#probably reaching too much with the clothing symbolism

[five-rivers]

The latest chapter of my pollfic, continued from here. Fixed to include the actual poll. >.<

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Danny squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw.  He bounced on the balls of his feet.  

Heck.  

He didn’t– He wanted– If he could keep someone else from being hunted down–

He turned.  Away from the wall.  The blush of light against the ceiling was gentle, distant, but slowly increasing.  It was a very clear marker of where the quiet ones were.  They would be easy to find.  

“Danny?  What are you doing?”

Something stupid.  Something really stupid.  There was no guarantee he could stand in for whoever the prophecy was actually about.  They might have some special ability or quality that Danny didn’t have.  And if the quiet ones were really just people who had gotten lost too many times in the library, there had to be some reason they didn’t just leave and instead ran around doing… this.  There had to be something keeping them here, keeping them from getting help.  

Yeah.  Danny was stupid.  

At least his parents would know what happened to him, if he got stuck.  They could mount a rescue operation or something.  Probably.  

He took one, last, longing glance over his shoulder at the wall.  It would be so much easier to just go.  But he just wasn’t that kind of person.  

He strode forward.  

“Danny?  Danny, what are you doing?  That’s the wrong direction.”

Yeah, Danny knew that.  

The light got closer much faster than it had receded.  Which made sense.  Danny was going towards it, it was going towards him.  But as he got closer, as he went closer, willingly, the light pulled on him more and more, until it felt like he was going painfully slowly.  

(It was a little scary, how firmly the urge to approach seized him now that he was no longer actively resisting.)

But he could go much faster than he was right now.  He could get closer to the light.  He needed to.  

In a flash of blinding light he transformed, and he was flying up, above the shelves, to the exclamations of his parents.  It was fine.  All of this was fine.  He was going to be fine.  This wasn’t just an excuse to get closer to the light, he was sure.  

A wind kicked up, skewing Danny’s path, and he was soon surrounded by glowing beings.  He flew towards the brightest, closest one.  They caught him rather gently, then tilted his head to one side and pulled out Danny’s earbud.  They crushed it in their hand.  

Danny was going to be in so much trouble when he got home.  

The quiet ones descended to the ground, Danny and his current captor at the center of their ring of light.  One of them, carrying a plaque with the quill symbol on it came forward.  It was so bright, so beautiful, that Danny reached for it at once.  

Although his wings did not make any cracking sounds, it felt as if they should.  He had underestimated how much of the quiet ones’ wings were bird-like rather than moth-like, but he knew better now, as long bones extended from his back.  His moth wings segmented, grew, took the place of primaries on four increasingly fluffy, feathery wings.  Feathers crept out along his back, partway up his neck, and his scalp itched as feathers grew there as well.  His antennae grew longer, softer, as well, their bases thickening and stiffening to compensate.  

The quiet ones moved around him, and he could feel it in his wings, every movement of the air tickling his feathers.  He twitched and jerked in the grasp of the ghost holding him, the painful nature of the transformation rekindling his desire to escape, but that same transformation had made him weak, disoriented.  His movements were uncoordinated, unfocused.  It was easy for them to press his hand to the next sign.  The gong.  

His wings grew again, in a sort of slow, steady pulse.  The fur and feathers on his body grew thicker, the fluff on his neck almost forming a ruff and falling luxuriously over his shoulders.  If his clothing wasn’t changing to fit as he transformed, he would be horribly uncomfortable.  

But those weren’t the only changes that came with the sign of the goge.  His upper and lower canines went long and sharp, forcing his other teeth to the side, and his ears– His ears stretched, up and out, growing into huge, ribbed, leaf-shaped structures.  They twitched and swiveled, searching for sound that wasn’t there.  

Weakly, Danny tried to push himself up, but the ghost still held him firmly.  A large hand briefly trailed down his back and spread one of his wings open.  Uncomfortable, he pulled it back to his body.  

It was hard to tell what was going on around him when his eyes were overwhelmed with light and everything else was silence.  But his feathers picked up when someone moved towards him, and he cringed away from the next plaque when the symbol, the lens, loomed large in his vision.  

He felt his eyes change, first.  He had enough experience with transformations like this to know that his pupils were changing shape, elongating, narrowing.  He felt his irises grow larger, too.  

Soft fur spread up his ears, their shape changing ever-so-slightly to accommodate.  His partial ruff spread, meeting at the front of his neck, and more fur and feathers spread down, almost to his elbows and knees, partially over his chest.  

Then, his tailbone lengthened, grew, the bones multiplying.  In a few minutes, he had grown a long, fluffy tail.  

He panted, exhausted.  So.  Apart from the lantern, all of the aids were based on animals.  The candles on moths, the quill on birds, the gong on bats, and the lens on cats.  Or, maybe the lantern aid was based on fireflies.  What did he know?

His pants turned to silent coughs, then gags, as something worked its way up his throat.  At last, a tiny mote of light flew out of his mouth and whizzed away.  Danny stared after it for a moment, wanting to chase it, but it was soon lost among the larger, closer lights.  

The ghost holding him stood, and Danny reflexively pulled away.  With a smile of amusement, the ghost put him down.  

Oh.  

Danny had definitely shrunk again.  And his wings were definitely too large in comparison to his body for him to comfortably stand on the floor.  The lower two especially trailed feathers, fluff, and moth-like wing segments, complete with trailing tails.  Shakily, he floated up.  Then, he floated back down, unable to stay afloat for long.  

The quiet ones picked him back up with their telekinesis, and then, as one, they all turned and took off, back the way they’d come.  There was some sort of signal there, something Danny could feel faintly in his antennae.  But it had to be a specialized sort of language.  Danny didn’t understand it, yet.  

The journey was smooth, steady, even as they all went down a steep, spiraling stair.  Down and down, into a maze of closely-spaced, densely-packed shelves.  Ropy paths of light hung in the air, burning in pale colors, weaving together to create strange images.  

And then, they came into a clear, circular space.  It was just vaguely familiar, and Danny wondered if this is where he had escaped from, before.  

In the center of the space was a small, dark depression.  No.  A hole, going down.  It was too small to pass an adult body, but a small one, like Danny’s…  But ghosts could change their shape, stretch and squish.  Danny had been known to occasionally pour himself through gaps smaller than his palm.  So, why hadn’t they?

They set him down next to the hole.  Danny looked down.  It was dark down there.  He didn’t want to go.  

He looked up at the ghosts again, still dazed.  Or was dazzled a better word?

It was probably the wings, Danny decided.  A quick test of his own showed that they resisted other shapeshifting.  If they wanted to stay a set distance apart, then it would be very hard for the ghost they belonged to to go down, unless they were already very small.  

Like Danny.  

The ghosts in front of him made ushering, pushing motions, encouraging him towards the hole.  He crawled to the edge of the hole.  The little he could see of the tunnel down was straight, smooth, and round.  

Well.  He had come back for this, hadn’t he?

He dithered over whether or not he should go down head first or feet first, but eventually decided that having his feathers bent backwards, as sensitive as they were, would be unbearable in the long term.  He would be able to stick to the walls or float well enough that going head first wouldn’t be an issue.  

He lowered his head and shoulders into the shaft.  He had to tuck his wings close to fit them in.  Maybe he didn’t even have to use any ghostly abilities.  The fit was snug enough that pushing on the walls alone should arrest downward motion.  No wonder the quiet ones couldn’t get down here.  

Inching downward, he got the rest of his body into the shaft, and then looked up between his knees towards the light.  The sight triggered such a longing in him that he almost squirmed back out.  But, no.  He was helping.  

He crawled down the tunnel, only slipping a few times, and then only by fractions of an inch.  Between his arms, legs, and four wings, he kept himself wedged tightly against the walls.  

Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the weird combination of light from his aura and faint darkness ahead.  Below.  However he should call it.  

Then, he saw the tunnel terminate in front of him, spreading out into a large open space.  He wriggled forward until his head hung in empty space, and let go, tumbling briefly before catching himself in flight and lowering himself the rest of the way down.  

He landed, strangely enough, on a small island in the middle of shadowy, deep blue lake.  There were little colored lights deep under the surface, like stars.  

He was alone.  

He let out a little sigh.  Okay.  Now, he had to figure out what the ‘words’ were, and bring them back to the people up above.  A book, maybe…?  A dictionary?  But where would he look?  Where could he start?

Danny should also probably try to reassure his parents.  The cameras were still working, and if their positions were reversed, Danny would be freaking out.

[rallentando1011]

hey so can I get a scenario with rottmnt Donnie where he keeps stealing his lovers purple stuff, he notices them not having purple stuff around anymore and one day they are like “yea so I don’t buy purple anymore. Too much stuff is disappearing. Hmmm I wonder where it keeps vanishing too? “ and they give him a knowing smirk?

Purple Habits Die Hard (rise Donnie x gn Reader)

(Hello! Thank you very much for the requests-I am really enjoying them and promise I’m working through them-

I am open to more requests, guidelines are HERE, and I’m not saying that I specifically would like writing some Donatello angst but yes I absolutely would-

Either way, I hope y’all enjoy!)

Word Count: 1082

You didn’t love him anymore. 

That was the only logical conclusion Donnie could reach.

Was he grasping at straws with that hypothesis? Likely. But the fact that there were even straws to grasp in the first place was enough to raise his suspicion.

Data point 1: You hadn’t worn purple in weeks. Not really a commitment, definitely not a symbol of possession, wearing his color was just a symbol that he was in your thoughts. The lack of that implied that he wasn’t plaguing your mind like you did his. At least, that’s what he picked up from it.

Data point 2: You barely invited him to hang out anymore. The last few times you two had seen each other had all been initiated by him, three to be exact, and all of those instances had occurred at the lair. Not your residence, not some fun locale, the lair.

Data point 3: …

Well, to be completely honest, he only had the two. However, how unscientific or illogical his hypothesis was mattered not. 

Something was awry.

And he was going to get to the bottom of it.

A text message drew Donnie out of his downward spiral line of reasoning.It was from you, alleging that you were almost to the lair.

Right. He had been so busy plotting and scheming that he nearly forgot the subject of such endeavors, and that he had invited you over for investigation and/or confrontation.

He needed to get ready.

He tugged off the lavender sweatshirt he’d taken from your place a couple of months ago, the chain of your stolen lilac bracelet jangling as he did so.

Oh yeah. He should probably take that off, too.

He didn’t want to seem like a kleptomaniac.

He barely had time to chuck the articles into the deep recesses of his lab and act like he was busy working on some project before you knocked and entered the room.

“Heya, D.” You plopped down on the desk chair adjacent to his seat and spun around once.

His answer was a disinterested hum.

You summed it up as him being busy and started scrolling on your phone before he spoke up.

“My, what an opulent blue shirt you have on.”

That was an odd comment, and were those hints of disdain in his voice? You continued on anyway. “Uhhh, thanks? It’s just a graphic tee, though..?”

“Oh, don’t undersell it. It’s rather nice.”

“...Okay then.”

You weren’t following. He grew frustrated.

“Yes, it is grand, but would it not look in another, similarly shaded cool color?” He prompted.

“A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

His eye twitched. You grinned.

You tilted your chair in his direction, tone lightly teasing. You two indulged in some lighthearted banter here and there, and that’s what you thought that was. “What, are you saying it’d look better in purple? Your color?”

“I’m not saying that I interpret the colors of your clothing symbolically, but yes, I do. You haven’t been wearing any of your purple articles recently, you barely invite me over anymore. You can just admit you don’t enjoy my company.” When his gaze fled to the ground, you realized that he was serious about this.

“Donatello…” you started, dipping your neck down so you could make eye contact. “That is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said. The reason I haven’t been wearing purple is because I don’t have any purple to wear. Something or someone keeps taking all of it. And, coincidentally, more goes missing every time you come over. That’s why I’ve been hanging out here instead.”

Donnie’s mouth was agape. The thought that he was the one causing his own problems hadn’t crossed his mind. Genuinely, thinking about it, it made a lot of sense. The worst enemy you can meet will always be yourself was really ringing true. But he couldn’t let his scientific validity and his dignity die in the same endeavor, so he took the next logical step. Lie.

The softshell swallowed before uncertainly droning, “I haven’t the slightest clue as to what you are implying.”

“I think you’re definitely smart enough to ascertain my implications. And you’re way past smart enough to know that I still love spending time with you even though I’m not wearing a specific color anymore.”

Donnie blinked. Oh. So, you two were cool, and he was actually just being melodramatic. He was still trying to figure out if that was worse than you being sick of him. It probably was. Probably… 

However, he couldn’t dwell on that long. Something you said piqued his interest. The thing about the color of your clothing not holding any symbolic weight.

Expression growing subtly smug with the quirk of an eyebrow, he called your bluff. “If you are taking into account my intelligence, then should you not also observe that I am smart enough to discern the correlation between the formation of our partnership and you coming into possession of more purple attire?”

You blinked before countering with a smirk. “How would you know that I bought more purple clothes if I haven’t been able to wear them?”

Oh, Schrödinger. The only way that he would know, and the reason he did know, was because he had taken them

Regrettably, he mumbled. “... I plead the fifth.”

“Oh no you don’t. Public interest takes precedence over your individual rights, sir. Get subpoenaed, sucker!” You perked up in your seat and pointed an accusatory index finger at the man. “Where are my things?”

He crossed his arms.“You have no definitive proof that it was me. Your argument is circumstantial, at best. Good luck defending that in a court of law.”

Your excitement deflated. “Fine, fine. I suppose I must continue on without wearing purple, our color, forever.”

You batted your eyelashes sadly. It was a cheap tactic, but you weren’t afraid to stoop if it meant you could get your regular Donnie- you meant, wardrobe back. Yeah, you missed your clothes, but you missed having him over more. Probably.

It only took a couple more seconds for him to crack. “Sigh… Hey, completely unrelated segue, but could I come over tomorrow?”

“Suspicious timing, but I’ll allow it.”

“Great.”

“This meeting is adjourned.”

Somehow, by some otherworldly force/the magic of guilt tripping, your violet sweatshirts, t-shirts, accessories, gradually began showing up as the weeks went on.

By the same mysterious impetus, their return coincidentally synchronized with Donnie coming over.

[lettersofgold]

4 with jules, smut please 😭😭

-> I left my shampoo in your shower, I left my smile inside your head. | authors note: this is filthy and not proofed very well.

you should’ve known that when you accepted the invitation to the infamous spring holiday trip that things were going to get hectic but you didn’t know it would borderline chaotic until it all dawned you that half your toiletries and clothes were in jules’ room - three floors up. you started the day off intoxicated unsure that the alcohol from the night before was properly metabolized. in a daze, you managed to order coffee and a bit of breakfast before realizing that jules was holding your shampoo and skin care hostage. you reached for your phone but you were met with a dead battery symbol. without making too much noise you escaped the bedroom inside the hotel suite you shared with your friends. you awkwardly jogged to the elevator praying that no one saw you in your post-full-day-bender state.

your t-shirt suddenly didn’t feel as oversized as it normally did as you knocked on his door. you were hoping, praying, that he would give you your things without a fuss - the girls planned an excursion that was too expensive for you to be late or back out of. after the second set of feverish knocks, jules opened the door with a groan and a hand running down his face. he blinked away his sleepiness and he seemed to sober up as he took in the sight of you: bra-less in an shirt that barely met your ass and a sliver of fabric he guessed were your “shorts”. it sent a jolt straight to his dick and he smiled softly at you. he wanted you bad.

“you have my stuff…” you said, skipping any pleasantries.

“good morning.” he leaned on the door with a cross of his arms which took your eyes away from his naked chest and drew attention to the hard-on in his boxers. jesus.

“good morning, you have my stuff.” you said again. his smiled turned to a smirk as he pushed off the wall to let you in. it took pure will to keep your eyes off his ass so instead you looked at his back, only to see the marks your left on him. your acrylics painted red marks up his broad shoulders from he was drilling into you during one of the drunken hook-ups. the craziest part was that you were unsure which one the marks stemmed from.

you followed him to the bathroom, stepping over the scattered clothes that probably belonged to you and into the luxurious bathroom. this vacation took a huge amount from your savings and you didn’t dare opening your banking app. you grabbed at your toiletries, rummaging for your toothbrush and toothpaste. you made yourself comfortable and began brushing and with each passing second you felt human and clean, as if today wasn’t about to another round of alcohol induced festivities. jules took the opportunity to pin you between the counter and his body as he dropped to his knees. his hand slid up your thigh, testing and rolling the thin fabric of your shorts in his fingers. the heat of his hands near your core made you clamp your legs together - forcing his hands away.

“jules.” you warned as you leaned over to spit and he chuckled but continued to run his hands up on your bare legs. his hand was smooth as it went under your shirt, his flat palm moving painfully slow against the arch of your back. his other hand cupped your hip and kept you from moving. the grip on your hip was tender because he love taking you from the back - he said it was the hottest sex thing about you, your arch back and the feeling of your ass as you took in every inch of him. he loved that you never ran from him. he loved that you took every inch of him as he pounded deeper into you with the vendetta controlling his mind.

“we can’t do this right now, you’re going to make me late.” you pushed him off with more force than necessary which made him laugh.

“you take forever to get ready, you are always late.” he picked at and you swatted his hand away from hitting your ass as you moved past him, telling him to shut up. he caught up with you quickly and wrapped his arms around, your legs dangling in the air as you half-heartedly tried to escape his grip.

“late is late,” he said with a laugh. “stay with me, be late with a good reason.” he finally put you down and you thought you were safe. but as you took another step to the door - jules was so quick you didn’t have time to process his movements - you swept up and over his shoulder. the progress you made towards the door was gone in two of jules long strides.

“are you always this spoiled?” you asked with a smack to his ass, to which he only laughed. “seriously jules, i have to go.” he plopped you down on the bed and you couldn’t help but laugh. “so you are always this spoiled.” you concluded.

“not spoiled.” he stated as if it was the truth, earning an eyeroll from you. he climbed over you and bent down to kiss you. jules was a tough lover and it was your favorite part about it. nothing with him was quick. he was thorough and very intentional with each movement. after the second quickie you two had on the yacht, he was a professional at making you orgasm at least twice before letting you leave.

his mouth was warm and wet against yours. you slipped your tongue deeper to bait him into opening wider and you took the chance of pulling back to take small nip at his lip, which made him groan. you worked your mouth down his jaw and onto his neck, sucking on the small bruise of skin that you left behind. he looked like a claimed man and you hoped it would clear up before going to back to work. jules stood and pulled your hips down towards the edge of the bed and made you prop you feet up so he could get rid of your thin shorts.

“needy for you.” he spoke into you pussy and just his breath alone made you squirm. he took one long lick from the very bottom of you all the way to your clit - making you loose a breath and a sting of curse words for good measure. he was being such a tease for someone was trying to plead a case of it being “quick.”

“jules.” you warned. the only response you received was his tongue inside you, moving in and out at a teasingly slow place. you began to say his name but found yourself moaning halfway through as he pulled your hips closed and went deeper.

“you’re going to make me late.” you whined, loving every second of this. there was nothing sexier than a man who takes his time and a man who needed you to get yours before his. it was addictive. you were always missing him and the vacation had not ended.

“make them wait.” he said, peppering a few kisses and bites to your inner thigh. your heart rate was increasingly fast as he stuck a single finger into you, twisting in and out as if you had all the time in the world. he rested his palm on your stomach and the pressure intensified his fingering. and just when you thought it couldn’t get better, he stuck two more into you and your breath caught in your chest for a moment.

“i can’t…” you trailed off, unsure of what you were even beginning to say. he sucked and licked at your clit while simultaneously pumping his fingers in and out of you. his palm on your stomach moved to grip your thigh as he pulled away and stood up.

“you can.” he said, pulling off his boxers with one single hand. he wanted to keep you right were you were. “and when i say get on your knees, do it.” he said gently but with a deep enough tone that you weren’t going to question him.

when he entered you for the umpteenth time during this vacation, you swore, again, that you were in absolute heaven. pure bliss that no body could ruin. he pulled you down the side of the bed further so that you hips were half way off the edge and he pushed both of you knees to your chest. you screamed in pleasure as you took in every bit of him. he was so deep inside you that you could create anything other than noises of pleasure. he pumped in and out of you in a steadying rhythm, your braless breast recoiling as he stroked you. the feeling of his muscles hips hitting your ass felt phenomenal. you wanted him deeper and closer and voiced it.

“fuck, babe,” you blanched. “you feel so good.” He merely hummed in agreement, so focused on how tight you felt. the sex was beyond mind blowing. you’re breathing was getting erratic. he wasn’t letting up with the pace of his strokes and the aching of last nights festivities were catching up to you. you were in your own world as he dropped your legs, “i’m not going to last long when I say on your knees, go.”

he entered you again, with one palm using pressure to deepen the feeling of himself inside of you. you were moaning so loud that he felt damn good about himself. he was egging you on, telling you to be louder when one of the guys began pounding on the door.

“yo, open up! i left my key.” jules didn’t stop but he placed a hand over your mouth and you began to giggle. he shushed you and continued fucking you as he yelled out.

“gimme a second,” as neutral as he could without letting up. you were on the brink of an orgasm and you let him know as best as you could with your mouth covered. his consistency sent you reeling into another dimension and it never got old. you were sure to be walking funny when you made it to the excursion - if you weren’t left behind that is. you could barely see and you shuddered as you came all over his dick. he pulled out quickly, telling you to get on your knees. you did so in a haze, your legs sore and shaking.

“open the door man.” the man on the other side yelled but jules ignored him and spoke to you.

“open your mouth.” he said and began stroking himself, placing the tip of his dick on your tongue. he loved to see you on your knees - the same way he loved to see you from the back - because you were so fucking pretty. your eyes glimmered, challenging him and telling him you were ready. jules released himself on your tongue and you took his length into your mouth as he twitched and continued to come. he groaned out a string of curse words. his hand found the back of your head as he pushed deeper into your mouth and touched the back of your throat. he pulled out slowly and loosed a breath. you smiled wide and wiped the corner of your mouth.

“jules what are you doing, man? hurry up!” the voice shouted. you stood and pulled on your shorts and he pulled on his boxers. you didn’t bother acting as if he didn’t just blow your back out. you grabbed your toiletries and he walked a few steps behind you as you opened the door.

“sorry.” you said with no shame, dangling your bag. “he had my stuff.”

[dutchdread]

I've always been curious about that ring Tifa wears in Advent Children. There's a scene in the movie that gives it a lot of focus. Is there any significance to it? Could it be an promise ring ?

Talks about the ring have been going on for as long as advent children has been out. As far as I know there has never been an official statement about it. We know that the wolf Cloud sees in advent children symbolizes his loneliness and guilt, but it's doubtful that that extends to Tifas jewelry. For her the wolf simply symbolizes Cloud. If you want more concrete symbolism about the subject Silverwield did an article about it once. Link If you want it to be a promise ring you can totally interpret it as such. If you want it to be an engagement ring or even a wedding ring you can interpret it as such as well, as Silverwield points out, its a different culture, it can mean anything. For me, I'm not too interested because ultimately unless its confirmed you really don't know what part is intended and what part is us reaching and reading too much into it. I prefer to stick to the most mundane interpretation. Cloud and Tifa are wearing matching clothing and jewelry because they're a couple and when you're a couple you buy each other jewelry. It's just one of the many small details that reinforce the idea that they're together. Really it comes down to one thing, the ring can mean almost anything, but the one thing it can't mean...is nothing.

Tifa wears a ring symbolizing Cloud.... she's probably not doing that because "he's such a good buddy".

[mimicha-arts]

Qian Jin

Hello and sorry. I’m here again with my “catch the details faster than the frame changes.” Let's talk about Qian Jin! I'm pretty sure we'll learn new information in the next episode because of the flashback, so I want to get ahead of things a little and play bingo ;)

SPOILERS FOR S2

1. Romeo and Juliet Many have discussed this, but we will go deeper. One of the main key points in the s2 is the Romeo and Juliet theme and poster, which we now know is related to Qian Jin's story.

In my opinion, his whole scene with the poster looked very personal, hardly just "symbolism" of his feelings after losing his wife or something like that. And here I will try to explain why. Because, most likely, the actress on the poster is Qian Jin's wife. Her name was shown for such a brief moment that I actually nearly lost my mind while trying to capture the frame. So, her name is probably Chen Nan (陈楠). And I really don't think it was necessary to include such details if they are minor.

Well. Pure speculations. We all remember that initially everything was wrong with the case, the suspect in the murder of Qian Jin‘s wife after some time committed suicide and left a note with a confession. Although I can read some words, I can't rely on my eyes, so I can't string them together into complete sentences. But what I can guess is that there are two characters in the signature, and the surname kinda looks like Zhuang (庄).

So. Which character also has the surname Zhuang, who has already been "shown" in the series… On the same poster of "Romeo and Juliet", where the actress, theoretically, was Qian Jin's wife… Yeah. Zhuang Shuai (庄帅)

Okay, this could all be a coincidence, my imagination, speculation. But is these details actually connected, for now, until this has been refuted, I suspect that the story of the murder of Qian Jin's wife was much more personal and deep. Like, now we are convinced that after he found out about Cheng Xiaoshi's ability, his motivation is obviously to capture Cheng Xiaoshi in order to rewrite the past. Likely to save his wife (?). But I'm not sure how much more complex it will be?

If any of this is confirmed, I rather think that Qian Jin's wife was killed by Zhuang Shuai out of jealousy. I also need to say, for now I don't think that 戴绿帽子 is a possible situation here, seems TOO cruel for me, but who knows.

2. Qian Jin and details Eyes. We were all confused because Qian Jin's eyes were not common, but icy yellow. In fact, his eyes can be said to have three states. I also note that sometimes pupils are not drawn or too small because of 2D graphics, so I take into account only obvious close-ups. First type: present, yellow eyes with a vertical pupil. We see that kind of his eyes in most of his scenes. The same type of eyes are in his character design pictures and intro.

Second type: present, yellow with a round pupil. This type of eyes appears specifically in episode 4.

(Technically) third type: the past, yellow eyes with a round pupil. In all the close-up scenes in flashbacks, his pupils are round.

Abilities: It's hard to guess, but at the moment I don't think he personally has any special abilities. It seems to me, given his one line, that Qian Jin relies more on his skills, plans and his people, treating abilities (at least in this situation) in a rather lenient way. Also, his real words sound more special and poetic - If there is a way to reach the sky, it will be difficult to fly away even with wings (friendly reminder, I'm not a translator or native speaker)

But there is one dubious detail. OK. Speaking of gloves, he probably uses gloves to avoid accidentally touching Li Tianchen and getting controlled, which is a pretty logical conclusion after episode 8. But. At some point, while talking to Li Tianchen, when the frame points to Qian Jin, there is a rather small movement of the hand and the sound of either the rustle of clothes, or the sound of something being handed over (ep 7, 1:22-1:28). This was weird.

This may be a trick, but at some point, when it gets to 7pm, Qian Jin claps his hands. And given to Cheng Xiaoshi's abilities, we know that clapping can be a means of activating/disabling an ability.

Speculation: Since we can't fully rely on changing the shape of the eyes, pupil, eye color, due to the change in visual "rules" compared to season 1 + animation errors, but for now I'll make assumptions.

In fact, in some of these scenes, Qian Jin may be possessed by Cheng Xiaoshi (which is trite, but possible)

Someone uses their abilities on Qian Jin, they are in cooperation. This person either possess him either they watches events through Qian Jin's eyes from time to time, as if through a camera.

Qian Jin gave something to Li Tianchen in the car, and that will play a role in the plot.

The change of eyes is an attempt to show the change in his personality, but I don't think it's that simple.

3. Something beyond my understanding

The man with a hat. They are obviously connected, and I already wrote a big theory about this, if the man in the hat turns out to be Liu Xiao, let's not dwell on this, if you want to read, click on - Person in the shadows.

Dates In his intro, although there is some information, as always, the year is not indicated. Obviously, the current year is still 2021 (according to s1). But in the second season, we are not shown specific dates anywhere (even with the twins, although we can find out their year of birth by literally subtracting 19), and here. There is an event, there is a blurry date. Not specified. I guess something is wrong with time already or is this a hint that it doesn’t matter, because the events are looped / will be erased.

Player and music And probably the most ??????? thing. When Qian Jin is in the car, there is a VERY short frame before he takes the call. If you catch it... here is a player on the screen. The music is Symphony of Fate (生命交响乐). And the player does not have a "back" button, only forward.

Time is like music, yeah. Thank you for reading once again ~ I hope episode 9 gives us more information and answers some questions though… *cries*. Feel free to discuss!

[blueberrypancakesworld]

John Stone - Yandere - You will be mine - Part.2

warning : obsession, use of a knife, kissing, some touching

Summary : His plan was set and his pure angel was in his car. He knew as soon as she was in his house she would be with him and he would close the cage. She had no right to escape, not if she was his.

Info : So after the first part was very well received (thanks for the support and I'm glad you liked it so much), here is the second part which follows on directly from the first. Have fun reading ;)

Part.1 , Part.3

(gif by @angels-holocaust )

masterlist

----------------------

°As soon as the door closed and the engine started and he drove out of the parking lot, it was over. He knew he had her, she was far too delicate to fight back or run away from him. A glance over at her told him she was excited. With her hands in a slightly cradled position, she looked curiously at the street and to the side. Her clothes were still chaste and he had to resist putting his hand on her.

°He would have given anything for a reaction, he would have loved to see what she did if he had told her what he was going to do. What would you do little Lamb? he asked himself, imagining that either she didn't understand what was happening. She was too naive his angel would not understand and would perhaps seek protection in his arms. He could rebuild her and make her his from the beginning. Or would she try to run away and give him his fun before he could lay his hands on her body to show her that she was in good hands with him.

°,,John you don't have to answer I'm grateful for your support...but-" she began, reaching for her cross necklace and letting the symbol move between her fingers. He knew she was too insecure for anything and he liked to see her so insecure. ,,Come on, what is it, love?" he asked, giving her a brief smile before his gaze went back to the road.

°It took her a moment before she got over herself and asked, ,,Do you live alone?" but immediately her gaze dropped, probably out of shame that she had asked a question that was too personal. He felt the smirk on his lips, for him it was just another proof of his obsession that she wanted him. That she asked him if she could be his. ,,Why do you ask?" he replied, knowing that it only made her more uncomfortable. That she became more nervous that she didn't know what to say and began to stammer.

°,,It's all right, sweetie, I'm just messing around...but yes, I live alone," he said and put his hand on her thigh for a moment to reassure her. He felt the soft skin under the fabric and imagined how the rest of her body must feel. He could clearly see in the corner of his eye that the shame and uncertainty had returned and he lightly squeezed her leg before pulling back. But he wanted more, he wanted to touch her everywhere. To see how she would react to him, to show her what it meant to be his.

°He drove the distance back to his house and clearly saw that she had never been here before. Just as he had taken the house just outside the city, close to the highway for his victims and a little further away from the city for an escape. It was the perfect house, not quite the newest, but the exterior was deceptive and he had already prepared everything inside.

°He had remodeled rooms to give her the perfect single room where she could have her own space. He would give her everything she needed but she would stay with him and if not. Glancing at the back seat, he saw the leather sticking out of the box. An angel could be chained just like any other, he had even bought her a white collar and was convinced that she liked the white more.

°I just want to see you blossom, he thought and parked the car in front of the house before getting out and opening the door for her. She obediently took his hand and with every touch he wanted more of her. She seemed so perfect, she was the picture of his wife's ideal woman and he would adore her if she were his. I would do anything for you, he thought as he closed the door behind her and led her to the house.

°,,The food is downstairs in the cellar so it will keep better," he said dismissively, looking at her to agree, and he had to suppress any urges as she took the first step into the house. The picture blurred and he already wanted to make her his and see what she was doing. But instead he closed the door and saw that she was far too focused on the lie than on the sound of the door closing. ,,Which way?" she asked, giving him a reserved look.

°,,Don't be shy darling...just go down the hall and down the stairs...I'm right behind you," he said, watching her follow the directions and walk down the stairs. With every stair she took, with every step she took, it only seemed to get more tense. He could have just pushed her down the stairs, he could have pushed her to the floor, he would have done anything to see her tears. Convinced her that she had tripped and held her in his arms. She would have been far too naive to raise her voice.

°But he held back and let his hand wander back to the railing, waiting until she reached the bottom and actually took the first steps into the storage room. He hadn't completely lied. He had provided enough food that he didn't have to take her into town for the first time. He had made sure that she could start with small recipes and cooking. He had bought an apron especially for her and had thought more than once about giving her only this to wear. She had to earn her clothes, knowing that the less clothes she wore, the less comfortable it was for her.

°She ran around like a lamb among wolves and all he wanted to do was sink his fangs into her flesh. He wanted to touch and taste her. Tear off her clothes and watch her tear-veiled gaze go to the cross as he took her. It would be better than any image of his victims, it would be the image of an angel of beauty itself. She would be his forever.

°,,Is it here?" she asked, taking a few steps into the pantry, looking around slightly and not yet seeing him standing in the doorway. His hands were on either side of the doorframe, blocking her way back. He watched her step back as she bumped into him and spun around.

°,,John?" she asked him, not understanding why he wasn't the man she thought he was. He saw her suppress the reflex to back away knowing there was only one way forward, straight into his arms at his side where she belonged. ,,You're finally home," he murmured and reached out to touch her, wanting to tell her that everything would be better if only she was with him. But the look of fear on her face when she realized what was happening was all the more arousing. It was like his torture only so much more addictive. He wanted to see her break apart.

°She tried to back away from him and in an attempt to escape she pushed past him, he could have just grabbed her but he let her. Let her go in the belief of hope...for a moment. Reached into his pocket instead and pulled out the knife and went after her. He heard her rattling the door, trying to escape. ,,Darling, please come back...don't let me be wrong about you," he said and came back up the stairs to see her standing at the door with tears running down her cheeks.

°It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, he wanted to comfort her, to protect her. ,,Pl-Please...don't" she whimpered and wanted to run into the kitchen away from him but he was quicker, grabbed her and pulled her back into the hallway. She pushed against the wall and only more pitiful sounds escaped her lips. The knife only made her more frightened and she would only have to fall into his arms, tell him that she would never run away again, that she was his and he would love her.

°,,Shhh don't I won't hurt you," he assured her calmly, his knife resting on the first button of her blouse, threatening to undo it one by one. While his other hand ran tenderly over her cheek, wiping away her tears and soothing her. She flinched as he undid the first button from her top, making his intention clearer with each subsequent one. ,,N-Not," she whispered, too afraid to raise her voice and looked at him pleadingly. ,,That's what I wanted to see," he murmured as he showed her his thoughts. His hand moved from her cheek to her lips. Gently stroking it, he wanted to kiss her.

°,,I'll take care of you, I'll be the only man you need... you just have to stay with me, understand?" he asked, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face and she looked like a frightened deer that didn't know what to do in the face of the wolf. He ran his knives up her body and pressed the flat side lightly on her breasts. She flinched fearfully and he said, ,,I can give you so much more behave sweetheart and then I won't have to show you the other room downstairs" and pressed the knife slightly harder on her skin seeing how she tensed up and was afraid he would kill her.

°She seemed to want to say something but he left her no choice and kissed her, finally feeling her lips on his. His hand gripped her tighter, pulling her against him, he felt her not return the kiss but it didn't matter. He would force his love on her otherwise one day his girl would understand that he only wanted the best for her. ,,Isn't it so much better? So much better than the other whores?" he murmured and put his hand on her cheek, the knife still pressed against her body. Saw something change in her, her gaze lingering on the door for a moment and looking back at him.

°She looked at him, frightened and slightly trembling, before she lost her cheek against his hand and lowered her gaze. ,,That's my good girl," he praised, placing a finger under her chin and making her look at him. He saw that she was giving up, he saw that she knew she couldn't fight him and that it wasn't a naive decision. He took the knife away and she was visibly relieved that he wasn't going to kill her immediately. ,,Believe me, when you wake up everything will be better," he said after he had detached himself from her, saw her confusion and before she could rush to the door he had grabbed her head and smashed it against the wall.

°She was so delicate that she lost consciousness and sank into his arms. He picked her up in his arms and looked at her for a moment. He carried her into her room and laid her on the big bed. ,,It's much better this way, isn't it?" he asked her, knowing full well that she wouldn't answer. He sat her down and let his hand wander over her body, he could have used her to take advantage of her condition. But what kind of husband would he be in the end, she had no choice anyway. He gave her another kiss and broke away from her, going to his car and bringing the box with him. He could hardly wait to see her like this, it would be pure beauty. She was finally his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@librababe99 , @klarise , @c0stass , @alizzy18 , @slut4hoffman , @magmabayvi , @thewolveswithin , @faultlessheart , @megustadilf , @xmissghoulx , @roman-hoffman , @costashoffman , @mysunfishpeedinmyroom

[spook-is-spooked]

Lisa Frankenstein Theories (spoilers kinda)

@lifelessstar

I'm making this a post because my response is way to long. This is gonna be all over the place but bear with me I have a lot of thoughts

I really like your theory about the shirts, and I do agree that Lisa probably does have resentment towards her father for the situation but personally I think the resentment is more in the context of hating him for not being there when it happened, for remarrying so fast, for moving her away from her home and school, for neglecting her emotionally and not supporting her, for favoring his new step daughter over her while she's dealing with all of this, etc. I don't think its to imply that the actual murder itself is his fault or that he did it but rather Lisa's inability to move on is his fault. I do think the clothing is a very very important part of this film but in a slightly different way. In the scene where we see the killer, he's wearing a very dark sweater with some light patches, which I feel like just match the aesthetic of the bride of Frankenstein mask. Overall, his outfit is very dark and moody which is a harsh contrast from Lisa and her mom in this scene. We see them wearing very bright, light, colorful clothing which goes hand in hand with how we see Lisa being happy and playful and laughing and talking with her mom. Lisa obviously was much more healthy and well adjusted and had a much easier time connecting with people before this happened. In the rest of the movie, we see the dad, Taffy, Janet, and most of the town dressed in very bright and colorful, for lack of a better term "normal" clothing. As well as the entire house is ridiculously colorful and bright, bordering on a Lisa Frank sticker pack.

I think this bright colorful aesthetic all around her and her dad being a part of it is symbolism for how they want Lisa to be a happy, bubbly, regular girl and completely move on and forget her trauma. She isn't given any opportunity to process her trauma, talk about it, feel it, etc. She's expected to get over it and go back to being completely normal. I think this is why she's drawn to Michael Trent, him and his friend (the other goth girl who's name I forgot) are the only people in the town who aren't phased by her differences and he shows some interest even in her weird dark moodiness. Throughout the movie, we obviously see Lisa's style choices become darker and moodier, creeping closer and closer to the aesthetic of the killer rather than the family and the town. One detail I really love is how the Creature actually encourages her to wear the darker outfits and absolutely adores every aspect of her, dark or light. I think Lisa's change in aesthetic is to show how not being able to process her trauma cause her to internalize it and become it. The clothing is a part of her becoming the axe murder. I think a big theme of this movie is that when trauma and abuse aren't processed it turns into a cycle instead. I've seen a lot of people say that we see Lisa become herself when she meets the Creature and starts dressing and acting differently, and in a way I think she does, but not her old self like everyone wants her to be. It's too late for her to ever get back there. Like she says "time is the thing that takes you further away from the place where you were happy". The opportunity to heal properly was taken from her. But she is able to find a new self and that new self is built out of her trauma. The Creature sees her for her, wounds and broken bits included and loves every part of her and listens to her and doesn't try to stop her from being dark and crazy he just lets her exist and absolutely adores her and so much of their love story, for me, revolves around him being the one person who lets her just exist and doesn't expect anything from her. This part might be a little bit of a reach but I think the name of the movie and the wax rubbing she does on the grave is another symbol of this whole thing. The name is a play on "Lisa Frank", representing the bright colorful neon vibe that they want her to be a part of but it ends with "enstein", almost mocking the first part like "she's Lisa Frank...enstein." She'll never be what they expect of her because there's this trauma following her around. In the scene, you can even see the two parts of the name are separated and she's adding on the enstein part to hint at this in a foreshadowing way.

I feel like I explained all this terribly but long story short Lisa dark and moody because she is trauma/axe murder now, town and house and family bright and colorful because they're SO normal and want her to be normal like them, dad bright and colorful because he is part of problem

so shirt colors = dad bad but for.. other reasons???

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Uea and Red

I don't have a fancy intro for this so lets just get right into it.

Uea is red. We know Uea is red. I know Uea is red. But there is just something about the red on Uea that feels wrong. That I am having trouble wrapping my mind around. Maybe it's just that the color choice doesn't match well with James, but I'm going to choose to analyze it as an intentional part of the show instead, because fuck it, we ball. Because you see, it isn't all of the reds that I have trouble believing, just one specific shade.

So what red do I have a problem with?

The bright red. Uea's main red. Unfortunately :(

There is just something about it that makes it feel...fake? to me.

But, as I said, there are plenty of moments in the show where I wholly accept, understand, and associate Uea with red.

So when do I buy into Uea Anol The Red Rascal?

In lighting like this:

In clothing like this:

(I do consider pink to be a red since it has red in it.)

(This last image is from the after-credit scene of Cutie Pie where Net and James cameo as King and Uea).

In King's sheets:

All this to say that there are times when I completely see Uea as a Red Rascal, but I needed to figure out what it was about the main red that always took me out of that mindset. What was it about the main red that made me feel like it was a lie?

And after reading @respectthepetty's commentary on a previous thread : "Uea wearing a blue shirt in the past could very much symbolize him trying to not be himself." it really got me thinking.

That red is too saturated, too vibrant, too loud for Uea. At least in my opinion. Because while RTP is also correct and Uea "has been shown to be more spontaneous, attention-getting, and dominant" that is really only true when Uea is being sexual. When it comes to sex, Uea is the more dominant person. It is Uea that initiates/asks for the first sexual encounter with King, it is Uea who sets the (truly low bar) rules, at every point of the sexual relationship he has with King, Uea is in control.

But the same can't be said for non-sexual situations. In social situations, in matters of day to day existence, external personality, etc. King is the far more outgoing person. At the office King is the one who gets all the attention, he is more openly flirty. And while Uea gets his share of attention in the office, he does not reciprocate it the way that King does. Uea is quiet, Uea is reserved, and that's doubly the case when Uea is triggered. Unless he is actively re-living the moment, he dissociates or retreats in to himself to process his own emotions. When Uea's mother asks him for tuition in Episode 1 and he starts thinking about all his other stressors, he doesn't say a word, he just returns to the karaoke room and starts drinking:

At the hospital he folds in to himself, he barely puts up a fight, the only time he really even says "No," is when King starts reaching for his own wallet:

When King sniffs his neck the way his stepfather used to, Uea retreats to a hallway to hide. At no point does he offer any explanation (and to be clear he doesn't have to, he's allowed to keep it secret)

Honestly, the only way anyone in Uea's life probably has any indication that Uea is going through so much is from physically witnessing it themselves (King seeing Uea freaking out in the dark, King seeing Uea submissive in front of his mother, Jade protecting Uea from Pock, King rescuing Uea from Pock).

So to have such a bright and vibrant red for Uea feels wrong, it feels like a lie to me. Mostly because Uea's daily personality is more passive and restrained compared to his more open and demanding personality in the bedroom. I believe Uea as a Red Rascal when his reds are darker and muddier (the red-browns) or lighter and more subtle (the pinks). Uea's bright reds make me question his color-coding far more because it is so strong a color. (To be clear here this is not me saying I don't think Uea is strong, just me saying that he is too quiet for the bright reds).

And it got me thinking more about when and where Uea wears the bright red colors and where he doesn't. And it always seems to be in moments of anxiety.

When Uea wears bright red:

At the very beginning of Episode 1 when he is introducing himself to the audience

When he goes with King to get tested for STIs

When he goes home for his birthday.

These are all anxiety inducing moments.

Uea is making a first impression on us the audience, he's trying to gets us to see what he wants us to see. He is trying to convince us that what he is telling us is true. That is ordinary. The literal first words in his opening monologue are:

"I'm just an ordinary salaryman. I'm nothing different to others, but there might be one thing different...I don't like being around people in the office,"

Three minutes later, we get the truth:

Uea may seem like an ordinary salaryman on the outside, but he has been horrifically abused and is struggling with navigating trauma that is far outside what I would call "ordinary". Guess who picks up on the issue? King.

STI testing is the same thing, Uea is worried and King says as much:

And anyone who has seen Episode 4 understands perfectly well the anxiety Uea must be feeling at the prospect of going home. Because well...

#pransdaddarktimelineedition

And we know one of Uea's coping mechanisms is sex. He can't find the words to talk about his feelings properly so he tries to push them down, and distract himself with pleasure. If we want to look at the bright red as anxiety, Uea usually has something white on as a cover. His anxiety is there but he is trying to hide it.

But at King's he takes that white sweater off, tries to fuck his feelings away, but the anxiety is fresh, he hasn't regulated his emotions enough yet to be convincingly okay, and King #greenflagextraordinaire once again notices Uea is not in an emotionally secure enough place to proceed with sex.

And sure, you can argue that Uea wears these bright reds while he's one on one with King, and there the bright red can't just be anxiety, and we could also argue that every color has positives and negatives and the same could be said for the bright red. And to that I say, sure, but the one on ones with King are as follows: King snaps Uea out of an active trigger, King and Uea discuss starting a friends with benefits situation, Uea shows up to King's apartment on short notice after having a breakdown. None of these moments are what I personally would consider stress free.

Compare that to when Uea wears more muted/subtle reds:

The first time he meets King in a bar, (this is actually the brightest red that he wears that I can actually believe for Uea, and that's because it is a darker red than the other three firetruck red shirts.)

The day after he's shared a moment of connection and trust with King in the hospital after sending his mother home.

When he has forgiven King for accidentally triggering him without King knowing and is ready to re-initiate the FWB.

In the pool with King, when King asks him if he likes the sea and Uea replies "Kind of, but I preferred the calm one,"

Even the red lighting is different, the first red light is brighter and more intense, and that's because Uea is under time pressure to make a decision about whether or not to start the FWB deal with King. In the warmer post-coitus light of the second lighting photo, Uea is incredibly relaxed, almost drowsy, and is being asked to answer honest questions about why he agreed to be FWB. He's not anxious here, he's calm, and as a result Uea and King get to bask in a richer, deeper, less harsh red light. We can interpret the same information from King's sheets, with Uea being happy and relaxed and cuddled by King.

And even when we finally get King in red:

It's still not as bright as Uea's more purely red outfits (ie not the red-browns or the pinks). And naturally because King is still hiding something we've got to trap the brand new red color with all that black.

ANYWAY all of this to say I have figured out what is off-putting to me about the bright red, what makes me feel like it's a lie. IT'S BECAUSE IT IS A LIE!! Or I guess, more accurately, it's an over-compensation. Uea is red, but his trauma and his pain has made that red less vibrant. If respectthepetty is right, and let's be honest the Parent of All Tumblr Color Theory is always right, then Uea wearing blue at home was his way of suppressing his true self.

And if that's the case, then the separation he has from home, because he is no longer living there (since he's still in communication with his mother and therefore cannot fully be separated), has allowed Uea to stop hiding his true self, and embrace the Red Rascal he is. BUT because of his trauma, because his response to trauma seems to be more on the flight and freeze side of things, he is more prone to submission in the face of environmental triggers. When he can no longer simply ignore his mother's text messages, he will try to get his Mom to take a taxi, then give her money, and then resign himself to going to the ATM rather than actually fight her. When he sees his stepfather again, he will run to the dining room rather than engage, he will try to run to the kitchen, when he is stopped he will beg, quietly so as not to make a scene, and then he will run, and run again. (I want to be clear here, Uea does not need to fight, he is doing everything right, and he's doing the best that he can.)

When Uea is faced with high anxiety situations, he needs reminders of who he is. And those reminders need to be bright, and they need to be loud, because they need to be able to break through his initial panic and ground him. So he wears the bright red to tell himself and tell others fundamentally who he is:

A Red Rascal

And funnily enough, this bright red shirt Uea wears at the end of Ep. 4 is the only bright red shirt so far that doesn't bother me. It seems to fit him better than the other bright reds do and that is probably mostly because the loudness of this shirt is mitigated by the shadows on the front darkening the overall color and back of the shirt being washed out by the light rather than intensified by it. Or possibly because the pattern breaks up the color in a way that doesn't make it even brighter. I feel like the solid white stripes, and the solid white jacket from the examples above make their reds almost neon.

Here though, Uea is drunk and being hit on by a stranger. I don't think our boy is coping very well with the realization that he might be falling for King and so the Anxiety Red comes back. But it's not as In Your Face Bright Red as the others, and that's because he's not in as high stakes of a situation here. It's just hinting to me of potential inner turmoil on Uea's end, and since I haven't read the book I have no idea if Uea is contemplated fucking up a good thing and trying to end it because he doesn't think he is deserving of good things.

---

And for a total tangent, shout out to the purple in Ep. 3 after King and Uea's first night as official FWBs. I love when red and blue combine ;)

Ok, I have nothing else to say on this matter at this time. Thanks for listening, and as always if you made it this far, please collect your invisible Participation Medal.

TL;DR: Uea is a red rascal, but only when he is wearing muted red tones, not when he's wearing actual red. Shhh, I know...but it makes sense in my head

[smartycvnt]

Trendy

Title: Trendy Pairing: Castiel x Reader Prompt: 11. "Not to brag, but I am proficient in several Tiktok dances." NR WC: 666

"Please tell me again how this was the best option?" Y/n asked as she looked back and forth between Sam and Dean. Castiel seemed peacefully oblivious to Y/n's problem with her older brothers' plan. They needed to get into a nightclub primarily frequented by monsters without attracting too much attention, and their idea was to let Castiel lead Y/n in.

"He's going to do great in there. He'll fit right in," Dean said. Sam looked skeptical about everything, but he kept his mouth shut. Dean seemed confident that his plan would work, but Y/n wasn't convinced. "Just get him some different clothes, and you'll be fine. You're ready for the club, aren't you Cas?"

"Not to brag, but I am proficient in several Tiktok dances," Castiel chimed in. Y/n looked at Sam for help, but he sided with Dean. She sighed as she glanced over at Castiel. He got up, as if to start showing her the dances, but Y/n quickly stopped him.

"It's fine Cas, I believe you. This just isn't exactly a dancing club. It's full of people who probably want you just as dead as these guys, that's all. I'd rather go on my own," Y/n said. Both Sam and Dean looked ready to argue with her, but it was Castiel who made the first move.

"Surely some of them know about you, and I'd rather sacrifice myself than let you be in danger. Let me come with you, if only to keep an eye out on you," Castiel pleaded.

"We'll be right out in the alley if you need us, I promise," Dean told her. Y/n believed him, she hadn't been in any bar since joining up with her half-brothers by herself. Even back when they hadn't been certain she was John's daughter, they had both played the roles of protective older brothers perfectly.

Y/n nodded and smiled as she went into her own hotel room to get ready. Sam and Dean dressed Castiel up in his "club outfit" while she got ready. Y/n knew that Cas would still stick out, but she hadn't expected them to use such dated clothing. Y/n was pretty sure that she hadn't seen anybody wearing clothing like what Cas had on since her old high school flings. In all honesty, Y/n had no idea where the hell the guys got a Von Dutch shirt or the studded jeans that Castiel was wearing. She was glad that she came in when they did before they could spike up Castiel's hair to look like a guy from Jersey Shore.

"Oh my god, we're not time travelling back to 2005," Y/n said as she reached towards Castiel's shirt. She pulled it off of him and grabbed one of Dean's plain t-shirts for him to wear. "Have either of you ever been to a nightclub in your entire lives?"

"Pfft, yes." Sam silently shook his head as he stood behind Dean. Y/n could tell that her brothers were embarrassed and definitely feeling old, but she was struggling to get over their choices in clothing. "When's the last time you even went out, huh?"

"I got out after Jersey Shore ended, that's for sure," Y/n teased. Dean scoffed as Y/n proceeded to undo everything he had done to get Castiel ready.

"Were my clothes not trendy like Dean said?" Cas asked as Y/n led him outside.

"Don't listen to Dean about what's trendy, the man still uses cassettes and the radio. I don't think he even knows what Bluetooth is," Y/n teased. Castiel looked confused as he was pushed into Y/n's car. Sam and Dean loaded themselves into the Impala to follow her to the club.

"Blue teeth?" Castiel muttered to himself. Y/n tapped the Bluetooth symbol on her car as she connected her phone to it. "The music?"

"It's more than that, I'll let Sam explain it to you later."

[aliennazero]

hi, your yoshiden posts are making me go insane at midnight. thank you so much for the good food! i was wondering if you have any personal thoughts on the reason(s) why yoshida would be romantically interested in denji? (or have the potential to be?) and if you think there's anything in the manga so far that does/could point to that?

Thank you for your question, yoshyoshy! Sorry for my late responses.

About why Yoshida would be romantically interested in Denji... honestly I have no basis for that, it just from VIBES and my feelings alone like- In my eyes, they have this weird gay tension that's only shounen mc and his *completely opposite designed* "rival" could have.

HOWEVER when we talk about CSM style of foreshadowing, I think yes, their relationship progression is already hinted since chapter 103 and 104. We, as the readers, just don't know exactly how it will ends up to be. We have the puzzle pieces, but not knowing the bigger picture. It could be platonic, it could be romantic (either one sided or not).

CHAPTER 103 SYMBOLISM

In chapter 103, there's so many details set up for both of them that I will show one by one. May be a reach, but knowing Fujimoto, we can't really predict or ignore anything tbh.

When the crowd cheered for Chainsaw Man, Yoshida saw and interested in Denji only.

Yoshida seems to be more relaxed (leaning in) and comfortable sitting with Denji than Fami (in chapter 122).

There are metaphor using their drinks to showcase their personality. Yoshida is iced coffee: bitter, dark, tired, and more mature-like. Meanwhile Denji is orange juice: sweet, sour, and more childish-like. Both standing next to each other (with height differences too). Which is very cute in my opinion.

Lastly, the famous background scene full of paintings with each different objects and symbols. Which I might try to debunk later on, but it's for another post.

CHAPTER 104 REVISITED

Now we go to the next "foreshadow" chapter, which is my personal favourite because we get teased by the probability of new trio. But we will focus on yoshiden this time.

"I'll stop you by force if I have to." Yeah, he already did. But what interesting about that is, he never *actually* try to hurt Denji. He always try to minimize the impact of his force method and tries to make Denji understand (the problem is, Yoshida is really just that BAD at giving reasonings and excuses).

Yoshida's memory is hinted to be weirdly strong. He remembers so many details even from small talks months ago, talking about Denji and "10.000¥ is 10.000¥"

"If there's anything I can do, I want you to come to me" has the same energy with "It's save through cloth, right?". It's not just a random empty words. It must be relevance in the future, right? RIGHT???

IN MY CONCLUSION

I think that's it. If you think there's more evidence to foreshadow their relationship, feel free to discuss about it! For me personally, their dynamics is very interesting and it would take much more effort to develop them into nothing than something.

I am VERY positive that their relationship would go deeper beyond what we have now. Honestly let's be real, it would be more interesting if their relationship develops romantically. Not only it would break shounen rules, but it also will be a major character development for both Yoshida and Denji. And apparently it suit the subplot we had right now, conforming your real identity. However I don't hate the idea of them being platonically too.

Also their dynamics goes from "haha funny comedic duo with gay jokes sprinkles" to "I could see you for who *you* are, but our traumas and our limited social abilities has shaped us to threaten each other, we understood everything yet we understand nothing (also let's blame the government)" in exactly 30 chapters after their first meeting in part 2, crazy.

[respectthepetty]

Not me scrolling feverishly through your blog looking for a post about how when Palm returns at the end of ep 10 he's still in hawaiian shirts but they're now devoid of colour (in fact both palm and neung wear shades of black, white, or grey back in Bangkok) reflecting their separation and angst, and then how colour will eventually return to their lives when all the angst will be over and done. Where is it, Khun Petty? WHERE?! 👀

(I don't have time to write it myself so this is my way of delegating it to you...and I know you'll love doing it 😏💖)

D & D, I MISS YOU! Sorry for disappointing you because I know your time on here is valuable as of late, but I got lost in the way this moment was filmed

Because Palm seemed to be taken aback that Nueng was right there in front of him, and he seemed to hesitate like he normally would, then he seemed upset, then he looked like he was about to cry, then he looked worried, then HE STARTED WALKING LIKE THAT towards Nueng, and he had a certain swagger to him that I can't describe but but BUT...

Wait, you asked me for something, didn't you?

Oh, yeah, COLORS!

Before I get to that, I love that when Nueng is alone, his pajama game is rich-old-man comfort

But with Palm, it's what-can-come-off-faster basic

And of course, colors *peep the shorts*

Probably because both times, he is wearing his boyfriend's clothes, which reminds me of Palm giving color to Nueng through his love while taking on Nueng's grief and heartache (the black), which I wrote before the show began.

So with all of that out of the way, let me get into what you outlined so perfectly - Both boys are devoid of color, happiness, and love without each other.

Nueng, has always struggled with color while Palm has always been colorful and patterned.

Note that Chopper is also devoid of color (AND LOVE but this hurts me too much to write about).

Nueng had some moments of true color the closer he wanted to get to Palm.

But his emotions got the best of him (drinking at the dance and yelling at Palm), so he resorted back to black.

However, once they reached the island, Nueng warmed up not only to the idea of color, but of patterns. He started on the island in black, moved to solid colors, and ended with colored patterns.

For Nueng, the patterns came after this moment.

They were both wearing white. Color is happiness for Palm which he gives to Nueng, but the patterns themselves are symbolic of Palm. Palm gives himself to Nueng, therefore Nueng picks up the patterns after this exchange, which is why Nueng wearing his boyfriend's patterned shirt in this scene is so significant.

But once back in Bangkok and away from his boyfriend, he resorted to black and sometimes neutral brown and gray because his love, and color, were gone. *the ties don't count for the pattern because these patterns aren't the vacation-vibe that Palm wears*

But what is startling, and what you also pointed out is that Palm, too, loses his happiness and color (he is in black), but he doesn't lose himself. The pattern is still there.

He immediately gets Nueng to loosen up: the jacket is open, the tie is looser, the shirt looks untucked, oh, and Nueng smiles.

Palm strips Nueng down to the bare basics and gives him his clothes, restarting the exchange of love, happiness, color, and patterns that escalated the night Nueng asked Palm to be his boyfriend while both were dressed in white.

But I'm unsure when Palm's happiness will fully be restored since in the next episode's preview, he is still in a patterned black (or so it appears).

Or if the boys ever fully get their happiness back, but we know Nueng will always have Palm's love (the Palm tree-patterned tie).

Oh, wait. We do know if they find happiness again.

Thanks, Our Skyy 2!

[dolphin1812]

The weather that Hugo describes feels very indicative of the mood in Paris, with the winds of cholera brewing a storm of popular anger. With respect to Gavroche, though, this is immediately relevant in that it makes him cold (and Magnon’s children are freezing, too). The cold is especially bad since, like his sister, he often goes several days without eating and wears rags.

Watching Gavroche take charge is so cute! He tries to seem so confident in front of the younger kids (saying that having nowhere to sleep isn't a big problem, for instance) even though he’s also suffering. As we saw with Mabeuf earlier, he’s genuinely generous, too. Not only is he helping these children, but he gives his scarf to a poorly clothed girl, demonstrating his general kindness and good nature. The girl’s lack of a response reminds me of the line from before about the Thénardier children not noticing their new siblings because they were too impoverished to be aware of their surroundings. It’s a sad parallel, but it reflects well on Gavroche’s character. And his kindness and confidence work! The kids are soon happier! They’re all still in a horrible situation, but he’s lifted their spirits.

His exchange with Montparnasse is hilarious. He has no respect for him whatsoever. On the one hand, that lack of respect is one of the many gamin traits Hugo listed that Gavroche embodies. On the other, though, it shows his casual familiarity with crime. Montparnasse isn’t scary to Gavroche because he already knows his world, using the same slang and recognizing the people Montparnasse talks about. As for Montparnasse, his ease around Gavroche is a reminder of where he came from. He was a gamin, too, so Gavroche is equally familiar to him. It’s funny to read, but it does indicate that Montparnasse’s life is one of the most likely options for Gavroche’s future if he manages to age out of being a gamin. That Montparnasse seems cool to the young children probably isn’t a good sign for gamins more broadly, either, as he may seem appealing to children with so few options even though he’s horrible.

(And he’s not even that good at crime!)

I love how he warns Gavroche about the officer, though! It’s a kind gesture, and it’s clever! According to Donougher, in the French, there’s assonance with the syllable “deeg” in everything he says (“je te dis,” “ma digue,” “si vous me prodiguez dix gros sous,” “d’y goupiner,” “mardi gras”). 

And we’ve reached the heavily symbolic elephant! Gavroche literally lives in the ruins of empire. Hugo says we can’t know what it means, so in that sense, we should be careful not to overestimate how clear its meanings are, but that he explicitly states that it’s difficult to know also pushes us to search for symbols in it. And it’s not all bad! It’s grand and majestic (maybe even “great!”), like Napoleon I was to Hugo. But it’s also a carcass that’s being worn away by time, and it’s unpleasant to look at for “respectable” people in particular (much like its gamin inhabitants are ignored and looked down on). 

And it’s also been replaced. Hugo frames it as an inevitable change like that of classes, drawing on 19th-century theories of the “natural development” of societies to explain why the elephant’s era ended. The emphasis on ideas over power feels like an indirect criticism of the Napoleons, with the idea of a republic being the progress that their dictatorial power can’t counter. 

That aspect, in general, feels the most significant. Napoleon did some good; his elephant is now a shelter for Gavroche, and his rule inspired many in France by giving them hope that they, too, could advance socially and that their country would be influential. But this is a hollow sort of “good.” The elephant is a shelter, but only because there are homeless children who need it (and, as Hugo points out, it was a real need; the fiction here is based on a real case). France’s empire couldn’t last because it was against republican principles in France and across Europe. If the elephant was in such a bad state so soon after Napoleon I, then, imagine how much worse it would be to bring its idea back with Napoleon III! 

Hugo even says that the good of the elephant came from God, not Napoleon!

Another note: the elephant is for someone that other doors are closed to, once again illustrating the importance of open doors. Gavroche wouldn’t need the elephant if he weren’t a social outcast. His poverty would not be this desperate if people respected him and helped him.

His use of the wire is very creative! But that it’s all from animal enclosures in the Jardin des Plantes drives home that animals have more than he does (and are given more by society). It’s worse than Valjean not having a place to stay when the dog had a house, in a way, because at least the dog was tied to a family in some way, either as a pet or a work animal; the animals of the Jardin des Plantes are there as a spectacle alone, and it’s for that spectacle that they’re given good quality things. His narration is hilarious, but it’s heartbreaking, too.

[poseidonsdaughterthesiren]

The Daughter of Poseidon: Chapter Ten

                                                     🌊🌊🌊

The sun drooped in swirls of pinks, oranges, and purples. The birds and the frogs sang their transitional duet. A gentle breeze settled across the waves of the lake.

Della sighed and pushed her soft curls behind her ear. She sat at the edge of the dock kicking her feet back and forth in the water. Back and forth. Splish. Splash. Backwards than forwards. Splish. Splash.

She stared blankly at the images the clouds created. A few of them resembled horses and pegasi. Other appeared like silhouettes of people fighting–Della tried to ignore those. One, if she squinted, almost looked like Perry the Platypus–huh interesting choice there Zeus.

“Del?”

Della stiffened at the sound of his voice. She turned her head and there he was in his orange camp shirt.

“Luke?” she breathed out. Her lips curved up into a soft smile.

He grinned back at her and took a seat by her on the dock.

Della turned to him. He looked like he had when they first met.

“You changed your hair,” he said. He reached a hand out and played with one of the many little braids in her hair.

Della laughed and and grabbed Luke’s hand in her hair. She held there for a moment not quite sure what to do next. Her eyes met his brown ones.

They were soft and full of love. Love he never got to show her–not really.

He cupped her cheek in his hand.

They were so close their noses were touching.

“Gods,” she whispered, “I wish you were actually here.”

“I know,” he whispered back. “But you better take the sign Aphrodidite is throwing at you?”

“What do you mean? Della gave him a puzzled look.

“Thalia’s brother.”

Della sighed and closed her eyes a tear slipped out

“Hey none of that,” he said, “I know you like him.”

Luke removed his hand from her cheek and pulled back a bit.

“But–”

“Del, we’ll meet again for real one day–but for now–be happy.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“That’s my girl,” Luke grinned, “Now do me a favor…please wake up.”

🌊🌊🌊

Della wakes up to the feeling of chains around her body and Piper’s voice. Someone stuffed a cloth in her mouth and by the taste it might as well have been a dirty gym sock.

“Leo, help!”

But Piper’s lips were not moving, no she was close by struggling in her own bonds.

The Cyclops from earlier was imitating Piper’s voice to trap the only remaining person in their little party.

Wait–where’s Jason?

Della glances around to find the blonde konked out to Piper’s left. He has a giant welt on his left eyebrow.

Della tries to shimmy around in her restraints but to no avail. They were too tight. She let out a muffled cry as the restraints seemed to get tighter. How could she have been so stupid? Monocle Motors with a single red-eye symbol? She should’ve thought about it harder–then again she has a concussion.

“Leo?” The Cyclops says again less certain. “See told you it was nothing,” he grumbles in his normal voice.

Della grunts and struggles in her restraints again.

“Leo, help me!” it screamed.

“Help–” “Piper’s” voice cut off turning masculine again, “Bah, there’s no one out there. No demigod could be that quiet.

Della stops struggling and takes a deep breath. She closes her eyes seeing if maybe just maybe there’s some water nearby.

The other cyclops chuckles, “Probably ran away, if he knows what's good for him. Or the girl was lying about a fourth demigod. Let’s get cooking.”

Snap. A bright orange light sizzles to life. The cyclops in a chain mail loincloth waltz over to Piper, who squirmed and tried to head-butt him in the eye.

“Can I take her gag off now? I like it when they scream.”

The question is for the third cyclops, apparently their leader. They grunt in response and loincloth removes Piper’s gag.

To Della’s relief, she doesn’t scream. Piper takes a shaky breath like she’s trying to keep calm.

“Scream Girl! I like funny screaming!”

“Oh, Mr. Cyclops, you don’t want to kill us. It would be much better if you let us go,” Piper says with that rich silk voice.

Loincloth scratches his head in thought. He turns to the other cyclops Fiberglass-Toga. “She’s kind of pretty, Torque. Maybe we should let her go.”

Torque growls, “I saw her first, Sump. I’ll let her go!”

Sump and Torque square up on each other but the third cyclops rises and shouts,

“Fools!”

` Shit, she’s female…Tyson once commented that the females were usually smarter than the males. That also meant they could be taller too….

Della’s wide eyes snap over to the she-clops. Intelligence sparkles in her singular red eye. She towers above the other two and her chainmail dress scratches the cement as she moves.

She clops stalks over and pushes Sump aside. Torque backs up in response.

“This one is Venus’ spawn,” she snarls, “She’s charmspeaking you.”

“Please ma’am–”

` “Rarrr!” The lady cyclops said. She grabbed Piper around the waist. Della struggles and yells through her gag. “Don’t try that pretty talk with me girly. I’m Ma Gasket! And I’ve eaten heroes tougher than you for lunch!”

She drops Piper to let her dangle. Ma Gasket turns to Della a wicked smile coats her features.

“Now this girly will be one of my highest achievements! A daughter of Neptune! A very rare cut indeed!”

Della glares at Ma Gasket and struggles a bit more in her bonds. She is not a piece of meat–wait Neptune…oh yeah Dad’s Roman name.

Ma Gaskey laughs and turns around to chew out Sump.

Piper, who is now only lightly swinging back and forth, glances at Della. “You okay?” she mouths.

Della gag in mouth nods but winces at the action.

Damn her for getting a concussion and then making it worse by getting clubbed by a cyclops…speaking of she needs to figure out an escape plan and quick.

“–eat her last, Ma?” Sump asks.

“Idiot!” Ma Gasket booms. These “fine” gentlemen must be her sons. “I should’ve thrown you out on the streets like proper cyclops children! You might’ve actually learned some useful skills! Curse my soft heart I kept you!”

“Soft heart?” Torque mutters.

“What was that you ingrate?”

“Nothing, Ma. I said you got a soft heart. We get to work for you, feed you, file your toenails–”

“And you should be grateful!” Ma Gasket bellows. “Now, stoke the fire, Torque! And Sump, you idiot, my case of salsa is in the other warehouse. Don’t tell me you expect me to eat these demigods without salsa!”

“Yes, Ma,” Sump stutters, “ I mean no, Ma. I mean–”

“Go get it!” Ma Gasket screams. She picks up a nearby truck chassis and slams it over Sump’s head. Sump crumples to his knees. This must be a regular occurrence for Sump because he manages to push the chassis off his head. Then he staggers to his feet and runs off on his quest of salsa.

Della glances around trying to find a way out of this. There were a few ideas but then Della notices a certain curly-haired crouching behind the machines. Thank the gods.

Piper notices him as well and lets out a gasp.

“What’s the matter, girl? So fragile I broke you?” Ma Gaket asks. She turns to Della. “Let's hope you don’t taste like seafood Girly. I don’t think salsa can take care of fish. That last hero we ate–remember him Torque? Son of Mercury wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, Ma,” Torque says, “Tasty. A bit stringy, but good.”

“Said he was on medication but he tasted fine.”

“Tasted like Mutton,” Torque recalls, “Purple shirt. Talked in Latin. Yes, a bit stringy, but good.”

Della freezes and glances at Jason, who is still out like a light. “Purple Shirt?” Della asks.

“Spoke Latin?” Piper asks at the same time.

They glance uneasily at each other.

“Good eating,” Ma Gasket says. “Point is, we’re not dumb as people think. We’re not falling for those tricks and riddles, not us Northern Cyclops!”

Northern Cyclops?

“I never knew you were so big and clever!” Piper exclaims.

“Flattery won’t work either,” Ma Gasket says. Though she sounds quite pleased. “But it’s true you’ll be breakfast for the best cyclops around!”

“But aren’t cyclops good? I thought you made weapons for the gods?”

“Bah! I’m good at eating people. Good at smashing things. And good at building things yes, but not for the gods. Our cousins the Eldere cyclops, they do this yes. Thinking they’re all high and mighty, cause they’re a few thousand years older.”

Della glances at the machines below, hopefully, Leo finished whatever he was doing down there.

“Then there’s the Southern Cyclops, living on islands and tending sheep. Morons! But us Hyperborean Clan, we’re the best! Founded Monocole Motors in this factory–the best weapons, armor, chariots, fuel-efficient SUVs! And yet bah! Forced to shutdown! Laid off most of our tribe. The war was too quick. Titans lost. No good! No need for cyclops weapons!”

“Oh no,” Piper sympathsizes, “I’m sure you made amazing weapons!”

Torque grins. “Squeaky war hammer!” He picks up a large pole with an accordion-looking metal box on one end. He slams it against the floor cracking the cement but there is sound like the world’s largest rubber ducky getting stomped on.

“Terrrifying,” Della says.

“Can I see it?” Piper asks. “I’f you could just free our hands–”

Torque steps forward excitedly but Ma Gasket stops him.

“Stupid! She’s tricking you again! Enough talk! Slay the boy first before he dies on his own. I like my meat fresh.”

“Hey, wait,” Piper says, “Hey can I just–”

Della notices a wire spark where Leo was.

Unfortunately, so did the cyclops as they hurled a car at him.

Leo, somehow, rolls out of the way. He gets to his feet and Ma Gasket spots him.

“Torque, You pathetic excuse of a cyclops get him!” she yells.

Torque barrels towards him while Leo frantically guns the toggle on a makeshift remote.

Torque was fifty feet away. Then forty. Twenty.

Then a robotic arm whirs to life. A three-ton metal claw slams into Torque so hard he lands on his face. He tries to scurry up but the robotic hand grabs him by one leg and hurls him up in the air.

“AHHHHHHH!” Torque screams as he rockets through the air. THUD! The ceiling was too high up and too dark to be exactly sure what was happening.

Della guesses that he hit a support beam judging by the noise.

Yellow dust rains down instead of a body. Good one down two more to go.

Ma Gasket stares at Leo in shock. “My son…you…you….”

As if on cue Sump staggers back into the room a jar of salsa in his hand.

“Ma I got the extra spicy–”

Leo spun the remote toggle and a second robotic arm whacks Sump in the chest. The salsa explodes like a piñata onto the concrete floor. Sump falls back into a third machine. This arm slams into him he explodes into a cloud of yellow dust.

One more to go.

Della and Piper cheer Leo on. Ma Gasket, on the other hand, roars and grabs the nearest crane arm and rips it off the pedestal.

“You busted my boys! Only I get to bust my boys!”

Leo punches a button and two more arms spawn into action.

Ma Gasket catches the first one and tears it in half. The second arm smacks her in the head, but it only seems to make her even more mad. She grabs it by the clamps, rips it free, and swings it like a baseball bat. It misses Della, Piper, and Jason by a mere inch. Ma gasket lets it go spinning towards Leo.

Leo yelps and rolls to one side as it demolishes the machine next to him.

Ma Gasket stands twenty feet away from him now, next to the cooking fire. She clenches her fists and bares her teeth. She looks ridiculous in her getup the pigtails and the chainmail dress bu the look of revenge was not a look to laugh at.

Della knew that look all too well.

“Any more tricks demigod?” she snarls.

“Heck yeah I got tricks!” Leo shouts, “Come any closer and I’ll destroy you with fire!”

Della moves her hands in the bonds trying to connect with water just in case–just in case she is right and he has no control.

“Would you? Cyclops are immune to fire you moron. But you wish to play with flames let me help.”

She scoops red-hot coals from the fire into her hands and flings them at Leo. They all land around his feet.

“You missed,” he says incredicously.

Ma Gasket grins and pciks up a barrel next to the rucks and hurls it at Leo.

Coals spark and Leo closes his eyes.

Piper screams, “No!”

Della watches and waits–

A firestorm erupts around Leo, swirling twenty feet into the air. Ma Gasket screams in delight, but Leo doesn’t offer the fire any good fuel. The Kerosine burns up dying down to a small patch on the floor.

“Leo?” Piper asks.

Della smiles so she's right.

Ma Gasket gasps. “You live?” She takes an extra step forward. “What are you?”

“The Son of Hephestus,” Leo says, “And I warned you I’d destroy you with fire.”

He points a finger with a look of determination and shoots a bolt of white-hot flames at the chain suspending the engine block above Ma Gasket;s head.

The flames die. Nothing happens. Ma Gasket cackles. “An impressive try Son of Hephestus. It’s been centuries since I’ve seen a fire user. You’ll make a spicy appetizer!”

The chain snaps–the single link heated beyond it’s tolerance point–and the engine block fell, deadly and silent.

“I don’t think so,” Leo says.

Ma Gasket didn’t even have a chance to look up.

Smash! No more cyclops–just a pile of yellow dust under a five-ton engine block.

“Not immune to engines, huh?” Leo says, “Boo-yah!”

The curly haired boy crumples to his knees.

“Leo!” Piper yells, “Are you alright?”

Leo stumbles back to his feet. He’s never used that much of his power before, Della can tell, he’s pale and sweaty.

It takes him a long time to get Piper and Della out of their chains. Della scampers over to Jason, who was still unconcious.

Piper passes Della nectar.

Della manages to trickle a bit into his mouth, and he groans. Thank the gods. The welt on his head shrinks and he gets a bit more color back in his face.

“He’s goit a thick skull, he’ll be fine,” Leo says.

“Good,” Piper says. Then she looks at Leo with something that resemebles fear. “How–did you–the fire–have you always…”

Leo looks at his shoes, “Always,” he says, “I’m a freaking menace. I’m sorry I should’ve told you guys sooner–”

“Sorry?” Della and Piper laugh.

“That was amazing, Valdez! You saved our lives. What are you sorry about?” Piper asks. She smiles at him with pride in her eyes.

“You did awsome Dude,” Della smiles, “I had a feeling about this.” she gestures to the fire thing.

“I bet you did, Katara,” Leo teases. His smile fades when he notices something by Piper’s foot.

Della sees it too.

Yellow dust–the pulvarized cyclops remains, shifts across the floor like an invisible wind was pushing it back together.

What in Hades–

“They’re forming again,” Leo says, “Look.”

“Impossible…” Della mutters. She’s seen monsters die they never do this.

“I thought you said they go back to Tarturus?” Piper asks.

“They’re supposed to,” Della says.

“Well, no one told the dust that,” Leo says.

“Oh gods,” Piper says, “Boreas said something about this. When–”

“Death holding up horrors, When monsters no longer stay in Tarturus and death is no longer confined to Hades,” Della finishes for her. “Let’s get out of here. Now.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Leo says. 

[emptystove]

The Long Con - Ch 14

One Piece Fanfic (Romance/Drama/Suspense)

Pairing: Nami x Law

Rating: EXPLICIT, 18+ ONLY

CW: Smutty Smut Smut, light bondage, light dom/sub

Chapter Summary: Nami spends more time with Sanji before finally meeting back up with Law.

Posted to AO3, FanFiction, and Wattpad under HortyCord.

Chapter 14 - Trust

Sanji was already sat leaning against the bars that separated their cells when Nami was returned.

She forced herself to settle in closer to him, leaning against the back wall but still safely out of his reach if he were to try anything. Now that her initial fear had mostly worn off, she allowed herself to really take in his state. His clothing was torn, and there were deep marks where his shackles met the skin on his wrists and ankles. He was a bit gaunt, probably from the lack of regular meals. And when he thought she was looking, he would pull his fingers into tight fists to keep them from shaking.

From the way he was stealing glances of her, Nami was surprised how long he held out before finally speaking.

"Where did they take you?" His brows were knit together over glassy eyes. He was so easy to read. He couldn't help but be an open book, worry etched into every line on his face.

"To the king," she answered. Selling her lies with half truths was a standard trick for Nami, but doing that in front of a Vinsmoke brought her too close to memories of how she was able to trick Ichiji, of what she went through to survive. She was so busy forcing those images out of her mind that she missed his next question.

"What?"

"I asked if you are alright. I mean, did he...," Sanji swallowed hard. His voice was a bit less strained than the last time they spoke, but he still struggled to keep it steady. "What did he do?"

Nami looked away. She remained silent and hugged her knees to her chest. She would let his imagination do the lying for her. Based on how they were torturing him, whatever his mind came up with would sell her story better than she could.

His reaction was surprising, although maybe it shouldn't have been. He was seething. He was more upset by Nami's pain than his own, and she wondered if he was actually as different from his brothers as he claimed to be.

His response reminded her of someone. Someone who was also much softer than his reputation.

She watched him adjust his torn sleeve to recover his tattoo as he looked away from her. She didn't even realize she was staring at it.

He was ashamed of the mark, what it meant, and how people judged him for it. That familiar pain hit her much harder, and she was speaking to him again without even thinking.

"How old were you when they did that?" She asked softly.

She knew he didn't want to talk about it, but she also knew he was still desperate for any type of interaction with her.

"Maybe five? I can't remember."

"I was eight."

Pale blue eyes locked onto her, a mix of confusion and concern.

She turned and lifted her left sleeve as best she could while handcuffed. Even if he didn't recognize who the symbol belonged to, he understood the implication she was making.

"You can tell by the warping of the design when someone got tattooed as a child," she continued softly. "It changes with your body as you grow. Yours was subtle, but I can still tell."

He was staring at her in awe, eyes darting from the slightly skewed swordfish on her arm to the far-off look in her eyes.

Nami was ready to brace herself, to gather her courage to continue, but she was surprised when she didn't feel the need to. Normally, she would be telling lies to seem more relatable to her target, but Sanji was different. He was easy to relate to, and although that made her somewhat uneasy, it also made her relieved to have gotten past her initial fear of him so quickly.

"My name is Nami," she mirrored his words from the first time they spoke. "I don't know what your family did to you, but I'm truly sorry."

"Nami," he rasped almost more to himself than to her. His hands gripped the bars between them as his gaze softened. "Nami," he mumbled again, as if saying her name out loud ensured the person in front of him and the kindness she gave in that moment was truly real.

"Sanji," she whispered, giving him the faintest hint of a smile. "Do they ever turn down these stupid lights?"

He returned the smile as much as his exhausted features would let him. "Sometimes. It's either pitch black or bright as the sun. Whichever they think we don't want. Just another way to try to break us."

She thought about his words. Her mind was starting to wonder what other types of psychological torture they subjected him to. His heart must be strong to last this long, endure so much, and still refuse to submit. If she wasn't careful, she might actually start to like him.

"Nami." She looked up, and he made sure she was listening before he continued. "They aren't going to break us. I promise."

"Good," she whispered back, suddenly feeling desperate to change the subject.

She didn't know exactly what Doflamingo wanted out of him, but he did say he wanted everything. So, Nami decided to go for what she was actually interested in at that moment. A distraction.

She asked him trivial questions about himself, and he was more than happy to answer. They talked for hours. She knew his favorite color, favorite food, and the different types of bait he liked to use while fishing. He knew her favorite music, the types of books she likes, and the best islands for shopping. It was all insignificant based on their situation, but it's what they both needed.

She had to stop herself from saying too much when he started describing an island that sounded a lot like Zou. He could tell she wanted to say something, though, so he watched her expectantly, patiently waiting for any piece of information about herself she was willing to give him.

"Is that where you would go to if you could leave?" She asked instead.

He frowned in thought. "I, uh, I don't know. It would be great to be almost anywhere outside of a dungeon, I guess," he chuckled half-heartedly.

"If you had your freedom - like really had freedom, without the fear of kings or fathers or of anyone knowing your name, what would you do?"

Sanji hummed and scratched the scruff on his chin. "Well, the first thing I would do is smoke a damn cigarette."

Nami giggled. Looking back toward him again, she wondered how much of his shaking hands had to do with nicotine withdrawal.

"After that, I guess I would be cooking. Feeding the hungry... I want to live in a world where borders and treaties and the rich and powerful can't dictate what food is available where and for whom."

She smiled genuinely at him for the first time. "Can you cook anything with mikans?"

"I can cook anything with anything. When we get out of here, I'll cook you anything you like." He was smiling ear to ear now. "What about you? What would you do?"

Nami really wasn't sure anymore. She thought of her sister's freedom. If that wasn't her goal, what would she do? Up until recently, her answer would have been obvious. She wanted to draw a map of the world. She would have answered that way too, if the words didn't die in her mouth before she could speak. She thought back to the last time she was truly happy, and it changed everything she thought she wanted. If someone had told her just months ago that her answer to that question would be on a submarine, she would have laughed in their face. Now though, she couldn't bring herself to dream of freedom without also dreaming about him.

What would freedom even be like with Law? A lot like her time on Zou, she imagined. Without meaning to, her mind flooded with the most stupidly ideal scenario she could think of. Shachi making coffee and tea in the mornings, Nami bonding with Bepo over charts and navigation, and Penguin suddenly becoming very busy every time Nami would bring up collecting his debt. She imagined what it would be like to introduce Law to Nojiko. She would give him such a hard time, even though Nami knew Nojiko would already have decided she approved of him. She imagined Law holding her again, shutting out all of her worries and fears, drifting off in his arms for the rest of her days.

"Nami?" Sanji asked with a touch of concern as he watched a stray tear slip down her cheek.

"Ah, sorry. These stupid lights must be straining my eyes more than I realized," she lied. "Traveling is my dream. I want to make a map of the world. I mean, that was my only dream, but I think now I have another."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, I want you to cook for me."

She smirked as he blushed all the way to his ears, and she finally understood that he was telling the truth.

He really wasn't a Vinsmoke.

*****

It was still dark out when Nami made her way back to her room, only a few hours before the sun would peek over the horizon. She was barely in the door before Law pulled her the rest of the way inside, locking it promptly behind her.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, almost desperately.

"What the hell, Law?"

"Were you downstairs all night?"

"Well, it's nice to see you again, too."

Law let out a heavy sign, willing himself to calm down. He knew his pent-up, anxious, sleep-deprived brain wasn't helping him come across the way he intended.

He managed to keep the strain out of his voice, but he couldn't stop himself from demanding all the answers he was craving.

"You're doing another job for Doflamingo then?"

"Yeah, it's the whole reason I'm here." She said it like it was obvious.

"I know you've been meeting with him in his office."

Nami rolled her eyes. "And you think that means what exactly? You think I'm fucking him?"

"Just tell me what-"

"This is ridiculous. I've got questions for you, too, you know." She pushed an accusatory finger into his chest. "You couldn't tell me you wrote a formal report on what we did in Germa? Because it seems like I'm just about the only person here who hasn't read it."

"Nami-ya," he started, but her patience had already run out.

"He questioned me about it. About a lot of things, actually. And no, he didn't touch me, if that's the only thing you are worried about. I don't know what his end game is exactly, but I know a master manipulator when I see one. Speaking of which, exactly how cozy are you getting with Monet?"

"We aren't cozy," Law grimaced. This wasn't how he needed this conversation to go. "We aren't anything. Doflamingo is making her work with me, probably tasked her with keeping an eye on me. If it makes you feel any better, I threatened to kill her the last time she tried to come onto me." He took a step closer, raising his hand to cup her cheek. "I only care about-"

"Who is the Surgeon of Death?"

Law's hand stopped just short of her face. "Who told you about that?"

This was a problem. He suspected Doflamingo was trying to separate them, but it was clear now that wasn't the extent of it. If he was trying to poisoning her against him, Doflamingo knew they had a relationship. The question now was why. Doflamingo could be ruining Law's happiness for his own fun or because he was hurt by their attempt to keep it a secret. He hadn't ever been shy about ruining his family members relationships as he saw fit. Baby 5 knew that better than anyone. The other possibility was that he suspected Law's betrayal. That would be much for dangerous for both of them.

"How long have you known Doflamingo?" She asked, getting more visibly frustrated as he pointedly looked away. "Why should I answer any of your questions when you won't answer mine? Why should I-"

"Because you're fucking with my head!" He whisper-screamed, finally abandoning all attempts at composure. "Ever since I met you, everything is ten times harder. Do you realize that? I had one thing to do. One goal. And now every step I take toward it, I'm, I'm hesitating. I'm missing things. Things I never would normally miss. And the closer I get, the farther I am because all I can fucking think about is you."

"Law..."

She reached for him, but he was already pulling away. It wasn't her pity or empathy that he needed right now. "I made you a promise. I never doubted that I could keep it, but you make it really fucking difficult."

He was pacing, refusing to look at whatever expression she had after his outburst. He didn't need her to argue with him or yell back at him, even if he deserved it. He didn't need her to coddle him. He needed-

"I guess..." She hesitated for a moment, prompting his eyes to come back to her, surprised by her tone. She licked her bottom lip and swiftly replaced tongue with teeth. His eyes locked on her mouth as she released her lip, letting it slide slowly back into place. She looked up at him through heavy lashes. "I guess I've been bad."

Nami struggled to hold back her satisfied grin as she watched him freeze up. Law's expression was guarded, but he was melting fast.

He swallowed thickly and parted his lips, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to speak.

He knew what she was doing. She was giving him back the control she knew he needed, offering him the intimacy with her he craved. She knew him so well. She manipulated him effortlessly, and he fucking loved it.

The next thing he knew, she was whispering in his ear. When had she gotten so close to him? His hand ghosted up her spine, and the last of his resistance finally snapped as she begged him to teach her a lesson.

His fingers tangled in her hair, and he yanked her head back, forcing her to look up into his fiery gaze. He meant to ask her something reasonable, like if she was sure, or if she knew what she was really asking him to do. But when he saw the same burning desire looking back at him all he could manage was, "You drive me fucking insane."

His lips crashed into hers. The warmth that bloomed in his chest spread out like electricity in his veins.

He swallowed every moan and whimper she let out as he manhandled her across the room. She grasped at him feverishly, desperate for more contact, and she gasped when he pushed her off him and onto the bed.

She was panting, trying to catch her breath, eyes wide with excitement as she watched him slowly remove his belt. Instead of continuing to undress, he knelt on the bed beside her. She opened her mouth to speak but snapped it shut when he shot her a warning glare. He knew she liked him being in control as much as he did. She trusted him completely.

He removed her belt next, and she obediently lifted her hips to make it easier without him instructing her to. She was so perfect. If he wasn't already in love with her, he would have fallen for her then and there.

"Strip."

She obeyed.

He climbed on top of her, holding the leather tight in his hands. His lips ghosted over the shell of her ear, and he felt her shudder underneath him.

"Tell me the safe word," he commanded.

"Mikans," she breathed.

"Good girl."

*****

Each of her hands were tied to the headboard with a different belt. The bottom half of her body was held above her, strong hands gripping her hips as her legs curled over his shoulders. She was almost upside down as he effortlessly held her soaked core up against his face. If she wasn't careful, she was going to come undone again. How many times had it been already tonight? She was already fucked out of her mind, and she couldn't blame that on the blood rushing to her head from her current position.

"Please..." she whined between heated breaths.

"Please what?"

She almost thought she imagined his voice, because how could he speak when his tongue was buried so beautifully inside her?

"Ah, Law, p-please."

This time she knew it wasn't her imagination because he pulled away ever so slightly, and she could feel his hot breath teasing her slick folds as he spoke.

"I'll give you anything you want, Love. You just have to say it."

She had to muster every bit of strength she had left to not unravel just from his words.

"Need you, ah, please Law, need you inside, please. Need to cum. Please. Please. -Ah!" She hardly knew what she was saying. Her brain somehow able to form the words she wanted to say and what she knew he wanted to hear.

He dropped her with one swift movement, and he was already climbing on top of her when her body bounced up from the force of her fall against the mattress. She started to wonder how he had managed to last so long pleasing her without losing himself. The ways he touched her, how he moaned into her cunt as he pulled orgasm after orgasm from her.

She gasped and fluttered her eyelids shut as he finally entered her. One agonizingly slow push until he was completely inside her. As much as he had already loosened her up, she was still tight around him.

"So fucking perfect for me," he rasped, and he groaned when his words made her clench harder around him.

Her hands gripped the leather on the belts as he started to move. She wanted to touch him desperately, wanted to feel him with every inch of skin she could. She wrapped her legs around him, her hips moving to meet his as he increased his pace. The only sounds in the room were the slapping of skin on skin, the creaking of leather under her hands, and his soft, low panting next to her ear.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, nipping and sucking marks into her skin before licking his soft, warm tongue across them.

"Cum for me," he growled against her skin, and she obeyed. Her vision blurring, her whole body tensing and arching as the man above her reached his own peak.

She heard herself whimper as he pulled himself out, cold air almost unpleasant against her noticeably empty hole.

Her eyes were still closed when she felt him unbind her hands. She wrapped them around his neck to pull him close, but he was already moving to hold her again. His skin was so warm under her fingertips, just feeling him as he cradled her, so soft and gentle, had her let out a satisfied sigh.

"I-, mm," he cut off his own words with a tender kiss, "-so much."

"I know," she breathed easily, relaxing further into his touch. "I needed that, too."

He rested his head on her chest, holding tight to her waist as their legs intertwined. She twirled her fingers through his hair, getting closer and closer to sleep until she heard him speak, just barely above a whisper.

"I was 10 years old when I met Doflamingo."

Her hand stilled for half a second before she continued her movements, silently encouraging him to continue. He paused so long, she thought that might be all she was going to get. Though when he started to speak again, it was like he couldn't stop himself.

"The place where I'm from, where I was raised, it's gone now. The people who lived there were slaughtered. Government claimed we were too high of a risk, that we would spread disease to other nations. We were sick, and it was deadly, but it wasn't contagious. Polluted soil from companies that lined the pockets of those in power. It was more lucrative to silence their victims than to stop the suffering they caused. They didn't hold back once the decision was made. Everyone was dead by morning. My neighbors, my classmates, my parents, even my little sister... I shouldn't have survived. I'm not sure why I tried so hard to live, knowing that I was going to die soon anyway. When I met Doflamingo, I had nothing left but hate. I thought he could help me get some sort of revenge on the world that took everything from me. That's when I joined the family."

Nami silently took in his words, her heart breaking for the man in her arms.

"After a while, someone helped me. Took me away to find a cure. After he was gone, I didn't want to go back to Doflamingo. I lost my family a second time, but something was different about me then." He let out a heavy sigh. "I met Bepo not long after, Shachi and Penguin shortly after that."

She peppered soft kisses along his forehead. She wanted to know more, but she knew she was lucky to get that much. A small pang of guilt filled her chest as she thought about the sister he lost, wondering if her improvised cover pretending to be his sister in Germa had hurt him. She held him close, continuing to graze her fingers across his hair and skin until his breathing became slow and steady. There was still a lot she didn't know about him, but it seemed like his secrets were a lot more like hers than she realized.

It was all going to be ok, though.

She was back in his arms, and she still had faith in him. He would tell her everything else when he could.

They still had time.

Previous Chapter | Fanfic Master List | Next Chapter

[missiletoe]

and last one for the day - fill #4! hopefully more to come <3

Prompt: character A uses flower symbolism as a means of flirting; character B knows nothing about flowers Word Count: 1224

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Someone’s playing a cruel prank on her and frankly, Kitty’s sick of it. Sure, the first few weeks she’d understood–torn notes, stolen gym clothes, weird plants in her locker, it’s run-of-the-mill new kids treatment.

But they’re three weeks in and the flowers are still streaming in like it’s Day 1. She’s pretty sure Q is collecting the petals behind her back, even though she tells him not to.

“Some of these are rare!” he protests as he shoves them into his backpack. They’re getting crushed under the weight of all his books. “Like really, really rare!”

The first week had been camellias, according to Q. White and pink buds, delicate petals layered in a seemingly endless ring around the center. Q had swooned amidst her coughing fit.

Week 2 had brought sakurasou and a raging case of hives.

“These aren’t even native to the area,” Q had shrieked. “This is a Japanese flower–the primrose! The petals are so small… and such a pretty shade of purple!” Kitty had offered a sympathetic sniffle, her nose buried too deep in a tissue to note the delicacy.

The worst part is the allergies. Portland is a nightmare in Spring but she scrapes by with a box of Claritin and cutting her schedule in half. She only steps outside out of necessity. Having petals showered on her head every time she reaches for her textbooks is a completely different story.

And now Week 3 has brought cornflowers, if Q’s expertise is to be believed.

“They’re blue,” Kitty says, picking one up by the stem. Q yelps at her lack of delicacy. “Corn isn’t blue.”

“They have a history,” he sighs at her ignorance. “And a lengthy set of meanings too.”

“Pretty sure I don’t need a dictionary for that one,” she laughs. “This must be the Korean way of saying fuck you and get out of our school.”

Q’s responding smile is strained.

“You gonna take them again?” she asks. He shrugs guiltily in response but he’s already reaching for the stems.

“It’s a pretty shade of blue,” he says by way of explanation and Kitty shakes her head.

“If you wanna keep the creepy, stalker flowers, that’s all you. It’s like they know my schedule too because they always sneak them in when I’m at classes! Anyways, same time, next week?”

Q grins and bumps his fist against hers in response.

“Sweet Williams?” she echoes on Week 4. Q nods back violently. “Doesn’t look much like a William to me, haha!”

Her joke is received with silence because Q is on 4 hours of sleep and traded in his humor for brawns at birth.

“Okay… or not,” she finishes and tosses the bundle in his direction because she knows he’ll scoop them up off the floor anyways. He’ll probably give them to Florian too and the poor guy won’t even know they’re second-rate.

“Sweet Williams,” he echoes dully and Kitty doesn’t even know if it’s the flowers or last class’ lecture that sucked the life out of him. Professor Lee can be draining on a good day and Hades-soul-sucking-levels-of-evil on a bad one. “I think I’m starting to get it.”

“Get what?” Kitty prods but Q just stares at her blankly in response. “What’s there to get?”

He studies her in the crappy hallway lights, gaze swinging like a pendulum between her and the lockers and back to her again.

“I don’t know. I’m not really sure what there’s here to get.”

Week 5 brings honeysuckles that litter the ground when she reaches for her history textbook.

“Seriously?” she yelps, grinding one underfoot as she fishes for a pencil. “Again?!”

The sneezing starts up again just as Eunice and her posse walk by. They smother their disdain the same way that the Korean haminis do when she walks in the streets with a crop top–that is, not at all. Kitty looks up at the sky and wonders again, why her?

“It’s like they’re trying to make me look stupid,” she says and doesn’t even feel bad when her locker slams shut on a petal, tearing it in two.

“No,” Q mumbles when he thinks he’s out of earshot. “You’re definitely not the one that looks stupid here.”

There are no flowers when she opens her locker on Week 6 and she nearly cries from the relief. Finally, her anonymous-stalker-slash-creep-slash-weirdo-who-only-communicates-passive-aggressively-via-flowers has chosen to let her live in peace.

She closes her locker and nearly screams. Yuri is standing in the open gap, leaning against the wall with a flower in her hand. She’s cupping it like a candle flame, like she’s shielding Kitty from it. Or maybe shielding it from Kitty?

“Please,” she says and there’s desperation edging into her voice. She nudges the stem in her direction with a flick of her wrist.

Record scratch. Rewind. That’s a flower in her hand. That means Yuri’s been the one leaving her flowers? Yuri’s been the one leaving her hate messages, telling her to get out of her school?

“You have to know what this one means,” Yuri says and she sounds tired, like she’s been stretched out on a hanger for weeks and left out to dry.

She sighs and unfurls her hand to reveal a bright red rose behind it. Oh. Oh. 

Red roses–Kitty’s seen those ones before. In shojo mangas and chickflicks and every convenience store within a two-mile radius before Valentine’s Day.

“That’s… not an ‘I-hate-you’ flower,” she says slowly. Yuri shakes her head in response and the smile tugging on her face looks worn.

“It’s an ‘I-like-you-please-go-out-with-me’ flower, Kitty,” she replies.

“Oh.” Behind her, Q gives an awkwards two thumbs-up. He knew, she realizes belatedly. She shoots him an angry why-didn’t-you-say-something look and he gives her a half-shrug with his jaw set out in response. “Oh.”

“You don’t have to force yourself to say yes out of pity. I–”

“No!” Kitty’s always had a tendency to leap before she looks and her mouth tumbles on forwards before her mind has time to catch up. “I mean–no, I, ugh! What I’m trying to say is you’re smart and beautiful and you never have a hair out of place and you saved my tourist ass when I was stranded in the airport on that first day. And you’ve helped me carve out a space for myself at KISS and made me feel like I really might belong, even when the whole universe seemed to be telling me otherwise. I think I would’ve packed my bags and given up by now, if it wasn’t for you.” Yuri’s smile has tumbled out into a full-blown thing and Kitty sucks in a deep breath before continuing.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I didn’t know someone like you could like someone like me.”

“Surprise?” Yuri says. Her lips are half-hidden behind the rose but Kitty can still make out her smile.

“Are you free Saturday?” Kitty asks suddenly because she’s overcome with the urge to nail this down now, to put a ring on her finger before she can change her mind. She has six weeks to make up for and Kitty Song Covey doesn’t do things halfway. Yuri blinks at her.

“I think so?”

“Then it’s a date! I’ll bring you flowers–what’s your favorite kind?”

Yuri looks up at her shyly before she smiles.

“Catnip!”

[lampmanliveblogs]

Looks like we’ve got a couple of entries by Luz in various stages over the last few years. I’ll go over all of them, starting with the first one.

Right, so they just moved into this house. Camila, in an effort to protect her daughter from a harsh reality, says it’s because the old house wasn’t pretty enough… but little Luz figured out that it was probably because there was a better hospital for her dad close-by.

Despite being more savvy than Camila gave her credit for, Luz is still bright-eyed and optimistic and her clothes are colorful, a stark contrast to the next entry.

I guess this also confirms that Manny died in an illness, not in a sudden accident or the like.

Some speculation on the timeline… I can’t remember if it was stated when Manny died in Reaching Out, I don’t think so. But it obviously took place a few years ago, long enough for Luz and Camila to make a tradition out of gathering flowers to place on Manny’s grave. So I’d say this might have taken place three to four years ago.

The next entry is far bleaker. It is the worst week ever; the week her father died. Compare with the last entry, and this one is not just bleaker in tone, but also in color. Luz shirt is raincloud grey, her smile is gone and so is the spark in her eyes. Even the wall behind her has lost their warm orange hue and become coldly grey.

This entry probably takes place a few months after the first one, based on Luz teeth having grown out, and her haircut. The room behind her is still pretty barren, a moving box still left in the corner and the wardrobe almost empty. Likely  symbolic of how the house doesn't feel like a true home yet, not without Manny.

At the end of the entry, she holds up the first Good Witch Azura book, saying that her dad gave left it for her. Finally giving some context into why Luz loves that series so much. It connects her with her departed dad.

The counselor or whatever he was that appeared in Camila’s nightmare earlier in the episode might’ve been right in that Luz' obsession with escapist fantasy was her way of dealing with grief. At least to some extent.

The next entry takes place not too long after the previous one, though some time has obviously elapsed. Though the pain is likely still fresh, Luz has found it within herself to be happy and excited about this book left to her by her dad. The moving box is gone, and the walls are now adorned with Azura fanart and posters.

Again, at least a few good months have passed, maybe even as much as a year. Luz’ hair has grown out, the Azura posters are joined by other series, and the wardrobe is full with clothes. There are winter clothes in the wardrobe, so this entry was probably recorded in spring or summer.

The ”Soul Devourer” poster is an obvious reference to Soul Eater. It’s blocked by Luz’ arm in this frame, but there is a poster that says ”It Came From The Dirt.” Which could be a reference to the 1953 sci-fi horror movie It Came from Outer Space. It could also be a reference to the horror action game from 1989 called It Came from the Desert, OR the 2017 movie named after the game.

Also, Luz, please don’t try to cut your hair with a sword you got at a convention, it’s not gonna end well.

I told you so Luz.

You know, out of all the lore drops I was expecting to get, the mysterious origins of Luz’ hairstyle was not one of them. They will really give the me the origins of everything but Bat-Queen, huh?