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ackerfics · 3 years

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slow dance with you — mikasa ackerman

— goth!mikasa ackerman x soft!female reader (modern au)

— warnings: slight mention of alcohol, pure rotten fluff

— summary: after gaining some courage from the drinks she had in the party and from the advice she got from her friends, mikasa is ready to become your girlfriend.

— word count: 3.9k

— author’s notes: i would like to thank the anon who gave me some ideas for goth!mikasa, you are so amazing !! thank you for the small headcanons. and since we’re on the topic of writing abt goth!mikasa, i couldn’t help but pair her up with a classic soft girl who likes to wear pink at every time of the day. this dynamic is based on marceline and princess bubblegum so i hope you enjoy !!

p.s. the reader will have dyed hair here, if this is not your cup of tea, just let this fly by your dash.

listen to this while reading.

“She dyed her hair pink,” came a dazed yet mesmerized tone.

“You’re staring at her again.”

Mikasa jumped on her seat at Eren’s nonchalant observation. She whipped her head to her best friend, his attention directed on his laptop, hands flying across the keyboard as he typed out the next few words in his essay. Noticing the incredulous look the black-haired girl was shooting him, Eren rose an eyebrow before rolling his eyes. Mikasa huffed, crossing her eyes with a subtle hue of red on her cheeks, complimenting her dark lipstick. “I am not staring,” she mumbled. “Shut up, Eren.” She looked away from her subject of interest but continued shooting small glances.

Eren sighed, running his hand through his hair. He was always one of the witnesses of his best friend slash sister being meek around her crush. At first, he was teasing her because not going to lie, Mikasa’s crush is a pretty person but as their years in college made them juniors, Eren will be the reckless idiot that he is (courtesy of Armin) and set Mikasa up. But he liked to live his life out first — Mikasa will probably curse him with that spellbook she bought from the antique bookshop they encountered in their little exploration back when they were first-years. “Mikasa, why don’t you take the chance and confess to her? It’s not going to be the end of the world.”

“If she rejects me? What then?”

“Then that’s the next problem that you will have to face.” The brown-haired boy turned back to his essay. He stared at his laptop screen blankly before spewing out curses. “Now, I forgot what to write next! Damn it.” He picked up his iced coffee and drank from the metal straw as his life depended on it.

Mikasa rolled her eyes at her best friend’s first statement. “Gee, thanks for the advice. It was very much appreciated.”

“Glad to be of help.”

There was a thud on their table that made the two look up from their respective activities. Eren had a scowl on his face because for the nth time this day, he was interrupted from finishing his essay (for fuck’s sake, he doesn’t want to fail Ackerman’s class). Mikasa blinked from scrolling through her crush’s Twitter account (the last post she wrote was about how Levi Ackerman, Mikasa’s relative and everyone’s Anthropology professor) and fixed her attention on their blonde friend, Armin. He looked too bright after a round of morning classes, something that Eren doesn’t comprehend. The blue-eyed young man has always been the rational and genius third of their little group. There wasn’t a time where Armin’s advice got a situation to erupt in flames. It was either the situation became an inferno instead (Eren) or nobody had the guts to do it (Mikasa).

“Hey, guys!” Armin greeted, arranging his side of the table, meticulously placing each component of his lunch in front of him. “How were your morning classes?”

“Shit,” Eren spat out.

“Of course, it is.”

“They were alright,” Mikasa shrugged.

“Figured.” Armin glanced at his friend’s sides of the table, nodding at Mikasa’s balanced lunch while blankly staring at Eren’s laptop. The device should’ve been a good tray of lunch. “I thought you were eating lunch, Eren? That’s what you said in your text.”

“Can’t,” the brown-haired boy huffed. He gestured at his iced coffee without taking his eyes off the laptop. “I guess, this counts as my lunch.”

“When’s that essay due?”

“In about,” Eren looked at the time on his laptop, “three hours. Ackerman is my first period later. That fucking terror professor has no mercy when it comes to this. Can he just piss off for once? Mikasa, do you even tell him to get laid? Because I think that would solve his attitude. I swear to God, he’s getting more pissed every damn day.”

“Wow, I guess getting my short, grumpy, middle-aged uncle to start his sex life will be a nice conversation starter,” Mikasa drawled, half-lidded, bored eyes reading every tweet her crush has posted for the entire week. Mikasa couldn’t help but smile at one post about a new movie her crush just watched, saying that it was now a new favorite. She was tempted to give a heart on every single post but that would it weird because they never followed each other despite the small interactions they shared in between classes. With a sigh, she looked up, only to be met with Eren’s unamused stare. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, “What? Do you think that would work, Eren? Levi is probably a virgin his whole life and will continue his record until he’s all shriveled up.” Eren blanched at the image. “Just finish your homework and stop complaining.”

“I’m trying!”

“You’re not trying hard enough, that’s for sure. If you just started that essay the day he assigned it to your class, you would have finished it way before the deadline.”

Eren pointed at Mikasa with narrowed eyes. “Don’t even go there, Mikasa. I have a life aside from being a sleep-deprived college student.”

“I mean, she’s got a point, Eren.” Armin immediately rose his hands in defense when Eren shifted his glare from the black-haired young woman to him. “You always tend to procrastinate in the most impeccable timing that we sometimes have to remind you of your backlogs. And now, here you are, doing things last minute when you could’ve prevented the rush by doing it immediately.”

“Thanks for slapping the reality to my face, you two,” Eren dryly replied, going back to his essay for the final time. “And by the way, Armin, give Mikasa some solid advice that she will finally follow because she’s making googly eyes at Miss Pretty two tables from us a couple of minutes before you arrived. You know, the love of her life?”

Armin roamed his eyes in the lunch hall and sure enough, there was Mikasa’s goddess sitting with her group of friends. There was that brown-haired girl that was dubbed as the Potato Girl for eating mashed potatoes during Ackerman’s class (the professor told the class his rules of no eating or going out of the room while he’s discussing the moment the girl took a spoonful of her snack). A young man with a buzz cut snorting at what the brown-haired girl said. Armin remembered sharing a class with him. He never got the chance to introduce himself because the young man was sleeping throughout the lecture. There was usually a fourth person in the little group but it seems like he was running late or already in his class. That person was Eren’s sworn frenemy, the reason for that relationship was unknown to this day.

The three people at the table all stood up, the brown-haired girl and the taller young man leading the way. Armin instantly had an idea.

“Hey, [Name]!”

Mikasa nearly had whiplash from turning her head to Armin. “Armin?!” she hissed under her breath, face becoming hotter when you looked at their table, a bright smile lighting up your face. You called your friends, telling them to go on ahead without you, to which they nodded before walking towards the trio’s table. Her brain wasn’t processing the moment you lifted a hand to wave at whoever you were smiling at. Mikasa wished it was her. “Fuck,” she whispered, registering how cute you look. You donned a salmon pink plaid sundress and a white cardigan, matching with the bubblegum pink locks you let down. Her heart was hammering a thousand miles per second and there was no hope of stopping it.

“Hi, Armin,” you replied, stopping a few feet from Mikasa, who looked away from you to fix her wide-eyed stare on her empty plate.

“I was just going to ask if you already have a partner in our Molecular Biology lab?” The blue-eyed young man then turned to Mikasa and Eren. “I’m in the same class as her this year.”

“As if calling her here wasn’t that obvious,” Eren murmured, still typing out his essay.

“I don’t need your dry remarks right now, Eren, don’t want to ruin the atmosphere. So, [Name], you have a partner?”

You shook your head. “I think not. It would be great if we could be partners though. I need a break from the people I’ve been partnered with throughout college.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile. It was true, though. Most of the grouping during your first years of college were all set up by the teachers so the students really had no say on the matter at hand. Even Armin was exposed to a variety of students, most of them being too slacking to participate or too overbearing with their suggestions that they have no plans of doing. He nodded with a smile, “I’ll be sending an email to Professor Zoe about this and we’re done.” He glanced behind you, noticing that your two friends weren’t there anymore. “I’m sorry for holding you up. I’m pretty sure you have a class after lunch. See you around?”

You waved him off. “It’s fine, I told them to go ahead since Sasha has a class scheduled right after lunch and Connie had to nap in his dorm. And I don’t have any class the whole afternoon, except for an online session so yeah, see you around, Armin.” You acknowledge Eren with a nod, to which he responded with a cool expression (as if his mind wasn’t a mess from the cramming), and gave a soft smile to Mikasa, “Bye, Mikasa.” And you were off to your dorm, leaving behind two amused men and an awestruck Mikasa.

The black-haired young woman was hyperventilating the moment you disappeared from the lunch hall, hands clenched on top of her black shorts. She regretted wearing a thin, long-sleeved striped sweater under her black shirt because it was so fucking hot after that encounter. Her entire body was vibrating with too many emotions all at once, short-circuiting until she became a heap of flustered mess in front of her best friends. “Oh, my God,” she muttered like a prayer. She definitely needed one after seeing you all pretty in pink. It was too much for her soul because you two are a perfect match this time. Her grommet belt and choker were not helping because she couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Mikasa, breathe,” Armin reminded beside her. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Once she regained her composure, Mikasa realized she probably looked like a gaping fish. “Oh, my God! I’m so sure that this time, she thinks I’m weird. My name is the only one she mentioned aside from Armin which is saying something because she’s classmates with him. But why did she say goodbye to me? Oh, my God, she’s giving me so many butterflies right now.”

“Your gay is showing,” Eren pointed out calmly.

“Eren, not the time,” Armin murmured, hovering his hands over Mikasa’s back.

“Just wanted to alleviate the tense atmosphere. No need to get so worked up.”

“But, Mikasa, your feelings for her are showing.”

Eren clapped his hands, pointing a finger at Armin. “That, my friend, is a genius observation.”

Ignoring the green-eyed man, Armin continued, “I think it’s time you confess to her. Three years is a pretty long time pining for a person. In the end, her knowing your feelings will be inevitable. That is if you have no plans in letting her know.”

“Of course, I want her to know,” Mikasa murmured, fiddling with the sleeves of her striped long-sleeves.

“I heard that there’s a party this Saturday in Reiner’s frat,” Eren told them, meeting both of his friends’ eyes over the top of his laptop screen. “We’re in the same football team with Jean. The horseface is a friend of your girl,” he nodded at Mikasa, who erupted in a sputter of her crush not being her girl, “okay, not your girl — yet. As I was saying, [Name] is good friends with Jean and if Jean is there, Miss Pretty in Pink will be, too. That’s your chance to ask her out, Mikasa.” He met the blinking gray eyes of his best friend. “The question is, are you up for that?”

“You were staring at her so hard at lunch again.”

You looked up from your book to acknowledge Sasha entering your dorm room after a whole afternoon of packed lectures. The brown-haired young woman was so tired that she immediately plopped on top of her bed on the other side of the room. At first, you didn’t register what she said because you were preoccupied with your book. You chose to indulge the night in a good book because it has been a long time since you’ve done that. With furrowed eyebrows, you asked, “Can you repeat what you said, Sasha?”

Sasha tilted her head to look at you with one eye uncovered by her duvet. Her hair fluttered after puffing out a breath of disbelief. “Oh, don’t pretend that you have no idea, Miss Pretty in Pink.”

“That’s because I didn’t catch what you said,” you replied, gesturing at your novel. “And what’s with that Miss Pretty in Pink nickname? Did some of the students around campus started that?”

“Sort of,” Sasha hummed. She sat up from her bed and took out her phone from her backpack lying on the floor. You watched the whole time she stretched her arm without changing her position on her bed. With her phone in hand, she opened her Twitter account. “Actually, a friend of mine tweeted it, wait, I’m just going to scroll through my Likes tab to find her tweet. Oh, here it is.” Sasha showed you her screen, patiently waiting for you to take the device from her hand to get a closer look. Her hopeful smile turned into a small pout when you made no moves in doing so. “Take my phone and see for yourself.”

You sighed, following her pleas. “It’s probably just someone from the volleyball team. You know how some of them never stopped following me around campus. Can’t they take the hint that they’re not my type?”

“This person is much better than those himbo simps following you around. She’s an amazing person behind that shy exterior of hers.”

You only hummed, blankly staring at your roommate’s phone before your eyes widened in realization. Your eyes skimmed over and over again at the handle, mkackerman, beside the display picture of a short-haired girl in pigtails. It was the girl that managed to capture your attention during your first year at Eldia University. The girl with an air of mystique that the stars are jealous of. You always admired her from afar, appreciating her style each day. But your admiration was getting replaced with something more at the five words she tweeted.

You’re so pretty in pink.

Roses bloomed in your cheeks, complimenting your pink hair the longer you gawked at her short post.

“What?” you breathed out after a full minute of silence.

“Mm-hmm,” Sasha hummed with a smug smile. “And who dyed her hair pink impulsively last weekend?” She intentionally looked at you with sharp eyes, her smile turning into a smirk full of mischief. In actuality, Sasha knew of Mikasa’s crush on you since they were acquainted with each other. It was an embarrassing first meeting between the two, with Sasha latching on a random person’s arm in the station and it turned out to be Mikasa. The two became great friends after that, well, after Mikasa lowered her guard down, leaving her pocket knife safely tucked underneath her checkered skirt. It was Sasha who managed to make Mikasa confess of her undying love for you, the former squealing her heart out in the library. (They were kicked out after that.)

“I don’t know,” you denied. “There could be a couple of people in the campus who thought that spontaneously dyeing their hair pink is an awesome idea.” You threw your hands in the air, giving back Sasha her phone right after.

“Trust me. Mikasa doesn’t have any interest in any other girl other than a special someone I know.”

You chose to ignore her, turning back on the discarded book on top of your covers. The words flew around your mind, aggravating you until you placed the novel on your lap. A defeated sigh came out of your lips. “Okay, let’s go out for some dinner.” You stretched, switching your pajama bottoms for a pair of loose jeans, and leaving your button-down pajama top on. The people in public will never know your top is a part of a pajama set. As you ducked down to roll the bottom of your jeans, you hear Sasha’s bed shuffling. Sitting up, you regarded her with an inquisitive raise of an eyebrow. “Spill it.”

“Oh, alright. Jean told me to bring you to a party.”

You stood up, patting your lap of imaginary dust, placing your things and book inside your tote bag. “Tell him no. I have a written exam coming up and I don’t want to fail one of my majors. He can manage without one person in our friendship group.”

Sasha huffed, mimicking your actions. “This will be the last time!”

“You said that the previous party you pulled me to.” You narrowed your eyes at her. “I couldn’t get up for a whole day because of that party. Don’t forget your wallet.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sasha threw her wallet in her small bag, throwing the strap over her shoulder. “I promise that this will be the last time, I’ll even call Connie for the witness of my pact!” She placed a heartfelt palm over her chest, lifting her chin a little in the air. “I solemnly swear I am … keeping my promise.”

“You hesitated.”

The brown-haired girl giggled sheepishly, scratching the back of her neck. “It’s kind of hard not to continue the quote from Harry Potter. You can’t blame me for that!”

“I’ll think about it, okay?”

“You better because Mikasa will be there.”

You blinked at her statement. “What does this have to do with her?”

Your roommate looped her arm with yours, pulling you in the direction of the elevators. “Because,” it sounded like she was talking to a child, “you were staring at her earlier during lunch period. I understand that because Mikasa looks so good every second of the day but there was something different about the way you’re staring at her.” She tapped her finger on her chin. “Let me see, there’s some pizzaz there.”

“The pizzaz you’re talking about is me admiring her make-up — nothing more.”

“Whatever you say,” came Sasha’s sing-song voice. “I will be the first one who will say ‘I told you so’ to your face when you two start dating.”

The night of the party was not as bizarre as you thought.

Sure, there were people having shots in the living room but there weren’t any extreme scenarios lying around unlike some of the parties Connie and Jean went to. It was mostly catching up with old friends or making connections with strangers by ranting about the education system of your university. All in all, it was a fun night, yet here you are, holding your cup of beer with two hands as you craned your neck to get a glimpse of Sasha. Your roommate disappeared as you turned to get a shot, leaving a confused you behind. To think you specifically asked Sasha to be by your side throughout the night. You cursed in your head, you being reliant on the presence of others surfacing. Your stress made you tip your head back, downing your drink in a go.

Without anything to do, you leaned back on the wall. Mind hazy, eyes glassy, you searched the living room for a spunky brown-haired girl that you were supposed to be buddies with. Instead of Sasha, you met gazes with a girl with stars for her eyes. She was equally mesmerized as she was staring straight at you. Everything became silent as your heartbeat resonated with hers. She was beautiful in her all-black outfit — a leather pencil skirt over fishnet stockings, cropped tank top, and combat boots. The two of you are contrasting with one another; her lipstick so dark whilst yours shone a pretty coral, her hair framing her face in a midnight pixie cut whilst yours were in pink waves cascading down, her entire appearance blending in the background whilst you were a beacon with your coordinating soft outfit.

God damn it, Sasha was right.

You are definitely falling in love with Mikasa Ackerman.

Mikasa who you saw reading tarot cards of her blonde friend. Mikasa who you bumped into during the opening ceremony two years ago. Mikasa who you discovered to have an affinity for electric guitars when you stumbled in one of the auditoriums, her department’s band having an audition. Mikasa who never meets your gaze because you make her nervous at how effortless you carry yourself.

But tonight, she never looked away from you, her eyes having an adoring yet determined shine.

She stopped in front of you, mere inches separating you two. You looked up at her, her combat boots making her taller than she already is. You saw her eyes flick to your lips, your breath hitching at the thought of having her dark lipstick on any part of your body. With a careful tilt of her head, Mikasa ducked her head a little to fully meet your eyes face to face. “I saw you’re alone,” her voice is still soft-spoken as if she was afraid that she was scaring you. It might be because of the liquid and verbal courage she got from drinking and listening to her best friends because Mikasa had no plans of letting you go tonight. “I thought you needed company.”

A breath came out of your lips, your proximity making Mikasa feel it. “Uhm, if it’s you, I don’t see why not?”

A large smile brightened Mikasa’s face before it dimmed as she lowered her gaze to your lips once more. “I’ve been waiting three years for this.”

Maybe your mind was too hazy with alcohol or it could be because you accepted your feelings for the black-haired girl, so you whispered, lips brushing against hers in the most addicting way possible, “Just kiss me, Mikasa.”

Her lips softly moved against yours in a slow dance, the inches separating you disappearing as Mikasa wrapped an arm around your waist. You lift a hand to cup her jaw, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and to brush your tongue with hers. You felt her shiver, biting your lower lip to make you open up more, with your whimpers tingling her hearing. Mikasa pulled away, trailing firm kisses on the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. Seeing the black kiss mark on your skin, she smiled and placed fluttering kisses on your neck up to your cheek. Opening your eyes, the silver grays in front of you have never been so beautiful. You returned the favor of placing kiss marks. You stood on your tiptoes, feeling Mikasa’s hand steadying you, and left a coral pink mark on the corner of her mouth.

Mikasa dipped her head, placing her lips close to your ear.

“I want to slow dance with you,” she sung to your ear. “I know all the other boys are tough and smooth and I got the blues. I want to slow dance with you.” Mikasa hid a small smile at your flustered expression. “So can I be your vampire queen, Bonnie?”

The moment you said yes, there was a shout in the crowds. “Hell yeah, your plan worked, Eren, Armin!”

You and Mikasa stared at each other with wide eyes before laughing.

“Let’s go ditch this party.”

“Thought you’d never ask, Bonnie.”

#attack on titan #aot #mikasa #Mikasa Ackerman #mikasa x reader #mikasa ackerman x reader #mikasa ackerman x you #aot x reader #snk x reader #snk imagines #snk anime #goth!mikasa #i am a sucker for this dynamic #attack on titan x reader

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gusu-emilu · 3 years

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miscellaneous MDZS/CQL fic recs (AO3)

broken into sections: Character Study (-esque), Wangxian, Jiang Cheng ships, Yi City (or Yi City-adjacent), Humor/Crack, and Other

Character Study (-esque)

Wei Wuxian

my eyes got used to the darkness by @curiosity-killed (M, Sunshot Campaign era, 4.4k): The funny thing, the thing that makes his lips curl in a grin and his hands shake with laughter, is that all these cultivators with their lofty principles and noble ambitions can’t even notice the ghost among them. Sure, they shiver at his presence and flinch from his cold hands, but not one of them puts it together. Lan Wangji chases him with healing music and Nie Mingjue frowns solemnly at his dancing corpses—and he laughs and laughs and laughs because they just don’t get it. Emilu's commentary: CW for mild body horror.

Jiang Cheng

in our respective ways by @veliseraptor (T, Sunshot Campaign era, 5.7k): Jiang Cheng has his golden core back. But he seems to have lost Wei Wuxian.

You Know I've Fallen, but I Know How High by villainais (M, Post-WWX's death, 2.7k): Jiang Cheng loses both of his siblings in Nightless City. Minutes apart. He trudges home to Yunmeng with one body, holds a private funeral with a single coffin, and allows himself to wear his mourning robes for ten days—permits himself not a single day more. He is still too young and inexperienced, an unfledged boy to the cultivation world, and he is rebuilding Lotus Pier on his own. He will not gift the other sect leaders the satisfaction of seeing him vulnerable. Propriety be damned. Hanguang-jun emerges from his seclusion wearing white. He does not stop.

Nie Huaisang

it deepens like a coastal shelf by @wolffyluna (M, Post-WWX's death, 21.6k): When Nie Huaisang meets Mo Xuanyu, he realises two things quickly. One, this kid is so doomed. Two, this kid would be a great unwitting spy in his plans to bring down Jin Guangyao. It would be so easy to get into Mo Xuanyu's confidences, and so easy to get him to tell him anything he needs. ...only thing is, that wouldn't be very good for Mo Xuanyu's life expectancy. But he'll do it anyway, if it helps him avenge his brother. A fic about man handing on misery to man, the parallels and cycles in the relationships between Jin Guangyao and Nie Huaisang and Mo Xuanyu, and the lengths these characters will go to meet their goals and if there are lines they won't cross.

Lan Xichen

an old man in dried mouths by @tenacious-minds (T, Post-Canon, 3.3k): Xichen thinks. The tea had always stained the crockery red. Emilu's commentary: Lan Xichen and Jin Ling talk about Jin Guangyao.

can you be a quiet man? by @basket-of-loquats (Unrated, Post-Canon, 70.7k+) But something inside him snapped at Guanyin Temple-- and Lan Wangji watched it happen, saw the exact moment that Lan Xichen went from broken to shattered, when he buried his sword into Jin Guangyao’s chest, when his sworn brother stared up at him with wide eyes, blood dripping from his mouth, when he pulled himself closer and closer and closer-- When he whispered "Why don’t you die with me?", and Lan Xichen hadn’t argued. Emilu's commentary: Lan Xichen / therapy with a side of Wangxian.

Wen Ning

breathless (but i'll pretend to breathe for you) by swordsainted (T, Burial Mounds Settlement era, 4.1k): Wei Wuxian is silent for a long minute, and then he looks at Wen Ning, something raw and open and hurting behind his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says again, softer this time, and Wen Ning shakes his head, still smiling. “You’ve protected everyone. How could I hate you for that?”

Mo Xuanyu

stand at the pit's mouth by @eldritch-elrics (M, MXY's death, 9.3k): The dreams and regrets of a man on the edge of oblivion. Emilu's commentary: Surrealist/absurdist screenplay.

Wangxian

I would wait for a thousand years by bleuett (T, Immortality Post-Canon, 10.4k): During the worst of winter, a traveler comes to stay at Lan Wangji's inn. He wears a red ribbon in his hair. “Do you see the rabbit?” Wei Ying asks and points at the moon. “That’s the moon rabbit, he helps make Chang’e more immortality elixir. He keeps Chang’e company.” “I do not wish the rabbit for company,” Lan Wangji says tightly. “You are the one I want by my side.” “And I’m here, Lan Zhan. If you go to the moon, I’ll follow you, I’ll always be here now.” Emilu's commentary: Lan Wangji meets Wei Wuxian centuries later and does not remember the past. There is also an excellent podfic by @forgotten-envies

Look Not With The Eyes by Spodumene (G, Post-Canon, 28.1k): Wei Wuxian returns from his travels to join Lan Wangji on a routine night hunt, but when things take an unexpected turn, Wei Wuxian will have to fight for what he's really looking for. Emilu's commentary: Case fic.

All In A Good Time by bigboobedcanuck (E, Post-Canon, 8k): Lan Zhan is struck by a curse that brings him intense physical pain unless he's being touched. He is stoic and tries to hide his suffering. Wei Wuxian is worried and protective. Perhaps they will finally admit their feelings?

Across a Lake of Glass by Zizzani (E, Figure Skating AU, 92.2k+): Each year, Gusu Skating Club runs a camp for only the most elite athletes of each region. This year brings a new skater from the Yunmeng Club who wears skates lined with red and a smile made for war. He skates like a demon. Figure skating au featuring lots of healthy rivalry, pre and post-competition bonding, and an inexplicable fall from grace through the eyes of the media.

Jiang Cheng Ships

Chengqing

display my heart for you to see by @souridealist (M, Post-Canon Wen Qing Lives AU, 5.5k): Jiang Cheng has his own secrets. Some of them are part of the unburied past; some of them are about how long it's been since anyone has touched him.

while I'm in this body by @souridealist (E, Post-Lotus Pier Massacre, 3.9k): For just a few minutes, alone in her office, Wen Qing allows her self-control to slip enough to cry. It's just her luck that that's when Jiang Cheng comes looking for her. Emilu's commentary: Femdom.

Chengning

it may be that it doesn't matter by @wildehacked (T, Post-Canon, 6.6k) “Are you crying?” Jiang Wanyin asks him, and Wen Ning frowns. Pats his cheek with one hand. “No.” Emilu's commentary: Holy Grail of Chengning.

Whatever It Is by morau (E, Post-Canon, 20.5k): It starts, as with a lot of things, with a very poorly thought out prank, courtesy of Wei Wuxian. Emilu's commentary: A LOT of sex and even more emotions lol

won't run away (we're here to stay) by @qi-ling (T, Post-Canon, 3.5k): "Please don't feel any pressure to accept this, and you can take as much time as you need to think about it." It's a set of robes, in shades of deep purple, complete with leather bracers. Cut in a different style than that of the disciples or household staff, closer to the understated robes Wen Ning typically wears. He reaches out to feel the fabric. His deadened nerves can't sense delicate textures well, but even he can tell it's of a quality on par to Wanyin's own wardrobe. This is startling enough coming from Jiang Wanyin, but then Wen Ning notices the belt. In particular, the silver bell in the shape of a lotus affixed to it. Only recognized members of the Jiang sect may wear the clarity bell. Or, Jiang Cheng has an invitation for Wen Ning.

Zhancheng

By Proxy by @veliseraptor (E, Post-WWX's death, 12k): Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji, looking for comfort in all the wrong places. Emilu's commentary: Hate sex that made me cry

Yi City (or Yi City-adjacent)

Songxuexiao

Heaven Has A Road But No One Walks It by @silvysartfulness (M, Post-Yi City arc Canon Divergence, 123k+): One of the most complex spells of demonic cultivation the world has seen is brought to fruition, and Xiao Xingchen draws his first shaking breaths in over seven years. This, it turns out, is only the start of his problems. Emilu's commentary: Pretty sure everyone already knows about Silvy's happy songxuexiao road trip fic but it has to be here.

Xue Yang & Lan Xichen

Hours On Empty series by @lady-of-the-lotus (M to E, Post-Canon, 57.8k+): AU where Wei Wuxian never came to Yi City and Xue Yang is still running around post-canon disguised as Xiao Xingchen. "Fractured Ice" - Xue Yang whisks a nihilistic Lan Xichen off on a murder roadtrip to raise Xiao Xingchen and Meng Yao from the grave. Because that will solve all of their problems, right? "Control" - "Fractured Ice" retold from Xue Yang's pov. "A Thousand Miles In Its Light" - Alternate ending to "Fractured Ice" and "Control"

Songxiao with Xuexiao Flashbacks

Nothing Beside Remains by @eldritch-elrics (T, Post-Yi City arc Canon Divergence, 21.9k): And Xiao Xingchen is dressed in dark clothing that is not his, and his sight is all of a sudden sharp in a way that it has never been before, and Xue Yang is not here. “He wouldn’t,” he breathes. “No, he wouldn’t do that. He’s too—” “He’s too what?” Wei Wuxian steps a foot closer, face hard-set. “Too cruel? Or too kind?” Or: Xue Yang uses the Sacrifice Summon on Xiao Xingchen. Xiao Xingchen lives with the consequences.

Humor/Crack

The Hangover: A pre-wedding Dramedy series by natcat5 (M, Modern AU, 51.6k): It is not a bachelor party. That was made clear on all the invitations. It is a congratulatory get together for Jin Zixuan, attended by his family, the family of the bride, and the young masters of the other two families in their circle. The gathering is not to go later than midnight, everyone must drink in moderation, and no one is allowed to be hungover tomorrow. Wei Wuxian had promised Yanli, three fingers in the air. Jiang Cheng had rolled his eyes, but promised as well. Saturday morning, Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng wake up alone in a hotel room, missing shoes, phones, and almost all their memories of what in the world happened last night. Also missing: Wei Wuxian, brother of the bride, Lan Wangji, esteemed guest, Lan Xichen, esteemed guest, Jin Zixun, cousin of the groom, Jin Guangyao, brother and best-man, Jin Zixuan, THE GROOM, who is due at his bride-to-be's house in six hours. That's plenty of time to find everyone...right?

Jiang Cheng Loves Jar Jar Bombad Mui by @lady-of-the-lotus (G, Post-Canon, 1.7k) Jar Jar Binks washes up on the shores of Lotus Pier. Can he win the lonely Jiang Cheng's proud heart? Neb neb answer is yesa. Emilu's commentary: There's also a podfic by @aowyn. Yes, with a Jar Jar voice.

Other

Nie Huaisang & Wen Ning

By Name by nirejseki (G, Post-Canon, 1.3k): After the traumatic events in the now-collapsed temple, Wen Ning lingered behind and unexpectedly saw Nie Huaisang, the undisputed victor of an all-around terrible evening, sitting on the steps of the temple, looking exhausted and miserable, as if he’d won nothing at all. Wen Ning found himself drifting over to him.

Jiang Yanli & Nie Mingjue

utility by magicites (G, Arranged Marriage AU, 2.3k): Jiang Yanli and Nie Mingjue's wedding is a political one — a gesture of unity between their Sects. A way for her parents to finally get some use out of the plain-faced sham of a cultivator they call a daughter. “Jiang-guniang,” Nie Mingjue says, and the formality in such a setting as intimate as their wedding chambers startles her, “I don’t wish to bed you. Or any other woman, for that matter. It isn’t fair for you to live alone because of my own preferences.” She rests her hand on his arm, cool relief flooding her body like water on a summer afternoon. “If it helps, I don’t feel desire for men,” she whispers.

Jin Guangyao / Nie Huaisang

Pulling Strings by @eldritch-elrics (E, Post-WWX's death, 5k): Nie Huaisang, quite drunk, turns up at Jin Guangyao’s door one night with an unexpected request. Emilu's commentary: Nie Huaisang knows Jin Guangyao killed Nie Mingjue. This interaction is more symbolic than anything else...

#mdzs #cql #the untamed #mdzs fanfiction #cql fanfiction #the untamed fanfiction #mdzs fanfic #cql fanfic #the untamed fanfic #fic recs #emilu talks #emilu creations

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meltingheartsandcores · 3 years

Text

I’m tired, I should be studying, instead I wrote this little ficlet that should probably be the prologue to an actual fic that I might get around to writing (fingers crossed).

We have Immortals, modern sects, and porn. Not entirely sure how else to explain it except none of those are explicit, lol.

Hope you enjoy the product of my mildly sleep deprieved brain!

Being invited to have tea with Zewu-Jun was a high honor, despite the immortal seemingly trying to downplay it as much as he possibly could. However, Nie Mingjue isn’t entirely sure what he’s done to earn the honor. It’s been a long time since either Twin Jade was the Sect Leader, Nie Mingjue has spoken with the current Sect Leader Lan Tengfei infrequently over the years when their sect business intermingled or there was a conference, but he wasn’t particularly close to the Lan Sect. And the Twin Jades enjoy their privacy. Enough so that there’s not a single photograph of either of them out there.

So it was very startingly to get the invitation.

Zewu-Jun treating him like an equal and friend is equally startling.

Somehow, not the most startling thing to happen on the trip. No, that would be the portrait of Wei Wuxian. Nie Huaisang’s husband. He thinks. Nie Mingjue isn’t actually sure if they’re married or just act like it. Although, knowing them, that’s how they want everyone to think.

Still, the clearly very old portrait of Wei Wuxian was a little disturbing. Especially with the name below being Wei Wuxian’s, correct characters and all. Even more so after Zewu-Jun noticed him staring at it and decides to give him some utterly terrible information.

“My brother’s husband, from his first life.” Oh. It was that Wei Wuxian. Yiling Lazou Wei Wuxian.

How is this getting worse?

“Oh?” Because screaming was undignified and not something to be done in front of immortals. Later. In his car. And then he’s calling Nie Huaisang to yell at him because of course his brother just had to shake up with the immortals husband. Maybe. Maybe it’s just a massive coincidence. (Nie Mingjue’s luck is never good enough for coincidences.)

“Yes, after the resurrection his core was never strong enough to cultivate immortality. When Wangji realized it, he tried to stop his own cultivation, but it was too late. Wuxian lasted nearly two hundred years, and not a day goes by that Wangji doesn’t miss him.” Oh, Zewu-Jun was sad. Nothing Nie Mingjue can say will make him not sad. In fact, he’s pretty sure anything close to the truth of what Wei Wuxian is doing now will just upset him. “The juniors find it, romantic, that he’s decided to wait for Wuxian to be reincarnated.”

Well. It does sound romantic.

But Zewu-Jun’s face, he’s irritated and upset, so clearly he doesn’t agree with the juniors. It sounds romantic, but the reality, “He must be very lonely.” Nie Mingjue guesses.

Zewu-Jun nods, “We have each other, but we were the only ones from our generation to cultivate immortality. There are many people we miss, and as time seperates us further from the present, it’s harder to connect with the new disciples.” Zewu-Jun admits. Nie Mingjue nods, he’s never considered that. How isolating it must be to have lived so long. The Nie clan, doesn’t really get immortals. Honestly, they’re lucky if they hit a hundred. Most top out at eighty due to their cultivation style.

“How would he know, that he’s been reincarnated? I mean, I think Huaisang’s said some things about faces getting reused due to limited genetics and the growing population.” Actually Wei Wuxian said that. Something to that effect at least. Nie Huaisang was better with people and manipulating situations. He does really well running the business side of the Nie Sect. Even if he refuses to accept any credit.

Zewu-Jun smiles a little sadly, “Well, I suppose we’ll know when we see him. Pictures work well enough, as we’re learning. We’ve found a few people who we knew in our first lives reincarnated.”

Nie Mingjue nods, he should tell Zewu-Jun. He really should. Maybe it’s just a look alike. Unlikely. Nie Mingjue’s never that lucky. Nie Mingjue’s started to pull his phone out of his pocket before remembering his manners and asking while holding it in front of himself, “Uh, do you mind if I?” Zewu-Jun furrows his brow but gestures for him to continue. Nie Mingjue nods and opens his phone, scrolling through the pictures Nie Huaisang had sent him. Not for the first time, he really wished Nie Huaisang wouldn’t send so many half-naked or fully-naked pictures of Wei Wuxian to him. Thankfully, it was not all Nie Huaisang sent to him, so he did come across a picture of a fully dressed Wei Wuxian. Nie Huaisang was also there, but they weren’t doing anything. Nie Huaisang had snapped it while they were out walking and Nie Mingjue had wanted to know where the fuck Nie Huaisang had gone at one am. “Just, uh, he seemed familiar.” Nie Mingjue explains, turning the phone around to show Zewu-Jun.

Zewu-Jun blinks then reaches out, hesitating a moment before taking Nie Mingjue’s phone. “That. Is definitely Wei Wuxian.” Zewu-Jun states, and then he starts touching the screen, which makes Nie Mingjue very nervous and uncomfortable. Because Nie Huaisang sends him very questionable pictures. Nie Mingjue is happy his brother is comfortable with his body, he just wishes he wouldn’t text him explicit pictures of his maybe-boyfriend that sometimes also have him naked in them. Nie Huaisang has always like pushing Nie Mingjue’s boundaries, and honestly, Nie Mingjue would rather he be pushing this one than certain other ones. Still. It makes him nervous when Zewu-Jun taps his phone and his eyes blow wide.

Yeah. That’s not good.

Zewu-Jun blinks and regains his composure, handing the phone back, “May I ask how you know him?”

“...How honest do you want me to be?” Nie Mingjue asks, shutting off his phone and pocketing it without looking at whatever Zewu-Jun saw. He’d like to be able to keep looking Zewu-Jun in the eye for this conversation.

Zewu-Jun raises an eyebrow, almost admonishingly, “As honest as possible. You don’t seem to type to beat around the bush.”

He wasn’t. He just really didn’t want to tell Zewu-Jun what Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian get up to.

“He works with my brother.” Nie Mingjue states vaguely, earning another raised eyebrow from Zewu-Jun.

“Is he a cultivator?”

“Used to be. He had a big falling out with the Jiang a few years back and kind of stopped.” Nie Mingjue shrugs, “He doesn’t talk about it.” All he knew about it was rumour. And the Lans don’t do rumours.

“Ah. So what work does he do with Huaisang?”

...Did he tell Zewu-Jun his brothers name? Nie Huaisang is almost as unknown to the world as the Twin Jades. Purposefully so. The Nie have always been rather private with their members, but when Nie Huaisang was old enough to have an opinion on a public presence and vehemently deny having one, nothing about him was released to the public. Not even other cultivation sects as Nie Huaisang wasn’t a practicing cultivator. He trained. As he was supposed to. But he didn’t do any night hunts. He had no connection to Nie Mingjue on the business end of the Sect either.

So, what?

“How do you know his name?” Nie Mingjue asks, making Zewu-Jun blink in plain confusion. “Huaisang’s name isn’t known to anyone outside the Nie sect. Not in connection to me.” Nie Mingjue states, now a little angry. Did someone tell Zewu-Jun? Who? How? Why would he even care about Huaisang?

“He’s in your phone.” Zewu-Jun states simply.

And that’d be a fine answer.

If Nie Huaisang was ‘Huaisang’ in his phone.

But he wasn’t.

He was Reuben. Courtesy of Wei Wuxian. (Wei Wuxian was ‘Stitch’, no Nie Mingjue didn’t understand the names and he didn’t really want to. He’s mostly worried it’s a weird sex thing and he prefers to be as ignorant as possible in that aspect.)

“I thought Lan’s don’t lie.” Although, Zewu-Jun wasn’t, technically, lying.

But he doesn’t deny it. “Could we sit?” Zewu-Jun suggests, gesturing to the table that had been set up for them. Nie Mingjue nods and sits opposite to Zewu-Jun, pouring them some tea. “I apologize for the deception, however I’ve never actually done this before.” He better not be suggesting what Nie Mingjue thinks he’s suggesting. “In the recent past, when we’ve discovered our reincarnated friends, we’ve more or less left them alone.” Oh. Good. He’s not being propositioned.

Wait.

What?

Nie Mingjue blinks, now thoroughly caught off guard, “Um. What.”

Zewu-Jun smiles gently, understandingly, “Due to certain aspects of your previous life, I felt the need to check in on you, make sure you were doing well. I, well, I assumed your family was the same. Hence, why I know Huaisang’s name despite you keeping him rather off the grid.”

“He’s not off the grid. He just has no public connection to me.” Nie Huaisang was almost constantly online. Especially with his ‘job’.

“Ah. So, what work does he and Wei Wuxian do?” Zewu-Jun asks before taking a drink of his tea.

Nie Mingjue considers what he knows about the Lan, and then realizes he really doesn’t want to have this conversation. Luckily for him (or unluckily most of the time), he can just show Zewu-Jun on his phone. “Um, you might want to put that down.” Nie Mingjue suggests, pulling out his phone and turning it on, quickly going to the app Nie Huaisang downloaded on his phone that he never goes on, and opens it up to Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian’s account. Sliding it across the table as Zewu-Jun dubiously puts down his teacup.

Zewu-Jun blinks, then sighs, “I can’t say, I’m particularly surprised with Wei Wuxian’s career choice.”

“...Seriously.”

“You did not hear them. I’m aware of the publics perception of us, particularly Wangji, but trust me. He’s not nearly as prudish as people seem to think.” Zewu-Jun states, sliding the phone back with a rueful smile and a familiar look.

Nie Mingjue exits out of the app before shutting off and pocketing his phone. He knew that look. The look of an elder brother who really didn’t need to know so much about their younger brother’s sex life. He knew that look well. “Right. Speaking of Hanguang-Jun, how would he react?”

Zewu-Jun purses his lips. “I can’t say he’ll be particularly favourable. Wangji’s always been quite, possessive.”

“Wei Wuxian is persuasive. I’m kind of curious as to who would falter first.” Nie Mingjue snorts, picking up his own cup of tea. It was good tea.

Zewu-Jun’s eyebrows were furrowed, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Wuxian’s not going give up his livelyhood. He enjoys it. Even if he falls back in love with Hanguang-Jun, I’m not sure he’ll quit it.” Nie Mingjue states, shaking his head. It was an understatement. Wei Wuxian loves his job. As he so often gushes. Nie Mingjue’s honestly just happy Wei Wuxian doesn’t give him details.

Zewu-Jun slowly nods, understanding dawning, “You think Wei-gongzi will convince Wangji to do porn.” Zewu-Jun winces, “I, hate that I cannot say it’s out of the realm of possibilities.”

Nie Mingjue snorts and then smirks, “Ah, Zewu-Jun, how about a friendly bet?”

Zewu-Jun’s brows pinch slightly, eye narrowing, before he smirks, “Only if you call me Lan Xichen.”

Ohhhkay. Zewu-Jun had said to at the beginning of their meeting, but Nie Mingjue had honestly kind of ignored it. Immortals are a big deal. But then again. He was about to gamble with one. “Ok, Lan Xichen, why don’t we make a bet in favour of our, brothers.” Nie Mingjue isn’t entirely sure what else to refer to them as. If Nie Huaisang was married, then technically Wei Wuxian would be his brother. If they’re not, he might as well be at this point either way.

“Are Huaisang and Wuxian married?” Lan Xichen cuts in, confused.

“I’m not entirely sure. Maybe. Not important.” Nie Mingjue shakes his head, “If Hanguang-Jun manages to convince Wei Wuxian to quit his work, you win, and if Wei Wuxian manages to convince Hanguang-Jun to do porn, I win.”

Lan Xichen nods, smiling with interest, “And what are we betting?”

Nie Mingjue smirks, this was going to be fun.

#Lan Xichen #Nie Mingjue #implied sangxian #implied previous wangxian #lxc #nmj #cql #The names in Mingjue’s phone are not a sex thing #It’s just the characters from Lilo and Stitch #They’re not that mean to nmj #My writing

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sonnetthebard · 3 years

Text

On Losing One’s Head

Or, in other words, my entry to @shipwreckedcomedy‘s fanfiction contest. I have had a really fun time reading the works of Washington Irving to prep for this, and it’s only made me more excited for this series. Even though I know in a modern adaptation it may be changed I’m sticking to a lot of the facts that Irving gives us about the Headless Horseman. Thank you to everyone on here who gave me ideas/ inspiration/ let me rant to you for a bit while I figured this out. It took a bit longer than I had anticipated, but I’m really happy with it. This is probably so far from canon, but I got a prompt from the wonderful ‘S’ anon on here and I had to write it. Enjoy!

Genre: Comedy/ Fluff/ Mystery/ A Pinch of Angst

Words: 4249

TL;DR: Ichabod Crane tries to unravel a bit of the Headless Horseman’s past in order to try and figure out where his head might be.

TW: Minor bullying, Mentions of war, mentions of PTSD, mentions of decapitation

__________________________________________________________

Ichabod Crane navigated the hallways of the school, eyes trained on his feet. He normally wouldn’t allow himself to walk with such a closed posture- it exposed him for how nervous he was (which was, contrary to popular belief, a more recent development in his personality). This town had put him a bit on edge. This town and his roommate, who was as inexplicable as he was persistent, and happened to be the reason he was allowing himself to walk with such a closed posture. He had a series of questions to ask his roommate at the forefront of his mind, and he’d spent a majority of the day figuring out how to word them so that he didn’t sound completely heartless. He didn’t want anything or anyone distracting him, because the talk he was about to have was very important- well, he thought it was anyways. It was important to him. His roommate seemed like a good person, and he really did want to help him (though it seemed like his roommate was doing more ‘helping’ at the moment than Ichabod was).

Ichabod’s roommate was, of course, the infamous Headless Horseman. It had certainly made his life interesting- especially given that he was only just settling into this new town and his new position. He was just navigating his new life, and now on top of that, he was also trying to find his friend’s head. So far, no luck on that front. He hadn’t had a lot of luck on many fronts. It didn’t seem like his colleagues were particularly fond of him- especially not Douffe Martling or Brom Bones and his cronies. He wasn’t quite sure what it was with Martling other than perhaps a naturally uptight attitude, but he could at least venture a guess on why Brom Bones didn’t like him. It seemed they both had their eyes set on the same woman- which was another front on which Ichabod had not been very lucky. Katrina Van Tassel, the woman his heart had decided to set on, did not seem to reciprocate his affections in the slightest. Mind you Ichabod also found her incredibly hard to read. She was confident and smart, and one could interpret nearly everything she did as flirtatious. But you also got the overwhelming sense when interacting with her that she was not flirting in the slightest.

Ichabod needed to stop distracting himself, he thought, as pleasant of a distraction as Kat was. He was on a roll. He was trying to get back to his room in a timely matter because (and I cannot emphasize this enough) this conversation was important. It was also a conversation that his friend would prefer to keep confidential, so he needed to get back to his room and have it before anyone could decide to tag along. He wasn’t the only person in Sleepy Hollow who wanted to help the Headless Horseman find his head. In fact, he had many supporters. But this particular conversation was delicate. Ichabod intended to ask how precisely his new friend had come about losing his head. Ichabod believed that perhaps even though this head wasn’t the Horseman’s original one, it may be able to help with some of his memories- physical memories, that was. It would likely be a hard conversation, Ichabod considered. Losing one’s head seemed like it would be traumatic. Remembering that feeling wouldn’t be pleasant for his friend. He would eventually need to share the necessary details with those who were intent on helping him and his friend, but perhaps the Horseman might feel slightly more comfortable having the initial conversation privately where he could express his emotions without judgement- if, of course, he had any. It was more of a precaution.

Ichabod found himself so consumed in his thoughts that he neglected to notice a foot extended in front of him. He was looking at his feet. He really should have seen it. But he was in a state not uncommon to him where the world within his head had taken precedence over the world outside of it. Ichabod tumbled to the ground with a thud, and it was not long until a roaring chorus of laughter resounded above him. He did not even need to look up to know precisely who he had encountered and what had happened. He did the courtesy of looking up anyways- though it was probably only feeding their egos to see the embarrassment flush on his face. As Ichabod had suspected, the figures of Brom Bones and his three usual companions Tripp, Cal and Blair loomed above him, their bodies racking with every laugh. Ichabod sighed, fixing his glasses and trying not to pay them much mind. The more upset he got with them and their shenanigans, the more satisfied they would be with their results (which meant that they’d be inclined to throw something else his way). He stood, brushing himself off and starting back on his way. Before he could get very far, though, he felt a strong grip on his arm pulling him back. Even once he had stopped walking, it didn’t let go. It seemed Brom wasn’t through terrorizing him yet.

“Where are you going?” The strapping Brom Bones smirked. It was a smirk Ichabod was all too familiar with, and one that he had very much hoped he wouldn’t be seeing. Brom was holding him up intentionally. He knew Ichabod didn’t want to be there. “You look like you’re in a hurry.”

“Well-” Ichabod started before being cut off.

“You going to try to pick up Katrina?” Tripp teased, pouting and cooing mockingly at the mention of the woman Ichabod had taken a liking took. He sighed as all four men found amusement in that and erupting into laughter again.

“What? No!” Ichabod blushed.

“Ichabod and Kat, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-” Cal and Blair cooed before Brom raised a hand to signal for them to stop.

“That’s enough, guys.” Brom told them, trying not to show how much that bothered him. There was only just a hint of jealousy in his tone, but it was enough for the boys to know they’d gone too far. He seemed to size up Ichabod again, before letting go of Ichabod’s arm. Ichabod sighed in relief, thinking that he was finally free... until Brom wrapped an arm around him in a seemingly friendly gesture, putting on his smug smirk again. Ichabod seized up a bit. He was not too fond of physical contact at the best of times, but especially not from Brom Bones. It took everything in him not to scowl. “So if you’re not going to see Kat... what’s the rush getting out of here?”

“I’m going to have a talk with the Horseman.” Ichabod told him plainly, hoping that was enough to get him out of this. Whatever Brom Bones had against Ichabod, the feeling was entirely mutual.

“But don’t you, like, live with him?” Cal pointed out.

“You could literally talk to him any time.” Tripp nodded.

“Yes, but I’ve spent all day planning this conversation.” Ichabod sighed. There were very few people Ichabod knew who would understand his situation, and these men were most certainly not among them. “I have to do it soon before I forget what I was going to say.”

“It’s just a conversation, man!” Tripp laughed.

“It’s not just any conversation.” Ichabod told him, getting an idea. “It’s about his head.”

“You’re still on that, are you?” Brom rolled his eyes, letting him go. He knew he didn’t need to hold Ichabod there anymore. Not only did Blair, Tripp and Cal have him surrounded, but... now Ichabod felt socially obligated to stay. Brom Bones was a lot smarter than he let on (at least socially). Most bullies were.

“Well... yes. I’d like to help him find it.” Ichabod shrugged.

“Don’t get your hopes up.” Brom warned him in what Ichabod might almost consider to be a genuine tone. He hand a hand through his hair subconsciously, and Blair reached forward once he was done to fix a strand that had fallen in Brom’s face. Brom gave him a clap on the back as a silent ‘thank you’. Ichabod had always found those four men to be strangely close. “Listen, bud... he’s been missing his head a long time.”

“Since before we were born.” Blair added.

“It’s not like you’re just going to waltz in and find it.” Brom sighed. “This head probably isn’t going to know anything.”

“We don’t know that.” Ichabod countered. “We’ve finally got people taking the search for his head seriously, and I think we’re making good progress!”

“Right... you keep telling yourself that.” Brom rolled his eyes. “Alright, guys, let him go.”

“But you said-” Tripp furrowed his brows.

“He’s doing enough damage himself.” Brom sighed. The boys cleared a path for Ichabod, and he meekly started to walk away. He felt oddly embarrassed, or ashamed, about what he was doing. He tried to shake it off, but Brom had successfully gotten under his skin and he knew it. Brom chuckled, almost gloating. “Have fun, dork!”

“Thank you?” Ichabod tried, unsure as to how he was supposed to respond to that.

Ichabod made his way out of the school (but not without a cold glare from Douffe). Perhaps what Brom Bones had said had some merit. His headless friend had been missing his head for a long time. Did Ichabod really think things were magically going to go better this time around? He wasn’t even dealing with the original head. He couldn’t expect to find anything new. But then again... Ichabod himself had also posed a good point. They did seem to be making progress. And how were they supposed to know if his head could ever be found until they tried? No, Brom was wrong. Brom was wrong a lot of the time, but especially about this. He walked down the streets of the town, head down but significantly more aware of his surroundings. He’d learned his lesson- at least for now. His room was within walking distance from the school. In this town, just about everything was within walking distance. He exchanged nods of acknowledgement with a few people on the street, a smile or two. Luckily, he was running into people who knew better than to bother him when he was like this. People like Judy, Rip Jr., Verla, or Matilda. Verla and Matilda probably didn’t want to talk to him anyway. But Judy had given him a nice smile, and it had raised his spirits. It’s funny how small things could do that.

“Ichabod!” A light voice called out from behind him. Ichabod pivoted, recognizing it instantly. For anyone else, Ichabod would have simply waved, continuing on his way. But this wasn’t anyone. This was Katrina. Ichabod smiled softly upon finding that he was right. It was a dopey sort of grin commonly found in people when they saw the person that brightened their lives. “You’re out early!”

“School ended half an hour ago.” Ichabod furrowed his brows, confused by her implication.

“Oh, I know.” Kat clarified. “You usually stay a bit longer, though.”

“Oh.” Ichabod nodded. And that was when it hit him: he had absolutely no idea how to respond to that. He’d always been a little socially awkward- especially when he was under as much pressure as he was with Kat. He bit his lip, trying to think of what to say next. Luckily, Kat took care of that for him.

“Any particular reason you’re out so soon?” Kat asked, finally catching up with him. She kept walking as if silently asking him to walk with her, or maybe telling him it was okay for him to continue on his way. That she would follow. Either way, it was a great comfort to Ichabod.

“I thought of a few questions to ask the Horseman.” Ichabod told her.

“What kinds of questions?” Kat asked. Ichabod could tell she wasn’t teasing him. She was genuinely interested. But there was also an air of amusement to her that was undeniable, and admittedly rather attractive to Ichabod. It made him feel like she genuinely enjoyed his company. A light blush covered his cheeks.

“Well... I was hoping to ask him about how exactly he lost his head.” Ichabod admitted. “See if maybe his history might be able to help us figure out where to look in the present.”

“That’s a really good idea! Maybe this head will know!” Kat hummed in agreement. “I’ve always wondered about what happened... People say he was a Hessian soldier. You know, during the revolution.”

“Yes, I’m familiar with the concept of Hessian soldiers.” Ichabod hummed. “German regiments for hire, if you will, employed by the British to fight in the Revolutionary War. Do you really think he’s a Hessian?”

“That’s what the lore says.” Kat shrugged, smirking.

“All the more reason for me to talk to him about this alone.” Ichabod decided. He blushed again, not having meant to think aloud like that. “Sorry, I-”

“No, it’s okay. You’re right.” Kat assured him. “He’s probably not going to want a lot of people around if you’re talking about... you know, war. It should be just you and him.”

“I’m glad you understand.” Ichabod sighed softly in relief.

“I don’t like to talk about war anyways.” Kat admitted. “I don’t... I mean...”

“I understand.” Ichabod hummed sympathetically. No one liked talking about war. But on top of that, he knew Kat was very against slaughter of any kind. “Have you thought about how to approach it if he has... you know, PTSD?” Kat asked. “It’s pretty common in soldiers, even if this isn’t his original head.”

“I... haven’t.” Ichabod admitted. “I did work out how to ask the in a way that I think will be the least upsetting or offensive.”

“That’s a good first step.” Kat encouraged him. “Just... respect his boundaries. Give him the space and time he needs to answer- if he can answer. Don’t pressure him if he can’t.”

“Right.” Ichabod nodded, taking mental note of those things. “Thank you, Kat.”

“No problem.” Kat smiled softly. It was smiles like those that made appearances in Ichabod’s dreams as he rested his head. She had, Ichabod thought, the most beautiful smile in the world. It was so kind. They approached the inn, and Kat sighed. “Well, this is your stop.”

“It is...” Ichabod chuckled semi-nervously. He stopped, shifting his weight awkwardly on his feet. She had him so nervous that he couldn’t quite stand still.

“Good luck, Ichabod.” Kat smirked. Ichabod blushed. It seemed that nearly everything Katrina did, intentional or not, made him blush.

“Thank you!” Ichabod called after her, watching for a few moments as she continued down the street.

Ichabod sighed, imagining very briefly what their family would look like. He imagined they would be a very handsome family (though the children would get their looks from their mother- he was of the opinion that he was a bit homely). He snapped himself out of it before he could go too far down that rabbit hole. He wondered for a moment if it was weird that he was already thinking that way about a woman he hadn’t even worked up the nerve to ask out. It likely was. But his heart tended pine after things and his mind did no helping, running wild with even the smallest of fantasies. When he was a child, a teacher once told him that his appetite for the fanciful was unsurpassable. He was now rather more a man of reason than he was then, where he was willing to believe just about everything he heard. But his mind did still run wild with whims about more everyday pleasures. Rational joys, like love, romance, and food. Mostly food, until Katrina came along. For a man his size, he had a surprising appetite...

“Hey, Ichabod!” Someone called. Ichabod snapped his head, looking for where it was coming from. Oh. It was Judy again. He waved. “Do you need me to call Lucretia to get you a new key?”

“What?” Ichabod blinked.

“You’ve been standing there for a while.” Judy pointed out. “Did you lose your key?”

“Oh...” Ichabod blushed. He pulled out his keys, holding them up. “I’m fine!”

“Okay! Just wanted to be sure!” Judy chuckled, going back to her own business.

“Thank you!” Ichabod called after her. It was lovely that she cared. He quickly and carefully opened the door to his room. He saw his friend the horseman busy at work taking a tray of what appeared to be either muffins or cupcakes out of a microwave oven he’d been gifted by the family of one of his students. The room smelled wonderful. “Hello...”

“Oh, hey Ichabod!” The Horseman turned, his- or, rather, her (for now)- hair splaying out behind her in a fan-like motion. She gave him a brief smile before busying herself with her work again. Ichabod liked this head on the Horseman. “I hope you don’t mind, but while you were out I thought you might be hungry when you got home, so... I made some carrot cake muffins.”

“I don’t mind at all.” Ichabod sighed contentedly. So long as she didn’t burn the room down, he had no objections to food.

“We just have to let those sit for a bit.” The Horseman muttered, removing the last of the muffins from the pan. “There! I’ve got a cream cheese icing in the fridge for when they cool if you want.”

“Lovely.” Ichabod chuckled.

“How was your day at school?” The Horseman asked.

“Good.” Ichabod told her, sighing and taking a seat on his bed. The mention of school had reminded him of why he had left school so promptly in the first place. She seemed to be in such a good mood... he hated to ruin it. “Would you... I have a few questions.”

“Oh... sure.” The Horseman shrugged, sitting down on the small chaise in the corner of the room. “What is it?”

“I... know this isn’t your body.” Ichabod bit his lip. “But... do you remember anything about it?”

“I... don’t know. I think, a bit.” The Horseman considered.

“Do you think you might remember how you lost it?” Ichabod asked carefully. Well, that wasn’t what he’d planned on saying. He winced. “Your head, I mean. Do you remember how...”

“I... can try to.” The Horseman offered. "I don't know what I'll be able to get, though... I don't have the eyes, ears or mind of the original body"

“You could still find something.” Ichabod reasoned.

“Just give me a moment.” The Horseman nodded, sighing. She closed her eyes for a moment, head in her hands.

Ichabod gave her space and silence to think. Each new head the Horseman donned seemed to unveil a bit more about his personality. He hadn’t thought to ask about any memories before because it didn’t seem entirely logical to assume that any head other than his own would hold them. But... he’d gotten the idea at school today that maybe the body had a few memories of its own. Like a physical memory. It was silly. And it might lead to nothing. But the chance that it might amount to something was too much for Ichabod to pass us. He was a man of science. And with science comes experimentation. It’s how humanity evolves and grows. This was an experiment that might prove fruitless but was still necessary. Because like many experiments, you can never be certain of what you’re going to find until you conduct it. After a moment, the Horseman raised her head and opened her eyes.

“Anything?” Ichabod asked cautiously.

“Not much.” The Horseman shook her head.

“Not much is better than nothing.” Ichabod blinked, pleasantly surprised. “What did you remember?”

“Well... I don’t have anything visual or auditory... because like I said, those are kind of gone...” The Horseman warned him. “But I can remember... I think the body was fighting. I mean, obviously it was on horseback. That’s how it got its name. But... I think it was holding a gun of some sort. Maybe a musket?”

“Interesting... so perhaps you were a soldier...” Ichabod hypothesized. “Anything else?”

“Well... you’re not gonna like this.” The Horseman chuckled nervously. She clearly didn’t like it either. “I don’t think this body’s head was cut off.”

“What?” Ichabod blinked.

“From what I got, it felt more like the head was ripped off. Or blown off. I’m kinda leaning towards it being blown off...” The Horseman winced.

“With a gun?” Ichabod asked cautiously.

“I’m thinking something a bit bigger than a bullet.” The Horseman shook her head. “I don’t know what, though.”

“Well, a cannonball would be too big...” Ichabod thought aloud.

“You know what, I don’t think it would.” The Horseman snapped her fingers. An almost cartoonish ‘lightbulb moment' look graced her features.

“A cannonball?” Ichabod gulped.

Well... she was right. he didn’t like that. Because if his friend had lost his head to a cannonball, the odds of it being in good shape were slim. He certainly hoped that this Headless Helper, as he’d named her, was wrong. That maybe the head had been cut clean off. Or that if it hadn’t, it was at least in usable shape. Mind you, he realized, his friend was certainly not around by any natural means, and it was wrong to assume that his head would have been preserved by any natural means either. This entire situation was unlike anything Ichabod had ever been through. It was terrifying... and absolutely thrilling. Ichabod had always imagined himself playing hero, and though these circumstances were odd ones, he was finally living that reality in a way. But back to the matter at hand... perhaps he now had more clues to his Headless friend’s identity.

“I’m sorry...” The Horseman winced. “I know that’s probably not what you wanted to hear.”

“Actually, it really helps. Very useful information.” Ichabod assured her. “This is the closest we’ve gotten to finding out who the Horseman is. Thank you.”

“I’m just happy I could help.” The Horseman smiled shyly.

“Are you okay?” Ichabod asked carefully.

“I think so.” The Horseman shrugged. “I just... I feel bad for this guy. What he went through sucks.”

“Yes it does.” Ichabod hummed sympathetically.

“I mean, I guess it was a quick death.” The Horseman reasoned. “I just... wow.”

“I’m sorry for-” Ichabod started.

“No. Don’t be. I really want this guy to find his head.” The Horseman cut him off. “I’m fine.”

“As long as you’re sure.” Ichabod nodded, not wanting to push. There was a moment of silence between them. “You know, it’s okay not to be.”

“What?” The Horseman blinked, confused.

“It’s okay not to be fine.” Ichabod told her. “And if you’re not, or you need anything... I’m here.”

“Thank you.” The Horseman sighed. There was another moment of silence. Ichabod didn’t know what else to say. "I think the muffins have probably cooled enough for us to try. Want one?”

“I would love one.” Ichabod nodded getting up, walking to his desk, and pulling out his notebook.

And so Ichabod Crane took some rather detailed notes on his findings, however scarce, and his new hypotheses about where they might find his friend’s head. While he did this, he snacked on one (or two, or three) of the Headless Helper’s muffins- which were exceptional. Especially for the grade of the oven they’d been baked in. This head had a knack for knowing precisely what Ichabod needed and providing it to him. The other heads he’d encountered... not so much. It was a finicky business working with his headless friend because with every new head he changed fairly drastically- almost as if he were an entirely different person. What a mess Ichabod had gotten himself wrapped up in... Truly, he’d only come to Sleepy Hollow to teach science. Teaching was his passion, and he was very much enjoying his job in Sleepy Hollow. But his mind had always wandered towards the inexplicable, and that was a term that more than aptly described his friend the Horseman.

In a sense, Ichabod felt that maybe that had been the true reason he was drawn to this little town. That perhaps a higher purpose did exist in his life than simply to teach. He had always thought teaching was his calling, but perhaps it was simply a step on the journey that was meant to be his life. Or a vessel, he supposed, for it was teaching that had brought him to where he was. Whatever the case may be, Ichabod knew that what he was doing in helping the Horseman felt right. He wasn’t usually a man to trust pure gut instinct, but this was different. This felt like the start of something. Ichabod hoped that it was a good something. He would hate to be on the wrong side of history. The Headless Horseman had been a beloved legend for so long, and Ichabod felt it in his bones that he was now building onto that legend. That was a scary prospect. Because if he made a wrong move, all that he was building could crumble as quickly and as easily as a Jenga tower and leave him buried under the weight of his failure, the villain of a story he had never intended to be written into.

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doorsclosingslowly · 3 years

Text

This Is the Time of Our Great Undoing

“Do you think Kaz could fuck someone in a full-body bondage suit?” Jesper whispers, more to distract Inej from what’s on the screen than anything else, but still—the idea won’t leave Kaz alone.

5.8k | modern AU | Kaz[/&]Jesper, part of a polycule

content note: despite the premise this is about cuddling, gambling addiction and existing during climate change

It starts the way most things used to start: with all of them piled onto ancient couches on the fifth floor of an otherwise empty building on the edge of Amsterdam, also called the Slat. These days, it’s harder and harder to get everyone together. Nina and Matthias are both in Rotterdam now, doing associate degrees that Kaz doesn’t care about. Wylan’s got room and board and a plan for the future and a social worker, and she already disapproves of Jesper as a bad influence so it’s not worth it, generally, for Wylan to come back to his old squat and hang out with the whole gang of ex- and current reprobates.

And Inej—fuck, Kaz wishes she was just a little less righteous, less concerned with how the world’s going to shit. She’s faced off against more cops now than he has, probably. Water cannons and charging horses and riot shields. She knows criminals all over the country, Europe, probably the world—but they’re the kind of criminals with morals and worthless targets, with bandanas and badly sewn patches, who will talk about Federici and sea levels and the Invisible Committee and use value if you don’t leave quickly enough. The kind that live on trees, as Inej’s going to do in a few days. The kind that don’t make any money. The kind that have even less of a chance of making it out of a job alive and free than Kaz does—and with the enemies she’s talking about, politicians, banks, Shell, he doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to extort her out of jail next time.

For now, though, they’re all together in the big room, watching some ancient movie on the massive 8k screen with mood lighting, etc, the works, that’s in the Slat courtesy of some MediaMarkt manager desperate enough to save her marriage to bribe Kaz into silence, but not so desperate she wouldn’t fuck two other women in the breakroom.

It’s impossible to know whose fault it is that they’re currently watching Pulp Fiction.

Kaz is inclined to blame Jesper, because most things are his fault in some way or another, and he’s supplying the login data for an old uni flatmate’s streaming accounts, which is where they found that film, front and centre, paid to rent until tomorrow. Who even pays for films? If that’s the calibre of people they send to university these days, it’s no wonder the planet’s going to the dogs. Jesper, though, swears he wanted to watch some goofy horror flick, so he’s splitting the blame with Nina and Matthias: Matthias, for growing up in a cult and having never heard of what’s apparently a film classic and mentioning that to Nina, who of course cooed over her boyfriend and insisted on it, even though actually none of them have watched it before either so it’s not like it’s an important cinematic milestone. Or just not b horror, crime, some weird arthouse thing with complicated morality… It’s weird and has crime but there is nothing to figure out, so Kaz is bored. It’s Inej’s fault, because instead of vetoing it she said yes, just because she has a heart-shaped soft spot for Nina. Wylan could have done his oh I’m still an innocent barely-two-years not a minor this looks bloody thing, and Kaz might not even have mocked him this time if he'd insisted on Jesper’s pick instead just so he could hide in Jesper’s arms for the most minor decapitations.

Jesper’s been talking through the whole film. Kaz got used to that a long time ago: the landing and failing of small non-sequitur jokes like rain against the window, whispered to Wylan who’s cuddled into his side on the left, or to Inej who’s burrowing under Jesper’s outstretched right arm. Sometimes Jesper thinks a quip will land better with Nina, so he shouts it over to the futon where she and Matthias are always just shy of engaging in heavy petting, and the really mean and bleak jokes he saves for when he’s made eye contact with Kaz.

Now, though: in this scene Mr Motorcycle and the gang boss are captured in a pawnshop and dragged into the basement, and Gang Boss gets raped. Inej’s hand is white-knuckled on Jesper’s arm, and Jesper’s talking non-stop. He’s talking about the flooding, and asking whether Inej thinks Doggerland will happen again but here, soon, you can never know when the scientists are so wrong about the speed of climate change, and apparently it all flooded in a day because something broke off Norway, and then he abruptly pivots to some demo where he bashed in a shop window and got new shoes, and then if she’s got dates for more street fights because then he’s in but please, don’t trick me into another book club, I don’t care about why the cops are bad I already know I just want to hit them—not topics Kaz would have chosen, exactly, but he’s rooted in his red leather armchair off to the side, not even able to hold her for comfort, not like Jes does now, and why didn’t they think to look up the content beforehand, why did they assume it was tame just because it’s an old film—and then, long after it’s over, Jesper idly asks, “Do you think Kaz could fuck someone in a full-body bondage suit?”

Wylan groans. Kaz wishes a sound existed that could express his own current emotion.

“You saw the guy, right?” Jesper turns over to Wylan, while still stroking Inej’s hair. “There was no skin on him. All leather. And that’s the trigger, so—might solve all our problems. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before!”

“I don’t see a huge difference,” Nina snipes. “Kaz is already in all-black, with gloves. Though I guess, that hood would hide his atrocious haircut…”

“Stop being so mean to Kaz, Jesper,” Matthias mumbles. “Although he does deserve it.”

Kaz downs his entire glass of vodka. When he tops his drink up for the second time—he exed the first refill right in the kitchen—he brings the bottle and some maracuja juice over and refills Jesper’s, too, because Jesper’s been anxiously glancing over at him, every moment he thinks Kaz has turned his head away, since he shot his stupid mouth off and actually, it’s—Kaz isn’t thinking about it now but it just might—maybe it could work—well, he fills up the glass to stop Jesper from worrying himself into yet another mental crisis and also so he can bend over Jesper’s ear and whisper lovingly, “I’m going to make the leather for the suit out of your skin.”

“We should look for an Ed Gein film next!” Jesper laughs, much more brightly than the joke warrants, and Kaz refuses to interpret the look on his face.

By the time Kaz gets back to the Slat, on a day roughly three months later, it’s long past two in the morning. He’s in a foul mood: of course Haskell won’t even reimburse him for the taxi he had to take because he missed the last metro. Of course he just told Kaz to take a night bus. Haskell won’t even apologize for the last minute details he wants included in his casino’s tax returns. The old man’s not even mentally capable of understanding the extra work he caused. Yes, Kaz is good at filing taxes creatively, exactly tailored for the business to pay nothing whatsoever and meticulous enough to never arouse any suspicion, but that takes work. Things have to balance. Haskell thinks Kaz just has to press a button, and that he’s paying Kaz so he doesn’t have to press the button himself, and that it’s only worth it because he doesn’t want to sully his mind with ‘the Spreadsheet Program’. Which is also why he’s loaning Kaz out to a friend of his, which he just remembered to mention today, for that guy’s mattress store slash money laundering business, so that’s even more work for nowhere near enough money.

Sometimes, Kaz amuses himself with the idea of sneaking in small ‘mistakes’. Enough for even the stupidest tax official to unravel the whole sordid scheme and land Haskell in prison for tax fraud, whereupon he’ll also be discovered to be involved with drug smuggling, blackmail, murder, … none of which will ever trace back to Kaz. But the one time he was livid enough to try, nothing happened. He’ll never manage to plunge the true depths of stupidity of an average bureaucrat, apparently, and is thus doomed to failure.

And anyway, it’s good regular money for little work. Usually. He can’t really complain. Especially not to his friends, because three are going legit, Inej will just rant about the uselessness of defrauding the Belastingdienst for a few measly million euros a year when the world’s being set on fire every day, and Jesper’ll tell him to quit, again, because they live in a squat after all. It’s not like they’re paying rent. Jesper’s never heard of forethought, or gratitude. He doesn’t know how many of his bills Kaz has paid off.

Kaz’s leg aches after the climb to the third story. Two more to go. As usual, right at this point he remembers the joke Jesper made eight months ago about fooling someone into installing a stair lift, and as usual, he dismisses it in disgust after two more steps. Stomps harder on the next flight of stairs, with grim satisfaction at the shooting pains in his knee. He doesn’t need help. He doesn’t need to move to a house with a working lift, and he doesn’t need a stair lift, either. Fuck you, Jesper. I’m the actual functional adult with a job in this household. I don’t need a stair lift.

That’s what he would throw at Jesper’s head, but it’s nearly three o’clock, and Jesper’s probably out. Over at Wylan’s, if he knows what’s good for him, but given how evasive he’s been all week, how manic… Inej’s still camping high up in some forest to save the frogs or something, but no news there is supposed to be good news. If the cops had chucked her off a tree house, it would have been on tv. About everything else, he can worry after he’s slept.

He doesn’t bother with the lights in his room. The streetlight coming in through his open curtains is more than enough, and anyway, he found the empty tenement he turned into the Slat five years ago, fully moved down here three years ago when he met Jesper, and he knows every single thing in his room by heart. The antique dresser he made Jesper and Matthias carry up with the threat of cutting off a finger for every scratch it received is next to the door, the place where he leaves his gloves and wallet and phone and cane. The coat rack beside it, where the hangers for his suit are, then the hamper, and at the foot of his bed the long black linen nightgown that Jesper’s never, ever allowed to see, and—

There’s a black shape on top of his bedcovers, Kaz realizes when he’s pulled on his nightgown.

Kaz takes his cane back. He hasn’t made any new enemies recently as far as he’s aware—none who know his name—but he was careless, brutal, desperate when he was a lone kid getting by on the streets, and those victims had gangs, families, business partners. Just because no-one’s ever traced little Kazzie the bastard rabid dog back to the Slat-that-wasn’t-then doesn’t mean a thing. The fact that the friends he started collecting press-ganged him into doing more behind-the-scenes embezzlement and fewer turf wars because ‘they’re watching us, they have all our faces and fingers and DNA on file and cameras everywhere and did you hear about that informer having kids with the activist he spied on?’ or the more pragmatic, ‘If you don’t stop fucking up your leg on purpose I’m going to send you to a kink party you fucking masochist’…

None of it means safety, not really, and Kaz is glad he’s alone now. They’ve all moved on, and even Jes… well, if he’d been here tonight then the whole squat would be trashed because Jesper doesn’t come quietly. And now, if he comes back to find Kaz gone or his throat slit… Jesper’s going to fucking collapse. He’s been one phone call away from going hysteric all week. Who knows, though—he has Wylan now, and maybe it’ll be the push he needed, the path none of them could ever find, to get his life back on a solid track.

All of that is presupposing that Kaz loses, of course.

And he does not intend to.

The weird black ninja on Kaz’ bed hasn’t reacted yet. They’re curled into a foetal position and they’re snuffling, quietly, because they’re asleep.

Not even assassins dressed up as b movie henchmen expect the toll taken by Per Haskell’s technical naïveté and utter disrespect for Kaz’ work-life balance, apparently. He got back home so late he missed his own murder. Well, then. Kaz hasn’t tortured anyone in two years and he may be out of practice, but the films he’s been forced to watch in the meantime have, if anything, made him more creative. He’ll teach them not to underestimate the brutality of Kaz Brekker, even when he’s moved up a few rungs in the ladder of Amsterdam’s underworld and landed a desk job.

He’ll—but Kaz hasn’t had to stalk silently towards his prey in two years, either. He’s underestimated the extent to which his lame leg’s gotten worse.

Also, someone’s pulled a box out from under his bed.

Kaz stumbles, and in the split-second before he catches himself on the edge of the mattress he wonders—will they have a gun? I can still bash them in the head before they fire, I haven’t gone that soft—and then the would-be assassin stretches out their lanky body as they wake up.

With their arms raised over their head, Kaz can see the bright white light of the street lanterns outside reflect off the gleaming black PVC fabric they’re wearing. Sleek and skin-tight, no ornamentation except a few steel buttons glinting at the crotch, and a full-cover leather hood over their face adorned with one-euro-sized rivets at the jaw, the forehead, the bridge of the nose, the large buckle around the neck. More buckles, at the back of the head and hanging off the right side at eye-height. The open silver zipper at the mouth reflects the streetlight, too, as does the padlock that hangs off it.

Oh no. Kaz knows that mask. Not even shoving it all the way back to the furthest corner under his bed allowed him to forget the way it looks.

Oh no.

Jesper yawns loudly. “Morning, boss. Evening. One of those. I thought you were finishing work early?”

“Haskell had some last-minute revisions to his tax returns.” Kaz sighs. “Don’t cook tomorrow. I’ll be out late for the whole next week—don’t expect me before three am. New client. I need to create a whole year’s documentations from scratch.”

“Just fuck him over, boss. He doesn’t appreciate you, and you don’t need the money. We live in a fucking squat.”

Sweet, financially illiterate nuisance Jesper, who probably doesn’t even know what that awful mistake he’s dressed in right now cost. The thing he’s dressed in. Which was hidden under Kaz’ bed. In Kaz’ room. Which they are inside right now. “You broke into my room,” Kaz rasps. “Again.”

“You know, Kaz,” Jesper replies with poorly feigned innocence, ”this thing is a little big for you. Fits me pretty well, though.”

“I told you I don’t keep cash under my bed. I told you that, the last time you tried to steal from me to pay off your gambling debts. I like my room organized as it is, and so I don’t keep any money here. Not under the bed, not in the wardrobe. And you won’t find any of my actual caches, because I’m smarter than you.”

“You’ve lied to me before.”

“You’ve stolen from me before. Remember last year? Remember you made Inej cry? I though you were clean. I thought you promised Wylan, when you asked him out, that you were done gambling. Maybe we all had too much trust in you.”

Jesper pulls his PVC-clad shoulders up to his en-leathered ears: a ridiculous sight, and Kaz doesn’t know what’s worse. That a bondage sex slave could actually look this dejected and humiliated and alone, or that Jesper does. He’s almost ready to call off the assault. It took a while to figure out, but as usual Inej was probably right, because she’s been researching and discussing the mental health industrial complex in general, and the traumatizing nature of modern life, with her comrades. Even though Kaz is neither the kind of person to touch people with kid gloves, and nor does he like thinking of Jesper as someone who needs that kind of handling—when Jesper’s in a shame spiral this deep then any criticism will drive him even deeper into the arms of the next casino. So the adrenaline and dopamine can wipe out everything else, or to feed his self-loathing even more by being exactly the person he’s terrified people think he is—Jes couldn’t quite explain it himself during the Intervention, except that everything is too much sometimes, even more too much and faster than usual.

He’s a pitiful creature. Kaz almost has pity. Then, though—

“It’s not working, boss. I know why you’re reminding me I fucking relapsed, again, and tried to steal from my best friend, again, and that I’m going to beg you to lie to Wy, again, but I still haven’t forgotten I’m wearing a bondage suit that you’ve been keeping under your bed for—two months now, is it?”

It’s just one month, actually. The manufacture and shipping took six whole weeks.

Two can play that game. Kaz might be very slightly embarrassed, but Jesper’s relapsed into the combination of addiction, theft and deceit that destroyed his life three years ago, and nearly did so again, two-and-a-half years ago and one year ago. “Careful. I haven’t even yet agreed to lie to Wylan, Jesper. About your problem. That you promised you’d tell him about.”

“Also, I notice it fits me, not Inej. Not Nina. Not Matthias. Not even Haskell, I bet. Me. Almost like it was made for me.”

Kaz ignores his insinuations. The answer’s obvious, anyway: yes, he did take clothes from the main washing pile in Jesper’s room and measured them. Yes, he used the measurements when he ordered a bondage suit. Yes, that’s creepy. Yes, a decent person would have asked. No, he’s not sorry. Jesper knew who Kaz was when he moved in with him. And it’s not like Kaz is the one who’s really at fault here. If Jesper just stopped gambling, he’d never have found out.

“Even attempted theft is illegal, Jesper. Completed robbery is worse. I cover my tracks, but you… you should be careful what you say now. They’re still looking for whoever robbed that jeweller last year.”

“Inej’s gonna cut off your head if you try. It’s like you never read her hoodies. All cats are beautiful, et cetera, Kaz. Thirteen-twelve. Keep up.”

Sometimes, the only thing that keeps Kaz from tossing Jesper out of the Slat is that Inej hates landlords and landlord-adjacents just as much as the pigs. If only he’d known back when he let the drunk penniless fancy uni boy who jumped into a fight to defend Kaz from some thugs—a fight Kaz would have won regardless—if only he’d known, before he let Jesper crash on his floor for a night or two, where all of this would end. “I’ll never mention anything about tonight again if you don’t either. Forget it. It was a bad idea. A failed plan. That’s all.”

“Without even trying it?”

“I will zip your mouth shut,” Kaz rasps. “I’ll lock it. I’ll throw the key into the harbour. Fuck you.”

Jesper, though, somehow got even mouthier when he put the bondage suit on. Less respectful. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. “Come on, Kaz,” he wheedles. “I put it on, right? So I’m fine with it, if you’re worried. Aren’t you curious? If our places had been reversed—well, if you’d found it in my room you’d have murdered me, so we’re not exactly identical, but still. Come on, sit down next to me. This is—PVC right? Good job choosing me. Inej would hate it. So much plastic.”

“It’s less like skin than leather.”

“Not complaining, Kaz. I have some juice with a straw over there to keep me hydrated in case I sweat like a pig, but I haven’t, yet. I can probably camp out in this for a few more hours.” He tries a patented Jesper I’m flirting in an over the top way to make you laugh which is my flirting style for when I’m genuinely worried about the reaction because this way I can pass off exasperation and mockery as the response I intended look, probably with fluttering eyes, but since Kaz can barely make them out through those open zippers and the rest of his face is a complete mystery, it falls flat. It looks ridiculous, though, so it also works, and Jesper has the nerve of complaining about Kaz’ eight-dimensional chess plans. He’s worse. He’s worse, and animated by Jesper’s ridiculous, familiar movements the bondage suit doesn’t look like a pathetic attempt anymore. Not like the desperation of an emotional cripple. It just looks like Jesper, with an extra layer on his skin. Jesper, probably making a duckface, purring, “Don’t you think I’m sexy?”

Kaz looks away. “Are you serious right now?”

“Of course,” Jesper replies instantly, as if there was never any reason to doubt him. As if he doesn’t blame Kaz for doubting, simultaneously. As if Kaz is allowed to try. To fail. To fuck up, risk hurting him. There is a reason why Kaz never even considered someone else for the suit. “Come on, get on the bed.”

“We have to talk with Inej first. And with Wylan.”

“One-track mind,” Jesper replies, and just like that Kaz is ready to murder him again. “We’re not fucking. We’re not doing more than normal, except maybe touch. We don’t even know yet whether this helps you. I’m not risking it. We’ll just try touching, and if you think it’s triggering, we stop. We’ve got all the time in the world to work up to more. Until this city sinks into the ocean and the grid collapses from heat, which might be tomorrow, so. Or the fascists win.”

“You’ve been listening to Inej.”

“I do try to keep up.”

“Well, stop. Or listen more carefully, until the end, when she gets to the doomerism is the opiate of the masses part.”

“Just get on the bed, Kaz.”

Kaz puts his bent good knee onto the mattress and pulls himself over to Jesper. The fabric of his linen smock rubs against his heated skin: not like corpses, not like that, not like Jordie and he won’t even think about him or this will be over but—it just feels like his own familiar coarse age-softened nightgown that Jesper hasn’t even made fun of yet, his thin nightgown that in a second will be one of only two layers between him and Jesper.

He rolls over so he can sit down next to Jesper, at first. Daringly, he leans an arm against his best—well, they’ll figure that out later.

“Okay?” Jesper asks. He has to crane his head a lot to look through the thin eye slits of his bondage mask at Kaz’ face, and even then he’s probably mostly seeing the gleaming teeth of the eyehole zippers. And still he leans forward forty-five degrees and twists his torso and neck so he can look up into Kaz’ face, carefully keeping the arm that’s touching Kaz as motionless as possible, because he’s being careful with Kaz. Kaz has told him a thousand times he hates being coddled. He’s not a poor little abused dog, he’s a vicious murderer who destroyed his leg and his ability to be close to people while he was murdering, that’s all he ever told Jesper. That lie. And yet—even if he’s only fooling himself because this scene is so patently ridiculous, and the psych ward he got sent to once for the crime of rough sleeping while underage would stamp every single thing about what they’re doing as deeply unhealthy, and he can’t see Jesper’s soft concerned expression under the hood… Whatever it is, Kaz feels warm all over. He feels good. Safe.

Jesper can tell, apparently. “Want to touch my chest? Or climb into my lap?”

Kaz moves over, carefully smoothing down his nightgown before he sits down on Jesper, angled so he can lean with his left arm pressed against Jesper’s chest. It’s safer, somehow, than giving him the back, but perhaps someday…

Jesper loosely wraps his arms around Kaz. They’re just there, barely touching, the hands lax on top of Kaz’ right knee. You can leave at any time, they say, I’ll let go as soon as you’re uncomfortable, and Kaz would have known that regardless. Jesper’s never usually this still, unless he’s lost in concentration: and Kaz, who’s seen how gambling can destroy someone’s life, how it is currently destroying someone’s life, would still bet everything he has ever owned that Jesper’s concentrating on every single aspect of Kaz’ body language right now.

It’s not necessary, though. Those hands are gleaming black PVC. They don’t look or feel anything like Kaz’ memories.

He drops his own naked right hand onto Jesper’s gloved one. Joins them. Anchors Jesper. “How much do you owe this time, Jes?”

A beat. Jesper’s face drops down towards Kaz’ lap. Trying to hide his shame, and he’s forgotten that he’s wearing a full bondage mask, that Kaz can barely make out his eyes through the slits of the zippers. If he’s trying to deny everything, Kaz will just beat it out of him. He’s done it before. A year ago, when it was bad, but Jesper promised he got it under control. But Jesper’s promises were never worth much, not for this. If they were, they’d never have met.

“Four grand.”

“To?”

“Tom Geels. One of Big Bol’s old friends—”

“So he put you up to—”

“I was already playing when he walked up to me, Kaz,” Jesper grinds out. Aware that he could save himself from at least a little of Kaz’ disappointment by casting Bollinger as the tempter. Simultaneously aware that Kaz promised to feed Bollinger to a marine propeller last year if he ever took Jesper gambling again. Noble, to try and save Bollinger’s life—or to save Kaz from committing another murder—not that either of them deserves his loyalty. “I’ll pay you back, Kaz. I’ll have the money. Give me—give me half a year, Da’s still sending me—sending me rent money, Christ, he’s—I’ll save it. No, you’ll get it straight as soon as I get it, and in six months, you’re paid back in full. I promise.”

“We’ll figure it out. I have some jobs I could use you on. Nothing big. Intimidation, mostly. Some breaking, some entering. Boring stuff, not even worth mentioning to Wylan I should think.”

“Thank you.” Jesper’s forgotten all his restraint. He’s kissing Kaz’ forehead, or rather kissing the inside of his mask that’s pressed against Kaz’ forehead. He’s wrapped Kaz tightly in his long bondage arms too, painfully twisting Kaz’ shoulder and elbow and wrist because Kaz is still holding onto his hand. It’s that welcome pain, and the texture of the bondage suit that Kaz still isn’t completely used to, that keeps him from breaking Jesper’s nose. Keeps him—he isn’t back in the North Sea. He isn’t with Jordie. He should be, but he isn’t, and even if it comes…

Inej taught him about grounding. None of them trust the system as far as they can throw it, so she didn’t send him to a shrink when they started dating, unlike he feared, but—she said they helped her, those grounding exercises she found on the internet, and so Kaz has been diligently practicing breathing techniques and focusing his awareness on details of the present moment. Five things he can see: well, it’s dark, but the way what little streetlight gets through reflects off the folds of the suit on Jesper’s bowed stomach is quite interesting. His own knees. His hand, still clutching Jesper’s. The cane, on the floor. The floor. Five things he can hear: early morning traffic, Jesper’s breath, Jesper trying not to sob out loud in relief or shame or a mixture of both, the rustling of fabric, the squeaking of fabric. Five things he can feel: The old ache of his leg, always. Jesper’s hand. Jesper’s thighs. The hard buttons at the flap over Jesper’s crotch, digging into his side.

Somehow, Jesper’s noticed his shift in focus. At least he’s stopped crying now. “You know, you could have just asked how big I am if you wanted a suit with a dick pouch,” he teases in a voice that almost manages to sound happy. “I wouldn’t even have been suspicious.”

“Just because you have no boundaries, Jes, doesn’t mean I have to sink down to meet you at your level.”

Jesper takes a big breath. To forestall the whole Who bought this bondage suit argument Kaz elbows him in the stomach, hard. Once Jesper’s done coughing—a wriggling movement against Kaz’ side that he’s never even felt before—he mumbles something else, though. “I texted Da my new number. He called last week. Wanted to know how I was doing,” and oh. That makes sense. That’s what did it. “Apparently I’m graduating in seven months, according to that fake schedule you made me so I could keep my lies straight. He wants to come to the graduation. He asked me whether I have a job lined up.”

“I could hire somebody to fake you a degree,” Kaz offers. This should be Inej’s job. She shouldn’t be off somewhere, saving grasshoppers. She should be here. She’s the one who tried to talk Jesper into coming clean to his father, last year. All Kaz knows, all he has ever done, is to keep digging, and it’s worked for him. So far. “It’s all the rage now I hear. Cheap, too. No-one will find out. Just don’t become a politician in Germany.”

Jesper sighs. The air kisses the back of Kaz’ neck. “I don’t even care anymore. I could have a degree, or not, it all doesn’t matter. Universities are a scam to regulate economic class relations anyway. I don’t know that I can keep lying forever, or get a job, just so I don’t have to tell Da I betrayed him. Because nothing matters anyway. We’re collectively throwing the future down the drain. It’s not like anyone needs another mechanical engineer when we hit four degrees. I don’t know what we need. I just know everything I know is pointless.”

“I’m sure Inej can hook you up, if you want to blow up a coal power plant.”

“But what about you, then? What would you do?”

“I could have you kidnapped,” Kaz says. That’s not what Jesper meant. Kaz refuses to think about what Jesper meant. “Fake your death. Colm will be so relieved when they find you that he won’t even care you failed all your studies so you could become a live-in human blow-up doll.”

“That’ll only keep Da happy for a year at most and you know it.”

“Well, then Colm’s just going to have to get used to it. Get used to you, like we did. Real, annoying, good-for-nothing directionless screw-up Jesper.”

Jesper rubs his leathered cheek against the crown of Kaz’ head. “Fuck you. Thanks.”

Kaz runs his fingers over the squeaky PVC on Jesper’s forearms, steeling himself before he whispers idly against Jesper’s neck, “If Inej’s right about the warming and the sea level over the next decades, it won’t just be refugees from the south we’re letting drown, people it’s easy to lock out. Maybe you’re right about the Doggerland thing, and we all get flooded.” He swallows. The words are high up in his throat, trying to spew out. “Then it won’t just be one stupid child with a stupid family going out boating in the North Sea when there’s a storm coming. Not just that one kid thrown out of a sinking boat nearly drowning and clinging to his brother’s corpse. Your blow-up doll skills will be in high demand if everyone else gets triggered by skin contact too.”

Jesper, miraculously, reveals a talent Kaz didn’t even know he possessed: he shuts up. He ghosts his gloved hands over Kaz’ shoulders, and then he starts carding his fingers through Kaz’ hair. Kaz can feel the static electricity building up, the crackles and the safety, and then he realizes his eyes have drifted shut. He realizes he doesn’t know how long Jesper’s been petting him.

“Take off your hood,” he mumbles.

“Kaz?”

“Take it off. Scuttle over so your head’s on the pillow.”

Jesper obeys, like Kaz always knew he would. He looks up at Kaz with something that might be confusion but might also be—trust and deep joy and more, something Kaz can’t quite admit anymore now he’s in his bed, and Kaz puts his head down on his chest. His legs will still fit, and this way, he has the squeaky PVC right where he needs it. Squeaky, rhythmically rising warm dry plastic under him. The exact opposite of a waterlogged corpse.

“I don’t have time to call you an ambulance when you get into a bondage suit erotic asphyxiation incident, just so you know. I have a full schedule for today, remember. I’ll be at Haskell’s until after midnight. I have to break Bollinger’s thumbs. My alarm is at seven. Turn it off and I’ll send you to Colm in bite-sized pieces,” Kaz rasps, and then, with a movement that no-one would call timid if they wanted to keep their tongue attached, wraps his arms around Jesper. “You’ve kept me awake for two hours, so be a good pillow. If I kick you off the bed while I’m dozing, remember. This is your fault.”

#jesper fahey #kaz brekker #kaz x jesper #dimtraces makes things #shadow and bone #shadow & bone

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dc41896 · 3 years

Text

Winter Wonderland

Pairing: Ransom DrysdalexBlack Reader

⚠️: Ransom being a tiny bit of a jerk, the usual fluff

Sat on the couch comfortably wrapped in your boyfriend’s burnt orange throw blanket, your eyes stay glued to the meteorologist pointing to the map on the wide screen in front of you as you mindlessly bite your thumbnail.

“This again?,” Ransom asks returning from his shower to sit next to you. Forest green tee shirt over his black sweatpants, the scent of sandalwood wafting off his skin brings you closer eventually resting your head on his shoulder while you silently take in a couple deep breaths to savor the smell. “What, are you trying to be a weatherwoman now or something?”

“No, I’m just trying to stay updated. You know, watching to see if it’ll maybe rain or snow...”

Moving his laptop from the glass coffee table to his lap, soon his fingers tap away at the keyboard below as he tries to answer emails he missed while being away with you and your family for Thanksgiving.

“Hopefully it doesn’t. I’ve got too much to do for the power to be turning off.”

“...It would be nice to see though you know?”

“Mm,” he simply replies, mind still comprehending the email from his assistant with his schedule for the upcoming month.

“Snow covering the ground perfect to make snow angels or a snowman with a cute little scarf and carrot nose. Ooh and maybe a snowball fight-!”

“You sound like a kid who’s never seen snow before,” he chuckles. Noticing your extended silence, he sits up meeting your innocent eyes as you play with one of the tassels from the blanket. “You’ve never seen snow, have you?”

“I mean yeah in movies and pictures, but never in person. Remember, it doesn’t really get that cold where I live.”

Only four months in, your relationship was still fairly new. And most of that time he was flying to see you, which was slightly concerning at first. Once he told you about his dysfunctional family though, and you briefly heard it firsthand, it made sense why he wanted to get as far away as possible.

It was just a small mistake when some of his business documents were sent to his parents’ house, but of course they assumed it was his sly way of asking for money. Not even giving him a chance to explain, a shouting match soon ensued and hence why Thanksgiving was spent with your parents.

He still wanted you to come visit to show you his home, where he grew up, and some of his favorite places especially since you showed him yours. He’d just have to be extra careful to avoid any of his family members or those who worked at his grandfather’s home if the two of you went to town.

So far though, you two didn’t have to worry since you’d either been happily snuggled on the couch or in bed since you arrived.

“Well, it’s more of a pain than anything. You need the right tires to drive on the road and even then you have to worry about them being too slick. Then sometimes the snow is like mush that basically starts melting as soon as it falls, and don’t even get me started on the shoveling,” he rants as the small smile on your face slightly falls.

“Yea I’ve uh heard that it’s not so great once you get used to it,” you respond turning the channel to some random movie before handing him the remote. “Looks like it’s not gonna snow anyway though so no worries.”

“Good, I’ll be able to make all of my meetings then.”

As you sat in silence, Ransom could feel that you were disappointed about the sunny and clear forecast. He still stood by all the negative things he said earlier, but he also remembered how excited he’d get as a kid once it started to get colder. That meant snow would eventually come, bringing snow days from school and playing all day in the backyard. That is until his mother would yell at him from the back door not to mess up his clothes or send the nanny out to get him if she felt he wasn’t listening.

Hearing your soft snores, he carefully removes his phone from his pocket, moving his typing from his laptop to the smaller device in his hand as he sends a quick text to someone who might be able to help.

———

The soft chime of your alarm from the bedside table causes you to mentally groan as you reach to silence it before it could disturb Ransom. However feeling his arm tighten around your waist bringing you closer to his bare chest, you could see you were too late.

“Sorry babe. Go back to sleep, you still have time before your meeting,” you whisper.

“No,” he mumbles, face falling to the crook of your neck making you giggle from the sensation of his breathing paired with his pouted lips against your skin.

“Can you let go then? I have to log in for work.” Shaking his head, you roll your eyes at how clingy he could be under that tough, careless facade. “Ransom come on it’s my last workday before Christmas so I can’t call out. As soon as I’m done though you can have me all to yourself okay?”

His only response is silence as you try to escape his grip thinking he drifted back to sleep. You’re slightly startled as your body is turned to face your boyfriend with his eyes still closed and a tired yet playful smirk gracing his lips.

“I already took care of work for you,” he replies opening one eye while the other stayed pressed against the plush pillow.

“What do you mean?”

“That you don’t need to worry about work until the new year.”

“How? You just told my boss I wouldn’t be in for a while and she said okay?”

“Well darling as you know I can be very persuasive,” he cockily states with a wink. Sitting up with arms crossed over your chest, he chuckles at your unamused expression sitting up himself to lean against the headboard. “I told her how I had a secret trip planned for us and asked if you could be out until you were due to be back in January. She said you had the time so it was okay and for us to have fun. If you don’t believe me call her yourself.”

“How long have you had this planned? And where is this secret trip too?,” you finally speak trusting his words.

“A while now, and it wouldn’t be a secret anymore if I told you dear.”

“Then how am I supposed to pack for said trip honey?,” you ask matching his sarcasm.

“Already took care of that too. All you have to do is get ready so we can leave in a couple hours,” he smiles gently grabbing your chin to kiss your lips. “Unless you want to go to work then-,”

“No, I’ll get dressed!” Giving him one last peck as you crawl over his relaxed form, he chuckles watching you excitedly hurry to the bathroom to start your morning routine.

After both of you were dressed and Ransom placed your packed bags in the trunk of his newly rented Range Rover, his hand stops you from entering the passenger side slightly confusing you.

“It’s a surprise remember?,” he smirks pulling a black blind fold out of his jacket pocket.

“You know, this is how a handful of those lifetime movies start before the main character goes missing and her family then sets out to find the boyfriend even though he swears he’s innocent,” you state making him deeply chuckle as he finishes tying the cloth over your eyes.

“Relax, you’re fine. Plus how do I know this isn’t like those movies where the gorgeous girlfriend acts all innocent and sweet until she gets her boyfriend away so she can kill him and take all his stuff before moving on to her next victim?”

“Touché. I guess we’re gonna have to trust each other then.”

“I guess so,” he laughs kissing your cheek before carefully helping you in your seat and closing the door behind you. The drive there didn’t seem too long as you and Ransom talked about everything from each of your favorite vacations over the years to his new book ideas and what was soon to be published under his company. Of course you tried to get him to slip and say where you were going and what he had planned, but his lips remained sealed.

Every time you asked, he’d just chuckle telling you to be patient before kissing the back of your hand.

Soon enough your questions would be answered as the car slowed while it turned maintaining the same speed until coming to a complete stop. “Are we there? Can I take off the blindfold now?,” you excitedly ask.

“Go ahead before you bounce a hole in the seat.”

Removing the cloth, you blink your eyes adjusting to the brightness of the remaining daylight outside before they can focus on what was exactly in front of you. Dark brown wooden outside with a blue green roof and stone chimney, the modern looking cabin with wrap around porch peering into the surrounding woods on one side and the calm lake on the other.

“I hope your silence isn’t because you’re currently regretting coming with me,” he speaks peering at you with soft crystal blue eyes. Leaning over the middle console, your hand finds the back of his neck bringing him closer to connect your lips with his.

“It’s beautiful! The perfect Christmas getaway,” you smile.

“Well not perfect yet. This is just part one of your surprise.”

“Ransom, you don’t-,”

“I know, I don’t have to. As you see though, we’re here so are we gonna sit in the car and stare at it or go inside?,” he smirks before getting out to open your door.

You weren’t surprised to find the inside just as charming as it’s outside view. The modern, minimalistic aesthetic along with high vaulted ceiling and open concept made it seem as if there was no end in sight for the cozy cabin. From it’s overall inviting warmth enveloping you as soon as the both of you crossed the threshold, you weren’t sure if your boyfriend, or anyone, would get you to leave when the time eventually came.

Once settled and full of dinner made from what was in the fully stocked fridge and freezer, courtesy of his assistant, you could feel the day’s toll finally weighing on you as multiple yawns escaped your mouth and eyelids began to droop.

“Don’t fall asleep on me yet, you still have your last surprise to see,” he chuckles gently nudging your arm.

“Ransom seriously everything has been more than enough. What else could you possibly have planned?,” you sleepily smile peering up at him through partially opened lids. Gently pulling you up with him, he guides you to the porch with muscular, sweater covered arms wrapped on your chest just under your neck. He places a kiss on the top of your head as you lean back into his broad chest admiring the bright crescent moon along with the shimmering stars scattered behind it in the black sky.

“Although I do love gazing at the moon with you, and think this is a really nice surprise, it’s getting cold,” you speak feeling the vibrations of his quiet laugh through his chest.

“You really need to work on your patience dear,” he whispers, lips resting next to your ear. Watching the breath from your nose turn to smoke, you soon see something fall from above making you slightly lean forward to see if your eyes were deceiving you. Sure enough, a similar white speck descended with a small swirl as you gently gripped Ransom’s arm gasping. As more and more fell, you reach out over the banister feeling bits of cold ice touch your palm before melting into miniature puddles.

“Is this real?!”

“No, there’s a man on the roof with a wind machine. Yes, it’s real honey,” he chuckles kissing your cold cheek.

“But the forecast said there was none coming.”

“Yea for where we were. That’s why I brought you a bit further north where it usually snows around this time of year. Luckily it still happened or else everything would’ve been ruined.”

Turning to face him, your arms wrap around his neck as you reach on your tip toes to deeply kiss his lips. You prop your chin on his chest, adoringly looking up at your boyfriend with a soft smile.

“Yea no snow would’ve been a bit of a bummer, but everything would still be wonderful because I’m here with you.”

“Stop you’re gonna make me blush,” he dismisses with a dramatic wave making you giggle.

For the next few moments, you both comfortably stand in each other’s arms with your head now lying on his chest gazing at the steady falling flurries, and Ransom doing the same finding himself truly happy to see snow for the first time in a long while.

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lemonlushff-iy · 4 years

Photo

Had an itch....decided to scratch it....

Choices were made.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from the Inuyasha universe, but I sure do love playing with them. The rest is mine.

Chapter One

Inuyasha sighed as his father prattled on about this and that. He knew he should probably pay more attention to the man, but he really didn't want to be there right now. Sure...He enjoyed the warm sun on his skin...Could practically taste the fresh air on his tongue…But there was just something about being here that made him feel holier than thou.

He loathed coming to the tea fields his father owned, dressed in his best, while workers toiled around him. Women's fingers stained yellow green as they plucked the leaves from the bushes. Their backs hunched over, straining to support them as they worked. Their brows beaded with sweat while he…

He walked amongst them like a god.

They controlled their pay...and thus...in a way...their lives.

He didn't like it. Running a business wasn't meant for him, and yet.

That's exactly what he was being groomed to do. His elder brother had started one of his own, leaving him as the heir to his father's throne.

And he didn't want the crown.

He continued to follow his father as they walked through the rows of shrubs, his father nodding towards the women from time to time. He caught something about a harvest...something about profits and tea cakes...But nothing really held his attention.

Not until his father uttered the words, "What do you think of Zhao Kikyo?"

He felt his throat constrict.

Kikyo was the daughter of one of his father's business associates. A relatively attractive woman...nice...They had always gotten along, frankly.

Yet there was only one reason his father would be asking him about her.

And he didn't like it.

"I have no opinion of her," he replied dryly, swallowing. He knew what was coming next. This hadn't been the first time, after all.

"Perhaps you should obtain one," his father advised. "I have a meeting with her father next week," he continued, stepping over the legs of a kneeling woman as she worked. Like she was some tree branch that had fallen in his path. He didn't even give her the courtesy of a "pardon me".

"A meeting? To discuss what?" Playing dumb was not a wise choice, and he could feel his father's ire as he stopped, giving him a knowing look.

"Business. He has no son. I have two. One who is off in the west, and the other," he paused, turning to face him and rest his hands onto Inuyasha's shoulders. He looked him dead in the eye as he smiled, "The other is my legacy. The other will take this business and make it flourish for another generation. The other...will settle down with a nice woman. A respectable, educated woman, from a good family. A woman like Zhao Kikyo."

He could feel all the blood drain from his face.

Settle down?

With her?

He didn't know her that well!

Then again, what would that matter to his father? He hadn't known his mother when he married her. Hadn't known his brother's mother either.

He treated marriages as business contracts, and Inuyasha…

Inuyasha was a modern man with different ideals. He didn't have the heart or brain of a businessman. And he was...perhaps a bit more of a romantic that he should have been. Which is why he was blanching at the idea of wedding Zhao Kikyo.

"Father, I-"

"-She will be attending our meeting. It is our hopes that you will keep her...entertained during that time. Perhaps show her the fields. Take her by the ponds. Have lunch with her there."

"But-"

"-Her father and I are hoping that in perhaps, a few months, we can announce an engagement. Expanding and combining our empires together. Just think of it, Inuyasha…"

He didn't want to think of it.

In fact, he was finding it hard to breathe, let alone think of anything else. His father was all but forcing him into an engagement with this woman, all to expand his tea empire. He was using him as nothing more than a pawn - his own son - to get whatever he wanted.

Didn't they have enough?

Wasn't this enough? Why did they need more?

He couldn't handle more. He couldn't run more.

"I can't meet with Kikyo," Inuyasha blurted in a panic, and his father raised his silver brow at him in displeasure.

"Oh? And why not."

His mind was racing. Whirling. Why the hell couldn't he meet with Kikyo? His father would never accept anything he told him. He was single and of age and-

-And that was the problem.

He was single.

"Because I'm married," he blurted out, causing his father's face to shift in surprise.

He watched his father take a deep, slow breath before calmly exhaling.

"Married? Since when?"

"Last week," he nodded. "When you sent me to Beijing. She came with me, and we married in the city."

"Really? And who is my new daughter-in-law?" he pressed, crossing his arms over his chest. "One would have thought that their son would at least introduce him to her before now...It's a rather sudden marriage. Is there a reason for that?"

Inuyasha clenched his fists together at the implication.

"Love, father. Nothing else. You won't be a grandfather anytime soon."

"A pity since you ran off to marry this woman! Tell me, what is her name? Does she at least come from a respectable family?"

Respectable family.

Of course that's what he cared about. The family name. The family legacy.

And...he knew that he was calling his bluff. If Inuyasha said any number of the names his father would deem acceptable, he would be trapped and caught in a lie. He would be forced to marry either the woman he named, as having shown proof that he was interested in her or…

...He would be forced to wed Kikyo.

He needed someone else. Someone his father wouldn't know. Someone who would lie for him. Someone…

His eyes drifted past his father to the woman he had stepped over moments before. Her fingers moved like the wind as she plucked tea leaves from the bush before her, and her head was cocked to the side. She was trying to be subtle about it, but it was clear she was listening to them...and he found himself not minding.

Her profile was rather lovely...Familiar?

Her skin was tanned from working in the sun. Her fingers stained from the tea leaves. Her cheekbones were delicate, and her face soft...and her eyes…

It was rare to find a woman with familiar blue eyes like those. Let alone eyes that seemed so soft and caring. He felt like he remembered those eyes...She flicked her eyes up from the bush, as if she were waiting to see what he would say and do, and before he could stop himself...before he could think what he was doing, he was kneeling before her.

He took her hands and encouraged her to stand, her eyes widening as it seemed to click in her mind before it did his.

"Please," he whispered softly, so only she could hear it. "I'll repay you, I swear it."

Her jaw went slack, as he took her hand and turned to face his father.

"I'd like you to meet my wife."

His father's face was stoic, and betrayed none of his thoughts...until it slowly cracked into a wide, cunning smile. Inuyasha felt his blood freeze. He knew what his father was thinking now. This was a joke. An attempt to weasel out of another marriage...and if this was the game he wanted to play, then game on. He would smoke him out. Test him and his sham marriage...and when he emerged victorious…

He would not only be humiliated, but forced into another marriage.

A real one.

"Your wife," he all but mocked. "And what is your wife's name?"

"H-Higurashi. Higurashi Kagome," the woman replied, swallowing thickly as Inuyasha wrapped his arm around her side pulling her against his body.

"I was asking my son," he replied curtly, and Inuyasha glared at his father in return.

"And what does it matter who replies? You wanted her name, and she gave it to you. She's your daughter now!"

"A daughter who rebukes the family name?"

"I-I'm still used to saying my old one. The joys of wedded bliss seem to have made me forget that it's different now."

"Of course," his father drawled. "How foolish of me. Forgive me, Kagome. How long have you known my son?"

"A few months," Inuyasha interrupted, and his father shifted his gaze back to him.

"You seem to have a habit of answering for each other."

"Isn't that one of the joys of marriage?" He replied, trying to keep calm as his father attempted to rattle him.

"Mmm…" his father responded, his eyes roaming up and down Kagome's form, and he felt himself become a bit territorial over the small woman tucked into his side. He was weighing her. Judging her worth.

And he found her to be wanting.

"Just how did you meet? I cannot imagine that it would have been in a...social setting."

"He was visiting us to check on our work. He wanted to see how we were fairing. He was kind," she smiled softly, looking away from both him and his father for a moment. "I looked over heated, and he brought me some water. He stayed with me as I drank it until he was sure I would be alright, and began to talk. I was sad to see him leave, but he came back the next day with more water for me, and we spoke again, and again, until he asked me to come away with him and be his bride."

He...he remembered that.

The first part about bringing a woman water. It was her, wasn't it?

It was!

How many women had blue eyes? That was why they had looked so familiar.

"Mmm...and yet, my son hasn't swept you away from your work before now? You've been married for a week, after all."

"I've been looking for her replacement, upon her request," Inuyasha explained, giving her side a small, reassuring squeeze.

"Of course," his father smiled cooly. "Wouldn't want to leave us short staffed...Why don't you take her home then? You're newly weds, after all. I'm sure you would much rather be spending the day together exploring the joys of married life than be here in the fields."

Inuyasha swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to beat back the panic he felt.

"Of course. If we can take our leave then…"

"Please," his father gestured, waving them off, and Inuyasha gestured for Kagome to turn around, exhaling a shaky breath he was sure she heard a little too well. They hadn't made it more than five feet away before his father called back out to them again.

"Inuyasha? Bring your new wife over for dinner tonight. Your mother would love to meet her as well."

He felt his back stiffen as a new panic settled over him, and he glanced down at the small woman in his arms. She was refusing to look at him, and he hated himself for doing this to her. To them both.

"We will see you tonight, father."

Inuyasha opened the door to his apartment, nervously gesturing for Kagome to enter before him. The car ride here had been quiet. She had snuck peaks at him under the fringe of her black lashes, and he her...but...he hadn't known what to say. He was still reeling from what he had done to them, and she was trying to mentally piece together what was suddenly happening as well.

She shakily nodded her head and took a few steps into his apartment, her eyes widening as she looked around. It was nice. Large. Larger than a single man would need, and it was tastefully decorated. Hardwood floors, soothing floors...His home felt warm and welcoming.

She absently wondered if his mother had been responsible for this as he closed the door behind her and slumped against it, looking down at the floor.

They hadn't spoken yet about what he had done, and she looked at the silver haired man in curiosity. She had always liked Inuyasha. Far more than his father at least...but...she also knew that Inuyasha would have no memory of her. Why would he?

They had hundreds of workers in the fields, and she was no one special. Just one of the many...and one of the many who fancied the younger man. He was as handsome as his father, but...gentler. He had a softness in his eyes that his father didn't.

But…

Perhaps that was from the war.

It changed men. Normally for the worse...but with Inuyasha…

It seemed to soften him. Give him a greater appreciation for everything, big and small.

"Higurashi," he began slowly, and she tried to not blush at the sound of her name leaving his lips. "I don't think I can ever apologize enough for what I've done. I...I wasn't thinking clearly, and I've...Well…" he sighed, running his fingers through his silver locks. "Is there anything I can even do to make this right?"

"Perhaps...this is a conversation we can have sitting?" she prompted, and he felt his face twist from confusion to horror, scrambling away from the door.

"Yes! Of course...I...Let me take you to the living room. Can I get you something? Tea?"

She nodded shakily as he took her arm, guiding her out of the foyer. He could feel the heat of his hand through the thin fabric of her clothes, and she tried not to blush. She swallowed as he led her to a couch, and gestured for her to sit, before he scampered off to boil water for tea.

When she had awoken that morning, she never would have dreamed that this was where she would find herself by day's end. Sitting in Inuyasha's home...pretending to be his wife...summoned to dinner that night with his parents. Her head was spinning a little from the thought.

She wondered if he had a plan yet?

This charade couldn't last forever...and what happened when it came time for it to end?

He had told her that he would repay her somehow for this...she couldn't help but absently wonder how?

He had all but plucked her from the fields that morning, dubbed her his wife, and now she was out a job.

Oh…

Oh no…

She heard the door to the living room open and Inuyasha stood on the other side of it, looking guilty and remorseful as he placed a tea tray before her before pouring it for her. He sat down in the chair across from her, nervously gripping the cup in his white knuckled hands.

He glanced from his tea up to her, and she was struck by the guilt etched into it.

"Higurashi," he swallowed, "I...I'm so sorry for this mess."

"It is quite a predicament, we're in," she nodded, taking her own tea cup and sipping from it. Her hands looked so dark against the pale white and blue of the china. It was lovely. It probably cost more than what she made in an entire year.

She placed it down onto the table before her - her hands returning to her lap as he mutely nodded.

"It's my fault. I...I panicked and I seem to have spun quite the web of lies for us…"

"And you have no plan, do you," she surmised. He shook his head, looking down into his lap.

"I don't."

And it was true. God...what was he going to do? He had all but made her his prisoner.

"I...I was thinking that...perhaps we could do this for a year?"

"A year?"

He nodded, his mind slowly trying to cobble together some plan.

"We could tell my parents we divorced after, and then you would be free to live your life again. I can pay you? I know I've cost you your job...My father won't allow you to return to the fields today, or ever again..." he mumbled, running his hands down his face. "You could - should, I suppose - live here with me so they won't suspect. That...that could be nice? And...and you could cook and clean? W-wives do that…" he proposed nervously.

Wives did other things too…

"Would I...Do you expect me to…" she felt her cheeks blush bright red as he furrowed his brow. Confusion gave way to understanding and she watched his jaw drop ever so slightly.

"No! No, of course not! We're...married in the eyes of my parents only. I wouldn't...we wouldn't...I don't expect that from you, Higurashi."

She felt herself relax slightly, and she nodded, delicately sipping her tea.

"I can do that for you...but...I...I have a request to make, if I may."

"Of course," he nodded, leaning forward.

"When this is over, I won't be able to return to a life in the tea fields, but I'll still need employment. I have...responsibilities to my family that I can't overlook. I'll need something still."

She watched him nod his head, encouraging her to continue, and she took a deep breath.

"When we...divorce, I'd like your help finding employment elsewhere, and I'd like you to help me prepare for that. Whatever it may be."

She watched him relax further, a smile spreading across his face.

"I can do that," he nodded. "Something better than before...A secretary, at the least. Do you know how to use a typewriter?"

She shook her head looking down into her lap.

"I...I can't...I don't know how to read," she admitted, looking back down into her lap. "I've never received a formal education…"

His face became soft as he murmured, "Forgive me - I shouldn't have assumed. Higurashi...if you pretend to be my wife, I promise you this. I'll treat you kindly, I'll pay you, I'll get you an education, and I'll find you employment."

She looked into his eyes, and saw how genuine he was. Looking at him when he looked like that...it made her heart skip a beat. He was such a handsome man. Strong jawline. Proud cheekbones. But his eyes...those amber eyes framed by long lashes and thick brows…

She mentally pulled herself away from the man before her and focused on his words instead. It felt like a fair trade. More than fair. He was giving her a chance at a better life, and all she had to do was pretend to love him and be his wife for a year.

She could handle that.

"Kagome," she mused, picking up her tea cup again.

"Kagome?" he replied, furrowing his brow in confusion. That wasn't an answer to his proposal.

"You should call me Kagome if you want me to pretend to be your wife," she reasoned, raising the cup to her lips and taking a small sip.

"Of course...Kagome."

Wall of tags for all new fictions:

@clearwillow, @underwater0phelia, @keichanz, @dangerouspompadour, @sunsetskys, @ajoy3fanfics, @sangoslays, @zelink-inukag, @v0dka-cat, @cloudsz04, @theinuyashareader, @itzatakahashi, @l-taisho29, @lavendertwilight89, @yurawiththegoodhair, @saturnsilence, @lavaffair, @liz8080, @blairex, @eringobroke, @fawn-eyed-girl, @fandomobsessions016, @neutronstarchild

I know. Needs work. BUT. I feel better for having scratched the itch at least. Got the bulk of this done last night...and it kept asking me to work on it more today.

Mother appeased.

Hopefully the child is pleased.

......For now.

#inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fanfic #inuyashafanfic #inuyasha #inukag #not for all the tea in china #lemonlushff #lemonlushfanfic

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ordinaryschmuck · 3 years

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Why I (Want to) Love Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Salutations, random people on the internet who most certainly won’t read this! I’m an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons. I also LOVE the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Whether as a kid, or an adult pretending to be a kid, this franchise is one that I’ll always revisit no matter how old I get. So when I heard that a new version of the series was coming out in 2018, titled as Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, I was excited about it. Then I watched the series...and most of that excitement went down the sewer drain.

Don’t get me wrong, there were some elements that seemed like there was some definite promise for a good series, but other aspects...I’ll have to explain.

But keep in mind, I am going to be spoiling a lot about the series. So if you haven't watched it yet, I highly recommend you do so to form your own opinions. Because while it may not have grabbed me as much, that doesn’t mean the same can’t be said for you. With that out of the way, let's get started with--

WHAT I LIKE

The Animation: If anybody ever tells you that Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles has awful animation, they are objectively wrong. Rise of the TMNT has some of the best, if not the best, animated fight scenes I've seen from any action series in recent memory. Probably because the show understands the number one rule of action animation: Good animation is a requirement. Not an exception.

For an action-oriented animated series, the audience needs to feel the impact whenever characters punch, block, or dodge in each fight. Yes, even dodge. Because if you can feel even the tiniest gust of wind that passes by a character's face after a punch, then you know the animators are doing something right. And trust me when I say that is present in the majority of most fights in Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Are there moments when the movements are slow and rigid? Yes...during the dialogue and comedic scenes. Moments where good and quality animation isn't really all that necessary. You see this same technique in most modern anime: The animation is rigid and cheap for the dialogue-heavy scenes so the animators can give extra attention to the epic action set pieces. Not a single person complains about this happening in their favorite anime of the week. But when Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles does this, apparently it's a bad thing? Explain that logic to me!

The animation is phenomenal in this show. Don't let anybody tell you otherwise because those people are either blind or insanely stupid. Either works.

It’s Pretty Funny: And that's about it. It's nowhere near one of the funniest shows I have seen, and previous iterations of the franchise did a much better job at balancing humor and heart, but Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles did a great job at getting a laugh out of me from time to time. It has a very random sense of humor that works well with its manic energy, similar to what Star vs. the Forces of Evil did early on in its first season. Even if one joke fails, about ten more take its place, most of them funnier than the others. There may be an occasional issue where a joke spoils a dramatic moment, but Rise of the TMNT is one of the few shows where that issue doesn't happen often. Besides, the series sets itself up as more of a comedy than other reboots and reiterations, so it wouldn't look good if it wasn't funny. Thankfully, it is, and in a way, the show is a success because of it.

It Tries to be Something New: This is what I respect most about the series. The downside about a reboot is that writers have to find a way to tell the same story but with adjustments that make it seem different. That's the same way Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles operates as a franchise. The original concepts of the stories and characters are always iconic, and I'll love them with my whole heart, but I will admit, there's a point where the same thing over and over again can be a little tiring. Then there's Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, which makes changes where other shows would ask "why," this is the one that asks "why not?"

Why not change the personality and backstories of characters that still fit with the spirit of the original?

Why not change the genders, races, and possibly sexualities of these iconic characters?

Why not make something new?

Now, some have argued that the show is a little too new. Which I can kind of see the point of. After all, what's the point of changing characters and concepts so drastically when you could just make an original series? But even then, most of the changes are pretty clever, that I think it’s worth remembering for future iterations. Like making Casey Jones a female. Casey is a gender-neutral name, and I legitimately thought this series would do it for that reason alone. So I feel bad that the writers never got a chance to allow the series to reach its full potential with ideas like this due to Nickelodeon screwing them over (Seriously, never pitch a show to Nickelodeon. It rarely ever works out, and it's not worth the risk). I can see how these ideas could result in an incredible show that might cement the series as one of the best iterations of the franchise. But I can't base a story on potential. I can only judge what I see, and what I see are brilliant changes that impress me from time to time.

The Creators Are Still Fans: Despite making something completely different, you can tell that everyone working on this show loves TMNT as the rest of the fans do. There are dozens of references to previous versions littered throughout the series. Whether it's shoutouts to the 90s cartoon to bringing back voice actors from the last one, there are moments where the crew behind the series emphasizes how much they care about the franchise. There are also times when a reference has such a deep cut to it. For example, the series has the previous VA for Splinter to voice the current version of Shredder. I shouldn't have to explain how that is a brilliant idea, especially given Shredder's relationship with Karai...which I can't fully explain due to it spoiling TMNT (2012). This might be a whole new experience, but it is clear that history is not ignored when it comes to Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

The Cast is Colorful: It's not precisely a diversity win to have half the Turtles voiced by black VAs, but it is unquestionably some good sign of progress. The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are...accurately what they are called. So they are not defined by the skin tone of the VAs themselves. So having half of them be voiced by people of color makes me hopeful that maybe future reboots would consider more colorful castings. Hell, maybe one day we'll have a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles reboot where all of them are POCs, to the point that we'll have an all-Asian casting for these timeless heroes (which makes way too much sense to me).

And it's not just the casting of the turtles that impresses me. Because the series making April O'neil black is an idea that I'm more than ok with. It's implied that she's black in the original comics by Keven Eastman and Peter Laird, so it works as another deep-cut reference that proves how big of fans the crew is. Plus, who cares? I mean, if we're still having issues of changing the race of a character who was originally white, all I can say is grow the hell up. You can complain if they don't grab you, but if the issue is because of one decision that shouldn't negatively affect anybody, I don't see the problem. Besides, at this point, a character being white is basically the base plate for someone in the future to change their race at another time.

Also, let’s give the people behind the casting a pat on the back for casting Asian VAs for characters who are, well, Asian. It’s the bare minimum of common courtesy and avoids the trouble of having white VAs do asian accents that have become quite culturally insensitive nowadays. So it’s a pretty cool decision if you ask me.

Diversity is never an issue, especially since representation always matters for people who demand to be heard. It's definitive proof that anybody can be anything, whether it's a hero in fiction or the voice of that hero behind the scenes. And you can't really do that when everyone is so white that it's blinding.

Donatello: This is the best character in the series. Not only because Donatello has the most consistent personality (more on that later), but also because I'm a sucker for the cynical super-geniuses. These types of characters always have a quick and dry wit that never fails to get a laugh out of me, and this version of Donatello became my favorite just for that factor alone. Most of the credit goes to Josh Brener, who does a phenomenal job at his performance and comedic delivery. As for the emotional bits, he's...fine, but the drama isn't the show's best strength anyway, so it doesn't matter as much. Because the fact that it's Donatello who earns the spot as best character in a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles reboot is an impressive feat in itself that any criticism offered for him is moot in the process.

WHAT I DISLIKE

Leonardo: I'm willing to make half of this a personal issue because I have grown to despise Ben Schwarts in the last four years. No offense to the guy, I'm sure he's a really great person in real life...but he has done nothing but play the same character in FOURS YEARS! Whether he's Leonardo, Dewey Duck, Sonic the Hedgehog, or even M.O.D.O.K.'s son (yes, that's a thing), Ben Schwarts has practically played the exact same character each time. The highly energized, dimwitted, and egotistical character who slowly tries to learn to be a better person in the end. AND SOMETIMES, NOT EVEN THAT! I'm sick of it, as it always breaks the immersion of the series as all I hear is Ben Schwarts and not the character he's voicing. But it's not just the voice behind Leonardo that frustrates me. Because the thing is, I can see how this version of him can be incredible.

It doesn't take a genius to know that this version of Leonardo is meant to be more childlike and carefree so he can morph into the more mature leader we all know and respect him as. The issue is that the writers barely do anything with that idea. Sure some episodes make this Leonardo more like, well, Leonardo, but they're far and few between the ones where he's the same Ben Schwarts character that I've grown to hate. Even when he is at his most Leo-like, as seen in the episode "Man vs. Sewer," it's so drastically different from how he usually acts that it feels less like character development and more like inconsistency. It's a shame too because I really love this idea. With a little more polish, it could work out. As is, it's just a huge chunk of wasted potential.

Raph’s Too Good of a Leader: This is a similar issue to what I've mentioned about Leonardo. Because, again, I love this idea. Raphael, in multiple iterations, complained about how he should be the leader and just as frequently learns why the job rightly belongs to Leo instead. So starting with this role reversal should be a well-executed idea that gives Raph what he wants while eventually giving the fans what they want. And it would be if not for the fact that Raph seems to be too good at his job.

I get it. If Raphael was too incompetent, the turtles would have gotten nothing done, and it would get too tiring too quick as Leonardo constantly proves why he should lead and why Raph should follow. This actually happens from time to time, and it is already tiresom. The issue is that the intention was to make Leonardo the leader in the end. So why spend so much time showing how Raphael is capable at the job and barely any time showing why Leonardo is a better fit? There are even times when Raphael seems like he really is a better leader than Leo, which I feel as though it is contradictory to the point the writers are trying to get across. In the end, it's nothing more than another really great idea met with insanely poor execution.

Master Splinter (Early Season One): ...Did anybody like this version of Master Splinter in the first half of season one? Because this character was atrocious, especially compared to the previous Splinter from TMNT (2012). We went from what is easily the best interpretation of the character to what was, at the time, the worst. He was lazy, selfish, and emotionally distant with his sons to the point where he only acknowledges them by the color of their bandannas. I understand that the writers needed a more comedic version of the character due to leaning extra hard into comedy, but I don't think I laughed once with his antics in the first half of season one. Thankfully, he's been gifted with a softcore reboot during the second half and onward. This Splinter is awesome, serious, he works well as a straight man, and he has a backstory that's easy to follow while still being kind of heartbreaking. It's a tremendous improvement from what we've been given, but it still doesn't change how downright painful he initially was. I won't complain about the results, but I do have the right to complain about what we got beforehand.

Characters are Inconsistent: A common complaint you'll hear about Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles is that the main characters are the same. That's not true because there are definite differences that separate each one apart from the other...the issue is that the writers are not consistent with those changes. I've touched upon it with Leo, but the truth is, everyone in the main cast suffers from inconsistency with their personalities. If Raph is supposed to be the meathead with a good heart, why are there times when he acts like the smart one who occasionally enjoys violence? If April is supposed to be as wild and carefree as the rest of the guys, why are there episodes where she seems to be the sane one? If Mikey is supposed to be kind yet somewhat stupid, why are there episodes where he's selfish and more intelligent than Leonardo? Even Donatello, who is the most consistent out of the whole cast, still suffers through moments when he isn't as clever and cynical as he usually is. These inconsistencies are annoying, and at times, it feels like their personalities are dependent on what the writers need for a joke or for the episode. Characters are the most essential aspect of any story for any medium. If audiences don't care about the characters, they'll find it hard to care about anything else. And how can we care about anyone if we're not one hundred percent sure what their personalities are in the first place?

The Pacing: I sort of expected this when it was announced that this reboot was swapping the franchise's usual half-hour runtime for a ten-minute one, but in all honesty, it isn't that bad. It is slightly fast at times, but that's just as quick to get used to. However, there is one strange phenomenon about this show that I can't let go of.

You see, this series somehow has worse pacing with extended episodes and specials than it does with its usual ten minutes. I don't know how this is possible either. Because despite having as much time as the writers want to establish each plot point, it still feels like they fly through them a little too fast than they regularly would. It makes no sense, but it's constant in every extended episode, especially the series finale (which, to be fair, is partially Nickelodeon's fault. AGAIN!). So keep that in mind when watching.

The Characters Are TOO Overpowered: It feels weird complaining about this. Because making the characters capable of doing anything and surviving much more leads to some of the most epic action sequences in animation history, not just the series or the TMNT franchise as a whole. Despite that, though, there is one crucial thing that is always missing from those fight scenes anyways: Tension.

To fully explain why tension is required in action, I'll have to use Samurai Jack as an example. You see, the titular character can, at times, be just as invincible as these versions of the Turtles and survive even worse. But regardless of him being victorious after nearly every episode, no matter how high the deck is stacked against him, there was always a sense that he fought hard, literally and figuratively, for those victories in the first place. Jack losing articles of clothing or getting cut up gives the illusion that he might not win in the end. He still does, and he always does, but showing the audience that he can and will get hurt makes seeing that victory feel earned. The only times the Turtles, April, or Splinter get hurt is either for comedic slapstick or because the story says so. This is why I consider Shredder destroying the lair is the best fight scene in the entire series. The second he starts destroying their weapons, it gives the tension required to believe maybe, just maybe, not everyone will make it out alive this time. Because if the characters aren't careful, they will face intense consequences as a result. Thus making an adrenaline-pounding moment in the process. Unfortunately, this is the one and only fight scene where that happens. Every action set piece is still epic, don't get me wrong. But there's a reason why writers make even Superman seem less invincible than typical in a fight.

Baron Draxum: THIS is the biggest issue that I have with the series.

As a villain, I didn't give a s**t about Baron Draxum. He was a dull antagonist with a generic evil plot, but other than that, he was perfectly serviceable for a series like this. Even getting a few chuckles now and again...but then the writers decided to make him REDEEMABLE!?

This guy?

The maniac who wanted to commit genocide on human beings, all because of insufficient proof that they'll do it to his species first?

Didn't we already learn how that's awful reasoning after Steven Universe?

Actually, that's not fair...because Steven Universe has a better explanation behind wanting to redeem the Diamonds than Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles does about Baron Draxum! And I'm not kidding! For Steven Universe, the characters believe that it's better to end things peacefully than killing anyone, even if they're the worst criminals. It's a flawed mentality, sure, but it's one you can grasp and understand. What's the reason for redeeming Baron Draxum? It's because he's the reason why Splinter and the turtles are a family...F**k all the physical torture Splinter went through on top of the social ostracization he experienced because of it. No, no, it totally validates the decision to forgive and forget...Oh, wait, no, it doesn't. BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE INSANE!

Who in the f**k honest to goodness thought that would be a good idea? I'm all for finding silver linings in a bad situation, but that is just flat-out lunacy! Because it's the equivalent of saying, "Yeah, this person was a complete a-hole, but they're still the a-hole that made you who you are today." But that is a very dangerous lesson to preach to kids. Because here's the--Hey *snaps fingers* Here's the thing: If a person treats you like garbage, you don't owe them anything for who you are. It's one thing if a person inspired you or cheered you on, but if someone basically ruined your life and physically harmed you and others, don't forgive them. They don't deserve it. ‘Cause f**k Baron Draxum. And whoever thought this was a good idea, you seriously need some help.

Man, is this how it feels to be Lily Orchard? IT SUCKS!

IN CONCLUSION

And that's what I think about Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

It's a fantastic series! I just like everything except for the execution of ideas, most of the characters, and the overall pacing of it...that means it's not a good series, is it?

Yeah, it's a real shame that I don't like this. Because I want to. I really want to. The pieces are there, and I can see how this could be a great and memorable version of a series I loved since I was a tater-tot myself. But I don't. I'm sorry, but I just don't consider this to be an A+ series. It's a solid C, for sure, because it's mostly just style with very little substance. I still respect the amount of effort everyone put into this reboot, but for me, it just never had its chance to fully rise to the occasion.

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #what i thought about #why i want to like

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avauntus · 3 years

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2020 favs: (short) fic recs

I am stealing this idea from @macgyver-sheriff, who has no clue who I am, but whose post I saw go across my dash. Thank you! 👋

Would you like some recs for the holiday season? - I too would like to share love for my favorite things I read that were written this year! <3

I’m going to do this in two parts - the short fics (10k or less, generally one-shot), and another post for the long or series fics I loved this year (it’s 2020, I figure we can use too much of a good thing?)

( @staidwaters - I’m ‘disqualifying’ your works because I’m biased, sorry! Look away! Unless you want recs!)

"Congratulations, Get Rich" (9,238 words) by Attila (The Untamed - modern AU)

Tomorrow is Chinese New Year, which means Wei Wuxian has to get all of his bad decisions out of the way tonight.

Lan Wangji, Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng, Mianmian are all so screamingly perfect as modern versions of themselves in this, and it is KNOCK DOWN HILLARIOUS. Wei Wuxian is just a screaming queer disaster (affectionate) - as he should be.

Excerpt:

After a long beat, Lan Xichen sinks gracelessly into the chair Lan Wangji had been sitting in earlier. “I just want to be absolutely clear,” he says delicately, “that you are currently under the impression that my brother has no romantic feelings for you. That is what you’re saying to me right now, yes?”

“Yes?” Wei Wuxian says, feeling desperately confused. “Obviously? Why?”

“Because at least one of you is very stupid, and I’m trying to figure out who,” Lan Xichen tells him, sounding distracted. It’s the rudest thing Wei Wuxian has ever heard him say, and his mouth drops open slightly.

“caved to the careless” (6,708 words) by ilgaksu (The Untamed/MDZS - Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen)

Love is a choice you make - like this, and this, and this.

Have you ever read a writer whose work is so distinctly itself that you can feel yourself slipping in time even as you keep going? That’s not very articulate, but it’s the best way I can describe everything of ilgaksu’s I’ve read. Their fics are the same emotional register as having the breath knocked out of you after a fall. This was the first one I read, and I think it ends well-- with what Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen find along the path-- but it’s still heavy. Discussions of canon-compliant character death and grief/mourning here.

Excerpt:

He pauses. Until this very moment, he was unsure who to ask for. He has heard the rumours of the Yiling Patriarch’s ongoing residence here, about Zewu-jun’s seclusion: he’s dead, but even the dead are not free from gossip. But he remembers a courtyard, nearly two decades ago, and the weight of eyes some might have called angry in their intensity. He remembers those same eyes, and how for the wear of the intervening years, they had kept the same essence: longing, yearning, a kind of small unspoken grief.

Song Lan had a dream once. A dream of a sect, bound not by blood, but by a shared belief in the right path. So many things are only an inheritance: shame is one of them.

Love is a choice. Love is a choice, and you choose until you can’t.

“I am here,” he decides, carving the words into the dirt, every stroke of every character resolute, “To meet with Hanguang-jun. Please show this one the way to go.”

“Green River Running” (8,169 words) by @rain-hat (Love in the Moonlight - post-canon AU)

5+1: Kim Byeong-yeon returns to the land of the living.

I skimmed through Love in the Moonlight during my quarantine summer (distinguishable from my “quarantine spring” or “quarantine fall” only by fireworks), and immediately upon finishing, thought: “Psht, they killed off their best character.” And then, something happened that never happens -- I went on ao3 and found the exact thing I was looking for, written far better than I could have imagined. Kim Byeong-yeon is such a quiet yet powerfully subversive presence and the progression here is so masterfully done. This is true of all of rainhat’s work’s I’ve read, but this is a fine example-- I really treasure the warm humanism of them.

Excerpt:

People needed helping hands even more than they needed sympathetic ears, though. Over the last year, Hong Gyeong-rae and Byeong-yeon had built houses and planted crops side by side; negotiating with moneylenders here, helping small-folk secure their stores against bandits there. There was nothing courtly about Byeong-yeon’s capacity for labour, or his expectation of reward. Wherever he went, he worked from dawn to dusk, ate the food he was given, and slept under a roof if he was offered one.

It suited him, Hong Gyeong-rae thought, even though there was something outlandish about his gentle speech and palace manners in the midst of it all. But to behave in any other way would be untrue to his upbringing; nor was he the sort of man to whom it would occur to try. And after all, most people liked to be treated with courtesy; it did not come across as mockery from this solemn, severely dressed young man, who seemed to find no task too big or too small. Hong Gyeong-rae had seen him argue tax law with local councillors and stand up to highwaymen armed with nothing but a knife and staff. But he watched cooking pots for women who had to run to the fields to tide over the day’s labour, too; he wrote letters for them, and tolerated their fractious children and spoon-fed their bedridden elders, if that was what was called for.

“The Veritable Records of King Taejo: Year 2, Entry 208“ (9,857 words) by @sadviper (My Country: the New Age - Nam Seon-ho & Hwang Sung-rok slice-of-life)

Hwang Sung-rok eats his way to the bottom of a real estate scam, and Seon-ho and Yeon help (a little).

No one is out here doing it like SadViper. This is technically part of a series, but they can all be read separately. I did not realize I needed to see more of Nam Seon-ho in all his “type-A government official glory” until Viper started sketching him out for us, and as a bonus, we get to see Yeon, and Sung-rok as the world’s surliest caretaker (but don’t call him that). I have an authorial fallacy where I always think stories have to have some grand “plot” -- a “Maltese Falcon” to pull the reader along-- the genius of Viper’s work is she shows us exactly how interesting and important the day-by-day tiny choices and connections we make are, with an impeccable background of historical research to ground you in the setting.

Excerpt:

Nam Seon-ho was his master now. He was a strange one. He was a traitor, for helping the escaped Liaodong soldiers, but not, because he managed to wiggle his way back into Yi Seong-gye’s favor and was now a sixth-ranked inspector with the privilege of having personal audiences with the King. He was temperamental and belligerent from being the son of a slave mother and a lifetime subject of Lord Nam’s fantastic parenting philosophy. He was afflicted with perpetual guilt. And he was also one of the hardest working and most desperate people Sung-rok had ever known.

It was a terrible combination. He was not merely a disaster waiting to happen, but a disaster perambulating on two legs at the edge of a chasm. If Sung-rok intended to stay in service for long, he needed to find a way to cool down some of Seon-ho’s intensity, even though admittedly, it was what drew him to Seon-ho in the first place.

Thoughts like these plagued Sung-rok for a while. It was one thing to know a person; it was quite another thing to try to change them.

“Orison” (4,975 words) by @gravelghosts (aeli_kindara) (Supernatural 15x18 coda)

Cas says, I love you.

So! This rips my heart out, every time. All the times Dean imagines himself together with Cas...and then he imagines himself, if not happy, then thriving.

Jack: “What is the point...if everyone I care about is going to leave?”

Castiel: “The point is that they were here at all and you got to know them, you... When they're gone, it will hurt, but that hurt will remind you of how much you loved them.”

Excerpt:

The thing Dean tries to do is: listen.

Happiness isn’t in the having. It’s in just — being. It’s in just saying it, Cas tells him, and Dean’s whole heart is screaming, No, but he shuts his mouth. He listens. He listens like his life fucking depends on it, which it does, in more ways than one.

“Sky Full of Song” (6,632 words) by @drivingsideways (Supernatural, finale 15x20 fix-it, Dean/Cas)

Or: The One in which Cas ghosted Dean.

Look. Look. If Cas(tiel) can yank Dean Winchester out of Hell, celestial-scream at him not once but twice, burn out a woman’s eyes like an utter clown before thinking “Huh, an Earthly vessel, guess that’s not just bullshit, then,” and when they finally work it out, Dean greets them with a knife to the chest and THEN they’ll spend twelve years misunderstanding each other and bickering, you had better believe these two are going to be disasters even in Heaven. Drivingsideways gives us all of that dynamic, with the found family of Jack and Mary as facilitators, and the happy resolution, which of course includes a true form “roughly the size of your Chrysler Building.” <3

Excerpt:

The thing is, Castiel doesn’t want Dean to feel obligated.

Dean has a streak of self-sacrifice that's as wide as the Caspian Sea, and Castiel doesn't want to be any more of a chore or obligation than they have been to Dean for all the long years of their—brotherhood.

Castiel had shocked Dean, to the core of him, with their confession, and Castiel had seen the swirling confusion, the fear, the panic, the shit what do I say, what do I do—how do I stop him—

So, no, Castiel would not be paying a visit anytime soon.

Of course, if Dean evinced an interest in meeting them, then Castiel would not stay away.

Castiel isn't that cruel.

(They have, on occasion, been exactly that cruel, but they are trying to outgrow it.)

Dean is still their friend.

Dean knows how to reach them, if he wants to.

(see? disasters. haha)

“The Rough” (3,267 words) by anactoria (Supernatural, finale -15x20- ‘fix-it’)

Heaven can absolutely fucking wait.

Rec’ed for the concept more than the style (this is dialogue-heavy, as a lot of 15x20 fix-its tend towards), but I *love* this course-correction: After kicking around Heaven, Dean and Cas return to Earth to take their place as urban legends among the hunter community. Just for a while.

Excerpt:

But it isn’t life. That’s the thing. It’s awesome, but it isn’t life; life’s a hard, painful, infuriating mess, and Dean only got halfway through his own, and he feels cheated. For all he held it together for Sammy at the end, for all he tried to take Cas’s big moment-of-happiness speech on board, he feels cheated.

There’s supposed to be peace at the end. When you’re done.

Dean wasn’t done.

#other's fic #fic recs #2020: a year!#spn #my country: new age #the untamed #love in the moonlight

25 notes · View notes

merakiui · 4 years

Note

hey!! i was lucky enough to stumble across your blog, & i'm enjoying your writing!! could i request something for a first date w/ sian? maybe something more casual, like a cafe!

(I’m glad you like it! Hopefully this is what you had in mind with your request! I went for a “friends to lovers” vibe in a modern setting if that’s okay. Please enjoy and thank you for such a fun request!)

Courtesy Coffee (Sian)

You met under unpleasant circumstances. Sian was in a rush to get to his destination, and you were staring down at your phone with a cup of iced coffee in your other hand. Like that banal trope in shoujo manga, the two of you crashed into one another, and your drink spilled all over his outfit. As complete strangers, it was obvious that the one who was drenched would be incredibly frustrated. That was an exact observation, only Sian didn’t feel the need to use a filter that day.

“Are you kidding me? Watch where you’re going!” he had yelled, gripping his soaked shirt and glaring daggers at you. “How am I supposed to show up to work looking like this?!”

Anyone would feel frightened with his exasperated tone of voice and the intimidating aura that surrounded him, but you weren’t one to surrender immediately.

Straightening your shoulders, you met his heated stare. “I’m sorry. At least it wasn’t hot, right?” Hoping to dispel his anger, you smiled a little. “I can buy you a clean shirt if it’ll make you feel better.”

He puffed his cheeks out, suddenly bashful as he avoided your gaze. “It’s the least you could do! Seriously, this is the worst. I smell just like your stupid coffee.”

“Hey, don’t diss my iced coffee. It’s delicious and you know it.”

“If it’s so good, why is it all over me?” he snapped, crossing his arms. “This’ll stain, you know!”

“I offered to get you another shirt.”

“It’s not just on my shirt, you moron! I can’t face my colleagues like this. You have no idea what they’ll say.”

“Suck it up then!”

“No!”

You sighed heavily, gripping your empty coffee cup. “There’s no need to be difficult. Just let me get you a clean polo and slacks. Unless you’d rather parade around in wet, coffee-smelling attire. You’re making a scene with all of your yelling.”

“You were just yelling, too. Fine, whatever. I guess you can do that.”

Even as you spied his blush, you couldn’t ignore your thoughts. Is he seriously embarrassed by the fact that I’m getting him clothes? Anyone would do this to repay the damage.

“That’s all I needed to hear. Oh, and for the record you’re the one who should watch where you’re going.”

He didn’t take those words too well. Regardless, that was how you met the guy with a loud mouth and an even louder personality. You ran into him twice after that incident, and each time he seemed to stumble over himself. He tried to thank you for the clothes, but all he could manage was a huff and an angry comment about how the fabric was uncomfortable. Weeks later, that same boy just so happened to feel bad about starting a few shouting matches with you during those three times you interacted. He saw you in a café by chance and secretly covered your drink fee, making the barista promise not to reveal his identity. It was a sweet gesture, despite being anonymous and a bit of a shock on your end. You’d never experienced the magic that was receiving your drink for free, but it was great nonetheless.

You enter work that morning with a cheery disposition, passing by coworkers and even engaging in kind banter with those who aren’t the friendliest. You clock in and make your way towards the elevator while scrolling through an online article. Hearing a familiar ping, you glance up, urging whoever’s inside to hold the door. There are four other people crammed within the area, all of whom are silently waiting for the elevator to rise. You push the button for your floor and relax. Momentarily, you glance around the enclosed space to see if you can recognize anyone from your department. Your eyes sweep from one person to the next, and you spot polite Nine at the very back.

You’re compelled to greet him, but someone stands in your way. Someone who bears an uncanny resemblance to the guy who was showered in iced coffee two weeks ago. You gasp and turn away, hoping he won’t notice you.

No way! We work for the same company? What’re the odds? This must be a bad omen! I don’t want to start another fight with him, you think, having done your best to erase those memories.

The elevator pings, and you’re completely distracted. Though you don’t miss the hand that taps your shoulder. Your gaze follows his arm. It’s that guy again.

“Hey. This is your floor, isn’t it?”

The number doesn’t lie, but Sian’s memory might as he struggles to recall your familiar features. It clicks just as you bolt out of the elevator, the doors slipping shut and obscuring your backside for good. Sian blinks rapidly as his face heats up. That was...

Coffee idiot! he thinks. There’s no mistaking that stupid look on their face. He’s thrown into a bad mood at once, internally grumbling as he remembers that day. Even if he changed into new clothes, he still smelled of coffee. It was embarrassing, and his bothersome colleagues wouldn’t leave him alone. And now we work in the same building. Maybe I should just quit so I don’t have to face them.

"Can you believe it, Youssef?” you ask your deskmate, having ranted to him while typing up the progress of this week’s publication. At least that’s a monetary positive for the company. You can’t say the same for your mentality, though. “I do something nice in return and he yells at me. And then we meet again—twice—and he’s still rude.”

Youssef tilts his head, a childish gesture for someone his age. “Are you sure you’re not incorrectly reading his actions?”

“I’m positive. When have I ever been wrong?” You frown as your fingers slow their pace on the keyboard. “I just found out today that we work in the same building. This is totally unfair. Why do I have to bear the burden of knowing this information?”

“I’m sure he means well. What does he look like? I might know him.” You describe him to your helpful colleague, who nods and taps his chin in thought. His expression lights up with recognition. “If I remember correctly, his name is Sian, and he’s in the marketing department. We’ve only talked briefly, but I can assure you he’s quite diligent with his work.”

“Well, everyone’s got their own personality outside of their jobs.”

“I suppose, but it’s not polite to label someone based off of such little knowledge,” he advises lightly, turning his attention back to his computer screen. “Rather than using all of your energy painting a bad image of him, you should spend that time getting to know him. It’ll fix any negative impressions you may have.”

“Something tells me he wouldn’t like that...”

Since then, you haven’t run into Sian once. At first you made it your mission to keep an eye out for him, but now that you’ve been busy with this new project you can’t be bothered to let his image clutter your mind. So you brush him aside like a cobweb, certain you won’t bump into him again. Your floors are far enough apart, so it’s unlikely that that’ll happen. But you’re not always the luckiest, and fate tends to tease those who aren’t on good terms with one another.

You’re close to running late on a rainy day, having missed the train, so now you’re doing everything you can to catch a taxi. Cars speed by on the road, and you fail to flag down a vehicle. Dejected and soaked to the bone, you drag your feet along the slick sidewalk, wishing for your next paycheck so that you can put it towards a used car. Speaking of cars, one slides past you as it makes an effort to park along the walkway. In doing so, the tires kick up a huge puddle, effectively soaking your lower half. As if the day couldn’t have gotten any worse. The car almost moves out of the spot before it halts, and the window steadily rolls down to reveal the face of your greatest enemy.

Well, he’s not technically your greatest enemy, but it really feels like it in that moment.

“Do you need a ride?” As if correcting himself, he quickly adds, “I’m not doing this because it’s you! I’m just sympathizing.”

Does it matter? you wonder, bitter and cold and wet. Karma is so brutal.

“You’re Sian, right?” You approach his car, peering in at the flustered man. “From marketing.”

“Y-Yeah. So what?”

“I’m in publishing.” Awkwardly, you look up at the cloudy sky. “It’s really coming down. The forecast didn’t call for this much rain.”

“Are you getting in or not?”

“But you’re a stranger,” you jest, fixing him with a pout. “I don’t want scary Sian to kidnap me.”

He glowers at your joke. “I’m leaving now. I don’t have time for this.”

You hold back a chuckle, tearing open the door before he can drive off. “Wait! Sorry, I’ll get in. I can’t stand another minute in this rain.”

The window slides up, and he sets the car in motion after you’ve buckled up, easing back into the flow of traffic smoothly. Now that you’re sitting there with the AC blowing cool air at your face, you shudder. Oh, how wonderful it must feel to be in clothes that are warm and untouched by the rain. In his peripheral, Sian catches your shivering form, and he switches the AC from cold air to hot. You might not dry as quick as one would hope, but at least it’s something.

The silence is utterly tense. You almost expect him to bicker with you like he did in the past. Instead, he’s focused on the winding road ahead. Though you don’t miss the pink hue that tints his cheeks and gradually rises to his ears.

“So,” you say, if only to get a conversation going. “How’s work?”

“Fine, I guess. How did you know who I was?”

“My friend Youssef.”

“Oh.”

“You probably don’t know me. I’m (Name).”

“I already know.”

“Really? Stalker.”

“I’m not a stalker!” he exclaims, glaring hard at the windshield. “You’re kind of hard to miss.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re always so loud at our company parties. How can anyone ignore that?” Sian then proceeds to bless your ears with a story from this year’s holiday party. A few departments got together and went out for drinks and karaoke. Naturally, you had a drinking contest with your colleagues, which led to a tipsy night of bad singing and stumbling from one bar to the next. You were surprised Sian remembered that, mainly because you couldn’t recall seeing him there. And it’s been months since that rowdy night. “Do you see my point?”

“Don’t remind me. That hangover hurt my soul.”

He quirks a smile at that. “It’s not flattering when you sing high notes in the wrong key.”

“Like you could do any better.”

“I can because I was sober.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You roll your eyes, gazing out at the scenery that passes by in a blur of dull colors. Without meaning to, you eye Sian’s reflection in the window, taking note of his side profile. He’s actually quite handsome when he’s calm and not acting so stubborn. “I guess we’re even now.”

“Even?”

“I spilled coffee on you, and you splashed me when your tires hit that puddle.”

“Am I supposed to buy you clothes now?”

“If you’re offering...”

“I wasn’t offering!”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a spare uniform in my locker.”

I wasn’t worried to begin with, you coffee idiot, Sian thinks, gripping the steering wheel. He keeps track of your occasional trembling, and he can’t help but feel troubled. You’ll catch a cold if you don’t dry off soon. Suddenly, he regrets pulling up beside you and accidentally sending water flying in your direction. This time it was definitely his fault, wasn’t it? Sian wants to make it up to you, but it’s impossible. He’ll die of embarrassment before he succeeds in performing a good deed in front of you.

Truthfully, he’s always noticed you. The very first instance was last year at the company’s drinking party. You were glued to Youssef’s side, engaging in idle chatter with him and another guy he wasn’t too familiar with. At the time, Sian thought your behavior was obnoxious. No one wants their younger coworker clinging to them. It just made you look like an attention-seeking puppy. Although you were definitely upbeat at that party. He had watched you chug an entire pint of beer like it was nothing and then join in on a pointless game of Ten Fingers with enough energy to put a child to shame.

He thought you were annoying at first, and yet there was something captivating about your personality. He’d never had the guts to approach you outright, so when he ran into you that day all of his frustrations just spilled over. He was angry at himself for not having the courage to talk to you at every company party, and now that he had a chance he couldn’t think of what to say. He hadn’t mentally prepared anything! So he said the first thing that came to his mind, which passed through his unfiltered lips in a very abrupt manner.

But you didn’t show any fear. You hardly flinched. Instead you met his words with a few of your own, and that’s what ruffled Sian’s feathers. You were so good at communication, and he was very much unskilled, usually relying on phrases he prepared in his head. It’s not like he couldn’t talk. He could when he was interested in a certain subject or whenever he was reading from a page, but in front of someone he admired... Sian knew he’d make a fool of himself.

Now that you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, he has every opportunity to say what he wants. Yet the words scramble in his brain, and he can’t calm his racing heart. Before he can think of anything witty, the building comes into view, and the parking garage has never seemed so dismal. Sian’s kicking himself as he parks, disappointed with how he handled that situation.

“Thanks for this. I’ll go on ahead.” You unbuckle, holding your briefcase and squeezing water from your blazer. “I’m sorry if I got your seat wet.”

“It’s...fine.”

You’re going to walk away and then he’ll become the coffee idiot. He opens his mouth to say something that’ll stop you, but you turn around at the right moment.

“Let’s get coffee sometime in the future. You deserve it after all the trouble I gave you,” you propose, smiling earnestly. And I feel guilty for my initial judgement. Youssef was right.

Sian’s eyes widen, and he struggles to remain stoic. “Oh, uh...”

“That’s okay with you, right?”

“I guess. Whatever works for you.” He shrugs.

“Great!” You retrieve a pen from your case and close the distance between the two of you. Humming, you snatch his hand, spreading his fingers so that his palm is wide open. And then you scribble something on it, grinning in satisfaction. Sian stares at you the entire time, his face blank and head filled with static. “Text me the days you’re available. See you later!” You tuck the pen away, hastily dashing in the direction of the elevator.

Sian stands there for a moment, slack-jawed. He forces himself to look down at his hand. Your number is written on his skin in smudged ink. His face erupts in a flurry of red. That coffee idiot...

------

“It’s not a date,” Sian mutters as he walks to the café. “It’s not. Stop thinking that way.”

But maybe it is a date, the voice in the back of his mind whispers, goading him into believing so. He dressed as casually as possible, but he still hopes it’ll impress you. There are plenty of fears that flood his head, and he almost turns around as soon as he gets to the entrance. But he’s come this far, and he’d regret it forever if he left now. This might be his only chance; he can’t afford to pass it up. So he pushes open the door in search of you. It doesn’t take long to locate your form amongst the few who are inside. Sian’s pulse rushes into overdrive, and he clenches his jaw.

It’s not a date. Act natural.

You look up from your phone just as he slides into the seat across from you. A warm smile blossoms across your face, and you tuck your mobile away. “Sian, you made it! I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

“It’d be rude if I didn’t show up after you made all those plans.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Well, thank you. Now I won’t have to feel bad about Monday morning.”

You had felt bad? Sian’s cheeks must be burning intensely bright now, but there’s nothing he can do. “It’s your fault for being an idiot.”

You chuckle. “That makes two of us. One idiot ignored the forecast, and the other wasn’t watching where he was going.”

“Whatever. Just so we’re clear, I’m not as stupid as you.” He crosses his arms and huffs. “And you don’t have any taste. I mean, iced coffee? Really?”

“It’s good!” you insist. “You’re missing out. Everyone knows iced coffee is better than hot coffee.”

“Is it now? I don’t agree with that statistic.”

“You’re allowed to have your own opinion, Mr. Sian,” you tease. “Give me your drink order. I’ll go get it.”

“What? No way. I’ll pay.”

“As if! I’m treating you.”

“You already bought me clothes.”

“And now I’m going to buy you coffee. It’s to say thanks for picking me up during that storm.”

“I would’ve left you on that sidewalk if I knew you were going to make it a hassle now!”

“Just accept my kindness!”

Sian shuts his mouth, giving into your demand. He grumbles his order, and you’re very happy as you make your way towards the register to get the two of you drinks and pastries. He watches as you pay, releasing a soft sigh. It’s hard to say no to someone you’ve admired for so long. Sian’s not sure when he started to like you, but he’s certain these recent interactions have only added fuel to the burning fire residing in his heart. It’s embarrassing to think he’s even on a romantic outing with you, but it’s not like the two of you are close friends. So then what does that make this?

When you return to the window table, setting down the drinks and a plate with two strawberry bread puddings, he’s shaken from his daydreams. This is actually happening. It’s not just another fantasy he’s imagined while witnessing you drink your sanity away at parties.

“I’m not sure if you like strawberries, but I—“

“I guess it’s okay,” he interrupts, trying to hide the fact that he actually likes it very much.

“Good!” You ease into your chair. “You’re not as bad as I thought you were.”

He raises an eyebrow as he takes a sip from his latte. “Huh.”

“You seemed really upset when I spilled my coffee on you. But anyone would be, so it’s completely understandable. I thought you hated me because of that. When we saw each other again, you were pretty sensitive.”

“I’m not sensitive!” he snaps, proving your point. “That was a white shirt you ruined.”

“Will you feel better if you dump coffee on me?”

“What? Why would I do that? I’m not going to do something as petty as that!”

“Aw, so you do care.”

“I don’t. Get lost.”

You break out into a laughing fit, genuinely amused at his coldness. Even if he doesn’t want to show it, he’s quite nice, and you’re relieved that he didn’t turn out to be a bully seeking revenge. Then again, it’s been weeks since that incident.

“It’s not funny!”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re just so expressive. It’s hard not to laugh.”

A furious red darkens his face, and he decides to fumble with his fork in order to give his hands something to do. The bread pudding is surprisingly delicious. He fumes in his embarrassment while he eats.

Eventually, the two of you converse about work and that project your department took on. Sian listens to your rambling as you go on and on about how irksome it is when last-minute changes are made to a finalized draft. He enjoys every story you tell him, and by the time the plate is empty he feels as if he’s grown closer with you. Could this be the beginning of a friendship? He’s hit with a sudden wave of inspiration for lyrics that will never be sung. At least they can fester on a page in his notebook, where he’ll return on countless occasions to proofread and debate over the meaning of each line. Oh, how he’d love to share his music with you. It’ll take a while before he does something as bold as that, though.

“I just got an idea! There’s this awesome bar thirty minutes from work. I usually go with my friends because they’ve got a bunch of games you can play. Board games, card games—you name it. We should go one of these days.”

“R-Really?”

“Yeah! You seem like a fun guy to hang out with. Card games might sound boring, but they’re actually really fun when you’re playing for money. And when you’ve got a few drinks in your system.”

Sian struggles to hide the giddy smile that threatens to split his lips. “No... It sounds perfect. I’m actually really good at Slapjack, so be prepared to lose miserably!”

“Is that a challenge? What should we wager?”

"How about a meal? Loser has to pay for the winner’s lunch.”

“All right. It’s a deal. I’ll keep you updated on my schedule so that we can choose a weekend to meet up.”

“Sure!” Sian’s face won’t stop heating up and he can’t slow his erratic heartbeat. “I mean, I’ll only do it so I can get a free lunch. It’s not like I’m agreeing for your sake.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever floats your boat.”

His chest feels airy and light, almost as if he’s in a dream. Your words weigh on his conflicted heart. How can anyone make plans so easily? If the roles were reversed, he’d be an absolute mess. It’d be so embarrassing; Sian would probably want to curl up and disappear if he ever tried to ask you out on his own volition. You probably don’t even feel the same way. After all, this is merely two coworkers having a normal conversation. But he can’t get stuck in the friend zone. That’d be the worst outcome to all of this. So in the meantime he’ll do his best to act cordial. He can hide his shy demeanor and fluffy feelings behind a blunt attitude.

“All of this planning makes it seem like we’re a couple,” you muse with flirtatious intent. Leaning back in your chair, you gauge Sian’s reaction. Just as you figured, he’s turning crimson. It’s honestly endearing to see him get so flustered. “What do you think, Sian?”

“I... I don’t know. Don’t say stupid things! It’s really annoying.”

No matter how sharp his words are, you know he doesn’t mean it. After all, his expression clearly refutes those claims.

“Sian and (Name), sitting in a tree—“

“Shut up!”

If this isn’t a date, then what’s with all the flirting?

Sian’s going to have to take a cold shower when he gets home to lower his body temperature. And to scrub away the embarrassment that’s washed over him like rain.

It’s not a date. It’s just coffee with an acquaintance. Yeah. Just courtesy coffee.

He couldn’t be any further from the truth.

#after l!fe #afterl!fe #afterl!fe sian #afterl!fe x reader #afterl!fe the sacred kaleidoscope #afterl!fe sian x reader #sian x reader #oneshot

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sineala · 4 years

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The Old Guard

This post comes to you courtesy of the generous support of one of my Patreon patrons, who wanted to know what I thought of The Old Guard. This post contains some spoilers for both the movie and the comics.

So, a few days after it came out, my wife and I watched The Old Guard on Netflix. Tumblr had said a bunch of good things about it, and both of us basically cut our fannish teeth on Highlander fandom so we already had an automatic buy-in for a story about immortals. I knew it was based on a comic by Greg Rucka, but I had not, at the time, read the comic, although I am now reading it in order to write this post.

The premise of the film is as follows: a four-person team of immortals (Andy, Joe, Nicky, and Booker) makes a living hiring themselves out as mercenaries, fighting for causes that they believe are right. They are successful at this basically because their grasp of tactics appears to be (1) die, followed by (2) come back to life and (3) murder your attackers who are no longer paying attention to you because they think you're dead. Honestly, at this point, you wouldn't really need to be very good at the actual fighting part, I would think, but the film establishes that all of them are -- especially Charlize Theron as Andy -- because presumably it wants you to watch action sequences of everyone being badass, which they are. So, yeah. They take all the good-guy mercenary jobs that no one else can do because it would kill them, which is not a problem for them!

Anyway! The group's routine is interrupted by two major events: the discovery of Nile Freeman, a new immortal, who is a Marine serving in Afghanistan who survives getting murdered; and also the fact that one of their employers, Copley (played by Chiwetel Eijofor, whom you may remember as Mordo in Doctor Strange) has sold them out to the movie's Actual Villain, a Big Pharma CEO named Merrick (played by the guy who played Dudley in the Harry Potter series), who has (as far as I can tell) been given instructions to play this role just like he's Martin Shkreli, who is interested in finding the secret of their immortality, and whom you can tell is evil because he has his name in giant letters on the side of his building.

ME: Look, it's the villain! I've found the villain! MY WIFE: Other than Tony Stark, who actually puts their names on buildings like that except villains? It's just villains, right? ME: Uh. The president? The president definitely does that. (We make horrified faces at each other.)

Because we are Extremely Pedantic, we also spent a lot of time picking at how the characters' names and language abilities match up to their stated background. They all know a lot of languages, as you might expect, and the movie was determined to get through them without subtitles, which is an interesting choice but also kind of left some linguistic plot holes.

For example, Joe and Nicky claim to have met each other in the Crusades, with Nicky as (presumably) a Crusader and Joe as (presumably) a Muslim occupant of the area, although the movie doesn't specify this; Wikipedia gives Joe's name as Yusuf Al-Kaysani, which would at least fit that. Nicky is clearly Italian (as is Luca Marinelli, the actor who portrays him) and when he speaks Italian to the rest of the group we see that he definitely speaks modern Italian as spoken in Rome... which is absolutely, definitely not the language he grew up speaking, given that, among other things, Wiki lists the character's full name as Nicolò di Genova. I don't know if the writer of the screenplay (who I see now is also Greg Rucka) didn't know how much Italian dialects had changed in the last thousand years, if he thought that was good enough to be a nod to the character, or if there's some kind of backstory that didn't make it in where every so often Nicky decides to learn a modern dialect and keep his hand in, and also decides that that's the language he wants to use among his friends who would presumably understand several different dialects.

Also, the reveal that Andy's real name was in fact "Andromache of Scythia" was indeed badass but was slightly undercut by my wife yelling BUT THE SCYTHIANS DIDN'T SPEAK GREEK at the television.

Additionally, I feel like the movie could perhaps have been aware of the ways it chose to label on-screen locations, in which the countries were spelled out in large fonts with the cities above them. Places like LONDON, ENGLAND got their entire names spelled out, as did small French villages whose names I can no longer remember, but I guess AFGHANISTAN and MOROCCO and SOUTH SUDAN have zero cities, huh? However, the end of the movie did take place in PARIS which I guess unlike London is its own country now.

So the actual plot features the group of immortals trying to explain this whole immortality thing to Nile while being on the run from the people who are trying to turn them into Big Pharma, who wants to capture them and exploit the secret of their immortality. This is where it falls down a little for me, because the worldbuilding... gets a little shaky. They dream about each other when they're apart. Okay. Why? Sometimes they just stop being immortal and lose the capacity to heal and are dead in their next battle. Why? Why do they even exist? I just... wanted more answers than the movie gave me, and the pacing where I kept expecting there to be explanations wasn't there. There were a couple of scenes where Nile sat there in silence contemplating the fact that she would outlive her loved ones and my brain kept trying to insert Queen's "Who Wants to Live Forever?" Granted, the Highlander canon explanation for immortality is deeply, deeply weird, but at least it tried. No, I can't believe I'm defending Highlander II either.

The characters, too, could have been more fleshed out. The bulk of the character development is given to Andy and Nile, and I'm not complaining about that -- they were great -- but Joe and Nicky and Booker only got maybe a few lines each. They would have felt so much more real if they'd just had a little bit more to them. Also I didn't understand Copley's arc at all, but saying more about that would be spoilery. I do like that they have definitely set themselves up for a sequel.

But even with what we got, there's a lot to love about the characters. If you're here for canonically queer characters, you will enjoy Nicky and Joe, who have been in a relationship for probably about a thousand years. They are minor characters as far as the overall plot goes, but what they do have is lovely, and there is a romantic declaration between them at one point that is absolutely beautiful and possibly the most fervent love declaration I can remember seeing in a movie since maybe... ever. If you also like your queerness more subtextual, though Andy is never portrayed as explicitly queer, her past friendship with a fellow immortal Quynh was shown as very intense, as is the role she takes here mentoring Nile into the world of immortality. Also she has a double-bladed axe (yes, we kept yelling BRING ME MY MAN-KILLING AXE at the television) and as we all know, the double-bladed labrys has in modern times become a symbol for lesbians. So there's that.

In addition to the characters of color who play important roles here -- Nile was my personal favorite, but there's also Joe and Copley and (in flashback) Quynh -- there's a lot of diversity behind the cameras as well, or so the internet informs me. The director (Gina Prince-Bythewood) is the first Black woman to direct a superhero movie, and the same is true of her editor (Terilyn Shropshire). And, furthermore, apparently 85% of the post-production crew were women. They didn't have to do that, and yet they did. It was nice.

I don't watch a whole lot of action movies these days because I usually find R-rated violence too... violent, but I found myself really liking almost all of the action sequences here. None of them felt gratuitous, and a lot of them really focused on the physicality of the immortals fighting in a way I liked, because I feel like people are probably going to fight differently if they know they can survive every single hit, and I think the movie portrayed that in a way that a lot of superhero comics and movies don't. My favorite fight scene is definitely the one between Nile and Andy at the beginning, when Andy has trapped her on a plane and it's extremely close-quarters fighting and also extremely brutal. They don't stop basically until Nile breaks enough bones that she can't get up anymore, because until then she's going to keep trying, which is both kind of horrifying and a great character note. And they didn't film it like it was a Sexy Catfight! It was so good.

Also, the soundtrack is really good, and I've found myself streaming it on Spotify all week. I didn't know any of the songs in the movie, but there's a lot of hip-hop and -- okay, I don't even know if this is a genre? -- specifically a lot of hip-hop with an electronic/industrial sort of beat, which I thought was really great and livened up the fight scenes even more; "Going Down Fighting" did a really good job getting me in the mood for the final confrontation with the villain, and... yeah, it's all good. Someone made a playlist on Spotify that will come up if you search for it.

So, yeah. It's on Netflix. It's not without flaws (mostly, explaining how the hell immortality works, and a couple of pacing issues), but it's a really satisfying superhero movie.

That's the movie. Onto the comic, which I am just now starting to read as I write these words. Whee!

So The Old Guard: Opening Fire is a 2017 five-issue Image Comics series written by Greg Rucka, with art by Leandro Fernández, and there's also a 2019 sequel, The Old Guard: Force Multiplied, by the same creative team, also with five issues. I have not actually read any of Rucka's work before now because he is mostly famous for his DC work, but I have heard good things about it, especially his Wonder Woman run.

Anyway. The art is very stylized, with a minimal color palette, and it's very pretty but I honestly found it hard to parse sometimes. Many of the characters have very weird noses. Yes, noses. It's basically mostly in Andy's and Nile's POVs, like the movie, and as far I can tell Andy is explicitly queer, because unless I am entirely misreading this panel in issue #1, here she is in bed with a woman in one panel. Whee. Also there are some nice epigraphs at the beginning of each issue.

Okay, so, the plot here is basically the plot of the movie. There is still no explanation of why immortality exists. But even so, there are some fun character moments that didn't make it into the movie -- for example, Andy saying smartphones are too hard to use and she liked the old ones better, only for the rest of her team to say that she couldn't use those either. I think you get a better sense of Andy's world-weariness in the comic. There are also other, now-dead Immortals mentioned, like Noriko, who "went overboard off the Horn." Quynh is not one of them; Quynh basically is Noriko, which is because they cast a Vietnamese actress who asked if her character could be Vietnamese too, which seems perfectly reasonable to me. But anyway, in the comics, she's Noriko. Weirdly, Andy's full name, as she tells Nile when they meet, is Andronika ("man-victory") rather than Andromache ("man-battle," in case you were wondering); I think the movie made a better choice because Ἀνδρονίκα has exactly two attestations in the Lexicon of Greek Personal Names, whereas Ἀνδρομάχη has all that shiny name recognition of being shared by the wife of Hector and also the queen of the Amazons and will ping viewers as a Greek name, and therefore ancient, even if it can't be the name she was born with. (There are five for "Andronike" and four more for "Andromacha" so they actually have about the same number of total attestations, as far as I can tell, when you consider the alpha/eta alternation in how various Greek dialects mark feminine nouns.)

(Yes, you totally wanted a review by someone who looks up character names in the LGPN. Don't lie.)

Plotwise, Andy gets all of the initial exposition in for Nile before they get to the safehouse, which Copley has already gotten to before they get back, so Booker is bleeding on the floor and Nile doesn't get to meet Joe or Nicky at this time, and I am also glad they changed that for the movie. But, don't worry, Joe and Nicky's romantic declaration is still in here. We also get Andy pondering the last time she was in love, with a human who grew old.

Oh, and we get Andy's age: 6,732. And by issue #5 her name has changed to Andromache, because what even is continuity? I guess Andromache is her name now.

So Nile finally meets Joe and Nicky when she rescues them and also, uh, that plot point where Andy might die? Totally not a thing here. Nope. And no "surprise! even more immortals!" end-credits moments either.

Basically, I feel like every change they made to the script for the movie really strengthened the story, and even though I thought the movie could have used more character moments, it's way better than how the characters are separated for even longer in the comic. Nile rescuing the team means a lot more when she has met them before, you know?

So Force Multiplied starts us off with Andy, Joe, Nicky, and Nile, because Booker is still on time-out. They are in the middle of a car chase, and Booker's off getting himself kidnapped by someone who wants to know where the others are. The villain of the piece turns out to be Noriko, who is still alive, whom Booker had never had a chance to meet and apparently had never heard of. So, basically, a lot like the Quynh plot that the movie is teasing.

Overall it's a little less action-filled than the first one, which had multiple splash pages of nothing but violence; this one is a little more character-driven and explores the relationship, such as it is, between Andy and Noriko, as well as Nile coming to terms with her immortality, as well as with what everyone else has done over the years. It does have a bunch of violence at the end, though.

I don't want to spoil the ending, but I definitely wasn't expecting where that was heading. There's apparently going to be a third volume, and I am looking forward to it, whenever it exists.

(Although, now that I think about it, the ending is a lot like a fan-favorite moment of Highlander: The Series, but I think if I said which episode you would know exactly what the ending was.)

So, yeah! The Old Guard! I can't say as I feel particularly fannish about it -- there's nothing that makes me yearn to fill in the gaps in canon -- but the movie was really good and you should see it. And you should read the comics if you're into that.

#posts i actually wrote

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avelera · 4 years

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A few fun notes I’ve picked up on the Crusades, as would be relevant to Nicky and Joe, courtesy of leaving Great Courses lectures on in the background while doing other stuff (meaning if you’re a huge fan of the history of the Crusades you definitely know more than me):

- Nicolò di Genova could have been one of several, not necessarily mutually exclusive things before embarking on the Crusade - the second son of a wealthy/noble family (it would explain how he could afford the journey and weapons/armor), a poor brigand (one reason the Pope called the Crusades was to redirect European infighting and banditry) and/or a devout Christian who was spiritually moved by Pope Urban II’s call to arms. The devout option does not necessarily preclude either of the previous two possibilities, because the Pope promised total forgiveness of ALL sins (before and during) committed in one’s life and during the Crusades, so those who may have turned to banditry out of desperation but felt guilty for their immortal souls could have also been lured by the promise of spiritual reward, not just material reward.

- I’m going to go out on a limb and say Nicky was part of the Princes’ Crusade in 1096, the official one that Pope Urban wanted and I distinguish because there was a thing called the Peasants Crusade before of people who rose to the call but were, unfortunately, all non-fighting men, peasants, kids, fanatics, etc. and it went... badly. Very badly. The “crusaders” themselves (which means “cross bearers” btw) were pretty awful and killed a lot of innocent people on their way to the Holy land, and then they were wiped out when they got to Turkey anyway, and likely Nicky would be aware of these events (or even saw the piled bodies on his way to Jerusalem, if you want to go for a dramatic scene).

I’m guessing Nicky was with the Princes’ Crusade because he actually got to the Holy Land AND again, because he’s got armor (according to the comic flashbacks) which was pretty damn expensive. (A Watsonian rationale, the Doylist one is that Rucka was going for the image of foreign knights fighting in full plate and may not have thought out all the class and wealth implications of them having that armor). Oh, and Nicky if he traveled with the Princes’ Crusade in 1096 would have spent some time in Constantinople (November-April) while on his way there.

- The Crusaders captured Antioch before they made it to Jerusalem. I’m not sure The Old Guard clarifies which battle he and Joe first encountered each other in, it might have been Antioch, but I’m going to say it wasn’t, for several reasons. One, because of the credits that lists 1099, the year after, when Jerusalem fell, which was the last year of the First Crusade. (The other famous crusade, the Second Third Crusade of Orlando Bloom’s “Kingdom of Heaven” fame isn’t for almost 50 years after that.) And further, while it’s possible that Nicky fought Joe in Antioch before the Crusaders even made it to Jerusalem, but the push-pin in the map is also in Jerusalem and it’s where the most famous events of the First Crusade happened (and I’m not sure Rucka would be able to resist), so just from a dramatic standpoint too I think they probably fought in Jerusalem.

- To just couch it in a scene for a second, the Crusaders seeing Jerusalem for the first time was, by all accounts, breathtaking. It was a profoundly spiritual moment for these people who had taken up arms to fight for their God and traveled for years across strange lands and lost many of their compatriots to the fighting in Antioch as well as starvation/thirst/exhaustion/disease along the way, to reach this holiest of holy sites in the Christian canon.

- Unfortunately, the sight of Jerusalem might be the last moment of beauty we can expect from the European Crusaders. The accounts of the sack of Jerusalem are horrifying. The Crusaders laid siege to Jerusalem for just over a month, and once inside the gates, they massacred every single person in the city, until blood flowed through the streets.

- (Side note: if Nicky didn’t arrive with the main Crusader force coming over land through Turkey, he probably arrived instead with Genoese merchants who also brought the supplies needed to make the siege engines that broke through the walls, so it is possible Nicky was with them and came by boat, in which case he may feel a different kind of guilt for the atrocities that followed.)

- Having claimed the city, the Crusaders established the Kingdom of Jerusalem which would endure just barely over a hundred years. There would be constant fighting between Seljuks and the Crusaders throughout that century, complicated alliances between the Crusaders and the Seljuk’s rivals, the Fatimid Caliphate. Basically, you’d need to be a scholar or read something by a scholar who understands this much better than me to unwind it all.

When did Joe and Nicky meet in all of this? Is the Siege of Jerusalem the setting of their first mutual murder of one another? Or did they meet at a later battle? A lot of that is up to the writer, because based on the line about how they’d been taught to hate one another, one could take away that they’d been on either side of the conflict for a while, at least long enough to build up some animosity towards the other side, before they encountered each other. Or, one could take the line to mean that Nicky and Joe met early in the conflict, and had only the hatred they’d been taught driving them to fight.

Certainly the clash of the Franks, as the Seljuks called them (a word that is still found as a root for “foreigner” in Arabic to this day) or the Saracens, as the Christians called them, was a moment that was not, shall we say, hampered by sympathy on either side. The men of the other army must have been foreign and terrifying to both sides, both saw the other as infidels to the true faith, both had more or less a free pass by their religion and circumstances to not even see the other side as human (but, let’s remember, the Europeans were the invaders and the atrocities they committed are too lengthy and horrifying to go into here).

If Nicky and Joe had stayed in the Levant throughout the events of the following centuries of Crusades (perhaps together now? perhaps still on opposite sides for some time?) they could have been caught up in a rich and complicated world of the clash of civilizations between Europe and the Middle East, Christianity and Islam, met major historical figures like Richard the Lionheart and Saladin (or, An-Nasir Salah ad-Din Yusuf ibn Ayyub if we’re being accurate) the latter of which is one of the greatest examples of chivalry the world has ever known, to an extent that was hailed even by Europeans (seriously, it’s some Hollywood-level stuff, Saladin is amazing and would be the obvious hero in any historical fiction set during the Second or Third Crusade, I could see Yusuf sticking around just to serve him and Nicky even switching sides to do so, especially compared to the leadership on the European side and bastards like Raynald of Châtillon, but again, for a fun intro to these events watch “Kingdom of Heaven” with a heavy grain of salt).

A few final notes, before this becomes its own lecture on the Crusades. With regards to homophobia, it might not have been quite as present as many modern readers would assume. And you might be surprised by who would have been more OK with it.

- On the European side, homosexuality was a sin, sure, but pretty much all non-procreative sexual practices were a sin and it wasn’t as fiercely persecuted in the early 11th century as it would come to be later. This is not to say homosexuality was celebrated, but the punishment you’d receive was basically a civil punishment for being caught, needing to do penance for a few months to a year, not execution or torture or anything like that.

- And let’s remember throughout history, men have had few limitations enforced on their sex lives as long as they also fulfilled their duties to their families and the Church and that going on Crusade meant all of your sins were wiped away, before, during, and after (which is probably what led to the uninhibited nature of the atrocities committed by the Crusaders and I mean seriously, even the Pope who ordered the Crusades was horrified when he heard what happened).

So what I’m saying is, even if someone like Nicky was worried about going to Hell for having sex with men (and really, it would not be the #1 sin to be concerned about by any means in those times) he wouldn’t have to worry specifically while on Crusade. He’s in the clear at least as far as his immortal soul goes, though social censure could be another matter (assuming everyone else even cared about social censure too). Actually, it would be funny if Nicky’s generally relaxed demeanor in the modern era around murders and stuff is because as far as he’s concerned, he’s still got that Papal order saying all his sins are cleared because he joined the Crusades, lol.

- Meanwhile, on Joe’s side, we’re still in a time period that’s called the Islamic Golden Age where social strictures are relatively relaxed compared to what they’ll be at other points in Islamic history (sweeping generalization! please take it as such!) but it’s worth noting that Abu Nuwas, one of the most famous and acclaimed Islamic poets, wrote a ton of love poetry in the 700s and a not inconsiderable portion of that love poetry was devoted to homosexual love. Meaning, yeah, Yusuf wouldn’t just be able to quote poetry at Nicolò, he could quote specifically gay poetry at Nicolò, from one of his culture’s most renowned poets.

Similar to Europe, if my research is correct, homosexuality was pretty accepted, at least it’s not a high-priority punishable crime for men of privilege during this era the way it would be in some later eras. I don’t want to expound much more on Joe’s side because it’s definitely the one I have less knowledge of and authority to speak about but I will leave you, if you’ve made it this far, with the fact that being two men in love with each other when they met was much less of a serious issue than being two infidels (to the other’s religion) would have been, from a social standpoint.

#the old guard #tog meta #history #joe x nicky #nicky x joe #LONG post #also if someone has an authoritative biography of these guys somewhere PLEASE SEND IT TO ME #I'm making some pretty big leaps here like Joe being on the Seljuk side but that's only based on the date and location nothing biographical

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atiny-piratequeen · 4 years

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Character Analysis, Choi San- the 'Usurper'

Languages: English, Arabic (Post Transformation), Japanese (Modern Day), Korean (Modern Day), French (Modern Day)

Crew Position: Sailing Master + Navigator +Map Maker

Powers: Blood Manipulation (Inherited by Egyptian God, Set)

Compass Position + Arrowpoint Stone: Northwest, located on his left pectoral (mirrors Wooyoung’s), Pigeon Blood Ruby

Eye Color: Brown(Natural)/ Heterochromatic Pink Right Eye, Lime Green Left Eye (Demonic Form)

Hair Color: Dark Brunette (Both Forms)

Likes: His space, Sitting in the Crow’s Nest, Drawing Maps, Weapons, Talking Shit

Dislikes: His family, Letting Too Many People Close to Him or Wooyoung, Mirrors, His Own Reflection

*The above artist rendition of Set is used courtesy of the game, Smite

Oldest Son, Choi San.

Born the one and only son of a family of four, somehow didn’t gain him enough of his family’s respect-or love-growing up. San is actually the child of two aristocratic parents, something that clashed with his personal desire to be his own person. Rebelling for as long as he could walk, San grew to resent the tightening noose around his neck from his family and began running away more frequently from his family.

They couldn’t even remember his own birthday, and he couldn’t be bothered to remember theirs. When the opportunity arose and he was forced aboard a pirate ship, the small voice on his shoulder told him as the shackles were placed onto his wrists and ankles, that he’d never see them again.

San couldn’t help the quirk of his lips at the thought.

Sailing Master Choi San

Suppressing his aristocratic side has never been so easy. Though standoffish at first, San has had the opportunity to prove himself as a new, useful man. For once, he finally understands what a ‘family’ is and how it feels to be ‘loved’. Wooyoung was the first to make him feel like more than a burden on the people around him, and to this day, while he loves all of the members and his lovers in his own way, Wooyoung will always be his first love and one of the first ones he’ll ever turn to when he’s in trouble.

With a pencil in hand and the sea breeze blowing his bangs, San can finally draw his own future and feel peace knowing he is loved by those around him.

-Mythology-

Set, also known as Seth, is the Egyptian God of the desert, storms, chaos, and violence. Depictions and understandings of them vary depending on who’s drawing, writing, or viewing him, but he has been represented as a male figure with a humanoid body and an animal head like many other Egyptian gods and goddesses were. Such animals he has been depicted as include several canines, including jackals, fennecs, and greyhounds. He has also been depicted as having a donkey, okapi, aardvark, antelope, or oryx’s face, instead. The inconsistency of his figure in Egyptian depictions is also believed to stem from Set himself being more like a chimeric being who changes his forms.

Set, like many other Egyptian gods, can change his forms into several animals, and also has a form to mimic the appearance of the god Anubis.

A destructive force of nature and often regarded as a trickster, Set was credited for creating natural disasters such as sudden, flash flooding, sandstorms, and thunderstorms. He is considered to be one of the mightiest of the Egyptian gods.

Egyptian familial trees are often complex and overlap, but some depictions of him and his family, Geb and Nut are his parents, with Osiris, Horus, Isis, and Nephthys being his siblings and Ra being his grandfather. In other depictions, Horus and Anubis are his nephews and in some, Anubis is his illegitimate child after disguising himself as Osiris and courting Isis.

One of the driving factors of many of Set’s tales is his burning jealousy and rage, especially towards his brother Osiris.

Set was apparently the only of his siblings that didn’t have a traditional birth. Some say he tore himself from his mother’s womb, others say she spat him into existence and this was believed to foretell his existence of a being of chaos and disorder.

At one point, his brother Osiris, known to be a benevolent king that brought positive changes to the lands he ruled and graced, left out of his kingdom’s reach to help in other areas of the world, and as such, appointed his wife Isis to rule the lands in his stead.

While he was away, Set would set into motion the of the largest scaled affair in all of Egyptian mythology, an event that included many of the Pantheon’s major players in some way shape or form.

After conspiring against him with several others, Set would end up trapping and murdering Osiris. Not content with simply killing him, Set eventually tears Osiris to pieces, tossing his remains all across Egypt in another attempt to keep him from ever being whole again. Isis managed to find all of the pieces of her husband despite Set’s efforts. Well, most of the pieces.

She never located his dick, so that’s fun. She replaced it with a golden one, though! Yay innovation!

Through the use of magic, Isis managed to revive Osiris, though he would never rule in his original kingdom ever again, and would instead be in the Underworld.

Set tried several times to steal Osiris’ body from the underworld, and each time was punished severely for his intrusion by the jackal-headed god of the dead, Anubis. Eventually, after repeated attempts, Anubis grew tired of the chaotic desert god and killed Set once and for all.

Despite his chaotic and volatile actions, Set did have moments of redemption. In the afterlife, Set protected the great Sun God, Ra, from the serpent Apophis as Ra embarked on his daily journey through the Underworld. Set placed himself in front of Ra’s barque and would attack and kill Apophis every time he would rise to attack Ra. The serpent could be killed, but would rise again the very next day.

Set would be there to slay it night after night, thus granting Ra safe passage and being one of the reasons the sun rises each day.

-Power Applications/Demon Transformation-

As Set is one of the more violent of the gods that the boys have inherited their powers from, San’s fighting style has remained just as violent and wild. When he is fully imbued with the effects of his powers, his eyes go bright pink and lime green. His lips turn into an onyx color and runes appear across his face, from his forehead, all the way to his chin.

San’s blood manipulation allows him to turn any blood around him into a weapon, be it a series of daggers to propel through the air, or his go-to favorites, a large spear or scythe for attacking. Despite his aristocratic upbringing, San is incredibly good at hand to hand combat and isn’t afraid to fight ’dirty’. He’s only gotten more proficient at fighting without his powers thanks to Yunho taking the time to teach him capoeira.

San’s runes only appear when he begins using his blood manipulation, and he prefers to use other people's blood, as too much blood loss from himself may still make him pass out and leave him prone in battle. He also has a few light blades weapons from Wooyoung he uses when there hasn't been any bloodshed on the battlefield yet, but if push comes to shove, he's not opposed to asking the slightly younger immortal to cut into him.

-Character Song Breakdown-

All of the main boys have a song assigned to them in the AtT playlist to go alongside their origin chapters. San's song, which he shares with Wooyoung, is Mist by Ateez. I will go over some spoiler things, but if you made it this far, you may know this already.

Mist is used as an in-story device that goes over Wooyoung and San’s budding relationship and them coping with the uncertainty of life while being prisoners aboard a slave ship.

-If I can’t see anything

If I can feel you, I’m fine

I want you to make me sure

I need you to help me out of my misery

I can see the light in the dark,

It quickly blurs

Step back in place.-

San spends the majority of his life feeling isolated and alone. He had no friends, as his mother’s aristocratic status left him with limited options for people he could make friends with. His sisters resented him as much as he did the entirety of his family, and he usually kept to himself. His general dislike and distrust for those around him persist until he meets Wooyoung, and it’s through the other boy’s positive outlook on life that San slowly begins to understand that not everyone in the world is out to get him.

- Lost and wandering hands again

Hold me and hug me

Your whisper is my compass

Even if we’re going back for a long time

Stay with me, always

I’m not sure. I don’t know the way

I’m just Like Alley Cat without you....-

San doesn’t know what it means to love, be it platonic or otherwise until he meets Wooyoung. He has a disposition much like that of a feral and volatile alley cat due to what he went through all through life, but it’s through Wooyoung-and eventually Hongjoong and the crew-that he’s guided towards the more positive aspects of life.

They soon become his new moral compass.

-Character Blurb-

“You’re just like the other pirates. I won’t let you take away the only person that’s ever loved me.”

San’s eyes grew as he watched his body move against his own will. The runes on his face gleamed and pulsed with chaotic energy as he attacked Seonghwa and Hongjoong, laughing maniacally and screaming about them giving Wooyoung back. Across from him, two eyes gleamed in the darkness.

He stepped away, his foot sinking into the sand that was below his feet.

A snort came from the figure, as he approached, his blade dragging through the sand.

“Long lives those who are strong. How strong are you, cowering under something as fruitless as ‘love’? I choose you because you are full of rage, you have all I need to take back this world and get my revenge. Give in, it’ll all be over soon.”

“San!”

San looked behind him, eyes wide as he saw Wooyoung. No, he had to get out of there, he couldn’t-

“It’ll all be over soon.” The figure repeated, and in a gush of sand and wind, he saw his body fly forward and a blade of blood sliced into Yunho. San screamed inside his head as the dark figure controlled his body, eyes gleaming in malice as he raised a blood sword.

“Rid yourself of such fruitless emotions and useless people. Let it all wash away in the sand and blood. I’ll do you this one favor. Then, this body will be mine.”

“So please,

If this is my way

Hold my hand

So we won’t wander for much longer…”

The sound of Wooyoung’s voice finally spurred San to action and he sprinted forward before the large being could kill Yunho. He snatched a small blade from his hip and buried it into his back with a scream. Blood splattered onto his cheek and the large man tossed him aside, pink and green eyes turning on him as he broke into a run towards San, a scream of rage and pain rattling in the sandy area inside San’s mind.

San threw his hands up, and the blood from the being’s wounds sharpened, impaling him from all sides before his claws could slice into San’s face.

His hand trembled as he let out a growl.

“No! Not...Not again…!”

San stood, feeling himself regaining control as the dark dessert began to fade away from his vision. Before he completely regained his senses, he looked back at the dying entity, his lips pressed into a firm frown and his fists clenched.

“I’m my own person. I have no strings on me. Not anymore.”

-M.List-

#fie writes #against the tide #att character analysis #choi san #san #tw blood #tw violence #tw death

28 notes · View notes

feverwritingandtextposts · 4 years

Note

Your Rengoku fic was soo soooooo good?! I was blushing and smiling so much!! Is it okay to request Sanemi being nervous to ask reader on a date too in modern AU? He asks Kanae for advice and reader misunderstood his intentions and thought she never had a chance with him. He does eventually ask the home economics teacher after some encouragement from Kanae 🤭 cute, slightly angsty miscommunication! Sanemi is too cute hehe. If not I understand, thank you!

I loved your request lmao! I was caught up for a few days wondering what would be the best way to write it. I hope you like it! Tell me if you do, also still tell me if you don’t LOL.

If you like my work, please support me on ko-fi!

This was also posted on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21781480

————————————————————————————

Miscommunication

Not for the first time, you were thankful of how large Himejima was.

He blocked out everything, the light, the doorway, Shinazugawa’s glare…

Peering cautiously past Himejima’s bulk, you met the sharp eyes of the Math teacher. You flickered your gaze back to the table immediately, trying to desperately act as if you never noticed him staring.

In your defence, you never thought he’d get this angry over it. You only ate one of his strawberry daifuku, and that was only because he’d been complaining about having to eat them at all! A generous student’s mother had given him an entire bag full of them; you didn’t think he’d miss one.

Slowly, you lean back in your chair slinking fully into Himejima’s shadow and out of Shinazugawa’s line of sight. You had to stretch out your hands awkwardly to mark papers at this angle, but its worth it to stop feeling that burning glare on your skin.

From over the other side of the room, you could hear Shinazugawa’s chair scrape as he moved, and all of a sudden, you felt that piercing gaze on you again.

Did he re-position himself… Just to glare at you?

You were so fucked.

—

“You should try a peace offering,” came Tomioka’s mild suggestion. At your silence, he tries again. “It worked for me,” he says, half shrugging.

You remember a specific instance where Tomioka had tried this very method to stop Shinazugawa’s angry tirade during a particularly tense teacher’s meeting (hereby referred to by traumatised witnesses as ‘The Incident’). The two of them had ended up in an all out brawl, the bear shaped cupcake Tomioka had offered ending up half squished under his sneakers, with the other half smeared all over Shinazugawa’s tight tailored trousers.

Probably sensing what you were thinking of, Tomioka opened his mouth again, perhaps to defend his suggestion before he was smoothly cut off by Kanae.

“He’s got a point!” she says, clapping her hands together in excitement. “After all, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach! You should make him something.”

You frown at her.

She goes on, pointedly ignoring your deep frown of disapproval. “How about ohagi? I’m sure you know how to make some, you’re the Home Economics teacher after all.”

You frown even harder. “Kanae-san, he’ll kill me.”

She smiles, and there’s something mysterious that twinkles behind her eyes that scares you. “He won’t if it tastes nice.”

—

Perhaps for better or worse, you take up their suggestions. You don’t have any better ideas anyway.

You spent a lonely afternoon working on your sweets in the empty Home Economics classroom, crafting your ohagi. You’d never admit it, but you took Kanae’s words seriously. If you were sure of anything, it was your cooking skills. You could’ve been a chef if you weren’t so intent on teaching rowdy children the finer art of home cooked cuisine.

If Shinazugawa didn’t like your ohagi your heart might never survive the insult.

At Kanae’s encouragement the next day, you began your long walk to find Shinazugawa, with all the heavy countenance of a soldier off to war.

You find him brisk walking through the third year’s corridor, probably on his way back to the staff room for lunch. He looked as hard to approach as ever, face set in stony contemplation, arm raised to prop his file up on his shoulder, biceps bulging through his tight shirt.

Hesitantly, you call after him, the nicely wrapped bag of ohagi clutched tightly in your clammy hands. To your surprise, he stops immediately, head swinging to you so fast he might have gotten whiplash.

“What?” he asks, eyes wide and intense, burning right through you. Uncomfortable by the full force of his attention, you felt the heat rise to your cheeks, and you break eye contact. Lowering your gaze, you are instead greeted by a full view of his scarred pectorals, courtesy of the ever open shirt. You raise your gaze back to his face immediately, not wanting to be caught staring.

“Um,” you begin, holding out the packet of food, feeling for all intents and purposes like a blushing schoolgirl talking to her crush. Thank god all of the students had already left for the cafeteria. “This is for you.”

He takes it, eyes widening as he examines the treats through the see-through plastic packaging. He’s unusually quiet. “Sorry for eating your daifuku,"you grind out, and his eyes snap back to you.

His face twists, eyebrow cocked. "You ate my daifuku?” he asks, confusion laced in his voice.

“You didn’t realise?” you ask, incredulous.

Shinazugawa scowls in response. “Why would I care if you ate it? You can have the entire bag if you want.”

“Then, why are you angry with me?"

At that, Shinazugawa splutters, and you watch as his cheeks tinge with colour.

"I’m not mad at you,” he snaps, eyebrows furrowed angrily at you.

Pursing your lips, you decide to let that one go. Shinazugawa continues to glare at you for a moment longer, before blurting out a harsh “whatever,” and stalking off.

You stand in the empty hallway, dumbfounded. He didn’t even thank you for the food! But then again, he did say he wasn’t angry at you so… You’ll still consider this a win.

Shinazugawa doesn’t speak another word to you for the rest of the day, but the heated glares stop as well so you won’t complain.

—

The next morning has you breathing easier. No longer did you feel Shinazugawa’s fevered gaze trained on your back. No longer did you risk catching his eye in a crowd, far too intense for a mere glance. No longer did he force himself into the seat in front of you at lunch and glare at you instead of eating his food.

It was actually feeling far too peaceful for you. Like a fire doused with water, the sudden change in Shinazugawa’s attitude left you feeling surprisingly dour.

You barely even see him anymore, a startling change from when he seemed to be everywhere you looked. If you didn’t know better, yo’d think he was avoiding you.

The thought made you a little bit sad.

You didn’t mean to create a rift with him. You just wanted to be friends! Maybe. Even you didn’t know what you wanted. You wanted to get along with your colleague, you wanted it to be more than just long looks from the other side of the room, more than just wordless glares. You wanted to know just what his problem with you was.

The more you thought about it, the angrier you got.

Stupid Shinazugawa, with his stupid hair, and his stupid handsome face, and perfect abs and-

Whatever. It’s not like you cared anyway.

That’s exactly what you tell a very bored Tomioka at lunch that day, as he chews dismally through a mouthful of rice.

“Hm,” is all he says to your ranting, and continues shoveling rice into his face. Rengoku also ignores your griping, likely not even hearing you over his own exclamations of “Delicious!” as he steadily makes his way through his fifth bowl of ramen. You guys were the only ones at the teacher’s table with Uzui holed up in the infirmary nursing burnt fingers from his latest explosion attempt, Himejima spending the lunch hour counseling (reprimanding) some of the problem kids, and the rest scattered somewhere or another.

You wished that Kanae were here to vent to. No sooner did you think that did the lady herself walk into the cafeteria, deep in conversation with a pensive looking Shinazugawa. Walking towards the table, Kanae catches your eye and sends a quick smile your way, never once stopping whatever it was she was telling the Math teacher. You hear Shinazugawa click his tongue in annoyance at her as they drew close. Spotting you and Tomioka, he gives the latter a particularly withering glare, and glances away quickly when you meet his eye. Not breaking stride, he stalks past the teacher’s table, to sit in-between a surprised Genya and an absolutely horror struck Zenitsu.

Inwardly, you offer the boy your condolences.

Kanae gives you a knowing smile as she takes her seat beside you, leisurely unpacking her homemade bento.

“So how did it go?” she asks finally, offering you a piece of her tamagoyaki.

“Terrible,” you reply grumpily, accepting the egg and immediately shoving it in your mouth. “He hates me even more now.”

Kanae hums thoughtfully in reply. “I don’t think he hates you.”

You deadpan her a look. “He hasn’t said a word to me all day. He won’t even look at me.” At that Kanae snickers, trying and failing to hide her smile behind her chopsticks. You raise an eyebrow at her questioningly.

“You seem surprisingly upset at that! After all that you’ve complained about being looked at too much before,” she says in-between bouts of tinkling laughter.

You can’t help the immediate flush at her words. “I wasn’t being looked at! I was being glared at!”

“Uh huh,” she agrees teasingly, pretty pink eyes alight with amusement. Feeling the heat creep up your neck at the implication, you turn away from her with a huff.

Your reaction just served to amuse her more, and she pats your back consolingly. After her laughter dies down, she speaks again, voice gentle. “If you want him to speak to you, why don’t you try talking to him first?”

You fight the childish need to pout. “No way. He can hate me if he wants, I don’t care.”

Behind your back, Kanae and Tomioka share a tired look.

Your dismal mood carried on throughout the day, even inciting the concern of some of your more perceptive students (mainly Tanjiro). You sigh as you set your stack of collected homework on your desk, drained from your own whirlwind of emotions the last few days. You’ll tackle it tomorrow.

You’re so wrapped up in yourself that it takes you a while to notice that you’re the last person left in the staff room. With a single glance to the dark skies outside, you rummage through your bag and desk for your umbrella.

You can’t find it, probably having left it to dry out on your balcony the night before. Silently ruing your own forgetfulness, you resolved to just make a dash for it with your windbreaker as a makeshift cover. Luckily it was late enough that most if not all of the students were already home and wouldn’t bear witness to their teacher fighting the rain.

Pulling open the door, you step out and knock promptly into something hard in the darkened hallway. Before you can draw back with a shriek, the something speaks. “You’re still here?” the voice asks, and you peer through the dim lighting to see Shinazugawa staring down at you.

“Yeah I had some.. Stuff to do,” you mumble, taking a step back from him. “Why are you still here?”

Shinazugawa’s eyes, no less intense than before, searches you for a second before he glances away again. “Its raining. Do you have an umbrella?” he says finally, choosing apparently, to completely gloss over your question.

You shake your head in response, wondering why he was suddenly talking to you. He cocked his head sharply, a universal sign for follow me. Turning, he ambles down the hallway calling out a casual, “you can share mine,” as he goes.

Your pride begged you to protest, but the larger, traitorous part of you willed yourself to go along with it, following him down the dim empty hallways to the school entrance. You say nothing on your way down, the strange awkward tension of the situation settling into your bones and keeping you from looking at him. Ever so often you feel his burning gaze settle on you, but he glances away just as quickly.

As it turns out, Shinazugawa’s umbrella wasn’t that big. It wasn’t tiny, but it certainly wasn’t big enough for the two of you to share without one of you getting wet. The man himself shoots you a pointed look and you take it as a hint not to mention that.

Pressed against his arm, you tried desperately not to think about how your fingertips brushed against his as you two walked, squeezed awkwardly under the umbrella.

The sun would have barely gone down at this time, but it was so dark out it might as well have been night. It was also ridiculously cold out, a fact that you only realised now that you had a warm body tucked against you. As the rain came down heavier, you felt a shiver rack through you, and you involuntarily press yourself into the warmth of Shinazugawa’s arm.

You feel him stiffen, and realising that, you try to move away, getting your shoulder immediately soaked through with rain. Shinazugawa clicks his tongue in annoyance, wrapping his arm around you and drawing you in close. “You’re gonna get wet, idiot,” he muttered, but there was no heat behind his words. Instead, all the world’s heat seemed to be concentrated in his arm, wrapped tightly around you, comfortably warm.

Your face was burning. Utterly gobsmacked by the situation, you couldn’t bring yourself to say a word, hell, you couldn’t even look at him right now. The rain was thankfully loud enough to drown out the beating of your own heart as you two made your way down to the station, half cuddled into his side. You were pretty sure his arm was getting wet from how it was shielding you from the rain, but Shinazugawa didn’t say a word, so you didn’t either.

The station was as busy as ever, filled with bedraggled people running for their trains. Shinazugawa dropped his arm from you the minute you two were under the station’s shelter. Wordlessly, he began folding the umbrella. Somehow you felt that if you spoke now, it would break the strange tension that has followed you two since leaving the school. And for some reason, you didn’t want that to happen. So you stand, watching as he folds his umbrella, slowly, and he stands, feeling your eyes on him, close enough for him to smell the shampoo off your hair.

Shinazugawa breaks the silence first.

“Wanna get something to eat?” he asks, tossing his bag over his shoulder and giving you a great view of his rolling biceps.

“What?” you reply, intelligently.

“Eat. Let’s go eat,” he says, beckoning you to follow him as he makes his way over to one of the small hole in the wall eateries that line the inside of the station. Not wanting to turn down this rare show of friendliness, and even less wanting to part from him, you follow along.

The two of you squeeze into the tiny plastic benches of a damp smelling Mcdonalds. Seated in front of you, the chairs were close enough that your knees bumped against Shinazugawa’s, but that wasn’t what you were focused on. Shinazugawa was smiling.

He looked like he was trying to hide it too, propping his elbow up on the backrest and resting his hand oh so causally against his mouth. You never thought he’d like Mcdonalds this much.

“What do you wanna get?” Shinazugawa asked, “I’m buying.”

“Uhh,” you scan the menu quickly, before telling him your order. You were more than a little flustered with the sudden 180 in your relationship with this man. He went from angry, to ignoring you, to walking with you in the rain, to now treating you to food? He felt like a hurricane and you can’t catch up.

Distantly, you thought about what Kanae said about “talking”.

Shinazugawa sets down the tray of greasy fries and burgers with a clack, startling you out of your reverie. He motions for you to take one, still looking far too pleased about being stuffed into a plastic seat with damp clothes and a tray full of fried food. He’s got a lovely, pleasant smile on, and its a jarring difference from his usual irritable glowers and sinister smirks. It makes him look gentle.

You help yourself to the food, and spurred on by Shinazugawa’s content expression, you decided to bite the bullet. “So, why did you come back to the staff room?”

The effect is instantaneous. Shinazugawa chokes on his burger, nearly upsetting his soda as he tries to wash it down. You stare, unsure weather to laugh or be genuinely concerned. His face is red now, and you’re not sure if its because of the choking, or whatever possibly embarrassing thing he’s about to say.

“I came back because Kochou told me you were probably still around,” he muttered, eyebrows furrowing as if daring you to contest what he says.

Confused, you point at yourself. “Me? Why me?”

“Because you don’t have an umbrella, idiot.”

“How did you know I didn’t have an umbrella?”

“Because it always sticks out at the end of your tiny ass bag, and I didn’t see it there toda-” Shinazugawa cuts himself off, eyes widening in the realisation that he had maybe said too much.

“Wow, you’re really perceptive Shinazugawa-san,” you say, somewhat awestruck. Shingazugawa flushes an even darker red, the colour of his burning cheeks vibrant against his pale hair. You can’t help but smile at the display. “Thank you,” you say honestly, “you’re a really nice person. I can’t imagine anyone else coming all the way back to the office just to help their colleague.”

Shinazugawa gawks at you, the embarrassment on his face shifting to something nearing incredulity. “You-” he begins, voice halting as if he’s trying to reign in his emotions. “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

You draw back, offended. And just when you thought you guys were finally getting along. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, you’re an idiot,” Shinazugawa says, his voice growing louder with agitation with every word. “You think I’d go all the way back there for just anybody? You think I’m just trying to be nice?”

You leant back as far as you could in the tiny seat, very confused about Shinazugawa’s mounting anger, and very uncomfortable about the stares the two of you were getting. “Uh… Weren’t you…?”

“No!” he snarls, slapping a hand to his forehead.

“Oh. Uh, then why-”

“I LIKE YOU, YOU IDIOT,” Shinazugawa snaps, slamming his hand down on the table, with a resounding smack.

Ok now, everyone was staring.

Oh my god.

Shinazugawa hides his face in his hand, either from embarrassment, exasperation, or a mixture of both. Hesitantly, you reach towards him to pat his arm for comfort. He grabs your hand, lightning fast, before you could touch him, and the sudden warmth of his touch makes you jump. “You thought I hated you? Why? What the fuck did I do wrong? Kanae was all like ’maybe you’re being too intense’ so I tried to stop looking at you so much, but then you looked sad anyway so fuck Kanae’s advice and-” You reach out and set a hand over his mouth, effectively stopping him to the disappointed murmurs from the gossip hungry Mcdonalds customers, cuing in onto your drama.

In any case, you didn’t think your heart could take any more of these sudden revelations. You were sure your face was just as red as his, or even more so. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, voice wavering. “I totally didn’t realise. Guess I really am an idiot huh?”

Shinazugawa’s eyes widened. Peeling your hand gently away from his mouth, he shook his head ferociously. “No, you’re not. Don’t- You’re not an idiot. You’re just too fucking dense about this kind of stuff.” His grip on your hand tightened to a comforting squeeze. “But I like that about you anyway.”

“Wha- you do?”

“Yeah. I like a lot of things about you.”

“Really?”

“You’re a really fucking good cook too.”

You blush even harder at that, unable to stop the smug smile on your face. You knew no one could resist your ohagi! Shinazugawa gives an endeared, lopsided smile at your expression.

“Make that for me again sometime.”

“Oh, sure!” you say, smiling back at him. To your surprise, he rolls his eyes.

“Don’t make them if you, ya know, don’t wanna or something,” he says softly, and you catch what he means for once.

“Hey! I don’t make ohagi for just anybody you know!”

—

Shinazugawa continues to hold your hand as the two of you leave the Mcdonalds, and you let him, the two of you blushing and smiling like misbehaving teenagers.

Behind you, someone wolf whistles at the two of you, and someone else cheers, probably having sat through the entire of the two of your very vocal confession scene.

At that Sanemi whips around, teeth bared and ready to fight whichever poor soul it was. Urgently, you tug on his hand, hoping to prevent a McMassacre. Surprisingly, he allows you to lead him out obediently, but he still keeps turning back to shoot the other customers death glares as he goes.

You sigh to yourself, unable to stop the amused smile creeping up on your face. Just what did you get yourself into?

#sanemi x reader #kny imagines #kny #Kimetsu no Yaiba #shinaguzawa sanemi #sanemi #kochou kanae #i headcanon that sanemi gets as red as genya does when he's embarassed #no one can convince me otherwise

335 notes · View notes

sfarticles · 3 years

Text

Go Big With Your Burgers

Photo courtesy of America’s Test Kitchen/ Keller + Keller

Memorial Day Weekend is around the corner. Just the other day, I was thinking, the gas grill needs to be brought out from winter’s hibernation and the propane tank filled so it is ready for dad’s arrival from Florida. For three months a year, he enjoys grilling, especially those juicy burgers he makes by hand.

A couple of years ago, I found the the perfect Father’s Day gift for him, “The Ultimate Burger: Plus DIY Condiments, Sides, and Boozy Milkshakes,” by America’s Test Kitchen (2019, America’s Test Kitchen, $26.99).

Whether you want a beef burger or a cauliflower burger, are cooking on the grill or stovetop, or want to try making homemade buns and condiments, all the inspiration is in the book to achieve burger perfection.

In the “Anatomy of an Ultimate Burger,” it says, “no one element makes a burger ultimate, it’s the result of a combination of flavors and textures coming together.”

In this section, buns, sauce, toppings, cheese and the patty are discussed. I found the Dos and Don’ts of Store-Bought Ground Beef helpful. “Go Beyond Beef” introduces other burger options.

For those who want to really want to get into the “meat” of it, “Be Your Own Butcher” gives the knowledge in choosing the right cuts to create your signature blend and how to grind your meat without intimidation.

“Get Ready to Cook” ensures that every burger you make is tender and flavorful. You’ll learn how to properly grill (on a gas or charcoal grill) , shape a burger, and how to test the level of doneness. America’s Test Kitchen spent the time, often days and months, testing the recipes, the best equipment to use for burger making and the best store-bought burger fixings.

The book’s recipes don’t stop with burgers. Included are recipes for all of the trimmings; sauces, fries, potato and macaroni salads, buns, and milkshakes.

From the recipes here to pretzel buns, beer-battered onion rings, buttermilk cole slaw and ultimate cookies and Irish cream milkshakes to grilled Portobello burgers with goat cheese and arugula, and Connecticut steamed cheeseburgers (the latter two can be found at https://bit.ly/2VTJGpt, America’s Test Kitchen’s “The Ultimate Burger” will make your barbecues varied and delicious.

If you look around, burgers are everywhere. You can find local, regional and national restaurants dedicated to burgers. Some think of the hamburger as the “cuisine” of the country. Chefs have come up with creative signature craft burgers, plant-based patties and home cooks are getting into grinding their own meat.

As many know, the hamburger has roots in New Haven. Louis’ Lunch claims to be the inventor of the hamburger. Today, they are still cooked in the original vertical broilers as they were in 1900. And remember, no ketchup allowed!

Grilled turkey burgers with spinach and feta

The headnote says, “Why This Recipe Works: Ground turkey is a great neutral canvas, making it an ideal choice as the base for a burger with lots of mix-ins. We wanted super flavorful turkey burgers that take full advantage of this fact, but first we had to start by addressing the problems that plague ground turkey. Despite their popularity, turkey burgers are notorious for being bland and/or dry. This is because turkey has a mild flavor, and its leanness means it can easily dry out during cooking. We wanted to reinstate the turkey burger’s good reputation with an easy way to crank up the flavor and add some much needed moisture. We boosted the flavor of our patties by stirring some melted butter and feta cheese into the ground meat; these simple additions provided plenty of richness and flavor while preventing the burgers from drying out. For textural interest, we added fresh baby spinach to the meat mixture. Chopped dill lent a hit of freshness, and minced garlic rounded out the flavors. Be sure to use 93 percent lean ground turkey, not 99 percent fat-free ground turkey breast, or the burgers will be tough.”

1 1/4 pounds ground turkey

2 ounces (2 cups) baby spinach, chopped

2 ounces feta cheese, crumbled (1/2 cup)

2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled

2 teaspoons minced fresh dill

1 garlic clove, minced

1/4 teaspoon pepper

1/2 teaspoon table salt

4 hamburger buns, toasted if desired

Break ground turkey into small pieces in large bowl. Add spinach, feta, melted butter, dill, garlic, and pepper and gently knead with hands until well combined. Divide turkey mixture into 4 equal portions, then gently shape each portion into 3/4-inch-thick patty. Using your fingertips, press center of each patty down until about 1/2-inch thick, creating slight divot.

For a charcoal grill:Open bottom vent completely. Light large chimney starter filled with charcoal briquettes (6 quarts). When top coals are partially covered with ash, pour evenly over grill. Set cooking grate in place, cover, and open lid vent completely. Heat grill until hot, about 5 minutes.

For a gas grill: Turn all burners to high, cover, and heat grill until hot, about 15 minutes. Turn all burners to medium.

Clean and oil cooking grate. Season patties with salt. Place patties on grill, divot side up, and cook (covered if using gas) until well browned on first side and meat easily releases from grill, 4 to 6 minutes. Flip patties and continue to cook until browned on second side and meat registers 160 degrees, 5 to 7 minutes. Transfer burgers to platter and let rest for 5 minutes. Serve burgers on buns. Serves 4

Variations

Grilled turkey burgers with miso and ginger: Omit spinach, feta, salt, and pepper. Whisk 2 tablespoons miso paste and 1 tablespoon water together in bowl until combined. Add miso mixture to turkey with melted butter. Substitute 1 teaspoon grated fresh ginger for dill and 2 minced scallions for garlic.

Grilled turkey burgers with herbs and goat cheese: Omit spinach and garlic. Substitute 3/4 cup crumbled goat cheese for feta. Add 1 large minced shallot and 2 tablespoons minced fresh parsley to turkey with melted butter.

Smoky grilled potato salad

The headnote says, “Why This Recipe Works: Creamy potato salad may be the classic, but we wanted a modern, summery option that could cook on the grill from start to finish right alongside some of our delectably charred burgers. For smoky potatoes with tender insides and crispy, grilled outsides, we started with halved, unpeeled red potatoes. Leaving the skins on helped the potatoes stay intact, as their firm, waxy texture stood up to the heat of the grill. Crumbled bacon was an obvious choice to add smokiness, and we found that we could infuse our salad with even more savory bacon flavor by reserving some of the fat and coating the potatoes with it before grilling. Grilling our onions with the potatoes gave them a beautiful char that heightened their flavor. Instead of a thick dressing that would hide the spectacular grill marks on our potatoes, we opted for a bold vinaigrette with a kick of chipotle to add even more smoky depth. Halving our potatoes after they cooled exposed their creamy center and allowed them to soak up the spicy, tangy flavors of the dressing. Use small red potatoes 11/2-2 inches in diameter. If you don’t have 2 tablespoons of fat in the skillet after frying the bacon, add olive oil to make up the difference.”

4 slices bacon

2 tablespoons red wine vinegar

11/2 tablespoons mayonnaise

11/2 teaspoons minced canned chipotle chile in adobo sauce

1/2 teaspoon table salt, divided

1/4 teaspoon pepper

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus extra for brushing

2 pounds small red potatoes, unpeeled, halved

1 onion, sliced into 1/2-inch-thick rounds

3 scallions, sliced thin

Cook bacon in 12-inch skillet over medium heat until crisp, 7 to 9 minutes. Using slotted spoon, transfer bacon to paper towel-lined plate. When cool enough to handle, crumble bacon and set aside. Reserve 2 tablespoons bacon fat. (If necessary, add olive oil to equal 2 tablespoons.) Whisk vinegar, mayonnaise, chipotle, 1/4 teaspoon salt, and pepper together in large bowl. Slowly whisk in oil until combined; set aside.

For a charcoal grill: Open bottom vent completely. Light large chimney starter three-quarters filled with charcoal briquettes (41/2 quarts). When top coals are partially covered with ash, pour evenly over grill. Set cooking grate in place, cover, and open lid vent completely. Heat grill until hot, about 5 minutes.

For a gas grill: Turn all burners to high, cover, and heat grill until hot, about 15 minutes. Turn all burners to medium.

Clean and oil cooking grate. Toss potatoes with reserved bacon fat and remaining 1/4 teaspoon salt in bowl. Push toothpick horizontally through each onion round to keep rings intact while grilling. Brush onion rounds lightly with oil and season with salt and pepper. Place potatoes, cut side down, and onion rounds on grill and cook, covered, until charred on first side, 10 to 14 minutes.

Flip potatoes and onion rounds and continue to cook, covered, until well browned all over and potatoes are tender, 10 to 16 minutes. Transfer potatoes and onion rounds to rimmed baking sheet and let cool slightly.

When cool enough to handle, halve potatoes. Remove toothpicks and coarsely chop onion rounds.

Add potatoes, onion, scallions, and bacon to dressing and toss to combine. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Serve warm or at room temperature. Serves 4-6

Grilled bacon burgers with caramelized onions and blue cheese

The headnote says, “Why This Recipe Works: Smoky, salty bacon can take any burger to the next level, but burgers with just a few strips on top failed to deliver bold bacon flavor. Our version nixes the strips and mixes bacon directly into the burger for bacony bliss in every bite. Mixing raw bacon with raw ground beef overworked and compressed the patties so that they cooked up tough and dry, and cooked crumbled bacon — though it mixed in better — was too crunchy. For the perfect balance of bacon flavor and juicy texture, we processed raw bacon in the food processor and then cooked it briefly in a skillet. The par cooked pieces incorporated easily into the ground beef and dispersed bacon flavor more evenly throughout while the burgers stayed moist and juicy. Instead of tossing the leftover bacon fat we used it to sauté some onions, which provided salty balance to their sweet flavor. To turn these burgers into a savory showstopper, we topped them with rich and creamy crumbled blue cheese.”

8 slices bacon

1 large onion, halved and sliced thin

1/4 teaspoon table salt

11/2 pounds 85 percent lean ground beef

1/4 teaspoon pepper

4 ounces blue cheese, crumbled and chilled (1 cup) (optional)

4 hamburger buns, toasted if desired

Process bacon in food processor to smooth paste, about 1 minute, scraping down sides of bowl as needed. Cook bacon in 12-inch nonstick skillet over medium heat, breaking up pieces with wooden spoon, until lightly browned in spots but still pink (do not cook until crisp), about 5 minutes. Drain bacon in fine-mesh strainer set over bowl. Transfer bacon to paper towel-lined plate and let cool completely. Reserve bacon fat.

Add 2 tablespoons reserved fat to now-empty skillet and heat over medium heat until shimmering. Add onion and salt and cook until well browned, about 20 minutes. Transfer to bowl and set aside.

Break ground beef into small pieces and spread into even layer on rimmed baking sheet. Sprinkle with bacon and gently toss to combine using 2 forks. Divide beef mixture into 4 equal portions, then gently shape each portion into 3/4-inch-thick patty. Using your fingertips, press center of each patty down until about 1/2-inch thick, creating slight divot.

For a charcoal grill: Open bottom vent completely. Light large chimney starter filled with charcoal briquettes (6 quarts). When top coals are partially covered with ash, pour evenly over grill. Set cooking grate in place, cover, and open lid vent completely. Heat grill until hot, about 5 minutes.

For a gas grill: Turn all burners to high, cover, and heat grill until hot, about 15 minutes. Leave all burners on high.

Clean and oil cooking grate. Season patties with pepper. Place patties on grill, divot side up, and cook until well browned on first side, 2 to 4 minutes. Flip patties, top with blue cheese, if using, and continue to cook until well browned on second side and meat registers 120 to 125 degrees (for medium-rare) or 130 to 135 degrees (for medium), 3 to 5 minutes. Transfer burgers to platter and let rest for 5 minutes. Serve burgers on buns, topped with onions. Serves 4.

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#hamburgers #memorial day weekend #America's Test Kitchen #grilling season

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