#anyway I do not want to exist right now because existence is a sham and all I’m doing is self sabotage

[tobiasdrake]

Either Desuhiko's about to close one checkmate of a brilliant trap, or he's committed the biggest whoopsy-doodle of all time.

That's a good question. Either he hung onto it because he's an opportunistic filcher or he hung onto it for bait. Once again, it's genuinely hard to tell whether Desuhiko is playing a fool or is a fool.

If he is acting, he deserves an award.

I don't know that Desuhiko would do that.

But I don't know that he wouldn't either.

Now that she's confirmed the ring's location, she's looking for her opening. I wonder if she knew he had it on him from the start of the interview, or if this was a genuine surprise? She baited him with the hidden treasure talk but I'm not sure she was anticipating him whipping it out of his pocket.

Now she makes her move. Oh, I hope this blindsides Desuhiko. I want her to get away with this so bad. Enyne is awesome.

DESUHIKO YOU FOOL

Or mastermind. One of the two. Desuhiko is, at this moment in time, a quantum imbecile. He's wearing Schrodinger's Dunce Cap. He exists in simultaneous states, where he both is and is not a useless clown, and will remain in such a state until one is finally observed to be true and the probabilities collapse into reality.

Oh wow, that's a fantastic engraving. Whoever stashed the hidden treasure had an amazing gift of prophecy!

She casually slides it on her finger. What a baller move. I love this woman. She's fantastic. 10/10 Would play a game about the legendary homunculus thief. Stealing works best under cover of night anyway so it's not like the sun would bother her.

Huh. Didn't think Yakou would willingly participate in a sham investigation guaranteed to draw Peacekeeper attention. That's uncharacteristically helpful of him.

I don't like that she's explaining everything. This feels like they're setting her up for Desuhiko to flip the tables and turn everything around on her.

Come on, Enyne. Forget the shrimp in a blanket and get out of there!

Uh, how did you "destroy her image"? People don't respect her for being uncatchable. I mean, that's part of her reputation, but the main thing they respect is her charity. What part of the fake ring theft was designed to make her stop seeming to be a charitable figure?

I want that to be true. Come on, Enyne. You have the ring. Get out of there before the other shoe drops.

Is he being serious right now? No tricks? She really did get the drop on him? ~_~ I'm so nervous right now. I haven't felt this tense since I figured out who the killers were in Chapter 2 and realized how badly I didn't want to solve the case.

It's a good plan. Not hard to do, either, if you're someone who has their ear to the ground.

Yeah, I figured. Which means we're back at "Enyne fences merchandise somehow in a city that would have an extremely hard time sustaining a criminal underground".

Go! Get out of here!

DAMMIT NO

Someone stuff Desuhiko in a box before he has a chance to say anything else!

Oh goddammit.

Has she lost, though? Like. Hey. Desuhiko? Where is the trap part of this trap?

Like. What is stopping her from kicking him in the face, grabbing up the real ring, and then strolling out the door? Desuhiko's gloating like this is his ultimate master play but I don't see any jaws sprung yet.

For a moment, I thought maybe he trapped the ring. It's obviously made by his Disguise Kit, so I figured it might, like, jab her finger with a sedative or something.

But. No. He's just. Standing there gloating. Where's the trap?

Oh fuck off, you libidinous piglet. She robs museums and then something something and then donates the money to charitable causes. She's engaging in wealth redistribution. That's a far more noble endeavor than the lengths you're going to see your name in a headline.

So, for real, Desuhiko. Where are the jaws? This trap isn't coming together.

I don't know what else you think you can do. If you had Yomi's men here, you might be able to take her in. Emphasis might. She's a notorious unstoppable thief so she might be as badass as Halara.

But I still don't see what's stopping her from flipping you upside down and prying the ring out of your hand with minimal effort. You are not an intimidating person. Go on, Desuhiko. What is the plan?

What.

WHAT. DESUHIKO NO. WHAT THE FUCK DESUHIKO.

This is alarmingly in character for him BUT STILL. KICK HIM IN THE FACE AND TAKE THE RING.

The quantum imbecile has been observed. The douche function collapsed, probability became certainty, and the reality has been locked in as... both. Great job, Desuhiko.

#master detective archives: rain code #drake plays rain code #desuhiko thunderbolt

[haleigh-sloth]

Hi. So please please do not answer this if it’s a trigger for you and do take care of yourself, but did Endeavor rape Rei? The new episode seems to really place emphasis on the way he looked at her when he wanted more kids, and it seems like that’s how the animators wanted you to read it. But I don’t like it. It feels like it doesn’t fit Endeavor’s arc - he’s never called on it, he doesn’t end up in jail or have any consequences, and Rei doesn’t treat it as something that happened. I’m dumb and have a hard time reading between the lines so I was wondering if you had any thoughts on this.

I don't really know what to say.

The idea of marital rape being a part of their circumstances is not new information.

This is not subtle in what it implies the circumstances of Natsuo's and Shouto's births were:

Just so we're clear--violence and force do not have to be present for it to be non-consensual.

I don't really want to go into detail about how it's non-consensual because I've already talked about it here, and so has @redphlox here.

But I'll say that it's not new and it does fit Endeavor's arc. Simply because...it's always been there. The anime didn't drop this on us, we've always known.

Endeavor doesn't get called on hardly anything btw. I mean, look at canon right now and look at peoples' initial reaction to Dabi telling his story. Nobody really cared, and the ones that did initially faced it with denial and despair at the thought of having to let go of their ideal Endeavor. Jeanist? Literally does not care, at all. Hawks? It's more complicated than simply "not caring", but really and truly, from Touya's and other peoples' perspectives looking in? It looks like Hawks doesn't care, regardless of what we as readers know about Hawks that the characters don't.

But if we're talking about this issue with their marriage specifically, Rei is not about to call him on anything, even though she has the right to. She entered the sham of a marriage and brought kids into a family that had them for just, awful reasons, maybe except for Fuyumi--not that it matters. Rei feels guilty because of this, as she's there taking responsibility for her part in the family's problems.

Honestly, it is a very testy subject because at the end of the day, this aspect of their past is just not focused on afterward. We don't have much internal narration from Rei (yet), and Endeavor isn't written to think on this. The very obvious implications are there, but I don't expect Hori to give it focus outside of the flashback later on as the story progresses. The purpose of showing it in the flashback was to portray how sinister and disturbing their entire situation was. It's just overall very, very fucked up.

There are cultural things to consider as well. While I don't cite laws when discussing what's abuse and what's rape and what's what, I can say that the reason a Japanese character is not thinking on this may be due to Japanese laws surrounding this anyway. The law itself means nothing to me personally, because it is what it is whether it's "legal" or not. But possible explanations as to why it's portrayed a certain way do exist.

#bnha asks #tw rape

[travelling-on-the-octopath]

I've seen people (people including me lmao) point out Claude never siding with The Emperor on CF as direct proof that he wouldn't ever side with her, even if she was winning. And yes that's true. But I've seen far fewer people out that Claude will just tell Dimitri and Byleth where Rhea is on AM, and how that proves that even in 3H he doesn't actually want to kill her.

Like, he has that moment in VW where he says he's wondered what a world without Rhea would look like and you get support points up if you show off you noticing that, but like. When push comes to shove? He still helps find her. And can't stress enough how much he did not need to do this.

He's done his part. He's helped the Kingdom, fought back the Empire, got the Alliance to remerge with the Kingdom, and his ship home is literally right behind him - he didn't have to also help the Church find Rhea, especially since they were going to Enbarr anyway and would likely just find her by themselves without his directions. But he made the conscious choice to be the one to tell them where Rhea was. When! For all he could've possibly known, the Church finding her meant Rhea being back to being archbishop, not Byleth!

And combine that with how in his route he helps find her and grows something like respect for her in their last interaction, and in SS it's his side that helps her, and in CF he doesn't fight against her or side with the Empire... it's kinda clear that he... never wanted to kill Rhea. That wondering what a world without her would be like =/= being willing to actually kill her/having the want to actually kill her.

So all his talk in 3Hopes about the "corrupt church" and Rhea "shackling down Fodlan" and his unending need to kill Rhea because of him thinking it'll magic Fodlan into being better? I look upon all of the routes in 3H as evidence against that idea. Especially the ones without Byleth there with him and especially the route where he's actually encouraged by Byleth to kill Rhea "for the greater good" (CF) and he still doesn't do that. Almost like he doesn't think bloodshed is a viable or morally sound way of going about change!

But that's a silly idea, nothing in 3H could eeever support THAT idea /s

YOU!!! I AM DRAPING YOUR MIND IN BLANKETS AND OFFERING IT TEA BECAUSE YOU'RE RIGHT.

[I'll focus mainly on Azure Moon, because I have nothing to add regarding the other routes that you haven't already covered] Claude literally searches for Rhea on his own time, and instead of going for her head himself (broke, tired, why would you do that king), he gives that information to Dimitri because he knows Dimitri will just go free her from the bowels of Enbarr (woke, wired, god bless you king). There's no way he gets this information out of Hubert, who only mentions a damn thing after everyone's dead or about to die, so he literally jumped through hoops to get an answer to make sure she didn't die in the ass of some palace somewhere after being kept there for five years. If he wanted her dead, I promise you, he would have left her to die--but even on a route where his on-screen interactions with her are next to, if not exactly, zero, he still gets her safe. Now, is the Doylist explanation for this "Rhea needs to be found, and the Empire would never help out the Kingdom in any capacity, so the writers needed some way to learn"? Possibly. But the fact remains that Claude ponders an existence without her, and remains firm in his distaste for useless bloodshed--which, surprise surprise, extends to Rhea, who by now he can tell is not harming Fódlan simply by breathing. And shoutout to the way he treats her like the vessel of knowledge she is on VW; you don't kill someone you believe has the answers to questions you've been asking for over half a decade, and you certainly don't leave a woman to die in the hands of an army who's done nothing but try and trample all over you for five years because, and lemme check my notes here--your independence is a sham.

#s dunks on clyde #fe #fe3h (the remix) #s responds #fire emblem warriors: three hopes spoilers #fewth spoilers #fea-and-fehf-headcanons

[insaneinspireddreamer]

.

#kinda wanna die but not in that active way more of like #I wouldn’t mind if I became the seafoam and the end of the little mermaid #or if I turned I to autumn leaves and blew away in the wind #or death in the way that the sun dies at night and the moon dies at dawn #not me waxing nihilistic poetry #anyway I do not want to exist right now because existence is a sham and all I’m doing is self sabotage #personal #tbd

[labyrinth-runner]

“I might already be on me knees, but I’m still gonna make you say please.” Darkling x Fem!Reader

Title: Worth the Wait

Summary: Reader is insecure of their powers and their ability to be the sun summoner. General Kirigan assures them that they have what it takes.

Word Count: 2600

Warnings: It's sinful sunday folks. This is literally going to turn into smut. Unprotected smut. Marking.

You'd been at the Little Palace for almost a month and by now you felt like you should have been making progress. They called you a Saint, and prayed to you so that you would be their deliverance, but who would deliver you? Who would save you? The weight of your responsibilities was almost debilitating on your shoulders. Most of the Grisha looked at you like you were so much better than them, like they could only dream of being you.

If only they knew the truth. You were a sham. You could barely manage to bring forth your power on the good days. Your arm had felt the wrath of Baghra's rage more than once this week.

Your power on your own was nothing like when Aleksander touched you. When his hand closed around your wrist, it was like your power would do anything for him. It bent to his will, and you were okay with that. The warm sureness washed over you and made you feel for one small moment that you might actually belong here. With the Grisha. With him.

The way he looked at you made you feel like you were more than you actually are. He made you want to live up to that look.

After another failed day of practice, you couldn't sleep. You tossed and turned in your comfortable bed, unable to relax. Eventually, you decided to get out of bed.

Your feet took you down to the main hall downstairs. The room was empty. Fires crackled in the hearths as their embers cooled from neglect. Your hand dragged along the tables, settling on the Darkling's seat. He had never used it in your time at the Palace, yet the Grisha fought over where they sat in relation to this chair.

There was nothing special about the chair. Its dark wood was smooth under your fingers. Casting a glance around, you pulled it out and sat, looking out over the empty chairs around you.

"It suits you," a voice said from behind you.

You jumped up, turning to see the silhouette of the General leaning against the open door to the war room. "I-I'm sorry, General."

"For what?" he asked, "For taking your rightful place? You should be sitting there, anyway. Not with the other Etherealki. You're not like them, Starling."

You blushed, looking down. "I know I'm not like them. They belong here. I don't."

"Come," he murmured, pushing the door wider for you to enter. "Let me set your mind at ease."

You passed by with bated breath, smelling the familiar scent of ash and cedar wash over you. Your eyes fell on the map resting on the table. The armies of Ravka were stretched thin, with enemies surrounding from all sides as well as from within. The door closed with a thud.

"Do you know why our enemies wish you dead?" he asked cooly.

"Because I am Grisha and Fjerdans hate our kind?" you replied.

His lips turned up slightly, "A good guess, but no. With your power, you can destroy the fold and reunite Ravka. A united country is stronger. We would loose less men, have more area to farm, and would have a better supply route. With you gone, we remain divided, an easy target for those who would wish Ravka harm."

You sighed, shoulders bowing forward. "I'm not capable of that."

"Not yet," he replied in your ear. His voice sent a shiver down your spine, "But you will be."

"How can you be so sure?" you asked, stepping forward out of his reach. Nervously, you rubbed your arms as you looked over the map.

"For a sun summoner, you surround yourself with darkness," he commented. A chill went through you as one by one the lights were consumed by pitch black night. "If you surround yourself with darkness, it's no wonder you can't find the light."

Your hair stood on end as you bumped into the table. Pieces on the war map toppled over. "If you're testing me, it won't work. There's no light here."

"There's no light in the fold, either," he countered.

"I'm not strong enough."

"Yes, you are." His voice was all around you, like the darkness. "You're just looking in the wrong places for the light."

"What do you mean?"

"You're a sun summoner. Your power comes from within. You need to stop looking outward for the power, the validation. The only person who can unlock your true potential is you."

"That's not true! When you touch me I-"

"When I touch you, I amplify what's already there. I make it easier for you to find it within you, but it's always been there, Starling."

You swallowed. The darkness was oppressive. Your voice was softer, less sure. "I can't."

"You can," he murmured. "All of those people believe in you. Why can't you believe in yourself?"

"Because they don't know me!"

"But they do. You are their Saint! The world has known you before you knew the world!"

"I'm no Saint. I'm just... I'm just me," you replied, frustrated.

"And what are you?"

"I..." Your mind was swimming. You used to say a member of the army. You used to say you were an orphan, someone without a place to belong. Then, after the incident in the fold, you were welcomed here. You wanted so badly to belong here. The Little Palace was everything you dreamed of. When you walked into a room, you were noticed. When you stood next to General Kirigan, you felt like an equal. You were no longer a nobody. You were a somebody. In the darkness, you reached for his cheek, and with precision you found it.

"I am Grisha" you replied, dragging your thumb across his cheek. Warmth surged through you as your power snaked it's way up to the surface. Your blood rushed in your veins. Every fibre of your being felt alive. You pushed away the darkness, surrounding you and Aleksander in a halo of light.

You pulled away from him and the room dimmed back to normal. His dark eyes focused on you, seeing you as he always had. His gaze was intense as you slowly backed away, your backside nudging the table.

"You're not just Grisha," he murmured stepping into your space. His hand reached up, his ring lightly grazing your cheek as he pushed a strand of hair out of your face. Your eyes fell from his to his lips. The air between you was charged. "You are mine, Starling."

His lips crashed against yours, his stubble tickling your skin. Your hands sunk into his raven hair to pull him closer to you. His large hands slid up your thighs, pushing your robe further up as they hooked behind your knees to lift you onto the table. Your back knocked over multiple little pieces, causing you to chuckle as his lips made their way down your neck to your clavicle. His thumbs drew lazy circles on the inside of your thighs as his lips trailed lower. Landing on his knees in front of you, his lips sucked marks up the soft flesh of your legs, inching the fabric further up.

"Are you scared?" he murmured, looking up from between your legs.

"Of you?" you asked, smoothing a lock of his hair out of his eyes. You thought back to all the moments between you, the pull, the charge, the familiarity of him. There was a crackle between your skin as your atoms grew closer, wanting to bond. You knew it now, you were two halves of the same whole. He was darkness, you were light. You could not exist without each other. Just as you could not know light without dark, you hadn't known yourself until you knew him.

"Starling?" he asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

"No," you admitted. "I'm not."

"Well, Starling, what do you want?" Aleksander asked, his fingers slipping up to hook around the band of your underwear, tugging down gently.

"You," you groaned, your head falling back to look at the ceiling as the cold air hit your skin.

“I might already be on me knees, but I’m still going to make you say please," he smirked, nipping your thigh.

"Please, Aleksander," you breathed, subconsciously opening your legs wider for him. "I want you."

The smug grin that you got in response made you bite your lip. His eyes seemed to get impossibly darker with desire as his hand slid up your chest to push you flat back against the table top. His other hand tugged on the bow keeping your robe closed, letting it fall open. He stood between your legs, taking in how you looked spread out over Ravka. All of it would be his from this moment forth: Ravka and you. The world was at his fingertips.

The anticipation was killing you as he gently dragged his fingertips down the valley of your chest before settling on your hips.

You had to wonder what he thought when he looked at you. Was this love? Or was it simply lust? When two beings such as yourselves existed, was there any other course to take besides falling for each other? When you were the only two beings who could potentially live forever, why would you fall for those who could die when like should end up with like?

"I've waited so long for you," he whispered.

"Then why wait any longer?" you asked breathlessly, propping up on your elbows. You had never felt more bare; more seen.

He tapped his fingers in a cadence on your thigh as one would impatiently tap a table. "You make a good point, Starling."

Reaching up, you grabbed ahold of the lapels of his coat, pulling him down to you. He rested his forehead against yours as your hands smoothed up his chest and over his shoulders to push the fabric off his body. Then, your sure fingers worked his buttons over with determination.

He grabbed your hands, bringing them up to kiss your wrists. The Darkling took over from where you left off, shedding his own shirt and pants until he matched you.

Hooking your heels around his abdomen, you pulled him closer. His hard length bumped against your slick. His eyes closed at the feeling.

Suddenly, it was if something had come over him. One hand gripped your hip as the other cupped the back of your head somewhat roughly to pull you into a kiss.

This kiss was different.

It was rough, passionate, but it wasn't all sunshine and roses. Part of it was frustration. Anger. Disgust at himself for not being able to be the cool, controlled Darkling he was known to be. He blamed you. He blamed himself for becoming undone by you.

You kissed him back with the same ferocity, but opposing emotions. Your kiss was a resignation, an acceptance that this was how the world should be. Your kiss was relief. Your kiss was love and admiration. Your fingers tugged at his hair, making him open his mouth to fight your tongue for dominance. It was a long battle, but you won. You twirled your tongue around his, soothing him. Your breaths mingled as one, a balance. Your breaths were tantric as he pulled your body flush against his.

Unexpectedly, he lifted you, carrying you towards his bedroom.

"What's wrong with where we were?" you asked softly as he placed you on his bed. It was softer than yours.

"I don't want to think of the war while I make love to you," he sighed in your ear. He pulled back to kiss you softly. "I just want it to be you and me. Here. Now."

Lining himself up with your entrance, he took a deep breath. He kissed you again as he entered. He wasn't forceful, but it was still an adjustment. He swallowed your noises of discomfort with his mouth, waiting for you to become accustomed to the feel of him. When you nodded, he started to move.

He started slow, rocking back and forth into you, kissing you as he did. His hand dipped down to push your knee towards your chest to increase the angle. He hit somewhere deep inside you, causing you to gasp. The gasp quickly turned into a moan as he hit the spot again and again. His pace quickened in speed and increased in roughness, but you liked it. Your body had taken worse beatings that left you feeling less pleasure than this before.

Your fingernails dug into his shoulder, looking to ground yourself. Deep within you, your power was surging, giving you energy that you spent on the Darkling. You matched his thrusts.

"Saints," he gasped.

You grabbed his chin, bringing his face back to look at yours. "I am yours. Take me as you want me."

His gaze was unfocused, seeing through you, but he nodded. His hips snapped into yours at a pace that shook the bed. Your hand gripped his hair tightly as he bit your neck, sucking a mark that you knew would be visible.

It was almost on the precipice of being more pain than pleasure. Your body was incredibly hot. A slight sheen of sweat glistened on your skin as you gasped for air from the exertion of it all. Every muscle in your body was pulled taut, like a slingshot ready to fire.

"Let go," he instructed in your ear.

You screamed his name. Your toes curled as a blinding light filled your vision and you saw stars. You saw the light within you, soaring up towards the heat of your inner sun until you could almost touch it.

And then you were falling. Crashing into a pool of cool darkness. The cold washed over your skin and you realized it was Aleksander's release. The darkness quenching the heat of the sun.

He slowed his pace, fucking you both through your orgasm until life came back into focus for both of you. You blinked through your daze until your vision cleared and you were back in the arms of the Darkling, resting on his bed.

The Darkling had lived a thousand lives before you were even born. Part of you wondered how often he had laid with someone like this, wondering how you'd compare to the rest.

He flopped on his back to catch his breath, chuckling as he stared at the canopy of his bed.

"That was...." He turned to look at you, a boyish grin on his face that you recognized as a happiness he never wore. "Worth the wait."

You let out a breathy laugh of your own as you turned onto your stomach. "Good. I'd hate to disappoint."

"You'd never disappoint, Starling." His smile softened as he reached up to hook his thumb under your chin.

Your eyes trailed down his body, looking at his chest and scrutinizing it for the first time. Scars marred his body. "I'm surprised you never had Genya erase those."

"They remind me of what I'm fighting for." He followed your gaze and sighed, the wall of sadness back in place, and also, you realized, grief.

You reached out to take his hand, kissing his palm. "The fight will be over soon."

He held his arm up so that you could tuck into his side. Hugging you into his side, he kissed the top of your head. "One way or another, Starling. One way or another."

#darkling x reader #darkling smut #general kirigan x you #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan smut #aleksander morozova imagine #darkling imagine #general kirigan imagine #sinful sunday

[kominum]

semoto (corpse x fem!reader)

4 times you think tuxedo mask!corpse could be yours + 1 time you learn to stop feeding your own delusions 

pt. 1 + background info can be found here! please read for context. 

basic rundown of classic!sailor moon (anime) lore ‘creatively’ used in this two-part:

sailor moon and tuxedo mask are star-crossed lovers/soulmates that faced tragedy in a previous life. 

sailor mars (aka you/reader) had a crush on tuxedo mask’s non-hero persona, darien/mamoru, for a while 

sailor moon is the moon princess and tuxedo mask is the earth prince.  

sailor moon’s non-hero persona, usagi/serena, bickered a lot with darien/mamoru.

fem!reader // tw: death mentions, bodily injury, unrequited love to the very end, some unresolved tension. 

1. “Whaddup, baby?” 

Without much reason, you and Corpse trade off calling each other whenever a new monster is defeated. You’re figuring out all of this as much as he is, but he doesn’t have much guidance besides some supernatural force within him. He’s not taking instructions from a black cat and white cat like you and the other girls are who can help fill you in on the gaps -- all he knows is that he’s pivotal to maintaining Earth’s existence, and he’s not exactly thrilled about it.

But the calls are never about the fights, never about your secret identities. In fact, you’d be willing to bet half your grocery funds that he still hasn’t made the connection between you and your Sailor Mars persona and part of you wants to keep it that way. Sometimes you’re mentally exhausted and just want to forget about the events for the day or night, which is why you usually end up calling him soon after everyone disperses or vice versa. It’s almost instinctual these days, and you wonder how long it’ll be before you accidentally crack. 

Right now, the rule of thumb seems to be, “Never trust new flashy shops that open with no warning and have too-good-to-be-true grand opening offers.” This time, some luxurious salon opened up by a famous local hairdresser had been the said attraction. All of you weren’t ignorant enough to believe the sham, but the star of the show had taken the chance to say, “Let’s go scope it out!” when really, she wanted that free haircut. You had called her out on it, but she argued that if anything happened, then perfect, you all could take care of it right then and there. Needless to say, you do not want to be attacked by a monstrous version of Edward Scissorhands ever again. Corpse had made a dark, humorous entrance, a style he’s really adapted to because he knows it pisses Sailor Moon off, 

About an hour later, you’re home and bandaging up some cuts and rubbing salve on bruises, phone on speaker and dial tone blaring through the bathroom. You’re addressing the scrape on your knee when he picks up, a low drawl of, “Whaddup, baby?” comes through and your heart stutters.

The girls call you a number of terms of endearment: sweetie, honey, love, dear, babe, queen, but the last person to address you as ‘baby’ with any amount of affection was your ex-boyfriend.

You scoff to hide how flustered you actually are, quietly hissing as you attempt to put some Neosporin on the scrape and catch onto some stray skin. “Are you drunk?” You ask jokingly, knowing full well he wasn’t. 

“Drunk? Nah. Tired? Yeah. But that’s always.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s old news. But uh, what’s up? Been a while since we last talked.”

“We talked like...three days ago. You called me, remember?”

“Feels like forever. I like talking to you.” 

You wonder if it’s irony or plain, cruel fate that this man will probably be the death of you.

2. “Don’t lay a fucking hand on her.”

It’d been a bad day overall. Lack of sleep compiled on by a growing pile of assignments in addition to having to get your tires checked out for an air leak because your car said, “Not today, honey,” -- everything came together in torrential hurricane and the last thing you needed was to be caught fighting another force of evil.

You’re so tired.

Sailor Moon seems to have all the energy in the world as she dodges attacks left and right, but your muscles are screaming in agony. You’re constantly hunched over and panting, but looking for the right openings to weaken the monster. Luckily, the creature has its back towards you when it dashes over to Venus and you muster everything you have to summon a bow and arrow made of fire, pulling back and making sure your arms don’t quiver. 

But at the last second, your lack of oxygen gets the best of you and your flame sniper barely manages to graze the monster’s side and narrowly avoid Jupiter. It’s enough to cause a distraction, but the anger in its glare as it’s directed at you elicits surrender in your heart. There’s nothing left in your bones to help you run or hide, and your knees buckle painfully onto the concrete. Everything else hurts so bad that you’re not bothered by the sediments digging through your skin. Venus is running towards you but she’s not quick enough, and you feel your eyes begin to slip. If this is what death feels like, then so be it. You hope that the girls’ mourning will be short, that they can still complete the ultimate mission, and--

“Don’t lay a fucking hand on her,” an angered, frustrated baritone spits out and you’re torn between laughing or crying. In a separate romantic context, you’d like the idea of wholeheartedly leaving your life in his hands. But in this reality when either of you could die at any moment and the world be consumed in darkness, it’s something you would never wish upon anyone. It’s a different situation than your bonds with the girls. 

The pain is enough to send you in and out of consciousness for the next few minutes. But strong, warm arms sit you up, though they’re slightly trembling and keeping you awake. “Hey, you okay? What happened to you? You’re stronger than this.” 

“G-great way of telling me, fuckthathurts, that I was...shit today,” you joke, but hiss when you try to move your legs and the deep scrapes scream in agony. 

“Take it easy, ‘kay? Or your princess is gonna have my head--”

“Thanks man, but we got it from here,” said princess interjects, hoisting you up with the help of the other girls. “You can go.”

“Speak of the devil,” Corpse chuckles and helps make the transfer less painful, a lot less awkward jostling around. “Look, I saved her--”

“And I said thank you. We’ll see you around,” your stubborn friend dismisses. 

“You’re welcome, baby.”

“Not your baby, piss off!”

3. “I’m always gonna be there for you, no matter what.”

It’s soft yet sonorous, deep yet light. Twilight hours are cast high above you both, separated by walls and buildings connected over wires and unseen forces. Technology is the sharpest, double-edged sword you’ve seen and used on this planet, because Corpse has never felt so close yet so far than in this moment. Your mind deludes you further by indulging in believing he’s right there next to you, strong arms holding you much like he did when you were on the brink of unconsciousness just two weeks ago.

Wishing, hoping, wanting. Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous.

The one year anniversary of your ex-lover’s death looms over you on another sleepless, caffeine-fueled night. It’s no surprise when his custom ringtone chimes softly throughout your room during these graveyard hours, but it certainly raises your eyebrows when after a minute or two, he asks tentatively, “Are you gonna go visit him?”

There’s no question as to who or where “him” is. You haven’t been since the funeral, if you’re honest, swept up by work, classes, and your new side job. But Corpse doesn’t know that, and you know it’d be the right thing to do. Maybe it’d help settle the storm of anxiety (or guilt?) that swirls in your gut on a daily basis. 

“I think so,” you reply quietly after a moment of silent contemplation, already thinking ahead to what the drive might be like. “He deserves better.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

Charming, compassionate, thoughtful, absolutely too good for this world -- the three-letter affirmation nearly slips off your tongue without a second thought. You can’t risk him seeing you, putting two and two together, and potentially forever losing him to his long-lost princess. Selfish delusion creeps through your veins and you fight back the shiver of guilt that runs down your spine. 

“I think I’ll be okay. Might be a visit made best alone, but I really appreciate you even asking.”

“Let me know if you change your mind. You know I’m always gonna be there for you, no matter what. Right?”

Warmth. Strength. Oblivion. 

“I know. Thank you.”

4. “I don’t have anyone else but you.”

“Why are we doing this again?”

“Because we can’t sleep and have nothing better to do.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” you chuckle into your phone, free hand swirling a pot of instant ramen. “I have better things to do at 3 in the morning than watch The Poltergeist with you.” 

“Then go fucking do it,” Corpse laughs teasingly. 

“And leave you high and dry? I don’t have the heart.”

“I mean, you really don’t have to--”

“Seriously, I was awake anyways. Just giving you shit.”

“One of these days, you’re gonna fucking regret it.”

Ramen done and lamp on, you snuggle beneath your blanket and start the traditional countdown to pressing ‘play’ on the movie. Neither of you really had the technology to screen share on this Discord call (your laptop is almost on its last leg and your apartment WiFi can be spotty at times), so it seemed better this way. 

The next roughly 2 hours are filled with laughter, small jump scare yelps, and quiet yelling at the ignorance and twisted logic of horror movie characters. But towards the end of the movie (and arguably the climax), your eyelids start to droop, body succumbing to the warmth of your bed. The screaming and cheesy, orchestrated music are all background noise as your breathing evens out, shifting in and out of consciousness. Ending credits roll on screen before you know it, and the only think that rips you awake is Corpse’s gentle calling of your name. 

“Sorry, fell asleep,” you murmur tiredly and squint at your screen, languidly closing out the window and letting the Discord window take precedence. “Tells you how riveting I found this movie.”

“Should’ve just let you sleep, my bad,” he chuckles. “Thanks for staying up with me.” 

“Yeah of course -- I wanted to, just got a little sleepy. Wanna watch another one?”

“ ‘m actually gonna try to sleep. Don’t wanna bother you too much. You got work tomorrow?”

“Not ‘til noon so it’s okay. You sure?” 

“Yeah...yeah. I’ve only had like...3 hours of sleep lately. Fucking awful.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“You do enough by just letting me call at the fucking crack of dawn, seriously.”

“I’m your only option, let’s be real,” and your voice is a mix of fatigue, humor, and some bitter sardonicism. There’s no malice intended, and you really hope it’s conveyed accurately. 

“...I don’t have anyone else but you,” he all but murmurs. Your heart clenches painfully, anxiety and fear and love surging through your lungs. Those words don’t hold the connotation you desperately wish for, but what matters most is that he knows he’s not alone and you’re not the only one he’s got. You verbalize as such and he only hums back in a façade of agreement before wishing you a good night. 

And sometimes, while you do know that your girls have your back and that you love them to death and would take a bullet for them any day, there are nights where you really do feel the same.

That you have no one else but Corpse. 

5. “He was never yours.”

There’s nothing you hate more than psychological monsters. You’d probably take physical pain over mind games any day because at least, it’d heal faster to some degree, or there would be a more surefire way of minimizing symptoms. But sometimes, there are days when the egotistical chess players of hell come to wreck havoc on the world, and you get lost in their trap. It’s annoying, a pain in the ass, and affects you a lot more than it should at times. 

This particular instance makes you want to quit. It makes you, Sailor fucking Mars, guardian of the planet of fire and passion and perseverance, leave all of this behind right here and now. You’ve never hated yourself more for feeling so weak. 

You’re not sure what to call it -- altered dimension, distorted reality -- but all you know is that you and the princess are kept in separate cages hanging from an endless ceiling, labelled as baits for tuxedo mask/Corpse to come. The enemy lets you both stew in the confines of the metal, watching with glee as your partner attempts to cut through the rails with her tiara and ultimately fail. It seems they’ve thought of everything because you’re not their #1 enemy today. Or maybe you are. You’re not sure anymore, even as they launch into villainous speech. 

“Nothing brings me more joy than watching you lose all your energy to fight, both physically and mentally. I’ve seen all your dreams and wishes. Nothing’s more fickle and double-edged than love, no? We shall see who the prince really belongs to.”

Mention of the prince has you snapping your head to meet the enemy’s eyes, slowing squinting as they catch yours and begin cackling like your demise is racing at the speed of an oncoming train. Your princess looks confused, but dread is heavy mercury filling your veins because you know, you know, your best held secret is coming to fruition. 

“What the fuck are they talking about?” She hisses across the void. 

“I don’t know,” you lie through your teeth, eyes flicking toward every corner of the cage now to find a way out. This isn’t how you wanted it to happen, much less happen at all. 

“Are they talking about Corpse?”

“Is there any other prince they’re referring to?”

“Do you always have to be a smartass with me?”

“Somebody’s got to,” you allow yourself a slight reprieve of laughter. It’d be dumb to try to set fire to this thing, knowing you’d only burn yourself in the process. Your exorcism tags also have no use and you can hear the clock ticking down in your mind. 

“Think it’s pretty fucking rude to keep a couple of girls in cages, not gonna lie,” a baritone voice cuts through. It sends temporary sparks of relieve down your spine. Perhaps you’ll have a fighting chance to get out of here. 

“Welcome, welcome! I’d like to get straight to the point, but maybe we’ll up the stakes a little bit before you answer my question,” they tease cartoonishly and you want to roll your eyes.

“Is this a fucking test--”

Both you and sailor moon yelp as the cages drop into a miraculously (or not) appearing large body of water, but still hanging just above the surface so you have enough air to breathe. You look out and down to see how deep this pit is, and though it might be some elaborate illusion seemingly defying all laws of physics, you see nothing but descending darkness. You don’t even have to hear the question to know what the enemy is going for, to know that they’re trying to hit you where it hurts the most, and you loathe how cliché and goddamn unfair this whole situation has turned out to be. 

“So, dear prince. Pretend that the fate of the world depends on the princess. Before you are just two girls you know and care for, stuck, captured, and on the brink of drowning. You may only save one. Who would it be?”

It’s fucked up. Corpse seems stunned, perplexed by the question. “What the absolute fuck is this? Just let them go if you had an issue with me.”

“Quite frankly, I have an issue with allof you, so this is only fair. Now, what’s your answer?”

Corpse catches your eyes first. Is it from the water that your eyes seem to be brimming with unshed tears? Is it stubbornness or defeat in the way your hands clench around the cage bars?

And this is why, once again, you hate enemies who strictly play mind games. Confirmation that Corpse would never love you the way you do him, knowledge to the princess that she’s the source of your deepest unhappiness despite the bickering friendship, realization to Corpse that the girl he’s treasured so dearly and maybe unknowingly kept as a bit of a placeholder was doomed to love him -- pain on all of you, lashes and scars on what was once believed to be unbreakable bonds, as soon as the villain explains it all with sick glee. 

“Do I have to give you an answer?”

“If you don’t, I’ll really consider drowning them since I honestly wasn’t before.”

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

“Ah, just to make things a little more interesting -- I’m aware you and the princess speak regularly outside of all this.”

They what? This was certainly news to you. 

“And?” Corpse asks somewhat defensively. 

Don’t say it. Don’t tell him. Please don’t--

“Say Mars, don’t you enjoy those late night calls with him, too? Though I must say, meeting in a hospital while your ex-boyfriend is having life-altering emergency surgery seems rather morbid in its own respect.”

You don’t have to look at him to know and hear the gears turning in his brain, the villain allowing this brief silence to let everything sink in. There’s a disbelieving whisper of your name, your real name, but he’s cut off from saying anything more. 

“You have 10 seconds.” 

You know the stories. You know the couple’s tragic end in their previous lifetime. You know that as much as the princess denies feeling anything but annoyance towards Corpse, she looks forward to seeing him. There’s a certain softness that he treats her with, different from the platonic affection that he showers you in. You’ve lied to yourself for too long. 

The countdown has no chance to finish when Corpse spits out a name that’s not yours, your eyes squeezing shut to fight back the tears that threaten to flood over. Everything disappears and you land on your butt -- a quick sweep of your surroundings registers two things: Corpse running over to your princess and the villain standing proudly at the chaos they’ve created. It’s instinct that has brings your powers to surface, arms and fingers quickly notching a fiery arrow with pinpoint aim at the imaginary target on their head. “Move!” You yell at the two and they scramble to gather their bearings and avoid your rage. 

They don’t run or cower. The maniacal grin only grows wider and more sinister and you’re this close to screaming expletives. 

“Hurts, doesn’t it, to know that he was never yours?”

It’s the last thing they say before you release the arrow, watching with no remorse as they burn and disintegrate. When the dust disappears and the dimension shifts back to some abandoned building with an exit, you run. 

You run until your lungs burst, until they scream over the aching of your heart, until your costume dissolves and you’re finally buried under the blankets. You turn on ‘Do Not Disturb’ and only allow notifications from a select few important numbers.

And maybe you’ll keep running. Maybe you’ll go off the grid. Maybe you’ll let your voicemail inbox fill up with unheard messages, apologies that you don’t and never will deserve. 

But the love you feel and cherish will never fade. It’ll run alongside you; a bright, burning star, forever bittersweet--

Forever out of reach. 

#corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #corpse x y/n #corpse husband x y/n #corpse x fem reader #corpse husband angst #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband

[robininthelabyrinth]

i loved your mingjue/jiang cheng fic so much! if you're inspired, maybe something about the wedding or their siblings reacting?

sequel to this 

--

In their defense, neither Nie Mingjue nor Jiang Cheng were especially good at being romantic – and anyway it wasn’t supposed to be a romantic arrangement in the first place.

It was an arranged marriage for political benefits. Unlike his parents, Jiang Cheng wouldn’t be so foolish as to get his heart involved when it came to one of those.

Sure, now that matters had been arranged and the contracts all signed, they were able to relax a little and spend time together as friends and future spouses rather than as mere allies, sitting together late into the night and speaking freely instead of making excuses to avoid saying the wrong time.

And yes, obviously Jiang Cheng was significantly more invested in showing Nie Mingjue around the Lotus Pier – around Yunmeng generally, even. After all, it wasn’t just politeness now - Nie Mingjue was going to be the second master here, just as Jiang Cheng would be second master at the Unclean Realm; that was what they’d agreed on, an equal balance that respected both of their commitments to their homes.

As for why Jiang Cheng made a point of taking Nie Mingjue’s hand into his when they walked around – well, that was just logic, too. Jiang Cheng didn’t especially enjoy the physical touch of strangers, which would be an impediment to marriage, but he was determined to make this arrangement between them work.

And for someone like him, who wasn’t naturally talented, that meant –

“Practice,” he said, putting his hand into Nie Mingjue’s.

“Practice,” he reminded him when they sat by the dock, until Nie Mingjue yielded and put his arm around him.

“Practice,” he said pointedly, raising his face for a good-night kiss.

“It’s nice to meet someone else who appreciates practice as being worthwhile in its own right,” Nie Mingjue remarked a little later, while they were waiting for Jiang Cheng to remember how to breathe. “My brother is always complaining that there’s no point to training day in and day out if you’re just doing the same things over and over again, but there’s no other way to build a strong foundation. Don’t you agree?”

Jiang Cheng nodded, pressing a palm to one of his cheeks, which were red for some reason. Probably the same reason his heart kept beating too fast – really, this was why he needed to practice. If he collapsed every time they engaged in the smallest bit of physical intimacy, this marriage would be called out as a sham immediately by anyone who saw them, and Jiang Cheng wasn’t willing to endure what his parents had.

Luckily, Nie Mingjue seemed to feel similarly on the subject, and raised no objections to Jiang Cheng’s proposed approach. Best of all, he didn’t do anything in the other direction, either: no silly romantic gestures Jiang Cheng would be required to match, no secret expectations that Jiang Cheng would inevitably disappointed.

No: when Nie Mingjue brought him gifts, they were practical ones, like a new sheath for Sandu or more ink when he was nearly out. Once he’d brought him an assortment of snacks typical to Qinghe, since they’d agreed that any visit by Jiang Cheng would have to wait until the Lotus Pier was a little more stable, but that was practical, too: it wouldn’t do for him to get sick from the local food once he arrived.

Nothing romantic.

Just like Jiang Cheng wasn’t romantic, either. Getting up earlier than usual to train alongside Nie Mingjue was just courtesy, and spending time together doing paperwork until he fell asleep on Nie Mingjue’s shoulder was just properly allocating the little free time they had.

Neither of them were romantic, and it was a relief.

Jiang Cheng had always lived in fear of having to try to sweet-talk someone, but luckily Nie Mingjue found the poisonous lash of his tongue far more amusing – anything even remotely resembling an endearment made Nie Mingjue look lost and awkward, which was about the same for Jiang Cheng.

It made it much easier.

It did also, Jiang Cheng later admitted, make it a lot easier to miss.

-

“Do you two ever talk about anything other than reconstruction?” Nie Huaisang moaned, his head under his hands. Jiang Cheng had come for his first visit to Qinghe, a short weekend jaunt when his existing plans had been unexpectedly cancelled and the Lotus Pier progressing nicely even without constant supervision. “This is the most boring dinner I’ve ever attended. Ever!”

“We talk about cultivation, too,” Nie Mingjue pointed out – quite justly, in Jiang Cheng’s mind.

“That’s not better, da-ge!”

“I like talking about cultivation,” Jiang Cheng offered. “And reconstruction.”

Nie Huaisang gave him a look that suggested he’d betrayed their ancient friendship (which Jiang Cheng wasn’t sure several months of suffering Wei Wuxian’s presence next to each other qualified as, but whatever). “Have you ever talked about anything else?”

“…the war?”

“Hopeless,” Nie Huaisang declared.

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes over his head at Nie Mingjue, who just looked amused. “I’m going to sleep; I just flew the whole way here,” he said. “And don’t forget that you promised you’d show me around in the morning, Sect Leader Nie.”

“Of course, Sect Leader Jiang. You can meet me by the western training grounds when you wake up; we can leave once we’ve finished morning exercise.”

Jiang Cheng nodded, the plan sounding good to him. He stood up and tapped Nie Mingjue on the arm pointedly in warning – they’d agreed on a signal that indicated when a gesture for physical affection was welcome, since both of them were war veterans with a tendency to spook at unexpected gestures that came too close – before leaning down to claim his good-night kiss before heading out.

“You can show me your fans tomorrow as well, Huaisang –”

“Stop right there!” Nie Huaisang shrieked. “What was that?!”

Jiang Cheng blinked at him. “A…blatantly dismissive offer to let you torture me with your stupid fans for a shichen or so even though I clearly don’t want to?”

Nie Mingjue snorted. He really did find Jiang Cheng funny, and Jiang Cheng still found that bizarre.

“Not that! The kissing! You kissed my da-ge!”

“Well, yes,” Jiang Cheng said. “We’re getting married. It’s important to set up habits early to –”

He was about to explain the idea of practice, but Nie Huaisang seemed disinterested in that, jumping up from his seat and waving his hands around about why he hadn’t been informed yet.

In fairness, Jiang Cheng highly doubted Nie Huaisang understood the idea of practice in any form, so it was probably just wasting his breath.

“Stop fussing,” Nie Mingjue said. “I’m going to let you help plan the wedding.”

“That isn’t the point! You should have told me!”

“Am I required for this conversation?” Jiang Cheng asked.

“No, he’s just making a fuss.”

“I am not. And, no, Jiang-xiong, but thanks for offering – I’ll have words for you in the morning, probably. I can’t think of any right now.”

“Words?”

“Threatening words of some variety,” Nie Huaisang explained.

Jiang Cheng thought that was fair enough, given that he was marrying Nie Huaisang’s beloved brother. “Tomorrow, then. Good night, Huaisang, Sect Leader Nie.”

“Why do you still call each other by your titles?” he heard Nie Huaisang complaining as he left. “You’re going to get married…!”

Because we’ve only just become engaged and change is hard, obviously, Jiang Cheng thought, rolling his eyes.

Nie Huaisang really just didn’t understand things sometimes.

-

Jiang Yanli made a point of visiting the Lotus Pier on a regular basis, her doting new husband in tow, and Jiang Cheng was there to greet her every time.

This time was no different, and he showed her around the most newly rebuilt areas before bringing her back for lunch.

“When are you two going to give me happy news?” he said, aiming for teasing but mostly coming off grumpy. “You’re already married – there’s no reason to wait to have children.”

“Give it time, A-Cheng,” Jiang Yanli laughed while Jin Zixuan rolled his eyes but generally looked too happy to protest. “What about you, though? What’s your happy news?”

Jiang Cheng blinked at her, running through their conversation so far in his mind. He’d updated her on all the important things: the new pier district, the housing for war veterans, the new orphanage…he’d even mentioned the new dam they were constructing.

Had he omitted something?

“Your neck,” Jin Zixuan said.

That didn’t exactly clarify anything, and Jiang Cheng looked at him, utterly bewildered.

Jin Zixuan covered his eyes. “You have a mark on your neck,” he said. “It doesn’t look like an insect.”

Jiang Cheng got up to go look in the mirror, and sure enough, he did. It would have been covered by his collar, but it was a hot day and he’d been sweating, so the collar had dipped down just enough to show.

“Oh, that,” he said, making a mental note to tell Nie Mingjue to aim a little lower next time.

Jiang Yanli laughed, but Jin Zixuan’s expression looked a little more serious, and a moment later he asked Jiang Yanli if she happened to have any of that particular delicacy he’d enjoyed last time. She did, and she excused herself from the room to go get it.

Jin Zixuan turned the serious expression onto Jiang Cheng. “If it’s not anything serious, tell Yanli now. She’s convinced that you’re marrying whoever it is that left the mark on your neck, and I don’t want her to be disappointed.”

“Of course I’m marrying them,” Jiang Cheng said. “Who in the world would I allow that close to my neck if I wasn’t planning to –”

That was about when he remembered Jin Zixuan’s father and broke out into awkward coughing as he frantically searched for a subject change. “While you’re waiting for jiejie, why don’t you try some of these pastries?” he tried. “They were brought over from Qinghe.”

Despite the obviousness of Jiang Cheng’s conversational dodge, Jin Zixuan’s expression eased significantly and he looked happy again. “No, that’s fine. That’s good! What’s her name?”

“Sect Leader Nie,” Jiang Cheng said.

“No, not the one who brought you the pastries – the person you’re marrying.”

“Sect Leader Nie.”

“No, I meant –”

“I’m answering your question.”

“…oh.”

Jiang Yanli came back shortly with the little delicacy and looked surprised at how Jin Zixuan looked as if he’d been punched several times in the face – without any swelling, though, so it hadn’t actually happened. “What’s the matter?”

“He’s being weird over the fact that I’m marrying Sect Leader Nie,” Jiang Cheng said with a scowl. “I don’t know why.”

“Sect Leader Nie?” Jiang Yanli said, putting down the tray. “Oh, he seemed very nice. Do you like him?”

“I think we’re well matched?” he said, a little hesitantly. Like was such a strong word, after all. “He’s refreshingly low-key.”

Jin Zixuan muttered something incoherent under his breath, possibly something about Baxia not being low-key in the slightest, but Jiang Cheng ignored him.

“I’m sure he’ll make you very happy,” Jiang Yanli said, with a slight touch of their mother’s steeliness in her eyes suggested that he’d better. “Have you started planning the wedding yet?”

“No, not yet. We’ve drafted the contract, but we’re taking a little bit of time to make sure we’re compatible before proceeding with the details.”

“Good idea,” she said, and the memories in her eyes were the same as his – they both loved their parents dearly, but that was not a marriage experience either of them wished to repeat. “Well, let us know when you make the official announcement and we’ll toast to you.”

“I won’t tell my father ahead of time,” Jin Zixuan put in suddenly. “I promise.”

“…thanks,” Jiang Cheng said, not entirely sure what the point of the offer was – Jin Guangshan would find out eventually, one way or another – but aware that Jin Zixuan was trying to do something nice. “I appreciate it. Jiejie, would you like to try some Qinghe delicacies? Sect Leader Nie left them behind when he left.”

“I most certainly would.”

-

There were various phrases Jiang Cheng could live his entire life without hearing, and The Yiling Patriarch just attacked the Nie sect delegation was probably one of the top ones.

He ran over at once.

Luckily, Wei Wuxian was not, in fact, attacking the Nie sect; he was mostly just yelling at Nie Mingjue, who hadn’t even drawn Baxia and mostly looked (if you knew him well enough to read the gradation of scowl on his face) as if he was trying very hard not to laugh. That was probably why Lan Xichen, who was standing nearby with his stone-faced brother at his side, didn’t seem inclined to interfere, though he mostly looked confused.

“What’s going on here?” Jiang Cheng snapped, striding up to them. “Wei Wuxian..!” No, Wei Wuxian’s explanation wouldn’t make any sense. “Sect Leader Nie, Sect Leader Lan…?”

“I’m taking advantage,” Nie Mingjue said. “Apparently.”

“Of what?”

“As far as I could determine from the shouting, the answer would be – you, Sect Leader Jiang,” Lan Xichen said.

Jiang Cheng stared. “Of – me?” He looked at Wei Wuxian. “What? How? For what?”

Normally he’d dismiss such a charge out of hand, but for all his recklessness, he could usually trust that Wei Wuxian usually had his best interests in mind…but on the other hand, Jiang Cheng really couldn’t imagine Nie Mingjue doing anything underhanded like that.

Besides, if he wanted something from Jiang Cheng, he could just ask.

Wei Wuxian crossed his arms, still glaring at Nie Mingjue. “He knows what he did.”

“Good for him, but that’s not really helpful to me, is it?” Jiang Cheng said, throwing his hands up. “It doesn’t exactly seem like Sect Leader Nie to be cheating me; I’d appreciate some facts.”

“Oh, I’m not cheating you,” Nie Mingjue said, and he was distinctly cheerful now. “I’m taking advantage of you.”

Jiang Cheng’s brow barely had time to wrinkle in irritation and confusion before Nie Mingjue added, “Sexually.”

Jiang Cheng had never had his emotions shift from irritation and rage into sheer hideous embarrassment so quickly before. “Wei Wuxian!” he howled. “That had better not be it!”

“He went into your tent last night!” Wei Wuxian argued. “You were already asleep at your desk, and he kissed you –”

That sounded a lot more like Nie Mingjue than the idea that the man was somehow cheating him. After all, Jiang Cheng had arranged for him to visit that evening, only to fall asleep before he arrived – it was only reasonable that Nie Mingjue keep up to their agreed schedule of good night kisses…

Huh, Jiang Cheng’s cheeks were red again.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I don’t – it’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“What do you mean you don’t mind? You can’t go around giving your first kiss to whoever wants to take it –”

“First off, that’s a bit hypocritical from the man who’d come back singing the praises of his ‘secret admirer’ in the forest after the Phoenix Mountain hunt,” Jiang Cheng said, because he was petty and because it made Wei Wuxian splutter (and Lan Wangji twitch for some reason – probably disapproval). “Secondly, what makes you think that was my first kiss?! Because it wasn’t!”

“Oh yeah? Who was your first kiss with, then?”

“…also Nie Mingjue, as it happens,” Jiang Cheng allowed. “But that’s because we’re getting married! He’s allowed to kiss me!”

“He’s not allowed to – wait. Married?! Since when?!”

“That is a very good question,” Lan Xichen interjected, looking thunderstruck. “Da-ge, you’re getting married?”

“Yes,” Nie Mingjue said. “We haven’t worked out any of the logistics of the ceremony yet because Huaisang can’t make up his mind about which method to use to pick an auspicious date, so I didn’t bother telling anyone.”

Jiang Cheng thought that that sounded perfectly reasonable – no point in claiming time on people’s calendars before they’d even selected the date – but Wei Wuxian seemed to be even more offended.

“Why didn’t you tell him? Aren’t you proud of getting married? Don’t you want the whole world to know?” he demanded.

“Weren’t you against this just a moment ago?” Jiang Cheng asked. “And he just said why. It’s not like I’ve been going around telling people, either.”

Now Wei Wuxian was glaring at him. “Does shijie know, at least?”

“Of course she knows –” Since that incident last week. “– and she’s fine with it.”

“...oh. She is?” Wei Wuxian abruptly deflated. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was going to,” Jiang Cheng said, exasperated. “But we didn’t pick a date yet. It’s not like I thought you would have trouble clearing your schedule to attend, what with your – your – your corpses and your radishes and all that.”

“Corpses and radishes,” Nie Mingjue echoed. “Fascinating.”

“You know, I haven’t been to Yiling in years,” Lan Xichen said thoughtfully. “That would seem to be appropriately neutral ground for an announcement of this magnitude, don’t you think?”

Jiang Cheng hadn’t even thought of that, but that would be perfect – everyone would have no choice but to come peacefully, and he’d be able to have his shixiong (however technically distanced) present. And, even better, he would be socially obligated to invite the person who hosted the announcement of his wedding to the wedding itself, no matter what his reputation was.

He turned to look at Wei Wuxian, who was gaping. “You want me to host…I wasn’t even officially invited to this gathering! I had to crash it!”

“And next time you won’t,” Nie Mingjue said. “It’s settled, then. You should probably go get ready.”

Jiang Cheng thought to himself that he’d never seen Wei Wuxian look so surprised – by anything, ever. He wasn’t sure it was possible for him to look any more surprised than he currently did.

Pleased with himself, and with Nie Mingjue, he leaned over and kissed his soon-to-be spouse.

Oh, huh.

Apparently it was possible.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #nie mingjue #mingcheng #nie huaisang #jiang yanli #jin zixuan #wei wuxian #lan xichen #my fic #my fics #Anonymous

[onebizarrekai]

I think that lucia di lammermoor is one of my new favorite operas not just because of the mad scene but because the opera makes no sense whatsoever

there are literally so many plot holes in the libretto. there are so many unexplained facets of the narrative, unresolved arcs, dialogues that mandate copious creative liberties, things that only happen off-stage, and some unsolvable problems that can only be fixed by cutting things or directing things a certain way. there’s so much nonsense it’s actually hilarious. if you read the source story of the bride of lammermoor the opera diverts quite a bit, but the bride of lammermoor is actually even worse, so let’s put that to the side.

let’s just start from the beginning of the opera, paraphrasing as much as possible. lucia’s evil brother, enrico, is the first lead to greet the stage, minutes after his goony normano. normano tells enrico the tale of how enrico’s archenemy, edgardo, saved the life of lucia, and he reluctantly admits that they are now in love with each other and are secretly meeting up all the time. enrico flips his shit and sings about how he’s going to kill edgardo or whatever. bide the bent (aka raimondo, but schirmir really said bide the bent, whatever the hell that means) exists and does priest stuff because he’s a priest. by the way, there’s this whole thing about how the ashton family (aka lucia and enrico) are protestant and edgardo is catholic and that’s why they hate each other and that’s why there’s a priest.

anyway they all leave, and then lucia and alice enter. lucia is, naturally, waiting for her illegal boyfriend: edgardo. she is very scared because enrico is a piece of shit and wants to kill her boyfriend. alice is like “yo man this is a bad idea” and lucia is like “where’s edgardo” but lucia is also perturbed by something else. she has a ghost story to tell about this nondescript fountain and tells alice about the girl who was killed by her lover at this fountain, and then suddenly goes like “by the way the ghost of the dead woman appeared to me” and like wow ok lucia. after singing about all of the water turning to blood in her hallucination, she proceeds to completely change moods and sing about how much she loves edgardo because she is crazy. after all of this, edgardo finally arrives and tells lucia about how he actually has to go to france to do ambassador stuff and disappear for an indefinite period of time. he says that they should finally tell enrico about their relationship. lucia completely shuts him down, and then edgardo cries about how enrico has killed his family and how she’s the only light of his life. they end up deciding to keep their relationship a secret anyway and then vow to marry each other.

act 2, enrico has ordered normano to forge a break-up letter from edgardo to send it to lucia. normano shows up to give it to enrico, enrico summons lucia into wherever he is to tell her that he needs to marry her off to some other guy in order to save their family. lucia is like “but I’m marrying someone else” and enrico is like “oh yeah? read this” and gives her the letter, and lucia naturally breaks down because it’s a big lie about how edgardo has found someone else in france. she cries about it until this big fanfare plays to welcome her new husband, arturo. at this point lucia is singing about nothing except how much death would benefit her right now. enrico leaves after being an asshole for a few more minutes, and then in comes bide the bent to lecture lucia about the invalidity of her previous marital vows. she leaves to change into a wedding gown.

enter arturo, this random loser that enrico wants lucia to marry. his lines are so cliché that he’s probably reading them off a sheet of paper (which is exactly how we staged the production I am currently doing). somehow arturo knows about lucia’s affair with edgardo because those two were actually horrible at being secretive, but also he doesn’t care because he gets to marry a hottie. enrico tells arturo about how lucia’s mother died and that’s why she’s crying about the wedding. lo and behold, lucia enters and she is crying. they hold the wedding right then and there under the Authority™ of bide the bent, enrico forces lucia to sign the wedding documents, and then everyone is like “wait who’s at the door?” and then EDGARDO BREAKS IN and he’s like “EDGAAAAAARDO” and they sing a whole sextet that borders a confusion ensemble except it’s a bel canto tragedy.

edgardo is like “yeah man! it’s my right to be here since I’m engaged to lucia!” and enrico is like “PSH” and bide the bent comes up like “sorry she just signed this Other Marriage Contract” and shows it to edgardo and edgardo is like WHAT and he comes up to lucia like BRUH YOU DONE THIS?? and lucia doesn’t even know what’s happening at this point, she’s just like “yes?? but” and then edgardo takes off his ring and hers and then throws a temper tantrum before he gets kicked out.

behold the wolf’s craig duet, the most stupid and pointless thing in this opera considering what happens later. enrico barges into edgardo’s house and they sing about how they’re going to kill each other and duel at the graveyard. that’s it. there’s probably sexual tension.

after that, there’s a wedding party, except with a Horrifying Twist. lucia goes upstairs with arturo and fucking kills him. having lost her mind, she comes out covered in blood and sings for like twenty minutes in a very impressive manor. she collapses on the floor at the very end.

there’s a random recit right afterwards where enrico, bide the bent and normano briefly talk about lucia losing her mind. while enrico is crying about lucia, bide the bent literally blames normano of all people, who did exactly nothing, for every bad thing that happened to lucia.

the final scene begins at the graveyard. now, I know what you’re thinking. edgardo and enrico promised to duel each other here, right? right! so where the hell is enrico? I dunno, not here. edgardo is here, and he’s crying and stuff about his dead father. he’s very sad and probably wants to perish. a chorus shows up mourning something. edgardo asks about it and no one wants to tell him. bide the bent appears in all his priestliness and tells edgardo that lucia is now in heaven. how did she die? beats me. she died of insanity or something. edgardo has lost the final thing in his life that matters to him, so he decides to “go see her” and stabs himself.

the opera ends.

welcome to lucia di lammermoor. now, some of these plot holes are resolvable through directing. for example, lucia’s insanity is inexplicable in the libretto. nobody is just sad about their boyfriend and commits murder–granted, her first aria had her singing about a ghost and a fountain of blood. why’s she like this, though? she’s probably not ok. so like, some people explain this by making enrico way way worse than just a big liar. in the production that I’m doing, enrico is being depicted as sexually abusive towards lucia, and like, yeah that helps do some explaining. but you know what it doesn’t help? the parts of the opera that normally get cut, like the stupidass wolf’s craig duet that exists for no reason and usually gets cut because it makes no sense. also, the scene right after the mad scene where bide the bent comically blames normano for everything even though it is clearly enrico’s fault and enrico is randomly mourning lucia even though he was horrible to her for the whole opera. unfortunately, when you have companies like the met, which do full operas with no cuts, you get the whole, nonsensical story in its full glory, not to mention the met tends to shy away from taking creative liberties with the directing.

so like, why do I say this opera is a new favorite? well, aside from it being fun to sing, since I’m doing it for the first time, it’s absolutely hilarious to consider who the real mastermind here is, since for some reason, the librettist seems to think that it’s normano. you have to make up so much subtext in this story in order to even make it begin to make sense, so how far can you take it? how much nonsense can you create?

easy mode is assuming the mastermind is enrico. he’s a horrible person. obviously bide the bent accuses normano because he’s trying to divert the blame from enrico, who may or may not kill him if he says the truth. however, enrico does not go to the graveyard to kill edgardo and tie off loose ends (which I personally think he should have). enrico just kind of disappears, honestly, in spite of being the main bad guy.

bide the bent is another viable option. he blames normano to divert attention from himself. he plays the role of the peacemaker between edgardo and enrico during the sextet, but it’s all a sham. the reason bide the bent appears in the final graveyard scene is because he’s the true villain here. he simply took advantage of everyone around him in order to make sure everything went according to plan. enrico’s bs towards lucia, lucia’s insanity, edgardo’s depression, normano loyalty, the whole deal. he wishes to rise in power… perhaps the reason enrico does not show up in the final scene is because bide the bent has already disposed of him.

what if it was edgardo? what if he and lucia devised a plan to create an opening that would allow them to run away? what if arturo was in on it? lucia pretends to murder arturo, pretends to go insane, and the plan was to finally flee with edgardo… but then they were INTERCEPTED. their plan was ruined. lucia was disposed of by the enemy off-stage and it was too late. they claim she died of insanity, but she was killed by normano under enrico’s orders, or whoever else is the designated evil one here.

in the met, for some reason, they decide to have lucia’s ghost come in during the final scene and silently “coerce” edgardo into ending his life, which sounds cool, but it was ridiculous. I just remember the blood bag being in the wrong place so he had to stab himself in the kidney and lucia actually pushed the prop knife in like she wasn’t literally a ghost. there was also a ghost during lucia’s first aria that totally upstaged her. this opens up many stupid doors for directing such as arturo’s ghost returning as well if need be. anyone’s ghost could be there. ghosts canonically exist at the met. arturo could be fortnite dancing during the mad scene.

behold, a terrible take. edgardo is having a secret affair after all, but he’s having an affair with enrico. enrico is enraged when he discovers edgardo’s relationship with his sister because he thought that THEY had a thing. he vengefully tries to break them up by marrying lucia off to arturo. enrico and edgardo sing the wolf’s craig duet as a not-tragic breakup song.

honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in this goddamn cast was sleeping with each other. the possibilities are endless

during the staging period of the show, we all came up with so many stupid and hilarious ideas that we could stage an entire comedy version of this opera. maybe one day it could happen. maybe…

anyway it’s like midnight and I’m doing my cast’s performance of this opera in two days, and I just drove home a while ago from performance 1 today talking with my family about all of these stupid possibilities, so it’s all on my mind. at least the mad scene is fun to sing

#random stuff #me? going on a comical tangent about opera? more likely than you think #there's a lot of content warnings for stuff here but that's to be expected of opera #honestly I'll lose my mind for real if I have to do this show at face value #enrico isn't evil enough in just the libretto alone #see operas usually have pretty simple stories #and plot holes #but LUCIA #lucia is something else

[katzkinder]

Touma and Tsurugi

Aight, so. I have had this post sitting in my drafts for AGES, contemplating whether I should even post it or not, and... I think I will.

Time to talk a bit about what is probably the most controversial character in Servamp, outside of a certain yippee ki-yay motherfucker. I’m partially writing this as part of my own means of moving forward, so forgive me if this seems disjointed or spacey. Unlike my other posts, which are written in one sitting, this one’s going to be strewn together over the course of multiple days. Formatting might be a little wonky too because of that, especially since I haven’t been feeling at 100% these last few days.

Anyway! Let’s hop into it! In usual Kat format, this probably won’t make much sense! Preemptive warning for all the usual stuff that comes parcel and package with Touma and Tsurugi. Child abuse, neglect, PTSD, you know. All that... Fun stuff... Not all of these are mentioned or even implied but... Yeah. Just in case. Under the cut because it is Very Long.

Gonna also preface this by saying that I am not, by any means, excusing Touma’s actions or behavior. I’m taking him to task today and tearing the dude apart because he’s such a well crafted depiction of how abusers can love the people they hurt, and how they can be sympathetic because they are human, while still being awful, and I want more people to appreciate that. You don’t have to like him by any means. Lord knows I don’t.

But it’s also disingenuous to write him off as a villain hellbent on hurting others for the sake of hurting, especially when that’s exactly what he wants people to think of him.

Touma’s cruelty and his stubborn refusal to rely on anyone but himself is absolutely a defense mechanism meant to protect himself from those with seemingly kind intentions. The man grew up in an incredibly abusive household, where physical and emotional abuse was the norm. Like a hedgehog, he spikes himself up, lashes out at those around him with his words, digging into any weak point he can manage to find because if he doesn’t let anyone in, if he keeps the curtains closed shut, he will be safe, he will be safe, no one will ever have the power to hurt him again.

Like, no healthy person acts like that. He wants people to think he’s vile. He wants people to hate him. He’s, in his own words, “a villain with a pedigree.”

And then there’s his relationship with Tsurugi, and how that plays out. Despite how awfully he’s been treated, Tsurugi... Wants to stay with him. Not because he can’t imagine any other way of existing. Oh, he knows it’s there. He can leave any time he wants to. If he gave even the slightest of inklings that he wanted out from under Touma’s thumb... Junichiro and Yumikage would grab him and go. We even see Yumi offer within canon to pay off all of Tsurugi’s debts, which are... The thing tying him to Touma the most, from an outsider’s perspective.

He wants to stay because... Touma is his family. Because if he’s a godawful person who abused the hell out of him... He’s still his savior and someone he cares for deeply. Even when, by all rights, he’d be better off kicking him to the curb.

Truth be told, back when we all thought Touma was dead, I was actually really disappointed in that particular story decision. It seemed like such a copout way to deal with him as a character! Like, having the abuser sacrifice their life to save their victim as one final act of grand redemption and proof that they were a “good person” all along... Fuck off with that! I want Touma to live. I want him to live and grow and become better than he was, but to always know, in the back of his mind, what he has done and who he has hurt and how he made someone he loves suffer.

And I’m glad that we’ve already seen a tiny glimpse of change in him, when he removes Tsurugi’s collar. He sets him free. And that made me so happy.

Going to get a little Too Real with y’all right now, but I... Spent the majority of my formative years in an abusive home. I’ll spare you the details, but my mother and step-father were not... Good people. I met with my mother again when I was 13, and I was ecstatic, because that’s my mom! She was my mom, and I loved her. Less than a year later, though... She vanished. Promised she would only be gone for a year and then... Nothing.

I was fine with that. I was hurt, but I could live with it, because she had already abandoned me before. What I couldn’t forgive, though, what I couldn’t overlook, was her doing that to my little sister. At least, I thought I couldn’t... If I’m honest with myself? I know that, if she ever came back into my life, I’d hug her neck and cry and tell her how much I missed her, and beg her not to leave again.

The story of Touma and Tsurugi... Is one that resonates with me on a very deep, very personal level.

I want Tsurugi to get the happy ending, and the happy family, I know will never be available to me in the form I want it to be.

I want Touma to grow, and to heal, and to overcome the hand life has dealt him and that he felt he had no other choice but to play with.

I could have easily become someone like Touma. Instead I am like Tsurugi, because I had people who loved me and wanted me to thrive despite my circumstances.

I talk a lot about this series, go so in depth with it and its characters, love it and this fandom and the people I have met through it so much because it... Has helped me grow, and it has helped me heal.

Which is fantastic! Because Servamp, at its core, is a story of healing. Of learning to let go of the past and move on towards a brighter future. It doesn't mean you have to forget where you came from... Just that your past doesn’t define you. There's always time to change.

Not even just with Touma and Tsurugi.

With Shuuhei and Sham. With Lust pair. With Lawless. With Kuro. With Sakuya. Even... With Mahiru. Every single time... There's something in their past holding them down and hurting them so terribly... And they can't grow as a person until they deal with it.

Servamp has helped me deal with mine. Thank you so much, everyone.

#kat's katerwauling #servamp #Touma Taishi #tsurugi kamiya #taishi touma #kamiya tsurugi #servamp meta #just a lil tho #just a bit #vent-ish? #kat's meow #this got very personal towards the end and i apologize for that

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

For six months the Lady Elena has been the sole recipient of Jaskier's affections. It started as a distraction - they met at a party he attended with both Geralt and Yennefer - something to keep his mind off the fact that Geralt's heart, rough and closed-off as it is, was claimed by someone else. But Elena was bright and funny and she lavished praise on Jaskier and he was easily drawn in.

They've been sort of on-and-off since Jaskier and Geralt left Vattweir, but whenever they separate, Jaskier finds himself back beyond the mountains. And when they don't, Jaskier sings of her regularly, earning little praise and much grumbling from Geralt, but he doesn't care. For the first time since they met, Jaskier's attention isn't focused solely on Geralt and he thinks maybe if ever was to settle down and stay somewhere, it might be with Elena.

He sings of love and romance and tells Geralt he'll never love like this again - getting only grunts and hmms in response. But he is happy and more than that, he's happy that for once something has pulled him out of the slump he didn't realize he was in. His songs are cheery once more, not impeded by his unrequited feelings for Geralt. Not that those feelings aren’t still there every time Geralt smiles at him over the fire or presses a little closer on cold nights, but it doesn't hurt so much anymore.

But like most happiness in Jaskier's life, it doesn't last long.

He's been invited to sing at a banquet in Vattweir and since Geralt is with him at the time, he considers it a bonus that he finally gets to introduce them. Not that Geralt cares very much, but Jaskier does.

But things don't go quite as planned; as soon as Jaskier walks into the hall, he spots Elena and she's not alone. She's sat delicately in the lap of some nobleman Jaskier doesn't recognize and at first, he doesn't think much of it. When she leans in for a kiss, he reconsiders.

Jaskier’s heart sinks. They never specified that they wouldn't see other people, but he hasn't and he had hoped she hadn't either. Ah,well, he decides, simply a bump in the road - at least Geralt isn't with him to see the shock on his face. He can't imagine how he would react after hours of Jaskier going on about her being the one.

So he keeps this small detail to himself. Everything else is going as planned and he's sure to come out of this night with a heavy purse if nothing else. But Elena doesn't even acknowledge his presence - a difficult feat considering he's the main source of entertainment for the evening - and it doesn't take him long to figure out why. After his first set, there's an intermission and he seeks out Geralt, slipping in next to him at the table.

There's a toast. A speech. An engagement announcement - and engagement announcement for the Lady Elena and some noble or other that Jaskier’s never heard of. Well, he thinks, that would explain things.

He spends the remainder of the night wondering if he just over thought their relationship. Obviously, if she's now engaged to someone else and acting like he doesn't exist. Geralt asks after her, but Jaskier lies, tells him she didn't show up and he'll just have to wait to meet her later. Jaskier is used to heartbreak and for now, at least, he’d rather suffer this one alone.

Without their impending introduction, Geralt insists they leave early and for once, Jaskier agrees.

He never tells Geralt. Partially because he's embarrassed, but mostly because he knows Geralt will say something stupid like you'll find someone new in a couple of days. But Elena was special. He falls in love often and without intending to, but there are people he's found who strike a different sort of chord with him - Elena was one of them. Geralt is another. And maybe he won't find someone new because it's been over a decade that he's been searching for something to fill the Geralt-shaped hole in his heart and now he's lost that, too.

Now he's back to the beginning; in love with his best friend and unable to share that love because Geralt is an unfeeling mutant.

But he tries to keep up the charade for a little while. He still talks about Elana on occasion and when the longing becomes too much, he pulls himself from Geralt's side under the guise of visiting her. Mostly, he turns to the closest tavern and drinks unless someone will pay him to sing. It's not hard pretending still to be in love, the difficult part is hoping Geralt doesn't realize it's all a sham and all the lovely things Jaskier is saying are actually just about him.

But both the stories and the pretend visits start to dwindle over time and his relationship with Geralt slowly returns to what it had been prior to meeting her.

Only Geralt notices because of course he does and Jaskier is forced to lie every time he asks about her. And he asks more about her and Jaskier suspects he's trying to trip him up. But he feels better when Geralt sleeps closer at night or when he lets Jaskier sing them both to sleep on nights that are otherwise too quiet.

It takes five months for him to find out the truth and his response isn't anything Jaskier would have expected. They're outside of Oxenfurt, as far away from Elena and her new husband as Jaskier could hope to be. And yet, they're here, sitting at the edge of the river where Jaskier was hoping to enjoy the rest of his afternoon alone. Geralt is off killing some plant thing that's been killing people along the road and Jaskier had planned to sit and drink wine by the river, but he can't very well do that now.

So he returns to camp and sits and plays for Roach instead, singing songs of heartbreak and betrayal. She presses her nose to his head, ruffling his hair with heavy breaths and Jaskier smiles up at her.

"At least I've got you," he says and just as he does there's a loud crack from behind. He turns to see Geralt with what looks - maybe - like the head of some giant mutated flower over his shoulder. Or maybe a snake, he's not quite sure.

Geralt drops it on the ground and crosses over to sit on the log across from Jaskier, carefully removing his armour.

"What happened to songwriting by the river?"

"Ah, well, the river was already... occupied."

"That's never stopped you before."

"Yes but-" well, it's been five months, maybe he should just be frank with him "-you see Elena was down by the river with her new... husband." Geralt's head lifts at that, his face worryingly neutral as he meets Jaskier's eyes.

"Husband?"

"Er, well... yes. It seems she was finished with me only she never bothered to tell me that." Jaskier has been avoiding looking at Geralt, afraid to see the betrayal in his eyes for lying to him for so long, but when it does it's not betrayal he sees burning there. It's anger.

"I'm sorry," he starts, "I meant to tell you, but I just-"

"Why would she do that?" Oh.

"I suspect she didn't care all that much."

Geralt's eyes narrow and Jaskier isn't quite sure what to make of that. He can feel the anger coming off of him, but it isn't directed at him and he's not quite sure what to do with that. People don't get angry on his behalf, they get angry at him.

Jaskier tries to calm him down, but Geralt is fuming and Jaskier's never seen him this angry before and for the first time in their friendship, he's almost a little afraid of him. But Geralt would never hurt him and the anger is probably more to do with lingering elixirs from the hunt, so when Geralt gets up and stomps around the camp, Jakier lets him. And then, when his pacing and irritability starts to wear thin, Jaskier sits him down and promises that it isn't all that bad, not really, and he rubs his shoulders and runs patient fingers through his hair. And Geralt relaxes.

But he's different after that. Not in big ways, but he makes a point of keeping himself between Jaskier and anything that could hurt him. He sleeps closer when they camp in the open air, practically right on top of him - not that Jaskier is complaining - and he's defensive in a way Jaskier hasn't seen him before.

Jaskier is used to hecklers - no one can please everyone - but Geralt has taken to shutting them down with a single look, glowering at them from his seat until they're silent. Some leave, some are braver and just return to their drink, but none speak up again. Jaskier revels in this newfound attention and struggles not to find ways in which to provoke it.

It all comes to a head one night when they've stopped to eat and Jaskier is singing. He's distracted and doesn't notice at first when the couple walks in, but they sit down right next to him and it becomes hard not to notice. Elena is as beautiful as always, but her husband - Jaskier assumes that who he is, but he barely recalls the man from the banquet that night - has a sneer plastered on his face. Perhaps he knows who Jaskier is, though Elena doesn't show any sign of it.

Fine, he thinks, let her be like that. The next song he plays is his most romantic ballad, one very thinly disguised as having been written about a princess when in reality, it was written about Geralt.

As soon as he finishes, he picks his lute case up and crosses to sit back with Geralt. He knows they have to leave now, which is a shame since he never even finished his drink earlier, but he doesn't want to start something in the middle of the tavern. They were hoping to find a room for the night and Jaskier doesn't want to spend another night in a row on rocky, uneven ground.

"Shall we go?" he asks and Geralt casts a look between him and his unfinished drink. He doesn't respond before a loud, overly enthusiastic laugh fills the air. Geralt looks up with a scowl. Jaskier sighs.

He doesn’t know how he recognizes Elena, but there's an instant change in his demeanour. He goes rigid, staring directly at the corner of the room where she and her husband are seated and Jaskier can feel the rage radiating off of him.

"Geralt," he whispers, "let's just go, it's not that big a deal anyway-"

"She hurt you," he seethes and through the well of emotions swelling in his chest, Jaskier decides not to point out that Geralt has also hurt him in the past. It distracts him long enough that he doesn't realize Geralt is standing until he's nearly pushed out of the way.

He knows Geralt wouldn’t hurt them, especially for something so trivial, but he's so desperately trying to keep the peace. And if he's honest, he'd rather just forget about the whole Elena thing altogether. He thinks quickly, pressing himself up against Geralt's chest and it works, for a moment at least. Geralt looks down at him and something in his expression makes Jaskier's heart beat a little quicker and this is very much not the time for that.

But then Geralt moves to brush past and Jaskier's mind goes blank. He's been in danger - actual life threatening danger - before and Geralt has never been this defensive, protective, of him. So Jaskier acts without thinking. Working off the very slimmest chance that his suspicions could be correct, he pulls Geralt back to him and kisses him.

He stuns even himself and for a split second he's afraid Geralt might be upset with him, but Geralt drops back into his seat with a thud, pulling Jaskier into his lap. He takes Jaskier's face in his hands and kisses him fiercely.

Geralt kisses like a man who's been denied for years and all Jaskier can do is let himself be led. Geralt brings him close so their chests are pressed together and Jaskier can hear the way his heart thuds in his chest. It's highly unusual and if he wasn't being kissed stupid right now, he might be worried about it.

As reality settles around him, Jaskier slides his hands up Geralt's arms reverently, easing the rage and adrenaline out of him. And Geralt visibly relaxes under him, sinking back against the wall and relaxing his hold on Jaskier. Geralt loops his arms around Jaskier's lower back, but even calm and quiet, he doesn't let go. He just kisses him softer, more deliberately and Jaskier happily takes everything he's offering. Geralt is never this soft when he's insincere and this is maybe the worst time to talk about it, but he understands that this anger and rage were about more than just defending a friend.

When Geralt's tongue slides against his own, Jaskier lets out a little whine, shifting further into Geralt's lap. For that, he gets drawn closer and Geralt's hands slide up his back. Vaguely, Jaskier is aware that people are watching and regularly, he might worry about what people thought of him, but right now he couldn't care less. Right now Geralt is kissing him and he's solid and real and he feels so good around him.

Geralt pulls him right up against him and his cock, thick and hard in his trousers, presses up under Jaskier's, pulling a soft moan from his lips. As if pulled from a reverie, Geralt breaks the kiss, panting heavily as he looks into Jaskier's eyes. He doesn't say anything, but Jaskier hears the unspoken words and he nods, giving his consent freely.

A rush of adrenaline flows through him as Geralt hoists him up to his feet and presses a hand to his chest, guiding him backward. Jaskier is blind, trusting Geralt not to let him run into anything and he knows they're creating somewhat of a spectacle, but he loves it. Part of him wishes Elena would see him and regret the way things went between them, but right now with Geralt's cock pressing into his hip, Jaskier couldn't' be happier about the way things turned out.

Geralt directs him toward the door and Jaskier regrets not having paid for a room when they had the chance. He stumbles out the door and Geralt carries him down the stairs to keep him from tripping. After that, Jaskier finds himself pressed up against every vertical surface between the inn and wherever Geralt is taking him.

The sky is darkening but it's still light enough that anyone walking past could see them, but Geralt finds a small patch of trees right on the edge of town and apparently it's just what he's looking for.

Geralt sets his things down, but keeps Jaskier in his arms, sitting himself down in turn. As soon as Jaskier can touch the ground again, it becomes a race to get each other out of their clothes, grabbing and pulling until Geralt finally stops him, kisses him and tugs his shirt up over his head while he's distracted. Jaskier huffs at him, but he manages to get a hand fisted in his shirt and kisses back, temporarily distracted from his mission of undressing him.

Geralt moves under him, around him and Jaskier just hums and goes along with it, unbuttoning as many of Geralt's buttons as he can reach before shoving the shirt up over his head. He doesn't even mind when Geralt gets him out of his trousers and the Witcher is still mostly dressed. He doesn't mind because Geralt holds him close and kisses him like he doesn't think he'll get another chance. Jaskier continually proves that he will.

He kisses him hard, touches his face, rocks his hips against him even when the ties of Geralt's trousers are too rough against his swollen cock. He wants to prove to Geralt that this is more than just an attempt to distract him. And when Geralt pauses, just briefly to pull back and look at him, Jaskier thinks he knows.

Geralt reaches down, pushing Jaskier back and quickly unlacing the ties of his trousers. He shoves them down just low enough to expose his cock and hauls Jaskier back up over him, shifting under him so his cock rests against Jaskier's ass. He's quick and efficient, if not impatient and Jaskier shuts his eyes for a moment as Geralt's touch overwhelms him. He rolls his hips again, pushing back against Geralt's cock and grinding against him.

Geralt leans to one side, keeping a hand on Jaskier's hip to hold him steady as he turns. Jaskier leans back over him and Geralt kisses him as he rummages through his belongings. When he finds what he's looking for - a small half-empty bottle of oil - he pushes Jaskier back upright. His grip on Jaskier doesn't loosen, but he moves his arm up pushing his fingers into the hair at the back of his neck. His free hand moves, popping the cork on the oil and Jaskier groans in anticipation, rutting shamelessly against Geralt's stomach.

When Geralt's slick fingers press against him, Jaskier drops his chin against his chest, breathing Geralt's name into his night. When he slips into him, Jaskier's eyes flutter shut and he braces himself on Geralt's chest, looking down at him. Geralt shifts under him, readjusting himself and when he presses his cock against him, he meets Jaskier's eyes.

Everything slows to a stop as Geralt sinks into him and for a second Jaskier thinks it's going to end. Geralt was caught up in the moment and sometimes sex is just sex, but then Geralt smiles at him, slides a hand into his hair and pulls him into a firm kiss. Jaskier's eyes drop shut and he winds his arms around Gealt's neck and presses himself back onto his cock as Geralt wraps him in his arms again, pulling him close.

Jaskier's used to the finer things in life; silk sheets, warm beds, but out here in the forest in Geralt's lap he's never felt so loved. He doesn't want to say anything to spoil the moment, but the words are there, bubbling up in his chest and no amount of convincing or persuasion is going to stop him from feeling them. He presses his face into Geralt's neck, breathing the words into his skin instead.

When Jaskier comes, he stifles his moans into Geralt's skin as he rolls his hips against Geralt's slick stomach. Geralt follows a moment later, catching Jaskier's lips in a rough kiss as he continues thrusting into him.

When he stills, Jaskier rolls off of him, exhausted and still reeling. His chest heaves as he remembers how to breathe properly and next to him, Geralt is also panting, eyes shut and lips just barely parted. Jaskier feels like he should say something, but he doesn't know what. That was incredible? Thanks for the fuck? Are we gonna do this again?

"I'm sorry," Geralt breathes and Jaskier turns to look at him. That didn't even make it to the list of possibilities.

"What?" he asks, wondering if he's actually been fucked stupid or if there's something he's missing.

"I was angry, I got wrapped up in it."

"What were you angry about?"

"Elena-" Oh "- that she could hurt you like that and just... go on with her life. She had you and she just... found someone new."

"Oh," he says out loud.

"Why? Do you-"

Jaskier feels the word regret, unspoken and lingering between them and he shakes his head, turning to face Geralt. "No. I'll admit it was unexpected, but don't be sorry. And don't be angry on my behalf."

"Why shouldn't I?" Geralt growls, leaning up over him. Jaskier smiles, reaching up to brush his fingers along Geralt's cheekbones.

"I don't need them. I don't care anymore." He pauses, pulling Geralt's face low enough to kiss him again. "Although, if you're going to get all protective like this every time, I might-"

"Don't even think about it." Jaskier grins, looping his arms around Geralt's neck and pressing his fingers into his hair.

"Okay."

They fall into a comfortable silence, just the sounds of their breath mingling in the evening air, then Geralt’s voice, just above a whisper. “Are you alright?”

“I’m not a child,” Jaskier huffs, amused. “I’ve has sex in the woods before, although I do generally prefer-”

“I mean about Elena.”

“I think that’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to ask before you fuck me,” Jaskier quips.

“Hmm.”

“I’m fine. It’s been months, I’ve had time to think about things.”

“And?”

“And I think if things had worked out between us, I would have missed you too much to stay with her.”

“I thought you loved her more than anyone.”

“Well,” Jaskier smiles, turning to brush his fingers through Geralt’s hair, “maybe not more than everyone.”

#idk how to tag this #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #the witcher #first time #first kiss #posting bc i had a shitty day #and i want to feel productive #i'll put it on ao3 when it has a title #rex writes

[digitalvoidheart]

A Pixelated New Moon - Half Moon Ending (Ending 2)

First

*********

As much as he knew staring at the glowing bar wasn't going to change anything, his uncoloured eyelights refused to leave it, avoiding Cross' face whether it was pointed at him or not - he didn't want to know.

He wanted to let Cross go. More than himself! Nightmare might not want him after the little stunt, and it isn't like they're the only players in the game.

If Nightmare was mad at him (which is very highly likely), he might release the bond and maybe look for a less stupid and gullible lower-leveled player. He couldn't feel it ever since he entered the Void. So maybe... Maybe he was freed?

"Congratulations," Moon whipped his head so fast, halting the train of thought, to face his trichromatic partner. He was smiling, but Moon knew better. "You get to go home."

Home... A place of warmth and comfort you can go back to.

A place where a family awaits your return eagerly.

A place... No more.

Moon fished out his G bag and held it out to Cross. The latter was surprised by this, he stepped back as if he was revealed a ticking hand bomb instead. "What?"

"Go" Moon replied with a hopeful smile.

Moon could see Cross' dual coloured pupils shrink from surprise. His hands reaching out subconsciously, only to pull them back to his sides fisted once he noticed what was going on.

"No."

"But why n-"

"Moon I'm not gonna take away your only way back home!" Cross lashed out, pure annoyance wafted from his aura. So toxic it felt, Moon couldn't breathe. He heaved forward, longing for a breath of air in his nonexistent lungs, and collapsed from the tightness in his empathetic soul. He didn't connect with the ground, and just as quick as his fall, the annoyance warped to concern. Still painful, but just a bit more bearable. Looking up, he winced as he faced Cross. Pure confusion and concern etching his stoic mask.

"You're loosing your strength," Cross finalised, "go home. I'll be fine-"

"No, you're not. Cross stop lying-" Moon snapped, "-to me and to yourself"

Wide eyed, neither of them expected Moon's outburst. Moon looked away, shameful of his explosion. He felt his cheeks flush, secretly thankful for the monochromatic palette of the void masking it away.

Cross sighed nonetheless. "Either way, you're going home," he felt a familiar lump grow in his throat, "I don't wanna go out..."

"I'm a monster.." and that was the first of tears after years of bottling up. He was finally tired. He didn't bother wiping the tears nor the fact that he was now vulnerable in front of Moon. He didn't mind dying anyways, if all his sweet kindness was a sham.

"You're not," Cross looked up.

"And will never be" A white flush stained the areas where Moon's cheekbones would be as equally pearly tears spilled from those angry eyes.

He fished out a familiar card out of his inventory, "No point denying it, Moon." and shred it in half.

Bright sparks and wisps surrounded him. A short while later, they cleared up. Cross pulled out his stats bar, his eyes void of hope, the red eyelight now a poisonous purple.

His LV was all Moon got to see, a good two more to Nightmare's but he didn't care.

So he slapped Cross' hand away, dissipating his stats bar.

"For the last time. I. Don't. Fucking. Care." this was it. He can't do it anymore. He whipped around facing the cursed bar that was stopping them from-

"Wait-Moon! What are you doing?!" he raised a fist,

"MOON DON'T-"

And smashed it to a million pieces.

This proved to be a mistake immediately as white glitches began overtaking his body. Previous anger now vanished, fear glistening in his eyes as he looked over to Cross. "C-Cro-"

"MOON!" he rushed forward making a grab for his shoulders, and as the last of glitches covered those royal purple eyes.

Then everything went white.

It wasn't long before Cross awoke from his knockout, but the bright light wasn't a great thing to wake up to. Grunting from the harsh burn, he squinted, bringing up a black sleeved arm-

Wait...

He immediately sat up from his fallen position, as he glared at his arms. They were coloured.

Like the rest of him was. No longer a white outline in a black canvas. And beside him, Moon was too.

An elegant royal purple cape draped over his fallen form, breaking any shape of what he was underneath, like a fluffy blanket. He also just realised his companion wore a golden circlet atop his skull. Was he royalty?

But aside from the point. They finally escaped! Oh how he wanted to laugh his happiness off. All he has to do now is to find an escape in here and he'll be free again! He'll let Moon rest for now. After he wakes up, they'll journey for that exit!

XXXXX

Time seemed to have stopped in the vast white space because he didn't know how many days or months or maybe years have passed, since appearing in here.

And Moon never woke up from his slumber that day.

Cross tried to shake him awake, use any of his abilities to force him up, anything, but nothing worked. All his abilities were nullified and he didn't want to destroy anymore of Moon's HP if he was gonna get up.

If he was ever going to.

The truth was there. But Cross didn't give up too easily. With Moon becoming his returning point, he walked aimlessly to search for an exit. He was determined to find one and get them both out of here. Maybe he can find a healer back in the outside world. He was determined to find a way out of here.

His eyelight burned bright with the determination coursing through him.

A bright pure red.

Always returning with hope that Moon woke up.

A Rufous red.

He never gave up on finding that exit.

A cherry burn.

Voices. Cross started doubting that they're alone...

A bittersweet shimmer.

He screamed for help. Rations were gone now. Moon still didn't wake up...

An old red rose.

His HP started ticking...

Pastel.

He... can't...

...

...

...

. . .

...Grey

Only then did he wake up to Moon sitting beside his sleeping form, a melancholic smile adorning his face making his eyes the more sadder. He also noticed Moon's eyes going from grey to that majestic purple he loved. How much he missed company.

Moon came over, and embraced him, knowing full well his monochromatic friend needed it. Cross returned it, starved of hope and determination as the first tear in a lifetime escaped.

Moon whispered to him a few words of comfort, sitting beside him and holding him until he calmed down.

He then chose to lead Cross to the way out.

And Cross smiled,his right white eyelight ablaze once more. He never looked back at the spot they stayed at.

It's not like he has anything to take from two piles of dust anyways.

************

Half Moon: Where Moon refuses to return spends his last moments with Cross

One more to go. How's this ending y'all?

Had a lot of last minute changes. Planned on making them not end up in a white void and just stay satisfied there until the system glitched them out of existence but figured I liked this better.

#Void writes #a pixelated new moon #APNM #new moon #Cross

[the-himawari]

A3! Song Lyrics Translation - Mirage on a magical night

💜✨ Full song translation using the official lyrics  💚🕊️

*Please read disclaimer on blog

---

Kieru: There are no tricks or gimmicks

Peten: An existence itself that’s like art

Kieru: Disappears into an illusion

Peten: A night caught in deception

Both: are you ready?

Kieru: A party invitation comes fluttering in

Peten: The curtain on this story rises

Kieru: I will

Peten: Show you

Both: A stage of magic and desire

Both: “Ladies and gentlemen”

Peten: An escape show just like magic, tonight’s dance partner is

Kieru: A woman with beautiful eyes Destiny bound by chains

Both: Lightly

Peten: A shadow creeps up without a sound, and

Both: Cleverly

Kiel: Without noticing the trick

Both: That was set up is swiftly being solved, you will be lured in

Both: "It’s show time!"

*CHORUS*

Both: I know that illusion, that delusion because of love

Kieru: Even the days when I fell madly in love and chased after them beyond longing

Both: Straying off course, unsure, I knew I had no talent

Peten: I was hiding it as a joke

Both: My wavering feelings Are captivated by your unique light

Kieru: I come to my senses in a pitch-black room, it’s an escape show with no tricks A shadow wavers somehow in this sham of a trap

Kieru: “I have no choice but to ask him directly”

Peten: Diamond eyes have been snatched away, a skillful heart and deduction The phantom thief’s poker face

Both: And now for the conclusion

Peten: “You really are an excellent disciple”

*CHORUS*

Both: I know that illusion, that delusion because of love

Kieru: I doubted the answer I discovered when I was captured back then

Both: Straying off course, unsure, I knew I was the worst

Peten: I’m not joking around

Both: These wavering feelings, my eyes are stolen by the light I longed for

Kieru: “Why did you do this?”

Peten: “It is my great-grandfather’s creation. In the past, my father was deceived”

Kieru: “It’s not too late yet. You can still—”

Peten: “It’s too late”

Kieru: “—Mirage!?”

Peten: “I’m sorry”

Both: The mirage I loved

Peten: Following the red string of fate when I was young

Kieru: An unwavering oath

Peten: And a phantom thief cloaked in lies

Both: The mirage that lied

Kieru: A bird that can’t fly in the sky

Peten: Lightning flickers in an instant

Kieru: The fleeting trick quietly vanishes

Kieru: There are no tricks or gimmicks

Peten: An existence itself that’s like art

Kieru: Disappears into an illusion

Peten: A night caught in deception

Both: The illusion disappears, as we borrow the applause to verify the answer

Both: “Tonight’s fleeting dream”

*CHORUS*

Both: are you ready? When the truth that has no answer reveals the trick The magic is solved and we come back to reality ah I know that illusion, that delusion because of love That image that I longed for, you who I was desperately in love with vanished Laugh that I’m a phantom thief over love I was hiding it as a joke, my wavering feelings Were captivated by your unique light and fell in love

Kieru: The magician’s magic cannot be solved, the story continues

---

Personal notes + tidbits for those interested: OK, there's A LOT to unpack here First, this song is notoriously tricky (aha) and has lots of room for interpretation, so I am open to discussion for corrections and such! Though I gave it my best shot and I put more effort into trying to make it sound prettier this time (emphasis on try haha) Also, yes, there have been several changes from the first version since the official lyrics clarified a lot. Like the homophones (aka the "回答" [kaitou: answer]/ "怪盗" [kaitou: phantom thief] for one and I just want to say I feel so vindicated right now!!!) Neat references to the play I caught: Masumi & Chikage have lines that reference their character names: Masumi: 幻想に消える (gensou ni kieru) -> disappears into an illusion Chikage: ペテンに掛かる夜 (peten ni kakaru yo) -> a night caught in deception "Tonight's dance partner is a woman with beautiful eyes" + "Diamond eyes have been snatched away" -> Lucienne the doll "My eyes are stolen by the light I longed for" -> Interesting (Lucienne) eye symbolism again--but also an interesting analysis about Peten's character "I come to my senses in a pitch-black room" + "I doubted the answer I discovered when I was captured back then" -> When Peten locked Kieru up before Mirage's show "Destiny bound by chains" -> Kieru locked up/ Mirage's escape show "The phantom thief's pokerface" -> the phantom thief called Face/ Peten hiding his true self (HMM) Extras: Interesting to note the "mirage"s in the rap are actually written with the kanji "蜃気楼" (shinkirou: mirage) but read as "miraaju". (Yes, this also threw JP fans in a loop from what I've seen LOL) and now everyone is wondering if the Japanese song title "蜃気楼は奇術の夜に" is actually read as "Miraaju wa kijutsu no yoru ni" hmmm

Anyways I hope I did this song justice since the lyrics are really amazing and rife with symbolism. I read some fan interpretations of the lyrics when the album just dropped and it's really awesome seeing so many people go crazy over both this song + Magicians' all over again haha this is truly the song that just keeps giving  ✨

#a3! #a3! translation #usui masumi #utsuki chikage #act! addict! actors! #mirage on a magical night #+ lots of notes for those interested #cause i have waited too long for this song lmao

[jjk-biased]

jungkook x reader

requested by @atulipandarose (oooh soulmate/jungkook/one shot!! it's been big missing jk hours over here)

genre: fluff, soulmate au

words: 2.5k of dumb jungkook pining

warnings: none >< cussing here and there, also my first time writing just fluff so please be kind. unedited!!!

synopsis: jungkook never loved the idea of soulmates because he liked you and he wanted only you.

masterlist | events masterlist

There it was, the panging he felt in his heart even if he wasn’t the person in pain. As his chest throbbed, it was emotional pain he supposed, the song began to play in his head. He gritted his teeth, upset to have been reminded once again of the world he lived in. 

The world had to be so stupid to believe in such nonsense. It was idiotic. They had to be so naive to rely on  this whole scam - to the point where they even revolve their lives around it. 

It isn’t true. It’s far-fetched. This whole soulmate system wasn’t reliable.

He lived in a world where the universe decided who each person’s other was. Soulmates existed. It was everywhere. And he didn’t like it one bit.

Whoever made the world like this had to be an utter idiot. Why would anyone allow something like this to take over people’s lives? This bullshit soulmate system gave people a false sense of hope that someone out of the millions and millions of people would be the only right person for you. That somehow, out of 7.5 billion people, someone would be the perfect yin to your yang. 

It shouldn’t exist. Soulmates shouldn’t exist. 

Come to think of it, how can the universe even be so sure that the person they have “destined” for him is the right one? And, honestly, who even gave the universe the right to choose for him?

Fuck the universe, Jeon Jungkook wanted to pick for himself.

He thought this whole sham was an inconvenience. Unlike almost every love-crazed and soulmate-addict person, he thought otherwise. Jungkook felt suffocated at the thought of being tied down to someone who he probably didn’t even like. He didn’t need whoever they had for him. He didn’t have to meet this so-called pre-destined love of his life to live happily.

Actually, he did. Or else he would forever be haunted by it. He’d go crazy.

People had different “soulmate indicators” -- basically something in their body that gave them a hint on whoever they were destined for. Namjoon, his writer friend, had a tattoo of his soulmate’s name on his collarbone. Jimin, the short friend, had a ring on his finger with the initials of his soulmate and would even change colors depending on the mood of his other. One part of Taehyung's hair is the same color as his soulmate’s, regardless if he tried to dye it along with his locks. 

To say the least, theirs were easy to find, to discover - much more convenient than what the universe had in store for dear Jeon Jungkook. His had to be the most vague indicator of this whole scam. 

A song.

The universe gave Jungkook one specific song that only he and his soulmate knew. Not a name, not a ring, not even a hair color. Just one fucking song. 

Jeon Jungkook didn’t want to believe in this obviously fraudulent scheme that the universe set up. Despite his woes and resentment towards the system, Jungkook couldn’t exactly ignore it. The song, somehow sung by both him and the soulmate, always played in his head whenever he or the other would feel down. Somehow, it only played when any of them were sad. Not when they’re happy. Not when they’re angry. Not when they’re bored. Only when one or the other wasn’t feeling well.

But hey, at least he knew when it would start. 

There would always be a pang in his chest before it began. It was akin to when the dog dies in the movie, or when someone relayed bad news, or when the character in a book had to leave. The weird feeling would be eased immediately as soon as the song played in their head. It would lull him to sleep, he guessed it held the same effect for whoever was on the other side, and would make him feel at home. 

But he did not like this soulmate bullshit. 

Not one bit.

Even if the song brought him great comfort. Even if it was the only thing he looked forward to when he had a bad day. Even if his soulmate’s honey-like voice blended well with his. 

Wait shit, he should be hating this nonsense. Why did he just think that his soulmate sang nicely?

Fuck it. Forget what he thought. It didn’t matter anyway. 

He had other things to think about anyway, especially how to gain the courage to ask his friend out. 

Jungkook is currently and sadly a college student, who, aside from drowning in student debt, studies fine arts. He hopes to become a renowned artist someday, and in pursuing so, had to disobey his typical Asian parents’ wish for him to be called Dr. or Atty. someday. 

Soulmate hatred aside, art had always been his passion. Despite growing into a family full of doctors, lawyers, and judges, he knew his heart belonged in fine arts. When his brother would play with the toy syringes and stethoscopes, he would be seen getting himself dirty with the washable markers. That love for coloring grew into something more, and so Jungkook decided he would become an artist in the future. 

It was always so freeing for him to dabble in the blues and greens and create whatever he visualized in his mind. The pencil in his hand could easily convey the emotions he had trouble vocalizing. All of his troubles would go away faster than you can say worldwide handsome Jin-hyung with the aid of his drawing tablet. Everything about art just intrigued him. Art was easy. Art was comforting. 

Art is where he felt free.

It wasn’t suffocating. Unlike his family that wanted him to be someone he couldn’t become and this soulmate shit that wanted to cuff him down to one specific person he doubts would even go well with him. 

He wanted the soulmate system gone. For reasons that seemed justified to him and only him. 

He could live without the incessant nagging of his very traditional family who wanted to sped things up. Jungkook would finally stop seeing some of his soulmate-less acquaintances miserable. He could finally go on with his sad day without the song that would automatically play in his head. 

Wait… that last thought made him feel sad. Perhaps he would miss the song after all. 

Anyway, and above all, he could finally court his cute friend without having to worry of the soulmate shabang. 

Jungkook didn’t want whoever the universe paired him with. He wanted his cute seatmate and friend, Y/N Y/L/N.

Y/N Y/L/N. Your name was perfect. 

The way your name rolled off his tongue felt just right. The way your nose would scrunch as you focused on sketching the naked dude who had to pose in front of everyone. The way you would tilt your head when the professor never made sense with his discussions. 

Everything about you was just so… perfect. 

You were kind-hearted, considerate, and intelligent. Your humor was unmatched and you were very enthusiastic when you conversed with Jungkook. From a small crush, his liking towards you grew into something he couldn’t exactly ignore. He liked you more than he liked to listen to the duet in his head.  

Okay… scratch that. Maybe he did like his significant other’s singing voice. It eased his worries after a troublesome day. Admittedly, he had found comfort in it.

If only the universe allowed him to converse with whoever was on the other side, then maybe he didn’t have to loathe this system so much. He could’ve gotten a friend out of it, not a soulmate… but a friend. 

Somehow, his thoughts wandered back to you. God, imagine if you were his soulmate. Jungkook would be more than happy if that happened. But he didn’t need the universe to act on his feelings for you. Jungkook will do something… He knew he had to do something about it. He just didn’t know when. 

All of his thinking made Jungkook revert to airplane mode, so it was only then that he noticed you concernedly waving your hand in front of his face for a sign of consciousness. He found your scrunched up face painstakingly cute but holy shit… why are you so close? Please don’t be so close. Jungkook would malfunction if you decreased the space between you two even more. 

“Are you okay, kook?” You luckily stepped back once he locked eyes with you. 

 Ah… that sweet voice of yours that could rival the comforting honey-like singing in his head.

“Y-yeah! Sorry, was spacing out,” Jungkook’s words were jumbled as he noticed he was staring at you like a gaping goldfish instead of answering like a normal person. 

Your giggles rang throughout the room at his predicament. He crookedly grinned then laughed along. This must be heaven. Your happiness was always contagious and he’d often mirror the smile on your face whenever you were happy. 

You made him feel giddy as much as he did on the days he finished his artworks. You made him complete. 

But that damn soulmate thing had to ruin it. 

How he wished you were his soulmate. 

“I thought something happened to you, kook! Mr. Kang dismissed us some time ago but you were still frozen in your seat when everyone left. I was so… worried,” You chuckled, though quite red and hesitant at the end. 

Well did that instigate the butterflies in Jungkook’s tummy. 

“Concerned for me?” Jungkook teased, it was his go-to response because he couldn’t exactly flirt in straight sentences. 

Your eyebrows furrowed but the pink hue became much more evident. Jungkook didn’t even mind the kick you gave him because he made you feel a bit flustered. Success :D

“Taehyungie’s been busy, hasn’t he?” You said, trying to change the subject so everyone could forget the embarrassment.

Taehyung, the theater kid and drama major, was friends with the both of you. He had been busy for the past month because their project was to create a series of plays to showcase to the school. Their show will be on Tuesday, days away from now. 

Right! He could invite you to the play.

“He is… Hey,” You tilted your head and hummed when Jungkook’s voice sounded a bit unsure. 

“Do you wanna go with me to the play?”

The red on your face and the shy nod you did made him swell in accomplishment. He can’t wait for Tuesday to come. 

Fuck.  He should’ve waited for Tuesday to come. Now it is Tuesday and he was too nervous to even stand in a five-meter radius near you. Slapping himself to forget the momentary faltering of his confidence, he shakily waited at the foot of your doorstep with an album in his hand. 

You two bonded on music and he knew you well enough to know you’d rather have the CD of your favorite artist than some flower that would wilt after awhile. He was right. The beam on your face when he handed over the gift made him so happy that all his nerves were washed away. You always had a way to ease him, even if you weren’t aware. 

“M’lady,” He jokingly tried to replicate a british accent as he offered his arm, waiting for you. And as you always would, you took his arm along with an accent-laced, “M’lord,”

Jungkook forgot his worries for a moment and it was always because of you. 

You two sat near the stage to support Taehyung with his play. You two remembered him sharing that their play was about a soulmate-driven world with much more darker consequences. It was about the fictional hanahaki disease, he said. 

And boy did it feel so sad. Taehyung acted so well, as if he was really losing his character’s best friend onstage. Jungkook peered at you for a moment and saw your eyes glisten as Taehyung’s cries grew louder and louder. 

The story was really heartbreaking.

To the point where Jungkook felt the familiar pang on his chest and the song began to play in his head. 

How peculiar. His soulmate was sad just as Taehyung’s scene played out. Perhaps they were in the same auditorium as well. But that was impossible. His soulmate was probably watching some soap opera. 

Not that he minded. Jungkook had other things to think about, especially how to comfort you as your tears flowed down from the actors’ amazing performance. As slick as he could, he draped an arm around you and let you rest your head on his shoulder. His heart was beating faster than he could comprehend. Even more so, when you scooted closer to him.

Fuck. You were cuddling. Oh my god. Jungkook is gonna die out of happiness. 

He had to play it cool though. Jungkook ignored the warmth in his chest and face as he rubbed your arm in consolation. He was surprised you reacted well. Nothing prepared him for what happened next. 

You were humming. 

You were humming his song. 

hOLY SHIT. HOLY SHIT YOU WERE HUMMING HIS SONG. 

You… were his soulmate.

Okay universe… Unfuck you, Jungkook guessed. Apparently the universe was on his side after all… All he had to do was somehow tell you…

Jungkook, his face now an uncontrollable red, nervously turned towards you and successfully got  your undivided attention. God, he could die then and there. Gathering courage from glob knows where, he smiled and sang the first line of the song. 

Universe might have been laughing at him for suddenly changing his views. Jungkook would’ve laughed at himself if he found out the double-back on his opinion. But this was you. 

You and your cute nose scrunch, you and your adorable head tilt, you and your witty comebacks.

This was you.

Everything about you was perfect, and he couldn’t believe that the universe liked him enough to grace him with you as his soulmate. 

何故 こんなにも 涙が溢れるの

[Naze, konna ni mo namida ga afureru no]

Your eyes widened as he sang the song that felt like home to the both of you. 

ねぇ 側にいて そして笑ってよ

[Nee, soba ni ite soshite waratte yo]

You joined in on the singing and everything just made sense. None of the leaving people in the auditorium mattered at the moment. 

君のいない未来は 色のない世界

[Kimi no inai mirai wa iro no nai sekai]

Jungkook was so happy. It seemed like the world was brighter than before.

モノクロで冷たい

[Monokuro de tsumetai]

He shouldn’t have doubted the universe’s plan. Everything was better with you. 

見つめてる 暗闇さえも so beautiful

[Mitsumeteru kurayami sae mo so beautiful]

You smiled shyly as your soft honey-like voice harmonized with him. 

僕を信じてほしい

[Boku wo shinjite hoshii]

Jungkook’s smile grew wider, encasing your delicate hand in his.

まっすぐに君だけを見て

[Massugu ni kimi dake wo mite]

For once in his life, he was happy and it was better because he was happy with you.

どこにも行かないように

[Doko ni mo ikanai you ni]

You two shared a kiss that afternoon, on a Tuesday, at the university’s auditorium.

permanent taglist: @luvinseokjinnie @97faerie @amoreguk @bbyjoonies @borednia @tanumiki @taescake

[Extra]

Jungkook: Hey Taehyung! Congrats, that play was amazing

Taehyung: ...yeah… but why did you two make out when I died onstage?

You: ahahaha bye.

#bts x reader #bts #jungkook x female reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #soulmate au #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine #your eyes they tell

[thoroughlyskeptic]

Dear nannies/antis,

Logic, let's try logic, since nothing else gets through those thick skulls of yours. What is improbable about the scenarios that the skeptics, as a whole, present? 

For the record, the established parameters here are that:

1) Ben is unhappy.

2) This unhappiness began right around the beginning of the PR push for The Imitation Game.

3) His unhappiness has not abated despite achieving his stated goals of marriage and family.

4) No other event or person in his life correlates to that time period in exclusivity except Sophie. 

Now the skeptics disagree on the instigating factors of those same parameters. The general consensus among the skeptics is that:

1) Ben's marriage is a sham.

2) He is not happy about being a father, therefore based on his stated goals and desires there is something that he doesn't like about the children.

3) Sophie did many things that are generally discouraged during pregnancy therefore she was not pregnant. 

Now the nannies and antis(that's you all) suggest that these things can't possibly happen. That the parameters are false. While it is true that we cannot clearly prove to your satisfaction that Ben is unhappy, you conversely cannot prove to our satisfaction that he is happy. Now, people exist in all spectrums of emotion and can have several at a time so in fact, perhaps we are all right. But assuming that our parameters are true, the instigating factors are the big sticking point. 

Logically, many marriages are marriages of convenience. Whether for legal protection, not wanting a child born out-of-wedlock, dynastic reasons in general, and of course there are Lavendar Marriages. Several people have suggested in the past that Ben married and had children to hide the fact he is gay. Although the younger generation has been very vocal in claiming their personal preferences for pronouns, older generations who tend to watch the big budget Oscar bait movies Ben likes to make(TIG, The Courier, That cat movie) tend to prefer their actors straight. It's happening less but there can still be a backlash from someone coming out. I'm not saying that I believe this theory, but it is not something that is unheard of statistically. As far as dynastic reasons, although Ben is not in direct line for any titles dynastic reasons can include the purpose of furthering the family name. There is also the legal protection. Some people get married for the reason of testifying, or rather not testify.

Ben has stated previously that he wanted to become a father. Now, it could happen that someone who had the desire to have children came face to face with the full weight of taking care of a human life and balked. (He saw a loaded diaper and ran screaming, for example.) This is not unheard of in people who were raised as only children or people who have never been around babies. However, seeing that Ben has a niece around the right age to have baby-sat and has small Godchildren he was very close to, I very much doubt this is the case. Now, you can have an unhappy reaction from a parent who has a special needs child but unless all three were also in need of extra help, having another child eliminates some, although not all, of the regret and sorrow that having a child that you may be unable to help can cause. The other explanation that could account for him not being thrilled about being a father, would be doubtful paternity. This is also a fairly common occurrence, more discoverable now with modern DNA tests but it has happened since the beginning of societies.

One theory is that Sophie has faked her pregnancies. This is not out of the realm of possibility. Two separate explanations can apply and both have precedent. One is common in Hollywood circles or models. They hire a surrogate and "fake a pregnancy" so they don't lose their figure, this is known as social surrogacy. If done by IVF it's still their child, so no lying would be involved. A well-known doctor from Hollywood has stated that he has helped many actress and models "fake" a pregnancy in this way. The other possibility is sadder. Women, saddened by the loss of a child or pregnancy, substitute a "New Born"/" Reborn" Doll for their child and treat it exactly the same. Some do have more than one of these "children". Her apparent weight gain could be hysterical pregnancy common in the type of delusional personality that causes one to imagine a doll is a real child. Once she was pictured pregnant the public(i.e. tabloids) would be eager to get a photo of the baby. To maintain this from a public relations standpoint, some sort of explaination would have to be given. Of course reborns and dolls do not age. If the situation is as believed, he would need to explain why there were no children. In his position, it would be easy to hire child actors to play the parts of the children for a photo shoot and tell his wife they were doing a movie shoot or ad. If there was a surrogacy, there would, of course, be children. He may resent having gone through IVF and surrogacy. Many men believe this process emasculates them, that they aren't "real men" because they can't father a child the "natural" way. 

As to the health of Sophie when pregnant, the pictures indicate that she was drinking, riding dangerous boats, and traveling to far off locales. All of this is discouraged during the stage of pregnancy she was at. It was not prohibited but as a geriatric pregnancy, she would have been urged to be overly cautious as older mothers are 14 percent more likely to have a spontaneous preterm delivery and 31 percent more likely to have early deliveries because of labor induction, cesarean births or other interventions.  The National Women's Health Network now prefers the term Advanced Maternal Age. (And yes your mother was Methuselah, and gave birth to you at a 104, nannies. Outliers do not determine the statistical norms.) 

Now are all the things that skeptics have said illogical? Not all of them. Do we have sound logical reasons for the basis of our skepticism? Yes. We didn't just randomly decide one day that Sophie looked like the kind of person who would fake pregnancy. It's not like she hasn't faked a pregnancy for attention before. People that fake things for attention tend to feel they have not gotten enough attention and try bigger and bigger stunts to get attention. They escalate. That's not from any book. That's from personal experience. The only way to deal with them in general is to ignore them. If that is not strictly followed, they will escalate until someone gets hurt. 

This of course is where nannies/antis see threats, when skeptics aren't making them. Saying that destructive behavior leads to destruction is not a threat, its logical.

Now logically I know that I'm either preaching to the choir or to those who aren't really going to change their mind. That's not the reason for this exercise. The point, my dears, is to lay out a logical reason for what the skeptics believe, even if it doesn't change anyone else's mind in anyway.

[isleofancients]

there is much feather floofing and general nuzzling- they do listen as he starts to list his, well, misdeeds, until Scout interrupts, and which point they make a small sound of agreement, pointing to their new feather buddy. "what that one said."

"I mean, probably yes to dropping the admittedly kind of cyber stalkery thing- but, maybe talk to him? just, less for the cyber stalkery thing itself, and more, well..." they glance in the general direction of the front of the shop, the street where the confrontation between Huitzi and his abductor had happened, remembering the intruder's gleeful cruelty. "you didn't mention whether he knows about his doppelganger. but if he's tangled up in this place somehow, I'm guessing he does. and if someone with my face did all kinds of horrible things? I might like to know if anyone who'd actually known the other... not-me... could tell we weren't the-"

aaand any other thoughts kind of scatter at this point as something else finally registers. "wait, did you just say the government is keeping extensive personal records on him?"

"Not this one, his. Its a whole separate civilization thing." Q says with a sigh. "Rasse is basically the Royal Scientist and was extremely close to their late king, so much so that when the King disappeared Rasse kind of just broke and somewhat took over this universe in one swoop." "He didn't do anything with it is the thing though! Just got into everyone's heads and let them exist while he wandered around with a dopey smile and all his face holes leaking ink." Q huffs. "Also he cried sometimes. Anyway, the Queen ripped his magic from him, died in the process, everyone outside his nation forgot, and the Queen's right hand man was put in charge and proceeded to do what I kept seeing described as 'warcrimes' to him for years. The Queen was revived, the warcrime doers actions were revealed-" "Literally during a public trial of Rasse 'attacking' him by protecting himself, it was essentially on a stage in front of a huge crowd of people like a goddamn play because by that point his 'trials' were basically just a sham. A video of the crimes got played in front of all those people and it was so bad the Queen executed the prick on the spot. Just shot him right in the head." His words dip into a growl. "The video was what I saw. He should've gotten worse. She should've made it hurt." Scout warbles and gently bonks him with the side of its head. Q pets the soft fluff, breathing slowly. "...Rasse is allowed to live relatively free now and do his work, but he is still being heavily monitored." He sighs. "At least they haven't managed to bug his home and lab yet, the place just keeps eating it. ...and then Dragon shows up and projects everything his double did right in front of his eyes. Threw him straight into the deep end and now all he wants to do is help." "We've been talking." He says softly. "Mostly medical stuff. He likes my jokes. I like his smile."

#rasse info