#after she was taken in; sheltering and subtle isolation was immediate.

[fleurladari-a]

i will always find it a bit funny that lysandre's logic with taking in silva falters just a little bit when one realizes that lysandre has always been quite adamant about not having kids. the entire situation with her was rather lowkey till she ran away, publicly 'doing the right thing even if he didn't necessary want to.' generally he doesn't talk about the fact that he/the labs took her in unless outwardly asked, and even then he's a bit vague about it.

[spidermilkshake]

Isolated Element--Part 1: Captoptromancy

Welp, I'd best post writing on the hellsite too. What better place for the unhinged fanfiction that spills between my brain's cracks?

IP: Kingdom Hearts (powerfully headcanon'd)

Genre: Fantasy, Mystery+Suspense

Word Count: 2,400+

TW: Unreal/derealized dream states, mild body horror

(Next)

1: Catoptromancy

It had been a few years since she had last come this way. Already, nothing was at all like she remembered. Years back, Traverse Town didn’t even have its proper name; it was only known as the settlement cobbled together from Gaia’s refugees—from Radiant Garden to Corel to Nibelheim—a hybrid of survivalist shelters and shanty-town as more and more hunks of unfortunate Worlds materialized in the outskirts, sometimes bringing hundreds of new people with them. A few years ago there weren’t quite five thousand folk crowded in here, getting by on salvaged bits and crisis aid given by the Elveshmean military and the Elvaan Źduhace (the Elven Dragoon Order). If not for the work of Radiant Garden’s more progressive intellectuals, Gaia’s ties to Elves and even fellow Human nations would not have been so strong, and if not for these ties, the alarm at the sudden radio silence would not have been so swift in onset. If not for this, Traverse Town would likely have remained a guttering, suffering den of survivors—languishing and on their own.

Aqua sympathized.

As she disembarked the transport cruiser into a grey, stale-smelling rain she noticed immediately the place’s changes. She pulled the sides of her hooded poncho together, pausing by the platform’s railing to look out over the newly-constructed bell tower, and the mis-matched buildings surrounding it. Formerly, this area had been half-built and strewn with piles of salvaged rubble. The wrecked hulk of an Interspace-Airship hybrid, the Highwind Mark IV, had lain propped up on blocks, its engines burst and drained of power. It had since been moved—or taken apart, likely to go towards the Mark V. Shaking the oil rivulets dripping down her hood away, Aqua brought herself back to the present. Traverse Town was now equipped with signs; she began following some, scanning the terraced levels and built-into underpasses for signs of nightly lodging. A warm, elevated porch caught her eye—its swinging sign lit up with a covered manatech lantern, the orange glow making “Bedknobs+Broomsticks: Food—Rooms—Entertainment—Vacancies Available” legible through the weather. She climbed the stairs to the entrance, taking a moment to shake the rain from her poncho again, to not drip a soot-marred trail all through the place. The least she could hope for was that this one wasn’t already grimy, and without her griming it up for the proprietor.

It did turn out to be clean inside, mostly. A few active spiderwebs decorated the high, out-of-the-way corners, but a polished oak bar-top was well-shined, and a row of recessed booth seating looked to be mostly clear minus some spice containers. It was a tiny place, a staircase and a cramped elevator entrance intruding halfway into the diner-like area. Clearly, most of the establishment was on ascending floors and this scant hole-in-the-wall was the only important thing besides cheap beds. At first she assumed she was alone on the floor—some clanking in the doorway behind the bar area implied one distracted kitchen worker only. A sound like sheafs of silk rubbing together turned her head, and the slight, constant movements caught her peripheral vision.

She jolted, instinct forcing her to grip thin air after a Keyblade that would no longer come to her. After all this time, she’d assumed she would be used to the full range of weird entities roaming the Three Realms, but apparently this… entity, was still a surprise.

He was wedged into the outermost side of the closest booth, in the shadowy corner. His feet were propped up on the table and half-crossed, but it was not their electric-green claws and webbed toes the color of “drowning victim” that was so terrifying: The rest of him was by far more strange. Tall, slender, with swept-back pointed ears and some of his dark reddish hair braided into an Elf-Knot identified his species—and the bustling array of mutations he bore brought that species into question again. Above the protective gloves and bracers he wore, his forearms were that drowned-blue color, and slithering with several large tentacles each. His ripped jeans were a similar story at the hip joint—and even more sprung from a point near his shoulder blades. The deep V-neck of his shirt allowed a travesty of more subtle issues to be on display: His shoulders and across his collarbones had stubby, green quills protruding from them, the veins of his neck close to the surface were a green hue too and hideously engorged. On second glance, Aqua suppressed a shudder of revulsion as she saw the veins on his arms and even one faintly popping from his temple were the same. A moment passed in which this Grey Elf paid no attention to her—engrossed with a ratty-looking, thin book propped open against one knee—but then, vivid purple eyes flicked over to the onlooker.

“Well, well, cydezé,” the twisted elf greeted her, gaze flicking over her from the Keybearer’s Chi-Rho emblem on her chest to the lacing ornaments over her corset and spur-stabilizers on her boots, landing at last on her muted blue hair and bright eyes. “They say it’s rude to stare, stranger.”

“Sorry, I, uh…” Aqua stalled her movements by force of will, as instinct was sending her creeping backwards. “I couldn’t help but look.”

“’Swhat they all say!” He snickered, snapping his book closed. She couldn’t be so sure of this relaxed, humored response; her eyes lingered on the tentacles as they coiled back over themselves. “No offense taken at all, eh, miss..?”

“I’m Aqua,” she suppressed a flinch, especially as one of his eyebrows raised in intense interest.

“Aqua, eh?” Finally, he slid the mutated pair of feet down from sight. “Excellent. I’m named Oppidimy—though some call me the ‘Octomancer’. Or a walking accident.” He chuckled again, grinning.

“Now we’re introduced, at least—so! You didn’t come in here after me, I’ll assume, but surely you’re looking for someone.”

Aqua’s brow twitched as it was tempted to furrow, “What makes you say that?”

“You have that ‘looking for someone’ quality,” he smirked, tipping a hand towards the scene outside, “It’s a safe assumption. Most who come here are, in fact, trying to find people.”

The young Keybearer half-bit her tongue; appearance aside, she was unsure of how wise it would be to make even a guarded mention of her goals. Oppidimy was clearly a mage of some sort: What kind was as uncertain as how he’d come to be half-elf, half-aberration. And what kind of magic-user he was made all the difference.

“Actually, I wasn’t looking for someone,” she chanced it. She figured she could downplay the importance it had, leaving little clue that the lost item in question was the sacred Keyblade. “Something, actually. Several somethings.”

“Lost some stuff?”

“Actually… more like stolen.” She sucked in a breath, reigning in the residual outrage that lingered even years later, “A sword, and a set of plate armor. They were very important to me and I don’t have much idea of who took them from where I last saw them.”

Oppidimy clicked his tongue, eyes hooding in a disgusted expression as he nodded.

“That’s cute—people really are out there like that. World’s in the process of ending and they’ll still try robbin’ you blind.” Aqua blinked hard at the statement, but he carried on overtop of her visible bewilderment, “Odds are, the culprit’s one of a short and nasty list; the only types who would be out to steal anything that wasn’t provisions, these days.

“I might be able to help y’ out,” a slow, crooked smile spread over his pointed features, and his gloved fingertips settled together into a triangle of scheming thoughts. “At least, if you’ll have me. At the very least I could help rule out some of these skeezballs.”

“And how would you accomplish this?” Her voice turned suspicious, and the Rurcelan mutant obviously cottoned on. He disbanded the triangle of wicked contemplations with a series of assuring waves, shaking his head and chuckling.

“Ah, ah, I know that tone—relax! My methods are one hundred percent legitimate, completely moral. Even though I blend in quite well with society’s villains and monsters, the ‘look’ was not exactly intentional. But, if you’ll take up my offer, you’ll see how it serves to my advantage.”

As Oppidimy began to stand and tuck his book amongst the grips of the tentacles issuing from one elbow, Aqua tilted her head:

“…So you specialize in espionage?”

The elf raised a gloved finger to his lips and the quills on his bare shoulders went rigid, suddenly looking grim and serious.

“Not so loud,” He slid past her, the Keybearer wearing a stone face even as she cringed internally at the tendrils coming inches from brushing by. Stepping towards the stairs, he turned back to call over his shoulder, smirk returned: “Come see me some time if you need a hand, yeh? I’m in 32. I’d suggest giving that old office door a knock so you can get a room of your own before it gets too late.” He began to cackle, “Owner’s a bit narcoleptic, so knock hard!” His laughter echoed, becoming cartoonish as he ascended the narrow stairwell and the raucous noise faded out. She paused a few seconds just to breathe.

Never had she encountered someone quite so exaggerated—it felt like a front—or a trap. She could be the intended victim, but just as easily the intended bait, a lure to draw in the unsavory targets he’d referred to. Only further investigation would bring that to light.

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

As suspected—the place was a cheap joint for cheap beds. The need in town was high, and the cramped room she was assigned was, at the very least, livable. Crumpled under the stiff, rough-textured outer sheet, every attempt to calculate the dubiousness of the elf’s offer, versus the likelihood she could finally close in on her lost Keyblade, set her sleep back another hour. And another. But slowly, surely, sleep and Aqua arrived at an uneasy truce.

She had the dream again. Different—and clearer.

The vision of that round, white, metal-plated room, the gaps in this armoring (or acoustic featuring?) showing faint glints of pipes, cables, and other hints at underlying manatech. It mocked her. She was for a second so infuriated at its recurrence that she almost missed the new features: Insignias in a stark black marked the walls, familiar but strange. It was much like the Keybearer’s Chi-Rho—or the Heartless Emblem, itself very much a cheap plagiarizing of the order’s sign—upside-down, so that the spikes forming the “Chi” took the peak position.

The miasma of her unconscious half-lucidity swam around her as she struggled to turn around and face the raised central area. She had already seen what was arranged there during the prior dream states. Her armor, and her Keyblade, where she knew it last. If the passage of time was to be believed, someone had been keeping it tidy and dust-free.

The chair was new. Aqua’s jaw hung in silence a moment, unable to react, as she faced its occupant. Outside of this recurring hallucination she knew she was asleep—and she wondered if he, within the dream, was also. His dark-toned skin and wildly-arranged silver hair were uncomfortably familiar, and his face itself also so but for different reasons. His ears were slightly-pointed as a half-elf’s would be, but since his eyes were closed she couldn’t tell if he possessed the mish-mash of colors and features she dreaded. She had seen this man before, she was sure this was… but somehow, her mind refused to let her assume this was the same person. Or persons, technically. He had to be, and yet… she was sure this quietly seated man was another entirely.

Her frown began to appear, giving some control of her face and voice back. Whoever this dead-ringer for Terra (and Xehanort) was, there was no likelier suspect for the role of the one who had relocated this Chamber—her Keyblade with it.

“Where are you?”

Aqua nearly jumped, though her dream-self felt far too sluggish for it. Exactly as and exactly what she had been gathering up energy to say the man with closed eyes had asked in a low murmur, devoid of feeling. Though, this she supposed could be from him truly being asleep—mumbling and aware of her regardless.

“No,” she barked, “You tell me. Where are you? And who are you?”

The man paused, eye movements flickering behind their lids. In painfully slow motions, he began to shake his head.

“I cannot answer you. You must tell me first.” He was still almost deadpan, with a hint of tired annoyance creeping in now.

“You can’t force me to tell you, and you can’t do anything to me. This is a damn dream-state. So, if you want anything, you first.”

He huffed, his brows twitching, and the sleek black fabric that made up his gloves straining as his grip on the armrests tightened.

“No,” he growled. “You don’t understand. I cannot answer you first because I have no answer. I don’t know who I am.” He let silence return to the humming void around them, becoming neutral in expression, “But perhaps, if you tell me your name, I can know more.”

A spike of hope softened her expression; the frustration and the intonation was so like his, melded neatly with the rigid aura of calm he imposed on himself—two traits so Terra-esque and incongruous with each other they seemed unlikely to be performed. And very un-Xehanort, in this way.

“I’m Aqua. Do you have a name, by chance?”

“I do,” he nodded, brows knitting slightly, “But it would mean nothing to you. It is a chosen name, taken after the time you seem to recognize me from.”

“Are you Terra?” She forged ahead, prepared for a let-down.

“I am aware of who that name belongs to, but I do not think so,” he surprised her, “Before you ask: I am equally aware of the one called Xehanort. I am not him.

“You have seen this Chamber before, haven’t you?” A dim inkling of curiosity entered his soft tone, surprising her alongside the change of subject. “Years ago I began to see this place. In my dreams at first, and then, every time I closed my eyes. I suspect you saw these visions. You saw the way into the room, hidden in what is left of the bastion of Radiant Garden.”

“How did you figure that out?” But, already guessing the answer, her eyes wandered to the sections of her armor propped on the central dais.

“I have memory I can’t explain,” he began. “I remember the name of the one this Keyblade, and its armor manifestation, belongs to. Aqua.” Sudden, jarring, he seemed unable to resist letting his eyes snap open and zero in on her with their bright, orange intensity, “This belongs to you, doesn’t it?”

An immediate shock came over her—but not only from being eye-to-eye. As soon as it happened, a spell broke. She felt roaring in her ears; the Chamber of Repose winked out and she was filled with the sickening sensation of half-awake, confused floating just above one’s body. Psyche-wise, she felt slammed back into her self as she bolted awake, still curled under the cheap inn’s terrible sheets, the room quiet and empty.

She sat up, waiting for some soreness that never came. A vivid dream. Not exactly, but closer than really being there. For a minute she just listened; a few muffled clangs of activity echoed from some lower floor, and she could hear through razor-thin walls the sounds of folk opening and shutting doors, exchanging bleary greetings, and going about the act of “morning”. A sliver of weak light creeping in between shut curtains confirmed the early, small hour. She collected her wits, and stood. She wasn’t getting any more sleep now anyways.

To Be Continued

[sinnhelmingr]

tma au rundown. revised from the old blog and updated for new lore from rp. warning. long with too many bullet points.

BASICS:

her name is leah lindqvist. no, this is not her birth name, not even a name in any official records, but it’s what she goes by and what the majority of characters will know her as. the only exceptions to this are those who knew her in her human life and those who have stumbled upon her in statements – more on that later.

appears to be in her early 30s, with an old world aristocracy look under her gothic leanings. has a propensity for elegant/historical looks in her day to day life, being rather more put together than the setting’s usual cast of characters. notable for her bloodless complexion and bright green eyes. tall and thin.

has lived in london for the last seven years, with occasional travels onto the continent. looking for an in to the institute to further her own research. changes living arrangements at around season 3 to better stalk keep an eye on ongoing plots.

originally scandinavian, specifically danish, though her accent seems strangely lax for someone who claims to have only left her motherland a few years before. speaks multiple languages fluently. 

is an avatar, though her exact ‘patron’ is a question she’s been trying to answer for a long, long time. the circumstances of what she deems her ‘becoming’ seemed to involve at least 4 separate entities, only one of which could have won her. add in her upbringing beholden to being a good agent for the beholding and, well, the waters do get muddied. 

BACKSTORY:

was born the youngest of three children in a happy copenhagen home, her father a prodigal from good stock and her mother a force to be reckoned with in the community. at some point, the house of cards crumbled for the couple, and their children were shuffled off to what relatives would take them. leah, or whoever she was before, went to her paternal grandparents specifically.

said grandfather, odin, was a proper gentleman, a pillar of the community, worldly and wealthy. he had a particular fondness for the macabre, and venerated an englishman known as jonah magnus and his various associates. this man about town had such dreams for his latest acquisition, for this bright and tender child who wanted the whole of the world in her hands. he would introduce her to his world over the coming years, training her not only as a proper heir to his legacy, but a perfect sacrifice for whatever esoteric entity he had turned to for patronage.

leah was raised to be a proper academic and globetrotter, groomed for something beyond her understanding. she was expected to read and recite, to observe others, and to mind her ps and qs more than her cousins ever would. as she grew towards adolescence, odin took to traveling the world with his ward with deeper intent, haunting locations of past or ongoing fear activity. leah was meant to observe the world beyond humanity, and to be seen by his associates.

that was a perilous thing, and got her on the wrong side of various avatars and monsters more often than she cares to remember. she has had confirmed run-ins with the spiral, the stranger, the desolation, the corruption, the vast, and the dark through these ‘misadventures,’ and has had at least one brush with the lukas family in her youth that leaves open the possibility of later lonely interference.

carries scars from the spiral, stranger, and the corruption at least. said corruption incident is in fact the cause of her limited mobility from her early twenties onward -- and no, she doesn’t want to talk about how she got her cane. what a fucked up question to ask.

odin referred to her in his records as his martyr, going back to the proper root of the term. martyr, meaning witness, meaning a girl forced to stare unblinking at the influence of the fears upon the world. that these moments of martyrdom occasionally caused her to be physically harmed was an inevitable coincidence. it should be noted, however, that leah’s moments of martyrdom over active instances of fear were almost invariably fatal for the subject of observation. while odin perceived her as witnessing the world and following the path of the eye, leah herself was chasing death.

the dawning realization that her life was to be given solely in service to this all-seeing eye led to brief fits of rebellion or anxiety that her grandfather worked to combat with subtle manipulations. these only worked for so long, as the situation came to a head at some point in her twenties when she managed to escape for a number of months. the event led to her run in with the corruption and an attack that left her severely limited in terms of mobility. recovering in the hospital under her grandfather’s tender, doting visit, it was made clear to leah that he could have stopped this at any point and taken her home. he instead chose to teach her a lesson: she was only safe under his shelter, and that of his patron. 

the realization didn’t stop her. her fate might be inevitable, but she could choose how she would meet that moment of sacrifice. eventually, her diligent composure and simmering disdain boiled over into open rage, an event that lead to an attack on one of her uncles. the exacts of the event have never been put to paper or spoken of, but it rattled odin deeply enough that he ended his pet project immediately. leah was ousted from the family, abandoned to a distant property. the outside world, however, would receive the fiction that she had gone missing, and this time she would never be recovered. it was clear to odin that he had created a monster, but not one he or his patron could control and use.

left to a rarely-traveled locale on the norwegian sea, stripped of the protections her grandfather offered under the sheltering eye, those entities who marked her soon came begging their pound of flesh. locking herself into a small cabin on the property, she endured bouts of darkness and mist rolling over the outside world, a constant knocking or clawing at the cabin door, and an apparent loss of self. after some perceived days of this isolation, some hallucination or dream came to her in which she perceived her patron reaching out and taking all of the fear away. it was always going to come to this, for someone that had never lived. she didn’t fight the inevitability. these eyes that were made only to see would now wither the world around her.

once awakened, she was discovered by a passing ship and returned to the mainland, walking and hitchhiking her way back to the main family estate. she found her grandfather badly aged in the weeks of her absence, striking when he was alone and demanding answers from him : what was her intended purpose? what did the eye have to do with this? what had she become? why did he choose her? at some point, her interrogation became too much for the old man, and he passed before she received the answers she sought. after disposing of his body, odin became another missing person’s case in the family, and leah made her way across europe for the next few years seeking the answers she had not received from the source.

has a past attempt to breach the institute under her belt. lasted a good few days keeping a low profile and dodging anyone who might question her cover story. was eventually found out, however, and was made to escape. all the way to the mainland, in fact, due to whatever she uncovered about the place rattling her deeply enough to keep away from england for some years.

eventually, with all other avenues of knowledge running dry, leah was forced to return and consider that the answers she sought lie in the institute itself. to that end, she had taken up residence in a london apartment complex and tried to decide how best to enter the very seat of the entity she fears the most.

RECENT EVENTS: 

has been an accomplice in several unsolved disappearances of young men in the london area. it’s an open secret among her peers that she makes offerings for her ‘partner’ out of these human sacrifices. this has rendered her something of a laughingstock to those who know her partner and its nature, as leah is fighting a losing battle.

had a s1 run in with her old nemesis the corruption, saved only by the timely intervention of a door. she never specifies where she had this stand off but it’s easy to infer she tried to find another way into the institute.

has developed a growing fascination with the latest archivist, including a desire to reach out to him if at all possible.

keeps her options open as far as interacting with her own kind. through rp she has proven herself an ally to the spiral-aligned figures of the narrative, and has passing association with the lonely, desolation, and stranger.

SPOILERS:

has been completely divorced from the concept of time as it flows for others. many of the discrepancies about her story as she tells it can be explained through this: her days abandoned on the island actually took place over a year, her time spent combing through the european continent took more than a decade, and she can no longer remember her birth year because it does not align to her perceptions of self. even those she knew in humanity, such as gerry, register as oddities for having aged in accordance with real time rather than her own.

her patron is the end, who had indelibly marked her at some point in her youth and seems to have intervened and claimed her once she was in serious danger. her exact role as an avatar of this fear is muddled by her decades of self-serving pursuit of knowledge rather than living up to whatever she was meant to do.

odin really stumbled into getting an intended avatar of the eye marked by different fears. it was not his intention, but rather a result of caretaker negligence in trying to make a witness of the girl. he never expected that it could have meant something in the grand scheme of things.

despite appearing all of 32 at most, leah was already in her twenties by the 90s. she’s actually far older than her body implies though her general issues with time mean she has not realized this fact and her status as an avatar has left her pretty ageless.

ABILITIES:

if looks could kill. a potent bit of irony is that the end turns leah’s intended purpose into a strength. leah has proven on two separate occasions to be able to kill with a glance and focused willpower. the look tends to induce some form of fatal medical problem in the subject, and she tends to use it sparingly, usually to generate more potent fear for her entity rather than her personal needs.

ghost interaction. as established through rp, leah has some affinity with the ghosts occasionally seen within the narrative. through roleplay with sittimoranimiinterfectorem, her presence seems to give them a fullness, making them more as they were in life than at the moment of death. one character in particular notes that he feels lesser if too far from her, like he’s losing himself. this accounts for the various dead things that have cleaved to her over the decades -- which leads to a demonstration of leah’s secondary ability of banishing the dead to oblivion if she so chooses. it’s a threat she holds over the heads of those she cannot do away with for plot reasons. one assumes she could manage the opposite, and call up a lingering soul for her own purposes, but why should she?

immortal. unchanged since the day she accepted the touch of the end, leah has neither aged nor weakened since. unlike some who require regular sacrifice to maintain their unlives, leah seems particularly resilient, feeding more to keep up her strength than anything. this doesn’t mean, however, that she couldn’t be killed by outside means, and has proven capable of being injured by other avatars or fear-adjacent creatures.

RELATIONSHIPS:

alliance/partnership/friendship with sittimoranimiinterfectorem‘s michael. michael was the first of her kind leah met in any serious capacity, and one she looked up to as a potential font of answers. instead, michael has been toying with her for years, as a liar ought to. there’s a lot of ways this relationship can be interpreted by outsiders, not helped by recent revelations about their patron.

former companion/occasional ally of bookburnt‘s gerry. the two crossed paths every once in a blue moon during the years, given odin and mary were associated with one another in their travels and overlapping ideals. leah tried to take on a supportive role for the teen, sometimes sending gifts, while gerry in turn tended to cut loose with someone who actually gave a damn about him as a person. in adulthood, the two sometimes ran into one another in the weird world in which they inhabited, though leah had no idea this man was the same boy she had bonded with years before.

potential acolyte/student of medisinals‘s blackwell. we’re still plotting it out but the two have each other’s acquaintance as avatars of the end.

RELEVANT STATEMENTS (whether to leah or the wider narrative of her grandfather’s legacy):

statement of frida [redacted], concerning the work, achievements, and disappearance of her husband odin. first mention of the family and leah’s original identity. (2001)

statement of olaf agner, concerning his time working for the family in north zealand. a less rose colored view of odin’s ‘visionary’ work and his ‘creepy’ granddaughter. (1987)

miscellany statements referencing a one eyed man and dark-haired girl/young woman at or around the scene of various incidents involving the fears across europe. sometimes references the girl in question reaching out to those that are marked, though those she touches are never saved. (80s-90s)

statement of torsten [redacted], concerning the personal records of his father and the disappearance of his niece. (2007)

reference to leah’s invasion of the institute archives in an incidental post-statement discussion with a certain assistant about his allowing a certain young woman into the archives. his boss proves decidedly unforgiving even after being made aware he had been deceived.(2009)

miscellany statements establishing odin as a sort of chessmaster invariably working with the eye before, during, and after leah’s part in his life. he’s part of the evil senior citizen’s union and actually kept professional ties with a lot of them. (60s-2001)

statement of james berger on the subject of his friend ethan hamilton going missing. first clear picture of leah and michael working in tandem. (2014)

statement of eve hall concerning the sudden and televised death of her employer at a political debate. another incident of leah and michael scratching one another’s backs, this time while mutually spiting the eye. (2014)

statement of anthony farrell on his interrupted night shift duties at a fast food restaurant. establishes leah as being nonplussed with the activities of her peers so long as no one is getting seriously hurt without reason. the hypocrisy. the audacity. (2015)

statement of leah lindqvist concerning her personal history and… ‘becoming.’ statement recorded direct from subject. (2017)

[five-wow]

9.15 reaction under the cut!!!

is it just me or is every vaguely spanish speaking villain nicknamed “el diablo”? but hey, so far the only thing we’ve seen him do is tip well, so i’m inclined to not hate him too much, to be honest.

we’re barely a couple of minutes in and rachel is flirting. that is... flirting. at least danny looks slightly confused about it, omg (and hey, same) (but you know what the sad part is? i actually really love this premise of rachel and charlie taking shelter at danny’s during a storm and it could be so nice to see danny have a good relationship with his ex, but i don’t, as in do not, want them to turn that relationship into something romantic again, which clearly the show is angling for at the moment)

i’m glad they mentioned grace, though! no disappearing kids this time around! yay!

it’s kind of funny to me that the show keeps using “hpd doesn’t have enough man power so let’s send tani and junior out there to help them out” as a reason for why they’re doing hpd work, because i don’t actually mind, but... is calling on two people from five-0 who never even graduated the police academy actually going to do something about their problem in any meaningful way?

a shady guy who is staring at people from a car and says some cryptic spanish things on the phone!!! i think we’ve found a second Bad Guy, gasp

now he has a gun AND a knife. subtle.

not an actual complaint, but as a european sometimes i’m randomly reminded just how intensely American this show is, gosh. bad guy from random non-us country who has KILLED people, HUNDREDS, and death would be TOO GOOD for him so we need to put him in our WORST PRISON. [insert random speech from steve about a Good Navy Man who served his country and had a picture perfect american family that died]

tani and junior’s banter on the phone while they’re both driving through the storm is giving me life, aww. love them

there’s some heavy danny/rachel flirting and. i have SUCH conflicting feelings about this, because on the one hand, as an isolated scene, completely cut loose from all context, i actually think this is cute and the actors are good together and i like it? but there IS context and that means that this is a VERY BAD IDEA and it makes me extremely nervous. at least charlie comes to the viewer’s rescue with his reminder that he’s there too and he needs food, dear parents, you can’t feed him with misplaced sexual tension

random fbi guy has been chasing el diablo down for ten years and “that man cost me EVERYTHING I CARED ABOUT”. i’m so sorry, five-0 writers, because i know this was probably meant as very serious and gripping and you did your best, but i keep having to laugh at how perfectly, beautifully cliché this is

jerry and lou performing first aid on the wounded officer was a nice scene! i’m not sure how realistic it was, but i like that they took the time for that. usually random extras who get attacked either just die or are immediately whisked away into an ambulance or another random extra’s waiting arms.

charlie being put to bed is always sweet!! (and i like the parallels with that time steve put him to bed - more evidence for the Steve McGarrett Is 100% A Real Parent To Danny’s Kids argument)

fjdkfdjkfd oh my GOD this MUSIC after rachel implied they could use danny’s bed together WHY

and then they’re playing a dice game together instead of having sex. fjdkfjdk this is the GOOD kind of fake out, haaa.

not being able to hear your prisoner when he screams for help is kind of not great, oops

so they can’t keep their prisoner in the cell they had him in until now (because it’s full of gas) and they can’t keep him in the hallway, so steve says that their best option is to lock the guy in steve’s office. steve’s completely glass-walled office. are you... are you sure that’s your very best option?

lou’s story is nice!!! so far jerry and lou keeping watch over this injured guard might unexpectedly be my favorite plotline this episode.

of course all three of the fbi guys are taken out immediately so steve has to fight the Bad Guy all on his own in dramatic hand to hand combat. oh no, steve, babe

adam storms in just when steve is done. adam, my friend, your timing is awful.

i’m almost disappointed that junior came in and shot the guy that tani was fighting because i kind of loved that bit? tani managing just fine all on her own in that house full of people who aren’t very friendly towards her is my jam (although i will admit she was in a bit of a pickle there, at the end, so junior’s rescue might have been for the best :p )

i love charlie, omfg. he SHUSHES his parents (“i’m watching this!”) when they start up with some awkward nonsense about why they were sleeping on the couch together. thank you, charlie, because i didn’t want to hear it either. you’ve been all around wonderful this episode.

i’m not appreciating the meaningful looks between rachel and danny while rachel says “i had lots of fun”, but, you know, i can deal. it’s all been a lot less terrible than i was bracing myself for, i think? there’s been a lot of flirting but we haven’t seen anything explicit (no kisses, no actual sharing of beds, no literal “hey let’s get back together!” talk) and with a bit of willpower, it’s entirely possible to read this episode as very friendly exes looking after their kid together and having a fun night playing board games and falling asleep on the couch (with possibly some overt flirting from rachel, i’ll admit, but danny never really outright responds to that? so it could be interpreted as one-sided flirting, mostly)

there’s a knock at the door and it’s STEVE. AMAZING. adam could learn a thing or two from steve’s timing.

charlie launches himself at steve which is also very A+, and there’s a steve and rachel hug, which, unexpected, but i’m on board

steve: “also wanna make sure there was no... disasters, you know, natural or- otherwise.” I’M YELLING. that’s a jealous steve. you cannot convince me that wasn’t a jealous steve, or at least one that was unsubtly hinting “don’t date rachel don’t date rachel don’t date rachel”, especially with the camera cutting to rachel right after he says “or otherwise” while he talks about disasters that could have happened last night, holy shit

“that was a little awkward.” STEVE. I LOVE YOU

okay, this final scene i’ve seen, but can i just say that i absolutely love this??? i mean, a lot. A LOT.

“oh, i don’t call it a bribe. i call it pancakes.” YES, steve, you GET YOUR DANNY PANCAKES. EYES ON THE PRIZE.

and danny sputters and asks if steve is five after steve gives his very specific pancake order, but he GOES TO THE KITCHEN ANYWAY.

this is the happy end i didn’t even know this episode could have

final verdict: okay. OKAY. i’ve been very scared about how this episode would turn out, so maybe that has something to do with my feelings about it now because i’ve been expecting the absolute worst, but in the end i didn’t really mind it that much at all? most of the plots were pretty interesting, danny and rachel did some flirting but didn’t actually get back together (yet, because it is very obvious that they’re going there now, but i’m not thinking about that too much until it becomes an actual problem) and there’s absolutely room to interpret their interactions differently from what the writers probably intended (as in, room to ignore the romance they’re hinting at). and that last scene where steve suddenly turned up and got his pancakes?? that was perfect. 10/10 for that. best twist ending i could have hoped for, awww.

[danddymaro]

On a Rainy day | Bucky Barnes x reader

She finds him drenched with rain, just knowing she couldn’t leave him behind.

FIxed // Edited.

Word Count: 2647

Italics are a person's thoughts ' sample.'

On a rainy day

  The sound of clapping thunder echoed throughout the heavens, ringing loudly in her ears as well, bringing forth soft shivers that coursed down her spine at the roaring noise. 

As a child, the sound had brought her terrors, but now she only felt the slight reminiscence as an effect; An aftershake and nothing more.

Just barely creeping past the dry safety beneath the coverage under the classic, black umbrella, her empty hand sneaked out to feel the rain.

The cool droplets that landed on her outstretched hand felt relaxing and made her smile daintily as the chilly freshness of the wet touch felt good against her warm palm. 

Hearing sounds of splashes and squealing, she then began to take notice of the rest of the world around her, and as she looked about, she saw countless people struggling to find safety from the falling crystalline droplets. 

Admittedly, they reminded her of a frenzied colony of ants, scattering and running in all directions after someone disturbed their calculatedly built dirt homes, and she found a frail amusement at the sight.

  As her eyes carried on from viewing the fleeting people with interest, they soon stopped on a sole figure. 

She had noticed that all but one person remained concerned by the rainfall. 

He didn't bother to run off for safety, or even look up at the murky skies and heavy clouds in the same wonder as she had. Instead, he remained motionless and still, caught beneath the downpour and stationed under a thin, young tree. 

Curiously, she watched him sit alone as he was accompanied by no other soul at his side. He was paid no heed by anyone but herself, almost like he was an invisible entity to the rest of the world, living between the spaces of reality for everyone else. 

She could see why he wasn't their concern, because he probably wasn't a priority to others as they focused more on scattering away to safety.

 In fact, she too should have been amongst the crowd to find shelter. She should have also been urged to make her way home, or at least make her way into a building, but she couldn't walk past him, especially not after she had caught sight of him.

There was a great ' should be ' that had been taken into consideration and yet, she stayed, keeping her same glance towards the lonesome man because, in all honesty, she couldn't pretend he didn't exist.

Beneath what little coverage the young tree gave him, he remained isolated from the world with only himself and his thoughts, and often, she wondered just how much burden weighed over his presently slumped shoulders when all he did was remain silent, mainly keeping to himself like a lone wolf. 

When she'd catch sight of him she would wonder just what lay beyond the depths of those pretty, yet melancholic blue eyes.

What made him sit alone for so long?

What made that heart-wrenching look in those lovely hues come forth like heavy tidal waves?

- What did he keep quiet?

 As for now, the beautiful drops were set downcast, hidden beneath a curtain of dampened hair. They weren't visible to her, and yet, she already knew the dull look that married them was present because it had been engraved in her memory now, causing ripples in her heart at the recollection.

  Soon, not a single part of him was untouched by the outdoor showers. Easily slipping past the futile coverage of the adolescent sapling, showers of drizzle stained his clothes and riddled them with dark, little spots until the fabrics of his attire became doused in cool precipitation. 

His long, dark hair was also soaked, beginning to stick to the sides of his face like a second skin. 

Overall, he seemed fully crestfallen as little by little he became drenched with earthy tears making the sight of him be one that should be seen through a black and white filter, and displayed as a piece of art for the world to question; Showcased for the population to ask the questions she did every day.

They would ask what made him sit alone for so long.

They'd wonder if there was heavier rainfall deep within his being, one that made the physical downpour happening in the real world seem trivial at best.

The rest of the onlookers would wonder why he was so lonesome? But most of all, ask;

Who is that man? 

- Not his name, but his story. 

  A magnetic force far greater than her drew her to him, compelling her to come near, so slowly she approached him, inching little by little towards the solitary soldier, all while anxiously clutching her umbrella with her slightly raised right arm. 

She hadn't a clue as to what she would say, what excuse to give him for her intrusion of his bubble of isolation. 

The strange force controlling her moved her forward, all without a true reason or explanation, causing her body to react quicker than she could process her reasoning. 

The controlling power made her legs move as she glued her (e/c) colored eyes to him fiercely, focusing on nothing but the old soul.

Within a short minute or two, she found herself near him, just at his side, and slowly, she knelt to him, holding the spread-out umbrella above him too, because in truth she had no trouble in sharing, especially when it was with him. 

It had taken her a while to realize how little she minded, much more, that she had been doing such a thing in the first place.

In the end, everything that had been hers was easily at his use and it wasn't because that's the way she had decided it, but rather, it was just as the universe told her to do.

  As she knelt beside him she said nothing, remaining silent without saying a single word of address to the man because she had quickly found out that he was a silent person, and more likely to respond in short words, sometimes with only a single sound of address, and truthfully, nothing more was needed. 

She didn't mind his quietness, because to her, silence spoke more than a million words could, moreover, she believed in actions themselves. 

In her case, she hadn't dared to speak out loud of her affections, nor utter the concerns she felt for him, instead, she found simple gestures that let those emotions be known. 

Despite not knowing the words to speak in regards to the growing endearment she had developed for him, she had found small actions that relieved her heart’s plea to touch him in any sort of way it could.

 Finally acknowledging her and breaking out of his lonesome thoughts, he looked up at her with a lackluster dullness in his eyes, and as she expected he said nothing in return. 

Nonetheless, she gave him a smile in return, offering her own type of greeting and hoping that the simple, quiet greeting was enough for him.

At certain moments he'd offered her back what would constitute as a smile. It was typically a very subtle uplift of the corners of his lips, just enough to note a change in his expression.

It wasn't much to begin with, but the expression caused her heart to grow light because the expression let her know that he was capable of a look beside pained sorrow. 

His soft smile gave her the hope that one day the sullen look he formed so frequently would only be a distant memory.

He shifted slightly, leaving more space for her to invade, and with gratitude, she took the golden opportunity to come closer. With an enthusiasm that was emphasized with a light dust of pink to her cheeks, she found herself right at his side, just barely touching shoulders with him. 

Upon her movements and formed expression of elatedness, the ends of his mouth slowly inched upwards into a delicate show of warmth and fondness from his own part.

He had produced another smile, one that was even more striking than the last one he'd gifted her, and perhaps it was just her, but it seemed as though with each time he showed the world that little expression, he showcased a more improved version. 

It was almost like he was perfecting it with every attempt and while his smile was inconsistent and gradually growing brighter, what was unchanging was that there was always a fluttering at her core, making her feel delightfully lighthearted and fuzzy. 

It was a feeling that with every passing moment she stayed by him, spread over her body further.

 She did nothing but sit with him, barely touching shoulders while sharing the small space.

By then, it was just the two of them surrounded by scarcely falling rain and nothing more than the descending precipitation making commotion.

The streets were empty and had been for a while, as were the sidewalks and park, making her feel like she was the only person that existed beside him.

‘A world with just Bucky and me?’ she thought with a shy smile, playing with the idea of being huddled up with him for a bit longer, but as she ventured more into the idea, a touch of ice brought her back to reality. 

As the cool metal touched her hand, it roused a little tingle down her spine, immediately forcing a soft gasp from her, and when she realized what had grazed over her skin, her cheeks brightly glowed like ripe tomatoes on early harvest.

His metallic hand had just barely touched her curled fingers, making her eyes quickly shoot over to his. 

Noticing how close his face had come to her, to the point of practically sharing the same breath for a few short seconds, she stayed frozen in surprise. 

He didn't make a move to retreat, nor go closer to her, making her heart grow anxious with wait until he took the same artificial hand, running it along the side of her face with a sole finger picking at fallen strands, gently tucking them behind her heated ears.

He eyed the rosy color on her cheeks with amusement, then decided to speak, “Your glowing, “ he said softly, accompanied by a short chuckle, making her stilled heart gear up into a full jumpstart.

“ It’s cute,” he added, using his other hand to take a hold of the umbrella's holder, taking possession of it and beginning to stand at his full height.

She remained kneeling, dumbly watching him until he pulled her up with him by taking her hand. 

As soon as she had risen to her feet, he wrapped an arm around her waist, easily bringing her close to him, and with the new position, she was perfectly safe from the remaining downpour with the close, unexpected snuggle. 

“I think it’s about time we go back... mind if we go together? “ he offered her, to which she couldn't oppose. 

She loved being held within his big, strong arms, so as they made their way back home to the avenger’s facility, she couldn't have felt more right, almost as though she was already at home to begin with.

Halfway through the trip, her eyes lead up to the earth’s atmosphere where high up above her was a small split in the sky, and wedged right in between the large, dark clouds was a seep of bright light shining through.

 The sun softly beamed down, making its existence known to the world, something he too noted. 

Far beyond the gloomy skies, laid the sun in wait, making her eyes glow with tenderness,

‘There is something beyond those dark skies, something warm and sunny… and if it’s anything as warm as his body is next to mine… I want it to last forever,’ She thought with budding hope.

She was beaming with joy, having it written over her face, and then without a single thought, she voiced her musing,

“The sun will come out eventually,” She said optimistically in an almost too soft tone as she stayed looking up at the yet-to-clear sky, and at the sight, he snickered. 

Looking down at the gentle smile playing over her lips, he felt more warmness spread through his own body, and he wondered how she did that.

- How did she always make even the most somber day fill with color and light?

   Once again his gaze drifted up towards the dull sky, remaining there before something strange overcame him, starting right at the pit of his stomach and traveling up to his throat and out his mouth.

He let come forth a strong belly laugh, astonished at the world, but more importantly, awestruck by her. 

When she heard his booming sound of amusement, she quickly looked up at him, mesmerized by the obvious glow in his features before the same feeling hit her.

She then giggled, accompanying him in his amusement, forgetting about everything else in the world. 

All the concerns she had felt before were irrelevant and seemed to be a thing of the distant past as the moment of bliss felt everlasting.

In truth, she didn't know why it was funny, or why he had even burst with amusement to begin with. 

Heck, she didn't know why she was laughing herself. 

She only understood that something about the sound of his voice making such a rare and beautiful sound caused her to float up to cloud nine.

 They probably looked like a couple of idiots laughing at no practical reason whatsoever. 

Then, there was the fact that he was completely drenched, yet under an umbrella while the rain was already letting up. Anyone else would wonder what difference it made now to stand under the coverage, not understanding the true beauty of it. 

As for her, he couldn't emphasize how perfect she looked, the woman being practically flawless, yet at his side.

 She hadn't made a peep, or protest at having a man that was practically soaked through the bone hold her little body so close. She didn't seem bothered by it in the least bit, and yet again he thought of all her perfection. 

He thought of all that made her simply amazing down to something as simple as sharing her plain umbrella.

‘ The sun will come out eventually, right?’ He asked himself, dying down to a small snort. 

' No... I think it already has,’  he added, still entranced by every single detail of her lovely face as it settled down from her joyous giggling.

  He had found her comment to be so stupidly fitting that it was almost cheesy, but he couldn't be bothered by it. 

He couldn't tell if she was being metaphorical with her almost silent words, but it was not like it mattered anyway. He didn’t need the motivation or push because he wasn't in need of saving anymore. 

That part of him had been lived through and conquered, and he was certain of it.

Instead, there was something else that made him stay awake now, invading his every thought, and she had a name,

A beautiful name.

- (f/n) (l/n).

 It had been just the two of them huddled together beneath a single umbrella and on a straight path home. 

The streets were still empty, making him feel like she was the only person that existed right there at his side. 

With the expression of jovial hope, she looked straightforward, making him want to continue towards the same path and feed off of the warm delights she brought him.

The sun was surely out, shining brightly over his once dark skies, but instead of it overlooking the world with its glory, it had manifested into a single person, right at his side and at his fingertips. 

He could touch this sun, feel its warmth and enjoy it wholeheartedly, and god, did he love her.