#not quite ready yet to become their destiny

[bucksdaffy]

the invisible string theory and how buck and tommy were figuratively dancing around each other for years brings to my mind this poem by wislawa szymborska and now i'm going fully mental

#they'd be amazed to hear that chance has been toying with them now for years #not quite ready yet to become their destiny #idk i just think it's cute #bucktommy #tevan #kinley #evan buckley #tommy kinard

[tarotbyopal]

What does your crush think of you?

Hello you gorgeous people! Thank you so much for being here! Are you ready for a new PAC reading?

🖤Piles: 1-2-3

🖤Close your eyes and take a deep breath. Calm your breath and remove all of the thoughts from your mind. When you try to focus on the reading at hand which number or image comes to mind? That is your pile

Would you like a reading?

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Pile 1 Your crush’s current energy

Judgement, ace of cups, 5 of wands in reverse, knight of wands

Your crush is currently going through a time of clarity/awakening. They are becoming aware of things that before they weren’t. It is likely that they are tired of pursuing relationships that aren’t working and that are hopeless. This person is likely to lose some friends soon and gain new ones. It is also likely that they will grow feelings towards someone new soon, so this is your chance to catch their eye. They are ready to let their emotions grow and lead their decisions. They don’t want to overthink, they want to follow their heart. They will be finding resolutions to things that may have been bothering them. Their energy just feels new and light. They are excited about things again. It feels like the sun is finally shining down on them again.

What your crush thinks of you

4 of wands, 2 of wands, hanged man, wheel of fortune

The two of you may be quite close to each other already and if that is the case pile 1, then know that this person thinks of you as their support system. You are likely to help them a lot when they doubt themselves and you are a constant in their lives. If the two of you aren’t close to each other yet then they feel like the two of you would get on really well, like you would just understand each other really well. They definitely see a future with you. Your crush can see the potential for the connection between the two of you to progress really quickly because they feel a very deep connection to you. However, everything seems to be at a standstill at the moment - it’s not yet the time for this connection to turn serious, the timing is not right, but it will be. They think of you as someone they were destined to meet and they want to see where things may go with you.You are the one that they want to fall in love with - it’s their fate.

What they want to tell you

The emperor, 9 of swords, 3 of pentacles, 3 of swords

Not yet, soon but not yet. Please forgive me but I need to gain control over my life first. Things are a bit messy and I am just now understanding things differently. I have been stressed and anxious about where my life is heading, so I am not in the right mental place to be able to love you. Please don’t take it the wrong way. Let me grow my fundations and then I will be able to amend my broken heart. I don’t want to be the one to put you in a tough position. Let me love you

Keywords: 333, past life, meant to be, destiny, control, anxiety, growth, clarity, dark hair, tall

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Pile 2 Your crush’s current energy

King of wands, 10 of wands in reverse, 2 of cups, 4 of wands

I love your person’s energy! They are warm and buzzing with confidence and excitement over everything that they have going on in life, which by the way it’s a lot! They have soo much going on but they are making it work. When they want something they make time for it and they make it work. They do not want to hold onto burdens that don’t matter anymore. They are feeling bold and they are likely (now more than ever) to go after the things that they want - especially career wise and promotions wise. Your person is likely to have their own business or want to have their own business.They know what they want from life right now and they are basically ready to meet their soulmate or have them in their life. I don’t believe that the two of you know each other well right now but there could be a pull. Your person may also be looking at putting roots down for the first time ever, they want to have their happily ever after.

What your crush thinks of you

7 of cups in reverse, page of cups, king of wands, the world

They…don’t really know what to think of you to be honest pile 2. They haven’t decided, also because I feel like they have seen very different sides of you every time the two of you have met?! They think of you as someone who can either be easily influenced or who takes a while to make a decision. They are likely to assume that you are quite naive when it comes to love, or you love blindly and are likely to get hurt by the people that you9 choose to date. However, they also see beyond this and they know that both of you are very similar. You both have the same confidence and spark towards the things that you want to achieve, You are both extremely headstrong. They think of you as someone extremely special and unique. They want to get to know you more.

What they want to tell you

Destiny has been at a standstill for us (this pile is quite similar to pile 1 so if you felt a pull towards pile 1 definitely check it out!) Destiny has been at a standstill but things are slowly starting to move in our favor, for once. You have constantly sacrificed yourself for others but it’s time to stop the sacrifices. Surrender to our fate together. We are twin flames, can't you see it?! You feel like home, and I want to build a home with you. Let’s get matching slippers. 

Keywords: home, soft, innocence, 1010, 111, twin flame, luck, 2024, October, sacrifice, pink, high heels, comfort

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Pile 3 Your crush’s current energy

Your crush has recently come out of a relationship or has recently had their heart broken. It is very likely that they are just not putting the pieces of their heart back together. They are overcoming their sorrow and pain, There is a lot of melancholy coming through as well and sad music. I feel like your person may be the type of person to music sad music when they are feeling sad and cry to it. Music is just very important to them. There is a lot of heaviness in their heart and energy but it’s coming to an end. This was expected of your person, they knew that things weren’t going the right way anymore. They knew it was coming to end and the energy feels new to an extent. I feel like even though they are heartbroken right now, they didn’t lose themselves and it won’t be long until this person is back to normal.

What your crush thinks of you

Knight of swords, 8 of cups, the world, the devil

Your crush thinks of you as someone who is very quick and witty with their words and opinions. They may see you as someone who is sassy as well and can hold a conversation with anyone. You may like to read or are extremely intelligent and it seems like you may read a lot. They think that you don’t withstand people badmouthing you and you are quick to protect yourself and those that you care about - you are extremely protective of others. With your strong adaptability skills you are able to get out of your comfort zone and this is something that your person really likes about you. They almost want you to drag them with you on your adventures. You are very worldly in your approach to romance, and extremely sexy. This person definitely has a huge crush on you already; they just aren’t in the right space for it.

What they want to tell you

4 of swords, ace of cups, 4 of cups, page of pentacles

 I need a break from love right now. I feel like I shouldn’t jump into a new relationship just yet, however I also can’t help myself when it comes to you. I don’t see myself being able to make the time in my heart right now to love again, but soon I will be ready and I hope you will still be here when I’m ready. I still want to learn so much about you, there is so much I don’t know. But you are absolutely gorgeous and enticing. Continue to be around me because I love your company.

Keywords: Darkness, heartbreak, pause, hope, learn, 1717, comfort zone, crush, sexy, ice cream, cotton candy

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#tarot readings #pac tarot #tarot community #pick a card tarot #pick an image #pick a pile tarot #love tarot reading #messages from aphrodite #aphrodite #greek gods #pac reading #tarot questions #tarot cards #tarot reading #divination #tarotblr #what they think of you

[especiallythewomenandthechildren]

As If Destiny (part two)🌹

Part One🌹

Summary: You've always been kind hearted yet admirably defiant. Or that is at least one of the ways Coriolanus Snow would describe you. Ever since grade school, you have always been on the same level as him in academics and one of his few competitors for the Plinth Prize. But as tragedy struck your family, Coriolanus thought you would fall away from his life, but instead, you got even more intertwined (not to mention the complicated past knots tying your families together).

Warnings: Terminal illness, parent death, death and brutality (it is the hunger games after all) characters may be ooc. I read the book a while ago but don't really remember much of Snows way of thinking (I mean I know its toxic and insane but yk the other things) so I will mostly be basing off the film and my own thoughts. Also I can't spell for the life of me so be prepared for bad spelling and grammar. Enjoy loves!

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The rest of the day went by quick, with you avoiding Coriolanus as much as possible.

You attempted to be subtle and it probably would have worked on anyone else (besides Sejanus) but Snow was far too intelligent and analytical to not take notice. It was lunch hour and you had made it this far through the day and internally begged that he had long forgotten, but of course, he didn't.

You and Sejanus were in deep conversation about the new renovations occurring in the Capital park and how you were planning on going down there one day and help with the planting and such. Well you were -untill the smack of a lunch tray was heard next to you. You and Sejanus both look up to see a slight smile on Coryo's lips.

"Seat taken?"

Sejanus quickly gestured for him to take his seat with a bright smile while you moved your chair to make more space for you both as he sat next to you while Sejanus was across you both.

"No. Nope. You both are going to be bickering all of lunch and I would like to enjoy my meal in the PEACEFUL company of my friends."

"That was dramatic, even for you, Snow." You playfully chided with a grin.

You baited him and he readily took it, refuting that he has never been or is dramatic. You open your both to refute him when your mutual friend cut you both off

You both shut up at that, you with a slight pout that made Coryo laugh. You were ready to roast the man alive when you got a painful kick to the shin by Sejanus as a warning. With a quick glare, you went back to your meal that consisted of a hearty sandwich and a few fruits on the side along with a cookie for desert. Both boys had a similar portion, Coriolanus with a little more.

It was indeed peaceful as the three of you ate your meal and stared out the vast windows to the beautiful capital. In a quite whisper, Coryo turns to you and asks "How's your wrist?"

You turn to him a bit surprised and embarrassed. You looked into his clear blue eyes and assured him you were completely fine and thanked him for pointing it out. He nodded along but was clearly waiting for you to elaborate. It makes sense why he was waiting. Why did you have so much blood and how did you not feel it?

You were thinking about telling him that it was your mother's. Your peers knew that she was ill and they, along with their parents, sent their well wishes.

But they didn't know how bad it was. No one besides you, father, house staff, and the Plinths, who have become a second family to you.

You always wondered if the wishes were truly sincere. Your mother, Cloria, was an absolute darling of the Capital and everyone loved her so it wouldn't be surprising if they were but then again, they mostly sent them towards the way of your father. He wasn't a cruel or hateful man and a rather good father and person but he was one of the most powerful people in the Capital, thus Panem, and people would be willing to do anything to get on his good side in hopes of sharing that power.

"Are you not hungry, Y/N?" Coriolanus asks you.

You spaced out again. great. You shake your head and offer your lunch to him, seeing as he already finished his and heard his stomach grumble.

"Oh, no that's okay, thank you!"

He flashes you his charming smile that might have caught you off guard but right now, you frankly didn't care. You simply just pushed the tray in his direction until it nearly pushed off his prior tray off the table while you entered the conversation he and Sejanus were having when you were in your head.

The rest of lunch and school day went fine, no more mysterious blotches of blood or the curious stare of those beautiful blue eyes. You made your routine walk home and checked in with your mother, who looked somehow even worse than this morning. She was fast asleep but looked in so much pain and her slight jerks proved your assumption right.

He, like you, never stopped thinking about her and always stayed by her side the second he made it home.

You were questioning whether or not to wake her when the sound of your father's footsteps interrupted. You turned around and gave him a quick hug while he placed a quick kiss on your hairline.

He gave the usual small talk on how school is and how Sejanus is doing. He asked those questions and gave replies to all of your responses but he never once took his eyes off his wife.

You let him know you were going to freshen up and head over to the Plinths and with one last hug, you were on your way.

As soon as your turned, you heard him enter your mother's makeshift hospital room within your penthouse. You sighed thinking about Sejanus's comment on how you were suffering. As you changed and cleaned off, you pondered.

You knew he didnt mean you were suffering like your mother, in physical pain. But were you like your father? You would argue you weren't, you weren't losing the love of your life, the mother of your child. And could you be suffering if you tried to spend as much time away from her as possible?

You weren't suffering, you were a coward. When news of your mother spread, you know some of your peers were slightly pleased, even if with no mal intention, as it was expected that your grades and performance would slip. But it actually turned out to be the exact opposite. You threw yourself in your assignments, the only peace you found besides the warm home of the Plinths. The home, at this point, you have already began the walk to along the paved walkways of the city.

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"That was absolutely delicious, thank you Mrs. Plinth" you try to be as cheery as possible. The meal, some sort of opulent wheat mixture with savory fish, was truly one of the best you've ever had and that's saying something in the Plinth house. But you knew you didn't need to have to amplify your reactions in front of them but it felt rude with any other reaction. She opened her mouth "Why thank you darling but please call me m-" her request was cut off by her son clearing his throat.

The table went silent. You all knew that she was going to request you to call her "Ma", as Mrs. Plinth was far too formal for your relationship with her. She already considered you a daughter but she knew the issue calling her ma might cause you. You were at their dinner table to avoid the constant coughes and screams of your actual mother after all.

You send a reassuring smile and she attempts to bring back the causal mood. "So y/n, Sejanus tells me that you both have an enormous paper for Rhaen." You and Sejanus laugh, knowing how much you both complained about your professor to her. You nod in agreement, informing her that you were probably going to head to the libary after dinner to start on it.

Your confession was received with a groan by Sejanus (which was quickly chided by his ma).

"We just got it today y/n. You can wait a few days, you've been doing so much work lately".

You knew he was trying to make sure you don't get too burnt out, especially before graduation, final exams, and the awarding of the Plinth Prize. But you simply shook your head and reiterated that you are going to start the oh so dreaded assignment.

And that's exactly what you did. That night. The night after. And the night after. It was on your fourth night of extreme working conditions that you were interrupted. You were on your conclusion, tens of pages in, when someone cleared their throat above you. You didn't know what time it was as you always worked untill you were kicked out by the librarian.

"Please, I just have a few more sentences and I'll be completely done. And I mean it this time I swear!"

You didn't even bother to look up, trying to finish up as quickly as possible.

"Wait you already finished Rhaens paper?"

That was indeed not the voice of the ancient looking librarian. You look up, eyes in pain from staring down at your paper for so long, and see once again, those deep blue eyes of Coriolanus Snow.

"What are you doing here?"

You ask, extremely curious why he is here so late at night. wait it was night right? You quickly scan the windows in fear of seeing the breaks of dawn. When you were met with pitch black darkness, you breathed a sigh of relief. Relief so deep that you completely forgot the charming blonde was right in front of you.

"I think I should be asking why you are here. And frankly how long have you been here."

He replies to your current state, which you assumed was quite disheveled. You just shrugged and spread your arms to gesture to your piles of books and papers. He nods in uncertainty while analyzing your face, taking in every detail, seemingly to figure out some sort of mystery you didn't understand.

You just stared back waiting for him to ask the clear questions in his mind. But he just kept on analyzing. Your perception of time was completely warped but even you could understand he was taking too long.

"Hey so since you've been staring for so long, how is my skin care routine looking?"

You said in a slightly irritated tone. He was interrupting your precious moments of focus so he could do whatever he was doing.

Seemingly slightly startled, as if he forgot you were there, he shook his head in apology.

"Is this why you don't sleep at night y/n?"He asks.

Now it was your turn to stare at him. More like a weird mixture of gawking, squinting, and glaring. You were going to open your mouth to question him and why in the world Sejanus told him (as he was the only one who knew), but he put his hands up in defense.

"Sejanus didn't tell me if that's what you were thinking. It's clear on your face. You have bags, you look pale, and you are never focused in class. I never wished to ask as I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or attacked."

He confessed the last part a little quieter, seeming to remember your reaction when he pointed out the blood on your sleeve.

You ducked your head, a habit nowadays, and tried to recollect yourself. Figure out some sort of response. If you told him yes, you were days without proper sleep because of your writing, it wouldn't technically be lying. But it didn't feel right. Coriolanus would understand, you were sure of it. You knew he lost his mother and he would sympathize.

You also wanted to assure him you weren't trying to be cutthroat about the Plinth Prize. In fact, you wished he wins it rather than you, he worked harder than you and most definitely than any of your other classmates.

But any response was cut by the voice of the actual ancient looking librarian.

"You said you were just going to get your book and leave young man. We closed ten minutes ago and yet you both, especially you miss, have overstayed. Go home. It's far too late and your families must be worrying. You are academy students are you not?"

Her stern words echoed into the empty libary that you just noticed. You both nodded to her question and she responded with a heavy sigh, shaking her wrinkly head while muttering something about teenagers nowadays. You were going to ponder that if she is upset with you two being good students and dedicated to your work was bad, how were teens back in her days? And you most likley would have ended up down a rabbit hole of thoughts if you didn't notice Coryo picking up your books and putting then in your bag.

"Oh you don't need to do that, I got it!"

You got up, far too fast and nearly fell over. He quickly grabbed you by your arm and pulled you back, steadying you. You stare up at him surprised and still a bit shook as he flashes you "yeah sure you are" kind of look. He finishes up clearing your table before giving you his arm to lead you out the libary, speed walking past the harsh glare of the old woman, a few giggles coming out of you due to your situation.

You and him walked in silence for a few minutes and you took it all in. It was late at night and you were on the arm Coriolanus Snow as he carried your bag and took you home. Once the thought hit you, you were sure that you were blushing, hoping the lights of the Capital didn't illuminate it too much. But it wasn't a bad thought. No, not in the slightest.

You found it endearing, even a slight desire. you are definitely in a hazy state, your voice of reason mentioned at your attempts to delude the intentions of his actions.

"Would it be okay if I took you upstairs? I want to make sure you make it there safely" He wonders as you reach the base of your complex. Aww, he wants to make sure you made it home safely.

His concern was a quick reminder however of your weak state and inability to move nor act (or think, that little voice chimed in) normally. In reality, he probably didn't want to be arrested for your murder because he was simply the last person seen with you before you fell down the stairs because you can't even count the number on your fingers properly.

You nodded and he led the way, opening up the door for you. You weren't really conscious as he clicked the button for the elevator (something you forgot existed in your imagination of how the night would have gone if the boy was not with you) or when you both got to your front door. But your consciousness came in full force and all of your sleepy haze went away as you heard the absolutely horrific screams of your mother.

how did you forget. how did you forget. Somehow, on your entire walk with Coriolanus and when asked if he could take you up, you completely forgot what would be awaiting you. And the absolute horror it must be for him. You quickly turn to him, as he looked like he was going to kick down the door and come to her rescue. You rushed to pull him back, attempting to assure him.

"It's okay Coryo! She just gets like this sometimes. My father is with her and so are nurses. I promise, it's okay. Thank you truly for taking me home, go get some rest".

You try to assure him with a smile, but he wasn't looking at you. He was staring straight ahead at your door, his chest rising up and down in deep pants and breaths. You try to get his attention but it wasn't working, so you put a few finger on his chin and make him look at you.

Looking deep in his eyes, you evenly say "It's okay. Please, just go home Coryo, I'm sure your family is worried where you are."

He says nothing for a moment, simply gazing deep into your sympathetic eyes. In a whisper, his question comes out more as a statement.

"This why you haven't been sleeping?"

You sigh, knowing there is no need to deflect now. You nod and take a breath, ready to turn around and head into your home, knowing you will be up for hours. Then another round of your mother's shrieks hit your ears and you cringed back tears and shuddered at the sound.

You were still close enough to Coryo that you backed up into him in reaction. He quickly wrapped an arm around you protectively, as if he could shield you from her pain. You didn't know what to do, so you just stood there, wrapped by his arm just listening untill it intensified for a quick second as the door opened.

Rhayes, your long-time family chauffeur but who is more of uncle as he has been serving your family since your mother was your age, came out. He seemed stunned and alarmed, you assumed from the scene inside but the way he stared at Coriolanus arm around your torso made you question.

"Apologies, miss y/n, I thought I heard voices".

His eyes flicked over you both once again as he spoke.

You wondered how to explain your situation and were going to move Coryo's arm off you before he interrupted with "No need, we simply came by to let someone know y/n will be staying with my family, if that is alright."

It seemed both you and Rhayes were shocked into stillness. He however recovered much faster.

"Is that so?" He asked skeptically, looking at you for confirmation.

You were thinking about brushing Coriolanus statement off and letting him peacefully rest for the night, not wishing to be a burden to him or his family. But he seemed concerned, was he not? You couldn't trust yourself at this point, but you could trust the slight squeeze he gave with his hand to let you know it was okay.

You nodded your head in agreement and that seemed to worry Rhayes even more, a look of guilt in his eyes.

"Would you please tell my father that I stayed with a friend and will be back tomorrow. I still have work to get done."

Your loyal driver takes in the situation once more and nods his head in obedience, wishing you a good night and well wishes with your ever growing work.

He opened the door into the now silent home as your mother has seemed to have calmed and looked back at you with those deep brown eyes of his, searching for something, as he closed the door. You didn't realize the quick glare however, he sent deep into the eyes of the Snow heir. Once the door was closed, Coryo moved his arm from snaking around your waist and around your front, to holding your hand and leading you towards the elevator once more.

He dragged you a few feet when you stopped, making him turn around fast and landing quite close to your face. You were looking up into his eyes, which seemed to sparkle under the dim warm lights of your penthouse hallways. He looked back into your eyes, something that seems to be happening quite often lately.

"Are you sure?"

You were nervous to ask, not wishing to offend him (and in all honesty, dreading returning back to your situation). He seemed to somehow deepen your shared stare and leaned in a little bit closer.

He whispered "Let's go home darling".

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A/N: AHHHHHH! Two chapters back to back! Don't expect this pace to keep up however, especially with school returning back (only for a few more weeks but still). I know it was LONG and maybe unnecessarily so. You guys are warriors for reading through all that! I know I said that characters may be ooc but Snow may be the most. I know he seems pretty fluffy rn but I am trying my best not too change him too much as I find him interesting with his flaws. Also, in later chapters, you will see that he is now the only one with a flawed character and outlook (cough reader cough). But hey, maybe this time, he will use one of those chances to reform. or not. Guess you just have to wait and see! Thank you again and much love❤️

@notyourwildestdream 🌹

#coriolanus snow #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #sejanus x reader #sejanus deserved better #snow lands on top #sejanus plinth #ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus x reader #reader insert #x reader

[beanghostprincess]

Sanji falls in love with Usopp. It's actually not quick, but painfully slow (he wishes he had found out sooner, actually). Except the realization comes in the form of a strong, powerful wave he cannot avoid and he ends up drowning in emotions he isn't ready to process yet. He knows it isn't bad. Loving Usopp could never be something bad. Usopp could never be something he regrets. And yet, he doesn't feel... Ready to act upon his feelings. It's not that he doesn't feel worthy of Usopp reciprocating his love, Sanji just thinks he isn't the man he ought to be yet to be worthy of loving Usopp. If that makes any sense. So he waits. He waits, staring at Usopp from afar. When he grins at Chopper while they fish together. The way he holds hair ties in between his teeth while he gets his hair out of the way to work. How his fingers move gracely around his brushes as he paints. And Sanji also stares closely (never close enough) because fate has granted him (or maybe it's just the way things are now, thanks to everything they've gone through, and it has little to do with destiny and the universe although Sanji would love to blame it on that) the possibility of at least being Usopp's best friend. So they are close, but it's never enough. And they're together, but so, so far away from each other... Sanji's heart aches. When he gets to have a very drunk Usopp resting his head on his shoulder in the middle of a party. When the sniper relies on him whenever he's scared instead of going to mosshead the way he used to do at the very beginning. When Usopp and he get to spend the night alone. Alone and together and never close enough. And their hands are almost touching but they never do. And Sanji stares at Usopp's lips and he knows the other is doing it too, but they never move. If he does- If Usopp does dare to move, Sanji will move away. He knows it's hurting his sniper. He wishes he could tell him it's hurting him too. Sanji doesn't even know what he's waiting for, anyway.

But falling in love with Usopp feels kind of like trying to find the All Blue, right? A sudden, freezing cold. Soaking wet in emotions he can't quite describe but he knows are everywhere. He knows it's true. He knows it's there. Out of touch but not out of reach. He knows he can find it. Feel it. Drown in there. Someday. But in the same way, he isn't ready yet to find the All Blue, perhaps he just has to wait until he's ready to properly love Usopp. He isn't asking the sniper to wait for him, he could never do that to him. But he silently begs against his will for Usopp to realize already how much he means to him and how soaked in love he'll be once Sanji becomes the man he wants to be for him. Sanji finds the whole 'you can't love someone unless you love yourself' thing kind of dumb because he hates himself but he could never love Usopp more. Well, he does. Every day. He loves him more every day and the sensation just keeps growing. But the point is, despite everything, he loves Usopp. So maybe whether he likes himself or not isn't the issue here.

Loving Usopp feels kind of like a dream. Sanji has dreamt about this before. Falling in love and living his own fairytale type of romance someday. In the same way he has dreamt about deep blues with shades of green and seas entirely occupied by sea creatures of all kinds that used to only exist in the deepest corners of his heart. So maybe if he- If Sanji manages to find it, he'll be able to love Usopp too. It's stupid. It's a dumb thought. But it keeps him going. Not only because it encourages him to become stronger to achieve his dream, but because it helps him never lose hope in it. And maybe... Maybe if Sanji can do something as impossible as finding the one thing everybody told him didn't exist, then being in love with Usopp will start feeling more like a reality he deserves and not just a dream he can only brush the surface of.

So he makes this promise to confess once he finds the All Blue.

Maybe it's just a cowardly move from him, needing something like that to gain the strength to say how he feels out loud. But that's exactly why he needs it. The reason why he isn't ready yet and why he will be once he finds the All Blue.

Sanji is sure he will. He has never doubted the existence of his dream. But it's such a distant thought sometimes that when he actually does find it... Well, fuck. He doesn't exactly know what to do. It's one fish after the other. All from different seas. Different kinds. Colors. Tastes. Noises. It's captivating and overwhelming and he doesn't want to cry, but once he realizes where they are, he can't help but grin widely as his soul pulls him closer and closer to the water. Wanting- Begging him to live there. He wonders if it's possible to drown without even swimming in the first place because he has the sensation of both his heart and lungs being filled with water in the best of ways.

They let him dive in there and he doesn't think twice about it. Sanji doesn't go in slowly. He has been waiting for this for decades. He needs it. And the sensation sort of resembles everything he thought about but- But it's different. And he focuses on the fishes and the sea and colors and trying to remember to breathe but... For a split second, it is. Because now he can't get something out of his mind. Something he had forgotten with the thrill of actually finding what he had been looking for. Sanji feels so... Complete. Powerful. There's still a long way ahead of them and this is just the beginning of something new. And Sanji finally feels at peace, after so long of battling with himself and who he truly is. Finding the All Blue isn't just achieving his dream, but also his soul. His true self. His heart. And right now the one who should be holding it doesn't even know how much he loves him in the first place.

Sanji wants to put that aside and focus on this. He wants to go into the water and stay for a while and start thinking of all the dishes he could make from this part of the ocean. He'll tell Usopp. Just not now. Not when he should be focusing on this. Not when everybody else is around. Not in front of the crew. He could just-- Take Usopp somewhere nice. Cook the first dish ever made with ingredients from the All Blue. Only for him. He could. He could.

Or that's what the old Sanji would've said. At least the Sanji from the day before finding the All Blue.

Because now Sanji is swimming back to the ship, with everyone's eyes on him to see what he has to say about his dream. They pull the rope up and he doesn't even climb into the ship, he just holds onto the railing, right in front of Usopp, and tries to catch his breath after this. He knows they're looking. Luffy's grinning at him, begging for him to explain how it is down there. The others surround him with pleased, proud expressions. They're all waiting for him to say something, and Sanji is just capable of looking at Usopp. Maybe he has been staring for too long, because he can feel the sun drying the water off his skin, and some strands of hair falling onto his forehead despite having both of his eyes free of the bangs.

He doesn't think twice about kissing Usopp, the same way he didn't think twice about jumping onto the All Blue.

It's deep and sudden and hard and neither of them was expecting their first kiss to be this way. But Sanji pulls Usopp closer by the back of his neck, burying his still-wet fingers in the sniper's hair. Usopp makes a surprised but excited noise, but he doesn't even have the time to respond to the kiss, because Sanji is already moving away. And it's not enough. Sanji realizes too that it could never be enough, no matter how much of Usopp he has, because he'll just want to get to have more of him the same way he desires to go deeper into the sea. But it's perfect for them, to be right where the water and the sunlight meet.

Sanji thought he would be more nervous about this, but it's so much. Too much. He can only smile at Usopp and move the tips of his toes against the ship out of excitement, his hand's knuckles turning white as his grip on the rail tightens, and his other hand resting on Usopp's cheek. He knows the others are looking, he just doesn't care now.

Usopp stares at him, astonished and trying to look for something in Sanji's eyes that he apparently can't achieve without asking. "What was that for?" And he laughs giddily because there's just no other way to react to what just happened to them.

"You're a dream come true." He sighs, feeling his heartbeat against his throat like it's about to burst. And he just... He can't stop smiling. "I'm sorry I made you wait, I- I had to find something first." Myself. Because they both know he isn't talking just about the All Blue.

The sniper nods, and he feels himself about to start crying. But he won't. He knows both Franky and Nami probably are, but he won't. "And how's that going for you?" He throws a glance at the sea, which Sanji follows again with excitement. His whole body shakes. Oh, god. Usopp can't help but laugh, taking Sanji's hand on his. "You want to go back, huh?"

Sanji doesn't hesitate. His whole body is begging him to go back into the water. "Please." He looks at Usopp as if he needed permission in the first place. "Again?" And it makes the sniper's heart melt to see such joy and passion in the man he loves.

They start lowering Sanji again, and Usopp leans over the railing to speak. "But we need to talk about this later!"

"Of course, mon trésor!" He yells the second his feet touch the water. "Once I finish with this you'll be my top priority! I'll do everything I haven't done these past years! I promise!"

The second he goes into the ocean again Usopp can't help but narrow his eyes at the shadow underwater. "He's not going to come back soon, right?"

Nami scoffs at that. "You're lucky if he comes out of there at all."

And if Zoro says "Maybe he turns into an ugly fish and starts living there to stop bothering us all" Usopp pretends not to hear him because he knows that if Sanji stays underwater, he's willing to wait forever for him to come back to the surface and fulfill his new promise.

Kind of really inspired by this fanart that I love deeply

#i got inspired suddenly #i love them so much #i just want sanji to find the all blue pleaseplease #i wish i could write more tags but i am tired #also this is probably my favorite sanji fanart ever yes #one piece #black leg sanji #usopp #sanuso

[snowangie]

snow on the beach.

a finnick odair x fem!oc series

summary : in the heart of the capitol's glittering deception, Giselle Snow, granddaughter of president coriolanus snow, conceals her true emotions while working to undermine the hunger games. sent to district 4 after the 74th Games, she grapples with forbidden love for district 4's Finnick Odair. Snow on the beach is weird but fucking beautiful – Giselle is the snow, Finnick is the beach, an unexpected yet perfect harmony in the delicate ballet of their existence. As the quarter quell unfolds, panem becomes a battleground for love and rebellion, and Giselle faces a choice that will alter destinies and unravel the threads of her past.

warnings: swearing, smut, violence, mentions of death, mentions of torture, mentions of sex trafficking, weapons, trauma, mental illnesses

genre: angst, romance, forbidden love, violence, hurt/comfort

chapters: 1-flecks of lights , 2-life is emotionally abusive , 3-time cant stop me quite like u did

author’s note: i alrdy have six other chapters abt to be published real soon. the timeline will start from post thg and pre catching fire to the catching fire and the mockingjay pt 1 & 2 ! the story will get more interesting in the coming chapters i promise and i hope u enjoy reading :)

chapter 1 : flecks of lights.

The grandiose chamber of President Snow's office in the heart of the Capitol was adorned with opulence that mirrored the power he held over Panem. Giselle Snow, granddaughter to the president, entered the room with a careful blend of poise and trepidation. The air was laden with an unspoken tension as she approached the imposing figure behind the intricately carved desk.

President Snow, seated in a high-backed chair, regarded her with a scrutinizing gaze. “My lovely... Giselle,” he said with an air of authority. “Sit.” His tone allowed no room for objection.

Giselle took a seat across from her grandfather, her posture straight and composed. “You summoned me, Grandfather,” she said, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of deference and curiosity.

He leaned back, fingers steepled. “The districts are proving to be more troublesome than anticipated, especially after that girl, Katniss Everdeen, became a symbol of rebellion. We need to ensure our control, and I have a task for you.”

Giselle inclined her head, a silent acknowledgment of her readiness to fulfill any duty bestowed upon her.

“You're to leave the Capitol,” President Snow continued, his gaze piercing. "Head to District 4. Keep an eye on the situation there. We need loyalty, not rebellion."

Understanding the gravity of the assignment, Giselle nodded. “Of course, Grandfather. I will ensure District 4 remains in line.”

His lips curled into a semblance of a smile, though his eyes remained cold. “You'll do more than that, Giselle. You'll show them who holds the power. Be a presence they can't ignore.”

Giselle's brow furrowed slightly. “I understand the need for authority, Grandfather, but isn't there a risk of inciting further unrest if I'm too forceful?”

President Snow's expression hardened. “You underestimate the importance of control, my dear. A firm hand is required to maintain order. You'll leave tomorrow. Ensure District 4 understands the price of disobedience.”

As Giselle left the president's office, the weight of her new assignment settled on her shoulders. Little did she know, this journey to District 4 would alter the course of her life in ways she never could have anticipated. The Capitol's gleaming façade hid secrets, and Giselle, bound by duty, embarked on a path that would challenge her allegiance and reshape her understanding of the world she was born into.

The nightfall brought a quiet stillness to the Capitol, but within the luxurious walls of the Snow's residence, the atmosphere was anything but tranquil. Giselle stood by the window, her gaze fixed on the neon-lit skyline, a stark contrast to the darkened Districts she was about to enter. A single thought echoed in her mind - her departure for District 4.

She turned around from the window to a big mirror across her bedroom. In the mirror's gaze, Giselle Snow emerges, a vision painted in the hues of winter’s embrace—like the quiet elegance of snow, her every movement a subtle cascade of crystalline grace. Her porcelain skin, as pale as freshly fallen snow, conceals a myriad of emotions beneath a facade of composure. Blue eyes, reminiscent of the frigid depths, mirror the legacy she inherits from President Snow. Raven tendrils cascade like delicate snowflakes, framing a countenance that masks both strength and vulnerability. Giselle, standing at a gentle petite height, embodies the quiet power of a snow-covered landscape, where the surface serenity belies the tumultuous currents beneath.

As dawn painted the sky with hues of rose and gold, Giselle prepared for her journey. The Capitol, a city of excess and indulgence, presented a facade of perpetual celebration. Yet, beneath it, Giselle felt a sense of isolation. The grand parties, the extravagant fashion, the Capitol's obsession with appearances – all seemed distant, detached from the reality she was about to confront.

Descending the grand staircase of the Presidential office, Giselle observed Capitol citizens engaged in their daily routines. Perfectly coiffed and adorned in extravagant attire, they moved with an air of detached elegance. She exchanged polite nods and practiced smiles, concealing the underlying tension that accompanied her impending departure.

In the bustling streets, hovercrafts glided overhead, carrying with them the distant echoes of Capitol chatter. “Love really is a wonderful thing, isn’t it ? Look at the District 12 victors.” Giselle caught fragments of conversations discussing the recent Hunger Games, a macabre spectacle ingrained in Capitol culture. Her gaze lingered on the lavish advertisements depicting this year’s victors and their glory.

As she made her way to the Capitol's central hub, Giselle couldn't escape the feeling of being a pawn in a grand, calculated game. The Capitol, with its towering architecture and ostentatious displays of wealth, seemed like a gilded cage, and Giselle, despite her privileged status, yearned for something more.

Amid the swirl of Capitol life, Giselle pondered the stark contrast between her existence and the struggles faced by those in the Districts. The Capitol's obliviousness to the suffering of its subjects weighed heavily on her conscience. She questioned the morality of her grandfather's orders, grappling with the realization that her actions would directly impact lives beyond the opulence of the Capitol.

As her hovercraft lifted off, carrying her towards District 4, Giselle cast a final gaze upon the Capitol skyline. The dichotomy between the sparkling facade and the dark reality beneath became a poignant metaphor for the life she was leaving behind. Little did she know that her journey into the heart of Panem would unravel secrets, challenge loyalties, and ignite a spark of compassion that could alter the course of the Hunger Games.

On a crisp morning, Giselle found herself in the heart of District 4, standing outside a weathered building that served as a makeshift shelter for the elderly. Inside, a sense of community prevailed, but the challenges of age and limited resources weighed heavily on the occupants. Giselle, armed with a basket of provisions, stepped forward to lend a helping hand.

“Good morning, Alice,” she greeted, her tone warm and genuine.

The elderly woman, initially wary of the Capitol emissary, now greeted Giselle with a genuine smile. “Good morning, dear. You've been a blessing to us.”

As Giselle distributed essentials and engaged in conversations with the elderly residents, she felt a profound connection forming. The Capitol's representative had become a familiar face, not as a symbol of oppression but as someone who genuinely cared.

Amidst the camaraderie, a flashback flickered in Giselle's mind – a scene from her arrival in District 4. The initial reception had been marked by hesitancy and fear. The residents had seen her as an extension of President Snow's authority, an unwelcome reminder of Capitol oppression. Their guarded glances and whispered conversations had painted her arrival with skepticism.

Now, as she moved among them with empathy and compassion, Giselle recalled the gradual shift in perception. The people of District 4 had witnessed her dedication to easing their burdens, and the once-fearful gazes had transformed into looks of gratitude.

In the flashback, a moment stood out – a conversation with an elderly fisherman named Mr. O'Brien. “We don't trust your kind,” he had grumbled at the outset.

Giselle had responded with a soft-spoken determination. “Give me a chance to prove that I'm not here to perpetuate the Capitol's cruelty.”

Back in the present, Mr. O'Brien, now seated in the shelter, smiled at Giselle as she handed him a blanket. The warmth in his eyes spoke of acceptance earned through actions, not mere words.

The contrast between Giselle's arrival and the present scene was palpable – a transformation of fear into trust, of skepticism into gratitude. As she continued her efforts to assist the elderly in District 4, Giselle found purpose in bridging the gap between the Capitol and its districts, one compassionate act at a time.

Upon her arrival in District 4 a month ago, Giselle was ushered into a modest gathering hall where the victors of the district had assembled. Their eyes, seasoned by hardship and the harsh realities of the Hunger Games, bore a mix of curiosity and wariness as she entered. Among them, Finnick Odair stood out, an enigmatic figure with an air of both charm and caution.

Finnick, a living embodiment of allure and strength, possesses a sculpted physique that seems chiseled by the ocean's waves. His sea-green eyes mirrors the depth of the waters he hails from, and his sun-kissed hair carries whispers of the sandy shores. The 65th Hunger Games victor reminded Giselle of the beach, its warmth and unpredictability. The sand yields beneath his every step, mirroring the enigmatic allure that draws others in. His presence drawing the tide of emotions in an unpredictable rhythm with his exuding charisma.

Giselle felt the weight of their collective gaze as she approached, her every step echoing in the hushed room. The victors, each carrying the visible and invisible scars of their past tribulations, eyed her with a mixture of skepticism and guarded interest.

Finnick, his sea-green eyes piercing, regarded her with a cool detachment. She sensed an unspoken challenge in his gaze, a silent invitation to prove herself beyond her Capitol lineage.

One of the older victors, Mags, stepped forward, her weathered face etched with both resilience and kindness. “Welcome to District 4,” she said, her voice, thick with an accent that can hardly be understood, but a comforting contrast to the tension in the room. “We've been through a lot, and we hope you understand our apprehension.”

Giselle nodded, acknowledging the validity of their wariness. “I'm here to understand, to learn, and to help in any way I can.”

Finnick, leaning against a pillar with an air of nonchalance, finally spoke, his words laced with skepticism. “You're here to help yeah? That's a first.”

Giselle met his gaze with a steady determination. “I didn't choose the circumstances of my birth, but I can choose how I navigate them. Let me prove that not everyone from the Capitol is your enemy.”

The other victors exchanged glances, the room filled with an uneasy silence. It was Annie Cresta, another victor with a haunted expression, who broke the tension. “We've heard promises before. Actions speak louder than words.”

Over the following days, Giselle worked tirelessly to fulfill those promises. She attended to the needs of the district, engaged in conversations with the victors, and gradually earned their trust through her genuine efforts to understand their struggles.

The low hum of conversation and the rhythmic clinking of utensils created a subdued ambiance during the communal dinner in District 4. Giselle, a newcomer to this close-knit community of victors, moved through the room with a measured grace, keenly aware of the mixed reactions to her presence. Finnick, surrounded by fellow victors, couldn't help but watch her, his initial hostility giving way to a guarded curiosity.

Giselle, though aware of the scrutiny, maintained her composed facade. Her poise unfaltering. Finnick's eyes followed her every move, the dim lighting casting shadows on his usually sharp features. There was a weariness about him that matched the weight of their shared experiences. Mags, ever perceptive, nudged Finnick with a subtle smile, as if to say, “Give her a chance.”

As Giselle took a seat at the table, the tension lingered. The conversations around them continued, a mixture of stories from past victories and the haunting memories of the arena. Finnick's initial hostility began to wane, replaced by a flicker of curiosity. Giselle, sensing the shift, decided to break the ice.

“Hello, everyone,” she said, her voice carrying a mix of confidence and vulnerability. “I know I'm not what you expected, but I'm here to navigate this journey with you. Let's make the most of it, shall we?”

As the dinner continued, the atmosphere shifted subtly. Finnick’s hostility waned, replaced by a flicker of curiosity that mirrored Giselle’s guarded demeanor. The room, filled with the stories of past victories and lingering traumas, bore witness to a quiet turning point.

Their eyes met across the room, an electric charge passing between them, almost like some flecks of lights. It was as if the air crackled with unspoken tension, a silent understanding passing between them. In that fleeting connection, Finnick glimpsed something beyond the Capitol walls Giselle wore—a vulnerability, perhaps, or a shared acknowledgment of the fact that they were bound together by the challenges of the Games. The road to trust might be uncertain, but that initial exchange marked the beginning of a connection that held the promise of unexpected alliances in the days to come.

The coastal air in District 4 carried a sense of tranquility, a stark contrast to the undercurrent of tension within the district. Giselle, engrossed in helping a group of children repair a makeshift shelter, looked up as the oppressive presence of a Peacemaker leader, Captain Rawlins, loomed over her.

Rawlins, his uniform adorned with Capitol insignias, exuded hostility as he approached. “Giselle Snow,” he sneered, emphasizing her last name with disdain. “I've been hearing reports about your... tenderness toward these people. You forget your purpose here.”

Giselle, undeterred, straightened but maintained her composure. “My purpose is to ensure order and cooperation, not to crush the spirit of those who have already endured so much.”

Rawlins, a symbol of Capitol authority, leaned in with a menacing glare. “Your grandfather didn't send you here to coddle them. They need to fear the Capitol, not embrace it.”

As the confrontation unfolded, Finnick, who had been observing from a distance, couldn't ignore the palpable tension. His piercing gaze remained fixed on Giselle, his expression unreadable.

Giselle met Rawlins' hostility with measured defiance. “I believe in understanding before control. Fear only begets rebellion.”

Rawlins, unrelenting, hissed, “You'll do well to remember your place, Snow. This is not the Capitol. This is District 4, and they are not your equals. Next time you might not just be getting a verbal reminder.”

The Peacemaker leader retreated with a parting glare, leaving Giselle surrounded by a heavy silence. The onlookers, District 4 residents and victors alike, exchanged uneasy glances, aware of the delicate balance between the Capitol's emissary and the authority they represented.

Finnick, having witnessed the confrontation, approached Giselle with a softened expression. His sea-green eyes, once filled with skepticism, now held a glimmer of understanding. “ I guess, even the President’s granddaughter isn’t free.”

Giselle, her resolve unbroken, met his gaze. “No, Finnick. I'm not here to perpetuate the Capitol's cruelty. I’m not just Snow’s granddaughter. What Snow is and what I am is two different things. I want to make a difference. A good one.”

In that moment, the unspoken connection between them deepened. Finnick, seeing beyond the Capitol's facade, recognized Giselle's genuine intentions. The hostility of Rawlins had not only exposed the oppressive nature of the Capitol but had also illuminated the stark contrast between Giselle's compassion and the brutality she represented. As the whispers of dissent lingered in the air, Giselle and Finnick share a subtle nod of mutual understanding.

The day was overcast in District 4, the sky reflecting the somber mood that often lingered in the coastal district. Giselle, having spent the morning assisting in a community project, found herself near the docks where Finnick was overseeing a fishing expedition. The rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the boats provided a backdrop to their conversation.

Finnick, usually stoic, allowed a rare vulnerability to surface. “Victors are supposed to be living in luxury, but I feel like a prisoner. Funny how I thought I would be free from everything when I won the games.”

Giselle, leaning against a dock post, looked at him with understanding. “Luxury can be its own form of confinement. Expectations, demands... it's a different kind of Hunger Games.”

He sighed, the weight of his past victories evident in his eyes. “They think they own us because we won. They parade us like trophies.”

Giselle nodded, recognizing the shared burden of being a pawn in the Capitol's game. “I never asked for this life either. Born into a system that expects me to follow its rules.”

As the conversation continued, they found solace in each other's shared experiences. Finnick spoke of the exploitation he endured, the Capitol's twisted expectations, and the toll it took on his sense of self. Giselle, in turn, shared her struggles with the oppressive nature of her lineage and the conflict she felt between duty and compassion.

Amidst the backdrop of creaking boats and the distant calls of seagulls, Giselle placed a reassuring hand on Finnick's arm. “You're not alone, Finnick. We're both prisoners of a system that values power over humanity.”

He looked at her, a mixture of surprise and gratitude in his eyes.

She smiled at him, the connection between them deepening. “Maybe it's time we redefine what's expected. We can be more than the roles they assigned us.”

As the day unfolded, Giselle and Finnick found comfort in each other's presence. Their budding friendship serving as a source of emotional support in a world that sought to define them by their pasts. They became each other’s flecks of lights in their own darkness. In this shared vulnerability, they discover a connection that transcends the Capitol's expectations, laying the foundation for a bond that will evolve into something deeper.

The evening was draped in hues of orange and purple as Giselle stood by the edge of the district, gazing out at the sea. Finnick joined her, and in the quiet solitude, the weight of their shared experiences hung in the air.

Finnick, usually guarded, allowed a moment of vulnerability. "I've never talked about this with anyone. The Hunger Games, the Capitol's demands... it changes you."

Giselle nodded, understanding the depth of his pain. "They exploit your victories, but they don't see the scars they leave behind. Victors are expected to be symbols, not people."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow on the water, Giselle found herself sharing her own struggles. "I grew up in the Capitol, surrounded by extravagance. But the more I saw, the more I realized how empty it all is."

Finnick looked at her, his sea-green eyes reflecting a mix of empathy and shared pain. "I thought you were just another Capitol puppet, but you're different. I can't figure you out."

Giselle chuckled, a bittersweet expression on her face. "Maybe that's because I'm trying to figure myself out too. I don't want to be a pawn in their game. I want to change things, even if it's just a little."

In the quiet admission of their vulnerabilities, a subtle shift occurred. Their friendship evolved into a connection forged in shared pain and a mutual desire for change.

As the waves rhythmically caressed the shore, Giselle sought solace in the quiet companionship of Finnick. With a gentle touch, she rested her head on his strong shoulders, finding comfort in the shared silence that echoed the unspoken complexities of their lives. "Beyond these roles, Finnick, we are survivors. And perhaps, in that truth, we will find something that transcends it all."

Finnick, usually guarded, allowed a hint of gratitude to soften his features. "Maybe you're right, Giselle. Maybe we can be more than the Capitol's expectations."

In that moment, against the backdrop of the fading sunlight and the persistent sound of the sea, Giselle and Finnick found solace in the shared understanding that they were not defined solely by the Capitol's cruel narrative. The breakdown of walls, the admission of vulnerabilities, became the foundation for a connection that held the promise of mutual growth and perhaps, even love.

Days turned into weeks, and the connection between Giselle and Finnick deepened, unspoken emotions weaving through their shared moments. One evening, they found themselves on the same stretch of beach where they had first shared their vulnerabilities.

As they walked along the shoreline, the air thick with unspoken sentiments, Giselle broke the silence. "There's something about this place that feels different when you're here."

Finnick smiled, his gaze lingering on the horizon. "Maybe it's the freedom from the Capitol's expectations, even if just for a moment."

Giselle nodded, a subtle understanding passing between them. They had become each other's refuge in a world that demanded so much and gave so little.

Amidst the soft sounds of the waves, they sat on a weathered piece of driftwood, and Finnick's fingers traced absent patterns in the sand. “You know,” he began, his voice softer than usual, “I never expected to find... comfort in someone like you.”

Giselle looked at him, a mixture of curiosity and warmth in her eyes. “Comfort?”

Finnick hesitated, his sea-green eyes meeting hers. “Yeah. I mean, you get it. The struggle, the weight of it all. It's... comforting.”

She giggled, the sound carrying a tinge of vulnerability. “I never thought I'd find someone who understands this side of me. It's a relief, really.”

As the conversation flowed, the air seemed charged with an energy neither of them could fully comprehend. It was a dance of words, subtle glances, and shared silences, all painting a picture of something more profound than mere friendship.

In the days that followed, their connection grew more pronounced. Each shared glance and lingering touch weaving a tapestry of connection between Finnick Odair and Giselle Snow. In the quiet embrace of District 4's soft evening glow, their growing bond took center stage.

Under the subtle luminescence of district lights, Finnick's thoughtful eyes met Giselle's, and he spoke words that hung in the air like an unspoken promise. "You're changing me, Giselle Snow. And I'm not sure if I want it to stop."

Giselle, bathed in the gentle radiance of the night, met his gaze with a mixture of vulnerability and resolve. Her lips curved into a soft smile, a response that carried the weight of unspoken understanding.

"Maybe change is what we both need," she whispered, her words a delicate echo in the quiet night. The soft sounds of their shared laughter lingered, a melody that spoke of the intricacies of their evolving connection. In that moment, beneath the district lights, Finnick and Giselle found solace in the uncharted territories of change and the magnetic pull drawing them closer. The lines between friendship and something more blurred, evolving into a connection that surpassed the constraints of their predetermined roles.

One evening, Giselle and Finnick found themselves on the outskirts of District 4, away from the prying eyes of the Capitol and the curious gazes of the district's residents. The moon cast a gentle glow upon the landscape as they stood on a secluded stretch of beach.

The air was filled with a tangible tension, an unspoken understanding that their connection was evolving into something more profound. Giselle, looking out at the vast expanse of the sea, couldn't shake the feeling that they were standing at the edge of a precipice.

Finnick, usually composed, seemed to be wrestling with his own thoughts. As he looked at Giselle, a shared silence unfolded between them. In that unexpected moment of intimacy, their eyes met, and a connection deeper than words was forged.

Without a word, Finnick reached out, his fingers gently brushing against Giselle's hand. It was a subtle touch, a gesture laden with unspoken sentiments. In that brief contact, the weight of their shared experiences, struggles, and unexplored emotions seemed to converge.

Giselle, her heart echoing the rhythm of the waves, looked at him with a mixture of vulnerability and understanding. The touch lingered for a moment longer than necessary, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that was growing between them.

As they continued their quiet stroll along the shoreline, a shared secret hung in the air. Finnick, breaking the silence, spoke softly. "There's something about the sea at night. It makes everything feel... honest."

Giselle nodded, the moonlight casting a glow on her features. "Maybe that's why we find ourselves here, away from the facades and expectations."

In the midst of the tumultuous waters of Panem, Giselle and Finnick discovered that unexpected moments of intimacy held a transformative power. Whether it was a shared glance, a fleeting touch, or the exchange of unspoken truths, these moments deepened their connection, creating a bridge between two souls navigating the complexities of their world.

As they continued to walk along the beach, the sea whispering its secrets to the night, Giselle and Finnick found solace in the unexpected intimacies that wove their connection into a tapestry of shared moments and unexplored emotions. Neither both of them fully realized the depth of their emotions, but the unspoken understanding between them spoke volumes, paving the way for a love that was quietly blooming amidst the complexities of their world.

#finnick odair #finnick x reader #the hunger games #thg #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x oc #sam claflin #catching fire #tbosas #thg series #hunger games fanfiction #finnick odair fanfic #corio snow #tom blyth #young coriolanus snow

[ctrlsatoru]

HANABI SEASON - CHAPTER ONE

genre: enemies to lovers; roommate au; fluff, angst & smut (future chapters) warnings: none in this chapter pairing: geto suguru x gojo satoru x afab reader word count: 6.2k

a/n: LISTEN this is me refusing to accept the current situation in the manga. i need to put my love for these characters somewhere!!! anyway here’s wonderwall:

❛❛For years, the only thread connecting you both was the living legend known as Gojo Satoru. Fate always seemed to place one of you in the other's absence, but in the aftermath of the night parade of a thousand demons, destiny takes an unexpected turn and your paths are brought together.

Or the one where former terrorist and cult leader Geto Suguru is sentenced to become your roommate, and consequences ensue❜❜

They can’t stop themselves from looking at him.

Curiosity. Desire. Pity.

It's human nature, being drawn by beautiful deadly things, wanting to hold them in one’s hands even if they cut. Clandestine glances take him in greedily, shifting to morbid fascination. The most insistent skitter away like spiders caught in the light when they find themselves under your scrutiny, ashamed of being caught or irked by what they assume is a display of jealousy.  

They couldn’t be more mistaken.

You suppose the pair of you sell the couple fantasy at first glance, sitting side by side and matching in black; black dress, black suit, black eyes, black hair. His sharp, siren eyes contrast against your rounder ones, dusted in the faintest glitter.

An unlikely pair in an unlikely situation, that’s the truth of it. You’ve never even had one conversation. At all. Not since you met, nor since he came to live with you in your apartment.

"And now it’s time to present the award for Innovation in Design. This year's awardee is led by a remarkable group of visionaries, whose work has not only pushed for the transformation of several industries but has also improved the lives of countless individuals.” 

You’ve been roomies for weeks and he’s determined to keep the odd, almost non existent dynamic between you going. The roles are set in stone: him, the silent shadow roaming your apartment, and you, the sole recipient of his unwavering disinterest, with no say in any of it.

The silent treatment bothers you more than what you’d anticipated, for reasons you refuse to unpack. You’d expected domestic warfare, belittling remarks, the subtle threat of being poisoned or smothered in your sleep. You were more than ready for it.

There’s no reaction to your presence, to anyone or anything. You two share a roof and simultaneously exist on entirely separate planes. You leave for work early and come home late, often staring at the guest room door with too much take out to eat all by yourself. Other than the weekly home visits from Dr. Nakamura, his psychiatrist, his whereabouts are a mystery.

It’s like living with an emo, non-verbal teenager stuck inside a grown man's body. 

So you decided to react accordingly; by disrupting his streak of isolation and forcing him to come with you to a social function. 

It’s a desperate, risky measure on your part. Doubts began to creep in when you remembered that the social aspect involves people; members of the industry, top dogs from rival companies and most importantly, colleagues you interact with every day, who will undoubtedly have questions about this mysterious man they've never seen before.

But any hesitation dissolved the moment you two arrived at the venue. You looked at him over your shoulder as he made his way through the crowd and knew it worked. It wasn’t a switch flipped, but more like a tiny chip on his stony exterior, hinting at a crack, but still not quite there. 

Not yet. But it’s a win nonetheless. The night is set to be a good one.

“To receive this prestigious award on behalf of Kaneko Industries, please join me in welcoming Creative Director Sera Kaneko.”

The room erupts into applause. Your entire table -all except for your date/roomie/hostage seated on your left- comes to stand. Radiant smiles are shared, you’re all bowing in every conceivable direction, patting each other on the back. Congratulations, you deserve it, you've worked hard. 

This is the result of an uphill battle, months and months of sleepless nights, time with loved ones sacrificed and many failures, iterations and headaches.

Your coworkers rush you to move before you can even react. With fingers clutching the velvety fabric of your gown and your heart drumming against your ears, you walk all the way to the podium until you’re standing under blinding white light.

“Thank you.” Your voice cracks against the mic, a high pitched squeal makes you and probably everyone in the room wince.

The MC returns and adjusts the mic to a reasonable height, giving you time to stack your head over your shoulders, clear your voice and get a good grip on the heavy crystal sculpture in your hands.

“We are truly, truly honored to accept this award. This represents not only our dedication but also the incredible potential the work everyone in this room does has to shape the future.”

One by one, you start to make out faces past the foggy white mist. Though it's nothing compared to the looks your companion has been getting, there's something nearly predatory about it. You roll your shoulders, lift your chin, and continue.

"I want to congratulate everyone at Kaneko Industries. This is a reflection of our collective effort, hard work and shared vision. And of course, this wouldn’t be possible without our CEO, Yamamoto Sota, whose leadership has allowed us to dream big and achieve even bigger."

Your eyes move from your mentor’s prideful smile and foggy glasses to the somber presence sitting on the other side of your vacant chair. A black hole dressed in a black suit. A sick spark goes through you. 

"And I'd like to express my heartfelt gratitude to a very special person. Someone who has been an unexpected source of encouragement and inspiration."

His eyes meet yours for what feels like the first time.

A subtle shift of his jaw turns it into a blade, far sharper than human anatomy should allow, accompanied by the faintest flare of his nostrils. In his full glory, he’d make everyone in the room put their foreheads to the ground. You’d be saved for last.

His wellspring of hostile intentions does the opposite of intimidating you. Painting yourself as the target of the world’s most dangerous curse user sends an exhilarating thrill within you. You’re like a kid playing with firecrackers for the first time, awakening pyromaniac tendencies.

The crack is there. You have proof. Undeniable evidence that he’s not yet turned into a walking carcass. Beneath the surface of his pale skin and those haunting eyes, Geto Suguru is not indifferent.

He’s just given you something to work with.

Now you just have a speech to finish.

You’re at the lovely intersection of tipsy and sober when you take a break from the party, leaving your team to drink to their heart’s content and celebrate as they wish. You’re far from the figure of authority that makes people fix their posture when you step into a room, but it’s your last name on the company logo nonetheless. They should let loose tonight, for real.

No one sets foot on the terrace; the night’s cold enough to make your nose watery and your eyes sting. The vast view of Tokyo makes up for it. It’s just you and your glass of champagne. Everything is in its right place.

As if you’ve been under watch, your phone starts humming against your hip, hidden inside the secret pocket made just for it and a travel sized lipgloss. 

The name on the screen makes your eyes close. You take a deep breath before answering.

“I knew I couldn’t trust Ijichi. I’m firing that wrinkly weasel.” 

A snort comes through the line. “He doesn’t work for you.”

“I’ll hire him and fire him, then. This is why he looks like a 40 year old. Snitches get no collagen. ”

“Be nice. You know he has a soft spot for you.” 

The playful tone startles you. It’s been a while since he’s been in the mood to joke around. You squint at the Tokyo Tower, dressed in light blue light.

“If this is you trying to scold me, just get to it. Don’t ease me into it like I’m one of your little stude–”

He cuts you off. “It’s nothing like that. I just called to say congratulations.” 

Oh.

Oh.

“I heard you guys got the big prize tonight. I’ll make sure to bring everyone gifts as soon as I get back.” 

Knowing his flashy tendencies he’ll pull something unnecessarily extravagant and terrorize the design floor. The starry eyed interns might fall deeper in love with him.

“The whole team?” you taunt, not necessarily doubting him. 

“Of course! Even that stuck-up assistant. Can’t say the same for the degenerate you call CEO.” 

You’re just opening your mouth to defend your friends when he speaks again.

“Hey, I know how hard you’ve worked for this. I’m really proud of you, bug."

"Yeah. Thanks." you rasp, nodding profusely like anyone can see you. Your eyes are starting to sting again. You turn your back to the party, feeling oddly exposed. 

“Even if I have to hear about meaningful moments in my best friend’s life from other people.”

There it is. A few hours from now, maybe in the shower, you’ll know exactly what you want to reply, something along the lines of see, I would’ve mentioned it, if you weren’t icing me out. 

In the present moment he’s pissing you off too much to gather your thoughts. 

And now he’s giving you whiplash again. "We totally have to celebrate. Etxebarri?”

"In what, six months from now?" you snort, fear creeps up on you that he's suggesting a spot with such a lengthy waitlist because he's planning an extended stay abroad. “It won’t feel like celebrating then. Jay Fai?”

"Are you perhaps underestimating me? Big mistake, Sera Kaneko, huge."  he clicks his tongue "We'll do both. And if there's any other place you feel like hitting up, just let me know."

"Trying to spoil me?"

“Spoil her, she says.” he chuckles. “You’ll know when I’m actually trying to spoil you.” 

The spite in his words makes you pause. You pull the phone away from your face and make the conscious decision not to pick a fight.

“What time is it there?” you shut your eyes tight as soon as the question leaves your mouth. Time zones? Really? 

“Early. Uh– 5 a.m. Doesn’t feel like it, though. The sun is bright as hell.”  he complains, surely rubbing his eyes.

You take a sip. “Still working?”

“Just got off.” You picture a dismissive little shrug. Everything is easy for him.

“Things are going smoothly here,” You know he’s been wanting to ask. “I’m handling it. Don’t throw a fit about things you can’t control. Get some sleep.”

“No control? Interesting way to phrase it. Not even a bit? And–” he chuckles airily “have you known me to be the type to stress about things?”

“Zero, and no.” 

You turn around to lean against the thick concrete rail. The wind picks up, you hug your waist trying to warm up.

“But on top of sprinkling some passive aggression every few sentences, you’ve had this ominous vibe for a while. I feel like you’re just waiting for me to fold. Not gonna lie, it’s getting exhausting.”

“That’s–” 

“But,” you emphasize before the conversation gets too real “I get it, you know? We’re on foreign ground.”

“Good foreign, or bad foreign?”

You laugh at his poorly concealed apprehension. If you’re been trying to learn how to deal with Geto Suguru, his counterpart you can read like a book.

“Dude, you seriously need to unclench.”

“I’m unclenched. I’m super loose, you wouldn’t believe it.” 

There’s some shuffling around, followed by a sharp exhale, a telltale sound of him dropping his weight on some random hotel mattress. You huff at his choice of words.

“Grow up. Answer my question, Kaneko.”

“Not Kaneko,” you gasp, no wonder his students show you more respect. “You know, If you’re going to dread delegating something to me for once, maybe– I don’t know? You shouldn’t have agreed to making me your genocidal ex-boyfriend’s keeper.”

“You know that’s not–” 

Now it’s him who’s pissed. You switch up immediately, just for good measure. 

“Relax, man. Jeez, god forbid a girl tries to make light of the situation.” 

There’s a heavy sigh on the line, the fact that he’s dropping the subject speaks volumes. He doesn’t mind postponing the obvious pending conversation as much as he pretends to.

You track down the ex-boyfriend by the bar. He’s just standing there, like he’s above sitting on a stool, ready to pulverize whoever dares come to his vicinity. 

Good foreign, or bad foreign?

“Speaking of. I think I finally got him to crack.” 

“And just why would you be trying to do that?” he asks patiently, like he's talking to a kid.

This time, you deflect without remorse. 

“He’s gathered enough admirers tonight to start another cult. You know how long I spent surrounded by people today?”

“I don’t know. The whole day?”  he yawns, always hating having to guess things. You’re just doing it on purpose at this point.

“Four, Gojo. I had hairdressers, makeup people, a foreign stylist and an army of assistants. My eyelashes are curled a la fibonacci, and my tits look– they put some kind of body butter on me, I can’t describe how good they look.”

You pause, pinch your nose and drop your voice to a whisper. 

“All he has is… what? A little man bun, dark circles and vitamin D deficiency and I’m telling you, he stole my spotlight. I didn’t stand a chance.”

“I’m sure you did, bug. Don’t get too caught up about it.”

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this, you’re biased…" you murmur, shaking your head. "Whatever. I’ve been thinking–"

"Have you now?”

"I always found cults silly. I mean, how is someone alluring enough to convince multitudes to follow them blindly like that? Even if they offer a super convincing lore about the end of the world. They always say they’re charming and handsome but the pictures never back it up– have you seen Jim Jones?”

The line falls quiet as reluctant realization lands on you, and you don’t even register how the cold has numbed the muscles of your face until your eyebrows try to lift and your mouth opens. The edge of Geto Suguru’s profile at a distance disappears when people walk past, then he’s back, taking yet another deep breath.

“But I kind of get it,” You speak your truth, more to yourself. It comes as an intrigued whisper. The sharp wheeze of Gojo violently coughing is immediate, breaking you out of your trance. Is he eating? 

Looking at the man is a humbling experience. Pretty doesn't do him justice. Granted, the man has seen better days; you don’t get devastatingly close to achieving the dream of a lifetime, and lose a limb on top of it without it taking a toll on you.

Geto Surugu, even withered in every conceivable sense of the word, has something magnetic about him.

The pitch-black suit you picked clings to him with an almost predestined fit, a reminder that under the unkempt hair and lackluster baggy clothes he wears around your apartment hides a strong, well-trained physique made of wide shoulders and a slender waist. 

Whatever effort he put into his hair paid off nicely, and having a face like that never hurts. Two strands of raven hair frame his features. 

So, yeah. It’s plausible to you that people got hooked on his hardcore eugenics pyramid scheme simply because they wanted to hit. Not that you’d ever slip like that, even at your lowest, horniest hour, but you see the POV. 

You realize you’re not any different from the people ogling at him earlier. With the sole difference that he's... kind of in your hands already. ” 

“Are you drunk?”

“No. Maybe? I don’t think so. Let’s just say I’m starting to empathize with your commitment issues.” 

You hold back a giggle at his pointed silence. Very few people can say they’ve left the Gojo Satoru speechless. And not for a lack of effort. 

“Man, imagine if I fell for him. That’d be hilarious. Huge conflict of interest. What would you do?”

“Well, that– would put me in a tight spot, for sure.”

“Yeah I can see how that would be uncomfortable for you.” you admit, rather seriously, tickled by how uncomfortable he sounds. Damn the distance between you for not letting you see his face. “But nah. No. I don’t go for the crazy ones, that’s your thing. Plus it’s bros before hoes, always.”

You suppose the scoff is supposed to be a laugh. “Yep. You know it.”

Your alarms are set off at once. A red haired woman in green has approached your roommate’s safe perimeter, and you know the death stare won’t scare her away.

“O.k. I gotta go, there’s a— situation here.”

“What? What’s–”

“And get some sleep. I’ll text you when we get home, say hi to Yuta and Miguel for me.”

“Sera–”

“I’ve got this, ok?” you say pointedly. “Have some faith in me, Satoru. Don’t make me say that again.”

Your thumb hits the red button, not a glance spared at the screen as you make your way inside, ready to stop the crossover at the bar. The world does not need that. You definitely don’t.

“Aunt Elisa” You peel her hand off his forearm, holding it between both of yours instead. Her thin, soft freckled skin reminds you of a newborn reptile.

You uncle’s second wife. They’re one of the few members of your family who held onto enough shares to get invited to this kind of event. Beautiful woman, living proof that age does not take from beauty.

“Serafina, mia cara,” Her green eyes scan you from head to toe. Her smile never reaches her eyes, it never failed to put you off as a kid. “you shouldn’t leave your date alone, it’s unbecoming. Tonight isn’t just about you, you’re an adult, you should know that.”

The last time you heard from her and your uncle they were going to great lengths to get your cousin a seat at the board, and you moved the strings to make their mission impossible. You’re not sure if they caught on to your counter-scheming, but you weren’t particularly sneaky about it.

She’s always been as lovely as any wretched hag with more internalized misogyny than blood running through her icy veins.

“No. Of course not.” You pout, like it’s a tragedy. “It’s pretty late, so you and my uncle are probably leaving by now, right? I know his feet get all swollen when he wears his fancy shoes for too long.”

“Well, that answers my question.” she grins triumphantly, turning to look at Geto like you unknowingly fell into a trap of sorts.

You hesitate. Geto’s face reveals nothing. He’s inspecting your aunt with the emotion of a grocery store scanner. 

“Sorry?”

“I was just asking the young man here what his association with my niece is, but I suppose he’s shy. You should’ve introduced him to the family before bringing him to an event of such importance, dear. This kind of step in a relationship is discussed between both parties, you don’t want to scare him off with your dominant nature.”

“Ah, no–” You relax at once, releasing her hand. Her brick colored lips purse at you. “He’s not shy, quite the opposite. He's just uncomfortable with strangers being so casually forward with him.”

“We’re just worried, dear.” she exhales, her arm slithers around your shoulders, rubbing up and down your bare arm. You shiver at the unwelcome proximity. “Surely you’re not rushing into finding a replacement after Kenichi called off the wedding, are you?”

“There’s nothing to worry about.” You hum reassuringly, shoulders rolling just to get her to stop touching you for a second. “If there’s one thing I learned from our family is that loveless marriages only bring depressing results. It’s one of the many cycles I’m committed to break.”

Her perfectly plucked auburn eyebrows narrow slightly on you. You hold her stare until she turns away from you, expresion instantly softening for Geto. You hold back a gag.

“Are you not going to introduce us?”

“Geto Suguru, a pleasure to meet you.”

The velvety sound of his government name hits you like a bucket of ice-cold water. 

You had prepared an alias, but the opportunity to introduce never came. Your coworkers were too put off by his vibe and perhaps mildly concerned to see you bring a plus one to ask questions, and the death stare and stoic demeanor kept them from starting a conversation with him directly, even in your absence.

He has to know she’s a sorcerer, and while your aunt and uncle live in Europe, too busy with a lavish life to worry about Jujutsu matters, your cousin could recognize his name.

“Elisa Kaneko, Il piacere è mio.”

You’re either lost grasp of reality or he’s really almost smiling at her. 

“Since my niece keeps avoiding the subject, will you finally grace me with an answer?”

“Sono il suo karma, zia.” You pull away from her and come to stand by his side, pressing your shoulder against his arm like the muzzle of a gun. “Ho cambiato il suo destino. We have a contract and all. He’s tied to me.”

You feel him go rigid. Another glass of champagne on you and you might've poked your tongue in his direction.

Go on. Give it a shot, Geto-sama. 

“É così che lo chiami di questi tempi?” She scoffs after assessing the two of you hoping to catch you slacking. “Well if that’s the case, then you must’ve lived a beautiful and honorable life, Geto Suguru. Our Sera is the gift of the Kaneko family, the doré enfant. Our Golden Child, her grandfather used to call her.”

You know where this is going. 

"Fate has dealt her a heavy hand, so if she changed yours hopefully you'll do the same for her. For good fortuna of course, yes?" 

You let her rejoice with a tight-lipped smile and excuse the two of you, exchanging kisses before walking away, not trying to see if he follows you.

The silence on the drive back home is thick. Ijichi drives diligently, quietly, hoping not to be noticed by either of you but sparing concerned glances through the rearview. 

Back inside the building, as the elevator doors close, your mind is made up to make use of the crack in his facade.

“Well played. I drag you with me to a party and you try to recruit my aunt. Seems like I underestimated you. It won’t happen again.”

The bossa nova version of some Korean song that topped the charts last year plays softly. You let the campy chorus pass. No answer comes.

“For a former cult leader, you sure hate the attention. It must’ve been an exhausting decade for you, maybe start thinking about this as your retirement, hm? Lighten up a bit.”

Your reflection’s a blurry blob on the brushed surface of the elevator doors. He keeps his stare forward, wide shoulders dwarfing your figure next to him, standing at a measured distance. You’re probably insane for poking a murderous man with nothing to lose in an enclosed space, isolated from any sort of protection.

“So here’s the deal, making you come was unnecessary, but you left me no choice, and it's not like you had plans anyway.”

Tough crowd. All you get is a single, slow, uninterested blink that would put the world's meanest cat to shame.

You drop the friendly tone and cross your arms.

“I’m not trying to make this any more difficult than it is. The sooner you come to terms with that, the smoother things will go.”

Nada.

You refuse to go back to zero.

The doors open. Your hand touches the metal frame before they close again. He’s fucking stubborn, doesn’t move until you finally step out with a roll of your eyes and just follows you through the dimly lit hallway like a sinister shadow.

Your apartment is silent, only lit by the city outside. You’re deliciously close to savoring the release of your feet when the world spins–

There’s no warning. You're pushed between the stone wall behind you and the black wall that he is. His hand covers half of your face tightly, muffling a yelp.

A million thoughts speed through your head. He’s breathing steadily against you, while you hold yours and brace yourself for his next move. 

This is it. He's gonna try to kill me right now. Hours after I told Gojo to trust me. Is this what those curses saw? Before he swallowed them whole? Fuck. Gojo’s never gonna let me live it down.

You don’t notice you’ve been released until you see his profile. He lifts a finger to his lips, stone-cold eyes set on the end of the hallway. 

It’s in that tense moment that you feel it. You’re not alone. There's someone inside.

Stay. He mouths and disappears.

You stay rooted in that spot, seriously reconsidering your life choices for a bit while you step out of your heels. You wipe away the strange warmth his hand left on your face and follow him.

Silence.

A sharp slam followed by a thud, someone cries out.

They’re in your office. You stand at the edge of the living room, ears straining, and let him come to you.

The shadow lunges from behind and you spin. He has some sort of weapon ready to strike, just a fraction of an inch away from your face, aimed at your eye. Not a knife, not a gun, a much more intricate object. 

You push back against his forearm and duck as he swipes it at your head.

A brutal kick at your legs sends you to the ground. You land at the center of the living room, narrowly avoiding his boot as it stomps on the ground.

That fires you up. Stepping on you? On your face? Uncalled for.

Your hand swipes under the coffee table, closing around the reassuring handle of a knife. He charges at you. It’s your chance. In one fluid motion, you curl your body around his leg and slash across his calves. 

He cries out, drops on one knee, neck straining as he looks up at your glass ceiling. To your surprise he's standing back up in no time.

You get a better look at him now. Young, black kimono, neck tattoo, good fighter, lands a few hits on your side and still moves with determination after the number you've done on his legs.

He never once reaches for his katana, so you know his technique has something to do with it and he’s figured out that it’s useless here. No one but Gojo can wield cursed energy in the building. You both spent a good six months working on the prototype for the security system. 

“Zenin, Kamo?” you ask breathlessly.

He lunges again. You're rusty, and he’s strong, but you’re faster even in a gown. You seize the moment, move to the side, grab his arm with one hand and plunge the blade into his side. It slides between his ribs like he’s made of butter at room temp.

He gasps. 

“Kaneko?”

He stumbles, eyes glazing over, fixed on you. He’s really young. Can’t be much older than Megumi.

With a heavy, not as graceful as you'd like kick to his middle, you send him hurtling into the crystal shelf unit. The fabric of your gown rips. 

You sprint to the office despite your side begging you stop moving. The gruesome sound of knuckles connecting with flesh and bones cracking welcomes you, every single object on your desk is scattered on the floor. Geto and the man move with nearly animalistic brutality, trying to outpower the other. It’s a close fight.

You see it happen.

The look on his face gives away the exact moment it hits him. He just tried to land a punch with his missing arm. All three of you notice the slip, the stranger doesn’t waste his chance.

Geto crashes through the floor-to-ceiling window, glass shattering all around him, landing on the balcony.

Eyes wide and unblinking, he props himself up with his arm. He’s gone, a million miles away. Defenses down. 

It's just you and the intruder who stalks over him with full purpose, drawing his katana.

One by one, three shots ring out. The man's knees fold in first, his weight balancing cartoonishly until he hits the ground, katana following with a resounding clang.

You walk carefully, trying not to step on shattered glass until you step out into the balcony and offer him your hand.

The rain shows no mercy. The drops are thick enough to sting on bare skin. Aoyama is nothing but a quiet hum at night. You take the rejection and go back inside before you're completely drenched and risk hypothermia.

You walk over the man, using the butt of your gun to push away a strand of hair sticking to your face. The beautifully done updo is ruined, you feel it in the release in your temples.

“As I was saying, I don’t expect us to be besties, but we don’t have to be enemies either. The psychological waterboarding thing sounds exhausting. You seem to be doing that yourself just fine.”

It’s a miracle, the liquor cabinet survived the fight. You fix up two generous glasses, skip the ice for him, feeling that he's one of those people.

“I must’ve truly been blessed, then. Karma is rarely known to be so benevolent.”

He’s something else. After that pitiful display, wet like a dog abandoned in the pouring, ice cold rain, and slipping on his first attempt at regaining his footing, there's still an acidic edge to his words. Venom drips from every syllable.

“Hey, you took the liberty of introducing yourself to my aunt, I thought I could afford a little joke.”

His hair sticks to his neck, bun unraveled. Strands cling to the side of his face. He’s limping as he approaches you, there’s a bright red spot where his scar must be. He stops at a safe distance, on the other side of the body. 

You slide the glass across your desk in his direction, not in a gesture of hospitality, but more like offering a lifeline to a drowning man. 

It’s weird, being looked at by him. His pupils shift. You take a sip and fight back a wince. You’d grabbed the first bottle you saw. Safe to say it wasn’t one of yours.

“Your clan doesn’t know.” 

Droplets of water hit the floor under him, from his hand, his soaked clothes, and his chin. 

“You did this without notifying them; you’ve committed treason.”

The second sip is kinder as it washes down your throat, cold and scalding at the same time. You sit on the edge of your crooked desk. A sharp burst of pain in your leg reminds you that you did not come out unscathed.

“My clan.” you repeat, confused. “And who was I supposed to notify? You didn’t exactly leave any elders for me to answer to.”

His brows furrow slightly, the corners of his eyes closing momentarily as if to read a foreign language. You, on the other hand, connect the dots easily.

“Seriously?”

You can’t help the pitch of your voice going higher, giving him time to deny your unspoken assumption.

“Who did you think those Star Religious leaders were? The Kaneko clan was the backbone of the Time Vessel Association. Did you– did you not know that?”

His eyes shift between yours, searching. Why would you lie? It makes sense. Your clan positioned itself as one of the big four partly due to descending from Tengen herself. It makes sense that they had their claws in her little murderous fanclub from the very beginning.

You hold your belly, laughing despite the pain.

“That’s– that’s hilarious. You saved me many headaches. I should thank you.” 

“Still.” he says, the knot between his eyebrows not giving. “You're the head of the Kaneko clan. You’ve kept this from your family.”

Worry starts to settle in you, did he hit his head or something? Surely, the world's wettest, most dangerous curse user can't be this dense.

“I’m a non-sorcerer, not to mention a woman. Do you think anyone holds me to that standard? As long as the company keeps filling their pockets, my family will stay in line, and as you can see we’re not doing too bad.”

The majority of the living members of the clan slowly excited Jujutsu Society after your grandfather passed and the Time Vessel Association went to shit. Those active hardly regard you as a leader. One thing about being the nepobaby of a clan well past its glory days is that the world will not let you forget how insignificant and purposeless your position is.

All in all, the only remarkable things left are the company your great grandfather founded a century ago and the Kaneko vault, but that's another thing entirely. You represent nothing other than a sliver of hope for the survival of the Kaneko technique. And even in that area you’re damaged goods.

"So that moving speech you delivered to the higher-ups—did it not speak honestly of your intentions?"

You indulge in another sip. They’re getting enjoyable by now. Maybe you’ll give whiskey a chance.

“What’s your angle, Golden Child?”

“You caught that, huh?” you chuckle at the nickname, your phone starts ringing but you pay it no mind. “Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not interested in your redemption arch. I just didn’t see the benefit in you letting you die.” 

“So you agreed to this?”

This.

A binding vow.

Set by far with better considerations for you. If anything, you're a warden of sorts. The irony of binding him to a non-sorcerer does not escape you. The higher-ups can get poetically cruel when they want to. 

One of the main conditions is that you can back out whenever you want. In which case the original sentence will proceed; execution by the strongest himself.

“You don’t trust me, I get it,” you admit, a faint understanding in the drop of your voice. It’s reasonable, you’re strangers, tethered only by a thread named Gojo Satoru. “Honestly, I wouldn’t trust me either, but you should know that I’m not the type to give up easily.” 

You sound confident, like you weren’t seriously considering dropping his ass to the Jujutsu version of the lethal injection if he kept ignoring you and sucking the serotonin out of your apartment. Your phone rings again, his eyes land on the exact spot where it’s hidden.

“Is it love?” he asks, eyes knowing.

The question hangs in the air. The ice cube in your mouth shatters into tiny fragments between your clamping teeth, the cold sensation spreading across your tongue.

"Is that why you're so desperate to cater to his desires?" his eyebrows arch empathetically, concerned. You can't help but notice that you've witnessed more emotions cross his face in the last four hours than you have in an entire month.

He shakes his head gently at your silence, a disappointed click of his tongue echoing in the room. 

“You know better, Sera. He’s Gojo Satoru. Nothing is impossible for him. Everything he’s ever wanted and needed in life, he’s had it. You’ll waste yours away trying to live up to a man like that.”

“Speaking from experience?” 

He smiles at the floor, casting you a look that’s equal parts pity and amusement. Like you’re an insect landing on a venus flytrap. 

“I like this. I like us talking, but I think we should be more serious about this.”

Your chin dips at the body on the floor. The younger intruder, hopefully just unconscious in your living room, will have to answer for both. 

“Yes. Let’s be.” he agrees, extending his open palm towards you. “How about some honesty?”

Fair enough. 

“I didn’t think he deserved to execute his best friend,” You concede easily. If he’s trying to play 4D chess, he’ll have better luck with whoever sent your two visitors tonight. “and who knows, maybe you didn’t deserve the easy way out either. You’re gone, leaving the rest to clean up the mess? Not fair, is it?”

“And what do you believe I deserve?”

The end of the conversation looms over you as the rain starts to give. You need to make a few calls, deal with the body, the hopefully not dead kid in your living room, and figure out what comes next before getting some much-needed sleep, which might end up being none. 

And there’s something unknown to you that bleeds into his question, that tells you the curtains are closing on you for the night.

“I’m not gonna pretend to know the answer to that.” you shake your head dismissively “But I know you’re beyond giving a shit about what happens to you, so this is my promise to you; betray Gojo's decision, and I’ll make sure your family pays for your crimes.”

Live, Geto Suguru. I don’t care if you find a reason to wake up in the morning or not, you will live. You don’t get to die. You'll face this shitty, monkey riddled world for as long as you have to. I'll make sure of it.

#geto x reader #suguru fanfiction #getou suguru x reader #geto angst #jjk x reader #geto fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru fanfiction #satoru fanfic #gojo fanfic

[five-and-dimes]

Endless. Not Everything

(AO3)

(This is an AU in the sense that I know, I know, that fem Dream is canon in the comics. We're ignoring that for this one. )

Dream is horny, but Hob seems reluctant to take the next step. So Dream jumps to conclusions and tries to be something he's not.

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

It’s unsurprising in hindsight that the first to make the decision is Delight.

The Endless are still fairly young in the grand scheme of things, but they have watched humanity grow in leaps and bounds. And as they do, it is nigh impossible not to be shaped by them in some ways. The Endless exist because of humanity. They are a part of each other. Delight drifts among humans more than the others, watching and laughing and bringing delight and being delighted in turn.

“Oh, my siblings,” Delight announces one day when they are all gathered together, “call me sister.”

The most surprising part of the interaction is Destiny’s response.

The eldest Endless gives a rare small smile, “Dear sister. You may call me brother.”

Perhaps it had been written from the beginning, the way the Endless would come to take this part of humanity upon themselves. They are all still so young, have not yet learned the things that would separate them, and so they watch with warmth as Delight bursts into peals of laughter and throws her arms around her brother’s neck, embracing him the way she embraced everything.

Slowly, the rest follow suit. Desire curls their lips in disdain and firmly declares that they are a sibling, thank you very much, regardless of shape or form. (It is fitting, they all think, that Desire would be the most comfortable in their given, genderless state.)

Despair takes time, mulling over every option before sighing and announcing who she is as their sister. (None of them are quite sure if she chose the option because it caused her the least amount of despair or the most.)

Destruction wavers. There is violence and destruction in both genders among humans, though in very different ways, and it makes them both uniquely unappealing at times. (In the end, it is a brother that they lose.)

Ultimately, it is not until Death spends that first day as a human that a decision is made. Death had always been flexible, but during that day it just feels right to return as a sister. (It takes a long time for humans to catch up with this decision, but luckily Death is able to find humor in the misgendering.)

Dream takes the longest. Dream is a thing of fantasy and imagination, constantly shifting and fluid, and the forms taken often do not fully fit with humanity’s limited views on either gender. For a long time Dream is just… Dream. It is not until one of the times that Death has dragged Dream down to mingle with mortals that Dream recognizes a distinct discomfort when they walk together and are called ‘sisters’ by various travelers. Dream is called ‘lady’ and ‘lass’ and ‘she’ and wants to scream. (In the end, Dream doesn’t even need to say anything. Death smiles, and rests her hand on Dream’s shoulder soothingly and says “Ready to go home, little brother?” and Dream feels something uncurl in his chest.)

And so they carry on, the Endless family. Brothers and sisters and siblings, more than human but with humanity woven through them like tapestries. Their identities become something innate to them, until it is hard to tell whether it was something they chose or something they discovered. But it doesn’t matter. It just is.

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

Then Dream is captured.

He spends more than a century trapped in the Waking.

And it starts to matter.

Burgess and his followers, with their narrow minds and greedy souls. Dream is dragged to their feet, bound by ancient magic and cruel hands. They strip him, expose his form to the cold and the pain, cage him in glass and shine a light on him to display all the parts of him that do not belong to them.

They call him ‘it’.

And oh, Dream burns, and burns, and burns. His fury is a fire with nowhere to go and it hurts. Dream is not human, he knows that, obviously, but that does not mean he is…

He is not…

He is not a thing, a tool, a toy-

…Is he?

He hates Roderick Burgess for putting that question in his mind.

He hates himself more for asking.

He wants to die when he realizes he’s not confident in the answer.

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

The discomfort, the shame, follows him even when he escapes, even when he recovers his tools and repairs his realm and regains his power. And he… he is trying to get it right this time, after so long getting it wrong (and isn’t that a tragedy, he thinks. Isn’t it a travesty, that for as long as Dream has been he has tried so very, very hard, and still managed to get it so very, very wrong).

Death says “Don’t be a stranger,” and Dream hears “Don’t go back. Don’t go back to before the pain. Don’t go back.”

Something about that hurts.

Then he goes to visit Hob.

And seeing the immortal, seeing the familiar face look up and smile at him, soothes something in him like a balm. Even without knowing all of Dream’s cosmic failures, Hob knows enough of the failures between just the two of them that Dream expects to be met with anger, or bitterness, or, he fears the most, perhaps not met at all. But instead he smiles, and lets Dream sit with him, lets him apologize and forgives him and chats about the time past as though nothing had changed.

Except, that’s not completely true, Dream realizes. Because things had changed. Dream changed. He had thought for the better, but Hob frowns softly across from him. Hob changed. His edges softened, his patience stronger, asking gently if Dream would like to talk about whatever happened. They have both changed. For the first time, Dream is the one who tells a story and Hob is the one who listens.

Many things have changed. Hob’s eyes water, and he reaches out and covers Dream’s hand with his own. Dream does not pull away. It is different, but it is still them, and Dream sighs at the warmth against his perpetually cold skin, turning his hand to curl his fingers around Hob’s and tucking away the image of Hob’s caring smile like a flower in the pocket of his mind.

When he leaves, Hob says “Don’t be a stranger,” and Dream hears “Come back. Please, please come back.”

It hurts a little less.

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

In the grand scheme of things, it escalates rather quickly.

Dream and Hob meet more frequently, soon falling into a rhythm of seeing each other once a week, sometimes in the Waking (where Dream still felt an itch of discomfort, despite not being trapped or bound, not that he let Hob know) and sometimes in the Dreaming (where Dream felt like he could breathe).

With each meeting, Hob grows more bold. Twining their fingers together as they strolled through a dreamscape or pulling Dream in for a hug before they part outside the New Inn. Dream’s pulse beats needlessly, a little excited and a lot terrified at the way this human has wormed his way into Dream’s heart so effortlessly. Dream falls hard and fast, the only way he knows how, but he thinks Hob’s eyes reflect the same growing flame of fondness so maybe… maybe it’s not just him.

And so it happens fast, in a way. A mere few months after reuniting, Dream curls shaking hands into Hob’s jacket and pulls him into a kiss and Hob, like a miracle, kisses him back. They stand pressed together, smiling against each others’ mouths, arms wrapped in an embrace and it feels like the beginning of something.

It begins. But, Dream thinks, it never starts.

Time passes. They hold hands when they walk through the city streets. Hob pulls him down to rest his head on his shoulder, runs his fingers through Dream’s hair, wraps his arms around him and smiles the way he had before, when they were still calling each other friends. The only difference between then and now is that sometimes Hob kisses Dream on the forehead, and his cheeks, and his knuckles, and sometimes at the end of the night, if Dream leans in far enough, he will plant a chaste kiss against his lips, though never as deep or firm as the first one they shared.

Dream tries, occasionally. Holds an unneeded breath and reaches out to run a hand down Hob’s arm, presses forward to deepen a kiss, tries to be obvious in the way his gaze roams hungrily over the other man’s body. All he ever accomplishes is Hob looking away uncomfortably and finding an excuse to cut their time together short.

Hob has said that he loves him. And Dream… Dream believes him, he does, and Dream loves him back but…

But Dream also wants Hob. And evidence is pointing to Hob not wanting him.

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

Dream twists their interactions in his head like a puzzle. Plucks and pulls at them like a tangle of human Christmas lights.

Sifts through them like a landfill.

He has never ventured into Hob’s dreams, and he will not start now, but he recalls every story the man has ever told him, and it is not difficult to draw conclusions from those. He had already assumed the problem lay with himself, that much seemed obvious if only given his history, but turning over Hob’s words in his mind, he thinks he may find an answer. In his (relative) youth, Hob had not shied from telling his mysterious stranger of his various conquests, the young women in steadily rising social class that he managed to coax into bed with him. And there is, of course, his marriage in the 1500s. As time passed, Hob began to keep his exploits more private, something Dream was secretly grateful for, but even reflecting on the history he knew of, it seems obvious where Hob’s sexual preference lay.

So it was that Dream found himself in his chambers, standing in front of a full-length mirror, naked and uncomfortable, contemplating how to fix the problem.

While Dream’s given form is not quite the human-stereotype of masculinity, he is still undeniably masculine. And if that is what is keeping him from being closer to Hob, if that is why he is not allowed to pour his passion across Hob’s skin with his lips and fingertips, if his preferred physical form is the only thing keeping them from growing their intimacy…

Well. He is the Shaper of Forms.

It’s an easy fix.

Or, it should be, at least. Dream is aware of the modern human standard of beauty for women, not that he understands it. He also remembers the general shape of Eleanor, one of the most prominent lovers in Hob’s life. And yet, when Dream begins the arduous process of changing his shape into something more suited to Hob’s tastes, he finds that he simply… cannot bring himself to mold certain features.

He considers heaping flesh on certain areas of his bony figure, debates wide hips and heavy breasts, thinks about shrinking himself down until he would have to stand on his toes to reach Hob’s lips. He turns each option over in his mind, like rummaging through an unfamiliar closet, and finds that he just… can’t. In some ways.

It is childish, he knows it, but even if a woman’s form is what it takes for Hob to want him back, for Hob to be pleased by him, Dream finds he still wants to… look like himself. Wants to still be recognizable, with the sharp angles of his bones pressing under paper-white skin, the deep timber of his voice, the long length of his body. He wants, so badly, for Hob to take pleasure in at least some of the features that Dream has come to think of as his.

Dream hates himself for it.

Still, when he molds his form, he does so as minimally as possible. There is the obvious anatomical change, and his chest rounds with modest breasts. His hips do widen, but are no softer for it. He keeps his face angular, but less square, his chin more tapered and his jaw sloping towards his ears. After a moment of consideration, he allows a soft flush to color his cheeks, lets his lips become a deeper shade of red, and closes his eyes as his eyelashes lengthen. Dream is unbothered by extending his hair to fall by his collar bones- he has worn his hair longer throughout his life, as has Hob- but he does purse his lips in discomfort before deciding to add soft curls to the dark locks.

The end result is… obvious. There is no mistaking exactly what Dream has done. But there is still a familiarity that brings Dream a small comfort. He looks like, perhaps, the fraternal twin of his preferred shape.

Shaking his head, Dream internally chastises himself once more. Endless are genderless, beings and concepts that defy humanity’s boxes and labels. Dream is a multitude, in constant flux of shifting shapes. He is the King of Cats, has appeared before as fire and bone and light, has taken shapes far away from any human gender, and it is surely a failing of Dream that those forms should fit more comfortably than the one he wears now. It should not matter whether some mortals on the street might see Dream in this shape and use the word “she”.

It should not matter. If the choice is between his own comfort or Hob’s pleasure…

For Hob, Dream would become anything.

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

When Dream walks into the New Inn, Hob’s mouth goes so dry he is convinced the moisture in the air around him must have evaporated. If Dream’s ruby-red smirk is anything to go by, Hob is anything but subtle.

“Hello, Hob.”

Sliding into the seat across from Hob, Dream shakes off the last tendrils of doubt, because there is no misinterpreting the look on the immortal’s face, which means that Dream was right.

(It’s not as satisfying as he thought it would be. He shakes that off too.)

Hob clears his throat, “Dream, good to see you,” he smiles, aiming for casual and missing by a mile, “Trying, ah… trying something different today?”

Dream leans forward, resting his head against a hand. In a similar way to wanting his form to be recognizable, his outfit is not overly changed either. In fact, he had merely copied Death’s outfit from their last meeting, though he added a fitted coat to the ensemble, keeping the skin of his arms covered while still emphasizing his new shape.

“I thought perhaps a change would be welcome,” Dream raised an eyebrow, “Is it not?”

“Well, I mean, everything’s welcome with you,” Hob stammers, still clearly floundering, “Always gorgeous, you know that.”

Dream did not, in fact, know that.

“Is that so?” He tilts his head, watching as Hob nods numbly and takes a long sip of his beer. “You seem distracted,” Dream taps a long, black fingernail against the table, focusing on keeping his voice steady, “Would you prefer to go someplace. Quieter?”

This is usually the point where Hob finds a reason to leave.

Hob swallows thickly. “Um. Sure.” He grins, a hint of excitement in his eyes, “I’ve got a new scotch upstairs. If you care for some.”

Dream grinned back, “I could be persuaded.”

When Hob takes Dream’s hand, eager and wanting, it only hurts a little.

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

They never make it to the scotch.

Once inside the apartment, Dream leans forward, pushes into Hob’s space, lets his eyes linger on his lips. Only this time, Hob doesn’t kiss him chastely and change the subject. This time, he pushes right back, their lips crashing together, and when Dream sighs at the feeling of calloused fingers twisting in the hair at his nape Hob groans, their tongues tangling together.

It’s perfect. It’s everything Dream wanted.

(Or. Maybe not everything.)

(But he ignores that.)

Neither notice when they move. Dream is focusing on sliding his hand beneath Hob’s shirt, scratching his fingers through the hair he feels across the broad chest, and Hob is focusing on sliding Dream’s coat off, letting it fall to the floor as he runs his hands over smooth, white skin. So neither of them are focused on when exactly their legs started moving them towards Hob’s bedroom, barely paying attention when they fumble through the door frame. It’s not until they are tumbling onto the bed, limbs twining together as they fall onto the mattress, that they pause.

Hob lands on top of Dream, his cheeks flushed as he pushes himself onto his elbows, putting just enough space between them to look down at Dream’s flushed face. ���Is…” he swallows, his voice wrecked, despite barely doing anything, and Dream feels a surge of pride, “Is this alright?”

Dream answers by gripping the back of Hob’s neck, gentle but firm, and pulling him down until their bodies are pressed together again, kissing along his lips and jaw. Hob let out a huff of laughter that turned into a gasp as Dream dragged his teeth down the skin of his neck.

None of Dream’s fantasies compare to the reality of Hob’s rapid heartbeat under his mouth, the feeling of coarse hair and flexing muscles under his fingers. It’s almost enough to distract from the way Hob’s hands slip under his shirt, touching curves that didn’t exist in Dream’s fantasies.

Almost.

Hob asks again, “Is this alright?” before slipping Dream’s shirt over his head, his own following quickly, and Dream only has a moment to appreciate the vision that Hob makes above him before Hob is kissing down Dream’s chest. It feels… good. The scratch of Hob’s scruff against his skin, the weight of his body pressing down on him as he settles between his legs, the dedicated way he licks and bites at Dream’s nipples.

It feels good. But it also feels… wrong. In a way that is getting harder and harder to ignore, even as the last of their clothes are discarded and he is gifted the vision of Hob, naked and gorgeous and clearly wanting. It doesn’t distract from the fact that Dream is naked now too, that Hob is moaning and wanting for a body that isn’t truly Dream. Slowly, it begins to feel like he is drifting farther and farther from Hob’s bed, like he is watching his lover put his hands on a stranger. Like a stranger is putting their hands on him.

Somewhere along the way, Dream is realizing, his motivations have gotten twisted. It occurs to him that he should not have to remind himself that he wants Hob, should not have to repeat a mantra of I want this, I want this, I want this, when Hob runs his hands over Dream’s skin.

Because before, he had wanted this, wanted Hob to touch him and kiss him and bury himself in Dream’s body, had fantasized about it and craved it deeply. But now, it is the wrong skin. The wrong body. He thinks that maybe it stopped being about what he wanted the second he stood in front of that mirror to change himself. Hob is kissing along a slender neck and caressing a breast with one hand and dipping between legs with the other and Dream shudders and adjusts the mantra in his head.

Hob wants this. Hob wants this. Hob wants this.

All Dream can want now is just to make Hob happy.

It does not prevent what happens next.

Hob is murmuring sweet praises against the skin behind Dream’s ear, and then his fingers are pressing between Dream’s legs, stroking, pushing, entering, and Dream gasps, body tensing, and then there is a soft tearing sound between their bodies.

They both jerk in surprise, Hob pulling his fingers away immediately, eyes wide with concern, barely managing to blurt out, “Shit, did I hurt you?” before they are both looking down and freezing.

The skin of Dream’s chest is splitting slowly, like a torn seam, stretching and tearing down his center from the hollow of his throat, between his breasts, and down to the base of his belly. Thin, gossamer strands of skin criss-cross like threads, pulling taut, and beneath is an empty blackness. No blood or flesh, just a void, an absence which grows and presses against the shell of him until he is bursting at the seams with nothingness.

“Oh my god, Dream-”

Dream snaps to sit up, pushing Hob back and crossing his arms across his chest, trying to pull his skin back together like a robe that’s slipped open. But the seam only splits farther, threads snapping as the gaping maw of his body widens. He curls in on himself, trying to force the edges back together, and he feels the skin of his shoulders split, feels a tearing down his spine like a broken zipper, his entire body an ill-fitting dress that he is spilling out of.

Hob is wide-eyed and horrified, “Dream,” his voice cracks with panic, his hands held out, desperate to do something but afraid to touch, “Dream, tell me what to do, tell me how to help-”

But Dream can only shake his head, “I’m sorry,” he rasps, “I can’t.”

And then he is gone.

~~~

When he lands in the Dreaming, Dream is in his own body.

Or rather, he is in the familiar shape that he has come to think of as his. There is still a residual ache, though not wholly unpleasant, radiating through his bones.

He thinks, absently, that it is not dissimilar to the first time he stood up straight when escaping Fawney Rig. Like stretching his spine after a century curled too tight.

A painful relief.

“Woah, you alright Boss?”

Matthew’s voice startles him into awareness of his surroundings. His raven lands in front of where Dream is crumpled at the base of the throne room stairs. Pushing himself up on shaking arms, he finds himself wrapped in his longest cloak, buttoned up to his chin. Despite knowing intrinsically what form he is in, he finds himself running his hands over his face, neck, and chest, as if needing to feel for certain that everything is in its proper place, that nothing is swelling or splitting apart or breaking breaking breaking.

“Boss?”

Matthew hopped forward, concerned, and Dream let out a shaky sigh. “Yes, Matthew, I am alright.”

“Uh-huh…” Matthew tilted his head skeptically, “No offense boss, but I’ve seen you more ‘alright’ than this.” He paused, “At least I think I have.”

“I am fine, Matthew,” A hint of frustration seeps into Dream’s tone as he straightens himself, standing and pulling himself to his full height as if that could erase the shame clinging to his skin. How pathetic, how disgraceful. It was bad enough to lose control, to be held at the mercy of his own body, but to once more flee and leave Hob alone in the shadow of Dream’s weakness was nigh unforgivable. How many times would he crumple and run away from Hob before the immortal decided he wasn’t worth it? Dream could hardly believe he had stuck around this long.

As he glanced around the throne room, Dream thought he could see the echoes of broken glass.

Sighing, Dream turned tired eyes back to his raven, “I am fine,” he repeated, “but I would appreciate some privacy this evening. Please let Lucienne know that I am not to be disturbed except for emergencies.”

“Yeah, sure thing.” Matthew still looked worried when he flew off, but Dream didn’t have the energy to be annoyed by it. As soon as he was alone again, he let himself sag onto the bottom step of the staircase, drawing his knees up and resting his forearms across them.

He wishes he could be surprised at his ability to ruin his relationship with Hob so swiftly and thoroughly, but all he feels is resignation. He had hoped he could bask in the joy of this relationship a little longer, but there was nothing to be done now, not after such a blatant failure. The least he could do was not hide. He owed Hob that much.

It didn’t take long, but then, Dream didn’t expect it to. Barely an hour had passed before he could feel the familiar warmth of Hob entering the Dreaming. He couldn’t help the small, fond smile at Hob’s ability to force himself to sleep when he wanted to.

A part of him still wanted to hide, wanted to dissolve into sand and cower in the cracks and crevices of the palace until Hob was forced to wake. But Hob deserved better than that. And a small, traitorous shred of optimism wondered if he might be forgiven.

So, with a soft breath of willpower, he opened the throne room to Hob’s searching subconscious. He practically fell through the palace doors, as though he had been sprinting before being brought here. Dream stood, stiff and waiting for chastisement, and for a moment they simply stared at each other, Hob still reeling slightly from the change in location.

“Dream,” Hob’s voice is not angry. In fact, it is heavy with relief, and Dream feels his breath catch in his throat as Hob rushes forward and rambles, “Thank God, I was so worried. I’m so, so sorry, are you alright? Are you hurt? Can I hug you?”

Dream blinks as Hob comes to stand before him, hands held out but waiting for permission. Hob’s eyes are searching Dream’s body, looking for any wounds or signs of distress. He does not mention Dream’s changed form.

He’s not angry.

Everything is not ruined, and Dream feels like crying with relief, and without thinking he throws his arms around Hob’s chest, curling his fingers in the back of his shirt and burying his face in Hob’s neck. A huff of breath is knocked from Hob’s lungs as they collide together, but he doesn’t hesitate to return the hold, one hand carding through Dream’s hair as the other strokes his back.

“I’m sorry,” Dream whispers into his skin.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Hob responds immediately.

But Dream shakes his head, pulling away reluctantly, “I should not have…”

Should not have what? Gotten Hob’s hopes up? Promised something only to fail to deliver? Wanted more than he deserved?

Hob frowned, cupping Dream’s cheek in one hand to try to meet his eyes, “Dove… what happened? I… I was afraid that I hurt you-”

“No,” Dream reassured him immediately, “you did nothing wrong, I just…”

Stepping away from Hob’s hands, he slumped back to sit on the bottom step. Hob quickly joined him, sitting beside him and waiting patiently for Dream to find some way to explain himself.

“I am. Endless. But… there are still. Things that I am Not.”

‘Lovable’ is at the top of the list, he thinks, though ‘wanted’ isn’t far behind.

‘Woman’ is on there somewhere, too, apparently.

When he looks, Hob’s brow is furrowed in confusion, so he continues, “I have many forms that come easily to me. That feel… natural. But. The one I wore for you is not one of them.” Hob’s eyes widen, but Dream doesn’t give him a chance to interrupt, needing to get everything out before he loses his fragile courage, “I do not know why. Endless are… we were made genderless. It is a human thing. It should not feel so. So wrong to shape myself in a way that pleases you. And yet you saw what happened when I tried. I could not…” Dream’s voice cracks, and he has to clench his eyes shut and swallow thickly.

“Dream…” Hob sounds heartbroken, and Dream hates himself for always getting it wrong wrong wrong.

“I know that you love me, as I love you,” Dream pulls the words out through gritted teeth, “But I… I am greedy, and selfish, and I want you. And I. Wanted you to want me as well.”

“But I do want you.” Hob blurts the words out, loud and desperate, unable to bite them back any longer.

Dream glances up, blinking slowly, uncomprehending, “…What?”

Hob’s eyes are wide, his hands coming up to grip his own hair as his voice takes on a note of something like hysteria, “I do want you. Fuck, Dream, I want you so fucking much I thought it was a problem!”

“What?”

His hands flail as the words spill out, tripping over himself to get out months worth of feelings, “Dream, Dove, I’ve been taking two cold showers a day. Sometimes I have to sit on my hands to keep from pawing at you when you’re in arms reach. Fuck, I’ve bitten through the inside of my cheek more times than I can count just trying not to jump you!”

There is a long moment where they simply stare at each other, Hob with wide eyes and his hands in the air, Dream with his mouth slightly agape and eyes glistening with disbelief.

“Then why didn’t you?” Dream’s voice is soft, skeptical, insecure.

A pain lances through Hob’s chest, and a watery laugh escapes him, “I’m such an idiot,” he whispers, mostly to himself, before looking up at Dream with sad, guilt-ridden eyes, “I didn’t want to push you. You’ve had… a bit of a rough century. I didn’t want you to feel pressured into anything too fast. And then you showed up like…” he waved a hand ambiguously, “like that, and I thought you were, y’know, trying to hint at something.”

Burying his face in his hands, his voice raises with self-deprecation, “And I guess you were, I just didn’t think… fuck. I just didn’t think,” he finishes softly. When he lifts his head he looks so very sad, but he doesn’t hesitate to reach out and take Dream’s hand, “I’m so sorry, Love. For all I nag you to communicate more, I didn’t tell you what was going through my head either. I should have just asked from the beginning instead of assuming. Fuck, I should have asked as soon as you showed up so different. I should have realized something was wrong. I’m sorry.”

For a long moment, Dream’s eyes drift between the earnestness on Hob’s face and the soft grip of their clasped hands. He doesn’t not meet Hob’s eyes when he confesses, “Is it wrong of me to take comfort in the fact that I am not alone in my misstep?”

This time when Hob laughs, it is a bark of surprised delight, and his free hand ruffles Dream’s hair, drawing an annoyed huff from the Endless, “No, no dear, I understand.”

Dream isn’t sure that’s true. Isn’t sure Hob fully understands that in the scant handful of relationships Dream has had he has always been the only one fumbling, the only one struggling and struggling to catch up with his partner, to understand the things they seemed to know intrinsically, to find the balance between too much and not enough that everyone else seems to find with ease. He doesn’t think Hob truly understands, the way Dream does now if not before, that in his past relationships every fault had been his and his alone, and so the very idea that perhaps the weight of this one does not need to rest solely on his own shoulders, that for the first time they are, perhaps, equals in their fumbling, is such a heavy, heady relief that he feels faint with it.

He opens his mouth to explain all of this, but before he can speak Hob is pulling him in for a soft, gentle kiss. “We’re in this together, yeah?” He rests their foreheads together, smiling, “So we’ll figure it out together, too.”

That is all Dream has wanted, for a very long time.

He smiles against Hob’s lips, bringing a hand up to play with the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. “Well. You need not sit on your hands anymore.”

Hob laughs, “And you need not be anything other than yourself.”

It is still hard to believe that anyone might be happy with Dream being himself.

But.

Hob can be very convincing when he wants to be.

#my writing #the sandman #dreamling #dreamling fic #why are endings HARD I HATE #alas #at least it's out of my system now #local transmasc projects onto shapeshifter more at 11 #dream of the endless #hob gadling #more shapeshifting fuckery #body horror #kinda? #tagging anyway cause better safe than sorry #yeet

[apoemaday]

Love at First Sight

by Wislawa Szymborska

They’re both convinced that a sudden passion joined them. Such certainty is beautiful, but uncertainty is more beautiful still.

Since they’d never met before, they’re sure that there’d been nothing between them. But what’s the word from the streets, staircases, hallways— perhaps they’ve passed by each other a million times?

I want to ask them if they don’t remember— a moment face to face in some revolving door? perhaps a “sorry” muttered in a crowd? a curt “wrong number” caught in the receiver?— but I know the answer. No, they don’t remember.

They’d be amazed to hear that Chance has been toying with them now for years.

Not quite ready yet to become their Destiny, it pushed them close, drove them apart, it barred their path, stifling a laugh, and then leaped aside.

There were signs and signals, even if they couldn’t read them yet. Perhaps three years ago or just last Tuesday a certain leaf fluttered from one shoulder to another? Something was dropped and then picked up. Who knows, maybe the ball that vanished into childhood’s thicket?

There were doorknobs and doorbells where one touch had covered another beforehand. Suitcases checked and standing side by side. One night, perhaps, the same dream, grown hazy by morning.

Every beginning is only a sequel, after all, and the book of events is always open halfway through.

#poetry #wislawa szymborska #love at first sight #tr. clare cavanagh and stanislaw baranczak

[justabigassnerd]

Queen of my Heart

Pairing - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x reader

Word count - 2,665

Warnings - mentions of death, alcohol

Song - House of Cards by Tyler Shaw

Summary - Bradley Bradshaw thought it was his destiny to be lonely, thankfully the universe proved him wrong

A/N - I know I originally said I wanted to write a TASM fic based on this song, but whoops I decided to write Rooster instead. Look this song works for him too so I kinda had to a'ight? I'm not sorry. Anyways I'll stop rambling so as per y'all please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!

If there was any feeling Bradley Bradshaw was familiar with, it was loneliness. He lost his father at a young age, being raised by his brilliant mother with the help of Maverick, his stand-in father figure. Then he lost his mum just as he was applying to join the Navy and not long after that he cut all ties with Maverick when he discovered he pulled his papers from the naval academy which set him back four years. In becoming an adult, Bradley Bradshaw learnt to rely on no one but himself. However, despite Rooster’s familiarity with the feeling, he couldn’t help but resent it. After reconciling with Maverick and finding a team who quickly became his second family, he thought his lonely feelings would dissipate into the sea breeze, but they lingered, eating away at him as he saw his friends getting partners and having people they could lean on and trust. Over time, Rooster accepted that his fate was to be lonely. He felt like a house of cards, missing a piece and ready to tumble at any moment.

That was until you stumbled into his life.

Rooster was on the beach the day he met you. The rest of Dagger Squad had already congregated inside the Hard Deck, ready to spend their evening getting wasted and betting on games of pool and darts. Rooster wasn’t quite ready to go and be with his friends just yet so took some time alone. The beach was quiet, only a few people walked past where Rooster had chosen to situate himself, barely giving him a second thought as he stared out at the sea from where he was perched on a wall.

“Apollo! Apollo, here boy!” Rooster only just heard the calls before an Alsatian launched itself at him. Propping his front paws on Rooster’s legs and panting happily. It was safe to say the random dog launching itself at him was shocking, but he wasn’t going to complain. He loved dogs and this one wagged its tail happily as Rooster scratched him behind the ears.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry. He just yanked the lead out of my hand and took off. You’re not hurt, are you?” Rooster looked up from the dog to the owner and he could’ve sworn his heart stopped at that moment. You were absolutely gorgeous, and he had to force himself to respond before you got more concerned.

“I’m good. He didn’t do much damage. I think he just wanted some cuddles, is that right?” Rooster assures you before turning his attention back to your dog, giving Apollo a scratch under the chin as he barks happily.

“Still, he usually has good recall I have no idea what possessed him to come charging over to you.” You apologise profusely, grabbing Apollo’s collar and gently pulling him off Rooster.

“Like I said, no harm done.” Rooster says with a laugh as you gather the lead up again, Apollo now standing at your side, panting happily as his tail wags side to side.

“I feel bad, is there anything I can do…?” You trail off, realising you don’t know his name.

“Bradley Bradshaw.” He introduces himself, not bothering to give you his callsign.

“I’m y/n l/n. Nice to meet you. But seriously there has to be something I can do to apologise.” You insist, stroking the top of Apollo’s head as you look at Bradley. Your heart was pounding in your chest, initially from the shock of Apollo running off to some random stranger but now you could see who Apollo ran over to your heart was hammering in your chest because of how attractive this man was.

“If you insist on making it up to me, how about you let me buy you a drink? I want to get to know the owner of the dog who decided I was worth running away for.” Rooster says with a smile. If any other man had said that to you, you would’ve been turning tail and getting yourself out of that situation but when you looked at Bradley, you didn’t see that type of man.

“Okay, but only because I want to get to know the man my dog thought was worth bolting away from me for.” You reply with a grin. Rooster didn’t take you to the Hard Deck. He wanted to be able to get to know you without his friends interfering. So, he took you to a little bar a bit further down the beach. It was a plus that it was dog friendly.

You both fell for each other that same evening.

It took a few dates for Rooster to ask you to be his girlfriend but once he did, everyone knew he was a goner for you. None of the team had met you yet, nor knew about him even having a girlfriend but they didn’t miss the way Rooster rejected women who would flirt with him in the bar and the way his eyes would light up when he got a text from you. It wasn’t that he wasn’t proud to say he was dating you. The subject of significant others had just never come up in conversation since the two of you got together and Rooster didn’t want to make a big deal about it in case you didn’t want him to.

“So Bradshaw. Who’s the lucky girl?” Hangman says one night from his position at the pool table, carefully aiming at the cue ball as he glances up at Rooster.

“What?” Rooster says, completely caught off guard as he was busy staring at the photo of Apollo you had just sent him.

“Come on, it's obvious you’re a taken man.” Hangman insists, straightening up and raising an eyebrow pointedly at him.

“Everyone’s noticed it, Rooster. You’ve seemed different the past few weeks. A good different, we mean.” Phoenix elaborates, smacking Hangman on the back of the head for being so direct. Most of Dagger Squad didn’t want to force anything out of him so Hangman asking a direct question like that was the opposite of what they were going for. They wanted Rooster to open up in his own time about it.

“I don’t know what else to say other than Hangman is right. I’m a taken man.” Rooster admits with a smile, causing an uproar amongst his friends of congratulations and slaps on the back.

“Look at that! Our Rooster finally got himself a girl!” Payback exclaims proudly, wrapping an arm around Rooster’s shoulders and jostling him as everyone laughs.

“Alright, alright, calm down.” Rooster laughs, shoving Payback's arm off him before taking a swig of his beer.

“You have to introduce us to her. We need to meet the girl who has you whipped.” Fanboy declares, getting approval from the rest of the team.

“If she is okay with meeting you guys, you can meet her.” Rooster concedes, holding his hands up in surrender as his friends cheer loudly.

“What are we cheering about?” The familiar voice of Maverick cuts through the cheers as they die down, making every person present turn to face him.

“Rooster got himself a girlfriend.” Coyote informs Maverick, everyone watching as a smile spreads across Maverick’s face.

“It’s about time! When do we get to meet her?” He asks, laughing to himself when Rooster rolled his eyes.

“Like I just said, if she is okay with it, I’ll bring her here to the Hard Deck and you can meet her.” Rooster repeats, earning a clap on the back from Maverick as he walks over to him.

“Can’t wait.” Maverick says with a proud smile.

When Rooster next went to see you, he knocked on your front door, nervousness swimming in his stomach at asking you if you wanted to meet his friends. When the door opened, Apollo leapt at him, jumping up and whining happily at Rooster’s presence.

“Apollo, come on boy. You know Bradley.” You laugh as you call the dog back into the house being followed by Rooster as he comes in, closing the door behind him. You all head into the living room and settle on the sofa, you, and Rooster alongside each other with Apollo spread across both of your laps, demanding a belly rub.

“You’ve got your thinking face on. What’s got the cogs turning in your head?” You say lightly with a kind smile as you scratch your dog’s belly not once taking your eyes off your boyfriend.

“You know me so well.” He laughs, touched that you know him so well to the point that you can tell just from his expression that he’s deep in thought.

“My friends from the Navy figured out I have a girlfriend and once I confirmed it, they told me that they wanted to meet you. I said that they could only if you were okay with it because I don’t want you to feel pressured or-”

“Bradley, you’re rambling sweetheart. I’d love to meet your friends. From what you’ve told me they sound like a great bunch.” You assure, grabbing Rooster’s hand and rubbing a thumb across his knuckles.

“You sure?” He asks quietly, the nerves still gnawing at him.

“Of course! They’re your friends and I want to get to know the people who are part of your team.” You reassure, your gentle smile easing those nerves and allowing Rooster to smile and lean in for a kiss. Just as your lips connect, Apollo decides he wanted to be part of the action and joined, giving you kisses of his own as you both laugh and move away to try and dodge him.

When the day came for you to meet Dagger Squad you were a little nervous. These were people who had known Bradley longer than you had. Hell, one of the men in the bar you were stood outside had known Bradley since the day he was born. You wanted to make a good impression and could only hope they’d like you.

“Nervous?” You hear Bradley ask as he wraps an arm around your shoulder and rubs his hand up and down your shoulder reassuringly.

“A little.” You confess, not removing your gaze from the doors of the Hard Deck.

“They will one hundred percent without a doubt love you. Not as much as I do but it’ll be close.” Bradley says calmly with a gentle smile. You couldn’t stop the smile from overtaking your lips, so you nod and allow Bradley to lead you into the bar. When you enter the Hard Deck, Bradley quickly locates his friends and leads you over to them.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend y/n. y/n, these are my friends.” Bradley introduces you to each other as he moves his arm from your shoulders to around your waist. One by one, all of Dagger Squad introduce themselves to you, giving you their name and their callsign, letting you know they didn’t care what they called you.

“It’s nice to meet you all.” You say with a grin, feeling more at ease now you knew their names and after being greeted with nothing but smiles.

“So, y/n, tell us about how you and Rooster met.” Phoenix asks, glancing between the two of you as you share a look and laugh to yourselves.

“My dog ran away from me because he thought Bradley was the most interesting thing on the beach.” You explain, glancing up at Bradley and leaning into his side slightly.

“A dog playing matchmaker, huh? You’ll have to introduce us, maybe he could get me a date.” Fanboy says, causing an eruption of laughs from everyone gathered.

Conversation started to flow naturally then, everyone getting to know you and you getting to know them. Rooster was shocked at how well-behaved his friends were being. Even Hangman was keeping his flirting to a minimum and even invited you to play a game of pool with him. While you were playing pool, Rooster chatted to Phoenix and Bob, curious to see how their training had been going and as they spoke, Maverick entered the bar and approached the trio.

“Hey, Mav.” Rooster greets happily when he notices his appearance.

“Hey Rooster. Good to see you. So, am I going to get to meet your girlfriend or are you going to keep hiding her from me?” Maverick teases, making Rooster scoff jokingly and laugh.

“She’s playing pool, come on I’ll introduce you.” Rooster replies, gesturing for Maverick to follow him as he crosses to the pool table.

“Hey baby, this is Mav.” Rooster says as you greet him when you notice him coming over to you. Upon noticing Maverick you stand up straighter, approaching Maverick nervously.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Maverick. Bradley’s told me so much about you.” You say, glancing between the two men as Rooster takes your hand, the contact helping you calm down slightly as he runs his thumb along the back of your hand.

“Nothing bad I hope.” Maverick jokes, glancing at Rooster who simply shrugs with a grin. The three of you fall into easy conversation and you find yourself getting more comfortable around Maverick.

“y/n, could I talk to you alone for a minute?” Maverick asks, gesturing towards the stools at the bar, out of earshot of the other aviators.

“Yes, of course.” You say, the nerves resurfacing but Rooster was quick to lift your hand to his lips and press a bunch of kisses to the back of it while whispering reassurances that you’ll be fine. Once he stops, you thank him quietly and then turn and walk over to where Maverick was waiting. When you sit down, Rooster turns to Hangman and picks up the pool cue you had put down when he and Maverick came over.

“Ready for me to kick your ass, Hangman?”

You sit down at the bar on the stool next to Maverick and immediately start thinking through every possible thing he could be potentially about to say to you right now. Out of everyone, Maverick was who you wanted to impress the most, especially given that he was Bradley’s father figure.

“What I want to talk about isn’t bad, you don’t need to worry.” Maverick says, noticing how you fiddled with your fingers and how on edge you looked.

“I wanted to talk about how happy you’ve made Rooster. I don’t know how easy it would be to get him to admit that but I and everyone on this team noticed how much happier he was even before we met you. The way he looks at you, I’ve only seen it once before. It’s the exact same way his dad looked at his mum. He loves you so much.” Maverick explains, his eyes growing glossy as he reminisces about Goose and Carole.

“I love him too; way more than I could explain.” You reply honestly, glancing across the bar to where Rooster was playing pool against Hangman, celebrating as he pots another ball while Hangman rolls his eyes.

“I know you do. Anyone can see how much you love each other.” Maverick says with a smile, watching as you turn back to him and nod. When he silently dismisses you, you get up from the stool and cross to Rooster, wrapping your arms around his middle when you reach him, making him turn around with a large grin, pressing a kiss to your lips, abandoning his pool cue to place both hands on your waist and pull you closer. As Maverick watches, a proud smile shines on his face knowing his best friend’s son got the happiness he deserves.

Bradley Bradshaw was familiar with the feeling of loneliness. It used to eat at him at every given moment. But once he met you, the loneliness didn’t seem to be a problem anymore. He felt whole again, and it was because his house of cards was completed once the queen of his heart that he needed stepped in.

#justabigassnerd #justabigassnerd writes #top gun #top gun maverick #rooster top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x y/n #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader

[darklinaforever]

After thinking about it, I tell myself that it's normal that when Ruby asks 15 about his family, he replies that he has no one.

Let me explain.

Already, because yes, biologically he has no one.

Currently, he is also traveling alone again, having not yet found a companion(s).

But also, he is essentially what 14 is supposed to become after having his therapy with the Nobles, a Doctor capable of managing his traumas in a healthy way, of having a great emotional openness, with a whole new vitality where 14 was tired, and obviously his crazy desire to continue traveling and protect the universe returned in force.

The thing is, I doubt 14 will leave the current Nobles as long as they're alive. An incarnation of the Doctor lives a very, very long time after all. And since he literally considers the Nobles his family; Donna her sister, her husband his brother-in-law, Rose her niece, etc, (which 15 also knows and feels) well as long as they are alive, I doubt that 14 will leave them.

I mean, the final 60th anniversary scene, we literally see Donna telling the Doctor that he doesn't have to stay with them forever, to which 14 responds that he's never been happier in his life . The implication here for me is that he probably won't leave the Noble family. For me, that implies that 14 will stay with them forever, forever on their human scale.

So I really believe that when 14 is reabsorbed into 15, the Noble, in the base timeline, will probably be dead. Implying therefore that the Doctor's symbolic family will disappear. (And I think once again that 15 knows himself well enough to guess that)

As for 15, it is quite logical that he does not intend to see 14 or the Nobles again. At least not by making the direct decision, because he could possibly have to come across them again in his adventures / his rescues of the world.

For the simple reason that when 14 is reabsorbed into him, 15 will in fact have all the memories associated with this life with the Nobles, and it will be more than memories ; According to the logic of the Doctor Who series / universe, he will therefore have experienced them. 15 probably doesn't see the point in this version of himself seeing them again, when he knows he already lives a full life with them and will have the memories / experience to savor once he and his counterpart will be combined into one. Especially since he, once again, is literally ready for a new life of traveling and protecting the universe.

Also, since the effects of the Toymaker's powers have ceased to have an influence and the bigeneration has never occurred before, being only a myth made reality by the intervention of the Toymaker, we do not know what possible consequences this could have on the basic timeline of having the two Doctors together.

Especially if 14 is supposed to conduct his therapy quietly before becoming 15, I doubt it is part of the basic timeline for 15 to regularly visit 14, knowing that basicly, there was not supposed to be a division. Once again, we don't know what kind of consequences are possible if they interact often ?

This risk argument is perhaps the only reason 15 leaves the Noble behind as a family (or at least don't bother naming them in Ruby), since he can't really see them again with his 14th incarnation living with them. But it can also add to what I said before about the memories and possible deaths of the Noble.

Or maybe 15 came directly with the memories of the entire life that his 14th incarnation is supposed to have lived in the base timeline (hence the fact that he knows he will only be okay if 14 arises ) and therefore already knows the destiny of the Noble / of his final relationship with them and that he moves forward accordingly, because for him, he would have already experienced the final point with them. This can be taken individually, or also combined with the aspect of risk.

I don't know. Give me your interpretations !

#doctor who #the fifteenth doctor #fifteenth doctor #fifteen #the 15th doctor #15th doctor #the doctor #ruby sunday #the fourteenth doctor #fourteenth doctor #fourteen #the 14th doctor #14th doctor #dw specials #dw spoilers #the church on ruby road

[sktsnation]

title: open secret summary: they're not really doing a good job of hiding it characters: atsumu, kiyoomi, msby words: 2,234

meian knows what's up.

he'd seen the glances. heard the whispers. witnessed the stolen moments when they think no one is looking. meian knows, but he respects sakusa and atsumu's decision to remain a secret if they're not yet ready to tell the team.

the secret becomes an open secret within a short period of time, which then becomes a burden too difficult to ignore, especially when every single person in the team is highly aware and conscious of the fact that their spiker and setter are, in fact, very much in love.

i.

barnes is the first to know.

he finds out by chance when he steps into the gym, thinking he is the first one to arrive, only to find out that atsumu has already been practicing his hybrid serve for quite a while, if the dozen or so volleyballs scattered on court were any indication.

the taller man stands near the gym's entrance, poorly hidden behind open doors, rightfully captivated by atsumu's form and power when he serves a volleyball that cleaves through the air, landing perfectly on the boundary line.

while atsumu cools down, barnes decides that now is the right moment to show himself.

he moves to take a step but falters at the last minute when atsumu's phone rings, startling that blonde setter who rushes to pick up his device from the bench.

"omi-kun. what's up?" barnes overhears atsumu, eyes growing wide at the direction of their conversation. despite his challenges in living as a foreigner in japan, the lilt and tenderness in a person's voice when they speak on the phone with their loved ones remains universal.

"oh, that? you left it at my place."

"no, i most certainly did not steal it."

"fine, pick it up on your way here—hey, i washed it!"

"why are you asking me that? i gave you the key to my apartment for a reason, omi-kun."

"since you're there, can you grab me some chocolate?"

it's the gentle rise and fall in atsumu's voice, mixed with his kansai accent, that lights the proverbial light bulb over barnes’ head. sakusa is most definitely on the other line—as if there are other sakusas within the vicinity who atsumu interacts with—and he is at the receiving end of his tender tone which, frankly, sounds fucking endearing to barnes’ ears.

he follows the couple (or what he assumes are a couple) for the rest of the day, feeling zero guilt at the way his eyes would flicker over to them to see if they are, indeed, what they are. in his quest, barnes accidentally catches meian’s gaze, his captain’s eyes knowing and his brows raised in a silent question: found out huh?

barnes could only roll his eyes.

ii.

bokuto finds out second, and this time, it’s due to sheer dumb luck.

he’s on his way home, one more turn before arriving at the bus stop, when the sky dims and rain starts pouring. he realizes then and there that he had forgotten his umbrella in his locker. on a completely normal rainy day, he would have said fuck it and boarded the bus, but he had plans later that evening which includes meeting up with akaashi for dinner, and thus the umbrella is needed.

call it fate or destiny, but bokuto wouldn’t have witnessed the scene before him if not for his umbrella.

the first thing he notices while walking along the corridor is that the door to the locker room has been left open. there a

re sounds coming from within, which means someone is still inside, and judging from the voice, it’s most likely atsumu.

the blonde’s post-practice ritual is the longest among the team—which rivals even sakusa's own—which shouldn't strike anything odd with bokuto if not for the obvious fact that it’s been an hour or so since everyone has left.

bokuto is paces away from the door when he realizes that atsumu is not alone; he’s in a conversation with someone, voice too low to make out whom, and it’s due to pure curiosity that urges him to toe his sneakers off and slide quietly across the floor, just to peek through the small gap in the door.

bokuto bites his lips to keep the strangled scream from leaving his throat.

sakusa is dozing off by the bench while atsumu sits comfortably between his legs. he's struggling to keep himself awake; eyes unfocused and eyelids drooping. his arms are wrapped loosely around atsumu's waist whose mellow chatter continues to fill the air even after sakusa lays his forehead on his shoulders when the spiker finally surrenders to the sweet call of post-practice siesta.

"aww, omi~" atsumu croons, pausing to place a kiss on sakusa's cheeks. "wait just a bit more."

sakusa turns his head and hides his face against the crook on atsumu's neck. "i'm tired atsumu…"

pause. fucking pause. everyone (bokuto) needs to shut the fuck up because he (bokuto) is this close to screaming his head off.

sakusa had just whined. whined!

oh god, their silent player is a baby. their 193 cm opposite hitter is a cuddle bunny teddy bear with a heart made of clouds and rainbows.

bokuto could feel tears pooling at the corner of his eyes at the sight before him. he feels like a stalker, watching his two friends like this, but he literally has never seen them act this soft with anyone during practice, much less to each other!

talk about a gap moe.

(no he did not learn that term from akaashi's editor job.)

atsumu's humming now, mindful of the silence as sakusa falls asleep on his shoulder. sakusa's hand is cradled in one hand while the other one files his nails, caring for them in the same way he cares for his. bokuto slowly creeps away and scurries to the exit, forgetting his umbrella and braving the rain.

iii.

inunaki and tomas ties at third and it's not by choice.

no, it's definitely not by choice. it's never a choice when it comes to getting roped in the younger members' shenanigans. sakusa is the traitor in this case; the silent chaotic soul hiding behind a trio of loud chaotic souls.

like all good things, their day ends with alcohol.

hoping for a good time after practice, bokuto spearheads the idea which was instantly seconded by hinata and supported by atsumu. the final nail in inunaki's coffin comes in the form of sakusa nodding his head, bag already slung on his shoulder, as he tells the team the name of the bar they're going to.

it's over tomas' seventh bottle of heineken when sakusa places three bottles of smirnoff on the table and slips inside the booth, trapping atsumu between him and bokuto. their ace is halfway gone, regaling stories to hinata who's equally halfway gone, nodding at everything he says.

alcohol is not a problem; tomas' bloodstream swims in both caffeine and alcohol, creating a tolerance which the setter before him clearly lacks.

atsumu's already red in the face after his first bottle. asian flush—sakusa explains, which is a concept the foreigner still couldn't wrap his head around. atsumu's head is swaying from side to side, a soft toothy grin adorning his face. his eyes are unfocused, blinking lazily and darting everywhere, and tomas thinks: fuck asian flush, this kid's just bad with liquor.

he shares a look with inunaki, two pairs of wide eyes yelling 'are you seeing this?!' over the sight before them. atsumu pouting when sakusa pulls the bottle away from his hands, telling him the drink is not for him. atsumu whining as he shakes sakusa's shoulder for being mean to him, arguing he can drink another bottle. sakusa sighing and flicking atsumu's head for not knowing any better.

inunaki sees bokuto glance at them—deadass nonplussed—and it suddenly clicks in his head that bokuto knows what's happening.

what inunaki doesn't know is that bokuto knows more than him because right now, at this very moment, he sees sakusa tracing circles along atsumu's upper thigh from under the table. bokuto consciously ignores the way goosebumps rise on atsumu's arms, his eyes turning back to hinata, ignoring the couple shamelessly flirting next to him.

inunaki is floored. barnes and meian most definitely know; no one can stop two grown, married men from gossiping with each other, especially if it's about these children they're supposed to be looking after. looking back, barnes and the captain have been sharing a look since over a month ago, like they're watching the punchline of an inside joke unfold.

"omi~" atsumu purrs, his shoulder pressed against sakusa's. the spiker just rolls his eyes, but let's the setter hook his arm over his neck, pulling him closer until they're face to face.

tomas' hand stays frozen, hovering over his beer. bokuto chokes on his fries. inunaki is bouncing on his seat. hinata is gone, head on the table, snoring.

what the fuck? how did they miss this?

-i.

hinata is actually the first to know.

not meian.

not barnes.

him. he's the first to witness the intricate dance between sakusa and atsumu. the ribbing. the heckling. the half-hearted glares. the high-fives.

on one unassuming night, around 11:00 pm, he and atsumu meet by chance in the convenience store which is the midpoint of their apartments. atsumu's surfing between the aisles, picking up junk food and toiletries which he carries in his arms, when he bumps into hinata.

"—shit" he says when hinata accidentally topples the pile in atsumu's arms. before his volleyball reflexes could even shoot into action, sakusa's hand is already there to catch the bag of chips with his hand.

"shouyo-kun?" atsumu's jaw drops, surprise coloring his features.

"m-miya-san—" hinata mirrors his expression "sakusa-san!" his finger points to the taller man who just looks unamused by the whole exchange.

"hey." he greets hinata before turning to atsumu. "i told you to use a basket."

suddenly, hinata's presence becomes invisible as the two continue to exist within the same bubble. there's an exasperated slope to sakusa's eyebrows which matches atsumu's pout, which curiously disappears when the spikers flicks his forehead. the young spiker's eyes (who's learned to discern the most minutes details on the court) instantly picks up on two things.

first is the too-large black hoodie that seems to swallow atsumu's entire torso. it would have been irrelevant if not for the fact that hinata knows he's seen sakusa wear that in several casual occasions.

second is the hickey on his neck—and really, hinata doesn't need anything more than this to reach the conclusion.

"oh." he breathes, not realizing his teammates were in that kind of relationship. atsumu seems to realize where hinata's eyes are pointed at and consciously tries to turn away so his neck remains hidden from his sight.

"we'd appreciate it very well if you don't day anything yet to the team." it's sakusa who speaks up, which makes everything more surreal because the moment he opened his mouth, atsumu's face burns in an embarrassing shade of red like he'd just realized they've been caught together.

"uh, okay?" hinata's unsure why he's being sworn to secrecy right now, but he agrees nonetheless.

"thanks, hinata." sakusa gives him a small smile and pushes the basket towards atsumu again, silently asking him to drop everything inside. the setter obliges and rushes to the cashier with their purchases, leaving them behind.

"uh…?"

"he doesn't want anyone to know yet."

"but i know?"

"if there's a way for you to forget, i'd have done it. we'll tell the others in our own pace." which means the ball is in atsumu's court and it's his choice when to come clean with their relationship.

"okay… congrats i guess. if you look at your left, there's some cond—"

"good night hinata." sakusa turns away and follows atsumu to the cashier.

to be painfully honest, the secret turned open-secret turned shared-team-burden continues for a long while. it actually takes the young couple months of failed attempts at hiding, because at this point, every one knows and are just despairing for atsumu to tell them.

so when the fated day comes where atsumu is finally ready, he asks the team to stay behind after practice for a special announcement, and everyone just beams.

everyone gathers at the locker room as they wait for both the two to show. meian shoots barnes an ugly look, hands fisted in his pocket, begrudgingly holding a few thousand yens as payment for a bet they both set up between themselves. inunaki looks bored as hell, feet swinging over the bench, wishing to go home instead of waiting for something they've already known for months.

hinata and bokuto are chatting by the corner, arms gesturing wildly in the air over an interesting story. tomas is watching the door for either atsumu or sakusa to make an entrance.

because they are tired as hell.

hinata had to run away just to avoid seeing sakusa kiss atsumu.

inunaki had to restrain himself from eavesdropping when the two talk about what to eat for dinner or if atsumu should just cook for them instead.

so when atsumu enters the room with sakusa in tow, hands together and fingers intertwined, their only reaction is to cry because finally, finally, they can give them their congratulations.

#sakuatsu #sakuatsu fic #skts #kiyoomi sakusa #atsumu miya #sakusa x atsumu #sakusa #atsumu #msby #mine: fics

[frozen-snowflakesandsunflowers]

Elsa's return home | Theory

Most of us didn't like the ending of Frozen 2. It got us quite sad and disappointed with how the sisters separated. Frozen wasn't the only film to have its loved protagonists go their separate ways. Toy Story 4, How To Train your Dragon and Wreck It Ralph 2 also did that. These were done with the intention of ending the movie franchise and having the characters finally find their destiny, their purpose in life. But with Toy Story and Frozen, it looks like it really wasn't the end of the franchise and I'm hoping it's because they see that they way they left off and tried to end it, was heartbreaking and not the way it should be.

Ever since Disney announced Frozen 3, some of us have been begging Disney and the Frozen team to bring Elsa back home, reuniting the sisters permanently. In a way Frozen 2 was a reverse of Frozen in their way of having the sisters separated then reuniting then having them together then separating. But if you look at Frozen 2 from a different perspective you'll see why the movie is not that bad and the ending could be necessary for Elsa's character arc in Frozen 3 and 4.

With the rumour that Frozen 3 will need in a cliffhanger with Frozen 4 picking it up from that ending, the threat for this next story would have to be big. Bigger than just a prince/ king finding power threatening and killing a leader of a tribe/ kingdom. Bigger than the spirits going wild and causing chaos in Arendelle. And that big event that this big villain causes would have to bring Elsa back to Arendelle until it's over. But as they go through this big adventure, Elsa would learn that she needs Anna more than she realises. Anna needs her more than she realises.

To understand what Elsa would have to understand to go back home forever in upcoming movies, let's find out and understand why she left Arendelle in the first two movies.

[Long post alert]

Elsa's departure in Frozen

Elsa left Arendelle in the first movie because she feared to hurt people, especially Anna, accidentally with her magic. The moment her powers unleashed to the ballroom, she saw fear in everyone's eyes.

She feared them feeling disappointed, deceived, fearing, no longer trusting her, especially Anna. She had already hurt Anna once and doesn't dare to do it again accidentally. She knows Anna needs her but doesn't want her to come close to her just in case Elsa's fear causes another accident which is exactly what happens at the ice castle. After she built her ice castle she wasn't really free or at least she wasn't happy. She still lives with the trauma of hurting Anna for the very first time when they were little. When she did hurt Anna again , she didn't realise she hurt her, with her magic. She probably thought it had slipped on ice, because when Anna entered the palace she was seen sliding on ice. But Elsa's reaction was that fear of hurting her even the slightest. To Elsa the fact that she slipped made her panic into creating the monster Marshmallow and getting Anna out if here before her fear takes over again. After that Elsa was walking around her palace trying to “conceal it, don't feel it”. Her fear was getting stronger so much so that her ice palace turned red and grew sharp icicles inwards. This fear wasn't just for Anna but for Arendelle after learning that she froze the kingdom accidentally.

Hans and his guards enter the palace next and cause Elsa to become angry with the guards for coming to kill her, turning the palace yellow or golden rather. Elsa wasn't ready to die yet. She had so much going on, she wanted to learn to control it so she could at least unfreeze Arendelle. But after Hans told her to not “be the monster they fear you are”, she stopped, feeling what Hans had just said. Realising that she doesn't want to prove them right, but wrong. But the scene ended with Elsa falling unconscious and being imprisoned in her castle's dungeon.

In a conversation with Hans, she tells him she can't undo this winter, he doesn't know how. That's when it stuck Hans that he now has no choice but to kill Elsa if it means returning Arendelle's summer back and keeping the people safe again. Elsa's fear rises and the chains start to freeze as well as the dungeon causing them to break and Elsa escaping. Hans soon finds her out in the blizzard and tells her she hurt Anna with a frozen heart causing her to die (to Hans he genuinely believed she was dead at the time). Elsa realises that she didn't slip on ice but struck her.. in the heart. She looks at her hands in fear and falls on her knees.

Hans draws his sword doing what must be done, according to him. But Anna saves her freezing into the final stage of solid ice. Elsa looks up at Anna in such horror - her worst nightmare became true. She holds Anna. A thing to notice is that the ice is so cold that it broke Hans' sword causing the force to knock Hans unconscious, but Elsa was the only one bake to hold her. Not just because the cold doesn't bother her but because she was the kind of love needed to save Anna.

Anna thawing, and returning the changed memories of Elsa's magic, gets Elsa to open up the gates and stay with Anna. She no longer has to fear hurting anyone because she realised love, Anna's unconditional sisterly love, was the key to controlling her emotions, her powers.

Elsa's departure in Frozen II

This is three years after the events of the first movie. Everything is fine or so it seems. Elsa starts to hear these calls, a siren and she's the only one who can hear it. This gets her to feel something is coming that'll change things up. But she decides to ignore the call and seize the day with Anna and her new found family. But as the call keeps returning, Elsa's fear of change grows and gets her to sit out of the next round of the charades game until Anna comes and Elsa tells her that she doesn't want to mess anything up again. But again the call rings during her sleep but Elsa decides to listen to what it's trying to tell her. She lets her power go, creating scenes of the enchanted forest and the elemental spirits. And as her power flows it heads North and Elsa comes to the realisation that the siren wants her to go North, to the enchanted forest. As the elements get disturbed in Arendelle the citizens run up to the cliffs and Pabbie tells Elsa until they go to the forest and sets the past right, he can't see a future for Arendelle. Elsa is given one more reason to go North, for Arendelle's safety and protection. Elsa wants to go alone originally because she doesn't want to risk anyone getting hurt by whatever adventure this leads to but after Anna tells Elsa everything she endured three years ago she agrees.

Entering the forest Elsa encounters the Air and Fire spirit calming them down from the rage of being woken up. Through taming them the sisters found out Iduna was Northuldra, and knowing that they are a part of this culture gives another reason for Elsa to go dive into this past issue that must be solved.

Going further North they encounter their parents ship and going inside they find out their parents were on their way to Ahotohallan to find out about Elsa's powers, in hopes to help Elsa learn to control it and reunite their daughters. But Elsa takes this as another one of her few reasons to go and avenge their death. The dark sea was dangerous and killed her parents and she wouldn't want to take that risk with Anna or Olaf so she pushed them down back to the forest while Elsa tried to cross the sea.

As she does she tames the water spirit, she rides to Ahotohallan. For the first time she trembles in nervousness and excitement because she's finally going to find out who she's meant to me, where her powers come from, what her purpose in life is. Going further into the frozen river, she finds out her mother has been the one calling her, and she transforms into a white dress that represents the four elemental spirits, as the fifth spirit. She then goes through frozen figures of memories and in there she sees her grandfather talking to an Arendellian soldier and she learns that he fears magic, and makes the damn as a trick. Elsa then literally dives deeper to find out the truth that he killed the Northuldrian leader. She starts to freeze and uses her last bit of magic to send Anna the truth.

After Anna finds out what she has to do, she gets the giants to break the damn. As the dam is broken the mist is lifted and Elsa is then unfrozen and drowns through the break of the ice floor. The Nokk saves her and rushes to Arendelle to prevent a flood in Arendelle, then rushes back to see Anna. The sisters reunite and Anna finds out that she's the fifth spirit, she's the bridge but Elsa says “actually, a bridge has two sides” hinting or signaling the fact that Anna is somewhat the Fifth Spirit too. Elsa tells Anna that Arendelle deserves to stand with Anna. In a deleted scene of an extension or alternative to this reunion scene, Anna asks Elsa “You're not coming back, are you?” and Elsa tells her she doesn't know how or when the Northuldra or the spirits will need her but she wants to be there if and when they do.

She is aware that magic can cause dissatisfaction and fear to some people so if someone does try to harm the magic now that it's open to the world, she wants to be able to save them. If she stayed in Arendelle and she was needed, it would take her a day to get there no matter what she uses as her mobility.

Possible cause for Elsa's return in Frozen 3/ 4

It's understandable but it's not a satisfactory explanation for us fans because we know that the sisters are meant to be together. Elsa was able to control her powers because of Anna's love, and was able to save Arendelle and the forest because of Anna. They learn things from each other that help them grow. And yes Frozen 2 was originally going to be the end of the movie franchise but now that we have two more coming up, more is in them to unclock and they won't be able to do that separately.

So we learn that Elsa first left because of her fear of hurting Anna, but then reunited after learning that love overpowers that fear. Three years later, Elsa fears change but then faces it and leaves again to protect the forest from whatever threats may arise or whatever she may be needed for.

But what will make her return home this time and for good? What will her fear be this time? The theme is always love Vs something. Frozen was love vs fear and Frozen 2 was love vs change. Elsa and Anna's love makes them face their fears and the changes. So what could be the theme for Frozen 3 or 4, going by what we have in the media post Frozen 2?

Trust? Fear Vs trust?

Lately we have been getting some Hans content. He's in the Once Upon a Studio short, he's in the World of Frozen storyline (set between Frozen Fever and Frozen 2), is indirectly mentioned a few times in the podcast which has a theme of trust and is included (and not "demonized"), standing side by side with Elsa, Anna, Kristoff and Olaf in Season 5 of the game Disney Speedstorm. And I don't think Hans recent inclusion in Disney/ Frozen content is a coincidence. When we think of Hans some think of betrayal, deceit... Anna fell in love with him and with love comes trust, the kingdom too trusted him after Anna put him in charge, Elsa too when she told him to take care of Anna for her. To everyone's unexpected belief, he turned on them all and told Anna he was after the throne and attempted to kill Elsa. Now, to be fair I don't think it's just about killing Elsa because the council did pressure him into taking this ultimate decision as they could see no other way to bring back summer when Elsa isn't doing so. So it's more about taking over the throne which he revealed to Anna, that gets everyone angry. They don't know his backstory and Hans' did give away much of it so all they can see is him as a greedy prince feeling power hungry.

From what we the fandom know about him background based in the media, is that he was and is treated poorly by his family thinking him as weak and unworthy because he's the youngest in the family and the last in line to the throne. So it makes sense that he wanted the throne to show his family that he is worthy of not the throne but what the throne symbolises, love, respect, worthiness, etc. But he didn't reveal that to Anna because he was filled with frustration and stress from all the things he had to do as the one in charge of the kingdom such as make sure people are safe and warm as Elsa causes the winter, make sure Anna is safe because of this blizzard, deal with Elsa because Anna had pushes Elsa into creating this winter.

But the point is, currently in the franchise Hans symbolises betrayal - the opposite of trust.

So having a movie with the trust them playing along with because love Vs trust is actually quite an interesting and important topic to focus on, would bring Hans back to resolve that issue with trust. Elsa's status with Hans was shown clearly in Frozen 2. She doesn't trust him because of what he did to Anna and what he was going to do to Arendelle. Hans coming back into the picture would get Elsa generally anxious despite if Anna doesn't seem concerned about Hans or he isn't after Arendelle. Elsa would fear trusting Hans. But if she faced that fear, if she did trust Hans for once, let love trust Hans, it could save whatever is at threat.

Maybe Elsa fears people like Hans being a threat to the forest and so trusting Hans would get her to let go of that need to be there for the forest that has its guard up all the time. Maybe there's a way for the spirits to roam around in Arendelle so the Nokk would be Elsa's ride from Arendelle to the forest or wherever. I hope you see what I'm getting at here. It just makes sense because it would bring back Elsa home, bring back Hans and have him redeemed, maybe have Helsa or have it hinted at, and have a happier ending to what Frozen 2 gave us.

What Elsa's return home means for the Queens

Elsa being back home doesn't mean that Elsa should be Queen while Anna is demoted down to Princess, becoming a step back from what Frozen 2 achieved for their individual arcs, even though some prefer that option. I originally did it until I came up with a better option; having them both Queens as co-rulers. I know this has never happened before in reality and never in Disney but who says we can't have a first?

Anna has learnt to become independent through experiencing the grief she felt when stuck in the cave alone in Frozen 2 and now as Queen making independent decisions. But she isn't really alone as she has Kristoff, Sven and Olaf. This would also help her to not be too clingy or needy for Elsa and know that she can protect herself too. Elsa on the other hand is now alone but in different circumstances compared to her moving to the North Mountain in Frozen. Elsa though isn't really alone either, she has the Northuldrians and the spirits of Nature. And at least once a week on Fridays the sisters would meet to catch up and play charades. So you could say they have a balance of being independent and being social. But is it the right balance? Having the together this time they would still have their independence from time to time because now they learnt to respect and understand each other's alone time while also understanding that they have each other for comfort and to share things with.

With Elsa being called Queen in Arendelle and also the Snow Queen doesn't quite make sense because she's not legally?... royally?... a Queen. She's not even the Queen of Northuldra as they have their leader as Yelena. Elsa is the fifth spirit, the protector, hero, saviour of both Arendelle and the forest while Anna's the Queen of just Arendelle. Moving back home the hero title or the Princess title wouldn't fit quite right.. and perhaps after whatever they have just endured, Anna could make Elsa crowned again announcing that now Arendelle had two Queens. It would also stand with Elsa's line of Iduna having two daughters and a bridge that has two sides. Plus Elsa did say “We did this together and we'll continue to do this together” so I'm almost certain that this time the “together” will actually stand by its definition.

Conclusion

So to conclude this post, I think that the theme of Frozen 3 or 4 will be trust and would hence bring Hans back for redemption and get Elsa to go home and learning to trust gets Elsa to let her guard down in the forest and return home with Anna making her Queen having Arendelle be the first kingdom to have two Queens. That's how I predict Elsa will return to Arendelle.

If you have a better theory please do share and maybe I might do a part 2 to Elsa returning home theories.

#disney frozen #frozen #frozen 2 #frozen 3 #elsa #hans #helsa #anna #bring elsa home #redeem hans #prince hans #frozen 4

[marimayscarlett]

I was about to throw hands over you, supposedly not liking Zeit song or video..

It's painful, isn't it?? Especially if you've lost someone...oh boy! I've lost count of how many times I've cried to it.

But I'm desperate for the making of. Who came up with the story? How was it shot? How did Paul compensate Richard's broken foot?

Hi again 😌

Your ask provoked me to watch the music video again - for the I think the 5th time ever (yes, I avoid this video at all costs) and to listen to the song again for the first time after about half a year. Don't get me wrong, this song in my eyes is a masterpiece, as well as the video. But I honestly can't bring myself to listen to it regularly, the effect it has on me is severe. I lost two loved ones over a span of a few months, both quite unexpected in their own way, so this song hits very close to home. The lyrics of Zeit are so melancholic and beautiful, yet so heart-breaking it almost becomes unbearable. Especially:

"manches sollte, manches nicht" (some things should, some things not)

"Zeit, bitte bleib stehn, bleib stehn" (Time, please stay still, stay still)

"Augenblick verweile noch, ich bin noch nicht bereit" (linger a moment, I'm not ready yet)

The inevitable passage of time and the powerlessness against it really becomes quite clear in the song.

The video in itself has some very cinematically impressive scenes. Not going into full detail here, but what I find rather fascinating in this videos are these entities:

There's a theory (quite known in the R+ world I think) that these three figures represent the Norns, deities in the northern mythology, most of the time represented as maiden giantesses who were responsible for deciding the destiny/fate of people. They also were tending to the central sacred tree in norse mythology, Yggdrasil (which could be the sand figure where the women give birth around of; sand representing most likely the passage of time, like time slipiping through your fingers like sand). The Norns are Urðr (representing what happened = the past), Verðandi (representing what currently is taking place = present) and Skuld (representing what needs to happen = future). There are a lot of germanic and north female deities, this is just one description. What the Norns decide will happen and is unavoidable, so while this is just a theory, it can be really fitting to the video and its aesthetic.

So I'd also be super interested in who came up with the storyline, how many ideas were actually thought of (since this song can be interpreted in various ways I think), how the ideas were put into pictures, which ideas didn't make the cut... and last but not least, does Paul really have an ass of steel? What kind of work out does he do to achieve this, a butt that can destroy your band mates foot in a matter of seconds? Questions upon questions... 👀

#rammstein #ask #zeit mv #thank you for your ask! enjoyable and thought provoking as always #making of WHEN #while we're at it: post the damn making of for Deutschland I know it exists somewhere and is just collecting dust ffs

[ourladyofmaplemurder]

And the award for "Worst Mother in Riverdale" goes to...

I've already spoken before on the similarities between Betty and Cheryl. Their murderous fathers. Their superhuman abilities within the narrative. Their dead siblings.

But today I want to talk about their mothers.

Alice Cooper (Smith) & Penelope Blossom

There are quite a few similarities between Alice and Penelope. (Certainly plenty of sexual tension as well.)

They're both controlling and abusive with their daughters. Over and over they torture their daughters with expectations and cruel lies.

In the end though, only one daughter come out on top.

Sure, Penelope Blossom is a homophobic serial killer with a penchant for poison, but Alice is truly the greater monster, I feel.

Penelope is all aggression and thus, Cheryl is able to respond in kind.

Fuck you, mom! Go live in the barn.

By the time we reach the end of the original timeline, Cheryl is independent of her mother. She proves that she is not taking her shit and, because of this, they're able to have a moment of genuine connection before Penelope goes off to the OG Sisters of Quiet Mercy in the Himalayas.

(Though, the veracity of this is in question considering Penelope doesn't do the sign of the cross properly, but that's speculation for another day.)

Alice, on the other hand, is much more insidious. She exerts her control on Betty, but as soon as Betty bites back, Alice plays the victim. She cries. She makes Betty out to be the villain...and Betty falls for it time and time again.

By the time they reach the end of their arc in Season 6, they're still trapped in that endless cycle of lies and tears. At the end of Season 6, Betty is ready to give up on herself and become Archie's little wife. This wouldn't be the worst end for her, but only because Archie is a good guy. The reality of her existence in this timeline would ultimately keep her in Riverdale under the thumb of her mother, settling for a life she actively fought against. Truly, she would become her mother. She would become 'The Mom Next Door'.

I don't see this happening to Cheryl. Sure, she never leaves Thornhill, but she's herself. She possesses her own destiny. Barring the unrelenting obsession with Toni, Cheryl was really starting to move on and grow.

Betty, if anything, was regressing. She is trapped endlessly.

Now, examining their relationships to their mothers in Season 7 is also worth mentioning. What I can say is that Betty and Alice are very much repeating the same cycle. Cheryl and Penelope still have an openly antagonistic relationship, but Penelope is taken off the board before their relationship can really go anywhere.

We can assume things would play out the same way. After all, Riverdale is about cycles, after all.

Alice lied about the body under the table, as revealed in Season 5. This body's existence proves that she at least had reason to suspect Hal as the Black Hood. Yet, she says nothing. We can only assume this was to preserve her "perfect nuclear family" picture as long as possible. Ultimately fruitless, but also deeply selfish.

(Yes, I am well aware that the writers were making things up as they went along and thus, Alice likely had no idea there was a body under her dining room floor back in season 2, but we must examine the facts as we know them now.)

Alice also lied to go under cover for the FBI, never once letting Betty in on the truth to soothe her worries. This pushed her into the arms of her father.

The death of Polly. Ultimately, Alice blamed Betty for this and said it aloud. Even if it was said in a moment of emotion, it was still unbelievably cruel.

So, in the end, I do think that Alice is worse than Penelope and the reason is simple. Penelope's singular aggression allows Cheryl to break away and stand on her own. Alice's cruelty combined with her neediness never allows Betty to breathe long enough to realize that her mother is a monster. She is so deeply selfish.

Cheryl can go toe to toe with Penelope and ultimately grow up. Alice's wounded bird routine breaks Betty's heart and ultimately, keeps her trapped forever.

And thus, the award for "Worst Mom in Riverdale" goes to....ALICE SMITH.

Not really a dissertation, but it is a post. <3

@reclusivedouche @storkmuffin

This one is for you. <3

#Riverdale #RiverMoms #I think Alice is so fucking evil #I still love her tho

[lurkingshan]

La Pluie: On desire, vulnerability, and the perils of not clarifying your relationship status

Hooooo my god y’all, this episode has sent me into the stratosphere. First of all, let me just send you back here to read @bengiyo on this show’s depiction of queer desire because boy is it relevant to today’s episode. His read of this show, and the sexual dynamics at play between Patts and Tai, was absolutely spot on.

Today’s episode explored a couple major themes:

The interplay between desire and vulnerability

The perils of not clarifying your relationship status

Let’s start with the first, because that bed scene has been playing on a loop in my head. Throughout this episode, we see that Tai is both very into Patts, and also still not quite ready to jump in with both feet. He is happy and proud for others to know Patts is his soulmate.

He can’t stop remembering their makeout session and getting all flustered and shy about it.

He is finding ways to spend time together and exchanging shy smiles with him.

He comes up with an excuse to touch Patts in bed.

He initiates another kiss.

And he is extremely into it when they start getting down to business.

So why does he pull back when Patts goes to remove his pants, clearly about to return to the act he intended to perform last time? Because being the one to receive pleasure would make Tai feel vulnerable, and he is not ready to go there yet. He is still struggling to come to terms with the fact that he very much does want to be with the person society calls his soulmate, despite his own fear and discomfort with the idea. At the same time, he does genuinely like and want Patts, and so he offers to give pleasure instead.

I love love love this scene because it gives us such a clear indication of where Tai is emotionally. Because of all the baggage he has attached to the idea of soulmates, he is fighting his own instincts. His brain, his body, his heart are clearly all pointing straight at Patts, but he’s afraid to trust it because Patts is all tangled up with his confused feelings about this supposed destiny. It’s such a great depiction of that internal push-pull he’s feeling while also leaving no doubt where his true feelings lie.

Now onto the second theme, the perils of not clarifying your relationship status. Let me just say it outright: this one is all on Tai. Patts was ready to declare themselves faen as soon as they had aired out all their misunderstandings. He wanted Tai before he knew they were soulmates and he wants him now. It’s Tai who is holding back because of his hang ups about the soulmate myth.

This came back to bite him twice in this episode, first with Lomfon and then with Nara. Now here I have to get into a side point because this episode clarified something for me: there is no triangle here. This show just loves to zig when you expect it to zag, and they did it again today. Because Tai is not considering Lomfon at all - he is entirely occupied with Patts, and his hesitations have nothing to do with Lomfon’s pursuit, which he still isn’t even perceiving. Bow is the one who keeps telling him Lomfon is circling and likely to become a problem if he doesn’t make his relationship with Patts clear, but Tai truly still doesn’t seem to even believe her. It’s a non-issue for him, except for Lomfon hanging around dropping rude comments and making everyone feel awkward. But Patts is not quite so oblivious, and you can tell he clocked Lomfon immediately, though he doesn’t seem to feel the need to do anything about it.

In any case, the more important interference here is from Nara, because it caught Tai so off guard. We have already seen Patts kindly but firmly reject Nara. It seems she showed up here without being invited to surprise him. She even tells Tai she is here trying to pursue her ex, just so there’s no confusion (for us anyway). We can see that Patts is standing stiffly and his mouth is clenched tightly shut when she kisses him, in stark contrast to his kisses with Tai, which are always open-mouthed and loose and enthusiastic. So there’s really no question for us, the audience, that what Tai has walked in on is simply Nara’s last desperate attempt, and Patts is probably gonna push her away in quick order. Tai has absolutely nothing to worry about.

But he doesn’t know that, because he has shied away from clarifying his relationship with Patts and denied himself the security he should be feeling when witnessing such a scene. For Tai to react so strongly to seeing someone else kiss Patts is another clear signal of how deep his feelings already run. Despite his resistance to being with his soulmate because of everything that happened with his parents, he does already feel that Patts is somehow his and he does want to be with him. All that’s left is for him to accept it.

#la pluie #thai bl #shan shouts into the void

[kanansdume]

I’ve been thinking about the way the phrase heard in Obi-Wan Kenobi, “Only when the eyes are closed can you truly see” applies to Kanan Jarrus after he’s been blinded and how it’s best shown in the differences between his two sacrifices.

Season one is all about Kanan choosing to accept his new destiny as a master for Ezra, accepting that despite his own unfinished training, he has to step up for Ezra’s sake, and choosing to follow the Jedi path himself even if he doesn’t feel ready for it, choosing to make that commitment to and for Ezra.

Kanan’s dealing with a lot of trauma from his past and having to figure out the true meaning of being both a Jedi and specifically a Master with a Padawan. He has to let go of a lot of it in order to understand the reality of this relationship, in order to even be able to completely MAKE this commitment.

The biggest trauma we know he’s dealing with is Depa’s death, and his reaction to it. He considers himself a coward for running, for not staying to fight at her side and die with her. He blames himself, in part, for her death. He hasn’t come to terms with her sacrifice because he’s lost himself to the guilt he feels over it and it impacts nearly every relationship he has, but particularly the one with Ezra. It’s Hera who initially believes in Ezra and pushes Kanan to test him and bring him into the crew, and even after Kanan does that, he tries to find other teachers for Ezra because he’s not fully committed.

In the season one finale, he goes into that mission as usual for them, thinking that whatever obstacle they come across, they’ll deal with it together, they’ll make it out together, they’ll find a way because there’s ALWAYS another way. But he then realizes, there isn’t. He has to stay so they can run. So he does.

And in the end, he doesn’t yet have to face the final price for that, his crew, his family, come through and is able to rescue him in time. And he’s still struggling with that guilt even though he’s now made the same choice Depa once did for him, he still struggles with what happened to her.

In season two, we see Kanan struggle with Rex, with becoming a soldier again for the Rebellion, with being able to trust that he trained Ezra well enough to not fall prey to the Sith. All of which hits pretty hard on that same trauma from before, but extending it to the experience of the war itself and his own unfinished training due to the interference of the Sith. He had to run from Depa and, in order to survive, he ran from himself. He ran from who he was, from who he should’ve been able to become. And he spends this ENTIRE SHOW finding his way back to that person, figuring out how to become that person in this new galaxy. He’s taken that first step by following in Depa’s footsteps without having to pay the price yet, but he’s still trying to see with his eyes open.

And then at the end of season two, he’s literally blinded by a Sith.

And over the next two seasons, we see a change in Kanan. He’s more centered, more calm, more stable in general. He can’t literally see, so he has to rely entirely on other senses and the Force itself. He has to trust the Force now, not just with the people he cares about, but with HIMSELF. He’s able to do quite a lot just supplementing his senses through the Force, but there’s more than one reference to the fact that Kanan can’t see something in front of him and even more background moments where we see someone having to touch Kanan’s arm or shoulder to signal him to duck or get down or something along those lines. Kanan has to learn, not just how to trust himself, but how to trust everyone else and how to trust the Force itself.

By the time they go to Lothal for the last time, by the time Hera gets captured by Thrawn, Kanan knows who he is. He’s walked that path, he’s made his peace with his past, he understands the value of what they’re fighting for, he doesn’t blame himself for running so long ago. And when told what path he has to walk, the last path he’ll ever walk, despite all he’s going to have to sacrifice to do it, he understands. He accepts that this is the choice put in front of him that will help the most people.

His eyes were pretty forcibly closed for him and in the aftermath of that, he learned how to see himself, the people around him, the galaxy, and the Force in an entirely new way. His relationship with Ezra grows stronger because of it, as does his relationship with everyone else. Kanan learns to trust, he learns how to accept the path handed to him, he learns to see further ahead than just the next step, he learns to see a bigger picture.

And when he walks into that final mission, when he goes to rescue Hera, he does so with the knowledge that he’s not going to finish it. He does this with the knowledge that he may never get what he wants from Hera, that he may never hear her say she loves him. He does with the knowledge that he’ll never be able to knight Ezra, just like Depa could never knight him. He does this with the knowledge that he won’t be able to help bring an end to the Empire, he won’t see peace restored. He knows, from the beginning, what all he’s going to sacrifice. He doesn’t necessarily know when, or how, just that it’s coming. And he accepts that, knowing that he’s giving his family their best chance at accomplishing everything they want to accomplish. Knowing that his death grants them more time they wouldn’t have otherwise. They might not ultimately make it, either. They may not see that end any more than he will, but his death gives them a CHANCE, and that’s enough. Depa’s sacrifice gave Caleb Dume a matter of seconds to escape, and it saved him. She couldn’t have known whether it would even work, what her Padawan would go on to do and become, but she knew her death gave him time, and that was enough.

Kanan finally understands.

His eyes were closed, but he could finally see the way ahead.

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