it. You teeter precariously, cursing under your breath as you strain to loop a gaudy red and green garland over the push pins above the office doorway.
Linda, however, is even stupider, asking you to put up these god awful decorations before going home, not even providing you with so much as a step stool to do so—even though you obviously aren’t tall enough to reach on your own, even though she said you didn’t have to work overtime today (why, thank you Linda, considering it’s Christmas Eve and all), even though it was already 4:45 when she asked.
One phone call would be all it took to have OSHA crawling up her ass, but because you were only ever a badass in your own head, long after the conversation was over and there was no longer anything you could do about it, you just nodded meekly at your boss instead of telling her exactly where you thought she could shove her precious decorations.
Besides, she’d probably walk away with nothing more than a slap on her wrist anyway—if that.
“A bit to the left, Cindy Lou Who,” comes a voice, the low dulcet baritones that are the bane of your existence, like a persistent under-the-skin itch you can’t ever seem to scratch. You take a deep stabilizing breath upon hearing the nickname, a heat flaring in your cheeks that has nothing to do with the whiskey-spiked hot chocolates you’ve been secretly sipping all day.
You shoot him a withered glare over your shoulder. Ransom, the devil-spawn of your she-devil boss, is lounging lazily in your chair, leaning back with his arms casually linked over his abdomen as he observes your efforts to stay balanced and graceful.
Trust the smug little brat to show up tonight of all nights, when your patience is already wearing thin. No doubt he’s just here to piss you off before swanning over to the posh holiday party happening at his mother’s place tonight—one you’ve never been invited to despite all your years working for Linda, by the way—while you trudge home to a dark and empty studio apartment, with not even so much as a goldfish to welcome you back.
Ransom just smirks back at you through a mouthful of white chocolate chips and macadamia nuts, his hand already rummaging for another cookie from the package he’s stolen right out of the bottom drawer of your desk.
You release a huff of frustration.
There he sits, without a care in the world in his perfectly tailored wool coat and immaculately styled hair that somehow remains untouched by the howling winter wind outside, looking like he’s just stepped out of an issue of GQ.
He doesn’t deserve it, you lament, his coat already starting to pill at the undersides of the sleeves and his sweater probably just a tug at one loose strand away from unravelling completely.
Whoops. You almost fall off the chair for the fifth time since you started this ridiculous endeavour, trying to shake off the mental image of a very shirtless Ransom, tangled in a web of soft white yarn.
What? You can hate someone down to their grimy little bones and still think they’re hot.
Besides, the devil wouldn’t be the devil if he weren’t tempting, would he?
“A real piece of work… the both of you…” you mutter to yourself now, your colourful vocabulary back in full working order now that Linda is holed away in her office and well out of earshot. “She could cut me some slack, you know… Christmas, for crying out loud… and I haven’t eaten all day!”
The asshole nepo-baby just peers up at you past the phone he’s been holding up in front of his face, blinking lazily and not offering any kind of response or assistance—not that you’d expected him to.
“Right, I forgot who I was talking to,” you speak slowly and deliberately, like you’re explaining something rather complicated to a small child. “You see, us humans need to eat food regularly for sustenance.”
“Wow,” Ransom deadpans, his voice muffled through cookie crumbs.
“Yeah, it is terribly inconvenient,” you shrug exaggeratedly, “but not all of us can subsist on the shards of broken souls and children’s nightmares, can we?”
“Calling me the devil again?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You’re so original; how about you get a new thing?”
“Don’t you have some place to be?” You sneer, your grip tightening on the garland, the plastic biting into your palms as you twist a string of fairy lights around the rest of it. “Why the fuck are you even here?”
It’s a perfectly valid question. Linda is always threatening to cut her son off, but that hasn’t prevented him from skipping out on work as much as possible and galavanting around the city, maxing out her credit cards every chance he gets.
But you know she’ll never actually follow through; He shows himself here just often enough to keep her from seriously considering it, doing his small part to show off a carefully crafted picture for the masses—showing the scions of Boston’s wealthiest family in a united front.
And if there’s one thing Ransom likes more than he hates his family or earning an honest wage, it’s the weight of green lining the deep but frayed pockets of his expensive designer pants.
That shiny Drysdale veneer is all that matters, after all, and you know very well that Ransom’s only real job is to keep it nice and polished. But you’ve been working long enough at this soul-sucking place to notice the telltale signs, to see the cracks beneath the varnish.
The way you swear you see a flicker of something that looks a lot like dread whenever Linda calls his name.
The way his signature smirk twitches with just a hint of irritation whenever some angry coworker, once again passed over for a long overdue promotion in favour of giving Ransom a hefty allowance bonus, calls him a talentless, hopeless, literal son of a bitch.
The way he cracks those self-deprecating jokes about how the only real ambition he has in life is finding new ways to disappoint his relatives, and squander as much of the family fortune as he possibly can.
It’s no surprise, really, that Ransom’s turned out the way he has. You’ve heard the way they all talk about him sometimes, his family seemingly oblivious to your working-class existence.
Never mind the fact that whenever you happen to glance over at him, Ransom’s eyes are almost always on you—watching and assessing with that same inscrutable expression on his face.
Not that you pay close attention or anything.
Not that you care, either.
And never will you admit that it unnerves the hell out of you, almost like he’s trying to see through you—right down to the restless person who hides beneath a false bravado, a sarcastic sense of humour, and mountains of paperwork piled up high on your desk.
The feeling of being seen, so terrible and stirring at the same time.
And yet, you shiver, there’s something about it that rivets you. Something electric, like a live wire running just beneath your skin. It’s the feeling you get when he looks at you with those icy blue eyes, his expression going from scathing to almost inquisitive within seconds, when the two of you are trading jabs and insults like his mother isn’t the one who signs your paycheques.
If you are carbon, then he’s the igniting flame.
But you know better, don’t you? Ransom is trouble, plain and simple—the kind with zero direction in life, the kind with a new girl on his arm every week, leaving them to wake up in the mornings to cold bed sheets and memories of promises he’d never intended to keep.
You will die a fiery death before you come another notch on his bedpost. Not that you even care whether he thinks of you that way at all, because even the idea of doing that with Ransom is—
Shit. You shiver again.
You’re playing with fire by even thinking about him at all, even though you feel the incredibly annoying pull of his presence like a magnet, even though you know you need to stay as far away from him as possible, and even though you are very keenly aware that there’s something here.
It looms large yet goes unacknowledged whenever your eyes lock, when he’s looking at you like he wants to bury you and devour you at the same time, when you’re itching with the knowledge that you’re only keeping him at as much of a distance as you can physically stand.
Why else haven’t you told him yet, in no uncertain terms, to fuck right off?
Because there’s a part of you that can’t help but wonder what it would be like to let yourself burn—to feel the heat of that passion you can see in his eyes that he never seems to give into, to feel whatever warmth he might muster from beneath the complicated layers of that thing beating in his chest, to feel him next to you as that terrible something you won’t ever name finally erupts and consumes everything in its path.
Ugh. You absolutely loathe yourself for it, and it makes you want to bash your forehead repeatedly against the wall.
“Someone’s going on the naughty list,” Ransom snickers, the sound infuriatingly close now. You do your best not to startle at the new proximity; he’s put his phone away, unfolded himself from your chair with that unexpectedly languid grace, crossing the room to toss your now empty package of cookies into the trash. “And is that any way to speak to a valued coworker?”
“You? Valued? Coworker?”
“Oh, don’t be jealous, Cindy Lou,” he chides, leaning against the edge of an empty desk barely a step away, crossing his arms over his broad chest, then lowering his voice to whisper conspiratorially, “I hear it’s a sin.”
“Jealous?” You laugh humourlessly, snorting in a way that is decidedly very unladylike. “Of what? The fact that you’ve never worked a day in your life and have the soft white hands of a geisha?”
“Oh yeah? Been thinking about my hands a lot, have you?” He smirks again, and you bite back an exasperated moan—er, groan.
“Namely,” you say sarcastically, turning away from him and reaching up for a particularly high spot. “Breaking all the feeble little bones in your tiny rat-like claws, preferably with a nice sturdy lump of coal.”
“I’m not the one who’s gone on a rampage,” Ransom gestures to the office, now adorned with shiny little baubles, bundles of sparkly tinsel, and rolls of satin ribbon, “and vandalized the office.”
“Vandal—it looks festive, you heartless ghoul!” You whip around to glare at him again, momentarily forgetting your unstable position. But instead of rolling away from the wall and taking you with it, the chair beneath you stays firmly in place. Confused, you glance down to see Ransom’s outstretched feet casually braced against the legs.
Your head snaps up so quickly you think you might get whiplash, eyes narrowing accusatorially only to see him looking away, feigning nonchalance despite the fact that his ears are turning red.
Blood rushes to your cheeks, a traitorous warmth spreading through them. You curse mentally for the umpteenth time, feeling the corners of your perfidious mouth threatening to curve up into a smile.
The bar really is in hell, isn’t it?
“You…” you squeak, clearing your throat a few times to get your voice back to normal. “It’s five. You should go get your mother now.”
“Why, am I distracting you?” Ransom replies, tucking his hands into his pockets and still not making eye contact. “And don’t rush me. I’d rather eat glass than sit through another one of Linda’s fuckin’ Christmas parties.”
“Right, because of your repellant personality?” You quip only half-sarcastically.
“So I’m told,” he drawls, but strangely he sounds more pleased than offended by your observation. “But then again, you’re no picnic either, are you Cindy?”
“Excuse me?” You finally climb off the chair, the last of the garland securely in place. You ignore those stupid feelings stirring inside you at the sight of him retracting his legs a second too slow, and only when both your feet are firmly on the floor.
“You can’t tell me you work so hard because you like your job,” he chortles, his smirk twisting into something just a tiny bit meaner this time. “Aw, sweetheart, do you not have any friends?”
You snort so loud it almost hurts, trying not to focus on just how much you and Ransom have in common—a fact he also seems content to leave unaddressed. “Oh, like you do?”
The mental image of Ransom sitting in his mother’s living room, laughing and sharing wine with a bunch of people in front of a roaring fire like he isn’t a raging sociopath makes you shudder.
“Although, I guess I am curious,” you relent with an inquisitive tilt of your head, ignoring the weight of his heavy gaze on your back as you rummage through the last of the decorations.
“Hm, do tell,” you hear him chuckle.
“About Christmas, you bumbling idiot,” you retort, rolling your eyes. “Can’t picture you and Linda decorating a tree or opening presents together.”
“Okay, that’s not even funny,” he grumbles, his expression twisting into something sour.
“Never? Not even when you were a kid?” You ask before you can stop yourself. Dangerous territory. You know too much about his personal life as it is, and this would only humanize him and that’s the very last thing you want.
“Sometimes,” he admits after a few seconds of agonizing silence, his voice uncharacteristically quiet, your eyes meeting, as always, when you look up at him. “Only ever at Harlan’s.”
You stare, unsure what to do with the underlying hint of something in his voice that doesn’t really belong. Harlan is the only person in his family you actually like, who exudes warmth and care even towards a spoiled and ungrateful grandson, and it takes you a moment to realize that the thing in Ransom’s voice might be affection.
It’s alien and unnerving, to say the least, but you still feel a traitorous tug at your heart strings.
“I can’t picture you as a kid,” you say, somehow managing to keep your voice from trembling as you quickly change the subject. Sweet Christmases with his adoring grandpa shouldn’t be something you associate with this overgrown man-child. And even if it is, it doesn’t change the fact that Ransom is a giant, gaping asshole. “I just see you, but… smaller.”
“And I bet you were just a naive little princess,” he smirks when you glare at him, “doting parents, thoughtful presents, cookies for Santa—spoiled in your own way.”
“Oh, don’t get it twisted,” you shake your head, putting up a defensive hand, “we aren’t sharing. That’s not what this is.”
“But you know what they say, Cindy,” he says as he leans in closer, stopping just inches away, so close you can smell the lingering scent of cinnamon and nutmeg on his breath, mingling with the saccharine aroma of peppermint and artificial pine clinging to his sweater. “Sharing is caring.”
His eyes blaze in an unspoken challenge, but before you can do anything else, like maybe start thinking that the bad idea that’s been plaguing you ever since you met this infernal man isn’t such a bad idea after all, the sound of Linda’s voice cuts through the air, as sharp as the diamonds she wears on her fingers.
“What are you two doing?”
The spell is broken, and Ransom looks away with that same infuriating smile that makes you both want to punch and ki—
“Hello, Mother,” Ransom all but sneers.
You step away with considerable effort, wringing your hands in front of you. Linda narrows her eyes in thinly-veiled suspicion, but doesn’t say anything as she begins walking towards you.
Ransom steps in front of you, shoving his hands into his pockets and jingling his keys, “We’d better get going. Your chariot awaits.”
“Have a nice evening, Mrs. Drysdale,” you pipe up, watching nervously as her eyes sweep across the office and your carefully placed decorations with cool indifference. She nods slightly and you breathe a sigh of relief; that’s as close to a thank you as you’ll ever get.
“Ransom, be a dear and go start the car,” Linda says, urging him towards the door with a sweep of her hand. Her son hesitates for only a millisecond, not even looking back as he turns on his heels and leaves.
Only you notice that his hands are clenched at his sides.
“Merry Christmas, dear,” she smiles tightly as she hands you an envelope likely containing your holiday bonus, and you snap back to attention. You take it from her with a quiet thank you, but then her smile quickly turns into a stern frown. “But don’t make a habit of having food delivered here.”
“Food?” You repeat, your brows coming together in confusion. Linda puts on her fur coat, pointing a single gloved finger at the doors. There is a delivery person standing on the other side of the glass, lifting and pointing at a plastic bag heavy with takeout containers.
“Air the place out before you leave,” Linda says as she breezes past him, not even turning back while she lifts a hand in dismissal.
Confused, you follow in her tracks, staring after her as she makes a dissatisfied face at Ransom’s car pulled right up next to the curb. You see him roll his eyes, leaning over to unlock and push the door open for her. Linda doesn’t look too thrilled, but steps in anyway. They drive away, a hint of a smile on Ransom’s face even though it looks like Linda’s already started in on him with her usual longwinded lectures.
You tell the delivery boy you didn’t order anything, but he looks just as puzzled. He checks the receipt and says your name, the office address, which you confirm are correct. He then recites the order: scallion pancakes, rice noodle rolls, steamed crystal dumplings, and a small black sesame latte—your standing order from your favourite restaurant in Chinatown, reserved for nights when you were working late.
“It’s already paid for,” he says, “you might as well take it.”
You do, locking the doors once he leaves and set the bag down onto a nearby desk. Before you’ve even untied it and opened the containers to check their contents, the grin that’s been brewing all night finally breaks free.
Because there’s only a handful of people in the world who know you’re here at the moment, but only one who knows you haven’t eaten yet today, and who knows that despite having permission to leave for the night, you’ll probably settle in for another few hours of tedious paperwork.
Still, you finish every last crumb of your dinner feeling lighter than you have all week.
Maybe you’ll ask him next time, despite all the reasons you probably shouldn’t, whatever happened to sharing is caring?—even if it sounds like an invitation.
And maybe you feel cheeky enough to send him a quick email before logging off, cackling to yourself when he finally fires back a scathing reply a few hours later, likely still sitting in a room full of people just like his mother, trying not to be absolutely miserable.
From: “El Diablo” <[email protected]> To: Reception <[email protected]> Subject: RE: Merry Christmas Oh fuck off, I don’t know what you’re talking about. ——————— From: Reception <[email protected]> To: “El Diablo” <[email protected]> Subject: Merry Christmas …and thanks for dinner, Drysdale.
And if, when you’re finally home long after the midnight hour, you’re tucked into bed feeling full and warm with the temptation to raise your lips into a smile as you drift off to sleep?
Well.
That’s really nobody’s business but your own, is it?
fin.
#ransom drysdale x reader#ransom drysdale x female reader#ransom drysdale x you#ransom drysdale x y/n#ransom drysdale fanfiction#ransom drysdale fluff#ransom drysdale x f!reader#ransom drysdale#chris evans character fanfiction#christmas fluff
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LET ME IN (20 Cube) | p.sh
-> pairing. frat boy!sunghoon x fem reader
-> genre. fwb (friends-with-benefits)
-> rating. 13+
-> w/c. 1052
-> warnings. Suggestive ending (and overall dialogue), Sunghoon is kind of insufferable lol
-> a/n. First ENHYPEN fic go !!! (This is old, it gets better </3)
-> collection. songfic
-> started. ???
-> fin. Jan. 12th, 2021 @ 21:49
-> edited. Thurs., Oct. 25th, 2022 @ 22:06
You walked into the on-campus café, wearing a collared long sleeveed shirt with stripes on the arms, the torso up until your upper arm being fully black with the words "sad, lonely & bad at math" printed on the front. You were also wearing some chains and a necklace with a cross that fell just above the print on the shirt. You were wearing a high waisted, ripped jean-short with a belt that had a chain attached, your shirt tucked in, with a pair of black combat boots and a messy bun holding your hair out of your eyes.
You were known for your rather grunge/ goth-like outfits, and a lot of people admired you for being able to pull it off quite well.
You went over to the cashier, who you had formed a homie-bond with after seeing him so many times. "Hey, Y/N. Usual?"
"That's right!" You said with an enthusiastic smile, tapping your fingers against the counter while waiting for your drink. You checked the time on your phone and sighed as you turned to look at the entrance. He's going to make me wait again, huh?
You rolled your eyes distastefully before turning back to the cashier with a smile as he handed you your drink. "Thanks, Niki!"
"No problem!" You waved at him before sitting down, deciding to check the notes you had made on your phone while waiting for one of the most popular guys on campus who you just so happened to have an... Interesting relationship with.
"Y/N! You're here!" A familiar voice rang through your ears and you turned to glare at him, annoyed.
"Sunghoon. What have I said about making me wait? Especially after messaging me to meet up."
The boy in question merely smirked, always having enjoyed pressing your buttons. He looked good, as always, with his nicely styled brown hair and black and beige silk shirt, wearing his necklace with the black jewel embedded in the middle, the cold metal resting just underneath his neck. Sunghoon walked over, sitting across from you and checking you out as you sipped lazily at your drink.
"You look good in this outfit." He said approvingly, nodding at you as he drew his eyes away from your outfit to meet your eyes. You rolled your eyes dramatically, leaning against the palm of your hand.
"What do you want?"
"What? No 'Yeah, Sunghoon! You look good too!'?" He asked, pouting and fluttering his eyelids as a stupid tactic to make you feel bad.
"You always look good, you self-absorbed piece of shit. There's no point." Sunghoon smirked, leaning forward and raising his eyebrows.
"Did you just say I look good?"
"You missed the 'self-absorbed' and 'piece of shit' part, but yeah. Now please tell me what the hell do you want? I don't want to be seen talking to you for so long."
"Aww, why not?"
"Park Sunghoon." You said warningly, glaring daggers into the depths of his soul. He laughed mutedly, flashing you a toothy grin before straightening up slightly and leaning his head back to show off his neck.
"I wanted to invite you to a party I'm throwing at my place to welcome our newest member."
"You guys accepted another member?"
"Yep. His name's Ni-ki. He's here right now, actually." With a shocked expression you turned around and looked back at Ni-ki, smiling at him half-heartedly. This innocent soul would have to live with some of the biggest dicks you'd ever met. Of course, Sunghoon was one of them, the other most well known one was Lee Heeseung, the oldest frat member at this point.
"He's a good kid. You better let him stay that way." You said seriously, pointing an accusatory finger at Sunghoon. He pouted, leaning against both of his hands with a glint in his eye.
"You've seen him around a few times and you're already protective, yet I'm the one you've scre—"
"Shut up, Sunghoon." You hissed, your hand having shot out to cover his mouth. He smirked into your hand, kissing your palm and making you pull away a bit flushed.
"Are you coming or not?" He asked with that stupid grin of his, already knowing your answer.
"Yeah, I'll be there. But only for Ni-ki. Plus, I haven't seen Jungwon or Jake in a while." Sunghoon scrunched his nose in what you assumed was distaste before standing up before you slid out of your chair. You cleared your throat, squinting at him slightly. "What happened last time won't happen again." You said sternly, however Sunghoon was completely unfazed, leaning over and winking over his shoulder.
"We'll see about that, love!" You groaned at the nickname, briefly talking to Ni-ki and heading out to plan your outfit.
It was the day of the party and you arrived somewhere in the middle of the celebration, wearing jeans and a loose fitting AC/DC t-shirt.
It seemed like there was still a lot of people left, but it was open enough to easily find Ni-ki and some of his friends by the pool table. You went over to congratulate Ni-ki first, saying hello to Jake and Jungwon, who you actually knew the most outside of the Sunghoon situation.
"Come chat with me..." Think of the devil and he shall appear, you thought as Sunghoon whispered into your ear, his breath fanning your neck and sending a chill down your spine. He pulled you into a corner of the living room, leaning against the wall and holding you where you were by your waist. He smirked at you, raising a brow suggestively.
"You're really persistent, you know that?" You told him as you instantly regretted what you were about to do.
"Well, persistence often pays off..." He grinned as you rolled your eyes before pulling him closer by his nape, kissing him roughly. He groaned into the kiss as you moved closer and tugged at his hair, eventually making him lift you up by your legs and taking you upstairs.
When you woke up the next morning you found yourself wearing a shirt that wasn't yours and was 2 or 3 sizes to big, turning around to look at a smiling Sunghoon.
"What was it that you told me yesterday?"
"Oh, fuck off—" You muttered as you kissed him again.
#enhypen x reader#park sunghoon x reader#enhypen sunghoon#enhypen angst#enhypen smut#enhypen fluff#ao3#archive of our own#kpop x reader#kpop smut#kpop fluff#kpop angst#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon smut#sunghoon angst#sunghoon fluff#Spotify
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you already knew this was coming LOL but i’d love to see healer!violet or a hockey au for the ask game if you’re down!!
healer au... hockey au... tough decision but have some healer!vi
a snippet from their first meeting:
He scratches his shoulder, inked in swirls and flames. “Your mother never taught you not to stare? It’s rude.“
So he’d noticed her staring at his mark. No use in denying it, then. She should have felt shame, maybe, but her curiosity was stronger. “I’m not a liar,“ she says, before asking something she’s been dying to ask: “Did it hurt?“
“That,“ he says, leaning into her space, “is none of your business, Healer.“ His voice is deep, tense; a warning. Violet has no doubt he could kill her at any time, and he wouldn’t feel bad about it, either.
She sighs, letting it go, and looks down at his wound. “Yeah, you’re gonna need stitches,“ she says. “Wait here– I’m going to find someone to do it.“
His hand finds her wrist again. “You can’t do it?“ He asks. His hair is a little longer than most riders; it falls over his forehead, over his raised brow.
Violet snatches her hand back. “I can,“ she says, gathering the bowl of now-pink water and the stained cotton, “but I’m not allowed—first years need a superior’s permission.“
The rider groans. “You’re a first year?“ He asks, incredulous. “A newbie. Fucking great.“
He sighs and leans back against the wall again, shaking his head.
“I’m at the top of my year,“ Violet says tersely. She spins around to look for Winifred, but she’s busy tending to someone whose arm is currently more blood than skin. She’ll have to ask someone lower in the chain of command, then.
“Top of first year,“ he says. Even with her back to him, Violet can practically see the way his mouth twists around the word first. It makes her blood boil.
“I am still a healer,“ she snaps at him. From the corner of her eye she sees Nick, one of the third-years in charge of supervising the rest of them. She gestures at him. “And I’m damned good at my job.“
“You’ve been here for less than three months,“ he points out dryly. “What do you know about doing a good job?“
a scene that takes place a few? weeks later?:
He hums. “You remember, don’t you?” Xaden takes the sandwich, and the shadows vanish, hiding away. “I said I’d keep you alive if you kept healing me. A deal, of sorts.”
Xaden’s lips twitch once more. Violet’s glad one of them finds humor in this; personally, she’d like not to be threatened with death anymore. She’d gone to the Healer’s Quadrant to avoid exactly this kind of situation, after all.
He offers her the sandwich. Violet eyes it with disgust. “I’m not eating that,” she says immediately, her lips curling. “And besides, I can’t heal you today.”
“Oh?” Xaden raises a brow at her. He tilts his head, considering her. “So eager to die, then, Sorrengail?”
His shadows shiver below him.
“No,” Violet says, though the words come out of her mouth a little too quickly, a little too urgently. “I just—I can’t. Not today. Go see someone else, or wait until tomorrow.”
Xaden’s eyes narrow at her. He rocks forward on his feet, bringing his head closer to hers. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Violet huffs. “Go away, now.”
His expression sharpens, somehow; he’s more alert, the amusement wiped from his face, and his eyes flicker all over her body, taking her in, studying her to try and find whatever’s wrong with her.
“Tell me,” he says. His voice has become steel, sharp and commanding at once. Violet wonders if this is his Wingleader voice, if the stare he’s currently sending her is the one he uses on first year cadets.
It’s ridiculously effective. She’d opened her mouth to protest, to refuse him, but the look he sends her has Violet saying, “My joints. My hands. They’re—sometimes they hurt.”
Xaden’s eyes drop to her hands. She has to fight the urge to put them behind her back, to hide them from him.
incomplete scene: a visit in the middle of the night!
“Violence?”
Xaden. Violet’s heart slowly comes back to its normal pace. Xaden, at her door, in the middle of the night.
She’s out of her bed and rushing towards his voice before she even has the time to think about her actions. It’s only when she yanks the door open that Violet remembers the short black nightgown she’s wearing.
Xaden’s eyes sweep over her and down her body, stopping at the sight of her hair, unbound and messy, at the hem of her nightgown; already Violet feels more alert, a wave of heat rising within her.
[...]
He pauses to look at her. “You were sleeping,” he says, surprise coloring his voice. His brow is furrowed. If Violet didn’t know any better, she’d think he looks pained at that fact.
“That’s how it works, usually,” Violet huffs. “People work or study during the day, and at night, they sleep.”
Xaden continues to stare at her. Something about him—Violet feels herself getting yanked out of sleep and into reality. Her focus sharpens, and she narrows her eyes at him.
“You usually stay up to study,” he points out. “And your Anatomy exam is in two days.”
Violet’s heart plummets and soars, all at once. “You remembered?”
It's his turn to huff. "Of course I did," he says, but he crosses his arms and looks away from her as he speaks.
#idk how much sense this is making but i hope you liked these!!!#personally i adore this wip#healer!vi au#my writing!
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I was taught at school how to construct a face out of a lot more lines than just one in the middle. When I followed that method my faces looked very awkward and unnatural at first, but it helped me A LOT over time. I have a very hard time with visual memory, so a method that told me what to draw where in like, purely mathematical terms, helped a lot!
Unfortunately that method was front only. Still, I think it taught me stuff that's applicable at other angles also when you practice enough and internalize it and start just /seeing/ it!
This is a lot easier to do digitally because you can use The Sketch Layer. In real life you do it with a pencil and pray you can erase everything cleanly and don't accidentally draw any line too thick. Love drawing digitally.
(That said, this is me drawing with a fucking MOUSE. In real life I could use a ruler for these,,, ok i could have used the straight line tool i have in my art program i chose specifically for having the straight line tool, whatever. Part of why I drew this with a mouse was to prove a point that you dont need to have Good Manual Dexterity to make use of these guidelines)
(Also, the way I was taught to draw this produced the same face every time, and I struggled with sameface syndrome a lot. To cut this bullshit off at the root, I'm going to point out points of individualization when they appear)
Draw an upside down egg. Or something between an upside down egg and an oval. Or if you have the eye for it the approximate shape of the character's head. But really at this point an upside down egg is the necessary part.
Draw a line down the middle of the face vertically and horizontally! This is where this guideline works only for head-on view, in 3/4 you do the exact same thing but you need to curve it. Good luck with that lmao.
Draw a line slightly above the horizontal line. The distance between them is the approximate vertical size of the eyes. This is a major point of individualization. Draw two characters and how high up their top eyeline is from their bottom eyeline will be a significant part of how different or similar they look.
FROM THE TOP EYELINE measure half the distance to the point of the chin / bottom of the face. Draw a horizontal line across the entire face there. Using a ruler helps.
Draw a pair of vertical lines determining where & how big the character's eyes are! I was taught correct proportions for this, but from experience, that's bullshit. This is a point of individualization. Make sure there is A gap both between eyes and nose, and eyes and the side of the face, make the gaps roughly the same on both sides, and you're good. (VERY roughly on my example lol)
ONTO THE HELL PART: THE NOSE. The first step is simple though! Extend the inner vertical eyelines down until you meet the horizontal line we drew there earlier.
Draw two vertical lines between the midline and the outer noselines, roughly around the middle. This is a point of individualization! This is where you get wide nose vs narrow nose!
Draw diagonal lines from the points of intersection (between the lower eyeline and the inner nose width lines) to the upper inner eye box corner, then extend them above the eyes into the eyebrows. This is absolute dogshit to do with a mouse, and also a point of individualization. Make the eyebrows high or low, whatever. Don't worry about the character looking like they're frowning, we won't keep those lines.
Draw some more diagonals, at the bottom this time. These are your nostril part shapes. Point of individualization.
Draw the rest of the fucking nose. Which is to say, the nostril / nose tip line. The bad news is I forgot exactly what the formal instructions for this are, the good news is that that's because they're bullshit. Absolute and total point of individualization. You have the rest of the construction to anchor it to where and what size it should be, now just draw what this character's nose looks like from the front. Nostrils go roughly on the intersection, how visible they are / how upturned the nose is - all yours.
Ok we're done wth the nose. Draw vertical lines down from the middle of the eye box. (I draw it dotted because otherwise it gets too busy for me at this point)
The mouth line goes from the middle of the nose to chin line to these vertical lines. Yes, all the way. No, you don't have to keep the entire line in the finished drawing. If you're not doing hyperrealistic intricately shaded style, this is just your guideline for where, like, the smile lines go (outside of the mouth). Don't bother with the facial expression at this time.
The lips! Point of individualization. The rough guideline is that the lower lip is a single curve, while the upper lip tends to have two raised points with a dip between them, roughly corresponding to the position of nostrils above. Roughly. The guideline I was taught drew a Very White face, and this is one of the points where if you want to do not that, do not that.
The vertical lines from the nose to the upper lip. This is a 3D shape that is for real on your face. Touch above your lip, it's there. Obviously you can later stylize it away, but if you want to do any shading at all, this is going to help greatly.
Ears! All those horizontal lines we drew earlier - upper eyeline, lower eyeline, nose bottom line - are now telling us where and how big approximately they are. Just a nice curve from the lower eyeline to the upper eyeline and then back to the nose bottom line. Point of individualization - wide ears, narrow ears, long or short earlobe, ears angled away from the head, elf ears, go wild!
Ok so this part was kind of supposed to go way at the start when we were first drawing the horizontal lines, but we haven't really needed it for anything else, so now is the time. The hairline! See that distance between the upper eyeline and the bottom of the nose line? That's how high up above the upper eyeline you draw yet another horizontal line.
Ok going back to the eyes. So the top of the eybox is the top of the upper eyelid! Now draw the bottom of the upper eyelid (which is to say, the actual shape of the visible eye) somewhere under it. You have the nice dotted line from before down the middle helping you with symmetry, too. Point of individualization!
Now the lower eyelid. It goes approximately where the bottom of the eyebox is, but y'know a curve instead of a straight line. Point of individualization again, of course.
Time to erase unnecessary lines if you're drawing in pencil, and transition to a new layer if you're drawing digital. We're done with construction, time to enflesh it. I'm only doing the bare basics of it here, because I am drawing with a mouse, but this is where you can shade, customize the facial expression, determine the general outline of the face by adding cheeks/cheekbones/etc.
Ta-da! Believe you me, I could NOT have drawn a face this nice and even and deliberate without the construction steps WITH A FUCKING MOUSE.
the person who can explain to me how to construct a face gets a million dollars. i've tried that thing with drawing a circle with a line on it a thousand times and it DOESNT WORK
#my art#art reference#reblog#whenever i do this method i end up with a significantly more realistic style face than i would normally go for#i like this one too#you can always just Make Eyes Bigger during the construction phase when you do the top eyeline#i think if you draw the first horizontal line (lower eyeline) lower than the middle the stylization will work with the rest of this
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And that’s that for Veilguard. Got all the achievements and got the four main possible endings (didn’t bother with the bad ending where you do none of the side quests, everyone dies, and you end up trapped in the Fade forever with Solas).
My four Rooks:
Female Shadow Dragon elf mage - saved Minrathous - romanced Harding - punched Solas in the face
Female Antivan Crow human rogue - saved Treviso - romanced Lucanis - tricked Solas into using the fake dagger
Male Grey Warden dwarf warrior (this was originally going be a Qunari, but I couldn’t get over the yassified look of all the qunari I tried to make and I gave up) - saved Treviso - romanced Davrin (meant to romance Bellara and lol welp, that didn’t happen) - big softie who sent Solas into the Fade with the Inquisitor
Male Mourn Watch elf mage - saved Minrathous - romanced Emmrich (meant to romance Bellara or Neve and lol welp, that didn’t happen) - told the Inquisitor she could do better and made Solas go off into the Fade alone.
My Mourn Watch one is probably going to be my “canon” run, since I liked it the best (that’s not saying much) of my runs. I went with a life leeching run for him, including using the unique items that made health potions/companion heals not work, and beefed up leeching. Literally the only time I died was when my controller ran out of juice in the middle of a dragon fight. The Elgar’nan fight was over so fast I was like, “Wait, is that it?” It was like the curb stomp fight in Inquisition with Corypheus before they let you have enemies scale up with you.
And now for my thoughts. And oh boy, do I have a lot of them. Hoo.
I have…so many issues with this game. It is a very good…whatever the gaming equivalent of a popcorn flick is. It’s great if you go in with your brain turned off and enjoy all the shiny. But that’s not what I want in a Dragon Age game. I’ve been replaying DA2 - the game that DATV is basically trying to channel - while playing these, and the difference in writing quality and intricacy of plot and world building could not be more sharp. The first time I played DATV, I thought it was fine. Almost aggressively fine. I had fun with streaming the game and seeing where it went. I loved the reveals with the wolf statues. I had some major issues with the writing being as subtle as a brick to the face at times (more on my thoughts about the dialogue LATER, because oh boy), but it was serviceable. And I genuinely thought Veilguard had been robbed by not being nominated for Art Direction at the Game Awards, because say what you will, the areas are fucking gorgeous. But, even then, I was like, “Yeah, this would not have deserved a GOTY nomination had it gotten one,” and placed it at a 7 or 8 out of 10. A good enough, enjoyable game that ran well, but was not by any means GOTY material.
Then I made the mistake of playing it again, and the cracks began to show. By the time I hit the middle of Act 2 of my third run, I was just so done. I hated every time certain companions had anything to say at all. I hated that you couldn’t call people out for being a jerk but had to be the supportive nursery school teacher at all times to them. And for the first time playing any BioWare game at all, I found myself wishing I could either not recruit certain people or kick them out of camp. The cracks were beyond showing at that point, and I no longer thought the writing was even “serviceable.” Things that hadn’t seemed so bad on that first popcorn flick run suddenly became a problem - not being able to actually talk to your companions to get to know them went from “it feels more natural to have them saying this stuff while out in the field” to “what is even the point of going around the Lighthouse if all it gets me is a line spoken at me or overhearing bits of them having ACTUAL conversations?” It legitimately hurt replayability. I missed being able to actually talk to my companions, and I realized I cared more about Manfred and Assan than most of my companions because Manfred and Assan actually seemed to like interacting with me. I will take Manfred’s rock-paper-scissors game over a “hey Rook” and dead-eyed stare.
By the time I hit late act 2, I couldn’t wait for it to be over so I could delete the damn game off my hard drive…only for the last achievement I had yet to get to NOT pop when I finished the game. I looked it up and discovered it wasn’t set by triggering a certain end state, but was tied to picking some flowers in Act 2, and wanted to cry. I don’t usually 100% games, especially if I feel like some of the achievements are bullshit I don’t want to do (‘sup, MELE needing you to do some Armax Arena Spectre-level fight - I would sooner chew off my own arm than do that, as anyone who watched me stream Veilguard would have guessed watching me kvetching the whole time I was doing that Hall of Valor shit), but that was just frustrating. I decided to try to get it on a fresh run as a Mourn Watcher, since I’d heard that was one of the surprisingly good faction backgrounds, and that was a good choice. Mourn Watch became my favorite faction, when it had been Shadow Dragons until then. It added so much to a lot more conversations than I would have thought, and made it so I actually enjoyed the sadly few times you get to actually have conversations instead of eavesdropping/being talked at. I’m glad I decided to slog through one more time for that achievement, because if I’d ended it on that third run, I know I would have never played it again. It turned back into a popcorn movie again, aided by me knowing when to put on a YouTube video and watch or scroll through Bluesky instead of listening to a certain character be the fucking worst. If I ever play again, it’ll be a Mourn Watcher (I already know the Veil Jumpers and Lords of Fortune are considered, shall we say, lackluster background factions.)
Which brings me to some of the big, fundamental problems this game had.
This is not a CRPG. It’s just not. It’s an action RPG now, with the focus on “action” not “RPG.” It’s part of the whole Mass Effect-ification of Dragon Age. And I say this as a huge Mass Effect fan:
Dragon Age should not be like Mass Effect. And vice versa.
When Andromeda came out, they decided to ditch the Paragon/Renegade system, and instead went for DAI-style emotion-based options. Which seems great! More speech choices to make a more nuanced Ryder instead of picking up or down! Great! Only no! A lot of people hated it because it didn’t feel like Mass Effect. They had taken away something that had seemed like a major part of how you roll played in the series, and replaced it something very different. It was the first time they took a mechanic from one game and ported it into another, and it didn’t really go over well with a lot of ME fans because it didn’t feel like a Mass Effect mechanic.
And now with Veilguard, they basically made a Mass Effect game with a Dragon Age skin on it. And it just doesn’t work.
Combat: They copied the combat wheel from Mass Effect, but did it kind of badly. I honestly hated it because I tried to play like I do in Mass Effect - pull it up, use it to look around and get a handle on my environment, then pick an enemy or a safe space to bolt to - and the camera snapping the enemies meant I couldn’t. It drove me crazy because it was like the Mass Effect wheel but fundamentally not, and the camera drove me mad because I’d pull it up trying to find where the nearest blight boil was, and it would snap on enemies instead of just letting me look. It’s like they wanted to get rid of every little bit of tactical game play and replace with smashy smashy bang bang instead. Don’t think, don’t plan, just attack…which fits in with the popcorn flick-ness of DATV. Don’t think, just do. Turn your brain off and look at the particle effects.
Another Mass Effect-ification with regards to combat is dropping from taking 3 companions to 2. Which you need to do to have that Mass Effect style combat wheel, and the Mass Effect 3/Andromeda style primer/detonation style interaction of companion powers. Detonations were very satisfying, but not very Dragon Age-y, and requires throwing out some of that DA lore to make it work, because now everyone uses magic-based abilities even if they aren’t mages. Assan attacks deal fire damage. You can spec a warrior who calls up a giant lightning hammer to twirl around, and…how? That’s not enchantment, that’s plain ol’ magic, and how?! Warriors didn’t deal magic-based attacks unless their weapons where enchanted before, but now, everyone is just tossing magic attacks at everything. That’s not how the world of Thedas has worked until now, but you can’t have those flashy explosions or particle effects otherwise, so shhh, turn off your brain and don’t think, shhh. Look at the screen light up and the pretty lights. It worked in Mass Effect because they had already set up tech and biotic attacks, but there’s no way to make hitting something hard with a sword cause it to blow up and damage all the other baddies around them, so now everyone has magic. OK.
As an aside, it was also a really bad idea of get rid of how aggro worked. Dragon Age had always worked by warriors drawing aggro because they had the heavier armor (or could use taunt on enemies targeting squishy mages or rogues). Rogues had lower aggro because they had lighter armor, and could sneak. Mages had even lower aggro because they had the lightest armor and were distance fighters. DATV threw that out the window, and Rook draws all aggro because they are the only ones with a health bar. Your squad is immortal in fights, which means there’s no reason for enemies to ever target them. Which means god help you early game when mages and rogues have no real skills yet. Enjoy dodging while your companions hit the enemies with what seems like attacks as powerful as spitballs. It also means that there are times what the game tells you and the fight you just did are completely at odds. Remember that fight with the Wrath of the Stone in Harding’s companion quest? That thing is on your ass the entire time, but then at the end of it, Rook says something along the lines of “It really hates Harding,” and…are you gaslighting me, game? That thing ignored Harding the whole damn time in favor of trying to stomp me like a cockroach. Harding did not exist to it during my fight. It had a hate boner for Rook and Rook alone, no matter what the game tried to insist on after.
Now, imagine how that would have felt if Harding actually could have been killed/knocked out during the fight, and it was only going after her? What if you couldn’t damage it if it took her down, so you had to make sure she stayed alive? Imagine how different that fight would have hit then? But no, that would mean the devs have to think about how to rez characters and how healing would work, and would mean players have to be tactical, and shh, no, no more of that, no thinking, just dodge and hit things and look at the particle effects. Shh. Have some more popcorn.
Story: DATV wants so badly to be ME2. It wants to recall the companion loyalty quests and the big suicide mission where you have to have everyone ready or you’ll all die. But you can’t copy what you did before and get the same flowers and results. You just can’t. You can try, and all you’ll get is diminishing returns. They tried to do the big cosmic horror of ME1, complete with a Virmire choice, then have the big final stakes of ME2, and no. You can’t follow a template and get the same greatness. That’s not how it works.
And speaking of following templates…
Romances: The romances in Veilguard are just dismal. And I think it’s because they decided to follow the Mass Effect pacing formula instead of the Dragon Age one.
Dragon Age: You start flirting in Act 1. You usually flirt with everyone because hey, why not? Some time in Act 2, things start getting serious, and you have to settle on who you want to go for. Things start to get serious, you get together, and then you get happy fun adult time with your new LI. You get the option to break it off or commit to them fully. By Act 3, you’re in a committed relationship. People comment about it. You can go to them and spend time with them - nothing major, maybe just a kiss. There might also be a special scene that’s just with them and unique to the romance. And by the end, after the lengthy amount of time that’s passed, you are Together.
Mass Effect: You start flirting in Act 1. You usually flirt with everyone because hey, why not? In Act 2, you keep on flirting with everyone. By the end, you might have to make a choice if you’re flirting too hard with everyone and the two LI options tell you to pick someone already, but you’re just picking who you’re interested in. Early in Act 3, there might be an almost kiss, but it’s mostly just the occasional anticipation of eventually boning and nothing really happens until right before the final big fight, when your LI shows up to your cabin for “oh shit, we might die in a few hours, so let’s go out with a high note” happy fun adult time. The only time you get that “committed relationship” vibes is in ME3 if you’re romanced the same character for at least one other game, and you choose to continue the relationship.
The Mass Effect pacing works in the Mass Effect trilogy because each game is only 20-40 hours long. Veilguard is a good 80 hours long. That means using that same amount of romance you use in ME is going to mean you’ve got too little butter to spread over too much bread. It’s why you have a good start for the romances in Act 1, then act 2 is a such a desert of nothing after you commit that I genuinely wondered if I’d hit the wrong option at said no at several points during the very long third act. There’s not just enough content for that long of an Act 2. Near the end everyone starts commenting on you being with them, but it’s not actually happening in the game. There’s no flirting, there are no extra scenes, and even the scene when you commit to them is based on a scene that happens with everyone, just with a romance option tacked on. The only person (of the ones I romanced, so I can’t speak to the others) who really get unique scenes was Emmerich. He actually takes you out on a unique date. It helped a lot to make Emmerich’s romance feel more fleshed out than the others. And Davrin had so many little jaunts out in the woods that those turned into romantic trips out, which added a lot to his. But Lucanis’ and Hardings? With both of them, like I said before, I genuinely wondered if I had accidentally opted out. Their romances most used the Mass Effect format, and it just doesn’t work for a game this long. BioWare knew that once, long ago, because Andromeda did not use the ME trilogy format for romances and was closer to one they used in DA. But DATV is trying to be ME2, so they used ME2’s very thin romances as a guide.
And we can all see how well that turned out.
The Executors: Fuck me, they feel like Cerberus reskinned, and I absolutely hated when Mass Effect shifted from sci-fi/Lovecraftian horror to space opera with Cerberus as the main bad guys you have to fight with the Reapers functionally falling to the background. The Executors are a secret, shadowy organization pulling strings from behind the scenes like the Shadow Broker codexes in ME2 retconned Cerberus into having been doing in ME. Ugh.
The Andromeda-ification of dialogue: Remember Peebee? Remember how she talked? Give her long hair and pointy ears, and she’s Bellara. Down even to the techno-babble. It’s like they’re trying to change magic to just “sufficiently advanced technology.” Everyone speaks in that modern, quippy style that was annoying in a game set hundreds of years in the future because it felt dated by the time the game came out (Ryder makes a Frozen joke, y’all). And it feels completely out of place in a game set in an early modern setting (I don’t think DA is medieval, honestly - it’s more a pre-industrialization/early scientific revoltution setting, so more 1500-1700s, and I’m gonna stop now). It was jarring. You can only let one quirky character break the rules about how people talk (Alistair in DAO, Varric in DA2, Cole in DAI) but when everyone does, it’s jarring. You can be anachronistic, but you have to know what you’re doing and how to do it when you do, and I’m sorry, but the current crop of BioWare writers don’t. They wrote the dialogue like it was a modern day YA novel, not a Dragon Age game. It would have been fine for a modern day urban fantasy game. It was not fine for a DA game set in the same time period as people using the four humours for “modern” medicine (remember the surgeon in DAI? Talked about the four humours? Yeah.)
OK, I did not intend to go on for this long, and I haven’t even gotten to what the game did to how religion is handled or the sociopolitical aspects of Thedas, and how they threw out so much that made Dragon Age unique in their urge to do a soft reboot, so I’m just going to end it here. I wanted to love this game, and I can only do that if I turn my brain off, and that’s not what Dragon Age should be.
#veilguard spoilers#dragon age veilguard#datv critical#veilguard critical#the Mass Effectification of Dragon Age
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Fandom Friday, 12/27: Fanfiction!
Hello again, everyone…and welcome to another installment of Fandom Friday, the two-post series where I go off to find new and interesting fanworks that might need a bit more visibility.
Before we begin, I have to admit something real quick: I almost forgot to make this list at all, because I was first working to get through retail hell at my job, followed by regaining all of my energy (and spoons) on Christmas Day.
However, since I think I managed to gather at least seven links for you all, even if it was at the last minute, I certainly hope that this is satisfactory at such short notice.
Anyways, before I get too distracted or lost...here, now, are my picks of the week.
THE PREQUELS
The Prequels Fanfiction--By @beauiestars:
THE CLONE WARS
The Clone Wars Fanfiction--By @testingforgravity:
The Clone Wars Fanfiction--By @justaparsec94:
THE BAD BATCH
The Bad Batch Fanfiction--By @star-farer:
The Bad Batch Fanfiction--By @indigofyrebird:
THE MANDALORIAN
The Mandalorian Fanfiction--By @dindjarindiaries:
The Mandalorian Fanfiction--By @annwrites24:
SKELETON CREW
Skeleton Crew Fanfiction--By @writing-girlie:
In conclusion, as part of my mission to poke around the Star Wars fandom and highlight those writers who might otherwise go unnoticed…I hope you will check out the links I have included for yourselves and like, comment on, and reblog them, as well as also giving the writers a few more followers to their Tumblr pages.
Please also like and reblog this latest installment so that these links can be spread around to as many other fans as possible, just in case not all of them can tune in at the same time.
An additional thank you goes to @djarrex for making the divider I used earlier in this post, but still want to give credit for.
And finally, so that I do not forget…thank you to my friends, thank you to this fandom, and above all else, please stay safe out there.
No Pressure Tags: @melymigo @algo-o-nada @the-osborn-way @everybirdfellsilent @skellymom
@leos-multifandom-corner @maggie-dylan @leenathegreengirl @gun-roswell @tazmbc1
@bluedeedeedoop @its-time-to-rise-above @tlmtwelve @snoowply @apocalyp-tech-a and anybody else who might be on the lookout for new SW fanfiction.
#star wars#starwarsblr#star wars fanfiction#fandom friday#the prequel trilogy#the clone wars#the bad batch#the mandalorian#skeleton crew#star wars prequels#star wars the clone wars#star wars the bad batch#star wars the mandalorian#star wars skeleton crew#obi-wan kenobi#tbb crosshair#din djarin#din grogu#jod na nawood#be excellent to each other#party on dudes
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I love all of the art you make ^^
thank you so much!!!💖
@itsargyle Do you remember? The first time I wanted to draw fanart was when l doodled on the whiteboard you set up in this May. I had already prepared photos for a blog to express my gratitude to you and reflect on this year!
These memorable doodles I drew with one finger on the small screen of my mobile phone will remain in my folder forever.
This enjoyment gave me the motivation to try drawing more fanart next.
Then I started to draw my dearest Finn using watercolorer etc, even though I was not used to it. It was very difficult for me, and I was so disappointed in my bad skill and I deleted my first Tumblr account crying LoL
But I'm persistent. I didn't want to stop at that level. Above all, I love YV, so I kept looking up at the works of various artists and dreaming of drawing them like that myself.
And I finally decided to try my hand at digital art.
I never thought start using this modern drawing machine at this age (I'm quite old) LOL
But this is so fun!!! I already I can't draw my own style (I used to draw surrealistic-abstract art as an outsider artist)😂
Thank you for reading!!
#yuurivoice#yuurivoice fanart#yuurivoice finn#yuurivoice seth#yuurivoice charlie#yuurivoice auron#yuurivoice alphonse#artists on tumblr#digital art#traditional art#yuurivoice derek#yuurivoice lucien
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