#technically 13 panels | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kpopfanfictrash · 6 months

Text

The Horrible Un-Haunting of Elliot House

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre: Ghost!AU / Romance / Comedy (?)

Pairing: Seokjin / Reader (she/her)

Synopsis: Some houses are harder to sell than others but you, Y/N, are determined to find the (supposedly) haunted Elliot House a new owner. That is, until it's very real and very hot exceedingly well-dressed ghost decides to make himself known. If only you didn't find yourself enjoying the knowing.

Rating: PG-13 (kissing but nothing beyond that)

Word Count: 6,214

Author's Note: hope you enjoy this random Halloween "drabble"! This got oddly angsty? I suppose that happens with ghost love LOL

[ Cross-Posted to Wattpad ]

“Through here,” you say, leading the Gundersons through an arched door. “You’ll find the most adorable sunroom.”

The Gundersons both gasp, appropriately awed by the tall walls of windows. Each panel is topped with stained glass, casting colorful patterns across the checkered floor. Technically, the sunroom isn’t part of the original house – it was added in 1975 during a brief period the address was owned by a cult – but you rarely disclose this fact during tours. Most people don’t care which parts of the house are original, so long as they can say they bought a 19th century Tudor.

Not that you blame them. Most people (or at least, sane people) appreciate the romanticism of an old structure without actually wanting to live in one. Modern amenities are the top benefit of progress, after all. The government couldn’t pay you to live without modern heating, plumbing, or refrigeration.

“Margaret, did you see?” Arthur Gunderson, a slightly rotund lawyer, and husband of said Margaret, gestures emphatically. “I’ll be damned if this stained glass isn’t Tiffany! See there, see that stamp in the corner?”

“Good eye, sir!” you chirp, barely glancing up from your clipboard.

Truthfully, you aren’t sure whether the glass is authentic. The cult that installed could hardly be called profitable (they sold the house at a loss after less than ten years, although this likely had more to do with crimes committed on said property than their income, but you digress), so you’d be hard-pressed to believe they could afford real Tiffany.

If this is what convinces the Gundersons to buy though, you’re hardly a realtor to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Ticking a box in the upper right corner – sunroom – you look up. “Right, well. That’s most of the lower level.” Pivoting on your heel, you head towards the corridor. “If you two will follow me upstairs, we can –”

“What’s that?”

Steps slowing, you stare at the plaster wall. A moment passes, then two before you convince yourself to turn around. When you see where Arthur Gunderson points, a relieved breath leaves your lips.

“Oh, that?” Floorboards squeak as you cross the room, sounding almost like laughter. “That’s the cellar. I’d offer you a look but unfortunately, the staircase isn’t quite up to code. You’ll need someone to look at that ASAP if you buy.”

Hovering at the wooden door, you grasp its bronze knob and pull. Tugging the cord for the light, you briefly scan the stairs but spot nothing unusual. Mostly convinced, you dutifully step aside.

“Feel free to look,” you say brightly.

The Gundersons crowd the landing you vacated.

“Careful, honey,” Arthur warns, holding Margaret’s elbow. “These stairs are steep.”

Standing on tiptoe, Margaret peers beyond him into the basement gloom. It could be your imagination, but she almost seems disappointed. A few cobwebs and shadows line the staircase, but nothing more sinister.

Hiding a smile, you check the next box. Cellar. Sometimes, people request to see this house not because they’re interested in buying it, but for the thrill. Entering the haunted Elliot house and surviving will make a great tale to tell their friends over cocktails.

Lowering your clipboard, you glance upward. So far, everything has gone to plan, which is partly the problem. You must’ve shown this house thirty times and always, something has gone wrong by now. Before being assigned its realtor, you believed in the paranormal, but only in a theoretical way. Not because you’d witnessed anything spectral.

Your opinions since then have changed.

Turning sharply, you plaster a smile on your face. “Shall we?”

Stepping back, Margaret pulls wiry frames from her jacket pocket. “I must admit,” she says with an embarrassed laugh. “Based on what our last realtor said, I was expecting far worse from this property.”

Although your smile tightens, you nod. The other realtor had a point – Elliot house could be temperamental, at best. Downright petulant, at worst. You glare again at the ceiling.

“We get that a lot,” you say, ushering them down the hall. Best not to linger. “Whenever a house sits too long on the market, you know – people talk. Lots of rumors!”

“Oh, sure,” Arthur says, passing you with a chuckle. “We’re not superstitious, don’t worry.”

“Oh?” you say lightly, remaining behind. “That’s good to know. Now, if you head down the hall, you’ll reach the foyer. All the crown molding you pass is original. The house’s first owner and builder, Daniel Baker, was something of a craftsman. He –”

Abruptly, you cease talking and stare at the stairwell. Halfway down the steps, where before there was nothing, sits a perfectly ripe orange. Eyes narrowed, you stare at this a long beat before yanking the light cord down and shutting the door.

Glancing upward, you hiss, “Not today, I swear to – well, whatever hellish being you worship.”

The wind sounds almost like laughter, but you don’t stick around long enough to find out if that’s true. Shaking your head, you traipse down the front hall in search of the Gundersons. Luckily, they’re too busy taking pictures of the aforementioned crown molding to have noticed your absence.

“Shall we?” you say, gesturing at the front stairs.

Pocketing their phones, they begin their ascent. You wait at the bottom, giving them space to discuss the house. From personal experience, buyers tend to appreciate when you don’t hover.

Besides, the grand staircase is your favorite feature – equal parts artwork and functionality. From your place at its bottom, you admire the craftsmanship. Starting the climb, your fingertips skim whorls in the wood and for a second, you feel a phantom hand rest over yours.

Scowling darkly, you yank your palm away. Reaching the landing, you clutch at your clipboard tighter and walk forward.

“This way!” you say, practically shoving the Gundersons into the first bedroom.

While they ooh and ah about the bay windows, you tick another box on your spreadsheet. Master bedroom.

The second you’re done, the pen slips from your grasp and hovers in mid-air. It then turns, point-down, to scrawl something in the margin.

‘Master’ bedroom? Kiiind of racist, don’t you think?

Teeth gritted, you snatch your pen back. “I wasn’t the one who created the spreadsheet, okay?” you whisper. “And while, yes, I agree, and other realtors are moving away from that language, I don’t–”

“Pardon?” Arthur Gunderson peers, confused, over his shoulder.

Somewhat manic, you smile. “Oh, nothing,” you say, the words sounding high-pitched, even to you. “I was just reminding myself to show you the main bathroom. Beautiful claw-foot tub.”

“Oh. Sure,” says Arthur, returning to his wife.

Head whipping sideways, you glare at the most likely place Seokjin would be. A chuckle drifts past your ear on the other side, and your scowl deepens.

Once an appropriate amount of time goes by, you usher the Gundersons into the next bedroom. Hovering outside, you calculate how quickly you can convince them to leave. The longer they stay, the worse the so-called haunting will be.

You should have known better than to show them this house, but they were insistent. Or at least, Arthur was. Margaret seems reasonably paranoid, which you deem a positive quality. Everyone within a hundred-mile radius has heard of the haunted Elliot house.

Even the name is confusing, since it doesn’t bear the name of its builder, Daniel Baker, nor its longest resident, Mr. Josiah Whitley. Instead, it’s named for Nathaniel Elliot, the cult leader who murdered a man on its premises in 1978. Obviously, this fact wasn’t known to the public until after the cult sold the house and moved far away.

Eventually, Mr. Elliot was tried and found guilty of murder, but this was much later. Wincing a little, you glance at the ceiling. Seokjin has said many times that ghosts can’t read minds, but you wouldn’t put it past him to lie for a punchline. Even if he can’t read your mind, the faint scent of cedar lets you know he’s nearby.

Quickening your stride, you show the Gundersons the next bedroom. “This is one of my favorites,” you say, pulling hard on its warped door. “The view from that window is stunning. You can see all the way to the brook!”

Taking the bait, Margaret crosses the room. “Oh, look, Arthur!” she exclaims, leaning forward. “There’s a gazebo!”

He follows at a more leisurely pace, frowning when he spots a lone cobweb in the corner. Sighing, you swipe at this as you pass, almost certain the web wasn’t there this morning.

While the two converse, you pull out your clipboard and run down the list again.

Most days at your job are like today – running down lists and waiting for other people to make their own life decisions. Becoming a realtor wasn’t so much a choice as it was thrust upon you. When your mom got sick your senior year of grad school, you returned to take care of her and finished your coursework remotely.

There were only so many jobs with flexible hours, and you ended up getting your realtor’s license to support her on the side. When your mom passed, you stuck around to sort out her paperwork and affairs. Two years later, everything is in order and still, you remain. Stuck in a holding pattern, showing houses and too afraid to try your hand at anything different.

BANG.

The sudden noise from above plunges the room into silence. Both Arthur and Margaret swivel, wide eyes landing on you.

Margaret’s glasses chain trembles. “What was tha–”

“My assistant,” you blurt, backing towards the door. “He mentioned he would stop by to drop off some keys. That must be him – I’ll go and check!”

“But…” Arthur stares. “The noise came from above.”

“Be right back!” you call, stepping into the hall.

As fast as possible without raising suspicion, you rush down the hall. “Seokjin,” you hiss, hand skimming the banister as you descend. “Stop that right now!”

No one responds – not that you thought he would. Crossing the foyer, you reach the cellar door and yank it open. Flicking the overhead light, you see the orange has disappeared. Rolling your eyes, you shut the door.

“This isn’t funny,” you huff out loud to no one.

Far above you, a low groan shakes the house. Honestly, it sounds more sexual than scary, but you suppose that only makes it more sinister. Reaching the foyer, you slow your pace and set down your clipboard. Suppressing a sigh, you glance at the clock. This has happened enough times that you can predict things to the minute.

Crossing your arms, you tap your foot and count down in your head.

One – increased groaning. Sometimes from the cellar, often the attic and, during one memorable visit, from behind a locked bathroom door.

Two – shuffling feet while the Gundersons (insert buyer’s name here) debate whether to run or wait it out. They hastily whisper, wondering if it’s their minds playing tricks.

Third – laughter. Seokjin will say it sounds lilting but to you, his laughter is more akin to a car’s windshield wipers. Today, said laughter drifts from the main bedroom, immediately followed by the Gundersons’ screaming.

Directly above you, Margaret’s heels pound wooden floors. Wincing, you make a mental reminder to buff the scuffs from the wood.

“ARTHUR!” she calls, her voice pitching upward.

“Right behind you!” he bellows.

When the lights in the foyer flicker, you lean against the grand railing. In your experience, there’s nothing you can do now to save the showing. As soon as Seokjin reveals himself, it’s only a matter of time.

“Whoooo dareeessss to disturrrrrb meeeee!” he wails, and you try not to laugh. “This is MYYYY homeeee and you are nooooot welcomeeeee! OoOOOOooooOOo!”

Arthur is first down the stairs. Reluctantly, you step forward – as their realtor, you’ll try to calm them down and get them out. All part of the plan. What’s not part of the plan is Arthur’s blind panic, elbowing you – hard – in the stomach as he runs past.

Concaving, you stumble, your foot catching on a loose floorboard as you fall backwards. Suddenly, a pink cushion slides between you and the floor. You land in the middle of it, shocked but unharmed.

Arthur yanks open the front door. “You!” he blurts, whipping around to point. Blinking, you fight the urge to glance over your shoulder. “Yes, you,” he scoffs, spittle flying as Margaret runs past. “I don’t know if this is your idea of a sick joke or what, but your manager will be hearing from me!”

Before you can formulate a response, Arthur is out the front door. You hear the sound of their car starting, exhaust billowing behind them as they speed down the street.

Propping yourself on one elbow, you release a sigh. The house has fallen silent, almost sheepish in its total lack of sound. Head lolling back, you glare at the ceiling.

“You are so annoying,” you groan, well-aware you sound crazy. “I honestly don’t know what you’re looking for, Seokjin. The Gundersons were fine.”

The front door slams.

An outline of a person materializes between you and the living room, seeming composed of dust motes and sunshine. Turning your glare in their direction, you tap your fingers against the oak floor.

Seokjin solidifies fully, rakishly leaning against the paneled wall. He’s dressed in the same navy three-piece suit he wore when he died, albeit with his hair styled in this century’s fashion. Seokjin once said ghosts are able to change their appearance, but most choose not to. There’s little point to it, and it wastes precious energy.

Sadly, he shakes his head. “See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Seokjin says, his deep timbre resonating through floorboards beneath you.

“Show off,” you mutter.

Lips twitching, he crooks a finger. The foyer light ceases to flicker, and Seokjin straightens. Dusting invisible dust from his shoulders, he walks forward.

“The Gundersons were tiresome,” he says. “I would’ve been bored of them in months, started haunting again, and this house would’ve gone right back on the market. Really, I saved you trouble in the long run. You can thank me later.”

“Oh, no,” you deadpan. “Two commissions on the same property. What a horrible fate.”

“Exactly. You’re welcome.”

Fighting an eye roll, you push yourself upward with cushion in hand. At least Seokjin was kind enough to break your fall, even if he caused the circumstances which led to it in the first place.

Brushing the dirt from the cushion, you shake your head. “You do know that eventually, someone will buy this house and you’ll have to make peace with that fact. Right?”

When Seokjin doesn’t immediately respond, you look up. His dark gaze lingers a second longer than necessary, briskly looking away when he catches you watching.

“I know,” Seokjin says, turning around. “Might I point out though, that I don’t have to make peace with anything. Ghost,” he adds, pointing at himself. “Not making peace with things is our bread and butter.”

“People have owned this house before, though.”

“Boring people,” Seokjin mutters.

“That didn’t seem to bother you back then!”

Seokjin enters the living room. “Ugh,” he groans, dropping onto a chaise. Dust motes spiral around him, as though he were solid. “If I must be trapped on the material plane, Y/N, the least the material plane could do is provide some entertainment. And the lovemaking of two seventy-year-olds doesn’t count,” he adds, fixing you with a glare.

Stifling laughter, you follow him into the parlor. Fluffing the cushion, you replace it on its chair and survey the room. Seokjin lounges dramatically and it could be your imagination, but he almost looks solid. More so than the first time you met, anyways.

He nearly scared the shit out of you, back then. Everyone at the firm warned you this house was haunted but were purposefully vague on the supernatural. The warnings they gave you were borderline mundane.

Oh, yeah, that house has been on the market forever. People say that it’s haunted, but I’d honestly be more worried about rats. Or asbestos – popcorn ceilings didn’t age well for a reason. And I don’t know if it’s true, but I heard a convict once lived in the basement for three months before the cops caught him. Watch out for that!

You entered this house with more than your usual trepidation, pepper spray in one hand and a flashlight in the other. Apparently, the wiring wasn’t all up to code – something you’ve since rectified with the city.

The sound of the door creak could’ve been written by the Brothers Grimm themselves, textbook gothic. Your flashlight swept over dusty floors, faint footprints remaining to remind you of its past. Spine steeled, you forced yourself to continue.

Finding a light switch, you flicked upward, and the chandelier came to life. The lighting was dim, barely enough to see by on a rainy day. Keeping your flashlight, you wandered into the parlor and came to a sudden stop. Forest green wallpaper lined the walls, remarkably intact for its age. Stunned, you turned in a slow circle.

Moody maximalism was one of your favorite design styles, and this room was made for it. With a slightly better attitude, you resumed your walk-through, discovering a hidden cupboard in the kitchen and a dumbwaiter to nowhere. The second-floor entry point had been boarded up, but that could be rectified.

Some of the woodwork of the house was scuffed, and a few corners held fallen leaves, but overall, it was in great condition. None of the realtors had prepared you for that – you arrived expecting a war zone and were pleasantly surprised.

On the second floor, you found a library – or what had once been the library, given the shelving was empty – that made you audibly gasp. Blue-black custom shelves extended along three of the walls. Closer to the door, a bright square of color remained from where a painting had hung.

Curious, your fingers traced the edges. “This place is unreal,” you murmured to yourself.

“I know, right?” said a voice directly in your ear.

Like any sane person, you screamed and jumped skyward. Your flashlight fell, its beam rolling over and over until it hit a baseboard. You didn’t stick around to find out, turning fast on your heel and bolting into the hall.

Thundering down the front stairs – wincing as the wood groaned – you nearly reached the foyer when Seokjin appeared.

“Boo,” he said calmly, between you and the door.

Coming to a shuddering halt, your hand gripped the railing. The ghost was impeccably dressed, if slightly invisible, and raised a dark brow in response to your flight.

Gaze darting sideways, you sought a second exit but all you could recall was the cellar and that wasn’t an option. Years of training from watching scary movies kicked in at that point, and you slowly straightened. Running away would do nothing – a ghost could follow you anywhere – so, maybe reasoning with him would be the best option.

“What do you want?” you asked, masking your fear to plant both hands on your hips. “Who are you?”

Surprise flared in his – admittedly attractive – gaze. Some of the shock had worn off by then, and you could admit to yourself (if to no one else) that the ghost before you was hot. Even thinking this felt ridiculous, and you wondered if your already-fragile grasp on reality was slipping.

Taking a single step forward, the ghost cocked his head. When you stumbled back, his lip quirked, and he appeared by your side.

“Who am I?” he mused, walking in a slow circle. “Awfully strange to ask me that, when I’m the person that died here, and you’ve never stepped foot in this house until now. I would know.”

Started, you turned your head.

This was a mistake since it allowed you to see every ridge of his features. The rounded tip of his nose, his enviably full lips, and a curve to his jawline which could likely cut glass.

Forcing your gaze upward, you found him focused on you. “You… died here?” you asked before you could think better.

His lips thinned. “You know, it’s very rude to ask a ghost how they died. It’s personal.”

“Oh,” you said. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t ask,” the ghost replied with a sigh.

Your eyes narrowed, hearing barely hidden laughter in his tone. This ghost was making fun of you. The audacity!

Incensed by this, you lifted your chin. “Wouldn’t asking you whether it’s polite to ask about death be asking you about death, though?”

“Fair enough.” He shrugged, slipping both hands in his pockets. “There really isn’t a good way for you to bring up that conversation.”

A laugh escaped, despite yourself.

His gaze flickered, as though oddly pleased. Quickly, the ghost scanned you from your shoes to your face, where he lingered.

“I’m curious,” he mused, resuming his walk in a circle.

Despite your discomfort, you forced yourself to stay still. Even though you could feel each place his gaze lingered – your shoulders, your collarbone, tacing the slope of your cheekbones.

“What are you curious about?” you asked, pushing the words past your lips.

He stopped between you and the door again. Slipping both hands from his pockets, he crossed his arms over his chest. The way his biceps strained against his suit was intriguing, implying there was something to strain against. Dimly, you wondered what a ghost’s gym routine looked like.

Your lips twitched at the thought, and the ghost scowled.

“Stop that,” he commanded. “You should be terrified. I was curious about why you haven’t run yet. Anyone else would’ve by now.”

“Would they?”

“Based on my experience, yes.” He tilted his head. “This is the first time I’ve introduced myself to someone and they stayed. Well,” he amended through teeth. “Stayed without crucifixes, holy water, and a priest.”

“Does that really work?” you wondered, genuinely curious.

“Does what work – exorcism?”

You nodded.

“Clearly not.” He waved a hand down his body. “At least, not in my case. When I first died, I wanted to move on. I was even excited when the first priest arrived, but he did nothing, and neither did the next one… eventually, I stopped hoping. Started haunting, instead.”

“Well, sure,” you said, dazed.

His lips twitched. “My name is Seokjin, by the way. Not that you asked.”

“That was literally one of the first things I asked!”

Ignoring this, Seokjin stuck out his hand. “And you are?”

“Y/N,” you said, ignoring the impossibility of what you were about to attempt while extending your palm. “Nice to meet you.”

Your hands met in the middle and, instead of passing through, you felt your palms brush. For a moment, you touched calluses and warm skin, smelling the faint scent of cloves.

Seokjin went utterly still.

Chin jerking down, he stared at your joined hands. “That’s… never happened before.”

Retracting swiftly, you said the first thought that came to mind. “What? Never touched a woman?”

Scowling, he retracted his hand as well. “I was thirty when I died, Y/N. Not thirteen.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you muttered, then paused. “You… haven’t been able to touch anyone since you died?”

“Things, yes. People, no.” A thoughtful look crossed his face. “A psychic visited me once. The owners at that time brought her, wanting to see if she could get rid of me.” Seokjin snorted. “She got them to pay her, then said, ‘No.’ Hilarious. And interesting,” he added. “She told me she’d met other ghosts, ones that could interact. Never seemed to work for me, though.”

You blinked, unsure how to respond. For it being your first encounter with the supernatural, nothing about this had gone as imagined. You weren’t sure how to converse with a ghost who, for all intents and purposes, seemed fairly normal.

Except for the whole ‘being dead’ part.

“Well.” You shrugged. “There’s a first time for everything, I guess.”

His expression remained inscrutable, but for the faintest of seconds, you thought Seokjin looked intrigued. After a moment, he moved closer and leaned in. You caught the faintest whiff of orange, cloves, and cedar on what could have been his breath.

“I suppose there is,” he murmured, and then disappeared.

Since then, Seokjin has appeared each time you returned. The second time, you were halfway convinced your first visit was a hallucination. A theory Seokjin seemed content to feed into, refusing to show himself until you were about to leave. Then, he jumped through the hall closet to yell, “MUTINY!” and cement his presence in your mind.

Seokjin doesn’t dress the same every time. A few weeks into your friendship (if one can call it that), he informed you he could change his appearance but hadn’t done it much. It took energy to appear on the mortal pane, more so if his appearance was altered.

Still, you’ve learned Seokjin will do pretty much anything to commit to a bit. His brand of haunting tends to border on comical. Putting his arms on backwards, headless juggling, vomiting wine – really anything is fair game if not truly grotesque. By now, you’ve seen his whole gambit, which is how you can say today’s performance was lackluster.

Sprawled on the chaise, one foot dangling, Seokjin looks every bit of the tragic lothario. Again, you can’t help but wonder whether he’s gained permanence since the last time you saw him. You could almost swear the chaise sinks under the weight of his frame.

“What is it?” he demands, lazily pushing himself upward.

Something in your chest flutters, although you ignore it. Arms crossed, you fix him with a look of disdain. It’s sinful for Seokjin to look as good as he does – and the worst part is, you know it’s not an illusion.

After you met the third time, you Googled his name along with the house and found multiple hits. Seokjin Kim was killed on October 31st, 1978, by Nathanial Elliot, the leader of the Sunny Days cult. Both Seokjin’s parents joined two years prior, and he’d tried unsuccessfully to convince them to leave by mail and phone.

Eventually, he visited in person and convinced them to go – unfortunately, Nathanial caught wind of the situation and killed Seokjin before this could happen. You saw photos of Seokjin from then and can confirm he was always devastatingly handsome. Often, you’ve wondered if he left someone behind – a wife or a girlfriend – but can’t bring yourself to ask. You aren’t sure which answer would hurt more.

Regardless, you know Seokjin was missed. His parents were the ones who took down the Sunny Days cult, putting their leader behind bars for killing their son. Seokjin admitted once that they tried to tear this house down. They didn’t know he was tied to the grounds, and he didn’t want to tell them. It would’ve been harder for them to move on, he explained, and your heart broke a little.

Not long after that, you accidentally let it slip that Seokjin had a scent. It made him howl with laughter, nearly falling down the front stairs – not that this would’ve hurt him. From then on, Seokjin showed off his growing ability to move solid objects by leaving oranges for you in the house whenever you came. Only another of his practical jokes but lately, it’s made your skin hot to think of.

You realized you felt more than you should for him last month when he saved you from falling. Determined to clear out the cellar, your entire foot went through the first step and Seokjin pulled you to safety.

“Careful,” he murmured, one arm wrapped around your waist. Gently, he eased you backwards and onto the landing. “The top step is rotted through. You’ll need to call in someone to fix that.”

Unable to speak, you nodded and quickly disentangled. Each place he had touched, your skin tingled, and not at all unpleasantly. Since that day, your feelings have only worsened. Sometimes, you wonder if he knows.

Sometimes you wonder whether he feels the same, no matter how hopeless it is.

Heaving a great sigh, Seokjin stands from the couch. Lifting both arms, he stretches this way and that like an overgrown cat. The end of his shirt comes untucked, displaying a flat strip of skin you refuse to acknowledge.

Forcing your gaze to his face, you lift a single brow. Weeks after meeting, you considered Seokjin your friend, or at least an acquaintance. Now, you can’t call this friendship, but not because things between you have worsened. It’s because the more time you spend together, the more you find yourself wishing for something impossible. Something more.

“You know what,” you tell him. “There’s no need to scare off every potential buyer.”

Seokjin pauses, then lowers his arms. “There’s a need when they’re terrible. I’m the one forced to live with them for eternity, not you.”

“It’s not an eternity, though,” you tried to joke. “Eventually, they’ll die – or, so one would presume.”

Seokjin’s face hardens. Before you can take another breath, he’s standing before you. “Much better,” he says, his voice like steel. “I love being reminded that, while the world continues to age around me, I never will. I’ll simply stay on this godforsaken plot of land until the earth is destroyed by its own inhabitants. How long do you think that’ll take, Y/N? One decade? Two?”

Eyes wide, you stare at him in shock.

Seokjin has never spoken to you like this before. Usually, he’s far more cavalier about his reality, easily accepting the fact that he’s a ghost. Never once has he ranted about the world passing by. In fact, Seokjin frequently throws in your face that you’ll soon have more wrinkles than him.

For the first time, you wonder if all that is a front. If perhaps, deep down, all his lackadaisicalness is merely a cover for a deeper kind of fear.

Slowly, you move closer. “I didn’t mean to be dismissive,” you murmur. “Of course, I don’t want you to be forced to live with people you hate. I just meant…”

You trail off, uncertain and Seokjin’s face softens. He moves even closer, his scent comforting you in a way you can’t explain. In a way it shouldn’t be.

“I’ll never get used to this,” you sigh.

You aren’t sure why you’re speaking so softly. Possibly due to his proximity and possibly due to the look in his eyes, studying you as though you’re the impossibility, and not him. Dust motes trail through the air when Seokjin lifts a hand.

With bated breath, you watch as he reaches towards you. At the last second, he shifts and lightly brushes your jaw.

Sharply, you inhale because you feel it. You feel him.

“Seokjin,” you whisper. “What are you…”

Gently shushing, he leans in, and you feel his breath, feather-light, across your skin. Utterly shocked, you go still. It’s his breath that you feel. Breath that shouldn’t exist, according to logic.

Slowly, his gaze drops and stays on your lips. If Seokjin can’t read minds, he must hear your heart racing. The sound of it is all-consuming, drowning out rational thought.

“You want to know what I’m waiting for?” he murmurs, his gaze lifting. “I’m waiting for someone to look at this… house the way you do.”

“A lot of people have liked the house, Seokjin. People who –”

“I don’t want you to sell this house."

Startled, you stop. “Why not?”

His expression twists, revealing his vulnerability. “I think you know.”

Roughly, you exhale.

Yes. You do know. It’s the same reason you’ve half-assed the last six showings at this address. It’s why you keep people from looking, and when they insist, barely attempt to stifle Seokjin’s shenanigans. You could have come earlier today and requested Seokjin to be on good behavior. He would have done it. For you, he would have.

Which is exactly why you didn’t ask.

“I… want to hear you say it,” you say, so low, you’re surprised that he hears.

Achingly slow, Seokjin’s hand slips from your jaw to your neck. When he pulls you closer, you can feel the weight of his hand, the solid pressure that comes from his fingers on your skin.

Your eyes flutter shut.

“I don’t want you to go,” Seokjin murmurs, his lips close to your ear. “If someone else buys this house, you’d stop showing it. You wouldn’t come here again, and I can’t leave these grounds. If someone else buys this place” – his breath hitches – “I won’t see you again. I can stomach eternity, Y/N, but not without you.”

“Seokjin.” His name leaves your lips as a whisper, or prayer.

“Yes?”

“Do you ever…” Eyes opening, you look up. “I don’t want to say it out loud.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” Your voice breaks. “That might make it real. What I want can’t be real, so if I say it out loud, it might vanish and right now, it exists in this tentative space. We exist in this space.”

Lightly, his thumb strokes your throat, and you feel your knees buckle. Every callous, every touch feels so horribly real, it’s making it difficult to remember why this can’t be.

“I’ve stopped wondering what’s real and what’s not,” Seokjin murmurs, his gaze tracing your mouth. “Most people say I shouldn’t exist and yet, here I am. They say I shouldn’t be here, able to touch you like this and yet, I am. They say I shouldn’t–”

Rising on tiptoe, you cut him off with your kiss. Seokjin shudders, his lips parted and warm in the shock of the moment.

“Fuck,” he groans, breaking away to stare at you in wonder.

Before you can respond, he returns, his kiss wild and fierce. Your own desire surges, touching him hesitantly at first, and then with full abandon. Hands sliding up his chest, over his shoulders, your fingers curl in his hair to anchor him to you.

Cupping your face, Seokjin pulls your body to his. His touch is reverent, deifying while his hands travel lower to land on your waist. His body curves above yours, catching your gasps with the tip of his tongue. Seokjin feels solid beneath you – solid, and warm, and painfully real.

His mouth moves to your jaw, trailing heat down your throat and across your bared collar. Shivers of pleasure shoot through you as he walks you backwards, pressing your spine to the wall. Briefly – wondrously – you laugh, the sound caught again by his kiss.

Within minutes, you’re panting, heart beating wildly as you grip his hair tighter. Seokjin’s leg presses forward, pushing your thighs apart and you nearly dissolve. He moves harder, faster, as though scared that you’ll vanish. This is the opposite of disappearing, though.

This is together, beneath, and on top as –

“Shit,” Seokjin growls, the sound torn from his throat.

Dazed, you look sideways and realize his hand has gone through the wall.

Seokjin stares at his wrist, his chest rising and falling. Everything you can feel is solid, but his hand sinks through the wall about an inch deep. It’s hard to concentrate with him above you, looking like that. Seokjin’s hair remains mussed by your hands, proving you touched him – however briefly.

Lips thinning, Seokjin pulls his hand out. Purposefully, he lays his palm flat on the wall but it’s clear to you both that he’s concentrating. Some of his pressure dissipates.

“I – fuck,” he exhales, dropping his chin.

Gently, you soothe a strand of hair behind his ear. This is the first time you’ve seen Seokjin anything less than immaculate and goddamn, if it doesn’t look good on him. That’s making it difficult to focus on the matter at hand.

The matter at hand. Ha.

Thinking this, a snort escapes your lips before you can stop it. Stunned, Seokjin glances up with wide eyes.

“Did you just… snort?” he asks, incredulous.

You shake your head, and then nod, sheepish. “Um, yes. I did. It’s just…” Now that you’ve started, you can’t help but continue. “I can’t believe the hottest make-out session of my life ended with your fucking hand through a wall.”

Seokjin stares for a long moment before – impossibly – his chest starts to shake. Before long, you’re both laughing out loud at the ridiculousness of the situation. Once your laughter has faded though, comfortable silence remains.

Pulling you into his chest, Seokjin’s hand strokes your neck. “I don’t know what this means,” he admits with a sigh.

“Me, either.”

“I do know I want to do that again.”

“Same,” you say, pulling back.

“But…” Seokjin hesitates. “Y/N. You know I’m not… real, right?”

Your heart sinks to your shoes. “You’re real to me.”

“I know.” He speaks softly. “But I –”

Lifting a hand, you press a finger to his lips. “Don’t,” you warn. “Please. I don’t want to think about the future right now. I know I don’t have eternity, but I don’t want what I have without you.”

Something in his gaze breaks but Seokjin merely nods, letting silence fall again. You fear that he’ll vanish, leaving you alone but he merely exhales. The breath brushes your skin.

“Alright,” Seokjin murmurs, winding his hand with yours. “What do you want to talk about, then?”

The ghost of a smile crosses your lips. “What if… we talk about me buying this house?”

#bangtanarmynet #bts fanfic #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #seokjin fanfiction #jin fanfiction #bts fanfiction #seokjin au #jin au #bts au #bts halloween

260 notes · View notes

captaincapsicle83 · 1 month

Text

The Stark Internship

The Avenger Series - Part One

Masterlist

"Yes he should be-" The nice blonde lady said, possibly the same one you spoke to on the phone. Her voice sounded familiar. She had told you when to arrive, 10:30 am.

Arrive where? The Stark Tower, house of Stark Enterprises. A prestigious company ran by the man who had become the youngest CEO to take hold of a company, after his father's death when he was around 20 years old.

The nice blonde lady was taking you up the glass elevator, and through it, you got a view of the city. In all its trashy reality, you found it quite beautiful. Of course, thats coming from someone raised in a farmhouse on the outskirts of a small Canadian town.

Well, not really raised. That wasn't the right word the way you spent your childhood. No, it was the house you lived in when you weren't in a boarding school, when you weren't at an awards ceremony, and when you weren't being interviewed for being a "Child Prodigy."

The elevator opened up to a pristinely kept floor, the tunes of ACDC blasting through your eardrums. You thought the traffic on the street was loud, yet this was like thunder clapping in your head.

"Hold on, Sweetie," The blonde woman touched your arm, her voice kind. It's turns shrill and seems to be full of anger as she screams, "TONY!"

Your hands go up to your ears at the blindsiding change of energy. You drop them just as quickly, shaking them as you follow the woman, and her clicking heals.

"So, you go to MIT?" She asks you, voice kind again. You had been so distracted when she told you her name, all you could come up with were states. It was definitely a state, but which one...

Maryland?

"Uhm...yeah. I- I got a letter, and a scholarship to go there. And uh... My guidance counselor wanted to set me up for an internship at a tech company," You were explaining, and she seemed genuinely interested as the two of you walked through what seemed to be the towers lab-area floor. "I...I got a lot of offers, but uh...I picked this one. It seemed..."

You voice trailed off ad you walked through automatic doors, that opened up to a room filled with things you'd dreamed of, and seen in magazines and on TV. It was a tech geeks wet dream, and you were guilty of the stereotype.

"Different," you finished your sentence, barely audible.

You were mostly focused on mechanical engineering. You planned to double major in something after those four years were up (you were two years in). You hadn't picked what yet.

You had started at MIT at 16 (technically 15, you had a late birthday). Although, you had graduated from secondary school officially at 13.

You had wanted to go to a real college, in person, not just online like your mother wanted. You wanted the experience.

You wanted to be in the world.

Also, you ran track for MITs team. Just for fun. And for the record, you were good.

The music on this floor seemed to originate, and be the loudest, in this room.

"TONY!" You regrettably flinch again at the unexpected snap of noise.

The man working at a silver table seemed unbothered, although you got the notion he heard her.

Half of Manhattan heard her.

You could now see the clutter of the lab. The tools scattered hazardously over all the surfaces. Projects, both finished and seemingly discarded ones, lay everywhere, in their own heaps.

The woman clicks a button on the wall, and the music dies away. Not looking up from the panel he was working on, the brown haired man says, "Don't turn down my music. We've been over this."

"Well, Tony, your intern is here, and I'm not just gonna leave her on your doorstep like a lost puppy," The blonde lady's eyes roll, and her tone makes you understand that, whoever she is, she's probably the most reasonable, sensible person around here.

Tony abandons his project to spin around in his stool to face you.

"J.A.R.V.I.S, why didn't you alert me that my intern was here?" He looks up at the ceiling, as if expecting Jesus to answer.

And he does.

"Sorry sir, but, you've threatened me many times that you don't like me speaking over your music."

Oh no. Oh God. Jesus is here, in the ceiling, and he's British. You always knew stealing candy from that blind priest would catch up to you.

"Then turn the music off."

"The music is off, sir."

"Are you serio-!?"

"Sir, your intern is here."

Tony gives the ceiling a nasty look, scoffing, before clapping his hands and turning his attention towards you.

"Jesus is British?" You ask, getting all your priorities straight out of the gate.

"J.A.R.V.I.S. It's Just A Rather Very Intelligent System," Tony smirks, looking pleased with himself.

You blink. You wonder why you have to think about blinking so often. "It's an acronym."

"Oh goodie. Thank you Captain Obvious."

"You're welcome."

Tony sighs for a good ten seconds, pinching the bridge of his nose, before gathering himself. "Take a seat, Mr. Starks class is starting."

You looked around the lab. Among the clutter, and among the hazards, you came to the conclusion that the only seat was the one Stark was sitting at, a poor excuse of a stool.

"There aren't any," You say, in an even tone. Tony was perplexed, how you had done basically nothing, yet stepped on every nerve he had.

"Then...lesson one! Build a chair," He said gleefully.

"I didn't sign up for a woodworking class," you cross your arms, and the smug smile drops from his face. The first emotion you expressed besides indifference, and it just had to be snarky.

You just had to be like him.

You earned a seat at the table. Minor correction- on the table. You pushed aside a very expensive looking piece of equipment, and it clattered to the floor.

You hopped up onto the surface, and smiled at his blank face.

"What the hell?" You shrug, and he waves it off, turning back to his work. "How old are you."

"Eighteen...next month," you say, picking at your fingertips, but also watching his project closely. He seemed to work on autopilot, like he didn't have to think at all.

"Hmm," He says, nodding, with a smile on his face. You got the notion he liked you. You annoyed him, you confused him, yet he liked you. "Go to any cool parties recently?"

He was getting you something to work on. He had a basic blueprint, a holographic sketch, that you were admiring as he gathered your tools.

"I've never been to a party," you say. You take the titanium alloy, and lay it out in front of you as you grab a tape measure. You spread it over Tony's chest, and he spreads his arms out for you as you do so.

You could've been a tailor, you thought. Move to Romania, or Sokovia, live in a quaint little shop. Nonetheless, measurements were elementary to you, as were most things. Like astrophysics or quantum science.

"Well, what do you and your geek burger friends do then," He pops a cherry twizzler in his mouth and you turn back to your titanium. He watches you hesitate. Watches you fumble on where to set the tape measure, before you speak again.

"You should make it red and gold, can we do that? Like Captain America was red, white, and blue. It's about the marketing process of things. The capitalism in it," you say, clearly interested in the propaganda of things. You pull up old Captain America adds from the forties on your clear pop up screen.

Tony analyzed you for a bit, long enough for you to turn your head since you were clearly expecting an answer. "Yeah," He nodded. "Red and gold works. Whatever floats your boat Miss America."

You smiled warmly, it lighting up your whole face. You had moved onto the repulser technology Tony had planned.

People weren't easy. They weren't predictable like other things in the world. You couldn't use stoichiometry to figure out what would happen when you started a conversation with someone.

And Tony Stark may not have been predictable either, in fact he was the opposite. He was impulsive, if nothing else. But you liked talking to him. It felt...

It felt like what having a friend felt like. What you remember it feeling like.

And Tony seemed to like you too, and although you couldn't fathom as to why, you accepted it.

Embraced it, actually. His dialect and diction rubbed off on you.

☆ ☆ ☆

"I don't think it's the best idea," you were saying. Tony stood in front of you, dressed in the titanium alloy suit you had helped create. One of many, someday hoped to be millions.

"I do, you trust me, don't you?" His little metal helmet tilted to the side. The tone of voice he was using was the one you recognized as how he got Pepper to do things he wanted. Pepper being the blonde woman who had first greeted you.

"Do you trust me?" You asked back. In your left hand was a repulsor, ready to beam a bright light.

"A suit of armor around the world," Tony had said. "That's what I want. To just...make everything..."

"Controlled?"

"Protected, y/n. When horrible things come, not only would we be able to stop it, but they'd be protected in the end."

"We?"

"Yes, we. I trust you. With my life. More than anyone. You're the smartest person I know, and you know better than anyone how to work these kinds of things."

"You're the hero. I'm just...I'm not sure I'd be so good at that."

"You don't need to be so scared."

"Im not scared. But I'm also not a hero."

" You can be."

So here you stood, armed for target practice. And for whatever bright idea he seemed to always have, Tony's newest was making himself the target.

"Of course. With my life," He makes a motion of crossing his heart, making you laugh a little. "Okay Wonder Kid. Ready, set-"

You shoot from your hand before the go comes, knocking Tony to the side, and a hole in the back wall of his mansion.

"Oops," you say sheepishly. Tony is laughing inside his suit, you can tell, and Pepper suddenly comes out onto the lawn.

"What is going-! Tony, what is this?" She looks at him, as he steps out of the suit, and towards you.

"Target practice," you shrugged, as Tony was adjusting the repulsor loosely strapped to your hand.

"Isn't she doing great?" Tony cooed at you, as if you were a small dog learning tricks.

"NO!" Pepper gasped.

"I told I didn't think it was a good idea using one of these outside of a suit," you say. The two of you were barely holding it together over Pepper's distraught state.

"Then why'd you do it?" He says in a mocking tone, obviously knowing why.

"'Cause I trust you...Clearly a horrible decision."

"Yeah, my wall thinks so."

☆☆☆

You had a room in the tower. It was empty, mostly, but not as bare as when you had gotten here. You took a lot of pictures, that Tony allowed (did not have the knowledge of) you to print on the tenth floor. You hung them up on your walls, and on your bedframe. It made the place less lonely.

It was dark out, and you were sitting on your bed, one leg hanging off. The overhead light was off, but your small bedside lamp illuminated your writing space.

It was an idea you had when you were young. To keep notes on the people you met. Things you wanted to remember about them, their personalities, who they were. It helped your brain, to organize things better.

You were sure most people kept lists like these on a subconscious level. And maybe one day you wouldn't feel the need to write that Tony Stark was genuis or a billionaire. Or that he was your friend.

But you liked the safety net. You liked knowing that it was something you could turn to. Something you could reread, something that ensured you would never forget.

Next part

#iron man #marvel #avengers x reader #marvel mcu #tony stark #tony stark x reader #marvel wip #avengers au #the avengers #marvel x reader

62 notes · View notes

reasonsforhope · 10 months

Text

[In February, 2023], a small warehouse in the English city of Nottingham received the crucial final components for a project that leverages the power of used EV batteries to create a new kind of circular economy.

Inside, city authorities have installed 40 two-way electric vehicle chargers that are connected to solar panels and a pioneering battery energy storage system, which will together power a number of on-site facilities and a fleet of 200 municipal vehicles while simultaneously helping to decarbonize the UK’s electrical grid.

Each day Nottingham will send a combination of solar-generated energy — and whatever is left in the vehicles after the day’s use — from its storage devices into the national grid. The so-called “vehicle to grid” chargers deliver this energy just when it’s needed most, during peak evening demand, when people are home cooking, using hot water or watching TV. Later, the same chargers pull energy from the grid to recharge the vehicles in the wee hours of the night, when folks are sleeping and electricity is cheaper and plentiful.

“We are trying to create a virtual power station,” says Steve Cornes, Nottingham City Council’s Technical Lead. “The solar power and battery storage will help us operate independently and outside of peak times, making our system more resilient and reducing stress on the national grid. We could even make a profit.” ...

After around a decade, an EV battery no longer provides sufficient performance for car journeys. However, they still can retain up to 80 percent of their original capacity, and with this great remaining power comes great reusability.

“As the batteries degrade, they lose their usefulness for vehicles,” says Matthew Lumsden, chairman of Connected Energy. “But batteries can be used for so many other things, and to not do so results in waste and more mining of natural resources.”

The E-STOR hubs come in the form of 20-foot modular containers, each one packed with 24 repurposed EV batteries from Renault cars. Each hub can provide up to 300kW of power, enough to provide energy to dozens of homes. One study by Lancaster University, commissioned by Connected Energy, calculated that a second life battery system saved 450 tons of CO2 per MWh over its lifetime...

Battery repurposing and recycling is set to play a massive role over the coming years as the automobile industry attempts to decarbonize and the world more broadly attempts to fight waste. The production of EVs, which use lithium-ion batteries, is accelerating. Tesla, for example, is aiming to sell 20 million EVs per year by 2030 — more than 13 times the current level. In turn, 12 million tons of EV batteries could become available for reuse by 2030, according to one estimate.

“Over the next decade we are going to see this gigantic wave,” says Jessica Dunn, a senior analyst at the Union of Concerned Scientists. “Companies are recognizing this is a necessary industry. They need to ramp up infrastructure for recycling and reuse.”

-via Reasons to Be Cheerful, March 13, 2023

#ev #ev charger #electric vehicle #electric cars #batteries #battery recycling #lithium ion battery #auto industry #sustainability #circular economy #recycling #reuse #uk #nottingham #england #good news #hope

216 notes · View notes

joetamy · 5 months

Text

Never before have I seen a portrayal of Doma as convincing as what @tobytoon wrote in chapter 13 of their Kizuki Eye fic. For Doma to think his heart physically drops, and then attempt to catch it is beyond incredible writing for his character. For the sake of spoilers I won't say much else, but I truly reccomend the fic, and Toby themselves, as they make amazing art and seem to be just an incredibly lovely person! I am glad I managed to finish this when I did, given it's their birthday! (at least it is technically here in Norway, sorry if I am off by some hours~) I did have a last panel I wanted to do, but I am sure I will get around to it once my workload is over. But in any case, here are a few panels in honor of a breathtaking piece of work. I adore your writing!

Happy Birthday Jayford!

#my art #Doma #Douma #Enmu #In honor of TobyToon <3 #demon slayer #kny #kny fanart #kimetsu no yaiba #Kizuki Eye

102 notes · View notes

anonymouspuzzler · 9 months

Note

(To Davey) What was the development process behind your prosthetic? Were there any prototypes, and how long did it take to get it down?

sometimes the development process is just "weld scavenged junk together until you can punch stronger than god".

[Image ID: A black-and-white digital ink comic of Puzz's OC Davey. He is a middle-aged Black man with a lanky build, long curly hair in a ponytail, thin mustache, buck teeth, large ears, and a diagonal scar across his face. His right arm is amputated, and he wears a massive prosthetic made from junk such as a blender, toaster, and car muffler. He is also wearing a workman's glove, denim overalls, a toolbelt, and a pilot-style helmet with large round goggles over his eyes.

The first panel shows Davey flexing his prosthetic and patting it with his other hand, grinning. He says, "Technically, this bad boy is the prototype! We just kinda keep adding onto it and tweaking things over the years. Buck did the original rough design and I handled the actual manufacturing. Took maybe a month of tinkering?"

The second panel shows Davey lowering the prosthetic and resting his other hand on his hip, saying, "Oh- and the antigrav's all Buck, of course. He does the experimental work." Minnie - a 13-year-old white girl with freckles and large braided pigtails - appears beside him looking on in shock, shouting, "the WHAT". End ID.]

#anonymous puzzler answers #anonymous puzzler art #anonymous puzzler originals #lordslimeapple #Villain Coded comic

108 notes · View notes

batbaffle · 7 months

Text

sources under the cut since there's actually a lot on jason's age:

tim says he's 13 in a lonely place of dying (his intro), so that's straightforward.

now for jason, his age wasn't technically stated in any panels, but they established that he was 12 in the q&a section

this is further supported by character bios saying jason was 9 when he met batman, and the story with his intro was said to take place 3 years in the past (so 9 + 3 = 12).

if you'd prefer some evidence from within the story itself, jason says he's in 7th grade (7th graders are typically 12-13)

aaaaaand if you do the math on this imaginary gravestone, he's 12 (1974 - 1986).

i'm just gonna assume that jason would've also turned 13 by a lonely place of dying if he were alive, since i don't see any reason to think tim was meant to be older than jason. several months passed between jason's death and tim's intro after all.

#batman #jason todd #tim drake #dick is supposed to be about 10 years older than them btw #tho marv wolfman gave a lot of contradicting info for dick--which would require a separate post #there's more angst with tim and jay being the same age imo. but since they retconned jason to be 15 when he died.....#i just go with him being 2 years older than tim :/#aaaand i keep jason's original age gap with dick #(i prefer to keep the oldest given age differences when possible. like barbara being at least 7 years older than dick)#dc 571 #b annual 12 #b 441

60 notes · View notes

ask-the-becile-boys · 2 months

Text

Story. Always Wanted

Previous | Next

[ID: Fourteen digitally sketched panels in black and white.]

[Panel 1: Hare squints his eye and points inquisitively at Riker, asking, "'Go see your mom?' The same mom you ain't talked to in a decade?" Riker looks down and says dismally, "I said it was a stupid idea. I just thought, y'know (ellipses)"]

[Panel 2: Riker looks off to the side and continues, "It's not like we have anything holding us here, now. If we're going to be starting over anyway (ellipses)"]

[Panel 3: The Skull looks down thoughtfully and says, "(ellipses) That's true. We're building back from nothing, but technically, we could do that anywhere." Hare pouts, saying, "I don't think I'm cut out for Smalltown, USA."]

[Panel 4: Riker looks up and to the side, thinking, as he says, "We couldn't stay there long-term, coal's too scarce. But we could stop in Wyoming to stock up (em-dash)" Dee cuts in, asking Riker, "You really want to see her, don't you?"]

[Panel 5: Riker lifts a brow slightly, hedging a little vulnerability as he asks the others, "(ellipses) Don't you guys have things you've always wanted to do?"]

[Panel 6: The Jack, The Skull, Hare, and Dee stand silently for a beat. No text.]

[Panel 7: Same shot. Everyone looks at The Jack as he says, "I want to see the Cubs beat the White Sox. At Wrigley Field."]

[Panel 8: Riker looks at The Jack, one brow raised high in surprise, and says, "I didn't know you liked baseball." The Jack smiles and says, "Well, it's hard to play with your arms tied up." From off panel, Dee begins to speak, saying, "I (ellipses)"]

[Panel 9: Dee in profile, saying, "I want to see the Everglades. Lake Okeechobee." Below her text, a simple drawing of The Jack exclaims excitedly, "We could break into Disney World!"]

[Panel 10: The Skull, with the hint of a determined smile, says, "I want to climb a mountain."]

[Panel 11: Hare lifts his hands in a halting gesture, eye closed. He says, "Guys, guys. You're all thinking too small."]

[Panel 12: Hare's hands shift into a wider, showy gesture, and his eye is starry as he says, "We gotta go to (all caps) Vegas." 'Vegas' is in a fancy font and surrounded by shine lines.]

[Panel 13: From off panel, The Skull and Hare converse, The Skull saying, "We gotta get (underlined) kicked out (plain text) of Vegas." Hare replies, "Ha ha ha! Now that's what I'm talking about!" The Jack looks over at Scratch, whose eye is shadowed. The Jack asks, "Scratch? Is there something you'd like to do?"]

[Panel 14: Scratch, in profile, brow furrowed in frustration as he cries. The Jack asks from off panel, "(ellipses) Scratch?" End ID]

#becile bots #steam powered giraffe #fanbots #blog art #story update #always wanted #hare becile #the skull becile #the jack becile #riker szarka #dee becile #scratch becile

27 notes · View notes

xieyaohuan · 11 months

Text

Homelander's penthouse: the obsessive analysis nobody asked for, part 1

After having overlooked something as fundamental as the door to his "balcony"/launch pad, I decided to spend part of my Saturday reconstructing Homelander's very, very ugly penthouse. Let's start with a numbered list of individual components. No, there is absolutely no logic to my numbering system.

Big nine-panel TV screen, as seen here:

And here, behind The Deep:

2. Entrance area: Homelander has no door that we know of - people can just enter. The entrance area is to the right of the big TV screen. You can see it clearly behind Ashley in the first image above, vaguely in the second image with The Deep, and also here where the guy bringing the food is coming from:

3. Weird platform/mini staircase leading to an unknown room. It's opposite the entrance area, and we can see it here:

4. Bookshelf (looks purely decorative)

5. Ugly ass big brown couch where he sulks naked (plus small table in front of it)

6. His bed! Yes, I believe we actually get a glimpse of it in Season 3, and it is inside the big room, not upstairs or behind the flag door. This man honestly has zero privacy. More on this later; for now, a screenshot (S3E7):

7. Portrait of George Washington (hanging over Stormfront's bed in S3)

8. Weird fur thing in front of his fireplace

The mirror we see in this screenshot is probably one of the two by the side of his bed, more on this later. Also, the reflection is completely off and was probably added post-production??

9a: male lamp statue (with female lamp statue and Sisyphos 🎉🎉🎉 in the background)

9b: female lamp statue

Let's take a minute to look at some of this stuff in perspective; the screenshot is from Season 3, Episode 7 when Homelander has a meltdown while watching Starlight on his big screen (right before he goes off on a rant about her at the Bob Singer rally):

10. The door inside the flag on his wall (leading to an unknown room we have probably never seen canonically, unless it leads to something like the meeting room on 99)

11. The door to Homelander's "balcony" (how did we all miss it?? No clue. But we know of it now!)

12. The winding staircase going upstairs to an unknown area we have probably never seen in canon

13. The giant ass flag on HL's wall

(Yes, I'm just looking for excuses to post this screenshot again)

14. The big mirror we see in the beginning of the Mirrorlander scene. It is probably by the side of his bed, opposite another equally big mirror (basically, he's got mirrors to the right and left of his bed, and on the ceiling, way to go, little star):

The perspective of the reflection that we see in the big mirror onscreen makes absolutely no sense though, so again, it was probably added post-production?

15. Stormfront's bed in the corner by the window underneath the George Washington portrait and opposite the Mirrorlander mirror:

(She can - technically - see his bed, and he can see hers; if that's not clear now, it'll hopefully become clear later)

16. The fireplace (no clue if real fireplace or just a mock-up; the distinction is probably irrelevant to HL). You can see it here behind the ugly fur thingy:

17. The Mirrorlander mirror:

Okay, time to look at some of the stuff in context again; don't worry about the numbers that haven't been introduced yet

18. The female statue that gets moved around a bit from episode to episode. You can see it in the picture above, and also here and here to the left and right of the pillar and wall that has the Mirrorlander mirror:

19. Second TV screen that HL put up so Stormfront could watch TV. Awkwardly, it was placed riiight in front of the Mirrorlander mirror - no wonder Mirrorlander hates anyone HL might love in real life; he gets displaced.

In context:

In context again, labelled:

This is where shit gets interesting because on the left-hand side of the image, we can probably see HL's "bedroom"

20. Bedside table, close-up:

It's probably time to finally address this bed business, since I've been going on and on about it. I don't consider it 100% confirmed, but two of the paintings shown in his bedroom are clearly recognizable in the screenshot from the scene with Stormfront, see the comparison below:

They clearly added more stuff in the scene with Stormfront that is not in the still, but I'm still pretty certain that's his bedroom we see in on the left-hand side in S3E1. And again, we also get a glimpse of his bed in S3E7, and it does look like the bed in the still above:

Plus the whole "mirrors on three sides of his bed" is just a very HL thing to do. Anyway, let me know if you're convinced. I think I am.

Anyway, I have more analysis to add, BUT tumblr is reminding me I can only add 30 images to each post, so I guess I'll have to stop here and continue in Part 2.

#homelander's penthouse #homelander's apartment #homelander's bedroom #homelander #the boys #homelander analysis #my mental illness shows I have zero regrets

89 notes · View notes

atobibas · 3 days

Text

Who appears the most in Scrooge's Last Adventure?

Alright so I counted this one a while ago, but I never posted it. When I started the counting top 100 stories project my plan was to post this one when I reached it on the top 100. But I've decided not to do that, because I want to post this now... So this is technically an out of order entry in my counting the Inducks top 100 stories.

Anyways, there are spoilers for the story. It's great, you should give it a read!

Quackfaster - 5 (panels) / 0.82% (of the story)

Gus - 7 / 1.15%

Gladstone - 10 / 1.64%

Fethry - 12 / 1.97%

Brigitta - 13 / 2.14%

Gyro - 16 / 2.63%

Daisy - 21 / 3.45%

Quackmore - 23 / 3.78%

Grandma - 24 / 3.95%

Fermies - 40 / 6.58%

Terries - 64 / 10.53%

Beagle Boys - 72 / 11.84%

HDL - 85 / 13.98%

Magica - 112 / 18.42%

Glomgold - 114 / 18.75%

Rockerduck - 132 / 21.71%

Donald - 269 / 44.24%

Scrooge - 299 / 49.18%

(Total - 608)

(My thoughts and additional stats below!)

Interesting how both Magica and HDL's percentages get lower for every part. Also I didn't count Jeeves, he's great but he only appeared in like 4 panels and I was too lazy to count him for everything!

Anyways, let's look at the entry and exit stats!

Beagle Boys - 1 (0.16%) / 608 (100%)

Rockerduck - 6 (0.99%) / 596 (98.03%)

Magica - 11 (1.81) / 347 (57.07%)

Glomgold - 14 (2.3%) / 596 (98.03%)

Quackmore - 24 (3.95%) / 602 (99.01%)

Scrooge - 24 (3.95%) / 608 (100%)

Donald - 26 (4.28%) / 608 (100%)

HDL - 27 (4.28%) / 608 (100%)

Grandma - 181 (29.77%) / 608 (100%)

Quackfaster - 192 (31.58%) / 603 (99.18%)

Gladstone - 197 (32.4%) / 607 (99.84%)

Daisy - 197 (32.4%) / 608 (100%)

Fethry - 197 (32.4%) / 608 (100%)

Gus - 197 (32.4%) / 608 (100%)

Brigitta - 198 (32.57%) / 604 (99.34%)

Gyro - 198 (32.57%) / 604 (99.34%)

Jubal - 198 (32.57%) / 607 (99.84%)

Terries - 355 (58.39%) / 586 (96.38%)

Fermies - 362 (59.54%) / 586 (96.38%)

So very smart Atobibsters might have noticed that I have slightly cheated here. As Magica does actually appear in the background flying in the final panel, but I thought those stats were boring so I didn't count them for the entry and exit stats!

So for a story called "Scrooge's Last Adventure", there is surprisingly little Scrooge. He is still the character who appears the most, but he doesn't even appear for the majority of the story. I still think he is the main character, though, as even when he isn't around he is the main focus of conversation.

#counting the top 100 stories #atobibas big counting project #francesco artibani #artistbani #alessandro perina #scrooge mcduck

15 notes · View notes

ponosdeda · 4 days

Text

"In Kazakhstan, a murder occurred in the BAU restaurant in the city of Astana. According to the Astana city police, a report was received about a quarrel between visitors, as a result of which a woman died from bodily injuries. The murderer of his second wife is the former Minister of National Economy of Kazakhstan Kuandyk Bishimbayev.

Kuandyk Bishimbayev's cousin was at the crime scene on November 9th, and he testified. On the morning of November 9th, Kuandyk Bishimbayev called his cousin and asked him to come to the restaurant quickly.

Around 9:30 a.m., he arrived at the restaurant and saw that the light was on in the first VIP booth. I knocked, but Bishimbayev did not allow me to enter, asking me to bring a blanket. That's what he did - he went to the dressing room, took two blankets and entered the stall. There I saw Saltanat Nukenova lying motionless, she was snoring heavily.

He thought the woman was asleep. Although then I noticed traces of blood on the floor at the entrance. Bishimbayev covered the woman with two blankets brought in front of his eyes. After that, my brother closed the booth and went to his office. Around one o'clock in the afternoon, Bishimbayev called him again and told him to bring cigarettes, aspirin and ketonal. When he received his things, he ordered all the staff to be released so that no one would stay in the restaurant. The brother completed the assignment, dismissed the people and returned to the office.

At half past one in the afternoon, Bishimbayev wrote to him on WhatsApp: "Delete all surveillance videos in the gastroenterology center." My brother immediately called the administrator and gave this order to remove all video from surveillance cameras not only in the restaurant, but also in the entire gastrocenter. At 13:45 I went down to the control room to make sure that the video was deleted.

At 14:00, Bishimbayev again summoned him to his office. When he entered the cabin, he saw that Nukenova was still lying on the couch, but he did not come close. Kuandyk asked him to find his wife's iPhone. They started looking together, but they didn't find it in the restaurant. Then Bishimbayev asked to see the interior of the car (Toyota Land Cruiser), the phone was really lying there on the panel.

Upon returning, my brother heard the following request: to take this phone home to Nukenova, but on the way, be sure to stop at the Fitness Palace and stay there for 10-15 minutes, since her brother tracks the phone by geolocation. After that, Bishimbayev demanded to return.After that, Bishimbayev demanded to return quickly, and upon arrival stated that he was hungry and ordered food at 16:20. They ate together in the common room of the restaurant. At the end of the meal, Bishimbayev asked his brother to go to the booth to look at Nukenova, then he noticed that she had stopped snoring.

He said he needed to call an ambulance, but the answer was "she's asleep." It happened at 16:35, and at 16:40 Bishimbayev called him in his office again and asked him to check the woman's pulse.

In the testimony, the brother said that only after checking the pulse, he realized that Nukenova was dead, and called an ambulance from his phone. After 15 minutes, I met the doctors, Bishimbayev was next to Nukenova at that moment and was panicking, hysterical. Police officers arrived immediately after the ambulance.

The deleted video was restored, and the footage at 7:00 and so shows Bishimbayev severely beating a woman.

Experts have restored the video and claim that it was not a technical failure, as explained in the gastro center, but a deliberate deletion of the video, which is also confirmed by the testimony of Bishimbayev's brother."

this incident lasted 6 MONTHS, imagine this! I’m ashamed of my homeland, after 6 months there was a trial, he was imprisoned for only 10 years, the state has disgraced itself in front of all the people of Kazakhstan, I'm angry that I was born in a country that ranks first in the CIS for the rape of women....

May your soul sleep peacefully Saltanat...

#kazakhstan #казахстане #казахстан #қазақстан #pj masks #brawl stars

12 notes · View notes

uraharasandals · 1 year

Text

My Top Ships in Bleach

A little ramble for purposes of shits and giggles only. Not presented in any particular order. Happy New Year, everyone! Hope 2023 is less shitty :')

1. Kyoraku Shunsui and Ukitake Juushirou

After just raving about these two on my feed it would be an injustice to not talk about this pair - Ukitake and Kyoraku are the old man pair (affectionately) in the Gotei 13, dads to their respective divisions, and uncles to everyone else. In the grand scheme of the Gotei 13 family (Yamamoto insisted, don’t @ me), they’re like the embarrassing uncles who everyone wants to have over for Christmas - after all, they bring presents and joy, and are close enough to your grandparents that they can diffuse practically any situation, what’s not to like?

Then the dust settles and after the oldest members of the family are gone, they’re the two that age and death are staring in the face. Which is precisely what happens when Yamamoto and Unohana are dead in the TYBW Arc.

(I mean, technically Zaraki is probably the same age as them, but he hasn’t been in the family [Gotei 13] as long)

The reason why I like these two so much is because of how close and obviously comfortable with each other they are. Both of them are old and have seen a lot of shit, but they don’t let it deter them - in fact, they take it in stride and use that power to inspire and encourage, rather than to control or abuse. Everyone loves them (one more than the other), but there’s always a mix of admiration, fondness and respect for the two. Sure, Ukitake might be a little embarrassing with his like of stuffing candy in people’s pockets, and Kyoraku might be a little annoying with his constant insistence to flirt with everyone, but I don’t think anyone actually dislikes them.

And of course, their chemistry with each other. I actually think of them less as a romantic couple and more of a platonic brotherly pair - both works, but at the end of the day they behave like an old married couple who have seen a lot of shit together, and just want to settle down and tell stories by the fire, combing each other’s hair, that sort of schtick, you know?

(In my in-house brain universe, they live happily ever after after Yamamoto dies. Nothing else happens to them afterwards.)

2. Shihouin Yoruichi and Urahara Kisuke

(I decided not to use that panel of Yoruichi in her cat-Shunko form. It’s a spoiler and also is a little weird to me)

Ah yes, the childhood friends to fugitives-on-the-run pair. These two are just so fun in their own little way - if you think about it, both Kisuke and Yoruichi are the only two who could control and actually understand each other. Kisuke, most obviously, when Yoruichi activates her final Shunko form, and Yoruichi, both 110 years ago and in the present - she’s the only one who can tell him what to do and he actually does it.

Now given these two’s carefree and ‘devil may care’ attitudes to life, this obviously comes with a lot of intimacy and deep understanding of each other. And you can tell too - they are very powerful fighters in their own right, but because of this and their life experiences, they don’t trust anyone except each other, and each other’s capabilities. Everyone knows Yoruichi is an amazing fighter and Kisuke an amazing scientist - but when have you actually see Yoruichi letting someone have her back so completely and fully like Urahara Kisuke?

If you squint closely, you’d realise that they don’t actually trust anyone except themselves. We were witness to this point in Urahara’s life, actually - whether he had innate trust in anyone before we aren’t sure, but when he was arrested in front of Central 46 and rescued by Yoruichi, there was a point where he realises his life was officially at a point of no return. And afterwards, in the main plot, while he forms relationships with a lot of characters - the Karakura gang, most notably - he doesn’t actually trusts them. The Karakura gang are people he uses, for lack of a better word. The Visoreds are a mistake that he needs to atone for, a wrong he needs to make right. His little family of misfits at his shop gives him a resemblance of a family, but one where he’s able to watch fondly from a distance and joins at his convenience. And Yoruichi is the same - she’s a mentor figure to the Karakura gang, and the Gotei 13 are old colleagues who happen to be conveniently placed in the path to what she has to do, and her duty to Soul Society. You can argue Soifon/Sui-Feng is an exception to all this, but she certainly didn’t feel enough love for her to stay in Seireitei - no, she chose Kisuke instead.

And I guess their ability to vibrate on the same (slightly bizarre) frequency with each other is what makes me feral about these two :)

3. Madarame Ikkaku and Ayasegawa Yumichika

Another childhood friends to military men pair. Even though they’re literally in the 11th, for some reason I just cannot take them seriously. And honestly, I don’t think they take themselves seriously either? I mean, sure, on the battlefield and all they absolutely do, but during the daily tidbits in life they probably just fuck around for more shits and giggles.

Jokes aside though, these two have the same thing that is slowly becoming a theme in this list - deep trust and understanding of one another. Having spent so much time (and even entering Gotei 13 together) in proximity, I don’t think they can hide much of themselves from one another - not that they actually do, but their relationship feels so natural, and they behave so naturally with each other. Yes, Ikkaku thinks Yumichika is as flamboyant and narcissistic as they come, but he doesn’t care, nor frankly gives an actual shit (I’m also willing to bet that Yumichika is actually the one who gave him that red eyeliner - it’s the only thing he can wrestle that man into, which he thinks is rather unfortunate). Similarly, Yumichika may think Ikkaku is stubborn and doesn’t appreciate beauty, but he literally panics when he thinks Ikkaku is in mortal danger (during that fight with Hisagi, and with Poww). He can throw down everything, even duty, if it means saving Ikkaku. And that dedication?? *Chef’s kiss*

A lot of people also forgot that Yumichika didn’t follow Ikkaku into the 11th Division (because they’re friends, more than friends, etc.) but rather they entered together. Because they’re both bloodthirsty men who wants to fight and die for a living (pun intended). And I think it’s really interesting how Kubo depicted these two despite their shared love of fighting - especially Yumichika, because one would think that a man as narcissistic and prim as himself would wrinkle at the bloodshed. When in fact he’s very much capable of becoming the 11th Division’s 3rd seat - he just decided not to because Ikkaku wants it.

Also did we forget that Yumichika literally repressed part of his soul (his zanpakutou) and willingly does so because it doesn’t adhere to the principles of the 11th Division and thus Ikkaku’s principles?? I find it insanely ironic how Ikkaku also has a Kido-based Bankai and this is once more, unwelcome in the 11th. I don’t know what parallels to draw there but it’s strangely poetic in a sense. I absolutely love it. These two are a ride and die pair, and doesn’t actually mind dying.

4. Ishida Ryuuken and Kurosaki Isshin

Are they both married? Yes. Are they both dads? Yes. Do I care? No.

Jokes aside, this pair is definitely enemies to friends galore. Whether they progressed to the lovers stage is another debate, but I’d like to think Ryuuken shooting arrows aimed at Isshin’s head is just another way of expressing his friendship for the other man.

To clarify, I don’t necessarily see these two in a romantic light. I don’t think they ever could progress to that stage; the way I see their relationship is similar to Kyoraku and Ukitake’s - a pair of old men who stuck with each other. In Ryuuken and Isshin’s case, they don’t necessarily like each other, they do it out of necessity.

(Also, Ryuuken rightfully hates Isshin for a lot of shit that he pulled. Not that Ryuuken is exactly the model father, but he’s much better than that douchebag over there.)

But the thing is, their relationship benefits a lot of people. To the extent that I could argue it benefits the Bleach-verse. That much is clear in their past - even though they are of opposite sides of the world (Quincy vs Shinigami), they decided to put aside their differences for Masaki. Of course Ryuuken got the short end of the stick for that, but at the end Masaki was saved and Aizen’s plans were thwarted (for the time being, anyways). And then it happened again in the TYBW Arc - they went to Wahrweit together to kill Yhwach. Whether the two actually played a decisive role in the battle was quite debatable, but nonetheless they liked each other enough to work together, and when they do, it usually ends well.

My problem with these two is the fact that Kubo!! doesn’t!! portray!! enough!! of these two!! The Quincy Encyclopaedia episodes were so funny and stupid and it just shows how much potential there is for this DILF pair?? And honestly why wouldn’t you show more? Both of their sons were off to save the world, both their wives were killed by the same dude (that their sons later went off to kill). I wish Kubo showed more of their relationship along the same lines as Uryuu and Ichigo had in the early episodes of Bleach - honestly, the fact that this wasn’t shown more in the TYBW was Kubo’s biggest loss, imo.

Also if you think about it Yhwach and Aizen actually drew these two together, against all odds. Even the universe can’t keep these two old men apart from their grudging friendship. I absolutely love it.

5. Hisagi Shuuhei and Ayasegawa Yumichika

Yes, I know I literally just talked about Yumichika and Ikkaku, but let me ramble about this as well.

I know these two don’t actually get a lot of screentime together in either the anime or the manga, because Hisagi is usually with Kira and Yumichika with Ikkaku, but what we’ve seen is enough for me to fantasise and giggle like a maniac *rubs hands gleefully*

First of all, we see Yumichika releasing his actual shikai in front of Hisagi in the SS arc - granted, this is in response to the news that Ikkaku may be defeated and in mortal danger, but unfortunately, Hisagi survives at the end of it. And to me, there’s some kind of twisted romanticism to be taken from the irony (and tragedy, on Yumichika’s part, because Ru’iro Kujaku was seen by someone who managed to tell the tale - not that Hisagi ever does, anyways) of the entire situation. You would’ve thought that something would’ve came out of this - it’s a big revelation, after all, and Yumichika is someone who can and has shown to be capable of taking that secret to the grave if need be. But literally nothing happens! We don’t even get to see much interaction between the two because Hisagi later angsts over losing his captain (rightfully so) with Kira, and forms something of a friendship with Komamura.

Then we see Yumichika rushing to Ikkaku’s aid, and halfway through get held off by Hisagi. Again!! I don’t know whether this is deliberate on Kubo’s part or whether he decided Hisagi was probably the only one who could hold Yumichika in all of his murderous rage, but I don’t hate it. I actually rather like it. I guess it shows the two sides of Yumichika that receives different attitudes - Ikkaku enables and rides that wave of eccentricity with him, while Hisagi helps keep him in rein. I have a thing for control in relationships, so I guess I love this one :D

But yes, to me, this is a huge missed opportunity that I don’t think get talked about enough. For the whole part, these two behave like normal and like colleagues around each other (as they should), but the sexual tension between them tells me otherwise. After all, who knows what happens behind closed doors?

6. Kuchiki Rukia and Kurosaki Ichigo

Aha, if you don’t think I have it within me to have room for one more straight couple (actually the only straight couple so far - Yoruichi and Kisuke are both bi/pan, I don’t make the rules), you’re absolutely wrong. We have Ichiruki here for your enjoyment :D

The main reason this sits on my top list is because of how criminally robbed of this pairing we are. Don’t get me wrong, I think Rukia can end up with Renji and Orihime x Ichigo is equally possible.

If Ichiruki didn’t already exist.

I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you exactly why, because there are countless many other blogs who have probably analysed this pair to death and cursed Kubo in the same breath already. But in a nutshell, the gist (and how I feel) is basically this - the entire series had set itself up in a way that makes Ichigo (and Rukia, in the same line) impossible to end up with anyone else except the person they started off with. Yes, Orihime and Renji are both very dear companions to them both who both have the opportunity to be something more, but the endgame has to be Ichigo and Rukia. Literally just look at the panel I’ve used - since when has Ichigo ever looked at Orihime with such tenderness in his eyes? Never, that’s the answer. And to have the series end with him marrying Orihime - the girl who has only ever been a classmate to him, who has only ever been a friend to him? I think even Kubo realised the irony (and inaccuracy) of the entire situation when he aptly names the last chapter of the manga ‘The Death and The Strawberry’. Yes, you can argue that he did that because that was what the first chapter of the manga was, it’s a nice call back to the beginning of the series, etc. etc. But the funny thing was, the first chapter was a very illustrative example of how characters were set up to be together.

Anyways, I could go into a whole tangent into why these two absolutely deserve to be together, but you’ve probably heard this way too many times already, so I’ll just shut up and leave you with that specific manga panel.

(edit: I just went down a rabbit hole of scrolling down the Bleach meta tag - I’m correcting my stance because there are many people who pointed out how Renji x Rukia is very possible and legitimate. And I agree. The problem isn’t Renruki, the problem is Ichihime. I think Renruki is very legit but it won’t sit on my top list for...reasons. So here’s some Ichiruki because I do like this ship quite a lot)

7. Ootoribashi ‘Rose’ Roojuurou and Hirako Shinji

A crack ship, all things considered, to be honest, but one that actually has potential and could happen. (For those wondering, no, Mashiro and Kensei are not crack ship potential. There is potential for Kensei to die of high blood pressure, but that’s it)

I know these two are stuck in no screentime hell again, and in fact don’t actually have any panels together (hence this screenshot from 110 years ago when they were lined up in order of Division during Kisuke’s promotion), but if you think about it, they do have some similarities. Personality-wise, they are the only two who I think are chill enough to tolerate certain members of the Visored and Gotei 13. Sure, Rose may need to compose a ballad to do it, but he could. (I don’t count Hacchi because he’s the only normal member of the Visoreds and is overworked enough) They’re also the relatively normal members of the group and aren’t too crazy in the already eccentric nature of the Bleach-verse. Plus, they both share a like for music. Anyone who listens to music (esp jazz and classical) are good in my books.

To be honest, I think one of the reasons why I decided to pair these two together is because they’re the two I see able to interact normally with each other within the Visoreds. You could theoretically put some members of the Visoreds together, but it’ll probably involve a lot of shouting and sandals to the face or where it hurts.

Plus, they both seem to be quite meticulous in their appearances and care to dress and present well enough to have long hair (which is a bitch to deal with at best). What’s not to like (ship)?

MINOR SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA/TYBW BELOW

8. Kurotsuchi Nemu and Akon

Ah yes. The only two people in the 12th Division who even remotely emanates the meaning of the word ‘normal’. Or at least as normal as you can be whilst being in the 12th.

This is also a pair which I don’t...really see as romantic in nature? It’s a possibility for sure, given enough time and interaction. Especially if Nemu starts to stop trying to gain Mayuri’s approval and love and detaches herself from him more, the first person she would form a significant relationship with would definitely be Akon. And to be honest, I think that relationship is already there. Putting aside their exchange about her existence (as shown here) when she was little aside, I should think as colleagues they would have discussions about the future of the 12th Division and SDRI (though that might involve a lot of Nemu saying ‘I need to run this through Mayuri-sama’ and ‘whatever Mayuri-sama says is good enough’). I also headcanon Nemu spending her sparse amounts of free time (when not with the Shinigami Women’s Association or Mayuri) with Akon?? In the context of the 12th Division, Akon is a good model for what ‘normal behaviour’ looks like, especially if you’re trying to fit in. He also noticeably doesn’t judge. At all. He’d seen much worse than someone trying to handle their own emotions, and that doesn’t come with stakes that are too high like the 12th Division exploding and needing to allocate a decent amount of the budget to renovations (which unfortunately happens more often than you think). All in all, I feel like the Nemu x Akon ship is quite sibling-like in nature.

It’s possible (and here I’m starting to cook up headcanons, lmao) that they also have interactions together where Akon is trying to teach Nemu to be normal, or at least act normally enough that is acceptable in the larger realm of the Gotei 13, because god forbid Mayuri doesn’t have the time, patience, nor experience to actually teach her that. (Akon is of the opinion that the 12th Division already has one psychotic maniac in their leadership, it doesn’t need two) So Akon is the one who lets her know what ‘normal’ looks like - he doesn’t actively teach her because he’s not that type of guy, but bit by bit Nemu picks it up by proximity, until her speech is formal enough and she doesn’t ask questions that are too absurd.

And yes, there is absolutely one interaction where she catches him on one of his smoke breaks, tries to smoke, and accidentally swallows a cigarette. Akon may or may not have panicked, and he may or may not have been either waved away dismissively by Mayuri, or screamed at by his boss.

Honestly, this man doesn’t get paid enough to deal with all the shit that happens.

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA/TYBW BELOW

9. Ishida Uryuu and Jugram Haschwalth

Let me preface this by saying what an injustice that this particular manga panel wasn’t the first search result on Google. I had to find it through this hellsite

Anyways, for the people who don’t know what is between these two and are brave enough to spoil the contents of the manga for themselves, basically Uryuu goes to the Wandenreich to avenge his mother by playing double agent between the bad Quincy (Yhwach’s gang) and the good Quincy (himself, his father, and everyone else in his family) - which actually benefits the Shinigami, but that’s another mess to clean up later. Uryuu goes through the whole thing of pledging loyalty to Yhwach and ending up a member of the Sternritter, and was even made Yhwach’s heir. Everyone is obviously pissed at this because Jugram is the rightful heir, but he keeps silent and plays at being a good sport. Until Uryuu tries to sneak into Yhwach’s room. Then he blows his top and corners Uryuu - literally.

I have to admit, I actually ship this pair first when I first saw Jugram on-screen purely for purposes of aesthecism, before realising the whole schtick between Jugram and Bazz-B (more on that later), and the whole other schtick between Jugram and Yhwach (who are entirely possible, but a pair I don’t ship). But then when you think about it, these two have this whole enemies to lovers/Quincy prince thing going on that I’m absolutely invested in. Jugram knows Uryuu has his own nefarious reasons for joining the Sternritter, and he’s the one who has the most potential to topple everything he currently stands and lives for, but at the same time, doesn’t that just free up the whole baggage for Jugram to actually live his own life? The way I see it, Jugram doesn’t really have much of a purpose in his life - he doesn’t know what to do with it, because all his life someone else gives it meaning. First Bazz-B, then Yhwach. Uryuu presents an escape from all of this. Especially adding to the fact that he’s a Gemischt and Jugram is an Echt. I might be slightly delusional but to me this reeks of a prince x forbidden lover troupe. And I’m absolutely obsessed with it.

AO3 why is there less than 10 pages for your Jugram x Uryuu fics :’)

10. Jugram Haschwalth and Bazz-B

For those who don’t know the nature of their relationship and wants to know ahead of time, these two basically are again, childhood friends who grew up to be military men (do I have a type? I have a type). They are both 1,000+ and have been in the first generation of the Sternritter when Yhwach was first sealed away, and actually started off wanting to murder the heck out of Yhwach rather than serve him.

I’ll obviously start this one off with - if you lived more than 1,000 years and haven’t developed feelings for your best friend, especially someone as attractive as [one of the two people here], something is wrong with you.

The bittersweet taste of betrayal is so strong with these two as well - starting off intending to murder a man only to have your best friend become his right hand man and be called his ‘other half’? You can’t tell me Bazz-B hasn’t been upset or pined painfully for Jugram, even if just for his friendship. The entire relationship is just so bittersweet and brimming with possibility that it makes my heart wrench a little (actually, a lot). And unlike the rest of the ships on this list, it’s unrequited love on both sides that could flourish into something that never came to fruition. Which makes it even more easy for me to go feral because !! Don’t we all love angst. And especially that last scene where the two of them fight it out? :(((

(In case you haven’t noticed, yes, I’m trying hard not to write too much and give away too much because anime-only fans would get spoilers and we don’t want that. And to be fair, I’ve only really read the Bleach wiki about these two so I can’t say I know much about their relationship, but what I do know is making me go absolutely fucking ballistic.)

SPOILER-FREE ZONE BELOW

So yeah, my current top ships so far. Definitely more to come, and definitely not the end of it. I know most of them are gay relationships, but unfortunately that’s how I swing :’) Feel free to ask me about some of these and other ships as well!! I love talking about stuff hehe

Other honourable mentions: Hisagi and his guitar, Mayuri and his exploding ear, Hiyori and her sandals, Starrk and his bed, Lisa and her porn magazines, Harribel and Nel, Mayuri and Senjumaru

118 notes · View notes