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@gggno
You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees / for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
— mary oliver, wild geese. —
independent ROSARIA from GENSHIN IMPACT & other muses. plot-centric, crossover friendly. written by jan ( she / they ), 30+.
RULES. MUSES. CARRD. WISHLIST.
𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢'𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.
all i do is stay up and be insane about pilate
Of course, his skin needles. Someone who was bitterly aware that there were others in the room. He hadn’t been bluffing, but he was so unaccustomed to it, as privacy had always been one of those things he held far too tightly, as if someone might sniff out what was wrong with him and rebuke anyone’s decision to tolerate him. Not that he owed anyone an explanation. Will just was not big on PDA, his blue eyes narrowing in response. However, he was certain Jack’s eyes probably widened just as large as hers; something bugged behind his boss’s hues at the thought of Will in arm's length of anyone. Much less this — whatever this was. His neck flushed despite himself, enough sense for a tiny inkling of shame, swallowing the urge to tug her away entirely so there would be no audience to loom over his shoulder.
He does want to be chosen, does want to be claimed– he wouldn’t go so far as to say he would ever fully surrender to another person. It tended to come and go, fight wilting quick enough for the promise of honey, only returning when he got his wits again. What she did with her sacrifice was up to her. Will was merely curious.
Will draws away an inch, hand coming to her cheek, tilting her face towards his a little. He offers the smallest smile before he presses one chaste kiss to her mouth. He lingers before pulling away, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ears. It’s sweet almost, if not for his gaze. He is ready to devour her on the spot.
“You ought to be more careful, petal.” It’s a warning this time, voice eerily even. “Keep these,” He presses a finger to her lips, drawing it up just enough to touch an incisor. “Off me.” It felt far too much like a challenge he was going to chase no matter the result, into some destructive old habits.
she doesn't pull away from his kiss. never did.
something shifts in her eyes when he calls her that. is she a petal because she is soft with him, or because it's all that's left of her? either way, the pet name signals a mood, and it's not a mood to have in front of watchful eyes; were they elsewhere, even just a bar without acquaintances, she would be pulling him into herself until they are both out of breath.
before she can react, he puts a finger on her lips and pushes them open, running gently at a sharp tooth. she looks at him, confused, like a house cat trying to understand human behaviour.
but isn't it just natural to bite down when something is between your teeth? be it food, a cigarette or a hand. his warning sounds like an invitation, and they have always functioned like this: him making space, her invading it.
why is he making me hungry out here in the open?
dark eyes drop from his gaze to his hand. she tilts her head to kiss his finger, then draws it into her mouth with a swipe of tongue. if this is the game of chicken, she isn't going to lose.
if zeller wasn't dead then, he should be dead by now.
❝ Careful. I bite. ❞
enemies to lovers / accepting.
“ why would i care? as if you hadn't been fucking with my life in every possible manner already. ” the ballpoint pen almost cracks in her grip. she cannot hold it any less tighter; the tension is the only thing stopping her from passing out from blood loss and exhaustion. she has no idea which floor she is on; but then, from her time here, all she had gathered was a testing floor and the floor above it. she pushes him against the wall, leaving a bloody handprint on his collar, and presses the tip of her weapon against his neck. “ how do i get out of here? ”
ryland grace isn't a whole idiot . he notices when the entropy of the universe gets a little too chaotic . that's when he starts noticing things . like that they've changed the entire section labelled ' bowls ' with ' plates ' instead , and that the pictures have all been swapped out for different meals entirely . or that rosaria isn't talkative in here , in the same way she wasn't talkative on the walk over , like she's got something weighing heavily on her mind . he doesn't ask .
he's not too stupid to notice all these things when he's not exhausted . the ordeal was over , he'd thought . so why does it feel like her fright on the couch is stretching itself out into something bigger ? he shifts in his seat uncomfortably .
that being said , he's looking down at his spoon and the rest of the bowl , at the suspiciously pepper-shaped flakes . they're not actually pepper shaped , but they're red . those are indicative of spices he doesn't usually put in his food . or , you know , order at restaurants . he draws a breath through his teeth . bothering the workers ( actually , the singular worker at the front , since it seems the owner might be the only one working both the register and the back ) seems like a crappy idea . he doesn't want to seem ungrateful .
the first few bites aren't so bad . he heeds her warning at the very least and takes the smallest ones he can . but it's spicy . it's really spicy . his tall cup of water is already half-empty by the time he's six spoons in , and he's pretty sure the flakes are about to start bleeding out of his eyes . ❝ christmas eve . ❞ another element added to the day's lack of predictability . he shoots her a pained smile . ❝ i'm good . ❞ he can't even throw up , because that would mean the spice would come back up . oh my god .
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤdie ? is he just going to die instead ? he'll just die halfway through the meal . it's all good .
oh no. she should've ordered him a milk-based drink.
“ water makes it worse, ” she notes in an unhelpful manner. why didn't she say that when he was gulping down his entire glass of h2o. what is wrong with her. but it's true. water spreads capsaicin, the stuff that makes peppers spicy, all over your mouth — it activates all your pain receptors like a wild fire.
she moves without thinking, finding the owner slash server slash chef, and they start talking in another language. soon after, she returns to their table — it's rather concerning how this little place is so empty during dinner time. she would be heartbroken if it closed down — and sits next to him, a scoop of ice cream in hand.
“ eat this, ” she aims the spoon at his mouth, but it's a challenge when he is rocking back and forth, busy choking on spice. after some struggle, she manages to hold his chin up and, from how it looks on the surface, force ice cream into his mouth. she didn't have time to check if he wanted coconut today; she needs him to survive this first.
dairy products contain a protein that attracts capsaicin, making them much more effective in soothing the pain. she keeps feeding him until he calms down. for a moment, she has forgotten her nerves; nothing overrides her pointless crisis faster than seeing ryland grace in distress. with each coming bite of ice cream, his breathing soothes. then, he looks at her with his tearful eyes, and the shimmering in those blues pulls her back to her fright instantly.
“ keep eating. ” she feels sick. seasick in his eyes. she shoves the bowl and spoon into his hands and makes a run for the bathroom. she makes it to the toilet before hurling up a disgusting amount of curry and stomach acid.
" damn , i mean i took some gymnastics lessons -- but i think i'd have to break some bones to get up there . " he sighs , and it's just as forlorn , he looks genuinely disappointed in himself for a second -- that he can't bend his shin in half like , apparently , a real proper stuntman should be able to . pain meds always make him think weird . his head feels fuzzy . maybe he shouldn't be out of bed after all .
he blinks , brows raising , and turns his head to follow her gaze down the series of halls around them . " yeah , okay . " did he mention his brain isn't really working right now ? because he almost immediately forgets what he's doing , and instead is staring at her while she works her arm behind the machine . he sways on his feet a little , sort of glances down the hallway , looks back at her . squints , scratches his forehead . " uh . . . broken rib , another one cracked , concussion -- just a small one this time , though . i flipped a car . but it was on purpose , so it's okay . " because that's helpful information right now , for sure . and he also forgot a handful of other things , like the pulled muscle in his shoulder , and the whiplash . he's sort of in a hospital gown for a reason .
“ you flipped a car? ” he says it like he flipped a burger. what's the spongebob name for a car flipper? anyways. “ oh, stunts. you're stunt guy, that makes sense. ”
his ledger of injuries prove to be an obstacle in their conquering of the disobedient machine. as vengeful as she is, rosaria cannot request a man with broken ribs to charge at the six-feet-tall metallic box with his entire body; as for herself, she is already held back by her wound and a broken hand, and without his muscle mass. she cannot break her arm for this. regroup and rethink. regroup and rethink.
for the next five minutes, she studies her enemy (the vending machine) like a hawk, as if she could find a weak spot to insert a knife and dismantle its front, and release his m&ms along with her mars bars. perhaps, in her head, that's what happens; in reality, a tired nurse walks past them, backtracks and sighs, “ what do you two want? ”
a minute later, they have their snacks. so the machine simply hates us, she thinks to herself, but the taste of caramel and nougat wrapped in milk chocolate is placating enough for her to shut up for as long as the bar lasts.
“ it feels like you shouldn't be walking around, ” she points out belatedly. then, a beat later, another thought hits. “ do you think the nurse realised that? ”
𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐲. 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫. 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞.
independent 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚 from genshin impact, adapted for crossovers. plot-heavy. ✧.* oc friendly. ✧.* humour / horror.
@cseavers,
( continued from here. )
[ text to : colt seavers ] yea
she sends selfie as proof. it doesn't show her from the waist down, but she is doing a peace sign with minor scratches on her arm and face. that means good. this woman has trust issues, and is insanely stingy with information. if she only knew how worried her message made him, she would've never sent it in the first place. so why did she? she thought it was funny. she thought colt would laugh about it with her. and, yes, she also needs help.
[ text to : colt seavers ] do you think the car still works? [ text to : colt seavers ] and do you know how i can pull it out of the ditch [ text to : colt seavers ] kinda need it right now
she doesn't mention the deal that has brought her to this point and location at this time. too many complexities to explain over the phone to a kind-hearted civilian.
[ text to : colt seavers ] any youtube tutorial i can watch?
i really like when rosaria doesn't speak tbh 😔
Bishop’s Garden
Cathedral Heights, Washington D.C. 03.2026
keep pushing, and see what happens. / CHIP&ROSARIA
enemies to lovers / accepting.
it's been a week since returning from the cayman islands. as agreed, rosaria shows up at the trust on monday, then she dives into her own operations for the rest of the week, except for when saltonstall calls for her presence.
what had transpired on the islands have transformed the tension between them into a monster. staying in the same space with him becomes unbearable, and there are only so many excuses she can make to leave the room; the more she strives to remain professional, the harder he tries to break her resolve.
like a brat. arrogant. self-obsessed. childish. why?
but her resistance breaks him too, and she knows it full well.
“ keep pushing, and see what happens. ”
they are at a standoff again, this time in his office, another monday catch up that ends with her between him and his desk. she looks up at him, unwavering in front of his towering height. she can see the cracks in his eyes, something raw and real bleeding through. he is confusing, the way she hates him as much as she likes him. he is so very confusing.
taking on his challenge, she plants a hand flat on his chest. with full on eye contact, she pushes him once, just as she was told. then, taking a step forward, she pushes him again. and again. and again. each push packs enough force to make him stumble a few inches, until his shins hit the couch and force him to drop.
there is no fear in her eyes. there is no hesitation when she moves. she climbs above him, knees pressing down against the expensive upholstery, legs framing but not touching his hips; she pushes away his hands and pins them to either sides of his head, giving a silent squeeze for them to stay put.
cold hands find his jaw and hold it like a chalice, from which she drinks, mouth to mouth, the taste she's been thirsting after for days.
right at this moment , he's wishing he hadn't finished his food yet . his watch reads ten more minutes until he needs to skedaddle back to his classroom . he could've waited five more minutes to heat up his lean cuisine . this is a show deserving of food . but then he wouldn't have his fingers to type . ah , never mind ! he's smart for that .
[ text to : rosaria ] why are you trying to recreate 2-HEADED SHARK ATTACK [ text to : rosaria ] you're trying to do surgery on 2 shark toys aren't you ? [ text to : rosaria ] sometimes a kitchen can be a lab . you should just use the kitchen counter . it's so easy [ text to : rosaria ] i think we have a hot glue gun somewhere
the reason is simple: she's unemployed. unlike him, who has a full-time job and social responsibilities, rosaria has the currency of time and freedom in her hand. every day, if she so wishes, there are twenty-four hours at her disposal; being creative with unstructured time is one way to keep her busy mind at bay.
[ text to: ryland🍇 ] the surgery is tonight [ text to: ryland🍇 ] i need someone to wipe sweat off my forehead
because that's what surgeons do, obviously! and she would hate for him to miss the fun.
[ text to: ryland🍇 ] i want you to come up with a safe formula for sea foam [ text to: ryland🍇 ] bring back preferably the raw ingredients bc we're making them as we film [ text to: ryland🍇 ] is that doable?
her rapid fire messaging says one thing: she is in the middle of a boredom-induced mania. and she's still not finished. she sends another picture: a cardboard box full of toy sharks.
[ text to: ryland🍇 ] the sharks are sleeping for now [ text to: ryland🍇 ] they don't know what's coming
poor sharks. she has ordered spares in case the first operation fails.
Catherynne M. Valente, from her novel titled "Six-Gun Snow White," originally published in 2013
"i could fix him" good for you. im gonna join him in his insanity
i could fix him but honestly whatever the hell is wrong with him is way funnier
rosaria every other reply: what if i die?
