#its just so heavy and this is like my first whole independent week | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

suddencolds · 3 years ago

Text

Untrustworthy | Genshin Impact

This is a 3k word commission for anon! (I admittedly wrote over the commissioned word count).

Thank you so much for commissioning me and for your kind message 😭This fic was surprisingly very challenging to write, so I’m sorry for the wait; I hope you enjoy!

Requested prompt:

I want Diluc completely miserable with a cold. As much mess as you're ok with. Still trying to function. Until Kaeya can't stand watching anymore and inserts himself as caregiver.

—

It’s subtle at first. Diluc turns away from making a drink to cough tightly into an elbow. Diluc’s gaze pulls uneven as he ducks forward with a barely stifled sneeze into a handkerchief he’s been keeping in his coat pocket. Diluc—when he thinks no one is watching—leans a bit too heavily against the countertop, bracing himself with one arm, and lifts the other hand to massage his temples. as if he’s attempting to drive away a headache that he’s had all afternoon.

It would be unnoticeable, except Kaeya pays more attention than people give him credit for. It would be unnoticeable, except Kaeya is aware that a cold has been making its rounds through the Knights, many of which frequent the tavern—one severe enough to prompt Jean to actually take a sick day, for once, one that seems especially severe this winter and—judging by the absences in his ranks this last week—difficult to avoid.

Diluc doesn’t fall ill often, Kaeya knows. Even now he barely looks unwell, save for the faint flush of his cheeks, the exhaustion disrupting his usually-perfect posture, the sneezes that he keeps stifling into almost-silence.

Either he’s at the start of his cold—before it’s had a chance to get really bad—or he’s putting in an inordinate amount of effort to hide it.

Kaeya suspects it might be both.

“Master Diluc,” he says, when Diluc conveniently stops by one of the tables next to him with drinks. “When does your shift end?”

Diluc’s shoulders stiffen, though he doesn’t turn around to address Kaeya properly. “Three hours from now.” he says, frowning. “if you intend to involve me in one of your late-night arrangements…”

“Oh? Not this time,“ Kaeya says. He lifts his wine to take a sip. “Even if I were, I think perhaps I would have reconsidered.”

“And why is that?”

Diluc says it flatly—unaffectedly—but he only has the luxury of keeping up that act for a few seconds before he’s ducking into his shoulder with a perfectly silenced stifle. It’s such a seamless performance, neatly contained and expertly quiet—really, Kaeya deems himself unworthy.

“Bless you,” he says, though Diluc scoffs, swipes the empty glasses from the table he’s serving, and starts off toward his usual spot behind the counter. “I do hope you are not falling ill, master Diluc.”

Diluc sets the glasses down on the countertop, diligently averting his glance. “I’m fine.”

“Is that so?” At Diluc’s silence, he presses on. “Perhaps you should close up early, just in case. You look like you could use some rest.”

“No need,” Diluc says. “It’s just— “Hiih… hiIIH-nGK-t! Hiih… HIiIH…-!!.... hiIIh-GKt!” The sneezes snap him forward, his shoulders trembling with the motion. He straightens with an almost imperceptible shiver. “—just dust, snf. Perhaps the Knights would be more efficient if you put more time into work instead of investigating less…” Diluc looks to him at last, his jaw tightly set. “...pressing matters.”

“Ah.” Kaeya laughs. “So eager to get rid of me?”

“Your concern is unnecessary. I already intend to close up earlier than usual.”

That’s surprising, to say the least—Diluc usually never cancels plans to suit himself. “So you really aren’t feeling well,” Kaeya says, suddenly worried. If it’s so bad that even Diluc is closing up early...

He must not be doing a good job keeping the concern off his face, because Diluc just scoffs dismissively, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s not that.” He coughs softly into his raised elbow. “I have somewhere to be.”

“Hmm, to think you said no late night excursions...”

“There’s a banquet tomorrow that I’m expected to attend.”

And yet he won't be closing up for another few hours. And yet he’s here, with the start of a cold, looking exhausted and unwell, and still—for reasons Kaeya can’t fathom—he intends to work late into the night and then spend the entire day tomorrow at some pretentious social event. Kaeya knows that having to entertain strangers is exhausting to Diluc even on regular occasions. He also knows that whatever Diluc is coming down with is unlikely to resolve itself in just a night’s rest.

“For the winery?” he asks. “My, such impressive dedication to the business… surely you can send Elzer on your behalf?”

Diluc’s shoulders tense in a way that suggests that he is as reluctant about attending as Kaeya expected. “I can’t. The host requested my presence.”

“At the very least,” Kaeya says, “You should close up a bit earlier.” He glances over his shoulder to peer through the first floor windows. It’s dark outside—too dark to come to any conclusions, but earlier today, the sky had been too heavy, the air prickling with humidity, the clouds overhead sprawling and dark. “It wouldn’t do you any good to get caught up in the rain.”

“The rain is of no consequence to me,” Diluc says, in the kind of tone that suggests that he doesn’t intend to close up early at all.

“Even with a cold?” “I don’t have a cold.”

Kaeya shrugs. “Well, if you’re certain.” He pushes his mug forward so that it rests on the countertop, right within Diluc’s reach, and counts the mora out beside it. “Goodnight, Diluc.”

He turns on his heels. Years ago, he might’ve stayed longer. He might’ve insisted for Diluc to take care of himself and not left his side until he had.

But it’s been years. Diluc left, and Kaeya tried to muster up the pieces of himself that had existed independent of him—he’d taught himself how to lie, tricked himself into believing that the person he’d trusted most hadn’t left him—and now even though Diluc is back, sometimes it feels as if Kaeya barely knows him at all.

If Diluc won’t take care of himself, then that’s his prerogative. It’s stopped being Kaeya’s problem a long time ago.

—

Kaeya has every intention of leaving Diluc alone.

That is, until he’s at the Knights’ headquarters, listening in on a conversation that he doesn’t quite mean to eavesdrop on but hasn’t gone out of his way not to avoid.

“He keeps taking our work,” one of the Knights says. “It’s awful. Last time we spent all our time finding this one domain—Fatui territory, alright? We had a whole expedition team ready to scout out the domain the next day. Then the next day, we get there and the place is abandoned. Everything’s been scorched. Must’ve been a pyro user.” “How do you know it was him?”

“Trust me, you’d know. How many pyro visions are there in Teyvat? It’s like the legends say. He doesn’t leave any room unturned. He’s more thorough than a team of our men put together.”

“Gentlemen,” Kaeya says loudly, smiling when they startle and turn to look at him in synchronicity. “What are you talking about?”

“The Darknight Hero,” one of the knights offers haltingly. “Last night he took down one of the Fatui strongholds we were planning to deal with. Talk about an annoyance, huh?”

“Oh? How heroic. It seems he lives up to his title,” Kaeya says. His mind is reeling. Diluc? But last night, Diluc had been working late. He’d gone home right after, hadn’t he? It wouldn’t make sense for him to be out last night. Unless, of course...

He would really, really like to believe that Diluc’s self-preservation instincts are better than that.

“I’ve been saying,” says another knight. “We were supposed to be scouting out the area right now. Chances are, there will be nothing left there that’s of any use to us.”

“Seeing as we have nothing to do today,” the first knight says, his expression hardening, “maybe we can conduct a search party for the Darknight Hero instead. See what he has to say about withholding information from the Knights.”

“Let’s not be too hasty here,” Kaeya cuts in, before the other Knights have a chance to offer their assent. “It’s unlikely that the Darknight Hero would be out during the day, isn’t it? Rest assured, I’ll make sure that it’s looked into. In the meantime, have you asked the Acting Grandmaster for a new assignment?”

The knight in question falters. “No, but…”

Kaeya smiles pointedly at him—the kind of vicious smile that, around knights and strangers alike, never fails to intimidate. “Then perhaps you should get to it, don’t you think?”

He waits until he’s sure they’ll be busy with something else. Maybe they’re mistaken. Maybe Diluc had gone to scout out the area on some previous occasion, and the Knights are only now paying witness to his usual efficiency.

Or maybe Diluc has forgone a night of rest in lieu of playing hero to Mondstadt in the pouring rain. And now he’s at a banquet somewhere, with a miserable cold that he’s most likely intent on telling himself he doesn’t have.

It’s been awhile since Kaeya’s been to a banquet. He misses the alcohol, the music, the extravagant decorations. It’s easy enough to tell himself that that’s the reason why he’s going.

—

It’s not difficult to get in. Kaeya is well-acquainted with having to sweet talk his way into lowering someone’s defenses.

Inside the banquet hall, it’s crowded. It is as pretentious a setup as it gets—visitors wearing suits and ballroom gowns, walls adorned with streamers and gold plaques, tables laid out with refreshments of all sorts. The building it’s being held in has at least two floors and too many side rooms to count.

He spots Diluc from across the room—red hair is rare enough that he’s not easy to miss. Diluc is currently engaging in conversation with someone Kaeya hasn’t seen before.

It’s likely that Diluc has found the person who explicitly requested his presence—probably someone with a business deal that he thinks warrants a personal talk with the owner of Dawn Winery. If Kaeya interrupts Diluc while he’s negotiating some sort of once-in-a-lifetime deal, Diluc will never let him live it down. So instead, he grabs a drink as an excuse to get closer and stands a few tables away to listen in.

Up close, Diluc’s cold is practically impossible to miss. His clothes look freshly ironed, but his hair is still damp at the tips—he’s changed into dry clothes, then, but his wet hair seems to only confirm the hypothesis that he was, in fact, scouting out domains last night in the rain instead of getting a wink of sleep. Diluc has always been pale, but now there’s a flush high on his cheeks that Kaeya thinks could only be a result of an impending fever. He is standing with his arms crossed—a last attempt to keep warm, perhaps—with a handkerchief gripped loosely in one hand. Faint shivers break the line of his shoulders.

Kaeya feels a pang in his chest. Diluc looks…

Kaeya watches as Diluc twists away with a soft apology and a wrenching sneeze that snaps him forward at the waist.

...miserable.

“That was merely my expectation,” the man says. “Crepus and I were business partners, do you know that? You don’t seem like the type of person who would choose this profession. I am sure your priorities lie elsewhere.”

Diluc clears his throat. “I have no qualms against upholding the family business.” His voice—though usually smooth and mellifluous—has taken on a rough edge to it, as if from overuse.

“Of course, I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise,” the man says. “I am sure you’re aware of your options, no? You could make a fortune selling off the winery if you so desired.”

“If you are...” Diluc starts, though his sentence is punctuated by a soft, desperate gasp, and he turns away just in time, ducking into his handkerchief. “hiIh…. Hiih… hiih’GKt—CHhiiew! Snf-!” His eyes stay shut in anticipation, the grip tightening around the handkerchief as his shoulders jerk with another sharp intake of breath. “Hiih… Hiiih… Iiih’DZsshh-iu! haAHH’iIKTch-iIIew!” he sniffles wetly, barely suppressing a violent shiver.

“If you are here to gauge whether or not I intend to sell the winery, I can assure you that I do not,” he says, quieter than usual.

“Ah, of course, just a question.” The man leans forward, lowers his voice. “Truthfully, I am more interested in a partnership. It’s come to my attention that you have an excess of wine sitting in the winery’s cellars. If you can get me the amount of Dandelion Wine I need at a discounted price, I can sell it down in Liyue for a profit.”

“I have no interest in expanding the business any further,” Diluc says. “The excess will sell out easily in the spring when demand rises for Windblume.”

“I urge you to give it some consideration. Dandelion Wine is a specialty to Mondstadt. Think about the profitability of expanding to somewhere where dandelions are hard to come by,“ the man says. “You could stand to double or even triple the prices per bottle. I am only asking to take a fraction of your stock, see? Ten percent would be enough.”

He says it as if ten percent isn’t anything substantial, but Kaeya can’t help but think that there’s something wrong here—both with the presentation of the offer and with its suddenness. From here, Diluc’s expression is unreadable—it betrays only slight discomfort when he turns to the side, muffling harsh, forceful coughs into his suit sleeve, and murmurs a reflexive apology. No hesitation—not the slightest hint of wariness—even though the Diluc Kaeya remembers wouldn’t agree to raising prices so drastically without good reason.

“I can handle all transportation and deliver the profits to you in a few months,” the man presses on, interpreting Diluc’s untelling silence as interest. “My associates have done research on the market in Liyue and where it would be best to sell. You wouldn’t have to do anything differently from your end. All that I ask is for you to trust me with the first shipment and compensate me fairly after I handle the marketing and transportation.”

Diluc sniffles. “Forgive me,” he says, bracing himself with one hand against the table behind him as he ducks forward violently into a raised arm. “hiIh’nGKT-chhiEW! HIih… I do n-not… hhH… Hiih-! hiIH’iiikT-CHhiew! Sdf-! Ugh… hiIIH’NGKT-CHhiew!” He leans slightly into his side, and though the gesture is well-disguised, Kaeya can tell just how much he’s bracing his weight on the table. It’s concerning, to say the least. Is he really too tired to stand upright? “...I do not expect to give out so much wine without a proper assessment of the risk. If you believe the model to be profitable, you are free to… t-to… hh-! to purchase…. hiIH… haAA’iiKTT-CHh!-u! hiIh’iiiTSSHhh’uh! snf-!” The congestion in his voice is evident in all of his consonants, and his gaze flickers down to his handkerchief in unspoken desperation, though Kaeya suspects he’s too polite to blow his nose in front of a business partner.

“...You are free to purchase wine at the same rate as I offer other corporate partners. I cannot - coughcough - I cannot offer such a large first-time shipment for free based on only an assumption that it will be successful.”

Kaeya can see the exact moment the smugness drops off of the man’s face. His eyes harden at Diluc’s hesitation, his practiced smile shifting into the approximation of a sneer.

“An assumption? You don’t trust my ability to see the operation through to the end?” He says, still in the same polite, haughty tone of his. “As a long-time associate of your father, I would have thought I would have earned your trust as well. Unless, of course, you simply don’t agree with Crepus’s assessments?”

Kaeya can see the way Diluc’s jaw tightens at the query. He clears his throat softly, though the brief wince that follows suggests that the action is far from painless.

“His vision for the company is - snf - very important to me,” he says simply.

The man waves a flippant hand. “Or perhaps once he left, you decided you knew better? I mean, you have grown up so much, so I’m sure you feel more than capable of handling his affairs, regardless of whether or not you’re doing it his way. I don’t blame you.”

As the man turns around to pour himself a drink, Kaeya sees a flash of blue and gold tucked into his suit pocket. It takes him another moment to realize what it is.

A Fatui sergeant’s insignia—for identification purposes, or just a habit, likely.

This man isn’t a business partner of Crepus’s at all.

Now, the man wheels around, holding one drink in each hand. Alcohol, clearly—though it sparkles, faintly red. “Ah, well. I can’t say I’m not disappointed, but your decisions are understandable. A friend of mine has been working on a drink that mixes certain Liyuen specialties and Dandelion Wine—would you give it a try?”

“I don’t drink,” Diluc says haltingly.

“Just a sip wouldn’t hurt,” the man says, raising an eyebrow. “If you are anything like Crepus, you must have developed quite the refined taste when it comes to wine. Perhaps you could speak for the quality?”

“I’m sorry,” Diluc says quietly. “I am… Hiih… f-feeling… hH…. hiIih’iIKT-chHIew! Sdf!... slightly under the weather.” Kaeya blinks at him, disbelieving. Such an outright admission is practically unheard of, when it comes to Diluc—but then again, it’s a convenient excuse, and Kaeya is not under the impression that he really knows him. Diluc lifts a hand to his face, sniffling hard. “I’m afraid I would not be able to taste it.”

“You state the obvious,” the man drawls, and Diluc’s shoulders hunch slightly as he turns his face away, his cheeks reddening slightly. “Actually, that’s one of the reasons why I recommended this drink. It’s made with Jueyun chilis. Should be good for clearing up a cold.”

“Is that so?” Diluc says, still frowning.

“Perhaps you could speak to its efficacy?”

Slowly—hesitantly—Diluc lifts the glass. The man watches him like a hawk—too eagerly, if anything. Kaeya presumes that he either wants Diluc poisoned or too intoxicated not to be swayed, and hauling home a Diluc who can’t hold his own sounds like more than he’s signed up for, so now would be a good time to interfere. Diluc can be mad at him later.

Kaeya, for all he’s attempted over the years, has plenty of practice making his entrances as obnoxiously showy as possible.

“My, my,” he says, striding in with a drink in hand to settle right next to Diluc. “The esteemed owner of the Dawn Winery.” Just for the way Diluc grimaces at the title, his eyebrows furrowing, he decides this intervention has been worth it. “And… who’s this?”

Diluc veers away from Kaeya to stifle—a soft, near-silent stifle that must be exhausting to suppress.

“A business partner,” the man answers through gritted teeth.

“Must be a busy job,” Kaeya says, snatching Diluc’s drink out of his hand and setting it down on the table behind him. “Given, of course, that you have two.” He takes an efficient step forward and swipes the insignia out of the so-called business partner’s pocket.

“I do wonder why the Fatui would be so interested in the Dawn Winery,” he says calmly, ignoring the man’s indignant yelp of protest. He turns the insignia over in his hands, contemplative. “Did you really think the owner of the largest wine business in Mondstadt would be so easy to scam?”

The sergeant swears. “You asshole—!”

Kaeya reaches for the sword tucked into his belt. He knows it wouldn’t be a fair fight, seeing that the man seems very much unarmed, but it’s as good as anything as a threat. “I don’t suppose you’ll try this again?” he says. “I can’t claim to be the best swordsman in Mondstadt—that title goes to the previous cavalry captain, but maybe tonight I can come in second.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh? Do you want to find out if I am?”

“No,” the agent says. “I wasn’t finished having my conversation.”

“Well, what a shame.” Kaeya doesn’t wait for him to think of a response. He takes Diluc’s arm and turns abruptly to haul Diluc towards the exit.

Diluc goes along easily enough. It’s only when they get outside that the frustration—from watching Diluc push himself, stubbornly, to this extent—boils over.

“Diluc,” he says, turning on his heels. “Really? After a late night shift at the tavern, your first thought was to forgo rest to spend all night scouting out a Fatui domain? In the rain, for that matter?”

Diluc turns away, his expression unchanging. “That’s not worth mentioning.”

“Perhaps you’d claim that attending a banquet directly afterwards is not worth mentioning, either? Your hair’s still wet. And that encounter with the Fatui sergeant—what’s gotten into you? Since when have you been so careless?”

He’s almost certain Diluc can hear the unspoken accusation behind it. This isn’t like you. Diluc is hasty—he has a tendency to overestimate himself and involve himself in situations he knows will be dangerous—but he isn’t careless.

“—I knew he wasn’t one of Crepus’s associates.” Diluc explains, with a soft, liquid sniffle. He turns away, lifting an arm to his face. “I would’ve - hhihH-!! - snf, I would’ve recognized him if he were, sdf.” his eyes drift shut; he buries his face into his suit sleeve, sniffling. “Crepus made it a point to… hiIh…-! hIIIh… to introduce him to everyone he - HIiIIih… sdf-!! ...Everyone he worked closely with.”

“Is that so?” Kaeya says, but it’s not enough. “Then why did you entertain him?”

Diluc is quiet for a moment. When Kaeya looks over, it’s to a dazed, bleary expression before he ducks harshly into his raised elbow with a forceful, “hiIh’nNGKT-chHIEw! hiIH’IITCHh-chhUU!! Snf-!”

He doesn’t lift his elbow from his face. “I w-wanted… snf-! more - hiIh-!...information,” he says. “If I were to know more about what he was planning, it would make it easier for me to find any fraudulent - hiIih-!! Snf-! - transactions in the company’s history if I knew what to - hIih-hiIh’iIKTch-IIiu! Excuse me… snf-! -to look for.”

“Bless you. There are better ways to do that,” Kaeya says. “No need to do it when you’re evidently unwell.”

Diluc peeks out from behind his arm, which he still hasn’t lowered from his face. His face is flushed up to his ears—easy enough to dismiss as fever, though Kaeya knows that’s not all there is to it.

Diluc has always been embarrassed about admitting weakness. Kaeya sighs, fishes through his own pockets for a spare handkerchief.

“I have to say, Diluc,” he says, holding out the handkerchief — which Diluc accepts hurriedly, turning away to clean up whatever mess he’s made of his sleeve - “My weekends would be much less eventful -”

“hiiihh’GKTTt-CHh’yyew! snf-!”

“- if I could trust you to look after yourself,” Kaeya finishes, raising an eyebrow. “Bless you, by the way.”

“I know my limits,” Diluc says.

Kaeya huffs a sigh. “But you don’t honor them, do you?”

Diluc frowns, looking away. “I would have been fine if you hadn’t showed up.”

Kaeya stares at him. It’s half in disbelief, half in exasperation—but Diluc has always been like this, hasn’t he? Insistent on his own self-sufficiency. Hesitant to admit he might, in any way, be infallible.

I would’ve been fine.

“You always are,” he says finally, with a smile that he doesn’t mean.

If Diluc so diligently insists on refusing his help, perhaps Kaeya should take a hint. Mondstadt is a half hour away—less, if he hurries. He quickens his pace. It’s fortunate, he thinks, that the rain stopped early this morning, after—

Diluc grabs his arm.

Kaeya wheels around, suddenly worried that Diluc might be feeling much worse than he’d let on, but Diluc’s expression betrays nothing as he lowers his hand to his side.

“Thank you,” he says—a soft, private admission.

Kaeya clears his throat, waves a dismissive hand. “I assure you, I have plenty more handkerchiefs.”

“No,” Diluc says quietly, looking away. “Not just for that.”

#snz #snz kink #snz fic #sneeze fic #my fic #gen/shi/n im/pac/t #i have been working on this for almost 2 weeks straight #longer than anticipated T-T i planned to finish this before moving back #it was really hard to write ngl (more plot-driven than most of my other recent snzfics)#i hope it doesn't disappoint ;;#(prob the last 2k+ fic in awhile unless my time management is insanely good)#i will still write drabbles if time permits! been wanting to write abt ko/kom/i after playing her character quest #(requests are still open as always! or scenarios if anyone just wants to talk!)#this is actually my first time being commissioned for writing and #it really made me happy!! thank you!

103 notes · View notes

effeminateboyninja · 3 years ago

Note

hi!! can I request shikamaru coming home to find a gn!reader listening to one of his playlists in the shower? fluff or nsfw, whichever is easier!

thank you thank you thank youuuu for this wonderfully self-indulgent request, this is actually my dream, so. anyway, i hope you like it lovely!! 💚

Yes, this one's for you

(Shikamaru x gn!reader) fluff // 1.3k words

🎶 troublesome playlist

What a drag.

Shikamaru sighed to himself and raked his fingers through his charcoal hair, glad to finally be finished with his responsibilities for the time being. The day had been more effort than it was worth, the better part of it spent chasing after Kakashi to get his stamp of approval for a myriad of projects and missions, and Kotetsu and Izumo were no help of course. All he wanted to do was get home and relax to make the most of his free time before he had to go back the next morning.

It's all for a purpose though, he reminded himself, the image of your face flashing across his mind and bringing a small smile to his lips. Coming home to his lover and best friend after such a long day was more than enough reward to put up with the heavy responsibilities he’d so begrudgingly taken on, and if he was going to support you the way he wanted to a few troublesome days at the office were a fair price to pay.

The tiny apartment that you two shared came into view in the distance ahead and picked up the pace of his casual gait unconsciously. It wasn’t anything to write home about, just a drab one bedroom situated above a convenience store. The taps leaked and there was a constant draft but it hardly mattered - it was yours, and it felt like home. You’d picked it out together almost a year ago, eager to finally move out of your parent’s houses and start your independent lives together. Since then the dreary white walls had been covered with polaroids and other mementos that painted the picture of your relationship. Some people might call it shabby, but he thought it was cozy. Finally he reached the door with a relieved sigh, the tension of the day left at the threshold as he practically bounded up the stairs.

As soon as he rounded the corner of the entry way he noticed the faint trickle of running water behind the muffled sound of music and your sweet voice singing along. He recognized the song right away - it was one from the playlist he’d made when you first started dating. Filled with music that the two of you listened to together when he finally realized he was falling for you, confessions littered amongst the lyrics and skillfully hidden between other songs that reminded him of you or your time together. He’d tried many times to pick one to be “your song”, but as important as those songs were to him, not a single one on its own managed to communicate the way you made him feel. You had a few ideas yourself but could never settle on one, indecisive as you were. “A whole playlist is better than a song anyway,” you would say whenever he brought it up. “It just means we love each other twenty times as much.” He’d roll his eyes at that, call you troublesome and change the subject, but the echoes of a smile would tug at the corners of his mouth anyway as he secretly agreed.

Originally he was planning to head to the kitchen for an after-work snack, but the sound of your voice changed his course. So instead he kicked off his sandals where he stood and shrugged off his vest as he roamed through the small space to join you in the shower and relax into your arms under the hot water.

He opened the door to the bathroom gingerly, tiptoeing inside quietly in order not to disturb your impromptu concert for the shampoo bottles. It was rare for him to catch you like this. The only time you ever graced his ears with your singing was in the shower, and too often these days his busy schedule kept him from sharing them with you like he preferred. So rather than disrobe and join you right away he crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall and smiled, cherishing the musical lilt of your words for as long as he could. The song changed and one of his favourites came on. It was the one that was playing the night he’d finally worked up the courage to kiss you for the first time. The two of you were laying in the grass side by side, the sun low in the sky as the song played softly over the blown speakers of his phone. It was something about the lyrics, “I am home wherever you are near,” or the way you put the sunset to shame just sitting there not even trying, or maybe just the way he’d been wanting to for weeks but holding back for fear of ruining your friendship - something about that moment felt right. And so he did it, leaned in before he could overthink it or even make a plan and took your face in his hand as he brought his lips to yours. The memory and the warm feeling that always accompanied it felt brand new despite being just over a year old at this point, reminding him just how much he’d changed in a few short years. Becoming right hand to the Hokage, meeting you - as much as he put on a show of resentment when it came to expending effort, it didn’t actually seem so taxing anymore. He found himself out of his comfort zone more often nowadays, doing things no one would expect of the lazy Nara man.

Like his next action for example, he would’ve shadow stitched anyone who tried to tell him just twelve months before he’d be singing along to a love song in the apartment he shared with his lover. Yet here he was, letting go of what little inhibition he held around you and letting the lyrics of his favourite song fall over his lips without any concern for his natural talent.

"But these things lose all their meaning

And allure

If you're not there to

Witness the grandeur

What could shake my love away?"

On the other side of the shower curtain the gravelly sound of his voice stopped your own singing, and a contented smile spread its way across your face as you picked up where you left off, your voices overlapping in an amateur harmony. The verse finished and you peeked around the curtain to look at the dark-haired man in the ponytail. He was still propped against the wall, his almond eyes soft with admiration and that magnetizing smirk that you loved pulling up the corner of his thin lips.

“Well?,” you questioned playfully, “are you going to join me or not?”

His smile widened as he walked over and captured your lips in a kiss. “Yeah, yeah. Patience,” he joked, earning him an eye roll as he pulled his shirt over his head and stepped out his pants. When he was finished undressing and his toned body was exposed to your wandering eyes he stepped into the tub and settled in under the showerhead beside you. He wrapped his arms around your waist and started a slow sway to the music that was still playing.

“I just wanted to listen to you for a bit,” he explained. “I love hearing you sing, I wish you would do it more often.”

He lifted a hand and caressed the side of your face gently. The blood rose to your cheeks at the compliment and you looked away, a small smile playing across your lips. You gave him a playful shove and laughed.

“Shut up… you’re one to talk. I never knew you could sing!” you exclaimed in reference to the happy surprise from just a few moments ago.

He shook his head and chuckled. “I don’t sing. That was a one time thing so you better remember it.”

“That’s not fa-”

He placed his hands on either side of your face and before you could finish your objection his lips were on yours, moving softly over them as the water fell over your faces. You smiled into the kiss as your hands settled on his chest and you softened into his embrace. He wasn’t going to get off that easily, you were filing away this new delicious knowledge for a later date for sure, but for now just the pitter-patter of the water and the sound of your playlist was good enough. A perfect soundtrack for the moment.

#I WANT THIS SO BAD #shikamaru x reader #shikamaru nara #shikamaru nara x reader #shikamaru x y/n #shikamaru x you #shikamaru imagine #shikamaru oneshot #shikamaru fluff #naruto x reader #naruto imagines #naruto fluff

229 notes · View notes

chudleycanonficfest · 3 years ago

Text

t-shirt

Day 8, Story #1 is by @accio-broom

Title: t-shirt Author/Artist: accio-broom Pairing: Ron Weasley / Hermione Granger Prompt: Cuddling Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): None

In the morning when you wake up, I like to believe you are thinking of me And when the sun comes through your window, I like to believe you’ve been dreaming of me.

Hermione Granger isn’t the kind of girl who struggles to get out of bed, especially when there are pressing Head Girl duties to attend to. Her to-do list is as long as her arm, she has five essays to write and a whole raft of other bits and bobs she needs to see to.

But right now, with the sun peeking through the edges of the heavy curtains surrounding her four-poster bed, she wants to bask in the aftermath of her dream just a little longer. Even as her dorm mates start to clatter around the room, getting ready for the day, she snuggles deeper under her duvet and shuts her eyes, trying her best to get back to her own little world.

Is Ron doing exactly the same thing right now? He loves his bed, and always complains when she forces him out of it earlier than he wants. Is he having the same lovely dreams as her? Probably not, he’s been away on an extremely secretive training mission for the past five days, and he isn’t a fan of sleeping on the floor. Still, she likes to think that even the memory of her has been keeping him warm at night, even if he isn’t comfortable wherever he is.

Dreaming.

Her dreams last night were amazing.

They were in the Gryffindor common room, sprawled across the comfiest sofa next to the fire. He’d untucked her blouse, and one of his hands was under the white material, massaging her bra-clad breasts whilst he buried the other somewhere underneath her school skirt. He was only wearing his plaid pyjama bottoms, which were doing nothing to hide his growing excitement, and the faded orange Cannon’s t-shirt he often wore to sleep.

She loves that top. It’s threadbare and far too small for him, accentuating his muscles, and exposing patches of his skin. She likes to wind her fingers through the holes, count the freckles she can see as they explore each other’s bodies. Dream Hermione couldn’t get enough of Ron’s skin; she licked and sucked at his neck while her hips lifted to press against his, grounding into his erection and causing the delightful friction she can never get enough of.

Despite their public position, there had been no panicking about being caught or interrupted. She was consumed in Ron, and he in her. The most perfect dream.

But it was all a dream. Hermione is still at school and Ron is in the Auror Academy, and they are facing months of separation. If he does well in his mission, he’ll pass his assessments and move on to the next stage. There will be no passionate make-out sessions, heavy petting, or sex anywhere until her Easter holidays at the earliest, and it definitely won’t be happening at school.

I know, ‘cause I’d spend half this morning, thinking about the t-shirt you sleep in I should know, ‘cause I’d spend all the whole day, listening to your message I’m keeping.

With a heavy huff, she rolls onto her back and reaches under the mattress for the pristine parchment she has hidden there.

Over the years she’s known Ron, she could safely say that he was rubbish at writing to her. Summer breaks and Christmas holidays passed without a single word from him. But their newly fledged relationship, combined with her leaving in September, seemed to inspire a completely different side to the boy. If he was at home, she could now expect Pidwidgeon almost every morning, and each letter the owl delivered was soppier and longer than the last.

It is clear that Ron misses her.

She finds her wand under her pillow and pulls it out, tapping it against the paper before discarding it again. It begins to unfold, revealing a whole pile of messages from her beau, Ron’s familiar unintelligible scrawl decorating every inch of them. If she hadn’t spent the last six years deciphering his essays, she might have struggled to read them, but now she devours every word, the familiarity somewhat easing her home-sickness.

In his first letter he reminds her that she has to keep these letters secret, to hide them safely away from prying eyes. Ron doesn’t want anyone getting their hands on them, a panic magnified by the fact that Hermione is sharing a dorm with Ginny this year.

“Just imagine what they’d say,” Ron writes, and Hermione can picture the tips of his ears turning bright pink as his quill scratches against the parchment. “I don’t want them to take the piss.”

She’d written back, assuring him that his letters were safe and that he shouldn’t be ashamed of his ability to express his feelings. It’s the sign of a mature man.

Plus, she finds the confidence in his words sexy.

Letting her fingers trail over the paper, Hermione allows herself to get lost in the things he tells her. There’s the boring, mundane things, like how work is going and pleading with her not to get riled up over her latest marks (which ended up being perfect, of course). Next, come the promises and their plans for life post-Hogwarts. They want to get a flat together and go on a lovely holiday, where they can be alone for a whole week. Each sentence makes the smile on her face grow even bigger.

She takes her time, savouring how close to Ron they make her feel. She misses him like crazy. When she packed her trunk last September, she couldn’t even imagine how hard being apart from him would be. She’s an independent woman, a war heroine, in fact, but the yearning and pining for the guy drove her mental on occasion. She hates that she’s so reliant on him now.

Still, there are only a few more months left of her school year, and then they’ll be together forever.

The words run out, and Hermione lets out a heavy sigh. She sits up, tapping the paper again with her wand before stowing it safely back in its hiding spot. Feeling ready to face the day, she swings her legs out of bed and throws back her curtains, catching Ginny by surprise.

“Good morning!” Hermione smiles as she springs out of bed.

“Is it?” Ginny complains in return. “It’s snowing, which means no Quidditch.”

Hermione collects her things and heads for the shared bathroom with a chuckle, not letting the thought of bad weather affect her good mood.

⁂

When I saw you, everyone knew, I liked the effect that you had on my eyes But no one else heard the weight of your words or, felt the effect that they have on my mind.

Today’s Head Girl duties include monitoring the monthly visit to Hogsmeade. As a seventh-year, Hermione is allowed out of the castle anytime she wants, as long as she tells her Head of House. But the younger children always need supervising. Even with the war over, and the threat of Voldemort over, they still need to be cautious.

It’s her favourite part of the month. Being cooped up in the castle is so oppressive after a year spent camping in forests and hiding on cliff tops, so being out in the village helps clear her head.

If she gets five minutes, she may even be able to pick up Ron’s birthday present. There’s still a week until the big day, and chances are, he’ll probably still be away for work, but she wants to collect it now, just in case. She’ll wait until she sees him face to face before she gives it to him.

The late February snow is trying to melt, but the keen Scottish wind keeps the last of it lingering around. Hermione stands in her usual spot outside Honeydukes, watching as the students enter the shop then leave with their arms full of treats. Her parents would have an aneurysm if they saw the number of sugary treats devoured by the children in the school. Just the amount Ron consumes would set them off.

The thought of her boyfriend brings another smile to her lips, though it does nothing to stave off the cold. What she wants right now is to be cuddled up in Ron Weasley’s strong arms, a mug of Molly’s delicious hot chocolate and a roaring fire, and in that particular order, too.

A loud pop distracts her as someone apparates at the bottom of the lane. Over the heads of raucous students, a tall stranger appears, bundled up warm against the cold. She finds her gaze drawn to the newcomer, and she immediately recognises the bounce in his step as he walks past the rows of shops and hordes of students.

Hermione’s heart beats in an unsteady rhythm against her ribcage, her eyes widen, and the air disappears from her lungs. As the man draws closer, she catches a peek of red hair under a bright orange bobble hat and the long, thin nose that so often grazes against hers as they kiss. But what draws her to the man is his deep blue eyes, which she can see shining up the street from a million miles away.

It’s Ron.

With an uncharacteristic squeal, she takes off from her spot, trying her best to keep her balance in the ice as she throws herself at her boyfriend. Arms and legs lock around his long, gangly body with such force he’s almost bowled over. He compensates with long fingers clinging on to her as she buries her head against the crock of his neck. Her senses ignite as she takes a long breath, drinking in the smell of him—clean, with a hint of sandalwood and eucalyptus.

“What are you doing here?” she mumbles against his skin, her lips finding a path between his knitted scarf and stubble up his pale neck.

Ron moans at the assault from her kisses. “Missed you, is all.”

Hermione Granger has always been an intelligent girl, so it’s a surprise to her that a handful of words can turn her mind to mush. Right now, despite the fact she’s supposed to be on Head Girl duty, all she can focus on is the handsome man in her arms, and the fire blazes through her skin at their contact, even through layers of clothes.

Falling.

Forgetting that they’re in a public place, Hermione’s mouth seeks his, and they fall into a hungry kiss. Teeth clash, noses bump together, yet after weeks away, it’s the best thing in the world. The taste of peppermint and chocolate frogs spreads across her tongue, taking her straight back to lazy summer days spent snogging out by the lake at the Burrow.

Just as her lungs feel like they might explode, Ron tears his lips away from hers, and he flashes her one of his patented lop-sided grins. If she didn’t have her legs firmly wrapped around him, she might have gone weak at the knees.

With a chuckle, he teases, “Guess you missed me too?” All Hermione can do is nod in reply, overwhelmed by his sudden appearance. “Good! I missed you so fucking much. My mission finished early, but Harry is still away, and I didn’t know what else I could do to distract me from worrying about the results.”

“Oh, glad to see I’m your second option,” Hermione chides, although her massive smile does not falter. “How did you know I was here?”

“Ginny has been sending me your Head Girl schedule for months. Not that I’m keeping tabs on you,” he adds. “Just wanted to make the most of any opportunity I might have to see you.”

Impressed by his cunning plan, she presses one final hard kiss against his lips before removing herself from their reunion embrace. “Well, since it’s your birthday in a week, I guess I better start spoiling you.”

She tangles their fingers together before starting to lead him down the lane.

“But what about your duties?” he questions. “I didn’t think your slot finished until lunchtime?”

“It doesn’t, but I don’t think it will matter if I skive off a little earlier. Especially given the circumstances.”

With her back turned, she misses the look of glee that passes over Ron’s face before his eyes turn dark. She’s too absorbed in her mission to buy him all his favourite treats, cavities be damned, then curl up in a cosy corner by the fire in the Three Broomsticks so that she can do some serious catching up with him.

Their palms press together as they walk, filling her body with warmth. Ron is back where he belongs, and even if it’s only for a few hours, this feeling is a hundred times better than any of the letters he sends while they’re apart.

I know, ‘cause I’d spend half this morning, thinking about the t-shirt you sleep in, I should know, ‘cause I’d spend all the whole day, listening to your message I’m keeping,

Not that she plans on ever getting rid of them.

and never deleting.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic #submission #romione #ron x hermione

111 notes · View notes

appleflavoredkitkats · 4 years ago

Text

Analysis of the “Fundy’s Mind” Stream: A Showcase of Repressed Memories and Repressed Insecurities

i. INTRODUCTION

Hi! This is going to be… something. Funny how I focus on this rather than my research homework, but I have a MASSIVE Fundy brain rot right now and I’d love to share my thoughts on Fundy’s newest stream. Fair warning, I am not the Messiah, so don’t take everything as fact. I’m open to constructive and objective discussions in replies or in DM’s, so feel free to hmu!

All of this is /dsmp and /rp by the way!

Heavy trigger warnings for derealization, parental neglect, neglect in general, self-deprecation, self-neglect, low self-esteem, death, manipulation, abandonment, loneliness, trust issues, torture mention, blood mention, and broken friendships.

Word Count: Approximately 10k.

ii. PRE-LIVESTREAM ASPECTS

Before we begin deep diving into the mind of Fundy, I do want to emphasize two major themes of this stream: 1.) Fundy’s insecurities, especially when it comes to abandonment and trust, and 2.) Fundy’s future predicting abilities. A ton (but not all) of statements uttered by the books and Fundy himself tend to have double meanings that apply to both of these themes.

We can further discuss the future predicting powers later, but to give a little background on Fundy’s insecurities: Fundy is notorious for heavily depending his self-worth on the recognition other people give him. Despite his immaturity, a lot of Fundy’s character is rooted in being heavily underestimated. This could be observed during the Pet Wars when his safety was constantly being threatened by Sapnap, inevitably making him lose a duel against him. Another way we can see this is through Wilbur’s early treatment of Fundy where he constantly infantilized him because Wilbur believed Fundy was a child incapable of being independent. This caused Fundy to appeal a lot to any type of compliment from any person- it began with Quackity ensuring him that he will gift him a lot of cookies if he votes SWAG2020, then to Schlatt complimenting him to the point that Fundy almost gave up on spying and siding with Pogtopia, then to the Butcher Army where he unhesitantly followed Tubbo and Quackity’s lead no matter how many times they made fun of him. While he revels in any type of recognition given, oftentimes, those who seem to care for Fundy tend to leave after he grows attached to them; first with Wilbur, then Niki, then Schlatt, then Eret and Phil, then Tubbo, Ranboo, and Quackity. In the Dream SMP, Fundy is very lonely and has dealt with abandonment issues left and right, but typically, he never does anything with his loneliness, as the last time he lashed out against someone who left him, nothing positive really came out of it (this is when he got mad at Ghostbur).

(Everything else is under the cut! I worked so hard on this, so please read it if you can, it’d mean a lot!)

So, with all that laid out, I want you to keep this all in mind as it is important for understanding why Fundy feels the way he does in the stream.

Now, let’s begin the analysis. First off, I believe it is important to denote the title and the tags of the stream. The stream is titled “Fundy’s Mind”, so we have to denote that this isn’t merely a dream sequence- the stream is meant to explore the complexity of Fundy’s mind. This includes his thoughts, insecurities, repressed memories, and so on and so forth. Additionally, the stream is tagged “Permadeath”, something different from what Fundy typically tags his streams. There is no clear explanation as to what this could mean, but the possibilities are:

It is hinting that the death system in the Dream SMP could be rigged, and someone is messing with the semantics of death and how it works.

It is hinting that someone will face a permanent death, and most fingers are pointed at Fundy as this is his stream. If not a permanent death, he might at least lose one of his canon lives which was hinted later on in the stream (will discuss later).

It is hinting that he was killed by the end of the dream. Not really a solid theory as we don’t actually know the repercussions of killing someone who is actively dreaming, but it is a possibility.

iii. PROLOGUE

A thing to question at the beginning of the stream is if the entire introduction was part of the dream or not. Seeing how Fundy has the same inventory from this to the next scene, it is plausible, but I don’t think it provides anything if it were a dream.

Anyway, other things to denote are Fundy’s hotbar! First noticeable thing would be the 38 baked potatoes. The website angelnumber.org explains that 38 means:

“The combination of these two numbers makes the number 38 a number which signifies joy and optimism, courage, finding creative ways to materialize abundance, reality, etc.

The essence of the number 38 in numerology are different kind of relationships, such as romantic ones, business partnerships, teamwork, cooperation, diplomacy, etc.

Number 38 people have a talent for dealing with people in a caring and creative way. They are born team-workers. They need interaction with other people to fully enjoy their lives. They are usually optimistic and have a gift of inspiring others to action.”

So far, the number 38 is viewed to be positive. It signifies financial success and cooperativeness, which is interesting if Fundy’s future arc potentially ties to working with Quackity. To further add onto symbolisms regarding success, dreamastromeanings.com says the following:

“If you dreamed of baking or roasting potatoes, that dream is a good sign. It usually indicates your finances increasing over time.

Possibly you have made some investments and now you are beginning to reap the fruits of your efforts and risky activities.”

or,

“If you dreamed of holding a potato in your hand, that dream is a bit of a warning. You might soon receive some lucrative opportunity, possibly work related.

It is advisable to think fast and accept it because you might not get a second chance.

It could also indicate that you are a bit lazy when it comes to taking chances and missing opportunities because of that.”

Both explanations refer to business opportunities and possible investments. If we combine both the explanation for the number 38 and carrying potatoes, we can assume that Fundy will be receiving a business opportunity that would be too good to miss. These explanations also imply that nothing too negative would occur, but instead, Fundy can achieve success through this business opportunity. The only arcs in the Dream SMP which I think could provide a business opportunity would either be 1.) a new warden at the prison, 2.) new member at Snowchester (low odds), but the most likely occurrence would be 3.) Quackity offers him a position at Las Nevadas. With the Quackity smiley face at the end of Fundy’s stream, we can safely believe that the job opportunity at Las Nevadas would be the most likely occurrence.

Another explanation for this is that because the 38 potatoes were brought from the seemingly real world, it could possibly pertain to something that had already happened in the past. This could possibly allude to L’Manberg, especially when the explanations behind 38 potatoes are presented to be more positive, something the current Las Nevadas arc isn’t.

Second thing to notice about the hotbar: Fundy is currently at level 5, with his EXP bar 1/18 filled. To reach level 5, one has to gain 55 EXP, and to reach level 6, one would need to gain an extra 17 EXP. If the bar is merely 1/18 filled, 1/18 of 17 would be 0.94, which when rounded off, is 1. Add 1 to the extra 55, and we would approximately get 56 EXP. The website angelnumber.org says the following:

“The number 56 symbolizes teamwork, coexistence, family, relationships, adventure and expression of freedom.

Number 56 people have diverse interests, some of which they have an in-depth knowledge of and some just general understanding.

They try different approaches in relationships, trying to keep them alive. If everything they’ve tried fails, they simply walk to another relationship.”

This could mean a lot of things. The second sentence could imply that Fundy doesn’t fully comprehend the complexity of his mind. Some parts, he may understand, some, he does not at all. This could imply that there are also more secrets hiding in his mind that we couldn’t get to see. The third sentence is more interesting as Fundy’s entire character arc involves him and his broken relationships with other people. It’s a quite accurate description of Fundy, describing how he desperately tries anything to make a relationship work, and if it fails, he could easily befriend other people even if there is a possibility that that relationship would fail like the previous.

If we ignore the number of EXP, we can merely focus on the number 5, which means the following:

“When angels are sending you number 5, they want to encourage you to have hope and to be ready to accept all the changes that are coming. Also, if number 5 has appeared just at the moment when you have been thinking about something important in your life, this number could be the answer or the solution for your problems. You should pay attention to number 5 and think of its secret meanings.

If number 5 keeps appearing by your side, it means that changes are already happening in your life. If they have not happened yet, don’t worry. They are on the way and you will feel them in the next couple of days or weeks.”

This can be connected to both the EXP number and the stream as a whole as Fundy begins to accept the gravity of his abandonment issues instead of suppressing his negative feelings towards it. Throughout the stream, Fundy is shown rejecting the idea that he is being neglected by others, but by the second half of the stream, he rejects it less and less. This could be the change the explanation is referring to as Fundy realizing his negative feelings towards his abandonment issues are valid and he needs to take them more seriously rather than brushing them aside.

With number symbolisms finally aside, we can begin analyzing the actual sequences! Fundy is seen to be approaching his “Not A Secret” Base with a sigh, asking chat if they can go to sleep so that he can go to sleep too. Fundy immediately doubts the possibility of the others in the server following through his request until Ranboo responds with a simple “okay” while Niki responds with “yiss, am asleep”. Fundy quickly flashes the members list on the screen, showing us that only Niki and Ranboo are online on the server before he showcases his new bed, claiming that he likes it.

Two interesting notes about this: 1.) he decides to sleep, which is odd enough in the Dream SMP, and 2.) him having three new beds despite only using one of them. For the first point, I’d like to refer you to what Fundy said at around 26:08:

“I just gotta sleep and then, it’s gonna disappear! And then everyone is gonna appear out of a bush and they’re gonna be ‘Surprise!’, and I’m gonna be like, ‘You guys…! You’re always pranking me, you’ve always been there for me. Every single time… except sometimes… when I needed you the most.’ I just go to bed, I just go to bed, and none of this ever happened.”

While I understand that he is referring to the dream, I also believe that this statement would be one of those types I mentioned earlier that may have a double meaning. While “I just go to bed,” could refer to him wanting to sleep and wake up from this horrific dream, it could also refer to how he easily shuts down to his abandonment issues and goes to bed instead of handling it head first. Knowing this, him going to bed in the first scene could imply that he is in this type of abandonment predicament, especially when we connect it to the second point. The color orange is meant to represent joy and warmth, and even without the symbolism, we all know orange is Fundy’s favorite color. He sees these three beds and says that he likes them, but I can’t help but feel like the other two beds are meant for two other people. I don’t think Niki and Ranboo being the only other two people on the server is coincidental; they have to relate to the two extra beds in some way.

Niki and Ranboo are two prime examples of close friends Fundy had before breaking off after a misunderstanding. Niki fought with Fundy after he had to burn the flag she made in order to gain Schlatt’s trust, while Fundy fought with Ranboo after Doomsday when they had conflicting beliefs about neutrality and sides. After both incidents, Fundy never really made his way to apologize, but Fundy has awkwardly met up with these two after a certain point. With Niki, he was forced to team with her at the beginning of the November 16th War, joking around with her and Eret, while for Ranboo, Fundy had to talk to him and Philza when they were joking around in the SMP. The meet ups definitely relieved some tension, but it never fully resolved the conflict Fundy had with both characters, so there was never a chance for him to rekindle the close bonds he had with both Ranboo and Niki in the past.

Fundy going to his favorite beds with two extra spots next to him could represent how he does cherish the friendships he shared with Niki and Ranboo, but never has the guts to actually bring back things the way that they were before. So, instead, Fundy sleeps, not wanting to think about them any further.

iv. FIRST DAY

When he wakes, Fundy checks his inventory before exiting his base, saying “Uhm, I don’t actually-” until he cuts himself off once he spots the desert. I don’t actually know what Fundy was supposed to say here, but because he checked his inventory beforehand, I believe he was trying to say “I don’t actually know where my things are,” but I could be wrong. To be fair, this isn’t too important, so we don’t have to focus on that. What we can focus on is the misplaced desert that was obviously not there before Fundy slept. We can easily infer what deserts could symbolize in dreams, especially when it comes to loneliness and the feeling of being deserted, but for better insight, consider what dreamstop.com claims about deserts:

“A dream of a desert is about something that is devoid of any feelings or care for you. It is all about them and nothing about you. Does someone show you a lack of respect? Is there someone or something in your life you dislike and adds no meaning to your life? Do you feel invisible? That no-one cares about you? Deserts represent an empty, barren place you may be trying to fill.

Desert dreams may appear when a relationship or friendship breaks down, or when you feel totally alone. You may have moved recently and have not yet made friends. You may feel homesick for all you left behind.

Being lost in a desert refers to your feelings that a situation is hopeless. You may have a problem you feel no-one cares about, even though you tried to reach out. You may feel there was no support and are feeling hurt and alone.”

You don’t need much analyzing to connect these meanings to what Fundy is experiencing. The setting of a “desert” merely pads the idea of Fundy being incredibly lonely to the point of him believing that he has nothing left to lose. Back in Doomsday, he was an optimistic nihilist, claiming that he doesn’t care much about what occurs from this point onwards as long as he can have a little bit of fun. On the stream where he created the Cube, he claimed that most people hated him anyway, so the least he could do was to make himself so hateable so other people could unite together in their hatred of Fundy even if it meant Fundy would have no companions left. Let it be known: Fundy is incredibly, incredibly lonely, and he is miserable in his loneliness, especially when his self-worth depends on how much people recognize him.

Another thing this desert could be eluding to would be Las Nevadas as it is set in the desert. I do think the desert’s main purpose is to showcase Fundy’s loneliness, but the connection to Las Nevadas is plausible.

Additionally, the dark skies Fundy sees doesn’t really need much of an explanation either. I couldn’t find a website exactly defining what it means to find a dark sky, but most of them speak of it as a negative thing, often symbolizing something terrible to come. I don’t think I need to explain that part, so we’re moving on.

Fundy is, understandably, very confused about this entire predicament. He quickly moves around his base to figure out what is going on, even messaging in chat to see if anyone would respond. Climbing up the ladders, he stands atop his base, spotting the silhouette of the Camarvan from afar. He continues to be confused, claiming he has no idea why he’s here in the first place. He claims he is “freaking out”, continuing to ask questions about where he is, and why the sky turns dark. He denotes that he isn’t at least completely alone as bunnies swarm around the desert. He begins to follow this sandstone path, every few blocks or so passing a fence with a torch stood atop it.

Here, we can infer that Fundy seems to have never seen this place before, or has no recollection of it entirely. Fundy doesn’t seem to be immensely freaked out just yet, especially since he hasn’t asked any questions about how no one is there, mostly focusing on his location and asking what the place is about.

Fundy then asks why the van is here, then zooms in on the nametags he sees at the back of the van. It is notable that something nametagged “Fundy” is shorter than another thing that is nametagged “WilburSoot”. Fundy tries to reach out for them but is unable to enter the van.

We can easily infer that this scene was meant to represent Fundy’s childhood in L’Manberg when he was being taken care of by Wilbur. Despite the lack of silhouettes, we can easily determine that Fundy is young in this scene because of how his nametag is in a much lower position next to Wilbur's, implying that whoever owns that nametag is much shorter. We can denote that by the beginning of the L’Manbergian Revolutionary War, Fundy was, in fact, a child.

Another question some of you might ask: why is the Camarvan here in the first place? While I believe it could be representative of the part of Fundy’s mind that tackles past memories, I do think it also serves another purpose which I will explain later.

Moving on to the next scenes, Fundy continues following the sandstone path while typing in chat, asking if anyone was actually there. He gets confused by the path for a moment, wanting to go to the ominous building, before realizing that the path does connect to the building, it just swerves a little to the left.

It is notable that when Fundy cried out for help, he doesn’t call for a name in specific- he calls out for ANYONE. The fact that he is calling out for “anyone” could denote that he doesn’t have any close friends or family members he would want to specifically call out for.

Continuing on, Fundy follows the path to the building, still very immensely confused about where he is. Opening the door, he sees that the inside descends into an underground room with its flooring made out of chiseled quartz blocks. Fundy gets scared at first, immediately closing the door, looking back in, and going back out once more.

Fundy denotes that there is absolutely nothing out here as he walks around the building. He then gains the courage to descend the staircase, wondering what it is, and at the bottom, there are a lot of misplaced sandstone blocks with small lights illuminating at certain corners. The path leads to the left, showing 10 pieces of red carpet on the floor, and 8 pieces of yellow carpet on the table. He approaches the wooden table before looking to his right, spotting a skull on the floor next to a piece of redstone, which I believe is meant to resemble blood.

I don’t think we really need to research a skull to check what it might represent, but my theory so far as to what the skulls mean in each building would be that it’s meant to represent Fundy losing a canon life. I don’t know if this was intentional, but the corner room where the skull is somewhat reminds me of the Final Control Room with the redstone in the middle representing the button. That is, after all, where Fundy lost his first canon life.

One of the theories I subscribe to is that the skulls in these buildings are meant to foreshadow Fundy’s death before he ever reaches it. Earlier in the day, we saw Fundy pass by the Camarvan with a younger Fundy which could possibly imply that they haven’t gotten to Eret’s betrayal yet, but the skull creeping up at the corner could represent that it is, in fact, coming. How this ties in to the entire future predicting thing, I will explain later, but for now, keep an eye out on the skulls.

Terrified of the skull, Fundy opens the chest and hesitantly picks up the book and quill inside of it. He opens it and is introduced to another Fundy writing to himself. Other Fundy claims that they’re not exactly the same person, but this Fundy is a part of the real Fundy. Other Fundy claims that Fundy cannot trust this place as it is not real, then begins saying that Fundy himself is not real repeatedly. Fundy’s heart rate suddenly increases when he sees the words “wake up” appear slowly in the book, and after page 34 is shown, Fundy wakes up to a new day in the dream world.

First thing to denote is that the book has 87 pages, and 87, according to affinitynumerology.com means as follows:

“The numerology number 87 is a number of family, organization, and prosperity.

It's also a number of harmony and idealism, the ideal generally related to a harmonious and prosperous family relationship.

87 has parental instincts. It assumes responsibility for the welfare of others it considers to be family.”

The explanation implies that Fundy longs for family and cares deeply for those who he considers as his family. As much as he hated Wilbur after he died, Fundy still continuously expressed how much he needed Wilbur to be there. He is absolutely attached to anyone who poses as a possible family member, especially to those who he views as parents or guardians. Even outside of Wilbur, he is still practically attached to Phil, even if Phil refuses to consider Fundy as family. Fundy also got immensely angered by Eret when she didn’t show up to sign his adoption papers. I’d even say his attachment to family would even reach people like Sally and Schlatt. Fundy has a tendency of casually talking about Sally, and whenever a character talks about eating salmon, Fundy becomes deeply offended. For Schlatt, Fundy kept Schlatt’s netherite sword after he died, considering it to be an “heirloom”, something that only gets passed down onto different generations of the same family. Fundy is incredibly attached to the sword, and whenever he loses it, he’s absolutely desperate to get it back. As much as Fundy gets abandoned, he still deeply appreciates a lot of his family.

87 is also very reminiscent of one of the books in the Inbetween. A lot of the phrasing in the books are actually quite similar to the Inbetween, but we aren’t sure if Fundy and the Inbetween are directly affecting each other or if these places merely work in similar ways. The main similarity between Fundy and the Inbetween is that it involves something related to time travelling, so the similarities could be pointing towards that rather than imply that Fundy is directly affecting the Inbetween all together.

Secondly, the book stops at Page 34. The website angelnumbers.org express the following:

"Most likely you are leaving your projects unfinished because of fear for their destiny after you finish them.

Will they be rejected or accepted by others?

Because you would rather not find out that and possibly have your ego hurt, you consciously or subconsciously sabotage your work and leave things unfinished.

When this number starts appearing in your life frequently, it is a reminder to acknowledge you have a problem and start dealing with it.”

This is very reminiscent of the paragraph I made earlier discussing Fundy’s relationship with Ranboo and Niki- and this could honestly apply to any other relationships Fundy has as well. Besides Fundy’s relationships, this explanation could apply to Fundy’s hesitance of finding out the truth of his mind. Earlier on in the streams, Fundy is immensely confused about the dream, not wanting to discover its truths at all. This eventually changes on the third day, but we’ll discuss that in a bit.

Another thing I’d like to discuss would be the identity of the book authors and why they wrote the books the way they did. I’ll explain about this more in-depth later, but I do believe that another Fundy is, indeed, writing these books. As this was set in Fundy’s mind, it’s quite impossible for anyone who isn’t Fundy to be meddling with the books. What we can denote, though, is the reason as to why these books were created in the first place. The book itself seems to be harmless at first, quite inviting towards Fundy in the first few pages, but once it had to introduce what this world is, it seemed to hesitate. There were a couple of disjointed pages, as well as blank pages, before it began claiming the world wasn’t real, and that Fundy wasn’t real. It turned a complete 180, which seemed to be very odd to me. In past events of the Dream SMP, derealizing statements like this tend to be tricks of the mind, but these statements seem to be intentionally put there by those who wrote the book, especially since later on, we see another book completely give up on saying these triggering statements, saying that “It’s not going to work.” (32:05).

What this implies is that whoever placed these statements are attempting to scare Fundy in some way, possibly heightening his insecurities and terror so that he can be truly terrified of the place. The constant statements of “you are not real” may not only refer to the Other Fundy trying to make Fundy spiral downwards in derealization, but it might actually represent how neglected Fundy feels to the point of feeling invisible, to the point of feeling that he “isn’t real”. But why is this Other Fundy trying to scare Fundy, and who, specifically, is the person behind the writings, you might ask? This question will be answered later on when we go more in-depth with the other books, as the bigger picture is very much needed instead of explaining it all by the first book.

v. SECOND DAY

Fundy wakes up in his base once more, evidently confused. We don’t really know why he wakes up in his base, and why the world changes every time he wakes up, but let’s just say this is all part of his dream to make sense out of it. This time, he sounds more broken, and definitely more unhinged. He calls out for any other member in the chat, telling them that whatever they’re doing is not funny. This is the first we see of Fundy believing that the others may actually just have been pulling a prank on him. He opens his chests frantically before venturing outside once more. He claims that he doesn’t believe the book, saying that this dream sequence feels pretty real to him.

This time, Fundy puts a bigger emphasis on asking why he is alone, and why nobody seems to be here with him. Fundy seems to be more shaken up by the idea that he’s alone over the idea that he does not know anything about where he is at all. He approaches the van, and when he zooms in, he sees that Wilbur’s nametag disappeared.

Transcript of this following scene:

“I knew you were there. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no- you can’t fool me! No, I knew you were there Wil. You were there, right there! Where did you go? Are you being- he’s being funny. This is funny! This is great. Aw, this is amazing- it’s just a prank! It’s April Fools soon- that’s why! Oh, I’m just being pranked… right?”

Now, this was… sad. This is one of the other statements that could have a double meaning. Fundy insisting that Wilbur is supposed to be there could not only be him comparing this day to the previous, but it could also imply his true feelings towards Wilbur, especially since he’s disappeared for a good portion of Fundy’s life. Fundy believes Wilbur is supposed to be there for him, but the reality is that he wasn’t. Instead of facing reality, Fundy concludes that all of this was a harmless joke instead of believing that Wilbur might have possibly left him.

Fundy attempts to enter the van once more, but his attempt doesn’t work. He then follows the path on the side directing to the ominous building only for him to realize that it has gotten closer.

The building getting closer to the main base actually has a lot of symbolism behind it. The building itself stores a lot of secrets, especially when it comes to the truths about this world and the different insecurities Fundy has repressed. Those writing the books have laid out all these secrets in every single book found in this building. The fact that it’s underground is meant to represent that these secrets are meant to be hidden in the depths of Fundy’s mind, but the fact that the building is getting closer to the main base makes it feel like 1.) the stored secrets about this world that Fundy may have forgotten about might finally seep into his consciousness, making him aware of them next time he wakes up, and 2.) the insecurities Fundy repressed deep down are seeping out more and more as it reaches the main core. Once it’s there, Fundy won’t be able to reject the truth about his abandonment issues any longer.

Fundy nears the building, still quite nervous. He opens the door, and the layout of the inside seems to be slightly similar to the previous day, but there are small details here and there that are different. Instead of 10 red carpets, there are 6, and instead of 8 yellow carpets, there are 6. Additionally, the skull seems to be closer, this time directly next to the table.

While the carpets were quite subtle, I do think it symbolizes a certain decrease of something. Red symbolizes the color for passion and love, while yellow is meant to represent happiness and positivity. Earlier, we saw that Wilbur disappeared from the Carmarvan, so the decrease of rugs for each color could represent Fundy’s love and happiness decreasing.

For the skull itself, I don’t know if I’m right, but this is what I infer from it: On the first day, we saw that Wilbur was still standing next to Fundy in the Camarvan as the first skull underground was still very far away. On the second day, when Wilbur was gone, the skull got closer, standing next to the table instead of it being far away. I theorize that if the skull is closer, then a canon death has already occurred in the time period the day wants to present. The first day presents a time where Wilbur was still taking care of Fundy, so Eret’s betrayal may not have happened yet, hence why the skull merely stayed hidden at the corner. On the second day, Wilbur has actively left Fundy, similar to the period after L’Manberg’s independence when Fundy had to partake in the Pet Wars alone. During that era, the betrayal has already happened, which is why I believe the skull is much closer this time.

Continuing on, Fundy opens the book and begins reading. From this point onwards, I do want to go more in depth with each of the books, so I’ll put transcripts here and there with my thoughts added onto it after each transcript.

“Hi me!

Welcome back!

Yeahh, second time here? or third?

not entirely sure”

So, this is confirmation that this might not be the first time Fundy’s having dreams like this. A good question to ask is if the book was written a long time ago and has presented itself the same way it does right now, or if this book was written recently. I don’t think the stream gave a definitive answer, but it is something to keep in mind.

“Listen to me Fundy

and you should trust me because,

well you know why

There are two things you can do right now

Walk back to your base, jump in bed, fall asleep, and you will wake up as if nothing ever happened

Or you can keep reading…

And I will tell you what I know”

The book pauses for a bit then continues saying “You are not real” ten times, “You dont want to know the truth” fifteen times, and spams “WAKE UP” until the 38th page, a number we analyzed earlier because of the 38 baked potatoes.

For the book itself, whoever is writing the book seems to be a bit hesitant when writing. It doesn’t seem to want to explain what this place truly is to Fundy, and as much as it clarifies that they are, indeed, Fundy, they never expound on how they were able to write these books and why Fundy should trust him. Other Fundy saying “you should trust me because, well you know why” is actually quite ominous, and I can only think of two reasons as to why they would say it: 1.) Other Fundy is implying that Fundy can trust him because he is, in fact, the same person, or 2.) Other Fundy is hinting that Fundy trusts too easily as seen with the people Fundy trusted in the real world.

Additionally, the Other Fundy seems to emphasize on the fact that they WANT Fundy to go to sleep and wake up in the overworld. They phrase it so that sleeping once more is the more logical option, while they basically scare Fundy with the other option, evident by his quickened heartbeat. The Other Fundy seems to know about the intricacies of this dream and its world, but seems to be very hesitant to tell Fundy about it. The continuous threats imply that the Other Fundy doesn’t want Fundy to know the truth at all.

Basically, this Other Fundy knows something, something our Fundy doesn’t know about, and wants to emphasize that it is something horrific. He will do whatever he can do so that he can stop Fundy from knowing the truth, even if it means he has to scare Fundy.

Additionally, to me, it feels like “WAKE UP” could possibly have two meanings. If the underground structure is meant to represent things that Fundy constantly represses to the back of his mind, not only would the secrets of his dream reside there, but his own repressed insecurities may reside there as well. The way Fundy treats the truth about his dreams is actually quite similar with the way he treats his insecurities- he tends to reject its existence and pretend that everything is normal. This dream isn’t just a dream, it’s an exploration of Fundy’s mind, and telling Fundy to “WAKE UP” doesn’t just refer to not knowing the truths about the dream, but it could also refer to Fundy not knowing the truths about his own insecurities hidden deep in the depths of his mind.

vi. THIRD DAY

Fundy wakes up, breathing heavily. He paces around his room before opening the door frantically, seeing that he is still stuck in a desert. He begins to laugh, repetitively telling himself that all of this is a “joke”. He continues questioning why he’s still in this dream, and when he opens the door, he sees the ominous structure observably closer to the base. He claims that he’s actually stressing out, and Fundy goes on a tangent about this dream and reveals a bit about his insecurities:

“They’re toying with me, they’re toying with me. They’re actually- everyone is toying with me- they are ALWAYS TOYING WITH ME. Everyone is! I’m always being played with. Why? Why always me- no! Why does it always have to be me? Every single time. I don’t wanna- (sigh). I don’t wanna keep dealing with this- I just wanna- no- do I just… Do I just… Do I just go up here and listen to- wai- okay. The book said I have two options: I can wait here until it’s night time. Wait until the sun sets and I can go to sleep, and when I go to sleep and wake up, none of this is real. None of this is gonna- it’s gonna disappear. None of this is real, none of this is real, none… It’s not real, it’s not real, I am currently not real, this is no- how is this possible? How is this- wha- how did- how… None of this is real. I am not real. All I have to do is wait for midnight and just sleep, and all of this would end, right? All I have to do is… wait until night time and then… it’s all gonna be over, it’s all gonna be done.

I just gotta sleep, and then, it’s gonna disappear. And then everyone is gonna appear out of a bush and they’re gonna be ‘Surprise!’ and I’m gonna be like, ‘You guys! You’re always pranking me… you’ve always been there for me (sniffs). Every single time… except sometimes… when I needed you the most. I just go to bed… I just go to bed, and then I wake up, and none of this ever happened. And we’re gonna go back to my old life where I have fun and join parties and join groups and only see them disappear in front of my eyes as I start to get attached to them. Y-yeah, that’s- that’s- that’s the choice I’m making. Go back to that... (sigh). Just… or you know…”

LOTS to unpack here, and I’ll go one by one explaining certain aspects of this because it’s not just something that showcases Fundy’s insecurities.

Firstly, interesting how Fundy believed that the book was toying with him like how a lot of other people do. That’s what makes him afraid of the book- the feeling of being pushed around. The book is actively trying to use Fundy’s insecurities against him in order to make him more and more afraid of the truth. This is interesting because Fundy is known to be ignorant towards his actual issues (just look at his monologue), but the Other Fundy seems to be acutely aware of them. I will explain why he is aware of them later on.

Secondly, this is the most observable point, Fundy seems to be aware that he is quite frankly, alone, but tends to ignore it. He copes with his abandonment issues by treating his abandonment like a joke. He believes that every single person who’s left him did it as a prank. Even if he laughs at this idea, he is also evidently hurt by it. It hits even harder when you realize that Fundy is quite the dependent character, often sucking up to any person who gives him recognition. If Fundy depends on others to dictate his self-worth, how do you think he thinks of himself right now when he literally has nobody?

Putting emphasis on Fundy’s loneliness is going to be interesting because I do think some characters in future arcs are going to exploit that. If Quackity is going to use and manipulate Fundy the same way Sam does, then there would be no doubt that he will use Fundy’s loneliness against him. Even if it’s not Quackity who approaches Fundy first- even Bad, Sam, Dream, anyone, really, could use Fundy’s loneliness against him, which will make for an interesting plot point.

Lastly, not a lot of people spotted this, but this monologue also gives us insight as to why Fundy continued looking for the truth about his dreams instead of staying in his base and waiting for night. When talking about what to look forward to once he wakes up, he talks about how much “fun” he is going to have. Slowly, you see his denial start to dwindle as he finally admits that people leave him just as he gets attached to them. As much as Fundy wanted to wake up from this horrific dream, he realizes that, once he wakes up, he has nothing to look forward to either. That’s why he hesitates when he says “Yeah, that’s the choice I’m making,” because he realizes waking up isn’t as ideal as it seems. This is why Fundy immediately goes outside afterwards with no hesitation- Fundy has nothing left to lose, hence why he chooses to venture forth. Fundy is driven to do things because he feels like his life is purposeless anyway.

Fundy then begins to head outside quietly, zooming into the ominous building while walking right towards it. He then detours for a moment, walking towards the right of the building, and approaches a giant crater filled with obsidian and blackstone.

The explosion could symbolize two things:

Any of the L’Manberg explosions. With the obsidian and blackstone combination, my guess is that this is either the first Doomsday event (L’Manbergian War of Independence) because of L’Manberg’s walls, or the November 16th War because of Schlatt’s Podium. Why the big amount of blackstone and obsidian? Well, I’m not so sure when it comes to L’Manberg as its walls didn’t have obsidian, but for the November 16th war, I do think that the abundance of blackstone and obsidian is meant to represent how Fundy is reducing the November 16th war to Schlatt’s Podium. This can be alarming as he was the one who made Schlatt’s Podium, so reducing the war to that one building might symbolize that he blames himself for the war.

Another theory, which is the theory I subscribe to more, is that this is actually depicting an event in the future that we haven’t seen yet. Namely, the prison. If you zoom in on the explosion, the block pattern is quite reminiscent of the block pattern present in the prison.

While I’ll mostly discuss Fundy’s future predicting powers later, I do think that there’s a possibility that Fundy saw a vision of the future, unlike the past two days where he saw visions of the past. The prison might possibly be nuked in the future.

Fundy then proceeds to walk back towards the building, repetitively saying “no”. He claims he needs to find out, sounding more determined than before. For this, even if the explosion could represent many things, I do think Fundy is generally reminded of the explosions he had to witness throughout the history of the Dream SMP. Perhaps he believes that finding out the truth could prevent more explosions from occurring, perhaps he figured out that this was the prison and he needed to know why it exploded, perhaps him walking away from something that’s reminiscent of real life represents his choice of wanting to learn more about his dreams rather than sticking to anything similar to real life.

Moving on, Fundy enters the building, saying he wants to know what’s going on. The underground room seems to have changed a bit, as the chiseled quartz floors changed into quartz bricks. The place also seems to be littered with end stone blocks and bricks. The place is much darker as well, and the carpets on the floor and table seem to be gone entirely. Two skulls can be observed near the table.

My brain actually can’t reason as to why the end blocks were there, or why the quartz blocks changed. My guess is that the end stones will eventually connect to a future plot point relating to the End, but again, I’m not sure. The carpets being gone could represent that the love and happiness (red and yellow) that Fundy had disappeared completely. The dishevelled state of the room could represent that the secrets being held inside this underground room are finally breaking free as its confines tear down more and more.

Now the skulls- if we go by the theory I presented earlier, then the skulls are meant to represent canon deaths. If the skull was tucked into the corner, then that means death is to come, but if it’s near the table, then I believe the canon death already occurred. If two skulls are next to the table, then it could imply that whatever time period the day is set in should be around the time Fundy loses a second canon death, which hasn’t occurred yet. Again, this is all speculation, so I might be overthinking, but if the explosion is meant to represent the prison getting nuked, then there’s a possibility Fundy would lose a canon life before the prison gets destroyed.

Now, onto the juicy bit: the book. The book reads as follows:

“Hi. again.

...Why are we so persistent

...Why are we so stubborn

...You have been here before, but you keep coming back

...Why?

WHY???

You dont want to know the truth

It will hurt you

I dont want to be hurt again

YOU dont want to be hurt again

I KNOW WHAT YOU WANT

PLEASE JUST LEAVE

GO TO BED

FALL ASLEEP

ENJOY YOUR LIFE

ENJOY THE FUN THINGS

THE TRUTH ISNT WHAT YOU WANT

PLEASE

STOP THIS

STOP!!!”

The book tries scaring Fundy by spamming “WAKE UP” across multiple pages.

“It’s not going to work, huh..

Listen to me Fundy…

Your mind is not safe…

You are not imagining this…

This place might not be real…

But he is.

Spare yourself.

I need you to listen carefully.

Do not join him.

Whatever he asks of you.

Do NOT join him.

his plans aren’t as nice as they sound.

his intentions aren’t what you think they are.

he will use you

he will destroy you

everything you ever loved

everyone you ever cared about

do not join him.”

Before I explain this book, I think it’s best to also note down what was said in the next book as well so I can better explain what’s going on.

“note to self

hello

I just wrote this book to remember who I am

To remember what is happening

All the books I just found are indeed written by me

Listen to yourself

You suffer from a very odd illness

You suffer from a form of insomnia, within your own dreams.

Now the effects of this aren’t really known, and even I don’t fully know what is going on.

but let me tell you

somehow, this world, these actions and events, are linked to reality.

things that happen in these so-called “dreams”, tend to leak into the real world

they will actually happen.

you might wonder how exactly this is a bad thing.

the ability to predict certain events from happening, sounds pretty cool.”

Fundy then stops reading the book, seemingly overwhelmed by the influx of information. Analysis time, boys, time to unpack what this all means.

Firstly, I believe that this dream has happened before. Multiple times, actually. If certain “events” in the dream are meant to predict the future, then the moments involving the Camarvan on the first two days could imply that Fundy has seen this place before during the L’Manberg era where he could’ve predicted Eret’s betrayal and the loss of his father. If we think about it, the books could honestly be given to Fundy at any time period and it would work. Look at the entire section of the book describing someone who Fundy can’t trust- this “him” person could honestly be… anyone who abandoned Fundy? If the book hints at someone who might possibly hurt and use Fundy, then Eret, Wilbur, Schlatt, and Dream could also be considered. These people were nice to Fundy at first before betraying him one way or another. There is a possibility that this dream has warned Fundy about these people in the past, only for Fundy to forget about the dream. What about this time though, who is this “him” that’s going to betray Fundy during this time period? Well, the easy answer would be Quackity, but Bad could be a possibility as well. With the hint towards Quackity at the end, I do believe that Quackity would be the main suspect, but it’s also good to keep an open mind as we don’t know much of who Fundy’s involved with in Season 3.

Now, why would Fundy be able to forget about the dreams, though? I do think that whoever is responsible for writing the books are doing their best to prevent Fundy from uncovering the truth. Who do I think are the book authors? Well, I don’t think they were lying when they said that they were Fundy. I believe that, just like the Dream voice in Ranboo’s head, the Fundy that writes books would be some sort of conscience or subconscious in Fundy’s mind. This part of the mind holds certain memories repressed by Fundy, as well as some of the insecurities he chooses to ignore. They are aware of all of Fundy’s past visits of this dream, and they know the dangers of it, which is why they want Fundy to not uncover the truth.

The signed book claims that whatever Fundy sees in the dream will seep out into reality. Knowing this, I believe Fundy’s subconscious is trying to prevent Fundy from seeking out the truth to prevent these future visions from happening in real life; this especially applies to events that involve Fundy possibly being hurt. There is a possibility that this Fundy has seen past Fundy’s discover events like the Camarvan and the loss of Wilbur occur in dreams way past before it occurred in real life, so they feel afraid that our Fundy would uncover more and more truths that would become reality. While we don’t know if Other Fundy’s beliefs on future predicting is true, this gives us a better understanding of why they want Fundy to go to bed and wake up. (Additionally, the Other Fundy has placed emphasis on saying that the truth may hurt Fundy, so there is a possibility that these future events might involve something that heightens Fundy’s insecurities more. That’s why this Fundy seems to be so aware of Fundy’s insecurities- they have witnessed Fundy’s insecurities being used against him in certain visions.)

For the memory thing, so far, I believe a part of Fundy’s mind is actively suppressing all the memories Fundy has of his dreams. Fundy already represses a lot of his insecurities, so using Fundy’s insecurities against him might actually enable them to keep Fundy’s memories about the dream locked in the corners of his mind. The place where the book is kept in is underground, after all, but we do have to keep in mind that the building is getting closer and closer to Fundy’s main base. This could symbolize that Fundy will remember his dreams more once he wakes up.

So basically, so far, Fundy has dreamt this dream multiple times in the past, and during each dream, he witnesses an event in the future that could possibly happen in real life. Fundy’s subconscious, or possibly past versions of Fundy, are trying to warn future Fundy’s to not uncover too many truths about the dream as they believe this could possibly manifest terrible events to happen in real life. To get Fundy to go back to bed, they try scaring Fundy, using his insecurities against him, only this time, Fundy is a bit more disobedient because, again, he feels like he has nothing left to lose.

Another theory I have which I’m not 100% sure about is that this Other Fundy, as much as it has good intentions, may have committed a mistake when they tried to get Fundy to bed by using his insecurities. If anything in the dream may happen in real life, them heightening Fundy’s insecurities might pass over to the real world as well. While scaring Fundy could prevent him from uncovering the truth, it might’ve also been a double-edged sword as Fundy is more aware of his insecurities more than ever.

Continuing on, Fundy decided to leave the building, seeing that it’s night time. He sounds relieved knowing that he can sleep and that he can wake up from this dream. He celebrates for a moment, throwing the book away, but then he hesitates, saying he wants to know the truth. He picks the book up again but doesn’t read it immediately, claiming that he could just sleep instead of knowing the truth.

Fundy seems to revel in the idea of waking up for a bit until he mentions how much of a “blast” he can have with everyone once he wakes up. After mentioning this, he immediately picks up the book with no hesitation. This is the second time Fundy is shown to be motivated in finding the truth about his dreams because of him realizing how unfun the real world is. Again, Fundy is seen to be motivated by the fact that he has nothing left to lose, and as much as he is scared of this dream, he seems to prefer finding this world’s truth over going back into the real world where he’s practically alone.

Moving on, the book continues:

“however…

while this might be the case of dreams…

this is also the case for nightmares…

this is your last warning Fundy

please… for the both of us…

just wake up”

This part of the book simply affirms all I’ve theorized about earlier. The Other Fundy hints that some events that Fundy might witness in his dream would be detrimental to Fundy, which is why he doesn’t want Fundy to continue exploring. He knows that Fundy will possibly manifest an event that will ruin him in real life, so he wants Fundy to sleep instead of accidentally manifesting his demise.

vii. FOURTH DAY

Fundy then wakes up once more, complaining that this dream never ends. He goes outside, seeing a black, hooded figure slowly turn around and chase him. With a quickened heartbeat, he runs up his stairs to sleep in a black bed placed on the roof. Fundy screams as we see the hooded figure approach, and the screen fades to black. A white smiley face reminiscent of the one on Quackity’s skin appears on the screen as casino slots sound effects play in the background.

Now, what do I make of this? Well, firstly, we gotta point out that his bed at the end looked EERILY similar to a gravestone. A lot of websites claim that sleeping in a gravestone or seeing a gravestone could indicate change, especially when it comes to overcoming one’s sadness or problems. In a literal sense, we can think of it as something foreshadowing a future canon death, especially if we think that the person chasing Fundy is the grim reaper.

Speaking of that person, I do have a couple of explanations as to who this person is:

The person is death themselves, the grim reaper. This is the common conclusion everyone believes in, especially when we consider this “him” person possibly hurting Fundy, and that second skull in the underground room. Quackity is the main culprit for now, especially with that smiley face in the end, but there could be other possibilities! Like, what if someone takes Fundy’s canon life before he joins Quackity, which is why the smiley face only popped up after Fundy’s dream death? Mayhaps someone affiliated with Quackity might be doing the dirty work for him, so Bad, Sam, Dream, and anyone, really, could be responsible for Fundy’s future canon death. Moreover, the fact that this death occurs affirms the beliefs of the Other Fundy. The Other Fundy merely wants Fundy to be safe from possibly manifesting his demise in real life, but Fundy’s curiosity got the best of him, and in the next sequence, he was killed, proving that the Other Fundy was right in saying that Fundy should’ve just slept.

A theory I made up which I’m not 100% sure of is that this figure is actually Fundy’s subconscious trying to get him to sleep. When Fundy was being chased, we heard a quickened heartbeat, and where was the only other time we heard that? When Fundy was reading the “WAKE UP” and “you’re not real” messages from those books. We can view this as the Other Fundy’s attempt in trying to get Fundy to actually sleep by using another scare tactic against Fundy. And well… it did work! Because Fundy was afraid of this figure, Fundy went to sleep. There is also a possibility that this occurrence is what makes Fundy forget about the dream because his subconscious got a hold of Fundy and forcibly made him forget, but I’m not 100% sure about that one yet.

Lastly, the face! That should already allude to Fundy possibly joining Quackity’s lore, and with the “38 potatoes” symbolizing business opportunities, I expect Fundy to be joining Las Nevadas as a possible employee. Quackity does, in fact, prey on people who are insecure, and can easily get them to do whatever he wants because of his words. If he can get Sam to give him the tools needed to torture Dream, Quackity might exploit Fundy’s loneliness into making him do whatever Quackity wants from him.

Another face that this could possibly connect to is the face in the Egg lair! While I’m leaning more towards Quackity because of the casino sounds, I do wanna say that the Egg and the Eggpire could possibly be connected as well, especially when the Egg could provide Fundy anything he wants. Just like how Quackity could prey on Fundy’s insecurities, the Egg preys on those who feel like they’re missing something, so as much as Fundy could be manipulated by Quackity, he could also be manipulated by the Egg. Additionally, business opportunities could apply to the Eggpire as well as they’ve contacted Purpled in the past to assassinate Puffy, so who’s to say they won’t try adding Fundy to the Eggpire?

TLDR; This entire stream showcased both Fundy’s insecurities and Fundy’s future predicting powers and how this “Other Fundy”, aka his subconscious, wants him to repress them because they believe that if Fundy uncovers the secrets of his dream more, then Fundy would accidentally manifest his demise in real life. Additionally, Fundy is very lonely, making him vulnerable of being used in the future because he is desperate to get any type of recognition from anybody. In summary, be afraid of Fundy’s future lore streams, be very afraid.

viii. ADDITIONAL NOTES

Even when I finish this, there’s a lot of questions to ask about this stream that I want you to keep in mind:

How many times has Fundy encountered this before?

How does Fundy forget all the information he got from the dreams?

How does Fundy write to himself?

Why is there so many details connected to Karl, and what does it have to do with time travelling?

Why does Fundy return to his bed every time his heartbeat quickens when reading a book?

Was the first scene part of the dream or not?

Could the underground room’s structure actually mean something?

And there’s probably more, but just saying, keep an open mind about this entire stream because there’s definitely a lot more to uncover.

I want to reiterate: I am not the Messiah, so don’t take my word as the truth and the absolute truth. I’d love to hear your thoughts about Fundy’s stream as a lot of it could be up for speculation! The entire thing is filled to the brim with symbolisms, so there could be a lot of interpretations to consider. If you enjoyed this, feel free to like and retweet because I worked my ASS off with this one.

Special thanks to the following:

Fundy and any of the Dream SMP members because that stream was INCREDIBLE. Go give them your love and support.

kingjem for always being there whenever I want to discuss any ideas I have about the Dream SMP. One of the smartest bitches I know, go follow them.

To all my betas who reviewed this document since I have a TON of grammar mistakes (thanks English): prismartist, bootsforthebootsgod, Finni_june (twt), ender-hyperfocuses-on-things, and Dngertosociety2 (twt)

And to all of you who like this post and would share it to other people! All support is appreciated. :D

#fundy #dream smp #mcyt #long post

187 notes · View notes

let-them-read-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Youth With You

Pairing: Lisa x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,113

HC Count: 31

This is a mix between headcanons and a one shot

Warnings / Misc. -- Fluff, Little Hot & Heavy, (Public) Teasing, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hey everyone! Here’s my first writing for Lisa; I’m pretty proud of it! Feel free to let me know what you think. Happy reading, I hope you enjoy!

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Becoming a new trainee was terrifying in every sense of the word. The media, the practices, the tests -- everything. 3 months into your coaching, however, things hit an all time high: you gained the opportunity to enter the competition Youth With You, as an independent trainee. Your freedom and right to expression was important to you, so it wasn’t an accident that you were going in independently. A company would only put pressure and bans on you, restricting your creativity and keeping you from being your most authentic self.

Finding out that Lisa was a mentor only made your nerves worse; at the same time, though, you’d never been more excited for something in your whole life.

Having friends in the industry proved to be an important factor as you prepped for the show. Producers and managers gave you advice, knowing exactly what each of the teachers looked for and demanded from their groups. You worked tirelessly to ready yourself for the whirlwind that was sure to come.

When you arrive at the production building, you’re in awe; the interior is ginormous, with insanely high ceilings and huge doors. Everything is coated in various colors, all of them pristine and beautiful. The labyrinth of halls that winds throughout the building before you is quite intimidating, but you take a deep breath and remind yourself of your reasons for being here. It’s far too important to chicken out now.

The staff had tipped you off to the fact that the mentors would be there today, but they neglected to tell you when. You had surely expected them to come in after everyone got settled. Alas, you were sorely mistaken; thus, you can imagine the surprise that etched into your features upon entering the main room.

Ella and Kun were invested in their papers, flipping through the stacks and whispering to each other; Jony J was turned to his right, chatting with Lisa. Your presence was announced by the rather loud thud that echoed through the room at the closing of the door.

The bright lights nearly blinded you as you turned to face them again, dread creeping into your mind.

“Hello everyone, I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The words came out cooler that you had expected, and you patted yourself on the back for remaining so calm. You’re known for managing to hide your nerves well and remain professional, but that’s no easy task with this group of talent. Especially her.

You purposefully tried to avoid looking at her, knowing you’d blush and get majorly sidetracked. You feared you wouldn’t be able to recover from that.

“I see that you’re an independent trainee,” Kun said, a smile spreading across his lips. You swallowed at the sight, knowing the questions were about to come rolling in. “Yes, that’s correct. I prefer working alone; I only have to rely on myself.” He studies you, head tilted to the side as he considers your answer, and you nearly melt under his astute gaze. “I was the same way. It’s never easy, but the mentors and I will be right beside you during your time here.” Knowing that these 4 amazing people were here to share their experiences and guide you through your troubles made the task at hand much less daunting, and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Despite the intensity of the competition, you felt at ease, knowing they genuinely want the best for you.

“Ah, look at that face! So cute,” Ella coos, grinning back. You hide your face behind your hands, embarrassed beyond belief. Everyone chuckles at the sight, and you join in. With the atmosphere officially comfortable, you allow your eyes to trail over to Lisa. To your surprise, she’s already looking at you, lip between her teeth.

“I see that you have 2 special talents listed.” Lisa starts, leaving room for you to elaborate. “Yes ma’am. While studying abroad in my youth, I learned 3 languages in addition to my native English.” The mentors look pleasantly surprised, and you continue with your other skill. “My mother is a professional chef, and we’ve always been close. She’s trained me over the years, and that’s something I’m very thankful for. During my time away from home I was fortunate enough to learn new techniques and styles from across the world.”

As you finish talking about yourself, you look to each and every one of the judges separately. You know it’s important to have a good connection with all of them, and you use this chance to do just that.

Upon locking eyes with Lisa again, your breath hitches. The light blush that rests on her cheeks, combined with the look she’s giving you, is enough to make you swoon. It’s innocent enough, the way she’s watching you; after all, she can just blame it on her role as a teacher -- she has to get a good understanding of her students. However, though, behind the innocent facade lies a much more sensual reason for her behavior. You don’t miss the way her eyes rake up your body, nor her smirk as she notices your hands mindlessly toying with the band of your shorts. You do your best to keep your attention on the others as they ask you questions about your resume, but that’s easier said than done.

Once they’ve finished with their questions, they invite you to take a seat anywhere you’d like. Despite your desire to book it next to Lisa, you don’t want to be impolite; that’s also not to say that you didn’t enjoy the company of the others -- you truly did. Clearly, though, no one can compare to Lisa.

You give them all another smile, the dimples of your cheeks on full display, and approach them one-by-one to shake their hands. They appreciate the gesture, and you’re confident that you’ve won them over that much more.

As you make your way to the seat beside Lisa, your heart beats wildly. It’s difficult, but you manage to suppress your anxiety for the time being. Letting your control slip now is definitely not an option.

In contrast to the heated look she had been giving you just moments before, Lisa now dons an adorable smile that nearly makes your heart burst. In the moment, you almost reach forward to touch her puffed out cheeks.

You sit down beside her, and she takes a minute to look you over again. It’s baffling how she can go from so wholesome and adorable to flirty in such a short period of time.

As the time ticks on and the mentors work through the list of contestants, the two of you continue to steal conversations and teasing glances.

Things are ramped up, however, when Lisa’s hand finds its way to your thigh, settling there for a bit. You attempt to push the intrusive thoughts from your mind, but they come flooding back the second she leans in to whisper something into your ear.

“You look gorgeous,” she tells you, warm breath fanning over your neck. Her slight accent only adds to the effect that her words have on you. All you can offer is a breathless thank you, thoughts completely jumbled at having the stunning woman do such things to you.

Before anyone can get suspicious, she backs off. The disappointment must’ve been evident, because she chuckles lightly and pats your knee in response. Thankfully no one had been paying you two any mind.

~~~ Practices ~~~

It wasn’t often that you came into the studio upset or exhausted, considering you knew you’d soon be cheered up once you saw Lisa, but she made sure to take care of you when those times came around. She could read you like a book, easily knowing when you’d had enough and needed a break. That’s not to say that she lowered her standards, though -- she was firm and demanding, but she checked on you often. She respected all of her students, but she couldn’t deny that she had a soft spot for you. You lived for her soft gaze and gentle touches on the days you needed them most.

Other days, though, you got a kick out of teasing her; playing dumb, purposefully missing steps, ignoring her instructions -- anything to pull a reaction from her.

↪“Eyes forward,” she would call out, voice strong, upon catching you talking to a fellow trainee when you were meant to be practicing. Her jaw would be set, eyes menacing.

↪“You keep messing up. Here,” she’d declare, demonstrating the moves directly in front of you. She knew exactly what to do to get you going, and sometimes your plans backfired a bit.

↪Those times that you’d play dumb were by far the best, both of you secretly loving the back and forth of it all. “I’m sorry, miss. I just can’t seem to get the moves right.” You’d say, appearing innocent and sweet all the while. It was hard to contain yourself when she’d approach you from behind, pressing her body against your own. “One here,” she’d inform, placing your hand on your hip; “...and one here,” she’d finish, correcting your position once again. When the music restarted, she counted next to your ear, keeping time as her warm hands held yours, guiding you through the positions.

And of course, the majority of the time, you were a great student for her. Her praise had a mighty effect on you, and there existed a mutual love for it. Being a strong dancer often worked in your favor.

~~~ Performances ~~~

Anytime you were set to perform, Lisa made sure to settle in and get ready to enjoy herself. The two of you had spent many weeks getting to know each other better, growing closer in the process. She found you captivating, and always loved to watch you on stage. The same can be said for you; seeing her dance was always the highlight of your day.

The two of you made sure to play things up, having a knack for getting the other riled up and squirming in their seat.

Watching her cool demeanor falter and ultimately crumble before you was one of your favorite things in the whole world. One of its only rivals was how she had to attempt to conceal it, knowing the cameras would be on her often.

“I-I loved it. I’m very proud of you, Y/N.”

You smirked at her stutter; no one else was capable of making her blush as much as you did

~~~ Bonus: Backstage ~~~

“You all did so well. I loved that dance break in the middle of the song.” You gushed to a group of your fellow contestants, smiling at how happy they were. Over the course of the competition you had become something of a “celebrity” yourself, noticing that the other girls would always approach you for help and get giddy when you agreed. Not to mention that the mentors were always proud of your progress and dedication to the craft. The conversation continued, and you settled into a comfortable rhythm; everyone taking a turn to share their favorite part of their performance. Seeing these girls -- your friends -- so proud of themselves was a wonderful thing. Everyone worked so hard, day in and day out, to put forth their best effort in everything that they did. Celebrating each other’s wins just felt right, despite the fact that this is a competition. It always hurt to see anyone go home, considering you spent so much time getting to know each other. These were the people who were there for you when you needed it most; all of you know how hopeless it can feel, and you wanted to protect the others from that in every way possible.

“Y/N!” The sound of someone calling your name pulls you from the conversation, and you send a quick bow and goodbye to the girls before departing.

Your eyes travel across the crowded stage, searching for the source of the noise. You spot Lisa looking at you, hand beckoning you towards her. A familiar warmth spreads across your body at the action, and you don’t even attempt to stop the smile that takes over your features.

“Yes?” You ask sweetly, approaching her. Her hands slip into yours, fingers lacing in a sweet embrace. “I want you to come to my dressing room once everyone goes back to the dorm. You impressed me tonight, but you still have some things to learn.” As that last sentence falls from her lips, your blood runs cold. Her voice had dropped lower, and you feared what she meant by that. Had you mixed up the choreography without realizing it? Surely not. The only thing you were sure of in that moment was the way she was studying you, almost intimidatingly. Her jaw was set, eyes narrowed, and you swallowed thickly upon noticing this. “Of course. I appreciate the feedback.” She smiled, seemingly pleased with your answer.

With a swipe of her thumb across your knuckles, she was gone.

A sigh left your lips, your mind racing at all of the possible things to come.

~~~ Bonus: A Private Meeting ~~~

“You wanted to see me, Lisa?” You announce upon entering the room and shutting the door behind yourself. The two of you had long ago left the formalities behind, opting instead to be on a first name basis. It was much more intimate, and you preferred things to be that way with her. Of course, occasionally you would use her official title just to get a certain reaction out of her. Slipping it into conversation when around the other instructors always worked to get her attention and catch her off guard. It was easy to see that she enjoyed it, the innocent way it rolled off your tongue.

You sit down in the chair opposite her, feeling the coolness of the leather press against your calves as you get situated.

“Good job tonight; you get better and better with every performance.” You thank her, both well aware of how much you enjoy her praise. Her expression turns more serious, and you take a deep breath. Here goes. “I don’t think it’s wise for you to be so close with some of the other contestants, though. Not all of them are interested in gaining your friendship for the right reasons.” With furrowed eyebrows and slightly pursed lips, you look at her. “What exactly do you mean?” Her expression turns unreadable, and you sink into your seat a little more. “Some of them may want to get into your head to throw you off your game. Despite what you want to believe, Y/N, this is still a contest.” You sigh, now a bit upset that she’s treating you like a child. “I’m aware of that, Lisa, but I can take care care of myself.” At the change in tone, the air around you shifts into something more tense. “Are you sure? Because you seem to be pretty oblivious to their actions.” She bites back, shifting her seat to get a better look at you, and crosses her arms.

When you don’t respond, she takes this as her cue to continue. “Don’t play dumb, Y/N. I see the way they look at you, so entranced. They know that acting helpless will get your attention. It’s just to distract you!” She says, exasperated, jaw set and eyes cut, just like earlier.

“Are you jealous?” You ask, a contrasting tone of accusal and uncertainty in your voice. No turning back now.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Jealous? Of what?” Her eyes setting on you again, a cocky expression on her face.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you start, toying with her; you know exactly what to say. “Maybe at the fact that they get to be so close to me all the time, like you want to be. Or maybe that we sleep together, especially when it gets cold in the dorms.”

It’s her turn to be speechless. “I’m more observant that you act, miss.” She gulps, and you bite back a smirk. “I see how you look at me; your desire is obvious. We’ve both known it for a long time now… Why don’t you just admit it?” The teasing tone in your voice is thick, and it’s clearly getting to her. Who knew you could make her feel like this with just your words?

“Y/N…” Lisa says your name almost as a warning, knowing that you’re on the edge of crossing the line. She failed to deny your claims; after all, it would do no good. She can’t disguise her feelings for you.

A surge of confidence washes over you, and you take that as a sign to scoot closer to her. Soon, you’re mere inches away from her, your body pressed against the side of the seat as you rest your chin in the palm of your hand. Her tongue darts out of her mouth, soothing her lips.

You take her in for a moment, enjoying the sight. Her long dark hair tumbles past her shoulders in loose waves, and a blush takes residence upon her cheeks. Having her like this was something you only dreamed of in the past; seeing her so aroused because of you truly made you think back on how far the two of you have come.

To put an end to the silence, you loop two fingers underneath her chin, successfully coaxing her into meeting your gaze. Your eyes fall to her lips as you ask, “Am I wrong?” Before you can continue, her resolve fades. She leans forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. Any ounce of doubt that you had before melts away as she pulls you closer.

With inhibition and processing skills long gone, you slip from your chair and into hers, settling in her lap. One of her arms wraps around your waist to hold you steady, while her other hand tangles itself into your hair. A swift bite to your lip, paired with a flex of her warm thigh beneath you, sends a jolt through your body and earns her a low groan. She shudders against you, and that simple act works wonders in boosting your confidence.

All too quickly, a sudden noise from just outside the door startles you; reluctantly, Lisa pulls away. You nearly gasp at how dark her eyes have gotten in the heat of the moment. “I’m going to go see what that was,” she informs, gently setting you down in her seat as she stands up. Before turning to walk away, however, she plants another kiss on your lips. “Don’t even think about moving. I’m not done with you yet.”

#AHHHHHH #lisa x reader #lalisa manoban #lalisa #blackpink #blackpink x reader #blackpink oneshot #lisa oneshot #lisa imagine #lisa x fem reader #let-them-read-fics #youth with you #mentor lisa

271 notes · View notes

nincompoopydoo · 4 years ago

Text

PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— PALM TO PALM IS HOLY PALMER’S KISS ; PART 3 / ?

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 1846

SUMMARY: You’re back to teaching at Gotham High and you end up overlooking rehearsals for the GHS drama club’s upcoming annual play: Romeo and Juliet that no one ever attends. In the spirit of keeping your students’ hopes up, you decide to take it upon yourself to draft out a plan to drive more people to come to the play. The key is the man you’re in love with.

WARNINGS: Vague description of a nightmare, death and an annoying teenager.

A/N: This is really going slowly like a true slow burn. I hope yall like this one. Enjoy!

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

In the light of your unemployment as a teacher, Gotham High miraculously offered your old job back after Mrs Wilson, one of the senior English Literature teachers, died of a heart attack unannounced. In all seriousness, apologies were made, admitting they had a mistake with firing you because well, you were clearly a passionate teacher. To your surprise, you were told your students even missed you. Hence, you accepted a job from GHS once again because you would do anything to avoid the smell of burgers and the sounds of hungry crying children. After the whole burglary incident, the Big Belly Burger at midtown was forever doomed as customers gradually decreased over time. It was Gotham after all, people should be used to these kinds of things by now. Including witnessing Batman saving you, the whole experience felt like a fever dream. As excited you were and weirdly unbothered by the whole near-death experience, you realized that if you were to talk about it, no one would genuinely believe you anyway. He was a myth to most citizens of Gotham, but you’re an exception because you’re well acquainted with the knowledge that Bruce definitely knows Batman.

And oh boy, do they talk.

It’s your secret to keep and so is the Batarang you stole. You’re also dying to tell Bruce.

So, you find yourself back in the hallways, crowded with sweaty teenagers, but you would choose this over anything else in a heartbeat. Apart from returning to teaching uninterested students about the works of Shakespeare and Harper Lee and forcing reading lists onto them, you are also replacing Mrs Wilson as the GHS Drama Club’s advisor. Stage performance may be personally foreign to you but plays were practically your forte. That was how you ended up spending your Tuesday afternoons, preparing the members for the club’s annual play. This time, they decided to perform the classic: Romeo and Juliet.

As an English teacher, you were frankly sick of the play, forbidden love was a tad overrated to you. Yet the kids were genuinely trying their best. Shaniqua and Oscar were currently rehearsing their lines as the two infamous star-crossed lovers; You watched them with pride. The two were quiet in your classes but they truly shone on the stage of the school theatre.

“And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss—teach, what does this whole scene even mean?” Shaniqua exclaims and you chuckle, “This scene is simply a metaphor where Romeo is a pilgrim wanting to erase his sins and Juliet is a saint. So, he is basically trying to convince her to kiss him so that he can truly be free of sin,” your explanation echoes through the room, and you notice Oscar turning red when you mention the word ‘kiss’. It was clear as day that the poor boy really liked the girl he’s currently hand in hand with but you don’t want him to feel nervous and uncomfortable about the thought of kissing her. “Now Oscar, you can kiss her on the cheek and that’s fine. Shaniqua, say it with more emotion, okay? Everyone got it?” The response you received was a sputter of hums and nods. Before you could continue, Josh, who plays Lord Capulet and is sitting lazily on the handmade throne, speaks up much to your dismay, “Why is it so important that we put so much effort into this. It’s not like anyone is going to come.” The kids around him began agreeing with his statement, and it was honestly completely expected of him but it was the truth. No one attends the drama club’s annual play. As you're trying to calm everyone down, your phone buzzes on the table in front of you. It’s a text from Bruce, asking if you could come over tonight, phrasing it like he’s a schoolboy sneaking from his parents to meet with a girl late at night. Then, like an epiphany you have an idea although there’s an eighty percent chance it wouldn’t go through. Nevertheless, you turn to the rest of the students with a hint of a smile on your lips. “I might have just the idea to solve that.”

A brief span seemed like an eternity when sleep doesn’t come easy to you. Tonight was a different case; thoughts were completely clear and concise. In much need of sleep, you steal the chance to savour in this clarity and serenity for as long as you could. To feel his warmth, arm gently resting on your abdomen and the occasional whiff of his deodorant from his ebony shirt you’re dressed in. If this was what bliss feels like, you never want it to go away. Your eyes grow heavy, flickering into darkness due to exhaustion from a long day of rehearsals. At once, you’re struck with the reminder of the idea you had this afternoon. It is more of a favour, involving none other than Bruce. There’s a tinge of guilt whenever favours are involved because you never liked asking for help. You were furiously independent and responsible, relying on others was out of the question. Yet, Bruce has always seemed to find a way to weave himself in your mistakes and problems, constantly there to help out. You have to remind yourself this isn’t about you. It’s for the kids. Special guest, Bruce Wayne, playboy and billionaire. Sounds awesome.

As your consciousness begins ebbing away, you feel Bruce shift from beside you, grasp tightening upon your waist. Before your dazed mind could even fully process that he was in the midst of a nightmare, his eyes are wide open, heart-pounding and it seizes him up instantly. With deep breaths, he closed his eyes once more, unable to shake the feeling of dread that rattles in him. Then, a sudden cold touch to his arm—he jumps and snaps his head to look over his shoulder.

It’s you, still laid in bed with a prominent frown upon your brows. Your hand squeezes his forearm and all he feels is instant relief. His heart still pounds, not in fear but with affection. “Are you okay?” you drawled as you watch his lingering hand, fingers weaved between the strands of hair. The silver ones glint under the low light, contrasting the deep brown ones. You notice how his hair had grown along with his five o’clock shadow becomes more evident by the days. His face away from you, finally nodding in response to your question. “Yeah, just... a bad dream. His voice is subdued as he shifts under the sheets, head leaning against the headboard. Despite your weakened state, you bring yourself to sit up, twisting your body to face him properly. "You wanna talk about it?” you say, patting his shoulder lightly in a comforting manner. You watch him rub his eyes, exhale tightly and shake his head. “No. Anything but that.”

His response comes out almost harsh but Bruce doesn’t mean for it to be perceived in that way. His dream was the usual, the normal ones he’s used to by now but in times of stress overwork, they have started to become more intense and violent. This time it involved you, for the first time, and he watched you vividly get shot in the forehead—trails of his memory as Batman when he encountered you at the burger restaurant with the muzzle of a gun inches away from you. It haunts him to think that if the circumstances were different if you hadn’t texted him those dreaded four words, you might be dead.

He certainly is not telling you about the dream. Never in a million years.

Bruce turns to you and you’re still staring at him, worry carved deep in your furrowed brows. Change of topic was merely necessary at this point. “So, how has school been? The kids still mean to you?” Classic Bruce, always sweeping his problems under the antique Persian rug. You don’t blame him because you wouldn’t know better.

It was your turn to sigh at the mention of school but since tonight’s pillow talk is heading towards your job as an English teacher at GHS, you might as well use the opportunity to pitch in your plan. “Still mean, but the drama club kids are really great,” You thumb the edge of the blanket, unable to hide your growing smile. “Speaking of which, the annual play is next Friday and they have been rehearsing all week but,” you paused as you watched his right brow gradually lift. “No one comes for it. Like, no one and I hate to see all their efforts just thrown out the window like that—”

“So, you want me to go for it.”

You blinked, wondering if your explanations were too obvious of its underlying intent or Bruce could just read you like an open book. You won’t be surprised if it’s the latter.

“If it’s no biggie. You don’t have to because I know you’re very busy but I don’t want the special guest to end up being the Big Belly Burger mascot.” Your smile widens and Bruce chuckles. Hell, it’s probably past midnight and you’re still able to find ways to be terribly funny. Literally terrible. After a beat of silence, he clears his throat. “I’ll clear my schedule.” It didn’t need much anticipation or thought because despite everything going on in his life, he knows he’ll do just about anything for you. You’re practically beaming at him and he finally sees it’s all worth it in the end. “Thank you, Bruce.” Your voice is sweet, and it makes his heart swell ever so slightly.

He sometimes wishes the two of you weren’t trapped in this loophole of unsaid confessions and hidden strong emotions for the other.

It almost comes naturally when he leans to you and presses a swift kiss to your forehead. Instead, it’s contradicting everything the two of you consider normal. He isn’t thinking straight and now your smile has disappeared, mouth agape and eyes very wide. Your brain stops.

Uh, what the hell just happened?

It hits him like a punch to the gut and the growing awkward silence is deafening. Yet, he doesn’t apologise because if he does, it doesn’t mean anything when in reality, it means so much more than just an accidental gesture. You don’t mention anything because you don’t objectify his actions. Kissing Bruce was fine when there are no strings attached but a peck to the forehead is way too affectionate for the man.

Before the both of you begin to overthink the events of a few moments ago, Bruce’s rational conscience kicks in and he clears his throat. “Get some sleep. You had a long day today.” He pats you on the shoulder awkwardly and you hum, shifting your head to lay back on the pillow. “Yesterday.” you correct him as it’s well past midnight. He chuckles, now laying flat on his back as he stares at the ceiling. Silently, the two of you agree to forget whatever happened a minute ago and to just...sleep it off.

TAGLIST:

@raineeace

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #bruce wayne imagine #batman #batman x reader #batman imagine #justice league #pining bagels repeat

83 notes · View notes

gyllenhaalstories · 4 years ago

Photo

ADORE YOU.

summary: tom and you surprise jake for his birthday, that’s it, that’s the tweet.

warnings: food, curse words, smut, threesome, oral, mutual masturbation, mild orgasm denial, DP, m/m interactions, jake having the time of his life (if you squint really hard you can see a bit of sub!jake) <3.

word count: 1365

notes: that is not quite the owen gray x small hands x girl threesome that was requested, i’m sorry! “dude. adore you. best mate” is all i have left to say. i hope you guys enjoy it! happy birthday to the king of chaos himself! <3

"In my defense, it was already the next day in London.” Tom lifted his hands up in innocence, after the topic of his Instagram post was brought up.

“Dude, you posted this in the middle of buttfuck nowhere in Atlanta.” You responded and rolled your eyes playfully.

Tom took a bite of the storebought cake he purchased on the way to the familiar condo. He poked his tongue out, hoping that was good enough of a comeback.

Hearing Jake laugh in person was way better than on your countless FaceTime and phone calls. Recently, your lives had been so hectic that you spent the last few months apart. Jake was in California, Tom in Atlanta and you were working the rest of the year away.

Tom and you had already thought of planning something special for Jake’s birthday, but when an opening appeared in your respective schedules, you took the opportunity. And it brought the two of you to Jake’s house, catching up and singing happrt birthday each five minutes.

“We’re gonna need to go to the gym tomorrow to burn all of that sugar. We could eat it straight up from the bag, while we’re at it.” For someone who complained about the quality of the vanilla cake, he was still responsible for the disappearance of three quarters of it.

“So you can leave me sore for a whole week? No thank you.”

The older man licked some frosting off his lips. “I know a much better way to achieve that.”

His words were barely audible, lost underneath the melody of some independant band blasting from the record player and the fast beating of Tom’s heart. You heard it, though, loud and clear.

“Thanks for being here. I really appreciate that.” Jake stretched his arms out, squeezing both yours and Tom’s hands.

“We missed you.”

*~*~*

You found yourselves struggling to make your way to Jake’s master bedroom, like it kept getting further and further away. Your bodies bumped on everything in the hallways, slammed against the words as the three of you exchanges rough and sloppy kisses.

“Missed your lips.”

“Missed your hands.

“Missed your body.”

One moment your hand was sliding underneath Tom’s shirt, tickling his skin and teasing his nipple. On the next, you were stroking Jake over his pants. And then, it was Jake grabbing your hand roughly to try and throw you on the bed.

"Jake, stop.” He frowned and looked at Tom, then at you. He was confused, he thought he had done something wrong.

“Tonight is about you.” You whispered as his ear, sucking gently on his lobe while Tom did the same on the other side.

It sent an electric wave through his body as you both took his clothes off at an awfully slow pace. You trailed kisses down from his collarbone to his abs, and to his V line while Tom did the same, like it was a choreography.

Tom dropped on the floor, tugging on Jake’s pants and bringing them along. You helped him with the boxers, freeing his hard cock from the clothing.

Like magnets, you pressed wet kisses along one side of the shaft and Tom did the same to the other side. You were looking up to Jake who barely managed to stand still. It was too much to ask, the view was too obscene.

Jake set a hand on your head, the other one on Tom’s and helped you lick him from the tip to the base.

Tom was working on the swollen tip, smearing the precum all over it while you massaged Jake’s balls. You let Tom take him in his mouth first, loving the sight of Jake throwing his head back at the feeling.

You took over, relaxing your jaw so you could take as much of Jake’s cock as you could. Your tongue poked out, caressing the remaining length.

“I’m gonna fall to the fucking floor if you keep going.” Jake warned you, he made it sound like he was just kidding, but it was true. His legs were shaking from the pleasure of your warm and expert mouths working him.

“Poor little baby, all he has to do is stay up on his feet but that’s too difficult.” You mocked and faked to pout at him. It earned you an icy glance from the older man.

“Lay down.” Tom instructed and Jake obeyed, his eyes glued on the two of you as you removed each other’s clothes and discarded them in a pile. You two exchanged a few kisses and giggles, whispering in his ear what you wanted to do.

So, you took position and climbed on the comfortable bed. You straddled Jake’s face and Tom kneeled between his open legs.

Jake immediately started to lick over your wet folds, noticing just how much this was turning you on. His tongue swiped over your clit and pulled a moan out of you while Tom was fisting Jake’s cock, stroking lazily his own hard-on.

Tom nodded, telling you to lower yourself as he moved closer to you. You switched between sucking Jake to sucking Tom, your hands were holding Jake’s muscular thighs so roughly that your nails were digging in your skin. It felt amazing, to adjust to their sizes while Jake was devouring your pussy.

You looked up to Tom who, once again, nodded his head. He gave you permission to cum all over Jake’s mouth, and that alone made his cock throb in your mouth.

“So fuckin’ close.” He mumbled against your cunt, now teasing your entrance with his tongue.

You stopped your movement and moved away from Jake. Tom and you watched the older man’s his veiny shaft until it stopped bopping from the frustration of being denied an orgasm.

"Stretch her out.” Tom instructed again and you lowered yourself, just far enough so Jake could finger you easily.

His fingers slid inside of your wet walls easily, and he stretched you open until you could take three digits. He was so focused on you that he could control himself as Tom and you started to suck him again.

When you started to roll your eyes inwards, that was when Tom knew it was the right time.

Confusing creeped its way on Jake’s face again as you flipped to the other side, hovering his cock. Tom was still kneeling behind you, pushing his cock inside of your stretched hole.

Jake pushed loose hair off your face and gasped loudly when he felt you sinking down on him. “Jesus Christ.” He laughed as he sat up, crashing his lips against yours.

You set up your own pace at first, but Tom took over. He was the one moving inside of you, very slowly. He wanted make sure you adjusted to the two thick shafts inside of you. When you seemed more comfortable, it was Jake’s turn to thrust his hips.

Everything about this moment was insane. The feeling of Tom’s and Jake’s dicks inside of you making you feel so full you could cum from this alone, the noises the three of you made like this was some lewd harmony and the dark blue eyes of Jake who gave it away.

“Happy...” You moved against Tom’s and Jake’s, bringing yourself closer to your release. “Birthday!” You screamed out when they both shot their load inside of your cunt. You tipped over the edge at the same time, your body shivering and slightly convulsing against Jake’s.

He held you closely while Tom collapsed on top of you. You felt safe in this euphoria, but you could not help but laugh. They pulled out of you and Tom did not mis a second of the show, watching the white liquid drip out of your clenching hole.

The wait was worth it.

Tom rolled off you, falling to Jake’s left side. And you did the same, but on the right. Jake’s arms immediately opened to let the two of you cuddle on his chest. The bed was a mess of drops of sweat and semen, your legs all intertwined and the sound of your heavy breathing melted into one.

Jake broke the silence. “I adore you.”

#jake gyllenhaal smut #jake gyllenhaal imagine #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine

181 notes · View notes

taurustony · 4 years ago

Text

The True Mighty Bison - Season V edition.

Some weeks ago, I had a very productive discussion on twitter with Steven Mane about the subject of this essay, and he brought up very good points, an alternative theory (not as out there as mine) and reminded me I haven't actually added the ACTUAL Seth info from his story and Arcade endings to this text. Now that even Rose is on the game (although she didn't bring new info on this front), Let's update this very wild theory about our favorite psycho powered dictator. For the day you discovered the truth about M. Bison was the most important of your Street Fighter fan life. But for them, it was only Tuesday. HEAVY SPOILERS FOR SETH'S SFV STORY MODE AND ENDING. and in a lesser intensity, Rose's. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is M. Bison. Bison is one first class A-hole who runs the biggest crime syndicate on the world (Shadaloo), wants to spark global destruction if not given global domination and has a tendency to kidnap 16 year old girls. Bison also wields something called Psycho Power. Through profane rituals (more of this in a bit), He is the biggest source/receptacle of it. this power is also destroying his body, which leads to the only thing he likes more than kidnapping 16 year old girls: Body Swapping. The body in the picture is not his original body, not even his first, but is the... model we are most used to see him using. This is how you would imagine him if one mentioned M. Bison. In SFV he finally got grey/white hair, but originally this body had black hair.

however...

These are Ed and Falke. They are CLONED Bodies of Bison, They are both spare bodies for M. Bison, created in a attempt to build a body strong enough to hold his power. They are both of the most recent attempt, the newer models so to speak. As far as we know, they are all biological (a point that will come up later) and since CAPCOM use the word CLONES, they share the same DNA as Bison. Physically speaking, they are around their late teens, although being much younger actually (both suffered from accelerated aging). They escaped Shadaloo due to the fact that an older model ended up destroying the base where they were being held. speaking of the Devil....

These are Seth and Abel. Also, spare bodies of Bison. But (un)fortunately, they developed a conscience and independence. While Abel ran away and joined the french army, Seth created a splinter cell from Shadaloo called S.I.N. and planned a hostile takeover of the syndicate. One interesting fact is that both Seth and Abel are the SAME MODEL of bodies, but Seth installed the upgrade of the Tanden Engine on his body. So Seth was once like Abel and if given enough time and the proper modifications, Abel could become like Seth. One recent release on Street Fighter V revealed the Seth was always more machine than man. If that is plainly due the Tanden Engine modification and what this means to Abel, its still unknown. both (Abel more than Seth) still have Bison’s DNA on them. Also, Bison considers this batch of clones a FAILED experiment Seth was the final Boss of Street Fighter IV, and Abel was the protagonist of that series. but, the older models are the more interesting ones.

These are Cammy and Decapre. Both are the oldest clone models player knew until recently. They are also fully biological and the first successful vessels for Psycho Power. Decapre is actually a “ Cammy Alpha“, a first attempt to create Cammy herself. Being fully biological, they ALSO carry Bison’s DNA. While Cammy became independent and joined the British Army, Decapre stayed brainwashed and a weapon for Shadaloo until recently (SFIV). Both Decapre and Cammy were part of a shadaloo project call “The Dolls project“: Most of the Dolls were the kidnapped teenage girls mentioned before, who were also test beds for Bison’s mind control via psycho power. There were 12 Dolls (Decapre and other 11), with Cammy being a 13th, codenamed Killer Bee. As of now, you probably noticed: 3 males, 3 females. We might be onto something here. But remember that profane ritual I mentioned? One of the results was this lady here...

This is Rose. In order to get full access to Psycho Power, Bison had to EXPEL ALL THE GOOD ENERGY FROM HIS SOUL. No joking. the good half of Bison’s Soul incarnated on a young Italian GIRL who was being born that moment and who grew up to be a incredible psychic and fortune teller ,plus the most powerful user of the SOUL POWER, the opposite to Bison’s Psycho Power. so Rose is the REINCARNATION of Bison’s soul, or at least half of it. After the events of SF Alpha 3, Bison even used Rose’s body as a vessel, to hide himself from the authorities. How she was freed and what happened to her during SFII is still unknown. Street Fighter V didn't really expanded on the relationship between Rose and Bison, as much as confirmed that as of the end of A Shadow Falls (SFV general story mode), Bison's is truly gone, at least as definitive as Rose can sense. Let's also remember that, until the interference of Rose herself, Cammy/Killer Bee was considered a succesfull attempt at creating the perfect body. If Rose hadn't freed Cammy's mind, which was as close to a blank slate and receptive as possible, its highly probable that Bison would be using her body instead. Still with me? STREET FIGHTER V: ARCADE EDITION added another point on this list: SETH was released in 2020 as a playable character, part of Season IV. HOWEVER, the FORM he appeared is quite the surprise.

THIS IS SETH! YES, THAT SAME SETH!! (a name tag on SFV confirms this is number 15, the seth that was at the center of SFIV events) After having all of his bodies destroyed during SFIV, his brain was placed by Juri on an old body known as DOLL UNIT 0. The interesting thing here is that Jury is doing this in behalf of a third party, identified only as voice on phone. This voice expected a male body, while Juri didn't even noticed (or cared) that Seth or DU0's had a gender. Doll Unit 0's body accepted Seth's biological brain without a problem. Seth's mind however, is on turmoil. When integrating with the DU0' original personality, something went wrong and Seth went completely batshit crazy. He only sees Psycho Power, and mistook Ed and Falke as being Bison himself, due to their Psycho Power energy. Some lines, such as this Seth is true perfection hints on a ongoing attempt of accepting the new body. The Arcade mode ending and an extra Seth on his Critical Art during his V-trigger 1 also hints that Seth's true power lies in the INTEGRATION with this new body. ALL OF THESE, ALL OF IT, are just canon facts from the SF series lore. now for the speculation. Bison is not using the original body. And psycho power, specially the levels Bison desires, requires quite the strong one, which factors on why his current body is failing these days. why he had to abandon his original body? My only guess is that the profane ritual either destroyed it in the process or damaged it beyond repair. but at this point, Bison already had gained the power to posses other bodies. Doll Unit 0, the prototype for the perfect vessel, is female. Bison’s soul incarnated on a female body and until very recently, when his clone technology developed enough to create more radical deviations, the clones were all female. While there is several attempts of male bodies they are a late development and not only there is only one almost successful male body, it is the one that requires constant replacing AND Bison is trying to upgrade from, because it's not enough. But, the creation of a male body is stiil on the table and being attempted. Considering CAPCOM’s own words, that Seth is more machine than man, we can guess that Abel is probably just the biological basis for Seth, who is mostly the Tanden Engine and a biological brain. This is what was implemented into Doll Unit 0, who was completely female at that point, maybe even fully biological since Cammy, the earliest successful clone so far is fully biological as well. If we compare to real world cloning technology, cloning someone of the same gender is easier and more direct than altering the gender. Then there is the not-satated-but-extremely-obvious-fact that DU0 was the true first attempt at the tech that would produce Cammy, meaning, Shadaloo’s cloning tech was tested with HER. This also means that Doll Unit 0 IS EXTREMELY SIMILAR, IF NOT IDENTICAL, TO BISON'S ORIGINAL BODY. in conclusion: Bison’s original body is FEMALE and something close to this:

Thanks BbbSFXT from Deviant Art for the Mod and the picture. On the last version, I considered Mistress Bison being blonde, but thinking it through, it was more wishful thinking, trying to make them close to Cammy. Clones being a blonde is probably a side effect of DNA manipulation. Blond hair is recessive, and putting on the simplest, almost insulting way possible, it means blonde only happens if both sides of the DNA have the same code for hair. Since Bison is using the same DNA over and over, it makes sense clones would end up blonde. This also fits with DU0 being a very early prototype, with almost Bison's entire DNA intact, including the code for them hair. And now let's talk mysticism: There is the whole Yin/Yang theme surround everything Psycho Power, explicitly shown in Seth's design, but it was already there, at least as early as the Alpha/Zero series. In the balance of the Yin/Yang symbolism, Yin, the black part, can represent a “feminine principle” and also, can be a suffix/preffix meaning shadow. While Yang, the white part, can represent a “masculine principle” and also can be a suffix/preffix meaning light. these are parts in all living beings, be them male or female.

Psycho Power, the shadow, is feminine. Soul Power, the light, is masculine. There is a inversion of the symbolism here, with Bison, the male body, using the yin and Rose, the female body, using the yang. But the catch is: Rose is not a traditional reincarnation of Bison (obvious reasons) but received Bison's yang, on top of her natural one. This counts on why Rose is so powerful with Soul power. And while she doesn't seem to suffer a physical instability like Bison, as fortune teller and psychic, seem to be incredibly sensitive to strong emotions and energies around her (How the mind of G affected her on SFV being a exemple), I would argue that this extreme sensitiveness is the side effect of that extra yang energy. Let's also consider that while Bison wants MORE shadow and went way beyond what his natural body could hold, Rose stayed pretty much at her natural levels, as far as we know. So Bison's instability can be accounted as using insane levels of pure feminine energy inside a male body. Seth, the genderless one, will only find harmony in accepting his female body. Rose, the female body, is the only of them to have any kind of control and estability. This all points towards Mistress Bison, and that's the hill I'm dying on. this also ties to the idea proposed by Steven Mane: Psycho Power is closely related to the feminine and can't function properly, or at all, with men. Bison forcing that is the base reason for the physical instability. Which leads us to... ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steven Mane's alternative theory of Psycho Power

The main gist here is that there isn't really any indication that Bison's OG body is any different from the one he uses today (which is true. There isn't a single line about it on the canon sources). The initial lack of male clones is accounted simply as that we haven't seen enough male clones, and they might have existed since Killer Bee's times. In his views, everything so far points to Bison desiring a male body. However, Psycho power works better with women, or was meant to be used by women. There is another fighting game with a similar plot, Skullgirls, in which the main McGuffin for that story is a mystical artifact that only works with women, which is why most of the cast of that game is female. And after Rose's SFV ending, I wouldn't put behind CAPCOM to lift another game's plot point for their own, specially one that would fit well with the already stablished canon. However, Steven Mane's best argument for this comes from SFA3 itself, or rather, the PSP version of SFA3. But before we get to that, let's go down on the memory lane and remember the facts.

Street Fighter Alpha 3 MAX, also known as Street Fighter Zero 3 Double Upper in Japan, is so far the last version of Street Fighter Alpha 3 released and it is an exclusive of the Playstation Portable console. The Alpha/Zero Series is the main focal point when talking about Bison and Psycho Power, as it's the series where Rose first appeared and in Alpha 3, we have the only canon appearance of Cammy as Killer Bee (on the intro of her first fight against Rose) and the first playable Dolls, Juli and Juni. SFA3 MAX is also, up to the publication of this, the only game in the series to have a guest character (the jury is still out on SFV last season V character). "Wait, Tony" you ask "Don't you mean 4 guest characters?" Eagle and Maki are not guests: They were always part of the Street Fighter franchise, and are contemporary to the events of the game . Yun makes a non-canon appearance which is explained by time travel (in his own quotes), since the events of Alpha series happen way when he was nothing but a toddler. But he is still part of the franchise, so not a guest, per se.

Ingrid, however, is a conundrum wrapped inside a enigma and kept inside a locked puzzle box missing some of its pieces. That is inside a cave inside a volcano under the pacific ocean. On the mariana trenches.

Ingrid is from a failed, unreleased CAPCOM game called CAPCOM Fighting All-Stars. Her first playable appearance is the ill-received crossover game CAPCOM Fighting Jam, known in Japan as CAPCOM Fighting Evolution.

In All-Stars, she was kind of a regular fighter, with a special importance to the plot and final boss. The very little we know about the plot hints on her being something beyond human. She carried a code Isis, is nicknamed the Eternal Goddess, and is said to posses the power of longevity.

On Fighting Jam, she has to solve some issues she had with Pyron, the final boss of that game and an alien who is basically a living sun and is hinted to be what ended the dinosaurs (i swear this is Darkstalkers Canon) Her ending there is... weird.

I brought this up because it adds a tiny little bit of context to her SFA3 MAX ending.

youtube

Ingrid claims ownership of the psycho power. Notice that its the power itself, not the Psycho Drive Bison's uses. And Bison is aware of that. Roses recognizes both as users of Psycho Power, even though she doesn't recognizes Ingrid. Also note at 00:59 that the focus point of the psycho drive carries Ingrid's Seal, the same one on the cups on her head AND the one she summons on her Fighting Jam ending. Oh, and she is capable of time travel. but no mention if she was the one who brought Yun to SFA3 time, though. What this all mean? Speculation time: According to Steven Mane's theory: With Ingrid being the creator of psycho power, Psycho power works better with women. You can even explain Bison's obsession with 16 year old girls: They are the ones who closely resemble Ingrid, who he knows is the original source of that power. This also explain why Bison's desire of a male body directly conflicts with psycho power: It was never meant for such body. and why there is so much female clones: It simply the result of experiments to see what fits better. But Bison is trying to get around this: He has been experimenting on both, noticing that male bodies deteriorate way faster, confirmed that female ones fit better, but for reasons only known to himself, this was not enough. The genderless Seth, a sentient machine build to gather psycho power, was Bison's latest attempt of circumvent the body type limitation, but it still didn't work (as stated by Bison himself) This is where Steven Mane's theory ends. But from that, we can jump to other conclusions: Ingrid is a goddess and is the source of Psycho Power energy. Notice that she is not the source of soul power though, so behind her innocent face, behind those red eyes, lies something sinister and evil. (Or maybe, Soul Power is simply Psycho Power with another name? Rose might be the one hiding something...) [Small June/2021 update: After a lazy Sunday re-reading the SF30th's bios, its is clear that Soul Power is not just Psycho Power with a different name. So if you want to follow this line of thought through, you have to consider that Ingrid is EVIL, or at least deals heavily with negative energies (closer to Akuma than Bison). and it opens the possibility of a God/Goddess of Soul Power somewhere out there on the SF Universe. but that is speculation for another time.]

Ingrid is time-travelling to specific points in time to collect parts of her power. Bison was one of those who stole it. Pyron probably did it too, and in 201X, Ryu has something to do with it.

Oh, extra fact: SFIII, the last game on the timeline, happens in 1999. SFV, the game that was released on the 10's, canonically happens during 1998. So the Ryu she is supposed to meet next is YET to appear (maybe in SF6?).

And because she is a time travellng goddess, not a dimension hopping one this means a direct connection between the worlds of Darkstalkers, Street Fighter and Red Earth, the three franchises from CAPCOM Fighting Jam: Darkstalkers' Human World could be considered to be Street Fighter's Earth, and Red Earth is literally another planet on the same universe, hinting a bigger CAPCOM shared timeline then we expected. We can also speculate that Bison ultimate goal would not be just global domination but to replace Ingrid as god/goddess of psycho power. And she took Yun to 1989 just for the LuLz. Why I didn't mentioned Ingrid up there in MY theory? because of CFN Portal. The Capcom Fighters Network Portal is essentially the final word on who is canon in Street Fighter. Released together with SFV, its a well documented, weirdly organized and deep source of any street fighter or final fight character you can imagine. Those 2 guys fighting on the intro of SF2 got bios there. As well as Hakan's daughters and Elena's Family. Heck, CFN Portal is the place that finally settled Chun-li's father name as Dorai.

There is also relevant guest characters and characters who appeared in other games but that CAPCOM consider part of the franchise and canon, such as Blade from the Street Fighter: The Movie game (now part of the North American operations of Shadaloo) and... Ruby Heart from MARVEL vs CAPCOM 2 (a version of her actually, before the events of that game). Ingrid is clearly shown as a guest character and NOT part of the street fighter franchise, as she does not have the SF franchise standard background. the only ones who this happen are special guests from, such as the ones from Street Fighter EX and Street Fighter 2010. Ingrid is also described there with her bio from CAPCOM Fighting All-Stars, rather then her own story on SFA3 MAX or even CAPCOM Fighting Jam, in a way making her role on SFA3 MAX similar to Evil Ryu's: A what-if non-canon scenario of the events of the game, that has no bearing on the main plot. Evil Ryu's ending are always Ryu kills everybody and wants more blood, never really explaining anything. Evil Ryu is more important as a visual representation of the dark side of Ryu rather than a character itself'. and because of that precedent, when CAPCOM itself gave her non-canon status, it's better to err on the side of caution and not consider her direct influence and acts when speculating about the plot and lore, unless they are the only source of some kind of hinted information. And there is one very canon character who has a situation like that. Killer Bee. As I mentioned before, the ONLY time Cammy acts as Killer Bee in canon is on her SFA3 arcade/story mode: In her intro against Rose, her very first fight, She initially starts under control of Bison. Rose actually recognizes Bison's Power and frees her, even before the fight starts. The fight itself is actually framed as a violent reaction to being freed. but there is a game where we can see Killer Bee Cammy in all her brainwashed glory: X-men vs Street Fighter. Released before Alpha 3 and the first game where Cammy is shown with her Alpha design. Her quotes there shows a profound reverence to Bison AND some are mechanical in nature. Goddess Ingrid (to differentiate a bit from Code Holder Ingrid) could be one of these instances: Canonically speaking, we know very little about Bison: What are his motivations, why he desires such levels of power or anything that would elevate him from one dimensional antagonist. Sagat started as that and became one of the most developed characters of the franchise. Gill is from the straight go good intentions that will end up bad. Seth is the whole reason of this essay, so I don't need to show you anymore how he turned out a interesting character. and there is G, who is either a suicide cult leader still looking for followers, or the savior of mankind. Not to mention that most players thought as a good guy until Rose's ending. like, holy psycho powered cow... Bison is still just the dictator who wants to rule the entire world. And the only character that deals with Psycho Power in a way that is not just evil power for the evil dictator is a character that, as far as CAPCOM is concerned, is not even acknowledged as the relevant version.

#street fighter #Street Fighter V #CAPCOM #Lore #M. Bison #Ed #Falke #Seth #Abel #Cammy #Decapre #Rose #Ingrid #Body Swapping #Street Fighter Alpha #Fan Theory

59 notes · View notes

terminallydepraved · 3 years ago

Text

Beyond the Pale (JayTim Vampire au)

Yo! My contribution to the @batsandbeasts Batman zine is now up on ao3 for your reading pleasure.

Read on ao3 here.

The sharp silhouette of Drake Manor against the pale, full moon cut a suitably somber visage against the autumn sky. A pervasive wind was blowing through the trees surrounding the overgrown ground, whispering like a poorly kept secret. Jason Todd lifted the collar of his coat out of habit, shielding the vulnerable flesh of his neck from its bite. He stared at the once-grand home while he let the wind claw and tug at his clothing as if in hope of beckoning him through the battered doors.

In that regard, the wind seemed to be the most welcoming thing about the place. The windows had long been boarded up, the brick facade a patchwork of lichen and ivy so dried and desiccated that it looked black in the light of the moon. A once-impressive turret rose up to spear the bloated clouds overhead, appearing desperate in its struggle to stand straight while it slanted dangerously askew. Brittle, dead grass crunched beneath his heavy boots. No flowers grew in the planters by the wrapping porch. Only weeds that whispered alongside the breeze.

If anything had lived here, it would have been decades ago. To an observant eye, that supposition would be the end of it. Drake Manor had been abandoned for years, the place left to rot and molder alongside the family that had owned it up until tragedy took them from splendor to the sepulchre nestled just behind the building’s sprawling expanse.

“The whole family passed one by one,” echoed the memory of that old woman’s voice in the lilting chill on the wind. “It was… sudden. First the mother. Next, the father.”

“And the son?” Jason had asked as he sharpened the stake by the hearth, staring at the small woman from across the tavern floor. She had kept her distance from him, like a rabbit smelling blood in the air. Everyone had. They might not have known they had a dead man walking among them, but something within them warned them of the danger of lingering too close to a Hunter seeking fresh prey.

Wizened hands wound themselves with rosary beads. Jason’s eyes tracked them like pearls, reciting the words of her prayer silently out of a habit that hadn’t managed to die even after he had. Her eyes turned towards the rough wooden beams above their head. “We do not speak of it,” she said, talking to God more than the one that used to preach his word. “It is not the boy it once was.”

No one would say what the boy was now, but that was fine. Jason had spent the bulk of his life— both lives—exterminating things better left unsaid. His hands roved over the holsters on his hips and the belt that held his stakes. Vials of holy water—freshly consecrated earlier that evening—studded the inside of his leather jacket. His shotgun was a reassuring weight between his shoulder blades. The small blade tucked inside his right boot pressed against his calve, more soothing than rumors could ever be.

That woman had warned him to be careful; Jason had to think that the creature skulking away inside those dilapidated walls could use that warning more.

The grass crunched beneath his boots as he moved towards the front door. In the dead of night the sound seemed deafening. Still, Jason didn’t try to muffle his approach. It already knew he was coming— in fact, it likely already knew he was here. A vampire couldn’t hope to steal six villagers from their beds and remain unnoticed in its lair. Humans were fragile, weak, and easily made victims to the shadows beyond the firelight— but that was where Hunters came in, evening out the playing field.

Jason, for one, had long outgrown his fear of the dark.

Pulling his shotgun over his head, Jason held it at the ready as he made his way up creaking, splintering steps, eyes narrowed for any sign of movement. He took care to keep his finger off the trigger; any other time he would prime himself to fire first and ask questions later, but the bodies of the stolen villagers hadn’t been found yet. Slim as it was, they could still be alive. He’d been trained too well to write off the possibility entirely, so his finger stayed flattened against the stock as he kicked down the front door with a resounding bang!

The sound reverberated through the entry hall like a crack of thunder. Motes of dust rose in the air, stirring the spider webs hanging from the eaves and edges of practically every available surface. Jason resisted the urge to close his eyes as powdery flecks settled in his hair. It was quiet in the dead space, stagnant air heavy with the silence. Every step Jason took cut tracks into the layer of filth blanketing the wooden floor. If something had been in here, it hadn’t left a trail for him to follow. The dust was undisturbed as far as the eye could see.

First course of business was to locate the missing villagers. They had been gone for at least a week, some of them closer to three. Vampires that took to creating larders tended to store their human pantry staples somewhere secure, contained, and without many options for escape. A place this big... no doubt it had a basement, maybe even a few cellars. He would need to find it before he went hunting for the vampire. Once the captives were out of the picture he’d be able to fight without holding back.

Of course, that was all easier said than done. This place was enormous. Cavernous even, and Jason had spent a large part of his youth in a manor not that dissimilar from it. Maybe it was the lack of life in the place that made it seem so empty. The portraits on the walls had eyes, but their dead smiles were fixed in place, like spectral guides that escorted him through the halls. He paused outside a dark, rusted kitchen. Memories of his childhood flickered among the shadows.

A board creaked behind him. Jason swiveled smoothly, body moving independent of thought. He pointed the barrel of his gun in the direction of a set of descending stairs just visible through a nearby doorway. His heart beat a little faster. That door had been closed a moment ago, hadn’t it?

“Show yourself,” he called out. An old house like this would creak and groan naturally, but the timing was too perfect, too planned. Jason bared his teeth as he looked down the line of his gun. “I know you’re here. Stop hiding and let’s get this over with.”

Another creak, this time further down the hall. Jason shifted without thinking, but this time he caught sight of movement just as it evaded his peripherals. A cold sweat began to bead on his forehead, the tiny hairs on his body rising in the wake of instinct telling him that he was sharing breathing space with a predator. It was in the area with him; of that there was no doubt. Hiding in the shadows and among the eaves above his head… Jason fought the urge to look up, knowing through experience that keeping his eyes forward gave him the best chance of reacting quickly when it inevitably came for his throat.

Jason slowly backed into the kitchen, preferring a wider space for the fight that was soon to follow.

“I’ve never met a hunter before,” a quiet, lilting voice remarked just as the silence began to weigh on Jason like lead. Again, he moved to face the direction of it, his shotgun slicing through the air with whisper. He found himself moving yet again though when that same voice spoke again from a different direction, “Are you truly as strong as the stories say?”

“Stronger,” Jason grunted, knowing this game after playing it so many times. It would try to get close next, and he readied his finger on the trigger. “Even death didn’t stop me from killing your kind.”

The words had barely left his mouth before the vampire made its move. Jason reacted with practiced grace, giving himself to his instincts as he twisted at the waist and fired at the pale blur rushing towards him through the kitchen doorway. The gunshot went off like a thunderclap, deafening in such a dead space. A spray of lead burst through a section of the door frame, ruining an enormous family portrait mounted in the hallway behind it.

“Close,” an icy voice whispered in Jason’s ear. A pale hand wrapped around the smoking barrel. “But no cigar.”

Jason recoiled, warning bells ringing like a cacophony of the damned inside his head as the gun was snatched free from his hands. He let it go without a fight—the creature could overpower him easily, so there was no point in wrestling for it—and darted back, hand reaching for a vial of holy water and lobbing it in the direction of the figure now standing in the middle of the manor’s kitchen.

Jason’s eyes closed as the glass shattered; when he opened them again, the figure was gone, its voice still echoing around his head.

The eaves. It’d gone for the eaves again, or maybe to the tops of the large shelves and cabinets scattered around the room’s upper edges. Jason scanned the ground for his gun, spotting it towards the door he had come through.

“I know who you are, hunter,” the vampire crooned, smooth and melodic, the only warning Jason had before a pale hand descended from the dark to grab him from behind. Those lips met his ear once more as it hissed, “I know every trick in your arsenal.”

White hot anger tore through Jason, overpowering the fear throbbing in his veins. “Oh yeah?” he spat, tearing free two more vials and crushing them in his bare hands. The glass tore through his palms, but that hardly mattered. Blood and holy water both sailed over his shoulders as he cast his hands back. The vampire let out a pained shriek, and the pressure on Jason’s back abated.

The creature didn’t retreat far this time, giving him a chance to look, if only briefly, at his quarry. Even crumpled on the ground he could tell that the vampire was young and far more intelligent than the majority of the blood-starved prey he’d hunted in the past. Jason couldn’t look at him dead on for fear of being caught by that gaze, but what he glimpsed out of the corner of his eye was enough to tell him that the refined beauty spoken about in most vampire stories wasn’t a lie this time around, even with holy water burning black spots into his perfect, blood-flecked skin.

That must be the boy. The woman from the tavern hadn’t spoken his name, but Jason had done his research, had seen that face staring back at him from the portrait sporting buckshot behind him. Timothy Jackson Drake, last of his line. He had been on the cusp of adulthood when he went missing, and it was clear now that he’d stayed there for decades after.

Jason dove for his gun. Dust rose in the scramble, the vampire darting forward to cut him off. Inertia carried Jason forward as he committed to the move, his shoulder bearing the brunt of the impact as he slammed into the vampire and sent them both tumbling through the doorway and back into the hall. Sweat stung Jason’s eyes but he didn’t dare close them, not this close, not as he fought with every ounce of strength he had to pin the slighter body to the floor.

“What did you do with them?!” Jason grunted, forcing his forearm against the vampire’s throat until there was no way for Drake to bite back. “Where the fuck did you put the villagers, Drake?!”

Cold fingers wrapped around his arm, holding tight but not as tight as Jason knew he could. “You can call me Tim,” whispered the vampire through a smile. His eye teeth curved over his bottom lip, ruining whatever charm the expression might’ve held once upon a time. “Can I call you Jason?”

Jason couldn’t smother his reaction, his shock. It widened his eyes, slackened his grip. Drake— Tim— the vampire took the chance it was, pushing hard and rolling them over, pinning Jason to the floor like a butterfly to tack board.

He had to look at Tim now, and God, the stories had never been so true. Pale skin, startling blue eyes, and lips like roses, blood red and temptation incarnate. Those shy lips curled back into a revealing smile, but even that barely shattered the illusion. Jason shut his eyes as quickly as he could, scrambling for one of the stakes at his waist. He shoved upwards with every ounce of strength he had and barely, barely managed to roll them over.

His elbow clipped a door frame, warning him too late that he should have aimed better. Jason lost hold of the vampire as they both tumbled ass-over-tea-kettle down a flight of rickety steps. The stake in his hand was lost along the way. Jason felt a few more splinter by the time he reached the floor.

It wasn’t a graceful landing, and he knew without looking which of them would recover from it first. Jason hit the ground hard, his breathing rushing out of him upon impact. He forced himself to keep moving, rolling onto his knees as his hand reached for the knife he kept in his boot. The air was heavy and dank, his surroundings as black as pitch once the sound of a door slamming shut cut off the sliver of light just above his head. The dirt beneath his feet told him well enough that he had fallen into the manor’s lowest level, but without moonlight or a torch his options on finding his way back upstairs were worse than limited.

“I waited for you, you know,” came that voice again. “Did you think it was strange how loudly that village called for you? I knew you would come, Jason. I know everything about you.”

“You don’t know shit,” Jason snapped, swiping his knife into the empty air. The vampire was pitching his voice somehow, projecting the sound so it echoed all around him. Without light there was no way to tell where he actually was. A burst of paranoia had Jason twist on his heel, slicing wildly at the space behind his back. He met nothing but nothingness, and it pissed him off even more.

“Jason Peter Todd,” recited Timothy Jackson Drake, last of his line. “Street rat turned hunter. Made apprentice to the best and fell victim to the worst.”

Jesus Christ. “What the fuck do you want?” Jason snarled. He couldn’t smell any rot or blood, and this had to be the basement. Where were the villagers?

“You said it yourself; death makes things stronger.” Something cold brushed Jason’s neck. Jason tried to lift his knife but a slender hand wrapped around his wrist, squeezing like a vice until he was forced to drop it. “I waited for you,” Tim whispered, soft hair and cold breath ghosting across Jason’s cheek. “I used to watch you, before. I watched you, and then you disappeared.”

Right. Jason had died, slaughtered by that monster just to come back as one thanks to elements far beyond even his ken. The struggle had left his body, telling the logical part of his brain that Tim must be staring into his eyes right now, mesmerizing him through the darkness. He never should had let the vampire get close to him. He never should have come here alone.

“The… villagers…” Jason forced himself to ask, even as his knees gave out beneath him. “What did… Where…?”

When Tim laughed, it sounded like bells. “Back in their beds. I only needed a story to get you here. But that’s okay, isn’t it? You’re here, and you’re tired, aren’t you?” Jason felt an unnatural exhaustion begin to seep into his limbs in time with the lilting words. His eyelashes fluttered; he couldn’t seem to make his arms move. “Don’t you want to sleep now, Jason? You can sleep. I’ll watch after you.”

That voice was just a whisper. Icy fingers ran through Jason’s hair. Lips as cold as death brushed his cheek tenderly as his body settled on the floor.

“And don’t worry,” Tim breathed, those lips ghosting over his throat. “Even death didn’t stop me from wanting you.”

#jaytim #batman zine #vampires #jason todd #tim drake #fic

27 notes · View notes

teabooksandsweets · 3 years ago

Text

Postcards from Ireland

Oh dear – there it is! Celtic Woman have a new album, called Postcards from Ireland. And what can I say? It's amazing. Just absolutely gorgeous. It's fresh and familiar at once, reminiscent of the earlier albums, yet also new and modern.

This is, in part, due to the new musical director: Daragh O'Toole has a beautiful style that reminds the listener sometimes of Gavin Murphy and more often of David Downes, but is nonetheless original and independent. The songs have a wonderful balance of mostly traditional and folk, but also classical and contemporary melodies.

And the cast – oh! it's just wonderful: Tara McNeill and Megan Walsh are fabulous as always, Muirgen O'Mahony, the newest member, fits in beautifully, original member Chloë Agnew has returned, and Susan McFadden makes a guest appearance, and they feature The Long Johns.

The album's style is very intense, but not overpowering. The orchestrations are intricate, the arrangements for each song are individual, yet fit perfectly together. In many ways, it feels like a modern take on the style of the earlier albums. But let us discuss each song on its own:

The Dawning of the Day has been out as a single for several weeks now, and it has been a perfect introduction to the album, giving us an idea of what it's like, without giving away too much. In the tradition of two of the most beloved Celtic Woman intros, it is a song of dawn, but unlike them, not an original but a traditional. The melody of Fáinne Geal an Lae is lovely, and has been long awaited – and I am, personally, glad they chose to do this version instead of Raglan Road. Both songs have the same tune, yet entirely different energies. That aside, I know there are many complaints about the arrangement being too lush and heavy, and the voices too similar. I disagree on both things. Just because most versions of The Dawning of the Day are very gentle, it doesn't mean that this has to be like them. There is no rule to it, and I like the originality, and find it a perfect way to start an album. That aside, all three voices are perfectly distinguishable, especially Chloë's. The fact that O'Toole is a film composer is obvious, but I think that works well for the group. It is, all in all, simply gorgeous.

Bonny Portmore is the first solo, and it's Megan's. Out of all the songs she had sung with Celtic Woman so far, it is by far my favourite, and it is also one of my favourites on this album. The orchestration is simple and elegant, and Megan's vocals are haunting. It is a pleasure to hear how much her voice has matured, and to hear her use her more classical, warm timbre, which she had sometimes used in group numbers, but until yet not in her solos. The song is just as it should be – a fine example of a traditional, even conventional arrangement that still sounds like no other. There is no fuss, no distraction. It's beautiful.

Mise Éire has also been out as a single for quite a while now. It's one of the songs I had wondered about – it is a poem after all, and I wondered what musical setting they would use. I found the Patrick Cassidy one not fit for Celtic Woman at all, too ethereal, too New Age. But it turned out to be beautiful. The style wouldn't do for a whole album, but it's beautiful for one song, and the solemn tune and serious, political text add substance.

Wild Mountain Thyme is another song that had been expected and awaited for a long time now. And it is also a song that could have been so wrong for them. I am glad it isn't arranged as a ballad – that would be rather sweet, but also a bit dreary – but as a march, which is just perfect. Percussion, pipes, and perfect harmonies. It's a magnificent song, intense and strong, yet graceful. It is easy to see why it is already considered the stand out piece. It's gorgeous and rousing, and I am glad they did it like that. I originally thought it would be the first they'd release as a single, but now I see why they kept it back.

Beeswing is a collaboration with The Long Johns. It's one of the most contemporary sounding song on the album, and it works really well. I wouldn't call it my personal taste for Celtic Woman songs, but as with Mise Éire it's the kind of style that sounds really great for an individual song, even if it wouldn't do for a whole album. It's not as energetic as I thought it would be, but it has a nice rhythm, and balanced solo bits. I'm sure it's going to be very popular, and it keeps the balance of not being a typical Celtic Woman song, yet also not too untypical.

Down By The Salley Gardens might be the song I was most excited about. It's one of my favourite songs, and I was thrilled to find out that Celtic Woman finally did their own version. I initially thought (and hoped) it would be a solo for Megan, and was slightly disappointed when I found out it's not, but I do find Muirgen's version lovely. Megan might have sung it with a bit more ease – some notes seem a tiny bit strained – but Muirgen's sweet and warm timbre work so well with the unusual, a bit cool-sounding orchestration, that I am really glad it's hers. Like Bonny Portmore, it is a delightfully pure and unobtrusive arrangement, yet also original and unique. It's very elegant, calm, and beautiful. Of course, it's one of my favourites. (And it is nice to have such a warm, sweet voice in the group!)

Where Sheep May Safely Graze is another favourite tune that I have been very excited about. I hoped it would be a group number, because I didn't think a violin solo could be truly rousing. And yet it is a violin solo, and – oh, it's just wonderful! The orchestration is beautiful, never overpowering, but strong in itself, and Tara's genius truly shines through. Classical music might be her strongest suit (although she is, of course, always fantastic!) and she her fiddling is so colourful, so warm and lovely. It is a truly exhilarating melody, and the arrangement and performance bring out all that is lovely about it. I am generally fond of Bach, and having such a serene and cheerful piece right in the middle of a rather solemn album feels so right. It might be my personal highlight.

Angel is Chloë's solo. It's another song many fans have wanted them to cover. I didn't. I just don't think it's a good song for Celtic Woman or this particular album, but I do admit they made it work. It's fascinating to hear how much Chloë's voice has evolved over the years. In many ways, she had grown out of Celtic Woman, hadn't fit their vocal style as much as she did in the beginning, and instead went on to pursue a solo career that suited her adult voice better. Now in this album, she really kept the balance of fitting in with the harmonies, while also keeping her own distinctive sound, and on this track she can really do her own thing. The slight gospel-tone in the background also feels very right.

The Lakes of Pontchartrain is a duet between Megan and Tara. I love that the violinist is always seen as equal with the singers of Celtic Woman, and a song of one vocalist and the fiddler is considered a duet. As Megan's first solo is very heavy and sad, it's nice to have her sing such a light, folksy track. Not that it's happy – not at all – but it has a lighter sound. Tara, too, can flourish. She falls, I think, a little short on most group songs, and often seems a bit overpowered by the backing instrumentals, so I am glad that she has two solos and a duet to truly shine on. It's really a nice song.

May it Be is where Susan appears. It's such an unusual, unexpected version, done so right. I originally expected and hoped for the three-part hamony of the Celebration tour, and O'Toole did choose this arrangement, but made it a solo. And he chose Susan to sing it. For most of her time with Celtic Woman, Susan had been considered the contemporary powerhouse, the Broadway belter so-to-speak. Having her sing such an ethereal piece is a very unconventional choice – and a brilliant one. Susan's light and perhaps a bit thin, but powerful and clear voice works perfectly for it. Maybe even better than on a pop song, or at the very least just as good. May it Be had been sung by so many Celtic Woman members, but this version is so different that it still sounds new.

The Calm of the Day / The Banshee is Tara's second solo, energetic and traditional. I wouldn't call it exactly cheerful, but it's one of the less solemn songs, and one could easily imagine her playing it in a pub or at thc céilí. With her first solo being such a sweet, classical air, it's just right that her second one is more traditional and fun. It is one of the more traditional pieces on the album, and it works well. It is, in fact, interesting to see how the album manages to combine smoother almost cinematic styles with rougher sounding folk music, without sounding uneven or cluttered.

The Galway Shawl is a smoothly moving, folksy waltz. The vocals are lovely, neatly working together, and slightly reminiscent of classic folk singers. Though it has a quiet melody, the lyrics are much happier than most of the album, and the entire song is deeply romantic. It's a modern arrangement, and though that is the kind I usually don't prefer, I have to say it works truly well for this song. Though not particularly exciting, it is a very beautiful, smooth piece, and the arrangement and performance work truly well. Might be one of the hidden gems on the album.

Black is the Colour is the last song, and one day had, like May it Be, done before. Previously a solo, it is now a group song, and it works really well for that. It's a very quiet, calm, not ethereal but very airy arrangement. It's a more modern take on the song, but it takes up the style of Mise Éire and even May it Be, and through that makes it all fit together again. In some ways it feels like a bonus track, but then I guess one might consider it to be one. It is a very quiet, slow ending to an unusual, and interesting album. Very good – I wouldn't say I prefer it to the earlier version, but what's the use in doing a song again, when it doesn't sound differently? It's a good arrangement, and reminds me a bit of Méav's.

All in all, it is a very good album. I always have mixed feelings about new Celtic Woman albums, but that it's how it's supposed to, isn't it? It's always simultaneously the best and the worst they ever did, and it always feels so different from the others, and then, after getting used to it, it really shows that it's another very good, though naturally imperfect album that has its own flavour while suiting the group. It is a bit solemn, almost sad, at times, but it is about Ireland and her history, and it is also their “pandemic release”. But I think it's amazing in its variety and smoothness. The musical styles are very different and capture all styles Celtic Woman do from traditional to contemporary, from classical to film music. It reminds on of the earliest and most recent of the group's albums, and brings new and old members together. And yet, not once does it feel jumbled together or muddled up. It is a great new album for a new era of Celtic Woman music that stays true to their own tradition. I agree that one misses the harmonies at times, and also the strong voice of the fiddle, but all albums have their own weaknesses as much as they have their strenghts, and all albums are in some ways characteristic for Celtic Woman, and in other ways unusual. I think it does remind one a bit of the very first Celtic Woman album, and yet it's very new and fresh. It's good.

#celtic woman #music #album review

9 notes · View notes

swanlake1998 · 3 years ago

Link

Article: Black in Ballet: Coming Together After Trying to ‘Blend Into the Corps’

Date: August 17, 2021

By: Brian Seibert

A rare gathering of Black dancers from different companies meet to discuss a new production on Little Island, curated by Misty Copeland and Robert Garland.

Last year, in the wake of the killing of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor and the protests that followed, American ballet companies started talking a lot more about race. About the issues of diversity, equity and inclusion that organizations of all kinds were addressing, but also aesthetic assumptions, implicit biases and longstanding practices particular to ballet and its history.

“There were innumerable panel discussions,” said Robert Garland, the resident choreographer of Dance Theater of Harlem. “But I felt that for the younger Black dancers, it was a heavy burden to be responsible for all of that.”

Garland wanted to help them, and in the way that he knows best: by making a dance for them. That work, “Stare Decisis (To Stand by Things Decided),” has its debut on Wednesday (August 18, 2021) as part of “NYC Free,” a monthlong festival at Little Island, the new public park on the Hudson River.

The most significant feature of “Stare Decisis” is its eight-member cast: an extraordinarily rare gathering of Black dancers from New York City Ballet, American Ballet Theater and Dance Theater of Harlem. Misty Copeland — Ballet Theater’s first Black female principal dancer and one of the most famous ballerinas in the United States — is among them. (Little Island asked her to present a program.)

She isn’t dancing, though. Instead, she is a narrator, reciting a collection of quotations about democracy and the effort of defending the common good, drawn from the Declaration of Independence and the likes of Thurgood Marshall, John Lewis and Barbara Jordan.

“I’m at a point in my career when I feel the opportunity to pass the torch,” Copeland said after a rehearsal in a Dance Theater of Harlem studio on Sunday. “Anytime I can give a Black dancer an opportunity and bring Black dancers together, that’s what I’m trying to do.”

Recalling her own experience of being the only Black dancer during her first years with Ballet Theater, she added: “Anytime I got the chance to be around people who looked like me, I jumped at it. It’s important for us to be around each other, supporting one another.”

That’s what the cast seemed to be doing at the Sunday rehearsal — relaxing in one another’s company, trading stories. Rachel Hutsell, a City Ballet corps member, likened the whole experience to therapy. Kennard Henson, also with City Ballet, called the environment “crazy,” because this kind of cross-company collaboration “doesn’t happen” and “just being around people you can relate to makes a big difference.”

But it isn’t only the people who make a difference. It’s also Garland’s choreography, which deftly mixes classical ballet steps with moves and attitude from at least a century of Black popular dance.

Keeping the classical vocabulary high in the mix is important to Garland, who said that classically trained Black dancers are too often seen as suited only for contemporary works. But it’s also important to Garland that the young dancers know their Black history, which is why he asked Preston Dugger, a Dance Theater of Harlem alumnus who is serving as D.J., to layer some Gil Scott-Heron and Aretha Franklin over more up-to-date hip-hop beats.

“In Mr. Garland’s work, we get to show who we are through our movement,” said Alexandra Hutchinson, a Dance Theater of Harlem member. “It’s so freeing to be able to do that onstage, because oftentimes we’re told to tone it down.”

Because of the pandemic, the dancers have been rehearsing mainly with members of the same company. That’s reflected in the work’s structure, with representatives of each troupe performing as separate units before everyone mingles in the finale. Then, as the Ballet Theater corps member Erica Lall put it, “We get to groove together.”

On Sunday, that grooving was glorious — joyful, buoyant, liberated. Afterward, Garland, Copeland,Hutsell, Lall, Hutchinson, Henson, Kouadio Davis (Dance Theater of Harlem) and India Bradley (New York City Ballet) all sat down to discuss the experience of making “Stare Decisis” and the meaning of dancing together. (Another cast member, Melvin Lawovi of Ballet Theater, was absent.) It was a conversation that quickly became a wide-ranging discussion of being Black in ballet. Here are edited excerpts.

Kouadio Davis: I feel like maybe we’re entering a new era as Black dancers. I’ve often felt competitive with the other Black people in the room, because there’s so little space [for us]. But this has been an opportunity for me to get it into my body and mind that I need to root for the other Black and brown people in my community.

India Bradley: Growing up, I was always in a class that was completely white. And I never really thought about it. I feel like you go through that phase where you don’t really think about it, and then you have a moment where you realize it. And it’s usually not because of you realizing it. It’s somebody showing you.

Rachel Hutsell: Working with Mr. Garland has been especially fun because he’s trying to draw more out of me. I’ve been told before — even fairly recently — that my excitement takes away from my technique.

Misty Copeland: A lot to unpack there.

Rachel Hutsell: It has to do with literally looking different onstage and “try not to draw too much attention to yourself because you look different.” So it’s taking me a mental minute to realize that I can actually go for it, because my excitement adds to my technique and it’s being asked for and it’s needed.

Misty Copeland: There’s so much disguised language that we’re left to decipher. Nowadays we’re in a place where we can step back from ourselves and see that we don’t have to take it personally. But it’s about something you can’t control: your skin, your personality, “excitement.” To me, it’s like they’re saying, “Don’t be you.”

India Bradley: You look different, but we’ll put you in the brochure.

Rachel Hutsell: Oh my gosh, yes. They won’t cast you in anything, but you can be on the billboard.

India Bradley: For a lot of people in charge of ballet companies, white is the classical beauty standard.

Rachel Hutsell: My sister, who just got into the Birmingham Royal Ballet, sent me a meme that said, “When did you realize you weren’t ugly, you just weren’t white?” That explains it perfectly.

Alexandra Hutchinson: I feel we had a lot of time this year to reflect because we were stuck at home. I had time to think, “Oh, it was because I was Black that I had that experience in the studio.” I’m not the type of person that says it was because of the color of my skin. But sometimes you have to realize, no, it was because I’m Black that I was treated that way, and it’s not OK.

Rachel Hutsell: And nobody comes up to you when you are 14 and says: “At a certain point, you’re going to be every little Black girl’s idol. Get ready. You now have to carry the weight of all that on your shoulders.” You have to take the responsibility of making sure people coming up after you are OK, and you’re not OK.

India Bradley: We could talk about this topic for weeks and still not get to the bottom of it.

Erica Lall: But I think it’s important for audience members to see all of us onstage together, in the spotlight, and not just trying to quote-unquote blend into the corps.

Alexandra Hutchinson: It’s definitely nice just to be yourself.

#article #the ny times #ballet #racism #anti black racism #murder mention #police brutality mention #robert garland #misty copeland #kouadio davis #erica lall #alexandra hutchinson #rachel hutsell #india bradley #kennard henson #melvin lawovi

18 notes · View notes

mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years ago

Text

“Back Door” (TMT Part 2)

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Han Jisung (SKZ); Some Mentions of Y/N x Bang Chan and Y/N x Changbin

Warnings: Language and Mature Content

Word Count: 5K

Genre: High School AU! Sequel!

Summary: In the grand scheme of things, Y/N should’ve known better than to expect everything to work out on its own. But is she ready to face the consequences of her actions?

A/N: Read TMT Here!!

The sun had barely peaked through the blinds when I felt a sharp pain in my lower back.

It was both unexpected and jarring, and I winced at the dull, persistent ache, attempting to turn over onto my side, when I realized that I couldn’t because a strong grip was keeping me held in place. Then, there was nothing but dread overtaking the previous disorientation of my exhaustion, and I cringed when Jisung made a soft noise and pulled me even closer, burying his face against my shoulder.

“Shit!” I cursed under my breath, trying to free myself from his hold because the vestiges of panic were beginning to take root, and images from our previous night together were flying through my head at an exponential pace.

Holy shit! I slept with Jisung!

“Don’t think so hard, baby,” Jisung purred, and he was nipping playfully at the skin surrounding my collarbone.

The picture of confidence in contradiction to the shy little boy from the previous night who could barely keep his cock from falling out.

“I’m not,” I protested, even as I continued squirming around in his arms, feeling a shock travel up my spine when I accidentally felt his flaccid length against my thigh.

“Mmm,” Jisung murmured, breaths hot against my face as he pressed a kiss to the corner of my lip. “You still look pretty in the mornings.” He chuckled, reaching back with one hand to brush through his disastrous hair. “I’m sure I look like a mess.”

“Jisung,” I said as sternly as possible because I knew I needed to be forceful, to keep him from acting like this could be anything normal for us. Because he and I both needed to admit that this was a big mistake. “I need to use the bathroom.”

“Oh!” Jisung remarked, and I could breath a sigh of relief when he removed his arm from around my waist. “Hurry back.”

I rolled my eyes at his tone, cursing the existence of last night over and over again as I wrapped a blanket around my torso before moving through the house to the guest bathroom on the lower floor. “What the fuck have you done!” I groaned when I greeted my reflection in the mirror - eyes bloodshot from the alcohol, and feminine features holding so much tension from the horrors of the morning after whatever the hell I had allowed to happen between me and Jisung.

After all these years of dissuading Jisung’s advances, I just committed the worst sin of them all: I gave him an opening to the thing he wanted most from me.

“Calm down,” I whispered to that grisly reflection, splashing water against my face as I sucked down multiple deep breaths.

“Y/N!” I heard Jisung call for me, even all the way downstairs separated by an entire floor.

It still wasn’t enough separation.

“Coming!” I shouted back because I knew I couldn’t avoid this, especially not with someone like Jisung. Someone who had been admiring me from afar from so long. Someone who was way too close to ignore because of his life-long friendship with Felix.

I couldn’t run from what I helped to create, so I gathered as much confidence as I could muster while still looking like shit in the mirror, walking slowly back upstairs while trying to make sense of the chaos breaking through the desire to live in an independent world where everything was fine.

“There you are,” Jisung chirped from where he had made himself comfortable at the counter in the kitchen, pouring milk into two glasses. “You wanna order some breakfast?”

“Not hungry,” I said, sliding into place in front of one of the glasses.

“Oh, sure,” Jisung replied, and he shook off my frigid tone. “The milk is good.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, watching him from the corner of my eye as he sat down next to me.

“I checked the date, so don’t worry,” he said with a giggle, perfectly at ease in the familiar setting of my kitchen. Except that nothing was normal, it couldn’t be taken that way after all the events that transpired last night.

“I trust you,” I whispered, looking down vacantly into the milky white liquid.

“Well, where do you want to go today?” Jisung asked, and I experienced the sharp sting of guilt - a nasty feeling weighing heavily on my chest - when his smile reached both corners of his eyes. “We can do what you want.”

“We should talk...” I said, trailing off when Jisung nodded.

“We can talk,” he agreed. “I like listening to you.”

“Jisung.” I sighed, hating that he was so nice because it made it difficult to say the things that would drive that smile away. “It’s kinda heavy...”

“You don’t have to say it then,” Jisung insisted, and I felt hurt all over again when I realized that he thought the words would affect me! That they might make me sad and he wanted to assure me that I never had to vocalize such difficult subjects.

“I need to say it,” I continued. “I mean, there’re plenty of other things I’d rather do, but this is important.”

“Oh?” Jisung smirked, and I knew that his mind had traveled somewhere else. “Do you want to have sex again?” Jisung continued as if I had never spoken. “I had a lot of fun with you last night.”

“That’s the whole problem,” I said, swallowing hard before pushing it out. “Jisung, about last night-”

DING DONG!

I frowned when the sound of the doorbell ringing interrupted my chain of thought, especially when Jisung was so quick to scoot off his chair to answer whoever it was waiting on the other side. “Hold on,” I said, following behind him just in time to see the person standing on the porch. “Chan?”

“Hey,” Chan greeted us, and his previous smile was displaced by a chastened look, searching between the two of us with a curious expression. “Were you two together?”

“Jisung stays over sometimes,” I said, talking over Jisung before he could proclaim us as soulmates.

“Ah,” Chan nodded. “So, you’re not busy?”

“Not right now,” I agreed, trying to push off a stubbornly persistent Jisung while Chan continued to study us from the porch.

“Okay, well, Changbin’s having a party at his place tonight,” Chan said. “If you guys want to come.”

“I don’t know...”

“We’d love to,” Jisung intervened, taking his turn to speak over me, but I couldn’t think of a worse scenario.

“Great,” Chan said, and his smile was back as he started to retreat. “I’ll see you guys there.”

Saturday

I couldn’t change Jisung’s mind, which meant that my arm was neatly tucked into his as he led us up the sidewalk to Changbin’s lavish home.

Although, mansion might be a more accurate description.

“Are you excited?” Jisung asked, pulling me away from my study of the intimate ornate columns and impressive Greco-Roman inspired architecture.

“Once I get ahold of some alcohol,” I grumbled, and Jisung laughed like it was the funniest thing I had ever said to him.

“We’ve got you covered, baby,” Jisung said, and I rolled my eyes at the petname, especially when he was using it on me.

Especially when he continued using it on me. All. Week. Long.

Walking up to Changbin’s house in the middle of the night while listening to Jisung talk about the man in question like they had known each other for their entire lives.

“I wonder where he is?” Jisung questioned when we joined the impossible fray of students - high school and college alike - spreading throughout the grandeur space inside.

“I might know a few places,” I murmured because Jisung wasn’t meant to overhear, and my eyes were drawn to the secluded corners of the house, the places that Changbin seemed inclined to escape to just like the first night we met one another.

“Let’s find something to drink,” Jisung said, and I nodded my head and followed him into the other room.

It didn’t take long to find a couple beers, twisting off the tops and drinking while several students - probably friends of Chan and Changbin who had introduced their new third piece - crowded around me and Jisung to ask him questions about the 3racha.

“We’re releasing a special project soon,” Jisung said, and I could tell he was enjoying the attention.

But it must be nice to get some recognition for a passion that you had spent years perfecting.

It also provided the perfect opportunity for me to slip away from his careful eye, wandering back into the main room where a familiar figure captured my attention hidden away near the fireplace in the den.

“Y/N,” Changbin greeted me with his familiar smirk, beckoning me closer while drinking from his glass.

“I thought you might be away from the action,” I said, feeling a bit more comfortable next to Changbin, and far from the prying eyes of the other students.

“It gets crowded,” he said, and we both turned to the sudden sound of raucous laughter, emanating from the same room where I had just left. “You came with Jisung?”

“Yeah, but he found some admirers,” I said, attempting to make a joke of the situation.

“You two must be together,” Changbin remarked, and the corner of his mouth lifted into something resembling an arrogant look. “He acts like it.”

“Don’t mind him,” I said, rolling my eyes. “We haven’t really talked about things.”

“Oh?” Changbin hummed. “Why is that?”

“Because it was a mistake,” I insisted, but saying it loud didn’t necessarily reflect the confusing ball of emotions that I felt buried away around my heart.

“Mistake?” Changbin repeated, and his eyes glossed over with a mischievous gleam, reaching down for my hand to pull me along with him upstairs. “That’s interesting.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, but I didn’t protest when he opened the door to what I imagined to be his bedroom, slamming it closed behind him before leading me over to the bed.

“Jisung wouldn’t agree with you,” Changbin said, and he pushed me down onto the mattress. “In fact, Jisung told me before that you were the love of his life.”

Changbin rolled his eyes at the cheesy sentiment, crawling over top of me with a predatory glare. “Jisung doesn’t know anything about love,” I retorted, and my body was responding to Changbin’s advances, craving his skilled touches as I guided his hand down to the hem of my skirt.

“Remember when I finger-fucked you in my car?” he whispered directly into my ear, free hand coming down to hold my waist.

“Yes,” I whined in return, swallowing hard when his fingers moved along the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, snapping the band of my panties into place when they reached even higher, leaving intimate goosebumps in their wake.

“Do you want me to do it again?” he growled in a low timber that sent shivers down my spine.

“Please,” I panted against his lips, desperate for him to eliminate the remaining distance between us....

But then the spell was broken.

Jarring us both away from one another, gazes drawn to the door.

“What the hell are you two doing!”

“Shit!” I cursed, pushing Changbin back as my eyes immediately flew to Jisung’s horrified expression. Standing in the doorway to Changbin’s bedroom with his mouth almost reaching the floor.

“Relax,” Changbin spoke nonchalantly, sitting back on his knees. “Why are you so tense?”

I roughly elbowed him in the side, deciding that he was far too much of a jerk in that moment to warrant anything less.

Still, there was the issue of Jisung who had obviously taken precedence, and everyone was silent while I tried to formulate something. Any semblance of an explanation that might help me avoid an impending meltdown. “Jisung-”

“No!” Jisung screeched, and I was taken aback at the primitive noise that had just come from him. “You won’t treat me like this.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I snapped in return.

“Don’t play stupid, Y/N,” Jisung continued, and I was surprised to see Jisung acting so unhinged. “You know how I feel about you. I’ve always tried to show you that much, but then I bring you here and you sneak off to try and fuck Changbin?”

I opened my mouth to say anything, but there was nothing that could’ve prepared so this onslaught of passionate rage from Jisung. The same boy who usually batted his eyelids at me and giggled at jokes from his friends.

“We never talked about anything,” I eventually said.

“You never gave us a chance,” Jisung said, and I realized that he was right, even though I tried the other morning.

There had always been plenty of chances.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, but Jisung scoffed and gave me a bitter-sounding laugh.

“You’re not sorry,” he said, and the words echoed around inside my head, even after he left without any further consideration for me.

“Well, that was weird,” Changbin chuckled, and he started to kiss me again, like nothing had even transpired.

“What the hell are you doing?” I hissed at him. “Are you serious?”

“Why not?” Changbin shrugged. “We’re both just looking for a quick fuck, right?”

“Is that what you think?” I asked him. “That I’m just a quick fuck?”

“Obviously,” Changbin snorted. “Haven’t I been playing you just right this entire time, baby?”

I nearly screamed at his mocking use of Jisung’s petname, shouldering past him in my haste to get away from him. “You’re a dick,” I growled, even as the sharp sting of tears threatened to expose my façade of masked indifference, and I refused to show someone who had manipulated my emotions that they were even remotely successful in making me feel completely useless.

I had the radio playing in the background when I drove to Chan and Changbin’s studio the next morning.

There was a part of me that wanted to make peace with Jisung, on the off chance that he was even there, but an even bigger part who just wanted to hide from those confusing emotions. To choose something even more powerful to mask the hurt.

Lust, for example, which guided me into the studio where I discovered Chan sitting behind a computer in one of the production rooms.

“Y/N,” he said, noticing my arrival and removing his headphones. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“I just wanted to come by,” I said, sauntering closer to him, hoping that he could pick up on what I wanted from him.

“Jisung isn’t here,” Chan said, and I flinched at his name but remained undeterred.

“I’m not here for him,” I said, lowering my tone.

“I heard what happened at the party,” Chan tried again, but I didn’t allow him to finish his thought, straddling his thighs before locking our lips together in a desperate kiss. “Y/N,” he spoke in the very limited space between our mouths, clashing and bruising together.

“Just fuck me, please,” I begged him, digging my fingers into his shirt as I forced our lips together once again.

“No,” Chan groaned, and I was more than taken aback when he pushed me away. Not enough to send me sprawling out of his lap, but enough to make a clear point.

“Why?” I whispered, feeling myself teeter on the edge of tears which didn’t make any sense. There was no reason to be upset, and I blamed Jisung and the way he messed with my most volatile emotions,

“I shouldn’t have done anything with you,” Chan said. “It was a stupid competitive thing with Changbin.”

“You regret it?” I asked, breaking the skin of my lower lip between my teeth, tasting blood before Chan sighed and forced me to relax.

“Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, but after hearing Jisung talk about you...” Chan trailed off, and I was suddenly even more upset when he left me to fill in the blanks.

“I didn’t come here to talk about Jisung,” I said, feeling my mental state perform a complete 180, wiping away any evidence of those pesky tears.

“You came here to avoid him,” Chan said. “But is it really the right thing to do?”

“Since when do you care?” I asked with a harsh exhale, and Chan nodded like he was perfectly accepting of my anger.

“I don’t deserve to be on good terms with you,” Chan continued. “Changbin and I...we were both very manipulative with our intentions.”

“You took advantage of me,” I hissed, and Chan’s eyes widened as he shook his head fiercely.

“No!” he said, and it was very stern. “I would never do that to anyone! Well, I mean, I’m terrible with relationships.”

I frowned. “You should’ve told me. The upfront dishonesty is not appreciated.”

Chan sighed at my implication. “Look, I told you that I can’t seem to get anything right, but if there’s one person who was always honest with you-”

“Jisung,” I interrupted him with a sigh. “Yeah, I know.”

“Seriously, Y/N,” Chan said, taking a firm grip on my chin to force my eyes to meet his own. “Talk to him. Forget about me and Changbin.”

“That’s hard to do since Minho likes you,” I quipped, and he chuckled.

“You can pretend to like me,” Chan offered, and I shrugged because maybe it was a good compromise.

“Fine, pretending works,” I said. “Especially since you’re kind of an asshole.”

Chan winced at my words. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreement, but I came here to do something stupid again,” I said. “I guess I failed.”

“Not really,” Chan said, and he reached behind him for a discarded piece of paper. “Come watch us perform this weekend,” Chan said, holding out the flyer which I accepted. “Make it up to him.”

I gritted my teeth together, reading the headline of the flyer before looking back at Chan. “He won’t forgive me.”

“Well, not until you come to terms with what you want first,” Chan said, and I knew that he was right.

“I don’t think I want him...”

“Are you sure about that?” Chan asked. “Think hard on it, and I’ll save you a good seat and a bottle of beer.”

“That’s hard to resist,” I said, and I slowly gathered myself out of his lap, readjusting my clothes and brushing off the imaginary dust that couldn’t possibly have collected on the fabric. “I’ll see you soon then.”

Chan nodded, holding out his hand for me to shake. “Consider it a peace offering.”

I scoffed at the display, but accepted his extension of peace or whatever nonetheless.

Yeah, he made it hard to stay mad at him, even though he deserved every bit of my wrath, but he also made it hard not to see the obvious reasoning with making things right with Jisung.

One of the few people in my life who had never been anything but kind.

It was Saturday night, and I was nervous and anxious when I walked inside the venue where 3racha would be performing.

Thankfully, my brothers had also been invited, and I found them in the crowd quickly, determined to stick to their sides until I had enough confidence to face Jisung alone.

“Get ready!” Felix shouted when the overheard music turned down low, signaling the crowd to turn their attention towards the stage where Chan, Changbin, and Jisung were all walking out, microphones in hand.

I shifted next to Minho when I noticed Jisung, decked out in an all-black ensemble, beanie cap pulled low over his eyes.

“Looks like Jisung invaded Chan’s closet,” Minho quipped, and Felix snorted around his drink while I found myself studying the way his lithe figure was heavily accentuated by the tight leather.

“3rd Eye, are you ready to get loud?” Chan bellowed into the microhome, and the crowd answered his call with raucous yelling as thumping, heavy bass music began to play in the background.

And then, right before my very eyes, little Han Jisung, Felix’s dorky best friend, stepped forward to the edge of the stage and started to rap his lyrics at a speed that surely defied the very barrier of space and time?

“Holy shit,” I said, finding myself drawn into Jisung’s careful handling of the beat, riding its dips and flaws with mastery, leading the crowd with some kind of invisible magnetism. “Jisung is really good!”

“Of course, he is,” Felix scoffed, like I should’ve known better. “He’s been practicing since middle school.”

“He has?” I returned, but the question went unanswered as Felix enthusiastically continued to cheer for his friend, and I was caught up in the whirlwind of the crowd’s enthusiasm while my own heart beat incredibly fast for several much different reasons.

Their stage ended on a high, and I found that my voice was hoarse from screaming with the rest of the patrons, clapping like a madwoman while 3racha disappeared backstage.

“Let’s see if we can find, Sung,” Felix suggested, and any prior elation was gone as I remembered my original purpose for coming here.

“I’d love to congratulate him,” Minho agreed, and I reluctantly followed my brothers to the backstage entrance where a bouncer noticed them and waved them forward.

Must be some kind of friend privileges.

Regardless, it brought me to where I needed to be, and I hesitated when we were pulled even deeper between sound equipment and storage containers.

“Where are they?” Minho asked.

“I see Chan,” Felix said, pointing ahead of us, and I bit back my disappointment at finding Chan first.

“You guys made it,” Chan said, coming over to greet us, giving Minho some weird, elaborate handshake.

I rolled my eyes at their boyish oddities, glancing around the backstage area, not looking for anything in particular, until....

Jisung. Standing over there with another girl.

I froze, watching as Jisung leaned in closer to whisper directly into her ear in a decidedly intimate exchange.

“Jisung?” I whispered, and it was enough to steal Minho’s attention who followed my gaze with a chuckle.

“Does Jisung have a girlfriend?”

I swallowed hard at the question, the bitter taste of disappointment, and I ran despite Minho and Felix calling my name. Despite the overbearing sensation of Jisung’s eyes following me the entire time.

It was late when my brothers came home, discovering me sitting alone in the living room.

Felix was the first to react, releasing a loud sigh before he came to sit next to me on the couch. “Rough night?” he asked, voice gruff from the exertion of screaming at the concert.

“You could say that,” I muttered in return, picking at the stitching on the pillow in my lap.

“I guess this is about Jisung,” Minho added, coming to stand in front of me with that stupid concerned look on his face.

“Forget it,” I said. “It isn’t anyone else’s business.”

“Jisung is my friend,” Felix said, and he seemed affronted. “It actually is my business.”

“Fine,” I snapped, turning to glare at Minho. “But you can’t say anything.”

“Yes, I can,” Minho replied. “Because I’m usually the only one who can get you to listen!”

I frowned at the assertion, slumping down even lower against the cushions. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Too bad,” Minho said, and he stubbornly collapsed next to me despite my warning. “Chan told us everything.”

I sat up immediately, feeling my mouth drop open as I looked at Minho. “What do you mean?”

“We know you have a thing for Jisung,” Minho teased.

“No, I don’t!”

“Then why were you all angsty when you saw him with that other girl?” Felix intervened, snickering at my awe-struck expression. “Besides, you don’t think Jisung wasn’t bragging about finally sleeping with the love of his life?”

“I’m not the love of his life,” I grumped. “He clearly doesn’t care about me.”

“Then you’re blind and stupid,” Felix said, thoughtful as always. But then his expression turned serious. “Y/N, Jisung’s been in love with you since middle school, and I should know because he never shut up about you.”

I sighed at the admission, wrestling with the incessant desire to keep my mouth shut and that smaller part of me that longed to confess everything. “I never knew I wanted him,” I said. “Until I saw him with that other girl...how fucked up is that?”

“It’s not fucked up,” Minho said. “Sometimes, it takes...extraneous circumstances to convince us of our feelings.”

“Especially if that person is you,” Felix continued. “You’re stubborn to a fault.”

“Am not!” I huffed, realizing only a moment later that I was proving their point.

“Look, just give him a chance to explain himself, Y/N,” Minho said. “You clearly owe him an apology, and you both have a lot to talk about.”

“I know,” I begrudgingly agreed, and it was only after I thought about how utterly destroyed I felt after seeing Jisung tonight that I was struck with the weight of importance for what I had to do.

It was Chan’s idea, really, to invite me back to the studio, conveniently at the same time when Jisung was set to record his part for their next single.

At first, I resisted because I didn’t want to interrupt Jisung at work, but then my brothers reminded me that it probably had a lot more to do with myself refusing to face up to my mistakes rather than some kind of respect for professional boundaries.

Nonetheless, I had no idea what I planned to say to Jisung because I could rehearse a given set of words a thousand times, but when it came to actually confronting him, they could all disappear from my head. And instead of floundering around trying to remember them all, I think it might be better to talk to him in the moment as I formulated some semblance of a worthy apology for the hurt I had caused him.

It was also still new, this coming to terms with the fact that Felix’s best friend might be someone who could mean something more to me than that kid who always flirted and shyly whispered hello’s and goodbye’s whenever he came over to spend the night.

But maybe talking would help me figure things out, and after knocking on the studio door, I put on my best smile when Jisung’s face appeared from the other side.

Unfortunately, he wore a scowl that could scare even the bravest of souls, and I was more or less intimidated after asking him if I could come inside.

“I guess,” Jisung said, leaving the door open for me to close before returning to his seat at the production stand.

“So,” I started, trailing off as I glanced around the room. “This is a nice set-up.”

“Yeah,” Jisung said, offering nothing more, and telling me all I needed to know about his openness to starting a conversation with me.

“Right,” I agreed, clearing my throat. “Uh, Jisung? I just wanted to apologize for the other night at the party. It was really out of line for me to act the way I did.”

“Huh,” Jisung scoffed. “I don’t think you really mean that.”

I winced at his dismissal. “I’m being genuine.”

“Hard for me to tell,” Jisung replied, and I shook my head because this was going horribly wrong and I expected him to kick me out at any moment.

“Your performance was good the other night,” I tried again. “I really like the music, and your rapping is super good.”

“Thanks,” he muttered dryly.

“Seriously,” I insisted. “You’re really talented, and I guess other people noticed before me, which is stupid. But I’m happy for you, and I just want you to do whatever brings you the best opportunities....Oh! And I think your girlfriend is really pretty, not that it’s any of my business-”

“Girlfriend?” Jisung interrupted, turning around to look at me with a confused expression.

“Yeah? The girl I saw you with backstage the other night?” I said, wondering if Jisung was acting this way on purpose.

“You mean my cousin?” he asked, wrinkling his nose in obvious revulsion. “Why would you assume that?”

I groaned, resisting the urge to bang my head against the wall because I was only making things harder and even more awkward. “I didn’t know...I guess it just surprised me, and I took off...” I paused at the confession, fanning myself with one hand.

“You thought I was dating someone else?” Jisung said. “And it made you feel...?”

“Betrayed,” I sighed, bowing my head in shame. “I guess you probably felt the same way when you saw me with Changbin.”

Jisung frowned, cheeks dusted with red as he considered me. “Yeah, Y/N, I wasn’t happy to see you with someone else after everything that happened between us.”

“I’m sorry, Jisung,” I whispered. “For everything. I’m literally the worst person on Earth, and you don’t even have to pretend to forgive me or anything. You can just ignore whenever you come over....I probably deserve it.”

Jisung shook his head, playing with the pen held poised between his fingers. “I won’t ignore you.”

I raised my head to meet his gaze. “Honestly, Jisung, seeing that girl the other night made me feel even more ridiculous because I shouldn’t need something like that to happen to make me realize that I really do like you.”

“Y/N...”

“No, really!” I insisted. “I’ve always seen you as Felix’s best friend, but that was stupid and wrong, and I’m sorry for making you hurt and leading you on or whatever. So, like, I needed to tell you how horrible I am, and you can take the apology or curse my existence, whatever! I just needed you to know.”

There was a long moment of quiet between us, and Jisung kept looking at me like he was trying to see past me.

“You are kinda ridiculous,” Jisung finally said, and I released a deep breath that I didn’t know I had been holding.

“I talked to Felix and Minho,” I said. “They told me that you’ve always liked me.”

“Yeah,” Jisung said, a little bit sheepishly as his ears turned bright red. “That’s always been a thing.”

I giggled at his words. “So...what do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, but there was something resembling a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Whatever we want, maybe?”

My smile grew wider because it wasn’t anything like a label, but that just might be the right direction for the two of us. Taking the time to come together after having our paths zig-zag in opposing directions for so long. “Okay,” I agreed, feeling the cold distance minimize like an imaginary conveyor belt was pulling us closer. “Let’s go with that: whatever we want.”

#stray kids fanfic #han jisung fanfic #3racha fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #stray kids scenarios #han jisung imagines #han jisung scenario #mostlycompetent

79 notes · View notes