#once again i fear we have a whole countdown leading up to this only for it to be lackluster. every year LDJKSSJLKDGLKJSD
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HYUNJIN BIRTHDAY COUNTDOWN (2024):
↘ D-DAY | HAPPY BIRTHDAY HWANG HYUNJIN❣️
#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin#stray kids#bystay#createskz#flashing tw#a9gifs#*gif#*hyunjin#*ccarly#*carly:hyunjin#*series:hjbday24#once again i fear we have a whole countdown leading up to this only for it to be lackluster. every year LDJKSSJLKDGLKJSD#sorry if this is a flop finale but i had fun <3#i hope these are synced too science says they should be but my laptop never loads them all at once akldjfajklsdjglks#anyway this concludes the countdown it went by so fast.....thank u for liking it everyone 🫶#i will never be doing this again. LKJSDKFLSJKDGLKSDG#maybe a countdown but not 30 sets. i DID IT THOUGH. very proud of myself for being that insane. good times#also happy birthday hyun i love u so so much and hope you have an amazing day :((((#do something fun...take a nice nap...eat good food...hope u get to celebrate however u want this year
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I think this chapter almost confirms that Fakesaw is the Chainsaw Man Devil, and it does it in three ways: the first is that he isn't present here. For his significance, it is quite obvious that he isn't part of the mob (I saw some people make that assumption), which leads me to the second way -- Fakesaw was always a symbol of Denji's identity being taken from him, a Chainsaw Man that he has no control over (the one in people's heads). The third, stemming from that, is that I think Fami's plan will have the unintended (or... unstated?) consequence of empowering her enemy -- Fakesaw has already stood in her way twice by killing Yuko and rescuing Denji and Asa, so it appears that whatever his goal is, it isn't in sync with Fami's. If people fear Chainsaw Man, who is only the fear of chainsaws, then the Chainsaw Man Devil will feed off that fear as well.
If we additionally consider the armageddon angle, wherein the Horsemen are themselves and Denji is the Lamb/Christ, then Fakesaw will be the first Beast of the Sea that people of the Earth were deceived (by the Fire devil, the second beast of the Earth) to worship. He is the Antichrist figure, born directly out of false perceptions and fears of Christ of this comic.
Like the last part, Death is but the prelude that forces Denji into a bad position, and the real resolution will be him confronting what it is he really wants.
The theory of Fake!CSM as a Demon resulting from the fear of Chainsaw Man totally works and for all the reasons you mentioned, I completely agree with you on that.
I don't know if it's mistrust resulting from Fujimoto's tendency to write... but the fact remains that I get the impression that it coincides too easily.
Although he's an author who likes to place clues, he's just as fond of issuing a revelation that would disrupt the whole thing. Which explains why I sometimes turn away from this theory and clumsily try to present alternative theories, because the path taken by the author is not always the most obvious.
Of course, what we're presenting are just theories, but Fake!CSM seems to be a pillar of this part 2 and his future interventions will only be there to confuse us even more
Where I agree with you again, and above all, is on the role of Death. Paradoxically, despite the presentation of the chapter, Nayuta and Fami's fear, I don't think she's the final boss of Part 2.
Once again it would be too simple, I don't see why Fujimoto would reveal all his cards
Obviously, from a narrative point of view, this sets up a sort of stressful countdown, but in all Fujimoto's works, death has been presented in an original way.
Chainsaw Man can't be satisfied with placing death in a purely negative light, just as he solved the problem of the old antagonist through love
At least that's something I'm hoping for, because to be honest, I find death more terrifying when it plays the silent observer
Than queen of terror
#chainsaw man#csm#csm part 2#csm 146#fake!csm#death devil#sorry for replying so late!#your analysis makes total sense and is very well sourced
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Your heart out on the asphalt
Ao3 | 2.1k | Rated: Teen | Tarlos angst
Summary
A serial bomber who uses bomb vests as their calling card is on the loose and they are targeting spouses of members of the police department. Unfortunately for Carlos, TK becomes their next victim.
For @silvarafael‘s prompt request: angst #36 - “Don’t tell me to calm down!” + tarlos
TK was missing.
Unable to be reached.
Nowhere to be found.
Missing.
It had been 24 hours since anyone had seen him last, when he had left the station after a shift, on his way to his dad's ahead of Captain Strand for their weekly dinner. He never made it.
24 hours wasn’t a long time, not even long enough for them to file a missing person’s report but the captain knew something was wrong. It wasn’t until they had tracked TK's phone to a back-alley dumpster that they could only assume the worst. He had been taken by the serial bomber, just like the other victims, it was the only assumption that Carlos could make, though he didn’t know why he was a target.
TK would be the fourth in a string of abductions, and as it turned out, became the missing link to all of the officers that were connected to the other victims, each being a spouse of an officer. He and TK had been dating for a little over year, which seemed to be enough for the serial bomber to consider him spousal material. The details didn’t matter to Carlos, all his thoughts were on TK and what his fate would be because of their relationship.
And that’s when he found him.
Carlos lost his breath all at once and for a moment all he could do was sit in shock as his car idled in the street. There TK was, with arms bound in front of him and his head bowed as he sat cross-legged on the dusty, worn asphalt lit by the Camaro’s headlights like spotlights in the late afternoon shadows.
And then TK lifted his head, even from this distance, Carlos could see his eyes shining with unshed tears as he took in the car before him. Carlos could see the bruising gash stretching across TK’s temple and the dry, crusted blood that had dripped down the side of his face. Carlos watched, unable to breathe when he saw the recognition blanket TK’s face and it was only then that the tears began to fall.
Carlos couldn’t recall when he got out of the car or when he called his Captain’s direct line, passing on the pertinent details as he was trained to do. All he knew was the smell of the tar that had been cooling from the then-gone afternoon sun. He wasn’t sure he’ll ever be able to forget the scent after that day.
He remembered feeling the rough, loose grit that scraped his hands and knees through his pants as he skidded down to land himself in front of TK; The way the small fragments of gravel clung to his hands as they ghosted around TK’s body, too afraid to touch him in fear of setting off the crude vest attached to his chest, like what happened with the first person.
“Carlos…” TK whispered as the tears ran steadily in tracks down his face. It was enough to break him out of whatever trance that he’d fallen into upon seeing his boyfriend in the street.
“I’m here. Everything will be okay.” He said as he gently palmed TK’s cheek for a second in an attempt to reassure him despite the frantic tone of his voice.
“You shouldn’t be here,” murmured TK, “This is what he wanted.”
“What do you mean? Who did this?”
“I don’t know who he is, but he’s watching from the street cameras. Said he’d set it off if I moved…” The vest beeped once, the sound coming from behind a small panel on the front. Carlos gingerly peeled it back to reveal a countdown that was trending downwards, “…and said he’d start the timer as soon as he saw you.”
02:58
02:57
02:56
Carlos looked down at the phone that he had haphazardly dropped beside him when he reached TK’s side, remembering that he was still on the line with his Captain. He picked it up with a shaky hand and described the device strapped to TK. From here he learned that his Captain had also added to the call the leader of the bomb squad who was already on the move to their location.
They weren’t going to make it in time to diffuse.
The bomber had made sure of that.
02:44
He had left them just enough time to say their goodbyes, but Carlos was not ready for that just yet. Staring hard at the device, an idea began to form, and he spoke hurriedly to the bomb squad leader, asking if she’d be able to possibly guide him in diffusing it himself if he showed her the vest through video call.
She had quickly agreed understanding there to be no other option, and listed what he would need, which he thankfully had in his Camero should he ever need to do any simple repairs. Carlos hurried to retrieve them before returning, glancing briefly at the countdown as he felt his whole body break out in nervous sweating over what he was about to do.
02:11
02:10
02:09
TK mirrored him and looked down at the countdown and also saw how little time Carlos had causing him to look back up sharply, “Carlos, you don’t have the time for all this! Just GO! Save yourself, please!” he pleaded in a rush, voice panicked as he tried to push at Carlos’s shoulder awkwardly with his bound hands in an attempt to get him to leave.
02:01
It doesn’t take much for him to catch TK’s hands and hold them in place against his struggling, “TK I need you to calm down.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” TK exclaimed mostly out of fear than anger, “I have a bomb strapped to my chest, and I don’t want you to die with me if it goes off!”
Carlos changed tact and released TK’s hands in favour of grasping the back of his neck, forcing his boyfriend to look at him, “Look at me TK. I can do this. Trust me.”
01:54
TK let out a shaky breath and almost inaudibly whispered, “I trust you, of course, I trust you.” as he settled under Carlos’s steady gaze before he released his neck and studied the wires that he could see
Carlos set the phone down and listened to the instructions given to him and exposed the wire port to the device. He picked it up again showing her what he could now see. It was a chaotic bundle of multiple coloured wires complicating the system, but the chief was pretty confident in what she saw and what wire he needed to cut in order to diffuse it safely.
00:32
TK caught his wrist, stopping him as he steadied himself to make the cut, “TK we don’t have time for this.” He uttered tersely, heart racing at the thought that this could be their last moment if the chief was wrong.
00:24
“Just let me do this part Carlos and you can go; you still have time to get far enough away to be safe,” implored TK.
00:16
Carlos shook his head again, not even considering leaving him as an option, not when his heart had already decided that TK was it for him. He didn’t think his heart would be able to survive it if he left him here, “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it together.”
00:11
He bit his bottom lip and slot the scissors over the yellow wire, making eye contact with TK as he does so before TK pre-emptively squeezes his eyes shut.
“I love you TK.”
He cuts the wire.
-
-
-
-
-
-
00:08
00:08
00:08
The timer continued to flash the same number. 8 seconds. 8 seconds between life and death.
Tears of relief sprung to Carlos’s eyes, and he let out an audible gasp, realising he’d been holding his breath for some time. TK opened his eyes at the sound, glanced down, and shut them again as a sob bubbled out of his chest and he pitched forward, sagging in relief against Carlo’s chest with his forehead on his shoulder.
Carlos caught him, wrapping his arms around him gently, being mindful of the vest as they both panted heavily from the adrenaline of the drawn-out moment. Eventually, TK pulled back, eyes red and puffy from the tears that were now soaked into Carlos’s shoulder.
“Why would you risk yourself like that?” He asked, voice shaky with emotion, “You could have blown up with me instead of being safe.”
Carlos cupped TK’s cheek, gently brushing a thumb along the ridge of his cheekbone, wiping at the residual rivulets of tears, “Because there wasn’t a chance in hell that I would give you up so easily, even if it meant us blowing up together.”
It’s then that they’re interrupted by the sound of arriving emergency vehicles, and most importantly the bomb squad. Carlos sat back on his haunches glancing down at TK’s hands. He picked up the scissors that he’d dropped in surprise when TK fell into him and started working on the duct tape binding on TK’s wrist.
By the time he was done, the bomb technicians were at their side with a lead-lined box held between them. He watched warily as they carefully took the vest off TK, placing it resolutely into the box for safe detonation, and took it back to their armored truck.
Carlos took in their still seated position and moved to stand up, offering his hand to TK as he did so. TK slotted his hand in his with a smile and Carlos pulled him up where their eyes met again and this time they crashed into each other once again, tightly wrapping their arms around each other and finding themselves breathing in the soothing scent of the other.
As they slowly began to disentangle, Carlos felt TK’s body waver and he saw TK’s eyebrows knit together as he brought a hand up to his injured temple as he took a faltering half-step backwards. He nearly collapsed if Carlos didn’t still have his arms around him and supported his weight as the paramedics picked up their speed with the gurney that they had on standby and brought it to them, helping Carlos to guide TK to lie on the bed.
He doesn’t move from the gurney’s side as they wheeled it back to the ambulance, stopping for a moment when TK reached out to him, dragging him close enough that he could get his hand on Carlos’s cheek and pulled his face close enough the Carlos could feel his breath on his lips.
“I love you too. Thank you for staying.” TK whispered and guided Carlos down until their lips met for a quick and gentle kiss. They parted after a beat as the paramedics returned to take him to the hospital.
He watched as the ambulance drove away, wanting more than anything to be in the back of it with TK, but he still had a duty to debrief with his Captain who had surprisingly joined them out in the field. It was there in the debrief that he fould out they had figured out why the specific officers spouses had been targeted. it was a revenge story. Some twisted sense of justice from a time when he was still a rookie, the first trial he had to testify at. The bomber had been targeting anyone involved from the department. And they were already on the move to find the man responsible.
By the time that he'd finished debriefing and made his way to the hospital, he found TK already set up in his own room, hooked up to an I.V. for dehydration and butterfly strips over the gash on his temple.
“Hey.” TK said softly from the bed when he noticed him in the doorway.
“Hey. How’s the head?”
“Throbbing, about as bad as my last abduction.”
Carlos sighed and sat down in the chair next to him, picking up his hand, “The fact that you have something like that to compare it to is a worry. Actually, the fact that you’ve already been in the hospital multiple times since I’ve known you is a worry.”
TK shrugged his shoulders with a smirk, “Unfortunately for you, this is what you’ve signed up for. I’ve already made my peace with it.”
Carlos rolled his eyes and chuckled, “Well I guess I’ll have to make my peace with it too.”
He just adds this moment to the now slowly growing list of the most terrifying moments of his life, the other being their home burning to the ground. He was grateful that overall both incidences had resulted in their relative safety. All he could do was hope against all hope that there won't be any more in their immediate future.
#jess writes#prompt fic#my fic#tarlos fic#911 lone star#911 lone star fic#tuserjamie#userkourt#userkimmy#userpauline#tuserpaige#userjillian#usermaximus#eddiesdiaz#userjilly#usernelly#userKatieJayne#tusernikki#tuserkaz#useraninha#aliceschuyler
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Hello! I've just started getting into Dreamcatcher recently and have fallen for the charismatic rabbit Jiu! I was wondering if I could request a scenario with her? DC is in like a show and 8th member reader is a big fan of the other guests/MCs. She has a nervous habit of picking the skin on her lips so Jiu stops her anr holds her hand to keep her from doing it more. Thanks for your time :))
Soothe
(No problem! I only got into Dreamcatcher like, a month or two back too so we got that in common! ^^ Can our Jiu biased folks raise their hands 👀
Edit: Look forward to a little something I have coming up that will be posted tomorrow. Hope ya’ll will enjoy this thing that I planned out.)
Word count: About 2.6k
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Being an idol, you were taught to keep your reactions in check from your time as a trainee. You remember sitting through hours of classes on etiquettes and how you should reply to questions that might put your reputation at risk. Your managers also knowing how you were easily excited and hyped along with the energy would always constantly remind you to keep your calm before sending you on stages and shows with a gentle pat on your back and cross their fingers. It was an amusing scene to watch sometimes when Bora starts revving up the engine and you would follow right along, which causes a chain reaction back to the hyper dancer. Usually, it’d end up with chaotic screaming and laughter exploding throughout the studios. You were as much of a ball of energy as Bora was, according to everyone who has interacted with you. Sitting comfortably just a month younger than Yoohyeon, you were happily babied by your unnies and were always seen playing around with Yubin and Gahyeon. You were not one to shy from challenges thrown your way, which balanced out the team dynamics when it came to being invited to variety shows. You were unsure of your place when you were added into the group a couple months after Dreamcatcher’s debut, but every time you look around you now, you knew that there was no where else that you’d fit better than with your second family.
Since young, you’d watch the idols perform on stage and you’d be mesmerized by the way they took to the stage. The way they called for attention to themselves without outshining their other members amazed you. You clearly remember watching a stage that blew your mind and stole your breath away, and the idol’s name that would be your bring-up name whenever you were asked in interviews who your idol was. It was during the promotions of Dreamcatcher’s latest album did you receive the news from your managers. Your jaw dropped along with your small pint of ice cream in shock, and you could barely recognize the laughter coming from your members knowing that it was your dream come true. You were going to be promoting the album along with the idol that inspired you to step into the life of an idol. You took a slow but deep breath and let out a screech in excitement before looking at your other members, some covering their ears and some unluckily slow to recognize your change of behavior before you destroyed their hearing. Ending your screech in an awkward chuckle as you realized that the teasing was about to start once they get over the damage, you nudged your head back towards your room, signaling that you were heading back and bolted away before anyone could respond.
Everyone in the same car as you were could literally feel you vibrating from excitement in your seat as you were being driven to the location of the studio. Trapped in a moving vehicle, there was no way to escape the teasing of the older members so you just submitted to your fate, occasionally throwing glances over to Yubin to beg her to help you out. She’d then look up from her phone and a look around the people teasing you before raising her hands up, giving the clear sign that you were on your own. Seeing how you were abandoned by the rapper, you gasped loudly with a “You brat. I’ll get you back later.” which earned you an amused hum in reply before you unwillingly locked eyes with Bora on your way turning back to face the front.
“So, how does our little sunflower feel about finally meeting her idol?”
You could see her grin turn into a smirk as she watch you start squirming, unsure of how to answer her question. Your lips grew dry, trying to find the right words to use to cut the teasing as soon as you could. In the end, no words came out of your mouth as you shrugged and casually turn back forward, ignoring the little “Ya! Look at me when you answer a question!” From Bora. Pretending to fiddle with your phone and silently observing her from the reflection of the screen until she got bored and turned behind her to harass Yoohyeon, you let your thoughts drift. There was no way you could remain calm this time no matter how much pep talk you were given. The thought of merely given the chance to interact with her made your heart beat anxiously, not less to say that you were there to promote your album, in which she has heard and complimented according to the letter sent. Shifting in your seat, you reached your free hand up to brush your slightly dry lips, making a mental note to reapply some more lip balm before entering the studio in a short bit. Right. The studio where you were going to meet your idol. That’s no big deal, the entertainment industry is just this big, you’ll eventually get to meet them one way or the other. Subconsciously, when your fingers brushed over a slightly chapped part of your lips, you begin picking at it. It was only until the van came to a stop did you realize what you were doing and pulled your hand away, licking your lips to moisturize it.
By the time the entire group was gathered in the lobby, you were yet again buzzing with excitement, and possibly fear. Feeling arms wrap around your waist and a head landing on your shoulder, you glance to the side slightly to see Siyeon staring at you with a small comforting smile on her face. Taking a few deep breaths with you in her embrace, you managed to push down some of the nervous feeling knowing that your members although teasing, won’t push the line.
On cue following Minji’s lead, everyone slowly piled into the small studio room, with you waddling slightly as Siyeon has yet to let go of you. Energetic music was playing to bring the atmosphere up, and along with that Bora started bouncing to the music, prompting for everyone else to join in. You were laughing as you struggled to get out of Siyeon’s arms to start the chaos when you looked past your members to meet with the amused face of her. Your mouth suddenly felt dry, and you could feel your throat tighten when the reality hit. It was like a switch in you was hit, and you were conscious of your every action. As the music faded out, everyone took their seat on the couches chuckling at each other’s antics and waited for the next cue.
“As you all know, a few of these members has been guests of our show already but I have finally managed to invite the whole group back into our studio tonight. Let’s welcome... Dreamcatcher back to Studio Moon Night!”
Following the countdown of Minji, everyone did the group introduction. “Dream of me, hello we are Dreamcatcher!” According to the script, everyone was to do a short introduction of themselves starting from Minji who was seated next to you. You glanced at each member as they did their introduction and your eyes occasionally drifted to your idol who was sitting across the group. Being in the same room as the Moon Byuli was honestly more mind blowing than anything, you decided. Her presence was jaw dropping-
A sharp nudge to your sides snapped you out of your daze as you inhaled sharply and look around at your members and their amused faces, trying to hold back their laughter. “H-hello everyone, I’m Dreamcatcher’s sunflower, (y-y/n)!” Chuckles were then heard coming from Moon Byul when you felt hands land onto your shoulders from behind. The introductions continued to the younger members when you look back, you could see a smirk growing on Bora’s face, as your smile dropped, knowing what she was planning. “Actually, our dear sunflower here admires you a lot, Byuli-unnie!” Your eyes widened, not daring to look in the direction of your idol as your face flushed red.
“Is that so, (y/n)-sii?”
Darting your eyes to your idol, you blink blankly and tried to clear your throat and find the right words. Only managing to nod to not embarrass yourself, you hid your face in your hands to drown out the laughter shared.
“Our little sunflower is usually very loud, but look at her now!”
Whining, you peeked out between your fingers and pouted to your leader sitting next to you. Chuckling and giving you a little pat on the head, she threw a look over at the younger member to cut the teasing and let the radio show continue. Finally relenting with a huff, Bora eyed the rest of the members as if to contemplate who to target next once Moon Byul continued the script and prepared to start the actual interview. There was a series of questions that were quickly fired to different members, and in order not to make a fool of yourself again, you kept yourself on edge and alert to whenever you were called upon. Such focus given had you become uncharacteristically quiet that you were barely aware of what you were doing without thinking. Your posture was rigid, and whenever you felt that a question was about to be fired your way, you would reach up to brush and start picking at your lips in attempt to busy your mind to keep it ready.
“(Y/n)-sii! What is your TMI for today?”
Jolting up slightly with your finger still on your lips, you blink blankly at the unexpected question. “My TMI for today...” Glancing over to your leader once again pleading for help, you saw her gaze lowered down to your finger on your lip. “Ah! Jiu-unnie made coffee for everyone this morning!” Pulling your fingers away from your lips, you made a peace sign and beamed. “I drank 2 cups of coffee that Jiu-unnie made!”
“Is that why you snuck into the room and jumped onto me while I was still sleeping, unnie?” Yubin whined from the side after hearing your comment, realizing your reason for your high energy early in the morning. Everyone laughed at her contribution, and you waved it off chuckling along with everyone else. Once the attention was off of you, your fingers automatically made their way up again to your lips but this time it was caught midway with a larger hand interlacing fingers with yours. Blinking blankly at the act, you traced the hand to it's owner to see Minji smiling at you. Bringing your held hands to her lips, she turned it and pressed a soft kiss onto the back of your hand before lowering it onto her lap, clasping it with her other hand. Watching her gently brushing her fingers across your knuckles and smoothing her thumb across the back of your hand, you looked back up to see your leader nod at you before turning to answer a question given to her. The gesture, although a little awkward for someone like you who needed to move around to express yourself grounded you down. Feeling the constant movement on your skin helped you relax and you were slowly going back to chipping into the interview with little comments here and there.
During a song break, everyone was reading through the live comments and causally grooving to the music of your group’s latest song, and exchanging glances with Sua, both of you started doing the upper body half of the song’s choreography. Since Minji has yet to let go of your hand, you both chuckled when you pulled your hand to cover your eyes only to have hers come along to cover half of your face. As the song came to an end, you winked to the camera and leaned towards your leader, giving her a little peck on her cheeks while energetically waving both your intertwined hands between the both of you.
“Wow, that was-” Chuckling as she tried to reorient herself, Moon Byul threw a look over at the comment feed on her screen and back to you. “I noticed a little something, and even everyone watching is saying, (y/n)-sii.” Clasping both her hands together, Moon Byul brought it into the air for the camera to see. “Both of you have been holding each other’s hand for quite a while now. I thought I was your favorite idol.” Pretending to look upset, you started stammering in fear of actually offending your idol.
“I was the one who wanted to hold our dear (y/n)ie’s hands, since she is always so energetic, she is always very warm and I forgot to take my hand warmers onto set.” Pouting back herself, Minji pulled you into a quick hug and nuzzled into you. Seeing this, the rest of the members started chiming in on how they never received such affections from their leader and that you were her favorite. Happily laughing it off, Minji smoothly redirected the conversation back to Moon Byul once again to keep the show going.
When the PD signaled that the cameras were cut, your members started nudging you towards Moon Byul who was packing up her interview cards and scrolling through her phone. Looking back at your leader for reassurance, she gave your hand a tight squeeze and slowly released while nudging you forward. Taking a deep breath, you approached your idol, heart slowly starting to pick up its pace. Seeing you approach, Moon Byul put down her phone and focused her attention on you. “You did good, kid.” Seeing your eyes light up at her compliment, she chuckled again and continued. “I’ll look forward to your next comeback. In the meanwhile...” Picking up her phone again, she held it out for you. “Let’s keep in contact?” You nod vigorously and quickly keyed in your details, only to look up at Moon Byul again. “Can I take a picture with you please?” Ruffling up your hair slightly, as she took back her phone, she gave a nod with a playful grin and quickly snapped a photo of the both of you. Feeling your phone vibrate in your jacket pocket, you pulled it out to see a new message from an unknown contact with the photo of both of you. Bowing low, you started bouncing on the spot. “Thank you so much!”
With a pat on your back, Moon Byul nudged you back to your teammates as you let out a squeal and dived back into Minji’s open arms. Groans and were shared between those that failed to cover their ears in time again as the rest laughed at the antics.
Still clinging onto your leader as you both were the last to leave the elevator, she ran her hand through your hair as the other rubbed your shoulder. “Unnie.” Calling for her attention, Minji looked down at you in her arms and pointed to her own lips. “Ya, your lips won’t look as pretty anymore if you keep picking at it.”
“I know, unnie. Thank you for today.”
Pulling you closer to her, she shook her head. “Not just today. Whenever you feel like wanting to pick at your lip again,” Gentle pats land on your head as you leaned your weight against your leader’s. “My hands are for you to hold, alright?”
“You’re the best, unnie.” Nodding, you felt yourself relax at the soothing actions. “I know.” Frowning, you looked up with a pout to meet the grinning face of your leader. Deciding that you don’t want for her to take back her offer, you huffed in half agreement.
#dreamcatcher imagines#jiu imagines#jiu x reader#jiu fluff#im late in posting because i was too busy playing overwatch sue me#hope ya'll enjoy#im soft to soothing touches#so ya this is what ya'll get
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Ok fine, I caved again. Originally I said I’d at least attempt to not kidnap @shamedump‘s boys again, but their boys are so sweet (and also have to convenient distinction of not actually wanting to hurt their little reader buddy). Dumpling gave me the green light so with their blessing I’m going ahead with Shy’s final prompt for spoopy hide-and-eat with the Bad Sans Gang using Dumpling’s version of the spooky boyos. I hope I channel their personalities adequately, and I hope you guys enjoy!
Movie night with they guys was always a highlight of your week.
You all met as Archer’s castle on a regular basis to just hang out, piling into one room. Thank goodness this was a whole freaking castle, because your gang was pretty big. Despite the size of the room, the couch really wasn’t big enough for your whole group. As per usual Chain, Mage, Dusty, and Mason were crammed on the couch leaving Deca and you to nest on the floor. The plethora of cushions strewn about made that a non issue, luckily. Crash had made himself a hammock out of his own strings overhead, knitting a scarf absently as the movies served as background noise. This week, the reason the seven of you were sprawled over the couch in the first place was the horror movie marathon going on the TV across the room.
You turned away as the blood curdling screams shrieked from the speakers, the delightful sounds of the hot blonde being torn apart by the feral werewolf on screen acting as your backing track as you cried “Oh come on! That’s just gratuitous!” You laughed, entertained by the campiness buried in the gore but still refraining from watching until the wet squelches subsided.
“you ok?” Chain asked, looking you over. (You didn’t miss Mage glancing over at you either.)
“I’m good. Having a good time, but so not looking forward to the nightmares tonight.” you respond, flapping a hand as if to waft away the concern.
“scared of horrible monsters coming to get you in the night?” Mason teased, abandoning his spot on the couch to push at your shoulder and attempt to loom.
Despite the blank sockets and black tears, the goof didn’t scare you so you laughed easily. “Not like that, and you know it. Stoppit.” You started to push him off, which made him double down on the game and try to knock you over into the pillow pile.
Mage broke up the game before it turned into proper rough housing, wrapping one tendril around your waist and another around Mason’s ankle. He yanked you both off the floor, chiding “enough, you two.”
Mason ended up limply hanging upside down, clearly unabashed and jokingly making grabby hands at you.
To prevent further childishness, Mage dumped you into Chain’s lap and dropped Mason into the thickest portion of the pillow pile.
You giggled when Chain wrapped himself around you, setting his chin on the crown of your head and purring about the newfound proximity.
Deca spun around to look at you, “you get nightmares after scary movies?”
“I mean yeah, but it’s a price I’m willing to pay for a good time.” You shrug, as best you can while wrapped up in Chain’s arms.
“Y-y-you know you’re just about the best guarded human-n in the multiverse, right?” Crashed asked, setting hit knitting aside.
“Yeah, I’m well aware that anyone who wanted to get me would have to go through you guys. My brain is just dumb.” You pat the skeleton wrapped around you as best you could, which in your position was patting the thick ecto on his middle since that’s all you could reach.
His belly reacted to the attention by growling, which you could feel while being pressed into it. You could practically feel the mischief coming off Chain as he said “well, i’m plenty willing to make that more literal if you want.” To emphasize, he licked your head.
You pulled away from the intruding tongue, and Chain let you tumble away from him and back onto the floor, laughing as you squealed about him being gross and trying to fix your hair from the huge cowlick Chain had gifted you.
You noticed Dusty quietly saying something to Mason, which was a pleasant surprise as Dusty usually preferred not to speak much if at all. You asked Mason what was up, curious what made the reserved skeleton speak up.
“he’s asking if i think you being taken in would help with the nightmares. so, would it?”
“Uh... dunno. Never tried it before.” You said truthfully.
“why don’t we try it out, then. but make it a game?” Mage asked, grin quirking predatorily.
“Game?” You asked, curious to see where this went.
“yes. you run, we chase. winner gets to keep you for the night.”
“Hah! Am I player or the prize?”
Mage shrugged, “both.”
You glanced around the room and saw several hopeful gazes and a few curious ones. Crash rolled his eyes and went back to his knitting, but you couldn’t deny the puppy dog eyes you were getting from some of the others.
“Alright, game on.”
-----
Crash made a seat for himself and another for Deca high up in the canopy of the woods by the castle, which would serve as your arena for the game. (Thematically appropriate, plus no one could tumble down unforgiving stone stairs.) Crash and Deca tapped out before the game began, neither of them really wanting a guest your size. The others still seemed gung ho, so they were on the forest floor with you.
You waved your flashlight around the area, already scoping out routes, as Mage explained that a victory meant catching you, no shortcuts allowed, and stipulations about magic to keep you from getting hurt during the chase. You kinda tuned it out, instead strategizing. Not like you had to worry about limiting spells you couldn’t cast in the first place.
You got a minute head start, and your heart was pounding as you ran. 60 seconds had gone by in your mental countdown, which meant you were officially being hunted.
You were mildly nervous, but far from afraid. You did try to tamp down on the nervous feeling and instead focus on your excitement about a new game. Hopefully a more positive feeling would be harder for Mage to track.
You weren’t left alone too terribly long, as Dusty had a habit of popping up randomly, forcing you to run away with him snickering behind you. You quickly caught on that he was just there for jumpscares, which made you laugh. You weren’t totally positive where the others were for now, though. That made you more paranoid.
The first time you actually felt the game was afoot was when Mason suddenly appeared on your right and made a grab for you. You dodged the grab, and darted in the opposite direction. Being chased by Mason, you almost missed the dark chuckle in front of you. Luckily you didn’t, as your quick turn saved you from Mage’s tendril’s snapping out towards you. The realization that the tendrils were significantly harder to dodge than Mason had been made you realize Mason wasn’t actually trying to catch you, instead herding you towards Mage.
The realization that Mason was helping Mage rather than himself wasn’t surprising, but definitely amusing. You had to dodge plenty more of Mason’s divebombs, and Mage quickly caught on that you knew what was going on and actually had to chase after you now as well, rather than waiting for Mason to bring you close enough for a grab. You heard Deca laughing from high above when Mason lunged at you but missed, ending in a face plant. Good to know the two non participants were still entertained. Given this opening, you took off yet again only to be stopped by Dusty springing from a shrub.
It was no effort to get away from him, as per usual. But how did he keep finding you so easily?!
Oh, Delta. It was the freaking flashlight! You realized the bright light was all but a beacon in the dark woods. Mason had given it to you, hadn’t he? Ooh, that cheeky little-!
Fine, you could use their trick against them. You jammed the light in the crook of a tree and took of running, leaving the bulb alight. The laughter from both Mason and Mage meant they’d found your trick, but you were far from your boobytrap and felt a sense of victory.
Your skeleton sightings became fewer now, and your night vision had finally adjusted to the dim light of the moon. But it also heightened the nerves instinctual for humans in the dark. You actually screamed the next time Dusty caught you by surprise, and while you backpedalled you didn’t miss the surprised look on Dusty’s face before you felt two solid somethings wrap around from behind you and lock you in place.
You wriggled with all your might out of a pure fear reaction but stilled when you realized two things. 1) The things holding you were big, thick arms. 2) The plushness of the body you were being held to meant it was Chain.
You looked up, breathy laughter tinging your words as you said “I only saw you once this whole game, but wow did you make it count!”
Deca shortcutted to the ground beside you, while Dusty and Chain chuckled at your outburst.
“figured ambush was the way to go. picked a spot and waited for the right moment, and dusty gave me the perfect window.” Chain explained.
“did you even know he was there, dusty?” Deca asked.
He shook his head, smiling wide.
Crash seems to have been the one who called Mason and Mage that the game was over, as all three approached in a group.
“well played, chain. and you did pretty well too, human.” Mage said as he approached.
Once the trio joined, the group was left in a loose ring and you still being held by the large skeleton who’d caught you. Conversation was immediate and comfortable, reliving some of the more lively moments and near misses with glee and laughing over mistakes made. After a bit, the chatter was cut by a rolling growl from Chain’s stomach which served as a reminder as to what victory entailed.
“well, the wager was already set. we’ll go set up the sleeping arrangements and meet you back at the castle. see you later, human.” Mage said, leading the others away and leaving just you and Chain out in the cool night air.
“you ready to get in your sleeping bag?” Chain asked, adjusting his grip on you at last to a more bridal style.
“Hah, yeah. Sounds pretty comfy to me.”
Chain smiled before gently fitting your head into his mouth while you went limp to make the next few moments easier on your host. Chain started swallowing with an easy, steady rhythm and you felt yourself relax in response. This was far from your first time being taken in by one of your skeletal companions so you knew the drill. It was with a happy sigh from Chain that you finished your downward journey and slid into the more open space of his stomach. The magic around you was mildly cool but comfortable, and the softness let you sink in a bit and feel cradled and safe.
Chain’s hand pressed in from outside to steady his newly added weight and you felt the light sway as he began to walk back into the castle. You began to rub at the surrounding walls in a successful attempt to get the monster to purr, and he even started rubbing back at you with your free hand.
He did you the favor of turning his magic transparent for you once you were back in the castle. He knew you preferred being able to see people if conversations were happening, and knowing how these nights went sleep wasn’t on the itinerary just yet despite the bedding being set up and pajamas being on.
Once you host had settled where he’d be sleeping, conversations flowed and jokes were made amongst the group with little difference from before despite your seating arrangements. Eventually, Mason approached and started to lightly pester you through the barrier of magic between you two. Chain seemed more entertained by the banter than bothered, but you hadn’t missed the black puddle that formed on the floor behind Mason.
A tendril emerged, wrapped around Mason’s ribs, and dragged him in. The satisfied look on Mage’s face would have clued anyone in the group in to where the troublemaker had ended up even without seeing him be puddled. Any nonexistent doubts also would have been dashed by Mage’s hand remaining on his belly the rest of the evening.
After a while, sleep was imminent and everyone settled comfortably strewn about Mage’s room. Mage and his internal guest were of course veiled on Mage’s four poster bed while everyone else was on various cots and cushions. Even without the luxury of a king sized mattress you felt exceedingly comfortable.
“doin ok in there?” Chain asked quietly.
“Oh, peachy on my end. How ‘bout you?” You kneaded at the wall the way you knew he liked.
He purred at your attentions, rubbing back as best he could from outside. “just wondering if this nightmare cure will do you any good, but i’m feeling pretty peachy too.”
“I will say, pretty hard to feel vulnerable in here. I’ll let you know come morning.”
“good. night, y/n.”
“Goodnight, big guy.”
You both settled in, and it felt like Chain falling asleep took mere seconds. You smiled fondly at the soft sounds of his slowed breathing and his body working around you.
As you drifted off, you couldn’t help but wonder if the chasing game would be played again at some point.
...
Maybe next week you could watch the sequel to tonight’s movie.
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Christmas Countdown, Christmas Day: Simple Traditions
Jotaro isn’t big on holidays, but you two share a few special moments every year.
(a/n): And we’re done! Thank you all for reading! The Jotaro simp in me couldn’t resist saving him for Christmas! It does get a tad angsty. Please enjoy, and Happy Holidays!
Ao3 Link
The first Christmas you spent with Jotaro was in the middle of the Egyptian desert. As the others slept, the two of you lit a cigarette under the stars, talking about anything and everything in the chilly desert air. Both just teenagers back then, time easily slipped away from you as you saw the sun rise over the horizon.
After all the drama and heartbreak following your trip to Egypt, you two found yourselves living near each other in Tokyo. Despite this, you never saw him much; he liked to keep busy while you tried your best to live a normal life after everything.
However, you always made a point to see him and share a cigarette on Christmas.
It was a simple tradition that evolved over the years, starting simply with you two smoking on your apartment’s balcony. Over the years as you two matured, you started smoking fancier cigars and taking a drive around the city to look at the Christmas lights. The cigars didn’t stay long, as you both quit smoking, and were swapped with sharing an aged scotch or bourbon.
You both lived your own lives, rarely hearing from each other during the year proper. One year after another, he would come to you on December twenty-fifth, telling you about his escapades. One year, he came to you with his college adventures, another with a steady girlfriend, then with a wife and a baby on the way. The Christmas after that, he brought you a polaroid of his infant daughter, Jolyne.
You remember how your heart hurt at the photo, how a man you considered to be one of your best friends had a whole life outside of you. While he was married with a baby, you couldn’t keep relationships going for more than a few dates. What occurred in Egypt still haunted you, and it felt hard to try and be with someone who couldn’t understand your experience.
Another few Christmas’ went by, your heart swelling every time you saw Jotaro’s little smile as you two greeted each other. You flew to America to see him one year, seeing as he had to be with his real family for Christmas, and you spent a great night drinking with him in his Florida home after meeting his wife and child. However, you could tell the married couple was on the rocks; only a few words were exchanged between them before she denied your invitation to join them. The next Christmas, you noticed how he wasn’t wearing his wedding ring. The one after that, they were officially separated.
Now you were with him once again, rubbing your hands together to stave off the cold. While you would usually drive around to observe the holiday lights, his car wouldn’t start, so he insisted on walking you home himself. The evening air was crisp, no wind blowing through as the world was silent and still for the two of you. His neighbors were certainly festive, all of their houses lined with little twinkly lights and tacky blow-ups. The bright colors reflected off of his white coat nicely, you noticed, the gold accents shining at you as you two strolled down the sidewalk. Occasionally, one of you would comment on one of the houses, but this year, you two were oddly quiet. It was officially ten years since everything went down- perhaps you both weren’t in a very festive mood.
He looked over to find your sullen expression, trying to hide his own as he sighed. Wordlessly, he reached for your hand, taking you by surprise. You knew he wasn’t much for physical contact, let alone PDA- but it was nice. His warm hand tenderly squeezed yours as you turned to look up at him.
“Jotaro?” you asked him, squeezing his hand back. His eyes met yours, both of your brows knit in quiet sorrow. You had stopped crying over everything- everyone- a long time ago, but tears threatened to prick at your eyes as you knew he felt the same pain as you.
“I feel it too,” he speaks after a moment, confirming your thoughts, “I know this time of year is hard for both of us. Even the old man gets sentimental around now.”
Silently, your hands went from simply clasping one another to intertwining your fingers, rubbing your thumb along the back of his hand as you somberly nodded. Without another word, you continued down the road, your steps slowing as you tried to lock this moment in your memory forever. Secretly, you always hoped you and Jotaro would end up together. He shared your trauma and was the only person who truly understood it. Processing everything as a teenager was hard-especially knowing you had to keep it all a secret.
“Jotaro,” you halted, speaking before you could think, “I need to tell you something.” Stopping, he turned to face you as you spoke.
“I just need you to know this is my favorite day of the year.” you tell him, your face turning red despite the cold.
“It’s a lot of people’s favorite day of the year, (y/n),” he dryly replies, only deepening the blush on your face.
“It’s my favorite day because of you!” You admit, his eyes widening in surprise as you start to ramble, “I look forward to spending Christmas with you all year, all because I’m so excited to see you. Hell, I write down the most interesting things I do all year so I don’t forget to tell you! I just- I miss you so much when you’re gone. I wish I could talk to you everyday instead of just the one!”
Looking down, Jotaro’s eyes narrow as he thinks over your words. Watching him nervously, you mentally chastise yourself for being so forward with him. Despite being a very forward person, he was never good at dealing with other people. Especially when it came down to feelings. You fear that you may have overwhelmed him.
“...I didn’t know you felt the same way.”
Perking up at his response, you watch as his shoulders relax. You’re startled when he grips your hand a tad tighter, having nearly forgotten the intimate gesture shared between you two.
“I just-” you begin, as he hesitantly meets your eyes again, “I feel like you’re the only person I can really talk to. After everything that happened, we can’t lead normal lives.”
“-Trust me, I get it,” Jotaro surprisingly cuts you off, “I’ve tried having a normal life, and we both saw how that panned out.”
You both looked back at each other, the sorrowful expressions melting away as tiny smiles creeped onto your faces. Much to your surprise, a little snicker left his lips. You couldn’t remember the last time you heard his laughter, the light, low chuckle only growing as you laughed along with him.
“We’re both hopeless, aren’t we?” you giggle out, the laughter dying down after a moment as you both caught your breath.
“Yeah,” he grinned, pausing a moment to gulp before he continued to speak, “But we can be hopeless together.”
Cautiously, you inch closer to him, releasing his hand as you go to wrap your arms around him. You watch him closely to see if he flinches, but oddly, he reciprocates. As you reach up around his neck, he pulls you closer, his large arms loosely gripping the small of your back. Melting into the embrace, you set your head against his warm chest, listening to his calm heartbeat as you heat each other from the frigid weather.
“Polnareff barely writes anymore, and the Old Man- well, he’s just getting older,” Jotaro comments, the massive man looking down over you, ”It’s so hard. Dealing with all of the grief alone.”
“We don’t have to anymore,” you nuzzle into him, smiling like a giddy schoolgirl, “I love you, Jojo. I want it to be Christmas everyday.”
You don’t see it, but he blushes at your words, raising one of his hands to pat at the back of your head. He doesn’t respond as you pull away from him, but his uncharacteristic smile and tender eyes as he takes your hand again says enough.
Little did you know, you’d be doing this in your shared home next Christmas.
#jjba x reader#jjba#Jotaro x reader#jotaro kujo#part 4 jotaro#4taro#inbox is open!#Christmas Countdown#fluff#angst
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Finally done waiting for Garridebs!
A rather self-indulgent retrospective of Tumblr fandom history
As many of you may know – or also already may have been looking forward to – another handful of Sherlock Holmes stories are about to enter the public domain in the United States, and therefore worldwide, on January 1, 2020:
The Illustrious Client
The Sussex Vampire
The Three Garridebs
This means that only six more stories still remain under copyright, with the last few finally falling into worldwide public domain on January 1, 2023.
Not quite unexpectedly, my focus in this little series of posts to celebrate the countdown to January 1 will lie on 3GAR – not only because the word "Garridebs" is literally part of my URL, and not even because of the quite literal cliffhanger we've been given in series 4,
but – for anyone who doesn't know or needs reminding – because of the quote that started it all:
“Like most male friendships, everything is assumed, and nothing is spoken of.
Oh, except for once. Just once, and that’s your lot. If you’re going to read it in order, like I did, you’ve got a long time to wait for The Adventure of the Three Garridebs, but patience, and keep reading in order - you’ll be blinking back the tears when the moment comes.”
– Steven Moffat, Introduction to A Study in Scarlet (2011), BBC Books
The fandom has expected the adaptation of 3GAR in BBC Sherlock for a very long time – given that the moment Watson gets shot is the "only" time he can truly see that Holmes is human after all.
In an instant he had whisked out a revolver from his breast and had fired two shots. I felt a sudden hot sear as if a red-hot iron had been pressed to my thigh. There was a crash as Holmes’s pistol came down on the man’s head. I had a vision of him sprawling upon the floor with blood running down his face while Holmes rummaged him for weapons. Then my friend’s wiry arms were round me, and he was leading me to a chair.
“You’re not hurt, Watson? For God‘s sake, say that you are not hurt!”
It was worth a wound — it was worth many wounds — to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation.
“It’s nothing, Holmes. It‘s a mere scratch.”
He had ripped up my trousers with his pocket-knife.
“You are right,” he cried with an immense sigh of relief. “It is quite superficial.” His face set like flint as he glared at our prisoner, who was sitting up with a dazed face. “By the Lord, it is as well for you. If you had killed Watson, you would not have got out of this room alive. Now, sir, what have you to say for yourself?”
In short: It is the perfect setup for a love confession.
Unsurprisingly this scene inspired the fandom to come up with the most emotional, dramatic, and oftentimes angst-filled headcanons possible.
And, boy, did we all not only deliver on this trope, we created this trope.
There are so many fanworks including the Garridebs scenario on here, on AO3, and elsewhere that one can't even count them all properly – and believe me, I've tried: This blog contains a collection of more than 800 Garridebs-related posts so far (and still counting!).
Over the years, we've had them all: The angsty confrontations. The standoffs and life-and-death scenarios.
Mary trying to shoot Sherlock, again, and John catching the bullet for him. Moriarty burning Sherlock's heart out by blowing up the building John is currently held hostage in. A burglar or murderer trying to get away, and knifing John in a struggle. Sherlock shooting John by accident. Sometimes, John deciding to end his own life after drowning in his own self-loathing and guilt (as well as a lot of alcohol).
We've had the reactions. The aftermaths.
Sherlock frantically rushing to John's side. In lighter scenarios, the occasional banter, sometimes even giggling. If they weren't so lucky, Sherlock desperately trying to keep John awake, to stop the bleeding by pressing onto John's wound with his own scarf – just like John taught him that one time. The John in Sherlock's mind palace appearing in the moment of emotional turmoil to calm Sherlock down, to talk him through it, to guide, and to comfort him. Sherlock calling Mycroft to scream and cry into his phone, begging– no, commanding his big brother to just DO something. The sirens of the ambulance finally being within earshot. Lestrade silently putting a blanket over Sherlock's shoulders as John gets taken to the hospital, while Sherlock’s doomed to do nothing. To just wait for things to come.
Sherlock frantically pacing up and down in the waiting room of the hospital, afraid to lose John, paralised in shock and fear, losing himself in the darkness of his own mind palace, until the doctors finally come out of the surgery to give him the news.
Sherlock not leaving John's bedside, waiting for hours and hours, wanting to be there when John wakes up, until he falls asleep with his head on John's mattress, overcome with relief and exhaustion.
John finally waking up only to see Sherlock sleeping soundly next to him, their fingers still intertwined. Sherlock startling awake the second he notices the change in John's breathing pattern, and John is looking at him drowsily, and they smile, and they both don’t know what to say, but it is okay, because John will be okay, and if John is okay, then Sherlock is also going to be okay, and Sherlock didn't even realise he's been babbling this out loud, until John tells him that he did, with the hint of a smile on his face that is almost fond, and Sherlock doesn't understand what this expression on John’s face could possibly mean.
John absentmindedly continuing to stroke the back of Sherlock's hand with his own thumb and not wanting to stop doing so any time soon.
Sherlock taking John to Baker Street, bringing him home, and finally they're back to what they used to be, but something's changed, and it's something so heavy and light at the same time, it makes them both relish this anticipation of a different future – their future – and John continues to heal, and Sherlock keeps looking after him, keeps changing the bandages, keeps making the tea, keeps picking trashy movies for them to watch while eating the Chinese takeout they ordered, until someday they gaze at each other just a little too long, they touch each other just a little too frequently, they hesitate to break the emotional tension for just the right amount of time, and the inevitable finally happens.
At least that's the case for all the times they manage to not be completely all over each other the moment they close the door to the flat when John comes home from the hospital.
Sometimes, it doesn't go all that smoothly. There's the fighting. The guilt. The regret. The times when Mary or the baby had to suffer as well. Sometimes they confess their feelings in a rage, by accident, but that's okay, and they will be okay, and they fall into each other, and they pull at each other's clothes, almost as if clinging to life itself, and they will be okay just as long as they're Them, as long as there's This.
There are the unusual scenarios as well. The surprising ones.
Sometimes Sherlock's the one to get shot instead of John. Sometimes it happens in Victorian times and Holmes cries out Watson’s first name. Sometimes John doesn't get physically hurt at all, and sometimes he stays behind maimed, the eyepatch now permanently being part of his wardrobe.
Sometimes one of them actually dies.
And sometimes, you think of a smutty Garridebs scenario you would like to write, until you realise that Mark Gatiss already did it for you in an adaptation of Dracula on BBC Radio 4 – no joke! (x)
What I'm trying to say is … it was quite a ride.
The best.
Honestly, I want to thank you all so much for these last few years. It was a blast, and I truly hope there's still many more fanfics, and fanart, and headcanons, and meta, and any other kind of fanwork to come.
However, this series is not going to be me rambling about what the fandom created here on Tumblr. I just had the need to recap, to reflect, and also to catch the new people up who've not been here while all of this unfolded.
But from here on we’re going back to when it all started:
Tomorrow we'll go into the history of the Holmesian side of things – and, lo and behold, of course the first post is going to be about the original canon story itself. After that, we'll dive deeper into all the other adaptations.
And I can’t wait to share all of this.
Update: Read the whole now completely published series of posts about the Garridebs adaptations here (x)!
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IXD303 - Project Stages/Reflection
For my IXD303 digital project prototype, I decided to create a VR app for elderly people in care homes. At the beginning, I was thinking about creating an COVID app for teenagers and adults, that they could get an idea as to how long we have been in lockdown and a final countdown until the end of isolation, to give the person a goal to strive for and a moment in time to look forward to. And within this app, they could record their daily habits and routines, to keep them busy during lockdown.
However, I had to scrap this idea because, when I was in groups with my peers, we all agreed to study elderly people in cares homes as our intended audience. This gave me the opportunity to use VR. The reason for this was because, I myself are a fan of VR and I’m really interested in how it works and is created. Furthermore, nobody else seemed to be going down this route, which would add to the uniqueness of the project.
Research and Sketching
Research
The first thing I began doing once I decided to do VR, was to begin researching VR as a whole and for elderly people in particular, with and without disabilities. (I talked about my findings in a different blog post.) In the end, I decided my target audience wasn’t limited to one small group of elderly people, like the examples I researched, which was VR and dementia. This idea to design just for people with dementia was already taken. So, I decided to make mine for all elderly people, of course people who are unable to see (blind) or have any other limitations that they can’t use a headset, would be ruled out of this.
Nevertheless, I wanted to create a meditative app with the sole purpose of targeting elderly peoples mental health and helping them to feel stress-free from all the horrors and fears of the affects of COVID19, especially in care homes that was hit badly than nearly any other institution. I couldn’t imagine the fear, stress and death elderly people in these care homes were experiencing. So to take their minds off this, I wanted to create this app. Once, I knew what was required of me, I began looking at possible VR apps to take influence from.
I found apps such as “relax VR”, which is a meditative app that people can use to do yoga or simply relax. This really helped with the foundation of my app. It had some great features to take influence from. I even watched a full 15min review on YouTube of the app, just to see what it was like to navigate it. Immediately after this, I started thinking of names to call my project. With situations like these, I find it quite difficult to think of a name there and then. In my experience, I have to go about my daily business and think about a name then, in my spare time. I did exactly this and I came up with a few names.
I was mindful not to spend too much time on this task, as a name can always be changed later on if not suited. You can see from the names above that they are quite similar in one way, being that they are other words for a paradise or a happy place. e.g. oasis and tropic. They are used to describe a beautiful paradise almost. Anyway, in the end I settled for Nova, named after a supernova which when researched it is described that a supernova (if were seen with the naked eye) is one or if not the most beautiful and extraordinary thing you will ever witness. Which is quite related to my app, as it involves looking at 360 degree images of the beautiful views this world has to offer. Hence why I named it Nova.
Sketching the Logo
With regards to the logo, I again took influence from relax VR’s logo. I really liked the simplicity of it and the fact it was all low case as well, made it appealing and relaxing to look at. So I then began brainstorming a few ideas on paper.
I liked having the idea of the app logo relate to outer space, after its name, as you can see in the sketches. But then I realised that the app isn’t about outer space, its about relaxing and mediating. So I scrapped the idea of using this design. Still, it was good to have done. In the end, I received feedback from my tutor stating that with this digital product, there is no need to create a logo or a fancy looking visual marque. Just to have it in a sans-serif font. So taking onboard this feedback, I did just that. And I concluded with this design:
Early Designs for Name and Logo
But nevertheless, here is a few designs I made for possible visual marques and a logo before I was told to keep it simple. These were my previous ideas:
With regards to the slogan, I seen examples on Google that stated “Turning your dreams into reality”. I thought this was a very nice slogan and very relevant to my project. So I decided to change this around a bit and settle for, “Where Dreams Become Reality”. This would give the app a bit more professionality.
Sketching the App
Not long after this, I started sketching out some possible layouts for the application. Keeping in mind that I am designing for elderly people, I was aware to keep the navigation buttons large and the amount of content minimal. So began sketching. Below you can see my first drawing:
Main Page and Music Page
Location Page
Settings Page
As you can see I kept the buttons pretty large and easy to read. I wanted to include a music page were the elderly person, with the assist of a carer, is able to change the background song for when they are navigating through the app. I took influence from an app called Jaunt VR which is also a full immersive app, that allows you see different settings, whether it be up on stage with Paul McCartney or base jumping off a cliff. I copied the layout and the design of the boxes and settings, as seen below.
Sketch 2
I then created a second sketch to see if I can make the design more straightforward and easier to understand. I thought the settings and music page were quite alright, so not much changes were needed to that.
These sketches depicted how the app was going to be navigated. There is a button for the city, one for beach and one for forests. This was the design I wanted to follow. I had to be sure to get the dimensions right also. In order for the person to access the link/next page, they simply have to move the cursor which is lined with and built into the headset, to the particular button they want to access for 3 seconds. This will then lead the user to that page.
Buttons
With regards to the buttons, I originally took influence from relax VR again. Within that app the navigating buttons are rounded and appear to be like a large translucent bubbles.
I thought this was a really cool design and I loved how the buttons looked like balls of water that animated too. And as water is a great mediator and gives off a calming feel, this was a good move. So the next stage, before I began making the app, was to create the buttons on Illustrator. I created three drafts of buttons in total.
These were my first designs for the buttons:
This is only a small snippet of the buttons I created. At the beginning, I liked this design for the buttons. I wanted to include the colours, blue, green and white, as they were found to be relaxing colours and most associated with mediation. The font however, came to be less appealing when added to an image. So, I turned for help from my tutor and again I received great feedback on what I should do instead, which was to leave it as a san-serif also.
I once again took onboard this feedback and changed the buttons immediately. I research fonts to use and I came across the font that is used in Spotify. I am a user of Spotify and I really like their font. It really suits being in an app. So I decided to use this. Which resulted in me creating this:
This immediately looked better. The font really stuck out more professionally. But that wasn’t the last time I edited my buttons. As the time went past, I noticed that the buttons needed something else to help draw out the background. And this was when I came up with the idea of creating vector icons on Illustrator to add to the buttons. Of course, that meant that I had to make them square, but this however suited better for my Glitch work (see glitch blog post). I simply found small vector images and traced over them in Illustrator and pasted them in my buttons. These were the final design for my project.
An example of what they looked like:
The background colour appears darker in the actual project. In Tumblr it is showing it as a very light blue. Anyway, these buttons I loved. It is mad how a bit of icons and shapes can give an image a bit of life. To see the rest of the buttons, access the link to my work which can be found on my other blog post.
In conclusion, I am quite happy with the work I completed in XD for my digital product. I decided to cut the length of the app down a bit as it was totalling to 65 pages, which was quite a lot and overwhelming. To do this, I only created pages for: Forests, Beaches, Cities and Night Sky. My original design included hotels and piers. In the end, I thought this was a good move. Nevertheless, I did the best I could to minimalize the app and make it as straightforward as I possibly could. I have learnt that creating a VR app is quite time consuming and involves a lot of planning and research. An example would be, collecting a variety of 360 degree images on the internet. This was very time consuming as there is very little amounts of free 360 images. Many of them are repetitive and share the same location, which I don’t want.
If I had more time to learn about VR and was able to redo the project again, I would probably attempt to create the app as an actual VR project on the likes of A-frame or Unity 3D. I think the ability to create a full-blown VR website from scratch would be an unbelievable achievement. Which leads me to the question, what do I wish I learnt before doing this project? And again it would be, that I wish I learnt in depth what it takes to create a real VR app. However, this is always something I could learn for for the next time I decide to create a VR app or website.
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Evil New Year’s Resolution
Happy New Year Eve everyone!
~
One would think given how often Peach had been the target of various evil schemes in the past her castle would have better security. To be fair, those schemes had been from people who were alive but there were ways to keep the dead out and E. Gadd, the expert and inventor for many such ways, was an ally of hers so one would think she’d cover all her bases just in case. But whatever, King Boo wasn’t going to question his good fortune.
Finding Peach’s room took almost no time at all; it was extravagant as expected from a princess’ room and very pink. Not the only colour in the room but its presence far outweighed any other to the point of being borderline annoying. At least it was neat and tidy so King Boo wouldn’t have to wait around whilst surrounded by a mess. Waiting at all sucked but he couldn’t risk having his ploy discovered especially so early. So with a sigh, he settled down to wait in the corner.
He was in luck though; it wasn’t even quite half an hour before Peach came into the room. “Yes, good night to you too Toadsworth,” she was saying over her shoulder as she stepped in. There was a reply but it was inaudible from King Boo’s position in the far corner.
After closing the door, Peach turned and flounced further into the room, completely oblivious to King Boo’s presence for now. She went straight to her vanity dresser. Standing before it, she should be able to see his reflection in the mirror as he slid into position behind her. … She let out a gasp. Before she could scream or even start to turn around to face him, he pulled on his magic and the magic he’d stored in his crown to force his soul into her body.
-
After a few brief moments of mostly nothing he was suddenly quite uncomfortable. The floor was too solid beneath him as gravity pushed him down onto it. Peach’s heart beat in her chest rhythmically as her lungs instinctively worked to pull in air and then expel. He could stop both processes if he wanted to and he kind of did because it was a rather unpleasant sensation after going so long without experiencing it that he’d forgotten it but inhabiting a rotting corpse would render his plan nigh on impossible so he’d just have to deal with it.
Peach was confused, she had no idea what happened; he could feel her emotions and thoughts brush against him, stronger now that he was paying attention to her. A spike of fear ran through her as he sat up and pulled her hands into to look at them as he flexed them. He’d forgotten what having hands was like too – not that he needed them when he could use magic for everything.
Hello princess. He thought at her with a chuckle.
She gasped again as her fear spiked higher immediately followed by righteous anger. ‘King Boo! What do you want? And… what’s happening?’
You’re my meat puppet now and you’re going to help me get some vengeance.
Oh, she was very frightened now and even if she wasn’t his true target it was still quite nice. ‘Mario will save me.’ Some of her fear melted away at her confidence in that statement. That just couldn’t do.
Yeah, sure because he’s done such a good job defeating me before.
‘Luigi then. He’ll beat you up like he always does you dumb giant marshmallow!’
King Boo growled; how dare she call him a marshmallow? Not this time because I have you. Meaning nothing could be done to him without hurting Peach which neither Mario or Luigi would do willingly.
‘Fuck you!’
King Boo ignored her this time. Instead, he stood up. It proved to be harder than it seemed; he had to contend with gravity and legs were far more unstable than just being able to float was. He took one step and… lost his precarious balance, landing on Peach’s face.
‘Ha! You can’t even walk, how pathetic.’
He growled both internally and externally. You can’t fly, that’s far more pathetic. Legs were an inferior way of getting around and he hated them already. But he needed to get used to using them again before the New Year’s Eve party tomorrow night. So, determined to ensure his plan would be perfect, he stood up again. All he needed was a little practice walking and all would be good.
New Year’s Eve
King Boo looked into the mirror, ensuring the hair dye hadn’t been bleached away by his magic yet and that the contacts were still in place. Neither was an exact match for Peach hair and eye colour but it was close enough that the dim lighting of the party should obscure it enough to make it hard to notice. Disguising his crown had proven to be far harder so instead he’d rendered it invisible.
‘Mario’s not going to be fooled by you,” Peach cut in, more angry now than afraid. ‘Neither will…’
He growled at her, drowning out the rest of that thought. It had only been a day and he was already sick and tired of her. He could block out her thoughts and emotions fairly well but whenever she wanted to say something to him it was a lot harder to not hear it.
But at least he looked the part of the princess, mostly anyway. Her one pair of non-heeled shoes didn’t match the fancy gown – which like her normal dresses was too pink for his tastes – but there was no way he was wearing heels of any height. They made the whole balancing thing even more of a chore. So, doing his best to ignore Peach and her angry nagging, he left her room and started for the main hall.
“Everything’s all set and ready to go,” Toadsworth said as she strode in. And truly everything was set and ready to go; snack and drink tables flanked the hall, balloons covered the ceiling, and the big clock with the ‘Happy New Year’ banner had been centered against the wall on one side of the room.
“Thank you,” he said with a forced smile, doing his best to imitate Peach’s speech pattern. “Happy New Year.”
“Happy New Year to you too Princess!” he replied seemingly totally fooled. Which frustrated Peach while making King Boo quite proud. Now all he had to do was fool Mario and Luigi, how hard could that be?
-
As predicted Mario and Luigi were among the first guests to arrive – Gooigi for some reason wasn’t with them, basically sealing King Boo’s victory here because they were the only one who might be able to detect him. They both wore dresses; Mario red and Luigi green. Which was a surprise, he’d never seen them dress that way before, but honestly a pleasant one; it would make them look better once in their portraits.
The look Mario gave him as they exchanged New Year’s greetings and well wishes made him want to gag. But he was a decent actor when he really tried and showed no outward sign of disgust. Nor did he react to Peach’s anger and frantic futile attempts to wrest control back from him.
All he had to do was keep that act up for a handful of hours until midnight. Purely for the drama of it, he was going to make his move at the exact start of the new year.
***
Something had seemed off the moment Luigi had stepped into the main hall of Peach’s castle. What it might be, he couldn’t say to save his life but something wasn’t right. He’d been sure it was his imagination as there wasn’t anything visually off but as midnight crept ever closer he was more and more convinced that that wasn’t the case. But what was it?
If he didn’t know better, he’d say it was ghosts but last he’d checked the castle wasn’t haunted. If only he had Gooigi or Polterpup with him to know for sure though, but Polterpup didn’t do well at parties, especially fancy ones such this, and Gooigi was helping E. Gadd with an experiment; when asked they’d said they preferred to miss the party to continue with that.
“Peach is acting a bit off,” Mario said when Luigi finally broke down and asked him if he sensed anything strange.
“What do you mean?” Luigi asked because he hadn’t noticed that. To be fair, he didn’t know Peach nearly as well as Mario and wasn’t spending as much time with her tonight.
“I don’t know just… not quite right. She seems excited though, I think. Which is probably good, right?”
Hmmm… maybe she was finally thinking of making a move on Mario. It’d be about time if so, the way they danced around their feelings for each other had been going on for quite a while now and thus they needed to just get it over with already and talk about it. But then again maybe it had something to do with whatever Luigi was feeling. What could the correlation be though?
“But uh… why are you asking?” Mario continued. “Is something bothering you?”
“Uh… yeah. I don’t know what though just… something’s not right.” And he hated that he couldn’t articulate what.
“Well, last time you felt this way it was at the Last Resort Hotel and we brushed it off and that ended up being a mistake. So maybe it’s ghosts again?”
“I don’t know, maybe.”
“Or maybe you’re just anxious about the new year?”
“Yeah, maybe. … Probably.” He’d certainly gotten that way about things before.
“Well if anything happens, I got your back. I’m going to go chat with Peach again, see if I can’t figure out what’s up with her. See you later.” He gave Luigi a slight tap on the shoulder with his fist before heading off.
***
As was standard for fancy New Year parties, people paid more and more attention to the clock as midnight approached. What they didn’t know was that more and more boos crept into the hall too, eager to witness the grand finale or to assist King Boo if he needed them. He didn’t think he would though.
At a minute to midnight, he had everyone living facing the clock. He stood behind them on a raised dais, ostensibly ready to lead the verbal countdown to the new year. What he was really doing though was prepping the portrait. It wasn’t a large party but there were still a substantial number of people, sucking that many people up into a portrait all at once would be a bit difficult but it could be done if the portrait was big enough and the pull of his magic into it was strong enough.
The countdown started soon after he’d magically stretched the portrait to the right size. “Ten… nine…” he said in unison with everyone else as he channeled his magic through the portrait, opening it up to suck people in. “…eight… seven… six…” If anyone noticed the soft purple glow coming the portrait and turned around to investigate, his plan might be in trouble. “…five… four…” Intoxicated and engrossed in the clock, no one did though. “… three… two…”
On “one,” Mario, standing a short distance away, glanced back. The fondness in his expression immediately morphed into fear and surprise. All he had time for was a gasp as the clock struck midnight a second later and King Boo snapped the giant portrait down onto everyone, sucking them all up into it.
Maniacal boo laughter filled the hall instead of the cheer that normally would’ve gone up. Trapped in his body, Peach cried and flung anger and despair at King Boo which only made him laugh harder. Ah, victory at last was so, so sweet.
With a chuckle, he levitated the portrait off the floor leaned it against the wall. With loud cheers and laughter, the boos gathered closer to admire it alongside him.
As was the way with such portraits, everyone trapped within it faced outwards, the expression on their face the same as the moment the painting had lowered onto the. It was mostly Toads, though several friends of the Mushroom Kingdom were here too, including a handful of Yoshis. And there was Mario, the only one with a scared expression which was wonderful. … But as King Boo’s eyes continued to rove the canvas, it became more and more obvious that something, no someone was missing.
“Where’s Luigi?” one of the boos pipped up because well, Luigi was nowhere to be seen on the canvas.
***
Cowering behind a pillar, Luigi flinched at the sound of his name. Overwhelmed by the feeling of something being wrong, he’d snuck out to get some fresh air. He’d returned just in time to see the portrait slam down on everyone, trapping them all within it.
“I don’t know.” It was physically Peach’s voice but the anger and hatred in it wasn’t Peach. Luigi had a not so sneaking suspicion as to who might actually be speaking. “Find him.”
Luigi clapped a hand over his mouth to prevent a fearful whimper from escaping. … He had to do something though. Mario had been captured again, alongside everyone else at the party and… poor Peach was possessed. So, before his hiding spot could be discovered, he gathered up the skirts of his dress in one hand so he wouldn’t trip and hurried back to the rear exit. It led out to the castle courtyard so he’d still be trapped but it was better than staying in here with no ghost hunting equipment.
Once outside, he hid behind a bush and pulled out his phone. … E. Gadd picked up on the third ring.
“Happy New Year sonny,” he said, jovial as ever as if he hadn’t let King Boo escape again. Unless he didn’t know but how likely was that?
“King Boo’s here!” Luigi spoke in a frantic whisper in case any boos had ventured into the courtyard.
“Oh! Hold on a sec… good news Gooigi, Luigi found King Boo.” If Gooigi replied, their answer wasn’t audible over the phone. “What’s the situation?” E. Gadd asked, speaking directly into the phone once more.
“He’s trapped Mario and everyone else in a big portrait and uh… he’s possessing Peach.”
“Oh! Hmmm… sounds like quite the predicament. Possessing Peach is definitely going to make dealing with him a bit harder, huh?”
“Yes but… why didn’t you tell me he’d escaped again?” Luigi had a right to know that kind of thing, didn’t he? He was King Boo’s primary target after all.
“Because I figured you’d probably be mad at me. Also, I thought with Gooigi’s help I could find and recapture him before he made another move. We’ve been looking all over for him.” Ah, so that was the secret ‘experiment’ they’d been working on. “Oh well, at least we found him. I’ll be over with Gooigi and the portable lab in no time. Oh also, I made some more improvements to the Poltergust, this’ll be the perfect opportunity to test them. Hang tight until I get there.” With that, he hung up, leaving Luigi on his own.
Assuming he was at his lab, it would take him about an hour to drive all the way down here. Meaning Luigi had to survive being hunted by a hoard of boos and King Boo himself for a whole hour before he could fight back. … He should’ve at least brought the Poltergust’s flashlight, huh? Too late now though, he’d just have to do his best and hope E. Gadd and Gooigi arrived before it was too late. … What an awful way to start the New Year. On the bright side, assuming they all got out of this, things could only get better from here, right?
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🚨TS7 ALIVE THEORY🚨
GUYS this is INSANE i just connected A LOT of stuff and now i’m gonna put it all here... ENJOY:
PS: SORRY for the length but it’s worth a read!!!!
*read the OVERALL CONNECTION AT THE BOTTOM if you don’t have time*
1. **why she disappeared poem:
okay so the ending of this poem has always struck me as something very important and here’s why... so in the rep tour on netflix, the why she disappeared poem is played right before getaway car all except for the last section: “and in the death of her reputation, she felt truly alive” however it is played at the very end of the movie and it is written on the screen in gold glitter (umm just like the hearts on her countdown........)
i’ve always thought that ts7 could be called alive because the way she phrases the last part makes it sound like “and in the death of her *ts6 album name* she felt truly *ts7 album name*”
credit to @july-9th-one-fiftyeight for realizing this part: in the credits for the rep movie on netlfix it has a little description under why she disappeared and it says: “(video interlude, sequel to “...more”)” hello? ummm this is suspicious.... so this implies that there is something, an album perhaps, that preludes this poem and that very well could be ts7 but i’ll connect this more later tho
2. the “ts5.5” idea:
so if taylor followed her typical album release schedule, ts5.5, as i call it bc reputation is actually ts6, would’ve been released in 2016, but it wasn’t... the kimye drama all occurred in july of 2016, giving taylor enough time to put ts5.5 to the side and to make reputation and release it by 2017
this implies that ts5.5 might have something to do with ts7 and if that’s true, taylor was potentially working on what we now know as ts7 since the 1989 era (or maybe even sooner...)
3. the 1989 album foreword:
okay so i know this could be a stretch but there is a possibility that taylor knew what she wanted to do for ts5.5 (which could be connected to ts7) before she released 1989...
in the 1989 album foreword, taylor says “I've told you my stories for years now. Some have been about coming of age. Some have been about coming undone. This is a story about coming into your own, and as a result... coming alive.”
in the foreword she literally explains her stories for different albums and states that 1989 is a story of coming into your own, but the next part seems imporant... she follows it with an elipsis and then says that the result of coming into your own (the story of 1989) is coming alive (the story of ts5.5? or even ts7??)
4. nostalgic vibes:
so taylor liked @mustlikeme4me ’s post on insta today and the caption was about how ts7 might have nostalgic vibes...
this brings me back to the pictures from her childhood house that she posted on july 13th of 2018... the two pictures are taken on huji camera so they literally say the date in the pictures too so i am pretty sure the fact that the july 13th is literally on both of the photos is significant... not to mention it is also a wax seal on the 2019 calendar *gasp*
one of the pictures is her in her childhood room with others and she captions it “take pictures in your mind of your childhood room...” which is a lyric from never grow up, a very nostalgic feeling song
the other picture is very striking to me though... it’s a picture of taylor outside with a scrapbook and she’s holding it open to a photo that was taken where she was standing... in the photo she is standing on pavement... if you zoom into the picture closely, you see that the picture in the scrapbook shows taylor as a child standing on the pavement and in the picture the pavement is covered in.....sidewalk chalk.......
ok you probably know where i’m going next... back to why she disappeared... in why she disappeared she says “When she fell, she fell apart. Cracked her bones on the pavement she once decorated as a child with sidewalk chalk” once again, this poem comes into play... this nostalgic picture brings us right back into the why she disappeared poem which ends with the word alive
5. why she disappeared video:
when you watch the why she disappeared video, you notice that taylor is actually wearing a floral dress... i can’t tell for sure but they might be forget me nots which connects back to when she was wearing the forget me not shirt in her scrabble picture (and the five holed fence picture but we won’t go there) where she says “let the games BEGIN” which was the first obvious hint at ts7... forget me nots are known to symbolize remembrance which further hints at the nostalgic vibes
the whole video is backwards... why? here are some ideas... in the nostalgic picture with the scrapbook she captions it “take me home” perhaps the backwards video is hinting at the nostalgic feeling of going back in time and reliving her past
another possible idea could be that it symbolizes that she is literally going back to before reputation, before the darkness.... now that she has killed her reputation she is ready to go back to what she was working on before the kimye drama, aka ts5.5.... this would mean that she used reputation to address these issues and kill her reputation and now she can move on (or should i say step into the daylight and let it go) and get back to what she was working on before...
**as you can see, the why she disappeared video seems to play a HUGE part in ts7 and i think that it is a VERY important clue that we have overlooked
//
🚨 UPDATE thanks to @tullyandtaylor 🚨
6. intagram pics from february
the first picture had 7 palm trees because this is the 7th album
the second picture had 12 stairs because the first single (or album?) comes out 4.26 and 4+2+6=12
the third picture was, of course, the 5 holed fence and ALIVE has 5 letters in it ahdjjdk
7. elle us article:
in lesson 7, which is bound to be important because this is the 7th album, taylor says “We have to live bravely in order to truly feel alive, and that means not being ruled by our greatest fears”
once again this is the 7TH lesson and she says in order to truly feel alive which, first of all, brings back the truly alive from the why she disappeared poem and it also shows how she is not just alive, but she is truly alive because of the death of her reputation *gasp*
🚨OVERALL CONNECTION🚨
if taylor knew what she wanted to do after 1989, she was definitely hinting at it in the foreword by saying “and as a result... coming alive” and this implies that she felt alive after 1989 was finished and that could have been the title of her next album... however, then there was drama and as a result... resputation... she used reputation to address all the drama and to “kill” her reputation... she published the poem why she disappeared along with reputation which could likely be a transition into her next album... she hints at nostalgic vibes in the poem and the video has a brighter color scheme too it, but not too bright... the video goes backwards, perhaps it is leading her to where she started before reputation, only this time she doesn’t just feel alive, she feels truly alive... she says at the very end of the poem “and in the death of her reputation, she felt truly alive” and this is the perfect transition back into ts5.5 / ts7 which would be called alive... this would also explain the netflix credits because why she disappeared (whent taylor feels truly alive would be the sequel to ts7 (or ts5.5) which will be called...
ALIVE
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:o Please please rant about the 100 and Bellamy!! I was only marginally into it so I don't know much but I love to hear your meta on literally everything!!
all RIGHT. spoilers for the 100 past this point! also i’m gonna go ahead and preface this with a warning about racism, and also that a lot of this is based off stan twitter, but like. they aren’t Wrong.
oh, also, i’m gonna go ahead and drop my stan twitter: i rarely make original posts, but, ya know. it’s a jumble of content. feel free to follow if u want.
also! there’s this whole thread of hiatus drama, if you want a fuller picture than what i’m giving you.
so a quick, general sum-up of some plot that goes into this Whole situation: the sixth season of t100 took place on a different planet, after t100 spent ~5 seasons on earth, so this introduced new characters and also the concept of interplanetary travel. in the season six finale, hope (the daughter of a character, diyoza, who was still pregnant with hope, because ~time travel~) stepped through what’s called “the anomaly,” says “i’m sorry,” and stabs octavia, dissipating her into green mist. bellamy, octavia’s brother (who has had Issues and a Lot of storylines centering around octavia, which is a whole other topic of conversation (ft. bellamy’s storylines centering around white women (bob morley, who plays bellamy, is half-filipino) octavia’s treatment by fandom vs bellamy’s, and you can probably tell which side i’m on by how loudly i screamed “YEEEEEESSSSSSS” when bellamy said “you’re my sister, but you’re not my responsibility anymore” after SIX SEASON of—okay you see, i’m getting off topic)
anyway, the season closer was that octavia went through the anomaly, which (this is important!) a fair amount of the main characters saw (gabriel, hope, echo, and bellamy, namely) bellamy, in that same season closer, was running through the woods alone, yelling for octavia. season ending. good hook!
and then.... nothing.
seriously. the hiatus between season six and season seven of the hundred (the LAST season of the show, EVER!) there was next to no promotional material. no bts pics, no tweets from cast/crew, nada. nothing. which stirred up quite a bit of complaint in the fandom—one, it’s the last season, can we not have some promotion, and two, it’s the last season, and there’s no promotion by cast/crew/the cw, why is this happening?
seriously. the season seven teaser clip that got aired between episodes on the cw was released before the trailer. it became a meme, how long we were waiting for the trailer. like it was... what, 19, 20 days before the season aired, and all we had was like a stitched-together character poster?
there was also some drama throughout the hiatus, ft. the fandom getting on the news for not getting content in the hiatus, jessica harmon (who plays a guest role, nylah, and whose brother plays murphy) getting snappy at fans on twitter for asking for promotion, and isaiah washington, who played thelonious jaha (a character that died in s5) telling a minor (and also going into their dms!) that he’d call the fbi on them, good times, the 100 fandom is a Disaster and i live a nightmare every day
and then. the trailer drops.
which starts “where is bellamy?” like. people. were SEARCHING for bellamy. people were trying to be optimistic, but rapidly people were also coming to, like, the worst conclusions. however as always t100 fandom did have some jokes, so like, ya know
people were looking forward to other promo: the poster, and also, there’s this tradition of countdown bts photos for the show, and since bob and eliza (who plays clarke, the female lead) just got married, people had high hopes!
and then came the poster (which had no bellamy, or characters at all) and then the OFFICIAL poster (which had characters, but still no bellamy) which started the hashtag #whereisbellamyblake, because, seriously, he’s the male lead and it’s the last season. also bonus screengrab of this from jroth (the lead writer’s) mom’s twitter lmao
so people rightfully had questions: the excuse that was being given was that including bellamy would be “spoilery,” except, like, it’s a poster? and the only shot of him in the trailer was him being dragged along the ground despite the fact that he was the thumbnail for the trailer? like, okay, which led to some twitter meltdowns, and some more, and again people were fearing the worst, because like, see lexa, jason has a BAD track record when it comes to fan-favorite ships. people were HEATED, people were RANTING, it was a MESS
also. the edited posters were pretty funny, okay, then bob and eliza, bless them, dropped some a+ twitter content, and things calmed down a bit
and then, countdown days started. usually, the order goes bob on one more day, and eliza on show day. except this year? eliza was one more day. which. people were going nuts. because it was a tradition! and keeping BOB out of a behind the scenes where there weren’t any spoilers? it just seemed unprofessional—especially damning, given jason’s past history with ricky whittle, who played lincoln, and was bullied off the set. people were worried that, one, this was affecting bob’s storyline, and two, well. remember that thing about fan-favorite ships? here’s a whole thread of that, btw. and a video of ricky whittle, here.
it is a genuine fear of a lot of the fandom that jason will, in all his pettiness, not give in to bellarke. which is kind of nutty, given that it’s the core relationship of the show, and he himself had said that he’d been foreshadowing it. bellamy and clarke are literally “the head and the heart” of the show.
oh, yeah. so hard cut to the showday pic.
cast. crew. writers. everyone.
except? no bob.
people lost their gotdamn MINDS.
there’s a lot of subsequent drama; the fact that apparently they’re pushing through clarke/gaia (even though there was ??? no previous evidence of this??) still no bellamy for four episodes (seriously, it took clarke, like, two episodes to even cotton onto the fact that he was missing at all) a lot of criticism of jason (he’s shamed shipping and also, lmao, is trying to push through a spinoff?) and just. Yeah.
i’m really burnt out when it comes to the 100 fandom; i’ve unfollowed a lot of the t100-centric tumblrs i used to follow, once the show is over i’m gonna unfollow a lot of the twitters and just, yeah. i care about bob and eliza, and i care about bellarke, but the fandom wears me out and the unprofessionalism of a lot of what’s gone down has kind of just? made me lose interest? they’re recycling storylines (esp centering around octavia and bellamy) and continuity doesn’t seem to really be a priority. i just... yeah. i mostly care about bellarke and the fact that i bond a lot with one of my real-life friends through this show. if bellarke doesn’t happen, i’m gonna be like Really... disappointed, mad, irritated? like. imagine. it’s literally So Easy. the actors got married, ffs, you’ve gotten in trouble for ending two ships via very tragic death (in the same season, even!) like how is this Not Clicking
anyway that’s my (entirely too long) rant about t100!!!!
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Leading (You’ll Marry a Music Man)
CARRY ON COUNTDOWN 2019
DAY 12 - SONG/MUSIC INSPIRED
Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21701131
Word Count: 4746
Rating: T
Summary: The Spring Formal is quickly approaching, and Simon wants to dance with his girlfriend. He doesn't know who else to turn to...
~~~~~~~~~~
“She… asked me to dance with her,” he says, picking at his cuticles. They’re rough, just like the rest of the skin on his hands. Dried and cracking, with small slits peeled away to expose not-yet scabbed open flesh. “But I don’t know how to dance.”
“What makes you say I would know how?” I sound so cruel when I mock him. I really shouldn’t be doing that--it’s bordering desperate nowadays. This used to be fun, like a proper game of cat and mouse, but now it’s just boring. More like checkers (or “1001 Ways To Repress Your Crush”).
Snow shrugs, eyes focused on his nail beds. He really is atrocious with personal care. Sure, his hygiene is good enough, but he lets the small things slip. His skin stays dry in winters, and ever since he started growing wispy bits of facial hair last year, he rarely gives himself a clean shave. It must be hard for everyone else to tell, but for me, I can’t help but look at his upper lip. And his lower one, too.
“Don’t all posh kids get dancing lessons as a kid?” he says clearly, and without a hint of sarcasm. He really thinks we did.
My only instinct is to snort, settling my book onto my chest despite having been drawn away from it for the past minute or so. “Honestly, Snow, it’s not the dark ages. We don’t have ceremonious balls anymore.”
When he frowns, his whole face moves with it. Puppy dog eyes--pout and all. “Agatha had dancing classes. I’d assumed that was usual.”
“Well it’s not.”
He chews on his lip, staring at me from across the room. His dresser door hangs open, a few ties loosely dangling haphazardly on a knob. “Does this mean you’re not going to help me?”
“What made you think I was intending on helping you in the first place?”
“Rich people like charity cases. Makes ‘em seem normal. Seem human.”
My brows narrow up at him, jaw setting. He’s ridiculous. Absolutely, out of his mind, ridiculous. “Oh, poor little Snow wants to be a charity case now, does he?” I slide the book off my chest and settle it onto the night stand in front of me. Interjecting before he has the chance, I clear my throat and raise my gaze back up to his. “Allow me to clarify the situation. You want me to give you dancing lessons so that you can dance with your pretty little girlfriend at the spring formal next week?”
“Yes.”
“And there’s nothing in it for me besides a sense of, what, charity work?”
“Well, I don’t have much else to give you, do I?”
I purse my lips, drumming my hand onto the mattress. Crowley. This is already a bloody mess (quite literally, given his skin’s still bleeding a bit from the picking).
“Please?” He adds, reluctantly. It sounds a bit like when you’re a kid and your parent prods your shoulder for the sake of manners. I can’t help but imagine Bunce being the one who taught him that.
“Merlin.” I swing my legs around, planting my feet flat on the floor as I feel his eyes follow me. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“Is that--”
“Don’t push it, Snow. Leave it without the verbals.”
He stares at me, dumbfounded. “But, why?”
“You cock up any verbal communication.” I watch as he opens his mouth to protest, then immediately snaps it shut and clenched. “I’m going to say this once, and this once only. I’ll help you with this… this thing, so long as you shut up and listen. Deal?”
He nods, lips twitching into a half-frown, half straightened and tight-lipped.
I nod back to him, standing and crossing my arms over my chest. “Should we start now then?”
“I--well--”
“Yes or no, Snow.”
He rubs his neck, shirt lifting a bit as he shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Yeah. Sure, yes.”
Despite his words, when I step closer, he steps back and raises his hands without a second thought. I just roll my eyes, arms staying crosses as I watch him scramble about.
He recollects himself quickly, cheeks going a tad bit pink as he clears his throat. “Music?”
Well, he does have a point. Shouldn’t be getting myself too carried away.
Reaching into my back pocket, I draw my wand and point it into the air. Without it being pointed at him, Snow flinches back in the slightest as he throws his eyes towards the floor. I simply utter “You’ll marry a music man.” Out of the walls leaks soft sounds of a gentle melody, one easy to sway to.
Snow’s eyes lift as I offer a hand, bowing my head. Hesitantly, he reaches out and takes it. His palm is rough and warm, and when my fingertips trail up his wrist, I can feel his pulse padder against my skin. It makes for such an intimate moment, with the raise of his eyes up to my face to the shaky offer of his other hand.
Sliding my wand back into my pocket wastes me a precious moment of uncomfortably trying to hold Snow in a faked out, bullshit, “angrily” agreed upon dance lesson.
Because, in all honesty, I want to do this.
Sort of.
I want to have Snow close--to feel his breath on my skin and his strong, clumsy hands settled onto me. I want to feel him sway with me; to feel his trust in my movements. I want all the world of him in a dance.
What I don’t want, though, is him knowing.
Even settling his palm to mine overwhelms me with the all-encompassing fear that he’ll somehow find out. I’ll let it slip, or he’ll finally learn to look through me in my weakest moments.
Given our history, I should be more afraid of him stabbing me (or me draining him), but instead I’m here running myself in circles in fears of him knowing more to me than anybody else does. And that’s terrifying.
There’s truly nothing more heartstopping than the look in Snow’s eyes as I wrap my fingers around his free wrist. Heartstopping, as both breathtaking and fear-evoking. Especially as I settle his hand against my back, head tipping up as he stares up at me glassily.
I wish he wasn’t this beautiful up close.
“Fall into step,” I tell him with an uncharacteristic softness to my voice, nudging his foot with mine before I start carefully stepping into a basic waltz. He tries to follow after a moment, basically just rocking on his feet.
After nearly a minute, I notice the issue upon us. “Move your hand to my shoulder,” I order, hand slipping around his arm and settling onto his upper back. I feel him tense below me.
“Wha… isn’t this putting you in lead?” he mumbles, a bit confused but having the right idea.
“Exactly.”
“But--”
“Just watch what I’m doing,” I shush him,, eyes down at our feet. “Watch how I move.”
He grumbles something inaudible, head hanging as I start back into step. It’s slower this time, and we fall more into a sway as my feet drag across the floor. I whisper quiet commands of where to move, how to step. He, somewhat, follows them, while stepping on me a few times in the process.
It’s nearly dark before he realizes they’re serving dinner.
He snaps away, letting the music of the room fade out as he backs further off from me wordlessly. Not to my shock, he can’t look me in the eye (even as he gives a short wave to head off).
By the time night falls and I wander back into the room after my trip to the wood, he’s asleep with his back to me.
It’s odd--it hurts. It aches as nothing else between us has before, and I can’t quite pinpoint where it comes from. The odd rushed sensation of him ripping himself from me (albeit, understood, given food was in question) leaves me with a cold pang in my chest. Does he want to keep dancing? How long are these “lessons” supposed to last?
I sit at the edge of the bed, watching the rise and fall of his body as it rakes over my brain. Why me of all people?
People like him. People love him. People adore the way he smiles and listens, given he barely talks at all. It's absolutely past me as to why he asked me of all people, when he could just ask around class until he found someone who didn't prickle at his touch, just to learn some quick dancing.
Unlacing my shoes and laying back, I listen to his soft inhales and exhales, mixing with the soft sloshing of the moat so near to us.
The window's open, and it's freezing.
He's shirtless and cuddling his blanket, not letting it drape over him.
I'll leave it; he'd want that. I'll do anything he wants. It's so painfully unfair that I crumble so quickly for him, but it is how it is.
Even as I close my eyes and try to sleep, I overwhelm myself with the reality that I'm practically dancing Snow right into Wellbelove’s arms. I'm letting him be happy.
Which doesn’t feel quite right. It feels overwhelming selfish, ultimately, to be giving him these dance classes. I could have fully told him off; told him to google it, or to trust that Wellbelove already likes him as the oaf he is. But I didn’t. I decided that, of all places, the space in my arms is where he’s meant to be (at least, for now).
And, as the next day comes upon us, I find that I'm almost excited at the prospect of our lessons.
When he asks me, I try to force an exasperated expression before waving my wand and letting the music pour.
“When can I lead?” He complains, dropping his hand to my shoulder. “I will be leading, after all.”
“When you learn to follow,” I hiss, taking his palm and cupping our fingers around one another’s hands. His thumb rubs once against my skin, and I mock it up to a fluke.
At least he falls more relaxed now, body less rigid to the slow, spinning movements we share. In fact, it feels too relaxed. Too unstructured.
“Don’t fall behind, Snow,” I snap as he trips up again, head flying down to watch his feet. “And don’t look at yourself. Crowley, you’re helpless.”
“I--” he starts, frowning and shooting his chin back up to face me. His eyes narrow, and he starts to smell a bit like a charred matchstick. “Fuck you I’m trying.”
“Not hard enough, obviously.” My head turns away, facing the wall. For some unknown and fully unfair reason, I can’t look him in the eye so close. It stings--it feels like lemon juice. I hurt enough being this close already.
“Fine!” he snaps, letting go entirely. “Lesson done for today, then. Prick.” He picks up the blazer he threw onto his bed and storms out of the room wordlessly, leaving it reeking of smoke and ash.
I hate that it makes me want a cigarette.
What I hate more, though, is his now blatant acts to ignore me, down to the end of the day. Turned away again, curled into himself and keeping the window wide open. I shut it tonight, perhaps more of a spiteful gesture onto my feelings for him rather than his actions towards me.
Either way, fuck this.
I close my eyes, exhaling slowly as I count. One day, two days, three days, four… the dance is now six days away. Which, of course, means at least five more lessons. Brilliant.
The next day feels the same. We have our lesson, we snap a bit, but this time we make it through over a half an hour before I head off to practice.
The next few days flow just the same--we dance, we bicker, we finish for one reason or another. We don’t talk about it. There’s something forbidden held in the words of our actions, therefore it goes unspoken. Unnoted.
In fact, we barely speak about anything until three days before the formal when Snow looks at me and says, “I thought you said you didn’t know how to dance.”
I slowly dip my head down, staring at him incredulously. “When did I ever--”
“You said you didn’t have dance classes.”
“I said not every posh kid had lessons,” I correct, holding his hand tighter as we continue to step. “I never said anything about my own classes.”
He lights up to that, a grin spreading across his face. “Aha! I knew it! You had rich little dance classes, huh?”
Automatically, I sigh and lift my head so my eyes stare anywhere else but him as I exhale. “I took two years of dancing because my stepmother thought it was a good idea. There. Happy?”
Snow laughs, hand squeezing mine as we spin. “How old were you then?”
“Started when I was seven,” I monotone, still looking up, to the side, and just at anything that isn’t him. “Had a little suit and everything.”
“Awhh,” he sighs. I can feel his smile, and it makes me feel sick. “I bet you were actually nice then.”
“I doubt it. My siblings are ankle-biters as it is now. Couldn’t be much different than them.”
“Didn’t know you have sisters…”
I dare a glance at him, raising a brow teasingly as I us about and watch the clear, overwhelming openness on his face (Crowley, it hurts). “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Simon Snow.”
The wiggle of his index startles me, making me tense as he laces our hands together. I’m about to tell him off, opening my mouth for a jab, before he speaks up before me. “I want to know those things.”
“Why?”
“Because… we don’t always have to fight. We’re not fighting right now.”
“We could be.”
“Yeah, but we aren’t.”
My jaw hangs open as I narrow my eyes at him, unsure of what to address about this first. “Snow--”
“We don’t have to be enemies,” he urges, suddenly dropping away from me. The music quickly fades, distancing as he steps further. “Are we enemies now? Do you want to kill me when we do this?”
My lip pulls to a snarl. “Yes. Always, obviously,” I blatantly lie, crossing my arms over my chest as Snow blinks, then pouts, lips twitching and working up to a rightful fit of emotions.
“Always the villain, huh?” He grumbles, rolling his eyes at me before picking up his blazer. “Fucking fine. Look. Forget about what I said, then.”
“Fine.” I feel disgusting. I want to punch myself. I want to throw myself to the merewolves. “Would rather forget.”
“Right.”
“Right.”
We stare at one another, his brows pulled close and skin practically buzzing with frustrated magick whizzing about him before he huffs, shaking his head and leaving the room. Leaving me. Leaving me alone, with my thoughts. Alone with my frustrations for something that could’ve been something, if I just hadn’t been myself…
Suppose that’s always what it boils down to. I’m a devil of my own creation.
I swallow my nerves and go to clean up, then head to the catacombs.
By the next day, there’s rumours going about over Snow and Wellbelove’s relationship. Something about a fight after he went down to dinner. I try to get a reliable source before the evening, but all I get is word on a tiff that went off between them, that someone saw Wellbelove leave Snow alone in a hallway corner looking all distraught, and that they’re both definitely single for the upcoming formal (most likely a suggestion for me to move on to Wellbelove. Sadly).
I don’t quite believe it. I don’t want to believe it, for the same, sinking, selfish feeling of wanting to keep Snow for these dancing lessons, but the confirmation comes in the bitterest of ways.
“Hey, uh…” Snow says, stopping in during the break before dinner. I’m at my desk, halfheartedly attempting to concentrate on an essay for Linguistics. “You don’t have to worry about the lessons anymore.”
I pull my lip up, covering my sinking chest. “Right, after a few and now you believe you’re a prodigy. Well, I can tell you, Snow, you’re definitely not--”
“She broke up with me, you prick. Thought you’d known by now, given you’re all up on her,” he grumbles, giving me what looks more like exhaustion than a death glare. “Don’t have anyone to dance with anymore, so I don’t need to learn shit.”
I try not to look surprised. I try not to look curious. I try not to look hopeful, of all things. “Ah. I see.”
“Yeah.” He scratches his neck, looking at the wall and exhaling before repeating, “Yeah.”
“Do you have anything else to note, Snow, or are you going to stand there and be a distraction?”
I hear Snow grunt and grumble for a minute, going to grab a jumper before locking himself in the bathroom for a minute. During the moment he exists in the room, I keep composure. At least visually. In actually, I’ve gotten six words written onto my page, and my mind is running at a million words a minute.
Of course he doesn’t notice when he leaves. He avoids looking at me, grabbing back his bag and slamming the door as he leaves.
We don’t address it.
Not for days.
Not even as the formal draws closer.
I do notice that Snow promptly fucks off a few hours before the event begins, and when I peer out the window, Bunce is trailing behind him in-tow, seeming to talk very exaggeratedly (with wild hands and even wilder hair). This, luckily, leaves me time to get ready. Wear the usual singular decent outfit I bring along every year. This year, I was allowed to pick (much to my father’s dismay and my stepmother’s delight). Maroon suit, yellow undershirt. My hair is slicked, my shoes are polished, and I look like I’m meant to be--composed and untouchable.
I leave with time to spare, stopping off to meet my minions before the trail along back, heading towards the chapel. They chat mindlessly about classes, then gossip a bit about Snow (Niall actually believes he has a shot with Wellbelove, which he asked for my blessing over once. I gladly gave it). I don’t give much input, busying myself with adjusting and readjusting my cuffs.
The formal itself is rather boring. With student government decorations, and the music clearly playing from somebody’s CD collection--I ache knowing what The bloody Mage has done with technology on grounds. The food seems edible if you’re desperate, and the punch hasn’t been spiked, but I look hot, so I’m not going to leave until everybody sees me.
Everybody including Snow, who isn’t here yet.
Which is a shame, given I can’t quite whore myself out in my own room without risking anything and everything. No, I must be sophisticated out here.
Although, it does dawn on me an hour in that they could have easily been whisked off to a typical, dramatic adventure. One of which that he won’t be back in time to see me looking fit. Shame.
I consider sulking off for a while, watching in boredom from the side of the room, but something suddenly changes about the room--about my space, in particular.
I’m looking the opposite direction as someone falls into place beside me, nearly arm to arm and smelling so, so familiar.
“Can I repay you for a dance?” Snow says, voice soft and muffled under the overwhelming hum of the crowd mixed with the terrible speakers.
I whip my head around, getting a good look at him.
His suit is a bit small. Looks like he got it fitted a year, maybe a year and a half ago, and has since grown wider and bolder. But the simplicity is forgiving, and the soft, springiness of his newly cared for hair makes him somehow more appealing.
Crowley. I’m going to throw myself to the fairies.
“You have more than one dance to repay for,” I say, flicking my wrist and staring at him. He’s worrying his bottom lip, and I fear he’ll draw blood. “But… I’ll allow one. What did you bring me, then?”
He outstretches his hand, palm closed. I’m expecting a little strip of paper that reads “Fuck you”, or something equally as childish, but I’m instead greeted by a blank, offered hand.
“A dance back?” he asks, softer than ever. I worry I’m going to snap at him immediately, and ruin everything. Which, I believe he sees, because he’s squaring his shoulders and standing his ground. “I’m serious. Just a dance.”
“You want to dance with me? In public?” Snow, throw me off a moving train, or do something as equally destructive as giving me everything I want, and then some.
He nods, hand unwavering. “Yeah.”
I watch it in the pink and purple light. He’s got a mole on his hand, at the top right corner of his palm.
I can’t stop myself from reaching out and brushing a fingertip over it, then slowly sliding my hand onto his and warmly closing at it. “So long as you know the consequences,” I warn, trying to sound harsh. I think I may sound scared.
But thankfully, he laughs, and pulls me off the wall. “I know, I know. You’ll take me by my shoulders and launch me into space for this, or whatever. Just let me thank you.”
He takes me out onto the outskirts of the dancers (which, truly, I am thankful for, given crowds are overwhelming to my senses, but he doesn’t know that). At first, I believe he’ll move to our usual positions, but he quickly beats me to it and takes the lead. I shock a bit, raising a brow as he smirks and scrunches his nose.
“I think I’ve learned enough to have this, don’t you?”
“Not really, but I’m not in the mood to squabble tonight.”
He shrugs, pulling me closer into him. “Fair enough,” he hums, “Still got me leading, then.”
“Fuck you,” I mumble, trying, as always, to keep my eyes away from him, but tonight, it feels impossible. He smells cleaner than usual, and he seems well cared for.
I have plenty of questions. Ones I refuse to ignore.
“Where had you run off to tonight, hm? Fighting a hoard of innocent Barbell Bats?”
“Sort of. Not really. Started with a mission, then Penny and I got attacked by Slime Serpents,” he starts, looking off distantly as he rambles. “And of course, we get trapped in downtown London of all places, reeking of the nasty slime, but thankfully alive. In the end, we make our way to her parent’s place, showered, and borrowed some clothes to come to the formal before they drove us back. Quick mission, but I, uh, wanted to be here for this.”
“Why?!” I can’t help but ask, squinting at him. I wouldn’t care nearly that much about something as mundane as a Watford formal.
But he looks at me. Crowley, he looks at me, clenching his jaw and swallowing. A moment passes, and I wait nervously, watching his every move, feeling his every step, before he shakes his head and curses.
“Nothing. Just… don’t want to miss any time here.”
I feel myself exhale, nodding and turning my head away. Merlin… “Figures.”
With that, his hand rubs my back in the slightest, making me stiffen and inhale sharply. He looks up at me, and I instinctively avoid eye contact. This is getting to be too much. “I’m going to go,” I mumble, starting to pull back.
He looks confused, brows pulled together and jaw hanging open as I gulp and shake my head, backing further away.
“Go find Wellbelove, Snow. Have your fairytale dance--I’m sure she’ll want at least one, even if you’re broken up.”
“But, Baz--”
I’m already out the door, heading to the dorm and leaving him far behind.
The stupid, lovesick part of me believes he’ll make a mad-dash behind me, telling me to stop and wait because he loves me, but nothing of the like follows. Instead, it’s silent, with just me marching alone past groups of younger students flocking towards the dance.
In the room, I remind myself, once again, to never anticipate anything Simon Snow does, because whatever outcome you’re expecting, it’ll never quite be right.
Which, is proven true, because he’s back early. Not… a mad dash, but far before the dance let out, either.
He looks worn, and frustrated, and utterly exhausted.
I’m already in bed, reading and in my pyjamas.
When the door closes, he doesn’t move. He stands by the doorway, staring at me for an extended minute and making my insides feel like mush.
“What is it, Sn--”
“Shut it,” he mumbles, starting to stomp closer. I recoil, shocking myself upright and against my headboard and wondering where exactly he’ll punch me, but instead getting shocked by the way he stops at my bedside and waits. And stares. And looks at the edge of my bed, letting me shift aside nervously before he takes a seat and plays with his hands.
I’m holding my breath, counting the moments until he does something, but then I realised I may just asphyxiate first.
“Snow?”
He shakes his head, head snapping up towards me. He looks in a haze, looking me all over before his hands surge out and, before I can even process it, he’s settling them onto my jaw and drawing himself into a kiss.
I freeze against him, eyes wide and mouth suddenly so, so warm. His head’s tilted in, and his hair is in my face, and he’s so close. He’s here, against me, and I’m worrying I’m hallucinating until he’s pulling away, hands kept to my face.
I don’t let him. I yank him back in last minute and press my lips back, hard. Probably letting the fact that I don’t know anything about this show, too, but I’m not sure that matters. Simon Snow wanting to kiss me (I assume--he started it, after all) is all that matters.
We’re not kissing long before he pulls back and apologises, cheeks pink and warm, and smelling of cinnamon sugar. Or, at least, to me they are.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I should’ve--”
“Crowley, Snow, never apologise about that,” I murmur, dumbstruck and blinded by the moment. “I’m… what happened?”
“Aggie broke up with me because of you,” he mumbles, hesitantly setting a quick peck onto my lips, which I take happily. “Said I talk about you too much. I pay more attention to you than to her. I think she’s right.”
My eyes are shut, so I can’t see his expression, but I want to believe so desperately that he looks beyond enamoured. I can’t imagine it.
I open my eyes, then, and I’m blown away with how he actually looks.
Half-lidded and exposed. Warm. Like he’s ready to latch to me any minute.
“Why did you kiss me?” I feel myself say.
“Because,” he starts. “I figured one of two answers. You kill me, or you kiss me back. I thought about it earlier, when Penn and I were out. She asked me why I wanted to be back so much, and I told her the truth. That I wanted to see you dance. She gave me hell for that one, but I got the point eventually. And I couldn’t wait after I knew.”
The patience in this one, huh.
“Merlin,” I whisper, hesitantly setting my hands onto his shoulders. He presses into me, happily, with a soft hum and a cheerful grin.
“Well, you didn’t kill me.”
“Not yet.”
“Not ever,” he whispers, licking his lips. He’s right. He doesn’t know it, but he’s right. Not ever.
I shrug, then look at him, feeling myself soften up. I move to cover it, pulling him in for another kiss.
“Snow,” I mumble onto his lips. He nods, letting me continue. “Please, never take the lead in dancing again. You’re painfully awful at it.”
He grins, laughing against me. “Noted.”
#carry on countdown#carry on countdown 2019#coc 2019#fanfiction#fanfic#fic#mine#snowbaz#watford era#(i'd say sixth year)#carry on#simon snow#tyrannus basilton grimm-pitch#tyrannus basilton grimm pitch#baz pitch#simon#baz#(ok the music inspired part is just the music that goes with the dancing lkdjfaedsf i stretched the prompt of the day)#(this is a WIP i've actually had since like this past summer so oops)
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FkuMori- New Year's Kiss
Hey, hi, hello, I have no justification for writing somethig so painfully long, but I hope you like it @vanafloria ♡ uwu
Crimson sunlight barged through the forest of skyscrapers and motels, allowing only a few remaining rays to stumble in a wide white office of a new clinic center, meeting their end either on a tidy desk or on a spotless lab coat of dr. Mori. He owned and managed the whole complex for barely eight months now, and despite it seeming out of place, the surrounding neighbourhood warmly welcomed this new branch of the health industry. Before its arrival, small gangs had a habbit of housebreaking and robbing the entire area, spreading fear amongst its residents and ultimately leading to a decay in economy, which most considered beyond repair. Yet, thanks to the generous heart of this ex war doctor, these problems were solved in the shortest possible time, leading quite a large number of people into an almost religious worship of his being. Fully aware of the fact, Mori dedicated vast amounts of energy in maintaining his public image- as long as the ordinary people were happy with his honey-glazed mask and dulcet words no problems will be caused, they will act as sheep following their shepherd through the fog.
This logic, however, was not something he shared with his employees, more precisely his bodyguard, Fukuzawa- a man roughly his own age, but of strong stature. He oftentimes communicated in such a blunt and harsh manner that Mori felt obliged to step in the conversation for the tensions to settle. It was exhausting, especially after explaining him the meaning of his actions numerous times, but in the end, he couldn't afford better. Not only from a materialistic standpoint, but also because Fukuzawa was the best man in his line of work, rising up almost to a level of legend. Even upon a mere mention of his nickname, "The Silver Wolf", most of the underworld's bravest members would quiver, for the man's natural bloodthirst was a force colder and more ruthless than a Russian winter. He was far too valuable for Mori to dismiss and leave in another person's grasp.
In spite of this minor problem though, the business ran precisely as intended. The whole area became a neutral zone after doctor himself spread the word of his refusal to associate with the law enforcement. Sure, he faced hardships and doubt at first, but being spared and trusted by the two biggest crime organisations in town helped significantly. Everyone he knew now thought he was just a simple man who wanted to help people, which, in a way, wasn't even that far from the truth.
Thinking about this, Mori didn't even realise he neglected his work until the phone-alarm notified him it was time for his lunchbreak. Feeling only slight discomfort about the matter, he swiftly he draped himself within his feather jacket and headed straight to the nearby bakery. Having stepped outside, his eyes narrowed due to the force of a razor sharp wind jolting his hair, leaving him with a view field wide just enough to get him to the desired destination. The bakery was small, albeit tastefully decorated. It possessed a rustic aesthetic, with its wooden, dark amber walls and shelves that blended so well with them it would be impossible to imagine one without the other, alongside two big square windows, one placed next to the door and the other on the West wall, allowing sunlight to highlight all of the beauty inside. Naturally, as it was Christmas time, decorations added to the aesthetics too, making even the baked goods taste more delicious than usual.
Upon entering, Mori fixed his hair and stepped into the line for making orders. He wasn't quite sure what he was going to get, but the queue was long enough for him to comfortably decide, or so he thought. Suddenly, an old woman came up to him and started a smalltalk asking him about the clinic and poking fun at his hair that he "ought to shorten". This was all an everyday occurrence to which he had gotten used to, up until one question.
"So, how will you spend the New Year's eve, dear?" she said with genuine curiosity.
"Oh, as usual, I shall occupy myself with work." the doctor replied and he truly did mean it. Over time holidays lost their value to him, and while a necessity in this society, he did not enjoy them for the most part, as he felt even more empty during those times, thus trying not to pay them too much attention was the best possible solution.
"Oooh." mumbled the lady "That's noble, but it must be terribly lonely, especially after having spent Christmas at work as well."
Admittedly, Mori was stunned by her bluntness, but he couldn't deny her words, even with his employees by his side, he felt the same as always during this time period. Still, he had to reply with something, so he conveniently used the exact thing he was thinking about for inspiration.
"Don't worry, Fukuzawa will be with me. After all, we are like brothers." he exclaimed, but for some reason didn't understand why he only mentioned this one man.
While they could surely be brothers by age, there wasn't much, apart from his skills, that dazzled him about Fukuzawa. So, brushing this off as a simple element of chitchatting, he continued to talk to the lady until he took his order and left the bakery, sprinting back to his office.
Having walked so fast he almost had difficulty maintaining a normal breathing pattern, he stopped in the entry room to gain some strength. It was now noticeably warmer compared ti the outside, but still, he felt no need to take off his jacked as he felt winter might bite down to his bones. Sitting there like a student in the school yard, he started thinking about his words once again. This time he had the freedom to explore all the possibilities, and an interesting idea occured to him. Mori then finished his meal as usual and headed back to his office, having a few buissnes partners already waiting for him. Unon greeting them politely,he called on Fukuzawa to guard the room until the meeting was over.
...
As dawn neared it's peak, the doctors hands lost their usual composure and craved for a resting place to stop their fatigue caused tremor, but contrary to his body's wishes, Mori took care of his equipment, changed his clothes and ramained to wait for the new shift to start. He didn't have to do this, obviously, but a part of him thought it was right and he hadn't done anything like that in a while. His mind was absent as he gazed into the rising Sun, mesmerised by it's colours and the flickering snow contrasting it. Losing track of time, and eventually his consciousness, the next thing amethyst eyes saw were white strands of hair shimmering next to them, appearing so light and soft they may have been unreal for all Mori knew. This fascination could have continued, but soon a deep voice broke off the illusion and reality came back into place. Fukuzawa was arched over his employer, looking at the weak body with concern.
"Shouldn't you go home and rest properly?" he asked as the younger man shook from his drowse and offered a hand to help him get out of his chair.
It took him quite a while to voice his answer, but nevertheless, Mori agreed with this and the two decided to head towards their homes together. However unusual it may seem, this isn't the first time they travelled together, it happened every once in a while and they would often engage in awkward conversations during it, but lately their communication improved (partially because of their debates about the neighbourhoods residents) so it was definitely a nice opportunity to snatch.
Mori freezed as soon as he stepped outside, giving him a subjective feeling that his eyebags suddenly became a few shades darker. Jokingly commenting on this, he was greeted with an attempt of a reply "That's why you shouldn't wear jackets inside." and a smile. Fukuzawa may have been older, but he was definitely the one who had to learn when it came to these things. Still, Mori didn't mind his bodyguard's awkwardness when it was directed at him. He could never pinpoint the exact emotion he felt at those moments, but he knew it was something warm and for a long time he didn't think anything of it, but as of yesterday he became quite keen on exploring it, so he lead the conversation further until the blue eyes had lost their usual harshness. It is true that most of the trip had already passed by that point, but at least it was worthy. Now was the right time to ask:
"Say, what are your plans for the New Year's eve?" Mori continued with his usual tone.
"I assume I will spend it working." Fukuzawa replied coldly, retrieving to his natural attitude.
"Well if that's so, wouldn't you like to make me company during the countdown? It's not like we will leave the clinic, but it's nice to celebrate a bit, no?"
"I- I would have to agree, but what about the patients or the lurking danger?" the silver haired man asked with a serious voices , averting his sky blue orbs to his side.
"Hmm, a few drunks here and there shouldn't be much of a problem. I've had these experiences before, you know?" Mori proclaimed in a pensive tone.
"I don't see anything wrong with it then." Fukuzawa said, much to Mori's delight.
As planned, two men parted ways soon after, heading for their respective homes for a good rest, but somehow neither felt tired anymore.
...
Before coming to his clinic that evening, Mori stoped by an acquaintance's shop at the back of an alley near the town center. The man was a smuggling genius, holding seven mass storages, both in and out of the city, filled with opiates of various kinds, but at this small shop he brought only the finest of alcohol- be it original or fake, he had it all, oftentimes so well matched in characteristics that the drink's authenticity was for the consumer to evaluate. Despite this tho, he would never put Mori in the said position, for he owed him greatly.
The store itself had two levels, the lower being almost twice as big as the one above, but nonetheless well-equipped with rare finds. Overall aesthetic was quite modern, filled with various shades grey as well as few metallic surfaces (shelves and the register most notably), but it would've been extremely bland if there werent a few pop art paintings hanging on the walls and bringing some actual colour in the room. Not really how most would imagine a liquor store, but it possessed a certain charm, especially for upstart people who stood in awe upon entering, with greedy eyes drinking from every bottle they recognized from a magazine they read before that one party in order to impress a lovely nobleman. But unlike these people, Mori wasn't all that impressed by this space, he already set his goal and this was simply the best way to fulfil it. He followed his acquaintance to a certain part of the store and upon a short wait, the man came back with what the doctor wanted- a bottle of Highland Park '68 . With a delighted smirk on his face Mori expressed his gratefulness and exchanged a few business related ideas with the smuggler.
Having put the bottle of expensive whisky in his bag, he set for the clinic, arriving earlier than usual although there wasn't much he planned to do but sorting some paperwork. Emerged in work, time flew by and before he knew it the clock hit nine, marking the beginning of Fukuzawa's work hours. Forseeably, he arrived on time and made his presence known to Mori immediately. Though his tone and words were professional, there were hints of insecurity behind them as he didn't quite know how to hold himself that night. As it is only natural, the dark haired man noticed this and decided to put his plan to action. Dramatically proclaiming his exhaustion, Mori suggested they both take a glass of whisky and without hesitation Fukuzawa accepted this offer. After all, the Silver Wolf was no stranger to alcohol, most notably spirits. He didn't know exactly why he liked this type of liquor to such an extent, but he never concerned himself with that question- the taste and the high was all that mattered, and surprisingly, this drink possessed both of the said qualities.
Sitting in chairs, much like a doctor and a patient would, they sipped their drinks slowly, expressing thoughts of it's taste, colour and scent, but other than that the conversation seemed to end, making the whole situation awkward for a short while- until the rush of alcohol hit them. It did require two glasses of whisky, but it was worthy, as Fukuzawa relaxed significantly after every sip he took. Mori wasn't much of a drinker himself, so seeing this big, strong man getting tipsy before him was a pleasant surprise, and not only that, but his cheeks were slightly red emphasizing his blue eyes to the point where Mori had to put extreme effort not to stare at their beauty. Instead, the doctor started talking about their common mentor- Natsume Soseki. This proved to be a good topic of choice as Fukuzawa lead the story of their meeting and later anecdotes from trainings. Like the one time his sensei tried to catch a butterfly with his bare hands, or the time he casually lounged not on the regular sitting area of the couch but on it's back. This made Mori laugh more than he had imagined, to the point his abdominal muscles hurt, actually. This reminded him of his experience with Natsume-sensei, so naturally, he decided to share his discovery of the mentors unreasonably big collection of cardboard boxes.
Stories of their mentor soon turned into jokes, but after continuous use of whisky, the conversation took a more serious turn. They didn't remember how they got to the topic of loneliness, but it was obvious neither of them particularly enjoyed the subject.
"Loneliness increases inner strength and individuality, but our human nature is always there to chain our improvement." Fukuzawa claimed.
"Isn't it also in our human nature to adapt and evolve? While it is necessary, is it truly the only way we can help our growth? After all, even plants die if watered too much, don't they?" the younger man replied, but was met with silence.
"Well, it is New Year's eve after all, we shouldn't be talking about such things!" Mori added in a silvery voice, putting his usual smile on.
Forcing a smile on his face, the older of the two extended his arm to get his glass "If that's the case, why don't you pour me another one, doctor?"
Almost mechanically doing as he was asked, Mori suddenly remembered "Ah, wait!" he exclaimed as he jerked the bottle "It's not midnight yet, we should wait for the countdown, look how little we have left!"
Blue orbs focused on the bottle and blinked in surprise "Wow, that much? I mean, we drank that much."
Mori laughed to this reaction and fell off his chair from the force he used to nod his head, which in response caused Fukuzawa to snort as he lent him a helping hand. As expected from a drunk person though, the fallen didn't get up, but instead pulled the the other one down with him.
With both of them on the floor now, they continued giggling like a pair of teenagers smoking behind their school, hoping not to get caught. It was strange how well they can get along, given the chance. As they sat next to each other, Fukuzawa took Mori's hand without a word and moved it close to him, causing the other man to blush, but before he could do anything the Silver Wolf narrowed his eyes and drew his head close to the handwatch to examine it.
"Two more minutes until countdown!" he said as he turned around to face Mori, who at this point had a perplexed look on his face and was only able to utter an "oh".
Fukuzawa then quickly crawled to the table an brought the bottle to a still confused doctor.
"Eh and the glasses?" Mori asked.
"Ugh. Who cares." the other replied with a sigh.
With their eyes fixed on the watch, these two anxiously waited for the final ten seconds. It seemed that time passed much slower now that they stopped talking, but that didn't really bother Mori. He could feel the pressure of his head leaning against the other and soft white hair caressing his cheek- in a way, he even wanted this to continue.
Alas, the time they waited for came and both of them counted until zero, but before doctor wished his bodyguard a happy New Year, Fukuzawa was already taking a sup of the old whisky. It was unlike his usual, compound self, to disrespect a custom, but he was extremely drunk by this point, so the younger man took it as such. Sensing that the time is right, he started gently removing the bottle from Fukuzawa's mouth, advising him not to swallow the drink as he cupped the confused man's face and moved his own body close to his, giving him a deep and slow kiss. It was bitter and it burned, but he would give anything to do it over and over again.
"Happy New Year." he said weakly upon breaking the kiss and catching his breath.
"Yeah. You too." a flustered Fukuzawa replied, still in shock over what had just happened.
After remaining in the same position for a few seconds, Mori decided to back away, thinking this was all a bad idea to begin with, but as he was about to move, he felt strong arms holding him back and draging him even closer to them.
"Mmm? What?" he asked teasingly, but his lips were locked in a kiss before he knew it.
Who coud have guessed such passion laid behind those cold blue eyes? Those who seemed so detached and out of reach, slowly luring him into lust day by day... are they even the same as these fierce, devine eyes before him? Mori wondered, but that was a question that had to wait for the next day. All he craved now was to be liberated from his bottled up desires, and his saviour was ready.
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