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mc-lukanette · 3 years

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[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

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Luka took a breath as he hit the last emotion-filled note on his guitar. His body vibrated just as his strings did, though he realized soon enough that there weren't enough high notes to lift him from feeling so low.

Marinette was Ladybug. He was still absorbing it, even though a part of him insisted that it should've been obvious; not just because there could only be one girl in Paris who was so brave, kindhearted, and suited for the job, but... well—

There was also only one girl in Paris who could be so unlucky. Luka was upset - angry, really - at all the things he couldn't have known that just proved to put more pressure on her. People idolized and adored Ladybug, but he never once thought that he wanted to be her. She didn't get anything from being a superhero outside of wasted time and the guilt of having to lie to everyone. He'd felt bad enough keeping Viperion a secret from his family, and he was only a temporary hero.

He sighed, setting his guitar down and raking his fingers through his hair. Marinette being Ladybug would've been enough of a shock on its own, but Adrien being Chat Noir made everything both worse and more complicated. In the midst of all the realizations he'd been having at the time, he felt lucky that he was able to get Ladybug - Marinette - to believe that his mind had just drifted for a moment. She'd still looked worried, but there was nothing he could've told her at the time, his mind too scrambled to be certain what the right steps were.

He'd always imagined that past snakes had learned of other's identities before as well, and thus had wondered before what he'd do if such a thing ever happened. Chat wasn't the one "in charge," so Luka wasn't worried about him (at least not in terms of talking about identities), but Ladybug was a different story.

Previously, he would've said that he'd tell her without hesitation, but the problem was that she was Marinette and the way he found out made things messy. If he told her that he knew, she'd blame herself and demand to know what happened for him to know so she could try to "fix" it, except there was nothing to fix and a conversation about his abilities would inevitably lead to talking about Adrien being Chat Noir.

In essence, he was at a roadblock. There was probably no "right" solution either, as he figured Sass might tell him; that even seemed to be the message Sass wordlessly sent him as Ladybug took his miraculous back. He’d probably known, and maybe had intentionally given him the power to see red strings on heroes in the first place. He didn’t know for sure because he couldn’t ask, aware that it would make Ladybug even more suspicious after he’d already tried to assure her.

What he did know was that Chat was something else to think about now. Chat was tied to her, and he knew - everyone knew, really - that there was drama going on in their relationship. He'd done only a little digging and Face to Face was all the evidence he'd needed, as if seeing the two interact in person wasn't already enough.

There was a pressure there, for Ladybug and Chat Noir to be a couple. Chat Noir was a habitual flirt, and most people ate up any drama or “juicy details” about their relationship. Everyone went wild for the hand kisses that Chat gave Ladybug, whether or not she pulled away from it. Add on the red string of fate, and it just made everything worse, making him wonder what the ties meant; did Adrien's string being tied around his ring mean that he became the cat through fate, specifically so—

It made Luka feel gross just thinking about it, and knowing what he knew made it even worse; people were shipping his friend with someone she wasn't interested in, even if it was "one side" specifically that she wasn't interested in.

He shook his head, feeling vaguely possessive. It wasn't about Marinette being his friend; it was about her deserving better than something deciding her fate for her.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a familiar jingle, pulling out his phone to see a message from Marinette.

Are we still on for tonight?

FOR THE FIRE I MEAN.

I just don't want you to get in trouble! You're sure???

He chuckled, his shoulders easing at Marinette's usual enthusiasm. It was adorable that she was worried about him and not what they were planning to do.

He typed back immediately, I'm sure, Marinette. Don't worry.

He glanced at the drawer under his bed, where all the Adrien pictures were. He imagined Adrien's face plastered all over Paris, flashing back and forth between Adrien himself and Chat Noir.

He felt like he shouldn’t be shocked by the revelation, though he wouldn't be able to quite explain why.

—————

Luka looked over his work once more, checking to make sure the fire would start properly. It'd been a while, but he at least hadn't gotten rusty and even got a congratulatory pat on the back from his mother when she'd seen him carrying the supplies. Had she known that it was Marinette's decision to do this, she would've married them on the spot herself.

As he eyed the box of Adrien pictures set out, he had to bury another slew of thoughts. He knew it was right to try and get rid of Marinette's string, but and he felt guilty knowing that he’d be satisfied at seeing the pictures burn for reasons outside of Marinette.

Speaking of whom, he looked up as he heard a familiar set of footsteps to see Marinette herself heading towards the Liberty, having just made her way down the stairs. She was dressed fairly lightly for nighttime, but wore a fluffy pink shawl around her shoulders to make up for it. Considering what they were doing, it made sense that she wasn't concerned about the cold.

The gangplank had already been put up for her, so she walked across with a smile that warmed him more than the eventual fire would. "Hey."

He smiled back, plopping down comfortably on the seat behind him. "Hey."

She gripped her shawl closer to herself as she glanced at the setup for the fire, the moonlight briefly shining off of her earrings. Luka attempted to avert his gaze from them, but only ended up staring at the red string around her neck. He gave up looking at her entirely at that point, checking the setup again as if it was extremely important to do so.

"You can sit anywhere," he offered, gesturing vaguely to all of the mismatched seats he'd placed around the future fire. He'd wanted to make sure she'd have options, though he hoped the designer side of her didn't mind the chaos of it all. He'd just grabbed whatever spare seating they'd had.

Marinette's eyes scanned over the various choices. Giggling, she replied, "Thank you."

He nodded in acknowledgment. He wasn't in any hurry to get the pictures burned, even if burning them was their goal that day. He'd intentionally had her go slowly so as to test the red string as little as possible, and he planned on doing the same here.

"I brought one for you too," she suddenly said off to his side.

He looked over in curiosity and noticed her open purse, a large piece of blue fabric nearly bursting out of it. It took a bit of effort from her - he imagined that she'd wanted it to be a surprise - but she managed to pull it out, presenting him with a shawl that matched hers exactly outside of its color. He smiled in appreciation of her thoughtfulness, then reached for it before realizing with a start, "Wait. Marinette, did you make these?"

Before she could answer, he took the shawl in his hands, turning it every possible way. Without a doubt, it was her handiwork, and along the back was where the design broke with a Marinette.

"Yeah," she confirmed, and he could practically hear her shy blush. "It's just—you're doing this for me, but even if you weren't, I don't want you to get cold, so..."

"It's great," he cut in firmly, leaving no room for doubt on her end. "Soft. Comfortable. I wish I was better with fashion to say more."

"No, you said more than enough," she assured, taking a seat next to him. That fact looked both silly and intimate given the multiple other seats she could've chosen instead, but he tried not to think about it.

Instead, he gave a curious glance at her pink shawl, silently comparing it to the one she'd given him. "...You didn't have to make it blue," he commented, and clarified before she could think anything bad, "I would've happily worn your colors."

She gave him a look, though didn't seem weirded out by the idea. "But... it's pink."

"What's wrong with pink?" he asked, genuinely confused. "It's your color."

She blushed, her shoulders hunching forward shyly. He didn't even bother taking back what he said, because he meant it; he might've favored blue when he picked out an outfit, but pink made him think of her.

It was much better than red at the very least.

Marinette pursed her lips in response, idly tugging at her shawl and seeming to be in an internal debate with herself. Apparently making a decision, she closed her eyes and breathed up, letting out a soft, "Okay."

He blinked and gave a tilt of his head to show his confusion. "Okay?"

She turned to him, resolutely pulling the fabric off of her shoulders. "T-then you can wear mine?"

He couldn't get another word out, too distracted by Marinette leaning towards him and carefully settling the shawl around his shoulders. Despite the bold move, she couldn't keep eye contact with him, awkwardly hanging onto the front of the shawl as she stared at his lap. She wasn't exactly warm or exuded any particular body heat - in fact, he was sure that her hands would be cold if he held them - but there was a comfort there that couldn't be matched by anyone else.

It took him a moment to make a move, at which point he remembered the fabric underneath his fingers. In a motion equally as careful as hers, he raised the blue shawl and settled it around her shoulders. She finally met his gaze, surprised, but smiled gratefully and released her grip on the pink shawl.

"You can keep it," she said quietly, with less shyness than before.

"Really?" he asked, placing a hand on the fabric to make sure it was what she meant.

She nodded, gripping her own as she replied, "A-as long as I can keep this one in exchange?"

He snorted, even covering his mouth to stifle a chuckle. "You made them, Marinette. Of course you can." He gave an obvious glance at the shawl to admire it. "I'd be happy to match with you."

She beamed at him. "Me too."

That topic officially concluded, his mind went blank for anything more and both of their gazes drifted to the unlit fire. He didn't have to look to know that she was shifting in anxiety in her seat, either wanting to back out or just get it over with.

"Are you ready?" he asked experimentally.

"Yes," she responded, perhaps a little stiffly but the resolve was there. She wanted this.

Luka stood briefly, and within the next few moments, the fire had been lit. The flames started out faint at first, then grew until it was something respectable, easily illuminating the small area around them. The slight chill from the wind dissipated as the fire warmed their skin, Luka hearing Marinette sigh in content harmony with him.

Neither of them took their shawls off despite the increased warmth.

The additional light from the fire made the box of pictures more obvious, with it sitting on a table not too far away. Luka took a step towards it, but Marinette was faster, grabbing up the box and turning to him with a determined expression.

"I have to do it," she insisted.

He didn't exactly disagree - this wasn't his battle - but it didn't stop him from looking nervously at the red string, the dangling part of it laying across her hand and dipping itself in the box, taunting him.

"How many do you want to do at a time?" He was careful in his wording, not wanting his tone to imply anything.

She furrowed her brows, staring down at the box in deep thought. Her fingers flexed against the cardboard, a small gust of wind blowing by and causing the fire behind her to whip around in protest.

"...All of them," she muttered, then met his gaze cautiously. "Will that be okay?"

Luka glanced at the fire, but it wasn't that he was worried about. The string would try to fight her, he was sure of it, and the only thing he wasn't sure of was if it would be better or not to let her go with her wishes. He half expected the string to physically drag her off the Liberty, and the mere thought caused his neck to sting.

But, he also believed in her. She was fighting fate herself without having used the snake even once, and he wasn't going to deny her if she thought this was best.

"Yeah," he assured. "Just don't get too close. I don't want you to get hurt."

She nodded, obviously not catching onto what he really meant.

Luka sat down on his chair, toying with the rips in his pants to keep his hands occupied as he watched her. Her posture was straight and confident as she faced the flames, despite the shake in her hands, and he was sure the fire in her eyes wasn't just a reflection.

He didn't see Ladybug in her place. There was only Marinette and everything that he already knew about her. Knowing what he did now wasn't surprising, but heartbreaking, and he couldn't be prouder of her for doing what she was trying to do.

To go against what everyone - even fate itself - expected of her. He couldn't relate on her level, but looking as he did and having the mother he did, he understood.

Finally, Marinette stepped forward, and the string was already tightening around her neck. She froze, shutting her eyes and clutching the box tighter as she mentally fought the sensation.

He barely managed to keep himself still.

She swallowed, taking another step and managing to open her eyes again. She squinted at the fire, either from the light or from her own resolve.

Then, all at once, she thrust the box forward, the pictures flying out and mingling with the flames. The fire flared up in response, practically roaring, and the string tightened further in protest. Marinette even let out a cry as she tossed the box aside.

Luka barely had time to react when she suddenly rushed towards him. He outstretched his arms and she filled up his lap, her heart seeking him out as she clutched his jacket. He wrapped his arms around her, hoping his comfort came through without words.

Her breathing was ragged, and he couldn't tell whether it was from the string or her emotions running high. He brought one of his hands higher up on her back, knowing that he could do nothing more for her but wishing he could.

He took solace in the fact that the worst of it was over.

Staring over her head, he watched as the pictures burned, blond turning black as the flames singed the pictures and reduced them to ashes. Marinette, meanwhile, remained against him, desperately clutching his fabric for wordless support. He honestly would've been okay being the only spectator to what she'd done, but she then shifted in his lap to glance behind her.

They watched the sight together, the fire whipping about with the wind like it was making sure the job was done as they'd wanted. In no time at all, there was no evidence of the pictures left outside of what was allowing the fire to burn brighter.

Marinette let out sigh of relief, collapsing against him again and nuzzling his chest. "What's wrong with me...?"

"Nothing," he replied, clutching her tighter. "You were amazing."

She looked up at him, possibly searching his expression to ensure he meant it, then offered a tired smile. She shifted again, but this time without any urgency or need. Luka sucked in a breath as she nestled her head against his shoulder, making herself comfortable on his lap while still being in a position where they could watch the fire together. Slowly, he relaxed, and they ended up not needing those other chairs after all, neither moving from their comfortable positions.

And, maybe it was just him, but the string seemed looser around her neck than it ever had before.

#au: Dread String of Fate #Dread String of Fate: writing #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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river-bottom-nightmare · 4 years

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Hello! Can you give me some fic recs centered on Tim? I’m very interested in Tim’s relationship with anyone. He and the Bats, Titans, Jack and Janet, girls, Wayne Enterpises, schools, super criminals, crossovers (if there are mistakes, I’m sorry, because English is not my native language)

hey babe!! (don’t worry, english isn’t my native language either, but you’re doing great!) i don’t have as many tim recs as dick ones, but i do have a few goodies.

1. And Now I’m Covered In The Colors, Pulled Apart At The Seams by @sohotthateveryonedied 17k. a wonderful spin on the “red string of fate” au that takes a look at the different relationships in tim’s life, everything from his parents to his siblings to his friends and love interests. this story was emotional yet sweet and i love love loved it.

2. Gonna Be A Better One (A Thousand Miles To Your Door) by @traincat ~19k. a look at the time when tim was benched for robin bc his dad found out, except tim and kon were dating at the time, so this fix explores tim and kon’s relationship as they try to be “normal” and end up falling even more in love. be still my timkon heart.

3. Heart, Humble by Betty (if anyone knows their tumblr, please lmk!) ~8k. another fic about that time tim’s dad found out he was robin, because dear god does that have so much potential. this fic deals with jack grappling with the fact that his son is robin wtf and it’s both funny, heartwarming, and emotional. one of my absolute favourites.

4. if you get lost (you can always be found) by @ace-corvid ~34k. this is probably my most favourite tim-centric fic of all time. tim’s trans in this fic, and the fic takes him through the major events of canon, with a bit canon-divergence in the end. it tackles this monuments challenge beautifully, and i’ve practically accepted this fic as canon by now.

5. Pounding the Pavement (Running on Empty) by @chibinightowl ~4k. if we’re being completely honest, tim’s always been healthier, lighter, and happier when he’s with young justice. bart, tim, cassie, and kon are the b e s t team/friend group, and i love them beyond words. after an injury, tim decides to move to california to live there with yj. it’s a little bit bittersweet and chock-full of new beginnings.

6. the prophetic spring by @theinternationalacestation ~32k. this fic is part of this author’s reverse robins au, and it’s one of the very few reverse robins fics i actually like. scratch like for this, i adore it. it takes a dive into highlighting the stark differences between red hood jason and red hood tim, showcases just how someone like tim would react to having that type of tragedy happen to him. it’s a tad dark and has plenty of tws, so if that’s not your thing i’d stay clear, but otherwise, i could not recommend this fic more.

7. The Same Mistake Twice by @sohotthateveryonedied (again because i’m a slut for their fics) ~8k. have yall heard of joker jr? well, this heartbreaking fic is an au of the joker jr arc where the batfam comes together to help tim recover. it’s mainly tim and jason bonding, but dear god is it emotional. there is so much hurt/comfort, whump, and angst packed into this fic trust me you will cry.

8. Sticks and Stones by @soleminisanction ~10k. this isn’t exactly a character bashing, but it definitely isn’t steph-friendly either, so steph stans, you may want to steer clear. but dear god is this a fic that i needed. steph and tim’s relationship in the comics is borderline emotionally abusive, and while this fic does play it up some, it’s nice to see it getting addressed. it’s jam packed with core four fluff though, and that’s super nice.

9. Surveillance by @smilebackwards ~17k. i reread this series so often it’s not even funny. civilian!tim au, where he discreetly tries to help the batfam through his computer skills and general Smortness, gets caught, and sort of dragged into the batfam. absolutely wonderful, i adored it. also, it turns into timkon near the last couple of works!

10. Where the Healing Begins (Fix You) by @thingr1 ~21k. i had to include one of these on here. timmy deals with depression. his family helps him find his feet. the later chapters are a pretty heavy tw, so be careful. it’s a tad ooc, but a lovely read.

11. The Wound Begins To Bleed by @agent-skulldrey 7k. tim accidentally becoming a good big brother to damian. this fic was so heartwarming and sweet, also consisted of tim punching a racist asshole bully in the face, and rounded it all off with good dad!bruce. so a win-win-win in my book.

phew. that got longer than i expected. once again, i’d like to give a ginormous virtual hug to every single one of these absolutely incredible authors. enjoy reading babe!

#tim drake #red robin #robin #dc #tim drake fic rec #red robin fic rec #robin fic rec #dc fic rec

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theprologues · 4 years

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SUBMISSION - Grammys performance symbolism, part two

So, with those reservations safely out of the way, and a warning to readers NOT to hurt themselves by getting their hopes up again …

What aspects of Taylor’s Grammy’s performance made me think there might be light at the end of the tunnel for Kaylor?

First, Taylor’s blue and gold performance dress. “Deep blue but you painted me golden” is a line from Dancing With Our Hands Tied, a song that is widely assumed to be about the night of Kissgate. It’s a song where Taylor talks about how miserable (“deep blue”) she was after the collapse of her relationship with Diana and her public reputation in 2013. She describes how her new lover, Karlie, brought her back to life and lit her up with the glow of a new, true love. She painted her golden. But then they were caught in an intimate moment at Kissgate, and Taylor panicked. Her fears and anxieties threatened to drown her, and though she and her new lover tried to dance through the catastrophe, they eventually came to realize they were doing so with their hands tied. They had no hope of swimming to the surface together and breaking free. They could only have done so if Taylor had stood firm and owned their love in the moment, instead of setting in motion the bearding contracts that would change everything. (This is what she means when she says that “if I could dance with you again”, she would “kiss” and “hold” her lover, instead of presumably backing away. If she could do the moment over, she would claim Karlie as her lover, and hold her hand for the world to see, through hell or high water.)

Though it’s a depressing motif in DWOHT, Taylor has, interestingly, returned to this imagery of a golden tie several times in other songs, painting it in a much more positive light. Most recently, the Willow music video explores this, visually representing the “single thread of gold that tied me to you” which Taylor sings about in Invisible String. Both IS and Willow are happy songs, which describe their lovers as being tied together by fate. “Wherever you go, I’ll follow,” Taylor sings in Willow. In DWOHT, the lovers followed each other to a place of deepest blue. The bottom of the ocean, under the waves, where they couldn’t breathe. In Willow they follow each other to freedom.

That freedom is represented in the Willow music video by the open cabin door the lovers step through at the end of the video. Taylor incorporates this door into the Willow section of her Grammy’s performance, performing first in the open doorway and then stepping through it to perform with her band out in the open.

But returning to the blue and gold dress. This is not only a very Karlie motif which keeps recurring in her art (often to postitve effect). It’s also a representation of Taylor finding happiness WITHIN the closet. It’s talking about how her partner’s love helps her to bear the depression being in the closet, and fearing exposure, causes her. The fact that Taylor chooses to wear this dress throughout her performance, with no costume changes, suggests a) she is still in the closet, and b) she is still with Karlie, and still considers her love to be such a lifeline.

If Toe was real and Taylor was happy with him, she could have chosen to wear an all-gold dress for the occasion. If Kaylor was over and she had decided to return to the closet, she could have communicated that by wearing all blue. If Kaylor was over and so far in the past she had moved on with someone new, there was no need to evoke the motif at all. She could simply have laid claim to another color, or worn another prairie type dress to fit the aesthetic. And yet, she didn’t. Why not, if not to communicate what I said above?

What else is worth considering, in Taylor’s medley? Well, there’s the cabin setting. Taylor and Karlie famously took a trip to Big Sur forest and stayed in a cabin together in 2014, where Karlie was the first person to hear 1989 in full. They took many photos on the trip, including one captioned with “on the way home” (a lyric from You Are In Love, which talks about hearing love in the silence) and one of the two of them looking up at a fallen tree. A VERY similar looking tree appears in the Cardigan music video, and the slanted, moss-covered roof Taylor opens the medley lying on also looks a lot like this tree. Again, curious that she would call back to this if she and Karlie have separated.

Moving on. Taylor opens the medley singing on the roof, looking straight up into the camera. When we pull back we see the stage around set to that of a starry night. Taylor is thus cast as the romantic, the star-gazer. She also calls back to another lyric Kaylors have previously tied to Karlie - “up on the roof with a schoolgirl crush”. It’s been repeatedly tied to Karlie and Taylor’s attendance at the Victoria Secret show after-party. Again, why evoke imagery so tied to the early, happy days of this relationship?

We then move through a progression of events that sees her hiding inside with friends, before eventually stepping out into the light. That all reads like a visual interpretation of her relationship with Karlie, from her early loneliness and lovestruck dreaming, to the happiness she finds within her little hideaway, to her eventual decision to step out of it and claim her lover. The medley ends on a repetition of “that’s my man”, seemingly hinting that Taylor’s freedom is tied up in her ability to finally say those words.

What else? Well, there are the Ivy allusions. Taylor’s cabin covered in greenery can’t help but evoke the lyrics of Ivy - “my house of stone, your ivy grows, and now I’m covered in you”. Ivy is widely interpreted as a sapphic song about two women finding love despite their commitments to men. Another line in the song “he’s in the room, your opal eyes are all I wish to see, he wants what’s only yours” is alluded to in Taylor’s choice of opal jewelry on the night. What a weird thing to draw attention to, if you’re not secretly in love with a woman while parading a beard around in public. We’re also told in the song that “he” (possibly the same man, possibly another) wants to burn the house of the Ivy lovers down. Jerk just so happened to announce the baby’s birth on this night, in what felt like an attempt to undermine Taylor’s joy. Hmm. Curious.

You know what else is curious? Taylor’s choice of outfit for the Grammys red carpet. Not only is the floral dress very reminiscent of a floral ensemble Karlie wore to cover a June (pride month) issue of Spanish Vogue. (Cover subtitled, “flowers of change”.) It’s also by the designer Oscar de la Renta. Taylor and Karlie famously attended one of his shows together early on in their relationship. They sat in the front row looking very cozy, while Taylor refused to answer questions about why she was there and reportedly giggled “my publicist will be mad at me”. Hmm.

Taylor has also worn Oscar de la Renta on numerous occasions while out with Karlie, including most famously at the Met Gala. That iconic pale pink gown that she was buried in the Look What You Made Me Do music video? That was an Oscar de la Renta. There are many interpretations of the scene in the video, but it’s worth noting that Taylor is buried alive in it (which could be interpreted as a metaphor for being closeted) and that in a video all about her various revenge fantasies, she depicts herself crawling back up out of this grave. She views coming back to life and walking away from the flaming wreckage of her past with Big Machine as the ultimate revenge. At the end of the video she clips her own wings while all the past iterations of her argue amongst themselves. This would seem to suggest that she can defeat her enemies but she can’t defeat herself, because she can’t outrun her past, and until then she will always be doomed to self-sabotage. Nevertheless, this Taylor (lurking in the background bedecked in peaced-out palm tree print) is in a much better position than the Taylor who opened the video as a zombie corpse. She’s on the surface and has some hope of freedome, at last. This is a theme we see carried through in the following video, where Taylor goes one-on-one against herself and eventually breaks free.

Long story short? Taylor wearing such a floral, literally blooming dress from THIS designer, of all people, suggests she may finally be about to rise again. The aborted coming out apparently planned for the Lover era (and thus seeded during the Rep era) may finally be a go?

Again, I’m very reluctant to get people’s hopes up here. But it’s hard to look at this dress and not think of that June (Pride month) floral magazine cover. Or of the Spade riddle, “Why worry? She blooms in June.” Or of the fact that Taylor’s stunts are often loudest before the end. She acknowledged Calvin and hugged him at an awards show before he was booted out of the narrative and Tom H appeared to replace him. (Something like ten days or so after the “split”, if I remember right?) And the inconsistencies of the Toe timeline speak for themselves. There was speculation - unpopular though it was - among Kaylors in the Rep era that guessed Taylor wouldn’t come out until 2021 / 2022. It seemed a world away at the time but who knows? Maybe this was always the plan. Maybe this is all “part of the fucking story”, even the parts that seem ugly or counterproductive. A lot can change in a couple of months in Hollywood, and with Taylor in particular. By June, it’s possible we COULD be looking at a vastly different landscape. Maybe this was one last hurrah for the Toes. Many of them are just harmless fans taking Taylor at her word, after all.

Only time will tell, and I don’t blame Kaylors for checking out. This isn’t healthy, especially for those of us who are gay ourselves, and can’t help but feel a personal connection to Taylor’s journey out of the closet. We know what a big deal it would be. But for those who still want to hope … It’s just possible Taylor has a plan, and this is the dark night before the dawn.

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Pro: I added the photos and the bolded parts. Love symbolism. This was truly a spectacular performance. Awesome submission anon!!

#submission #submitted by anonymous

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jingukk · 4 years

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golden

Pairing: tattoo shop owner!jungkook x reader

Genre: drabble, romance | established relationship!au

wc: 1300+

warnings: mature themes, mentions/hints of sex

a/n: blond jk. thats really it.

you come home from a long day at work and Jungkook has a little surprise.

Jungkook has always been beautiful. This is non debatable. From the second you laid your eyes on him, you knew: You would risk it all for this man.

And risk it all you did, for that fateful night 4 years ago you downed a shot of tequila and made your way over to him, your pride and dignity damned.

The rest was history.

Over the years, you've grown together, first as friends, then as a couple. Once upon a time, he was too shy to hold your hand in public. Just another timid college kid who couldn’t look in your direction whenever you entered a room.

Long gone is that Jungkook, his place being taken over by a man who not only isn’t afraid to hold your hand in public, but can also make you cum 5 times in the “Employees Only” section of his very own tattoo parlor, pretty lace panties stuffed into your mouth ever so nicely to keep you quiet as he rails you before his next client walks through the door.

It's truly been a blessing.

Now, with growth comes experimentation. Trying new things and figuring out if they worked for you or not. Jungkook, as shy as he might have been, still had an edge; still had that risky side to him that had only made itself more prominent as time went on.

As you two learned more about each other, he continued to test out whatever came to him on a whim, whether that be in the kitchen or in the bedroom, it didn't matter; the outcome always turned out amazing.

You remember when he first began to experiment with his appearance, the heart tattoo on his hand being the first of hundreds that would soon cover his figure. Jungkook’s skin served as a beautiful canvas, stories continuously being painted onto the blank spaces with the sole purpose to be remembered and loved for all eternity. Contrary to his soft personality, he seems to radiate the cliché bad boy™ type due to his attire and ink, all his experimenting leading to piercings up and down his body. From the metal inserted in 4 different places on both of his ears, to the ring hanging from his septum, and your favorite the bars that impale his nipples, you love each and every addition.

So, to reiterate: Jungkook has always been beautiful, little things he adds to his body simply building his naturally devastating appeal, highlighting different parts of himself that are already breathtaking.

But as you look at him now, beautiful is no longer a suitable word to describe the man in front of you.

All you can do is gape and stare in the doorway of your apartment, keys dropping to the floor and your bag hanging loosely from your shoulder as he comes bounding towards you from across the living room, a cheeky smile adorning his face as he makes his way over. He pushes the door shut behind you before grabbing your waist and delightfully squeezing your butt. You don't register any of it, mind too consumed on what he's done.

Jungkook snorts amusedly at your wide eyes and open mouth, peering down at you with a smile. “Like it?”

His hair that was as virgin and untouched as Mother Mary herself, long waves of ebony that had stayed that same majestic color since the day he was born were now replaced with straws of gold, light strands framing his face delicately and curling slightly around the ends. The light aura surrounding his new hair was offset by his sharp undercut and dark eyebrows, the contrasts only making every feature of his face more striking.

He looks like sin.

You feel like a teenager again with the way your heart pounds, a familiar tingle already making warmth blossom across your body. A bit lightheaded, your lungs scream at you to inhale, something you seem to have forgotten how to do.

“You’re blond.” You state dumbly.

Jungkook throws his head back as he laughs, and your eyes follow the way his light locks bounce up and down at the movement. “I’ll give you a moment to process this however you’d like, princess,” he says grinning, face all smug as his lips turn up at your frozen state.

You barely hear him as you reach your hand up to touch his hair, the faint scent of hair dye and strawberry shampoo making its way over to you as you lean closer. Jungkook bends down like the good boy he is to give you a better view, lip caught between his teeth to prevent himself from bursting into laughter once more.

He knew your reaction to his new hair would lean more towards extreme, subtlety never being one of your strong suits. You were dramatic in nature, your fireball energy being one of the things that drew him towards you. However, he wasn’t aware of just how affected you would be until he took note of how heavy your breathing got, the feeling of your pulse going a mile a minute boosting his ego.

The littlest bit of his roots are still dark, something you would tease his perfectionist ass about later, but overall they managed to make the whole look more appealing. Goldilocks is a cute new nickname, you think, very fitting. You back up, allowing him to rise to his full height, and you continue to shamelessly check your boyfriend out, taking in the way the light tones of his hair go against his tan, honey complexion.

Work has rendered you exhausted. Your bones are achy and your body is drained, but the sight before you proves to be too much for your simple brain to handle, animalistic instincts kicking in to deal with the urgent matter at hand.

A grunt of surprise escapes Jungkook as you jump on him, lips eagerly and messily meshing against his as he attempts to stabilize the both of you, feet staggering. You feel his hands grip both of your thighs, your legs naturally wrapping around him in return. He laughs through it all, thoroughly entertained with the fanfare he’s receiving.

“Hey, mmpfh, baby,” Jungkook sputters as he tries to speak between the kisses you’re planting all over him, but his attempts are futile. “You, mmm, Y/N-”

Soon enough he gives up, your comforting touch and scent too intoxicating for him to fight against. Your lips are urgent against his, so needy and full of longing that Jungkook lets you lead, nipping at your bottom lip every now and then. It reminds him of your college days, when random messy makeouts were spurred on by the heat of the moment, passion so undeniable in all of its intensity. Your mouth parts as you breathe and he takes the opportunity to slip in his tongue, groaning at the familiar taste.

Too soon for Jungkook’s liking you’re pulling away, panting heavily as a string of saliva trails from your lips to his. You take in the dazed look on his face, his eyes half lidded with lust and desire. Tugging on his hair slightly he releases you from his hold, placing you down gently and pulling you close by your hips, your bodies pressed against each other, hearts beating rapidly in sync.

With your feet now back on solid ground, hands still around his neck, and fingers gently caressing tousled strands of gold, you stand on your toes and lean towards him. Your lips are so close against Jungkook’s ear, shivers running down his spine from the warmth of your breath.

His mouth trembles, aching to taste you again. You’re addicting to him, your touch such a powerful aphrodisiac he can’t think straight.

“Five minutes,” you whisper against his skin before pushing him back, a growl making its way out from Jungkook’s throat in response.

Your eyes flash dangerously. “Wait for me in the bedroom. Blindfold on.”

#jungkook drabble #jungkook ff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook scenarios #bts #bangtan #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jingukkdrabble #bts drabble #bts scenarios #bts drabbles #bts ff #bts fanfic

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spirits-n-giggles · 4 years

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Fluffy SessRin for you. 🥰

One of the wonderful things about the connection with Rin and Sesshomaru is the ever popular slooooow buuuurn. A slow burn romance is a romance between a couple that takes a looooooooong time to build and they usually stay as friends for a long period of time while growing through changes in the stages of their relationship before something leaps their romance forward. This is a very popular form of storytelling inside of fanfiction and even more popular in the sessrin fandom. Slow burns take their time like the slow burning wick of dynamite; it takes its time as it keeps its audience in anticipation, with a little hint here and a little nudge there, right before getting to the big BOOM! that puts everything in place.

At least that is what I think happened with Sesshomaru and Rin. I don't think romantic intent was on any of their minds for a long time, and I personally don't think that they ever would have done so much as brush one's hand against another unless Rin made the first move.

Can you imagine Sesshomaru actually willing to touch ANYONE?

This is why I am convinced that if (and when) romance starts to take place, Rin is the one to initiate it, be it the way she gently glides her fingers against his claws as she accepts one of his many gifts, or the way her hair teases his watchful gaze in the wind as he is barely able feel the silk-like tresses before allowing them to slip from his touch as she takes off in a field of flowers at running speed.

Rin would be in her own perfect little world when Sesshomaru would visit her. He would see her at the end of each crescent moon cycle (because fanfiction), and there would always be a gift in his hand. Rin appreciates everything that he gives her, but the best gift he could ever give her was his time.

They would usually spend an afternoon together as they go on long and secluded walks. By the age of ten, she would go on and on about the responsibilities that she had been given, or share the new songs that Kagome would teach her. There would be one song in particular that would get stuck in her head, and it was a little tune about raindrops on roses, and whiskers on kittens. He would always listen. He would remain the silent one through the years before one day Rin would ask to hear about the adventures that he had been on since their departure. He would confess that things are quite dull in those days, since he didn't usually venture any longer than a day's travel from her. Even though that was way farther than a human would be able would be able to travel, he would have no idea how this unknowing confession would cause Rin's heart would grow even that much more fonder for him.

Something... something was just a little different after that, but neither of them could really put a finger on it.

Throughout time, their talks would evolve from childish singing to divulging into her education. As she would enter her pre-teen years, she would speak of her extensive human knowledge, as well as her desire to explore other cultures as she hears more of Kagome's culture home from another time. Sesshomaru would have grown more of a voice by this point, mentioning a time or two where he explored and found unique secrets of the known world. Rin's eyes would sparkle at the images that she dreams up in her mind on what it would be like to explore the world with Sesshomaru. He would continue to toss the idea of distant travel around while mentioning to bring back the most unique thing he could find for her. She would smile for him, appreciating the thought, but the idea of him going without her would send an uncomfortable feeling through her. He dangles the idea of travel above her like a fisherman would with bait on a hook, and she would itch to take it. The very idea would cause some aching deep within her. Sure, she always loved the things that he would bring her, but he would still struggle to understand that the one thing that she would ever want from him is his time.

In his entire lifetime, Sesshomaru never cared for any type of affection, let alone touch. He never even considered the idea of yearning for something so trivial and unnecessary. Why would he? Who would dare? He is not so weak to care for such a sentiment. He just never understood...

...until he understood.

He would not understand the warmth of a loving hand until the day of the spring solstice, in her thirteenth year, when she was lazily playing with a large bouquet of wildflowers she had picked. The day would be warm and the skies would be clear. Humming an old tune, she would be in her own little world as she would leisurely put a flower behind Sesshomaru's ear. Though it is the first time she had ever gotten this close to his face, she would do so as if it were something she had done her entire life.

Her touch would be so light and airy, as the brush of her thumb could be felt upon his flesh. It is here that it finally clicks that she is, indeed, very real, and growing at a rapid speed. He had known the pathetic fate of human kind, for it did not take long for humans to grow and die. That was never something he'd care enough to even consider, but the sudden sensation of her electrifying touch proved that simply seeing her with eyes alone was no longer enough for a demon who had always craved his own personal solitude.

And maybe.... just maybe... there would be a quench inside him for just a little more.

Just... a constant touch, be it the way their skin would almost meet as they would walk side by side, or maybe if he were lucky, he would find another blessed brush of her thumb to his cheek.

Just a touch to make sure she was still real....

To make sure she was, indeed, still living... still breathing....

Just to make sure she was okay.

But he would never voluntarily touch her.

No.

But she would.

It would be around the seventh year of her life in the village. It would be in the evening, at a time of merriment, yet in a secluded area. Sesshomaru would not be one for crowds, and Rin would know this. She would set a special place for them at a distance from the crowds, yet close enough to watch the light shows of fireworks and festival poppers. The colorful lights would shine vibrantly in the sky as they would sit beside one another beneath the sheen of the crescent moon. Without breaking her gaze from the light show ahead, she would intertwine her left arm around his right, and thread her fingers between his, locking their hands in the most gentle embrace.

Such action causes pause. Never has she been so bold as to do more than a tap to the shoulder. The warmth would be what throws him off the most, but he would not falter. He would feel her take in a deep breath and gently exhale while settling the weight of her body against his in a comfortable fashion. It is at this time that he starts to feel the soothing lull of her heartbeat through her fingertips, and it would send a brand new sensation through him. The soft rhythm would sooth him to almost a meditative state, feeling at peace through her touch with the knowledge that she is safe, right there, with him. She would lean her head against his shoulder, genly humming a familiar tune with words about packages tied up with string envelopes his eardrums while she draws lazy circles on top of his hand with her thumb. They would stay like that for the duration of the light show, and perhaps even longer. Neither of the two had ever felt so.... content until this moment. Perhaps they fell asleep like this. He would allow her touch for as long as she desired.

That would be the extent of their touch for a long while. As time would string by, she would sprinkle more of her touch, be it the gentle tug of his sleeve as she galvanted in wheat fields, or her delicate fingers as she would straighten the straggles of his hair that would get tangled in the ridges of his armor. Her touch would always be feather-like and instantaneous, but it would never be enough. There would be a twinge deep within the strong willed demon as they would grow even closer with time.

If he wasn't aware of her growth before, he definately would as her teen years would progress. It would seem as though she were very happy around her own kind. Other humans would start to notice her, especially the males. The very idea of any human male scent would be enough to irritate the demon lord for days at a time, so one could imagine the esteemed pleasure of Lord Sesshomaru observing the audacity of those disgusting human males as they pursue her.

But none of them ever seemed to matter to her.

No matter how many young men would stand around her and try for her affection, she would always happily break from the crowd when she would see Sesshomaru just beyond the horizon. There would be the the tiniest bit of pride as he would watch her run towards him with glee.

By now their talks would have dwindled to nothing more than a few comments in the entirety of their one afternoon a month, but nothing would really need to be said. They are content to just enjoy each others company and catch up on mundane life...

Until night would fall and it would be time for him to leave. This is when the goodbye's would gradually stretch with every visit. Sesshomaru would find himself not parting ways until well into the crescent moon nights. It is unknown when the farewells started to become somber and sad, but it would start to become just that much more difficult for Rin every time she would watch him take his leave. He would even bide his time as he would slowly yet surely venture onward for another month of lord knows what, and Rin would have to bear, yet another month of human life, unable to feel completely at peace.

How could she when it was never a garontee that he would return to her?

Yet somehow he always did.

Their first kiss would be in the rain (because at this point, Sesshomaru and Rin are basically the hallmark movie couple of the inuyasha fandom). They would be on their usual walk. It would be her sixteenth year as Autumn makes its way. Rin would guide Sesshomaru to their usual spot, a spot that she would only visit when he visits her. A storm would roll in, and it would be a bad one. It would be such a surprise turn in events, as it would force his visit short since it would be wise for him to beat the storm before his next stop. He would offer to escort her back with the promise of bringing her back something nice as an apology for leaving so soon...

But she would stop in her tracks as she would shake her head "no".

She wouldn't want to go back.

Kissing would never have occurred to Sesshomaru as a form of touching. Truth be told, he wouldn't have seen a whole lot of action with an absent father and a scolding tempered mother. There was no time for affection, there was always battle. Battle.

Battle.

All his father ever talked about was battle.

Sesshomaru grew up in many decades devoted to such strength and the utmost respect for battle. His father was the strongest in the land. It is only natural for a boy to desire to walk in his father's footsteps.

But then to be slaughtered.... because of a human, no less... One of the world's strongest demons to ever roam was killed because of a human.

A human woman.

And a human woman is who Sesshomaru would be looking to now, with thundering clouds rolling in as it would threaten to drench them in a downpour with the smell of moisture in the clouds.

She would not want to say goodbye. Not yet. He would only have been there a meer hour at best. It would be here that she would admit that, even though she had appreciated everything that he had ever gotten her, nothing could ever be quite as precious to her quite like his time.

His time?

Why would they have to go at the pace of his time?

He would have all the time in the world.

It would be she who would be losing time. It would be she that would age. It woud be she that would have to grow old and die incredibly young-

He wouldn't be able to think of things like that.

He would push that thought as far from his mind as it would go.

It would be she who would lose a battle with time.

A battle...

Sesshomaru understands battle.

He would ask what she would want.

It turns out that it is she that would have to make the next move against the game of chess that is time.

He would ask what she wanted.

Silence is what would come, both befuddled as to what to say. His silence is deafening for her. She can't stand it anymore.

She would show him.

She would inch closer to him; he would not falter. He watches her with such intensity as her scent grows closer and closer. Inches away from his face, she would delicately trace her gentle nails up against the sharp looking markings on his face.

He would then quickly grab her arm in shock.

Her eyes would then bulge with a gasp at his sudden grip of her wrist. Her stomach would flip in nervousness at his knee jerk reaction, but all of their nerves would fall as his hand would guide hers to.... cup his face within her hand.

Feeling her touch would instantly cause him to calm. She would watch with wide eyes as his gaze softens as he closes his eyes with a gentle inhale. She could swear that she would hear a soft rumble from deep within him as he leans his face into her touch.

The rain would come crashing down right as her lips touch his. Her eyes would flutter shut as she would gently lean into his strong stature.

The echo of his heartbeat would then suddenly thump through him. Such intensity from this new sensation would cause him to become statuesque, for this... this thing that she does to him...

This is what killed his father.

She would part from him, eyes squeezed shut, slightly afraid of what kind of reprocussion this would bring, but she opens her eyes to find a frozen demon lord.

She would have no voice.

"What was that?" He would ask.

Rin's response would be mixed with confusion and trepidation. "You've... never experienced a kiss?"

He responds fully as he would then touch his lips to hers. His speed would cause her to gasp, and the gasp would push him away. Luckily she would grab a hold of him before he could go far. "Was that not correct?" He would ask innocently.

"You- you... meant to do that?" Rin would be so perplexed.

"I thought that was what you wanted."

He would watch her blink in hurried confusion before she would her question. "Is that what... you want?" She can start to feel her clothing stick to her body as they stand in the soaking rain.

"I want...." Thats a vague question, and unfortunately, he isn't quite adept to being able to correctly express his emotions. He, too, was starting to feel the discomfort of the thunderstorm above their heads. "I want to be dry."

The surprising turn in his response would cause an even more confused chuckle to slip from her lips. "Me too," she would say in a defeated sigh and a sad smile. "Come on, I'm sure everyone is worried about us." She would finally break her gaze to walk past him to head back.

But he would have to stop her.

He would just have to.

He would grasp her swaying hand to stop her in her tracks, which would cause her whiplash. Turning around, she would have no time to react as he would swiftly pull her back close to him, this time with his claws gently tracing the shape of her cheek, just like she had done to him. She sharply inhales right before he touches his lips to hers again. He repeated her actions to the, tee, but this one would linger within the hidden meadow filled with with raindrops on roses. He would hope that this is what she wanted, and he would be lucky enough to succeed.

But such an action comes with a dire price, for he would be unlucky enough to crave her touch for all of eternity.

#sessrin #i might have gotten a little carried away lol #dont mind me #xxiixiii #inuyasha #sessxrin #sesshomaru #rin #sesshomaru and rin #older rin #holy shit i wrote a damn novel

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notfairestwriting · 3 years

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ray profile!

(portrait art or smth will be added here later im too lazy to draw it yet)

Full Name: Ray Máire

[レイ • メア / Rei Mea]

Other Names: Blue Ringed Octopus [Hyondako-senpai] (Floyd)

Monsieur Voyant (Rook)

Twisted From: The Fates from Disney's Hercules

Voiced By: Ayumu Asakura

Biographical Information

Species: Human

Gender: Male

Age: 18

Birthday: January 17th

Star sign: Capricorn

Height: 174 cm (5'8.5")

Eye Color: Steel Gray

Hair Color: Ghost White

Homeland: Isle of Lamentation

Family: Mother (Thalia Máire), unnamed father, around seven unnamed half siblings.

Professional Status

Dorm: Ignihyde

School Year: Third

Class: 3-C, Student no. 17

Club: Science Club

Best Subject: Magical Analysis

Fun Facts

Dominant Hand: Right

Favorite Food: Lemon pie

Least Favorite Food: Anything bland

Dislikes: Irresponsibility

Hobby: Sewing

Talent: Task management

Personality

Ray is serious, diligent, and very organized. While still being reserved as it’s common for Ignihyde students to be, he stands out between them for the fact that he isn’t afraid to speak up and take control of situations, being very dedicated to his work of keeping the dorm functional. He usually comes off as very stoic and slightly morbid, which makes him a bit difficult to approach.

Speech Pattern

Generally not very formal, but still impersonal. "Boku" to refer to himself almost exclusively, last name with no honorifics for others. The Exceptions are Vil (“Vil-san”), and Idia and Rook (First name only). Talks differently to teachers, using "watashi" only to refer to himself and "-sensei" to them.

Background

Ray is the only child to an infamous lawyer in the Isle of Lamentation and a businessman she refuses to name. Due to having a bad relationship with Ray's father, Ray's mother has barred him from being too sociable from a young age, and pushed him to make work a priority. As a child, he was very quiet and shy, usually going along easily with whatever adults told him to do.

Because of having always been pushed to work hard, he discovered his Unique Magic rather early. String of Fate’s nature interested his mother, who would take him to work sometimes to test his abilities, but from witnessing a lot of terrible happenings as just a child because of it, Ray attempted to blind himself with scissors, causing the injury that makes him wear an eyepatch to this day.

Said injury made him spend quite some time in the hospital, followed up by a general health decline. His mother was disappointed and decided to no longer involve him in her work, though making it clear that he had until his high school graduation to make something out of himself, or he would no longer have her support.

Once he went back into regular school after healing from his injuries, Ray continued to maintain a solitary but diligent lifestyle, always staying on the top of his classes, which led to him getting accepted to study in Night Raven College. Knowing Idia Shroud would be in the same year as her son, his mother pushed him to make a connection, hoping that some sort of professional future would be secured for him, which motivated to put himself into his assistant-like role even before Idia became dorm leader.

Unique Magic

Ray's unique magic is called "String of Fate". It allows him to get flashes of images from the future, generally up to several hours ahead of him.

Trivia

* Ray's favorite food comes from it being the first dish that was served to him at an Unbirthday Party, which had also been the first friendly gathering he'd ever been to.

* He's made most of his own clothes, including the eyepatches, which he owns multiples of. He also tailors his own uniforms to fit him better.

* Because of the partial blindness, he ends up being considerably clumsy and bumping onto things a lot.

* He has remarkably cold hands, and they’re never shaky unless he’s extremely nervous.

* He has a handful of admirers in school despite being generally considered too intimidating to approach, and is mostly oblivious to them.

* He can operate electrical circuits, which he learned with the intention of becoming useful within Ignihyde’s system.

* He learned how to sew from his time at the hospital.

* He has a good singing voice.

Appearence / Design / Manneirisms Notes

* He fidgets with his eyepatch's straps when he's nervous or deep in thought.

* Usually carries around a black clipboard. Holds it on one hand mostly, the other used to gesture. When he’s irritated, he holds it with both like he’s threatening to hit you with it.

* His eyes are more up than downturned but very lightly, in that it almost looks balanced and like the shape of the upper line is straight. Any eyeshadow-like details are always black.

* When he’s standing up, he’s always leaning slightly towards one side more than the other, so his legs are rarely straight.

* Hair in a low ponytail in gym clothes.

* Loafers are always fully black.

* (Non-uniform) clothes are usually decently form fitting since he tailors them. Casualwear is almost exclusively black and long sleeved.

* “Vaguely unhealthy” slim body type, little to no tone. His waist and shoulders are a bit narrower than average and his legs are long.

#the long awaited... profile post number one #fleur is next. imma link this in the pinned directory

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hansolmates · 4 years

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jjk; angel’s trumpet [08]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, in this chapter–mentions of sex, a panic attack w.c; 4.5k a/n; can’t believe there’s one more chapter after this! (+the bonus chapter!) its such a bittersweet feeling to close this all up so i hope u all join me in my w2!jk sobbing party im making matcha cookies rn so i can wallow

[07] [08] [final] -> masterpost

Jungkook’s worried.

After he left your apartment, he dove himself into his work and tried to get you out of his head. Somehow he ended up from his living room table to his bed, bleary and with a pen jabbing him in the cheek. He doesn’t know how he feels right now, and has micro analyzed every bit of your relationship in between breaks.

He fell fast, and loving you (as much as it scares himself to admit) was so easy it hurt. It’s why it’s so hard for him to accept that you would betray him like that. What could he have possibly done to deserve this? If you had just admitted your issues from day one, this crisis could have easily been averted and you would be with him right now.

But that’s not why he’s worried. Jungkook wakes up the following day around 10AM, noting the dozens of messages and unanswered phone calls from Jimin and Taehyung.

According to Taehyung, you’ve been missing for three days. Off-the-grid type of missing, to the point that Taehyung is debating on whether or not he should call the police.

The first day you didn’t come home, Taehyung chalked it up as you spending the night at Jungkook’s. The second day however, he visits the library where your office hours are held only to find your usual table empty and your students upset over your lack of contact.

“Here,” Doyeon had said, pointing to the vague email you sent. Taehyung skimmed through the barebones message, mentioning that you had to take an indefinite leave and that the students can email Professor Kim Namjoon if they still had lingering questions.

Taehyung notes the sincere apology at the bottom, and how you tack on that “you are a wonderful group of students and I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.”

Almost as if you aren’t planning to come back.

He could hear Taehyung deflate on the line, knowing that Jungkook has no idea where you are either.

“Did you…” Jungkook scratches his head, sitting at his kitchen table, “did you check her room for a yellow notebook?”

“What?” Taehyung asks, “I checked her room yesterday. Y’know the weird thing is? Her room is clean, like clinically clean. There’s nothing on her desk, the sheets are washed, and her clothes are all folded and put away. Usually it’s like a whirlwind in here.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook replies, remembering how your room is usually quite lived in, with warm sheets and a candle glowing.

“Why aren’t you more stressed out, dude?” Taehyung says, and Jungkook instantly feels guilty. “Your girlfriend’s fucking missing, are you gonna get up and help or not?”

“Y-yeah, I’m just a little shaken,” he manages to reply, thinking about how you tried to explain to him the other night. He pinches the bridge between his brows, regretting not letting you have your word when refusing to listen to you. Maybe if he heard it, things would have turned out differently.

Taehyung sighs, “Yeah, it’s a bit of a shock. She really isn’t like this normally, but I trust her. If you can, maybe contact Jung Hoseok? I already visited Kim Namjoon and he doesn’t know anything, but he’s the only friend I know that could have any idea.”

Jung Hoseok. He remembers that name frequently in your notebook. Not as frequently as his, but enough to have a good idea he could be involved in your sudden departure.

“Okay, I’ll visit him today.”

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

The tables that you usually occupy for study groups are painfully absent of your presence, noted by your stressed out students that are hoping you’ll show up unexpectedly.

Thankfully, Hoseok is working today. Jungkook eyes him from the doorway of the playroom, seeing Hoseok carefully distribute plates of snacks as a movie plays on the flatscreen. He looks like a preschooler himself, decked out in a sunflower yellow bucket hat and denim suspenders. Jungkook tries to see if there’s anything strange emanating from Hoseok, like if he also has secrets to hide, but feels nothing of the sort.

“You’re really creepy, Mister,” the door swings open to reveal a little girl, tugging impatiently at his cargos.

Hoseok makes a face at Jungkook, rolling his eyes. “God, just come in. You’re scaring my children.”

The little girl practically shoves him inside, forcing him to sit at the playtable on the very end. She then hands him a plate of cheddar Goldfish and strawberry fruit snacks, a toddler’s delicacy. Hoseok makes a show of telling the children to be quiet, focusing on the movie’s “historical elements” and “symbolic imagery” but they don’t understand any of that and just want Hoseok to move so they can watch Mulan.

Jungkook feels like he’s being crushed in the too-small chair and Fisher-Price table, munching absentmindedly on his Goldfish. Hoseok is playing on his phone, not sparing him a glance as he texts someone.

Jungkook swallows, wishing he had some milk to down the snack. “Uh, are you texting y/n?”

“No,” Hoseok replies coolly.

“Well, do you know where she is?”

“I can tell you where she went,” Hoseok replies eerily, plucking a fruit snack from Jungkook’s place, “as to whether she’s still there or not, I’m not sure.”

“I’m sorry, but are you mad at me?” he whisper-hisses, not wanting to disturb the children enamoured at the front of the room. He’s tired of the secrecy and blurry answers.

“Yes, I am,” Hoseok snaps just as quietly, leaning in to get into his face, “I’m mad because I believed in you.”

“Believed in me?” he gapes, “you don’t even know me!”

“I may not, but I believed you’d trust y/n at least. She’s a victim too, y’know.”

A victim?

“Look,” Jungkook puts some space between them, afraid he would get too heated, “just tell me what’s going on so I can understand. I know I messed up, but I feel like I’ve been in the dark for God knows how long.”

Hoseok bites his lip, “It’s really not my story to tell. Y/n didn’t want to tell you right away because she wasn’t sure of the circumstances. She wasn’t sure even if she was supposed to tell you.”

Jungkook watches the expressions morph on Hoseok’s face. He sees the faith in his gaze, as he holds his phone expectantly, as if he’s also waiting for a sign that you’re okay. Jungkook suppresses a sigh, looking at his own blank screen. Shaking his head, he manages to smile knowing that so many people believe in you.

So why can’t he?

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

You hate this. Three days ago you felt peachy keen, ready to transcend into your own universe and live your life to the fullest.

Now three days later you’re sitting at the wine lady’s cottage, waiting for the past two days for her to show up.

“How long does she need to go on this ‘spiritual retreat’?” you admonish, looking on angrily at the same waitress that has served you for the past two days.

“I don’t know,” the waitress has grown tired of your presence, waiting all day in the little restaurant for the owner’s presence, “until she feels more spiritual, I guess?”

It annoys you further that this waitress has the spitting image of Sehlyung. It’s weird to see her with natural pin straight black hair, always loving the pretty blond-white color and sacrificing her hair health for the bright hue. Every time she sees you still in the same spot, she makes it a point to roll her eyes and walk a little louder. This version of her is just as temperamental, unwilling to budge.

You groan, shamelessly annoyed as you drop your head on your arm. “And are you sure there’s no angel’s wine in the bar? I’m willing to take the risk of switching lives with my third dimension-self at this rate.”

The waitress eyes the one empty bottle of soju that decorate your side of the bar, chalking it up as a drunk episode. “No,” she says flatly, jerking her hand out. “Now, please pay and leave. We’re closing up, but I’ll give you a call if she decides to show up late. Since y’know, you’ve left your number here despite our protests.”

“Can I stay until you’re at least done cleaning—”

“No.”

You narrow your eyes, snatching up your half-finished bottle of soju before tucking it in your purse and offering up your credit card in exchange. You know you’re not in the right mind, but you’re pulling at strings at this point and you don’t know what to do.

After a couple paces of shaky walking and trying very hard not to appear tipsy in public, you plop yourself onto the beach, overlooking the shore. You place your backpack next to you, taking off your shoes and dipping your toes in the sand.

You glare hard at the moon, despite the distance the big ball of extraterrestrial rock is bright and full. It reflects in the ocean and bathes you in it’s grace.

Sighing at its beauty, you take a swig of your soju as your feet wade in the water. The touch of the ocean is glaringly cold, but your body feels warm and the contrast is appropriately jarring. You feel stuck between two worlds, your body in one while your heart is in the other, desperate to find the bridge to bring you home.

What exactly was the goal in bringing you here? Did you need a break from your real life? Did fate want you to remedy your relationship with Jungkook? Were you supposed to rewrite the wrongs you committed in your other life?

You snort, taking a long swig. It's easy to see how well that went.

You miss your life back home. As much as you love the one your alternate self has made here, nothing compares to Sehlyung’s humor and dirty jokes. Nothing compares to the look on Beomgyu’s face after getting a sentence translation correct. Nothing compares to the way Jungkook looks for only you after a concert, desperate to give you a hug and an affirmation that he did well.

Just as you are about to sing to the moon and beg for a reprieve, a body plops themselves next to you, snatching the bottle from your hands.

“Y’know, normally when people run away, they leave a mysterious note.”

You frown at Jungkook, who looks absolutely ethereal as he stares at the moon. He’s glittering in his denim jacket and black jeans, as if he’s part of an intimate moment in a slice-of-life film. You have half a mind to grab your phone and yell at Hoseok, but it’s far too late since your location has already been revealed.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, trying not to snap when Jungkook pours the contents of your drink into the ocean. “Hey, I paid for that.”

Ignoring you he says, “I’m here to take you home.”

“I don’t have a home here,” you snap, and you mean it.

Jungkook digs a hole for your bottle, letting the sea green grass sit in the sandhole. He turns to you, looking weary and worried. You try not to feel worried over the slump in his chest, or the way he looks like he ran a marathon to find you.

“Then where is your home?” he asks gently, resting an arm over his knee and turning to face you.

You curl up further into your body, hoping you’ll shrink if you press your legs close enough to your chest. “It’s not here,” you mumble into your knees.

“Tell me where,” and you don’t shove him away when he puts his palm on your thigh, coaxing you out of your shell. “I’ll listen this time.” Deathly slow, you lift your head up, letting him catch your stray tears and spread your body with warmth. He scoots over to you, the rough sand making it difficult as he tries to wrap his arm around you. The both of you let out a breath, missing each other’s touch. “I’m sorry,” he says, the apologies melting into your temple, “I should’ve listened from the beginning, and been more patient. It’s my fault you’re all the way out here.”

The oceans crash against both of your feet, the water eager to swallow you whole.

“Two months ago I got into a fight with you, the other you,” you start, and Jungkook doesn’t budge, and you’re thankful he doesn’t attempt to bombard you with questions, “it wasn’t a stupid fight. It was something building for a long, long time. And I came home drunk. One second, I was two seconds away from being sideswept by an incoming truck, and the next second it’s daytime and it’s you that nearly runs me over.”

He rubs small circles into your shoulder, and you almost hum at his touch. You miss Jungkook so much.

“The Jungkook I’ve told you about isn’t dead,” you explain, “he’s—and I’m, we’re from another universe.”

And between you, Jungkook, and the moon you profess your journey. Starting from the anxiety you felt from the first week, how you holed yourself in your apartment until Namjoon had to whisk you out, to your relief when Hoseok believed your crazy ideas. Halfway through you decide to piece your theories within the story, your last conversation with Jungkook, coupled with the angel’s wine and explaining how scary it was to see your matching tattoos and the meaning behind them.

“But, I wasn’t trying to fall in love with you so I could go home,” you admit tearfully, feeling the weight of the night on your shoulders, “it, it just happened naturally. It made me believe that in another world, we would’ve worked out. Just like he said.”

“I believe you,” he says firmly, exhaling. The whole explanation, understatedly, is a lot to take in. But he isn’t going to reject it, in fact as absurd as it is it makes far more sense than you planning out a Jungkook-inspired sci-fi novel or questioning your sanity. “I—I didn’t want to at first. It was easier to say you were crazy but, it doesn’t seem like the case. The way you saw me that morning we met, I could see how much you cared for me—him—us?” he scratches his head, unsure of how he should refer to himself in the situation.

“I don’t blame you,” you shake your head, “Namjoon wanted me to see a doctor.”

“It must’ve been hard,” he states, “seeing so much of him in me.”

“You are him,” you retort, looking up so that your noses are touching. There’s pain in both your gazes, equally upset at the circumstances. “I’m sorry you got the short end of the stick. I wish you could’ve met me, the other me, under normal circumstances.”

“Remember what I said before?” he asks, lifting a hand to brush your hair behind your ear. “I said that our meeting was fate. And now I believe it more than ever.”

You laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Y’know, Jungkook believes in fate too. He used to joke about hearing the bell when he found ‘the one’ like in Kimi No Na Wa.”

Jungkook grins, “That guy of yours seems pretty cool,” he jokes, “let him know that in our case, the bell was my horn because I didn’t wanna run you over.”

The whole situation is confusing, but you’re thankful that Jungkook seems to be at ease now that all your cards are laid out.

“So does your Jungkook do film too?”

“Uh,” you choke out a cough, “he’s actually a singer, dancer, producer, and films when he has the time. Mostly singer, the main one in a K-pop group. With Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi, Namjoon, and Seokjin.”

He gapes, “Kim Seokjin? The actor Seokjin? Damn he’s like, super fine—”

“God this is so weird.”

“So how many figures are they making a year? In the hundred-thousands, like six-figures?”

“Er, more like eight,” you squeak, “and then some. But you put a lot of your money into donations.”

“Damn babe, you downgraded,” Jungkook jokes, and you smack him playfully on the arm. “So that’s how you got the song, huh?”

“Still With You? Yeah,” you say, running your hands through the soft sand, “it’s weird to live in a world without your music, byproduct of my job. It happens to be a big part of my life,” your eyes glaze over the ocean, “I missed hearing your voice.”

“Y/n,” Jungkook threads his fingers through the sand to find your hands, “I’m really, really sorry I doubted you.”

You disagree, “It’s a crazy situation. I don’t even know if I’m really sane at this moment,” you chuckle, “I mean, the time went by so fast. I would be paranoid because for you, it’s like being in a new relationship. I didn’t think it would be so easy to love you all over again like that.”

“Neither did I.” Jungkook replies warmly, and he smiles when he sees you gaping. He leans over to press a kiss to your lips, a feeling long-missed. “And a little part of me knows he feels the same way, too.”

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

It’s almost 12AM before you return to your apartment, dripping wet because neither of you anticipated the sudden spring shower. You tumble in like wet noodles, giggling like children in hushed whispers as you struggle to find the lightswitch.

The lights blare on for you, Taehyung’s fingers hanging by the toggle. His hair is wet from the shower, and he looks like he sees a Christmas miracle when he wraps you up in his arms, despite the protest of you being dirty with sand and salt.

“You dummy, don’t ever scare me like that ever again!” he sobs into your shoulder, and you return the embrace as you pat his head comfortingly.

“Sorry Tae,” you say, “had to do a little soul-searching.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, more like world-searching if anyone were to ask his honest opinion. But Taehyung is looking past your body to mumble a teary ‘thank you’ to Jungkook, and he nods his head politely.

“Well next time you soul search, you better call.”

“Done and done.”

Satisfied that you are going to stay the night and not budge, Taehyung returns to his room. He gives you a good scolding however, and he makes you promise that you’ll give him the full story over breakfast.

After that bump, Jungkook and you can’t keep your hands off each other. You two shower the grime off your bodies, taking turns shampooing and scrubbing. Even after you’re clean and towel-dried, Jungkook’s fingers fail to untack from your skin, pushing you eagerly to your mattress as he presses kisses along your clothed body. He’s singing against your skin, waxing poetics about how beautiful you are and how much he loves you.

“Jung—koo, Jungkook,” you say breathlessly, running your fingers through his damp locks, “Taehyung’s in the other room, we can’t be loud.”

“Don’t,” kiss, “give,” kiss, “a fuck,” Jungkook pants, large hands trailing over your soft skin, memorizing every inch of you, He presses his length against your thigh, insistent, “if this is the last time, we’re going off with fireworks, baby.”

And with that, you relent. It’s nothing short of electric, the way he takes great care but great power into your pleasure. He takes his time, as if it isn’t the first and last night, tracing every inch of your body because he doesn’t know what the future entails for the both of you.

You’re equally stung like live-wire, wracking with pleasure as he seals his affirmation to you with sweet nothings, bodies pressed against each other feverently like they’ve always meant to be. Every bit of contact is purposeful, unbridled and overflowing with affection.

When you’re done you’re both sweaty and almost painfully content, acceptant of the ambiguity of your futures.

“Jungkook?” you ask, holding his hand tightly.

“Yes, pretty girl?”

“Will you… fall in love with me again?”

“Is that even a question?” he balks, leaning forward to peck your nose. He smiles at the way you scrunch your face. “Your office hours are 1-3PM, Mondays and Thursdays in the general library. If you’re not there, you’re teaching the History of Neuroscience in the ARC building on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10:20 to 12:10. I also know where you live, so.”

You don’t care how sweaty you are, and tuck your head underneath his chin, needing to be closer.

“I will find you,” he promises, “hopefully not under my bike the second time around, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“You’ll have a lot of explaining to do, y’know,” you sigh into his chest, feeling it rumble as your hair dampens. Your hair has dried long ago from the shower, but you know Jungkook’s trying hard to be strong as he cries into your crown, “you should leave before I wake up, just in case.”

“Hoseok and I will handle it,” Jungkook assures you, “we’re like the Power Rangers, defenders of space and time.”

“Alright Red Ranger, make sure you’re at least clothed before I wake up, then.”

He pulls away lightly, seeing your equally red-rimmed eyes and ruddy cheeks. Both of you bump arms as you try to wipe away each other’s tears. The moon continues its power over your bodies, the only source of light in the room. Despite its movement since your time at the beach, it continues to illuminate the room and make the moment glisten with the rhythm of time.

“You really think this is the end for us, huh?” his voice cracks, his hands cradling your face.

Stretching to reach him, you press a kiss on every available centimeter of skin on his face. His forehead, his cheeks, his chin, his lips. You take care to kiss the tears away, silently wishing nothing but the best for him. He immediately melts into your touch, and he gives you a teary smile.

“It’s not the end,” you assure, “it’s our beginning. Thank you, for loving me.”

Jungkook nods, pressing a long, sweet kiss to your lips. “I can’t wait to fall in love with you again.”

The two of you sleep like that, not with a goodbye, but with a promise.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

W1.

When you wake up, it’s loud.

The transition is jarring, painfully so. Gone are your soft flannel comforter, replaced with dry, scratchy sheets that are a poor excuse for bedwear. Your hands are heavy, bounded by the fluids snaking into your bloodstream. Your eyes are crusty and bleary, taking in the plain white and wood room. The sharp sound of the monitor reverberates in your ears, a high-pitched reminder of your slow vitals.

Everything is painful, confirming that in fact you did get hit by that truck. You give props to your alternate self for dealing with this for the past two months.

Your eyes dart around the room, taking in the night sky and the full moon looming above you. The only other person in the room is your baby niece, who is just short of five years old. She has since ceased coloring at her little table, her little mouth gaping open like a pufferfish. You make eye contact with her, and she nearly spills over her 64-count Crayola pack as she throws herself off the chair, running over to reach for your hand.

“Auntie!” she cheers, the biggest smile on her face, “you’re awake! Mama said you were hibernating like bears do, and that you would probably wake up by spring time. She was right!”

Although it pains you to smile, you manage to squeeze her hand in return. You open your mouth, the inside feeling tacky and gross. “Ah-ah,” you grimace when no sound comes out, just rasps and ghosts of what once was your voice.

Your niece’s face crumples, and she lets go of you. “Imma go get mama, she’ll bring help!”

She leaves you alone to succumb to the beeps of your monitors and the pain in your bones. Your fingers grapple the paper-thin sheets, and your gaze drifts to the moon. You think of Jungkook, sleeping blissfully in bed, holding you with so much tenderness and care. In a matter of what felt like minutes since you fell asleep in his arms, disappears just like that.

The doctors and your family find you hysterically crying, the monitors going crazy as you hyperventilate yourself into a stupor. You feel like you’re choking on air, whatever little tubes in your body restricting access to fully express how torn and conflicted you’re feeling all over again. The medical expertise does work to evacuate your family, chalking your reactions up as your trauma catching up to you and the shock of the past two months hitting you full force.

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

It’s nearly 3AM when the music cuts out with no explanation, and Jungkook is annoyed. He just got that set down and he finally felt confident in adding facial expressions, but the manager killed the music and now his head is spinning.

He’s heaving, hands on his head as he tries to get his body back to equilibrium. He watches intently as Namjoon immediately takes the call, not even bothering to leave the studio to answer it. The rest of the members watch as Namjoon’s expressions morph into happiness, combined with short “yes”es and “I understands.”

Namjoon makes eye contact with Jungkook first and beams, “She’s awake!”

What originally felt like a hot and stifling room, immediately dissipates into an air of relief. While not all the members may not know you personally, the thought of a fellow co-worker on the road to recovery is enough to ease their exhaustion.

“What?” Jungkook doesn’t hide it, and collapses on the floor, thoroughly spent for today. “Is she okay?”

“Well, she actually just passed out. But she’s conscious.”

“What, why?” Jimin asks, rolling a water bottle over to Jungkook.

“Doctors say she woke up in a panic, started freaking out when it sunk in that she’s been in a coma since winter.” Jungkook’s heart squeezes painfully of the thought of you scared and feeling trapped in that small hospital bed.

“Well, can we go see her in the morning?” Jungkook says hopefully, biting his lip.

“We can’t,” Namjoon confesses, looking down at his shoes in disappointment, “at least not right now. y/n was apparently terrified. The doctors think she’s suffering from some form of PTSD, because she can’t recall anything that happened after she got hit. Her guardians are sending her to a facility for her to process her trauma. It’s in the countryside, and she’s not allowed visitors until she’s fully recovered.”

Just when Jungkook thinks he has you back, you’re already far from his reach. He should be happy, knowing that you are well on your way to get better. He’s thankful enough that you’re finally awake. But the small, selfish part of him wants to visit you, and comfort you.

Whether you’ll let him or not is your choice, but this time, he decides he’s going to fight for you.

#jungkook fic #jungkook angst #goldenclosetnet #bts fic #bts scenarios #jungkook fluff

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trolltrash · 4 years

Text

Trolls Soulmate AUs

I've toyed with the idea of soulmates in the trolls universe in my head for a while so here's what I got:

Soulmates don't have to be explicitly romantic, some choose to start a relationship while some remain best friends

Its more of a predestined bond type deal

Not everyone has one, and that's okay

I figure that the best fitting "type" of soulmate for the trolls universe would resemble the heartsong concept from Happy Feet

Every troll has a unique song that they feel in their heart that mixes perfectly with another's

This conveniently lines up with True Colors, but whether Branch and Poppy are platonic or romantic soulmates is up to you

Brickoppy is my jam, so I'm gonna add that it isn't discouraged for romantic soulmates to welcome other trolls into their relationship

With the Pop trolls, it was very very likely that your soulmate, or at least one if you had multiple, was eaten before you could meet

To find your soulmate was a great cause of celebration and the bond is cherished like gold because of the effects of Trollstice

I've also played around with the more classic tropes (string of fate, first words spoken upon meeting written on skin, etc.) which I realised has ripe angst potential on King Peppy's side:

The strings are only visible to the bearer and their partners

Poppy said she had three strings, which would've been more than fine with King Peppy, if she hadn't also said that two of those strings lead outside the village

He's well aware of the five other kinds of trolls beyond the forest, and he knows that with his little princess growing bigger and bolder everyday, she'll want to set out to go find her missing soulmates

This knowledge terrifies Peppy

The six tribes separated a long time ago because they couldn't accept their differences, so what if they didn't accept Poppy? What if they hurt his baby?

So instead, Peppy hides the existence of the music strings and their history from his subjects and his daughter, and he does a good job of it

That is, until a strange flying animal with an invitation from the Queen of Rock falls into his daughter's hands

Then I wondered how being gray might affect a soulmate bond:

With the heartsong soulmate au Branch, obviously doesn't sing until the first movie, so Poppy doesn't know until True Colors

With the string soulmate au, Branch turning gray causes his two strings to sever, so he has no idea who his soulmates are, not that he wants to know because he's terrified of losing anyone else

Poppy was devasted when she followed her blue string, the only one that didn't lead out of the village, only to find that no one was on the other end

She was inconsolable for weeks after her father said that it might mean that one of her soulmates was eaten before the escape

While she grieved, she made a resolution to love her remaining soulmates twice as much, to make up for the one she never got to love at all

I'm sure you can imagine her elation when Branch's colors were restored along with their shared string

Now that I think about it, a string soulmate au would work just as well as a heartsong au, if the six music strings gave the trolls soulmate strings along with their music

After the excitement of the first movie, Poppy and Branch determined that their orange strings probably lead to the same troll

Now for the Brickoppy goodness:

Hickory had long since given up looking for his soulmates

With the tragedy of his village's destruction, he figured one or both of them were long gone, and he never considered trying to look for them in the other tribes for fear of getting his hopes up

When Hickory took the job to track down Queen Poppy, he certainly didn't expect to find both of his soulmates at the same time, or to need to break them out of jail not five minutes after watching them make fools of themselves singing to the country trolls

Poppy was elated with meeting her second soulmate and Branch was stunned but still suspicious

"Guess folks 'round here don't 'ppreciate a rad medley when they hear one." You bet your ass Hickory was patting himself on the back for nailing that suave first impression on his soulmates

"Branch, Branch! Stop rescuing us for a second and look who I found!"

"Poppy, you don't even know who-" looks at his orange string and follows it to the cowboy across from him "...oh."

Branch is still distrustful of Hickory, just because they were soulmates didn't mean his motives for helping them weren't sketchy

Hickory was torn between genuinely helping his soulmates and saving his brother and culture the entire trip

When they got separated after the Rock Trolls attacked the Vibe City, he was more worried about their safety than losing their bounty

Branch definately feels betrayed when he finds out that Hickory planned to sell them out to Queen Barb, despite Poppy's reassurances that he tried to help her escape

Parb time! :

Barb would never admit it, but growing up she was thrilled to have a soulmate

The idea that she had someone other than her dad who would love her unconditionally, someone who wouldn't be scared off by her passion and intensity made her incredibly happy

When she learned about the pop trolls and how they messed everything up between the troll tribes, she couldn't help but notice how pink her string was, but shrugged it off as a coincidence

To prove to herself that it was just a coincidence she set off to find her soulmate at the end of her string....

....only for it to lead right out of the city

There was no doubt in her mind that Barb's soulmate was a traitorous, string-stealing Pop Troll of all things

With that confirmation, she despised the idea of soulmates

What, just cause some stupid string around her finger said that some preppy pop asshole was meant for her meaned she had to accept it?! Hell no! Barb wasn't going to be told who she would love! She loved her people, she loved her friends, she loved her dad, she loved them because SHE chose to, because she built those relationships alongside them, not because some string said she would, soulmate be damned

Then she finally meets Poppy and her first thought is "FUCK, she's cute!"

Despite her shock, she uses the fact that they're soulmates to taunt Poppy

"I'm not your best friend."

"You're right, we're not friends," holds up her hand with their string, "we're soulmates, Poptart."

Feel free to reblog with your own headcanons if you have any, because I've literally only seen one fanfic about this

#dreamworks trolls #dw trolls #trolls headcanons #trolls branch #trolls poppy #trolls peppy #trolls hickory #trolls world tour #trolls barb #brickoppy #trolls brickoppy #trolls parb #trashtalk

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shiroganeryo · 4 years

Note

if you still doin that character thingy... Kanda, pls? or Krorykins, whichever u wanna do more, cuz i cannot choose 😅

*breathes in* This is it. This is how I finally get to write about two characters in one go because I also can’t choose XD I hope you don’t mind this getting long and thank you for giving me them, you beautiful human being! 🥺

Kanda

My otp for them: With Alma, no doubt (only trust!). Alma’s last moments break my heart, in a good way - they are soulmates meant to be. Their story is very sad and yet extremely touching and beautiful. I have a thing for lovers who meet again in their next lives, as I’m a sucker for the “red string of fate” myth. I get emotional just thinking of their relationship, and I wish, I really wish, that if they have another chance, that they can meet again and finally be happy together without being torn apart by the tragedies of war. My brotp for them: Weirdly enough, I’d say Allen! After Alma arc, Kanda seems to be a lot softer than before, and I’ve been loving the mutualism between him and Allen. They are very alike (as much as they hate to admit it), and that’s why they can understand each other well and know what the other needs without him needing to say anything. They’re both not good at talking about their feelings. Any other ships: With Lenalee! I know most people see their relationship as a brotherly one, but man, they have such good chemistry together. They bicker often, but just imagine what a killer duo they would be 💦 I’m weak for powerful couples. They know each other ever since they’re little, so they have shared a lot of moments together and know each other well, too - the scene in which Lenalee goes to meditate with him because she was scared of Lvellie was adorable; she feels safe around him. Their best friend: I want to say Marie! I think Kanda would rather people who don’t snoop around too much into his personal space, and Marie simply knows where these boundaries are at. He also knows how to deal very well with Kanda’s temper. He understands him but also knows of his flaws, yet he doesn’t question or confronts him, which I’m sure Kanda appreciates. He’s been recently showing that he cares a lot about Johnny as well, but deep down, Kanda does care about many of the people close to him. My favorite nickname for them: It’s gotta be Bakanda, the pun is just great XD It doubles in greatness because, in my language/official release, this got translated as “BabaKanda”, which is also a pun! In Portuguese, “babaca” is the same as “idiot”. So I appreciate this silly pun a lot more thanks to that XD My favorite AU headcanon of them: I think that, sadly, Kanda won’t make it alive to the end of the story. I headcanon that, in case he does die, it’s after repaying his debt with Allen in a roundabout way; he did help Allen, but at the same time, he went to rest in peace together with Alma. And Allen did fight for them to be happy together, so I just... kinda want this to be true. It would pain me to see Kanda go, but this would be his happy ending and he deserves this. My favorite outfit they wear: A hard pick! Kanda is very handsome so basically, anything he puts on will look awesome. However, the one moment that made me go 💓 was when we saw him in civilian clothes (Chapter 208). Jesus Christ!? He was stunning. I really like his current Order uniform + outer coat combo too, looks so comfy and warm. Defining color: When I think of Kanda, I think of a mix of colors. Namely, Cobalt (#1338BE), Carnation (#FFA6C9) and Indigo (#4B0082). I believe it’s because of the Lotus Pain ending using this palette for the effects of the lotus flowers shining in contrast with the dark background colors. Would I date them: As handsome and amazing as he is, I wouldn’t. I know he’d hate my guts because I’m the type of person who wants to overthink and needlessly talk things over more than he should, and Kanda simply abhors the very idea of this 😂 He is a simpleminded guy, and I quite like that on him. First impression: I knew Kanda wouldn’t be the bland “angry asshole character” trope during his and Allen’s first mission together, in Martel. What he told Allen left a mark and made me think there was a lot more depth to him: "I hate the way naive people like you do things... And even more so, I hate people who don't keep their promises!" This one line told me a lot about his personality. Current impression: Pretty much my first impression, but with a lot more context! I really love Kanda and his past was a surprise to me. It made me appreciate him even more than I already did. Hogwarts House: I’d say Slytherin. He would stop at nothing until he found “that person”, and this House is well known for the ambition of its people. He’s also sharp and while not smarts smart, he is perceptive and intelligent in his own way; very skilled as well. Which Pokemon starter they’d be: Oshawott! Samurott looks as intimidating and stoic as Kanda, besides, it’s definitely based on a samurai, so they share this trait as well. Its first stages don’t look like much, but Samurott gets its own sword to fight with!

Krory

My otp for them: With Elliade! Now, this is one complex relationship. I admit I don’t like Elliade much but, at the same time, I understand her. For an Akuma, she really did love Krory; and he still loves her too. I just wish she hadn’t left him in the dark for so long. Her love was selfish and, while I understand how she felt, I feel bad for Krory since he thought he was a monster and that drove him to loneliness. I wish things could have been different, because their love was really pretty despite the downsides, their feelings for each other were very strong. My brotp for them: I want to say Marie! The latest Discussion Room (Vol.27) mentioned how good Krory is at many things, one of them being music. I love to think that he and Marie could have enjoyable long talks about their shared interest, they do look like the type of guys to appreciate music on a higher, more emotional level. Any other ships: I don’t have any, but I’ll make a mention to Miranda! While I don’t ship them personally, I totally see why people do. They’re both soft sweethearts who are always ready to do their best towards the people they care about - and they also share low self-esteem, sadly. The world has been very unfair with them 😢 Their best friend: Definitely Allen and Lavi! They were Krory’s first friends ever, and it’s clear how much he cares about them. My heart literally can’t take how they’re the first thoughts that cross Krory’s mind when he’s scared; it means that he feels accepted by them, they bring him comfort and make him feel safe and confident that everything will be alright. It’s just so sweet. My favorite nickname for them: Krorykins! If there’s one thing the English translation did right (and I can’t say that for like 80% of it), was translating “Kuro-chan” as “Krorykins”. It sounds so silly it’s cute 😅 My favorite AU headcanon of them: Just like I wrote about Miranda on her post, I headcanon he’s one of the people to either drop out of the Order to side with Allen, or actively help him in other ways. I think it’s not a mere coincidence Hoshino-sensei had specifically him, one of the people who cherish Allen the most, accompany Chaozii to go after him. I’m observing with great interest, as they might meet again sometime soon. It broke my heart to see him wanting to see Allen but, at the same time, wishing he had escaped safely. My favorite outfit they wear: There’s only one answer to this question, and it’s his casual clothes! He looks so elegant and fancy, so handsome yet so adorable! I mean, just look at him! Defining color: When I think of Krory, I think of deep red, a crimson shade like Carmine (#960019). I’m very sure it’s because of his Innocence. Would I date them: Maybe? I think I’d like befriending him more than dating him. He’s close to me in age though (unlike most of the characters I’ve written about so far XD) so I’d be down to it. Imagine dating a sweet guy who not only could cook you your favorite dishes but also has a more assertive, wilder side to him. Sounds like the complete package. First impression: Who is this? He looks scary but my intuition tells me there’s more than it meets the eye. Oh, he’s crying. He’s worried...? That’s too sweet, I’m betting he’s not a villain. Current impression: Well, he wasn’t a villain just like I had thought! Krory is an amazing but underrated character, he definitely deserves more love and appreciation. I love his personality, but what I love the most about him is how he had everything to be the “plain edgy, shady character” and then this notion was completely twisted around. I love it when things aren’t just about appearance. Hogwarts House: I see him being in Hufflepuff! The best people I know (namely, my best friend and spouse) are from this House and while they’re sweet and caring people, there’s also a lot to them more than it meets the eye, just like with Krory! Hufflepuffs are dedicated, loyal, and capable. Which Pokemon starter they’d be: Great question because when you think of him, you’d instantly think of a bat Pokémon, right? haha But I’d give him Sobble, I think! Poor shy crybaby that gets to go from water to wine upon evolving into its last stage, which is completely fabulous and badass! Drizzile even has the prominent bang falling on its face, while Inteleon has what could look like how Krory’s bang gets upward when his Innocence is activated 🤔

#dgm #d.gray man #kanda yu #yu kanda #arystar krory #take a shot every time I say the word 'sweet' on Krory's #beware of alcoholic coma #this one got long! They're already long on their own #but I never thought people would be interested in my opinions and I'm so flattered #I'm having a blast; on cloud nine #I just apologize for the text walls all the same though!#ask

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theladyofspaceandtime · 4 years

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Character Sheet - Katherine of Knighton

NOTE: I’m sharing my character sheet for Katherine that I use as a guide when writing out my fanfiction, The Trials and Tribulations of Love. I’m doing this for my blog of the story: @katherineofknighton, and as a ‘character description.’

It is missing some spoilers & details from future chapters (which I will add in later once they are revealed), so this info is just a general basis, following up to Chapter 27 of the story.

BASICS:

Name: Katherine of Knighton

Nicknames/Titles: Lady of Knighton, Lady of Gisborne, Kat

Gender: Female

Birthdate: June 23rd, 1170

Species: Human

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE:

Eye Color: Brown

Hair Color: Brown

Notable Physical Traits:

FaceClaim: Charlotte Riley

PERSONALITY:

Personality Type: ESFJ - The Consul

Zodiac: Cancer

Moral Alignment: Neutral Good

Soul Type: The Scholar

Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

Temperament: Sanguine

Positive Traits: Generous, Understanding, Empathetic, Creative, Responsible

Negative Traits: Stubborn, Possessive, Emotional, Mischievous, Insecure

Likes: Reading, Learning new languages and things, helping others, Guy of Gisborne, Nature

Dislikes: Robin (at times), The Sheriff, Inactivity, Being Alone

Character Tropes: Beware the Nice Ones, Brainy Brunette, Hidden Badass, Determinator, Successful Sibling Syndrome, Dating What Daddy Hates, Cool Big Sis, Red String of Fate

BACKGROUND

Occupation: Lady of Knighton, Lady of Gisborne

Birthplace: Knighton Hall, Nottinghamshire, England

Languages: English, Latin, French and Arabic (spoken language only- still a beginner at it)

RELATIONSHIPS

Parents: Kate of Knighton (Mother, deceased) & Edward of Knighton (Father, deceased)

Siblings: Marian of Knighton (Younger Sister)

Other relatives: Robin Hood (Brother-In-Law)

Significant Other: Guy of Gisborne

SKILLS/ABILITIES

Language Proficiency: Thanks to Katherine’s love for learning, she has learned 4 languages and uses this skill to help with social and political powers.

Basic Combat and Defense Edward had his daughters taught to fight. While Marian takes more advantage of this ability, Katherine prefers to keep this skill of her’s hidden and will only use it when necessary.

Empathy: Katherine is a highly empathetic person and uses this trait to understand the world from another person’s view to help others with their emotions, concerns, or struggles.

Strategic Thinking: Thanks to her scholar like mind, Katherine is always trying to think one step ahead, analyzing her surroundings to solve any problems that come before her.

BIOGRAPHY

Katherine is the eldest daughter of Sir Edward and Lady Kate of Knighton. She is the older sister to Marian. When the girls were little, their mother set up future betrothals for them: Marian was promised to Robin of Locksley and Katherine was promised to Guy of Gisborne.

However, when the two boys parents are killed in a fire and the Gisborne siblings are exiled, things change. Not long after, Kate passes away from the grief over losing her friends and Edward soon after calls off Katherine’s future engagement to Guy since he was exiled.

Katherine and Marian grow up being childhood friends with Robin before moving into Nottingham Castle as teenagers once Edward takes up the mantle as Sheriff of Nottingham. Things start to shake in their lives once it’s revealed that Marian is betrothed to Robin, as Marian isn’t sure how to feel about this, but Katherine begins to watch the two of them fall in love. Despite being happy to see her friend and sister together, a weight of responsibility and expectations as the older sibling begins to fall heavily on Katherine, causing her to feel separated and lonely from them, longing for a love like their’s someday. With all these doubts and insecurities starting to eat away at her as Marian and Robin spend more time together, Katherine begins to bury herself in reading and learning, even offering to help teach Much to read as she helps around the castle in anyway she can. Eventually feeling she needs to go her own way, Katherine plans to leave the castle to become a nun, but it stopped when Marian comes breaking down to her over the news that Robin has left for the crusades. She decides to stay by her sister and father’s side, knowing she is needed now more than ever.

5 years later, Edward lost his position to the current Sheriff of Nottingham, Vaisey and Robin and Much finally return back to home, walking into a different Nottingham than the one they left from. While Marian and Katherine aren’t happy to see him at first, their lives are forever changed with his return, as is Nottingham’s.

And while she least expected it, Katherine ends up finding herself in the attentions of none other the current sheriff’s lieutenant, Guy of Gisborne, with either having no clue about their past betrothal to one another.

The story only continues from here.

A03

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#The trials and tribulations of love #bbc Robin Hood fanfiction #Katherine of knighton #Okay so here's the character sheet on Katherine #it's a generic so it doesn't have all the details

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merakiui · 4 years

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There's an AFTERL!FE blog now! I'm so happy. All of your posts are so good and I love how you write. Would it be possible to get another story about Theo and Nine's rivalry? The way you write them is just so fun and enjoyable to read.

(Thank you so much! I’m very happy that you like my posts. (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* You may definitely have another story of their rivalry! I had a blast writing it. This can be considered a sequel to Cake, but it can be read as a standalone as well.)

Nerium Oleander (Theo and Nine)

Stalkers are poison ivy. Their victims are innocent trees, who breathe life and fortune into the one who watches them like a hawk. Twining around their limbs like rope and heavy iron and keeping them pinned for all their worth—it’s a display of parasitic infatuation. Love, like any other emotion felt in full, is awfully draining. Day and night, allowing that person to consume your thoughts. Thinking and wondering if they appreciate you just as much as you value them. Wishing that they would notice everything you’ve done for them on the sidelines. Loathing anyone who threatens that nonexistent relationship.

As fate would have it, there are unlucky instances in which love is one-sided.

Theo simply can’t bear the thought of that, so he becomes oleander—a flower blooming in beautiful death. One hint of its aroma can send you to an early grave. Every inch of the inviting flower is bathed in poison, and yet it’s still so gorgeous. Why is it that the ugliest personalities have the prettiest shells? It’s frustrating to know that he has competition. In a setting with nineteen other Reapers, Theo’s got a lot on his plate. Like ivy and oleander, it’s the exterior that fools. A sharp, monstrous idea can be wonderful as long as it’s hidden within layers of honeyed promises. Like a cake that’s stacked with plenty of delicious flavors.

He doesn’t want to waste his time on endeavors that won’t bear any fruit, but befriending every Reaper will have its benefits. He’s already made a list of those who pose the highest threat to his precious manager. Nine is at the very top, his name circled in black pen. As much as he dislikes the polite and oh-so-gracious Reaper, he has to pretend as if the two of them are friendly coworkers. As if he doesn’t wish for Nine to transfer to another Department or to cease existing. But immortality is funny like that. You’re either stuck with the best people in the world or the fiends of your worst nightmares. Theo wonders if this is his punishment. Spending an eternity with Nine is far more hellish than Quincy and his status as a devil.

Which is why he holds so much hatred for those who hurt his manager, specifically the ones who simply don’t know when to quit.

The blue-eyed oleander witnesses it in the early hours of the morning during a particularly unfavorable mission. A vengeful spirit had the gall to hurt his manager, and they had even more of a spine to talk to them as if they were a worthless weed. In his garden of noxious plants, Theo sees the disgusting hemlock attempting to snuff out the beauty that is his beloved rose. His expression switches in an instant, a light flickering behind those expansive eyes. There are so many emotions he feels in that moment, but fear is dominant as it grabs his heart and squeezes. The spirit could kill them. It’s about to kill them, and he’s flipping through his spell book with rapturous intent.

And then Nine is at their side, shielding them from the spirit’s attack. Before him, the specter vents in anger, spewing meaningless insults. Theo feels as though he’s just been kicked in the stomach. Why is it so hard to get to you? he thinks, gripping the leather book. His chest aches as he sees the manager cling to Nine. Why can’t I be the one who saves you for once? Why can’t you just rely on me? Nine is better equipped to deal with the situation as he listens, attempting to reason with the vengeful spirit. Its crocodile tears don’t faze Theo in the slightest. He should be the one crying because he was too late. One spell and his manager would’ve been rescued from the claws of such a beastly spirit. And yet Nine was faster with his reaction time.

Theo makes a mental note of the way Nine purifies the vengeful spirit once it’s calmed down. He’s always gentle when he talks to them, using his relaxing aura to coax them into tranquility. Theo would’ve preferred to crush it beneath his unmerciful heel, but the problem has been solved. There’s no use fretting over it now. Though it will definitely keep him awake tonight.

“Manager!” He jogs over to them, dropping down to inspect their wounds. “Take this to stop the bleeding. I’ll help you.” Unfastening his cape, he passes it to the manager, who holds it against the bloody laceration while he searches for a proper healing spell.

“Thank you, Theo,” (Name) says, wincing at the stinging sensation. “That spirit really put up a fight. Thanks for coming to my aid, Nine.”

“No need to thank me, Manager. I’m relieved you’ll be okay. Mr. Theo will have you healed in no time.”

Theo grits his teeth before facing Nine. He wants this unworthy hemlock out of his special garden. “Could you gather the others? Let them know that we’re finished over here.”

“Very well. Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

“No.” It comes out way too stern, and Theo’s quick to correct himself. “No thank you. We’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t spare Nine another glance as he departs, focusing on the manager’s pained expression with sympathy. They’re in his arms now, grasping at him for salvation. The situation couldn’t be anymore perfect.

“That was crazy, wasn’t it?” they ask, making light of the previous events. “My heart is still racing!”

“I...was so worried, Manager.”

They let out a wheezing chuckle. “Thank goodness Nine was there. If it weren’t for him, I could’ve gotten killed. It’s scary to think about.”

“Yeah. Terrifying,” he echoes while casting the healing spell on them. Surely there’s a curse that brings misfortune. Theo wants to do everything he can to master every negative incantation there is. Just for future reference. There are so many possibilities when it comes to his rivals. He’ll have a field day debating which is the most effective. “You’ve got to be more careful. If you ever find yourself in trouble, just come to me. I’ll always be here to help you.”

They smile, sitting up on their own accord and feeling for any wounds that might’ve escaped the cleansing powers of Theo’s magic. Every cut is sealed and every bruise is gone, leaving the manager with a feeling of rejuvenation. At once, they recognize the plush fabric of Theo’s cape and gasp, noticing just how much blood has stained the white cloth.

“I’m sorry for making such a mess. I’ll wash this as soon as we get back.”

Theo eyes the color with disdain. How utterly cliché. It’s almost sickening. Red on white is too bold—too deep of an implication. Red is a color that means many things, two of that being passion and love. A third is the color of blood. And white is meant to symbolize purity. Theo knows he’ll have to work hard so that the manager’s purity doesn’t bleed out onto the sterile white of this corrupt world. There’s no way he’ll ever let that happen. When he stares at his cape, drenched in splotchy crimson, he sees more than just a soiled piece of fabric. He sees the darkest imprint of (Name). But blood is still messy, even if it is his beloved’s.

Theo wonders which cleaning agent is best for erasing blood. His thoughts spiral deeper and deeper into a rabbit hole of wickedness. Mortality is fragile, and cake and blood are no different. Both are victims of inescapable chance. On the other hand, immortality is a curse that binds him to the one he’d rather be far away from. Speak of the hemlock, who has completed the command with diligence. Nine approaches with the others in tow, all of whom crowd the manager like insects. Theo wishes to spend a moment longer with them. Just a few more minutes. There’s so much I want to tell you. He’s bound to this silver-lined rivalry, a prisoner of obsession. And Nine has no idea.

He supposes that’s how poison works. It doesn’t take long until it spreads within its victim, who is unaware as it shuts down vital organs and flatlines their functions. If Theo has to cut the strings that tie him to Nine and anyone else who dares get in the way of him and the manager, he’ll do whatever it takes. Like poison, it’s small and deadly. Poison might not kill an immortal Soul Reaper, but that has nothing to do with their mentality. Cake might be the same when it comes to ingredients and presentation, but it’s the baker who’s most important. A cracked baker is easy to exploit. He’s even easier to tear apart when he’s alone and basking in his own corrosive thoughts.

The oleander festers at the manager’s side, a quiet flower waiting for an opportunity to infect everyone with debilitating poison.

------

Nine has begun to notice a pattern. It’s tiny at first—like a minor inconsistency that isn’t worth the trouble. But then it becomes a prominent itch that looms in the back of his mind like a shadow. Since that mission, Theo’s been hanging around the manager as if he expects another near-death experience to happen, which shouldn’t be much of a worry. Although (Name)’s mortality is concerning, Nine knows the Reapers in the 14th Department would never let any fatal harm befall their precious manager. So why is there a strange feeling that overwhelms him whenever he spots Theo trailing after them, holding files or a bento he made specifically for them? Anyone with half of a brain would assume he’s playing favorites, attempting to get on the manager’s good side so that the punishment for skipping out on work is lighter. Though Theo doesn’t seem like the type to slack off, which is why Nine is sinking in a state of perplexion.

What is he trying to achieve? Realistically, what is there to gain other than (Name)’s approval? They like each and every one of the Reapers, so it’s not like anyone’s on their bad side. He has an eternity to figure it out, though Nine can’t exactly be bothered. If it isn’t hurting anyone, why should he fret over Theo’s behavior? It’s not as though he’s acting out of line. Rather, he’s been quite pleasant. He even offered to assist Nine in moving a few boxes. Nine doesn’t want to hold any suspicions about his colleague, nor does he want paranoia gnawing on his ankles like a puppy.

Without realizing it, he’s been aimlessly walking through the campus as he pieces together fragmented thoughts. His eyes land on the manager, who is alone as they stride towards him. For once, Theo isn’t at their beck and call. Nine thinks of Day and his unwavering loyalty. Perhaps Theo is just as enthused about (Name) as Day is with him. Nine shrugs those comparisons away, opting to focus on his manager.

“Hi, Nine! What’re you doing out here?”

“Taking a small stroll,” he answers. “The weather is perfect for this, and it’s always beneficial to get some exercise.”

“I agree. To be honest, I wanted to clear my head for a bit. I’ve got so much work that it’s beginning to stress me out.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Manager. Would you like any help?”

“I don’t want to bother you.” They wave their hand through the air as if the distress isn’t clear enough. It’s obvious they’ve been pulling all-nighters just to get through paperwork and other tasks. “Would you mind if we walked together?”

Nine considers their offer for a moment. While he would prefer a few more moments to himself, he can’t deny someone as caring as (Name). It’s almost a crime to turn them down, and he has no idea where all of this fondness is suddenly coming from. Regardless, there’s a sneaking sensation that touches his sixth sense. Since when did the flowers have eyes? The wind rustles through the greenery, creating an eerie sound that settles in the courtyard. He’s compelled to retrace his steps and turn down the corridor, but your patient expression chases that idea away.

“I don’t mind.” He falls into step with you, calmly observing the deliberate clicking of your shoes. “Take care not to overwork yourself. The 14th Department depends on your leadership.”

At least a few Reapers are more than dependent, he thinks.

“I’ll be fine as long as I can finish everything on time. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Make sure you’re getting enough rest and eating your meals—“

“I know,” they say, drawing out the syllables. “I appreciate your concern, Nine. It means a lot.”

He nods, a simple gesture that confirms his gratitude. His manager is always thanking and praising the others. Briefly, he wonders if they’ve ever taken time to care for their own well-being rather than the well-beings of the Soul Reapers.

“When all of this is over, I’d love to spend more time with you,” (Name) goes on, a bounce in their step. Nine doesn’t miss the excitement that flashes through their features at the prospect of getting to bond with him. He’d rather be alone, but Nine has found it to be a challenge whenever they’re involved. “Do you think you could teach me to play an instrument? I’ve been meaning to pick something up, but I never seem to have time.”

Well, Nine happens to be skilled with his hands. And hands are required to play most—if not all—instruments. Perhaps you’d like to learn the violin, or maybe you’re interested in the drums. He’ll have to learn as he goes with those, but it’s worth it if it means (Name) will be happy. How odd. Where did all of this compassion come from? Nine knows what instrument they’ll say, as the two of them have sat in the storage room and played it on plenty of occasions. The atmosphere doesn’t change, but the flowers certainly do. As if wanting to blot out a horrid memory, the eyes close and a mouth creases into a tight line. Nothing short of disappointment.

“I was thinking I could be good at the piano if I tried hard enough. What do you think? We can play together, and we can even form a band.”

A band consisting of two people is hardly a band. Handcuffs can only restrict one person. A pair of unseeing eyes are useless, and Nine knows his words must be chosen carefully lest his tongue sit on a rusted tray.

He puts on a thin smile. “Learning an instrument can be just as stressful as work. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize your health.”

“I’ll be fine, but you do make a good point. It might be overwhelming if I try to balance that and missions. One of these days I’ll try to learn.”

Just not now.

And he couldn’t be any more relieved.

------

Nine finds himself in the common room later that evening, reflecting over the events of the day when he encounters the blooming oleander. He’s preoccupied with the book in his hands, which is a collection of stories written by the famous Edgar Allan Poe. He never intended to pick up something so macabre. It happened to be the first thing he grabbed while perusing the shelves. Perhaps he should’ve looked for a poetry book instead. Before he can get up and complete that task, Theo enters his visage, the corners of his lips upturned. It fails to reach his eyes.

“Good evening, Nine. I didn’t expect to find you here. This is a wonderful surprise nonetheless.” He says a greeting that’s reminiscent of Nine’s, which has been tailored ingeniously. Recycled words are only worthwhile if they’re put to positive use, and Theo bleeds venom. He has no reason to speak to Nine. In fact, he’d rather avoid him at all costs, but that won’t work if he intends to poison his fragile mind with every bit of sly kindness he can muster. Theo has learned to be resourceful. A talented baker knows how to improvise, after all. “Oh, I recognize that cover. It’s an anthology of Edgar Allan Poe’s short stories. Which one are you reading?”

Nine glances at the page, picking out notable phrases. He’s at the part where the old man is smothered by his own bedsheets. “‘The Tell-Tale Heart.’”

“That’s grim, isn’t it? Well, all of his stories are, but that one in particular is really morbid.” Theo sits beside him on the sofa, keeping a gap between him and the weed that is Nine. “Wouldn’t it be scary if you woke up to someone trying to kill you? I know I’d be alarmed. But we’ve already experienced death, so maybe it’s not frightening anymore.”

He tries to understand the motive behind Theo’s incessant chatter. The two of them have never really clicked. Small talk isn’t something they can fall into so easily. Nine wants to ask Theo many things, but it’s wrong to suspect someone without any evidence. So he merely nods as he listens to Theo, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave. It’s not as if Nine doesn’t want to talk; he’s just not accustomed to this facet of the Day Reaper. Lo and behold, the question slips out before he can stop himself.

“What would you do?”

“Excuse me?”

“If you were one of the investigators, what would be your reaction to the man?”

“Oh,” Theo states, pursing his lips as if the inquiry requires deep thought. “We know that the narrator is unreliable. He only wants to kill the old man because of his eyes. He gets paranoid when he hears the man’s heartbeat coming from the floorboards, even after he dismembered his body. I’m sure anyone, investigator or not, would think he’s insane.”

“Do you think that?”

Theo bristles at the question, a sour taste coating his tongue. Why is he suddenly being interrogated by Nine? This isn’t an interview, and it certainly isn’t a questionnaire for a criminal. He laughs to cover up the crack in his mask. “Of course I do. No one of sound mind would murder someone defenseless all because of the way their eyes looked. Just saying it out loud like this is madness.”

Nine nods again. Insanity cannot exist without sanity. A heart cannot function without a beat. A parasite cannot live without a host. He’s not sure where this conversation is going. This is far from a cheery book club meeting. Nine searches every inch of his expression, noting the occasional twitch of his mouth and the constriction of his pupils. Yet he can’t detect an ounce of a practiced lie. Could it be that his instincts are misplaced? Is this what Theo has wanted all along: A moment to talk to Nine as friends rather than coworkers? Perhaps he has been incorrect in his judgement.

The book shuts; Nine doesn’t want to read anymore. There’s an unfinished composition waiting for him in his dorm room. Standing up from the couch, he lowers his head in the form of a farewell. He sets the novel on the coffee table so that Theo can indulge in the fictional world of Poe.

“I’m afraid something has come up, so I’ll be leaving now. Please enjoy the remainder of your evening, Mr. Theo.”

“I will.” Theo beams. “Sleep well.”

Nine doesn’t waste a second turning his back on Theo, exiting the common room with graceful movements. As soon as he’s out of sight, the happy grin melts away and is replaced with that of a dark scowl. He’s not a mindless fool. It was obvious that Nine was uncomfortable. He’s just too polite to say anything, and that’s a weakness Theo’s willing to dissect.

So you were reading Poe, hm? he muses to himself, picking up the book and turning it over in his hands. I took you for a poetry guy. How chilling, Nine. Manager wouldn’t like these grotesque tales.

Who is he to determine what they like and dislike? Theo’s watched (Name) for quite some time now, committing their quirky habits to memory. It’s almost comical how they never seem to notice. Nine does, but he’s always been keen, and yet he can never understand the meaning behind his constant staring. That’ll happen when you spend your days alone, keeping yourself entertained with the voice inside your head. Theo wonders if Nine gets lonely with that depressing lifestyle. The two of them are like night and day. Theo’s bright and blinding like the sun. Nine is quiet and calm like the moon. But there isn’t any oxygen on the moon, and the sun can steal a person’s eyesight without feeling any remorse. Two Reapers of complete opposites, rising and setting all the same. A weed and a flower masquerading in a game of cat and mouse.

Oleander grows to towering heights. A stalker’s presence looms as tall as the very flower Theo embodies. He doesn’t care if he’s a leech or a misleading flower. Anything’s better than hemlock and the imposter cake Nine’s baking. Theo’s the baker and the pianist, not Nine. It will never be Nine. He’ll make sure of that. At his very core, Nine is a jawbreaker of many emotions and memories. Theo will fracture every layer until nothing’s left. Until the ground is a mess of colors and stories that unfold before the entire 14th Department. He’ll dig into Nine’s mind with a knife and fork to pull apart stringy recollections of his past life. It’s guaranteed to be a dessert far tastier than a slice of cake.

Poison ivy is easy to identify. As the saying goes, ‘leaves of three, let it be.’ Theo isn’t as obvious as a sickening rash. That’s the difference between ivy and oleander. One kills and the other spreads with red irritation. While he could sit and wallow in bitter annoyance, he’d rather get to memorizing every hateful hex in his spell book. Maybe he can trick Ell into making him a felt doll of Nine. Oh, the thrill of voodoo. Theo’s never performed such dark magic before, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. He’d like to see Nine lose his mind for a change, because eternity knows Theo’s lost his.

The manager deserves only the prettiest of flowers, and oleander has such a gripping, virulent embrace.

#afterl!fe #after l!fe #afterl!fe theo #afterl!fe nine #oneshot #yandere themes #yandere afterl!fe x reader #yandere afterl!fe #yandere theo #afterl!fe x reader #afterl!fe theo x reader #yandere theo x reader #nine x reader #afterl!fe nine x reader #afterl!fe the sacred kaleidoscope

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timeforelfnonsense · 4 years

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Looking to Make Friends

Dafni x Astarion || T || Ao3 || Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series

Some pre relationship fun before any feelings were caught. Astarion has a pretty good WIS score and with his background, I think he'd be quite good at reading other people. It's interesting to contrast that with Dafni, who is also very perspective but in a very different way. (and they were narrative foils)

Astarion padded along softly behind Dafni, bow drawn and at the ready. He’d offered to help her catch dinner for the party. To be perfectly honest he wasn’t much for hunting. Not with a bow anyway. In truth, he’d followed her out here to pick her brain. He wanted to get the measure of each of his newfound associates and the peculiar cleric seemed the best place to start. She was far and away the most open of the bunch. The rest of their number all carried an air of privacy about them. Dafni, in contrast, was completely transparent or at least presented herself to be. She could also serve as a bridge to gaining the trust of the more discerning among them. She’d already created a respectable rapport with Gale and the pair they’d picked up in the grove, Wyll, and Criella. She’d gone out of her way to offer hospitality and kindness to each person in the party, even those who seemed less than interested in playing nice.

You do seem the type. Inquisitive. Looking for connection… It’s every man for himself and you are looking to make friends.

The corner his Astarion’s lip turned up. Shadowheart was canny. That much was clear. She was, however, too short-sided to see the benefits of having someone of that sort on her side. Dafni wanted friends and he needed to secure an ally- It was an ideal fit. He’d noticed the way she blushed at his teasing. How eager she was to keep his company. She almost certainly found him attractive. That made things a bit easier at least.

“Can I confess something to you?” He inquired, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her pointed ear, “I asked to tag along because I wanted to spend time with you.” Dafni’s cheeks turned cherry red as he traced the blade of her ear. A coy smile forming across his lips. “Aw, I hope I haven’t embarrassed you. I couldn’t help but overhear the way Shadowheart rebuffed you this afternoon. It’s her loss really if she can’t see what an intriguing woman you are.”

“I-Thank you, Astarion.” She stammered, tracing a small circle in the dirt with the toe of her boot, “What did you want to know?”

“Tell me about your life before all of this?” He asked, gesturing to his temple.

“In the city or before that?” She asked, tilting her head thoughtfully, “I can think of several ways to answer that question.”

Astarion mulled his response over for a moment. He was curious about her life in the city. Dafni was a creature of the wild through and through. She seemed very much at home among the plants and creatures of the forest. It was hard to picture her strolling about the lower city. But, he’d observed her to be the sentimental sort. An inquiry into her more distant past would yield far more.

“Tell me about where you grew up?”

He heard her heart give a worrying lurch. Her honey-brown eyes falling to the faded leather of her shoes as the flush that covered her cheeks grew even deeper. That was not the reaction he had been expecting from her. Was she embarrassed? No. Nervous. Her arms crossed over her chest as she let out a rush of air from barely parted lips.

“Umm- Well, as you might have overheard Criella saying, I’m from the Feywilds originally. I should have told you the truth when you asked about my being from the city. I don’t like lying! Even by omission! I just wanted you to trust me...”

Astarion knew a thing or two about conceding one’s nature. He had to stifle the chuckle building in his chest. It would seem he and lovely little Daffodil had something in common.

Her reaction had been rather dear. But, the logic did follow. The creatures of Faerie had a certain...Reputation. View by the common folk as at best, fickle, whimsical beings, ruled by emotion and a strange sense of decorum. And at worst as wicked, Unseelie tricksters or hags looking to strike duplicitous bargains.

She wants to be liked, He thought, Her reputation is important to her.

“Think nothing of it!” He soothed with a wave of his hand, “We are all entitled to our little secrets. I’d still like to hear more if you’d be kind enough to indulge me?”

“Of course!” The tension in her shoulders loosened and she continued, “I’m actually quite proud of my heritage, despite my omission. Of all of the Protectors' children, the eladrin of the Faerie are the most like the first elves that sprung from his blood. The plane of Faerie is magnificent. As close a place to Arvandor, there is. It teems with the most beautiful plants and colorful creatures in all of creation. It is a place of enchantment and wonder, both deadly and delightful. Many creatures who stumble into a crossing by mistake lose their wits to its irresistible splendor but my people, we prosper where others wither.”

He took note of the way her back straightened when she spoke. Her posture took on an elegance he hadn’t seen in her before. He couldn’t help the smile that touched his lips. For all her charity and warmth she still held a small taste of that classic elven haughtiness. Interesting indeed.

Even more interesting still was the specific pride she took in her ability to survive what overs could not. He was not easily impressed but spirited Dafni had made quite the impression on him. She was tenacious and spirited. She would not surrender herself to their grim fate.

Another similarity.

He thought back to their first night in camp, to her girlish snickering at his unease about sleeping outdoors. She had called ‘N'Tel'Que'Tethira’, a city elf.

But, no sooner than the words left her did a modified expression fall across her pretty round face. Her next sentence had been a string of apologies and assurance she felt no superiority to her city-dwelling cousins.

Astarion had gathered the fondness she felt for the elves was not limited to her own people but rather all varieties of elves. He’d overhead her with Gale, insisting she was no scholar yet there seemed to be no question of elven lore or history she could not summon at the drop of a pin. He’d not given much thought to his own elveness in quite some time. On the list of things, Astarion was, elf did not fall very high on the ranking of importance. Yet Dafni, from the moment she set eyes on him, saw kin and ally. He’d even seen her extend this esteem to Shadowheart.

Pride in her culture and people. He’d found another piece of her puzzle. A bit obvious but important nonetheless.

“I was born in the Faerie reflection of the Moonshaes, on the Isle of Gwynneth.” Dafni continued, “In a village called PeleiraI. It was an oasis created by the primal elves who first came to the feywilds after being cast out by Corellon.”

Astarion nodded along as she spoke. He recalled the images that had flashed through his mind upon their first meeting. Tucked away in a forest of mythical beauty, her ‘village’ had been a far cry from the thatched huts and dirt floors the word brought to mind. He’d seen spires and structures of flawless marble reflecting a breathtaking, sunset of burnt orange and vivid violet. The ethereal structures scattered among the woodland didn’t detract from the wild nature of the glen but enhanced it. Appearing as if they had been grown from the earth just the same as the imposing trees that sheltered them.

“I saw the fleeting image of a settlement when our minds touched. It looked like something out of a fairytale. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He affected his voice, coloring it with wistfulness and awe, “I can only imagine the adventures you got up to there.”

“I did a lot of nothing most days.” She snorted, “Read. Practice medicine or magic. Explore the forest. Pester my older sisters. Maybe a hunt with visiting Seelie knights if I was lucky. I was never really allowed out without my sisters or some sort of escort.” Dafni scoffed the heel of her boot hitting the tree behind her with a soft, repetitive thump. “My mother, Thesmia is our clan’s leader. She’s a well-respected wizard and historian of a sort. I think she knew I was curious about what was on the other side of the mirror so to speak. Gwyneth is littered with fey crossings and she didn’t want me wandering off to the material all alone.”

She was the sheltered daughter of a noble (or close to it)? Right within his bailiwick! Her story wasn’t an unfamiliar one. Many of his marks in the city had been young lords and ladies smothered by the expectation and duty. All itching for the taste of freedom they were certain they’d find in Astarion’s honeyed words and dark charms.

This revelation did not yield new information so much as clarify an impression he already had. He’d seen more than her childhood home that day on the beach. The worried face of an otherworldly elven woman and bone aching wanderlust still burned through him when he played the memories over in his head.

“Is that why you left to live with the wood elves?” He asked, tilting his head to the side, “To see this side of the mirror?”

“You remembered?” The flush returned to her cheeks as she fidgeted with the string of her bow.

Astarion smiled his most beguiling smile, “I told you I thought you were intriguing, did I not?”

“I suppose you did!” She hummed, “Well to answer your question, yes. In apart anyways-'' She shrugged squeezing her biceps, “I wanted to explore, I was never going to know myself in Thesmia’s shadow. She was very...resistant to the idea. She’d seen how cruel people could be. That was part of why she made a home for us in PeleiraI. If she had it her way I would have spent the rest of my days in tucked away safe in her tower.” Dafni paused for a beat, her hands anxiously toying with the edge of her sleeve, “Please don’t misunderstand me. I love my mother dearly. She can just be a bit…”

“Overbearing?” He suggested.

“Yes.” Dafni giggled, releasing the worried fabric from her fingertips, “I know she wanted what was best for me. We just didn’t agree on what that was. I wanted to live my life and she wanted me to live hers.”

“I can sympathize to an extent.” He said, his mouth turning down into a scowl.

“You had a loving but smothering ancient being as a mother?” She tittered, playfully bumping her shoulder against his.

“No.” His tone came out a bit sharper than he’d intended. He ran his hand through his hair composing himself before he continued, “But, I understand the feeling that your life isn’t really your own.”

It was a risk to offer such information up. One he maybe shouldn’t have taken but, something about her vulnerability made him feel a little less guarded. A skill that could prove dangerous. At least his slip up hadn’t been for not. Her heart had slowed to a steady thrum. The jittery shuffling of her feet had stopped.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dafni responded, placing a hesitant hand on his arm. He had expected her to pry. She was painfully curious and astonishingly open with her own feelings. Yet, she seemed to sense pressing the matter would upset him. Instead, she moved on. Her voice coming out small and far away, “I think she wanted me to be more like her. Refined. Intelligent. Graceful.” She sighed pressing her back to the mossy tree trunk, “Sometimes I worry I might have been a bit of a disappointment.”

Ah-

There it was. The piece he’d been hoping to find. She wanted reassurance. Validation. To be valued and appreciated by her own merits.

“I don’t know your mother or her mind but, for what it’s worth, I think you are quite remarkable.”

“Really?” Her voice quivered as she looked up at him with sparkling doe eyes.

“If not for the tadpole’s intervention you may well have, how did you put it, cut my smug head right off my shoulders?” He snickered toying absentmindedly with the pommel of his dagger, “Or made a respectable attempt at any rate. I’m not often bested by my quarries.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad I didn’t.” Dafni leaned in close, the sweet scent of her dizzying his senses. Her breath tickling his ear as she whispered, “Your head is far too lovely to be parted from your shoulders.”

“Why, Daffodil! I’m flattered!” He stated a pleased grin plastered across his face, “Not surprised but, flattered. You did strike me as a woman of taste.”

“Are you always this cocky?” She chided in a teasing tone.

“Probably.”

“Hmm. Why am I not surprised” Dafni had tried to sound vexed but the edges of her voice teemed with amusement. Her big, topaz eyes gleaming with joviality, “Fair is fair. Tell me about your life before the tadpoles?”

He felt a slight unease creep into his chest in response to her innocent inquiry. He’d played fast and loose with the truth countless times with his marks but Dafni was different. She was observant, always picking up on the little subtleties of people's deminers. He would do better to stick to omissions rather than out and out mistruths. He brought his hand to the back of his neck giving the tender mussels a gentle rub.

“Oh, what is there to tell.” He put on a dispassionate expression. Careful to sound cool and nonchalant. “I was a magistrate- it’s all rather tedious.”

“Really? I can’t picture you as a bureaucrat.”

“And why not?” He gasped clutching his hand over his chest.

“Well for starters, you despise rules even more than I do. You like to stir up trouble. And your sense of morality- How do I put this, seems a bit...crooked? No offense.” She explained, indicating her points on the tips of her fingers.

“Oh, none taken!” Astarion gave her a peal of hearty laughter, shaking his head, “Daffodil, I hate to be the one to tell you there is a great deal of dubious morality in government.”

Her expression soured, her lower lip quivering ever so slightly as she stuck it out, “Well, I still can’t picture it. You are far too much fun for such a stuffy job.”

“People have many sides, dear.” He shrugged glancing over at her with a playful look, “But thank you.”

#Dafni of Gwynneth #astarion #elf writes #bg3 fic

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azure-wolf-227 · 4 years

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Red String AU: Different Colors

I had this idea the the Strings of Fate aren’t just red, instead coming in different colors depending on the nature of the relationship that the Soulmates have and how they see each other.

Red - Romantic. The intensity of the shade indicates how strong the romantic feelings are.

Pink - Attraction to someone, having a crush on them. If the feelings grow beyond of a crush, they String will turn red.

Dark/Dirty Red - Lust/Obsession. The feelings are unhealthy or toxic.

Yellow - Friendship. Common to platonic Soulmates.

White - Neutral. The person neither likes nor dislikes their Soulmate.

Gray - Dislike/Rivalry. This color is common for Soulmates who saw themselves as non-friendly rivals in someway before discovering their Bond. The darker the gray, the greater the dislike is. Rival Soulmates can still act civil towards each other and work together when necessary.

Black - Hate. The person absolutely loath their Soulmate.

The Strings’ color(s) is in response to the type of relationship the Soulmates have and how they see each other. The colors do not dictate what kind of relationship the Soulmates must have, rather, it is the relationship that affects the colors of the Strings.

And while the Bond can help Soulmates have a better understanding of each other, someone cannot be forced to like or dislike their Soulmate.

White, Gray, and Black Strings are the most uncommon as it is rare for someone to not like their Soulmate in some way. Black it is almost unheard of and it’s a cause of great concern due to for what reason someone would hate their Soulmate.

If a pair of Soulmates have different views of their relationship, then their String will be split with each half the color representing their feelings. i.e. A person has romantic feelings for their Soulmate but their Soulmate only sees the as a friend. The String that connects them will be half red and half yellow, the colors on the side of the of the person with the corresponding feeling.

#red string of fate #red string au #other string colors #what do those colors mean?#strings of fate au

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semi-imaginary-place · 4 years

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rewatching decadence

ep1: so... indoctrinating kids that they life their life in service to an upper class. also like, the way deca dence takes care of giant gadoll is to punch it like no giant sword or laser canon or anything just the power of a giant mountain sized fist. this show actually has some good foreshadowing from seeing Natsume from the perspective of Kaburagi’s hud, to Natsume’s dad (Muno) finding the Solid Quake logo at the beginning of the episode and the logo again being shown in the last shot at the announcement signs off with have a profitable day which is a weird public safety announcement but makes sense as a company slogan. I’m still not sure what the “TIME 1:00 POINT SE,07,G” means. I didn’t write it down last time because I was unsure of myself, but my first thought when the cyborgs showed up was VR chatroom for the upper class.

ep2: yeahs that’s totally an advertisement that plays right after natsume realizes the human costs of war as the tankers pay respects to the fallen. I realized what it was with the cartoony designs, the bright colors and patterns, the funky shapes of all the structures aboard the space ship, it looks like a tv show for toddlers. inoffensive and deliberately cheerful to distract from the horrors of a corporation owning your person. the eng subtitles are confusing here it should be “real death(simulation) awaits” in that the company is advertising being able to experience death but not have any of its permanent consequences as a feature of the game. The cyborgs are corporate wage slaves being compensated for their labor in company credits and the only other things we seen them do outside of work is play the company’s mmo, or recreational drugs. “I should be proud of my function and to be scrapped” as property of the company. aaaa that’s terrible. aaa. what are cyborg cores??? and why are they valuable. Solid Quake has no control over the core, only the cyborg’s housing. Is it that they cannot produce more? Considering the others on the team got executed for sentenced to an eternal forced labor camp with appalling conditions, Minato really did pull some strings for Kaburagi. ooh so “time until scrapping” and “operational limit near are two different warnings. the first is a general reminder of lifespan and the second is because oxyone levels are low. now its “TIME 20:00 POINT SE,05,I”. all those new gadoll events probably wreck havoc on the tanker economy. its 400c now and i think it was 500 for 2 earlier. First time through I wasn’t paying attention and totally thought kaburagi was an assassin, but no he’s just clean up crew. ahh yes, come spend you wages at the company run stores. micro transactions... wait so where were people getting the number 13 from?

ep3: ah yes Solid Quake charges to use the media center, truly a micro transaction hell. Natsume’s character arc is about whether to push herself or not. Here Fei acts as part of a continuing dialectic saying that Tankers have no place outside of Deca-Dence, that sooner of later Natsume will die from it, and once again highlighting Natsume’s right arm. In the other level of this though, tankers shouldn’t go outside because that’s not their role in the solid quake mmo, and those who would disrupt the mmo are killed. I like how you can see Kaburagi switch from videogame logic (oh she’s low level so let’s just stick her in the tutorial zone) to real life (what skills and experiences would help in fighting). So several corporations took advantage of desperate people to sell them a service that would augment them with mechanical parts. I get that pipe in a little outfit is funny, but does no one really realize its a gadoll, i meant natsume recognizes it instantly. like the scene where Natsume talks about her right arm, the anime does a good job of showing how her feeling about it are complicated. She’s lived with that arm for years, but it also hinders her sometimes, and people will comment about it. there’s this specific type of humor that pops up in this show and given how its the same joke, my guess is that its the same person behind it. The “joke” being that Natsume is put in a position that references sexual assault. The first is with fennel where she makes up an excuse of having to go see kaburagi to get away from him. And then there’s this episode. There’s also a few stray lines here and there that alarm me in that they imply Natsume has dealt with the threat of assault before. Since they didn’t do anything meaningful with this, I’d rather it just not be there. Minato is in on the secret of Pipe’s existence and by the way the two talk, they’ve called each other before in the last 7 years. Its good to know that Kaburagi wasn’t JUST brooding for 7 years and that the two of them stayed in contact.

ep4: Natsume after having gained confidence in herself takes down several gadoll and earns her place in The Power. Its a fulfilling payoff after seeing her train for several episodes. Natsume is where she always wanted to be, fighting gadoll in the Power. gahh It really is a patch release trailer. Ohh so I assumed that the other structures on the cartoon earth were other corporations, but in this episode we see one of them (the white and red striped cone thing opposite the deca-dence dome) and the cyborgs there are talking about the game (MMO LARPing lol), so either Solid Quake owns multiple of those structures, or these cyborgs are customers not owned by Solid Quake and playing of their own volition. that would makes the cone cyborgs where solid quake is deriving its profit from since its not like it pays its workers. reading comments online, a lot of people missed that because a ranker was found to be cheating (mikey), the rankings were abolished. In the present time, gears/players are not ranked. Ah so Kaburagi was transferred to the maintenance department from the warrior department. Wow reassignment is so much better than the poop jail. I remember it being said, armor repair, doctor, and weapon shop could be employee(cyborg) run so I wonder if the medics and that one armor shop guy are tankers or not. So this anime already snuck in a sex joke with the when the poop gang swapped kaburagi’s avatar with a sex toy, so i wonder if the safetyprivatemode was made so that the mods wouldn’t have to listen to robot sex. I really wish this show could have had 24 episodes. The trend for the past 20 years has been shorter and shorter shows so I know it would have been likely impossible to get the clearance and funding for 24 eps but oooh in som alternate universe maybe... i brought up fleshing out minor characters and character relationships before but there also stuff like Natsume’s right hand almost clamping on ... Mindy? Which usually would be a narrative flag but is completely dropped because of the episode limit. And the confidence Natsume gained last episode come to work against Kaburagi trying to keep her from the suicide mission. Its only from this point on that Kaburagi starts to really change, as of this point he is still a loyal cog to a machine that does not care about him. Kaburagi and Natsume in the 2nd half of the episode continue the same dialectic that runs through the whole of the show, about giving up and learning to try again, about pushing your limit, about why someone bothers trying. On the collectivist versus individualist spectrum, Deca-Dence is on the individualist side with assertions of the importance for deciding for yourself what you will do with your life. Its an interesting counterpoint to The Twilight Mirage (Friends at the Table) which I am currently listening to in that The Twilight Mirage is a western production and strongly collectivist with one of the antagonist being sort of kind of an embodiment of independence/individualism while japanese works as a whole tend to be more about the whole over the individual than western ones. Kurenai talking about why she fights is very good and very important for 2 reasons, first it help flesh out not only her but offer a very needed other opinion on what its like to live as a Tanker, second it segues nicely into Natsume’s memories of her dad telling her about the outside world and him being the only one to believe she can do it (fight in The Power) as contrasted with flashbacks of all the other characters telling her she can’t. This culminates in Natsume gathering her resolve to fight not because of something grand like changing the world or the fate of humanity, but something very personal scale: changing herself and proving to herself that she can do it. The is also the climax of her character arc, the point of no return.

ep5: If last episode was natsume’s point of no return, then either this episode or episode 7 is Kaburagi’s. Rationally speaking, the optimal scenario would have been for Kaburagi to stall long enough for the Tankers to escape before pulling back himself, but emotionally and narratively, there’s no way he couldn’t. After all the build up of deciding for yourself how to live and pushing your limits. Its appropriate that here in defense of the girl that inspired him to live and choose for himself rather than just continue existing in the default of what Solid Quake demands of him, that Kaburagi chooses to release his operational limiter (literally pushing him limit) and derail the company’s plans. How did no one realize purple dude was breaking imprisonment to play on a hacked avatar. Like he’s still as purple and bloodthirsty as ever. He acts and speaks the same. Someone would have totally seen him and gone “eyyyyy [i forgot this guy’s name] is back” and talked to people about it and someone should have heard. So I remember reading comments from various idiots who were mad because they mistakenly thought the anime took place in a virtual space and that Natsume was made of lines of code. And first off even if that was true there’s a difference between objective reality and the lived experiences of a person and what’s to say her experiences and emotions would be any less real than yours. And second, did everyone forget The Hunger Games? Like its just another game that plays with real lives and doesn’t care who gets killed. Solid Quake is just using humans as a stage prop. Man this episode is jam packed. Its like getting punched in the face 4 times. The pacing of the last 4 minutes was really good. The quiet scene as dawn breaks acts in direct contrast to the high energy of the Stargate takedown that preceded it. After time and against not listening to him, Minato still calls Kabu to check in with him. There’s also his certainly that it was Kaburagi that saved the Deca-Dence mech (i need to be clearer when I’m talking about the physical fortress city mech, the mmorpg game, or the deca-dence system itself). And then when the world state gets reset is just so good because it make it clear that the gadoll were never the true enemy. The tankers could kill as many gadoll as they want and nothing would change. Kaburagi’s at an interesting point here, in that he’s no longer in a state of having given up like he was in episode 1 just waiting to die and following along with Solid Quake’s orders, as of this episode he has deliberately gone against the company’s rules, and yet he’s still believes that nothing will actually change. He’s broken a rule and resigned himself to punishment instead of say for example getting rid of the punishment all together. He’s still a good little employee that hasn’t rebelled against the system. And then the “Take care of Pipe” and Natsume turns around and he’s already gone, is sooo good. The final shot too of his avatar face down in the snow! The “This world needs bugs” is in direct contrast to Hugin/Fugin(?) repeating that this world must be rid of bugs, and the same phrase Kaburagi repeated 7 years ago when he was transferred to the Maintenance Department instead of being killed. I wonder how much the cyborgs feel in their original bodies vs. how much they feel in their Gear avatars. Kaburagi doesn’t seem to care about food and no food stalls were shown in the Gear area so maybe they doesn’t have much sense of taste? The avatars also have a lessened sense of pain. And then the limit release sequence shows connections increasing between the two bodies so does it make the cyborgs more attuned with the avatar’s senses?

ep6: eh so this is another example of what I mean when I say some of the humor in this show is in bad taste. They probably put the oxyone port where the ass would be just to make this joke. But this is better then doing to it Natsume. The animators even had a gleam censor for the over where the capsule was inserted as if it wasn’t obvious enough what it was suppose to look like. Spurned on by the the promise that one day if they work hard and behave (”rehabilitated”), the cyborgs will get let out when in actuality its a forced labor camp so that Solid Quake can squeeze just a little more labor our of the cyborgs for even less compensation. The cartoony style here helps offset just how horrific there working conditions are. And Kaburagi still the good little employee (iiko) tries his hardest to play by the rules and win. Except in this game, there is no “win’ written into the rules. So finally he is forced to move outside of the system Solid Quake has made. I still can’t believe they let Donatello keep the gun... Maybe cyborg cores are brains. In 5.5 Kaburagi’s core is in the top half of his metal case, and Donatello’s is also in his head. I’m still not sure what that sequence where Kaburagi takes the head fin and an image of a cyborg core is overlayed, means.

#deca-dence #deca dence #anime #i think too much #reviews #writing

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