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berryispunk · 2 months ago

Text

Everything But Us

pairing: Frankie Morales x f! reader

tags: we suffer first we love later, idiots in love, friends to lovers, dual POV, slow burn (but boy! worth it), once again talking is difficult, the boys have an appearance, best friend! Frankie, soft! Frankie, longing, mutual pining, ANGST, love confessions, tiny mention of past addiction, emotional turmoil, SMUT (🌶️🌶️🌶️), kissing, swearing, wrap it up in real life please, no further physical description of reader apart from wearing a dress and having hair

summary: You danced around your feelings for each other, always toeing the line but never daring to cross it—until one fateful night in October, when hesitation gave way to something undeniable, changing everything forever.

notes: Did I write this in one manic sitting today? Absolutely. Any mistakes you find are mine. Happy Frankie Friday !

word count: 7,3 k

also readable on ao3

How was he supposed to tell you that his whole world revolved around you? That one night back in October had changed everything for him. You were both drunk, out of your minds, laughing afterward.

“Sorry,” you hiccuped, your fingers tracing the one patch on his cheek where his beard never fully grew. You looked at it like it was something special, like it was the most natural thing in the world to be this close to him. Painfully unaware of how even the simplest touch from you set his skin on fire. Your fingers trailed along his jaw, up to his ear, and finally tangled in the tousled locks peeking out from under his cap—the one he was hardly ever without. Your eyes were glazed, unfocused from too many tequila shots. You were absolutely adorable when you were tipsy. Carefree. Relaxed. And, by God, it made him want you even more.

His head fell back against the taxi seat, eyes closing as he prayed to whatever cosmic force was listening that you were too drunk to notice how hard it was for him to hold back. But you were right there, purring next to his ear, your head resting against the seat beside him.

“You’re always so damn sweet, Frankie,” you murmured. “So attentive and kind. Why the hell are you still single?”

The words hit him where it hurt the most— his heart. Up until tonight, he had kept his respectful distance. Admiring you from afar, letting himself be what you allowed him to be: a friend. He even picked you up from all the failed dates, letting you ramble about whatever loser you thought was worthy of your time. He held you when you cried over another broken heart, never once overstepping, even when he wanted to. Even when your head rested on his shoulder, your breathing finally even after a sob-filled night, and he turned his head just slightly—just enough that he could have kissed your forehead. When, in reality, he wanted to kiss your lips. His hand would draw soothing circles up and down your arm, steadying you, grounding you. He stayed longer than necessary, making sure you were okay before he left. Placing water and painkillers on your nightstand because he knew you’d need them in the morning. And you did.

“You’re my lifesaver, Morales🩷”

That was the text you sent the next day, and he had smiled like an idiot at his phone before reality came crashing back. Because even if you meant it, it never meant the same thing to you.

Then came tonight.

The two of you had split off from the rest of your friends, waiting for a taxi on the curb. And out of nowhere, you stepped closer. Wrapped your arms around his neck. Played with the hair at the nape of it like you belonged there.

“You’re so damn cute, you know that?” His cheeks burned instantly.

“You’re drunk and out of your mind, hermosa,” he said, his hands settling at your waist. The warmth of your skin seeped through the thin fabric of your dress—one that you probably shouldn’t have been wearing in the October chill, but you had insisted ‘dress season was all year long’. And, damn, were you right. The way you paired it with tights and Doc Martens was a sight he knew would haunt his dreams. His thumbs traced slow circles over your hips as he held you, watching you carefully, preparing for whatever you’d throw at him next. With you, it could be anything—an insult or the sweetest compliment. There was no in-between when you were like this.

And then something shifted. You looked at him for a fraction too long. Your eyes flickered to his lips before finding his gaze again. You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, and his grip tightened instinctively. You made this so damn hard for him.

“You cold?” he asked, desperate to break the tension simmering between you.

You shook your head, smirking. “I have my own personal heater. I’m fine.”

Then you closed the distance completely, pressing yourself against him. Softness against hardness, in all the right and wrong places, and his head spun. The alcohol in his system didn’t help. He hugged you back, letting your body heat mingle with his. Letting himself close his eyes and pretend—for just a moment—that this was real.

And now, here you were, in the taxi. So close. Too close. Something in him snapped.

His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. You leaned into his touch with a small, tired smile, and his stomach twisted painfully. Such a simple gesture, yet so intimate it stole the air from his lungs. He leaned in, just a little, close enough to share the same breath, still giving you space to pull away. But you didn’t. You trusted him. And he would never take advantage of that, so he inhaled sharply, forcing himself to pull back with the last restraint left. But before he could, you reached for him. Your fingers curled around the back of his neck, and then your lips crashed onto his. It was electrifying. Addictive.

For a split second, he thought he was dreaming. But then your hand tugged at his hair, and he knew he wasn’t. This was real. And it was better than he had ever imagined. He melted into the kiss, letting you take the lead. Too afraid that if he kissed you the way he wanted to, he might ruin everything. Might scare you off. Your lips were soft but purposeful, tasting like tequila and the faintest trace of strawberry—the lip gloss you had put on before leaving the bar. You tasted like a promise of something he had never dared to dream about.

And then—just as suddenly as it had started—it ended. Your forehead rested against his, your breath slightly shallow. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, something new flickered in your gaze. A depth that wasn’t there before. Then it was gone.

“Are you okay?” he asked cautiously, picking up on the way your expression had shifted. His stomach clenched with dread. Your face paled. Next thing he knew, you were throwing open the window and vomiting onto the street. His eyes widened in horror.

Had he kissed that badly?

Panic surged through him as he scooted closer, rubbing a hand over your back, shouting to the driver to pull over. This was not how he had imagined this moment going. Not at all.

The taxi came to a screeching halt at the curb, and Frankie barely had time to reach into his wallet to pay before he was helping you out of the car. You groaned, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “God, I’m so sorry,” you mumbled, swaying slightly on your feet.

He steadied you with a firm hand on your waist. “Nothing to apologize for, hermosa,” he said softly. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

You nodded, pressing your forehead briefly to his shoulder like you were gathering the strength to move. Then, with a deep breath, you straightened and started walking. Your place wasn’t far, just a few blocks, but it felt longer with the way you stumbled every few steps. Frankie kept his arm wrapped securely around you, guiding you through the quiet streets. The cool night air bit at his skin, but it did little to cool the heat still lingering in his blood from the kiss.

That damn kiss.

He kept replaying it in his head, trying to convince himself it hadn’t meant anything. That it had been nothing more than a drunken mistake. But the way your lips had moved against his, the way your fingers had tangled in his hair—it didn’t feel like a mistake. It felt like everything.

By the time they reached your apartment, you were half-asleep against him. He fished your keys from your purse and guided you inside, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed,” he murmured, leading you down the hallway to your room.

You collapsed onto the mattress with a content sigh, stretching out like a cat before rolling onto your side to look at him. He bent down, pulling your boots off and setting them neatly beside the bed. Then he reached for the blanket, ready to tuck you in and leave before he did something stupid. But then you spoke.

“Frankie?”

His movements stilled. “Yeah?”

Your voice was softer now, almost hesitant. “Did you ever think about sleeping with me?”

His throat went dry. You were looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, your expression unreadable. And suddenly, the air in the room felt suffocating. Every muscle in his body screamed at him to tell the truth. To admit that he had thought about it more times than he could count. That he had dreamed about you, fantasized about what it would be like to have you beneath him, to feel your nails digging into his skin, to hear his name fall from your lips like it was the only thing that mattered. But he couldn’t tell you that. Because you were drunk. And he was supposed to be your friend.

So he forced a chuckle, shaking his head. “No,” he lied, the word tasting like poison on his tongue. “Never crossed my mind.”

Something flickered in your expression—something like disappointment—but it was gone before he could be sure. You hummed softly, rolling onto your back and staring at the ceiling.

“Liar,” you murmured, but there was no bite to it. Just quiet acceptance.

Frankie swallowed hard.

“Get some sleep,” he said, pulling the blanket over you and stepping back before he did something reckless. He turned off the light, lingering in the doorway for just a second longer than he should have. And then he left. Because if he stayed any longer, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep lying.

Winter had come and gone, and with it, any mention of that night in October. You never brought it up. And Frankie never dared to. Not the kiss. Not the question you had asked him in the dim light of your bedroom. Not the way your voice had curled around the word liar like you already knew the truth. So he buried it. Shoved it deep into the same corner of his mind where he kept every other impossible feeling he had for you.

Now, the air smelled like spring—fresh rain on warm pavement, flowers blooming.The chill had faded, replaced with sun-kissed skin and longer days. And with it, you were glowing too. Frankie was trying not to notice, but it was to no avail. You sat across from him at the bar, wedged between two of your friends, laughing as you stirred your drink with a cocktail straw. You were in another one of those damn sundresses, bare legs crossed as you leaned forward excitedly.

“She’s talking about him again,” Benny muttered under his breath, taking a swig of his beer. Frankie clenched his jaw. He knew exactly who him was. Some guy you had met at a coffee shop a few weeks ago. Apparently, he’d bumped into you in line, spilled a bit of his overpriced espresso on your sleeve, and instead of being pissed, you had laughed about it. Frankie hated him instantly.

“He’s just—ugh, I don’t know,” you gushed, shaking your head with a dreamy sigh. “There’s something about him.” Frankie rolled his beer bottle between his palms, staring at the table instead of you. Something about him.

Frankie had been something about you for years.

“I mean, it’s still early, obviously,” you continued, oblivious to the way his grip tightened around his drink. “But I don’t know, it just feels easy. Like we just clicked.” He forced a smirk, lifting his bottle to his lips. “Sounds perfect.” Drowning all the bad feelings bubbling up in alcohol. If you picked up on the flatness in his tone, you didn’t say anything. You just shrugged, swirling the ice in your glass before taking another sip. “It’s nice to be excited about someone, you know?”

Frankie hummed in response, taking another long sip of his beer and glancing down at the nearly empty bottle, as if the answers to all his unasked questions were waiting at the bottom. Excited, right.

Of course, he wanted you to be happy. That’s what he told himself every time you brought up some new guy, every time you smiled at a text that wasn’t from him, every time you looked across the bar for someone else. But tonight, something about the way you were talking about this one was different. Frankie could feel it, tightening in his chest like a warning.

And he knew, deep down, that if he kept lying to himself, if he kept pretending he was fine watching you fall for someone else—

One day, he might actually believe it.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. Frankie had always been the quieter one in your group, measured and steady. A man of few words but with an unwavering presence. But lately, something had shifted. It was in the way he reacted when you talked about the guy you were seeing. The way his usual teasing remarks had dulled, his responses clipped and distant. The way he smiled, but it never quite reached his eyes anymore. You noticed, of course you did. But you didn’t ask. Maybe because you weren't sure if you wanted to know the answer.

Because if you look too closely, you might have to admit what had always been there—what you had spent years trying to ignore. Frankie had never just been a friend to you. Not really. There had been a time, long before that night in October, when you had wondered. Let your mind drift to the thought of what it would be like to be his.

To be the reason behind his softest smiles, the one he reached for without hesitation.

You had wanted that once. Wanted him, but you buried it. Swallowed it down and forced yourself to forget. Because Frankie was good. Too good. The kind of man who stayed. The kind of man who meant what he said and never made promises he couldn’t keep. And you, you were a wreck. A walking contradiction of bad choices and broken hearts. You loved too easily. Trusted too quickly. And time and time again, it left you standing in the ruins of something you should have never believed in to begin with. You couldn’t do that to him.

So you convinced yourself that friendship was enough. That it had to be enough. Because losing him? That was the one thing you knew you wouldn’t survive. But then came the kiss.

And now, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t bury it. Couldn’t forget the way he felt, the way he tasted, the way he let you kiss him but didn’t pull you closer, didn’t give in the way you thought he would. Like he had wanted to but also didn’t. Like he had been holding back. You told yourself it didn’t matter. That it was nothing. That it was just the alcohol, just the moment, just a mistake. And for a while, you almost believed it.

Then you met him, Luke. Someone new. Someone who checked every box, said all the right things, wanted you without hesitation. It should have been easy, you should have felt relieved, happy even.

But every time you looked at Frankie, you could feel it—the weight of something unspoken pressing down on you. The way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore. The way he laughed at all the right times but never really looked at you the way he used to. You told yourself you were imagining it,that you were reading into things that weren’t there. But late at night, when you were lying next to Luke, it wasn’t him you thought about.

It was Frankie. And no matter how much you tried to deny it—that changed everything.

The party was in full swing by the time you arrived at Will’s house, your fingers laced with your boyfriend’s as you stepped inside. The air was thick with the smell of beer, grilled food, and whatever cologne Benny, Will’s brother, had drowned himself in. Laughter and music spilled from the open back doors where most of your friends had gathered, voices overlapping, drinks in hand, the kind of effortless camaraderie that had always made you feel at home.

But something felt off tonight. Or maybe it was just you.

Because for the first time in years, Frankie wasn’t there to greet you with that familiar, easy smile. He wasn’t hovering nearby, teasing you about being late or making sure you had a drink in hand. No, Frankie was across the room, deep in conversation with Will and Santi, nursing a beer like it was the only thing anchoring him in place. And he hadn’t looked at you once, even though you were sure he knew you had arrived—if not by seeing you, then by Benny’s over-the-top greeting

You tried not to notice, tried to focus on introducing your boyfriend to everyone, on smiling and laughing in all the right places. But no matter where you were, some part of you was always aware of him, lingering just at the edge of your orbit. How he kept his distance, how he barely spoke to you. How, for the first time since you’d met him, it felt like he was avoiding you. And the worst part? It hurt. You weren’t supposed to care this much. You had a boyfriend now. A good guy. A guy who wanted you, who didn’t hesitate, who didn’t hold back.

Then why did it feel like something was slipping through your fingers? Like you were losing Frankie—losing something you never dared to name, but had always felt, just beneath the surface?

It wasn’t until later, when the party had thinned out and the night had settled into something softer, that you finally found him alone. Outside and smoking, something you always did together. But tonight, he hadn’t waited for you. didn’t even ask. Tonight, it was just him, leaning against the railing of Will’s back porch, staring out at nothing, cigarette glowing between his fingers. And for the first time in weeks, you asked the question that had been gnawing at you since this whole thing started.

“What’s going on with you?”

Frankie didn’t look at you right away. He took another slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling a stream of smoke into the cool night air before finally shifting his gaze toward you. His eyes, usually so warm, were unreadable.

"Nothing," he said, voice low and gruff. You frowned, stepping closer. "Bullshit." That almost got a reaction—almost. The corner of his mouth twitched like he wanted to smirk, but it never quite made it there. Instead, he flicked the ash from his cigarette, shaking his head. "You should get back inside," he muttered. "Your boyfriend’s probably looking for you." The words landed like a slap. Of course he was right, but throwing this at you in this moment felt purposefully hurtful. Your arms crossed over your chest, not from the cold but from the sudden, unfamiliar distance between you. "What the hell is your problem?"

Frankie let out a slow breath, shaking his head again, but this time, it wasn’t dismissive. It was like he was trying to hold something back, something threatening to spill over.

"You’ve been acting weird all night," you pressed, stepping even closer. "Hell, for weeks now. And don’t tell me it’s nothing because I know you, Frankie. I know when something’s wrong." His jaw tensed, and for a second, you thought he might actually tell you. That maybe, finally, he’d say whatever had been weighing on him. But then he just chuckled, low and humorless. "Nothing’s wrong, hermosa. I’m fine."

You know he was lying. You could see it, the way his shoulders stayed tight, the way he wouldn’t quite meet your eyes for too long. And suddenly, the space between you felt impossible to conquer.

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. "You don’t get to do this."

Frankie quirked an eyebrow. "Do what?"

"Shut me out," you snapped. "Act like I don’t exist all night and then pretend like I’m the one imagining things." His lips pressed into a thin line, his grip tightening around the cigarette between his fingers. "You have a boyfriend now," he said after a beat, voice quieter. "Things are just… different."

The words stung in a way you didn’t expect.

"Different?" You repeated, barely above a whisper. "You made them different, Frankie. Not me." For a moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the faint music drifting from inside, laughter from the party carrying on without you.

And then, softer, almost hesitant, you asked, "Did I do something?" Your brows furrowed, the hurt evident in your voice, written all over your face. His eyes snapped to yours at that, something unreadable flashing through them. "No," he said quickly—almost too quickly. "You didn’t do anything."

Then why did it feel like you had? Why did it feel like something had changed between you, like a line had been drawn and you hadn’t even realized you crossed it?

Frankie sighed, running a hand over his face before stubbing out his cigarette on the railing. "You should go back inside."

But before you could respond, the door creaked open behind you. A rush of warm air, laughter, and music spilled onto the porch. You turned just in time to see Luke stepping outside, his gaze flickering between you and Frankie. His expression didn’t change much, no obvious anger, no accusation, but something in his eyes told you he’d seen enough. Enough to notice the way you stood too close. Enough to feel the tension crackling between you and Frankie like a live wire.

"Hey," he said, his voice even, unreadable. "Everything okay out here?" You swallowed hard, forcing a nod. "Yeah. Just getting some air."

Frankie had already taken a step back. He nodded once at Luke, then flicked his cigarette into the yard, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I was just heading inside." And just like that, the moment was gone. You watched as Frankie disappeared through the door, slipping seamlessly back into the party, into the noise, into the version of himself that had nothing to hide. But you knew better now. Because whatever this was, whatever had been simmering between you for longer than you wanted to admit, wasn't one-sided. And now, someone else had seen it too.

As you sat in Luke’s car later, the air was thick with something unspoken. The only sound was the hum of the engine, not even music to fill the silence. You felt his eyes flicker toward you more than once, lingering just long enough to make your skin prickle. You pretended not to notice, kept your gaze fixed outside, watching the city lights blur past. It was like looking through a kaleidoscope—beautiful, distorted, and just a little unreal.

Then, finally, he spoke. “Is there something going on with you and Frankie?” Your breath caught. It was the question you had been waiting for, the one you had feared. You turned your head, but he kept his eyes on the road, fingers tightening around the steering wheel until his knuckles went white.

“Luke—”

“Just tell me the truth,” he interrupted, his voice steady, but laced with something raw underneath. “I’m not stupid. I saw the way he looked at you tonight. And the way you looked at him.”

Your stomach twisted. You could lie, smooth it over, tell him he was imagining things, that Frankie was just a friend. But the weight in your chest was suffocating, and you were so damn tired of pretending.

“I don’t know,” you whispered.

Luke exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “You don’t know.”

“I—” Your voice cracked. “I never meant for this to happen. I never wanted to hurt you.”

He finally looked at you then, and it was worse than if he had been angry. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes told you everything—he already knew. He had known for longer than he let on. Maybe he could even feel it, that you were never quite there, even though he treated you the way you had always wanted to be treated. And you hated it. Hated yourself for feeling this way, for not being able to be happy with what was right in front of you.

“So you love him.” Not a question—a statement. It crashed down on you, effortless and undeniable, giving a name to the feeling you had denied yourself for so long before you were even ready to do it yourself. Tears burned in your eyes as you shook your head, grasping for words that wouldn’t make this worse. “I don’t.. I-It’s not that simple.”

“But it is, isn’t it?” His voice was quiet, but the weight of it settled deep in your bones.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I wanted this to work, Luke. I really did.” A heavy silence stretched between you. Neither of you had anything left to say. Slowly, he pulled the car over to the curb in front of your apartment. The click of the gear shift the only sound between you. You didn’t ask why. You already knew. With shaking hands, you unclipped your seatbelt, wiping at your cheeks as you reached for the door handle.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered one last time but Luke didn’t respond.

And as you stepped out into the cold night air, you knew this was the end of this chapter and the beginning of a new one you weren’t quite sure you were ready for.

Frankie was barely holding it together. Every day felt like a fight against something clawing at his chest, something desperate and ugly that whispered you lost her, you fucking lost her. He tried to drown it out by keeping himself busy, working longer hours and spending more nights drinking just to feel something other than the ache. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing was.

And then, one night, the thought crept in—familiar, insidious. Just one line. Just to take the edge off. He hadn’t really thought about it in years, hadn’t let himself even consider it, but tonight, with his hands shaking and his heart racing like it was trying to beat its way out of his chest, it was right there. Too easy. The voice getting louder by the second.

He might’ve done it, too. Might’ve given in if Santi hadn’t knocked on his door like he knew. Like he always knew. Frankie barely got the door open before Santi was pushing inside, eyes sharp, taking one look at him and shaking his head. “Jesus, Fish,” he muttered, slamming the door behind him. “You look like shit.”

Frankie let out a humorless laugh, reaching up to rub the back of his neck, fingers digging into the tense muscles. “Yeah, well. Feels about right.” Santi didn’t push, didn’t pry, just walked to the kitchen, grabbed two beers from the fridge, and tossed one his way. “Sit your ass down,” he ordered, voice softer than his words hit. “And start talking.”

And somehow, for the first time in weeks, Frankie did.

He let out a shaky breath, fingers still rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at the beer in his hand. He hadn’t meant to say anything. Hadn’t meant to let it slip. But once he started talking, it all came out—how he thought he was doing the right thing, how he tried to be happy for you, tried to step back and let you have what you deserved.

How it was fucking killing him.

He told Santi about the party, about the way you looked at him like you knew something had changed but couldn’t figure out what. How he avoided you because being close to you and not having you felt worse than anything he’d ever gone through. Worse than any withdrawal, any loss, any mistake he’d ever made. And then Santi said it. Just threw it out there like it wasn’t about to flip Frankie’s entire world upside down.

“You know she broke up with him, right?”

Frankie’s head snapped up so fast it almost hurt. “What?”

Santi sighed, giving him a look like he couldn’t believe he had to be the one spelling this out. “Luke. She ended it.” He took a sip of his beer, eyes flicking to Frankie’s. “She didn’t tell you?”

Frankie could only shake his head, something tight and desperate clawing its way up his throat. Because suddenly, all those nights of shoving his feelings down, of convincing himself that you were happy, that you were better off didn’t mean anything. Because if it wasn’t Luke anymore, if you chose to leave, then maybe… maybe it wasn’t just him feeling like something between you was never really gone.

But still, he hesitated, because doubt was a stubborn thing. He spent so long convincing himself that he wasn’t what you wanted, what you deserved. “That doesn’t mean—”

“Fish.” Santi’s voice cut through his thoughts, steady and sure. “You love her. She sure as hell loves you. And if you don’t do something about it now, you’re gonna spend the rest of your life regretting it.”

Frankie swallowed hard, the small flicker of hope battling against the fear still weighing heavy on his chest.

Maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t too late.

It happened after weeks of avoiding each other. After Luke, after everything, you pulled away, trying to get space, trying to breathe. But Frankie noticed. Of course, he noticed. He always did.

So when he showed up at your apartment in the middle of the night, you weren’t even surprised. You hesitated before opening the door, but when you did, the sight of him nearly took the air from your lungs. He looked like hell. Dark circles under his eyes, hair a mess, like he had been running his hands through it in frustration for hours. His jacket hung loose off his shoulders, and there was something wrecked about him—something that made your stomach twist.

"You gonna let me in?" His voice was rough, just a quiet rumble in the stillness of the night.

You should have said no. Should have told him this wasn’t a good idea. But instead, you stepped aside.

He walked in like he didn’t even know what to do with himself, pacing a little before finally stopping in the middle of your living room, hands on his hips. The air was thick, suffocating, before he exhaled sharply and turned to face you.

"Are you leaving me too?"

The words hit like a punch to the ribs.

"Frankie–"

"Because I feel like I’m chasing something that doesn’t even want to be caught," he cut in, his voice tight. "Like I’m standing here, waiting for you to just—just fucking look at me, and you won’t." His jaw clenched. "And I don’t know if it’s because you don’t want to, or because you’re too damn scared to."

Your arms wrapped around yourself, like that would somehow hold you together. "I just… I needed time. To think."

Frankie scoffed, dragging a hand down his face. "Right. And did you figure it out?"

You hated the bitterness in his voice. Hated that you put it there.

"I don’t know what I’m doing," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. Frankie took a step closer, and just like that, the air shifted.

"Then tell me what you want." Your throat tightened. "I can’t."

"Why not?" He was closer now, his voice raw, edged with something desperate. "Because if you say it, it becomes real?"

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. Frankie exhaled sharply, shaking his head, stepping back like he needed the distance, like if he stayed too close, he’d do something neither of you could take back. "You know, it’s funny," he said, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. "I spent so fucking long convincing myself that I didn’t have a chance. That you’d never see me like that." His jaw tensed. "And then you kissed me. And for one second—for one fucking second—I let myself think I was wrong."

Your breath caught again. "Frankie—"

"But I wasn’t, was I?" His voice was quiet, the hurt in it deafening. "You didn’t want me. You never did."

That broke something in you and you snapped.

"I never let myself want you!" The moment the words were out in the open, you couldn’t take them back.

Frankie froze.

Your hands were shaking, but you pushed forward, because if you stopped now, you’d never say it. "You were safe. You were the one person I could always count on. And I knew if I let myself want more, I’d ruin it, like I ruined everything else. Because that’s just what I’m good at. Being a mess." Your voice cracked, but you didn’t stop. "So I buried it. Every time I looked at you and felt—" You sucked in a breath, blinking back tears. "I convinced myself that friendship was enough. That it had to be enough."

Frankie’s breathing was uneven now, his dark eyes locked onto yours, searching, waiting.

"And now?" he asked, voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Because you didn’t know how to say it. But then Frankie moved. Closed the space between you in two long strides, until he was so close you could feel the warmth of him, smell the faint mix of cologne and a cigarette he probably had before he came here.

"Tell me to leave," he murmured, his voice low and unsteady. "If you don’t want this—if you don’t want me—tell me to leave."

Your heart pounded so hard it was unignorable. You didn’t answer, you didn’t need to. The way he looked at you, his beautiful brown eyes you had grown to admire so much, looked right through you. Into your soul, seeing what you didn’t even have the words for. Because you didn’t want him to leave. Not now. Not ever. In fact, for the first time, you felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be—with him. His hand lifted, hesitated—then cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone like he was memorizing the feel of you. In the quiet of your apartment, the energy altered. Heavy. Electric. Inevitable.

His head dipped, and then his lips crashed onto yours with such force it stole the breath from your lungs, made you stumble back a step. Your hands found his face, holding him close as you melted into the kiss. But this time, it was different. He didn’t hold back like he had all those months ago. His fingers dug into your waist as he coaxed your mouth open, his tongue sliding against yours, deep and consuming. He walked you back with purpose, step after step, until your back met the hallway wall with a soft thud. The impact knocked over a few picture frames from the drawer beside you, but neither of you noticed. Because right then, there was only this. Only him.

The moment your back hit the wall, Frankie was on you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. His hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your sides, fisting your shirt like he wanted to tear it off but couldn’t decide if he should. His mouth was hot, insistent, his tongue pushing past your lips as he pressed his body against yours, a low groan rumbling from his chest, deep and dangerous in its intensity.

You whimpered into the kiss, fingers threading through his curls, tugging just enough to make him hiss. It only spurred him on. His hands moved lower, gripping your thighs, lifting you off the ground effortlessly. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist, locking him to you as he carried you down the hallway, lips never leaving yours, knocking into the walls like neither of you could think straight enough to care. But when he reached your bedroom, he paused.

Breathing hard, he set you down gently, hands still gripping your hips as he leaned his forehead against yours. “Are you sure?” His voice was hoarse, uneven. “Tell me now if you’re not, because I swear, I won’t—”

You cut him off, brushing your lips against his, softer this time, your fingers tracing along his jaw. “I’m sure, Frankie.”

His eyes searched yours, like he was still trying to convince himself this was real. Like he didn’t trust that this wasn’t some cruel trick his mind was playing on him.

“I need to hear you say it,” he murmured.

Your heart clenched. You cupped his face, brushing your thumb over the furrow between his brows. “I want this. I want you.”

Something in him unraveled at your words, tension melting from his shoulders. He exhaled sharply, nodding once before his lips crashed onto yours again, this time with more certainty, more purpose. You gasped when he finally dropped you onto your bed, following you down, his weight pressing you into the mattress. His hands pushed beneath your shirt, sliding up your stomach, your ribs, your breasts—palming you, squeezing just enough to make your back arch. He cursed under his breath, yanking the fabric over your head, barely giving you time to breathe before his mouth was on you again, kissing, biting, sucking a path down your throat.

“F-Frankie,” you gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders, nails dragging down his back as he sucked a bruise into your collarbone. His hands made quick work of your clothes, tugging them off as he peppered kisses down your throat, over your collarbone, down your stomach. Every touch, every glance was heavy with something deeper, something unspoken. He took his time, learning every inch of you with his lips, his tongue, his hands, until you were trembling beneath him, breathless and aching.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped against your skin, his breath hot. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Instead, you cupped his face, pulling him back up to you, crashing your lips into his.

You barely registered him kicking off his own jeans before his hands were on your thighs, spreading you open, gently tracing along the soft skin of your thighs despite the deep-seated need that was mirrored in his dark pupils. His fingers finally found your heat, sliding through the wetness pooling there.

“Fuck. You’re soaked, hermosa.”

You whimpered in response, hips bucking into his touch. “Frankie, please—”

That was all it took. He groaned, deep and low, as he pushed into you, sinking in inch by inch, stretching you, filling you completely. It was almost too much and at the same time not enough. His jaw clenched, his grip on your hips tightening like he was holding on for dear life.

“Fuck,” he muttered, breath ragged. “You feel—” He shook his head, like he couldn’t even find the words.

You whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders. “Move, Frankie. Please.”

And then it was desperate. Frankie thrust into you, slow at first, deep and deliberate, watching your face for any sign of hesitation. But when all he saw was pleasure, when all he heard was the way you gasped his name like it was the only thing keeping you tethered, his restraint snapped.

He picked up the pace, fucking you harder now, rougher, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you knew there’d be bruises, but you didn’t care—you wanted them, needed them. A visible reminder of this finally happening.

His name spilled from your lips like a prayer, over and over, breathless, broken. He cupped your face, forcing you to look at him, his own expression wrecked and raw.

“Look at me,” he panted, rocking into you, the friction sending sparks through your veins. “I need—I need to see you when you come.”

It wasn’t a request, it was an order. Your breath caught. The coil in your stomach tightened, tightened, until finally, it snapped. Your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body shaking as you cried out his name.

Frankie groaned, his hips stuttering before he thrust deep one last time, burying himself inside you as he came with a ragged moan, his whole body trembling against yours. You felt it—the warmth of him spilling deep, the way his cock twitched inside you as he pulsed through the aftershocks. A shiver ran down your spine, the intimacy of it all-consuming, overwhelming in the best way.

His breath came hot and uneven against your neck as he pressed soft, lazy kisses to your skin, grounding himself in you, like he never wanted to leave. His hands, still gripping your hips moments ago, softened, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles over your skin. The only sound between you was the heavy rhythm of your breathing, the pounding of your hearts against sweat-dampened skin. Neither of you moved. He didn’t pull away. He just stayed there, forehead resting against yours, hands cradling your face as if you might disappear.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as your fingers trailed gentle patterns up and down his back. After a moment, he brushed a few damp strands of hair from your face, his eyes tired but his smile warm, almost glowing.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle, searching.

You huffed out a quiet laugh, still tracing lazy circles on his back. "You’re asking me that now?"

Frankie grinned, breathless, his nose brushing against yours. "Just making sure you haven’t changed your mind."

Rolling your eyes, you let your fingers glide over his shoulder. "If I had, you’d be the first to know."

His hands drifted down your sides, slow and reverent, as if still memorizing every inch of you. "Good," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw. "Because I’m not going anywhere."

Something tight in your chest loosened, and you swallowed past the lump in your throat. "Yeah?"

Frankie leaned back just enough to meet your gaze, his fingers playing with your hair, his expression softer than you had ever seen. "Yeah," he said, like a promise, like an unshakable truth. "Not now. Not ever."

A shaky breath escaped you, and before you could second-guess yourself, you pulled him down into another kiss—slower this time, deeper. Less desperate, but just as intense. Eventually, he sighed, dropping his forehead against your shoulder, his lips brushing your skin as he spoke.

"So, what now?"

You grinned, threading your fingers through his tousled locks. "Well, I’d say we could clean up the mess we made, but that would require moving, and I’m not sure I’m capable of that yet."

He chuckled, his chest rumbling against yours, warm and solid. "I think I broke a picture frame."

"You did."

"Guess I’ll have to replace it."

Tilting your head, you smirked. "You’re planning on sticking around long enough to redecorate?"

Frankie’s eyes darkened, filled with something you recognized now—something you were no longer afraid to name. His hands tightened around your waist, anchoring you to him. "You gonna let me?" You pretended to consider, but he saw right through you. He always had.

"I guess I can make room for you," you teased, running a fingertip over the patch in his beard, which, from up close almost looked like a heart.

Frankie smirked, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Good. Because I wasn’t asking."

And just like that, the weight of every missed moment, every hesitation, every doubt that had once stood between you disappeared. Because this—him, you, together—was exactly where you were always meant to be.

thanks so much for reading, maybe show some love if you enjoyed it <3

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winterzsurprise · 8 months ago

Text

Change My Mind [5]

Pairing: BTS x reader

SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.

Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.

Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor

Words: 9.4k

Edit (02-04-25): nothing important was changed, just made it more readable(?). Didn't realise how much I yapped nonsense here oml

EDIT 03/05/25: minor changes with Y/N's behavior

thank you all for your comments and likes, it keeps me going :DD

<<<Prev || MASTERLIST || Next>>>

_____

Namjoon was a man of science.

He believes in everything that can be explained in a lengthy and intricately detailed book filled with an even more difficult terminologies and worded examinations backed up by photographic evidence to prove it.

To him, if he didn't see it happen before his very eyes, it was fiction, a lie.

It's how it should be.

As a child, he frowned upon the heretics and the desperate, thanking a nonexistent god for the fruit of their hard work. He couldn’t fathom how they could weep so genuinely as they prayed on their knees for blessings that never come. Even if gods were real, he could never understand how devoted they are to someone who turned a blind eye to the challenges they faced.

Like religion, he also could never understand how the lonely could resort to immorality and hatred in their desperation for a soulmate, couldn't fathom how easily they shed their humanity for a morsel, a hint of that sense of belonging and importance being a tethered gave.

It was dumb.

Life doesn't revolve around soulmates, they should've tried other options instead of blaming the theoretical nirvana for their own misfortune.

Despite being a child born from two mates, he never believed in the concepts of soulmates, thinking it childish as it was an idea the lonely and the hopeless hung onto to feel better for themselves. He believed that his parents would have met either way without their soulmarks, would've fallen in love the same and bring him to life.

Because they were meant to be, even without the marks to prove it.

Sure, he wished to eventually settle down with someone who also loved him as his mother does with his father but he doesn't believe in the spiritual connection.

But science has nothing on the sensation he was feeling right now.

The moment the clock struck midnight, a heartbeat suddenly began to drum at the back of his head, but it was faint and muffled as if it was distant and was pulsing behind multiple walls but he could hear its panicked pace echoing in his skull. In the silence you and Jungkook’s departure has left, Namjoon began to feel dread bubbling inside him. A tension slowly building up with the beat of the racing heart at the back of his head.

It felt like those slowly crescending notes of a horror movie's background music as the killer stalks nearer. There's a tension thickening but he's the only one who could feel it, could sense it coming.

It's making him nervous beyond belief how he doesn't know what is afoot.

A gasp tore through his thought process and he looked up to see his Yoongi hyung eyeing something invisible in his right hand, disbelief apparent in his wide eyes as the others turned to him with concerned curiosity.

But Namjoon already knew what it was.

At least, he felt like he knew what was happening, although he himself is incredulous.

He's read up everything that he could about soulmates in his teenage years wanting to refute his parents' insistence on how they wouldn't have clicked as well as they are without the soulmark yet none of them could explain how he just knows the heartbeat at the back of his head belonged to you.

_______

Fate truly has a funny way of revealing who your soulmate is.

It was said that the sensation when you first meet your soulmate should be a wave of cold relief flushing all the worries out of your system. Your mother and Jihae told you stories of the sudden sense of belonging, like finding the last piece of the puzzle you’ve walked your whole life without from a mere accidental brush of a hand with a stranger on the streets.

If it was in any other scenario, you would've agreed with them.

But as Jungkook raises both your hands to survey the skin for any mark, your world shrinks down like an air tight ziplock bag to only fit you and him.

A low thrum resonated in the air, mellifluous and sweet, a direct contrast to the dull but racing heartbeat at the back of your head. Jolts of electricity vibrated under your skin starting from your joined hands and spreading across your muscles and lighting your nerve endings awake.

The walls around you closed in. Not because it was Jungkook who you happened to be fated to. But because there's a thin, red thread tied around your pinkie.

A red string of fate.

And it's not tethered to Jungkook.

It goes behind you and you dread to know who it leads to.

There's a curious tug from down the line, the thread turning tangible at every pull and the urge to run away, to hide in the comforts of your home grew tenfold. Because you're sure the string leads to one of the boys.

People who became your closest companions after years of being their make-up artist. Three of which you've rejected and the remaining four you've remained friends with.

Isn't this a bit too much of a joke?

How funny it must've been for the divinities to watch you reject the men eventually revealed to be your soulmate. They must've cackled, pointing fingers and all, as they watched you reject them. You wouldn’t put it behind them to connect the end of your string to someone you’ve also turned down once.

You watched Jungkook speedrun through the five stages of grief in a few seconds, face contorting every so often it made it hard to get a read on what he's feeling. He let out a shaky exhale as he came to, doe eyes meeting yours with an incredulous sheen.

His continuous silence stuffed cottons into your throat, the conflicted expression he has settled on only furthering the panic in your chest.

You retract your hand but he was faster, catching your wrist in a tighter grip. There's a question hanging from his lips but they cease to exist the moment you both see the mark on your finger.

In the space between your index and middle finger lies a black quarter note, inked into the skin of your middle. The tint is bold and black.

Raising his own hand, your eyes landed on the same pattern etched on his on the opposite side. As if hypnotized, he intertwined his fingers and the same gentle thrum came back, along with a comforting warmth echoing from your soulmate mark and throughout your body, almost rendering you boneless from how intense and relieving it felt.

You weren't the only one affected by its calming properties. The frustration in Jungkook's from earlier now erased from his face, as if it was never there. Acceptance.

Just like that, the problem is solved; and that unsettles you.

“Noona… Wh-what is happening?”

His voice is so small, shaky and hopeful . Eyes growing larger as he surveys your soulmate marks in disbelief. He untangled your hand and pulled the soulmark closer to his eye. Curiously, Jungkook hesitantly taps the musical note and shivered with you when skin touched skin.

You both suck in a deep breath, freezing at the foreign sensation it brought you both before a smile that stretches high up to the heavens brightens his face.

Jungkook's eyes were glazed with unshed tears when you found them once more, breath shaky as he placed a kiss onto your knuckles. The sensation of his lips on your skin making goosebumps rise on your skin.

“Noona, we're soulmates.”

You didn't even hear the sound of footsteps running up the stairs nor Taehyung calling you both until he got close, hand landing on your shoulder and effectively snapping you out of your trance.

“Are you guys okay? Not too long ago you were at each other's throat and now—woah!”

A shrill of pleasure shocks your body, vision flashing white and you fall.

If it wasn't for Jungkook, you would've collapsed boneless next to Taehyung who's gasping on the floor, hand clutching his heart as he heaved. Jungkook let you lean your body weight on him once you stood up again. Arms wrapping around your waist protectively as your brain catches up.

A sharp gasp from Jungkook kickstarts your already racing heart, panic flushing out whatever has happened earlier.

But that wasn't the thing that made your head pulse.

It was the shaky utterance of your name and looking up at Jungkook only to be distracted by the faint glow of lavender in the shape of a hand on your shoulder. The spot where Taehyung had last touched you.

In the dimness of the hallway, Love Prints gleamed a soft shade of purple like a splatter of glow in the dark paint. Your head snapped back to Taehyung who had pushed himself to sit up, cradling his head while murmuring intelligible under his breath until he looked up and his jaw fell .

“I-Is that…?”

“Hyung, what is the meaning of this?”

Taehyung turned to the maknae, spluttering. “I-I don't even… Ho-how is this even possible?”

How is it possible to feel like the world has pulled a carpet from under you while also feeling like you're laying on cloud 9?

Three soulmates.

Two of them being people you once rejected, one of them unknown but the string suspiciously led downstairs where the rest of the boys are.

You feel like passing out just to avoid the talk it'll entail. Maybe you should run at the wall and hope you'll hit your head hard enough to guarantee amnesia.

“Noona, you're seeing this too right?”

Taehyung is now standing in front of you, reaching up to trace the already fading handprint and a new splatter of purple followed his finger. He grinned, eyes misty and overflowing with joy as he giggled, the sound almost reminiscent of a delighted child.

Jungkook’s arm tightened around you.

“Wh-why— Is that love prints ? Hyung?” Jungkook’s voice shakes from the weight of the revelation hanging above his head. “Are we sharing noona?”

“GUYS! YOONGI HYUNG GOT A SOULMATE!”

Holy shit.

Unlike you who's despairing to see the man on the other side of the thread, Taehyung was beyond ecstatic.

“No fucking way. I gotta see this.”

Taehyung dragged you to the stairs when your legs refused to move, uprooting you from where you leaned onto Jungkook's side. Your stomach churned at how lighter the strings felt in your pinkie and a tad tighter as the distance shortened.

There's a sudden heartbeat racing in your ears but it sounds far away and it doesn't sync with the pulse you feel in your temples. You couldn't dwell on it for long before you're faced with the man at the other end of the red string.

_______

They said it all started with their eldest but unbeknownst to them, he was the first to notice how your eyes would light up like the stars in the night sky, how your laugh sounded like wedding bell rings than the dying pig you claimed it to sound.

Seokjin might be their eldest and Taehyung might’ve fallen deepest but he was the beginning of it all.

In his twenty five years of existence on this damned planet, Min Yoongi has never asked for much, content with whatever life throws at him.

Even with his harsh upbringing, he never kept what he has from others, especially since he met his brothers. He'd willingly ripped off the cloth from his back to keep them warm and plugged their ears with both his hands so they couldn’t hear the hateful words thrown at them at debut, even if it cost of being exposed to them instead. But he couldn't care less, Yoongi loves them with all his heart.

There's nothing in the world that could ever stop him from bending over backwards just so the others could live peacefully.

When his pockets grew heavier with age, this trait only bloomed further into millions donated anonymously to hospitals and charities he could stumble upon.

To everyone, especially his brothers, he’s a generous man.

Until you strode into his life and haunted him in his waking days with the ghost of your touch caressing his face.

Min Yoongi never wants yet he yearned, he craved to feel the softness of your skin under his fingertips, to taste your lips and discover if you tasted as sweet as you smell, to run his hand through your hair as to know if it's as soft as it looked under the soft glow of the room.

And for once in his life, he wanted to be selfish.

Being with you makes him want to believe, want to hope that something nonsensical as the concept of soulmates is true.

Originally, Min Yoongi wasn’t a believer of such optimism because his mother wasn’t.

She passed down her resentment for the fates for turning a blind eye on her onto her next of kin. She was bitter from being untethered and barred her children from subjecting themselves to whimsical thoughts of fates and destinies.

Never had he entertained the ideas of soulmates until you came and bursted through the iron doors of his heart. For the first time in his life, he began to want , to wish that he gets tethered to you.

You who shined even without the help of others, who stood out like the beacon of light in the shady pits of this world. He couldn’t dare face you as someone whose future is as dim as the blasted world he cursed out. With nothing to offer, he strived to be the best, to crawl to the top whatever it takes.

He couldn't show you a pathetic side of him, he knew he couldn't step forward with a bleak future to offer. Yoongi wouldn't be able to bear it if you were to grow miserable beside him.

Because for you, he'd stop at nothing to hand everything you'd ever lay your eyes on wrapped in a pretty bow of the most expensive quality and tucked neatly behind soft colored gift wrappers.

So for years, Min Yoongi hid.

What else could he do when most of his brothers also vied for your attention? He loved you all with all his heart, couldn't bear the thought of ever hurting any of you for his selfish desires. So he did what he thought was best, step back and watch from the sidelines.

And he was fine with that.

He thinks himself a patient man. A trait forged by years of encountering nagging customers and demanding adults from working as a delivery boy. Yet all it took was a couple dozen bottles of Soju and a warm atmosphere to accidentally confess his feelings for you. Ashamed and already knowing what his hyung has received as an answer, he puts on a mask the next day and acts.

He did it so well you were convinced he wasn't kidding by forgetting last night's mistakes and swallowing up the disappointment when you didn’t bother asking him again and acted like nothing ever happened.

But it's okay, Min Yoongi is a patient man, he can wait.

So when you appeared before him, a red string tied prettily around your pinkie with the thread leading back to his own, he was beyond euphoric . He felt like a champion, of what? He didn’t care much to think.

He felt like he could climb the highest summit in record speed with no equipment and only the warmth of the new bond to keep him alive.

_______

The moment you all appeared in the living room with your shoulder and linked hands glowing purple, all hell broke loose. You didn't even get to look at Yoongi’s reaction when everyone was exploding around you, running to look at the evidence of your connection to Taehyung up close.

“Oh shit…”

“What the fuck?”

“You guys are connected?!”

Taehyung hovered protectively behind you with a smile so bright it can deter the night, hands planted on your shoulders and pushing his hyungs a few steps away to keep them from overwhelming you.

Everyone surrounding you had varying reactions even then, Namjoon kept his distance but hovered over behind his brothers with his eyebrows furrowed, staring with his calculating gaze and the heartbeat echoing at the back of your head grow rampant.

You didn’t dare look at Seokjin, whose gaze weighed heavily with hurt and disappointment. You try not to flinch when you hear him run upstairs, and the door of his room slams shut.

He who had confessed first, had continued to love you even when you had brushed off his affections, somehow didn’t make the cut. You didn’t even want to know what you’d do if you were him.

A finger traces the fading prints of Taehyung’s touch on your shoulder and you immediately crumple to the floor with a gasp as an intense wave of euphoria runs through your veins. You could barely make out the feeling of someone’s arms holding you up and someone pushing your head to their chest.

The bleary sight of what looked like Yoongi pushed through the crowd and reached up to cup your face, instantly, the warmth of his touch grounds you. Then you were being carried to sit on the sofa with everyone spaced around you, except for Jimin who’s bonelessly spread on the opposite side of you.

How funny was it for the universe to link you to the same men you've rejected for the fear of ruining the amazing brotherhood they've built from years of hard work and tears?

As the sensation from Taehyung and Jungkook’s touch subsides, dread reintroduces itself and slowly crawls up your skin. Your headache has long evolved into having two throbbing pulses at the back of your head. From the revelation to the onslaught of feelings attacking and fighting off your initial panic, your body struggled to keep up with the conflicting emotions.

You wanted to run, to hide from their gaze, to put an end to the mess of emotions caused by the forced relief from their touches.

Jimin is now staring at you from across the lounge, his beautiful face contorted into concern, his soft eyes seeing past the fog in yours. They stared at you as if trying to decipher something, as if he could somehow feel how overwhelmed you are.

He opened his mouth to say something when a voice broke through the chatter.

“Are you okay, noona?”

Namjoon’s hands were steadying when he held your shoulders, like water in a desert, like the light at the end of a dark tunnel. With their leader stepping in, all words fell into a hush and for the first time since the chaos, it was silent; save for the slowing rhythms of two heartbeats thudding in your head.

If Taehyung and Jungkook's touch felt like a jolt of energy and Jimin was rejuvenating and healing, Namjoon had the ability to kill the noise in your mind with eye contact alone.

Peering deeper into his gaze, your breath stutters and you move to flinch away in fear of setting off the new bond but instead find yourself slowly coming into a realization when nothing had happened in the short time Namjoon had touched you. The second heartbeat at the back of your mind grows louder, completely setting itself apart from what is truly yours.

You’re sharing heartbeats with Namjoon.

A fifth soulmate.

What the fuck.

“Hyung, are you sober enough to drive?” Namjoon looks up to stare at someone behind you.

“A-are you sure I should be driving her home? I could set something off from an accidental brush of a hand.”

“She’s overstimulated from being surrounded by us, having someone outside the links would help.”

You sensed Hoseok’s apprehension in his silence. Then, he sighed.

“Alright. Let’s go, noona.”

It felt burdensome to leave such a life-altering problem for them to handle while you cower in your home, trying to hide from the reality where you might be linked to all seven of them.

The reassuring squeeze on your shoulders brought you back from the guilty trance you’ve submerged into and was faced with Namjoon's kind eyes and smile.

“Go home noona, we'll handle it from here.”

“You sure?”

He nods. “I know this is overwhelming so I want you to go rest and let me do the planning and talking, alright?”

When you didn’t respond, Namjoon wrapped his arms around you. There’s hesitance in how his movement stuttered, could hear him ponder as he pulled you flush to his chest, afraid of affecting you like the maknaes had but when his touch didn’t evoke the staggering flood of euphoria, he grew more sure of his movements.

With a kiss on your head, he unwraps himself from you and gently guides you back to Hoseok who’s now standing outside the open door of their dorm. His eyes averted and steeled.

Walking to the car was a silent affair and you don’t know if you rather have Hoseok being quiet or not.

It was bearable when he turned on the radio and a song that has no connection to the boys plays, not that it stopped the thoughts from spawning in from the crevices of your mind.

When you had asked the fates for a soulmate, had you sounded so desperate that they'd given you five?

You’ve heard of three souls being connected. Hell, Yeonjun is a part of a five-way soulmate link; Interlinked, is what they’re called. Everyone in the group has their own unique mark with each member which usually led to constant overstimulation in the beginning, the company had put them on medications until their bond settled a year later.

Even today, there are times where they still get affected by their bonds, although not as often as it used to. It was a wonder how there haven't been investigations put on BigHit with how often the five had to be sent to the hospital for soulbond hyperactivity at least once a week for a whole year.

But a nexus between six people, five connected to one. That is unheard of, the rarest even.

Five soulmates yet none of those were Seokjin. Your mind reminds you. Someone who had stuck with you since the first day, the first to confess, and the one who remained loyal, wasn’t tethered to you.

You turned to Hoseok who had remained silent the whole ride, stomach churning as a revelation hangs above your head.

“Hoba?”

“Yes, noona?”

He sounded guarded, his face ironed into a neutral, more serious expression as he slowed as the traffic light went red.

“What’s gonna happen now?”

He bit his lower lip as he pondered, thumbs tapping incessantly on the wheel before he spoke.

“We're gonna have to update your statuses in the fated registry, but I doubt the company will make it public just yet. There's nothing also in our contract that prohibits us from pursuing a relationship with our soulmates if we ever come across them so you're good on that front.”

You notice how he excluded himself from the Nexus bond and you feel a pinch on your heart at how formal he has become, as if he’s already put up a wall between you both.

“We'll probably have a long talk about it once I get back but I doubt they'd wait for me since it doesn’t really concern me anyways. You’re probably wouldn't be allowed to touch Jimin and Taehyung anymore when you're working because your soulmarks are very obvious and I know you don't want—”

“Y-You don't think you're also…”

Silence followed as he adjusted himself in his seat as the car began to move again, his hands drumming on the wheel halts as the facade he's wearing shattered for a moment and his eyes grew foggy, clouded by a deep shade of blue.

Under the passing warm lights of the streetlights overhead, Hoseok has never looked more devastated to you than he does now.

You had never noticed it, he has always been open with his affections to his friends so you never thought of it as anything but his usual touchiness. He shows his care for you in the same way he does with his brothers, so paid it no need and brushed it off.

How could Soobin notice it? What had he seen that you missed?

“If I was, I would've felt something or seen that something but here we are.” He forces out a laugh before glancing at you and offering a hand. You notice how his smile doesn’t seem to reach his eyes. “We're still the bestest of friends even without the mark, right?”

Hesitantly, you took it.

The moment your fingers wrapped around his Hoseok immediately pulls his hand back in favor of holding the brake between you both.

You try to not let his aversion to touch affect you. New soulbonds are fickle, there’s been multiple reports where people are rushed into ER after brushing their hands against strangers and had been in excruciating pain from soulbond strain.

Their new bodies had thought they were denying destiny and had punished them.

But for him to completely retreat to himself, visibly putting up a tall wall between you both is a different kind of pain. For Hoseok, someone who has never had to restrain himself from holding your hands or hugging you whenever he's excited, to step back hurts you more than you thought it would.

“Noona, we’re here.”

As you left the car, you pondered on what to say to him. What could you even tell him?

Do you even say you're sorry he's not one of your soulmates or would that sound mocking?

Should you say that you had wished once that he became tethered to you or would that be rubbing salt on the wound?

But before you could even turn around and say your goodbyes, the moment the door was closed, Hoseok drove off.

_______

Waking up was dreadful.

It felt more exhausting than it had yesterday when you were going to your third date with Guwon knowing he wanted to propose to you. Sleeping was difficult, you could feel Yoongi touch the string from miles away, eyes flying open whenever you felt the thread become tangible and gently glow in the darkness of your room.

It wasn't his soul-link alone that disturbed you, Namjoon’s heartbeat constantly changed rhythm although it was faint enough to blend into the background with the rumble of the air conditioner. From the nervous gallops to the calmer but deeper thuds whenever he seems to drown himself in his own thoughts.

You had research about your soul links when you grew restless in your bed, obsessed over the fact there's little to no information on your and Jimin's mark, trying to ignore the messages from your mother and sister. They were asking about Guwon and why you decided to end things. You know that you should explain, you at least owe your mother the reason why you had decided to stop seeing the lawyer but you couldn't.

After days of her constant questioning and spamming links of wedding organizers and dressmakers, you couldn't find the courage to face your mother.

Not that it matters anymore though, not after last night.

Would you send her to an early grave once you tell her the news? How do you even break the news to your parents? Hi mom, I'm sorry I've been ignoring you yesterday. Yes, I stopped seeing Guwon but hey, I found you five new son-in-laws and they happen to be the members of the world's biggest boyband so don't be mad yeah?

She might just make true to her threat of hanging you upside down on a sack on your porch back in the province.

The same thought had led you to realizing how bad it would’ve gone if you got engaged with Guwon in Jeju only to find out the next day who your soulmates were.

When you trudged to the bathroom, exhaustion weighed your bones but you excused it to your shitty sleep.

Not once has any of the boys reached out to you the whole night, Seokjin’s silence louder than the others. You know that they're busy handling the paperworks due today but to have not a single text in the groupchat made dread crawl up within you. It had never once died down in all those years it existed until last night.

So when the door rang a quarter to nine, you jumped.

The door opens and Namjoon steps into your living room with Seokjin following closely behind him, expression guarded and eyes averted while his leader approaches you. Both their eyes are swollen, no doubt from a sleepless night.

(You try not to notice how Seokjin looks far puffier than the other.)

“Sorry we went silent, we got… busy talking about things,” Namjoon began, voice soft as ever as he approached you to wrap his arms around you and you let him. “Hyung’s here with me to drive you to the DFR, the others went first since we decided that it's better if you're not lumped up with all your soulmates in one small space so it's just us three for a while.”

“Have you eaten?” Seokjin asks, unmoving from where he stands a step away from the door, guarded and stiff, as if trying to meld himself into the wood.

His voice is hoarse and he looked more worn than you've ever seen him in years yet he managed to sound soft and put on the smallest of smiles. Your heart twinges.

“I haven't, you guys didn't tell me when we were going to have the bond registered.”

Namjoon sheepishly scratches the back of his head. “We got busy the whole night discussing how we'll be moving forward, the company has already cleared out the department office and as Hobi-hyung might've told you, they're doing everything they can to keep this under wraps for now.”

“There’s unfortunately no time for take-outs due to the time crunch, I doubt you guys will be out by twelve but I think we can all go for a good, filling lunch.”

“Jinnie, are you okay?”

The words slipped out of your lips before you could realize it had. His eyes widened for a fracture, taken aback before a sad smile stretched his lips.

“I will be, don't worry.”

Namjoon claps his hands abruptly, cutting through the air as he forces out a grin. “Alright, let's be on our way.”

“What about the family dinners?” You pushed on.

“We'll tell them the truth. I can't exactly bring you to family dinners as my fake girlfriend anymore now, can I?”

What started as Jin needing your help in stopping vulture-like aunties trying to introduce their daughters to him, grew far more serious when Mrs. Kim began to invite you annually to their family reunion dinners and had begun sending you the occasional gift boxes from her trips abroad.

You tried giving them to Jin when the first box came but he insisted you keep them anyway. It made you feel guilty for tricking his family, especially his mother, but Jin needed your help in warding off the bad energy .

“We told hyung that once the bond gets stable next year, you can continue attending them.” Namjoon adds.

“Obviously I denied, what a stupid idea.” Seokjin immediately responds with a scoff and crosses his arms. “Why are you even paired with them when they disregard your safety like this? Really, why would you guys even suggest that?”

Namjoon turns to him with a look that seems to ask ‘do you really want me to answer that?’ and Seokjin pursed his lips in a straight line. You laughed.

It was a relief to see that nothing has changed within their dynamics. You had feared the day everyone would turn against each other because of you. It had made you wary of how much time you spend with a member one on one, scared the others would think of it as picking favorites.

To see Seokjin, the one you have no doubt been more devastated than Hoseok, be making light hearted jokes about the soulmarks lifted off a huge weight from your shoulders.

If the new bonds weren’t so sensitive, you would’ve hugged him.

“I hope auntie won't take it to heart. You were a nice boyfriend but you kept nagging me to pay a nonsense debt.”

“You still have a balance to settle with me, don't forget that,” He jokes. “But seriously, mom would be sad, she liked you better than me.”

Namjoon's phone pings, the sound silencing you both. With a hissed apology, he turned his attention to the device and read the notification on his lock screen before turning to you.

“We need to get going soon. Hobi hyung said Yoongi hyung and Jimin just got called up.”

“Wait, I haven't showered yet! You guys didn't warn me!”

But as you move to run back to your room, Namjoon stops you with a hand on your shoulder.

“It's fine, noona.”

“It's not like we haven't seen you with unwashed hair for two days straight.”

“What was the longest day, hyung?” Namjoon clicks his fingers, a small teasing grin tugging his lips.

“Three days I think?”

“I thought it was a week?”

“It might’ve been.”

Their laughter when you slapped both their arms twinkled in your ears. The sound warming your chest but also grating your gears at the same time.

Fresher than you had been earlier, you all arrive at the DFA an hour later. Spending thirty preparing, another half traveling to the heart of Seoul.

There's already a few bodyguards dressed in civilian wear lingering outside the office. Mr. Lee approached the car once the three of you began to step out before ushering all of you inside the building with a few other guards.

Save for the receptionists on the other side of the counter placed in the dead middle of the room, the lobby was empty. Sejin comes out from the wide open arch on the right, a man dressed in a neatly ironed tailored black suit following behind him.

“Let's all move to where the rest are. We couldn't rent the building for the whole day so they’ll be opening to the general public soon but we were allowed to have one floor to ourselves.”

None of you objects and followed him to the elevator and to the second floor where you were immediately greeted by Taehyung, Hoseok and Jungkook sitting on the blue plastic seats clustered by both sides of the walls.

When the metal doors parts open, their heads turn and immediately, Taehyung stands and runs up to you with arms wide.

Namjoon and Seokjin weren't able to react fast enough. The moment Taehyung wrapped himself around you, a powerful wave of bliss crashed over you and your legs gave out. They all screamed your name as you fell but they were muffled, hands grabbed onto whatever they could in the haste of catching you.

In the bleariness of your vision, you could make out Taehyung narrowly avoiding crumpling onto the floor when someone caught him by the waist.

“...That was so stupid of you…”

“...Why…Taehyung?...”

“Noona?”

The haze clears and you find yourself being carried by Seokjin into the nearest doctor’s office. You hear the door open before Yoongi’s exasperated but concerned voice follows.

“What the hell happened now?”

“We have no idea, Tae’s touch didn’t do this to her last night.”

“Fuckin—Just get her inside.”

“Noona, I’m so sorry!”

Seokjin lets you down on a soft cushioned armchair and you find yourself staring back at a bespectacled woman with hair so straight you wonder how Yoongi didn't feel exorcized at the sight of it.

She didn't waste any time and she rose from her seat to inject something in your arm.

“What a wild introduction this is. First you come in with five soulmates, a Nexus group and one of them having Healing Touch, and as if that's not intriguing enough, you faint after a touch from Love Prints ! So, very interesting!”

She returns to her seat as the haze ebbs away from your vision with the glowing purple paint on your torso.

“I guess it's true that all soul specialists are… enthusiastic .”

“Only on the right things, don't worry we don't bite.”

There's almost a manic look in her eyes as she stares at you with a fascination only seen in a mad geologist who had found a new and infinitely curious piece of history in the dirt. Seokjin pats your shoulders, squeezing it assuringly for the last time before he disappears out the door.

“So, how's this gonna go?”

Doctor Gwak Jihye was a woman with flat light brown hair almost the same height as you. There's narrow rectangle glasses sitting neatly on the bridge of her nose and a notable beauty mark placed on the apple of her cheekbones. Black vine-like tattoos peaked out of her cream turtleneck, a soulmark you guessed once you saw the ring on her finger.

The band is as dark as the night yet gleaned like stars under the bright light of the room with three deep blue sapphires engraved on the front. A ring made from soul metal, created and used only by the tethered.

She wore the standard white coat of every doctor you’ve ever met with the exception of the detailed pin of two white strings knotted together inside the lining of a heart and a red cross placed in the middle of it all.

“We'll do the basic health checks, the measurements and all the like. Nothing too difficult. Then we educate you on every soulmark you have. You are aware of what you have with the five of them, correct?”

She rapid fires and you're left agape, mouth closing and open as your brain catches up. The doctor raised an eyebrow and you nod. With that, she motions to the scales behind you as she stands. You followed the woman to the stadiometer placed next to the door.

Once she was done taking your measurements down, you both returned to her desk where she asked you a few questions about your allergies and recent medical history. It was an easy procedure, almost boring.

The ever so present exhaustion from waking up that morning is still weighing your bones, you yawned. Staying awake felt like a challenge and you don't doubt she had noticed this when she placed her board down to open her drawer.

“You are feeling more exhausted than before, am I correct in assuming this?”

“Yes…?”

She hummed when she found what she was looking for and placed the thick white medicine bottle in front of you.

“This should help your body get used to the bonds whenever you touch Jimin or Taehyung. The exhaustion is normal since you live far from them but once you move in and are surrounded by your soulmates, you should feel more energized. It should also protect you all from the effects of being touched by someone else but that doesn’t mean you should go hugging everyone out there, remember that you have soulmates now and the bonds can be sulky at times.”

Amoneuron , it reads on the label. Curious, you twist the lid open to see what might just be a hundred of blush pink colored round pills.

“With that out of the way, from what I've heard from Yoongi, you've researched every soulmark there is at one point in your life but I doubt that you don't have any questions,” She fished out the yellow folder under her board and opened it, not knowing how surprised you are to hear Yoongi’s involvement. “Anything you'd like to know about?”

Your mind takes you back to the empty search and countless ‘Did you mean…?’ questions on every result. Jimin and your marks never yielded any results, none in Naver and none in Google.

You tried finding it in your books but none of them were ever close to the touch activated golden swirls and the feeling of being rejuvenated.

“I tried researching what could be Jimin and I’s soulmark but I couldn't find one, is it that rare of a mark?”

She nods. “ Healing touch , there's so little information of that type of mark since the last recorded case can be traced back to 1894.”

Your eyes widen, surprised by how rare of a mark you share with Jimin.

“Which meant if there were soul-link related sickness between you, I fear that we won't be much of help as we don't know much about Healing Touch other than mates who has it doesn't get hungry, thirsty nor need much sleep if they interacted enough,” She gauges your reaction, when she saw your confusion she continues. “By interacting enough, I don't mean hugs or hand holding, I mean kisses and sex.”

You began to cough violently, choking on your saliva at her bluntness, cheeks burning bright but she ignored you and continued.

“Hand holding and hugs can only guarantee better stamina and endurance, even being close enough can make the other have a bottomless energy. As this concerns a highly valued individual, our team is already attempting to acquire more information about Healing Touch but I don’t have an estimated time on when we’ll be ready to share our findings, please understand that we are also surprised by this mark’s sudden revival.” She smiled. “Anything else you'd like to ask?”

“Are Taehyung and Jimin's marks somehow similar? I remember feeling�� rejuvenated whenever the both of them touched me but then got overstimulated.”

Her eyebrows rose.

“No, Taehyung’s touch shouldn’t affect you outside of the first touch nor should you be suffering from soulbond hyperactivity from both of them. When Seokjin had carried you in, what exactly happened beforehand?”

“When Taehyung hugged me again not too long ago, we experienced soulbond hyperactivity.”

“Huh.” Was all she replied with, hand scribbling furiously on her notes. You had the urge to sit up a little straight and take a peak at what she’s writing down so passionately but decided against it, fearing what you might learn from it.

“Any guesses on what could have caused this?”

“It's hard to say much for now since Healing Touch is a very rare mark. But I can hazard a guess and say that due to their similar nature being touch-activated marks and Healing Touch being as powerful as it is, it had influenced Love Print somehow.”

If Taehyung’s soulmark has evolved due to Healing Touch as suspected, then does that mean the benefits, at least the bare bones of them, extend to him as well?

You already sense the building headache you’re about to experience in the future with three—including Jungkook whose energy is already a thousand times more of a kid in a toy store—bouncy men with the energy of a toddler in a sugar rush. In advance, you began to pray internally for Namjoon, Sejin, and Seokjin’s sanity.

“Is it possible that this could also affect Jungkook?”

“We don’t know for sure, it's a possibility but if anything were to happen, please don’t hesitate to contact us.”

She then turned back to writing her thoughts down, furiously scribbling with a fire in her eyes before she finally placed down her pen and sighed.

“It seems that I am due to share notes with the doctor who had interviewed Jimin,” She says, slamming her journal close with a smile. “This could lead to a breakthrough in the future. With both of your permissions, we would like to study your soulmark more intimately .”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it but my soulmate might not share the sentiment. The company as well.”

“Your soulmarks could very well lead up to the discovery of the cure to an incurable disease, I doubt he would decline such a possibility.”

You don’t doubt the possibility of your soulmark being the answer to the long time issue of something as fatal as cancer or dementia but the prospect of being examined, had made you feel uncomfortable. To be under intense scrutiny and possibly put under a specific diet to tailor to their needs—especially when Jimin had only recently stopped caring about his body image—had made you more unwilling to participate.

You’d spare a few vials of blood since your bond can regenerate it back in record time but a prolonged trial is definitely a no.

“Why did it manifest now? After all those years, why now?” You ask abruptly, trying to change the subject.

You hoped she would take the bait and luckily, she did with a defeated sigh.

“As you know, once we hit the age of 16, the chances of meeting our soulmates goes up to 10% and will gain the same amount the next year. This will continue on until it hits a hundred on the 26th and the chances of manifesting a mark stops on the 27th,” You nod, feigning ignorance and she continues. “The Nexus connection had to wait for Jungkook to show which had put yours and the rest to a state of dormancy. So when he turned 21, with half a hundred percent chance, he finally got a mark and here we are.”

You stand and bow, not wanting to leave any free millisecond where she could try continuing to pressure you into agreeing into their research.

“Thank you so much for your insight, Dr. Gwak.”

She looked incredulous and surprised by your sudden actions before returning the gesture.

“It’s a pleasure to be able to foresee a unique connection such as yours, Ms. Y/n. I hope you all the best.”

With that, you leave the room in a haste and let out the biggest exhale once the door behind you closes.

You hear the soft murmurs of voice just around the corner where you guessed you’ll find everyone save for Namjoon who must’ve been called after you had been carried in by Seokjin. But when one door closes, another opens. There’s still a few things you’re due today, a talk with the inner circle of the company, talking with the legal team to figure out who else can know the connection outside of your Nexus, and how you’ll be continuing working as their make-up artist.

There’s a tug down the thread and you look down at your pinkie to see the line turn tangible and vibrant.

‘How are you?’

‘Feel good?’

Tentatively, you twirled the string around your finger and the headache fades. You watch as it glows brighter, livelier with both hosts touching it before tugging it back twice.

‘Good.’

Instantly, Yoongi responds.

‘Glad . ‘

You expected the string to dim but it remained vibrant under both of your touch and warmth exploded in your chest.

“Are you the lady with the Healing Touch soulmark?”

You jumped back to see an old woman, around the age of sixty, peering up at you with a gentle smile playing on her lips. She dons the same white coat Dr. Gwak wears the same pin of a soul specialist on the lapel and her name tag displayed on her breast pocket.

Shin Sun-young , it reads.

“In my years of being a specialist, I've never seen so many souls connected to one so I'm sorry if I'm a bit much, I'm very curious how it must feel. Having one is already overwhelming for me, I can’t imagine how you’re feeling now.”

“Yeah it's a bit much sometimes. I don't know how to deal with it.”

“We have some medicines for that but I’m sure you already know that and have been prescribed right. It’ll dull up your senses then you can stop taking it after a year.”

She pats your back as you both walk off the sides and you find your soulmates sitting obediently down the hall. Jimin was lying on one cluster of seats in front of the others with an arm over his eyes and the other pinched into a fist on top of his stomach while the rest of the boys squeezed together into the five seats on the opposite wall.

You notice the missing presence of their eldest but shrugged it off, guessing that he must've wandered off to find the bathroom or a vending machine.

“I hope it goes well for you seven, I'm sure they'll treat you so well.”

Your head snaps to her. “Seven?”

“Oh? Am I wrong? I thought all of those boys are tethered to you. Forgive this old soul.”

You try to not think about how she must’ve intentionally guessed wrong to fish for information. Soul specialists have the reputation of being crazy knowledge-driven people with barely any other qualifying trait other than their unusual obsession with soulmates after all and this lady just happens to be one.

“Hoseok and Jin, their eldest who has gone somewhere, aren't tethered to me. There's no sign of any marks manifesting and we just assumed the worst.”

You hated how you sounded so dejected. You must’ve sounded so greedy to the lady for wanting to have your seven friends to be yours, as if you even deserve Seokjin’s unfaltering love.

She hums. “Are you sure about that?”

“What do you mean?” You ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Dear, everything in the world is advanced now. They could have their blood tested to see if there's a possibility that they're also tethered to you.”

You were reminded of the times where you began to dread your birthdays when you should've been celebrating, the desperation before the abrupt descend of defeat on your birthday this year when you finally realize that you weren't

“How is that possible? Why now? We've had years of technological evolution but something like that only appears now? Where was this when I wanted to find out if I was—”

She sighs and puts a hand on your shoulder, effectively shutting you up. “Soulmates are spiritual deary. Past technology and brains of yesterdays had difficulty in figuring out the hows and why it works. But now, I can assure you that we have finally found a way to find if you're really untethered or not.”

“Tha-that’s a thing?”

You turned around to find Seokjin on the opposite hall, carrying what seems to be a hundred snacks with two hands, surprise contorting his face. Crossing the distance in under two steps, he stared at the lady with hopeful eyes.

“Where can I have myself checked?”

The way his voice dripped with hope, with desperation of a man who had lost his way and finally found a chance of redemption, a new salvation to pour his attention to. Hearing it made your chest clench. But there was no testimony for their new found tech, there's no telling if they're actually telling the truth.

As much as you are curious as to what the result could be, you couldn't have Seokjin join the test all hopeful only to fall into a deeper hole if he found out that he's actually untethered.

Your heart won't be able to handle the absolute devastation that would follow.

“Jinnie—”

“You boys are in luck, we just had the machine set up last night and we’re looking for volunteers.”

“I’ll do it. Me and someone else.”

As they began to talk about the technicalities of using the machine and partaking in their research, you found yourself standing there in shock.

You already suspected Hoseok also shared the same sentiment Jin held but to hear him indirectly confirm them had your heart bottoming to the soles of your feet. The guilt that used to only stem from Jin and Taehyung's confession came back to you like a blow to the head.

Jin then walked away, you followed to see him approach an increasingly concerned Hoseok who watched his hyung march up to him with an indistinguishable fire in his eyes.

“Hoba, I found a way.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Found a way? To-to what exactly?”

“They have the technology to figure out if we're actually untethered or not.”

Everyone's eyes widened. Jimin had woken up from his nap and turned his head to his hyungs, shocked by what he had heard. Taehyung's jaw hung open, looking around in bewilderment before he stood to walk around the rest of the boys and into the stunned Hoseok on the other side of the seats to engulf him in a hug.

Even Manager Sejin who had been talking to the lawyer he brought with him had turned to listen to the conversation.

“H-Hyung—”

“I've already talked to the doctor who will be overseeing our examination and all they ask of us is our blood then the resul—”

“No.”

Seokjin’s shine dims with the atmosphere as his smile falls. Taehyung pulls away, more astounded than he was before as he stares at him in disbelief.

“Hyung?”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Seokjin stammers out in disbelief.

Hoseok lets out a defeated sigh. “What if it came out as negative? I've already accepted my status. I-I don't want to raise my hopes up only to come down to the same result we’re all expecting.”

“It doesn't hurt to try Hoba,” Seokjin said softer this time as he placed a hand on his shoulder. “Try it with me, please . If it's negative, at least we can lament together.”

The younger man stared up at his hyung, conflicted. For a while, all Hoseok did was look back into the fire in Seokjin’s eyes, searching for an answer only he knew the questions to before he let out a defeated sigh and stand, motioning to his hyung to lead him the way.

Everyone waited for them to return, ordering a diabolical amount of fast food to eat for lunch as the two were taken to the testing area. You took the seat next to Yoongi, making sure you’re far away from the practically vibrating Tae and Jungkook staring at you with wide, puppy eyes.

It's only 10am at that point yet your energy tank is drier than the sahara and non-existent as a stress-free day. When the two returned, you were already slumped down on Yoongi's shoulder half asleep.

The day unfortunately, didn't end there.

After your soulmarks were registered, you all went to BigHit for a meeting and you thanked the high heavens no one from your department had seen you enter the conference room with the boys and a lawyer.

Minhyuk had asked you why there'll be a company party at dinner but no birthday boy will be showing up. You lied and told him that Jungkook’s going back to Busan to celebrate his birthday with his family. Jihye had also questioned your absence and you had apologized to her, knowing how often you've been going for leaves these past few weeks.

She says it's fine but you still feel bad anyways.

The meeting was short yet it felt like centuries had passed until you were freed. Just a couple of rules being laid like you being unable to tend to Jimin and Taehyung makeup anymore, the living situation where you'd be moved to the Bangtan dorms, and who else would be allowed to know about the connections between you and the boys.

Thankfully, they had approved letting your three friends know once you reasoned that they'll be able to save you once people began to question your aversion to touching Jimin and Taehyung in the future.

By the time you had trudge into your room, you were beyond the word exhaustion. Brain far too fogged up you to pick up on the blaring red lights in your mind as the world swirled around you and you fell face first into your bed.

You chalked it up to your sleepless night and the emotional stress you've gone through these past few days so imagine your shock when you wake up and find yourself in a sterile and white room whose ceiling lights burned your eyes the moment they opened again.

It was so bright and so white, you remember passing out before you came here and all you could feel now was bliss, as if the heavy baggage you've collected from last week and last night had been lifted off your form.

As if you were in heaven .

“G-God?”

“No, it's Min Yoongi. Open your eyes, brat.”

The haze clears at his gruff voice and you begin to hear the stable beeping echoing in the hollow room. There's a heavy weight wounded loosely around your waist as well on your legs, turning your head, you were faced with the peaceful but almost colorless face of Jimin, his usually plush pink lips now pale and chaffed as his body trembled next to you; you were shaking too.

Turning to Yoongi to ask him what happened, you find your hand entangled with his. His impassive face now laced with concern and there were dark bags hanging under his eyes as if he hadn't been sleeping for a while.

“What the hell happened?”

TAGLIST: @wildestdreamsblog @canarystwin @prettywheenicry @jmnscutie @sassy-snassy @misuguru @11thenightwemet11 @yoongibaybee @rinkud @bri602 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @marvel-potter-1d-korea @comingupwithacoolnameishard @sooha-neul @juju-227592 @coffeewanderer

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therenaissancedungeonmaster · 6 months ago

Text

More of @anxiousapplepie 's Traveler!Odile! This one's the initial Favor Tree interaction that I had ideasss for. Again, transcription below, to help with readability.

Panel 1: Odile looking up at Bonnie climbing the Favor Tree.

Panel 2: Siffrin coming up from behind Odile.

Siffrin: Keeping an eye on Bonnie while they visit the Favor Tree?

Panel 3:

Odile: I think they've done what they've needed and are just playing now.

Panel 4:

Siffrin: Do you know what the deal is with the tree? Isa and Mira tried to explain it and I still don't get it.

Panel 5:

Odile: From my understanding, it's typically the largest tree in an area. Vaugardians go to it to pray or... wish. It seems semi-secular compared to communing with a Change God statue.

Siffrin: Oooooh

Panel 6: Siffrin leans down to pick up a leaf.

Siffrin: Then let's do as the Vaugardians do!

Panel 7-11: Siffrin takes the leaf, puts it to their mouth, whispers into it, folds it, and then lets it blow into the wind. Odile watches

Panel 12:

Odile: What was...

Siffrin: How I was taught to wish.

Panel 13: Siffrin walks over to the tree, reaching up to catch a falling Bonnie.

Odile: What did you wish for?

Siffrin: I won't get my wish if I tell you!

Panel 14: Bonnie squirms in Siffrin's arms.

Siffrin: Buuuut if you see me with a croissant.

Bonnie: FRIN! I didn't need you to catch me!

Panel 15: Siffrin winks.

Siffrin: Then you'll know, Madam!

Panel 16-17: Siffrin carries Bonnie on his shoulder out of the meadow.

Siffrin: We'll get out of your hair now! Take your time! Enjoy the tree! And remember not to tell us what you wished for or else it won't come true!

Panel 18: Odile stands before the tree, holding a leaf. An omen.

#in stars and time #isat #isat role!swap au #isat au #fighter!siffrin #traveler!odile #housemaiden!bonnie #isat comic #isat art #myart #my art #mycomics #my comics #fanart

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castielmd · 10 months ago

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Impact of a living angel.

Sometimes I mourn the potential of angels in Supernatural.

I tend to even forget that's what they are (spoken in an exaggerated manner) since they are more so posed as "humans" with "superpowers".

When Castiel first appeared, he caused the lights in that shed to spark, blew them right out. The rooftop was almost gone too. His general appearance is enough to have demons exit their vessels/leave the area.

Later on, he's "just a guy" that occasionally heals Sam/Dean and can kill demons a bit more easily due to smiting.

I need him (and the other angels) to have an impact beyond that.

———

I want electricity continue to react around him. The neon motel signs turn off when he arrives. Dean and Sam cannot catch a phone signal around him. Navigation systems refuse to work — they have to revert back to maps. Castiel always sets off metal detectors. When he leaves a store, the alarm goes off without a doubt. Electric watches stop and resume in time upon his disappearance. They cannot set an alarm clock when Cas is with them.

Nature's louder. A chorus of birds erupts; suddenly there's an influx of butterflies. All dogs in the neighbourhood begin to bark. Seagulls circle above him despite him carrying no food.

The pavement he walks always looks greener as the weeds trace the grace exuding him, spreading out through the cracks in the asphalt. Colours seem more vibrant around him. He's in a park, sitting on a bench beneath a tree and the branches lower — reaching for him. He watches a marble statue and the withered engraving is readable once more after he steps away. It makes the newspaper.

People in the street turn, a pressing presence among them. Though it feels not unwelcoming. Sometimes people think they recognize him (no, not referring to godstiels impact.) — there's a familiarity about him. Warmth too. They get the same feeling praying to God; holding their mother's hand and tucking in their children. They remember grainy sand between their own five year old hands and the earthy smell of life. There's an urgency to run away, to live and experience.

But then he talks and they shake their head — branding him as weird. The morning coffee tastes more bitter now and the circle of work repeats.

I also imagine that a lot of people's hostility towards Castiel doesn't necessarily only stem from his direct and "socially awkward" demeanor but additionally him feeling different. As if he's something bigger, older — mightier — than the "tax accountant" everyone sees. And people hate [fear] the unknown.

He catches the eye of combat trained people immediately. They don't know why — it's not the way he carries himself. Some feel a threat, but most just steer clear. Later they will shake their heads and laugh. A guy in a trenchcoat.

He never gets mugged. One day, he gets caught up in a live robbery. The guy surrenders and turns himself in upon seeing Castiel.

People with a guilty conscience have a hard time to breathe, they are uneasy and suddenly breaking a sweat. There's a weight on them and it's crushing. They don't know why, they were just fine sitting in a café on a random Tuesday. They get the urge to call who they have wronged. Make amends. The feeling leaves a second later.

A college students fatigue vanishes. Suddenly, they get an idea how to start their essay. Creativity altogether blooms in his presence. Babies stop crying and a tired parent rejoices. Suddenly, someone's week old cold is gone, nose unclogged right after passing Castiel.

Magnets fall from fridges after he opens it. They don't stick until after he is far away. He always seems to be blurry in fotographs even if he stands perfectly still.

———

Of course you can put the scene in EP 4.01 as Castiel wanting to make an entrance. Chalk the rest up to him just really being in control of his grace inside his vessel so it doesn't affect the outside world. But I do miss noticing that he is another being. As are all of the angels.

Most of these effects are positive, as I think Castiel's and likely other angels intent is pure when they walk the earth. I don't like the whole "winged dicks" thing. While I think Castiel marvels at the world and its inhabitants more than other angels, I believe more than just him appreciate this whole creation.

[current spn progress; S8EP05]

#castiel #castiel headcanons #castiel is not human #make castiel weird #supernatural

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marabarl-and-marlbara · 14 days ago

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the 8th day sabbath programming for this week is done and posted and readable right here -- it:s very short; was planning on skipping this week but there:s not much else all to do with life than to be bound to work; i fixed my computer yesterday (had some hardware failure since the 5th? of this month), which is excellent; still slowly making progress on chapter 2 of my light novel; i:ve been praying regularly with renewed vigor but the insularity of everything hadn:t been too good for thinking on sermons; finished reading two books Girls Against God by Jenny Hval & .hack//another birth vol 1 infection by Miu Kawasaki, and ~90 pages into The Betrothed by Alejandro Manzoni (the former two were mid but really enjoyable, i:m really into The Betrothed at the moment--it reminds me of that anime/manga Orb, i picked it up to see what it was like and ended up wanting to just keep reading more and more).

#faith

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fromhisgrace · 1 year ago

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Studying the Bible Effectively: A Beginner's Guide

Studying the Bible can seem daunting at first, but with the right approach and tools, it can allow so much spiritual growth!! Whether you're new to the faith or a seasoned believer, having a structured method can improve and ease your experience. Here's a straightforward guide to help you get started on your Bible study journey!

Choosing a Translation

One of the first decisions to make when studying the Bible is choosing a translation that suits your needs and preferences. There are several translations available, each with its own approach to translation. Here are the three categories they fall into.

1. Word for Word Translation: These translations, such as the King James Version (KJV) or English Standard Version (ESV), aim to follow the original texts as closely as possible, offering a literal rendering of the words and phrases. They are great for detailed study and analysis of the text.

2. Thought for Thought Translation: These translations prioritize clarity and readability, conveying the original meaning in modern language by updating language to be mor relevant to modern readers. They are ideal for easy comprehension, especially for beginners or those looking for a straightforward understanding.

3. Paraphrased Translation: These translations capture the essence or gist of the message rather than focusing on precise wording. They are often easier to understand and are suitable for new believers or younger children. However, they are most likely to stray from the original text and can sometimes be slightly inaccurate.

When I am reading to spend time with God (such as my daily reading) I use NLT, which is a thought for thought translation and therefore easier to understand. However, during bible study it is advisable to keep a word for word translation on hand (I use the KJV translation in the YouVersion bible app alongside a physical copy of the NLT).

Establishing a Study Routine

1. Prayer: Before sitting down to read, it's essential to prepare yourself spiritually and mentally. Begin your study session with a prayer, asking God to open your mind and heart to His word and guide you in your understanding.

2. Reading the Passage: Start by reading the passage without taking notes or annotating. Try to grasp the overall message and what God is communicating to you.

3. Annotation and Reflection: Read the passage again, this time making notes of any observations, questions, or insights that come to mind. Consider who is involved, what is happening, why, when, and how. Reflect on the message God is conveying through the text.

4. Consulting Study Tools: Dive deeper into the passage by using study tools such as Bible commentaries, online resources, or cross-referencing different translations. This helps gain a broader perspective and insight into the text. They often also include historical context and reasons for writing.

5. Application: Reflect on how the passage applies to your life. Identify one or two key messages and think about how you can incorporate them into your daily life. Is the scripture challenging you to change certain behaviours, draw closer to God, or strengthen your faith? Pray for guidance on how to apply these insights. Personally, I like to make an extra effort to apply these in the upcoming week.

Conclusion

Studying the Bible is not just about acquiring knowledge but also about cultivating a deeper relationship with God and living out His word in our lives. By choosing the right translation, establishing a study routine, and seeking guidance through prayer and study tools, you can embark on a fulfilling journey of spiritual growth and understanding. Remember, consistency and patience are key, so keep seeking God's wisdom as you delve into His word.

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littleeyesofpallas · 5 months ago

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Alright well I gave up on this idea quickly enough. So i'm not about to drag myself over glass trying to scribble out even loose designs for these guys... So i guess just have a big wall of text, broken up for readability by... images of more and bigger text...

Utterly unprompted by anything apart from vacuous boredom I tried to come up with sort of demi-fusions of shinigami and arrancar? Like turning shinigami characters' core persona into arrancar, but with just a tiny dash of an existing arrancar for flavor sort of shtick(?) and vice versa. There was no reason to impose this limitation on myself but I abide by it and made things more difficult for myself anyway... I've definitely done this kind of random exercise before with, like, DC✕Marvel(Amalgam comics) characters, and pokemon, and I dunno it's just kind of how Monster Rancher and Jade Cocoon work canonically... It's kind of just a preset mode my brain operates in some times, to absolutely no benefit to anyone... anyway here's a buncha bullshit

Yamamoto Genryuusai (✕Grimmjow Jaegerjaques)

Obviously the lazy choice would've been Yamamoto and Barragan so first order of business was to dodge that entirely. With this fusion, it maintains Yamamoto's oldness, boss status --in both Yamamoto's shogun status and Grimmjow's "emperor" status among his fraccion-- and by adding Pantera's big cat to Zanka-no-Tachi's sun motif the mix landed me at the resurreccion Nahui-Ocelotl[ナウィ・オセロット]. Kind of a weird way to kick it off as it's not actually spanish at all, but nahuatl for "Four Jaguars" paired with the kanji [第一の太陽]: "(The) First Sun" which is all just a direct point to Aztec mythology and the idea that the world was made and destroyed and remade several times over as marked in ages called colloquially called "suns" in English but all prefixed with "nahui-...": "Four..." in the native tongue, not the word for "sun". Each sun is named after how it ended (Jaguars, hurricanes, a rain of fire, flood, and earthquakes) The First Sun having ended when the god Tezcatlipoca commanded jaguars to eat all the human beings.

I have no idea what that really means for powers though... Obviously it gets to retain Yamamoto's whole "burn the earth to ash" vibe but with jaguars... Does he become jaguar? jaguar warrior?(which would line up with some real world aztec iconography) summon jaguars?(almost like starrk's los lobos?) does sword become jaguar? sword that shoots jaguars? who knows.

Sui-Feng (✕Nnoitra Gilga)

Avispón Gigante[アヴィスパ・ヒガンテ]: "Giant Hornet"/[雀蜂]: "Giant Hornet" literally just the same kanji as her original zanpakutou, because the suzumebachi is the name of the Vespa mandarinia. structurally kind of mirrors how Nnoitra's Santa Teresa is just the common name for the praying mantis. I'll admit, this one wasn't very clever of me, but I liked that they both had an insect sword and I liked imagining tallgirl Sui-feng, so that was just kind of enough... Admittedly, they do both have loosely adjacent superiority complexes centered around their fixation with a woman. We all know how that ended for Nnoitra, but it would be interesting to see Sui-feng's played out as a little more consequential and toxic.

I do like the idea of Sui-feng having a similar death sting power, but also being able to sprout extra arms and "swords" to sting with.

Unohana Retsu (✕Yammy Llargo)

Belladonna[ベラドンナ]: spanish name for the "deadly nightshade" but taken from Italian lit."beautiful lady"/[必殺美人]: "CertainKill(i.e. "Deadly") Beautiful Woman". I intended to name it something to the effect of "violent flower" but then I realized I could just name her after a literally deadly flower, and the Deadly Nightshade even has the same kind of bell flower shape as the 4th division flower insignia, so it just seemed like a good fit. Although I sorta lost any trace of Yammy's wrath gimmick in all of it.

I feel like she'd have a cool DeathDealing type power mixing the scaling power of Ira and the medical theme, but that just got me thinking about expanding this to Sternritter as well, and then I never came back to it... I have other faction fusion ideas but beyond this first set they get less and less detailed or even complete. I separated the three factions out into separate new drafts to save space. I might try to make the Espada as Captains bit presentable but the Sternitter one is more incomplete than not, and I don't see myself revisiting the brainstorming phase for it

Kuchiki Byakuya (✕Baraggan Luisenbarn)

Combining both their regal demeanors, their arrogance, their death/dying/fading motifs, and the Senbonzakura's cherryblossom imagery I got... Zempasuchiles[ゼンパスジュレス]: an alternate spelling of cempasúchil the name for "(Aztec)Marigolds" (I liked the way the alternate spelling sort of mirrored the truncated form of Sakura being Zakura) [死に十菊]: "Death(Dying) 20 Chrysanthemums" a play on shini[死に]: "dead/dying" the pun shi-ni[四二]: "four, two" and the fact that cempasúchil means "20 flower," and Cem-chil-Giku[センジュギク] being the Japanese name for cempasúchil, abbreviating it to just the first and last syllables, and appending -giku[ギク] from kiku[菊]: "chrystanthemum" in reference to both it and the marigold's phenotypical many layered petals. The marigolds are the flowers of the dead used in day of the dead decoration and ritual.

It'd be cool if it was similar to senbonzakura in that it manifests as a countless falling flower petals, but once they land on something they wither and whatever they've touched withers with them, like arrogante's aging respira.

Komamura Sajin (✕Coyote Starrk)

Using a mix of Komamura being estranged from his people and soul society and Stark's loner shtick, and of course both their wolf motifs, I got El Lobo Estepario[エル・ロボ・エステパリオ]: "The Steppenwolf" literally taken from the Spanish translation of the book Der Steppenwolf. And the kanji [荒野の狼]: "Wolf of the Wasteland" is just the Japanese translation of Der Steppenwolf. it's a bit of a lazy one, but Kubo phoned it in more than once, so I get a few freebies.

The Herman Hesse novel is btw about a neurotic middle aged playwrite grappling with his loneliness and unsociability, and what he sees as a conflict between his dignified and civilized social status and his yearning to indulge in more base and animal desires, a struggle characterized by the "wolf of the steppes", i.e. the steppe wolf, a breed of wolf known to be somewhat easily trained as guard dogs --tamed but never domesticated. It's a great timeless exploration of a neurotic self destructive man's struggle with his self image and place in society, very proto-incel shit.

I feel like it'd be cool to have a gimmick like Findorr where he has a break away mask. but instead of just getting more powerful he starts with full wolf bone armor but fights like a man, and the more of the wolf he breaks away the more feral his fighting style gets, until he's got no wolf mask left at all but he's fully devolved into animal fighting style.

Kyoraku Shunsui (✕Szayelaporro Granz)

Kind of a superficial link between these two just between Szayel's lust and Shunsui's womanizing. La Novia y Madrina[ラ・ノヴィア・イ・マドリナ]: "The Bride & Godmother" just sort of an obvious mexicanization of the visual themes already in play with Katen and Kyokotsu as spirits. [嫁姑戦争]: "bride and mother-in-law war" a Japanese term for the kind of common/stereotypical dynamic of a wife and her mother-in-law who do not get along, especially where the wife moves into the husband's family home with said in-law.

When I found this draft there wasn't even a section for any power ideas on this one.

Hitsugaya Toshiro (✕Ulquiorra Cifer)

Un Frio que Pela[ウン・フリオ・ケ・ペラ]: lit. "A Cold that Peels(the skin)" coloquially referring to uncomfortably cold weather. I thought it would make a neat cross between Hitsguaya's ice, no nonsense cold shoulder/frigid personality, and Ulquiorra's emotionless and unfeeling demeanor to try and work numbing cold into things somehow. I was messing with words for frostbite and hypothermia for a while when I came across this phrase. In buddhist naraka the mahapadma: "great lotus" is a layer of icy punishment where the condemned are made so cold that their skin cracks and splits open like the layered petals of a lotus into gory red blossoms --and it's where the Daiguren[大紅蓮]: "great red lotus" in Hyourinmaru's bankai comes from-- so a "skin peeling cold" felt like a perfect fit. For kanji I went with [摩��鉢特摩] which is just the kanji for aforementioned mahapadma, japanized as makahadoma[まかはどま].

I think i mentioned something similar just headcanoning junk about the sternritter in wahrwelt, but I still think a cool way to handle cold powers would be entirely passive, where the domain just gets cold and keeps getting colder, so while the user is maybe conjuring something simple like ice swords or spears/icicles the real damage being done is wearing the enemy down with the cold, making them number and slower the longer the fight drags out.

Zaraki Kenpachi (✕Tier Harribel)

I was gonna go for something about hungry sharks or hunters, but given Nozarashi's weathering theme and Tier's supposed death theme of being a sacrifice I settled on Desollado[デソッラド]: "Skinned." It felt like a fun way to go as it evokes Zaraki's fight with Unohana, but also points to the aztec god Xipe Totec's epithet, "Our Flayed Lord" as he is something of a martyr, having flayed himself alive to give food to mankind. He is also portrayed as a red skinned (i mean it seems obvious that that's, like, exposed bloody red muscle and tendons) god of war which suits Zaraki's unnamed bankai. Oh right and [皮剥我主]: "My/Our Skinned Lord" obviously just the Japanese translation of Xipe Totec's common epithet.

As a power it'd be cool if the sum total of wounds dealt by Desollado make it stronger, so that as a fun twist they can turn their sword on themselves and gain power boosts that way.

Kurotsuchi Mayuri (✕Zommari Leroux)

A little on the nose, but I was trying to dodge the most obvious fit being Szayel. El Hechicero[エル・エッチセロ]: "The Sorcerer"/. But given some of the spanish etymology, there's some play on the "artificial" buried in there. I don't know that that reads at all in actual spanish but between the options i had it felt like justification enough to pick on word over the others. I like that even though I was trying to dodge Szayel, I managed to stumble into the Japanese phonetics for H[エッチ] in there anyway, so there's still some perv energy floating around. [誤魔法使] mashing together [誤魔化す]: "to deceive/cheat/swindle" and [魔法使]: "magic user," so it reads something like "false magic user," which feels appropriate for a technician type character with a science over magic disposition.

it would be cool to have a lot of gimmicky deceptive techniques like having different kinds of body doubles, either kido-like illusions, after images, or body doubles like Urahara's balloon dummies only he uses them in random ways so that counters to one method don't work on the others, and eh just kind of plays a shell game with them all. I didn't bother brainstorming a whole repertoire of Mayuri level gadgets and gimmicks

Ukitake Juushiro (✕Aaroniero Arleri)

Los Piscis Tragón[ロス・ピッシス・トラゴン]: "The Greedy Pisces." Kanji, [殺人魚群] "School of Piranha," mashing up [殺人魚] for "Piranha," and [魚群] "school of fish." If it wasn't obvious it's a play on Aaroniero's hunger and Ukitake's multiple fish. Honestly my impulse was use Tier at first and to make shark and natural order into a food chain thing, but it felt a little redundant in terms of aquatic motifs. I feel like there's something to be done with Ukitake's chronic illness and Aaroniero being two heads in a jar, but I dunno what exactly...

It feels a little too simple but my first thought was just to have little los lobos style cero fish fly around him and the more spirit energy he absorbs the more fish he makes. he can basically swallow kidou attacks whole, and take big bites out of his enemies(or allies) sort of like Szayel with his fraccion, but then also spit up new cero fish to add to his growing school. And the fish of course can chase enemies around, do the smart missile thing and dodge around stuff rather having to just fire in a straight line, and jump in the way to take hits, or kamikaze bomb enemies.

So then I got in my head for some reason to mash together the three traitors and the privaron.(also I never did determine an actual 1-10 order for these espada, other than YamamotoGrimmjow being #1(or i guess #0?) so feel free to roll some ideas around in your head and let me know what you think their ranks should be)

Aizen Sosuke(✕Gantenbein Mosqueda)

Espejo Humeante[エスペホ・ウーミアンテ]: "Smoking Mirror" another referece to aztec mythology, the epithet of Tezcatlipoca, itself describing reflective obsidian. [誤煙魔鏡]: "Misleading Smokedemon Mirror" from the word gomakasu[誤魔化す] meaning to "decieve/cheat/swindle" and the kanji for smoke and mirror, both referencing Tezcatlipoca's epithet and the English phrase, "smoke and mirrors" referring to tools of misdirection used in stage magic.

obviously leans a lot more heavily on Aizen than on Gantenbein, but I liked the idea that the dragon thing lends the smoke aspect to Aizen's mirror. I imagine the powers aren't too different from Kyoka Suigetsu's fake power if you just replace mist with smoke.

Ichimaru Gin(✕Cirucci Sanderwicci)

Destrozado(de culebra)[デストロザド]: "torn apart (Snake)" a play on the snake being torn apart by the eagle on the mexican flag. I wasn't sure if having snake in the name was too much or too obvious --a lot of these have been a little too involved on the spanish end of things compared to how many of kubo's are pretty straightforward, one word names-- and there was something kind of evocative about having just the vague subject in just "torn apart." Oh but the kanji [綻蝮]: "ripped(apart) viper" turned out is the same word for "torn apart" that BBS used in Gin's beyond bankai finisher. Funny coincidence, that. There's some stuff about the indigenous symbolism of the eagle as it related to the sun and the rattle snake in opposition that sort of suits Gin's role in opposition to Aizen, but I'll admit I wasn't ready to try too hard to make that fit any closer than that.

Didn't get around to making a power for this one.

Kaname Tousen(✕Dordoni Alessandro del Socaccio)

Veleta is a different spanish word meaning "weathercock" (as opposed to Dordoni's Giralda) but this one can apparently be used as a sland to describe someone who frequently changes their mind or sides (i.e. "a traitor") so it felt like a serendipitous fit for Tousen what with his betrayal of Komamura and SS, but also his vow to turn on Aizen if he ever thought he'd strayed, only for him to regret it all on his deathbed. There's the temptation to just give him Dordoni's dance fighting, but that feels a little eye-rollingly cliche, even though it's not like he's just Eddy Gordo.

Powers wise it would kind of neat to give him a power sort of similar to Shinji's, only instead of distorting perception of directions, just physically spinning someone around against their will. So one minute they're charging and in the blink of an eye they're suddenly facing the wrong way.

well, that's all for this block of characters. we'll see if i can mine anything postable out of the Espada as Gotei 13 captains notes I left behind, but that batch is even spottier than these were. The Sternritters I'll post never though. It was just a list of existing Sternritters where 2/3 didn't have a second half, and then bits of me not being able to figure out whether I wanted to merge them with shinigami, or espada, or a mix of fullbringers and visored, or if i wanted to go back and scrap the Espada as Shinigami one so that I could do a little musical chairs bit and make it Shinigami-Espada, Espada-Sternritter, and Sternritter-Shinigami.

#man what do i even tag this shit #i dont want it out there milling about in legit tags #maybe just keep this one to my self #my personal bleach horseshit #not even meta or headcanon #and of course im posting it in the dead of night where no one will see it #as i always somehow manage to do #bleach oc #i guess #bleach au #bleach fusions

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liminsendhelp · 1 year ago

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Don't pet the flea cat

Price×f!reader

Tags: slight description of reader (chubby, muscular, strong, denying gender as a concept), possibly slightly sociopathic/autistic reader, profanity, denial of authority, evil scientist on the way to becoming. Johns pov included tags and warns are the same as in the last post, srry, I don't have time to make it more civilized and readable. THEY FINALLY TOUCHED LADIES!!! Enjoy

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5.

The whole day has been going wrong. Right from the start.

You met at five in the morning, as arranged for the days you dig through the database. He was waiting for you in his office, fresh looking, only a little more closed off. You thought to write it off on the early hour. But it certainly wasn't a physical consequence of sleep deprivation.

Emotions, damn it.

John was furious. You didn't say anything to him about it. The normally scowling expression never left your face, the emotionless, chaotically appearing teasing only twice caused him to smirk. But you wanted to shake him, ask him what you'd done wrong. Why he's like this. All the time before working out you could feel that tension. A dark, thick lump of promised fear.

Swallowing your breakfast in almost two bites, you didn't consider your surroundings much. There was something strange in the air. The way the huge room was quiet, full of those normally chatty people. Even Soap only chuckled quietly. Before you left to print out the allowed information, you casually switched to reality, aware of the proximity of the nearby warmth. Your and Price's thighs had been touching all along.

What on the computer had only been a couple dozen pages, images, copies, notes, was turning into an endless mountain of real paper that you were typing in two goes. To keep your head on your shoulders, rather than being ripped off by a secretary who (temporarily, you swear) had a busy printer, you brought a whole stack of paper. You talked, you played spy, getting more and more information out of the little gossip girl. You ate lunch at her place, never letting yourself take more food from her than you could fit in half your palm. She called you a bird and you laughed in agreement, drinking her instant coffee to notfeed your hunger. Not the first time.

As you made your way to your office in the main building that evening, you didn't look round. Moving carefully, only forwards, trying not to drop a pile of printed documents. One of the soldiers held the door for you. Then another one, then again, then another one, but offered help, which you declined. You clenched your jaws. Too many interactions. Fuck away!

Your back was in a terrible state from overexertion you wouldn't let anyone know about, your mood at its very point from lack of sleep and the constant uncomfortable existence with stupid people in the same space. But you still stared sullenly at the dumbest soldier while you held a pile of papers with one hand and opened the office with a magnetic key with the other.

Finally sinking down behind your chair, preparing for another round of proofreading, searching for correlations and missing elements, you let yourself exhale. And think. It was Price, wasn't it? Yesterday, when you told him about the soldiers' behaviour and he reacted so calmly, you gaslight yourself, doing someone else's job. They not even called you a slut in your face and they're animals and you're not special and nothing terrible happened only name calling... And it was expected, wasn't it?

But no, Price clearly went to deal with it. As much as you disliked the whole hierarchy thing, it was hard not to want punishment for those who branded everyone names for one possession of a vagina. You prayed to all the gods that your expectations weren't just a rethinking of the situation into a more palatable direction.

Finally everything was falling into a cycle. You worked with the files already printed out, pulling everything together in an encompassing way for the mind, concentrating on behavioural changes. You stopped by your secretary's office before lunch, giving your energies to small-talk and charming smiles. Your sleep patterns corrected, you smoked less because you didn't have the time anymore. Completely absorbed in your work, focused on your real goal, you didn't notice anything anymore. And a couple of times in a fortnight… Ghost helped with hints.

Ask that soldier, help that soldier, turn round there, yeah, just stand there.

Always managed to pick up a piece of information, form an understanding. The victim was always visible, no matter how well disguised. You made friends with a couple of girls and boys from different departments and backgrounds. Different temperaments, different humour and looks, but you felt that note of vulnerable distrust every time you pushed a little harder on your leadership.

. . .

She had a gaze. Fucked up one.

His first almost-wife had looked at him like that, during their first fight. And the last, to be precise. Pupils small, long angry lashes, always frowning. Ooh, stern.

When she brushed off his question about her name, he wasn't offended in the least. Something familiar about her… there was, no doubt. A piece of a familiar pattern. Potential for a good soldier, human, that was it. There was no criticism or problem in this closed cocoon from which she'd burst into the thick of it. Dry research, ready-made theory. That was why she was so confident in her audacity. John might have wanted to break her, just out of spite. He didn't usually do that, but here the kitten was attacking adult predators, and seriously hoping to win. Thinking she couldn't be seen, sneaking around in the grass with her little paws.

But in a couple of hours of interaction, John saw. Noticed scars here and there, patches of faded fur, and the sharp grin of a smile. She looked like something he'd caught. In training, she'd held up well. A mission, a fulfilment. A soldier with no command.

He could help. Help himself find a therapist.

Sighing once again for the evening, he adjusted his reading glasses. Whiskey in one hand, a small collection of short stories in the other. John read the one book he'd managed to "accidentally" grab from her desk.

Ray bradbury. Lots of circled passages, comments and jokes.

...You're the crowd that's always in the way, using up good air that a dying man's lungs are in need of, using up space he should be using to lie in, alone. Tramping on people to make sure they die, that's you...

In pencil frame and a little note, "should I call a lawyer?"

Other. With some pencil dots and lines on the pages, as if she wanted to but didn't dare leave any words out.

The scythe that gives power....

A family stuck between life and death because the father of the family didn't go to chop the ripe in the field....

A character who sleeplessly accepts his burden.....

...He didn't say good-by to his family. He turned with a slow-feeding anger, found the scythe and walked rapidly, then he began to trot, then he ran with long jolting strides into the field, raving, feeling the hunger in his arms...

The farmer in the field is too busy, even after all these years; too busy slashing and chopping the green wheat instead of the ripe...moves on with his scythe, with the light of blind suns and a look of white fire in his never-sleeping eyes, on and on and on...

He flipped back the page. Where there was only one word, exactly halfway down the circled lines.

...You worked the field all your life because you had to, and one day you came across your own life growin' there. You knew it was yours. You cut it. And you went home, put on your grave clothes, and your heart gave out and you died...

You?

John memorised the page number and put the book back in his desk drawer.

Fuck.

Why couldn't she read something nicer. A children's Bible? No, that was worse. More sins, more circled words. More similarities. And yet, he wanted to finish, wanted to reread everything that had ever graced her attention.

But only those living books that had been marked by her pencil and pen and word. To piece together this puzzle, frank and unmarred by a thick layer of wariness. To let it pass through him, to run his fingers over the traces scattered on the pages. To look in the mirror and see himself years ago. As if everything she'd accused herself of would find the same facet in him.

FUCK.

Angrily setting the empty whiskey glass aside, John walked out and down the stairs.

They'd grown closer over the past fortnight. As close as you could get with a set of human functions. She hadn't relaxed. Not for a second in his presence, not even in the presence of Ghost, who, surprisingly, had become a calming factor for her.

Something was happening. Some weightless bridge of communication. Invisible and solid.

Like when Ghost looked at her, shifted his gaze to someone else for a second and five minutes later she was there.

Like when she didn't turn up for training, showing drafts of already existing research to her Institute's committee. The discussions dragged on, she didn't show up for breakfast, and Ghost looked more sombre than usual.

Just like when she had appeared at lunch that afternoon, angry and barbed. "Those decrepit nerdy fucks have had me since six in the morning." She growls, and Ghost mutters something back about how quickly she's managed to outbite everyone. And the meat is clearly tastier than usual today. And Ghost knows now that scientists are much nicer than recruits. And she grins, just slightly, still wicked.

"You just haven't tasted the babies yet."

And Soap chokes on his tea, Gaz laughs, Ghost looks at her before letting out a deep chuckle. One ha. Not even a ha-ha, but it's something.

And John watches, observes. Marks the lines of communication and the nodes that form new offshoots

John wasn't jealous, there was nothing to be jealous of. Her attention was so entirely on him that she didn't have time to notice the water column diverging in front of her step by step.

It had been two weeks since John had the guys from the newbie group on the playground.

A day's training.

Just what the new recruits dreaded. Not a second of stopping, no food, limited water, total silence. The "24 hours" ended when the fighters started to fall. Sometimes the whole thing lasted for days.

In John's memory, the longest twenty-four hours was a week and a half when someone in his unit made a joke about raping the children of those Nazis who were fighting against them. He was a soldier then, green and unwanted by the leadership.

And the commanders were active and angry.

Steam was blown off on them until the rat came out himself, publicly shamed.

He was dismissed the same day, so that the soldiers did not have time to strangle him for a fortnight of suffering.

It was really horrible. But effective. None of them ever spoke again, even if they didn't want to.

Ghost had already organised something similar on the recruits last year, but they hadn't been smart enough.

John was happy to teach the soldiers to keep quiet. Reputation meant a lot to an organisation. Discipline wasn't just the ability to obey. And, no matter how much she said otherwise, John knew she would have wanted that kind of retribution.

She would find it fair.

The trainers change every three hours, the soldiers are the same. The spaciousness of the gym, the silence and the thick smell of sweat. Eighteen hours of slaughter meat.

The end of the "day."

But. Someone turned out to be more talkative than the others. As the columns of soldiers left the hall, the two idiots whispered something about an old man chasing a dirty cunt and were forced to stay for another two hours. One on one with John.

"You're going to fall and get out of here in a second." "You'll stop and we would start again."

He had no rest that night. After the individual lecture on what respect was, after the picture of tear-wet youthful faces begging forgiveness not from pain but from the realisation of their own failure, he couldn't shake off the rage completely. She had certainly sensed it from the morning, had been over-cautious in her rudeness. But she said nothing, and he began to breathe easier.

John lit a cigarette, there was no energy for cigars. The soldiers on night shift were still avoiding him, afraid of saying the wrong thing. Good for them. Opposite him, smoking dramatically in the shadows of the night, was the wall of the annex occupied by the scientists. The light in her window is on again. The way it had been for two months since her arrival, but had stopped after their meeting. And he thought he'd helped her sleep regime. As if to echo his thoughts, the light goes out, and five minutes later she appears. Sleepy, dark against her white dressing gown, glowing in the light of the night lanterns.

In the silence he can distinctly hear the desperate clicks of the lighter failing to give fire and a quiet "fucking hell" from her harsh mouth. He stands so that the light of the cigarette doesn't show from the shadows. Observes. Her stomping in one place is depressing. Such an open area, only a wall with one door behind, a long run to the corners, direct light. No cover. No hiding.

They were so close, John didn't need to calculate the trajectory he could take to blast her head off with his sniper. But he's unable to realise in time that he's spotted. The dusk makes it impossible to make out all the features of her face, but the swift way she was walking towards him spoke volumes. When John pulls out his lighter, flicking the wheel, emitting only a spark, not a flame, she snorts and slaps his arm. Why?

Her face is close, cigarettes touching at the tips as she holds their cigarettes in her hands to gently light her own. Her careful fingers close to his lips and he inhales the smell of ink and coffee with the smoke.

When her shoulder lightly touches his, her head rests on the hardness of the wall, and the smoke fills her lungs, John notices a certain insufficiency. Unmasked, even more open than usual. But quiet. So not trusting, just tired. That's what makes her stand so close. Obviously nothing more.

"I'm going to rest my head on your shoulder, and then you can pretend I didn't do it." "You're not afraid of groupies anymore?" Why say that? Why? Why? WHY?! Idiot.

She hums and takes a puff, releasing a thin stream of smoke into the night air. "Since you scared them all away?"

So they stand and smoke, sharing little warmth at the thin edges of contact. Her hand presses against his, John noting every muscle movement as she brings the cigarette to her lips and back again.

In the morning, as promised, he pretends nothing happened.

And the soldiers pretend they are numb, blind, and not watching their pair that night.

#tf 141 #john price #limin #price #captain price #captain john price #price x reader #john price x reader #price cod #cod price #captain johnathan price #don't pet the flea cat #dptfc

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artheresy · 1 year ago

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Everybody moved on to Penacony and I’m still in agony over the High Cloud Quintet lore… I’ll never move on from these tragic gay mfs

I do need,, HCQ revisited at some point. Doesn’t even have to be in any main story, I honestly just need more HCQ readables because those are some of the most enjoyment I’ve gotten out of Honkai Star Rail. Baiheng’s Travelogue to the Zhuming chANGED MY LIFE and sewed the seeds for an obsession that is far too unhealthy to the point I am in the process of wasting my money to make a Blade ita bag. And it was a single readable that started me spiralling into this obsession and made me motivated to read more readables and character stories and etc.

I need another Baiheng travelogue… here’s to praying we get another if we end up on the Yaoqing soon, in general heres to hoping for more BH lore on the Yaoqing since apparently she’s from a very prominent family on that ship.

I just really need more HCQ crumbs because as much as I love them, their in game dynamics are so underdeveloped. Yes, we have a lot of Dan Feng and Yingxing, but a lot is very vague, and we have to mostly make assumptions with the little crumbs we have. Baiheng and Jingliu also have a lot set up, but I really need more content of them because my god, we barely know anything bout their dynamic too. We mostly have the aftermath and Jingliu’s grief, but I want to know about their happiness so her prolonged mourning hits even harder by knowing exactly what she lost. Jing Yuan and Jingliu probably have the most show upfront dynamic mostly due to the animated short, but the knowledge of Jing Yuan’s dynamics with the rest of them are practically nonexistent outside of that one line about Yingxing and Jing Yuan bickering and sad looks he has that really don’t hit as hard in my opinion because we don’t have the context.

And personally out of all the dynamics I want more content more, I think I want Jing Yuan and Baiheng content the most. The lines he has when he visits the Express that are about her are my saving grace, I am the biggest advocate for these to have a very sweet familial kind of bond and messing around together causing all kinds of trouble. Bonus points if they get Yingxing along for the ride with them. But we have crumbs only 😭 we only have itty bitty crumbs and I am starving

I have a lot of my own views about what I hc their dynamics as due to what we know, but god I want to see what their dynamics in canon are supposed to be. I ranted so much about how I see Dan Feng and Yingxing’s potential dynamic, but even with that, I wanna know. I wanna know about Jingliu and Yingxing, to add even more pain to how their dynamic is now (which hehehe… I have some ideas for this specific topic, but I want canon stuff too not just my own hcs). I wanna see just exactly what Jingliu lost when Baiheng died, what in Baiheng and the way she treated her made her so devastated as to promise to cut down the stars from the sky (which? Is that? Potentially a code for something else like the current plan she has regarding a certain aeon?), like Jingliu was so clearly devastated and tormented by Baiheng’s death, still is 700 years later and we don’t know what about her made it so painful. Yes Baiheng was clearly kind as she’s been established, but just how was she kind to Jingliu? I have my own assumptions and conclusions given what we know about both, but even then it’s still something pretty completely fabricated in my head because we don’t have enough!! GIVE ME THE LIUBAI CONTENT HOYOVERSE I have you’re keeping it somewhere, tell me where

Ugh, too many HCQ thoughts in my head. I need to keep writing and finally finish that first chapter so I can reveal my insanity about them esp the Zhuming family to world. I love them

#i need to find like #a good large ita bag that isnt too expensive #because I’ve already got so many pins and keychains of blade saved #i just dont have a place to put it #buying merch of him brings me much joy #i love him sm #And ugh #the liubai brainrot is real #i am tempted to make a whole post for them like i did df and yx #but also thats even less steeped in bits of canon charactization so #i just want hcq content again :(#i miss them #i know ppl raved about the luofu being so boring and waiting to get out of it #but even with its flaws i loved the luofu so much #for many reasons one being my love of exploration regarding immortality and how it affects aspects of their society and their lives and #their relationships especially the side quests focused on like relationships between xianzhou natives and different people like #them and someone from the Vidyadhara like with that guy jealous of his past selves or a short life species like Banxia’s situation #i love it #hmmm #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr blade #yingxing #dan heng #dan feng #baiheng #jingliu #jing yuan #high cloud quintet

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psalm22-6 · 2 years ago

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Reading the screenplay for Les Misérables (1917) by Frank Lloyd and Marc Robbins

So the 1917 American film production of Les Miserables (starring William Farnum, directed by Frank Lloyd, and produced by William Fox) is not lost per se but it isn't readily available to watch either. According to @melancholyarchivist's research, a version is preserved by the Filmoteka Narodowa and can be viewed on-site (Is there anyone in Poland who's interested in visiting?) and we may some day get a restored version. In the meantime, I found that (most of) the screenplay is available through the Library of Congress, where it was submitted as part of the studio's copyright claim. I will tell you straight away that it itsn't complete. It ends right at the story's climax, which was incredibly frustrating to me but there's still lots of cool info. Here were some high/low lights for me: The film begins with a forward displayed through intertitle cards:

1. In the realm of prose Victor Hugo’s immortal classic shows that if sin dims the Divine Image, conscience disturbs the soul with sore discontent. 2. We see how God uses conscience to waken a dead soul and “plague the sinful man with dark despair,” until the conscience, that first made a coward of a bad man, at last makes a hero, of a good man. 3. In “Les Miserables,” Victor Hugo portrays the worst man as having a Diving Spark that no injustice can extinguish, which God guards and feeds, making it incorruptible in this life, and immortal in the next—SLOW FADE

That is not a great start but okay. Then we see Napoleonic soldiers walking triumphantly through the streets (the year is 1796.) Contrast this with scenes in Jean Valjean’s household, where children are fighting over a scrap of bread. Valjean sees the baker's window full of cakes and bread. He breaks the window and reaches over the cakes in order to take the bread. He is of course immediately caught, and the baker rejoices smugly. For context to this next part, an iris shot was a common technique in silent films where the camera’s “eye” opens and closes to direct the viewer's attention. (Also I have added punctuation to a lot of these quotes to make them more readable.)

SLOW IRIS in on loaf of bread on Judge’s bench. Open full on Judge, looking off and talking sternly, pointing to loaf of bread

This makes it sound like the bread is on trial. The bread on display in the courtroom is present in the 1935 American film production as well and like in the '35 production, 1917 has Jean Valjean dragged out of the courtroom while dramatically reaching for his sister. In Toulon, we see Javert as a prison guard. Although Valjean is repeatedly referred to as a "galley slave," he is not shown working on a ship (as he will be in the '35 film). He demonstrates his strength by saving a prisoner in a quarry. There is a lengthy scene of Jean Valjean attempting to escape prison (which was eventually cut down according to what I've read. Notice how the title page says "a film in 10 reels." It was later cut to 8.) Jean Valjean strangles a guard to death. Bloodhounds chase him across a marsh. When Valjean is released from prison, instead of being chased by the dog out of the dog house, there is a scene where Jean Valjean asks a man for food. The man refuses but Jean Valjean then sees him give his dog steak. He exclaims “I am denied food–when even dogs are fed.” A nun directs Valjean to the Bishop's. After the classic Bishop's Candlesticks sequence, we do see Valjean steal from Petit Gervais. Cut to the bishop praying in front of his empty cupboard. Then cut back to Jean Valjean, who sees the coin. Cut to the bishop. Back to Jean Valjean. Jean Valjean has a vision of himself: beside him fades in images of him as a prisoner, which are slowly replaced by a vision of the Bishop surrounded by light and looking at him sadly. The police are looking for Valjean but they don’t see him because he is on the ground sobbing. Then he goes to the Bishop’s house and prays outside it. There is a very sad scene of Fantine leaving Cosette with the Thenardiers but this scene was later cut. After Fantine is fired, an “old hag” tells her “Why should you starve when you are still young enough to attract men?” (This intertitle was cut by the Chicago board of censors.) In horror, Fantine holds up her hair and has a vision of Cosette as a baby, which dissolves into the hair. We see Fantine go to the hairdresser to sell her hair. Immediately after this she encounters the Bamatabois character and remembers what the old woman told her (that intertitle was also cut by the Chicago board of censors). She smiles at him, and touches his arm, and he pushes her into the gutter, telling her it is where she belongs. When Javert arrests her, the money she got for selling her hair is left behind in the gutter. Meanwhile, we see Valjean coming into the homes of poor families to give them money. He arrives in time to see Fantine's arrest and orders that she be freed, leading to this direction:

Very dramatic. I'll try to limit my use of screenshots though, since the typeface is a bit hard to read but one thing that's very charming and at times hilarious are the typos. See for example this scene where Javert tells Mayor Madeleine that he has denounced him:

Interior Madelein's room-- He writing at desk. Door opens. Housekkeper announces Javert. Javert enters. Stands looking at Madeleine. Housekeeper exits. Madeline turns around, asks Javery his business.

Even ignoring "Javery," they just spelled Madeleine three different ways.

Closeup Javert-- Her looking at Madeleine with resigned expression says: "I WISH TO TENDER MY RESIGNATION." Closeup Madeleine-- He looking at Javery in tense manner, suddenly controls himself, quietly says "Well."

As Jean Valjean decides what to do about Champmathieu's arrest, he sees visions of prison and of the bishop. When he arrives at the court in Arras, he is transfixed by the doorknob, which transforms into the face of prisoner 24601 (I thought that part sounded pretty cool). In the courtroom, no one believes that Madeleine is Jean Valjean. He addresses the prisoners and reveals that he knows Valjean's prison number. Then he lifts up his sleeve.

Closeup Madeleine left arm and shoulder. Letters T.F.P. and numbers 24601 is seen branded there

Of course, the musical would later do this but what other early adaptations show Jean Valjean with a brand? Fantine dies, Simplice lies to help Valjean escape (a fair amount of emphasis on Simplice actually.) We see Madame Thenardier send Cosette out to get water. In the woods, witches and ghouls haunt Cosette. Valjean buys her Catherine, shows the Thenardiers the letter from Fantine and gives them money in exchange for Cosette. Cut to 1832 (funny, this is basically just like how the musical abridgesthings). We get a birds eye view of Paris and the

Closeup Courfeynac-- He surrounded by men, who are eagerly questioning him. Marins enters. They greet one another in friendly manner. Courfeynac tells Marius he wants to speak with him. They exit from friends. Long Distance-- Men gathered in knots whispering as Courfeynac and Marins go to table, sit and start to talk. [...] Interior room at coffee house-- Marins on stall, addressing men in earnest manner. He finishes speech, is congratulated by Courfeynac and others. IRIS OUT.

Yes, Courfeyrac is called "Courfeynac" for half the script, until they switch to "Courferac" which isn't as bad. Marius is always "Marins," except once when he is called Marius and I swear that "Marius" is the typo. We also get a short scene of Gillenormand, who receives a letter from Marins saying that he won't accept his money. Meanwhile...

Long Distance Garden-- Cossette out of sight. Valjean enters, sees her gone. Registers surprise. Cossette creeps out behind him, startles him. He turns, sees her. They exit together.

It's not super egregious but Cosette is always called "Cossette." Marins leaves Courfeynac. Cossette and Valjean go to the park.

Long Distance-- Valjean and Cossette seated on bench Closeup Marins-- He looking off, registers fascination. Closeup Cossette-- She reading book, slowly raises eyes. Sees. Closeup Marins-- He looking toward her, fascinated.

He looks at her like she's a bug.

Long Distance-- Marins walks past Cossette and Valjean. He exits past camera. Closeup Cossette-- She peeping over top of book after book after Marins. Very interested. Pathway-- Marins going from camera, turns and suddenly walks back.

Freak behavior.

Long distance-- Valjean speaks to Cossette, who is shyly looking toward Marins. They both rise and exit past camera. Marins comes to bench, picks up Cossettes handkerchief, gazes after them, registers facination.

I don't think that there is any payoff to the handkerchief, it seems to really be Cossette's. Cut to the Thenardier's. There is no Azelma, Azelma is replaced by Gavroche (sometimes spelled Gavroch, Gavranche, Bavranche or Gavrouche.) Eponine comes to Marin's room and he gives her money. Then that very afternoon, Valjean comes to give the Thenardiers alms. Gavroche actively participates in his parent's schemes (he breaks the window with a rock, not his hand.) Thenardier recognizes Valjean and decides to rob him.

Outlet of Sewer-- Low barred arch gate in background, river seen beyond. Thenardier come to outside of gate, opens it with key, enters, close gate behind him as he comes to foreground toward camera. 4 men creep past camera and join him. He starts to whisper to them.

I love that Thenardier is meeting Patron-Minette (unnamed though) in the sewer and that they introduce his key here. Meanwhile, Marins goes to the police:

Police Headquarters-- Javert with back to camera, listening to Marins, who is telling of plot. Javert suddenly swings around, full face to camera. THE SUBLINE IRONY OF FATE. JAVERT NOW ATTACHED TO THE PARIS POLICE TAKES CHARGE OF THE CASE.

I bet that that reveal was awesome! Javery gives Marins a gun. Then Valjean arrives at the Thenardier's house and is forced to write a letter luring Cossette there. But before he can be made to give the address, he escapes and burns his arm. Marins fires the pistol and Javert arrives. Valjean then knocks over the candlesticks and escapes in the dark. He goes home and Cossette tends to his wound. Eponine and Gavroche see their parents arrested.

Closeup Eponine and Gavranche-- Gavranche turns to Eponine and says: SISTER DEAR - I AM GOING FAR FROM HERE.

Meanwhile Marins is distraught because he can't find Cossette

Interior Meeting Room, A.B.C.'s-- Room crowded with men. Marins seated alone at table. Courfeynac addressing men. Marins does not pay much attention.

Eponine finds Cossette's house and leads Marins there.

Exterior Valjeans house-- Eponine enters followed by Marins. She turns, points to garden gate. He joyfully starts toward gate. She stops him. He turns to her. She wistfully says: DO YOU LOVE HER? Back-- She finishes line. Marins nods yes, then eagerly exits to gate. Eponine looks after him and sighs. Garden at bench-- Cossette gazing out dreamily. Marins enters quietly behind her, stands looking at her with great love. She suddenly feels his presence, sees him, rises, stands staring at him. They look at one another. Marins registers great love, starts to speak to her. She turns away from him, registers great confusion and emotion. Close up Eponine-- She leaning against iron fence, registers dumb suffering.

Unlike in the book, where iirc Marius and Cosette embrace straight away and then never again until they are married, Marins and Cossette do not embrace as first but after many meetings, they embrace A LOT. One night Valjean looks out his window and he just sees them making out. Then Marins leaves. Cosette goes inside.

Interior living room (night)-- Cossette discovered arranging flowers in old fashion vase and lighting candles in happy manner. Valjean enters to her, stands looking at her in silent anguish. She turns, sees him, goes to him lovingly, asks him what's the matter. He quietly says: FOR REASONS WHICH I CANNOT EXPLAIN WE MUST LEAVE THIS HOUSE TONIGHT FOR ANOTHER I HAVE CHOSEN.

So yeah the reason they leave is because of Marins. Meanwhile, Javert gets a message:

Interior Police Headquarters-- Javert discovered writing. Gendarmine enters, hands him letter. He opens it, read INSPECTOR JAVERT A MALE PRISONER NAMED THENARDIER ESCAPED TONIGHT FROM THE LA FORCE PRISON. ACT ACCORDINGLY. LEBLANCC

This letter makes me laugh. MEANWHILE, Cossette is distraught at leaving. She sees Eponine (Marins had previously pointed out his friend Eponine) and gives her a letter for Marins.

Insert note-- DEAREST MARINS FOR SOME UNEXPLAINED REASON MY FATHER HAS SECRETLY TAKEN ME TO NO 7 DE L'HOMME WHICH IS TO BE OUT FUTURE HOME. COSSETTE

That also makes me laugh. Then a riot breaks out for no reason except that it is 5 June 1832.

Street near coffee house-- People seen hurriedly entering homes, all in state of alarm. Courfeynac at head of 35 men marching toward camera, old man and Gavranche at side of him. They all singing revolutionary songs.

Eponine is there in men's clothes and she gets the idea to give Marins (who has discovered that Cossette's house is empty) an anonymous note telling him to go to the barricade.

Long shot-- Shooting barricade in foreground, fight in progress. Red flag which is attached to pole at top of barricade suddenly falls, shot away. Old man grabs it, starts to climb to top of barricade. Close up top of barricade-- Old man starts to put flag back into place. Close up soldiers at end of street-- Officer gives command, they fire volley. Close up old man-- He trying to fix flag, suddenly his body sags, clutching flag, he falls. Long distance-- Old man falls from top of barricade to ground. Courferac goes to him. Close up Courferac andold man-- Courferac raises the dead body, registers strong emotion Close Up Marins-- He gazing off, exits toward Courferac Behind barricade-- Marins with Courferac laying dead man on matress, Marins has dead man's coat in hand, suddenly rises, calls off, raises hand, says: "LET THIS DEAD HERO'S COAT BE OUR FLAG."

They continue to fight the National Guard. Marins strikes a soldier senseless. Eponine gets shot, gives Marins the letter, and asks for a kiss. Marins kisses her. She dies. Then he writes a note to Cossette. Gavroche delivers the note to Valjean. Valjean is about to rip it up when he has a vision of the Bishop.

Sub title-- KNOWING THAT COSSETTE'S HAPPINESS DEPENDS ON MARIN'S SAFETY, VALJEAN GOES TO THE BARRICADE TO WATCH OVER HIM.

The next morning, the insurgents are still fighting:

Iris in on old man's coat-- Top of pole at barricade. Open full, showing long distance shot of street, men in barricade being served with coffee, fighting going on. Valjean in background, tending wounded.

Couferac tells them that they are going to run out of ammunition and Gavroche goes to get more. Valjean yells at him to come back. When Gavroche is shot and killed, Valjean retrieves the body and the ammunition.

Interior coffee house-- Courferac followed by Marins and Valjean leave body of Gavrouche. Courferac sees Javert and in terrible rage points to him and says: "YOUR FRIENDS MURDERED THAT BOY FOR WHICH CRIME YOU DIE."

I forgot to mention that Javert had been caught and tied up earlier. Marins is horrified but Courferac agrees. Valjean secretly lets Javert go. The barricade is attacked by cannons. Marins is shot. Valjean takes Marins and leaves. We see Courferac fighting terrifically. Shots of Valjean carrying Marins through the sewers are interspersed with shots of Courferac and others fighting. The insurgents retreat into the coffee house. The others die until only Courferac remains. He runs into another room, slamming the door behind him. The soldiers follow. The screenplay ends there! Don't you wish you could read the rest??! I feel certain that we were going to see Thenardier again, since he had escaped from prison, plus we saw him use that key. And I think we would have seen Gillenormand too. Also obviously Jean Valjean dies, but I read that his death scene got cut down in the final version.

#les miserables #lm 1917 #les mis #posts destined to be tagged long post

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evergreen-dryad · 1 year ago

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I don't know how to feel over all these strange fantasy names when it's supposed to be fantasy china (and Japan nearby). I would like annotations

it does directly copy and paste some stuff from China's history / Sun Tzu / strategist stuff

you can tell someone's important if they have a name from myth: eg Nezha, Jiang Ziya, Su Daji (femme fatale) There are some references to Journey to the West in some of the Cike/Bizarre Children but not direct borrowings- Baji (Zhu Bajie), Aratsha (Sha Wujing), Suni (Sun Wukong)

It's very readable (as YA tends to be). It's a more fast paced harry potter so far. I'm speeding through it a lot ngl.

Highlights: (wait there's no underline here still??)

- Rin beating Nezha (it's 2-1 so far but just Rin beating everyone up in the Tournament despite being excluded discriminatorily from class)

(And then them both working together like a well-oiled machine in the war!)

And oh, she turned out to be the last speerly! I think it works and also does introduce more tension over where to put her in terms of politics and all that, but I am also praying Altan doesn't die (I feel like he WILL) (and HE DID)

From what I remember of Babel (same author) -- well, there's the historical accuracy that doesn't deviate much, there's also the nostalgic romanticism of school (a safe and beautiful place with towers and pagodas, but also bittersweet with its bullies and racism) and having to work hard af (what a chinese thing tbh), wanting to excel There's the all-important teacher-student relationship and what knowledge does

Foreshadowing: where Runin was burning herself to study more for the Keju Exam, it ends up being foreshadowing for the god she'll call down -- the Phoenix. You watch her determined to go through anything to get stronger:

'How she didn’t need rest, only pain, pain to fuel the fire.' 'Who couldn't she kill?'

After she kills a creature wearing Altan's face. Well, spoiler: she does do genocide

Themes/Symbolism: knowledge, the danger of adhering to just one branch/extremity of thought (esp reflected in the elitism of Sinegard and the north and south; in the way the other Sinegard students treat Runin; in the way Kitay is convinced of his rationalism over Runin questioning if shamanism exists; even in the military where military arts and shamanism are separated and hidden (for the latter); and how Nikara separated itself from Speer (the analogue for smth like Ainu people in Japan.))

Of what is the purpose of knowledge, if it cannot be 'utilised' for in present context, war?

Is 'an eye for an eye' right? What would you do to win or to get revenge? That there are difficult choices to make in such horrors like war -- do horrifying things done to you and your people justify genocide? What if your god that was your only hope was also cruel to you? Between gods and humans, who is really using who?

Also subtly feminist. I mean, it really delivers on the promise of female rage, and there are a couple important female figures

Characters: of course Runin is easy to like and easy to root for! She's way more determined than me bcs she's that unhinged/unhealthy 'do-or-die' when it comes to academics and martial arts!

Everyone else for students is a bit, hm, unelaborated on so far which is fair

Rin has 2 foils: 1) Kitay, and 2) Nezha. And prob also Altan -- how he seems so perfect and later on how they seem alike -- but are ultimately different

Tearza in the past who refused to sacrifice the world for her people, so the god killed her in retribution. But Rin did do so in vengeance and is thus still alive.

Nezha funnily keeps getting 'off-screen death scenes' which means he's definitely not dead

Character relationships: interesting to see how Altan is a 'better' teacher to Rin as they understand each other better in needs to war, but also gets abusive towards her with the pressure and needing her to summon their god, as he is a soldier first.

Jiang was the 'wiser' teacher as a peaceful scholar but wasn't there, sealing himself away in stone

Descriptions: lightly sketched so you don't get drowned in it

Tone: easy, simple, direct, not very literary/purple prose, often short sentences

Use of language: Past tense. Purely in Rin's POV, with one exception in Tyr's/and then omniscient narrator (to show the betrayal of the empress). Lots of dialogue/some worldbuilding descriptions. (R F Kuang seems to begin/end/spin with dialogue a lot which makes it snappy?)

Figurative techniques sparse. Shows the extreme cruelty of the world (even before the war). Also does not hesitate to say fuck.

What works for it?

-want to see what happens to rin as it's very action-heavy and you're rooting for the underdog (fast-paced, inexorable marching to war)

#the poppy war #books-ed-read-2024 #r f kuang #books

8 notes · View notes

sangijazz · 2 years ago

Text

Love MegaBytes - a LoveBug AU Stanley x shadow!Narrator fanfic

Chapter 5

----

Notes:

- Content Warnings:

- Viral Corruption;

- Gaslighting and Emotional Manipulation (by both parties);

- Obsessive Behavior;

- Unhealthy Possessive Behavior;

I don’t think that the contents of this chapter are heavy and/or explicit enough to warrant the skip-summary treatment, I hope I’m right, I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.

And I also apologize in advance if my depiction of sign language is wrong, feel free to correct me.

—

General Notes:

They /them pronouns for the Timekeeper;

They/them pronouns for the Bucket;

I made a little playlist for you, my dears, with songs that I listen to when writing Love MegaBytes (and in general really)

Here

I like stalker songs, there are some odd ones there but they are my Stannarrator songs. I accept recommendations for new songs for the playlist!

Some typos in the dialog are intentional.

I hope the zalgo is readable ;p but if it isn’t there is a transcript at the end of the chapter.

Enjoy~

----

In recollection, resetting might have been a bad idea, but everyone knew it was the only chance. Pink, pulsating, vein-like ruptures assaulted his opening eyes, it was on, in, everything, and everywhere . The ominous throbbing rose light coming out of them was the only thing illuminating the place. Stanley could see from his trapped position, chunks of the wall were missing, much like that little hole that began this all, the headache-inducing green binary he remembered, now laid bare and broken now too with that pink color, they were also bare, his drawings, all gone, stolen? Eaten? Were more things missing?!

Desperately, he darted his gaze to his hand, checking for that same corruption in himself. There was nothing, his model looked untouched.

“O̴k̵a̸y̴,̷ ̵S̸t̴_n̴l̷e̷y̷ ̵d̶e̵a̵r̸.̴ ̶L̷e̷t̴’̶s̵ ̸s̶t̷a̷_t̶ ̸t̴h̷i̷s̶ ̶a̶g̴_i̸n̸”

The voice that rang through the parable was as familiar as ever, but together with it the maddening glitches worsened, now the words were coming out even more broken, repeating, pieces missing.

Now, again in this paralyzed state, his plan seemed flimsy and not that good, too much like last time, he felt the dread and uncertainty quickly creeping through his coded nerves.

“T̷r̵y̷ ̴t̴o̶ ̶f̸o̶l̴_w̸ ̷t̴h̷e̶ ̴s̸c̴r̴i̷p̴t̷ ̸t̸h̷i̶s̵ ̵t̸i̴m̸e̸,̶ ̷a̴l̶r̶i̵g̶h̵t̸,̵ ̵d̷_r̵l̵i̴n̸g̵?̴~̶”

The pulse of the light created stark shadows that looked oh-so alive, and all-consuming. The contrasting forces battled for dominance and also worked together to swallow all.

The Narrator cleared its nonexistent throat, the cue to begin.

“T̵h̵i̶s̴ ̴i̵s̴ ̴a̸ ̷s̴t̴o̶r̷y̸ ̸o̸f̵ ̸a̸n̸ ̸a̷m̴_z̶i̴n̶g̷ ̷m̶a̶n̶ ̴n̵a̴m̷_d̴ ̶S̷t̴a̷_l̶e̶y̵~̸”

Taking the situation into consideration, it would be better to play smart (how he didn’t think of this before is more evidence he wasn’t the smart one), starting to run now would probably be a bad strategy, waiting for a better opportunity closer to the Curator then give chase. Stanley almost felt proud of this one, he prayed it would work.

Surprisingly, the screen of his computer blinked to life, the disparity of its black-gray background and white font against the pink roots covering its surface.

"Hello?!1!

Is anybody there?!?!1?

What the hell is going on?!!?1?"

[??] [??]

Is that…

IS THAT THE TIMEKEEPER?!

Oh, thank the gods, Stanley wasn’t alone! There was another being just as confused and terrified as him. If only he could move he would answer them, send a life signal and assure them they weren’t alone. This made Stanley’s core sprout a wee bit of hope. Were the Narrator and the Parable the only affected? This could be proven to be beneficial, if everyone else was still sound of mind. The dark being was still talking, but its words weren’t registering correctly, they were almost too mangled to understand.

“ –d̵i̸d̷ ̵e̵v̵_r̸y̶ ̵d̶a̸y̸ ̴o̴f̷ ̸e̸v̴e̷r̷y̸ ̴m̵o̸n̷_h̵–”

The second he was allowed to move, he would find a way to click a button as an answer, for the Timekeeper’s sake.

Stanley took a deep breath, ‘siking himself up to put up to the task of pretending he wasn’t scared shitless. His body shook with fear, as the Narrator got near the end of the introduction. Keep it steady, Stanley. He had a task to do.

“S̷o̷ ̶w̷i̴t̸h̶ ̶a̵ ̶s̴_i̴l̸e̶,̸ ̷h̵e̷ ̵g̶o̶t̸ ̸u̷p̵ ̸f̵r̵o̵m̵ ̷h̵i̶s̸ ̸d̶e̴_k̵ ̸a̶n̸d̴ ̷s̶t̵e̴p̸p̶e̶d̶ ̶o̷u̸t̶ ̴o̵f̶ ̶h̵i̵s̵ ̸o̸f̵f̷_c̴e̵.̴”

As soon the engine read and loaded the line that gave him movement, he let his hands fall, purposely letting them hit the keyboard’s key and he hoped it was enough of n answer for them.

Thankfully it was since the effect was instantaneous as more words in white font appeared like they were frantically typed, not caring for spelling.

"Stamley?!?!? Are you okay??! Do you now what th e fuck is going on!?!"

This was unfortunately, that was all he could do – without drawing too much attention or letting the Narrator get impatient – no matter how much he wanted to. Now, he had to play along, he would ask for forgiveness later.

Before the watcher entity could voice its impatience with threats, the avatar stood up, did his best to crack a smile like it wanted, and made what the narration asked for.

All he could see was in the same state as the 427 office and here made Stanley realize how he missed the low humming of the fluorescent light that was much better than the eldritch and indescribable sound of code falling apart hammering bass inside his head, assaulting his ears.

All the Office’s usual colors were muted, gray-scaled except for that bright pink, that the vessel swore that he would hate for his whole life, and now he feared his retinas were permanently stained with that shade. His smile threatened to falter.

“O̵h̶!̸ ̵S̶o̶_e̴o̵n̸e̸ ̸i̷s̶ ̵e̶a̴g̶e̶r̶!̷~̶” beamed the Narrator, thankfully not noticing the minor stumble. “N̶o̴w̵,̸ ̷g̵o̷ ̸o̶n̷,̶ ̶l̷o̴v̴e̷,̴ ̷t̸o̵ ̷o̸u̸r̸ ̸f̷a̵v̸o̵r̷i̸t̵e̸ ̸d̸o̴o̷r̷s̷!̴ ̵A̵n̴d̸,̴” the voice dropped to a lower tone “D̷o̷n̴’̷t̵ ̴f̸o̴_g̸e̵t̴ ̴t̸o̸ ̵ f̶o̷l̷l̶o̶w̸ ̷m̶y̸ ̵e̵_e̵r̶y̷ ̵w̸o̷r̴d̷,̶ ̴w̴e̴ ̸b_t̴h̸ ̸w̵a̴n̷t̷ ̶f̴o̵r̶ ̴y̸o̴u̵ ̶t̴o̶ ̵g̶e̵t̵ ̵t̴o̶ ̵t̵h̶e̸ ̷s̸u̷r̵_r̴i̶s̷e̷,̵ ̷r̶i̸g̷h̵t̸,̶ ̵S̵t̸a̷n̶l̷e̶y̶ ̷d̶e̸a̵r̸?̷~̴”

Nodding with fake excitement, Stanley began to carefully take steps forward since the floor also was being eaten, with holes leading to the eternal void where the parable was situated. The computers’ screens shone with errors and random ciphers. Everything was breaking.

In the next room of cubicles, on their usual spot, shone the Bucket in the darkness, untouched by the infection, a beacon of hope. The sight made the man hurry to embrace his old friend, the metallic creature eagerly embracing him too, and reassuring him they were fine. The action generated no comment from the Narrator, thankfully, it had gone unnoticed or seen as unimportant, maybe it was still in the mind set they were still a nonsentient object.

The Bucket asked if he had a plan and he hugged them tighter against his chest and nodded slightly, it was half-baked however it was all he had. They comforted him, assuring him it would work.

“S̵t̷_n̷l̷e̵y̵ ̶n̸e̷v̸e̸r̵ ̷h̴a̵d̷ ̴c̷o̴w̴o̷r̷k̸_r̴s̴ ̶t̴o̸ ̸b̴e̴g̵i̵n̷ ̸w̶i̵t̵h̴,̴ ̷t̶h̷e̴ ̶O̵f̵f̵i̵c̵e̶ ̸w̶_s̸ ̵o̶n̷l̸y̶ ̶f̶o̴r̵ ̴h̵i̸m̵ ̸a̸n̸d̴ ̷t̴h̷e̵ ̵N̵a̷r̸r̷a̸t̴_r̸.̸ ̴N̸o̶ ̴o̶n̵e̶ ̸t̴o̴ ̶t̷a̸k̶e̵ ̸f̸r̴_m̴ ̵e̷a̵c̷h̷ ̷o̷t̴h̴e̷r̴.̶"

The collision was still active, the Bucket told him as they saw Stanley hesitate next to a big hole in the hallway, he wouldn’t fall.

“H̸_v̸e̵ ̴I̶ ̴e̶v̴e̸r̵ ̸t̶o̴l̵d̸ ̷y̶o̵u̵ ̴h̶o̵w̵ ̷m̴_c̵h̷ ̵I̸ ̷l̴o̶v̷e̵ ̵y̶o̵u̸?̴ ̴Y̷o̶u̷ ̵a̴r̷e̶ ̶s̸o̵ ̶p̵r̸_c̸i̶o̴u̷s̵ ̷t̷o̴ ̵m̵e̴,̶ ̴m̶y̶ ̸l̴i̴t̴t̵l̷e̷ ̴c̶r̷e̸a̴t̸i̴o̴n̵…̵” it seemed to be monologuing not really looking for an answer “W̷i̸t̶h̵o̷u̴t̸ ̸y̷o̵u̸,̶ ̷h̶o̶w̵ ̸c̸o̸u̴l̸d̷ ̵I̶ ̴e̴x̴i̷s̶t̶?̶ ̸W̸i̶t̶h̶o̸_t̷ ̶m̵e̶,̵ ̵w̶h̵o̸ ̶w̴o̷u̴l̴d̷ ̴y̶_u̸ ̵b̸e̷,̵ ̸u̶h̸,̶ ̷m̵y̸ ̸d̴a̶r̷l̸i̶_g̵?̵” it growled, sounding so possessive “M̵i̸n̸e̶,̸ ̴m̶_n̶e̶,̶ ̷m̷i̴_e̸~̴” it spat as the avatar turned the corner like an only-child throwing a fit because they hated to share their toys, but stopped as they got to the next relevant stop on their journey.

Like always, Stanley found himself in front of the two doors. Now, he just needed to go through the left door–

“W̸h̷e̶n̴,̸ ̵m̷y̶ ̶d̵a̴r̴l̴i̷n̷g̴ ̵S̴t̴a̵n̷l̶e̸y̵,̵ ̸c̵a̸m̴e̴ ̶t̸o̸ ̶a̶ ̸s̵e̷t̴ ̶o̸f̷ ̵t̵w̸o̷ ̴o̵p̵e̸n̴ ̴d̵o̸o̴r̶s̴,̶ ̶h̷e̷ ̵e̵n̸t̴e̸r̸e̷d̵ ̴t̷h̸e̶ ̸d̷o̵o̵r̷ ̶o̵n̶ ̷h̵i̶s̸ ̶r̴i̷g̷h̵t̷ .̷” even with the distortion, the entity had an audible smug smirk.

The vessel’s eyes widen with horror and surprise. That was not good. Not at all. Shit. Stanley didn’t want to begin running right now. Shit. Breathe and think. Think!

The Narrator laughed with self-satisfaction, it was expecting that surprised reaction from him.

“O̸h̸,̷ ̴I̴ ̶k̴n̶_w̷,̶ ̵d̵e̴a̵r̴!̸~̶ ̸I̶s̶n̶’̸t̵ ̶t̷h̴i̴s̴ ̸e̷x̷c̶i̷t̵_n̸g̶?̸!̸~̵” it beamed with delight “N̸_w̸,̷ ̷I̴ ̷k̵n̷o̵w̵ ̵t̵h̶a̶t̴ ̶y̶o̸u̷ ̶l̷o̴v̴e̸ ̵t̵o̵ ̷g̴o̷ ̴a̴g̶_i̶n̸s̸t̵ ̶m̴y̷ ̶n̷a̸r̶r̷_t̸i̶o̷n̵,̸ ̶a̴n̷d̵ ̷a̷s̷ ̷m̵u̶c̷h̵ ̶a̶s̵ ̸I̶ ̸l̵o̷v̸e̴ ̵i̸t̸ ̸w̵h̵_n̶ ̵y̶o̴u̷ ̴a̶r̵e̷ ̸a̶ ̶b̵r̷a̸t̵,̷ ̴I̷ ̸w̸o̶u̷l̵d̵ ̵a̶d̵v̷i̸s̷e̵ ̷y̶o̵u̵ ̸t̴o̴ ̷g̴o̴ ̴t̸h̷r_o̵u̵g̶h̸ ̶t̴h̵e̸ ̶r̵i̶g̸h̵t̵ ̵d̴o̷o̶r̴~̴ ”

A terrified mind raced to find a way out as he slowly stepped forward. He needed to get to the Museum. Shit. Think, think, THI– Ah ha!

It was awkward to sign with the Bucket but he did it anyway. What if I want to do the Freedom Ending, Narrator? He signed making sure and clear he used its name-sign, the sign for N together with the sign of Story. The entity had never seen it before, he was sure. It was worth a try.

The being made an inquisitive glitched noise “W̵_a̷t̸ ̷w̷a̷s̶ ̸t̵h̷a̸t̴ ̵l̵a̸s̶t̵ ̵s̸i̵g̸n̵,̴ ̴d̵e̴a̴r̸?̴ ̶I̵ ̴h̵a̶_e̴n̵’̷t̶ ̶s̷e̵e̵n̴ ̴i̶t̶ ̷b̷e̷_o̴r̸e̷…̸” good, he got its attention “C̴o̸_l̷d̸ ̷y̷o̴u̶ ̸d̴o̴ ̵i̵t̴ ̴a̴g̷a̴_n̵?̵” so he did “N̸…̵?̴S̷t̴o̸r̷y̵.̴.̶?̷–̵” it gasped, finally getting it “I̶s̸–̶ ̷i̶s̵ ̶t̸h̴a̴t̵ ̵a̷ ̵n̴_m̵e̶-̸s̵i̴g̶n̵?̷!̶ ̸F̷o̵_ ̵m̴e̵?̴!̴ ̷M̷-̷m̴y̷ ̸n̸a̶m̶e̶-̷s̶i̴_n̶?̷” it asked unsure but extremely hopeful and squeaked when Stanely nodded and he couldn’t help but smile at little because, Gods, how cute was its reaction. If it only this was his Narrator.

“O̴h̸,̶ ̴S̷t̴a̸_l̷e̸y̸…̷” the was so much obvious emotion in its voice, the entity was feeling giddy, and he was sure if it had blood it would be blushing furiously, this made the man instantly him feel bad for using something so dear to him to manipulate the only one he loved. The Bucket tried to reassure him that it was necessary, they had to get away. The other will forgive him when it sees reason, they told him. The Narrator giggled dreamily to itself “O̸h̴,̴m̶y̶~̶ ̵H̸o̷w̸-̶h̷_w̵ ̷c̷o̸u̵l̸d̶ ̷I̸ ̵r̸e̶_u̸s̶e̸ ̵t̸h̵a̶t̸ ̷w̴_s̶h̴ ̸a̶f̷t̵e̷r̷ ̶t̸h̶a̶t̵?̵!̴” it exclaimed “I̷ ̵w̵o̴u̶_d̶ ̷b̶e̴ ̴v̶e̴r̸y̸ ̶h̴a̵_p̷y̵ ̷t̶o̸ ̸g̷o̸ ̵t̸h̴r̵_u̸g̵h̷ ̵t̸h̵e̶ ̶F̵r̴e̵_d̷o̵m̶ ̵E̸n̸d̴i̸n̸g̸ ̵w̵i̶t̴h̵ ̶y̴o̶u̸~̴”

Stanley smiled at the defective ceiling, at it. The cleaning-throat sound effect played.

“W̶_e̵n̸,̸ ̸m̶y̸ ̷d̷a̵r̵l̵i̶n̴g̴ ̵S̸t̷a̵_l̸e̵y̶,̴ ̷c̵a̴m̴e̸ ̶t̵o̸ ̸a̷ ̷s̷e̷t̵ ̷o̴f̶ ̶t̴w̸o̸ ̴o̵p̶e̷n̴ ̶d̴o̸o̴r̸s̴,̷ ̷h̴e̴ ̶e̶_t̴e̶r̸e̷d̵ ̴t̶h̴e̴ ̷d̸o̸o̶r̵ ̴o̶n̶ ̷h̷i̶s̶ ̷l̶_f̴t̴.̴”

Relief filled the duo as Stanley stepped through the left door.

----

Transcript:

“Okay, Stanley dear. Let’s start this again.”

"Try to follow the script this time, alright, darling?~"

“This is a story of an amazing man named Stanley~”

“ –did every day of every month–”

“So with a smile, he got up from his desk and stepped out of his office.”

“Oh! Someone is eager!~”

“Now, go on, love, to our favorie doors! And,”

”Don’t forget to follow my every word , we both want for you to get to the surprise, right, Stanley dear?~”

“Stanley never had coworkers to begin with, the Office was only for him and the Narrator. No one to take from each other.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love you? You are so precious to me, my little creation…”

“Without you, how could I exist? Without me, who would you be, uh, my darling?”

“Mine, mine, mine!”

“When, my darling Stanley, came to a set of two open doors, he entered the door on his right.”

“Oh, I know, dear!~ Isn’t this exciting?!~”

“Now, I know that you love to go against my narration, and as much as I love it when you are a brat, I would advise you to go through the right door~ ”

“What was that last sign, dear? I haven’t seen it before…”

“Could you do it again?”

“N…?Story..?–”

“Is– is that a name-sign?! For me?! M-my name-sign?”

“Oh, Stanley…”

“Oh,my~ How-how could I refuse that wish after that?!”

“I would be very happy to go through the Freedom Ending with you~”

“When, my darling Stanley, came to a set of two open doors, he entered the door on his left.“

----

Notes:

Hey there, my darlings! (◍>ᴗ<)ﾉｼ

I missed you all too

My life went to shit for some time (and not the shit that makes you inspired, unfortunately) so I had a massive creative block since then

But here I am again, back to you, my dearest. ( ᐢ˙꒳˙ᐢ )

You can thank the DDos attack on ao3 (and consequently it being down) for getting me to return to writing this fic, due to boredom and fear of spiraling from fanfiction abstinence.

A surprise Timekeeper appearance! And the Bucket too! So happy to see them here! More characters to torture~ o(*>ω<*)o

I'm almost finished with Chapter 6's draft as I write these notes, so I hope it will be posted in three weeks or so but as always, no promises.

I never expected this fic to be more than 3 chapters long but now here we are…

Thankfully, I already know how this is going to go and then end! I won't say much to not spoil it for you all (´⊙ω⊙`) but let's say…

It will be for all tastes and hopes~

Thank you for your comments and kudos, you know how much I appreciate them.

You are all my dears and I love y'all! (*´∀`)~

26 notes · View notes

nathscalet · 10 months ago

Text

Fifth Chapter - You Fucked up

I wrote this in a live comedy way, the part in bold, its him narrating to you.

Whinderson on (He´s a brazilian comedian) "Yall have no idea what I went through, guys... No, no, this story was epic. I lived through a cliché romance film and an apocalypse at the same time. I felt death whispering in my ear today you pass."

Follow with me, I was here having fun, until I decided to take a vacation on a paradisiacal island, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. Crystal clear water, good food, parties and joy everywhere, it was beautiful, even the sun was happy. So, as I was having my beer in a bar there, nothing was wrong until an emperor of the sea came in.

"What? Yes, yall heard me, and it was the red-haired one. 😳. My ass locked with such a force that hurted me, not even Wi-Fi could pass through. But they were acquaintances of the bar owner, and they came to see his daughter, they were super nice people. So I went back to drinking in peace while eating a meat skewer.

"It took about 30 minutes and marines entered the bar." - Tsk, cross your arms.

-And it wasn't just anyone, you know who was in the same bar as me, a mere mortal, a navy admiral, dude, and the vice admiral who wasn't just anyone either, WAS THE HERO OF THE NAVY. MY HEART STOPPED, I LOOKED FROM ONE SIDE AND LOOKED FROM THE OTHER, SEEING WHO ATTACKED FIRST, WHO KILLED WHO. You felt the tension cut you like a papercut. !

Then the redhead looked at the sailors in surprise.

-Oyaaa oyaaaa who do we have here, what does someone like you He does it in these parts, hey redhead.- The admiral spoke in such a readable way that I thought that goat was from Bahia -Admiral Borsalino, Vice Admiral Garp. What do you want?-The bartender asked in a voice so hoarse and powerful that I felt my body tremble just from the power of that voice. And the owner of the bar, Ragnar, you say that name and your tongue trembles with desire. -Now Ragnar-kun, I came here to see my beautiful y/n.-The one with the yellow term said happily -What a coincidence, we also came to see her.-The redhead said looking and drinking at the two

-UUUUUUHHHH!!! Boy, the greatest forces in the world were in that bar going to see the same woman. At the time I thought she was hitting them or winding them up. All I wanted was to get out of there alive, but I didn't want to miss something unprecedented like that. The gossiper's soul is not God's thing, there's a little devil on your shoulder whispering very softly, judging people and eating popcorn.

-She haven´t arrive yet as you can see, I'm serving the drinks alone.-Swallowing and sigh

-Macho, I'm not gay, but that man had a virility that I showed. Yes, God made that man inspired, the way he inhaled the cigarette was in a brutal and seductive way.

-Where is the mini dragon?- The vice admiral spoke for the first time in the bar

When I heard Dragon, I thought, that's it, soon he's going to take a damn thing out of his jacket.

-I don't know, I'm not responsible for her life. When she feels like it, she comes to the Bar. Feel free to wait for her or look for her.

Mann, who was that guy, what moral did he have when talking to the NAVY ADMIRALLl, that man was about 5 meters tall for me. And the vice admiral looked like a mountain, his arm was bigger than my head. I forgot to breathe, afraid of disrupting the discussion.

-Wait for her with a bunch of pirates?HaHahAHAHAha- The vice admiral began to laugh mockingly

- Is there a problem with us? - Shanks made a fool of himself

Mate don't provoke, for God's sake.-At that point my legs were like those of a goat with Parkinson's, i was silently praying none of them acted upon their brawl

-Yes, I do...But I think they have already returned my grudge against you.

Did they return it?-Hand on heart

-Did we return it?-Shanks also asked, surprised.

-WITH YOUR HUMILIATING DEFEAT FOR A CHILD WAHAHAHAH. -garp threw his head back because he was laughing so much

...The pirates wanted to laugh too, because it was really humiliating, with alcohol, with brute force you made him a bitch, and now he's your little bitch. But it was their captain who was laughing.

-Dahdahdahdah.-The captain's own laugh takes them out of concentration, and makes them laugh too.

-Indeed, captain, you lost to a little girl, hiejekekw.- The pirates started banging their hands on the table trying to stop laughing

The sailors and I were in shock about this development.

-She should be the captain now!BUAHAAJAAAJ!!Sō sō!!

-OI OI, who do you think you're going to become a pirate huh?-Garp san asked with a sneer and an irritated face

-Y/n chaan is quite popular by the looks of it, and still has contact with so many dangerous pirates.~ I ask what should we do?...Ne Ragnar san, what do you think?~

-That you should shut up and drink before the drink gets hot.-He said, placing the bottles firmly on the table.-If you want to fight, that's not my problem, but if you break something from the bar, I'll break your teeth, you kids. resolve anything at sea.

-Ma ma Ragnar, we weren't going to fight, we don't want fights, we read the warnings.

Warnings?Yes, yes. Welcome to Grace, neutral territory. Anyone looking for trouble will have serious problems ☠️. Fights in the bar are prohibited.

-There were several warnings like that around the island, and it was full of pirates and tourists, and I hadn't seen any fights or robberies. The pirates understood that this was a warning, a very serious one. For an island without government protection to maintain itself well independently of others, it was because it was not a simple island.

- So, how will it be? - Ragnar said looking at the group

-We're not going to cause any problems, right? -HAII! -Like a bunch of children they responded -... -Bleh I refuse to stay in a place with a bunch of disgusting pirates, I'm leaving.-Garp who didn't like shanks and pirates one bit removed him from the place and dragging the yellow one there -Are we disgusting? -Lucky Roo asked -But we always take a shower on Saturday. -Do we stink?-Yassop asked . I was wondering where this woman was and who she was. Why this being had already ended her life. Just kidding.

But you ask me, is the story over? No. I wasn't satisfied so I waited at the bar for this woman to appear. I needed it, we can't let something so hairy remain incomplete.

The sailors returned to the bar asking for this y/n, they searched the entire island and there was no sign of life.

-I thought did she give me the legs to want you when she saw the mess that was going to lead to? I found it suspicious

-So she's not on the island.- Ragna said

-...

-YOU COULD HAVE SAID THAT BEFORE!!

Just as we were about to enter into a world war inside the bar, another handsome guy, who worked at the brand, appears.

-Good afternoon, humans. Oh, am I disturbing something?

-Can´t you fucking s--

-Well, it doesn't matter.

-I'm looking for a woman named Y/N. Tell her that Lucifer Morningstar is here to see her.

-Lucifer? like the one from hell?

- Exactly. Now be a good boy and call her, will you?

- :0

- Who are you?

- Are you deaf? I am Lucifer Morningstar.

- And where do you know her from?

- What is this an interrogation? Because if so, I expected a more attractive officer.

- Hey-

- I would like to know who my assistant hangs out with

- Your assistant? Oh, so you must be the famous Ragnar. Y/n only talked about you and the new house. - Lucifer got up and entered Ragna san's personal space

- AND?

-Now I have to thank you for taking care of my y/n so well.

-Yours? Everyone thought the same thing

-You did a great job! Worthy of applause, let's give this man a round of applause. - Lucifer started to applaud, but only him was clapping.

- Amateurs. - He rolled his eyes - Well, I came to get my y/n.

-Search? Yours? She is not an object to be picked up! - Ragnar's tone became increasingly aggressive

-Well, why all this aggression, Ragna san?

- No, he's right. I'm annoyed that you talk about y/n like you own her. -Shanks

-For the first time I think I'm going to have to agree with you, redhead. - Kizaru had a deadly look on the man

- Hmm, I didn't know she had won so many hearts like that. - Lucifer got out of Ragnar's way and addressed Kizaru - Tell me what is that you truly desire?

- what? - looking deep into the eyes of that idiot, he couldn't look away, Borsalino felt something in his stomach turn and his heart swell.

- I ... I

- come on big guy, tell me, what do you want most in this world?

- I wish... y/n! I want your exclusive, unique and unlimited attention! -"I want her to possess me. I want to tie her to me, I want her to not think about anything other than me." - Kizaru managed to keep this to himself

- Oh, looks like we have a Romeo here. And you Vice Admiral, do you have something you want? - In the same way Garp was forced to expose his greatest desire

- I want... my grandchildren to become sailors

- Since we are all expressing our desires here, tell me what is your Morningstar?

- Mine is nothing big, I just came to see y/n. Can you no longer be reunited with your master?

- master?

At that time, the temperature in the bar dropped by 400 degrees. I was feeling the cold of the blade of death. I saw that goat come out of there all worked up about the bullet they were going to put in him.

- Yes, I took it upon myself to teach everything I know to her. - What things specifically?

Guys, I prepared my heart and my soul to know God at this time.

- Well, um ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) I taught her a lot of things. For example, the most pleasurable things in the mortal world. I took her to see new places, I taught her beautiful movements.

I felt like he was doing all that to provoke. He wanted to see fire in the playground.

- I don't believe. -Would you like to see the photos then?

Huuuuu, the guy takes an album out of my wallet, full of photos of the two of them. He had pictures of her in a bikini, dancing in poledance, as a nurse, an e-girl, of them kissing, drinking, jumping off a cliff. With each photo that passed, the table filled with people, looking like bees in honey. He really backed up what he said.

-WHY DO YOU HAVE PHOTOS OF MY DAUGHTER LIKE THIS?

-His daughter?? I BELIEVE I AM HER FATHER. I introduced her to the world.

-And you broke it.

It's become a fight about this woman's paternity now. The argument went downhill too quickly for me to understand it properly.

- What- - Don't give me excuses, when I met that brat for the first time, I felt like I was looking at a wild animal on the verge of death. - Well, she can be a little wild, it's part of her nature- Ragnar grabbed the collar of Lucifer's shirt and brought him close, pressing their foreheads together tightly and glaring at him with his deadliest gaze. - That look was someone who had already given up on life, on dreams, abandoned their humanity! I don't want to see that look on her face ever again! It wasn't something a child should have! If I see or hear that you did anything to it, I will make you fertilizer for the plants. - THAT'S EVEN IF YOU MAKE HER SHED A TEAR WE WILL END HER RACE!!! - Pirates joined the threats

- okay okay, daddy! Could you tell me where y/n is then? -She is not here. - I see, she never stays in one place for long. Well tell her I was here, when she feels like it, send her to visit LUX. That place isn't the same without her. You should go see her, she has moves that leave me mesmerized.

After all this drama, the sailors decided to leave, leaving the pirates behind and a Ragnar close to global destruction.

After all this bullshit I decided to go to this LUX. I went to this club, and I came across this aspiring demon playing the piano. And the tramp knew how to play, very well, besides being handsome, tall and rich, he knew how to play and sing. That nightclub was the gateway to evil, I only went there once, and the prices at that bar made me want to ask if there was a diamond in the glass. I questioned if I was in the right place, if this was a mistaken order.

”hey!” I called the black girl

”what?” She answered dry. I gulped feeling intimidated by her

”huh, just a question lady. This drink. What does it have?”

”alcohol. Whiskey.” “I see. This whiskey come with the musician there? Cause it’s not a normal price.”

she let out a sadistic laugh. “No. But if you ask him maybe he could join you.” I stopped talking. I never felt more exposed than at that moment

It ended up that I didn't know this Y/n, but I discovered that she is a very famous artist and is always doing crazy things. There is a saying “del valle is juice, deu mole (means lowered your guard), it's vrau (means fuck)”

#one piece #one piece x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #crack fic #live comedy #almost world war in a bar

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