#'only ones who know' is already sad but this version is so heartbreakingly beautiful

[thehiddenmemoryuniverse]

Lucifer Ending: Tragedy and Contradiction

Okay, so I tried really hard to resist the urge to post anything about it, and I even held out for over a week trying to process/calm my feelings about the ending to Lucifer. I’ve tried, I really have, but the more I try, the more I CANNOT rationalize that ending. As you may have guessed, I absolutely hated the ending, and I just really, really, have to get my feelings out about it. If you liked the ending (I really wish I could be you!!), you may want to skip reading any further (I recommend you do, in fact). 

Ultimately, regardless of the details, that ending for Chloe/Lucifer is just way too heartbreakingly tragic and sad, however, this is made all the more unbearable because none of it makes ANY damn sense.  

I’m just going to start by pasting a bunch of quotes first:

2x05

Lucifer: I refuse to believe that. There is always another way.

Mum: If anyone can find it, it's you.

2x02 Chloe: “Doing what's best for your child, it doesn't always make them happy.”

3x16

Cain: But you're the Devil, you always keep your word.

Lucifer: I do. So I hope you understand how difficult a decision this was. And yet, oddly, the easiest I've ever made.

6x01

Lucifer: I love you, Chloe Decker. I'd do anything for you. Except give you up. Give us up.

6x09

Lucifer: I need you to know that if there is any choice to be had at all, I will always... choose us.

6x07

Rory: You make choices, Mom. If I told you what they are, you wouldn't really be making them any more.

Yeah. Not going to comment further on these right now. 

Nor am I going to even get into the whole fate vs free will. Regardless of your views on that debate, why on earth a show about free will spends its final season spotlighting the widespread, controversial debate of fate vs free will by introducing a time loop plot, I’ll never understand. 

But even if we forget the numerous issues/contradictions with that (and the ridiculous irony of Rory’s quote shown above), and accept that Lucifer and Chloe chose this, I honestly feel like screaming because WHY??? Why on earth would they EVER want to chose this? 

I know the 2 reasons given, the reasons everyone is speaking up with, the reasons expanded on at length in fanfiction, and I’ve tried really, REALLY hard to rationalize them in my head, tried to enjoy the sweet moments fanfic writers are trying to make of it, but I cannot. Because it doesn’t make any damn sense whatsoever to me.

Reason # 1: Lucifer never would’ve realized his ‘calling’ to help tortured souls in Hell.  

Right. First of all, if it really is his ‘calling’ he would figure it out eventually because that’s what a bloody calling is. I mean really. Not to mention there was plenty of evidence that he was figuring it out already, and him figuring it out after actually helping people in hell (Jimmy, Dan, Mr. Said out bitch), makes way more sense than stopping someone from making the mistake of killing someone else.

And second, even if we accept the argument that he wouldn’t find his calling, we are then saying that he chose his ‘calling’ over his own family, the people he loves most of all? That’s beyond awful to me. And pretty much destroys all of the growth and beauty and love and development across the series. A complete contradiction to even earlier in series 6. See above quotes. Lucifer tells Chloe he’d do anything for her, except give her up, give them up. He tells her if there’s ever any choice to be had he would chose them (his family). So, what the heck? Which leads me to reason 2, and beware with continuing because this is UNBEARABLY frustrating to me so I may get a bit heated. I just can’t. I can’t understand this.  Reason #2: They did it for their daughter, because she asked them to, because she didn’t want them to change her, because she’s happy with who she is, etc, etc..

This is the most widely accepted reason, the most referenced in fanfic, that it’s so beautiful because Lucifer and Chloe sacrificed everything for their daughter because they loved her so much.

I’m sorry, I really am, I tried so hard to make sense of this but it makes the least sense to me of all. 

Why on EARTH is Rory growing up without her father better for her? Why on earth would Lucifer, of all people, knowing the pain it causes, ever chose that for his daughter?

This is not sacrificing for their daughter, this is sacrificing for NOTHING at all. This is doing the ABSOLUTE worst for their daughter, all because she asked them to?

And her asking them to in the first place makes no sense either. Why on earth would Rory ASK for it after all the pain it caused her? Earlier she told Lucifer and Chloe that him leaving ‘ruined her life’, and now all of a sudden she’s happy with it? After seeing and reading how much Lucifer and Chloe loved each other she wants to separate them? After saying she now loves Lucifer too she wants to do that to him? And you can’t tell me it’s her being selfless because she thinks he won’t find his ‘calling’ otherwise, because even if he doesn’t (which he would for reasons above), then again we are saying they are choosing a ‘calling’ over family, over those they love most. Or, even worse, Rory, is choosing FOR HIM and ROBBING him of his choice to chose his family over his ‘calling’. 

No matter what way you spin it, it is just all kinds of wrong and messed up, and does not showcase the love the characters have for each other, nor the freedom of choice.

There’s nothing beautiful about any of this to me. It’s just plain awful and cruel for NO REASON. 

Yes, I know I’m missing one popular theme with all of this, and I might just hate this one most of all: That even though Rory suffered it made her stronger, she’s proud of who she is, and they don’t want to change her, don’t want to ‘kill’ this version of Rory who grew up without her dad. 

No. Just no. This pains me immensely. So we’re saying that she’s a better person having grown up without a Dad than she would’ve been growing up with a complete, loving family? That people who grow up with loving families can’t be as strong and proud of who they are? WTF? 

Sure, we as people are only strong in life when we need to be but that doesn’t mean that someone who grew up more fortunate doesn’t still have the capacity for that strength (or that they don’t suffer in other ways).

Yeah, it’s beautiful when you grew up abandoned and were able to eventually overcome it, but in reality you’ll always be scarred to some degree, and you certainly would have been less messed up, happier if you hadn’t.

Changing the time loop so that Rory could grow up with her father in her life wouldn’t ‘kill’ her. Fundamentally she’d still be the same, still would have grown up with her ‘kickass’ mom. All the good parts would still be there. There would just be even more good and much less of the bad.

How on earth would Chloe and Lucifer not want to chose that?

There is no way anyone can ever convince me that you come out better growing up abandoned by your father than you would have if he hadn’t. Just no.

We are strong and proud to overcome something only when WE HAVE NO CHOICE. CHOOSING to suffer just to show how great you are afterward for overcoming it when you could have chosen NOT to suffer at all, is just the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. 

It reminds me of a quote from one of my childhood movies, the original “Lion King.’ Little Simba tells his dad he went looking for danger to show that he’s brave, and his dad answers, “I’m only brave when I have to be.” 

So.  Circling back. Ignoring the debate on whether or not there was even a choice given (fate vs free will and ridiculous time loops). Ignoring that Lucifer likely (and should have) been able to find his ‘calling’ anyway. 

Then, in summary, we are left with Lucifer (and Chloe) ‘choosing’ for Lucifer to leave them for Hell, abandoning them both (and Trixie) because either

1) Lucifer’s calling is more important than being with his family

2) Rory wants to suffer, to let her parents suffer an unimaginable amount of pain, just to show that she comes out better for it, even when she can choose not to suffer at all. And Chloe and Lucifer are both in agreement that this is best for them and their daughter. 

What. The. Hell???!!

I’m sorry, but there’s no rationale for this. None. At. All. 

I’ll be the first to admit that I would never be happy with such a devastatingly heartbreaking ending no matter what the reasons, but, HOLY HELL, can they at least have had it make even the smallest amount of SENSE?! 

It’s just angst for the sake of angst, and I especially did not expect this from this show. It was always a show not to be taken too seriously, not to overthink and just have fun with, and that’s what made it work for me. But then they decide it’s a good idea to 1) throw in a time loop plot when time loops in fiction is pretty much the definition of serious complexity and making viewers overthink. And 2) have it end with such a tragic and sad ending that makes no sense. I am so sick and tired of the trend now days that shows can’t have happy endings.

(Edit: Now look what happened. I’ve gone and made another rant: https://thehiddenmemoryuniverse.tumblr.com/post/663357629901438976/lucifer-morningstars-broken-journey)

[benkouji726]

BBC Ghosts. The Captain/Thomas Thorne pre-slash. Spoilers from s2e3 and s2e4. Hurt/Comfort.

It counts for something

The Captain was the first to leave for Julian’s speech (because it was already 43 minutes late damn it!) but he was also the first to notice Thomas’ absence.

They were all gathered by the fireplace, waiting for Julian to start, eager to shake the wistful and sad feelings that Thomas’ past brought up, when the Captain looked around, checking if everyone was present out of habit, and found that Thomas hadn’t followed them.

He should’ve felt annoyed, like any good CO would do. But the lost and sorrow expression of Thomas sprung before his eyes, and he couldn’t help but feeling sorry for the guy.

They’ve known each other for a long time. And for all the dramatic shticks and emotional bursts which Thomas displayed on a daily basis, this was the first time he was this thrown, this deeply hurt.

He thought about Havers, who died in the front line, alone and probably thinking that he was never loved either. And sighed.

Julian’s speech was not that interesting anyway.

———————————

The Captain always came prepared. He planned several approaches for all the scenarios he could’ve been in, once he went back to Thomas. He prepared for crying, for screaming, for dramatic sighing, he even prepared for POETRY.

He didn’t anticipate this.

There were tear marks on Thomas’ face, sure. But instead of sadness, he looked heartbreakingly wrecked and defeated. He looked like he didn’t have any will left to live.

Well, so to speak.

The Captain stood by the door, suddenly lost all words. He had this abrupt urge, to say something insensitive and inappropriate, just so that Thomas would widen his comically large brown eyes, and outrageously say “damn your eyes, sir.” He would prefer that Thomas a thousand times better than this quiet and fragile version. And he didn’t want to examine the odd pain in his heart that seemed to echo the one in Thomas too closely, not just yet.

Before he could grasp his thoughts and say something, Thomas spoke.

“The irony. It’s maddening.” He murmured, not looking at the Captain, seemingly not looking for any response. So the Captain just listened.

“I was happy for them for a while. My cousin and Lady Isabelle, when I found out they were together.” His voice shook at the “together”, but only a little. “I thought, well, at least she found a good man who loved her. And he finally had the house he once said he would like to inherit.”

He laughed once then, bitterly but still quietly.

“When this house became the Button House and their son came back, I was beside myself. I got to live in a place where the woman I loved and the friend I cherished created such a beautiful family and I could watch their kids and grandkids grow up for them, how nice.”

There was anger passing his eyes for a moment, there and gone.

“I thought this was the reason I never ‘moved on’, you know. Not because I didn’t get closure, but because I was willing to be here, so I could be part of that family.”

He looked up at the Captain then, eyes red, but no tears.

“Turns out I’m just like the rest of you. I’m here because deeply in my heart, I knew how pointless my death was, how much I wish things were different, how I hated this, hated that I had to end up living in this house that even its NAME is a reminder of what a big fool I was!”

He shouted towards the end, eyes burning now, but still no tears.

The Captain stepped forward, just a little, and stopped. He wanted to hug Thomas, except they didn’t do that, like ever.

“You were not a fool.” His voice sounded off, even to his own ears. He rarely said anything kind to Thomas, it felt new and raw. “You were very brave, in fact.”

Thomas was visibly startled, staring at the Captain like he didn’t expect him to speak at all, let alone nice words. But he quickly averted his eyes, and let out a humorless laugh.

“Yeah? Then how do you explain this?” He asked, while reaching into his vest, pulling out that fake letter his cousin wrote, putting it on the table. They both watched it vanish.

Then Thomas reached into his vest again, pulled out the letter, held it in front of the Captain. “How did a Not-Fool end up not only living in his Traitor and Enemy’s house forever, thinking he was BLESSED, but also carrying the fake letter that had broken his hope, taken away his lover AND his life, CLOSEST TO HIS HEART?”

The tears were finally coming, and the Captain was stepping forward again, this time not stopping, until he was standing in front of Thomas. He hesitated for a second, and put his right hand onto Thomas’s left upper arm. Awkwardly, but firmly.

“You were not a fool”, he repeated, “you were brave. You wrote your love down, you wanted to show her, even though you were afraid that her father would not approve. You tried to defend her, despite under false advisement. You trusted the wrong man, sure. But that only spoke to his deceptive and despicable nature, not your intelligent level. If anything, you were loyal, and that was not stupid, not at all.”

He was getting a little worked up, he knew. He knew it from his own harsh breathing, and from Thomas’ stunned expression. He knew it was not like him, not like them, to be this open and honest and heartfelt, but he thought about all the words he wished he had said to Havers, all the words he wished he could’ve at least admit to himself, and he couldn’t help it.

“You loved, and you fought for it. Not everybody can say that, not everybody had your gut to do what their heart told them to do. And it counted for something.”

He blinked, and surprisingly, some water fell out of his eyes. Must be sweat.

“It MUST count for something.” He said again. Feeling empty himself.

They stood in silence. Both lost anything to say. The Captain’s hand was still on Thomas’ arm. He felt it was already a little weird, putting it there that long. But he didn’t want to remove it.

Then Thomas moved, just a fraction, just enough for the Captain’s hand to slip around his shoulder, and land on his back. It was almost like a half embrace.

“He knew”, Thomas whispered, right into the Captain’s left ear. “When he turned around after he waved his goodbye, I was just there to hear him say ‘goodbye, I love you too’.”

He put his right hand on the Captain’s waist, so they were having an almost full embrace now.

“He didn’t die thinking he was never loved. And you were loved back.”

Choking back a sob, the Captain clutched Thomas, and held on.

[hen-of-letters]

To me, the Supernatural finale felt like a slap in the face. And then a suckerpunch to the stomach and a knee in the crotch. Afterwards some more punches, a bit more kicking, and a spit in the eye. So, here's my rambling account of just why I think it was so hurtful, and why I don't think I'll ever stop being sad and angry about how the show ended.

Stories matter. Everything that happens in Supernatural is the result of a decision. Each of these decisions carries a weight and a significance that resonates well beyond the screen.

Castiel's love confession in 15x18 is a beautiful, powerful thing. The love between Cas and Dean has been shown in the text for twelve seasons, but it had never been named in the text until that moment. Castiel's words brought their love out into the open.

However, his immediate and permanent removal from the rest of the narrative (aside from the briefest of mentions) is also powerful. He is erased from the text. After speaking, he is silenced.

Dean is silenced, too. He's never allowed to respond. With him never voicing his feelings for Castiel, their relationship is slammed right back where it came from: into the narrative closet.

Dean's love for Castiel is left as it always was: shown but not spoken. Open to interpretation. This is presented as a positive thing: there's a blank space left in the text where you can imagine them reuniting in heaven.

However, telling the audience that a love story between two men can't be openly declared and that their reunion can't be shown on screen is massively harmful. It perpetuates the idea that queer stories can only be told in the margins, in between the lines, in the silences of the text.

Claire is never shown on screen again after we hear that she loved Kaia. Kaia is rescued from the Bad Place, but their reunion is kept off-screen. Queer love is present, and at least in this case openly defined, but kept in the sidelines, unseen.

It's a phrase with a complex history, but it's telling that 'the love that dare not speak its name' came to be used as a euphemism for homosexual love. Queer love had to be kept silent out of safety. Even now, for many of us, being openly queer can endanger our lives.

Supernatural had a massive opportunity to say: queerness is not to be marginalised or silenced. Here is a love story that is central and spoken and celebrated. I think it's probably the enormous gap between the finale that we had, and the finale that we could have been given (which was the finale that the entire season had seemingly been building towards), that makes Supernatural's ending so heartbreakingly hurtful.

There's a reason, I think, why it feels so viscerally jarring for Cas' confession to never receive a reply or even acknowledgement. Disregarding every other episode of Supernatural up until that scene in 15x18, and with absolutely no knowledge of the characters, what we have is one person saying to another: "I love you". From this point on, every fibre of our being is aching for the answering "I love you, too". That's just how human beings are wired. That's just how narratives function. We hear a question and we need the closure of the answer.

When someone proposes publicly, even though these people are strangers to us, we are all waiting anxiously to hear the "yes". Imagine that you're watching a TV chat show, and then the host announces that someone in the audience has a very special question. Cut to the audience, where someone kneels and says to their partner: "will you marry me?" The camera moves to the partner's face ... and then cuts back to the action on stage. The proposal is never mentioned by the host ever again. You never find out if they said yes. Don't you feel cheated? Don't you feel, maybe, at least annoyed?

Now imagine you have two friends that you've known for years. You've grown up alongside them and you love them dearly. You think they're perfect for each other and you're sure they're in love with each other. One day, you see on Facebook that one of them has finally proposed to the other! You're overjoyed! But this is the last you ever hear from either of them. You never know the answer. You might feel just a little bit frustrated with the ghosting little fuckers. Yes, you can imagine that they're ridiculously in love and they've moved to Maui, but you never know. They might be dead in a ditch. They might be utterly miserable. You just never, ever know.

I swear, I'm normally all about the ambiguity, the open ending, the delicious possibilities of uncertainty. But here the question was too clear, the answer too obvious, the significance too weighty. The entire issue of Supernatural's problematic queer representation came down to this: could we see Dean say "I love you, too"? Could we see them live as well as speak their truth? Sadly, the answer was "no".

There could have been something powerful in the death of the author in Supernatural, in the exhortation to write your own ending, in the acknowledgement that meaning is created in active, creative collaboration between the text and the reader. But this wasn't handing over power. This was passing the buck. Representation is a responsibility.

In the end, Supernatural utterly dismissed the possibility of giving either the characters or the audience the power to write the story. We could have been gifted an open ending: Chuck defeated, Dean, Cas, Sam, Eileen and Jack alive and reunited, and the audience given free will to imagine their future. Instead, it gave us the most closed-down ending possible: all three main characters dead, other characters forgotten, and with nothing more to tell.

Going back to considering characters as friends made me think again about why the finale hurt so much. Yes, the erasure of Eileen from the narrative angered me because the decision was misogynistic and ablist. But also, I absolutely adored Eileen, and wanted her to be happy. She, like every single character in the show deserved better.

However, we don't only see characters as our friends.

We see pieces of ourselves in the characters we love. When we get to see those pieces acknowledged, and treasured, and loved, we feel validation. When we see those pieces disregarded, or silenced, or torn to shreds, we feel hurt.

Consider what someone might see of themselves in Dean Winchester: a queer individual, a war veteran, a survivor of physical, mental or sexual abuse, someone who has felt worthless or suicidal, a caregiver who has sacrificed their own needs for the sake of another.

What killing Dean says to these people is: there is no place for you in the world. The only 'peace' for you is death.

The same message can be read in Castiel's death. It's Castiel in whom I saw a piece of myself. I'm nearly 40, and when I started watching Supernatural in 2005, I didn't yet realise that I was maybe non-binary and definitely bisexual. The world looked at my body and assumed I was a woman. The world assumed I was straight. I was being told a story about myself. It wasn't until later that I realised that there were other stories, that there were other words that I could use about myself. Castiel's story was one that I could identify with (if I'm honest, mostly because of our shared social awkwardness), so his death said to me: if you speak your truth, you'll be shut down and forgotten. Happiness is not something you can have.

The deaths of Castiel and Dean find their bleakest mirror in that of the Kaia from the Bad Place. Not-Kaia wants to return to her own universe, even though she knows it is dying. She feels she doesn't belong in this world: "This place is cold. I don't understand it. I don't know how to move through it. So I just find empty spaces and I hide. This world doesn't want me, and I'm done with it." And, honestly, haven't most of us felt exactly like that at one time or another, for whatever reason? If we've felt different or excluded, if we've experienced physical or mental ill health, if we've felt like an outsider? Although Sam and Dean do try to get her to come back with them, she accepts death - just like Castiel and Dean. Visually, the moment closely resembles Castiel's demise: she's enveloped by blackness, her serene face the last thing to be covered.

Alternate Kaia is the embodiment of otherness. Her hopeless, voluntary annihilation is incredibly troubling. I wonder though if perhaps this moment is the text criticising itself: Alternate Kaia chooses death because the world is hostile towards her. If we marginalise others, if we tell people that who they are means that they have no place in the world, if we tell people that they can only exist in silence and in the shadows, then these people will feel despair. Depression and suicide are a real concequence of exclusion and marginalisation.

In contrast, we're shown Kaia being accepted by Jody. Castiel has already acknowledged that Jody is Claire's found family, and we know that Claire loves Kaia. Here is a hopeful mirror: Kaia, who has been set up previously as an analogue to Castiel, finds acceptance, and love, and a found family.

Dean and Castiel could have been given Claire and Kaia's ending, but instead they die like Alternate Kaia. The world doesn't want them.

I think that the erasure of difference is why the finale feels so flat to me. So empty, so hollow, so silent. The brothers' diverse found family is killed off or forgotten (like Kevin Tran, presumably left to wander the earth forever as a ghost); women are erased; people of colour are erased; queerness is erased. Sam and Dean are reduced to being cardboard cutout versions of themselves, devoid of complexity, with nothing to say.

For 15 years, Supernatural has said: choose free will.  You can make your own destiny.  You can write your own story.  Love can defy the will of God himself.  You can be loved and supported by a family that you choose, even if you are rejected by your blood.  In the final episode, every single one of these ideas was systematically trashed. It hurt.

What gives me hope, though, is how the fandom responded to this hurt: with creativity and kindness. Immediately, fundraisers such as The Castiel Project and Dean Winchester is Love were set up & have raised a massive amount of money. I don't think I'll ever stop being awed by this.

[xianglingslesbian]

ewbts - my top moments

no i will never stop laughing at that abbreviation it’s beautiful. buckle in because this is gonna be long, and probably don’t read it unless you’ve watched/read kuroko’s basketball and like izuki lmaoooo

chapter 1: hatchling, awaken

Izuki swallows. “Why do you all think I can do this?”

Then Kiyoshi turns to him with steel in his eyes (that must be how he got nicknamed Iron Heart - he seriously never backs down!) and asks him very clearly, “Why don’t you?”

Why don’t I think I can be captain?

“Because nobody thought I could be until now.”

aka “ceru is a masochist”, exhibit 1/???. anyway lets hear it for insecurities!!

chapter 2: liftoff

Predictably, Kuroko drags him aside at practice the next day and says, “I have something to tell you, Izuki-senpai.”

Izuki smiles at him. “Is it about your five evil exes?”

Kuroko looks horrified. “My what?!”

i think im funny

chapter 3: crash landing

As Izuki walks off the court, he looks for flashing glasses and grey eyes.

He curses himself for the heavy sadness that falls over him like a blanket when he doesn’t spot them.

yay for “ceru is a masochist” exhibit 2!

Oh, he [Izuki] watched videos of Aomine, came up with strategy after strategy to corner him, but videos and strategies can only go so far. Aomine in real life is something else entirely, a flash of lightning setting the court on fire with the sheer elegance of his crazy street basketball. All one can do is sit back and watch, awed beyond belief. Nothing can curb the wild madness that is Aomine Daiki – unrestrained, gleeful insanity dancing across the court like it’s his playground.

i also rlly like this line, it has some pretty imagery and we all know im a slut for pretty imagery~

chapter 4: a broken bone grows back stronger

“All right,” Koganei says to himself, moving to stand in front of the hoop. “One more time.”

He jumps, raising the ball to just above his face and releasing it. It misses, and he lets out a cry of frustration.

Can he even do this? Is it worth the time?

Koganei bites back the wave of guilt that washes over him at the thought. Izuki, Kiyoshi, Tsuchida, Rinnosuke, Kagami, Kuroko – he’d be letting them down if he didn’t give this his best shot. They’re all so dedicated to basketball that they each have a special skill honed from years of practice and love for the sport. If he can’t bring anything of his own to the table, what will he mean to this team? Seirin makes him want to be a team player, to add his skills to theirs rather than shining on his own. The change is good, yes, but he doesn’t want to stop there – he doesn’t want to be useless.

He will not be useless.

a bit of context: in this fic, since hyuuga did not return, koga became the SG for seirin :D i think my favorite character to develop, apart from izuki, was koganei - it was so fun to imagine all the ways he could have gone!

chapter 5: spreading new wings

All too soon, the day of judgment arrives, and Seirin convenes in the gym one last time before they head off to the Winter Cup building. No one says anything; not Kagami, fresh from his training trip to America, not Izuki, not Kiyoshi or Riko. They simply stand there, breathing in the scent of cleaner and leather and something else that’s so entirely Seirin, and knowing that no matter what happens this Winter Cup, they will return to the gym different people than they were before.

Different, and better.

Then they head out and off to the opening ceremony of the Winter Cup, not looking back once as they do.

yay for more pretty words!!!

“Oh, no worries. The actual motivational part is coming. Anyway, as I was saying – Tōō was just better than us that day. It’s hard to admit, I know: far easier to blame yourself, say you didn’t give it your all, but you know; we all know. It was their day to shine, not ours. But I think we’ve worked hard enough and are in a good enough mindset to change that, today. We aren’t scared or apprehensive about Tōō and Aomine, because we’ve faced them before. We know what attitude they’ll walk into our game with, and that’s what we’re going to exploit!”

“You’re going to exploit,” corrects Tsuchida. “Unlike you, the rest of us aren’t manipulative bastards.”

That raises a bunch of cackles, which quiet down when Izuki gives his team a glare. It doesn’t work on Riko, however, who sniggers under her breath and smirks at him.

izuki highkey sucks at pep talks lmao

chapter 6: ride the storm

Kagami and Aomine were made for each other. Made for this rivalry, this intense competition that will push them to their very limits and carry them onto a plane that no ordinary human can reach. Neither can defeat the other per se - they’re destined to stand neck and neck forever. However, one has a trump card on his side; and that trump card can make all the difference in the world.

Aomine Daiki may be strong, but Kagami Taiga is just as good. And damn him if the power of Kagami’s determination coupled with Kuroko’s unshakeable support won’t overwhelm the undisputed king of basketball.

Move aside, light bulb, Izuki thinks vindictively. The tube light is here to replace you.

pretty words. gay words. i love them (aokaga + izuki being a salt man lmao).

chapter 7: eagle versus aegis

“So bitter,” he [Izuki] reflects aloud, answering Himuro’s question.

That’s the emotion in his eyes. That’s what I might have become, if I had let my anger grow.

And suddenly he isn’t seeing Himuro Tatsuya anymore, but a version of himself, a version with darkened eyes and a mocking smile and pain and rage bubbling below the surface. Immensely talented, but not able to break the last barrier. Because he’s an ordinary man, and it’s as much as an ordinary man can do.

Strong, so strong. But also so terribly, heartbreakingly weak. Weak in a way that today’s Izuki Shun will never be.

GOD where do i even start w/this scene its literally everything i’ve ever wanted to write ksjfhsfj

chapter 8: clawing through mirages

Izuki’s taken aback for a millisecond before he continues his mad dash towards Murasakibara, letting out a war cry as the center makes to simply toss the ball into the hoop.

“It wasn’t their intention,” says a quiet but familiar voice. “But, this is the result of Kiyoshi-senpai and the other upperclassmen’s tenacity.”

Izuki grins, feeling new strength fill him up.

Together, huh? Okay. Together.

“This is where it ends for you!” shouts the voice, becoming stronger.

Not one, but two hands knock the ball out of Murasakibara’s hands and onto the ground. Kuroko shimmers into vision, smiling at Izuki with all the happiness in the world, just as the final buzzer rings.

i loved writing this match tbh, yousen is super underrated!

chapter 9: catch the updraft

21 - 22, in their favour at long last. Izuki grins at Kasamatsu, who shakes his head wearily.

“Using my own advice against me. What a terrible student you are,” he says, affecting an old man’s voice.

“The true student is the one who beats the master at his own game,” Izuki says quickly, sliding back into their familiar banter. “I swore to myself, my drive would beat your drive today, kitakore.”

“When did you get so wise?” asks Kasamatsu with a sigh, ignoring his pun and receiving the ball from Kobori, who was quick to grab it once Koga scored. Izuki just laughs, not bothering to reply and instead focusing carefully on Kasamatsu’s movements.

Kasamatsu shifts his weight right, left, then right again. Izuki narrows his eyes, trying to figure out what the hell his upperclassman is doing—

But it’s far too late, as Kasamatsu successfully passes through his defence in his moment of distraction, ball clutched tightly in hand. The sound of the scoring whistle is shrill and unpleasant to Izuki’s ears, and his chest stings at the loss.

“What was that about the main course?” Kasamatsu teases, wearing an enormous grin as he comes forward to guard Izuki once more. 

izuki + kasamatsu banter is so so fun to write y’all have no idea

chapter 10: headwinds

This is your fault. If you’d been a better captain, a better point guard, a better everything, none of this would’ve happened. Seirin would have been well in the lead and controlling the game—

Izuki shakes his head violently, trying to get rid of his intrusive thoughts. He knows he’s a good captain, and doing this to himself will do no good for the rest of the team. He has to be strong for them. He has to lead them to victory, he can’t be a weak person overwhelmed by emotion. But it’s so hard to breathe, suddenly, and Izuki’s about to sink when—

“Don’t worry, Captain. I’ll take care of this match today,” says a confident and familiar voice, and a hand claps down on Izuki’s shoulder. He turns, a little surprised by the sudden contact, to find Koganei’s cat mouth set in a determined frown. “You can rest your hopes on me. I’ll be Seirin’s wings for as long as you need me to.”

kogazuki brotp feels man. kogazuki brotp feels.

chapter 11: cliff edge

Riko nods, sobering up a little. “I do know. And… I have to admit, I was a little harsh on you in the early days… I kept comparing you to Hyūga-kun.” She looks at the ground briefly, then raises her head to continue, meeting Izuki’s eyes with no hint of doubt in her own brown irises. “But then I saw how different you were. How you were never willing to give up, even if you were the worst player in the world. That’s what… that’s what made me truly believe in you.” She swallows thickly, taking a deep breath, but not averting her gaze from his.

The honesty and trust in her eyes is what shatters Izuki’s calm.

He steps forward, and she rises too, opening her arms. Then he hugs her tightly, murmuring, “Thank you for having faith in me.”

The “Of course. You’re family,” that she whispers back fills Izuki’s already overflowing heart even further.

Eventually, he lets her go, and she drops lightly to the ground, straightening her sweater and skirt.

“We never speak of this,” Izuki warns her, moving towards the door of the room.

Riko nods, back to her usual haughty demeanour. “Of course. No one can know we’re actually big softies who care a lot for each other.”

“To them, we’re just sarcastic jerks,” Izuki agrees. “And that’s the way it stays.”

anyone said izuriko brotp???? this fic is just platonic feels tbh

chapter 12: overcast skies

What should I do? Someone tell me! the voice cries out in Izuki’s head, a voice he hasn’t heard since the loss to Tōō. It is the same voice that whispers all his insecurities in his ear in the dead of night when no one is around to reassure him, the same voice that gave rise to all his fears and worries. It is the voice of the vulnerable and weak part of Izuki, the one that needs someone to guide him with a gentle hand, and he hates it.

It is a voice that, frankly, he never thought he would hear again. Yet, here it is, crying out for attention, screaming for someone to help.

He thought he had left it behind. It turns out he was wrong.

Izuki shoves it deep into his heart with more effort than he’s exerted all game, breathing a heavy sigh when he succeeds in locking it behind the glass wall that keeps his emotions away.

let’s hear it for “ceru is a masochist” exhibit 3~

chapter 13: nosedive

“I don’t know who you are,” Koganei completes his little speech, anger brimming in every part of his being. “But I know that my captain is Izuki Shun, not Akashi Seijūrō. The coach can bench you if she likes; we can fight without our captain, because we know he wants us to win for his sake. We’ve been fighting without him all the match, and we can continue doing so. We don’t need a player that can’t play with the same passion as us!”

Izuki looks at the ground and doesn’t respond. Somewhere within, something is stirring at Koganei’s words. Something that cries out to fill the gap inside him.

Next to speak is Kiyoshi, standing up and executing much the same move as Koga had by yanking Izuki up by his collar. However, Kiyoshi pulls Izuki into a standing position so that Izuki is half-leaning against him.

Brown eyes meet black, and Kiyoshi simply states, “I didn’t expect this from you, Shun.”

Then he rears his fist backwards and punches Izuki in the jaw.

“ceru is a masochist” exhibit 4!

chapter 14: bird of prey

“I just… I didn’t think you’d give up so easily.”

Koganei’s head shoots up. There’s fury in his eyes, and his face is white. His hands are shaking.

Izuki continues, calm and careless as he always is, “Really… after you gave me all that talk at halftime? I don’t believe this is you.”

Koganei’s jaw clenches, and he cries, “But I have done everything I can! He’s just too good—”

“And when has that ever stopped you?” Izuki keeps his voice quiet and even, but it has the gravity he intended it to - Koga falls silent immediately, eyes wide and riveted on him. “When have you ever backed down from fighting? You don’t know the meaning of giving up. You’ve never cared about whether someone’s better than you. I knew a shooting guard once, just like you, and he had the potential to be the greatest in the world. He was held back because he cared that he was worse than others. But you? You never blinked at it, just practised and practised until you could do the impossible.”

His words are getting louder with pride; he’s unable to keep it steady with the outpouring of emotion in his speech.

“Tell me, who can master Ray Allen’s form in one and a half years? Who can be such a rookie at basketball, yet be able to fight an Uncrowned King and respond to a shot that has left all its previous victims unable to move?!” Izuki leans forward and jabs a finger into Koganei’s chest demandingly. “Tell me, who the hell was that?!”

“Me,” Koga whispers timidly, looking down.

ahhhh yay for more platonic comfort and bonding. *izuki voice* yelling is the way to get ur team to get their shit tgt

chapter 15: born to soar

Izuki finds himself moving, barely thinking as he grabs the ball and bawls for an attack. He’s running faster than he ever has, flying up the court like there are wings on his legs. No one follows at his pace - they’re all too far behind.

No one but Kiyoshi.

The rhythm beats louder than ever, a heavy pulse in Izuki’s head and heart. He can feel Akashi on his heels and knows he needs to do something.

One second left—

Izuki’s hands move on their own, passing the ball to the one person he knows that he will always find.

Kiyoshi catches it and jumps.

Fortyfivethirtyfivetwentyfivefifteen—

The ball leaves his hands.

Fivezero—

The whistle blows to end the game. Kiyoshi’s shot hits the backboard and drops straight into the basket. Time stops as a shrill sound screeches into the air and the ref shouts, “124 to 123, Seirin High wins the Winter Cup!”

there we go. the most heartwrenching scene of this chapter ahhhhh

chapter 16: final flight

“We should go. Don’t want to keep them waiting too long,” Kiyoshi says, staring daggers at Hyūga, who to his credit doesn’t flinch but merely stares back.

“Let’s go, then,” Izuki agrees. He looks straight at Hyūga and allows a small, formal smile to play on his lips. Hyūga just nods, accepting the answer.

Izuki nods back, then turns around and starts walking away. But even as he moves toward the exit, something weighs heavily in his tired chest. For the first time in a long time, he isn’t confident in his decision.

Acting on impulse, he turns on his heel and yells out, “Call sometime, maybe!” before walking backwards out the door that Kiyoshi holds for him.

It’s an open-ended suggestion. Hyūga can choose to wallow and ignore it, or he can choose to pick up the phone. Izuki isn’t going to do so either way - he’ll be happy if Hyūga makes that call, but he won’t be terribly sad if he doesn't.

This time, he’s going to be the one that walks forward without looking back.

ahhh okay so this scene means a hella lot to me personally because... i had to grow, the way izuki grew. izuki’s now strong enough to sort of put the olive branch out and say, “take it or leave it,” and if it’s left he’s not gonna be upset. that’s something i really learned with a lot of difficulty and i think that that growth - in both me and him - is a lovely thing.

and there we have it! my favorite moments from each chapter of this story. *cries in a corner* god i can’t believe it’s over...

THANK YOU FOR THE JOURNEY!

[banashee]

Part 17 of my @badthingshappenbingo​

Square: “Suicide Attempt”

Please mind the tags and warnings in the bottom notes!

 Brooklyn Bridge at Night

 It's been a long day and Clint is dead on his feet, but still walking the way home instead of driving, waiting for a cab or taking the subway. He could have also taken Tony up on his offer of a ride, which he does sometimes, but today, he kinda wants this time for himself.

 All of those other options would have been a lot easier than walking all the way, but he’s also still in his uniform and carrying his bow and quiver. An Avenger attracts attention, even when they’re off-duty and not one of the shiny members that the newspapers love so much.

 Usually, Clint wouldn’t mind it, even though he’s still getting used to being “seen” and being out of the shadows of a spy organisation, having walked into the light of being on a team of literal superheroes. Three years is not long enough to be used to it. Maybe he’ll never be used to it.

 Tonight though, he’d rather keep to himself before he gets home to unwind.

 Clint is not in a great mood, but things could be much, much worse, either. Right now, all he wants to do is curl up somewhere warm with Phil and Lucky and sleep for the next three days.

 He’s lost in thoughts, more so than usual, and he doesn’t pay as much attention to his surroundings as he probably should in New York at night. Clint is walking in a haze, impatient to finally reach his apartment. But then his gaze wanders - stops - and very suddenly Clint is wide awake.

 About halfway on the otherwise empty Brooklyn Bridge, there is a small figure, standing behind the railing and close to the edge. Way too close to the edge for comfort.

 Carefully stepping closer, Clint can now make out the figure to be a teenage boy, probably around 15 or 17, if he had to guess. He’s clutching the railing and even though it’s not audible over the wind and nearby city noise, his shaking shoulders make it obvious that he’s crying.

 Something dark and painful turns in his stomach, and Clint walks just a little bit faster, as fast as he can without jogging or running or losing the calm. He doesn’t want to scare this boy any further and stops a few feet away - just out of reach, not wanting to crowd the clearly distressed teenager.

 “Hey. Are you alright?”

 Clint takes great care in keeping his voice calm and friendly, but the boy’s head whips around and he glares for a moment. Sniffles, then he says,

 “Fine. Please go away.”

 “If I did, would you get down here and go home as well?” Clint asks, already knowing the answer. His words make the boy look again, but this time, there is no anger in his dark eyes. Only desperation and more tears, and hey roll down his cheeks.

 “Why do you care?” he challenges, and wraps his arms around his torso, as if to protect himself. He is tired - so very tired.

 Honesty is the best way to approach this, Clint knows.

 He’s been in situations like this before - on both sides. He knows what it takes to talk a person down from attempting to end their life, knows how to keep them safe in the moment until they can get help, medical or otherwise.

 Clint also knows what it feels like to be the person standing on the edge, holding the gun or holding the knife in an attempt to end it. He understands the despair and emptiness that lead to decisions like this. Feeling lost and alone, too tired to go on - he knows all of it.

 But he also knows what life can be like after. He knows that even after all the pain and heartbreak, true happiness waits to be discovered.

 Coming from there, he may have the best luck now.

 “Because I know what it’s like to be tired enough to give up. I also happen to know that things can and will get better, with time and most of all help.”

 The boy looks at him with interest now, but remains silent. At least he no longer stares down into the cold depths of east river.

 “Do you mind if I keep you company for a while?” Clint asks, still keeping his tone calm and even.

 After a long beat of silence, the boy steps back a little, sitting down on the concrete floor and wipes a sleeve across his eyes. With a little bit of distance, but close enough to quickly grab the teenager if he gets too close to the edge again, Clint sits down next to him. He detaches the quiver from his belt and puts it down on the floor, right next to his folded up bow.

 “I’m Clint.” he offers, hoping that the chatter will help, or at least keep the boy occupied.  “Do you want to tell me your name?”

 The boy looks over, in the low light of the lamps hanging above them. His eyes wander to Clint’s face, then down to the shirt of his uniform and then the bow and quiver on the ground. His thought process is clear, and Clint waits patiently. He’ll go in whatever direction the boy next to him leads their conversation - anything as long as he can keep him safe.

 “I’m Lucas.” he says quietly, and after a beat of silence, after another look he adds, “You’re Hawkeye.”

 Clint simply nods at that.

 “Sometimes, yeah. Right now I’m just a Dude.”

 Lucas is quiet in the minutes that follow. His tears are slowly drying up, but he’s still tense. After a while, he looks back over to Clint, who is waiting patiently for Lucas to say something.

 Clint is calm and steady, keeping his posture open, but he remains quiet for now.

 “Your first instinct will be to fill in the silence - don’t. Let them talk in their own time.” he remembers the Agent leading the seminar about Suicide prevention telling them all those years ago. Clint knows the urge and fights it - despite knowing the other side, he still itches to say something, to do something. To help.

 “Uhm. My parents kicked me out.” Lucas blurts out and starts fidgeting with the seams of his jacket.

 “I uh, I’m gay, and they don’t like that. Things have been difficult ever since they found out. Then we had a fight, just about a month ago. They told me to get out of the house and to never come back. Well, that’s the short version. There was also a lot of shouting and slurs thrown my way.” Lucas angrily wipes his eyes, trying to stop a new flood of tears, but it’s useless. He still keeps talking though, breathing hard and ragged while he does so.

 “ I’ve been staying with my friend after that and he’s great, he really is and I love him for it, but… I’m just so tired, and I feel like a waste of space. Everyone will be better off without me.”

 Lucas sounds defeated, empty and sad. But now that he’s started, he keeps talking, eyes locked on the New York skyline that is illuminated by thousands of lights in the night.

 It is a beautiful view, but both of them know that this city can hold a lot of heartbreak and loneliness.

 Clint listens to Lucas, patiently and mostly silent, only nodding here and there, offering words of comfort. Lucas cries at times, and Clint manages to find a pack of tissues on his suit that he hands over.

 Listening, really listening is something he is a master at, even with his physically shitty hearing.

 Clint doesn’t mind being here for people to vent to. That, and his ability to wait and sit in one spot perfectly still help a lot. He could never deny anyone this comfort if they need it.

 The clock is ticking away, and  Lucas just keeps talking, seemingly getting more and more comfortable around Clint.

 Maybe it is a good thing that he’s recognizable in his uniform and with his weapons of choice close by his side. Or maybe an open ear and patient person to listen and be there is enough in a city that swallows people alive if they're unlucky is enough - whatever it is, it helps.

 It is a near miracle, but Clint manages to get Lucas down from the bridge, eventually.

 He also walks him to the nearest hospital, because he is uncomfortable leaving him alone in this state of mind.

 Lucas protests at first - he doesn’t have an insurance, he blurts out in a panic, but Clint insists as he tries to calm him down. The Avengers have charities for this, and they’ll keep in touch, he promises. Lucas looks at him with a mixture of hope and disbelief, but then he agrees, very silently and looking much smaller and younger than he already is.

 In the privacy of his own head, Clint thinks, that there is no way he would have left Lucas to his own devices. Even if there wasn’t a official way to help with this, Clint would have paid for the hospital bill out of his own pocket - as long as this kid is safe and taken care of.

 He also calls the landline of Lucas’ friend, after he’s given him the number - Lucas refuses to talk to his own parents, and Clint understands - he knows how difficult these things can be.

 In the hospital, he waits with Lucas until his friend arrives with his Mom in tow.

 It doesn’t take them long at all, and when a tall and gangly boy around the same age as Lucas comes running to the waiting area, Lucas doesn’t hesitate when he pulls him into a tight hug, both of them refusing to let go for a long time.

 The mother, who seems to be an older, female version of her son, looks stricken and hugs Lucas as well, talking quietly to him and Lucas just nods, pressing closer to her in a way that is heartbreakingly vulnerable.

 Clint is starting to feel a little lightheaded, but he is immensely relieved that Lucas now has people he knows and obviously loves around him - they’ll figure out the rest.

 Clint keeps his distance, not wanting to intrude in the private moment. Having a little time to catch his breath is also well needed - this night has taken its toll on him, and it’s starting to show.

 He still manages a small but honest smile and friendly words when their ways finally part, and Lucas surprises Clint with a sudden but tight hug.

 “Thank you for being there.” he tells him, and Clint simply hugs back, hoping that this boy will get the help he needs - at the very least, he seems to have found a loving environment now, even when his own parents are unwilling to provide this.

 A nurse shows up and walks the three of them down the hallway, Lucas in between his friend and the mom, both having an protective arm wrapped around him.

 Clint takes this as his cue to go home.

 It is late, so, so late at night when Clint opens the front door and shuffles into his apartment.

 He’s started out the night exhausted, but now he’s completely drained. He lets his bow and quiver drop to the floor, and quickly joins them there.

 He sits right in front of the door, back propped up against it and legs sprawling all over the floor.

 Clint can’t make out the soft clicking sounds from Lucky’s claws as he rushes through the apartment to greet his favourite human, but he smiles when the dog runs up to him, tail wagging furiously and licking his face in true dog excitement.

 Clint is happy to let Lucky do his thing, running his hands through the thick fur, leaning one cheek against Lucky.

 As always, Lucky seems to pick up on the fact that Clint is upset, so he remains close and simply lays down right on top of his legs, affectionately licking the hand closest to him.

 Then, there are steps coming closer to Clint, and he looks up to see Phil coming up to him. He’s already in pyjamas and looking concerned as he kneels down next to Clint, softly kissing his forehead and brushing away a strand of hair. He leans into the touch, and Phil takes this as an invitation to pull him into an embrace.

 “Hey. Are you alright?”

 The choice of words is not at all unusual, but right now, they make him want to cry because it’s just the same phrase he used earlier to approach Lucas on the bridge.

 Clint chokes on his own voice, and then everything comes crashing down around him - the thoughts and emotions of his encounter with Lucas, the worry and the fear for this boy’s safety. His own, old memories and experiences. The long, exhausting day and the equally long week.

 His hold onto Phil tightens and Lucky shuffles closer, whining softly and pushing himself against Clint while he lets go of the pent-up emotions.

 Clearly worried, Phil strokes his hair with one hand and keeps the other arm firmly wrapped around him, talking low and staying close by his side.

 Clint can’t make out half of the words, too out of it to listen in the first place, and Phil’s voice is too low for his aids to properly pick up. But he can feel the vibrations of it, the soft and familiar rumble against him incredibly soothing.

 He’s home, and he can safely let go now.

 After the worst of the storm has passed, Clint pulls away.

 “Sorry about that. It’s been a long day.” He sighs, head leaning onto Phil for a moment longer, and then they both get up from the floor. Lucky still remains close to Clint, who reaches down to stroke his large head.

 “Good boy, Lucky. I’m okay. It’s fine.” he’s starting to ramble, and stops himself when he realizes.

 “Are you sure?” Phil asks, and gets a small nod.

 “Yeah, I… I just need a shower. I’m gross right now.”

 When Clint makes it to the bathroom and piles his clothes into the laundry basket in the corner, he knows that Phil is in the kitchen and making tea. He knows Phil is going to  ask, but never pushing him to talk, because he never does. Instead, he’ll provide support in whatever way it’s needed, even when it’s entirely silent. But the offer is there. It always is - Clint will probably take him up on it tonight.

 Lucky, however, still follows him like a large, fluffy shadow. He nearly jumps into the shower with Clint, and it makes him laugh out loud, even with the salt of dried up tears crusty in his face, hair a hot mess and a pounding headache and racing heart.

 This goofy dog always manages to make him laugh, makes him feel better even on a dark day and Clint loves him dearly just for existing. He tells Lucky as much, even when he pulls him out of the bathroom to prevent a wet disaster at fuck o clock in the morning.

 When Clint steps into the living room a little while later, Phil waits for him on the couch, two steaming hot mugs of tea ready for them. He settles down next to him and leans close, inhaling the comforting scent that is so familiar in a unique way that is so very much Phil. Clint has been associating this with home for many years now.

 He accepts the warm mug that Phil is offering him, taking it with a small smile and wrapping his hands around it. The warmth helps chasing away the chill in his bones, and so does the feeling of being close to his partner.

 Clint remains silent for a while, cuddled up with Phil, tea in his hands and Lucky sprawling on top of him. It feels good to soak up this comforting feeling of home, and for a moment, he basks in it, debating if he should just leave it at that. But deep down he knows it won’t last - he needs to talk about this. If only to get the thoughts out of his head, and so Phil knows where his mind is wandering.

 This night's encounter with Lucas has hit a little too close to home for him - he knows it’ll catch up with him eventually, and he really, really doesn’t want to go there again.

 After minutes of silence tick by, Phil turns over to him while he keeps drawing invisible patterns onto Clint’s forearm with soft fingertips.

 “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, and Clint takes a deep breath. Then he nods.

 “Yes, I think that would be good.”

 And so he does.

*+~

Square: "Suicide Attempt"

                             Warnings:

- Attempted suicide of a teenager, not graphic, no blood or violence - Talk and thoughts about suicide - Implied homophobia, unsupportive family - References to emotional abuse - Mental health issues

[inanotherworld5599]

Heroes

Prompt: Sasusaku Month Day 1, Heroes

Summary: Her parents were heroes. She selfishly wishes that they didn’t have to be.

Note: So I’m not sure who exactly the enemy will be Boruto so that’s a little vague but none the less. Also umm… Sorry?

When Sasuke first tells Sarada the story about her uncle Itachi she is fifteen years old. She cries through most of it not for herself but for her father, her uncle and her entire clan. Then she gets angry. Angry at Konoha, angry at her parents for not telling her and angry at herself for being ignorant for so long.

But in the end she’s just filled with an overwhelming sense of pride as she says,”Uncle Itachi was a true hero.”

“Your uncle was a hero Sarada.” He agrees with her but his eyes are sad,”But I wish he didn’t have to be.”

___________________

The attack happens so suddenly that nobody has time to blink.

One second everything was fine and the next Sarada’s world had turned on it’s axis violently, her village, her home thrown into chaos.

While the Chunnins had all been on guard with most of the village elders gone she hadn’t expected things to go so wrong so fast and after an hour of continuous fighting Sarada finally thinks this is the end when her enemies blade looms over her and she’s too chakra depleted and injured to defend herself.

But then her hero arrives.

Armed with nothing but pink hair, large jade eyes and a punch, her mother sends the enemy flying back. But this is a small victory for the larger more eminent threat still looms over them threatening to destroy everything they know.  

Sarada’s knees wobbled making her stumble but someone catches her, supporting her weight.

“Sarada!” A voice calls out frantically as her vision blurs and she can vaguely make out that along with her mother Boruto had arrived too.

“Boruto?” She asked faintly,”Mama?”

“I can’t spare anymore chakra but I’ve stop the bleeding and closed most of the  wounds.” She tells Sarada and then looks at Boruto once she’s done healing her daughter,”You have to get her out of here safely.”

“But Aunt Saku-“ Boruto started but her mother put her hand up as if to stop him.

“This is not your fight Boruto, not while I’m here.” She says,”Right now it’s your job to save Sarada and the civillians who don’t have the means to defend themselves.You have to get them clear of the village.”

Her mother turns towards her and there is something so utterly sad in those green eyes but before Sarada can understand she’s pulled into a tight hug that smells like...home.

“Sarada, I’m so so proud of you.” Her mother mutters,”You know that right?”

“Of course.” Sarada groans,”But mama you’re squishing me.”

Her mother pulls back sheepishly and apologises,”Sorry.”

Sakura then nods at Boruto who picks Sarada up,”Keep her safe.”

Her mother turns around and it’s then that the devastating realisation of what her mother is trying to do sets in.

“Wait what- mama no!” Sarada manages to say and her mother freezes.

“No. No. NO!” Sarada screams trying to claw out of Boruto’s strong arms around her,”Mama PLEASE! LET ME -”

“Boruto.” Sakura said clenching her fists keeping a straight face,”Take care of my daughter.” His grip on Sarada tightens who was sobbing uncontrollably and heartbreakingly.

“I love you.” Her mother smiles, but Sarada can see the tears in her eyes and hear the finality in her tone,“Thank you for being my daughter Sarada.”

And everything goes black.

__________________________________

By the time Sasuke arrives he knows it’s already too late. He’d hurried as soon as he’d sensed something was wrong but he’d been too far away to make it in time. Sarada was already in the relief camp that had been set up.

Sakura, Sakura, Sakura, her name rings in his mind and her chakra is easy enough to find in a Konoha that is painfully quiet. The scars of the devastating battle that has reduced the once peaceful village are everywhere and at the heart of it all the perpetrator lies dead.

But she was still alive, waiting, waiting like she always had for him, propped up against a crumbling wall covered in blood, her purple diamond no longer present but a weak smile gracing her beautiful features that even death couldn't take away from her.

“Can you heal yourself?” He asks desperately but he knows her answer before she gives him a sad smile as she says,”I’m sorry.”

Sasuke immediately bends down wrapping her arm around his shoulders his mind analysing the best possible plan to get her to safety, to a medic, but the irony is not lost on him when he realises that in this situation the only medic who would be able to heal Sakura was Sakura herself.

But that didn't matter. He would not give up.

“Anata.” It’s all she can manage and he turns to her, her steady green eyes holding his mismatched ones steadily.

Understanding courses through him and his resolve crumbles pathetically. His heart beats erratically and he feels like it's been torn out of his chest.

"I'm sorry." She repeats.

Mismatched eyes meet green and suddenly his black eye shift to a blood red and the world around them fades.

Instead they are thirteen and Sasuke is leaving the village. Once again Sakura runs after him, she screams that she loves him so much that she can’t stand it and she vows to give him happiness and promises him that he would not regret it.

Only this time he hugs her and promises her that he'll stay. That he won't leave her.

It plays out like a movie after that. Sakura still trains under Tsunade in Konoha, there is no war, Naruto is still irritating, Kakashi is still a pervert but this time around Sasuke loves Sakura as he should have.

He smiles at her like she’s his world, he goes on countless dates, holds her hand and never lets go. Itachi comes back to the village, they get married and Sarada is born surrounded by all their closest friends and family.

Sasuke stays to become the chief of police in Konoha and watches his daughter grow up. They have a happy, mundane life together where Sasuke always greets Sakura after a long tiring day in the hospital.

“Welcome home.” He says tucking her hair behind her ears.

She wraps her arms around him and kisses him,”I’m home.”

Sarada becomes a Hokage like no other and she carries on the Uchiha legacy with her father’s pride and her mother’s compassion.

And Sasuke grows old with Sakura after he gives her the life that she truly deserved.

He gives her the life he wanted with her.

And then once again they're thirteen standing in front of that bench.

Except it’s Sakura who is leaving this time.

And once she goes, Sasuke knows she'll never come back.

"You stayed." Sakura says smiling softly,"You stayed in the village for me."

She stands ahead of him a few metres apart her pink hair flying in the gentle breeze that blows through the moonless night.

"It's what I should have done." Sasuke responds firmly.

She smiles at him faintly and closes the distance separating them. She puts her palms on either side of his face and says ,"I'd love you in any version of reality Sasuke-kun. May it be the one where you stayed or the one you left. You’re you, no matter what you do, no matter what you become.”

"Don't leave me." A strangled gasp escapes his lips and his panic shakes up the very foundation of the genjutsu they're in.

“I’m so in love with you, I can’t stand it.” She whispers the same words she’d said all those years back and even now they hold just as true if not more.

“Me too.” He says quietly.

“Did you regret it?” Sakura asks taking a step back her hands behind her back, a bright smile on her face,”Being with me?”

He shakes his head,”Never. Not one second.”

She takes another step back.

“I’d promised to give you happiness.” She says and takes another step back, “Was I able to?”

“You are my happiness.” He responds,”You and Sarada are everything to me.”

“You know I’ll do anything for you Sasuke.”

But she already has.

“You’re annoying.” He grumbles and she laughs out loudly her voice ringing out clearly in the night. He smiles.

“Yes.” She says, “I suppose I was a lot of things.”

“But not weak.” He says,”Never weak.”

Her eyes widen and tears spring to her eyes.

“Sakura.” He says and there are a million things he wants to say, stay, don’t leave me, I love you, I love you, but instead he simply says,“Thank you.”

And for the last time ever Sakura Uchiha smiles. But this smile is different. This is a smile that she can only give him, a smile that’s because of him, for him. It’s a smile that will never fade, it’s a smile that encompasses her compassion, her strength and her love.

“For what?” She asks faintly.

For Sarada.

For loving me.

For waiting for me.

For never giving up.

For being you.

Thank you for…

“Everything.”

The genjutsu breaks and Sasuke catches his wife and places her gently on the bench.

And then he kisses her goodbye.

Just like he’d done all those years ago.

___________________________________

Sakura may have been the one who died that day but Sarada had lost both her parents that day.

Outwardly Sasuke remains unaffected to most people, he’s now undoubtedly in charge with the seventh hokage missing, the sixth hokage injured and with the greatest medic in all five nations dead all the responsibilities fall squarely on his shoulders.

He doesn’t bend or break and sometimes people wonder if he’d ever even loved his wife. But that’s because they had never seen the extent of his love for her, the softness of his eyes and the kindness in his voice whenever she was there.

But Sarada, Sarada knew.

After all it had been her who had found him, clutching her Mama’s body crying so devastatingly that Sarada had to stop wonder if this was the man she’d known to be her father. But as her eyes sharpened, her Sharingan evolving itself to the pattern of a Mangekyo she saw all those things she’d missed before.

And she saw the large crack in the soul of a man who was broken beyond repair.

That day when she cried beside her Mama, she cried for the loss of her best friend, her hero and the man her father was.

And then comes the day that Sasuke finally falls in battle.

Boruto weeps and weeps over losing his sensei but Sarada just sits there holding her fathers hand in his last moments and giving him a soft bright smile that reminds him so much of his wife.

“Say hi to Mama for me.” Sarada says softly,”As much as I want to I’ll only be able to join you after living a long life where I’ve set everything straight.”

It’s a promise to him.

It’s a promise to her mother.

Their sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain.

“I’m proud of you Sarada.” He says faintly,”You’ve got your mothers strength and your uncles kindness.”

“And I’ve got your heart.” She says softly. The heart that had loved her and her mother quietly and endlessly.

Her father raises his hand and weakly and taps her on her forehead,“I’m sorry there won’t be a next time.”

That day Boruto inherits her father’s katana and his cloak while Sarada carries her mothers strength and her fathers eyes.Through his eyes she sees the world as he saw it, filled with cherry blossom pink hair, green eyes and ever present smiles. Through her strength she protects the things she cares about bravely and unflinchingly.

And with their love she lives a life they would be proud of.

“Your grandparents were heroes.” She tells her children years later with a far off look in her eyes,”But I wish that they didn’t have to be.”

___________

I think I died a little while writing this. Excuse me while I go and cry myself back to life. But this is the fic that I’m undoubtedly the proudest of. I know it’s a bit early but none the less, Reviews are always appreciated and HAPPY SASUSAKU MONTH.

[solign0501]

Shall We Begin

Masterlist Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: As a SHIELD agent your work alongside the Avengers means you and Bucky start to get to know each other but then one day you are ordered to go under cover away from him. When the mission goes wrong, the Avengers are called in for a rescue.

Warnings: Reference to torture/ some bad language

A/N: I’m loving the positive feedback I’m still getting about this - thank you all so much!

“Say what now?” Sam asked when Fury relayed the plan to them.

“You heard me,” Fury said, looking evenly at Sam.

“So, we're supposed to put our faith in the man who basically creates havoc as a way of life?” Steve asked calmly.

“Still my brother...” Thor pointed out.

“Still an ass-hat,” Clint retorted. Thor opened his mouth to contradict him but then spotted you and Bucky and closed it again.

You had been one of the last to walk in, your eyes puffy from lack of sleep, dressed in Bucky's shirt still. You had paused as you spotted him already standing at the table, back to you and you had notice him stiffen as if he had sensed you. Steve had given you a weak smile and Wanda goaded you inside by placing her hand on the small of your back. Throughout Fury's debriefing you had been darting glances up at Bucky, but he had stared resolutely at the 3D electronic map in front of them, seeming to hang off Fury's every word.

“The quinjets leave in half hour, I suggest y'all suit up,” Fury said, definitely giving an order despite the tone. Bucky turned and left, Steve hot on his heels, shooting you another glance. You sighed and hung your head, making to follow them when Fury called out your name.

“Sir?” you asked, turning towards him. He motioned for Wanda to leave, she had been hanging around to wait for you but now she walked out, shutting the door behind her and leaving you alone with the Director.

“I'm just guessing here, but I'm pretty sure you didn't hear a single word of that...” he leaned against the edge of the map table and stared you down.

“I'm sorry, sir,” you admitted, putting your hands on the same table to steady yourself.

“Sympathetic as I am to your troubles,” Fury began, his tone only fractionally softer than usual, “I can't have one of my best in danger, or endangering the rest of the team. I want you to sit this one out.” Your head snapped up and you stared at him. “I'm serious.”

“No, you can't!” you protested. “I have to go.”

“You're in no fit state...”

“I am!” you cried, interrupting him. He narrowed his eyes but you ignored it, too panicked now to care. “You can't leave me behind, I'm as much a part of that team as everybody else. I can't be the only one here. I'll control this, you know I can. Just don't leave me here, where I'm powerless.” Your voice broke on the last word and a flicker of sympathy crossed his face.

“That's exactly what I needed you to say,” he said. Your eyes widened. “I needed you to want to fight for this, because I'm going to have to put you in danger the most.” With a deep breath, he divulged his and Loki's plan to you.

Steve and Bucky strode into the hangar, Nat and Clint following close behind, suited up and ready for action. Bucky felt the familiar surge of adrenaline begin, the sensation that always came with the expectation of action. As the Winter Soldier he had revelled in it, but as Bucky Barnes, he simply used it. His sharp eyes picked up Loki standing at the far end of the hangar, next to one of the two quinjets, equally dressed for the occasion in his black and green leather battle gear. Thor, looking impressive as usual, stood beside him. Bucky faltered and Steve, following his gaze, cursed.

“What is he doing here?” he muttered, glancing over to his friend who was doing his best not to visibly bristle.

“He's the bait,” Nat said simply. She had questioned you after you left the briefing room and you had told her everything. She wasn't too happy about the plan, because it placed you in danger, but she saw the sense of it. “Don't worry, he won't be riding with you.” She pointed Bucky and Steve in the direction of the nearer of the two quinjets and they parted ways. A few moments later, you came in, flanked by Wanda, Bruce and Sam, finally getting to put your suit to good use. You had underestimated the feeling of confidence it gave you, being outfitted properly and striding across the hanger with the rest of the Avengers. If it wasn't for recent events, this moment would have been pretty damned awesome.

You didn't spot Bucky as you strode deliberately past Loki and Thor and into the jet, but he saw you. He also saw the god of mischief boarding after you like a sucker punch to the gut. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, thinking it was for the best that you were on separate transports. At least that way he didn't have to see the two of you together. Sitting down next to Steve, he buckled himself in and started to focus on the mission, using one of the few good things about his Hydra training to clear thoughts of you from his mind, mostly successfully. There was still a small part of him, though, that would always be occupied by you, no matter how much he tried to suppress it. You just weren't going to be that easy to push aside.

A memory sprang unbidden to his mind and made his heart sting. It was of you, the first time he properly saw you, the first time he realised he could care about you.

It was a normal day in the bunker. He and Steve had been training as usual, and they were off to the breakout area to get a post-training coffee, as usual. Halfway there, Steve realised he had left his jacket in the training area, having been too warm from the showers to wear it. He jogged back off to get it and Bucky walked on ahead alone.

As he approached the breakout area, he heard someone singing. It was a woman's voice, soft and slow, almost heartbreakingly sad. Peeking around the doorway so as not to disturb whoever it was, he saw you.

You stood in front of the coffee machine, with your back to him, going through the motions of making a drink. Your voice drifted to him once more, clear and beautiful, singing a slow, mournful version of a rock song he had heard once or twice coming from Tony's lab.

“She's got eyes of the bluest skies, as if they thought of rain. I'd hate to look into those eyes and see and ounce of pain. Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place where as a child I'd hide, and pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by.”

He leaned against the doorway, watching you. He couldn't see your face but he recognised your figure from seeing you around, you had only recently been brought in from one of the other outposts overseas and were working with the geeky Scottish kid and his pretty British friend down in the labs, running errands for them whenever they needed things done. But you had always seemed so chirpy. There was something very sad about you now. He moved forward but miscalculated and his metal arm scraped along the door as he pushed himself off, causing you to spin around in shock.

You had been crying, your eyes were red and there were subtle tracks in your foundation, but you looked oddly dignified. They were silent tears, the ones that only true, deep grief gave you and he felt a tug on his heart just looking at you.

“I'm sorry,” he said, holding his hands up. “I didn't meant to scare you.” You turned hastily away and rubbed at your face in a desperate attempt to hide the tear marks.

“It's okay,” you said softly. “I didn't hear you come in.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, walking towards you. You turned and looked up at him and his breath caught. How had he not noticed how beautiful you were?

“Yeah,” you breathed, hardly believing your luck that Bucky Barnes, the most attractive man you had ever seen, was standing here talking to you. Your stomach was in knots, and your inner geek was doing backflips. You had bought all the Captain America comics growing up and your trading card collection almost rivalled Coulson's... almost. But Bucky had always held your heart more than Cap. He was the selfless best friend, the side-kick who had sacrificed his life, only to be taken and warped by Hydra into their toy and used against the man he loved like a brother. Now he was back and standing in front of you, you could barely breathe.

“Sure?” Bucky asked. He reached up and smoothed a bit of your cheek where the foundation had smudge badly from your rubbing, blending it back in to your skin. The gesture made your heart stop for a moment but his next words made you come crashing back to earth. “What were you singing? It was really nice.”

“Oh,” you stepped back and looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “It's an old rock song, my dad used to sing it to me as a kid to help me sleep. He...” you took a deep breath. “He passed away a couple of months ago. It should have been his birthday today. I just needed to sing it, to remember, you know?” Why were you telling him this? He wouldn't care, would he? But he did, he was touched that you opened up to him.

“I'm sorry,” he said softly, resisting the urge to wrap you in a hug. “You must miss him a lot.”

“Every day, but I know he'd be so proud of me, and I wear this to remember him.” You held up your left hand and showed him a steel ring with a Celtic designed wrought in a continuous loop around the band. “It was his, it keeps him with me.”

“Wish I had something like that to remember my parents by,” Bucky said honestly, questioning his honesty the second the words left his mouth. It was worth it, though, from the look of sympathy you gave him.

“Want a coffee?” you asked, motioning to the machine behind you. “We can sit and talk if you'd like, I want to hear about your parents, if you'll tell me?”

“Only if you'll tell me about your dad?” Bucky countered.

“Deal,” you agreed and Bucky took a seat as you made him the first of many great coffees, starting a routine that would make him smile each morning upon waking, and each night before bed. He had never told you, but that very same day he went and borrowed Tony's Guns'n'Roses albums. You never told him, but you had walked past his door to hear the music playing from inside.

“You gonna be okay, buddy?” Steve asked softly, studying his friend's face. Bucky nodded, he knew what he had to do.

“Steve,” he said after a moment, his voice steady and certain for the first time in what felt like days. “If we survive this, I'm going to fight for her.”

@hillywooddestiel @imaginecrushes @thebookisbtr @fandomlover03 @rosep16 @marassberry @capandbuck @fangirllover2000 @diinofayce @characterxreader @steverogersbish