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#but this is red thread soulmate shit

inkstainednote · 1 year

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Once upon a time, I had two soulmates. Then, the red thread which connected me to them broke. Suddenly and unexpectedly. It broke as my innocence was starting to fade, around the time when I stopped being and subsequently thinking of myself as a child. The thread used to branch out from the middle. When the first branch broke, I barely even realised. I was used to my threads wrapping, tangling around me, Her, Him and so I had eventually stopped checking to make sure they weren't harmed or altered in any way.

After Her parents got divorced, She was no longer She. I, being myself, stayed. I tried to help, to be there for Her and I didn't notice how the thread dimmed and thinned and eventually broke until it was already too late and She was already nothing more but a stranger. I think She tried to hold on to the thread with all Her power but Her power was not enough. I wonder if Her parents had their own red thread once upon a time. If yes, I wonder when it broke. For how long did they stay in a redless wedding. I wonder if our threads broke at the same time or if they did years apart from one another.

The second branch broke abruptly. It was already thinned out, yes, it had almost broken before. It had been stretched too thin and sheared and stepped upon by bullies and shallow hearted, thread-less people who were jealous of what existed and by dirty minds and unbeknownst to them by hopeless romantics. Even Éros himself shot at it with his arrows, hurting it without meaning to. However the branch had survived through it all for it was strong, stronger than Her branch. And I was reassured, I thought it could survive anything. But the thread-less had left a cursed gift, a virus on the branch and the virus spread and it infected Him. And the thoughts He hid in His heart, for he knew they were poison, started to unveil and wear down the already worn out branch until there was nothing left of it but a tiny, cobweb-thin piece. Sensitive, vulnerable yes, but if treated with care, it could be nurtured back to the strong state it once were in. But He didn't care anymore and He run away, run with every ounce of his being against the branch, far from me and so it stretched and then it broke. If I had chased after Him, perhaps things would be different today. But I was tired of always chasing after Him, of being careful, of looking after the thread He ignored continually. At first because of innocent, naive immaturity but later because of lack of interest. And so, I let the branch break.

Once upon a time, I had two soulmates. Now I have nothing but two ghosts and two distinctively-shaped holes in my heart. Her ghost? I rarely meet and when I do we pretend just for a moment, that neither of us is a ghost for the other. And our each-other-shaped holes are somewhat full for that time. However, the thread, the branch stays broken. Time is not enough for it to fix itself and heal and so after a while our hearts are once again holed.

His ghost, I see often. But He has changed so much that His ghost doesn't even fit in the hole it once did. Once, we spoke, we hung out as we used to. It was just the two of us... Almost. And His hole warmed up a bit as if trying to shout "He's here!" but He wasn't really there and He only cared for Himself and His own holes in His heart which as it turned out had been filled with people who were very much not me. I wonder if His heart adapted, if those people fit perfectly in it or if there's still a me-shaped hole which He simply no longer feels. If He has learnt to ignore its existence.

Often, I wonder if my thread will ever bind itself to anyone again. I wonder if I'll stay alone forever.

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gildedphoenix · 12 days

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During the great depression, somebody made a wish. Fueled by desperation, powered by the pure dumb luck of being in the right place at the right time to be heard by an ancient Djinn (it was totally Desire) with a sense of humor.

After the wish, everyone had a red string hanging off their left pinky. It dangled down a few inches and then just faded into non-existence. Nobody knew what it was for a few years but then stories started coming out. People finding their perfect match after feeling a tug at their string and following it. The string would twist and twine and lengthen as you got closer to your fated mate, your strings eventually connecting together.

Most people’s strings just hung limp. Maybe listing in one direction or another. But 8 Billion people in the world and only one is your soul mate? Most people didn’t meet theirs. It was true that your soulmate was always within 10 years of age as you. But 10 years older to 10 years younger still gave you a 20 year range to work with. Everyone’s string appeared by the time they were 10. Some babies were born with their string already spun, a small red thread fading off into a wisp after a scant inch.

Nowadays, it was common to go on a “string chase” vacation after graduating high school. Some people were close enough to their soulmates that they could just follow the leadings of their string, which would become longer and more opaque the closer you got to your mate. If your string gave you no leads, there were all kinds of "methods" to help pick which direction you should go.

Tucker and Sam were determined to go on string chase journeys post graduation. Tucker because he loved the excitement of an adventure, Sam to find someone who would truly understand her.

Danny was not so hopeful. At one point they'd all agreed to go together, but Sam felt like she was being led to the west coast while Tucker was just going to start in Metropolis, the nearest big city and go from there, hopping the next train out of town after a few days if he still had a slack string.

After a lengthy discussion of pros and cons, they decided that Tucker was more likely to get himself into trouble than Sam, so Danny found himself packing light and on a Greyhound to Metropolis. It was a shitty trip. Objectively the worst way to travel. Walking, or even hitch hiking would have been more pleasant. The bus was late. They had no way of making their connection in Chicago, and the vent fan in the bathroom was broken, making the bus reek of sewage.

Danny has shit luck and just doesn't believe he'll ever find his soulmate. The universe just doesn't like him that much.

Jason has, somehow, always had a leading direction on his string. When he was younger, there was nothing he could do about it. And now he had baggage and didn't want to pursue romance or relationship. (Even though he's a total sap for soulmate meet stories)

While in Gotham, both their strings keep tugging and lengthening and then falling slack again.

----

I know this isn't much but I promised myself I would post whatever I had and it's almost 1 am. So there. There's that fucking thing. I'll try to flesh it out more tomorrow, Enjoy red ♥️🧵♥️

#dpxdc #dead on main #my writing #deadonmayn24 #deadonmayn24d5 #call to action #refusal of the call #soulmates #prompt #red string of fate #red string au

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dottores · 1 year

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HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui, mentions of past prostituion (not dottore or reader), implication of reader being slapped and getting hurt (not badly)

notes: i dont think u guys understand how much fun im having introducing the segments sobs. adhufsdiuf i might make a little reference sheet for them and attach it to masterlist if u guys want

JOY

Mutiny.

He had been dealing with mutiny for five years. He should have expected that the Iota segment wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut. He should have sewn it shut. In a matter of a week, every single one of the segments knew that their red thread had finally appeared. In a matter of a month, every single one of the segments had abandoned their projects to return to Dottore’s estate in Snezhnaya and Dottore was fed up.

This was exactly what he didn’t want to happen. He knew his segments because they were him, and he knew that as soon as they found out, they would be on their way back to Snezhnaya to find out if it was true for themselves. He had half a mind to deactivate every single one of them but he figured that even if he did that and recreated them, it would just be the same issue all over again and a massive waste of resources because the segments would not change--it was why they were created, to preserve his mentality at different years.

It did not take long for the older segments to put together what Dottore was planning on doing with the red thread and their soulmate and they were not happy about it.

Dottore didn’t think he had a single day for himself in the past five years. The segments were relentless, offering to help with his research. Two sets of eyes are better than one, they would say, but Dottore knew they were full of shit. Dottore had always valued his independence highly, even as a child. There was no way that they all suddenly wanted to work with him at any given moment after years of convincing him that they were perfectly capable of running research without his supervision. They were using it as an excuse to keep an eye on him, to make sure that he didn’t make any progress on figuring out how to sever the thread, and Dottore was livid over it.

Every day, a different segment was waiting for him at his lab or in the library, pressing him to work on a variety of different projects--none being research on the red thread, of course. And to Dottore’s absolute frustration, his segments were as manipulative and intelligent as him, so whenever he tried to brush them off to do as he pleased, he was met with snide comments about so much for not letting their soulmate get in the way of their research.

He had backed himself into a corner, and it was no one’s fault but his own.

Dottore sighed as he flipped through one of Epsilon’s reports.

Ley line outcrops sprouting up more often in Avidya forest.

Possible roots in Dragonspine breaking the surface? Does Irminsul grow upside down?

Upside down, Dottore pressed his fingers to his temple, trying to think. Could it be growing in the Abyss, and the roots are traveling up through the earth past the surface?

How would that even work? Could the Abyss sustain life? Does the Irminsul tree even count as life?

One of his hands slid down his face, rubbing at his mouth as he tried to piece together the puzzle laid out before him. He would have to talk to the Balladeer. The Sixth was the one that Pierro frequently sent on missions down in the Abyss, if anyone knew more about it, it would be him… or Pierro himself, but Dottore did not necessarily want to go out of his way to talk to Pierro because it usually ended in him being sent on another mission.

“Let us go looking for them.”

It was Rho again, this time, standing at the door to Dottore’s lab. He exhaled, dragging his gaze up from the papers to the segment. Once he was acknowledged, Rho stepped into the room and Dottore raised his eyebrows waiting for him to continue. Rho looked pointedly at Dottore’s thumb, Dottore just shook his head once he realized what Rho was referring to, turning around to prepare a burner.

“You would deny the younger segments time with our soulmate? Deny them the experience of actually knowing their soulmate while they are the same age?” Rho pressed, drawing closer to Dottore. Dottore looked at Rho over his shoulder, warning him: don’t you dare come closer. Rho pressed his lips together, stopping midstep. “It’s been five years since the thread appeared, they are already five years older than Kappa. They’re the same age as Iota. Soon they’ll be older than him, and Gamma, you know how Gamma-”

“There is no way to find them,” Dottore dismissed. “Get back to work.”

“Iota has been hysterical for days, Gamma is so anxious that he can barely focus on his research. Neither of them had ever given up hope that our soulmate would appear and you’re going to refuse-”

“How do you intend for me to find them?” Dottore was getting irritated. Never had he dealt with so much insubordination from his segments until this cursed red thread had shown up. “Follow the string? We both know that’s not possible. There will be no clues for another five years, at least, and ten years is more likely.”

Rho was frustrated, Dottore could tell from the way the segment was clenching and unclenching his jaw rapidly. Dottore couldn’t bring himself to care because quite frankly, he was frustrated. He could feel the emotions of each segment, of course he knew Gamma was anxious, of course he knew Iota was hysterical. He could feel his anxiety, he could feel his hysteria. He could feel Zeta’s hope and Theta’s rage. He could feel Delta’s stress and Epsilon’s curiosity. He could feel Lambda’s indifference and he could feel every single one of his own emotions so intensely that he wanted to rip out his own hair.

He was not used to it. Even after five years, he was not used to it. He had gone centuries feeling little to nothing and he felt overwhelmed--he couldn’t figure out how to deal with this in an efficient manner and over the past week, it just seemed to be getting worse.

“We can go in the general direction,” Rho finally responded and Dottore only shook his head, closing his eyes.

He felt tired, he felt so tired all of a sudden and he wasn’t sure why--he had never felt so tired so abruptly before. He wondered if the whole situation was finally starting to set in, five years later. None of them had the nerve to confront him about this before now.

“Good luck with that,” Dottore said dryly, “All of Teyvat is south of us, you’ll have six whole nations to search.”

“You could help,” Rho snapped, Dottore could see his segment’s temper waning, and he could feel his own thinning. “Instead of trying to…”

He thought maybe it was more than just being tired over the situation.

He exhaled carefully, fingers pressing hard into the cool metal table beneath his hand. His body felt exhausted, as if he had been forced into spars with the Captain again. His chest felt heavy and his mind felt sluggish, and it was so sudden. If Dottore didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought one of his segments had the audacity to try to drug him.

Rho was still talking, but Dottore was now distracted, trying to figure out what was wrong with himself before Rho could take advantage of the apparent weakness to push him even more. His gaze drifted up to the vents of his lab, filtering the air from some of the more dangerous chemicals that he worked with in his experiments.

Had they failed?

No, Rho would be feeling it as well.

Unless it was only affecting him because he’s been in the room longer.

Even then, Dottore’s body was created to withstand what would take down the average human’s body. Chemicals should not be enough to make him feel like this. It had to be something else.

It had to be something else.

But what?

Dottore didn’t know and the longer he dwelled on the issue, the more his body betrayed him. Rho was beginning to realize something was wrong, he could tell from the way his voice was becoming slower, from the way his brows were furrowing as he observed Dottore.

What was-

The thread. Dottore’s gaze drifted down to his thumb as the thread vibrated--once, twice, three times, the daily goodnight that he had become familiar with. Every night, without fail, once the sun began to fall, his soulmate would flick the thread, he had become accustomed to it in a way that he shouldn’t have. His gaze drew to the side, to the window of his lab where the sun began to set over the snowy hills in the distance.

He hadn’t realized it had gotten so late.

“It’s been five years since the thread appeared,” Rho had reminded him.

Five years. His soulmate would have turned ten years old recently.

The third stage: emotions, pains, they would be shared between the two soulmates—begins once both soulmates have reached the age of ten.

At once, all of the puzzle pieces joined together before his eyes--the tiredness, the influx of emotions that did not belong to him or one of his segments, the odd, momentary pains that would prick his hands and knees. They were not his emotions or his pain. It was not his fatigue.

It was his soulmate’s.

Dottore was many things--a scholar and a Harbinger, but above all, he was a fool and suddenly, a very, very mortal one at that.

Some people thought it romantic that Celestia prevented soulmates from finding one another before their fated meeting. Dottore thought it was absurd—especially because he had to deal with… this.

The Iota segment was sobbing, curled in on himself on the ground, babbling about how their string was gone and their soulmate was dead. Dottore wondered if he should be embarrassed, staring at the younger version of himself, unimpressed and unmoved by the outburst, arms crossed at his chest as people in the city began to look their way--never for too long, because they knew exactly what the symbols that adorned their cloaks meant, but long enough that it was beginning to tickle his nerves.

The Delta and Gamma segments were trying to calm him down, telling him that no, their soulmate was still alive and yes, the thread was still there--Iota just couldn’t see it because it disappeared from his view. Celestia’s oh so convenient way of stopping soulmates from tracking each other down before they were meant to meet each other.

Dottore shook his head, exasperated when all attempts at soothing Iota failed. This was exactly why he didn’t like bringing his segments out with him, it always became some sort of project. Dottore’s lips twisted into a frown as he contemplated just leaving them to continue further into the city, in the direction of the old building that was rumored to be the base of the new black market network spreading throughout the Snezhnayan capital, encroaching on the territory of the organization that had been working with the aristocrats and the Fatui for decades to keep the economy stable.

Dottore was the one sent to shut it down before it got out of hand, sent to defend their ‘partners’... and perhaps get a few important figures in their debt. He hadn’t necessarily wanted to go but he figured while he was out, he could get Gamma the supplies he had been looking for before he had started having a meltdown over their soulmate, but once Iota found out that Gamma was joining him, Iota insisted on coming along… and since Iota was tagging along, Delta demanded on coming too, not one to let the ten-year-old segment out of his sight for long.

Dottore supposed it was for the best, he could leave the other two to handle the outburst while he went to shut down the new competition.

The wind was brisk against his skin as he made his way down the dirt roads, small vendors lined the streets, their stands dusted with snow, the shop owners bundled beneath heavy cloaks and furs. None of them dared to try to sell their products to him--instead, he only received wary glances and hushed whispers as he passed by.

The people of Snezhnaya did not trust the Fatui. They had no love left for the Tsaritsa and her followers, placing all of their faith in the old aristocratic families of their motherland instead. The noble families kept the coffers full and homes warm in the dead of winter where their Archon had abandoned them and the Fatui cared for naught but their own goals and ambitions.

There was some truth behind their reasoning, Dottore acknowledged as he turned down the last side street. The Tsaritsa did abandon her people to prepare for the war against Celestia, even if it was for their own good in the long run, and the Fatui did only really care for their own goals… or at least Dottore did. Capitano, Arlecchino, Pulcinella and Signora, they all had varying degrees of sympathy for the common folk but it didn’t matter because when it came down to it, they would always put the downfall of the gods first.

And that disconnect would always keep the aristocrats a level above the Fatui when it comes to good relations with the civilians. It was none of Dottore’s business, he didn’t handle politics--that was up to Pulcinella to try to fix--but it was beginning to affect his research. His funding was decreasing rapidly, and between that and dealing with his segments and the influx of emotions from his soulmate, Dottore was at his wits end.

His soulmate was an anxious little thing. He had learned how to differentiate between which emotions were coming from his segments and which were coming from them. There wasn’t much he felt on their end besides nervousness and tiredness at night and as frustrating as it was, he could not close off their emotions like he could with his segments. No matter how hard he tried to ignore the waves of drowsiness and apprehension, they always managed to trounce him at the most inopportune times.

But it was midday now, so he shouldn’t be at risk of any unwelcome sensations. He figured it was the best time to confront their new enemies.

Dottore exhaled as he finally reached the old building—it was worn down, the wood of the door split down the middle. He was not sure what he was expecting but it was not this.

He frowned as he pushed the door open, bracing himself for a group of enemies inside only to find an empty, unfurnished room. His frown deepened, gaze darting around as he tried to figure out if this was some sort of trap or if the place had been abandoned… and if it had been abandoned, that means the Fatui had a rat to sniff out.

… But the place didn’t seem to be abandoned. In fact, it looked as if someone was living there. Water was boiling on a stove in the corner of the room, there was a half-eaten meal on a dingy kitchen table, and on the opposite side of the room, there was a bed with half-made sheets.

He wondered if the location he was given was wrong because this place appeared to be a refuge for a homeless person.

There was a door at the end of the room with a dim light glowing from beneath and Dottore decided he better at least try to get some answers as to the actual location of the base before heading out, lest he deal with the Jester’s displeasure again.

A thin layer of snow coated parts of the hardwood floor, having trespassed through the split roof above, crunching beneath his boot as he approached the door. He didn’t waste a second when he got to the door, pushing it open hard—perhaps too hard, considering it nearly came off the hinges as it slammed into the wall.

Dottore’s eyes narrowed on the only figure in the room. A young man, no older than nineteen or twenty, leaped to his feet, violet eyes unfocused and wild at Dottore’s arrival. He was tall and thin, too thin, dark hair poorly kempt. He would have brushed him off as another homeless citizen of Snezhnaya, to be dead as soon as the first blizzard of the winter hit… but Dottore hesitated, noting the inked quill in his hand, and the parchment on the desk he was sitting at.

Two long strides and Dottore was at the desk, snatching the parchment before the man could react. His eyes scanned the words rapidly, reading the list of requested goods, and it didn’t take long for him to put together what was happening.

He raised his eyebrows, unimpressed, “Where are the rest of your men?”

The man did not respond.

“I advise you to answer my question lest you find yourself without your head,” Dottore said dryly, placing the parchment back down and looking up at the man, who he could only assume was running the competing market.

“There are no men.” The response was clipped and cold, Dottore’s eyes trailed down to where jagged nails were digging into his palms—he was scared, trying to hide it. Good. “Only me.”

“Only you?” Dottore asked, amused. “Do you expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t care if you believe it,” the man retorted.

“If you care about your life, you’ll care about what I believe,” Dottore countered, watching the way the man stiffened at his words.

“Does it matter what you believe, or if I care about my life?” the man asked, voice quickly. “Or will I die anyway?”

Dottore smiled thinly, “I haven’t decided yet.”

The man looked frustrated. Dottore was unbothered, waiting for him to speak--the following silence was cold, tense. Dottore liked to believe he was a patient man but he was also a man who did not like his time being wasted.

One man causing such a ruckus amongst their partners… he considered the possibility of it actually being true. He didn’t think there was any chance of it, logically. The original organization has controlled Snezhnaya’s economy for centuries now--it was well embedded in society, the aristocrats depended on it, the civilians depended on it, the Fatui depended on it.

One man-

“The people aren’t as fond of the aristocrats as everybody thinks. They’re just the only option when the Fatui is the alternative,” the man finally said, “and it doesn’t matter what organization is running the market, when it comes down to it, the people keep the economy alive. The Triglav have been decreasing the quality of their products--watering down alcohol, reducing portions of produce in the markets--they thought the people would remain ignorant to it.”

Dottore mulled over his words, as far as he was aware, the Harbingers were also ignorant to the Triglav fiddling with the economy and goods. He wondered if the aristocrats were aware, working with them to shave some extra profits off the civilians. More irritated, he wondered if this was part of the reason why his funding was being affected.

“Except they realized,” Dottore mused, eyeing the man, trying to figure out how he became involved with it.

“Except I realized,” the man corrected sharply, giving Dottore another wary glance before he sat back at his desk. “I was the one that noticed what they were doing. I was raised on the streets of Novotroizov, just outside the capital, but I spent most of my time here-”

“I don’t care for your life story,” Dottore said. “Get to the point.”

The man smiled but it did not reach his eyes. “I had connections here in the city, it was not hard to siphon off unhappy contractors from the Triglav once they knew that they were being swindled by them and their families were suffering as a consequence.”

Dottore hummed to himself, “And where did you learn to read? Write? Understand economics?” he asked doubtfully, gaze drawing over the man as he dabbed the tip of his quill back into the dark ink.

The man hesitated, quill hovering over the parchment for a moment before he cleared his throat. “I worked at one of the higher-end red houses in the city, one that the aristocrats and the elites of the Triglav enjoyed to frequent. They run their mouths without care as to who might be listening. I learned much from them.”

Dottore almost smiled. Almost. The irony of the Triglav being the one to create their own competition was just a bit amusing to him. He rarely dealt with their elites personally but they were very quickly becoming a hindrance to his research and all hindrances must be dealt with.

Must be dealt with. Dottore looked at the man with a new light, an idea forming in the back of his head. The Ninth and Eleventh spots were now free, and so long as the Triglav controlled the economy, the Fatui’s money would at least partially be at the whims of the aristocrats that work with them and the organization's elites as the Fatui did not have their own bank…

“Well, as I see it, there are two options, I-” Dottore paused suddenly, a stinging feeling sharp across his cheek, as if he had been slapped, and a jolt of shock. Or, not him, his soulmate, he realized, gaze darting down to the thread on his thumb, because the man hadn’t moved from his desk, his knuckles white around the wood as he waited for the ultimatum. He forced himself to continue, voice tight, trying to mask the rising anger, “I can kill you, resolving this issue all at once, or we could try to find some use for you in our ranks.”

They were slapped, Dottore could feel echoes of the stinging sensation across his cheek, the shock that had run through his soulmate’s body, he could still feel the shock, now riddled with distress. Ten years old, he could barely constrain the rage pooling in his gut, he could barely control the way his mind brought him back to his own childhood with his parents and the unpleasant adults living in the village, who is slapping a ten year old? And with that much force?

He could barely focus on the situation at hand--luckily, the man was still sitting in front of him, he hadn’t moved or spoken, suspicious of the options he was given, but Dottore needed to calm himself before he did start speaking so he could respond properly.

But he couldn’t, and he felt so, so human because of it, vulnerable to emotions that were supposed to have been killed off a long time ago. He hated it. He hated it so much, his entire life--everything that he had built for himself felt as if it were crumbling. All of those years of teaching himself how to control each and every little emotion, all of those years learning how to seal away the unwelcome ones and channel them into something that was easier for him to process, they were wasted because the gods finally decided to curse him with this damned thread.

And then he felt it--an odd, foreign emotion curling in the depths of his stomach, something that was not of his own nor of his segments, something he hadn’t felt since the day he was chased out of his village.

Fear. Fear coming from his soulmate. Was it because of whatever was going on where they were? Or could they feel his anger and it was scaring them?

Dottore didn’t know, and he hated not knowing, but he hated even more the fact that he somehow cared enough that it made him calm down when he hadn’t been able to make himself calm down on his own.

“You don’t even know my name,” the man accused, but his tone was more hesitant, considering Dottore’s offer. Dottore forced his attention back to him, despite the way his thoughts lingered on the phantom pains against his cheek. “I don’t have a vision, I don’t-”

“Yes,” Dottore agreed. “I did not ask because I do not care to learn it--if your existence demonstrates itself to be useful to us, you will be given a new identity and a role to play in the coming war, you will have to leave your name, family and companions behind to take up the mantle… though I doubt that will be difficult for someone like you. Whether or not you have a vision is inconsequential--again, should you prove yourself, you’ll be given an even more potent version of one, one that does not have shackles of Celestia attached to it.”

There it was, Dottore thought to himself, letting out a huff of amusement once he caught the greed flash through the man’s expression. Hooked, the prospect of power would seduce even the most virtuous man, and he knew as soon as he stepped into this room that the man before him was no man of honor.

“How will I know if I’ve proven myself?” the man asked.

“You will know,” Dottore said dismissively, turning on his heel to leave before another unexpected bout of emotion or pain swept over him. “Do remember who got you to your position, if this works out. I will need considerable funding for my research… and don’t bother trying to run, we will find you.”

“If everything has been discussed, I’ve had quite enough of tonight’s theatrics,” Pierro’s voice was cold and sharp as he rose to his feet, preparing to dismiss the Harbingers from their meeting.

Dottore waited, eyes drawing across the eight other Harbingers, waiting to see if any of them would speak up. The Balladeer was livid, having spent the majority of the meeting arguing with the Marionette and the Knave, with the Knave’s pet following along making disparaging comments. None of the rest of the Harbingers appeared to intend on saying anything, so just as Pierro was about to dismiss them, Dottore cleared his throat.

At once, all sets of eyes turned in his direction, stares with varying degrees of annoyance trained directly on him. Dottore only smiled thinly, “I would like to discuss an option for the empty seats… or one of them, at least.”

“Perhaps you’ve become slow of mind in your old age,” Scaramouche said sharply. Dottore raised his eyebrows beneath his mask, not even bothering to call out the hypocrisy. “We discussed this for nearly an hour already and you didn’t bother to give input once.”

“I had no interest in interrupting squabbling children,” Dottore replied dryly, turning his gaze back to Pierro, who looked exhausted as he sat back down at the head of the table.

“Speak, Dottore. How faired the mission against the organization usurping the Triglav?”

“There was no organization,” Dottore said. “Only one man. I believe it to be prudent that we find a spot for him amongst our ranks. Perhaps not as a Harbinger… yet, but a chance to at least prove his worth.”

“One man?” Sandrone questioned, tone laced with disbelief.

“I find it hard to believe as well,” Pulcinella agreed, dark eyes piercing into Dottore. Dottore met his gaze, undeterred, annoyance tugged at his stomach--he hated being doubted.

“I can assure you, mayor, that I would not waste our time with dubious information,” Dottore drawled, fingers tapping against the wood of the table.

“I oversee the nation for our esteemed organization. I believe I would know-”

“Did you know that the Triglav were decreasing the quality of Snezhnayan and foreign products to make more of a profit off of the common folk?” Dottore interrupted, lips flat as his amusement dwindled. Pulcinella did not respond, and he took that as answer enough. “I see, so you do not know everything about the nation, do you, mayor?”

“Make your point, Dottore, this meeting has lasted too long already. I have other matters to attend to,” Pierro said. Dottore was glad his eyes were hidden beneath the mask.

“The man undermining the Triglav is an orphan, homeless, making by on nothing but connections he formed on the streets. Could you imagine what he would be capable of with resources to back him?” Dottore pressed. “We do not have the support of the people, we do not have an economy backing us, the aristocrats and the Triglav are in bed with one another, working together to sabotage us. It’s only a matter of time before this situation spirals into civil war, and Her Majesty is very much against that.”

“And you think one man will solve all of our issues?” Arlecchino asked, but she didn’t sound as doubtful as much as she did curious, watching Dottore carefully as she waited for him to respond.

He considered her words. It would be bold of him to claim that it would, as he had no reason to believe that this man would solve all of the internal issues that the Fatui were facing. He was promising, yes, but promise was just that--promise. Dottore had watched even the most promising minds in the Akademiya fall to ruin before they could make something great of themselves.

But if they didn’t think he was confident in this, it would be shut down. And any chance at increased funding for his research would be shut down along with it, which is what it boiled down to for him at its core. He needed more funding.

“I think he can solve a significant amount. The mayor clearly cannot handle internal affairs on his own. He doesn’t even know half of what’s going on right beneath his nose. The Triglav have been slighting the people of their goods and us of our money. Funding has been decreased-”

“Ah, of course,” Dottore’s eye twitched at the interruption, not even bothering to look at Scaramouche as he readied himself to respond to yet another snide comment from the Sixth. “That’s what it comes down to, your funding. How…”

Pain. Blinding pain shooting up through his hands and forearms, as if a million jagged rocks were digging into his palm and tearing through the flesh, as if he had taken a particularly bad fall and braced himself with his arms, drowning out the rest of the Balladeer’s comment. Were he a lesser man, he would have hissed at the sudden pain, maybe even flinched. Dottore was no lesser man, and he could not afford to give any sort of hint about the red thread tied around his thumb to the vultures perched around him who would take advantage of the weakness at any given moment.

Instead, he inhaled, forcing himself to continue, annoyance becoming more severe with each passing day as this was now the second time he was interrupted during an important meeting because of his soulmate.

“Yes,” Dottore said sharply. “Perhaps with better funding, we could make you into something greater than just a mere puppet. Your durability will only be of use for so long, and what will happen to you then? I can see the cracks already. You are not indestructible, Scaramouche.”

Scaramouche did not respond, and Dottore took the opportunity to continue.

“He is a commoner, an orphan, with enough connections throughout the people of Snezhnaya to displace the Triglav without any resources beyond his own mind and those connections,” Dottore continued. “You cannot convince me you do not see the potential this could bring us--nigh-complete autonomy from the Triglav and a wedge between the aristocrats and the people.”

“The consequences for if it fails…” Pulcinella trailed off. “We could be facing civil war far sooner than we’re ready for. The Triglav will not take kindly to us trying to unseat their monopoly… the aristocrats even less so.”

“We will win if it comes to war,” Arlecchino said. “What are they going to do, throw their gold coins at us?”

“No, they will throw our people at us,” Pulcinella responded coldly. “It’s not a matter of winning the war that’s the issue. Our military is dominant, in comparison to their forces. The issue is minimizing civilian casualties, which will not be possible without proper preparation. That could take years, decades. Her Majesty will not want us to antagonize while the people are at risk.”

“I will not go another year, much less decades, without proper funding,” Dottore said, poison dripping from his voice as he spoke. “We have been handed the opportunity to finally become the dominant power in Snezhnaya on a silver platter. We would be fools not to make the most of it. I am no fool, Pulcinella.”

“And if it fails?” The Captain spoke up for the first time, voice low. “Pulcinella is right, we cannot afford the backlash that this failure might bring us.”

“If it fails,” Dottore said tensely, “then I will kill him before it can be traced back to us.”

“Very well,” Pierro said after a moment of silence. “Bring him in, if he proves himself, we will consider replacing one of the two empty seats.”

Plink. Plink. Plink.

Dottore’s eye twitched, gaze drawing from the parchment in front of him to the countertops across the room, where the leaky faucet dripped to the metal of the basin incessantly. He inhaled sharply as he forced himself to look back at the report, trying to figure out what exactly Theta was trying to get at with the conclusions of his residue research.

Plink. Plink. Plink.

Dottore exhaled through his nose, lips pressed together thinly as his gaze drew back to the faucet. Even in his rare moments of peace, where his segments were busy or asleep, the universe somehow found a way to disrupt him.

Plink. Plink. Plink.

Dottore rose to his feet suddenly, the metal legs of the chair he was sitting on scraping against the ground loudly as he grabbed the report and left his lab, intent on finishing the reading back in his own room. It was getting late anyway, the moon was rising, and it was only a matter of time before his little soulmate made their way to bed and forced their own fatigue onto him.

He made his way down the dark halls quietly--as if on cue, he felt those familiar tugs, three, each with half a second between them. Goodnight, his soulmate was telling him, and he only shook his head, glancing down once before turning his gaze back ahead.

He would have to figure out how exactly he would integrate the boy from the city into the organization, and get him the resources he needed to actually be able to do something more than siphon off contractors of the Triglav. He didn’t know how though--it would have to be subtle so as to not draw the attention of their enemies until they were in the position to actually challenge them. If they found out that the Fatui were working under their noses to mess with the economy that the Triglav had built, they’d have a lot more issues to deal with than they’d like.

Unfortunately, Dottore was never good at subtlety.

If it were up to him, he’d simply remove the issue, just as he nullified extraneous variables whenever they rose to issue during his experiments. With the aristocrats and the Triglav out of the way, the Fatui could do as they pleased, Dottore could do as he pleased without all of the restrictions placed on him by the Jester… but alas, the Tsaritsa did not wish to draw the ire of her people any more than she already had, much to his displeasure.

Would one man be the change they needed to get the upper hand over the Triglav and the aristocrats? Dottore didn’t know and he despised not knowing, he hated uncertainty. He was a methodological man, a calculated one--he set plans in motion and saw them through to the end. He was able to map out all possible conclusions and plan accordingly, but he couldn’t for this, and he didn’t like it. Every time he thought of one possibility, another issue arose, and then another, and then another until the whole thing was spoiled and Dottore had to start from scratch.

It felt more like a gamble than a thought out plan. Dottore hated gambling.

Was this the best course of action? Was this going to help him in the long run? What were the chances it even succeeded?

Low, he determined. There was a good chance that even if the young man from the village was able to make something out of the resources he was given, he would still be forced to fall on his own blade if the situation took a turn for the worse with the other two parties. He didn’t particularly care for the fate of the man, but he had a feeling that if it got out that Dottore was the one behind the whole operation, his already depleted funding would turn to dust between his fingers.

Then you can’t let it get out, Dottore decided, stepping into his room--dark and cold with the candles and fireplace snuffed--which meant he would have to take out the man on his own before the Triglav and aristocrats could go about interrogating him… He would have to be ahead of the flow of information, and he had never been one to insert himself into webs of spiders and nests of snakes.

But, that’s assuming the worst case scenario, Dottore mused. Should all go well, the elites of the Triglav will be hung, and the aristocrats will finally be displaced from their position at the top. Dottore will have significantly increased funding, and they might very well finally have their Ninth or Eleventh seat filled again.

As he reached the desk at the far corner of his room, Dottore’s chest felt heavy in a way that he had never felt before. Dottore exhaled carefully, placing down the report and taking a seat as he tried to figure out what was causing the strange feeling. Not his segments, he was confident that he had been able to seal off their emotions from his, and it certainly wasn’t his own emotions making him feel this way.

And if that’s the case…

He sighed, gaze drawing down to his thumb, then it must be you.

As soon as he redirected his attention to where the thread was tied neatly around his finger, he felt the soft little tugs. Slow, uneven, he could practically see the pout spread across his soulmate’s unveiled face. It had been quite some time since the daily goodnight tugs, and from what he’d been able to tell over the past five years, his soulmate would always fall asleep soon after the goodnight.

What is the matter? he mused to himself, biting back another heavy sigh as he stared at the thread as if it would give him a verbal response. He realized, distantly, that he was wasting far too much time on this—he needed to finish figuring out first, what Theta had been trying to write and then, what it even meant—but he found his attention anchored on the thin thread, on the soft, slow tugs.

The sinking feeling in his chest was becoming even more intense, and it was sadness, yes, but there was something else. Not for the first time, Dottore damned himself for his inability to properly understand and process emotion.

It was cold, empty, but somehow oppressive and shadowy all at the same time. A part of him wondered if a child should even be feeling this way, but then he thought back to his own childhood—to the Kappa and Iota and Gamma segments—and something inside him twisted, dark and ugly as he considered what that might mean for his soulmate.

He didn’t like it. He didn’t like the rush of anger. He didn’t like the surge of protectiveness, the urge to shield someone he didn’t even know from the cruelty of the world as he did for his younger segments. He didn’t like that he couldn’t control it. He didn’t like that he couldn’t ignore it. He didn’t like it.

A stranger, the rational part of him hissed. They are a stranger, control yourself.

A stranger that is meant for you, a dangerous, dangerous part of him argued, voice smooth and alluring, a siren that could reel in even a sailor of the strongest willpower. Your fated.

Fated by the same gods who have cursed you a thousand times before, the harsher voice snapped back, grating in his mind, tearing through his head like grinding gears. This is another one of their cruel tricks, and you are playing right into their hands.

Dottore could feel his head aching and that void-like feeling was only getting worse. His chest felt like a gaping hole, like the heart of the abyss, and he felt like a puppet, whose strings were subject to the whims and emotions of a ten year old.

Why do you feel like this? Dottore wanted to demand, let me fix it so I can return to my work in peace.

But even as the thought crossed his mind, he couldn’t help but notice the way the tugs on the thread were becoming slower, less insistent… as if the person on the other side was giving up hope.

Is that what you want? he thought to himself, incredulity fogging his mind as he put together why his soulmate was feeling these emotions. His finger lifted on instinct, ready to test his hypothesis as he gave a small tug on the shared thread.

The change was instantaneous—sharp and sudden enough that Dottore felt whiplash as his heart leapt from his chest, mind doused in a sort of euphoria that he only ever felt when he made a breakthrough in his research.

Dottore shook his head, forcing himself not to roll his eyes when he realized that the wave of depression stemmed not from a situation happening in their life, but instead from a lack of attention.

He was annoyed at the disruption to his research, but with that ugly feeling gone—the coldness replaced by a very unfamiliar sense of warmth and a light, bubbly feeling in his chest, a childish sort of joy that he wasn’t sure he had ever experienced before—he could finally breathe again, the air felt fresh in his lungs and his mind felt clear. He was able to refocus on the report in front of him with an ease that he hadn’t had before.

Unfamiliar, he repeated to himself, red eyes drifting down to the thread one last time before he took advantage of the new concentration, but he wasn’t sure if it were entirely unwelcome.

reblogs appreciated!

#dottore x reader #dottore smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #dottore x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x you

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kiachiako · 1 year

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april nct recs

my library of favorites from APR <3 all creds to authors

[ sorted by word count ]

series

JAEMIN | better than your next (i'm the next) | @ddeonuism 11.9k [ part one ]

RENJUN | messenger | @dojunie — smau | You find a phone number written on the mirror of the Sulim Library's second floor bathroom. It’s scrawled messily across the glass in erasable expo marker, the handwriting underneath almost closer to hieroglyphics than lettering— and what you thought it read, was ‘SEND DUCK PICS FOR A GOOD TIME.’ (You suppose, in hindsight, it was a good thing this person’s penmanship was so shit— because if you knew what it really said, you might have never stumbled across the oddly intriguing inbox of one Huang Renjun.)

oneshots

[m] JAEHYUN | seeds of pomegranates | @anashins 29.5k — The day the god of the underworld steals you away, he expects to have found a timid wife to make his isolated life more bearable. Little does he know that the rose he picked from the garden called earth bears knives instead of thorns, and he might not have found a timid wife, but a queen with a heart as dark as his.

[m] JAEHYUN | hearts are won at practice | @angelwonie 21.2k — jung jaehyun is an obnoxious, way too handsome footballer whom you have no intention of getting to know. at least until a series of coincidences forces you to spend time with him, and you realize there might be more to him than what meets the eye.

CHENLE | potential | @rrxnjun 20k — rich kids au, childhood friends au, friends with benefits au. angst, fluff, suggestive | You saw his potential without seeing credentials. And maybe that's the issue.

[m] HAECHAN | monochrome | @sundaysundaes — Lee Donghyuck once believed in the concept of soulmates—how fate would connect a red thread from one lover to another, in a form of dreams and memories. That was how his parents met, that was how they claimed their happiness, and he wanted nothing more but to live his life the way they lived theirs. Until one day, as he sees her slipping away from his hands, he has no choice but to stop believing entirely.

CHENLE | i still love you | @xiaodejunletsact 17.4k — high school can be complicated. thats why when your crush of three years, zhong chenle, approaches you out of nowhere offering to drive you home you are right to question his intentions.

HAECHAN | free trial wedding style | @liliansun 10.6k — when a random, cute, guy comes up to you and practically asks for you to follow along, you do so without much thought. that is until you get home and see he’s your new neighbor who just might need your help a little more than you expected.

[m] HAECHAN + MARK | the girl is mine | @luvrkives 10.5k — mark and hyuck can't stop fighting over you. who fucks you better, who makes you laugh more, who you like most, who fucks you better, yada yada yada. but honestly, why argue when you would happily take them both?

JAEHYUN | love you goodbye | @serendipityseulgi 10.3k — the one with the story of dysfunctional love between you and jaehyun. aka, you both want different things and your love isn’t always enough.

[m] JOHNNY | color evasion | @ncteez 8.7k — or the one where you join a kink website and a specific dom’s profile catches your attention enough to actually meet him at a hotel and practically ignore your safe words bc man, he’s good.

[m] HAECHAN + JAEHYUN | mine too | @waithyuck 7.5k — donghyuck x jaehyun x reader (f), smut, basically pwp

JAEHYUN | eye of affection | @aitarose 6.6k — for as long as he can remember, jaehyun’s world has been in black and white - giving him no reason to appreciate his mother’s profession as an artist and the beauties that art can provide. however, an accidental meeting with you gives him reason to doubt his former beliefs - proving to him that there may be true beauty in a world that’s void of everything bright, that beauty being the sunshine that you provide.

HAECHAN | full of love (and stars) | @httplastic 6k — friends/roommates to lovers, light angst

[m] HAECHAN | unavoidable | @sunpopz 5.8k — after swearing to yourself you're done catching feelings for people; you meet someone who makes that incredibly difficult. you think you can avoid him... then you're assigned a final together.

RENJUN | hard to let go | @cinnajun 4.3k — your high school friend group had an ambiguous and messy end, and you never got any closure for anything. two years later, and lee donghyuck’s girlfriend lives on the same floor as you, and you’re forced to face huang renjun, whose abandonment hurt you the most.

HAECHAN | she's quiet | @ijuliet 3.4k — although you were not looking to make new friends, the ones you had tried their hardest to push you out of your comfort zone to find something abnormal for you. which is why you’re at a frat party on a thursday night, watching as lee donghyuck observes you from afar.

[m] HAECHAN | all bark no bite | @jjsneo 2.5k — lee haechan is the most annoying man you’ve ever encountered. but that doesn’t mean you don’t find him hot; and maybe that’s why he has you flat on his mattress one night at a random frat party.

JAEHYUN | in the rain | @sehunniepotwrites 1.9k — All this time, you were looking for love in the wrong places and in the wrong people. As a serial dater, you never thought you would find it in the pouring rain and in the person you trusted the most.

. . .

ur fav recs n fics blog is back hehe | happy reading <3

xoxo

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villain-byteniwoha · 2 months

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ships i like and why i ship them: a small, affectionate rant before bed

zhongchi: probably the first ship i ever interacted with. i may have started playing genshin for them. I specifically remember reading modern, non canon au fics on ao3 when i was still low AR and did not have liyue unlocked yet just to enjoy content of them without spoiling the story too much. those were good times

love the betrayal, the reciprocated manipulations, their individual bloody pasts and their juxtaposing love for humanity/family. the marriage chopsticks. god, the amount of threads I've read explaining those... and ofc you can't forget the official art with them by the harbor with the gingko leaves falling cinematically. i think that's the art that drew me to them lol

there's also something so deliciously tragic about a near-immortal being who's fated to succumb to erosion in due time, falling in love with a mortal man who's always within death's cold embrace. not to mention the subtext of their themes and principles. geo and hydro, stability and turbulence, land and sea, they crystallize when they meet in the middle, etc etc

kaeluc: another pairing I enjoyed the absolute shit out of, way back when I wasn't even playing the game yet. I remember learning about them while I was deep in my mxtx phase, specifically tgcf, and I'm pretty sure I dipped my toes in after I learned that they used to be sworn brothers. keywords here being used to. hook, line, and sinker. before I knew it, I was also reading fanfics about them, but only modern, non canon au ones because genshin terms made no sense to me and i didn't want spoilers. then I played the game. and then—we get Kaeya for free. I mained the shit out of that man for months.

and then. I fully entered the fandom, only to be immediately slapped in the face with the mistranslation issue.

and I get it, honestly, if you like ragbros good for you, I'm happy for you, but me personally, I will scorn hyv until the day I fucking die because had they not messed this up? kaeluc would've have been so powerful. KAELUC WOULD HAVE BEEN SO FUCKING POWERFUL

how could they not be? they're childhood friends but they're also forbidden romance coded, and rivals/enemies coded, but they're also soulmates. they don't just know each other, they're two halves of a whole, they know each other.

and the themes, don't even get me started on their themes. fire and ice, red and blue... paimon's line about them being similar (i.e. kaeya's a shady mf who fights in the day/diluc's a bright fire in the night) is one of the most romantic lines ever. they're sun and moon but only because they complete each other. also, lamp grass and calla lily? that's them as flowers, but they're the other person's ascension material like hello???????? fucking wild.

and ofc this kaeluc section can't end without me mentioning arundolyn and rostam. for those who don't know or have read/heard of those names but never really dug deep into it, arundolyn and rostam were knights of favonius around the same time as the cataclysm, and you can read about them in artifact sets such as brave heart, defender's will; and partially from the elegy bow

the reason they're here is because there are too many damn parallels between them and kaeluc to just be a coincidence.

arundolyn was a claymore user (see: ferrous shadow), he was the "lion of light,"; he was naturally gifted in strength but still trained hard and would later become the grand master of the knights; he'd push rostam to drink wine and tell him to have a little fun; he gives up his title and weapon after rostam dies

on the flip side, rostam was the swordsman who created the art of favonius bladework (see: favonius sword), his title was, "wolf pup,"; when he and arundolyn played as children, he was the stand-in for the champion knight of aristocracy; he "ruled the shadows," by protecting mond with ways the knights did not approve; rostam dies in an expedition to expunge the evils poured forth from the cataclysm...

I'll let you connect the dots there. I just also wanna point out, as a final note, that in the favonius sword's description, it says, "the childhood friend and spiritual counterpart of Arundolyn, the Lion of Light, whose name was Rostam, the Wolf Pup." ok. yeah. moving on

xiaoven: i very quickly realized after reading the genshin webtoon that venti was gonna be one of, if not my most favorite character. and i was curious as to who the people wanted to pair him with. keep in mind, this was around 2.0~2.2 I believe, so when I searched them up, the only canon backing I could find was the music scene

and boy, was that scene enough because holy shit, the brain rot these two gave me??? of a god who embodies freedom, and the last remaining yaksha chained to his duty????? they were so thematically opposed and beautiful, it wasn't hard to fall in love with them

by the time 3.0 came rolling in, I've already stopped playing, but that didn't mean i wasn't aware of how we were well fed by canon. from the trailer to venti full on attending the lantern rite and sitting down with the liyue gang; it was one of those interactions that transcended everything

and of course, OF COURSE, they also canonically addressed the fact that venti's music soothes xiao's soul. that's intimate. that's deep. that's so fucking romantic and nice and beautiful in the most tragic way...

also, we can't forget the depictions of god and servant here. the holy themes, the worship. the promise of immortality and foreverness, but also the threat of it. i just think xiao doomed with karmic debt and venti vowed to divine erosion is such a soulmate connection, and I'm also delusional

that's all for now but there's so much more...

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moonshynecybin · 5 months

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As heartbreaking and gut-wrenching the fact is that the pyramid of Marc's needs has a huge flow. Winning motor racing comes before old man dick for him. Thats why we have the divorce...

the thing about their beautiful toxic love is that them being so obsessed with motorcycle racing is part of why theyre soulmates AND why they got horrendously divorced on a scale rarely seen in sports media history. like okay this is gonna sound weird but im gonna talk about kayaking again here for a minute sorry. um so i think the thing about young hot people that are all OBSESSED with the same thing congregating in a specific area, for an extended period of time, to do said thing--is that they WILL fuck. and then get married. often. now bc of reasons we usually see this in womens and co-ed sports but like. my parents basically spent all of the nineties bouncing around every whitewater river in the world with the same 100 kayakers and literally all of those kayakers married each other. and then got divorced. and then married different people in those 100. it was greys anatomy general hospital level soap opera playing out in the campsites of rural chile.

ANYWAYS same basic principle for rosquez. like i dont think they would respect anyone in a romantic sense who wasnt ALSO the best at what they do. and also they find it stupid hot lol like we've seen the slutty podiums they are so into it lol. but that same thread that ties them together and gives them so much in common (endless shit to talk about bc they can always talk racing ! until they cant) is the same thing that makes them occasionally REALLY abrasive towards each other and generates a lot of the conflict between them. like they ARE at the top of their sport. which requires them to be in DIRECT competition with each other for yearssssssss, and bc they are so good at it they have insane amounts of ego which means that the clash at sepang was kind of inevitable in a fucked up way. all this to say: YES it is tragic that marc's base need in his personal hierarchy of needs triangle is motorcycle racing and not old man dick, but that is also what is sexy about rosquez. strangling each other with that red string of fate <3

#my mom and my brother have looked me in the eyes on seperate ocaisions and said they refuse to date people who arent kayakers #bc they wouldnt be able to talk about kayaking with them and its such a huge part of their lives. UNWELL.#and then my mom was like. and only REALLY GOOD kayakers otherwise i wouldnt respect them.#which would be FUCKED except shes also a really good kayaker so its just kinda funny.#callie speaks #motogp #asks #rosquez #does this make sense. who cares.

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diatomaceous-worth · 4 months

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More on the youtuber au... (from this art)

Ok don't kill me but it's also a soulmate au. and because I've been drafting it for a long time and it might be good while before anything finished sees the light of day, here a detailed synopsis.

So...we can start with Alfred. He lives with his brother who is getting fed up that he's late on rent each month. It's been months since Alfred's graduated high school and maybe he'll enroll in the community college but he doesn't really know what he wants to do. He's just been working odd jobs. The best he can do now is at the pizza joint, which is always sure to never give him enough hours to go full time. But it's ok, because when he's not doing that he's making youtube videos.

He and Kiku would make them as kids, and now he's giving it his all, trying the cinnamon challenge, posting videos of him playing minecraft and crazy Dota moments. He's really hoping something will take off. But it's hard. None of his shit gets any views. Not nearly as much as the most fucking annoying youtuber: Arthur Kirkland.

He makes the most basic ass lifestyle videos like "my boyfriend does my makeup" and "going to high tea" or "animal crossing house tour" shit. Why millions of people care about that pip pip cheerio fuck is beyond him.

Something about him just irrationally ticks him off. Maybe it's because he doesn't seem deserving of fame. Maybe because Arthur has many times been petty and gotten involved in twitter spats that just make him look bad. Maybe it's because he's weird. In every video, he always wears gloves. He never takes them off, and he always dodges questions about it.

On r/KirklandSnark some people have picked up that he always wears long sleeves, too. The leading theory on the sub, which became such an often repeated and heated topic that Alfred banned discussion on it, is that he's hiding his soulmate mark. That it extends from his hands onto his arm. (Alfred's theory however is that he does it to seem eccentric for views)

But maybe it's true, maybe it's not. Alfred's gut tells him that Francis is not Arthur's soulmate. Alfred has noticed Arthur does share a lot about his life but he is also closed off in a lot of ways. Yet making a video on the topic of soulmates would only benefit Arthur. Youtubers talking about which soulmate mechanism they have, or how they met their soulmate; people eat that shit up. Because all the unmatched young people want to imagine themselves meeting their soulmate and how magical it could be, or they want to figure out which soulmate mechanism they will have.

Alfred doesn't openly admit it but he has spent way too much time watching videos like that. Can you blame him though? For being nineteen and never having felt any connection to his soulmate? If they even exist?? He has never woken up with words on his skin nor felt any sensation that wasn't his. Never seen a glimmer of a red thread out of the corner of his eye nor found any mark on his body that might tie him to another.

Meanwhile he has to sit on the bus and bear witness to strangers bumping into each other and freaking the fuck out about it because they said each other's words. They don't even carry barf bags on buses did you know that?

But Alfred doesn't want to give up hope. Someone is out there for him.

Arthur Kirkland on the other hand?

The topic of soulmates brings him misery. Soulmates are a blight. They are bloody inconvenient. Why should he be destined to anyone? Doesn't he have a choice? Will his dense as bricks soulmate every stop cheating on tests?

He was ten when the first ink appeared on his skin. He remembered how profound it felt. To watch the scribbles bloom over his arms and palms. He knew what it was, and he wrote back a simple reply. An introduction, his name.

The lack of response was the first step to his disillusionment with the whole thing. By the time he was in year 10 he resolved to stop looking. It was easier to cover up his hands to avoid catching whatever drivel his soulmate wrote or drew. They seemed dead set on ignoring him, and Arthur grew tired of wondering why his messages didn't seem to go through.

Occasionally he wouldn't be able to avoid it. The year Arthur tried uni was when the cheating started. First it was chemistry formulas and the next year it was math equations, all crammed under his navel in an absurd number of rows. Sometimes he caught the to-do lists written on the back of his hands. Things like "ch.2 east of eden" or "socks 4 matt". He tried to avoid catching those things, knowing that going down that path of trying to figure out who Matt was would drive him insane. But based on the spellings, he was sure he was American. And that was enough to put Arthur at ease.

His soulmate was far far away, and Arthur could be free to live his life and tend to his overly massive youtube channel (the one that afforded him a flat in London, dates with Francis, and even a meeting with the queen. (Never mind that the meeting with the queen was almost a disaster, that in the car before they set foot on the grounds he watched Francis's eyes grow in horror as they stayed glued to his brow, watching a crude sharpie penis appear on his forehead. Francis tried to scrub it off even, despite Arthur's protests (soap never worked, ever), but in the end an obscene amount of makeup saved the day.)

It was a lot to ignore, but continuing on despite it all was all he ever knew. So he entertains himself with his channel, savors the good moments with Francis, and occasionally indulges in the strange people who try to start drama with him online.

And this is where Alfred's "Why Arthur Kirkland SUCKS" video comes into play. Because Alfred's finally had enough of the mediocrity. And he just goes for it. Buys a stupid fake fancy hat and suit from party city (And of course his stupid gloves!), and rants to the camera about everything that annoys him about the guy.

"All his fans just like him for his stupid accent. Being hot and british is not an excuse for a personality! Look at me! I'm Arthur Kirkland and blimey the other day I had the spiciest cracker! Think they might have put salt on it!"

And Arthur has no qualms about ripping back into Alfred. It's only fair because Alfred certainly didn't hold back. Arthur's response video is fairly successful, and Arthur moves on from it, happy with the chatter it generated and satisfied that he out-roasted that git, while Alfred is so extremely shocked that Arthur responded to him that a week goes by in the blink of an eye and when he finally goes to check out the subreddit he's been neglecting, he locks every post discussing the video and finally approves the guy who had been bugging him to be the second moderator (some guy named Peter). It's simply too weird to see discussions about himself, and maybe the whole dedicated subreddit was a little too much...?

But back to Arthur, part of his decision to make the video came from its convenience. It was easy to make while he was moving. He moves to the US for Francis's career, settling in Chicago (and you'll never guess where Matt and Al live). They break up when Francis wants to move on (Arthur thought it was perfect to be with someone whose soulmate was dead, because then he could never complain about his own situation, but here's another thing that didn't work out).

Arthur finds himself living out of hotel, drinking too much, and on one night, ordering pizza. Alfred isn't normally the guy who delivers, but after the normal driver clocks out early, his boss forces him to deliver this order some asshole put in ten minutes before close.

It's very strange when he knocks on the hotel door, and Arthur Kirkland answers, fully clothed and gloved, staring back at him with a similar shocked recognition in his eyes.

...

crazy right. not going to say what happens in the hotel but I'll say that Alfred goes back home to his couch, dreams a peaceful dream instead of his frequent nightmares, and Arthur finds himself surprised that he wants to see his internet hater again.

#this au is my blursed son

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fict1onallyobsessed · 2 years

Note

can I request for abby with 'you know i have feelings for you', preferably an au but it's up to you, please make it angsty

Thank you!

That Hurts.

Abby Anderson x Reader || Soulmate AU

Ofc <3 (sorry its so late i'm drowning in work. also its not very angsty ;-;)

'The two people connected by the red thread are destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break. This myth is similar to the Western concept of soulmate or a destined partner.'

You signed as you read the words again and again. The constant loop of unfaithful words somehow replayed around your mind like a broken record.

The cord may stretch,

Maybe she just wasn't the one. The cord has only seemed to stretch on for miles and it's not coming back. The lingering touches she didn't even notice; The subtle smiles; The blush on your cheeks. It meant absolutely. Fucking. Nothing. To her.

or tangle,

Maybe the soulmate thing was a joke. Everyone seems to believe in it, though. The permanent ink on the inside of your wrist was given to you for some reason, right? Those two stupid letters of your Soulmates initials can't mean nothing. But with the way she's been acting everything seemed like such a joke, even the things that are meant to feel real felt faux.

but never break.

Or maybe she was just fucking stupid.

She must be, right? It couldn't be a coincidence you had her initials and she had yours. Finding yourself imagining how it would feel to fall asleep in the security of her strong arms was getting quite depressing...and very common.

You wanted to feel it for once.

You needed to be able to love her.

You craved it, whatever it was.

A knock pulled your attention off your phone. Subtly turning it off, you placed it beside you as you pushed your body off the sofa. Whoever was on the other side was impatient enough to knock again, a little more forceful this time.

And there she was. You kinda hoped it was her, that meant she was paying enough attention to notice you leave, right?

"What do you want?" You said, a little harsher than you intended. It wasn't that you hated her now. You just didn't like how blind she was to this whole thing - to the fact you loved her and she didn't seem to want at least reject you properly.

"Why'd you leave?"

"Because the party was boring." You left the door open and walked back into the room, giving her the option to enter or leave. You were too tired to care if she did either, and you were way past looking for any kind of signs.

She said nothing as she walked in, closing the door smoothly with her leg. It wasn't hard to read her, but she looked a little lost at your loss of enthusiasm. You didn't hate parties usually, but she never failed to realise the recent silence you gave off.

"I thought you of all people liked parties."

You scoffed, looking down at your lap as you played with your fingernails.

"You're mad at me?"

"Don't play stupid." You leaned your body up, placing your elbows on your knees before looking the other way. You were so done with letting her act dumb.

"What?"

"Do you not believe in the soulmate thing or something?" Your head snapped at her, making her only furrow her brows more. She crossed her arms and stood there.

"Course I do."

"Then why do you still do this?" You pointed to you then her. "You come here, pretend you give a shit, show me you care then you go and brag about fucking some girl the day after."

She opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, suddenly stopping before remaining silent, avoiding your eyes. You stood, successfully getting her attention.

"You know I have feelings for you." You looked directly at her, trying not to let tears falls out of your eyes. "It's not even about the stupid fucking tattoo. I show you I love you all the fucking time, Abby, and you actively decide to ignore it. Why? Stop fucking with my head, please, and leave me alone if you don't feel the same."

As much as you didn't want to cry, you couldn't help it. It hurt too much knowing she was playing with you. You'd never lash out at her like you just had right now, but the pure confusion, rage and impatience got the better of you.

"Tell me." You sniffed, watching her look guiltily at you with tears in your eyes. "Please, if you don't- If you think this is a coincidence and we just so happen to have each others initials just tell me so I can move on."

"That's not-" She groaned, running her hand through her hair as she looked around trying to find the words. "Fuck."

You raised a brow, biting the inside of your cheek as your heart raced in your chest. At this point you could hear your heartbeat so clearly it was the only thing you could focus on as Abby stared at you through the silence.

"You're you, (Y/N)." She began. "You think it doesn't hurt that I have to distance myself from you?"

"You choose to do that. You don't have to."

She shook her head, rubbing her face with her hand before looking at you again. "I have to, because you drive me insane and I'm so fucking scared I'll hurt you with the way I just am. You think I don't know this is you?" She pointed to the tattoo on her inner wrist. "I try to show you I care but I push you away because I'm scared of this."

"And that fucking hurts, Abby." You said quietly, looking down as tears dropped down to the floor.

Before you could even notice it she enveloped you in a hug, placing your head under her neck as her arms wrapped around your frame.

"I'm sorry." She kissed your hairline. "I'm sorry."

Even though you didn't know what would happen after she let go of you, you finally knew what it felt like to be loved, even momentarily, by Abby.

And you were okay with that.

THE END

#abby and lev #abby wlf #abby anderson one shot #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson tlou #abby tlou2 #abby anderson #abby tlou #tlou preferences #tlou fanfic #tlou x reader #tlou imagine #tlou imagines #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x reader

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astro-in-prog · 1 year

Text

i cannot get over how Ted Lasso could have been the greatest and most well thought out shows in the history of TV (it really had that potential) if all the little Tedbecca details had paid off?

WE WOULD BE REWATCHING THAT SHIT FOR YEARS? like it was right there? They followed through on so many of the other details but decided to not go through with the one storyline thread that would have been the most impactful?

2 people with messy pasts who are a bit broken, healing together and changing each others lives... 2 people who are LITERAL soulmates... falling in love and building a life together and being HAPPY even though their lives did not play out the way they thought?

A tedbecca storyline with the thunder and lightning and matchboxes and army men and the red string? ALL OF IT WAS JUST LEFT ON THE TABLE AS UNTAPPED POTENTIAL?

LIKE IT WAS RIGHT THERE? a final season that would have gone down in history as one of the most well executed... and instead we got whatever the hell we got...

just so done... honestly i dont know why i invest so much in shows anymore.. all i have had is disappointment - be it Game of Thrones, HIMYM, MacGyver, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy and now ig Ted Lasso.

Just breaks my heart..

#tedbecca #ted lasso s3 #ted lasso #ted x rebecca

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drgngutz · 1 year

Text

Cybernetic Soulmate - V

BEN Drowned x Reader

Soulmate AU – Implied Feminine Reader

Ben is gone; at least that’s what Jadusable might believe at first.

Masterlist

Previous Part

Benjamin Lawman

BEN Drowned

It was strange to finally be scrolling through my computer after being restricted for so long. When he had found his way outside of the cartridge and into my computer, BEN had always found some way to mess with it, screwing with my files, making me question reality with every loading screen or missing pixel. Even after I put him inside that cartridge again, it felt like there was something leftover; something that was still there, and I still couldn’t tell if what I was seeing online was real or fake.

Without it, though, everything was absurdly fine. I felt okay. I no longer felt the constant watching as soon as I stepped into my room when I got home, nor did I hesitate like I used to when typing the password of my account to log in. Even looking at the 4chan post seemed so… normal.

So why did it feel so wrong?

It didn’t make any sense. I had trapped him, I had given that girl the cartridge, and she would destroy it; he would be gone. For good.

Looking through the comments and responses to my posts were helping me to enforce the idea that I was safe. I could easily responded to each comment now, perfectly ordinary, without any mishaps; I pushed the button and the thread was sent, without any altered words or blank messages.

I felt relaxed for the first time in weeks. He was gone. He was actually gone.

MaskywasHere: I’m scared that we haven’t heard from you yet. You good bro?

gingersnaps-obsessed12: I’m too impatient for this crap. It’s like a masterpiece I can’t even- I must have more

DrgnGutz: Holy shit, dude. I mean, no way this is real, but it's a great story, really.

KittyGirl<33: OMG! R u alive???!

Ifrit: I’d like to hear more from you via email, if you’re interested in sharing more of your story :)

I mostly responded to the concerned comments with simple, easy replies. Nothing too complex, most of them I just assured I was alright or that everything was fine before moving on to the next; I ignored the more inquisitive questions for my own sanity. The responses were never ending, a constant cycle of scrolling down further into the abyss of loading more comments; all of which I had never seen before, no thanks to BEN and meddling with my perception of the outside world.

Everything was filled with his absence. Everything was all right again.

That stupid fantasy was wiped away in an instant the moment I looked away from my computer for a second, before looking back and seeing a new window opened to cleverbot. I swear, I could feel a chill run up and down my spine as the room dropped a few degrees.

Bursting from my seat, I rapidly move the mouse and hover over the bright red ‘X’ to close the damn thing, nerves lit up with alarm.

“Fuck… Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I scream at the computer as the window refuses to close, slamming down on the left mouse button with my whole hand and sending it down to the floor with a clatter.

“This isn’t happening.” I begged at the screen, shaking my head and backing away as if I had been burned.

Oh, but it is.

Verging on hysteria, I lunged for the power button, landing harshly on my knees and nearly pushing it inside of the PC from the force. This was a dream, a nightmare. The after effects of what had happened to me, my brain was just tricking me right now. I would hit this button, and it would be over. Really over this time.

I cried out in despair when the damn thing refused to turn off.

“What the fuck… What the fuck do you want from me?!” Screaming at the bright pixels, I stood back up from the ground, fists clenched at my sides.

Just to talk.

“Leave me alone.”

A little rude for a ‘welcome back,’ but, I suppose it can’t be helped.

“Go fuck yourself.” The longer it went on the more I began to realize this wasn’t in my head. I pinched, squeezed at my arms, the pain registering fully enough to know this wasn’t a nightmare.

Ha. Do I disturb you that much?

“How did you get out?” I was yelling at the screen at this point, surprised my parents hadn’t walked in and asked what the hell I was doing up so late at night screaming so loud.

Wouldn’t you like to know?

“Tell me. Tell me right now, or I swear…”

You’ll what? Put me back?

You can’t now. It’s too late.

“Asshole. You’re a fucking asshole.”

It’s amusing to watch your distress.

“You were supposed to be–” It dawned, right then and there. He was supposed to be gone, destroyed, for good. Something was wrong. Had she messaged me at all since yesterday?

I scrambled for my phone, scrolling through my emails and finding nothing; not since she first contacted me about the cartridge in the first place.

“Where is she? Where’s (Y/n)?”

Who?

“Don’t play coy with me, you little shit. What did you do to her?!” I was raging at this point, all forms of fear converting to defense in an effort to ward him off. It would never work, of course. I had tried it before.

I’m not telling.

“Did you trick her, too? Trap her inside that fucking game, like you did to her brother, Matt?”

You were so eager to get rid of me, you didn’t even think twice about what would happen if it was in someone else’s hands.

“I should’ve destroyed that cartridge myself.” I snarled at the screen, eyes scanning over his next reply as it scrolled onto the site.

Yet you couldn’t. How funny.

“Shut up. You murderer, you killed her, just like you killed the rest.”

Even if I did, that’s none of your concern, is it?

You should be more worried about yourself.

“If she’s alive, I hope she comes to her senses and puts you back in that fucking game, just like I did.”

I told you, that can’t happen anymore.

It’s too late. I’m free now.

I am everywhere now.

The screen explodes into a dialect of code bouncing off of other code, glitching and warping into itself as the machine whirs with an overload of power. In a last ditch effort, I try to draft a new email to her; maybe it’s not too late, maybe I can get to her in time before–

The draft closes itself, and my phone powers down. The dread swallows me up with hot and cold flashes as the small screen lights up with text.

That won’t do you any good.

The entire house is painted black, the electricity shutting down and leaving me to bask in total desperation.

#ben drowned #creepypasta #ben drowned x reader #ben drowned x you #ben drowned x female!reader #soulmates #x reader #fem reader #female reader #soulmate au

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eggtartz · 2 years

Note

Hi! Can you do a Rindou x soulmate reader, a soulmate AU where the reader has a brother who's in a gang and she's really protective of her brother just like how Nezuko is so protective of Tanjiro, so her brother is getting beaten down in a fight and so the reader beats up the guy who was beating down her brother, just like how Nezuko beat daki up wit NO MERCY, she did the same😬 and literally just stood there with a disgusted face and broke the guys leg by her feet, just the same way Nezuko did to Daki.

And because of the tattoo that the reader has on their arm, Rindou recognized the tattoo since both of you guys are soulmates and have the same tattoo so her recognized it and knew that you were his soulmate. The reader is so protective of her brother and has the strength of Nezuko also the reader is

✨ DROP DEAD GORGEOUS ✨

a/n : is this what im seeing or someone finally requested me to write? HELLO ANON THANKYOU FOR THE REQUEST AAA *eats fist* i did a brainstorm on the concept of soulmates i hope you'll like this 🫶🏻💕

"The two people connected by the red thread are destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break."

wc : 2152

you and your brother have been together since you were so young, him being seven while you were just ten. your whole family got into a car crash leaving only two of you to survive in the cruel world. watching your brother grow, the protective side came with an instinct and even though now both of have grown up you were still protective over him.

"onee-san i'll be back late tomorrow. gang stuff" he said while munching on his chocolate bread that you made for him. you worriedly glanced at him and he understood that look very well. "c'mon onee-san, i'll be back before dinner. don't worry too much" he ate the leftover icing on his fingers and went to wash his hands on the sink. without turning your body, you spoke.

"ikeru. what if you get beaten up so bad huh? you got beaten up so bad that you can't even come back home, not coming home to me. is that what you want? i've been letting you do this shady gang stuff for some time, don't you think you should stop?" your tone was worrying and ikeru see no lies from your words. he will get beaten up at a daily basis, the only difference is either his knuckles are going to bloody from his blood or the opponents blood.

"fine nee-san. if it would make you feel better, i'll quit the gang and find a job. would that make you feel better?" he placed his chin on your head and felt your nodding. "so let this be the last time you're doing gang stuff okay? promise me you'll come back as soon as you say quits" you raised your red-tattoed pinky and locked his pinky finger with yours.

except that, he broke the promise.

that day, your brother didn't came back home. you tried to stay rational and thought his friends might've offered him booze but you know him. he would always update on his conditions to you. you tried calling him, messaging him. you knew little about his gang business but you did find their where their hideout is. "listen here little shit, i don't have time and the food for dinner is getting cold. i'll ask you one more time, where the hell is ikeru?" your gaze was cold, unfazed as the so called gang member was trembling under your threat.

"ikeru went out miss. i don't know exactly where but they did said they wanted to stay at the new bar down street" he said while stuttering a lot, your knife still on his throat. you released a heavy sigh and said thank you under your breath and dashed out. it's okay, you assured yourself. he might forgot to tell you, he's probably having a great time. just check on him and then leave, you said to calm yourself down. walking down the street, you saw a familiar bike you confirmed that was your brother's bike. however there was no sight of him. infact there was no sight of anyone at all.

you saw the bar the kid mention but there were too many people. too many, it looked like a crowd. crowd.. people.. the crowd was noisy as there was a fight on the center of the bar floor. standing on your toes, to your horror you saw your brother, ikeru on the floor all bloody while getting punched continuously while he remained unconscious and not moving. letting your body move based on adrenaline, you jumped on the bigger man's back and tried scratching him.

"oi what the hell?!" he easily threw your body across the room and your head knocked one of the chairs. standing up, you hissed but saw a bottle of beer on the counter, took it and ran at the man full speed then smashed his head with it. the glass shattered and the crowd grew wilder as if this was a show but you didn't care. all care thrown out the window, you approached your brother and checked his breathing. it was ragged, uneven but he was breathing. you held his bloody face near to your neck and silently sobbed.

you felt like a failure, no, you were a failure. what kind of sister just let's their little brother do this? you swore that all your life you would protect his life but here he is, almost at the verge at death and you wondered if only he wasn't a gang member would he be in the same situation now.

"onee-san?"

"yes ikeru?"

"run, onee-san. the guys are bigger than you, they'll kill you. run onee-san, my boss is coming please don't worry" he whispered againts the shell of your ear. you were fuming, furious. inhaling another breath, you said to him "don't worry they can't kill me if i kill them first" then you dragged his body to the nearest chair and sat him on top of it. "onee-san stop, please they'll kill you" he tried grabbing your wrist to stop you but his grip got weaker. ikeru's vision was blurry and he passed out.

meanwhile you, adrenaline pumped in your veins you took a wooden stool and knock one of the gang rivals with it. you recognized your brother's gang by the uniform so you could differentiate them. swinging a punch, the man fell down startled and off guard you took the knife you had and plunged his shoulder. looking him straight in the eye, you twisted the knife and deepened the wound.

the other men stopped what they were doing as they heard the screams of their man getting tortured by a woman half his size. you stand up only to get tackled down but you managed to kick his groin, grounded your knees on the floor and twisted his head with a headlock ikeru taught you while watching mma matches in television. ikeru's member started scooting away as the man averted their attention to you. "now, now girl. you might wanna calm down okay? knife's a dangerous weapon dont'cha think?" one of them said.

"shut the fuck up if you don't want my foot down your throat" you said before running towards one of them, climbed their back and bit his ears. they panicked a lot and tried to grabbed you but using your sweater sleeve you tied one their hands into the man's head making all of them lose their balance and collectively fell. you jumped from his back successfully landing on the ground.

one of them lunge towards you but you dodged him and knocked his nose as hard as you could making him coughing out blood. the crowd wasn't rowdy anymore as they watched the bloody murder you were doing. the rampage of yours didn't seem to stop because the guys kept standing up. the more they tried to stand, the more damaging your attacks were. you didn't had any ounce of mercy.

the guy that earlier was smashing ikeru's face tried to crawl away but you saw him "oh you're not going anywhere. come back!" you dragged his left leg back to the center of the bar floor. you lifted his left calf and stepped on his thigh, breaking his kneecaps. he wailed in pain and as you were going to do the same to the next leg, you felt a shiver down your spine.

"yikes, sweetie you did this by yourself?" a braided hair man asked you while coming through the crowd. the still conscious ikeru's members tried to bow down but some of them fell down as they grow weaker.

"my, oh, look at that. hello keizo is your leg okay? didn't i told you specifically not to barge in this area of ours hm~?" the braided man asked him while he was wailing in pain. you kept experiencing this shivering but you shrugged it for now. the braided man finally looked at you "hm, you might need to go to the hospital love. you're injured" you stepped away from him only up now to realize there was someone else behind him. he wore a black shirt, glasses and had blue and yellow highlights. he was gorgeous and you couldn't stop staring at him. he did the same too, unable to tear his gaze away.

"rinnie could you tell them to clean this up? we have to bring this girl to the hospital" getting a tch as a respond, he inspected all the injuries and observed the damage you did. on the men and on the facility. "im sorry" you said impulsively, and he looked at you confused.

the crowd was already dismissed as silence developed between the two of you. this was strange, you met this man two seconds ago and you felt a huge relief washing over you. you shouldn't even feel better when he's here, he might be a greater threat but you felt the opposite with him. it was like you felt comfortable with him, safe with him.

"it's okay, uh. your name?" his voice did wonders to you. it felt soothing and you actually wanted to step closer to him so you could hear his voice again but this time closer. "i uh y/n"

"okay y/n, im rindou haitani. could you tell me what just happened because the guy almost got killed"

"my brother" you walked to ikeru's cold body and saw the blood on his face started to dry up, making it smell foul. rindou scrunched his nose and tried lifting him up before gesturing you to follow him. "uh hey you think you could ride? you guys need like immediate medical help and using the car, you know. there's traffic and that" he kept averting his eyes somewhere else while talking to you and stuttered a lot. "oh yeah my brother's bike is here so i can go to the hospital myself"

"oh, where's the keys?" he said while one of his gang members reached ikeru's shoulder and took him away. you snatched the keys from ikeru's pocket earlier and you handed it to rindou. you were too exhausted to ride the bike anyway and you felt like you could trust rindou. strangely.

"okay if you feel like falling asleep just hug me so you won't fall" he said while reviving the engine. you did what he said and arrived at the hospital and almost immediately got into an emergency ward. your brother's bed was beside yours although you might discharge earlier as your injuries wasn't too bad. the sight of your brother being connected with so many wires scared you, it was like the time of the car crash where you thought he would leave you. your daydreaming snapped as you heard a soft click on the door and saw rindou with some flowers.

"oh hi. i thought you were asleep. here, uh some flowers and food. i don't know what you like so i bought a few types of- wait why are you crying?" rindou stopped his rambling and placed the items in his hand on the table so he could swipe your tears away. he was worried for me, he's so cute, you thought.

"it's just, i love my brother so much i really thought i lost him" he held your hand and in a trance you two could speak only with your eyes. you desperately closed the gap between the two of you and cried more on his chest. after a while your hiccups was disappearing slowly and your grip on his shirt too had loosened. he laid you back so you could rest while he studied your face.

people would be terrified if their first meeting was with yours, your eyes were bloodshot, knuckles bloody, lip busted and sweater dirty but you looked magnificent is his eyes. your black hair, perfect eye shape, nose, lips hell you had no flaw. rindou was the one who wanted to see the new club, his gut telling him that there was something, someone there. then, he met you and he was correct. the moment he saw you, he fell. hard.

he rubbed his thumb over your bandaged knuckles and kissed the pinky finger with the tattoo on it. rindou wasn't a man of superstition or any sort but he does feel that you were truly his. the same red matching tattoo on his pinky said it.

he only realized you had the same tattoo while you entered the doctor's room for an examination. he didn't believed in fate but he genuinely thinks that you're his soulmate. his other half. the only one for him.

he kissed your forehead to leave so you could rest but you held his tattooed pinky. "stay with me" you softly said. rindou smiled and climbed the bed with you and you instantly snuggled in his arm. you felt safe, he felt complete. you both were truly soulmates.

a/n : this might be the longest fic i've ever wrote i got really indulged

#tokyo revengers #tokrev #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x yn #fluff #rindou haitani #haitani rindou x reader #rindou x y/n #tokyo revengers rindou #rindou x reader #tokrev rindou #rindou fluff #haitani rindou imagines #haitani fluff #haitani x reader #tokyo rev fluff #rindou tokyo revengers

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heliocentricsunflower · 9 months

Text

Only You

A short Levihan piece that started out as a poem for Hange's birthday, but know I have no idea what it is now LOL. Please enjoy!

Hange's first birthday after their demise.

!read this after reading the piece!

I like to think levi and the 104th set up a memorial in marley for their fallen comrades, and levi always visits it. He'll always bring white flowers for everyone. But not for Hange. He'll always bring them new flowers, odd flowers, stinky flowers, all that. When I was choosing what flower he'd give to them on their birthday, I had two choices; the lavender and the sunflower. I wanted lavender bc, levihan colors, and I wanted sunflower bc thats my username! Both flowers mean something along the lines of devotion ofc, but I ended up with sunflower since 1. I think it's a flower hange would prefer 2. It also means unconditional love and 3. According to google, its a perfect gift for a loved one you adore. ITS PERFECT!

A basket on my lap.

Being pushed on my way to you.

Do you know?

I'm sure you do.

I reminisce.

When you told me of the red strings of fate

Connecting souls to their other halves

To be their paths toward home.

Red lines marking the lovers' bonds.

You never fully agreed with the belief of them being tied by some spirit.

You much rathered thinking it was the lovers' who tied the ends to each others fingers.

I think it's more romantic that way, don't you?

The bonds and hardships shared and formed by the lovers are what would make up the thread

The time they spend together… the secrets… and the warmth and comfort of each other.

"Soulmates are made. Not found." is what I think, at least.

You told me with a giggle.

Your eyes looking at mine.

And yet again,

When your eye stared deep into my soul.

"Hey, Levi… when one of the lovers die, what do you think happens to the thread?"

"It's your birthday, why are you thinking about that?"

"Just wondering. I think it would be soooo beautiful if it stays on. But also, I think it also would be good if it gets cut."

"All of this is hypothetical."

"Yeah but it's fun."

"…I think it would depend."

"Oh?"

"Age, how deep the relationship is, y'know, that shit. It depends."

"Indeed… Say… Levi… what if—"

"Stop stalling."

"Ah, but it's embarassing!"

"You embarrass yourself in front of everyone everyday. I seriously doubt anything could be embarrassing as the time in the kitche—"

"Ok, ok, I get it! So, What if the red strings aren't just for lovers. They could be for friends! And I was thinking, maybe… they could…also…be for us…"

What was it?

Your head practically laying on my lap?

The red on your cheeks, or the warmth of mine?

The flutter of my heart, or the still in time?

"You high or something, glasses?"

"C'monnn, this is why I didn't wanna say it!"

"So, why'd you bring this up."

"Just curious. If we were connected by the red string. Would you want the string to be cut or not if one of us dies."

"If you die I will personally make sure hell has the worst torture prepared for you."

"Pff- Ahaha! Ahahahahahahahahaha!"

There was something so special

About that night

Was it the smile on your face

Or the one on mine?

"Woah! So you do smile!"

"Shut it. This isn't the first time you've seen it."

"So, does this mean you wouldn't forget me when I die?"

"You won't die, glasses. We've been through hell together."

"Aww, you can't face your true feelings!"

"I will kick your ass."

"So you do want to keep our connection, even in death."

I hate this.

When you know exactly what's on my mind

But then again

This only proves what you thought, right?

On this same day, five years ago.

A basket on my lap.

Being pushed on my way to you.

Have you found the answer?

Tell me, Hange.

Can you see the thread that ties us eternally?

Because for me, I need no confirmation.

I'm sure of it.

You'll love this sunflower.

#levihan #levi x hange #levi x hanji #levi ackerman x hange zoe #hange zoë #hanji zoe #hange zoe #levi ackerman #levi aot #attack on titan #aot #aot fic

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rascheln · 2 years

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(cw for grief/mourning, temporary character death) AU where steve leaves hawkins after s3 in search of his soulmate, feeling like something has been cut off from him, but he can’t put into words what it was. it’s like a hole has opened up i his chest ever since he saw billy die- someone he swears he didn’t even like, even if they slept around! but he can’t stay in that hellhole of a town anymore, so he packs up two bags, jumps in his car, bids good-bye to everyone and on his first stop out of town, he goes to a tattoo studio.

he doesn’t know what it is he wants, but he needs something on his skin as a reminder. that he made it out. that others didn’t. it’s not like he’s told everyone “i’m looking for the love of my life” when he drove off, but somehow the thought festers at the back of his mind. finally, he settles on a little black and white tiger head on the side of his rib cage near his heart, holding a red thread between its teeth. it makes him think of hawkins, but in a way that doesn’t hurt.

it makes him think of winning games with a team that still adored him even when he shed his popularity. of a boy who’d shove him around during practice spouting constant commentary on how to improve his play. of wandering gazes during showers. of a letterman jacket with a tiger, stretched over broad shoulders.

the tattoo, though? that shit hurts. he can feel the vibration of the needle on his bones, a sensation so novel it drags him out of whatever reverie he’s been in ever since starcourt. for a short moment of clarity he knows this will not bring billy back and the physical pain in its crescendo of white-hot, dizzying assault on his nerves matches the emotional ache. then he sinks under again, into a familiar haze of confusion and emptiness.

when he settles in his car, there’s a red string on his side that he’s asked the tattoo artist not to tie off. for a short while, it bleeds. there’s a paper with instructions on how to take care of it tucked into his sun visor. it sits next to a photo his eyes rigorously avoid. the one photo he owns of him and billy. proof, that this secretive, rough, beautiful thing between them happened.

every couple of months, sometimes sooner, he adds onto the thread running down his side. every time he falls out of bed after a one night stand and the first thought in his mind is “i’m still in love with billy hargrove. fuck.” every time he leaves a place, driven by the need to move, move, move.

the thread stays with him, just like the photo. it wanders down to his waist, then his hip, then down his thigh. sometimes he follows it with his finger right up to the point where it still sits unfinished.

and then one day, something happens. something so fundamentally terrible it splits the world open and turns it inside out. it rips and tears at the essence of reality and time and when steve opens his mouth to scream, there’s nothing.

there’s his bed in hawkins, sheets a distant, familiar sensation excavated from his memory. a warm body next to his. a brief moment of overwhelming, desperate affection.

when he wakes up, the world is whole and skewed at the same time. he’s in his shitty apartment and a call away from dustin yelling at him on the phone about El doing something “absolutely insane!!” and he barely hears it because the hole in his chest is gone.

it scares him more than anything in the world. because there’s hope.

#harringrove #harringrove txt #idk where i was going with this #but yeah something something El doing the equivalent of charging her batteries for years until she uses her powers #to literally change reality to remove the UD from accessing their universe #and in the process... well. i think you know lol

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sacredcyber · 11 months

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Found something in my wips, red string fated lovers silverV shenanigans. I think I’ll work on it when I feel the angst, which is often lol.

The bliss of an after coitus glow was something Johnny found himself experiencing less and less these days. He lay in bed, a blonde on one side and redhead on the other. The dark ambiance of his apartment feels appropriate. Nothing but cigarette smoke, the smell of sex, and the soft red ambient glow of his thread. He holds his arm up and stares at it, the thread flows gently, tightly wound on his ganic arm. He chuckles, it used to be on his other wrist, that was before, well, before having it blown the fuck off.

He remembers how he felt, for a moment it felt like freedom, like he could do whatever he wanted, be with whoever he wanted. Until it appeared on the other, then the feelings of frustration returned again. He sits up and rips the blanket of himself and his guests. “Hey, yo what the fuck?!” the redhead yells. Johnny rolls his eyes, “Got a show to get ready for doll, time for you to start fucking off.” He turns and plants a hard smack on the blonde’s ass, she immediately shoots out of her dreams and yelps in pain. “Use your FUCKING GANIC HAND!” He ignores her.

“You too, this ain’t a home for wayward whores.” He hops out of bed and stretches, taking a look at himself in his floor length mirror. The damn string is still glowing, for some reason it looks a little brighter. ‘Maybe if I try real hard, I can hang myself with it.’ he thinks to himself. He notices a pair of slender arms wrapping around him from behind. The redhead plants a kiss on his back, “so...are we getting VIP tonight?” Johnny rolls his eyes and removes her arms from his waist.

“Whatever, just leave. And lock the fucking door behind you.” She huffs in irritation as he grabs a pair of black boxers from the dresser and walks into his bathroom, turning the water on the hottest setting.

The cool tile and steam is a strange combination, but it doesn’t matter. He stands with his back under the hot water, the temperature slowly making his pale skin a rose pink. ‘You work too much’ he opens his eyes and sees her. Alt standing in front of him, a small smile on her face.

‘Thats kind of the point, lover.’ she laughs. ‘I adore what I do.’ Johnny felt a pang of jealousy in his chest. It’s a silly thing, to be jealous of something as intangible as “work” but for Alt it’s more than that. Being a netrunner is everything to her, it’s second nature, as natural as breathing air for her. Johnny pouts a bit ‘More than me?’

She tilts her head and brings herself closer to him, she plants a small kiss to his chest. She lets out a breathy chuckle ‘You can’t tell me you don’t feel the same about your music, your cause.’ she swirls small patterns on his skin, Johnny sighs. ‘You mean more than all that shit.’ He holds her tighter, as if he were to let go she’d disappear. Alt smiles, she runs her fingers down to Johnny's hand, a ghostly sensation tickles her fingertips as she caresses his wrist. Her eyes close.

‘For now.’ she whispers.

“FUCK!” the scalding water finally registers on his skin. He moves and quickly turns the faucet to cold. The steam quickly dissipates as ice water pours down his back, bringing him back to reality. The reality that she’s not here, not Alt and certainly not the bitch this thing was attached to. He grabs his shampoo and starts to work up a lather, his thoughts wander from his old flame to who this person was, his “soulmate”. He always wrote it off as bullshit, he knew who he was meant for, and that was fucking Altiera Cunningham. He knew it, fuck who this bullshit string was attached to, no one could compare.

#cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #cp2077 #cyberpunk2077 #female v #keanu reeves #fanfic #fic stuff #writing stuff #alt cunningham

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detectivechen · 11 months

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this is a nice selection of scenes @chenfordsource! just wanna correct some misinfo.

kilig doesn't really apply to the actual feeling of kissing someone for the first time. there's a certain je ne sais quoi to it that's best described as the giddy feeling one gets after receiving an unexpectedly romantic gesture from one's partner (or after witnessing a romantic moment between a couple).

melissa o'neil is a master at portraying this reaction whenever tim gives lucy an unexpected compliment (like in 3x11 below). it's a testament to the actress's training and talent because she knows exactly what the untranslatable emotion looks like, even if it isn't commonplace for directors of western media to ask for/include this specific shot. (it's a common kdrama shot.)

this command of her craft adds great depth to chenford's romance, but ofc it can only do so much, so dialogue is still a must.

also, maybe it was a deliberate choice because chenford's story is still unfinished, but i would be sad if their romance was yuánfèn coded instead of red thread of fate (yīnyuán hóngxiàn) coded. the latter kinda means soulmates; the former induces heartbreak.

from my understanding, yuánfèn is a concept similar to a line from a tagalog song, pinagtagpo pero 'di tinadhana, which means 'destined to meet, but not fated (to be forever).' ouch.

for those who don’t know, the red thread of fate is akin to the western idea of soulmates, wherein two romantic partners are believed to be tied together with a red thread that can never be broken. all kinds of shit can happen to the thread, but the two are literally bound by fate to find eternal happiness within each other in this lifetime, come hell or high water.

any two people can have yuánfèn, similar to 'everything happens for a reason' or 'nothing happens by chance' in the western world. any persons A and B are always brought together by fate, not just simple coincidence.

but again, having yuánfèn with someone doesn't guarantee a forever ending. reincarnation is a big part of east asian culture, so it's believed that while you may not be fated with that special someone in this lifetime, you may be in the next (or in a past life).

hopefully chenford makes it in this lifetime, but there are certainly a bunch of other paths that their story can take.

for instance, in korean culture, 인연 (in-yeon) is a similar concept of destiny, usually closely associated with one’s 첫사랑 (cheot-sarang), or first love. it's believed that one has greater in-yeon with their first love, making a forever life with that person more likely.

not certain about the PEMDAS at play since lucy's first love is tim, which isn’t the same as her being inexperienced or naive ftr. determining your first love is based more on feeling than technicality. who is the first romantic partner that you’ve given your heart to?

for tim, i would argue that it’s isabel. he sincerely loved her and was willing to do anything for her/to get her back, but it just wasn’t meant to be in this lifetime…haha unless? 🤔 who knows how they’ll shake shit up?

so for anyone with more knowledge about this who would like to confirm/correct, pls feel free! otherwise, i’m always happy to have a discussion or answer general Qs :)

#isa.txt #the rookie #chenford #lucy chen #tim bradford #melissa o'neil #also not an expert #just finding my way back to my roots in my old age #it’s also missing chenford besties hours <3

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