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magesforthedas · 5 months ago

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Birth Day/Weekday/Time Significance

References: themindsjournal.com – Magical Recipes Online (day of the month) | theguardian.com – Michelle Pauli (day of the week) | arora666.medium.com - astrologyindailylife (time of birth)

What the Day of the Month says about you:

Leader

You are born with a natural ability to rule and express your power. Independence is a very important virtue for you. You breathe the fire of creativity. Thus you can become a great self-employed individual. On the other hand, ego-centrism might bring problems to your relationships.

2. Diplomat

You are born with empathic abilities. Balance and intuition are the keys to a happy life. You want to see smiles on everybody’s faces and your warm heart might easily get broken by people who just don’t get you. Beauty, art, and music can help you bring balance to your life. You work great in co-operation.

3. Enthusiast

The spark of creativity burns in your heart and its light shines in your eyes. This “X-factor” attracts people around you who truly believe that you have something special in your aura. This charisma can help you in all parts of your life, especially if your work has to do with publicity.

4. Reliable

People seem to be attracted by your ability to give them hope and power. It seems that many around you depend on you and your trustworthy character. You are a hard-working person but at the same time, you are sensitive. Be careful of your energy levels though as they easily get depleted.

5. Socializer

Your communication skills seem invaluable. Everyone around you gets easily fascinated by your words and this is a talent you can actually cultivate more to a very commercial extent. Moreover, traveling can become very lucky for you (financially, professionally, or personally).

6. Lover

Even from a young age, you have a tendency to seek your other half. Hence, you are whole only when you find it. You see, you are a relationship-oriented person with the ability to make a very good family. Somehow, empathically you feel the vibes of your beloved one and know exactly what to do.

7. Visionary

A highly developed intuition combined with philosophical tendency and a very sharp mind. You are truly a born Visionary. Your ideas can change the world. Unfortunately, you tend to get influenced and ‘drained’ by others around you. Therefore, you need to spend more time alone.

8. Boss

The power which is in you is remarkable. This is why you should choose to work alone as you don’t easily get along with partners. Probably, it’s because of your control issues which have to do with your power. You also have a great sense of how to acquire more money. Use this along with power and the results will be remarkable.

9. Genius

Although not always very obvious you are indeed my friend, a born genius. Your wise traits often push you to acquire even more experiences in order to further broaden your horizons. There are many times in your life when things mysteriously screw up. This is because this life you’re living has an exceptional karmic significance. But you already know that… Use your wisdom!

10. Game Changer

Whether you’ve realized it yet or not you are born to change the rules. Wherever you are, your aura constantly is changing everything around you as if you are part of a greater mechanism. Have you noticed it? You are born to manage difficult situations and you are really capable of leading.

11. Equalizer

Balance is the key to your soul’s bliss. You are born to find the golden section in any possible quarrel and/or partnership. Your intuitive nature helps you find the most suitable solutions for every kind of issue. Born with the empathic ability you can sense when things are going wrong thus get easily hurt. Try spending some time on your own meditating.

12. Catalyst

You possess unimaginable amounts of energy which – when used in the right way – can really change the lives of people around you. Your body seems to work in a different way than others. As a result, this energy can make you really creative and imaginative, however, if you are in a bad mood, you can become really dangerous.

13. Winner

Energy and determination are the two keywords for you. You indeed have the capability to achieve almost anything you can as long as you find a way to combine your – sometimes – diverse and conflicting dreams and goals. You work hard and you can work even harden if you manage to focus on your goals.

14. Traveler

The karmic currents seem to be very powerful in this life for you. You have already noticed that things change easily in your life and in just one day you may reach the top or be get trapped. This flow of energy is what defines you indeed. When traveling, things get magical as if you are born to travel.

15. Enchanter/Enchantress

It seems that your aura possesses something really unique which hypnotizes others around you and be attracted by it. Your personal magnetism is strong and can be used in both your personal and your professional life. You also do great with arts. Love life is an area that always needs your attention.

16. Outlander

You probably have realized since a very young age that you don’t belong in this world. This is probably because you are meant to create a new one. Or maybe all that you’ve experienced is a signal to look to other worlds. You see, your whole life is a powerful karmic message. You are born for great things – possibly in the material plane too.

17. Talent

It seems that you are blessed with such gifts that make you so unique. Listen to your heart, as your intuition will probably show you the way to succeed in all areas of your life. You are a truly gifted person whose skills have yet to be discovered. Art could set your powers free, so again, listen to your heart and walk on the path you feel more comfortable with.

18. Inspiration

Although you can lead successfully, you are better at managing and nurturing projects. This probably comes from your unique empathic ability, which – if cultivated – can help you greater awareness hence broaden your horizons in any possible way. Your magical mind meets creativity. Success is certain if you are patient enough.

19. Achiever

There is only one thing in your mind and that’s winning in all areas of your life. It seems that you can do that – relatively easy. That’s probably something, other people envy you for. You have that magical something that can open the doors of all opportunities. Your aura possesses attractive abilities. Use it to attract good fortune.

20. Empath

It’s’ quite impossible to turn down your natural intuitive abilities. Actually, there are so great that can freak out others. Although your abilities can help you in many areas of your life you have to ground and shield yourself from time to time because all these emotions can turn you into a ticking bomb!

21. Celebrity

You tend to make quite large social circles even from a young age. But even if you don’t prefer the company of many people, you must have already realized that others crave your attention, probably because of your many talents and of course the magical way you communicate. This particular ability is what defines you from all others.

22. Calibrator

It’s really amazing how easily you can turn a lost cause into a successful project. This comes naturally to you as your intellectual skills work perfectly with your intuition. Your heart and your mind can create miracles if you learn to keep this balance. Patience is the key.

23. Communicator

Your spiritual magnetism creates an aura of attraction around you. If you learn how to use your natural communication skills together with your amazing charisma you can become really famous and successful. This magical ‘something’ on you is a gift you should definitely learn how to use.

24. Nurturer

Your kindhearted self is born to give love and affection to anyone around you. This natural tendency makes you unique and invaluable. People seem to depend and unfortunately … attach to your energy. This is something you must learn to deal with unless you want to wake up with depleted energy levels.

25. Guide

Yes, you are a born accomplisher and yes you always try to finish what you’ve already started. However, this is not always something beneficial. You don’t always have to analyze and put so much effort into finishing a project – especially when this project no longer serves your needs. Try to meditate, and reevaluate your goals.

26. Force

You must already know that your power exceeds time and space. Moreover, you are decisive and you can easily find a way to persuade others. However, do not try to control people because even if you succeed at first, you will face the consequences later. Show your way and stay confident – yet listen to others too!

27. Analyst

You have an amazing ability to analyze things, people, and situations around you. Your powerful mind has the ability to cope with even the most complicated issues and this is why others admire you. Try to find some peace though, as your mind needs some rest. Love can help you find balance in your life.

28. Risk-taker

Challenges come and go, yet you always have something to declare to the World. You are not an easy player. If someone wants to challenge you, s/he should think again. One of your talents is to change the outcome of projects. When things get screwed up, you are the first to call. Play safe though.

29. Counsellor

That’s what defines you. Your ability to judge and consult others. Your phone probably rings all the time from people asking you what to do. Although this sometimes can be rewarding, if it happens persistently, it may drive you nuts. Therefore, you should find a way to balance the needs of people around you, with what you truly want.

30. Charismatic

Yes, it’s something on you that is so unique. This particular ‘something’ is so strong that you can use it to attract people you want around you. You are a keen communicator, diplomat, and entertainer. Hence you do great when working in groups. You make a perfect team leader probably because of your invaluable intellectual skills.

What the Day of the Week says about you:

MONDAY: A Child born on Monday shall be weak, and of an effeminate Temper, and seldom come to Honour/Monday's child is fair of face.

TUESDAY: A Child born on Tuesday, shall be given up to the Inordinate Desire of Riches, and is in danger of dying by Violence/Tuesday's child is full of grace.

WEDNESDAY: A Child born on Wednesday, shall be given to the Study of Learning, and shall profit thereby/Wednesday's child is full of woe.

THURSDAY: A Child born on Thursday, shall arrive to great Honour/Thursday's child has far to go.

FRIDAY: A Child born on Friday, shall be of strong Constitution, but very lecherous/Friday's child is loving and giving.

SATURDAY: A Child born on Saturday, shall be dull and heavy, and of a dogged Disposition, and seldom come to good/Saturday's child works for it's living.

SUNDAY: A Child born on Sunday shall be of long Life and obtain great Riches/A child born on the Sabbath day is fair and wise and good and gay.

What the Time of your Birth says about you:

12:00am to 1:59am:

You seek mobility and variety. There is an inborn thirst of knowledge within you. In fact, you just need to be aware of EVERYTHING and EVERYONE! However, you wouldn’t like to reveal much about yourself. You have a very sharp mind and can grasp things quickly. Family and friends circle is very important to you; you are very sociable, yet reserved by nature. You are greatly influenced by your surroundings. Career wise, you are likely to gain fame in the entertainment industry or in diplomatic fields. Most of you would venture out in the world to make a name for yourself in mid-twenties. In the long run, you would be a self-made person.

2:00am to 3:59am:

You are born for a luxurious life. Moreover, you are sweet tongued and know how to bring people around to do things you want them to do. Good food, plush villas and swanky carriages — is all you desire — and get! You are destined to realize all your materialistic desires. You can be a very successful entrepreneur. No wonder, you shall earn a lot of money by your own dint. Anything new and beautiful excites you. Outdoor activities appeal to you; you need to be in touch with nature now and then to replenish your ethereal energies. Success comes easily to you. You shall get lucky around the age of 24–27 years.

4:00am to 5:59am:

You are a robust personality — in appearance as well as in action. Further more, you are blessed with a good constitutions and oodles of self confidence. Challenges motivate you. Public appreciation and power are very vital to you. You like to be the center of attention — always! And, this is not without a reason; you have strong leadership qualities to match. No wonder, most of you opt for a career in the City Guard, Templar, or Mercenary companies. You like things straight and honest; no beating around the bush for you. You can be very stubborn once your mind is made up.

6:00am to 7:59am:

You are a born leader and have the power to change situations — for good or bad. People find your personality mysterious. You never reveal your true self easily. Besides, you do have an instinct to dominate others. The constant need to excel and be accepted pushes you to set and achieve impossible goals. Life brings sudden twists and turns for you — which makes you a stronger person. Though, the rough patches of life sometimes builds up a lot of anger or anguish within you. You must train your mind to see the positive aspects of things and move on to new horizons. It is important for you to keep your mind cool.

8:00am to 9:59am:

You are a philosopher at heart. Inner peace is very important to you; you move away from confrontations and conflicts. You have a ‘live and let live’ attitude. Nevertheless, you can be very stubborn if you wish to. You are a very sociable person and are very sensitive to and conscious of other people’s needs. You are known for your friendliness; you can easily get along with people of different age groups, cultures and views. Profession wise, you are most suited to a public career. You shall enjoy good reputation as a political leader or a social crusader. Your luck lies in lands away from your birthplace.

10:00am to 11:59am:

You are an outgoing personality with an optimistic outlook towards life. At the same time, self-discipline is very important to you. You are a sensitive person and your own worst critic. Since you are very clear about your strengths, weaknesses and aims, no one can stop you from achieving what you want, once you set your mind on it. You are a natural leader and people tend to follow you instinctively. Recognition and appreciation act as catalyst in motivating you towards your goals. Your efforts are often rewarded; hence you generally reach high positions and earn enough wealth to live a very comfortable life. You would do well in artistic fields.

12:00pm to 1:59pm:

You are an energetic and creative person. You are a very ambitious and responsible. Generally speaking, you are very clear about what you want from life and are ready to go to any limits to achieve your goals. With your persistent efforts, you shall soon have many sources of income opening up for you. You love traveling. You shall prosper in a place away from your birth land. Probably, you may marry someone there. If you put your mind to it, you shall make a confident and successful merchant or guild leader. Besides this, you also have great teaching skills and can make a good mentor or instructor. You luck shall favor you tremendously after you cross 30 years of age.

2:00pm to 3:59pm:

You have an innate sense of curiosity coupled with an excellent quality to enjoy the good things of life. You are an spirited person and spontaneous by nature. You prefer to live a vivacious life full of adventures and surprises. Challenges motivate and push you to achieve the impossible. You do not like defeats and setbacks. Though, you will have a fair share of ups and downs in life. You shall do well in careers related to currency; be it as a treasurer or a pirate. Getting along well with others come easy to you due to your flexible and straightforward nature. Your determined and optimistic outlook helps you cross the hurdles of life easily.

4:00pm to 5:59pm:

You are an emotional person and believe strongly in love. You may not express your emotions openly, but you are quite sensitive to everything around you. Generally, you are innocent, sweet natured and caring people. Life teaches you harsh lessons at a very young age. This actually helps you to develop an optimistic and a realistic approach to life. You are very protective about your near and dear ones. You understand relations very well and make great efforts towards nurturing them. Counseling and teaching others comes naturally to you. You should choose a career in which you have direct contact with the masses. Keep away from litigation matters.

6:00pm to 7:59pm:

You are an easy going person and bond well with people. You are sympathetic to others needs and sorrows. No wonder, people are instinctively drawn towards you. You can easily sense and understand how others are feeling. Your sunny disposition and ability to coordinate and manage effectively makes you a popular leader. Though, you forget your own interests while solving others problems. Being around stressful environments can be taxing on your nervous system. You need to be attentive to your own needs as well. Every new day is a new experience for you. You shall find success in foreign lands. Working with cooperative ventures would suit you.

8:00pm to 9:59pm:

Your confident and dominant attitude is visible right from your childhood. Nonetheless, you are a joyful and self-reliant person. You have strong leadership qualities. No wonder,you seek perfection in whatever you do. You are highly skilled and artistically creative. Once you set a goal or a strategy, you stick to it till the end. Nothing is left half done by you. Your happiness lies in helping others. You are known for your kindheartedness and friendliness. It is not surprising that you achieve wealth, name, fame and contentment. You can very well turn your hobby or interest into a successful business. You are generally lucky in matters of the heart.

10:00pm to 11:59pm:

You are future oriented and always on the outlook for new things. You are joyful at heart and inner peace is very important to you. A serene environment is very vital for you to maintain mental equilibrium. You are normally punctual and always keep your word. Generally, you are very image conscious. The curious combination of competence and caution keeps you balanced. Being an ambitious person, you take efforts to plan for a secure and comfortable future. Nothing is impossible for you, thanks to your tenacity and perseverance. You are highly successful and prosperous in your professional life. You are usually lucky in matters of ancestral properties and fixed assets.

#date of birth

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 2 years ago

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Rage Fire Institution

Confessional. As in to tell or relay truthful fact. 1

Terra. The small planet terraformed 100 years before the retirement of the Earth II simulation program. Covered in lush greens, blue water every colour of the spectrum, undiscovered caves, and soaring mountain peeks, Earth II was every bit as magnificent and beautiful as the creators envisioned it, yet, much like other wonderful works of creative vision, Earth gradually began to lag behind. The citizens poisoned their own water on Earth II with plastic to the point that the program was scrapped entirely.

Each person piloting a person within the simulation was gradually weaned out, leaving but a few fanatics and data analysts behind to monitor the long term results of a world that firstly never truly existed, and secondly had raced to its own extinction ignorantly and without the knowledge that their mass perceived realities all came down to a few dots and dashes. No one within the simulation remembered their lives before whilst immersed, and the first testers all went mad once their characters had come to the end of their lives and they were forced to remember the real world around them.

Even if the project had been doomed, perhaps from the start the influences, and ripples it caused, stirred the stagnating blood of the intergalactic coalition. Having reached the point where man and machine were practically the same, it was as impossible to deny Earth II’s influence across the known universe just as it was impossible for those living now to know the realities of what life was before Earth I launched. On Earth II there had been no dynamics. No children suffering on waste planets and moons. There was food, and laughter, and culture. Humanity had grown out of such childish things only to realise the things they labeled as so childish were actually what the universe needed most.

***

Watching the world pass by, Maki sat sandwiched against the window of the institutions electric shuttle bus. He’d never admit that he’d fallen in love with the beautiful green, blue, and fake, planet known as Terra. Falling in love, even with one’s home planet, was something the alpha had sworn he’d never do. Each move of his life had been calculated to the barest of milliseconds as he grew up. Strict parents. Strict studying. Spoilt baby omega sister. Strictly stuck sneaking out of the institutions alpha dormitories…

Biting down a sigh of agitation, Maki glared harder at the world passing. Rage Fire Institution had once held one of the leading places in the galaxy for student training. In its golden age it’d enjoyed a healthy reputation as a school where the students were to be feared. Unlike the more established planets closer to the heart of the coalition, Rage Fire no longer enjoyed the attentions of sponsors given the ending of the Earth II project. Everything lost from their own evolution and rediscovered through the Earth II project had already spread through the coalition like a large spiders web, only that web had become coated on dust then left to fray around the edges as the galaxy slipped backwards.

Terra was no longer a shining jewel of hope and Rage Fire Institution now consisted predominantly of students from middle class backgrounds, which were still rather poor. It was said sometime in the past that it was human nature to repeat past mistakes and Maki felt that true to a painful extent. This wasn’t the first time he’d broken the rules and left the student dormitories and it wouldn’t be the last time he’d be scolded for it either. He had the mother of all lecturers waiting, especially seeing he’d been labelled a problem student since day one of his first year.

Getting off the electric shuttle bus at the institutes front gate, Maki donned the hood of his jacket. What goes around comes around, his black attire all second hand, yet trendy again in some way that he didn’t understand. As long as it was warm against the bite of winter, he wouldn’t complain. A man with too many complaints would be eaten by the system and that was something his personal pride couldn’t afford. Heading down past the gates and over towards the dormitories, the alpha paused momentarily to remove the coloured contacts from his eyes. Students weren’t permitted body modifications.

Terra insisting on the right to natural breeding and with it came strict rules. Unlike other varieties available on the open market, the contacts he wore were purely for decoration. Should they be found upon him the most Maki could expect was a ribbing from his fellow student, followed by some teasing comments over “if he was going to spend that much why not go for enhanced opticals, or contacts with surveillance power”. The idea of them being discovered left a bad taste in his mouth. Plenty of his fellow alphas would be quick to latch on the perceived chink in his armour and he’d never hear the end of it. The contacts quickly stowed in his hoodie, before Maki stuck his hands in the pockets and skulked towards his hard worked, and favoured path, back inside the dorm grounds, careful not to leave any traces of blood as he went.

Naturally his absence had been noted. At 183cms his tall frame did nothing but hinder Maki’s attempts at hiding his presence. Sensors were everywhere, including the shower room that he’d made his earlier exit from. Landing lightly, he held no hopes that his absence wouldn’t be noticed. Even his few true friends had no idea why he wouldn’t keep his head down and go with the flow instead of constantly winding up forced to cut his piloting hours back. For them piloting mechas was a source of their pride, for Maki it was an endless test in holding his tongue. He had one purpose for being at Rage Fire and that was not to prance around claiming pride and acting as good student soldier. It simply came down to the convenience of the school to where he wanted to be.

Opening the door outside from the locker room, his dorm father was waiting. Despite the man’s surname of “Skylark” there was no “lark” to the senior alpha’s personality. Had Skylark known the reason for his frequent nightly excursions, Maki liked to imagine his face would flush all shades of red before settling on purple. At just shy of two metres tall, and as broad as man made muscles could go, Skylark struck fear into many a young alpha thinking that Rage Fire would become their territory. His short cropped greying naturally purple hair only making his face appear all the more angular and stern. The man had been known to make new recruits faint with simply a glare. Naturally use of pheromones within the institute was a grevious act that even teaching staff faced being expelled over.

Beside Skylark stood the bane of the young alpha’s existence. His permanent babysitter. And it wasn’t an overstatement on his behalf to call the man that. For some reason when he’d first been enrolled another alpha had played up. Simply over his perpetually cold eyes, Maki had been labelled the troublemaker on the spot, and assigned his new babysitter pretty much immediately after the first one retired claiming stress. Given he’d not only never raised a fist to the first one, let alone expelled his pheromones, or uttered a single cursed word in the man’s direction, his reputation through the school fell. The man beside Skylark forced into the unsavoury position out of sheer bullying by the rest of the staff. Their school was hardly excellent, yet with the amount of carrying on, one would think they still held the same level of prestige long passed.

“Don’t even begin to formulate your excuses. Tonight you’ll run until you drop and tomorrow you’ll begin two months of pilot suspension”

Rocking on his heels, Maki attempted not to be phased by Skylark’s barking. His gaze on his feet purely to avoid the concerned look of his damn babysitter. Poorly suppressed snickers came from alphas over listening, each waiting eagerly for punishment to be dealt as if they hadn’t heard this all before. Running until he dropped was simply another way of keeping fit. When he looked at it like that, he’d found a whole new mindset. While other alphas gossiped, he was free from mindless chatter.

No. The real problem was the sigh that followed closely behind Skylark’s orders. His babysitter only ever seemed to know how to treat him as if he were a child barely old enough to wipe his arse. Always with his “Maki, I know you can do this” and his “Maybe if you explained things to me, I could…”. His babysitter was more of a man child than himself.

“Maki, perhaps you could offer an apology”

And there it was. His babysitter sticking his nose in, causing Skylark to smirk in Maki’s direction. Just once he’d like to crush the man enough to put him back in his place. Scratch that, he’d like to crush both of them as well as kissing the institute goodbye. Keeping such ideas locked in his head, the alpha turned to head towards the track field

“I left, I came back. There’s no need for an explanation. I’ll be on my way”

Skylark added a fresh level of annoyance, stopping Maki before he could stalk off

“Wait. Where do you think you’re going? You’ll be running in your mech tonight. It’ll give you a good taste of what you’ll be missing. Not to mention the satisfaction of knowing you’ve truly hit your physical limits. Professor, I’ll leave him in your hands”

Beside Skylark, his babysitter bowed slightly to the man

“Yes, sir. Thank you for alerting me of the situation. I’ll see the punishment is completed”

Bowing again, Maki felt no shred of sympathy for the “Professor” forced yet again to babysit him, as his chaperone made his way ahead of him leaving the alpha to trail behind like a child.

It was whispered that Maki’s personal babysitter was one the institutes research subjects and given how easily he let himself be pushed around, Maki wouldn’t have been surprised. There was no way the man could have been a pilot, even if he was an alpha with the increased durability that came with it, Rage Fire’s local rumour mill would have printed that fact he was long ago. Tall and thin, it seemed one good wind would knock the man off his feet. Everything about the man in front of him carried an annoying degree of delicacy and a high degree of “pushoverness”. Other than his babysitting ways, it was his bootlicking ability that got under the alpha’s skin the most. The school camera systems would have been more than adequate to ensure that he was completing his punishment, yet the coward had nodded and agreed with Skylark as if it were nothing. It was fair to say they’d never find the middle ground. Not with the way the professor turned his constantly concerned brown eyes at him, staring at him through his glasses in an utterly unwanted parental concern kind of way. The final straw was that the bastard even dared to have a good inch of height over him, despite being as strong as kitten, and hair long enough to be a danger in actual combat. Yes. The babysitter pissed him off to no end. Hikaru Tatsuma, the professional babysitter and rumoured science experiment. The name was enough make Maki mentally gag, then again, Sato Maki was hardly any better, and just as ill fitting.

Keeping up the ill mood, Maki stopped when his babysitter did. He’d trailed across the school grounds without the lecture he still knew was coming. Scanning his pass, Hikaru sensei let them into the mech training hall. The building as long as the campus grounds were wide and located at the far back of the school. All pilots needed to be free from implants to prevent neural hacking or interference from electromagnetic storms. From the look of his babysitter, his sensei wouldn’t have been able to handle the implantation surgery even if he’d been born on another planet. Maki would talk big and claim no implant bothered him, yet… if he did go ahead with body modifications he knew he’d end up like everyone else in chasing his need for more strength. There was also the issue of funding said modifications as even the cheapest still cost tens of thousands of galactic dollars. His small salary as a student pilot would barely pay to sniff at the mods on sale.

With the lighting automatically turning on, Maki turned towards the locker room where student training suits were kept. Each suit custom tailored down to the smallest millimeter to ensure no extra fabric could interfere with the pilots manoeuvre. Taken by the arm before he could escape, when Maki raised his head to expose a sullen look at his babysitter, he found just as sullen a look on the older male’s face. It was very rarely that the Professor seemed annoyed and it was rarer still that the man would make such an expression in front of him. Whatever. Whatever had crawled up the man’s arse and died there was none of the young alpha’s concern as he coldly objected

“Lay off. I need to change”

“You can’t pilot with untreated hands. Either, we treat your hands, or, we go back to Skylark and I tell him you’ve been injured”

Fire gleamed in Maki’s grey eyes. Somehow his goddamn babysitter had some tenth sense or something. This would make the third time calling him out since their annoying situation began. It made him feel more like those damn glasses could see right into the heart of things he had no intentions of talking about

“I don’t know what you’re referring to”

The professor hummed light. The bastard seemed to have balls of steel now the pair of them were alone. Where was this backbone when Skylark was bullshitting? Tugging on his arm, Maki nearly stumbled, wishing there were no cameras so he could tear his arm out of his babysitter’s hold

“You’ve kept your hands hidden in your hoodie since your return. Should you have brought a weapon on to school grounds, the sensors would have already sent out an alert. There’s a small limp and because of it you’re favouring your right side. Skylark is no fool. Don’t act as if he didn’t see right through you. You should have offered an explanation and an apology on the spot”

With the Professor in bullshit mode, Maki stopped listening and was forced along to the back control room. The control room, as it name suggested, was the control hub for all virtual and physical simulations within the training centre. Normally only the very best were permitted inside, unless one screwed up so badly that their mecha teacher felt the need to bring them in and scream at them. Glared at, the alpha sat as the first aid kit was found up. Every first aid kit was stocked with far more than could be ever used. Generally, if a pilot well and truly messed up to the point of injury, nanotech coagulants could be used to heal them. Given the spray did contain nano bots, use would result in a two week ban from training to ensure that no contamination occurred. For an alpha who’d gotten into scrapes growing up, things such as nano-spray never graced his path. Still, it was one of the few pieces of technology that Maki actually appreciated. No one wanted to see their classmate exsanguinated in front of them, even the arseholes who deserved it.

“Hands. No moving until I say so”

Maki rolled his eyes as did as he was told and placed both hands upon the desk

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Don’t you have something else to do?”

Unbothered, the Professor calmly pulled out two vials, ignoring the broken skin of the alphas knuckles, and returning to his lecture. The first vial was a disinfectant, the second would seal the wound. Having his babysitter play nursemaid was surely a mortifying task for the both of them.

“You need to stop going out at night via the bathroom window. Sensors will be reinstalled there as of tomorrow”

Tough shit for him. He’d have to go back to escaping off the third floor balcony of his room. He’d only stopped because his three dormmates insisted on coming with and ruining his plans

“Fine. Whatever. Aren’t you going to ask where I was this time?”

The Professor raised an eyebrow as he snapped open the first vial. The purple liquid quickly been poured onto Maki’s broken skin

“No. You wouldn’t tell me if I did”

Frowning, this wasn’t the lecturer he’d played out in his mind. Normally his babysitter made more a deal of things. It wasn’t as if he wanted to be lectured, yet something seemed off

“What? Upset because you have to watch over the schools delinquent again? Watching you snivelling is supposed to be one of the perks, isn’t it?”

“No. I’m simply not wasting the energy. Besides, I get paid, no matter what happens. Whether you run until you drop or you hit your limits first is up to you. The emergency shut off will activate when your physical and mental energies are exhausted”

“Rich words coming from a man who’s never set foot in a mech. You wouldn’t even know how to start one”

“No. Alas, I’m a poor researcher destined to spend my life buried in study and cleaning up after wayward children”

Quickly dumping the contents of the second vial on Maki’s hands, an involuntary hiss escaped his lips. The shit stung. There were no two ways about it. Out of every punishment he’d received, the ones where the Professor had to clean up his wounds left the worst taste in his mouth. The man didn’t give a shit about him no more than Maki cared… but it did seem his babysitter was in some kind of mood. This only served to make Maki more agitated

“What’s up with you? Where’s the normal lecture and the sighing?”

Closing up the medical kit with a light snap, the Professor carried it back over to the cupboard, his tone disinterested

“I haven’t got the time or inclination tonight. It’s our last night together for the next month, so what’s the point in it?”

Nodding, the alpha supposed that made sense. A moment passing before Maki actually realised good news had fallen upon him, trying not to seem too pleased as he asked

“A month? What’s that even mean?”

“It means that even I have a life outside the institution. As of tomorrow Skylark will ban you from piloting and I have other matters to attend to. Take the third TC08 tonight. It’s come back from maintenance today”

Maki scowled. Freshly serviced mechs were everyone’s preference. For all the institutes propaganda, student training mechs would often go months before maintenance causing lags in relay times and issues in coordination. If a student wound up in a slow mech, they’d be forcibly humiliated when it came to training. Somehow this wanker knew that the mech was fresh back, forcing the knowledge on the alpha as an unwanted gift. The question slipping from Maki’s lips before he could stop it

“Since when do you know anything about mechs?”

“I know you’re a far better pilot than you let everyone believe. The neural modulator was replaced, so you should find the experience smoother. Same from the L through to T relays in the right leg and the stabilisers. I also know that for two months you won’t have the chance to pilot. If you don’t like it, don’t pilot it. You’re old enough to know better”

With his hands now dried, Maki crossed his arms and sat back in his chair. The Professor really was in an odd mood. Never did he think words like “neural transmitter” would fall from the man’s lips, let alone talking about the relays. He’d have to pass the news onto his friends, or they’d face the consequences of a bad mech in training

“Who would have thought. Grandpa here knows about mechs?”

His comment earned a sigh from his babysitter, who fixed him with something close to a glare

“You’re too young to be calling yourself a grandpa unless you’ve spawned a couple of offspring early”

“Not me, you. Acting like you know it all. Natural birth might as well be a fu-… a relic. Everyone knows most of the population these days come from artificial wombs”

“Yes, I suppose a man who skipped the front lines and took the five year student stretch would think as much. Though I am insulted you think me quite that old”

Two years on front lines followed by two years schooling, or five years schooling followed by immediate promotion then a cushy front lines position. Students could technically mix and match but there were school preferences with enrolment and placement. The first options were the two most popular choices when students thought about their piloting future. Going straight into front line training meant a gruelling six month course and training solely in piloting. For Maki, family circumstances had led him on the path he was on

“Tch. What would you know?”

“More than you think. Also, for the record, I highly doubt at age 28 I fall into that grandpa category. Now, I understand you’re in a talkative mood, but if you delay any further, Skylark will be down here demanding why you haven’t started yet. Off you go”

Maki grit his teeth. Not only had his babysitter taken his verbal abuse, he’d gone and pulled the rug out from under his feet by informing he was only 6 years older than him to boot. He’d have placed the Professor already in his late 30’s possibly pushing 40. Whatever. He’d show him that he didn’t need a babysitter. Not now and not during the next month. Dragging himself out of the chair Maki let his feet carry him forward. What did he care how young his babysitter was? He wouldn’t show him just how rattled he was by the closeness in their age, not now, and not ever.

#rfi #rage fire institution

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leoalvarez-clowncarcommittee · 3 years ago

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My Thoughts on Chase x Leo

Well I figure I should make this post eventually and Blurry just started playing on my playlists so I figured now’s a good time. Spoilers below! Leo is extremely obsessive and has violent tendencies. He isn’t a good person to date. The only times he comes even remotely close to snapping out of this is in Jenna’s and his route. He still should never date Chase again. Even with the Hum and paranormal stuff making his negative emotions worse, by his own words, it still originated for him. I still empathize and sympathize with him. Hearing him say he cried every day for almost two years straight BROKE him and me, specifically after having to leave him.

This experience combined with the hysteria finally made him realize. He knows he shouldn’t even talk to Chase (for both of their sakes). Him confronting and banishing his Tulpa finally made him realize that shit was fucked and even if he has feelings he knows it’s to late and there’s to much baggage in his own head. His own credits theme even says while he wants to redo it he knows he cant and while it still hurts, it’s not going to change. On to Chase. Now, we learn in Tj’s and Flynn’s route that Chase definitely isn’t all positive vibes. But even fairly attributing his actions IN Echo (the town) to the big bad, I do believe three of the four worse things he ever did, was outside of echo, and thus outside of the big bad’s influence (supported in Jenna’s route whilst in Payton at the diner). Going through with the cheating prank, and then telling Leo his plans right after, specifically to hurt Leo, was done in Payton during his school lunch break. And honestly, the most fucked up thing at all, that IMO, when factored in with the paranormal, gives Leo SO MUCH SLACK (except for the events on his route and the violence) is that Chase would always thirst text him. Constantly, the whole time at Pueblo.

Leo acting touchy and feely at the motel, and thinking he should win Chase a prize to be his man at the amusement park makes complete sense because CHASE TOLD HIM HE WANTS THAT STILL. Him grouping and touching Chase at the mall in Jenna’s route is because Chase said that’s what he wants. Chase never let go, he fueled his fire with his own baggage, and Leo being ~such~ a mess is as much Chase’s fault as it is Leo’s. It’s not even a ‘victim’ blaming situation. Chase isn’t a victim of any domestic abuse, their only one grade year apart in age so that’s definitely not a ‘problematic’ issue, and Chase dealt as much bullshit as Leo did while together, and WAY WAY more when apart it turned out. In Leo’s route, I think he realized this. It’s why he didn’t want to give Chase his new number. He didn’t need Chase texting him, asking to play around again every time him and Kudzu have a single argument or every time Chase would drink. Leo needed to be broken, Chase was broken, and they both know their actions led to everything being broken.

Leo’s worst act mirrors Chase’s, and even then Chase did more truly messed up stuff. In the short, patreon exclusive story, when Leo break’s Chase’s phone (his second worse act IMO) it’s revealed that Leo thought he had his own phone in his hands. He was lashing out in anger but not intentionally to break Chase’s things.

Now... on to why I still ‘ship’ them and why it’s my PFP. It’s because it’s messed up crazy. Them both being complete bastards is so real and raw. Young gay kids do some stupid shit and so much drama and grief is displayed in their relationship. It’s doomed fate, a tragedy unfolding across timelines. They’re both carnal in their desires, they’re both romantic in their desires. It’s like a horror show, like watching two trains collide into each other at full speed. Fascinating and grotesque. When you pull away the supernatural it’s still ugly.

When trying to look at the past, it’s beautiful, a fairy tale scenario. Your childhood friend likes you, the same way you like him. It’s so scary and wrong to them to be who they are, and they find the perfect comfort and empowerment and safety in each other. But echo is a series of tragedies. This one is as ugly and horrid as the rest, but what ‘could have been’ or Who “We” Used to Be is such a compelling narrative, that celebrating the positive and showcasing the negative is something I cant help but do

#Leo Alvarez #Chase Hunter #Echo vn #echovn #echo visual novel #echo project #echoproject #echo

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ikusayu-no-hana · 2 years ago

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kiden!! act i

first off. I watched kiden with the most kasen-biased lens, and even after like 6ish rewatches there are things I might have missed out. second, this is long. hehe. so that's a much needed disclaimer before I unload everything I've been thinking of for the past few weeks.

ofc......this is an abandoned timeline. even so, the only flowers that bloom are those near gracia.

Kokin’s shriek thank you very very very much

they skip half of the plotline of iden and straight away make it clear that everyone knows who the touken danshi are . and the fact that they know they are living in an abandoned timeline. no existential conflicts here?

takayama ukon, I think, as far as I can remember, is the first sute human ive seen that justifies not killing the touken danshi on the basis that they have the same hearts as humans, and are not mere objects. He’s so emptathetic towards them it almost makes me uncomfortable bc well….we know whats going to happen in the end .

jizou running away with gracia is the softest portrayal of a touken danshi denying his duty we’ve ever seen. maybe its the hand holding, treating gracia like she’s fragile.

Urghrjdnf I know it’s a world that came into existence from gracia’s wish but hearing don francisco say “what if we let her be free?” leaves a bad bad taste in my mouth. Sure it may be what she wanted but does she anymore? Isn’t she already supposed to be free in this new world? But then again, would her happiness ultimately lie in her husband living like a depraved madman…..? debatable.

i feel terrible for the honmaru that lost their daisanbutai...all six swords broken in one investigation....*logs in to my honmaru to poke all six of them to make sure theyre ok*

Kokin’s message…

Always always alwaysssssss mouthing the opening dialogue…fuck ive been waiting to hear it in kasens voice forever and ever.

why is kasen so beautiful. like. they really set his wig and did his makeup to make him look divine, like one of those sad noh maidens (thoughts on the op here)

(A bit of an aside, but I find it funny how some of them still have flower petals on their costumes www. Chougi looking fully serious while having a petal lodged in his cape as if just seconds earlier he wasnt dancing. and shishiou scattering petals in his wake as he runs.)

SITTING AROUND A FIRE HOW CUTE. i forgot that this scene in almost its entirety was also in kahakugeki, because this time it’s a completely different setting and theyre doing something other than walking. this feels more lively :)

they discuss a little poetry! specifically the poem kokindenjunotachi recites in the incoming call. kidengumi poetry discussion session in full swing! i still am surprised to find out shishiou also liked poetry bc his former master was an accomplished poet, and also that chougi and nikkari are well-read in old literature. I wonder if that was their own acquired knowledge or from kasen's influence.

feels like everyone has an appreciation (or at least, an understanding) of the arts that kasen likes ("please group me with people who understand elegance").

kasen voice: in most cases the 'uta' you're talking about is not the 'uta' I'm familiar with! (he mustve heard a lot of kotegiri's songs already.)

kikkou truly must be a good cook if kasen is relishing the food he made........mmmm watching them made me a little hungry ngl

who's the sender of the message??? does kasen know????

"well I do have a feeling of who it might be–"

"one of your old friends, perhaps?"

I love how kasen and nikkari have this exchange between them, where nikkari consistently sees right through kasen and his discomfort and frankly cuts right to the point. nikkari’s role here is to act as a foil of sorts to kasen.

I feel like. kotegiri and shishiou bring the much needed light-heartedness to this unit. tsurumaru, koga, mutsu and horikawa did that in iden but in kiden we’ve got like. more somber characters havent we. like seriously in any other setting I wouldnt imagine characters like kasen and nikkari doing an enthusiastic group shout . (kikkou looks at chougi bc hes the only one not doing it lol. and i think nikkari also gestures to chougi to go along w it

so the farmers mention that katō kiyomasa was defeated and bc of that the christians made kumamoto-jo their hideout. looked him up and....this guy was absolutely brutal towards them....stabbing pregnant christian women and cutting off their children's heads. making kumamoto castle a christian place feels like the ultimate fuck you to kato kiyomasa.

seeing kasen give out instructions feels so..........and everyone looking at him. thats his unit. thats his daisanbutai. thats their captain. and hes such a trustworthy captain <3

the reason why nikkari’s so set on poking kasen about his ‘mukashinajimi’ is definitely bc kasen is mysteriously reluctant about to bring it up (shinpaishite iru yo). in kahakugeki kasen begins to say kokindenjunotachi’s name in the first scene when nikkari cuts in and i wish theyd have kept that little bit in kiden. i think kasen......definitely didnt want to face his past. ive said enough abt that in well...a lot of posts. but also, i think he was also a little fearfulof what meeting old friends would mean. itd be too many coincidences, wouldnt it

it just occurred to me that tadaoki, most definitely, like in giden, thought kasen was a geisha just standing in the middle of his way. just like that. thats why hes like ???????????

oh man. kasen. it mustve fucked him up to see tadaoki like that. i feel like having watched kahakugeki took a little shock out of it bc we all expected it, but it really mustve been a massive shocker and eye opener to kasen to see what a fully christian country entailed. (if gracias wish hadnt come true tadaoki wouldnt have to suffer like this would he...? but then neither wouldve been able to make the other happy if their repsective wishes came true) its jarring to see your father, who was once full of pride and one of the wealthiest lords in the country, fall to the bottom of the barrel.

obsessed with the way kasen shows his nervous tics: tucking his hair, tapping his sword, flourishing his cape. kuma does it all so naturally.

???? chougi smile out of nowhere???? i think he only did that in daisenshuuraku stream bc in 4/3 stream he didnt much smile at kikkou kjsndv thank you for that though

chougi and kikkou r literally . team rocket but more cunning and scheming. its like theyve already had experience in reconnaissance together.

if im not wrong kikkou says “even though it’s god’s country, there’s no equality among its citizens” yes king thats been the problem w christian kingdoms throughout history! *cough* europe *cough*

"bluffing is also a weapon of war" go kikkou go!!!!!!!!

i wouldnt want them as enemies ever theyre genuinely terrifyingly good at drawing out information. but also theyre just bluffing it as they go huh lol

still, its impressive they came up with all that on the spot.

DEATH BY KIKKOUS WHISTLE

jk rowling wishes she couldve made draco malfunction as sexy and ruthless as chougi

MAN THEYRE SO ANNOYING D SJKNDV everyone whispering "hidari! hidari!!!!!!" but he still gets slapped. imagine ur just here to protect ur religious country and these meddling touken danshi LIE to ur face and give u weird riddles to solve and u still get clocked while the other guy is having the time of his life whistling at ur misfortune. and the blue cape guy tops it off with “i have utmost respect for ur guys’ devotion to ur faith :)”

theyre so good. chemistry is out of this world. digging my grave as i speak

“where is she?!?!?!?!?” *stomach suddenly starts rumbling* sorry i know its like. a plot point to get tadaoki to where shishiou and kotegiri at the eatery but i couldnt stop laughing

i think its safe to say kiden part i is more of a comedy to a certain extent. to a certain extent only though.

kotegiri is so earnest and it feels like shishiou is his elder brother.

they finally got to sit at the same table T-T

i really like how the three sets of touken danshi move to different places to gather intel; kasen + nikkari going to the crowds near the castle to observe them (i loved the bgm here), chougi + kikkou slyly making their way to the church, shishiou + kote going to a restaurant. it feels characteristic to each of them.

that one guy inthe background doing a double take @ nue

shishiou talks to kogarasumaru a lot for a guy who claims to not like being treated like a kid hmmmmmmm admit u like being spoiled like the rest of us

also i wonder if shishiou simply didnt ask kogarasumaru for an explanation or if kogarasumaru didnt go into too many details or if shishiou simply forgot about what the former meant by a ‘troublesome’ mission. he may be a himbo

nveeeveerrrrrr getting tired of shishious koga impression. ever

and his smile while talking about his jicchan....... :D

shishious the kind of friend that has No Shame and No Reluctance to be full on weird in public settings and honestly good for him ! (kotegiri nodding to the other people in the restaurant wwww like yeah excuse us, im sorry)

shishiou knows archery confirmed.

he’s the first one to sense that the ‘humans’ arent actually humans. its his innate sense isnt it? he’s more knowledgeable than he lets everyone else in on.

i love how theyre all told gracia was taken by a touken danshi but they dont suspect the other members

honestly i dont want to delve too much into the historical figures bc that would make this post longer than i think its goign to turn out :(

kotegiri’s wavering confusion at the sight of tadaoki........i love how touken danshi retain their former master’s bonds and feelings toward the people in their lives. in a rudimentary sort of way kote must have felt like he was looking at his father.

well. can you really blame tadaoki for wanting to kill gracia? actually no this isnt really a story about who bears the blame. if you try to search for moral validity in this play youre going to spend eternity here. its simply a story about desire. in kidens case, gracia gaining something meant making tadaoki lose something, namely his wealth, title, lands, perhaps even sanity. and because of that he hates her. but because of his memories he also loves her. and thats the central conflict of his character.

like ive always thought: in tkrb there is rarely black and white morality, what they define as ‘good’ or ‘bad’ depends upon whether they can carry out their orders and protect history, and thats also apparent in a few later scenes. its the fact that the swords are drawn from so many different stories (+ also the fact that modern morality has no business being applied to the people of yore. also re: the oda swords’ different views on oda nobunaga. hasebe hates the way he did things, but yagen thinks it was fitting for a man of that period) ok ive derailed enough lets go back to the play !

ofc kote follows after tadaoki,,,,,,,,

right before meeting him, a strong wind blows over kasen and nikkari . personally i think that “wind” that notoriously blows in some scenes is a sort of euphemism for kokindenjunotachi -> in the keichou kumamoto chousa in the game he tells us to call him kaze at first. ofc, this is just a speculation but it ties in with later scenes too so bear w me

i love how kokin straight up lies to them ‘i called you so we could recite poems’ kasen is right to see through his bullshit jkdsnvjk. still, i think kokin was sly to have waited until he was sure they were trustworthy and strong enough to handle the mission to formally tell them the details of what happened.

this little exchange between kokin and kasen is my favourite bc it says a lot without many words. its almost like a fight between siblings but not exactly, kokin has this emotional distance that kasen cant get through to. id liken it more to a father-and-son thing. the son never being able to understand his father is such a famous trope isnt it? thats whats happening here. kokin’s got something up his sleeve and kasen is dissatisfied bc he cant guess what it is and why kokin’s keeping it from them.

>ikuzo, aoe. ah, yarou! killed me x2. two of my favourite swords interactignrgksndfjnvdfjnvkjnsd

this bgm slaps

low-level kokin ganbatte

NITOU KAIGAN LETS GOOOOO

ahhh canon that nikkari and kasen spar a lot!!

man kasen is so sarcastic . ‘have you lost your poetic spirit?’ bestie chill he’s doing his best at the level he’s on

NOW kokin trusts them after they rescue him. he suddenly goes all serious and then says those words like theyre coming from his heart.......in this investigation, he specifically asked for kasen didnt he? it wasnt like iden where hizen called for all competent touken danshi. i suppose that was part of his plan as well, to strengthen kasen (we dont get to know if like in iden, the saniwa deliberately also wanted kasen to grow. its simply not mentioned but the mission pays off doesnt it?). what a roundabout way to do it tho. though, kasen wouldve been petulant if he Knew what this investigation was meant to entail right from the start. thats why kokin couldnt fully go into the details right away.

:(((((((((((((((((((((((((((( gracia...........

‘why did that man order my death?’ god this reminds me of musou’s dainibutai’s chapter where kasen just. randomly asks ‘do you think tadaoki wanted gracia......dead?’ its so out of character bc he’s being vulnerable for the first time since the mission, and namazuo tells him ‘it doesnt matter how it happened, if someone precious dies, anyone’d be sad’ (paraphrased from the jp game i didnt play the en version dont tell me im wrong vdbjsndvkjdsfnvkj)

haraiso.......inferno.........they’ve read their dante alighieri

as far as i can make out the touken danshi that perished were......kashuu, yagen, ichigo, nihongou, horikawa, and izumi

AHHHHHHHHHHH jizou’s internal conflict AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

‘just like me, you’re also taken captive’ ah it strikes again, the fixed and unflexible nature of the touken danshi’s duty that is the root cause of all pain in tkrb.

this is so funny and cute awwwwwww. its so hard for jizou to comprehend human relationships. its easy to understand at a superficial level, but hard once you actually are a human. and thats what’s happening here: jizou is getting humanized.

oh jizous so cuteeeeeee

yeeeeee the table scene !!!!!!

i came to the stunning realization that this scene references the scene of The Last Supper. but ofc.......there are supposed to be 13 people in the painting, but ukon and yukinaga and gracia aren’t there. i initially thought gracia would be representative of jesus, but she’s betrayed them and run away right? jesus is the one that stayed and was killed. with that logic, it’s otomo sourin that’s symbolic of jesus since......well........he gets betrayed in the end. this is a table of traitors.

so i looked up what seisan meant and

oh my god it IS EXACTLY THE LAST SUPPER TOUSUTE DID IT DELIBERATELYYYYYYYY

ahhh i really love the proverb kikkou uses here: 郷にっては郷にしたがえ . i didnt get it immediately at first but i did get a sense of it being similar to ‘when in rome, do as the romans do.’ i love this kikkou’s characterization so much

otomo sourin feels like their babysitter rip

theyre so pretty I loved the set-up of this scene

this scene is significant in so many ways 1) we dont have enough scenes in tkrb where touken danshi are subtly given the position of unbending, ruthless, unnegotiable villains. 2) it reiterates what we already know: that protecting history is a touken danshi’s instinct. 3) it makes a distinction between the concepts of ‘instinct’ and ‘justice’ 4) kikkou likes to wave at people 5) chougi is the more passionate one, kikkou the cooler, level-headed one.

yoshitaka says that no one is in the wrong. hmmm

kotegiri’s face as tadaoki is denouncing tama 😭😭😭😭😭😭

shishiou talking aboutkasen😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

even though he’s a government sword, kokin displays so much human emotion, wanting to save jizou even after they parted ways. it reminds me of kasen when he’s with sayo orz

kasen has this air of resignation as he recites the origin of his name. i feel like shaking him and saying NOOOOOOO cant you see nobody thinks those 36 dead people were your fault?? youre respected and loved just as you are!

‘kasen kanesada, will you kill gracia? you, who was tadaoki’s sword, will you kill the person he loved?’ crying screaming throwing up ripping my curtains apart smashing thw windows tearing out all the pages from my books this line isso bonkers insane . and kokin using kasens full name too

holy fuck kasen has so much of an internal crisis about it its insane.

ofc kokin smiles bc he also Knows that.

ofc kasen bites back w his own questions. thats just how those two are . its like they view human emotions as a sort of weakness, that kasen is inherently weak for not feeling completely sure about killing her, and that kokin is weak and denying his purpose as a touken danshi for wanting to save jizou.

>scene ending with kokin alone, talking to no one in particular (or is he?) wondering if he’s naïve.

>next scene starting with jizou saying ‘kaze ka?’ you see the connection?? The heavenly wind and kokin???? The hecking amatsukaze???????????

God. Isn’t it ironic how jizou prays to his god so that he can preserve gracia’s connection to her god? (note: in kahakugeki he only used one hand for this line, in kiden he uses both)

Hmmm aren’t flowers ephemeral and fragile? I understand where jizou’s coming from, heck my guess for what he’d call her was also a flower, and why kokin calls her a blossom of the Hosokawa, but I cant help but wonder if that’s a way to simply emphasize her weakness and inability to live as she liked, having her life mostly dictated by the men around her. Tadaoki’s the only one who calls her a snake, capable of biting back. The same snake that threw humanity into sin. Ironically enough it’s the person who loved/hated her that could understand her. But then again, its tadaoki’s heart inside jizou that’s also calling her a flower. Honestly she can (and does) symbolize both.

Having no home to return to must hurt…….

Im so happy they can finally fight with real enemies instead of like last time ><

The reason im so glad they paired up Kasen and Nikkari is bc both of them are haunted by the sin of what they killed, and seeing them get along so well, like they know each others intricacies, what the other is thinking, its like a genuine bond.

Ok and now one of the most emotionally charged scenes ever………..

hmmm how to put this simply. it’d be easy to leave it as simply ‘straight married couple argument’ but it begs a more deeper nuance than that. lets see. gracia and tadaoki meet for the first time in what is probably, a long time. all this time tadaoki was so worked about hating her and wanting to kill her and yet his first instinct is to let out all his pent up feelings and.....cling to her........ ‘why did we become this way?’ ..........even though they loved each other and were married for over 20 years, held on even through akechi mitsuhide’s betrayal, tama’s conversion. ….how were they reduced to this? Its precisely because of that bond that gracia asked him to kill her, and precisely because of that bond that tadaoki couldn’t. its so so simple to say what we want to do but when the reality of the situation catches up, can we really stay the same?

and tadaoki’s last words to her were literally ‘my snake’

oughoughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhOUCH rip

and thats her breaking point. shes literally driven to hysterics. and she didnt want to ascertain tadaoki’s heart....she simply wanted to be forgiven (the reasons that cut the deepest are the most simplest ones) for the sin of hating the person she loved.

but,,,,,,,as much as i loved thisscene, as much as i couldnt bear to watch it in consequent rewatches,,,,,this gracia isnt the real gracia.....she just isnt. the humans in altered timelines never are.

‘let’s go, aneue’ ‘where?’ ‘anywhere. maybe even to hell’ <- wtf twfffffffffsdjnfffffffffffffffffff jizou said GOODBYE TO KARMA AND MORALITY I’D FOLLOW MY BELOVED ANYWHERE

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭tadadsifkofjkasensdnfkasjfnkjnsakjfnajnfajsnjcksanfwehfiuhwenudnjfuwfnzsexdrctfvgybhnjkmgbhjnk YOURE GOING TO DIE IN YOUR BEST FRIEND’S ARMS AND YOU PLAY ALONG BECAUSE ITS WRITTEN DOWN YOUVE MEMORIZED IT ITS ALL YOU KNOW 😭😭😭😭😭😭

tadaoki’s honshin was that he didnt want to kill gracia and jizou and kasen inherited that same heart are you listening!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1!!111!1111!!!!!!!!!!!!

it physically hurts to see kasen so very nearly crying . its like everytime he meets tadaoki he’s left perplexed and dissatisfied and so so upset and he doesnt know what to do with all these feelings

ending with all the revisionists so far......ito, ryoma, takeuchi, toyou, those two from tenden/muden, the black armour, oboro manba.......kuroda kanbei.......who’s absolutely digging that long hair............

#watch the act ii post become even longer than this #tousute #kiden ikusayu no adabana #revisiting this like no this is not even 25% of my thoughts . i have more each day these are jusf the base

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butterflies-dragons · 4 years ago

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GRRM has projected his love for medieval tourneys, heraldry, pageantry, knights and chivalry on Sansa Stark

Art credit: Heinrich von Breslau (Codex Manesse, 14. Jahrhundert)

GRRM:

“That whole story (The Hedge Knight) is built around a tournament. I love medieval tournaments, reading about them, writing about them. There's of course some of them in the main books, but this was an opportunity in a time of peace, not war, to look at a medieval tournament with all its pageantry and the jousting and the combat and reveal a little of Westerosi History”.

—In conversation: George R.R. Martin with Dan Jones FULL EVENT- August 2019

SANSA:

"The talk in the yard is we shall have a tourney, my lord," Jory said as he resumed his seat. "They say that knights will come from all over the realm to joust and feast in honor of your appointment as Hand of the King."

Arya could see that her father was not very happy about that. "Do they also say this is the last thing in the world I would have wished?"

Sansa's eyes had grown wide as the plates. "A tourney," she breathed. She was seated between Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, as far from Arya as she could get without drawing a reproach from Father. "Will we be permitted to go, Father?"

"You know my feelings, Sansa. It seems I must arrange Robert's games and pretend to be honored for his sake. That does not mean I must subject my daughters to this folly."

"Oh, please," Sansa said. "I want to see."

Septa Mordane spoke up. "Princess Myrcella will be there, my lord, and her younger than Lady Sansa. All the ladies of the court will be expected at a grand event like this, and as the tourney is in your honor, it would look queer if your family did not attend."

Father looked pained. "I suppose so. Very well, I shall arrange a place for you, Sansa." He saw Arya. "For both of you."

"I don't care about their stupid tourney," Arya said. She knew Prince Joffrey would be there, and she hated Prince Joffrey.

Sansa lifted her head. "It will be a splendid event. You shan't be wanted."

—A Game of Thrones - Arya II

Sansa rode to the Hand's tourney with Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, in a litter with curtains of yellow silk so fine she could see right through them. They turned the whole world gold. Beyond the city walls, a hundred pavilions had been raised beside the river, and the common folk came out in the thousands to watch the games. The splendor of it all took Sansa’s breath away; the shining armor, the great chargers caparisoned in silver and gold, the shouts of the crowd, the banners snapping in the wind…and the knights themselves, the knights most of all.

“It is better than the songs,” she whispered when they found the places that her father had promised her, among the high lords and ladies. Sansa was dressed beautifully that day, in a green gown that brought out the auburn of her hair, and she knew they were looking at her and smiling.

They watched the heroes of a hundred songs ride forth, each more fabulous than the last.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

GRRM:

“Tolkien imitators who came after him, a lot of them created a sort of Disneyland Middle Ages, you know, a sort of Middle Ages like you might see at a Renaissance Faire, but you don't have the dysentery, or the torture, or the leprosy, or the innate sexism, or classism, or racism that was so built into so much of that world for so many centuries, you really have to take, you know, I like the knights in shinning armor, the heraldry and pageantry as much as anyone, but you also have to include the fleas."

— Neuchâtel International Fantastic Film Festival - NIFFF 2014

The novelist is midway through something of a European tour. After his trip to Switzerland, he is due in Scotland for the Edinburgh book festival. It has often been suggested that Ivanhoe (by the Scottish 19th-century novelist Walter Scott) was, alongside the War of the Roses, a major influence on A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones.

Martin was first turned on to Ivanhoe by the 1952 MGM movie starring Robert Taylor, George Sanders and a young Elizabeth Taylor. "I think it was Elizabeth Taylor at the peak of her...," his voice tails off before he clarifies. "She was the most beautiful woman in the world. I think I was nine years old when I saw that movie. How could you not fall in love with her? But the jousting and the pageantry of it made me love that story. Later, in high school, I did read that book. For a modern reader, it's a little tough to get through. The prose is very Victorian and thick but if you fight your way through it, the story is there. It has everything the movie has and more – the heraldry and jousting and the insight into the times. It was an influence in that sense."

—GRRM - Independent - 2014

SANSA:

The green knight laughed again. "Barristan the Old, you mean. Don't flatter him too sweetly, child, he thinks overmuch of himself already." He smiled at her. "Now, wolf girl, if you can put a name to me as well, then I must concede that you are truly our Hand's daughter."

Joffrey stiffened beside her. "Have a care how you address my betrothed."

"I can answer," Sansa said quickly, to quell her prince's anger. She smiled at the green knight. "Your helmet bears golden antlers, my lord. The stag is the sigil of the royal House. King Robert has two brothers. By your extreme youth, you can only be Renly Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End and councillor to the king, and so I name you."

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

No one ransomed the northmen, though. One fat lordling haunted the kitchens, Hot Pie told her, always looking for a morsel. His mustache was so bushy that it covered his mouth, and the clasp that held his cloak was a silver-and-sapphire trident. He belonged to Lord Tywin, but the fierce, bearded young man who liked to walk the battlements alone in a black cloak patterned with white suns had been taken by some hedge knight who meant to get rich off him. Sansa would have known who he was, and the fat one too, but Arya had never taken much interest in titles and sigils. Whenever Septa Mordane had gone on about the history of this house and that house, she was inclined to drift and dream and wonder when the lesson would be done.

—A Clash of Kings - Arya VII

Petyr had given her a roll of arms to study, so she knew their heraldry if not their faces. The red castle was Redfort, plainly; a short man with a neat grey beard and mild eyes. Lady Anya was the only woman amongst the Lords Declarant, and wore a deep green mantle with the broken wheel of Waynwood picked out in beads of jet. Six silver bells on purple, that was Belmore, pear-bellied and round of shoulder. His beard was a ginger-grey horror sprouting from a multiplicity of chins. Symond Templeton's, by contrast, was black and sharply pointed. A beak of a nose and icy blue eyes made the Knight of Ninestars look like some elegant bird of prey. His doublet displayed nine black stars within a golden saltire. Young Lord Hunter's ermine cloak confused her till she spied the brooch that pinned it, five silver arrows fanned. Alayne would have put his age closer to fifty than to forty. His father had ruled at Longbow Hall for nigh on sixty years, only to die so abruptly that some whispered the new lord had hastened his inheritance. Hunter's cheeks and nose were red as apples, which bespoke a certain fondness for the grape. She made certain to fill his cup as often as he emptied it.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne I

Harry was staring at her. He knows who I am, she realized, and he does not seem pleased to see me. It was only then that she took note of his heraldry. Though his surcoat and horse trappings were patterned in the red-and-white diamonds of House Hardyng, his shield was quartered. The arms of Hardyng and Waynwood were displayed in the first and third quarters, respectively, but in the second and fourth quarters he bore the moon-and-falcon of House Arryn, sky blue and cream. Sweetrobin will not like that.

—The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

GRRM:

Firstly, thanks for that very thorough response on the tournaments and knighthood. Fascinating. In particular given the notes about _Ivanhoe_ and its influence -- I've only witnessed the A&E production of it, although maybe about time I read it. Seems it might be ripe for ideas.

IVANHOE is well worth a read, although the style is very old fashioned, of course. Still it has some fabulous characters and scenes, and so far as I know the definitive portrayal of a medieval tournament, both melee and joust.

It has been filmed three times that I know of. The recent A&E production had some good moments, as did the older Sam Neill version... the CLASSIC version, however, is still MGM's 50s version, starring Robert Taylor, Elizabeth Taylor, and George Sanders. The jousts are wonderful, Liz is radiant, and George Sanders steals the film as Bois-Gilbert. You should definitely rent that one and have a look.

—GRRM - 1999

SANSA:

She loved King's Landing; the pageantry of the court, the high lords and ladies in their velvets and silks and gemstones, the great city with all its people. The tournament had been the most magical time of her whole life, and there was so much she had not seen yet, harvest feasts and masked balls and mummer shows. She could not bear the thought of losing it all.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

She closed the window, gathered up the fallen papers, and stacked them on the table. One was a list of the competitors. Four-and-sixty knights had been invited to vie for places amongst Lord Robert Arryn's new Brotherhood of Winged Knights, and four and-sixty knights had come to tilt for the right to wear falcon's wings upon their warhelms and guard their lord.

The competitors came from all over the Vale, from the mountain valleys and the coast, from Gulltown and the Bloody Gate, even the Three Sisters. Though a few were promised, only three were wed; the eight victors would be expected to spend the next three years at Lord Robert's side, as his own personal guard (Alayne had suggested seven, like the Kingsguard, but Sweetrobin had insisted that he must have more knights than King Tommen), so older men with wives and children had not been invited.

And they came, Alayne thought proudly. They all came.

It had fallen out just as Petyr said it would, the day the ravens flew. "They're young, eager, hungry for adventure and renown. Lysa would not let them go to war. This is the next best thing. A chance to serve their lord and prove their prowess. They will come. Even Harry the Heir." He had smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead. "What a clever daughter you are."

It was clever. The tourney, the prizes, the winged knights, it had all been her own notion. Lord Robert's mother had filled him full of fears, but he always took courage from the tales she read him of Ser Artys Arryn, the Winged Knight of legend, founder of his line. Why not surround him with Winged Knights? She had thought one night, after Sweetrobin had finally drifted off to sleep. His own Kingsguard, to keep him safe and make him brave. And no sooner did she tell Petyr her idea than he went out and made it happen.

—The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

GRRM:

Amon Shin in Maine asks, “If you lived in Westeros, which house would you like to be part of, or in which area would you like to live?”

Well, you know, there’s something to be said for being an honorable Stark, but you’re kinda cold all the time and poor and so forth. And you have a lot of land, but there’s not a lot of stuff on it, you know? On the other hand, if you’re a Lannister, you have a nice house and all the gold you want and all of that stuff. So, there’s a lot to be said for being a Lannister. I don’t know. Maybe I could probably see me being a Lannister. And I would always pay my debts.

—A Dance with Dragons | George R.R. Martin | Talks at Google - July 2011

SANSA:

They were going to take it all away; the tournaments and the court and her prince, everything, they were going to send her back to the bleak grey walls of Winterfell and lock her up forever. Her life was over before it had begun.

—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

* * *

Art credit: Loras Tyrell gives Sansa Stark a rose at the Hand’s Tournament by Jonathan Burton.

As you can see, Sansa loves tourneys because GRRM loves tourneys.

During the events that take place in the ASOIAF Books, we find 5 tourneys and Sansa Stark is directly or indirectly linked with all of them:

The Hand's tourney, a tourney in honor of Sansa’s father, Eddard Stark. Sansa was unofficially crowned the Queen of Love and Beauty by the Knight of Flowers, Loras Tyrell. GRRM wrote this passage as a resemblance to the Great tourney at Harrenhal, hiding hints and reversing colors.

Tourney on King Joffrey's name day, a tourney in honor of Sansa’s betrothed. Sansa defended and saved Dontos Hollard’s life.

Melee at Bitterbridge, Brienne won the melee and earned a place in Renly’s Kingsguard. Later she swore his allegiance to Sansa’s mother, Catelyn Stark, and made an oath to find Sansa Stark. Brienne also wields Oathkeeper, a sword made of Ice (House Stark ancestral sword).

Melee at Runestone, this event was organized with the sole intention of knighting Harrold Hardyng, Alayne Stone’s betrothed.

Tourney at the Gates of the Moon to select the members of the Brotherhood of Winged Knights, created and organized by Alayne Stone.

Sansa is also linked with other important tourneys that happened previously to the events of the ASOIAF Books:

Tourney at Ashford Meadows (The Hedge Knight), GRRM wrote the Hedge Knight when he was in the middle of writing A Clash of Kings, and he made sure of link the five initial champions of the Tourney at Ashford Meadows (Baratheon, Lannister, Tyrell, Hardyng & Targaryen) with Sansa’s suitors and betrothed. So Willas Tyrell and Harrold Hardyng are not a coincidence in Sansa’s arc, GRRM had already planned for this since he was writing A Clash of Kings.

Great tourney at Harrenhal, this tourney was won by Rhaegar Targaryen and as the champion he crowned Lyanna Stark (Sansa’s aunt & Jon Snow’s mother) as his Queen of Love and Beauty. And take note at this very interesting detail: Rhaegar Targaryen wearing an armor adorned with rubies (red) gave Lyanna Stark a crown of winter roses (blue), while Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers, wearing an armor adorned with sapphires (blue) gave Sansa a (red) rose.

Sansa loves knights because GRRM loves knights. Remember that George’s Catholic high school (Marist) football team is called the Royal Knights:

Sansa loves pageantry because GRRM loves pageantry. Just look at his collection of knights and ladies figurines:

Sansa loves heraldry because GRRM loves heraldry. Take note that GRRM took inspiration from the antagonist of Ivanhoe, Brian de Bois-Guilbert’s sigil, to created House Corbray’s sigil:

Bois-Guilbert’s new shield bore a raven in full flight, holding in its claws a skull, and bearing the motto, Gare le Corbeau.

—IVANHOE: A Romance

The youngest man in the party had three ravens on his chest, each clutching a blood-red heart in its talons. His brown hair was shoulder length; one stray lock curled down across his forehead. Ser Lyn Corbray, Alayne thought, with a wary glance at his hard mouth and restless eyes.

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne I

(Not to mention that Sansa loves books because George loves books...)

There you have it, GRRM self inserts in a few of his ASOIAF characters, and Sansa Stark is one of them.

#Sansa Stark #GRRM #ASOIAF #Yes there is a House Corbray stained glass window in GRRM's office #George loves Brian de Bois Gilbert #Lyn Corbray is inspired in Bois Gilbert me thinks #Bois Gilbert kidnapped Rebecca...#:eyes emoji:#All tourneys in ASOIAF are inspired in Ivanhoe #I recommend you to read Ivanhoe #I recommend you to watch Ivanhoe movies too especially the Liz Taylor one #Radiant Liz Taylor played Rebecca

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fallout-drabbles-n-stuff · 4 years ago

Text

Romanced Companions react to dreaming sole’s death

(Got a little carried away with my sexy synth men also..slight tw for gore/death)

Cait:

Dreams always sucked for Cait. Wether they were products of her hazed psycho-jet fueled delusions or just merely her sober mind, they never were good. Instead of dreaming of flying or stuff like that..she dreamed fucked up stuff.

For instance, without so much as an explanation she saw you..you who loved so much, lifeless.

Though she was subjected to such a disturbing dream, she woke peacefully from it. Well..peacefully meaning she didn't scream as the dream faded away. She wanted to. Oh god she wanted to scream, but she was still consciously aware of your sleeping body. So, relying on her faithful cure- she'd reach over to the night stand and take a swing of whatever drink she had before promptly grasping you in her muscular arms for the rest of the night.

Curie:

She tried so hard. She tried so very, damn hard. You had stumbled into your shared home, beaten to a pulp and unable to breath without gasping and wheezing. Instantly she'd jump to her feet, taking you to her makeshift clinic room, feverishly quick to inject you with as many chems she could to stop your pain...all for naught.

With a pained smile on your face, you left her. Your eyes sliding closed just as she screamed.

Suddenly she was ripped from what she thought was reality, being met with you, but instead of being broken and dead..you were just asleep.

She whimpered softly, nuzzling into your arms as she tried to forget all about the horror she just endured. Damn, she didn’t like this whole dreaming thing very much.

Danse:

Night terrors were a usual for Danse. It was just an unfortunate side effect of his ptsd, one he learned to cope with over time. His waking life wasn't much different after all, it was normal for him to watch people he was close to fall at his feet, usually because of a command he ordered. However things seemed to change when he grew close to you. Terrible nightmares seemed to slowly transform into sweet dreams of the life you and him created together, even once dreaming of a little child in his arms with you by his side.

Unfortunately tonight was very much so different.

It was a great fire fight, similar to the one he met you in. However instead of you crusading in guns blazing, the tables turned rapidly, effectively giving him some sort of whiplash. The next thing he knew, he had black robes on, similar to that of the courser you had slain months ago.

Pure terror arose when realization hit.

There you were, on your knees in front of him. Those loving eyes filled with fear and your nose obviously broken, blood streaming down your lips and dripping off your chin.

"M7-97, your orders stand." An unfamiliar voice spoke to him seemingly from nowhere.

Without any hesitation, he lifted the strange white gun in his hands, aiming right at your chest. Only stopping long enough to hear your breathless plea, before pulling the trigger.

With a sharp gasp he woke up, uncontrollably being thrust into a pathetic fit of sobs. Without meaning to, he actually woke you up, still unable to contain himself even as you brought him into your embrace. He'd only muster the strength to grab onto your arms, holding onto you for dear life as he cried out, blubbering out an explanation.

It was unlike him and a piece of him felt so very ashamed.

Deacon:

He was motionless. Just as he had seen your hazy, bleeding body in the confines of the hellish nightmare that woke him from an other wise restful sleep. Your presence, living that is, beside him had never felt so wonderful- and that truly was something considering how much he enjoyed your embrace. Being able to watch your chest rise and fall with each sleepy deep breath brought him down from the high of his fear, allowing him to focus on the rhythm- which slowly but surely brought him back the ability to rest.

Gage:

He’s a raider. He’s been one since a young age. Death, macabre visions and gore in general never bothered him the slightest, hell, he even started to enjoy it. At least he thought he did...that is until the lingering sight of your own demise came to him in a far too vivid dream.

Snapping his eye open, he’d instantly check the side of the bed next to him where he knew your motionless form still lain. It wasn’t like him to feel such dread. Seeing as you were still asleep, he felt no shame in acting upon his sudden instinct to squeeze you in a desperate embrace- burying his face into your chest and holding on until finally a much better, dreamless sleep took ahold of him.

Hancock:

Now was a good of a time as any to take a nice relaxing puff of jet.

His mind never really was restful, even without the influence of chems it always seemed to go places he despised. This couldn’t have been anymore true as it for some reason conjured the sickening picture of you in his dreams- holding your bloody midsection with a wiry grin before collapsing.

Sighing, he’d try to get rid of the image, huffing quick and continuous puffs so the chem would do its “magic”. At least you were still right there next to him. That much was all he wanted.

Macready:

He already had the trauma of seeing his ex wife die once before, hearing her screams as she was torn apart by ghouls...to be met with the same scene again, only you in her place- it was good enough to wake him up with a furious yell coming out of his lungs. Effectively waking you as well....

When asked what the hell happened, he’d blink away his newly formed tears and explain what had happened. It was one of the few times he allowed himself to cry like that, so unbridled.

Maxson:

He was a frequent sufferer of night terrors, always has been since a young age. However, very few compared to the pure horror he endured as he dreamt of your demise- the dream disturbing him the most because it was him who did it. Without his own control and screaming as his hands clasped around on your throat...

It was his silent tears that saved him from enduring the sight any longer, rousing him to awareness just to where he could blearily look at your peaceful slumbering form. Some more tears would slip past his sorrowful eyes as he immediately engulfed you, pulling you close to his chest so he could savor the feeling.

If you were to wake up during this, he'd just mutter some bullshit about being cold, sniffling as he did.

Nick:

It was horrific.

Every now and again when he'd allow himself sleep, he'd be haunted with the reoccurring vision of his pre-war conscious seeing the dead body of Jennifer Lands, his fiancée. The dream used to disturb him, a strange clenching in his chest but never had it truly made him feel horror.

That is until one night, you in his arms, he had the same dream. Only this time instead of Jennifer's bloodied face laying on the asphalt, it was you. His present love, the one he felt true love for. Everything was the same, the same clothes, same thugs standing above your lifeless form- only it was your beautiful face.

When he woke, he awakened with a hallow like sensation in his mechanical chest. Why would he ever dream something like that? How did he dream that?

Regardless of whatever conclusion he'd come to, he'd sigh and stroke your hair with a shaky hand- vowing to you in silence that he'd never allow such a gruesome fate befall you. He just wouldn't.

Old Longfellow:

Damn he hated dreams. His ex-wife never seemed to leave him in peace, haunting him in some new disturbing way every other night or so. However not even her ghostly sick smile could compare to the visage of your demise.

When had he been so disturbed he didn't quite know.

Regardless he'd wake silently, his ocean colored eyes scanning the room and only softening when he deemed it safe from troubles. With a shake of his head he'd lay back down onto the pillows, looking over to your peaceful expression and then deciding it was okay...you were still here...everything was going to be okay.

Piper:

She'd wake both you and herself as she shrieked in her sleep, effectively scaring the crap out of you as you clambered to a sitting position. Still rattled from her vision..she, she saw you..she saw you get shot..fuck. She'd breath heavy, her chest heaving with each sharp inhale.

After a while she'd calm, hugging you oh so close. It would be a while before she could go back to sleep, but so long as you were in her arms she'd feel a little better.

Preston:

He'd actually end up waking you up before himself, thrashing around and grunting as his face scrunched into a pained expression. He regularly had nightmares, usually based upon the massacre of Quincy. This one was different.

Shaking him awake you'd be met with tear filled chocolate eyes, his lip quivering the moment he processed who he was looking at. Within seconds he took you down into his chest, squeezing you tight and silently crying.

You would just have to do your best to comfort him.

Sturges:

It wasn't very common he'd even remember his dreams, and even when he did they were hardly ever coherent thoughts. Normally they'd just be random "blips" of color or scenes that made little to no sense. How he wished that his normal dreams would've been the case tonight.

Still, staying true to himself, he only had a few flashes of scenes- but what he could piece together was awful. One moment you stood with that kind smile of your's, two glasses of mutfuit juice in your hands- one already extended out to him. The next thing he knew, deafening whizzes of bullets rang through and you no longer where standing...instead you were face down....and...oh god.

His eyes snapped open, his heart pounding in his ears as tried to come down from the sick rush the nightmare gave him. He wasn't one to lose his lunch, but now he really felt like puking. As he came to and began to calm, he willed himself to look over at you, rolling onto his side so he could properly see you.

"Oh..sweetheart..." he whispered, not loud enough to wake you up. Sighing he'd lay down again, resting his head on your chest as he stroked your hair- that might've woke you up but..eh, oh well.

X6-88:

Death was quite literally in his job description. He'd seen copious amounts of people die. Be it explosions, torture, or even his own bullet shot between their eyes. It never bothered him a bit, at least not enough to make him care much less feel sorrow for the poor sons of bitches.

That is..until he dreamed of your death.

It was so painfully vivid. The thrill of the chase, the adrenaline coursing through his synthetic veins as he ran. His target right in front of him, ready for his execution. With a systematic like approach, he raised his laser pistol, aiming right at the back of the head before pulling the trigger.

But...when the "target" fell, bile quickly rushed up from his stomach. There you were, those eyes he loved so much lacking any light and gazing emptily up at the sky, a burned hole through your forehead.

Just like that he was released, shooting up with enough force to send the ragged blankets down his body. Wide silver eyes darting around the room as he processed the unfamiliar sensation of pure terror racking his body. Whenever he looked at you..your sweet face so calm and...thankfully..unharmed, he could relax. Steadying himself he'd sigh, laying back down restlessly, staying up the rest of the night so he could just take you in. If that dream ever became a reality......

Well, he prayed it didn't.

#fallout 4 #paladin danse #fallout #brotherhood of steel #danse #bos #maccready #nick valentine #fo4 companions #fallout companions #elder maxson #porter gage #curie #arthur maxson #cait #deacon #hancock #x6 88 #sturges

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lilyrachelcassidy · 4 years ago

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A/N: Everyone, care to explain why shit leaks out of me over here, instead of using it to study?? Probably, my brain is like: “I’m in refusal to do anything else, so just shut your mouth, and-”... Anyway, here is a little inspiration I got yesterday, under the shower (yes!! I know!!), and I decided to write it down today. It may or may not be cohesive - sorry! Hope you enjoy guys (:

Summary: The traumatic experience shows that commitments and choices bring up responsibilities for themselves. In an attempt to prove the rightness of this conviction, Voldemort forces Draco to make the next complex and life-changing decisions.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: a lot of injuries; death(!); language (very little of swearing, so congrats to me!); sexual allusions; crudeness; violence; Unforgivable curses; the dark themes; sooo angsty

Tags: @drawlfoy

Her insides were burning.

The body felt as if it was on fire, with every flame slowly and unbearably torturing each of her… well, everything.

Her throat was far too dry to be so-called on the regular standard, and was asking for an evident need of water; the eyes were watering with the same speed as the emotional roller-coaster she was undergoing through at this moment; the heart was pumping too much blood to her veins, making her head dizzy enough for her not being able to think clearly; the breath was rapid and shallow, and even if she had known what she wanted to say, it surely wouldn't have allowed her to do so; also the bone-breaking impression could be, as well, considered as one of the factors influencing on the sanity.

And the feelings she was experiencing? Helplessness, sorrow, and something similar to dejection. Perhaps, it was a realization of the final end that was about to show up soon.

The vision was way too blurry to let her see and get hanging on what was happening around her. Just the hearing was one and the only sense used as a hint on that she was still alive. Or, at least, she hopefully thought so.

“Please, make it stop!” Draco’s faint and breaking voice begged. It was so much different than a normal tone of her Draco’s she used to know. “I’ll do everything! Just make it… stop, please.”

Voldemort smiled broadly, revealing the slight part of his psychopathic nature and allowing view-access to his peculiarly yellowish teeth. “Young Draco, I want you to be well-aware of the consequences of the decisions you make next time. You did not obey the established rules and the task I have designated. And now the girl is suffering,” he laughed. “However, there is one proposition I could kindly persuade.”

Draco nodded merely for him to continue, his features expressing nothing else but supreme worry and anticipation on his words.

"Kill her," Voldemort demanded loudly, turning the wand around, in his slender fingers. Seeing as Draco's eyes widen with shock and at the absurd of this offer, the grin reappeared on his mouth. "Do as I say and spare her agony. Death caused by Crucio curse seems to be an extreme torment compared with simple Avada Kedavra."

The silence fell over, and the only sound heard in the room were quiet sobs coming out from the floor, where Y/N was laying. At the sight of the devastated state of the most relevant person in Draco's life, his heart felt as if broken into pieces. All he wanted to do was to run up to her curled on the ground body, taking it into a warm embrace and comforting her with the truth that everything had come up into the end.

But the truth it, unfortunately, wasn't. Or otherwise, not one he believed in anymore.

Draco shook his head. "I'm-I'm-" he stuttered, the gaze never leaving Y/N's figure. He tried to sound casual and failed completely. "It's impossible. I mean, I can't."

"Well, then - Crucio!" said a firm, deep voice, and the next surge of pain passed through Y/N, making the room fill with a rush of empty screams again. It was too much for her to endure.

"Stop, please. My Dark Lord, I swear I'll do eve-"

"Quiet boy!" hissed Voldemort, evidently coping with frustration at Draco's defensive attitude. "You have undertaken the task, in which the accomplishment was unsuccessful. Resolutions require choices, and choices need responsibility for themselves. So now, do as I say or enjoy the show of the girl's misery."

Draco ceased talking, seemingly making up his mind that it wasn’t worth arguing any longer on the matter. He tightly clenched his jaw, hating a little clutching in the chest at the imagination on what was about to happen and at the flashback of memories from previous years.

And a few things flitted through his brain, try as he might to suppress them.

The pair of the lips, their lips, synchronously moving along.

His pale hands wandering all over her soft skin, trailing small circles on her back, then quickly finding their way on her outer hips and her minty breath pleasantly tingling hair on the back of his neck.

A whisper, his own, half-subtle and half-assured: "I fucking love you."

A giggle in his ear, hers, accompanied with an answer, short and careless as if nothing mattered, and yet so meaningful to these days: "I fucking love you too, Dray."

Every recollection of those words and moments, after all, made him realize how ungrateful he had been for never truly appreciating this precious time he had had with her; for fulfilling his life with happiness that he couldn't thank her for enough. Bloody egocentric prick.

"I'm impatient, boy," Draco heard from behind. And indeed, as he turned, Voldemort was. Sauntering around with Nagini following shortly after his black cloak, he was still twirling the yew-wand around, and there was no bigger necessity than glancing briefly sideways to register radiating blinding rage.

Draco, for the first time, looked so pale and grimly. All of his attention was entirely focused on Y/N, attempting to memorize her beautiful face, as a photograph, for last. He stayed rotted to the ground, gulping, whilst Y/N shrank, letting out the small groans of pain induced by all the injuries on her body and not well-taking to the situation. "Could I just say a proper goodbye to her?"

"There is no need for that, boy," Voldemort answered before Draco could barely finish his sentence. Clearly, he had come up to the edge between boredom and irritability at the played out love-display he was taking part in. "It is your ultimate chance."

Draco blinked. As he was told and taught -by his parents- while developing his Death Eater skills, it was sometimes easier to try to have part of your brain switch on and off, if it was about... solving matters. Something just like a detachment, helping through emotional-muddling; an ability to approach to action matter-of-factly, clearing out with redundant thoughts, and just doing things that were required to be done. It was useful, his mother proclaimed, when it was about saving himself or beloved ones from affliction.

And that's what he did now.

"It was a pleasure knowing you," he said in a brisk, distanced tone; and before she could say those words back; before she could get a snatch of the intensive-green light being released out of his wand; before he could fall apart, crying out for forgiveness.

Final blank.

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco x oc #draco x you #Draco Malfoy #hp #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x you #hp fandom #hp fanfic #draco malfoy fanfiction #voldemort #draco malfoy fic #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy drabble #pottermore

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miss-choco-chips · 4 years ago

Text

North star

Core disaster week Day 1: Bart’s Birthday// First kiss

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Cassie smiled, sitting down in the picnic blanket. There was so much fucking food- it was awesome.

But not as awesome as being together, all of them. It’d been a while since they managed to meet like this. Kon, particularly, had been hard to pin down and convince to come; but exceptions had to be made on certain days, and Bart’s birthday was the height of special occasions.

Tim, too. She risked a glance at him, stony and silent, and smiled sadly. It truly had been too long.

Sitting each on one end of the blanket, like a flesh and blood compass rose, she smiled again at the unintended philosophy of it all. Bart to the east, bringing the sun into their lives, his energy and warmth a hope for the new day; Kon to the south, lost in memories of the past but a steady, firm ground beneath them; She herself to the west, holding the weight of it all on her shoulders like the sky held the heaviness of sunset; And Tim, sweet, depedable Tim, was undoubtedly their north.

“Cassie? Wonder-honey-baby-dearest girl?”

Snapping out of her reverie, Cassie waved Bart’s concerned face off.

“Don’t worry, just lost in thought. C’mon dude, it’s your day, we can’t start eating until you do!”

A little unsure, Bart sits back on his spot, glancing to his right at Tim. He hesitated a bit, something extremely unusual for a speedster presented with a widely varied menu (Kon and her had flown all over the world picking and choosing his favorites from every possible country- there was a lot).

“He doesn’t mind”, interrupts Kon softly, before anything else can be said.

Taking his word as the gospel it is, Bart’s face broke into the biggest smile and cleaned up his first plate of ‘a little bit of everything’ in less than a blink, already reaching out for more. Without even pausing his chewing, he started babbling out at Tim, who for once didn’t reprimand him on his table manners, nor tried to use a napkin to clean his chocolate-stained cheek. Cassie tried very hard to hide the pang that surprise-attacked her heart.

Desperate for a distraction, she turned to her right, to Conner. He was looking at the other two fondly, a small smile breaking through his face of steel like it was butter.

She remembered back when they were younger, just children, before all the tragedies and the losses; he had smiled easier, then. Wider, unprompted, freely. Giving that handsome smirk like it was candy on halloween.

“It was a good idea to come here”, he acknowledged, once again making her snap out of her head.

“One day, you’ll just accept that all my ideas are good.”

“Do I need to remind you about the deal with the beet demon?”

“That wasn’t that bad.”

“Cassie. We had to eat borsch for every meal. For a month. I don’t think Bart ever forgave you about that.”

They both waited for a second to see if the speedster was about to interject, but he seemed to have missed their conversation, regaling Tim with a tale of his latest training session with Wally.

“Anyway”, Kon coughed, drawing her back to their moment, “it really was. I… I know I wasn’t the easiest person to convince, so..”

“‘The easiest person’? I had to track you down across an entire hemisphere, lasso you like a wild animal and drag you here kicking and screaming. Literally. My bruises have bruises.”

“Anyway, thanks. I… needed to see you all again. I never thought we’d be able to just… sit here and enjoy ourselves, without… you know, all the…”

“Angst?”

“... yeah. How did you even manage to secure us this spot?”

Cassie smiled, leaning back against her arms, enjoying the sun on her face.

“You can thank Tim’s brother for that. I made him promise to make sure no one interrupted us today.”

The other meta snorted.

“It’d be a cold day in hell before I thank Nightwing for anything.”

She winced a bit, but refused to let the implications ruin her good mood. “Come on, you know he’s not my favorite person in the world, but he’s really doing his best to be here for” -a quick glance, Bart still talking his heart out to Tim- “the new Robin. If you can bury the battle axe...he’s not so bad, nowadays.”

Unsure, he shrugged.

“I don’t really care if he discovers the cure to cancer and spends the rest of his life in seclusion as a monk. If I see him on fire and I have a big water bottle, I might help him put it out- after taking a few drinks, first. But that’s as far as I’d be willing to go for him.”

Considering the numerous times Kon had tried to outright attack the older vigilante, Cassie was going to take it.

“How's Jon?” she asked, subject change as unsubtle as a kick to the chest, taking a delicious french pastry between thumb and forefinger and examining it.

He copied her, selecting something brown and salty-looking from the assorted items

“Nothing new. He’s still a better mentor than Supes, though his choice in friends leaves much to be desired. Still, like I told you, I’m… better? I think?”

A pause, as he washed down whatever he ate with a raspberry slushie. Bart’s incessant chatter, once annoying, was now a beautiful background noise. He was just so damn happy, Cassie felt more accomplished even than the time Diana first told her ‘good job’ after a spar. All he’d asked her for his birthday, soft and broken among his tears, had been this; just the four of them, together.

And she’d done her best to make it happen, securing this place and guilting Kon into accepting. She’d done it, and the memory of Bart’s genuine laugh as he told Tim about his last caught villain would -hopefully- be enough to deter the nightmares sure to come with sunfall.

“Anyway, he’s good. What about Donna?”

Cassie let her head fall back between her shoulder blades with a groan, closing her eyes against the glaring midday sun.

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I love her to pieces, but honestly? I can see why my mom has so many grey hairs. Diana is lucky she’s perpetually young and perfect and thus doesn’t need to deal with stress lines. If this is what I was like when she trained me, I have a lot to apologize for. Starting, but not limited to, our days in Young Justice. We did so many stupid things back then.”

“So, the Titans are a riot?”

“They are a bad influence, and I hate how they taught Donna to disobey when I tell her to go to safety and let me do the fighting, but honestly, it’s so much like looking at our past, I can’t help but want to wrap them up in a blanket and wish them luck.”

“I wish you luck. This is why I refuse to take a younger hero under my wing. Too much responsibility.”

“You are a weak bitch. Even Bart is mentoring someone. We have to nourish the younger generation, Kon. Think of the children.”

“You are nineteen, stop talking like you just turned seventy.”

“Well, Cissie is retired. It’s not such a stretch.”

“I’ll tell her you said she’s old.”

“Don’t you dare.”

After those first few hiccups, the rest of the afternoon went smoothly. Uncharacteristically restrained of them, no food fight ensued, but even so it was a pretty fun day. They caught up with each other, teased about past exes and questionable fashion choices, and every silent, solemn moment was endured with joined hands and hearts, a united front against the grief.

Bart’s wet eyes shone, filled with gratitude, when he blew the candles. Cassie caught the exact moment on camera, having learnt the value of getting those precious seconds immortalized forever somewhere other than her own mind.

He kept his wish to himself, but it wasn’t really a mystery. Just by the way he glanced at Tim, they could harnett a pretty solid guess.

Heartache was a familiar, almost comforting feeling to her now, but the wave of raw emotion that almost washed her away at Kon’s crystalized eyes and Bart’s trembling hands gave her pause. Cassie looked away from them for just a second, giving herself this moment of weakness, and in the fleeting light of sunset, she could have sworn she saw a familiar face, looking over them from the shadow of a tree, smiling fondly.

But it was missing with her next blink, so she just shook her head to dispel any traces of wistfulness and turned back to her boys.

It was in silence that they picked up their stuff. Super speed would have made it a chore of just a millisecond, but none felt the urge to run away, so they took their time, hands brushing and then clutching while they cleaned up this sacred place they had borrowed for the day.

Cassie really needed to thank Damian for coming through for her on this. As much as she had despised the other vigilante in the past, a leftover feeling from Tim’s own feud with his older brother, she had learned to forgive and forget. It was, she’d come to accept, the only way she could move on.

Basket finally full with the blanket, empty plates and chocolate stained napkins (Kon’s hand had trembled as he cleaned Bart’s cheek in their leader’s stead), they stood together, arms around each other with the birthday boy in the middle. One by one, they said their goodbyes. It hurted a little less than the last time they could manage to do this, perhaps helped by the fact Kon hadn’t stormed off midway this time.

Cassie smiled. It was sad, it was raw, it was heavy. But it wasn’t broken. She-they- weren’t broken. A puzzle with a missing piece was incomplete, not shattered.

The hand not around Bart’s shoulders stretched, as Cassie’s finger traced the poem they had Bruce engrave in Tim’s tombstone.

“He was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;

For nothing now can ever come to any good.”

The kids that had chosen that poem as immortalization of their grief had been drowning in it, she knew. Had needed a way to let the world know “we are not okay, we’ll never be okay again”. It was, maybe, what saved them back then.

But she wished she could crouch down in front of those lost, overwhelmed kids and tell them ‘you never stop missing him, but you learn to be happy again; and he brings you all together, just like the first time’.

So Cassandra Sandsmark, former Wonder Girl (now something more), lets her head fall back, looks at the setting sun and smiles. Because she can. Because she’s alive, and she’s gonna fucking smile for him, if its the last thing that she does.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The shadows of the coming night hide him, embrace him, want to keep him; he puts a stop to that, let’s himself be kept from wandering eyes but avoids the eternal retaking. He’s seen that side of the road and is under no hurry to visit it again.

Instead, he watches the young heroes, bathed in light and laughter, sitting around a dead bird’s grave.

He yearns. He wants, more than anything, to go to them. To join them in the warmth, in happiness. To go back to the only home that never felt anything else than welcoming.

But he has work to do; there’s a new Robin in the streets, and he needs to ensure that what happened to him doesn’t happen to this frail, rough around the edges and full of life bird.

He waits until they pick up and leave, before donning his suit and walking in the opposite direction. Hopefully, a time will soon come when he can smile with them again.

But, for now, the Red Hood has a clown to hunt and a criminal underbelly to conquer.

#my writting #tim drake #kon el kent #cassie sandsmark #bart allen #core disaster week #core four #day 1 #Bart's birthday #angst #hurt comfort #kinda #don't yell at me #I'm sorry I didn't edit this #I'm in Sk8 the Infinity hell right now #no thoughts head empty only Renga from Sk8

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angelofsmalldeathandthecodeine · 5 years ago

Text

Jealousy

Request: “Hello! Can i please request number 8 and 5 from the angst list and 14 from the fluff list with Fred Weasley please? Thank you!”

(”you said you wouldn’t do this again”/”you’re breaking my heart”/”I tried to move on but nobody is you”)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: I loved writing this! it put me in a really Weasley twin mood, I love the love they're getting in my inbox!!

Suddenly you felt a tap on your right shoulder, distracting you from the silence you had seemed to drown yourself in.

“Look at that, and right in front of your face” Cho whispered to you, carefully making sure she wasn’t caught by Snape. You looked in the direction pointed to be met with your newly ex-boyfriend asking Angelina Johnson to the Yule Ball in a rather comical manner.

Your heart sank, you weren’t quite sure how to feel in that moment, but it seemed to last a lifetime. “I guess he’s got over the situation a lot faster than you thought huh” Cho added, only breaking your heart a little more despite her good intentions.

You looked down the table to see Angelina mime a “yeah, alright then” before glancing at Fred who only winked at you in the most disrespectful way possible. He gained laughs from everyone around him, including his brother – it’s what he’s known for, but this time, at what cost?

Rage fuelled your body and your blood began to boil, ‘the audacity’ you thought to yourself, but then again you knew exactly what he was doing. You and Fred had broken up about a week ago, and surprisingly he had managed to make you consumed with jealousy for at least 4 times already in the space of that week. Every time he did it previously, you tried to justify it by telling yourself it was your own fault for breaking up with him – but this time you simply couldn’t.

Instead of kicking up a fuss you told yourself how much more important your studies are than some stupid boy and kept your head down, you were a Ravenclaw after all. Ignoring Fred’s crave for attention was difficult, but you were stronger than that. If you were strong enough to break up with him, you were strong enough to deal with his immaturity.

Once class was over you made your way to the Ravenclaw common room, talking to your friends Cho and Marietta about their Yule Ball dates, which became slightly disheartening and tedious, but you were happy for them both, nonetheless. You were guessing that people had just decided to stay away from you since your breakup with Fred, I mean it had been only a week after all.

“Y/N” you heard a panting voice call after you up the stairs. You turned around to see Roger Davies climbing the stairs to the Ravenclaw common room, short of breath which made you slightly giggle. “I thought he was supposed to be athletic” Cho whispered amongst you, letting out a laugh.

“Phew, sorry I forgot how much it takes it out of you running up these stairs” he laughed catching his breath, and you returned the favour, waiting for him to explain himself. You both looked at each other, which made you a little uncomfortable, so you shrugged your shoulders and shook your head, confused, as a sort of indicator of ‘what did you want?’.

“Oh right, sorry” he responded, only making the girls continue to giggle.

“I know things might be a little soon, you know with you and uh…never mind, anyway I was just wondering if you wanted to go to the Yule Ball” he tried to say casually, leaning on the bannister.

The moment was strange, you had always imagined it would be Fred who you went to the ball with. But nevertheless, it felt even stranger to be complaining about an invite.

“sure” you smiled, trying to hide your slight yet inevitable disappointment. Roger left with a huge grin on his face saying, “see you then”, and you tried to entertain the same response especially as the girls seemed more excited than you.

As you approached the common room for the second time you felt a grab at your arm, only turning around to face a very tall, towering Fred. You internally huffed and sighed, probably externally too.

“Hey Y/N” he said, seemingly happy which just frustrated you even more. Cho and Marietta had continued inside in anticipation of how the conversation may have panned out and quite frankly you didn’t blame them, you wish you could do the same.

“Ugh, leave me alone Fred” you sourly responded, both understanding exactly what you were getting at.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, again just annoying you further to the point where you wanted to hit him.

“You know exactly what’s wrong, you’re being pathetic!” you scolded back at him, ready to give him everything you had “you said you wouldn’t do this again” and with those words your eyes began to well up.

“I’m just trying to move on Y/N, you broke up with me remember!” Fred exclaimed. You could see the pain in his eyes, but he couldn’t see the pain in your heart.

“Yes because of my parents” you didn’t mean to yell, “You’re breaking my heart” you added, tears now running down your face. You had done it. You had caved despite telling yourself you wouldn’t

Fred came closer, you could sense he was going to embrace you, you could tell when he was “what do you want me to do-“

“Like I said, leave me alone” you quickly and sternly interrupted, taking a step back and wiping away your tears. You turned around and entered the common room without a second thought, you just needed to get away from him.

It was the day of the Yule Ball and you couldn’t help but feel crap about it, and every reason you had for this was Fred. He was all your mind would let you think about since your argument, and the only person you truly wanted to talk about it with. You knew deep in your heart that Fred was the boy you loved, the boy you wanted to be with, but your parents influence seemed to get the better of you in a pressured situation.

A knock at the door told you that Roger was outside, and so you wiped away your tears, took a deep breath, put on a smile, and got up to go.

The ball was truly beautiful, and ridiculously packed. You spent a lot of your time either dancing or watching the Goblet of Fire contestants dance, waving at your friend Cho who was centre stage with Cedric. You hadn’t seen Fred all night and you were glad of it

Suddenly there came a burst of fireworks through double doors of the hall, colours contrasting with the icy blue of the room. You turned to face George, miming a ‘what the hell?’ to which he only responded with a confused look and shrug of shoulders.

The firework burst into letters, gradually forming together to say the words ‘I LOVE YOU’ and you looked to your side to see Roger backing away, yet with a smile on his face. He gestured towards the stage in which you swiftly turned to face Fred, microphone in his hand.

The fireworks continued which uplifted the atmosphere of the ball in general. “I love you Y/N, and I want to be with you” Fred started, already causing tears to gather in your eyes.

“I tried to move on, but nobody is you” he continued, getting a simultaneous “Aww” from most of the crowd. Fred made his way towards you before dropping the microphone, “I don’t care about your parents, but I know that you do, which is why ill do anything to prove to them that I deserve to be with you” he said to you.

Before he could say anything else you reached your arms up to grab his face, pulling him down to kiss him and be welcomed by his warm and huge embrace. The entirety of the ball clapped and cheered, which made you turn a little red.

“So, do you want to go to the Ball with me?” he whispered in your ear mid hug, you felt his smile, causing you to giggle. “oh wait, what about Angelina?” you asked concerned.

“Oh, right yeah, she was in on it…and so was Roger after a bit of persuasion” he laughed, and you looked to see Angelina smiling.

“For goodness sake Weasley, I thought you’d never ask” you beamed, causing Fred’s face to be painted with the biggest smile imaginable.

“And I love you too” you whispered on your tiptoes, before kissing him.

#fred weasley #weasley twins #george weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley fanfiction #Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #fred weasley imagine

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alienisticxo · 3 years ago

Text

X Angel - (Elon Musk x Reader) Chapter One

Hi there! I’m Dream and I’m new to posting fanfiction to Tumblr. I’ve currently been pining away for Elon Musk (why am I so strange?!) and this odd little story has been trapped in my head for a little while. I’m only posting this little prelude excerpt, so if anyone out there wants me to continue it, let me know or I won’t post the rest otherwise. This is also very obviously inspired by Cyberpunk a bit as well, and it's a super mega alternate universe kind of sci-fi story. Also a reader-insert / first person POV. (So really just wow a whole mess).

If you do happen to decide to read the shit that spews from my imagination, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: None... yet.

Saturn’s effervescent rings hung like a million tiny, shimmering diamonds in the atmosphere behind a sprawling city skyline. Neon buzzed along the metallic buildings, bright hues of hot pink and electric blue casting an endless glow of variant shades against the night air and all who inhabited the city beneath the lights. Planet X was fairly new in the grand scheme of things, discovered by NASA years before they publicly announced it. During the lengthy stretch of time between their findings and the grand announcement, they focused purely on colonization. While the entire planet had not yet been inhabited, the metropolis they built from the atmosphere down and then the ground up quickly became a booming, cyberpunk inspired dream by 2024. The planet itself was as large as Earth, or maybe small, depending on who you asked, and if you were lucky enough to step foot on the new ground for yourself, you had it all.

See, things had changed back on Earth. So much so, it was now only a nostalgic destination to those who were forced to return to its remnants for some form of business, or a vast, broken society far beyond how it had already been to those who could never escape.

The unfortunate part was that not many were able to escape compared to Earth’s population.

As cautioned for years, mother nature began to reclaim the land with no help from her careless inhabitants. Natural disasters and technological meltdowns were imminent— with much thanks to the major technology boom that took artificial intelligence from labs and computers and introduced it into the human population. Earth was now akin to a desolate wasteland save for any major cities which had already been crumbling long before the final blow. People woke up everyday just to survive until they didn’t anymore. They had nothing much to hold on to but the dream of seeing Planet X for themselves, and not just in news casts or online. Earth was stuck in what very quickly became the past to those who no longer inhabited it. People who were billionaires and celebrities still remained, most of them boasting that it was by choice in some form of protest against giving up on the land.

Everyone was left with their own ruins, but life continued in such a declining state, whether they wished it would or not.

Planet X, however, otherwise known as just X, was now the hot new place to be. While most everyday humans still remained on Earth, the elite, the fortuitous, and freshly built A.I. lifeforms lived there. Despite the glitz and glamor of the main circles that people dreamt of belonging to in the main metropolis, the rest of the planet was a far cry from established. Those who were able to make it by the skin of their teeth, but not of the wealthy or powerful, ruled the rest of the newly conquered world. Gangs were prevalent and cryptocurrency exchanged hands that it shouldn’t for things no one spoke of. The outskirts of major cities were riddled with crime and people who held a passionate disdain for the corruption the higher-ups of X indulged in like candy.

A.I. creations ran rampant, cybernetic figureheads graced holographic magazine covers and television screens. Man made pop stars and film icons required little to no attention to keep happy, but were programmed to want it all in order to keep the public inspired and working for the coin, just as your average Hollywood celebrity might. Because of this, they were showered with luxuries and opportunities that made the lower class outliers sick to their stomachs, thus causing them to vow to bring down the hierarchy if it was the last thing they did. The individuals that couldn’t stand these cybernetic beings' lack of empathy for humanity fought against them, and in turn, the big-wigs played dirty to see that things worked in their favor at every turn.

In this grand metropolis of Drax City, where I also lived, the famous and infamous alike resided like royalty beyond comprehension, crypto that ‘normal people’ could never afford being passed around like penny candy in order to meet the petty whims that kept the A.I. stars working and hungry for more. There were truly no consequences to denying them, but they gave it up all the same. You see, humans didn’t become famous on X once executives realized how much easier it was to work with artificial intelligence. If you had a dream on Earth, and managed to find yourself in this new world to make it happen, you ended up tossing it into the fire with everyone else who’d made the venture before you. If a human was lucky enough, they worked for the stars. But they’d never become one.

Humans were simply too demanding and extremely disposable.

However, there were still average people of sorts, both cybernetic and human. They filled in the gaps in between. They held jobs and went to school, they owned shops and were complacent with their lower class lives. Most were just thankful to be away from Earth and the ruin it’d become outside of its own major cities, where people in power that stayed behind in an effort to figure out some last ditch plan to reverse the mess they’d made of the planet still roamed like infamous gods. Despised by the lower class; adored by the ones who felt they could still salvage the only home they knew.

Still, they tried their best on Earth. The entertainment business and corporations were still up and running, new celebrities were being ‘discovered’ every day on the streets in hopes of one or two truly catching fire enough to bring up the revenue of whoever’s contract they ‘signed.’ Earth was running out of options once they banned the use of A.I. the best they could. It was still very prevalent in some areas that could no longer be controlled, but they’d set themselves back decades in comparison to X by doing so.

But as the saying goes, the show must go on and money must be made. Regardless of how life had so drastically changed for everyone between the two planets, super stars were still the quickest way to influence the weak and naive minded. Executives and CEO’s knew that all too well.

And so, “eat the rich” was spray painted onto every alley wall, and thieves and hit men were prevalent; sneaking around corners, smiling from grungy doorways on the more dangerous streets around Drax City. Planet X and the beautifully sickening metropolis in it was plucked straight from a movie scene and plopped into the middle of the galaxy in all regards.

But that was the beauty of X.

I thanked the stars every single night that I was one of the lucky ones.

#elon musk #fanfiction #elon musk x reader #spacex #elon musk fanfiction #elon musk imagines #tesla #fanfic #fanfic writer #elon musk fanfic #cyberpunk #cybernetic #x angel #darklydreamingxo #space

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sophi-s · 4 years ago

Text

After three days. Three freaking days.

It is finished.

A kiss to die for

By: sophi-s (me)

Words: 4,531

Franchise: Darksiders video games

Characters: Fallen!Astarte, Abaddon

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, near death experience, angst, necromancy, I changed the storyline just a tiny bit for the purposes of this, Abaddon gets his ass handed to him by his ex :P.

--------------------------------------------------

Eden. The first gift from the Creator himself to the Humanity. A home for the First Ones. Once, an indescribably beautiful place full of grand trees and fresh, soft grass, flowing with cool, crystal clear waters. Colorful fruits growing in the trees, a delight to eye and tongue. Within, no danger could reach Humanity's ancestors. Truly a paradise the first humans rightfully called it. But now, after a great war that took place here, seemingly not that long ago, the great garden was left scarred and burning. Made into a tomb for those who sought to claim it. Bodies of Nephilim were left to burn and decay, forgotten and abandoned.

However, something has changed. A dark shadow passed over the sacred graveyard, leaving only madness and corruption in its wake. Those who perished picked themselves up from the ground and lashed out at Eden's guardians. Surprised and unable to respond with a coordinated defensive, the Faneguard had to call for retreat after their leader, Malahidael fell to the blades and arrows of the living dead. Amongst the scattered angels was the general of Heaven's Legions. Trying his best to keep his brethren focused and plan a tactical escape.

At least that's what he was trying before. Before he saw the cause of this nightmare. Now, outstretched on the ground in the dust, he forced himself up onto his elbow as he crawled towards his discarded blade, clutching at his chest that felt as though it had been caved in after a charging monstrosity trampled him in full speed.

How could this happen?

Fighting with his chaotic thoughts, he finally got a hold of the hilt but when he turned around, it was already too late. A large paw armed with razor-sharp claws landed on him, pinning him down and successfully immobilizing his lower half. And then his own blue eyes stared up into a pair of white ones, the same eyes that doomed him from the moment he met their gaze for the first time. The eyes that occupied his thoughts when he was awake and his dreams while he slept. Eyes of Astarte.

But what stood above him… this thing, this monster was Astarte no longer. From the waist up, the woman was stunningly beautiful as she always was, with her pale white eyes and long flowing, platinum blonde hair. But her legs have been replaced by a body of a feline beast with wings coated in blackness of corruption, feathers shimmering with red glyphs. A wicked smile was twisting her petal like lips and wherever her clawed paws fell, the dead bodies shivered and rose, called back into the accursed unlife. Utter insanity shone in her eyes.. Keeping his stone façade was no longer possible as inwardly he was falling apart. Astarte. The same Astarte who would kill and die for him, the same who he trusted more than anyone. The same Astarte he dared to love. Her smirk grew wider as she chuckled.

"Who do we have here? The great general of Heaven's Legions Abaddon himself!"

The unfamiliar taunting tone of her voice sent a shiver down his spine, as did the way she bared her teeth in a disturbing grin. Giving the large paw a tug to try and wriggle free, quickly realising it's pointless as the damned thing didn't even budge, Abaddon took a struggling breath, pretty sure his sternum was damaged if not broken.

"Astarte…"

His voice came out as a broken, pleading whisper. He still couldn't… or maybe he didn't want to… cope with what he was seeing clearly like on the palm of his hand. Astarte, his most formidable soldier, the strongest of them all, and the only woman in the Universe he felt something special for… Fallen into the vice-like grip of Lucifer's corrupting influence. Gone was the gentle smile that crawled its way up onto her face whenever she spotted him. Abaddon swallowed thickly when he noticed the spear in her hand poised to strike and carve his broken heart out from his chest. Astarte would never harm him…

"I was wondering when you'd show up."

She scoffed and used her other paw to press his right arm to the ground should he try to take a swipe at her. But they both knew far too well that he couldn't have, even if he wanted to. Astarte leaning over him was still the one his heart yearned for, still beautiful just… in a different, more horrifying way. Through the ringing in his ears after his head cracked against a rock, he could hear someone call out to him but whoever it was, they were successfully pushed back by the horde of undead Nephilim.

"Astarte, don't do it.."

He quietly begged, even though he never begs. Seeing her like this, twisted and bestial, did something to him he couldn't quite comprehend. Touched that part of his soul he didn't even know about. Strangely enough, even in her madness, Astarte must've sensed something in him that gave her a pause as she curiously tilted her head to one side. All the moments, even the shortest ones, he'd spent with Astarte in the past were flashing before his eyes. Every time they had one another's back in battle, every time one saved the other's life, every time they spoke about the things they would never tell anyone else whenever they were alone. And that memorable moment when they stood together, away from the prying eyes that moonlit night. Abaddon was listening to her as she asked him if what she feels is right, if there's any possible way he feels that way as well. He almost laughed at her obliviousness and the fact that his love was there before she even realised her own. Of course.. He took her hands in his and gazed into her eyes, absolutely mesmerized, waiting for permission to finally grant her the proof of his love and devotion, one which she silently gave him with a nod and a smile.

"I would walk through the fire of Nine Hells for you."

He said before leaning down to place a chaste kiss on her lips. A kiss, stolen kiss he was dying to receive. It was very brief but still felt like his first flight over the White City. Liberating, wonderful and equally as intoxicating. Those were the most beautiful memories he'd ever made but now they were like a parasite buried deeply into his brain, one that refused to leave his head, reminding him of better times and cackling maniacally at him as the present was coming undone before his very eyes. He wanted those memories to go. But there was no escape. Neither from them nor from Astarte herself.

"Look at me.."

"I am."

"Please, come to your senses. It's not you.. You need to fight it, I know you have it in you. Don't leave me like this… Don't you remember everything I'd done for you? Everything you'd done for me ?"

For a second, Astarte's grin fell, making place for a thoughtful expression and for this short second Abaddon dared to hope that there's still light in her. That he somehow managed to get to her. But all these hopes were taken away when she shook her head and looked at him… not with anger. It was pity, plain and simple as she spoke in a condescending tone.

"Fool. So loyal and righteous. Look around! The war had ended long ago, yet we remain stranded in this forsaken tomb! We've been abandoned and no one will set us free if we don't do so ourselves! Don't tell me you cannot see it."

He couldn't believe his ears. It wasn't the honorable and just angel he used to know. The Astarte he knew was gone. This was a twisted monster bearing the visage of his dearest, taunting him with her beauty that was always keeping his hand paralyzed whenever he tried to strike her even though his life depended from it.

"I have chosen my path, Abaddon. And you can walk it with me.."

Abaddon eyed her hand warily as she stretched it out to him, offering him help in standing up. He was torn. On the one hand, he so, so wanted to accept and be with Astarte as he used to. No one would take her from him ever again. But taking her hand would also mean slipping into the hateful darkness. Welcoming the sullying blackness inside and succumbing to madness. Straying from the light and forsaking his duty in favor of the same accursed power that destroyed her.

It was a dangerous thing, this love.. Pushing even the most reasonable people to do unthinkable and dangerous things in the name of it. More often than not at costs that rarely make it worth it. Lucifer knew this. And he used it as a weapon against Abaddon by turning Astarte. He knew not what the Dark Prince offered her but it must've been worth losing oneself. Astarte was now Lucifer's servant, not the love of Abaddon's eternal life. He couldn't… he couldn't end up like her. His already bleeding heart screamed out with anguish when he finally gathered himself to speak.. and refused.

"I… can't do this, Astarte. Not even for you…"

"That's a pity…"

Abaddon grunted in pain when the pressure on his wrist increased to the point when he could feel his bones beginning to crack. And then as suddenly as it appeared, the crushing weight was gone, both from his arm and his chest. But he wasn't free. His breath was abruptly cut off when Astarte's slender fingers, which often fiddled with his hair when he had a moment to lie down and rest after a hard day, looking up at her sitting beside his head, before all this, mercilessly curled around his throat and lifted him up to her eye level until his toes could no longer reach the ground. She was strong. Stronger than he remembered. His left hand grasped Astarte's wrist as he tried to struggle free while he raised his sword to attack. But… looking deep into her eyes, at her face, mouth curved in a poisonous sweet smile, the silken skin of her cheeks… His hand trembled. Once again he proved her and himself he doesn't have it in him to do this. Damn it all. This one, seemingly harmless emotion was what ultimately led him to his own doom. If he'd never fallen for Astarte he wouldn't be here, flapping his wings madly in an attempt to wriggle out of her hold. But he couldn't command his heart. It would not listen to him.. Abaddon couldn't simply stop loving Astarte. Her eyebrows furrowed in a gentle frown and he felt the tip of her gilded spear press insistently against his abdomen, right under his ribs. Cold sweat began to bead around his brow. Oh Creator…

"Fret not, love.."

Astarte purred, making him finally stop beating his wings and look her in the eye again only to see an unsettling spark in there. Despite the obvious danger, hearing her call him her "love" in this deceivingly sweet voice still made his racing heart skip a beat.

"It won't be long.. And when you die, you'll be forever at my side. Just as you desired."

As a monster, not unlike her. A living corpse that defiled the natural order by its existence itself. He didn't want to go like this. What an end it is for a general of Heaven? Killed by his own lieutenant and brought back to life as a shambling husk of what he used to be? Preposterous. Cold lump of fear settled into the pit of his stomach. He could only count seconds. One.. two… it didn't even come to three when the blade sunk deeply into his flesh, piercing the armor as though it wasn't even there in the first place and running him through. After all, the spear was created specifically to fight armored opponents… Abaddon wanted to scream out in pain but the wail of agony was cut short by the firm grasp on his throat that stopped the air escaping his lungs. Pain clouded his vision but did not silence his racing thoughts. He was weak. He couldn't strike Astarte down as his enemy, denying her the well deserved rest and falling to her blade like a fool he felt like. He struggled to breathe and keep his eyes opened when he felt Astarte loosen her ironclad grip on his neck and move her hand to his face, oh so gently pulling the strands of his hair, matted with sweat, to the side and behind his ear before placing the same hand on the back of his neck to keep his head still. He gasped for air through his opened mouth as blood was beginning to well up in his throat and dribble down his chin. And then Astarte unexpectedly leaned in and decisively captured his lips with her own, granting him the final kiss for a farewell.

Abaddon's eyes widened in fear and shock but even though the pain of the spear through his side, he found himself going slack in Astarte's arms. His ornate blade clattered to the ground when his fingers unfurled and let it slip out. No strength remained within him to even try and respond to Astarte's lips, even if he wanted to. But what he hoped to be his last comfort turned out to be nothing more than a cruel torment with how cold and meaningless the kiss felt. It was nothing like the one back in the White City. Hollow seconds ticked by. It tasted only of the blood flooding his tongue and the bitter defeat. No love, no passion and no feelings remained in her black heart. Only the empty void and tasteless ashes… Monster. Astarte no longer… She would never hurt him…

Astarte knew him and all of his weak spots all too well. She knew how and where to strike to make it hurt. And this last kiss was only a tool to her. There wasn't any physical pain anymore when she finally pulled away with his blood painting her lips in deep crimson and let his body slip down the spear to collapse onto the shriveled grass. The last thing Abaddon saw before numbing darkness swallowed him was Astarte delightedly licking his scarlet life essence on her mouth and teeth before she hummed contentedly

"Farewell, my love. I'll see you again soon enough…"

She stood close, gazing at the distant stars shimmering in the black sky.

"The night sure is beautiful."

"It is. Even more so with you around."

"Tsk. Sweet-talker…"

In the impenetrable black, Abaddon heard nothing, saw nothing and felt nothing aside from the dull ache within his chest. Betrayal… Every beat of his heart was a torture. He couldn't even tell if it was really beating or not anymore. It bled ceaselessly. Craving for the lost love. Crying out to Astarte as something started to tug at the strings of his very soul. Trying to pull him free from his still body that refused to move no matter how much he wished to stand or at least sit up. Memories were passing all too quickly through his head. Eyes shining with uncertainty, a relieved smile as he staggered upright with a pained grimace that was supposed to be a comforting smile..

" Are you certain everything is alright? For a moment there I was afraid you were gone.."

"Never, my light. I would never leave you."

He wasn't going to the Kingdom of the Dead, he was certain. Astarte would make sure of it.. Curse Lucifer.. curse this wretched feeling still coiled in his chest, like a festering plague. Warriors of Heaven are people of unbreakable steel. Calm and collected beings of logic. But when it comes to honest feelings, there's nothing in between. They either don't care or love to the death. And when they love and it all falls apart, their hearts break like no one else's. No, they don't even break… they shatter to a million pieces like a frozen flower. And even if they are ever put back together, they're never the same. Those scars run too deep to ever disappear. Curse everything… Soft hair he tangled his fingers in, a heartbeat right beside his… warm presence next to him and a misleadingly delicate cheek pressed to the skin on top of his chest..

"What happens now then?"

"Doesn't matter. As long as we stay together."

"We will, Abaddon…"

He tasted the copper tinge of blood again as Astarte's voice echoed in his head when she swore to him. When he believed her..

I P R O M I S E .

Those two words… They meant a world to him. Even after he saw what Astarte had become… Abaddon desperately clung to those words like a drowning man holds onto the final breath until the very last second. And that was his downfall. She promised me…

The last memory of Astarte before all this chaos wormed its way into his mind. A less pleasant one. He could see there was something wrong with her back then. This was the first time they had a true falling out. Well.. can this really be called a falling out if it was just him being yelled at? Astarte was changed already. Something happened to her after the Nephilim slaughter. Something he had foolishly overlooked. Maybe he was just too preoccupied with his own grief? Blood tumbled down from her wound, painting both her and his armor in vibrant red from where a crude spear met her body…

It didn't take long for the last of the Nephilim to fall when this happened. She held onto life tightly as he led her deeper into the garden where healers would take care of her. Abaddon waited outside the tent, pacing back and forth until Azrael, who'd been tending to Astarte himself, walked out. A slender hand fell onto his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks and making him look at his old friend bearing a sullen expression. He'd never been so terrified in his life like in this short moment when he waited for Azrael to inevitably tell him that it was too late to help her but he merely asked Abaddon to come with him inside. Somehow, it was even worse. He saw her sitting on the edge of a cot, face pale, lips pressed into a thin line, staring at nothing. Eyes of other angels were on the three of them as the two archangels walked in. It was a relief to see her alive but there was no doubt that something was wrong. The patches of fresh crimson staining her trousers on her inner thighs only confirmed his suspicions. And Azrael didn't keep him waiting for an explanation.

"She was with child.."

The news hit him like a slug to the face. With a sack of bricks no less. Astarte, his beloved, bearing his blood in her womb. By all means he should feel ecstatic. He should rejoice. But this one word, this tiny word filled him with absolute dread. Was.

"The blade went deep.. There was nothing I could do. I'm sorry."

Who knows how long he stood there like a wooden stake? There was nothing I could do. Azrael was inarguably the best healer in the White City. He knew what he was saying. And yet… Abaddon found it difficult to believe his words. A child. His child. Died before they even had a chance to live.. It hurt more than any wound he'd ever received. When he finally could move, he approached Astarte and sat beside her, reaching for her hand to give her something to hold on to. But her violent reaction caught him off guard. She jerked away, her words dripped like acid.

"It's your fault. Get away from me!"

"Astarte, listen.."

"No! It never should've happened! Why would you do this to me?!"

This was the first time she called him per "you" in the presence of other angels. He knew not what she was truly going through but if his own sorrow was any indication, it must've been a nightmare. They'd lost something they didn't even know they had and it felt like the end of the world they'd built together. In a way, it was... Abaddon tried reaching out again but Astarte batted his hand away and leaped up to her feet despite the pain.

"Don't touch me! Do not speak to me, get off!"

"Astarte!"

He managed to call out before she stormed out of the tent, wrapping her wings around herself as a barrier that could protect her from the world around. Were it not for a firm grip on his arm, he would've gone after her. It was Nathaniel who stopped him. Abaddon looked at his friend, the right side of his face wrapped up in bandages just like his side he was keeping his hand over.

"It's not going to help. Let her go for now."

It's been a long time since he felt this lonely. He left the tent without another word, ignoring whatever it was Azrael was saying, and walked away from the camp like a wandering spectre who lost its way to the Well. And when he was far enough, he found himself collapsing on the ground, angrily hitting it with his fist as though it was the culprit here. They died without so much of a name.. Abaddon knew that what Astarte said wasn't true. He had no idea, it can't have been his fault… and yet this thought kept bothering him.

I should've protected you better. I have failed you.. both of you…

It took a couple of shaky breaths to collect his thoughts. Unable to do anything else, he pulled himself to his knees, clasped his hands together and started to whisper a prayer, seeking compassion in the Creator and his silent presence.

Astarte was already slipping after that and the prolonged stay in Eden only made it worse. She became distant and irritable, constantly itching for a fight, be it with words or blades. He thought she needed time to grieve. But this was something else. Something more sinister. Perhaps if he noticed it earlier.. done something… If only…

The odd tugging suddenly ceased and moments later a wave of comforting warmth washed all over him, gathering in his side where he was impaled. Deep within his chest, he felt his heart quiver, desperately fighting to keep beating. At first he thought he was merely waiting for Astarte to pull him back into the land of the living as a detestable abomination but no.. He yet lived. His thoughts were abruptly dispersed when he heard voices, very familiar and concerned voices, break through, the buzzing in his head.

"Did that do it?"

"Is he even alive ?"

"Hard to tell. It doesn't look good.."

"No, it doesn't.. Do you think we got to him on time?"

"I do not know. I'm not even sure if- Wait, I think he moved."

Abaddon indeed stirred, prying his eyes open with no small effort, immediately regretting his choice after a far too bright light intruded underneath his eyelids, and descending into a fit of uncontrollable coughs, spitting out all the blood that remained within as soon as he took a deeper breath. Pain. Horrible, excruciating pain filled his chest. He had been right. His sternum was definitely broken.

Damn all of it. Damn Lucifer, damn the Nephilim and damn the blasted air that hurt his lungs with every breath. Mist eventually fell from his sights, revealing to him familiar, tired faces of angelic soldiers leaning over him with distressed looks. His men. The Faneguard. They survived. Some of them at least… Malahidael wasn't so lucky.. One of them, Fariel if his memory doesn't deceive him, was holding up Abaddon's hand in his, and held between his curled fingers, Abaddon noticed an emptied crystal, a used up healing shard glimmering in the sunlight as the energy that was channelled into his body began to close the torn blood vessels.

"Lord Abaddon. Can you hear me?"

Gasping for another bit of air, horribly weakened but still very much alive and likely to stay that way, Abaddon gurgled out a disturbing sound that was supposed to be a miserable chuckle. In honesty, it sounded more like a dying demon than a laugh.. It only served to agitate them even further until he breathed out with relief and nodded as no coherent word could form in his mouth. What happened to Astarte when he was on death's door, he could only guess. But one thing he was sure of. She was still out there. Raving mad and dangerous to all who step into Eden. The law was clear. Astarte had fallen into darkness, defiled the dead and raised her weapon against her brethren. This was not an easy decision but after what he'd seen and lived through, Abaddon was certain now. He tried to bring her back, save her from the hate that grew within her like a malicious weed. But she was clearly too far gone. He couldn't help her.. Too late. As always, he was too late. Whether Abaddon likes it or not, Astarte needs to die. There was nothing more he could do for her. But he won't be the one to play the executioner and the hand of justice. He knew he couldn't. He'd failed twice already.. It will be done, just… not now.

Perhaps another time… They were safe for now. And he needed to think… Abaddon lifted his free hand to his mouth. It was still there, this horrid sensation.. and he knew it won't go away for a long, long time. Resting his head against the ground, he exhaled heavily as blessed unconsciousness started to take a hold on him once more. He needed to rest. They all did…

Even as he was falling into the dark again, he could still feel Astarte's venomous kiss upon his lips. Burning like fire and sinking cruel claws into his chest. Would he ever forgive her for tearing his heart apart? Probably. It wasn't her fault after all. It can't be, can it? Would he ever forget, though? Unlikely.. Abaddon couldn't help but wonder… if it was all his fault? He couldn't command his feelings and order them to leave him. But still, he felt guilty. Not even for Astarte's fall anymore but for ever letting this infatuation control him. That's where this love had gotten him so far. It left him weak and vulnerable. It was beautiful while it lasted but now? Only suffering remained.

No wonder Heaven has such a disdain for love. It causes naught but misery and ruin. A dire thought invaded his hazy mind. It matters not what Astarte had done. He still loved her. Soon, she will be put to rest. And him? Well.. Every, even the greatest warrior has to fall in battle. Eventually… And when that day comes, he will be ready to embrace his end. When that day comes.. they will meet again. Maybe... But until then… His heart hastened even still as he took another breath and silently told himself…

…Never again…

--------------------------------------------------

It.. it was supposed to be short? I did say short fic, didn't I? Uhh.. Whoops 😓

Also, Gimp 2 has nearly succeed in driving me nuts. In Poland we say "stand on eyelashes and clap one's ears" when something is nigh impossible. Yeah. That was that.

Btw, I take back everything I said about Abaddon's shoulder pads , they're mf'ing gorgeous 👌

#darksiders #darksiders fan fiction #darksiders genesis #my fic #darksiders astarte #astarte #darksiders abaddon #abaddon #here I go writing about that arsehole again XD #idk #I can't tag properly :P #my art #fan art #darksiders art #also .I.. Gimp #it's so hard to do decent stuff #it's not even that good :/

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narrowstreetsofcobblestone · 4 years ago

Text

Look back at season 1, first episode.

What would have happened if Dean hadn't gone to Stanford and said "Dad's on a hunting trip and hasn't been home in a few days"?

Sam would have lived a normal life with Jess. Dean would have died young, hunting fast solo.

That's it. THAT'S what (the fuck?) we got after 15 years. Fifteen fucking years that should have been of (mildly) good storytelling and character development.

They had amazing characters. They had an literally open road to create an epic journey. They could. I even believed in it with all the apocalipses, God and Devil, good and bad. They could, but they didn't.

Because when you look back know, the long road is just a fucking disgusting hamster wheel.

They just threw a good story in the dumpster. In a dumpster on fire. And full of shit.

I'm not even pissed, just sad.

Sad because Dean died, without the chance to surpass all the suffering of the life he (in truly) hated as much as he hated himself. He couldn't grow because, came on, pie.

And sad because Sam, the boy full of hope and caring, just had to live the rest of his life alone, or better, married with a faceless woman that's not the one good, monster-influence-free, Eileen that he loved. (Eileen who?)

And I'M OUTRAGED that Cas spent all those years with them, sacrificed himself for them - for Dean, (who he loved romantically, even if it was never again addressed, wich is something that hurts in a beautiful way, the unrequited canon thing) but this is not about it - he was just forgotten. Not just dead, because he could have been mourned, you know. He was just forgotten. Even by Dean.

Castiel who?

And there is Jack too.

And don't anyone bring the "it's about the brothers".

Yes, it's about the brothers. And about family. FAMILY DOESN'T END WITH BLOOD! Remember? Family is what moves you, builds you, supports you.

There are no heroes without family.

But there are no heroes in this show.

There's no journey. No fight. No roads.

Just a painful shabby heaven (fabricated, artificial, trapped by white walls, you do remember that heaven is a shitty matrix with NO FREEDOM and not a fair recompense in the series, right?)

It's the worst ending I couldn't ever imagine.

It's not just bad. Or sad. Or even stupid. I mean, its all of it, but whats is worse is that it's also EMPTY ba-dum-tiss! sorry, too early. Seems like that really was the villain of this season after all, and, by extension, of the series.

Endings are hard, we know. But if this is how everything ends, then it empties all the story until here.

Oh, Supernatural: the tale of two beatnik fearless brothers, their old drunk adoptive father, an rebel fierce angel with too much heart for his own sake, his beloved son the demi-god, and all the broken scattered family they gathered on the way is finally ending.

And nothing happens.

Nothing changes.

There's no hope, no free will, no peace when you're done.

Nothing of significance. Just nothing but a bad taste in my mouth, and a crawling frustration in my bones.

You were right, Mr. Ackles, I don’t like it. I HATE IT. Dumb me, who was expecting somenting not-so-awfull (it's supernatural we're talking about, I didn't even hoped that much).

I’m so sorry, young foolish 14 years old Maria, cause you believed.

#SPN #15x20 #supernatural #supernatural 15x20 #castiel #dean winchester #sam winchester #destiel #worst ending ever #fuck you #at last we are with cas now #suffering forever in the empty #all the gays in the super mega hell #let's party #and cry

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virtuosin · 4 years ago

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It was rapid fire the sudden squeeze of his hands gripped around her throat, yanked forward and slammed back to the wall sharply. The shouting from Rhaast drowned out by the flash of anger igniting ora-filled eyes. He could snap her neck so easily. /Kayn!/ He could watch her dwindle under his grip. /KAYN!!/ He could -- /You're killing her, idiot!/ An eyebrow twitched up with gaze flicked between her own. Hesitation, and then a hard throw to send her sideways towards the ground. "/MY/ Templar!"

It wasn’t the first time Rhaast’s heinous influence and Kayn’s own mania have caused problems.

Even all that time ago, Sona can distinctly recall how bruised her windpipe was when Kayn revolted against the moment of sincerity they shared in the ice cavern, as if something inside snapped. Nothing natural, of course, for Kayn himself seemed intrigued and willing to learn. He wanted more insight, or at the very least was humoring her, just as their original pact had been; to show respect, to see this path through--and no beautiful deceits. And yet, here she was, barely catching her breath as Kayn had threatened to cut off circulation to the point of death. Back then, Sona submissively shirked away, terrified of the scythe’s residual malice contorting Kayn’s mind--scared for her life around this ticking time bomb of an Ordinal.

All she has ever shown him was compassion, curiosity, and concern for his welfare. They were intertwined in this grand destiny, both so similar and yet so contrasting. How could he default to cruelty so easily with her? Why was she burdened to die for a universe who wanted nothing to do with her--even the man she is fated to die for? For all the patience and kindness within Sona--

--something snapped.

“ENOUGH!!” Sona shouts, her voice amplified by the Ora so its might could rattle the ship’s interior. A fierce light pours out, consuming the entirety of their surroundings in gold. It was a light that could heal--and a light that could kill; something she has demonstrated before. And just as it was on that wayward planet, her emotions were consuming her, allowing the energy to flow freely and without restraint.

She could feel how Kayn immediately tenses around her Ora, how his own presence fought against the mirthful light he was bathed in. Never had she used her Ora against him. She can practically feel the intensity of his emotions in the air--but she does not stop. She doesn’t need to. He can squirm, but he cannot break free, because she is the Child of Ora- -because she is Ora incarnate.

He threatens her life without ever realizing that her kindness-

-it hides true power.

But this wasn’t her way...this wasn’t her, and this wasn’t him. Just as Lily had said--Sona was not his tantrums, and in truth Kayn wasn’t entirely to blame for all his outrage either. It was the scythe. Rhaast. She refused to play into his hand, to allow this disgusting aura to permeate between them because of that alien’s presence. No, the violence wasn’t her way. It would never be.

“This isn’t all there is to you, Shieda-” Sona calls out as she approaches, her fury becoming tempered and even within her expression. No longer did the primal force of her emotions remain boundless. A deep breath in, and a longer breath out. She was gaining control over herself, a mark of growth compared to her episode on that backwater planet--the only other real time her spike of emotions caused the Ora to burst from her body. Even as the Ora’s might lessened, she ensured it kept Kayn locked in place, weighing him down after every nudge of resistance he showed. And yet, her expression darkens with disappointment and heartache.

“-it’s merely the most disappointing part.” And it’s well within her right to make that claim. After all the times they’ve endured together--of the tenderness and despair--Sona perhaps has the greatest understanding of how Kayn operates. At least, after Rhaast was introduced. The man himself was clever, thoughtful, and strong in his own right. But she could not condone his wrath--Rhaast’s wrath blooming within Kayn as his own. Not any longer.

And so she would turn, her Ora subtle in the air but remaining steady around Shieda’s body. She would walk towards the bathroom door, silent. There goes a beat where she doesn’t turn nor speak a word, she merely steadies herself before the threshold of the doorway, as if debating her words. Or fighting the urge to break under the weight of her own heart.

“If I must burn your name out of my heart, then so be it-”

“-I’ll kill these emotions for you.” And without another moment spared, Sona would enter the bathroom and swiftly lock the door, her Ora dropping the moment the mechanism is secured. At once, the Templar would wander for the shower and immediately turn it on, allowing the water to heat up. She felt so...wrong. And hurt. Quickly, she would tear off her clothes, uncaring for any protests she might hear on the other side. She would ignore all words. Be it grief, or rage, or yearnful pleas--it would fall on deaf ears as Sona’s figure collapses heavily against the shower wall, the water washing over her like rain. And then she would cry...and then she would scream, silent and unseen within the privacy of the dim bathroom. She broke their promise of no beautiful deceits--for how could she truly purge Kayn from her heart? It was impossible, even after all the horrific things she’s experienced and seen by his side. But it wasn’t like he hadn’t broken that promise first.

#tw violence #ofshadowreaping #this one #got super angsty #and i'm not sorry #sona is so #genuinely caring and empathetic #her saying she's gonna kill her emotions for him #is the biggest lie #and most painful thing #ever #lord #<3 #epoch tale || Odyssey au #in harmony || ic #the lady performs || my art

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werevulvi · 4 years ago

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I'm starting to slowly understand that this de-transition I'm doing will probably always be pretty rough on me. I'm re-watching "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" for the millionth time. I guess, for being about a hyper-feminine, conventionally attractive girl, it's pretty empowering. And Giles is definitely my favourite, British dork. Buffy is empowering because she really doesn't need anyone to help her out, except when she wants help. She's the furthest thing from a helpless damsel in distress, but she's also vulnerable and in many ways, like any other teenage girl.

I guess I can relate to that, on the level of depths I rarely swim in. Except in reverse. Like I look really masculine, male, and very different from other women, but on the inside I'm still vulnerable, and understanding the world from having been socialised female, like I guess most women are, to various degrees. And I guess I'm holding onto that. Sometimes too much. Sometimes... even to my detriment.

But when your womanhood is almost literally hanging by a thread, and you treasure it... it's easy to clutch too damn hard at it, as if your life somehow depended on that grip. And I guess that's how Buffy got me thinking, really a lot. Thoughts that have been passing through my mind for a while now, finally stuck around long enough for me to grasp.

It feels like there's just no ideal solution for me. I'm still generally at a pretty good place with my gender and presentation now. There's nothing I really wanna change, except from going back on testosterone. But how satisfied am I really? That's the difficult question. I get these moments here and there, when I get... you know, sad. I guess I get jealous of women who still look like women. Like Buffy, and all those other female characters that I relate to (all three of them, lol.) Their ability to blend into society as one of the females. That which I once used to take for granted, and barely even was aware of, and did not even like.

As a teen and throughout most of my 20's, I didn't like the idea of "blending in" or looking "normal" as I saw that as equal to disappearing and becoming insignificant. I liked standing out, to look like a someone, instead of a no one. But for the past couple of years? Not so much. I don't have that same mindset anymore. Now I understand that when people don't pay attention to what I look like... they finally notice my personality. And I really like that. I feel no need to have an alternative style for the sake of expressing myself anymore, although I'm still drawn to tattoos and piercings. If anything, it rather hinders people from truly listening to me, because they're too busy judging my appearance!

Whether I stand out now or not, well... I do have kind of a choice over. Just not so much in my favour. Or well, it is, but at the same time not. I can blend in among men as a "normal" looking guy, which takes no effort and has become my go-to, but I can never do that as a woman. I mean, I'm not just recognised as a woman who is ugly or looks weird, or "too" masculine. I'm not recognised as a woman at all.

And yeah, sure, I'm fine with that. Not a big deal.

But sometimes I still mourn the loss of my ability to be seen as a woman, and not look like trash while doing it. Sometimes... I can't help but struggling to look at myself. It just gets so raw sometimes, and I feel ugly. Society's beauty standards still has a certain choke hold on me. I can't break free from that over night. Especially since I was a makeup addict for a really long time and only just recently stopped wearing makeup altogether. Especially since I struggled with an eating disorder, which I only just recovered from a few years ago. Especially since I previously used sex with men as a way to seek value and worth, but found the opposite, yet still crave that harmful lifestyle. I'm barely a stone's throw away from being the slave of femininity I once was. Perhaps transitioning was my unconscious way of attempting to break free from it. Yes, I think there could be some truth to that. I revel in my masculinity now, but the wounds femininity caused in me, still hurt. It took me about this long to even understand their existence.

My mind still makes these connections, that by "woman standards" I look... absolutely hideous. Bearded, balding, scars for tits, hair all over my body. Yeah, great. I feel disfigured. Like some kind of abomination. I'm just gonna have to live with that knowledge, and what it does to me.

Because sometimes I get lost in what I think other people must think I look like, as soon as I tell them I'm actually a woman. I've gotten looks of disgust from that, and I guess I just haven't quite figured out how to handle that sorta thing yet.

I know that every time I've tried to "present as female" again, I've regretted it and felt absolutely horrible. On one hand it's tragic, because societal beauty standards still make me break down over my appearance sometimes, in desperate attempts to make myself look beautiful again... and that's when I feel the claws of femininity scratching me up from within, all over again. That endless chase for unobtainable, so called "beauty" and the failure that's bound to follow. And I guess it's a little bit sad, that I think I look a lot hotter as a man, than I ever even could as a girl or woman, and that could be part of why I hold onto my male-like appearance as a comfort in my newfound masculinity.

But is that so bad?

This harsh weather of self-discovery demands a comfort blanket. But on the other hand, most days I actually feel great about the way I look, and I can even manage to still feel good about the way I look when I see myself as a woman. That is great progress!

I'm actually starting to be able to connect my womanhood with my masculinity, and when I do, I feel great. That's my "good days" and I have a lot more of them than those "bad days" when I feel disfigured. Because that feeling is relative, not objective. It's relative, not only to social gender norms for men and women respectively, but also to my own inner norms of my own gender, which are highly influenced by the norms of the society I live and grew up in. And I've noticed I actually have the power to adjust that broken compass within me that struggles to connect my appearance with my mind.

I think my dysphoria broke quite badly, when I started poking around in it. I mean, not only do I get envious of other women (who have not transitioned) but as soon as I present as female, I instead get jealous of men again, and feel even worse about the way I look! It's a catch 22!

I do not know what my tired, dysphoric heart craves, or if any physical change would really help me feel better. I still regret my top surgery, but no kinds of reconstructed boobs would be able to fill that empty void. Because it's not nearly as much physical as it is psychological. It's missing and grieving something very specific, which cannot ever return. And that too... I just have to live with.

However, I'm again trying out wearing fake boobs. Small sock tits in sports bras. As often as my deformed ribs can handle. It quickly gets very painful in the dents I caused by binding pre-op. I ordered some oversized sports bras and gel insertions, that I'm impatiently waiting for to arrive! In the mean time I try to make do with what I have, which is too small and too tight, but for an hour here and there, is alright. I feel good with the illusion of small boobs, something like barely a B-cup at most. It feels more like my body when it's not board flat, and it makes me feel better about being curvy as well. Otherwise I still wear the same men's clothes I'd usually wear. Flannels, jeans, hoodies, suits, etc. That's perfect. It feels a lot like me.

I really should have left my chest be. But I didn't. And that's okay. I'll manage.

I reach out to testosterone again for comfort. Familiar comfort that always made me feel better, and badass. I know it won't take my pain away. But honestly, that's okay. I actually want to keep my pain, anyway. Because it helps me heal and feel stronger again. I don't like being in pain, but I feel like it's rebuilding me, strengthening me from within, and forces me to re-think what's not working. Pain is my guide to comfort. That fire in my ass that keeps me moving.

So yeah, I'll live.

I'll keep breaking down sometimes, and feel like I made myself into the ugliest woman on Earth, but even that, I can draw some kinda power from. Being proudly ugly is definitely something I can do! And then I feel untouchable. When I remind myself that my "ugliness" is not only entirely subjective, but also... entirely deliberate. That I choose to not try to salvage my thinning head hair, because I do not need it. That I choose to let my beard grow out, because it brings me comfort. That I choose to keep my chest flat, despite all my difficult feelings I have about it, because it allows me to go topless and braless. And so on.

My deliberate ugliness, worn with pride and survival... I'd say is quite beautiful. That's what keeps me going. Dated: January 7th, 2021.

#detransition #femininity #gnc female #transition regrets #ugliness and beauty #female masculinity #gender dysphoria #deep thoughts #reflecting on my gender struggles #ok to rb #i try to add the date to all my posts now #because how else will anyone know in the future when it was posted

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