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lilac-5ky · 2 years

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Killing Butterflies (Part 8: Hard Truths cut Both Ways)

A/N: It's been so long since I've written this story omg (or anything for that matter). Ngl, I wasn't sure if I should make things go this way or another way or whatever, but I feel like this is closest to what I had envisioned! This chapter is mainly Takasugi-centric and there will be a bonus A/N at the end to explain something. Hope you enjoy and that the route I chose didn't disappoint!

Warnings: Again tons of violence, emotional abuse and a fuckton of angst.

gotta reinforce my shinsuke manga screenshot collection ;-; even from this angle he looks so good tho :3

The first thing to capture your attention upon entering the final room at the end of the corridor, was the sliding paper doors that separated the space into two parts. Closest to the entrance stood a short legged table, decorated by a single quill, and a paper blank of any words, while on the side of the window laid the creased sheets of a futon.

Unlike the rest of the rooms you got to see during your rather prolonged stay in his ship, this one resembled home the most. From the wooden finishes of the few furniture, to the earthy tones of the walls, this room could only belong to someone with great knowledge of Edo’s traditions.

And that was when it finally dawned on you. This was no ordinary room. This was his room. The room he lunched and dined in. The room he devised tactics and wrote lengthy letters in. The room he slept and sought refuge in, whenever the weight of this world felt too heavy for him to shoulder.

You wondered how many times he’d gazed outside that window. How many sleepless nights he’d spent contemplating over the past and the future and everything in between. You could easily see him leaning with his back against the frame, foggy smoke pouring out his lips only to clash with the panes. A reminiscent of the time he spent under the shade of your estate’s old cherry tree. Old habits die hard, after all.

Moving onto the other side of the room, your fingers traced a long line along the dusty surface of his desk. Did he use it often, you wondered. You’d never thought of him as the scholarly type, but then again he always spent his free time reading. Did he insist on flipping through the pages of the same rusty green book, or had his interests perhaps shifted?

The hushed shamisen behind the table suggested this much. Your hand ghosted over its neck, imagining a gloomy melody to accompany the monsoon. Even in there, the rain kept haunting you both, foreshadowing what was to come.

“If you are done inspecting-” His words were cut in half by a foul strum. You’d nearly forgotten of his presence, along with the reason behind you being in there. This was no field trip, but your chance at getting a taste of the truth.

Stepping away from the shamisen, you turned around to face him. He was standing by the futon, his yukata barely draped over his torso as he cautiously tugged at the wrappings, tearing them off his body one by one.

You watched his every move with bated breath, silently sharing his distress while he struggled to replace the bloodied bandages. He seemed to be in much greater pain than he previously was, repeatedly grunting in frustration and wincing at his own touch.

But even so, he didn’t dare ask for help. He kept inconveniencing himself over and over again, until the sight of his suffering became too much for you to ignore, and you rushed to his aid.

Takasugi quirked a brow at your gesture, evidently taken by surprise. At this point, keeping appearances up didn’t sound right. Whether you cared enough to admit your feelings for one another, he kissed you and you kissed him back, and that remained the sole fact you were certain of. Helping him out when he was in such pain seemed only reasonable.

The wound itself didn’t look so bad. Other than a minor thread coming loose, his stitches seemed intact for the most part, with only bits of dried up blood lacing his abdomen. You grabbed a clean gauze, cutting it in half and then gently wiping him clean. He was compliant enough to stand still, although, whenever your fingers hovered too close, you could feel his muscles tense up.

“You don’t have to do this.” Takasugi mumbled through gritted teeth.

He was right. You didn’t have to bother. But when you thought of how he’d done the same thing for you a little while ago, you couldn’t help it. Your injury was because of him, and now his injury was because of you. It was only fair you got even.

Ignoring his suggestion, you spotted a spare roll of bandage through the slew of medical supplies. Even when your expertise was next to nothing, this much you could do. Placing a palm upon his waist, you stilled him enough to wrap the first layer of bandage around him, followed by another, and then another, until the entire roll was used.

Come to think of it, this was the first time you saw him bare himself like that. He had no qualms about flaunting his body left and right, but when it came down to you actually touching him, this was a first for you both.

Every curve, every peak. The firmness of his chest and the softness of his stomach. You got to experience all that as you mindlessly trailed your fingers along his toned physique. You’d like to think you were doing him great service by fixing him up, but at the same time, you couldn’t refute that part of you enjoyed this. Just how you’d enjoyed the way his hands took hold of your cheeks, just how you’d enjoyed the way his lips crashed against your own mere moments ago.

“I think you can take it from here.”

You stopped before your thoughts could escalate, first averting your gaze and then you steps away from him. Last thing you wanted was to be ridiculed over your reactions. It was only natural that in such situation you’d fail to keep your cool, especially when it involved Takasugi of all people.

After a while of you refusing to face him and him working on his attire, you heard some light rattling from his direction, though you didn’t have the courage to check on the sound just yet. For now, being away from him was all you needed, and so, you let things be.

“Tea?” He more or less announced, as he presented you with two ceramic cups.

Explains all the commotion.

You hesitated to accept, but seeing as there wasn’t much of a choice, you went along. Rainy days did call for hot beverages, and you couldn’t even remember when was the last time you had something that wasn’t preheated.

The warmth was much appreciated, however, the fishy smell emitted by its murky depths made you reconsider. It wasn’t as if he was trying to poison you, right?

Or that’s what you wanted to believe, up until you took the first sip. Horrible was an understatement. It tasted as if someone had combined the world’s worst ingredients and scorched them till they burnt.

Immediately, you cringed away, battling the urge to spit it back in, while Takasugi huffed in amusement, having downed his own share in one go. How could he offer you such a thing? And more importantly, how could he afford to drink it himself?

“What’s in there?” You spelled in between coughs.

“Not poison, that’s for sure.”

You scowled at his antics and he smirked at your reaction, finding great satisfaction in how your tongue repeatedly clicked against your mouth’s roof, desperately trying to rid itself of the foul bitterness.

“Couldn’t you have offered some Yagult instead…”

“Yakult.” Takasugi corrected without thinking twice.

The two of you shared a look. So much had changed over the years, yet in just one day, you’d both let your guard down almost completely. It was easy to joke around and tease each other as if nothing had ever gone wrong. It was so easy that honestly, it scared you. Taking care of him, sharing a laugh with him, loving him. All those things felt much easier than hating and resenting him.

It was time.

“Sit down.” He instructed, pointing at a floor cushion before moving to his desk.

You did as you were told, bracing yourself for what was probably going to be the hardest conversation of your life.

There were so many questions you meant to ask. Answers that once given, would only cause you more heartache. Still, it had to be done. No matter what he had to say, you would listen and you would accept, and coming out of this room, you’d finally start to heal.

Takasugi returned with a light yellow folder, one you’d certainly seen before, despite being unable to place in your memory. It looked worn out, half torn at the seams, but still intact for you to read the name on the front page; Tsugaru Michihiru

“What’s this?” Your heart tightened within your chest.

“Why don’t you see for yourself.” He suggested, sliding the folder across the tatami.

You took it in your hands, fingers brushing over the dried ink of your father’s name. You remembered now. He used to hold onto this folder, continuously scribbling words in its pages when he thought himself alone.

Once, you’d jokingly taken hold of it, but before you had the chance to do so much as take a peek, he apprehended you. What was it that he said? That it’s improper to look into others’ journals? It must have been something along these lines. However once you started going through the pages, you realized how far from the truth you were.

It appeared to be a ledger of some sorts. A list that went on and on, featuring names you’d never heard or seen before. Some were underlined, others were crossed, while others had completely faded into incomprehensible ink stains. You honestly couldn’t make much of it. Any of it, for that matter.

“Who are these people?”

“These are the names of people I once happened to know. People I once worked with. People who were, but no longer are.” Takasugi said, bitterness waning past his words.

“What happened to them?” You already knew the answer.

Your eyes locked in with his, expecting something that would prove you wrong. For so long you’d lived revering your father and his memory. He was a good man, a great man even, one who worked hard to help peace prevail, one who helped people. He was your father after all. There is no way he could-. There’s absolutely no way he could have ever done something like this.

“Sometimes life isn’t as simple as a story, Y/N. Sometimes, rather than noble samurais and just magistrates, you encounter vicious beasts who seek to destroy everything in their passage, and greedy villains who seek to exploit till there is nothing left. Unfortunately, you had to face both in just one life.” He said, grabbing the ledger from your hands and then pointing you at the final page.

A couple of letters were caught in between the endpaper and the cover. It was unclear who the recipient was, but the sender remained the same, his name engulfed by the golden peony seal.

“Tsugaru Michihiru was the one responsible for every one of their deaths. Not the Amanto, not the war. He and the government of puppets that backs the Bakufu up is what killed these men.” Takasugi flipped through the pages again, pointing at a name.

“I remember this one. His folks thanked me for keeping their son safe, only to see his head on display not long after. I heard the old lady was driven mad by the sight and took her life a few days later. Can you imagine it, Y/N? Can you imagine the horror on their faces? The horror of seeing their son’s corpse paraded around as if he were a traitor?”

You winced away from his words, finding the picture he described too horrid for your brain to process.

Was it true that your father was responsible for their deaths? That he could really do such a vile thing as order these war heroes be executed for no reason at all? You wanted to deny his claims, to argue against such fabrications. It’s easier to dispute the claims of a liar and a murderer, but if everything Takasugi presented was the case, you wouldn’t know who to trust anymore.

“Are you still insistent on hearing my truth?”

And slowly, you nodded.

Sandals clicking against hardwood. One step following the other into the hollow corridor, steps defined by both certainty and impatience. No matter how many years had gone by, for Takasugi, the memory of that day remained rather intact, vivid as if it were yesterday. With the fingers of his left hand clenched tight around a small red-lidded bottle, and his right fist ghosting over the doorknob, he contemplated whether to enter the room, or not.

It was a quarter past twelve; precisely six hours since you parted.

All night long, his persistence had kept him from getting a wink of sleep, as he merely settled for the comfort your body offered his. He wanted to savor that moment. To imprint each color of the sky as it crossed over your features, so that he never forgets. So that it lasts him a lifetime.

One night only, and that was it.

The end of your regrettably short love story came with his carrying you into your chambers. Carefully, he replaced his yukata with your duvet’s cover, making sure no limb was left to dangle. You were so docile while sleeping. Nothing like the typhoon of a girl that swept everything in her wake.

But even in your sleep, you didn’t stop reaching out to him. Your hands kept tagging at his sleeves and fingers, begging for him to stay, and honestly, he would. He wanted to. There was nowhere else he’d rather be, than by your side. No other sight he’d rather behold, than the one before his eye.

When he thought of how the first thing you’d do upon waking up would be to search for him, he wished to be found next to you. To take in each and every one of your confused, yet cute expressions once you’d realize he’d been there all along.

Would you hide yourself from him? Jumble your words and turn bright red? Or would you be shameless enough to scoot closer and curl in his arms? Both sounded equal parts endearing, and while he couldn’t decide on your reaction, he was certain of his own.

He wanted you. He wanted to kiss you, touch you, have you, worship you, defile you. He wanted you to call out his name in between heavy breathings and light whisperings. He wanted your clothes to carry the scent of him every morning, only for it to be rewritten every night. He wanted you to be his in each and every way a man could possibly hope to possess a woman.

One night with you was all it took to incite his greed. To make him wish he could have another, and then another, until he’d spent a thousand nights holding onto you. But even then, he knew that wouldn’t be enough. Even then, he’d keep on asking for one more, until his every night was shared with you; filled by you.

A sudden pang of remorse in his chest forced him still. What was he doing? What was he thinking? He’d come to terms with the idea of letting you go. He was confident that when he dropped you off this morning, he’d made it to the finishing line, yet somehow, his feet had dragged him back to your door-only this time, with a token of his affection in hand.

He could argue that he was simply honoring a promise; that you’d earned it. Perhaps that was the sole lie he wouldn’t feel guilty of.

“Takasugi-dono?” A somewhat familiar voice made the smile drop from his lips.

The old spinster who served as your attendant stood behind him, her sharp hawk-like eyes boring in his own. This wasn’t the first time, he noted. Even when the two had exchanged no more than a few words, he’d always found her staring at him with nothing but contempt.

Contempt, as if he were a disappointment. Contempt, as if she disapproved of his very existence. Contempt, which felt oddly familiar, and that was when he realized. Her eyes were the same as his father’s.

“Are you here to see the young miss?”

His glance traveled between his fist and the door. What else could he be standing here for?

“What if I am?” He asked in a defiant tone.

“In that case, I must inform you that Lady Y/N is still in deep slumber. Courtesy of your late night get-together.” She was quick to add.

“Is she?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

It wasn’t surprising that the alcohol did a number on you. Someone as inexperienced downing about half a bottle of sake shouldn’t hope to get away with no consequences. Besides, spending an entire day asleep beats having to with the excruciating headache of your first inebriation.

Forget acting all coy or shameless. You’d most definitely throw a fit if you woke up in the same bed, accusing him for your faults as if they were his own; as if he got you drunk on purpose. That seemed more in line with your character.

Without being too aware of it, Takasugi found himself smirking at the image, agitating the woman even more. To think that someone his age,- someone she couldn’t even discipline-, dared treat her with such impertinence, had Harumi throwing one furious huff after the other.

“I know you are but a mere guest. However, this house has a certain order; certain rules that ought to be followed by everyone, guests included.” Her semi stunned expression persisted even as she recited the clan’s doctrine.

He was beginning to regret his visit. Decorum and protocols were of little interest to him, and there was no reason to pretend otherwise.

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

Seeing as there was nothing left to be said, he was about to get going, when Harumi stood in his way. For a woman who detested him, she appeared awfully desperate to keep this joke of a conversation flowing.

“Takasugi-dono, pardon my intrusion for I must ask.” She initiated, awkwardly clicking the heels of her shoes together. “What are your intentions?”

“My intentions?” He repeated. Surely that old hag hadn’t caught up to him, right?

“What are your intentions regarding young miss? How far has the relationship between you two progressed?”

So that’s what it’s all about.

“Are you asking me whether I’ve yet to deflower her?” He sneered, earning himself another, more infuriated call out of his name.

Making others uncomfortable for the sake of dodging such difficult topics was second nature to him. A haughty suggestion here, a vexing comment there, and no man who valued his sanity enough would insist on receiving answers. Still, it didn’t seem as if that’d be the case here. If anything, the resolve in Harumi’s eyes burned brighter than before, at last, earning a fraction of his attention.

“Lady Y/N isn’t someone you can fool around with. She might be our clan’s treasured heir, but she remains a young girl. An impressionable one, at that.” Harumi clasped her hands against her stomach.

“You’ve certainly been in her company long enough to realize how she differs from girls her age. Notably, girls her status. She possesses a certain childlike quality that doesn’t befit the harsh reality of society. Such… innocence is most endearing, but the naivety that comes with it is quite alarming.

“Young miss was deprived of a normal childhood. For the longest time, she’s remained sheltered by these four walls, as if she were a songbird entrapped within a cage. One that’s been taught when and how to sing, as well as when and how to keep quiet, if needed.

“Perhaps, my inquisition seems out of the ordinary, if not uncalled for. But the reason behind my words is of grave importance, I assure you. After a lifetime of serving young miss, it troubles me to admit that my sermon and admonition resonate with her no longer. Ever since she met you, she’s been chirping new tunes, and for the first time, she’s dared express her will to fly.

“Takasugi-dono, I’d much rather not interfere with my employer’s personal affairs. As the clan’s most senior retainer, it is my duty to see Lord Tsugaru’s plans through. However, as Lady Y/N’s most trusted companion, I solemnly wish for her happiness.

“You see, young miss is quite fond of you. She speaks of you as if you put the stars in the sky, and in spite of her recent defiance, she’s been far livelier than before. I know little of romance myself, but I know when I see true happiness. If your encounter caused such happiness to sprout, then I can only imagine how a potential union would contribute to its growth.

“Do you share that sentiment, Takasugi-dono? Do you cherish young miss the way she cherishes you?”

Cherish you. That was a way to put it. Would someone who cherishes another really mean to hurt them like this? Would they come knocking at their door like the grim reaper and threaten to take all that was theirs? Would they have no qualms about leaving them in shambles? Could someone like that truly claim to cherish another?

Someone like that was incapable of such profound statements, yet his hesitation suggested otherwise. If he was as indifferent as he thought, then why was he standing there? Why was insistent to hear the ramblings of some nosy crone? Why was he not putting an end to this charade?

Maybe cherish was too small of a word to express his adoration.

“Takasugi-dono?”

Her voice caught him off guard. Not because he was lost in his thoughts or anything, but because of how mellow it suddenly became. When she spoke of you, her entire demeanor shifted. All those formalities he abhorred had given way to genuine concern, and in place of that shrewd look, a far gentler expression embellished her features.

He was wrong, he realized. Those weren’t the eyes of an imposing father anymore, but those of a considerate mother.

“Interesting. Very interesting.” A strained chuckle was caught in his throat. “A formalist retainer who’s willing to go against the very rules she’s sworn to preserve, and all in the name of feeble sentiment. Truly interesting.”

“There is more than meets the eye, Takasugi-dono. My affiliation to Lady Y/N runs far deeper than any conviction or oath does.”

“Your loyalty is quite admirable, but you haven’t considered what entrusting me with that girl’s precious future entails, have you?” He asked, expecting no answer.

“A domesticated bird in the wild can only be as good as one with its wings plucked out. No matter how fervently it flaps them together, it’s pointless if it can never reach the skies and soar beyond. For someone like her, the ends of her cage mark the ends of her potential, and that’s precisely why there’s no survival for her outside that cage. Only fall.”

For a moment, it looked as if the woman was about to object, and for that, he couldn’t blame her. Not when he didn’t mean a single word he uttered. Hypocrisy was an intolerable flaw, but in this case, hypocrisy was the only way out. For him, and for you.

The steps of a third person filled in the short-lived silence, revealing the figure of a man Takasugi recognized to be one of Tsugaru’s personal guards. His worn out eyes eclipsed past the dusty gray of his hair, depriving them of a clear look at his face.

“Tsugaru-sama has called for you.” He said in an abrupt manner before slightly distancing himself from the two.

Glancing at the door a final time, Takasugi slid the bottle back inside his sleeve. This is for the best. It was never meant to be, after all.

“Stop wasting your breath on me.” He directed to Harumi. “Whether you plan on transferring Y/N from one cage to another, beats me. I don’t intend to stick around long enough to see the end of it, either way.”

And so, his steps echoed more hollow than before.

In the company of the guard, Takasugi began to wonder; had the second floor always been this vacant?

The perfectly polished image of the corridor- porcelain vases on each side, expensive crystal chandeliers that seemed more akin to a western household, and lastly, a handmade carpet of 1200 combs- implied the opposite. Still, he couldn’t quite get that visceral feeling out of his system. Something about this place felt unnatural, if not unnerving.

Door after door, tile after tile, and the only people they encountered came to be their own reflections glaring at them from inside the windows. No one was around. No maid to wipe the non-existent dust off the picture frames, and no guard to assume the duty of a watchdog. Everything was quiet, and while he knew to appreciate a moment of peace, he could tell there lied purpose in the silence.

Suddenly he stopped. The last sliver of sound was gone the moment his feet stayed put, little by little confirming his suspicions. He took one step and then another. And then he skipped two more, just to make sure. There wasn’t a single fall out in the rhythm. No second footing to obscure his.

Each step the guard took was perfectly attuned to his own, matching the pace down to the light grazing of his sandals. A predator’s imperfect attempt of lowering his prey’s defenses, something of which a mere sword-for-hire could never be capable of.

By the time they reached the end of the second hallway, Takasugi became certain of two things; The first being that, however great his disguise, this man hardly was the one he impersonated, and the second being, that today would be his last day in this place.

The time to show his hand had finally come.

“That’d be enough.” He waved dismissively. “I don’t need further escort.”

“Tsugaru-sama was adamant. I am to personally bring you to his office.”

“And so you have. But I suppose your orders don’t conclude there, do they?”

Not until you escort me to Sanju river, that is.

“I’ve heard of your organization’s special services, although I didn’t expect to be on the receiving end so soon.” A smile masked the gentle gesture of his fingers as they swiftly grasped the hilt of his sword. “Oniwaban.”

Without giving him the chance to react, Takasugi forced his blade through the center of the man’s chest, impaling him all the way through. Despair glinted in his eyes, while his lips remained pursed in a straight line, refusing to betray further emotion. He didn’t try to to scream nor fight back. The moment he realized what was coming, he quietly embraced his destiny. That was Oniwabanshu’s not-so-finest for you.

Perhaps taking down the Bakufu wouldn’t be as much of a struggle as he originally thought it’d be.

In one rapid move, Takasugi yanked the sword out, letting the body collapse onto the floor. A thud followed in its stead, putting an end to the pretense of silence along with the man’s life.

He looked at him. He looked at his face, the face that wasn’t even his, and for a second, he was tempted to pull at the invisible strings of his façade, but he held back. Whether he got to peek at his real identity or not, it didn’t matter. He’d quit of counting faces and keeping score a long time ago. This was nothing but a drop of blood in a path carved by carnage.

Shaking his sword clean, Takasugi rose back to his feet. One shinobi was hardly gonna be the end of it, and judging by the ease of which he fell, the second batch was bound to be stronger. He turned around, readying himself for an attack that wouldn’t come just yet. Instead, he was met with the horrified expression of the incident’s sole witness.

Trembling hands covered gaping lips, failing to truly conceal the terror in their owner’s eyes. The whites had blended with the paleness of her complexion in a manner that was unsightly, though not unsightly enough to compete with the spectacle beyond.

“What have you done?”, was what he’d imagine Harumi saying, if words could come out of the meddlesome attendant’s mouth. She was at loss. Even when her right index managed to point at the lifeless body, no such comment or shriek was formed. She simply stood there, utterly frozen in time

But he wasn’t.

“Take Y/N and get the hell out of here.”

“Wh-what?”

“There’s no time for explanations. If you don’t want to join him, then do as you’re told.” He coaxed, turning his sword in her direction. “Now!”

To threaten an unarmed woman -one that he very much knew you regarded as family- meant hitting new lows, even for him. But what else was there to do? As unlikely as the possibility of them touching a hair on your head sounded, he couldn’t deny you wouldn’t try anything stupid, and the last thing he needed was to worry about your safety while duking it out with paid assassins.

Whether Harumi saw him as a monster, he couldn’t care less. Right now, he wanted her gone, and you to be gone with her. If scaring her into leaving was all it took, then so be it.

Fortunately, the direness of the situation seemed to have caught up with her. That or, his bluff finally did the trick. Either way, Harumi’s inner conflict had reached a dead-end. She could stay in place and test the sincerity of his words herself, or she could make a run for it and risk far less than she would by challenging him upfront.

What empty threats could not affirm, the corpse sprawling before her feet attested. Only one real option remained for her to choose from, and so, she got moving before Takasugi could change his mind.

Relieved, he allowed himself the privilege of a sigh. He didn’t trust that woman one bit, but should it come down to it, he trusted that she wouldn’t hesitate to put her life on the line for you.

Still, that wasn’t to say he was completely unbothered. The fear with which she looked at him kept haunting him long after she was gone, making him ponder whether that’d be the only look others would spare him from now on. Whether one day, that’d be the only look you’d spare for him, and that alone was enough to weaken the grip on his sword.

How foolish, he mumbled, staring down at his hands. He never really cared about how others perceived him, yet he’d been so used to that unconditional puppy love of yours that the thought of losing it scared him.

The rustling of the leaves grew louder, drawing his attention to the window. A lone reflection stood there, slowly turning its back on him as he pulled himself together. They were coming. He couldn’t tell where from or how many it was, but he knew for a fact this was no time for self-pitying.

Gritted teeth turned into a brazen smile and hesitant fingers locked into decisive fists.

They are here.

Stepping among scattered corpses and broken pieces of ceramic, the hallway’s refined image had long faded into oblivion. Metallic skeletons hung naked from the skies, the invaluable gems that once bejeweled them reduced to stardust that continuously fed into the sea of blood below, one that Takasugi was determined to traverse.

With his sword serving as paddle, he hushed the leftover groans and whimperings of those around him. It was a fierce battle, and a close one too. A single misstep was all it’d take for him to meet his demise, though perhaps it’d be better if he did. At least then, your tears would be for him and not because of him.

But even with that thought in mind, he couldn’t bring himself to die there. He fought valiantly till he was the last one standing, because deep in his heart, he knew he could never give up.

Those who’d fallen in battle would never return. Sensei would never…

He owed it to each and every one of them to keep on going. To show the world the samurai had all but gotten wiped out, though that wasn’t quite right either. His cause wasn’t so noble. In the end, all he wanted was to curse, and thrash, and destroy everything that got in his way, until he’d have no anger left to pound the world with.

Fury was what led him to your father’s office, and fury was what made him push that door wide open. For so long he’d held back, but there was no reason to anymore. Bakufu was about to take its first punch in the guts, and Tsugaru Michihiru would finally pay for his countless crimes.

The man in question was seated in the middle of the tatami. His hands were placed atop his knees, and a tanto knife rested on a low stand in front of him. Dressed in white garments from head to toes, he’d painted quite an image for himself, one that perfectly matched his little seppuku theatrics. Except of his snide grin, that is.

“You’ve made it!” He said in excitement. “Those damn crows insisted there was nothing left of that man, but I’m seeing the living proof with my own two eyes. Takasugi Shinsuke, commander of the Kiheitai and Yoshida Shouyou’s disciple, you’ve exceeded my expectations. Pleasure meeting you, at last.”

“So you knew.” Takasugi smirked. “Guess Tsugaru Michihiru is more than the pawns I just broke.”

“Your words are flattering, but I’m afraid I lack the battle prowess.”

“Is that the reason for the act?” He nodded towards the knife. “Didn’t take you for the type to give up so easily.”

“Give up?” Tsugaru laughed. “Not quite. Considering the role of the kaishakunin was taken, I simply thought I’d assume that of a daimyo myself. Isn’t that how it went down between Hideyoshi and the disgraced Hojo clan?”

“As far as I’m concerned, Hideyoshi merely instigated Hojo’s suicide. I intend to end you with my own two hands.” Takasugi sternly replied.

“Such hateful words! One would think that after months in my care, at least some warm feelings would remain.”

“Don’t deceive yourself into thinking I ever warmed up to you.”

“But you warmed up plenty to my daughter, did you not?”

“How about we cut straight to the chase?” Takasugi spat through gritted teeth. “Nothing you might say will amount to a different result, so why not speed the process?”

“Oh, but there’s plenty to discuss.” He cackled, entertained as ever. “Unlike Sada Sada and the fools behind him, I consider the era of samurai far from over. It’s true that allying ourselves with the Amanto increases our chances of survival, but what’s to say they won’t go pointing their fancy canons at Edo again? Rather than disposing of our dogs, don’t you think we ought to train them harder, and keep them close, should push come to shove?”

Now was Takasugi’s turn to laugh at the outrageousness of his ideals. It was either that, or repeatedly bashing his sword into his skull till he made dog food out of his brains.

“Tsugaru, you—You actually thought that by taming me, you could use me to tear at their throats instead of yours?” He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “A wild beast can never be tamed. My ambitions aren’t so cheap as to be bought off with money, power, or any of the fragile things you deem important.”

“And this is what makes taming you all the more fascinating!” He countered. “Why do you think I made you tag to all those pointless meetings? Why do you think I let you in on my secrets? Why did I turn a blind eye to you mixing it up with my daughter?

“Before adopting a pet, you test its capabilities. Someone who knows about tactics; someone who uses their wits along with their sword; someone who stays dedicated to their goal no matter the distractions; someone like that, has the potential to become the finest of hounds.

“Tell me, Takasugi. Did she not move you? Did you not falter because of her? Those files you smuggled out my office, they were what you’d been after all along, right? So why is it that even when you had the means to put an end to this, you stuck around? If not for her, why did you only make your move after I made mine?

“I’ll tell you why. It’s because, even when you have no leash around your neck, your heart dictates your every move. Be it an emotion as meaningless as love, or one as powerful as vengeance itself, I want it. This sword, this heart, this spirit of yours. I want it all. Rather than you lending your strength to me, I want to consume it.

“I’ve fed you, I’ve trained you and I’ve tested you, and now it’s time both you and I got our rewards. There’s much bigger fish out there. The Shogun, the Crows, the Heavens themselves. If it’s revenge you’re seeking, then I’ll give you the means to exact it. If it’s a house, a title, a wife, or something to clear your name, I’ll offer it to you.

“Your owner lives no more. There’s no need for you to live like a ghost on his stead. As long as you sit down when I tell you to sit, and bite when I tell you to bite, I’ll make sure you achieve your goals.”

Anyone in their right mind would be tempted by the easy route Tsugaru presented. By sparing one, Takasugi could not only gain direct access to all his targets, but he could also have a real chance at a living.

He could go back to being a samurai, one of far greater prestige than his father ever dreamed for him to become. He could rid himself of the stench a traitor’s name carried, and he could even make you his wife, turning each and every one of those stupid intrusive fantasies into reality.

So much to gain, yet such empty benefits did not faze him in the slightest. If he wanted fame and riches, he wouldn’t have turned his back on his family. If he wanted a clean slate, he wouldn’t have taken this road. And if he wanted redemption, then he wouldn’t have left Gintoki and the others to pick their pieces on their own.

Those were his choices. His decisions. His mistakes. And as for you, he’d soon get to name you as another one of his regrets.

“You talk big for a man who’s about to lose everything. But you know, big words rarely translate into equal strength.” Dragging his sword against the wooden floors, Takasugi slowly approached him.

“Whether you’re another Bakufu lapdog, or the one who carries their leashes for them, it doesn’t concern me. Right now, you’re nothing but a useless mutt that’s expired its usage. To think that I would side with you-I knew it.” He paused. “Bakufu really is built upon the corpses of idiots, but don’t worry. I’ll make sure their foundations strengthen by adding one more corpse to the pile.”

“Drop your weapon!” He stuttered. “I said drop it now!”

“And I said, I have no intention to become pet to a lapdog who refuses to get his hands dirty. Where are your orders now, Tsugaru? Who’s left to follow them? Who’s left to fight for you?” He raised his sword, waving it left and then right. “There’s no one left, so quit lamenting.”

For the first time since their conversation began, Tsugaru’s complacency seemed to subdue. With his hands pushing his body backwards and his rare soon backing against the desk’s legs, he resembled more of a lamb before slaughter than a powerful faction’s daimyo.

Pitiful, pathetic and utterly powerless.

“Takasugi!” He hissed. “If you do this, know that she will never forgive you!”

“Perhaps. No, I know that she won’t.” A sorrowful smile clung onto his thoughts. “But that is fine by me. I’m counting on that. I’d much rather play the role of a heartless villain, than have her cry over a worthless father who hid behind his daughter’s name even in his final moments. Keeping this between you and me is the first and last kindness I can spare for that girl.

“So rest assured. I don’t seek the forgiveness of either one of you. What I really want is to destroy every last vermin until this house of cards you call government falls apart. Your death will be the first quake.”

In the end, all the memories he’d made, the dreams and hopes he’d shared with you, didn’t get to sway him any more than the wind swayed a mountain. Inevitably, he’d reached the same conclusion, finding himself in the same spot he was destined to stand with his blade high above his foe’s head.

This was it. The beginning of his ambitions and the ending of your own.

He stared down at Tsugaru who kept pleading for mercy with both hands and eyes however best he could. He was scared and he was angry, though he remained full of wicked pride in spite of his undoing.

A man who’d always had his way with others did not know how to lose. He didn’t know what it felt like. He didn’t possess the slightest idea as to what losing everything really was like. The demons that accompanied you through every night; the hell you were forced to walk through every day; the agony that stayed with you through an entire lifetime. He knew none of those.

And it pained Takasugi that this abomination of a man had to go without learning of any of those things, when he was forced to endure everything himself. It saddened him, and it angered him, and before he knew it, he was aiming that sword at his throat and swinging forward with all his might.

Father!

The sound was meek and frail, but it was enough to make the blood in his veins freeze within an instant.

Father!

The voice grew louder and his determination dimmer.

What kind of sick joke was this? You weren’t supposed to be there. You were supposed to follow Harumi and leave. You were supposed to be safe, you were supposed to escape, but then again, he shouldn’t have put all his eggs in one basket.

It was too late to go back, and for better or worse, that was something Tsugaru became well aware of on his own. In the blink of an eye, the man plunged forth, snatching the knife and then shoving it deep within his guts. A sinister cackle diminished to a low grunt as the slash deepened, the pits of his stomach pouring out his white kimono.

Takasugi took a step back, lowering his sword at once. His eye was glued to the man, watching as he struggled to maintain his posture. This was far from how a typical seppuku ritual goes, though Tsugaru never had any dignity or honor to begin with.

“You should know, a kaishakunin would end your suffering.” Takasugi smirked, attaching his sword back at his hip. “I’m not that honorable.”

“Even if I die at the hands of a scum, I refuse to die by their hands.” Blood spewed out his mouth, drowning his every word in crimson “Bakufu won’t fall. No matter how many snake heads you cut, rest assured that new ones will come to replace them. Bakufu will not fall that easily, it won’t-”

“Maybe not. But my aspirations were never this meager.” Takasugi interrupted. “Between the world and the Bakufu, let’s see what breaks first. Shame you won’t be around to see either.”

Tsugaru kept yapping until his words became muffled whispers behind a closed door. There was no reason for Takasugi to witness his death. Judging by the cut, the man had a little less than a few minutes’ time before succumbing to his wounds.

It was over. It really was, yet oddly, he didn’t have it in him to celebrate one bit. Not when the sound of your voice constantly rung through his ears, and certainly not when you finally entered his field of vision as an awkward bundle of limbs that tried to find their way through the darkened corridor.

You looked so lost and frightened, searching through the bodies while calling out to someone-anyone who might be alive enough to hear. Back in the city you couldn’t even stand to gaze upon those corpses, but this time, you closely examined each face as if you were searching for something.

No, you were definitely searching for something. Someone to be precise, and it broke his heart that you had to be the one to find that “someone”.

To him, Tsugaru was no more than a lowly insect in need to be disposed of, but to you, that man was the one who’d raised you. The man who’d shaped you into who you were today. The man who’d instilled his values in you. The man who meant the world to you.

Without realizing, he’d shifted from thinking about you to thinking about that damn day. Shouyou’s smile. The last words he never got to hear. Gintoki’s tearful expression as he held that sword. Katsura’s faint grunts. His own cries. And again, Shouyou’s smile.

Why did he have to smile? Why did the last thing he got to remember him by had to be that smile? Why did he have to be so compliant as to accept a death that was unjust after they’d fought for so long to free him? Why did he have to swing that blade?

The lines between who was whom and who did what became blurred in his brain. So blurred that he couldn’t follow up on any of his thoughts anymore. He was endlessly trapped in that day, and soon, you’d find yourself trapped in that day too.

Part of him wanted to jump out of the shadows, grab your hand, and take you someplace far away from all the horrors that door concealed, so that day would never come to haunt you. There was no reason for you to suffer as much as he did, but he knew best that certain pain was unavoidable.

You were one step from following in his footsteps, and if you were lucky enough, then at least you’d get to say your goodbyes. That’s more than he got.

Before you had the chance to cross paths, Takasugi hid past a half-torn folded screen, allowing for you to enter the office undisturbed. After what you’d seen, there was no stopping you, though that was exactly what you did. With your hand clenching around the knob, you hesitated as if you already knew what lied ahead, and that only tempted him to intervene.

But he didn’t.

He patiently waited for you to push that door open, and then he waited for you to say something, only to realize he hadn’t braced himself to tolerate the sound of your wailing.

He knew those tears. The desperation and sadness they carried. The feeling of utter incompetence and helplessness that went with watching everything slip from your fingertips. Tears that gradually turned into misty fog and ashen cinder. Tears he’d shed himself not too long ago.

And that was when he made up his mind. He’d had enough of this despicable sound.

“He is right. You should have never trusted me.”

“I wasn’t the one who killed your father, Y/N.” Takasugi said, breaking free of his narration. “His arrogance and greed drove him to his demise, and while his blood does not stain my sword, it stains my hands all the same. I was the trigger, and had it not been for his suicide, I would have taken his life without remorse. That is my truth, the only truth there is to the story.”

You didn’t know what to say. Even when he’d spoken in such great detail, you were none the wiser, and the longer he went on, the more you wished for him to stop.

His every word stomped on your memories, tainting and defiling them one by one till nothing of actual value remained. This monster he described couldn’t be your father, but no matter how much you waited for Takasugi to take it all back, he wouldn’t.

A single lie could never obscure the actuality of a thousand truths, nor would it ever be enough to ease the pain they brought. What your heart refused to acknowledge, your brain knew to be true. The man in the story was the same as the man who raised you, the same man who’d threatened to eliminate Takasugi all those years back, and the same man that ended up eliminating himself in the face of disgrace.

How could he do such a thing? How could either of them do such things? Your father’s death. Takasugi’s betrayal. The sorrow you felt for the one and the hatred you felt for the other. The years you’d spent in desperation over a love that never came to be and the immediate guilt that feasted upon your conscience. How could they subject you to such cruelty?

Many a times since he finished talking, you tried asking him, only to get further sucked in by the vortex of your unpolished emotions. If he wasn’t the one who killed your father, then why did he lie as if he did? Why did he run away like that? Why did he leave you behind?

Because he was the one who led him to it. Because he would have done the job himself if you hadn’t interrupted. Because after it was done and dealt with, he wanted nothing more to do with your kind. Because of you.

It hurt.

It hurt so badly that you yearned to claw the thoughts out your skull. You couldn’t even bring yourself to face him. Not without choking on your own tears, that was. Drop after drop, they slid down your cheeks and onto your palms, slowly but surely soaking the cuffs of your kimono.

Suddenly, he got up and walked to your side. He must have caught onto your crying, though he didn’t say a thing. He simply loomed as a shadow over your head, one that attempted to both console you and get you to look up, but you didn’t. You couldn’t.

And then a hand reached out to you, urging to close around your shoulder, but it didn’t. He didn’t. He couldn’t. It was as much painful to you, as it was to him, and when there was nothing either one of you could do to comfort the other, he walked again, this time towards the door.

“You can stay.” He said in a gentle tone. “Rest.”

“Was it real?” Your question was sudden and it took him by surprise.

Eyes that met halfway answered all there was to know, though you weren’t sober enough to interpret the meaning of his gaze.

And so, you rephrased.

“Was any of it real? Were we… real?”

He furrowed his brows and shut his eyes, inhaling sharply and then shaking his head, without quite denying or confirming anything.

“Rest.”

“Has anyone ever told you how heavy you are?” Takasugi complained, his arms numb from carrying your body around.

He didn’t have much of a choice. There was no other way. Lies he sought justification in for unjustifiable actions. In reality, he did have a choice, and there certainly was a better way that didn’t quite involve knocking you unconscious.

He could have stayed out of it. When you didn’t know, when you hadn’t seen him, he could have made a run for it and disappear completely. But if he did, hope would remain in his stead, and he knew all too well how dangerous hope could be.

No, this wouldn’t do. You had to be certain, and wholeheartedly believe that he was the one responsible. Only then you’d survive. Only then you’d move forward.

“Heavier than Tatsuma and that silver haired idiot, for sure.” He murmured, pressing a palm flat against the back of your head as to protect it from the banister.

Before he had the chance to move past the first step of the stairs, you shifted closer, nuzzling right into his touch. He took a quick glance at your face. Your eyes were shut and your lips were sealed. No need for him to be alerted. You were still passed out, or else you wouldn’t be cozying up to him.

It really was the last time. Even when he previously deluded himself into thinking the opposite, no room for doubt was left.

He smiled. An unhappy smile he didn’t mean in the slightest.

“You shouldn’t do that anymore.” He scolded, though he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. He was scared that if he did, he’d get used to your absence and he didn’t want that. Not now, not ever.

How was he supposed to? How was he supposed to live in a world without you? A world without your smiles. Without your laughter, without your voice, without your warmth, without everything he’d fallen in love with.

“Say, Y/N. Do you still think of us samurai as heroes?” He knew better than to wait for an answer. “You said a lot of stupid things that day, but this one struck me the most. Maybe that’s the reason why I’m doing all these unnecessary things right now. In the end, you got it your way. Is this close enough for you? Are we close enough to be sharing such painful memories together?”

“I suppose we are.” He admitted. “We should be, or else why would I volunteer to carry this heavy burden for you?”

Downstairs was about as empty as the second floor was, albeit free of the countless bodies that adorned the latter. He wondered if he should just leave you there, but you’d probably rush upstairs the minute you woke up.

Where’s that old hag when you needed her?

“Say, Y/N. If the offer still stands, then it’s not too late to confide in you, is it? In that case, listen carefully because I don’t plan on repeating myself.

“Someone once taught me; it takes more than a sword to win a fight and less than a battle to lose a war. That man-he used to say this every time I sparred with that idiot. I kept writing his words off as loser’s talk for motivation, but I think I finally understand. Even though you never won against me, it’s been a while since I lost to you.

“You don’t know what that means, do you? Even if you were actually listening, you still wouldn’t know, would you?” A chuckle broke through the eerie silence.

“How could I let myself lose to such a stupid girl?” His voice caressed your ear devoid of any malice as he leaned closer. He considered planting a kiss on your forehead right where he’d hit you, but he quickly shook the thought away.

“You should hate me.” He drew his lips back. “No matter how hard it gets from now on, you’ll only endure it if you hate me. I won’t ask you to erase me, so instead, hate me with all you have. Hate me until no other emotion remains, until you can no longer remember how to love me again. Hate me, and get your revenge. Let hatred fuel your blade, and when the day comes, lead it into my chest. I’ll be waiting. I won’t die. As long as you insist on living another day, I won’t die.” Takasugi paused, pulling the door open with one hand and holding you with the other.

Finally, you’d made it out of this hellhole.

“You were never weak, Y/N. No matter how many tears you shed now, I’m sure that next time we meet, you’ll have the means to defeat me.” He continued, pacing across the porch and towards the main gate.

The faint outline of a silhouette awaited at the end of the road. Unruly gray hair matched the woman’s frantic steps, both moving in opposite directions. He could sense Harumi’s worry from where he stood, though he couldn’t quite condone her negligence. Because of her you had to see what you otherwise wouldn’t have, and because of her he had another’s pain to shoulder.

With his destination now set, Takasugi became more unwilling to let you go than before. His arms snared around your waist, lifting your forehead against his own. He breathed in your scent, allowing it to override all senses for a moment’s time.

You smelled so divine. He doubted he could ever love anyone’s scent the way he loved yours.

“If I don’t let you go right now, I don’t think I’ll ever will, Y/N.” He mumbled, feeling his heart flatter at the notion. “I just might be selfish enough to force you to love me like you always have. Like I always have. Like I… love you.”

Admitting it was far more painful than keeping it to himself was, though he couldn’t deny it to be liberating. At least now he knew what saying those three words out loud really felt like.

Lowering your head from his, he began to move again, until Harumi became aware of his presence. Hurried movements succeeded incomprehensible shrieks as she took hold of you, not so gently browsing your body for injuries and then sighing in relief once she realized you got none.

“Tell her I-” He initiated, only to nod the rest of his sentence off. “Tell her that I did this. All this.”

Without lingering a second longer, Takasugi let himself be guided by the first gust of wind away from there. So long as he left this place behind, the destination matter not.

And so, he kept on walking, and he kept on sprinting, and he kept on dragging his feet forward until the streets thinned and the trees densened. Until the sun set behind him and the winds stop carrying him forward. Until your story ended and a new one began.

A/N: Some of you may wonder why there seems to be a difference between what FL remembers (as per chapter 1) and what actually happened. I never meant for the dream she had in c1 to be a 1:1 description of how things went down. Memories get distorted over time, especially when they are traumatic. So, nope, Takasugi didn't stab her, there wasn't any smoke, the bloodshed was restricted to the top floor and those who died were mostly Oniwaban if not for a few actual guards here and there.

Anyways, that's about it for this chapter! The way I see it, about two chapters remain, tops three but I doubt that. I'm looking forward to ending this story because writing full on angst stories takes its toll on me, but at the same time, I don't intend to rush it. Will however take a short break before chapter 9 so I can do some requests.

#killing butterflies #takasugi shinsuke #takasugi #takasugi gintama #takasugi shinsuke x reader #takasugi x reader #takasugi reader #takasugi angst #takasugi fanfiction #takasugi imagine #gintama imagine #gintama fanfiction #gintama angst

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ap-sadistics · 2 years

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under the cut is what i nicknamed my ninjago oni arc retrospective. which is an obscene amount of rambling, ALMOST ENTIRELY CRITICISM ABOUT NINJAGOS WRITING, spurred on by the said trilogy. i had so many thoughts about the oni arc i literally could not tweet it. its literally so much. and by so much i mean about 5000 words of complaining, yelling, a lot of thoughts. coming from a place of genuine care for the characters that are in this godforsaken show. this is the first time im talking about ninjago on tumblr. and considering how twitter is going down im might just like. start liveblogging the rest of ninjago on tumblr lol...... its been years since ive liveblogged on tumblr, man. i wont be fucklong posts like this tho probably

anyways when i say 5k words. i am not exaggerating. this is That Long. youve been warned. i never shut the fuck up. yeehaw lets go

⬇️

garmadon. this is all about garmadon. i realized something while watching s10. like clearly ive been discontent with his narrative or more accurately the way the narrative has been using him (note the word using. its a talking point that i will return to later.). but what ive realized is interesting. garmadon in s10 is actually the garmadon i wish i got in s1/s2. but im discontent with this garmadon anyways why?

its because. it was given to me. in such a. dissatisfying. way.. and its dissatisfying because..... the best opportunity to make him like this has been squandered in the first place. and theres not enough justification/proper justification to make garmadon the way he was in s10. THE FUCKING...... SEQUENCING OF HIS CHARACTER ARC... CAN IT REALLY BE CALLED A CHARACTER ARC WHEN YOU LOOK AT THE SERIES OVERALL.......

its like... garmadon is a different character every season. in the pilots he was introduced as a sincerely menacing and evil threat and the only reason hes not is because he was trapped in the underworld or whatever but even then he was a threat threatening to be unleashed. someone dangerous. but then when you see him again in s1 hes like..... not.. that. the second impression of him that you get is that oh. hes not that evil actually. hes not so evil that he still loves his son. guess hes not that bad. and its like. okay so my personal opinion is that 1) a truly evil dad wouldnt even give a shit about his son and 2) okay so a villain being a caring parent CAN be an interesting and nuanced concept with depth (thinks about that one prozd vine) BUT the writers didnt actually make it that way and in fact they did it in a way that undermines the effectiveness of garmadons characters. the way they did it... just makes it feel..... inconsistent.

and on top of that, the writers loved making incompetent villains for comedic purposes and so like. they also decided to make garmadon that incompetent type in s1+2. THE VIBES GARMADON HAS IN THE PILOTS VS THE FIRST SEASONS ARE SO DIFFERENT..... and so... on seeing the type of character garmadon is in s9/s10... this guy who lost his love for his son... it just reminds me of the kind of guy i wish i gotten in s1 and 2. in s10 garmadon is an ally but its like. weird. because they turned him into a character whos entirely rational and practical because hes apathetic towards everyone. and thats not what s1/2 used to be. s1 garmadon was a fucking cartoony asshole lol..... so like... even if garmadon was stripped of all this goodness i cant see him being the guy he was in s10? like personality changes/amnesia doesnt work like that i feel. theres that. and then there the transition from s9->s10. s9 garmadon is like. oddly blank. suggestible. hes cold and cruel. hes a tower. hes menacing. i get how a freshly resurrected garmadon whos entirely evil maybe could result in this a little bit. but i cant see how garmadon in s9 suddenly changed to be the guy in s10. he straight up became a different villain. he became calculative and cunning. competent. also like. rational. like he understands that theres greater priorities to protect ninjago from a greater force. LIKE. DID S9 GARMADON EVEN HAVE A HIGHER LEVEL OF THOUGHT THAN "hm....... son....... brother........ take over ninjago....... true potential.... power..... destroy..... be evil........" LIKE. HES PRETTY GODDAMN SIMPLE AINT HE. IN S9. AND THERE WAS ABSOLUTELY NO TRANSITION TO MAKE HIM LIKE THE WAY HE IS IN S10 OTHER THAN SOLITARY CONFINEMENT. AND THAT WOULDNT PRODUCE A CHANGE IN CHARACTER LIKE THAT. GARMADONS CHARACTER IS ALL OVER THE PLACE OVER THE COURSE OF NINJAGO and this doesnt even address sensei garmadon. miss that dilf. anyways.

they brought garmadon back but its in such a way thats not compelling at all...... because they decide to forget about past established relationship dynamics. (ninjago can and will throw out past established narrative arcs bc they are inconvenient to them. because to the writers, past seasons have very little value in moving the present plot forward because they are completed. BECAUSE THE WRITERS ARENT CLEVER ENOUGH TO FIGURE OUT WAY TO HAVE CONSISTENCY AND CONTINUITY IN THEIR NARRATIVE AND ALSO INVENT NEW PLOT.)

like entirely its like lloyd past relationship dynamic with his dad never happened bc lloyd never feels in a way that would make sense for a guy who had a positive and yet EXTREMELY COMPLICATED RELATIONSHIP with his father. like come on s4 finale???? the last time lloyd talked to his dad (when he fucking sacrificed himself LIKE HE GOT YEETED THROUGH A PORTAL AND “DIED”)...... they dont bring any of that back. none of the anticipated feelings. theres no emotional logic to the way lloyd feels about his dad coming back. either that or they dont show it nearly enough. like clearly lloyd eventually feels some sorta way about his dad being pure evil and an amnesiac. but I WANT EMOTIONAL BAGGAGE MAN. THEY DONT EVER SHOW IT IN A WAY THAT WOULD MAKE SENSE..... LIKE. SHOULDNT LLOYD WANT.... TO FIX HIS DAD? WHY DOESNT HE TRY. WHY DOESNT HE MISS THE GOOD FATHER-SON MENTOR-MENTEE RELATIONSHIP HE LAST HAD WITH HIS DAD? ALSO MAYBE A LITTLE BIT OF GUILT???? BC HE HAD HELPED SACRIFICE HIS DAD AND HE DAD WAS CANONICALLY DEAD? OR MISPLACED SELFBLAME FOR FAILING TO PREVENT THIS FROM HAPPENING TO BOTH HIS DAD AND FREAKING NINJAGO. FOR ANGST REASONS. IDK MAYBE THAT BIT IS A BIT CONTRIVED BUT IT WAS AN OPPORTUNITY THAT WAS THERE. I WANTED TO SEE LLOYD ACTUALLY TRY TO LIKE..... REACH OUT TO THE OLD GARMADON IN THIS HUSK OF HIS OLD MAN. I WANTED TO SEE AN ATTEMPT, A FRUITLESS ATTEMPT OF LLOYD TRYING TO GET HIS FATHER BACK. AND THEN DEVASTATION WHEN HE REALIZES HE FUCKING CANT!!!!!!!! THEY COULDVE MADE THIS SO MUCH MORE EMOTIONALLY COMPELLING. BY MAKING LLOYD THE ONE WHO NARRATIVELY CONNECTS THE OLD AND NEW GARMADON. LLOYD COULDVE BEEN A POINT OF COMPARISON TO GREATER EMPHASIZE HOW THE REVIVED GARMADON IS A DIFFERENT MAN. ill stop yelling now.

sighs. s9/10 is like...... considerably less compelling than s8 for this issue..... like not only are they bringing back lloyd+dad drama but also they dont put the right emotions in place for it to Be compelling. its missing so much for it to be... emotionally engaging..... it doesnt help that lloyd isnt my blorbo like they lose me so fucking hard after s8. s8 smacked. s8 smacked so hard and the follow up is disappointing. i was invested in lloyds character arc for once. harumis effect. im biased but im also right.

anyways this whole thing has been about garmadon but....... also i gotta say. its not a garmadon exclusive problem. this is def a clear symptom of a larger problem of ninjago. how ninjago approaches characters. which is that there is no show/character bible. not a single character has a character bible for the writers to follow. at most they have a single line. a single consistent characteristic. oh god are ninjas inconsistent.

you see its because the writers use characters as they see fit. theres so many times when they definitely decided on traits the characters should have that would be most convenient them to have in the moment. they see characters as tools to drive the plot forward, rather than having characters drive the narratives on their own. and thats BAD. because this way, characters dont have rules in how they behave. they dont have patterns. resulting in conflicting moments! have you ever heard of the phrase "characters write themselves?" well that happens when you have a solidly rounded character. you dont make the characters do what you want them to do. you write characters how you THINK they would behave. you write the situation. and they react accordingly to their characterization. its like a roleplay almost

anyways ninjago doesnt do that. ninjago is not character driven. so you end up with so much character inconsistency.

well im not saying the ninjas are like entirely inconsistent. theres is a general pattern they return to. the few basic traits the writers remember they have

like here. heres what *I* think are the only things that the **WRITERS** have truly set in stone for all the characters. this is not my personal observations and understanding of the characters but the way i think the writers see each character. im a guy who thinks characters are deeper than they are for the record.

jay: talks a lot/the jokester->annoying

nya: competent girl.

kai: arrogant/hot head (the latter is however inconsistent)

lloyd: leader (-_-💢)

zane: robot with that very specific speech style that indicates hes very smart and/or not human (robot.)

cole: CAKE.

and its evident that these characters are unequally fleshed out compared to one another. and im sorry this might be my bias goggles i have on which makes me automatically analyze the character im most invested in the sort out what their characteristics are but i think jay is arguable one of the most consistent characters. WELL. AT LEAST UP UNTIL I HAVE WATCHED. ive heard things about the studio change.... nya is also def arguably the most consistent. kai is a blorbo too but i know hes one of the less consistent ones and i have proof for this. lemme share a post by a showrunner. makes me so fucking mad.

FLUCTUATES?!?!? SURE PPL BEHAVIORS DEPEND ON THE SITUATION BUT LIKE COME ON. THERES SOME CONSISTENCY BENEATH IT SOMEWHERE ALWAYS. okay here. people arent Always consistent. but like. these are characters you know. there should be a reasoning why they behave differently from one situation to another you know? this answer is way too flippant of an answer, it infuriates me. LIKE. UGH IF THIS KINDA OF FLEXIBILITY WAS WRITTEN WITH INTENT AND PURPOSE THEN ITS GREAT!!! IT MEANS KAI IS A COMPLEX CHARACTER!!!! BUT YOU KNOW!!!!! IT ISNT LIKE THAT. KAI IS A FLEXIBLE CHARACTER BECAUSE THAT IS CONVENIENT FOR THE WRITERS BECAUSE IT MEANS THEYLL WRITE HIM IN ANY MEANS THE SITUATION CALLS FOR. THEY NEED HIM TO BE VOICE OF REASON THEYLL MAKE HIM THE VOICE OF REASON. THEY NEED HIM TO BE THE PARANOID GUY THEYLL MAKE HIM THE PARANOID GUY. THEY NEED HIM TO BE AN IDIOT THEYLL MAKE HIM AN IDIOT. they do the latter a lot and i really do enjoy it to be honest its like an incredible charm point to me how fucking stupid he is, i aDore him. ANYWAYS MY POINT IS KAI DOESNT HAVE CONSISTENCY...... if i rewatch ninjago i could fucking cite them better i like Remember the examples that have happened but not accurately when they happened. but i know im right about this.

also with the power of fan interpretation i can take his actions that he has done and rework them in a way that makes an actually cohesively rounded character. WORKING WITH WHAT I GOT. PUTTING THOUGHT INTO HIM MORE THAN THE WRITERS EVER HAVE. AND ILL DO THIS WITH ALL OF THEM. OR AT LEAST THE ONES I CARE ABOUT.

kai is rational and sometimes hes so fucking stupid and sometimes hes like both so like he burns rubber while staying in one place. that part of my interpretation of him thats important to me. s7 kai you think so damn much and yet you make absolutely no fucking progress in your thoughts its so fucking funny and iconic i LOVE YOU YOU FUCKING DUMBASS. i love your fucking arrogance and ego and how thats youre downfall most of the time i love this as youre character flaw. its good. and yet you can be sensible sometimes which makes me think there could be a leader in you if it wasnt for your massive shortcomings. and also i love when you go older brother mode....... if anyone in the team is an elder sibling its definitely kai. literally and also in terms of vibes. its comes with being an older brother.

anyways i dunno how that spiel happened kais isnt even my most favorite character, jay is. but he is second fav tho and also one of the guys who has a lot of inconsistencies. its late when im writing this section its truly a RAMBLE here

oh speaking of jay heres another evidence of ninjago writing for convenience and honestly its real character writing sin. the fact that they completely removed an entire character trait from him. they wrote out how hes an inventor. its literally confirmed by the showrunner THAT IT WAS A DECISION THAT THEY MADE. TO GET RID OF AN ENTIRE ESTABLISHED CHARACTER TRAIT. YOU CANT JUST DO THAT. THATS LITERALLY BAD WRITING. YOU CANT JUST DO THAT ITS BAD WRITING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT SHOWS A BLATANT DISREGARD FOR HIS CHARACTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ITS NOT LIKE HE WAS BEING DEVELOPED PRE SHOW AND BEING WORKED OUT. NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HE WAS A MECHANIC FOR LITERALLY SEASONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND JUST BECAUSE THERES WERE “TOO MANY TECH PEOPLE” THEY WERE LIKE OH THATS TOO MANY WE DONT NEED THAT MANY WE GOTTA GET RID OR SOME WE HAVE TOO MANY! WHAT KIND OF?!?!?!? WHAT KIND OF FUCKING REASON IS THAT!??!?!????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ITS SHIT!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK ARE THE SCIFI GENRES GONNA DO THEN. GOD. YOU CANT JUST DELETE TRAITS. ITS LITERALLY CARELESS WRITING. I HATE IT. AND ALSO TOTALLY UNNECESSARY.

theres a lot of things i could probably reference as evidence of how incredibly irresponsibly ninjago writes characters. they do it a lot. as a guy who love characters, this is hell. and yet i am still here. invested. because putting work into characters is a different kind of joy i guess. LOVE ANALYZING AND INTERPRETING CHARACTERS WHO ARENT THAT DEEP BUT THEY COULD BE. THEY COULD BE. man.

this was mostly a talk about garmadon and character writing huh. oni arc spurred all theses thoughts but it wasnt all necessarily about that hbdgsdk. hm.... i do have more thoughts though..... ive stated before s8 slapped and both s9 and 10 are weaker right? increasingly so like 10 is much weaker than 9. they drop the ball. its one part because of everything i stated above regarding garmadon and characters. its another part because s8 wasnt about dad drama for the fourth time. sure garmadon was part of the plot indirectly. but the conflict wasnt Between them. the plot in s8 was honestly partly a mystery due to the investigative nature for a part of it. and the whole not knowing who the leader was thing. the conflict was against the sons of garmadon. and then when the reveal happened it was between harumi and lloyd built on the lies harumi made. the conflict lloyd had was one that was a personal betrayal. lloyd had to confront that harumi wasnt the girl he liked. that everything he knew and experienced with harumi was a part of a facade. i love this conflict lloyd has because it turned internal AND IT WASNT ABOUT HIS DAD. S8 WAS REFRESHING FOR THIS REASON. LLOYDS CONFLICT DIDNT ENTIRELY HINGE ON HIS DAD OR BEING THE CHOSEN ONE. CONFLICT THAT WAS NEW INTERPERSONAL DRAMA WOW!!!! I LOVE IT. well of course its more complicated than that his dad is definitely a factor in that he is harumis motive.... but heres a thing.... garmadon wasnt involved to make this happen. hes dead. he didnt spur harumi to become a fucked up little girl herself. its all on her. her problem turned into lloyds problem. harumi being cause of conflict is a different kind of conflict that lloyd hasnt experienced before you know? well i guess its sorta similar to morros deal in the sense that lloyds identity made him a target for pain BUT WHATS DIFFERENT IS THAT HE LIKE HAS AGENCY THIS TIME. AM I MAKING SENSE? DO YOU GET ME? DESPITE GARMADON IS A PASSIVE PART OF THE CONFLICT ITS NOT ABOUT HIM. ITS DIFFERENT FROM S9 AND S10 YOU KNOW?

i feel like the last paragraph was really circuitous. like i think i made it 4 times longer than it needed to be. anyways thats that. but also i think s9 and 10 is weaker than s8 is because.... the villains are boring. the sons of garmadon was a fun antagonistic force. it was basically a motorcycle gang and cult. it was a pretty colorful gang! i love ultra violet especially!!! shes fucking unhinged. harumi is fucking nuts too. these villain had a fun thing going for them. now...... i get really weird... vibes from the dragon hunters..... like its kinda 😬 the way another worlds culture is presented? because the villains of this season is like..... basically an entire population of people. its not a minor group of humans. its basically all the humanoid residents of the realm. and theyre presented as vicious savages. am i alone in thinking this is bit kinda.... hm.... like eventually the show redeems itself and the group by having faith be the one wiser to what is going on (to show that Not Everyone Is Like This) and also eventually making the hunters realize they were living under a fascist regime (its highkey fascism right??). am i taking this too seriously for getting vague xenophobic vibes from this. im not saying that another worlds people all have to be pleasant and nice thats kinda unrealistic and also i do think that the first realm group needed to have an antagonistic force to light a fire under their ass. with the seasons theme i do think both groups of ninjas being “hunted” is fun concept and offers opportunity for parallels between them? its just. the presentation of the hostile group. leaves much to be desired. IVE SAID IT BEFORE A FEW WEEKS AGO AND I AM RIGHT ABOUT THAT ACTUALLY. THE DRAGON HUNTERS SHOULDVE BEEN COWBOY BOUNTY HUNTERS....... MAN. A WESTERN THEME COULDVE REALLY WORKED IN DUSTY ASS SETTING OF THE FIRST REALM. THE HARSHNESS OF THE DESOLATE LANDSCAPE. like instead of the villains being presented as savages i think it wouldve been better if they were more lawless and cutthroat. but like a different vibe of it. the western vibes. in my vision of it the reason why the boy would be hunted is because they did something stupid to get a hit on them lol. either that or a series misfortunate events and misunderstandings. tbh finding a way to make the conflict involve the golden dragon armor is hard so i havent thought about it. it doesnt help that it super doesnt fit into the setting/theme. highkey would be easier and like...... makes wus whole thing about something else. but idk what. fixing ninjago is hard work.

anyways desperado faith would be so sexy. cowboy versions of the dragon hunters would fucking smack. theres that

now the oni tho......... i sincerely think. the oni are the MOST BORING VILLAINOUS FACTION NINJAGO HAS EVER HAD. THEY ARE SO BORING THEYRE SO BORING!! NOT THAT MOST OF THE NINJAGO VILLAINS HAVE EVER BEEN VERY COMPLEX BUT GOD. THEY ARE. THE MOST SIMPLEST FORCE OF EVIL. EVER. THATS LITERALLY ALL THAT THEY ARE! THEYRE JUST LITERALLY A REPRESENTATION OF THE DARK EVIL~EVIL~ THATLL BRING ABOUT THE END OF THE WORLD. AND THATS IT. THATS IT! WHY DO THEY WANT TO EVEN. THEY ARE JUST DOING IT BC THEY WANNA. NO DEEPER EXPLANATION FOR WHAT THEY ARE AND WHAT THEY DO. WHERE THE HELL WERE THEY BEFORE THEY SUDDENLY APPEARED. WHY DID THEY DISAPPEAR FROM THE FIRST REALM AND WHY WERE THEY ABLE TO COME BACK WHEN THEY DID THROUGH THE CRYSTAL? theres almost no point in them being sentient even. they could literally be just monstrous beasts and That would be more interesting that what they are. bc at least if they are just monsters then their behaviors can be just easily handwaved. bc they would be animals. NOT SO FOR THE ONI AS ARE THO. NOT WHEN YOU HAVE?? MYSTAKE???? WHO IS AN ONI AND IS A CLEAR EXAMPLE THAT ONIS ARE A COMPLEX BEING. ninjago has Always been very reductive for their villains in that the ninja are Good and villains are Evil but GOD. THIS IS THE MOST REDUCTIVE THEYVE EVER BEEN. NO DEPTH! ABSOLUTELY NONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! INFURIATING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! even the skeleton in the pilots had more depth bc they had character traits at least. the trait was that they were stupid BUT IT WAS SOMETHING AT LEAST. also theyre allowed to be simple for comedy reasons. s10 was all serious plot. they dont have that excuse. they are so mind numbing dull i hate the fucking oni. i know ninjago has always seen good and evil as things that can be clearly cut which has always been like. *sighs*. BUT THIS TIME IT REALLY MAKES ME. WANNA. *CHOKES NINJAGO SHOW WRITERS* DO MORE THINKING, FUCKOS.

this is largely my skybound bias talking but the sky pirates was one of the most interesting villains to me. like nadakhan is a good villain. he sucks but also hes like. developed. hes also very threatening. hes an effectively written villain in regards to his villainy. he has all the motives and the personality and like the *gestures* the way he acts. im lacking the words for it. i bet if skybound wasnt written so abjectly misogynistic i would probably call him the best ninjago villain. unfortunately i have to take points off of him for that. i think undeliberate sexism is cheating for villains. the sexism in skybound is definitely 90% because its baked into the writers biases rather than the writers going “hey you know whats really evil? misogyny.” no they def didnt think that. also more than nadakhan i do think flintlocke is the more interesting guy tho. AT LEAST HE IS IN MY HEAD. WHERE ALL THE SKYBOUND THOUGHTS ARE BOUNCING AROUND.

beyond skybound i think pythor is ABSOLUTELY impeccable as a villain. I LOVE THAT GUY. HES GREAT. AND OF COURSE HARUMI. now i think truly harumi deserves the crown for this. morro is. wait. hang on i think im thinking about the potential morro had as a character rather than the character morro actually is. morro is woefully underdeveloped in reality but! HES STILL SO MUCH MORE INTERESTING THAN THE FUCKING ONI!!!!!! tho gotta be honest. i remember jack shit about the s2 villains. they were extremely unimpressionable. i still do think the oni are the most boring tho. also. what the fuck is that one dudes deal. the... overlord? *checks the wiki* (SPOILERS) WHAT THE FUCK HE COMES BACK IN CRYSTALIZED? also i entirely forgot he was in s3. all my homies hate s3 you cannot fault me for this. bitch got put into a box. he means nothing to me but the oni are still less interesting. nothing can change my mind about this. ALSO THE ONI NEVER EVEN SHAPESHIFTED. THAT MAKES ME SO MAD. AN ABILITY ALL THE ONIS HAVE BUT LICHERALLY ONLY MYSTAKE DOES IT. NINJAGO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

is there anything else i want to complain about. probably but also i think that about covers it. s8>s9>>>>>s10. however s10>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>s3 still. like dont get me wrong. despite all my bashing s3 is still that bad. its just that as i wrote this i actually started feeling stronger about the way i did for the oni arc dfskhflsdhgiuth. its just like. its undeniable that the quality of the trilogy goes down each season no...? it started out So strong..... but it just gets weaker. its more apparent bc s8 was just that good. bring that quality baaaaaaack

WAIT. NO I DO STILL HAVE ANOTHER THING TO COMPLAIN ABOUT. I HATE THE WAY NINJAGO TREATS DEATH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! like along with characters the writers absolutely use death as a tool. they use is as either plot convenience or for cheap drama. like remember dr julian? they fucking killed him BETWEEN SEASONS BC THEY FELT LIKE DIDNT NEED HIM ANYMORE. JUST LIKE THAT! and i bet thats why they killed mystake off screen too. they looooove making shit happen off screen. i cant believe thats how they decided to write off mystake. the writers dont treat death with any respect. its such a disservice to mystakes character to just get rid of her character like that. like she did a lot. and i feel like. she couldve easily not died if the writers wanted her to. like. she was a fucking oni. they couldve writing her escaping. or at least shown us a nobler death rather than the implied shit that they did. god i was so confused whether or not they killed mystake in that first scene “confirmation” scene with skylor BECAUSE IT WAS SO VAGUE. bc honestly it could be easily interpreted that she was just subdued or captured. but no, turns out shes dead :/ damn ://// hate fucking writing like this

theres that. then theres the fake out deaths. that they did twice in s10. and like. it was so clearly a fake out............ bc you know ninjago is a that wont kill their main characters for good. they simply cant! but they try this shit anyways bc maybe theyll upset some naive kid thatll believe it!! that want their audience to FEEL THINGS so they gonna make it SEEM like they killed cole/lloyd. but the attempt is transparent as fuck. sure didnt get me thats for sure. you see death is indeed a thing that happens in ninjago. but its been shown multiple times that it doesnt stick. thats its either fake or the character will simply be brought back with a handwave (if they are important enough). exhibit: garmadon himself, zane, nya, cole (the fucking ghost thing like. hes a ghost but clearly hes not a true ghost. im not going deeper into this like the ghost thing IS A WHOLE NOTHER THING AND THIS RAMBLE IS OVER 4K WORDS LONG). ninjago is a show that has stripped death of all its meaningfulness. theres that one scene where they killed mr e onscreen too and literally they only did because mr e is a robot so they could get extra violent with him in order to show off this current garmadons brutality ://////. also its so fucking wack that they for reals sent lloyd to fucking ninjago heaven for a hot second. like lloyd was def going to survive that and they made him die for drama but its still wild to me you know? anyways death has no emotional impact value in this show. makes me wish that they just wont use it. not unless if its a death that actually matters and is a genuine threat that can happen to the characters that matter. man.

oh another thing i just remembered. you know how garmadon was on their ship in s10. i wish the writers had remember that literally happened before. or maybe they did but like the way the ninjas talk about it its like never happened and im like. aw man i wish we had a funny call back to that. too bad this show forgets to have continuity sometimes.

and SPEAKING OF WHICH, okay one last thing that been on my mind for fucking weeks, THE MURAL IN S10 SHOWING EVERY CONFLICT INCLUDING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SKYBOUND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BIG FUCKING GLARING CONTIUITY ERROR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS SHOW HAS PLENTY OF THOSE BUT MAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS THE MOST FLAGRANT ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JAY AND NYA DIDNT PAINT THAT. AND THOSE TWO ARE LITERALLY THE ONLY ONES WHO KNOW ABOUT NADAKHAN. NADAKHAN WAS NEVER RELEASED FROM THE TEAPOT SO NOBODY KNOWS ABOUT HIM!!!!! EVENTS OF SKYBOUND DIDNT FUCKING HAPPEN IN THIS TIMELINE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. anyways in GOES into the fanfic wishlist, a scene in which they didnt! paint skybound on that fucking wall and jay has some fucking Thoughts! and a !feeling! or two about that~!!!!!!! FIX IT FIC EXCEPT ITS FIXING A PLOTHOLE AND IS NOT THE TRADITIONAL FIXIT FIC IN WHICH EVENTS A WRITTEN TO BE BETTER :) but rather its a character study about jay. with optional trauma. maybe emotional turmoil may be not, the way the fic would depend entirely if theres a plot or not. at minimum jay needs to Feel A Way about it...... how nobody remembers the worst days of his life..... you know? i may brainstorm about this fanfic. i really want it. i may never get it. but i want it so bad. if anything should be written it should be this scene..................... SIGHS........

okay i think im finally out of thoughts for this oni arc retrospective that def extends beyond the oni arc. this ramble hit over 4.8k words by the point of this sentence. this took me literally over a month to write bc im busy with school work sdkjfhieurtghkdhflk. WHICH IM FUCKING MYSELF OVER WITH RIGHT NOW BC INSTEAD OF WORKING I DID THIS. but like. i need to accomplish something. even if the thing is entirely useless I NEED IT OUT OF MYSELF AND OFF! MY! PLATE!! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!!!!! HUZZAH TO AIRING OUT ALL MY GRIEVANCES WOO!!!!!! a total of two ppl will read this. and thats great. literally if theres more than two pp who make it to the end of this ill be fucking shocked because this is lterally almost 5000 words of complaining. lightly put it. criticism. anyways i have so much to say about ninjago, its fucking obscene. i feel like i wrote an essay even though it is very much not that, but the feeling make me feel like i need to write a conclusion for this all. conclusion? wish ninjago was a more tightly written show. and final final note? please fucking excuse any typing errors that have been made theres a very high chance i forgot words or wrote the wrong words and i am incapable of catching all of them i certain of this. i tried to read thru but this is like 5k now man. typing more increases the wordcount isnt that fucking crazy. anyways, thank you understanding,

and youre so epic for reading this beast of a review. i am very right and i will not hear otherwise thanks ;p

#the first paragraph use to be literally just over 1000 words long but i broke it up for dan #tho tbh. shit might have to be broken up more..... lol................#but i cant look at this anymore. ive been at it for too long. i need it OUT #maybe ill read for typos like a few days later #jem's miscellany #itll be really funny if i put this into the tag #and i kinda do wanna tag it for my blog organization sake.....#ill compromise with this #ninjago talk #idk if ill make a different tag later but for now. augh. hitting post. if theres errors then theres errors.#anyways im insane

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queenerdloser · 3 years

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okay. gr*duation’s story is getting better but the way the music is being used is getting more and more off-putting to me. i don’t want constant background noises during sounds, esp when they’re just like... weird, bland noises that don’t really do anything to add to the overall ambiance of what’s going on. the sheer amount of music in the background is distracting. and the constant long pauses between scenes is also... very irritating.

#i am trying to be objective but honestly i do think the first like 15 episodes spoiled any good feelings i might have had #and i say this as someone who has never found travis even slightly irritating before or had any problem #with his previous dm'ing - i actually liked his one the best after amnesty when they were doing trials #and he HAS gotten better than like... the first 10 eps where it was just painstakingly bad #and this is rough bc i actually really like all the main characters and im really enjoying griffin doing fitzroy esp #but i'm... very indifferent to the story still cant keep a lot of the characters straight #(thinking about the centaur arc where i lost any character footing i had gained)#and travis as a dm just... railroads how characters are acting in a scene way more than i like #like there as a moment where justin literally had to ask what his character's motivations for doing s/t was and i was like #okay it's a sign of greater problems that he has to ask his dm why he's fucking doing something #also how he told them point blank who their close friend was even tho they couldnt even remember who the character was #im just... i want to like it bc i do like taz and i do like the mcelroys #and i dont think it's like the worst thing to ever happen like reddit does #but my god is it a slog to get through and it's a bummer to me that it's a slog :((((

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lilnasxvevo · 5 years

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Road trips are a good trope but nothing in this world is better than a forced road trip where one or more members of the expedition either don’t want to be there at all or don’t want to be there with the other person/s specifically and hijinks ensue

#journey to the west is the most perfect example of this trope #usually this road trip is also a quest as with jttw #as in ‘i hate you but we need to [blank] before we can get rid of each other and until then im stuck in close quarters with you 24/7’#but the people involved dont need to loathe each other or even know each other for this trope to apply #tho conflict must arise from the situation #but also ultimately a greater respect/understanding results eventually or even people falling in love #BEST TROPE

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ahdriking · 2 years

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10 Fandoms, 10 Characters, 10 tags

Tagged by @kissporsche my favourite person 💕

LISTEN THIS WAS HARD (I also didn't make it easier on myself by any means) I don't tend to watch/consume a lot of stuff. I tend to find something I like and then sit in a pit with that IP for the next 10 years crying about it. So basically these are 10 of my most favourite creative IP's of all time, and the characters who have touched me deeply. Yeah, I went too deep, whatcha gon do bout it.

Kinnporsche - Porsche (Porsche's explosive stubbornness, his chaotic bisexual energy, his self-sacrificial tendencies and his traumatic childhood all make him the most interesting character in KP to me)

Captive Prince - Laurent (Laurent was with me for some of the most difficult years of my life. He was the first character I've ever read who was a 'bad survivor', someone who had experienced trauma that left them meaner and uglier to the world. I relate so much to his cruelty and detachment in the earlier books, and his eventual journey of self-forgiveness and acceptance was deeply meaningful to me as I went thru one of my own)

The Foxhole Court - Andrew (Another traumatised blond with anger issues! Andrew is a fucking asshole and he knows it, and he doesn't give a single shit about it. "I would still blow you." Is permanently seared onto my brain.)

Black Sails - Captain Flint (Just pass me the fucking tissues, cos this messy, violent, piece of shit has me sobbing on my knees whenever I think about him for too long. A tragic, fallen hero, willing to sacrifice whatever it takes for the sake of a greater good only they can see. A bitter, lonely man who had his happiness stolen cruelly from him. Flint is, to me, unquestionably, the most brilliant and compelling queer character I've ever seen on TV. I still can't get over this show)

The Witcher - Geralt (big sexy warrior man with long hair and muscles and a tragic backstory who goes around grumbling under his breath while saving the world, having to ponder moral quandries about the nature of evil. Need I say more.)

LOTR - Frodo (My first ever fandom! Lil baby Ahdri was having feelings over Frodo before she knew what those feelings were. Frodo represents something so deeply profound to me: a hero losing themself to the evil they so desperately fight. Frodo is corrupted by the ring slowly and agonisingly, he watches the world around him dim and lessen for it, but he never complains about the burden, and he never recovers from it either. The scene of him leaving for the undying lands has me sobbing every time. Frodo saved the world, and he lost himself.)

Mass Effect - Female Commander Shepard (Greatest game series of all time needs a suitably badass, memorably awesome protag. Fem!shep's voice actor Awoke something in me as a teen. I'll never not love my muscly N7 Marine bae going around the universe killing bad dudes and quipping jokes. Shepards emotional journey and eventual sacrifice in mass effect 3 left me genuinely Changed on my first playthru. Even tho this is a very blank slate character, I have such a strong vision of who MY shepard is, that it's never fucking left me.)

Spartacus - Spartacus (Fuck me this dude had a rough life. And that's why he's such a delicious character. So much pain, so much rage, so much violent hatred, all of it born from love and grief, enough to shake the foundations of an empire. Spartacus' tragedy is as inevitable as it is compelling.)

Dragon Age II - Fenris (PRETTY ELF BOY WITH A BIG SWORD. And trauma. Why is it always characters with trauma? The whole covered head to toe in tattoos that were so painful to receive his entire memory was wiped thing really does it for me)

Game of Thrones - Daenerys (I MEAN THE BOOKS. She's just an interesting, well written character with a lot going on. It's rare to find such a compelling female protagonist in popular fantasy. Teenage Ahdri had a thing for the dragon lady)

Just gonna tag a bunch of people who are really awesome, if you've done it already/don't want to then don't mind me, and have an amazing day! @i-got-the-feels, @punchlove-blog, @boysbeloving, @elmindredaniq, @kurtstiel, @rainbowcolored7, @mortimerlatrice, @dragonhotcoffee, @skinsharpenedteeth, @luckydragon10

#tag game #ahdris posts

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astralaffairs · 4 years

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think of it as like an au or something, but I'm just curious to see how president thom would react to seeing someone forcing themselves on mc at like a state dinner if they're not together, i feel like he'd try to stand up for her but also it'd be kinda sus of the president standing up for some press figure who's been talking shit abt him

i love this concept omg. i got an ask similar to this a while back, so i’ve been sitting on a lot of ideas for it. tbh thomas would hardly be able to restrain himself from fucking throttling whoever’s harassing mc, but he isn’t gonna refrain from stepping in. anyway, his standing up for her then makes the media hail him as a feminist icon for like the next 3 weeks

this broke my heart to write tho lowkey </3

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"You're… you're Y/N L/N, aren't you? With the Washington Post?"

Y/N had been sour all night. Her feet were cramping in her heels, the tag on her dress was starting to itch, and worst of all, her editor had forced her to take the invite Alex had extended her to the state dinner. She’d had no plans of interacting with the Jefferson administration — in fact, her plan had been to stay as far from them as possible so that she could focus on work, but she mentioned the state dinner offhandedly to a coworker, another had overheard, and the next thing she knew, her boss had found out.

Moreover, she was fairly certain that Thom– no, President Jefferson had only invited Alex to antagonize him, so it was no wonder he didn’t want to go. However, when he gave her the invite, she protested that, since it wasn’t addressed to her, she couldn’t go, and she certainly couldn’t go without him, but both Alex and her editor had insisted it’d be fine. There would be enough people present that she’d slip under the radar, so what was the harm?

And slip under the radar she did. As Vice President and Second Lady, James and Dolley were unattainable company for the evening; they were busy with the heads of PACs, with senators, with members of the State Department. The latter group included Lafayette — he’d been promoted not long after President Jefferson took office, which ruled him, too, out of her options for who she could hang out with. He was off wooing foreign diplomats.

So, there she was, standing alone at the side of the room with her expensive champagne (there was an open bar, thank god) and the small-but-growing pile of business cards she’d collected throughout the night.

At least, she was alone until the anonymous man in question approached her. She turned to him with her eyebrows raised.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m Y/N,” she said, surprised that she’d been recognized. “I’m not with the Post, anymore, though.”

“Of course. My mistake,” he apologized, and when he extended to her a hand to shake, she stuffed her newly-acquired business cards back into her purse “I’m Richard Lestrade. I work in the Department of Defense.”

“Nice to meet you.” She had little interest in chatting with him, but she politely shook his hand. “What can I do for you?”

He laughed softly, but it made Y/N raise an eyebrow. “I don’t have some kind of agenda. I just recognized you from your time as a news analyst and thought I’d come introduce myself.”

“Of course.”

She only responded so as to placate him, and she thought that how curt her reply was would deter him from trying to strike up a conversation. She met his eyes with an expectant eyebrow raised as she took another sip from her champagne.

“So how’d you get an invite here tonight?” he asked after a moment. “I mean, I was invited because I work for him, working on naval strategy and all, so it’s just a perk of the job, but I’m surprised to see you. With how much you’ve done to keep President Jefferson from being elected, I wouldn’t think you’d end up on the guest list for state dinners.”

She shrugged. “Alexander Hamilton invited me, actually.”

“Secretary Hamilton was invited? Really?” At that, the disbelief in Richard’s expression was almost patronizing. “Wow, I didn’t hear that he and President Jefferson had buried the hatchet. I always thought they were rivals, or even enemies.”

“Oh, make no mistake, they hate each other,” she said coolly.

“So why would Secretary Hamilton be invited?”

“So Jefferson could rub it in his face that he won the election.” She shrugged, turning back to face the room before them, but Richard seemed surprised.

“No, no, he wouldn’t be that petty,” he scoffed, but his tone was condescending, as though her theory had absolutely no foundation. “He’s the president. I think he has higher priorities than antagonizing someone who’s old news.”

Y/N resisted rolling her eyes at his calling Alex ‘old news,’ as though Richard was somehow a higher calibre of invitee to the state dinner. “You underestimate how catty politicians are. Jefferson included.”

“President Jefferson,” he corrected her, and she gave him a sidelong glance, eyeing him warily.

“Sure.”

“But anyway, I suppose I’m glad President Jefferson invited Hamilton, if it means you’re here, too.” Richard raised his glass to her as though in tribute, and she was sure the smile she offered him came off as more of a grimace. She had little appreciation for his heavy-handed advance.

“That’s nice of you to say,” she replied mildly before draining the remainder of her glass. She turned to him with a nonchalant, nearly-blank expression. “And as great as it’s been to meet you, I think I have to run. I’m heading out soon and need to say a few goodbyes.” Truthfully, she had no intention of leaving. Her editor would have her head if he found out she cut bait so early in the night, and if she fled before Jefferson addressed the entire room, she wouldn’t be able to provide her boss with the synopsis of the presidential address. She only wanted to leave that conversation.

“You’re leaving so early? Why’s that?”

She shrugged. “I suppose the Jefferson Administration isn’t really my scene. I’ll see you around, Mr. Lestrade.”

“Please, it’s Richard,” he corrected her. “But you should stay longer. If you leave now, you’ll miss President Jefferson’s address.”

What was it with this guy and using Jefferson’s full title? “Please, consider for a moment that missing it may be entirely the point,” she said dryly, and Richard gave a light laugh.

“Oh, please. I’m sure that even a democrat like you can appreciate a good speech.” ‘Even a democrat like her’? What was that supposed to mean? “As a journalist, this should be right up your alley.”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to find the transcript online in a few hours. I’ll survive.”

“It’ll have a much greater impact in person,” he countered, and she sighed. “So, please, stay. Can I get you a drink? What are you drinking?”

“Thanks, but I’m okay,” she said. As though she was about to let a man she’d met only minutes before handle her drink. That would be a recipe for disaster. “I really should get going.”

“No, wait,” he protested, and when she began walking away from him anyway, he caught her by the arm, pulled her back. She turned back to him with an expectant expression, trying to quell the anger building in her chest. “You can’t leave yet; dinner hasn’t even been served.”

“I can fend for myself on that front,” she assured him, and although her teeth were clenched, she plastered on a smile. “So if you’d kindly let go of my arm, I’m going to be on my way.”

“I was hoping to get to know you, actually.” He released her, but her immediately marching off toward the center of the room caught him off guard. “No, wait!” She stifled a groan when she heard him hurrying after her, and as he came to a stop in front of her, blocking her path, she narrowed her eyes. “Come on, Y/N. Come sit down with me and some of my friends; it’ll be a nice time, okay? I’m a nice guy.” He wore a hopeful smile, apparently convinced of his words as she folded her arms.

“I’m sure you are, but I need to get back to my table to retrieve my coat,” she said apologetically. Her anger didn’t show on her face, thankfully. “So I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“Oh, sure you can; you’re just being stubborn,” he insisted. He took a step forward toward Y/N, and she took a step back. “Now, I know we’re from opposite parties, and all, but I’ve been a fan of your reporting for a long time, and I’d really appreciate it if you just came and sat down with us for a few minutes. You and I have a lot in common. I have a feeling we’d hit it off.”

The coy smile he wore made her want to grimace, and when he added a wink, she did grimace, visibly. “This is nice and all, but I’m not really interested.”

“Sure, because you don’t know me yet,” Richard countered, and he took another step toward her, grabbing her by the elbow as he came to stand next to her. Y/N could feel her heart pounding as he forcibly turned her, pointed out his table. “Let’s go. We’re sitting right over there.”

“No, really, I’d rather not,” she repeated, and as she tried to pull her arm away from his grip, he pulled her toward him with an arm around her waist — it was then she realized she couldn’t do nearly anything about it without making a scene. And given her history, a scene was the last thing she wanted. “Please let go of me.”

“You don’t have to stay long; I’m not asking much.” It was then that he began leading her toward the table, and as she stumbled alongside him, panic was rising in her chest. She was looking around for some way out, some familiar face — Dolley, Lafayette, someone — but nobody appeared. “Just have a seat. Let me get you a drink.”

And there he was, repeating his offer. No matter who it was, the insistence on drinking with her would make her wary, but this man already had worry building in her throat, so the feeling only compounded with his words. “I don’t want to come with you. Get your hands off of me.” He didn’t stop, though, and she finally had to dig in her heels, trying to pull back from him. She knew he was stronger than her, but her resistance to him dragging her along certainly grabbed his attention. Richard frowned.

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a–”

“‘M fairly sure I heard her tellin’ you to let go of her.” The voice was stern, and it made both her and Richard freeze, and for entirely different reasons. Y/N would’ve been able to recognize it anywhere, the southern drawl, the lazy enunciation, and her pulse was then spiking for an entirely different reason. Richard turned immediately toward the sound, releasing her, but Y/N stayed put.

“Mr. President,” Richard said breathlessly, his eyes wide. “It’s an honor to meet you; I–”

“What’s your name?”

“Richard Lestrade, sir.” He sounded excited to have courted Jefferson’s attention, apparently oblivious to the undertone of anger in his voice. Y/N recognized it clearly, though, too clearly, and it made her sick to her stomach. She resented the familiarity.

“D’you work here, Mr. Lestrade?”

“I work for the Department of Defense, sir. I’m a naval strategist. Graduated top of my class from the US Naval Academy; I actually helped plan the–”

“I don’t remember askin’ for your resume.” Then, the annoyance Jefferson exuded was clear, unmistakable in his snarky interjection. Y/N had to purse her lips to keep herself from laughing, especially as she glanced over at Richard and found him pale as a ghost.

“Of course not, sir. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think I’m the one you should be apologizin’ to, now,” Jefferson said frankly, and Y/N didn’t see him watching her until she reluctantly turned, glancing between him and Lestrade. “Ms. Y/N L/N, correct?” he asked, and she nearly winced.

“Yes, that’s me.” Her strained smile was fooling nobody, but when he saw it, Jefferson’s composure didn’t waver.

“Did I hear you tellin’ Mr. Lestrade not to touch you?”

When he addressed her, she forced herself to shake her nerves, he jumbled emotions, off for the time being, and she pushed her shoulders back, presenting a front of confidence.

“You did, as a matter of fact.” She looked up tentatively to meet his eyes — and she immediately wished she hadn’t. While his expression exuded nonchalance, his casual authority over the situation, she knew him well enough to recognize the concern in his eyes: his forehead was creased almost imperceptibly, one eyebrow was quirked up, and one corner of his mouth twitched down. Her jaw tensed as she swallowed her heartache.

She was grateful that he then turned back to Richard. “Care to explain yourself, Mr. Lestrade?”

The interaction had stirred a bit of a crowd around them by then; the others in their immediate vicinity had ended their conversations at once upon hearing the confrontation, but the hush seemed to be spreading further across the room, and Richard was glancing left and right as he gaped at Jefferson. “Oh, no, it was just a misunderstanding. Look–”

“I’m not sure it was,” Jefferson cut him off, and his tone was biting. “Forgive me if this is too presumptuous, but I don’t think there’s anything unclear about a woman tellin’ you to take your hands off of her.”

“We were just chatting.”

“That wasn’t what it looked like,” Jefferson said, folding his arms. “From where I was standin’, it seemed like you grabbed a woman against her will, and you refused to let go. ‘S that accurate, Ms. L/N?”

She wished desperately that he’d stop addressing her. Her throat went dry as he all but admitted he’d been watching her, and she could only nod, unable to find her voice. Thankfully, he took that as enough of an answer.

“I never meant to hurt Y/N, sir. Honestly, I’m so sorry if I did–” Richard turned to Y/N. “I’m so sorry if I hurt you, but my intention wasn’t–”

“You blatantly ignored me telling you to stop,” she said. His speaking to Y/N once again made her blood boil, and she couldn’t help but snap at him, despite how lightly she felt herself to be treading in present company. “Don’t pretend like this was some unfortunate accident.”

Lestrade went from gaping at Jefferson to gaping at her, then. “I… I’m sorry, again, but come on, you know I was just trying to be friendly,” he defended, and she rolled her eyes, getting tired of his excuse. The edge of aggression in his tone made her take a wary step away from him, though. “I invited you to–”

“You said you work for the Department of Defense, correct?” Jefferson cut him off, diverting his attention from Y/N, and she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, silently thanking him for bailing her out.

“Yes, sir.” Lestrade offered a weak smile, but his fear was obvious in how he was holding himself. Jefferson regarded him with an air of disgust, looking him up and down.

“Well, you don’t anymore.” Y/N’s eyes widened at the declaration, but President Jefferson paid her no mind. “ I’ll be in touch with your supervisor to have you dismissed.”

“What?” Lestrade asked, “but, sir, that’s my job. I need to–”

“Not anymore, it isn’t.” President Jefferson’s words were firm. “Now, please, I’d like to ask you to leave now so it isn’t necessary for me to have you shown out with a security detail.”

Lestrade froze, and for a moment, Y/N expected him to protest, but when he saw all the people around them watching him, anticipating his next move, he turned on his heel, flushing bright red, and started toward the exit. Y/N and Jefferson were both scowling as they watched him leave.

However, it wasn’t long before Jefferson turned to Y/N, although she hadn’t turned back to face him.

“Are you alright, Ms. L/N?” he asked mildly, and she was sure her surprise pertaining to the whole situation was written across her face when she met his gaze. She nodded hesitantly. “I’d appreciate hearin’ you say it.”

“I’m just fine,” she assured him, voice shaky, and his tense shoulders relaxed, although he didn’t look fully convinced. “But thanks for your concern, really, Thom– sorry, Secretary– I mean, President Jefferson.”

She saw the corners of his lips twitch up when she almost called him Thomas.

"Of course. Let me know if there's anything I can do." His words were wary, careful not to cross any lines or to impose upon her, but she smiled.

"I think that firing Mr. Lestrade on sight was quite enough," she said, and when a grin split Thomas’s– President Jefferson's worried expression, her stomach turned; her smile was strained. Everything about him felt too familiar, painfully familiar.

"Fair enough,” he acquiesced. At how ill-at-ease she appeared, though, his smile wavered. “Hope I didn't go overboard."

She shrugged. "He deserved it."

Thomas Jefferson laughed, and the sound was as warm as she remembered it being. She hadn’t heard it in person in nearly three years, and for her to have come across him so suddenly, it was jarring. She was quite sure she was going to be sick.

“I s’pose you’re right.” By then, those around them had begun to disperse, so after glancing left and right, he took a step closer to her, furrowed his brow, and every muscle in her body tensed. Yet, she didn’t move away. His voice was soft, gentle when he asked. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, swallowing hard. “Don’t you have some politicians to get back to?”

He pursed his lips, and she was sure the tense grief in her expression wasn’t hidden as well as she’d have liked it to be. “I guess so,” he finally said, but he didn’t move, looking her over, and his voice was quiet when he said, “‘S good to see you, though. You look good.”

“Yeah, you too,” was all she could manage in response. He gave her a sad smile, nodded, and the silence between them stretched on Just as she thought he was about to turn, head back to where he’d been previously, he stopped himself.

“Will I see you around?”

The hope in his voice made her throat tighten, and she took a deep, shaky breath. She shook her head, and her voice nearly broke when she answered, “I don’t think you will.”

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no-gorms · 3 years

Note

There are many differences in character personality (never mind in like, physical/species wise lol) between Steve Rogers and Castiel along with several similarities that make them both very compelling characters. But the on of the biggest differences, to me, is that once Steve betrayed and was then rebuffed by Tony he gives up on trying to make it up to Tony and feels his best option is to stay out of Tony’s life. Cas attempts to earn forgiveness and a place in Dean’s heart far more actively post falling out, tho he does finally give his ultimatum of “I’ll stop trying and go if you tell me it’s over” by the last season. Steve doesn’t even verbalized his retreat but it’s still there and breaking his heart.

Maybe it comes down to their personal opinions on redemption and forgiveness, maybe Steve thinks Tony has more of a support network to fall back on so Steve isn’t “needed” as much as Castiel knows he is in Dean’s life. Either way it’s an interesting reflection

-----

Steve and Cas occupy such different places in my fannish psyche that it's actually kinda difficult for me to compare them, which is funny. But I think another thing that's important to consider when viewing how they respond to rejection is length of the canon that they exist in. There's time to see Cas have extended reactions to their falling out, compared to the MCU's more truncated timelines (though both canons have very strange blank spots) so, I don't know, if the MCU were a series (or lol like their comics counterparts) there could've been more variations in Steve's reaction over time instead of a clean break as implied in canon.

But I think as it is their reactions as they are make sense for their characters, like Cas is very deeply invested in relationship with Dean, his whole life's purpose shifted thanks to Dean's presence in his life, while in Steve's case although (oh and boy has this been argued to death) he and Tony are friends, as I've mentioned before here it is my read that until their fallout Steve wasn't as invested as Tony was in that friendship/team relationship. So while they both do deeply care about the fallout and want to make amends, Cas has a better knowledge of Dean in trying to reach out to him and has a greater collection of good memories to hold on to in seeking re-connection; Steve, sadly, doesn't. Maybe even in Steve's head the hurt of his presence in Tony's life simply outweighs all the good, and if it's the case, isn't it better just to exorcise himself from Tony's life completely? (Whether that’s correct or not is another matter.) Also yeah that’s a point that Steve would believe that Tony has enough of a support system that Steve himself is not needed.

#sad trombone for everyone #deancastiel for ts #superhusbands for ts

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darkdevasofdestruction · 4 years

Text

My Clarity ~ Shikamaru x Kitsune

A little fic in which Shikamaru isn’t the only kid who gets advice from his dad through Shogi.

Honestly tho, I’m in my exam session, 9 exams, thankfully, only 2 more to go next week, and I have a burning urge to re-watch all of Naruto for some reason, and my love for this beautiful Deer boy resurfaced very VERY powerfully.

Oops.

Little fox, little fox, what are you hiding behind that sly, cheerful smile of yours?

Little fox, little fox, why are you all alone?

Little fox, little fox, what's going on through your mind?

Little fox, little fox...Do you wanna play?

---

Shikamaru always knew there was something off with the red haired girl in his class -

She just seemed too perfect.

She was beautiful, she was smart, she was talented, she was kind, she was helpful, she was selfless..

And his parents were best friends with her parents, so they would often meet up for play dates and whatever.

No matter how much he tried to avoid her like the plague, she didn’t give up, and whenever he asked her why the hell she wanted to hang out with him so bad, she’d just say

“Because I like you, little fawn.”

That stupid nickname, that soon turned into “Deer boy” irked him big time...But in a way...

He was the only one to whom she gave nicknames, so he felt kinda special.

Actually, he was the only one with whom she actually seemed completely genuine...So maybe he should actually enjoy it?

Yeah, why not, right?

She’s not so bad, after all, and if he gets to learn something form her, all the better!

----

“Scrub it off. Clean it off. Take it off. Claw it off. Rip it off. Saw it off. Carve it off. Rinse it off. Wash it off. Cut it off –“ the obsessive mutterings went on and on like grating. She was trembling, not even realizing her cheeks were soaked, not from the rain, but from the tears her beautiful green eyes that now resembled a rainforest, were producing.

What was going on? This can’t be happening…This was supposed to be a simple mission with her dad and her dad’s best friend…It was just a B mission at most…How could things escalate this much?

Being a ninja, she knew things are dangerous and would put you in impossible situations…That you can even lose your life or your friends and comrades…But…

Why now…? Why so soon…?

She’s barely 10 years old…She wanted to go on this mission to see how beautiful the world outside the Country of Fire is…But this…?

“Scrub it off. Clean it off. Take it off. Claw it off. Rip it off. Saw it off. Carve it off. Rinse it off. Wash it off. Cut it off –“ she continued rambling, standing there, on her knees, on the wet grass, all muddy, all bloody, not having moved from there for at least a whole hour, so much that she almost thought she started growing roots into the ground.

“Scrub it off. Clean it off. Take it off. Claw it off. Rip it off. Saw it off. Carve it off. Rinse it off. Wash it off. Cut it off –“ she went on and on and on with no stopping, with no equivalent of time and space, of self, of body, of identity. She was lost. She was not only broken, but completely shattered. She was blank.

“Kitsune, that’s enough. Snap out of it. He’s dead. We have to get out of here before the enemies find us. We’ve been here enough.” the man who was her dad’s best friend went on his knees in front of her and grasped her wrists, pulling her hands away from her eye sight so she will stop looking at her father’s blood. “He’s not…He’s not…He can’t be…He can’t…He won’t…He wouldn’t…Leave me…No…He’s just…R-Resting…Don’t mess around with me…” instead of focusing on her hands that were painted with clotted blood, her eyes were now in the vision of the body laying in a pool of its own blood, its chest being cut to access the heart. “I know it’s impossible to accept this, but your parents wouldn’t want you to die here because you froze up. Let’s go home. We’ll get his body in a scroll and I’ll arrange for a funeral.” the man tried to reason with the child, who, in turn, moved for the first time since the incident. “HE’S NOT FUCKING DEAD! STOP LYING TO ME, SHIKAKU, HE’S NOT DEAD!!! HE CAN’T BE DEAD! HE’S NOT! I HEALED HIM! I RESTARTED HIS HEART! HE’S NOT DEAD! I DIDN’T LET HIM DIE! HE’S TOO STRONG TO DIE! HE WOULDN’T LEAVE ME AND MUM! I’M TELLING YOU, HE’LL GET UP ANY MINUTE NOW! I DID EVERYTHING BY THE BOOK! JUST AS THE MEDICAL NINS TAUGHT ME! I DID NO MISTAKE! I DID NOTHING WRONG! I’M SURE!” the red haired girl lashed out at the man, shrieking so loud that her throat felt raw, almost bleeding, her emotions pouring down harder than the rain as she shook hit the man’s chest and shoulder, but he could only look at her with pity in his dark eyes, almost imagining his own son, should that have been him on the ground. “It’s not your fault, Kitsune. You did everything you could, but sometimes, there is nothing anyone can do. Some injuries are so severe that they can’t be healed, even if you are the most skilled healer. It wasn’t your fault, it was the enemies’ fault. I promise you.” the Nara put the ANBU captain’s corpse in a scroll and picked the girl up, running back to the village and reporting to the Hokage.

The girl was lost, had no idea what to say, what to do, what to feel – Not when Shikaku was explaining what happened to the Hokage, not when he broke the news to her mum, hell, not even when she was staring at a beautiful picture of the three of them together, at his funeral.

No children were allowed at the funeral, as per her request – She didn’t want any pity, and she wanted to give no explanations.

She wanted nobody involved. Things were bad enough as they were.

So the only people from the school who knew were the teachers.

Not Shikamaru, not Hinata, not Sasuke, not Shino…

Nobody.

Definitely nobody.

Her dad wasn’t dead, after all.

She didn’t kill him.

She did everything she was taught to do.

She did the cardiac massage, she was sure she felt his heart pumping again, she definitely saw him breathing…

…Right?

She did, didn’t she?

She didn’t imagine it, right?

She didn’t try to get his heart to pump again when he was already irreversibly dead…

…Right?

----

The little red haired girl smiled dazzlingly at the children in her class, who were also her friends. She knew she was the most popular girl in the whole Academy, but she didn't let it bother her, or change the way she behaved with everyone - Everyone was equal in her eyes, even if they were obnoxious or annoying - And in turn, she got invited to everyone's birthday parties or hang outs, and so on.

But most of the time, she couldn't go to those hang outs because she was constantly training with her parents to become an excellent ninja, and in the future, a member of the ANBU - It wasn't only her dream, but her parents jobs too.

ANBU captains

What greater honour could there be?

While other 10 year olds were playing around, she was hanging around adults, learning how to perfect her fighting styles, ninjutsu and genjutsu, but not only -

She wanted to learn medical ninjutsu, she wanted to help people, to save them, for all the times she heard all those scary stories from her parents and their friends...How they lost people, comrades, partners, friends...Because in the Great War, there was barely any medical ninja around to save them...

She couldn't allow that to happen - Not on her watch.

"Okay, class. Today, we are going to do a team activity, and we need 2 captains. Who wants that position?" Iruka-sensei asked his class, and, as expected, most of the kids nominated Kitsune, while Sasuke, Naruto and Kiba wanted to be captains themselves, and Sakura and Ino nomitated the Uchiha. This class' dynamic was always the same, and in a way, this exhausting routine was sort of comforting for the red haired fox-like girl. "Kitsune, Sasuke, step forward. As Kitsune was nominated by the most of you, she will choose first."

"I choose Shika!" in front of the class, the girl with sparkling green eyes grinned enthusiastically as she extended her arms in front of her, as a way of cordially inviting the friend she cherished the most, despite all the gasps of shock she received.

"Sh-Shikamaru? Kitsune, why not choose me first?! I'm so much stronger than that guy who just sleeps all day and is too lazy to move!" Naruto yelled at her, but she merely sweat dropped and chuckled awkwardly.

"But Shikamaru is the smartest in this class and I believe we get along very well. When forming a team, you don't have to always get the ones who are more energetic or physically stronger, but the best strategists and those with whom you can create a perfect synergy and your abilities and skills compliment each other. Having Shika on my team means that we're definitely going to win against Sasuke's team!" the girl shrugged casually, ending her explanation with a sly, incredibly fox-like smirk - One that screamed 'Victory'.

"Uh...Thanks for picking me, I guess." Shikamaru awkwardly scratched the back of his neck, before muttering his usual catch phrase "What a drag..."

Sasuke glared at the girl, despite knowing very well there was barely anyone with any kind of potential in this class, but he got around to choosing Kiba. Then, Kitsune chose Shino, while Sasuke got Choji. Kitsune got Hinata and Sasuke could barely stop himself from facepalming, but chose Sakura. Grinning at the brunet captain, Kitsune chose Ino, so Naruto was stuck with Sasuke - It was the perfect plan.

The two groups went out in the forest, in the opposite parts, and had 15 minutes to come up with a plan to steal the Captain's bandana.

"First of all, I'd like to apologise to Shika for not being able to get Choji as well. I know that the Ino-Shika-Cho formation is incredibly powerful, and that the three of you would have had an amazing synergy, but there's that. However, I'm happy that we have Shino with us, I'm sure the insects are going to scare off both Sakura and Naruto...Which reminds me, Naruto an Sasuke are going to work against each other most of the time. With Shikamaru and I as the strategist, Hinata’s Byakugan and the maturity and knowledge of Shino and Ino, we are going to make the perfect team. Besides…Ino, if you show off how strong you are, and you beat Sakura in the process, I’m sure you’re going to impress Sasuke!” Kitsune clapped her hands together, charming all of her team mates, as per usual. “Oh, but Sakura doesn’t stand a chance! She will swoon over Sasuke-kun all the time and will be completely useless! That Naruto will screw everything up for Sasuke-kun and will be loud enough to give away their position, and I’m sure he’ll argue with everyone, especially Kiba. And Choji eats all the time, I doubt he’ll do much, especially if he sees how everyone argues among themselves and does nothing good. He’s a pacifist, y’know.” Ino grinned condescendingly as she berated almost everyone in the enemy team. “Very well, then I will tell you my plan, and when I’m done, I’d like you to tell me your insight and how to perfect it, if you have any ideas. The main idea is to distract Sasuke while Shika uses his shadow to immobilize Sasuke, so I can steal away the bandana. Ino, you have to stay away from Sakura, so you won’t bicker. I need your Mind Transfer jutsu. Hinata, your Byakugan will be detrimental in finding out everyone’s location, and I have faith in your fighting abilities. Shino, of course, apart from the fact that I’m sure your insects are going to scare away some of those guys, you are a very strong fighter and very intelligent as well.” Kitsune explained simply, and everyone seemed to nod in agreement. “Actually, I think Ino, Hinata and Shino should stay together, at least in the beginning. Ino can incapacitate one person for a short amount of time, so if she stops Sasuke, I can catch him in my shadows, and you can steal away the bandana, while Shino and Hinata fight the others. Those two are sensory types, so they can find out everyone’s positions and the bugs can guide us to them.” Shika pointed out, which made the red haired girl widen her eyes at him in shock for a few seconds, only to grin widely and almost literally glow in happiness. “You’re the best, Shika! It’s always so great hanging out with you! Come on, 15 minutes passed, let’s go and win this!” she cheered to hype the others up, and it worked well enough, and it seemed to give them a little boost of confidence.

And so, they went to the middle of the forest while Hinata and Shino searched for the enemies – Who they easily found – And Kitsune and Shikamaru split up around Sasuke in a pincer formation. Just as planned, Naruto easily gave away his position, so Shino and Hinata went to fight or scare away Sakura and the others who went down faster than expected, considering they were all split up, not in groups.

When Sasuke was the last one standing, Ino used her Mind Transfer jutsu on him, Sasuke immobilized him and the fox girl stole away the bandana.

However, just as they were making their escape, Sasuke got out of his immobilized state and went to attack the group – The fox girl gave shadow boy the token of victory and told him to take the team away and make their escape, while she quickly beat the Uchiha and went back to them, only to see the Nara didn’t actually go with the others, but returned to make sure she was okay.

“Very well played, everyone. Now, the 2 captains, shake hands, and you can all go home for today.” Their teacher smiled at them, while also pointing out the obvious problems in the other team. “Hey, about about we go to the BBQ place to celebrate our win?” Ino asked, smiling triumphantly. “We can invite Sasuke too, since he tried his best, but he didn’t have a team.” Was her plan, and everyone seemed to agree – Of course, the other team wanted to join as well, so there was that, but…

“Oh, uh-uhm…S-Sorry, but I can’t come. I, uh…My parents and I are pretty busy today, haha. But I hope you have fun for me as well! Take care, guys, see ya tomorrow!” Kitsune chuckled awkwardly, rushing to go home and train with her parents.

However, she didn’t come to school the next day. Or the one after…Or the whole week, for the matter.

She was absent for almost 2 whole weeks, for the matter.

Until she wasn’t anymore.

But when she returned, she was as radiant as always.

For those who weren’t as observant as Shikamaru, that is…

What was he supposed to do, anyway? Go and confront her? No way, that would be a drag…And besides, if she wanted to talk, she’d come to him…Or someone, right?

The biggest shock of his life was, however, to come home one day from school and finding a certain red haired girl playing Shogi with his own father, and they seemed to be very comfortable with each other? And they were smiling?

“Hey, Shika! Welcome home! Oh, you got here just in time, I and your mum managed to finish cooking earlier! Go and eat something, you don’t want the food to get cold, right?” Kitsune waved at him, smiling sweetly, but the boy could only stare at both of them, incredibly confused, his eyebrows raised so far up that they almost got into his hairline. “Wh-What are you doing here? Dad, what’s going on? Why are you playing Shogi with Kitsune?” the poor boy asked, his head almost snapping from going back and forth. “Oh, w-well…I was pleasantly impressed with your intelligence and strategy, so I came here to praise you to your dad! Also, my mum said she always enjoyed learning and playing Shogi with him, so I thought I’d give it a shot too! You should have heard her, honestly, Shikaku beat me again at Shogi, you should have seen the new stunt he pulled today! It was completely revolutionary, we could totally use it in our next mission!” Kitsune laughed lightly, trying to calm the boy down a bit. “You have to be careful, son, she might just win against you if you slack off too much.” Shikaku teased his son, who could only groan and leave to eat. “Tsk…What a drag…Troublesome woman…” the boy muttered, leaving the place that got immediately much darker. “You can stay for dinner, Kitsune. We can call your mother as well, if you want. I doubt she’d have been up to cooking anything after what happened.” the Nara sighed deeply, crossing his arms and looking attentively at the frail girl in front of him, who may as well be close to shattering. “N-No…I-I…I couldn’t…Do this to her…I’m afraid…Something’s coming…Something incredibly bad…If I’m not there, who knows what will happen…Uhm…Thanks for today, Shikaku. I appreciate it. And he would have as well. See you tomorrow.” She got up and left the place in a hurry, going back home.

However, as soon as she opened the door, she called out to tell her mother…Who didn’t answer. Worried, the red haired girl went to the kitchen, hoping to do some cooking for her mother, who may have been still resting in her room…

But the sight in front of her shook her to the core, for the rest of her life… And since then, the last thing Shikamaru saw of her was her fox necklace that she left over to Shikaku the next day she went for a Shogi play.

He hated to admit it, but this woman…This woman, he actually missed, but no matter how much he pestered his father for an answer, he would only say “Soon”.

What was such an enigmatic and vague answer supposed to do to reassure and inform him in any way that he will meet her ever again?

He never even had the time to play Shogi with her, or chat properly, hang out by the field to watch the clouds go by…And graduate together, maybe even get put in the same team…

He couldn’t believe this was really happening, and for a while, he actually hated the girl for just leaving like that, without even saying goodbye to him.

Oh, if only the poor boy knew the truth…

----

Years passed, Shikamaru was already the first Chunin from his class, they already went in enough missions as teams, and were old enough to see the world in new eyes…Yet nothing could compare to what their parents saw in the Great War, so they were still green ninjas, unaware of the true horrors of this world.

He was already 16…He couldn’t believe 6 years passed since he last saw that little firecracker named after a cute fox that he used to call “friend” in his Academy days. Every year, when the day of her departure came by, he’d take the day off and go to the spot they would both spend time, watching the clouds – And for some reason, he would always see a fox shaped cloud.

It was such a drag.

However, on the 6th year, his father stopped him from going to the field, instead, asking to play Shogi, something that confused the boy greatly, but he decided he should listen to what his father had to say.

But never, in his life, would he have expected that his father finally saw him as old enough to tell him what happened to that mysterious girl who disappeared so suddenly.

He told Shikamaru everything that happened on that mission gone wrong – The Kirigakure ninjas attacking them, Kitsune’s father saving her and dying in the process, and the little girl snapping, going on a rampage, and when returning to her father’s side, she tried to revive him for so long, that he thought he wasn’t going to be able to pry her away from his body. The shock that completely stunned her, seeing herself in the reflection of the cold water, trying to scrub away the blood from her hands – Blood that wasn’t there anymore, but she kept seeing it – She tried and tried and tried to wash it off – To even claw it off – aggressively scrubbing away with her nails, leaving trails all over her arms.

And that day, when Shikamaru caught them playing Shogi – When she got home, she saw her mother hanging in the kitchen – She couldn’t take it anymore. Her mother loved her husband so much, that she couldn’t handle being without him anymore, nor could she handle staying in the same house with the daughter who looked so much like him.

Her mother committed suicide.

It was a clear sign to Kitsune that she should get the hell out of Konoha, before she would lose herself completely.

But even then, she held Shikamaru in her heart, which is why she asked Shikaku to give him her necklace before she left.

She had no idea where she wanted to go, but she had to.

And that day, when she played Shogi, the strategies she took, influenced by Shikaku’s aggressiveness in the game, made the both of them realize that the deer boy was too precious to her to sacrifice, as a mere Shogi piece.

So she left to get better and protect the last person she loved who was still alive.

And Shikamaru felt guilty for resenting her for 6 years.

---

“I wonder who’s our other team mate. Lady Tsunade didn’t say much about this person.” Ino asked, dangling her feet, bored, staying on a tree branch. “I heard it’s a girl!” Choji munched on his crisps, not really caring much. “Dad said it’s some ANBU captain or something. What a drag, that means this mission’s going to be more difficult than before…” Shikamaru groaned, slouching down. “As usual, you come up with the best strategies. It’s weirdly nice working with you again, and –“ the angelic voice of a woman was heard by the trio, who immediately perked up in curiosity, as in their field of vision, Shikamaru’s father walked by, wearing a relaxed and joking smile on his face, side by side with a much shorter individual, with long hair, kissed by fire, dressed in the usual ANBU outfit, with a fox mask covering her face, and a few weapons strapped to her back. “Is…Is this our team mate?” Ino gasped at the beauty in front of her. “I sure hope so.” Choji chuckled, nudging Shikamaru, but the boy could only stare at her, frowning, unable to utter any word. “Here’s your team, Kitsune. I’m sure you missed being around your friends –“ but Shikaku couldn’t finish his sentence, for as soon as the girl saw the brunet boy, she got rooted to the spot for a few seconds, before squealing and throwing herself in his arms, hugging him as tight as possible. “Shika!!!” she cried out, twirling around with him, not wanting to let him go. “I missed you so much, Shika~!” “K-Kitsune…? Is that really you…?” poor Shikamaru couldn’t even hug the girl back because of the extreme shock he was in, but his father’s chuckle snapped him back to reality. “Yes, silly, it’s me! I’m back.” The girl quickly took off her mask, putting it to her waist belt, flashing the same dazzling white smile of hers – The same one that completely stole his heart many years ago. “Remember me?” “Y-Yeah, ‘course I do, uhmm…” he tried to stumble over his words, despite the blush creeping on his face. “My…! You grew up so much! And you’re absolutely gorgeous! …Eh…~? Look at you, you’re so cute with red cheeks! And you’re even wearing my necklace! I’m so happy, Shika…! Your parents must be so proud to have the smartest and prettiest child in the whole Country of Fire, right Shikaku~?” the red haired girl giggled teasingly, making the poor deer boy so flustered that he had to fry her off and look away, while his friends and dad were laughing at him. “What a troublesome woman…! Tsk…Stop being so familiar with me, you’re annoying.” Shika tried to fend off, but the girl feigned that annoying puppy dog eyes that she always did when she was little and she wanted to spend time with him. “Th-Then…You didn’t miss me, Shika? At all? Not even a tiny bit?” she asked in the most pitiful voice, pouting and getting closer to his face, which in turn, killed him instantly. “…Fine, yeah, maybe, whatever. Let’s go on our mission.” The poor boy grumbled, walking ahead of everyone, not even bothering to say goodbye to his dad, as his friends were already teasing him and laughing. “He’s so cute~!” the girl grinned, carefree, following his lead.

The road to the mission’s point was filled with light chatting and some catching up, but for Shikamaru, the situation was different – Every word she uttered, he analysed and scanned, as if looking for any string of white lie that sewed together a perfectly made up story.

She wanted to learn a more diverse range of skills so she went to learn from other Ninja villages and random renowned rouge ninjas and samurais…

And, allegedly, 2 years prior, she returned and joined the ANBU, and chose only the longest missions that led farthest away from the Country of Fire.

How dubious…

“Shh, stop, here we are.” Kitsune stopped abruptly, crouching down on the branch carefully, squinting and watching like a hawk every one of the grouped up ninjas, almost as if she was peering at them under a microscope – Every micronic detail, she sketched in her mind and carefully created a plan to take them down, before snapping her fingers once to draw her team’s attention towards her. “See that guy with blue hair, tied up, and black eyes? That’s our guy. We capture him, and kill everyone else. Easy enough?” despite muttering in a low voice, her piercing gaze didn’t move for not even a single pico-second. “But…Kitsune…? I don’t mean to sound doubting…But there must be at least 50 ninjas out there, and they seem to be at least Chuunin level. And weren’t Kirigakure ninjas supposed to be bloodthirsty and to be using poison?” Ino asked, obviously very worried. “They aren’t Kirigakure ninjas, but yeah, you are right about those guys. These ones are in disguise, but not great ones, I’d have to say. See that guy with orange hair? His sleeve is raised up, and a brown tattoo can be seen, which indicates they are from Iwa. Very annoying and strong. Those stupid guys have an Iwakage who can eradicate everything in sight with that stupid particle-something jutsu of his…And they have an explosion department…Thank God I didn’t remain in Konoha…” Kitsune muttered, the corner of her mouth raising into a triumphant smirk that meant she was going to create a blood bath. “Explosions?! How can we protect ourselves against that?” Choji was almost comically trembling, eating crisps even more rapidly than before. “Unfortunately for you, neither has a Lightning chakra nature, so we can’t actively deactivate them…However…I trained with the best puppet master in the world, who so happens to have as a partner the most fanatic, yet talented bomb artist, so I know how to go against these guys. Shika, Ino, I want you to make sure you get the leader away from the group. Since you can get in his body, just say you need to pee or something, and that you’ll be back, which is when Shikamaru will use his shadows to get him towards us, and then three of you will protect him, while I kill this lot, got it?” she asked, finally snapping from her hawk-like self and taking out her weapons, soaking them in poison with a wet cloth. “That’s not the best strategy, I’d say. We do nothing, while you do all the work. I am more than one-man hit, y’know? I grew up and trained too. I can get at least 20 of those guys.” Shikamaru’s annoyed voice perked up, surprising the girl, who could only blink and look at him with big, almost fawn-like eyes. “I never doubted any of you for a second, and if it seemed that way, I apologise sincerely. Thing is, I’m an ANBU, and out of all of you, only you, Shikamaru, promoted to Chuunin. Now, I’m not saying that these grades matter, because they don’t, but at the same time, I’m responsible for you, and I don’t want to go home with one of you dead in my arms, and having to hold your funeral. I told Tsunade to let me do this alone, but she insisted I pair up with you. I want you all to promise you won’t get in my way and attack, unless necessary, got it? As I said, I absolutely REFUSE to get your blood on my hands, capiche?” Kitsune’s voice became very dry, dark and poisonous very fast, which made the blonde and chestnut haired ninjas gulp and nod fiercely, while the brunet only frowned in anger. “We aren’t 10 year old anymore, Kitsune, and neither are you. This ain’t the mission you went to 6 years ago, and nobody will die on your watch, got it? If you keep being afraid of taking risks, you’ll fail.” Shikamaru got closer to her face, arguing her plan. “Shikaku told you what happened, didn’t he? Well, I should have known, it was bound to happen. Nonetheless, as I said, I’m the leader of the team. You do as I say, or you go home. I will have NOBODY’S blood on my hands. Now go do your jobs and do NOT put yourselves in danger unless I say so.” Kitsune, for the last time, warned the trio, then got up, took off her konoha forehead protector and switched it to a rogue-one, then put back her fox mask and raising her arms up, she attached chakra string to each and every ninja, except the target. “Now, Ino, Shikamaru, go get him.” She commanded in such a dark and monotone voice, almost as if she suddenly transformed into the villain of the series.

Despite disagreeing with the plan, the two did as were told, and very easily, lured their victim into the perfectly placed trap, and now, the trio were his guard.

Further, Kitsune grinne widely behind her mask, chuckling and jumping down from the tall tree, as she used her fire chakra to burn the string, and in turn, the victims they were attached to. With incredible speed and agility, she jumped in the middle of the group and started slicing left and right mercilessly, losing herself in the bloodlust that was surging through her veins, her mind completely away from reality, but in a whole new universe – Of killing strategy.

…That is, until familiar voices – Screams, rather – Resounded through the forest, which completely snapped her away from her concentration, and in turn, getting cut and scratched in various places.

Her eyes saw it easily – The leader escaped their grasp and ran to attempt to kill her, but Shikamaru tried to fight him, and failed, and now Ino was trying heal him. But she was crying. She wasn’t a good enough medical ninja yet. Kitsune knew that feeling all too well.

“Scrub it off. Clean it off. Take it off. Claw it off. Rip it off. Saw it off. Carve it off. Rinse it off. Wash it off. Cut it off –“ kept going into her mind, unusually loud, almost throwing her off her game.

With a raw growl, close to animalistic, she saw red in front of her, and burnt everything in her paths, slashing, dashing, cutting and ripping apart every living being there, sans the leader, whom she managed to immobilize and knock out with the help of Choji. Without sparing any second, she ran to Shikamaru’s side and fell to her knees, roughly pushing Ino aside.

It was an impulsive rush of rage, for she snatched away her mask and forehead protector and threw them as far away as possible, before shrieking at the deer boy for being so stupid.

“Scrub it off. Clean it off. Take it off. Claw it off. Rip it off. Saw it off. Carve it off. Rinse it off. Wash it off. Cut it off –“ those words just wouldn’t stop screeching at her.

“YOU FUCKING IDIOT, SHIKAMARU, I TOLD YOU TO BE CAREFUL, DAMN IT! I TOLD YOU! I TOLD YOU! I TOLD YOU!” she gripped so tightly at her hair that Ino thought she was going to rip it all off. “If you dare die…I will never forgive you. Never, you get it? Never. Not you. Of all people…You’re the last one alive…So you can’t. I refuse to allow you that. You don’t have the permission to leave me. Ever. Got it?” the red head growled lowly, getting one of her hands inside his chest, performing cardiac massage, and cursed herself for remembering that mission long ago, when she had to do the same thing with her father – But this time, Shikamaru was still alive, and she was sure this time around – No more lies or delusions.

“Scrub it off. Clean it off. Take it off. Claw it off. Rip it off. Saw it off. Carve it off. Rinse it off. Wash it off. Cut it off –“ she needed bloody therapy, she knew that, otherwise those words were going to be the death of her.

With her other hand, she used her other hand to prop up his head and give him CPR, once again, cursing herself for having to do something like this, when she hoped everyone would remain safe and she would, one day, share a sweet kiss with him – Not have to save his life like that.

“Scrub it off. Clean it off. Take it off. Claw it off. Rip it off. Saw it off. Carve it off. Rinse it off. Wash it off. Cut it off –“ they were louder and louder, causing almost a physical discomfort, as if someone was grating her brain.

Once, twice, thrice, and more, so much more – Sasori taught her healing ninjutsu well, and she was confident in her abilities, but there was always that speck of fear and PTSD that was creeping in the back of her mind, reminding her of her past failure.

But the puppet master was an excellent teacher, and she, in turn, was a hard-working and diligent student, so there was no way she was going to put the man she loved on the list of people she let die.

“Scrub it off. Clean it off. Take it off. Claw it off. Rip it off. Saw it off. Carve it off. Rinse it off. Wash it off. Cut it off –“ SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP

“Argh…Too close…” a hand suddenly pushed her aside weakly, and a cough snapped her out of her focused mindset – And blinking away to reality, she realized that the Nara boy was sitting in front of her, breathing normally, and coughing a bit, wearing a scowl on his face.

“Scrub it off. Clean it off. Take it off. Claw it off. Rip it off. Saw it off. Carve it off. Rinse it off. Wash it off. Cut it off –“ the threat is over now, you can stop already, he’s not dead...Like your parents.

“…Oh thank goodness…” Kitsune groaned, letting herself fall on her back, looking up at the sky, her nails digging into her arms now, trying to snap herself back to reality completely. “I won’t forgive you for the stunt you pulled.” She muttered absent-minded, not caring about anyone around her anymore. “…What a troublesome woman. She’s gonna scold me all the way back home. Great.” Shika tried to chuckle, lighting up the mood, but the red haired girl was already on her feet, tying up the target and carrying it, walking in the direction of the village, without saying another word – Her face now again, covered with her mask, showing that she didn’t want to be approached in any way. “Shikamaru, you insensitive idiot! You, jerk! Is that how you treat the woman you love?! She was just worried about you, and you throw away words like that?! Go and apologise right now!” Ino shouted at him, nagging him like she was his mum, so much that the boy could only sigh and drag his hands down his face in annoyance and resentment.

And he actually tried, for once, to reconcile properly, but the only words that she told him were “You have to rest properly when you get home.” And then she just rushed farther and farther ahead.

And that’s just what he did, as the girl guided him home, let the others go to theirs as well, while she went to the Hokage to report to the mission.

After taking a nap and resting, as advised, he left his bedroom and went to the kitchen, seeing his mother frowning, which confused him.

“What happened?” he asked, knowing something was up. “Well…Nothing, really. Your dad is playing Shogi with Kitsune…And I just remembered her mother and the good times when we were friends. Too bad the good ones always die first.” Yoshino sighed, sweeping absent-minded. “Uhm…Y-Yeah…I guess.” He muttered, not having a clue what to say in such a situation. “Won’t you be a dear and tell her to remain for dinner? Poor girl, she’s been all alone since she was 10…I can’t imagine how horrible it must have been…” but she stopped herself before saying anything more that would have upset her, so Shikamaru left the room, believing that letting her just be would have been better.

However, instead of making his presence known, he decided to just open the door ever so slightly, enough to peep from behind and watch the interaction going –

Kitsune was sitting in front of the Shogi table, her head slightly hung, her outfit still unchanged – And she said no word, but it wasn’t clear if she was listening to his father either.

“You can take off your mask now, Kitsune. The mission is over. You can get dressed in Shikamaru’s clothes. Why don’t you sleep over?” Shikaku tried to get a response out of her, even beginning the match, but she seemed to be in her own mind. “No.” she finally muttered after a while, yet she made her move as well, almost robotically. “Kitsune. The mission is over. You can relax now. You are allowed to. You did well and nobody got hurt. Get out of your mission-mind, you’re home now.” The man tried again, but it was clear the aura around the girl became more and more agitated. “Shikamaru almost died.” She pointed out bitterly. “As far as I’m concerned, my son is sleeping in his room as usual. He didn’t complain about his team leader, nor of any injury or danger. If he is fine, so should you be. You can’t take anyone’s pain.” His father spoke again, and with each word, he found himself nodding in agreement. “I ALMOST KILLED YOUR FUCKING SON, SHIKAKU! ARE YOU DEAD? ARE YOU BRAIN-DEAD?! GET ANGRY! YELL AT ME! BEAT ME UP! SCOWL, CURSE ME, INSULT ME…FUCKING DO SOMETHING! YOU ALMOST HELD YOUR SON’S FUNERAL BECAUSE OF ME! I am the one who killed your 2 best friends, and now I almost killed your son too! Why aren’t you reacting in any way?!” the fire outburst of the girl scared the boy out of his wits, flinching when she slammed her fist on the Shogi table, breaking it in two, all pieces getting propelled in different directions, as she shouted at the irritatingly-calm man in front of her. “I will do no such thing, Kitsune, because, first of all, I am not mad at you. It was not your fault, I tell you now, the same as I told you before. It wasn’t you who killed your parents, nor was it you who endangered my son. We are all ninjas, and we serve with our lives on the line. Unexpected surprises always happen, and we can’t predict everything, but we can do our best to avoid them.” Shikamaru’s heart was close to bursting with emotions and words that he wanted to let out, as he felt his fingers digging deep into the wood of the sliding door. “I. Almost. Killed. Shikamaru.” The girl hung her head down, prying away her mask and throwing it away in disgust, her long, fire-red hair completely hiding her tear-stained face. “I argued with him. I insulted him. I cursed him. I yelled at him. In the end, he almost died…Because of me. And…It was just like back then. Almost perfectly like back then. They weren’t paying attention, the enemy escaped, he tried to protect me and got hurt…And I got soaked in his blood. My hands was grasping his heart, and I was helping it pump more and more blood…I was helping him breathe…And all I could do was pray…And pray…And pray again…That he won’t end up like them…But I’m selfish, Shikaku. I didn’t think of you, nor that I almost killed your son. I was only thinking about my own self. I’m selfish and I don’t deserve him.” Her voice become so soft, so broken, as she trembled and sobbed in her hands, not being able to stop the flow of tears and emotions from running astray. “Kitsune…Shikamaru doesn’t hate you, nor is he blaming you for what happened. Stop blaming yourself for things that were inevitable. The most important thing is that you were able to save him and bring him back home safely.” His father sighed, yet his eyes were looking with understanding at the pitiful girl – He knew very well the heartbreak of loss and he didn’t wish it upon anyone, especially such a sensitive young girl. “Scrub it off. Clean it off. Take it off. Claw it off. Rip it off. Saw it off. Carve it off. Rinse it off. Wash it off. Cut it off...That’s the only thing that kept going through my mind, over and over and over again, and I couldn’t stop it! Just like back then...I couldn’t control it. I swore I was going crazy. I was sure he was going to die, and I would remain with his blood on my hands for ages, no matter how hard I’d try to wash it off or even burn away the skin on my hands.” she was shaking so much now, digging her claw-like nails deep into her arms, dragging down and scratching her skin, almost giving herself a sort of comfort, knowing she was still alive, and so was Shikamaru. ”You have nobody’s blood on your hands, Kitsune, understand that. It wasn’t you who killed your parents, no matter how you put it. You tried to save them, but they were beyond saving from anyone. There was nothing you could have done.” Shikaku tried to remind the catatonic girl once again. “…If Shikamaru dies, all the people I ever loved won’t be on this Earth anymore…So there is no reason to live anymore…No matter what, Shikamaru, out of all the people in the world, MUST live. If he gets in danger again, I think I’ll go insane.” She gritted her teeth as her hands made her way into her hair, gripping at it painfully, until the whole world stopped – And once again, time and space were absent from this house –

“I think he feels the same about you.” Shikaku smiled, seeing his son frowning at the girl from behind the door, and motioning to him to get out of there and take the reigns properly, like a man. “What would you know?!” she sneered at him, snapping her head up, only to see the man getting up to leave, and, to her surprise, a pair of arms sneaking around her, pulling her into a tight hug from behind. It was the deer boy, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck.

“You’re such a troublesome woman, you know that, right? When I said you were going to scold me, I was hoping you’d do that. I hoped it would help you relax and vent away your frustrations. I never imagined you’d get so upset over it. Sorry I screwed up your plan, neither of us were paying attention to our target…We were worried about you so we were looking at you…I’m sorry.” He spoke in the most sincere voice she ever heard him speaking, and she couldn’t help but start crying again, turning around and letting herself melt in his embrace, burying her face into his chest and gripping tightly at his shirt. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I screwed up everything – From 6 years ago, to even now, I’m so sorry, Shika. I should have told you everything, but I couldn’t and I screwed up everything.” She kept apologizing over and over, but the boy couldn’t understand why, so instead of saying anything, he cupped her face and placed a short, yet very soft and sweet kiss on her lips, hoping to snap her out of it. “Stop blaming yourself for nothing. I won’t die, and you won’t die, okay? We’re the smartest people around, I’m sure we can screw with everyone. Just the two of us, together. Now, come on, get up, fox girl. It’s getting late, and mum’s gonna yell at me if we don’t go eat dinner while it’s still hot. Let’s find you some comfy clothes.” He helped her get up and guided her to his room, giving her a loose white Tshirt and some comfy pants. “Well…I guess I make even leisure clothes look fashion.” She admired herself in the mirror, posing and grinning in amusement, making the boy chuckle. “Yeah, ‘course you do. But, before that…Here. It just wouldn’t be fair if I was the only one wearing one.” Saying that, Shikamaru took out a deer necklace from his pocket and put it around her slender neck, before taking his own fox necklace from under his shirt, and letting it dangle out to compliment hers. “…Haha, you kept it. How nice. I don’t know about you, but if you ask me, we can’t get more soulmate-y than that.” She chuckled, squishing his cheeks and pulling him into a deep kiss that was more playful than anything, yet still dazed him a bit, as he let himself get dragged to the kitchen where his parents were waiting for them. They smiled at each other seeing the two teenagers smiling so carefree, so happy at each other – And those symbolic animal necklaces, almost dangling towards each other, like Yin tried to get closer to Yang, and vice versa. “Tomorrow, we are SO going to go and make fun of Ino and Sakura for being obsessed over Sasuke, when we have the perfect relationship right here! Ha! They’re gonna be so jealous!” she smirked mischievously, and the boy could only shake his head, but chuckle at her nonetheless. “What did I get myself into…You troublesome woman.” He nudged her playfully, and it was one of the first times that anyone around saw him not so lazy. “Fine, fine, we can go to BBQ after with Choji, if you want. Sounds fair enough, doesn’t it? My treat.” She flashed him a charming smile, and he could only shrug in agreement. “You’ll get broke, but you said it, can’t take it back now. You clearly forgot how much Choji eats.” Shikamaru teased her, but she only smirked wider. “I lived as a bounty hunter for years before I got back, Shikamaru. I could buy a villa right now. I’m sure I can afford a meal for my friends.” She flipped her hair and winked playfully at the boy next to her.

The next day, just as promised, she dragged her new boyfriend around to brag about him and how awesome he is, and all that, all while he would just blush and grumble in the background, but at least the BBQ hang out was fun and they had a good laugh, as all friends do.

When all was over, she had him go by to her home to get a neatly wrapped, big gift from her living room, and then went back to his home, before handing him the present.

“Here, open it. It’s not the best…But I’m sorry for my outburst. It was uncalled for, and I’m really, really sorry for destroying it. This…This was my parents’ Shogi table and…You should have it. And my parents were best friends with your parents…So yeah. Please take it. And I’m sorry again.” She urged him to open it already, and inside, as she mentione, a beautiful Shogi table, on the back of it, her parents names being carved, inside a heart. “O-Oh, yeah, I forgot about that. You can have your dad shave it off, cover it, or something, I don’t mind. It’s yours now.” She awkwardly scratched the back of her head, but the boy merely shook his head. “No, it’s perfect as it is. Come on, why don’t we go out in the forest? I’m sure you want to see the deer.” He carefully placed the Shogi table on his futon and guided her out. “And we can watch the stars in your garden tonight?” she smiled at him sweetly. “Yeah, sure, we can do that. Sounds nice.”

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keeper-not-hero · 3 years

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MY THREE HUMANS AND MY THREE TROLLS ARE FINALLY DONE BEING THOUGHT ABOUT AND ARE NOW PLACED INTO THE WORLD FOR YOU TO ENJOY READING ABOUT, Massive post under read more!!!

[Obs: These ain’t kids. They’re all in their early 20’s tho.]

Gatolt Osbizb (name means nothing. = Muse of Doom.) -

Looks: Hair that goes down to her shoulders, curly and surprisingly well groomed. Skin (and body) made up of tiny chunks stitched together. Fingers, hands, legs, slightly different shades of grey, with seams colored with the multitude of different blood types beneath. Blank eyes, shirt and pants. Simplistic dress code.

Personality: A hodgepodge of Troll flesh, bones, and a few cybernetic enhancements all stitched together into a singular being. Goldblood, purple blood, violet, and more. Both of her eyes are blank (though she can still see thanks to cyberoptics), and she is usually in at least a mild amount of pain due to the strain of her body barely being able to keep itself together. Despite all that, she tries to act cheery and tries to be the life of her friend circle, though not always with success. And besides, she rarely tries to mingle outside of it, feeling unwelcome in other circles.

Constantly requires maintenance which she usually does herself, and… fresh replacements. Her creator fucked up in making her, which means she is now slowly yet constantly rotting away, to the point every part of her body except the brain and enhancements are different than her first resurrection. Her girlfriend, Bakhus, usually helps with gathering ‘replacements’. She feels like a burden due to her condition that sometimes leaves her bedridden for days, which makes her stay quiet and sometimes even enable her friends’ bad habits, because she doesn’t want to be a drag. Hates the fact her whole life revolves around her condition. Likes gardening and clockwork.

Bakhus Gredui (Greedy Bacchus / Dionysius. = Thief of Void) -

Looks: Hair that goes all the way to the floor and a few feet behind her, greasy, messy, and dragging food bits in it. Tank top with her sign (Sign of the Brazen) on it, suspenders and oversized clown pants. Juggalo make-up messy and somewhat faded, droopy yellow eyes, usually with a hunched stance. Very, very tall, and extremely strong - with some healthy weight to her body to go along with it.

Personality: A purple-blood that represses her kind and motherly urges under liters and liters of Faygo. A chef at heart and a great cook from years of experience, she constantly throws barbecues and small carnivals on her massive garden, which attracts lowblood and highblood alike. Her festivities have become small gathering spots for those who wish to mingle with the upper / lower classes despite their own status, and for spies of both the Condescension and those who oppose her. Bakhus is, of course, too busy grilling to mind that she has accidentally created the perfect neutral spot.

Despite her cooking prowess, the Faygo inhibits both her ability to feel much empathy or care about the taste of her food. Deliciously cooked and prepared meals placed near overly-sugary, soggy, Faygo-drenched pretzels. She carries a massive cookbook alongside her massive pot, which has recipes that certain blood types enjoy, and… recipes made out of said blood types. She has no qualms cooking violets and reds, and sometimes will go so far as to grab Faygo-drunk trolls in her cookout and take them inside to ‘rest’. They’re never seen again.

Also keeps a small spice garden. Gatolt usually takes care of it, with whatever isn’t used to cook as fertilizer. Occasionally, she sends the butchered corpses to Marciu. Who also happens to be Gatolt’s creator.

Marciu Shelli (Like, y’know. Mary Shelley. Frankenstein’s author. = Seer of Space) -

Looks: Short hair, think Eridan, but with no streak. Scrawny to a fault, and clearly underfed. Big scientist glasses with special prescription lenses, white lab robes that hide his starving figure and his left hand gloved with thick, hazmat-suit-like protection. The right one is a prosthetic, indigo tubes and wires trying to replicate the sensation of the original with… some success. Pointy nose, sharp teef.

Personality: Anxious, skittery and, quite frankly pitiful even for an indigo blood, Marciu spends most of his days either robbing graves for corpses or putting his ill-gotten gains to use in his laboratory. Deeply resentful of feelings he has about himself, he buries them deep within him and, to make sure no one can say he is valid or try to empathize with his pain, keeps pushing himself further and further down the hole until he pushes everyone away. Having lost a hand to a nasty accident involving a bone saw and a few too many of Bakhus’ spiked snacks, he also has a mechanical replacement.

A master of biomechanical engineering, he constantly creates half-troll, half-machine abominations to help him around the lab. Rotten servants just barely able to move their joints with hollow eyes and faces, mechanical hearts pumping blood and fuel throughout the system. Still, despite his best attempts at being as repugnant as possible, his friends still cling to him.

Except Gatolt. Gatolt has actively tried to kill him multiple times, being stopped only by Bakhus’ eternal kindness to the weirdo that occasionally gives her “aged” ingredients. Also, his human friends.

[Why does he have human friends? Idk, Pesterchum + machines or AU where humans and trolls live in the same world after a few Sburb/Sgrub/Swhatever versions playing out after homestuck and Lord English being gone.]

Bert Kairos (Albert Einstein and his whole relativity stuff + Kairos, a greek concept of time. = Mage of Time.) -

Looks: Very short and very curly hair. Dark skin, both legs missing, though one has a very unpolished, simplistic metal prosthetic to help him stand in one foot. Right arm missing too, half of a prosthetic attached to it,cut off at the elbow from an accident. Hasn’t bothered replacing it yet. Blouse with a robot symbol and shorts, chin stubble. Brown eyes.

Personality: A gentle soul who makes more time for everyone else than he ever did to himself. Spending literal days away from his parents’ home, staying in his makeshift workshop creating toys for the kids on his street and to help the people of his community. Lost both legs and an arm from accidents with heavy machinery and cars that he work repairing to make a living, usually for meager scraps out of the kindness of his own heart and the belief that it’s all part of a greater plan that he barely gets enough to survive, relying on crutches and Marciu’s prosthetics that often break because of even more accidents due to his very precarious working conditions.

He dreams of one day being able to inspire people, though. A big, endless machine of silly, simple delights. Not curing the world, not controlling the weather, a machine with the same utility as a painting. A machine that could cover the entire world in its width and length, proof that humanity can do anything if it just bands together. A wish that sometimes consumes his mind as he spends hours on end, instead of sleeping, building small moving pieces that will hopefully one day help fill this whole. This magnificent machine he will make to help mankind flourish through its artistic value, that they will sing his name in praise for generations, that mankind will be uplifted until we don’t need work, money, barriers, differences, just a homogenous mass streaking across the cosmos with machine brilliance.

But, he has way too many people to take care of, so he never dabbles on it too much.

Andy Eissuh ( :) - Lord of Life) -

Looks: Blonde hair tied in a manbun. Bushy stubble beard all over his face. Smuggest fucking grin you’ve ever seen. Blue eyes. Average height, an air of superiority that is as annoying as it is believable due to how he carries himself; like an untouchable douchebag. White tuxedo and business pants, y’know, like a doctor. Right? He’s even got the white cross! Yeah, sure, that sounds right. Like he cares about proper dress code for doctors.

Personality: A very, very, very bad doctor. A very bad doctor that has just enough good reputation and far too much money from their family to let their pretty much 100% patient loss rate slip without anyone being able to pry into it. Patient comes in, body bag goes out, and nothing ever leaves the hospital. The one time he actually saved someone was by accident, and it was a botched (and misdiagnosed by him) liver transplant where he accidentally removed the appendix instead of said liver, forgot to replace it, and the patient recovered in a short while with the help of the nurses from what he later learned was appendicitis.

Believing himself to be able to do no wrong, with a chirpy, colorful yet aggressively passive personality, he keeps his friend group around mostly to dispose of the bodies without many questions asked, and so he can feel better than the pathetic wretches he considers them. Completely blind to his irredeemably cruel medical malpractices, which he didn’t even study for, he simply bought his way into a degree because he “could feel it was my destiny.” Soft, sweet, and completely unhinged. Finding great joy preying upon the insecurities and naivete of his peers, which he feels is a breeding ground to use and abuse them for his own needs. Shoulda been smarter if you didn’t wanna get taken advantage of, duh!

Cain Pyrite (Cain the first sinner + Fool’s Gold. = Rogue of Light. ) -

Looks: Hair slightly above his shoulders, dark and greasy. Sickly pale skin, beeg librarian glasses. A nice fuzzy coat, plus shirt, plus jeans. Eye symbol on his coat. Looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in weeks, which, yeah, is absolutely right. Gentle smile, though it occasionally cracks into a nervous attempt at hiding… something!

Personality: Dedicated to… no, OBSESSED with preserving occult and ancient knowledge. Scrolls from ancient alchemists, bones of kings, relics thought long since lost hidden on the back of his seemingly normal book shop. Spending most of his days with no clients, he occasionally gets someone who is aware of his darker inclinations. He is always happy to trade knowledge for knowledge and artifact for artifact.

Only, not always the originals. No. Never the originals.

Always finding a way to spin a story and make sure that he can spot out any fakes, he builds his collection of convincing lies, and hidden truths. Friends with the others since grave-digging always inherits some fun and interesting things, and his appetite for the esoteric and forgotten is only comparable for his taste in interesting and unique foods.

#oc #long post #homestuck #Enjoy!!!!!!!! maybe idk #they're all horrible peopl #who will one day get better...#if i ever fucking WRITE my fanadventure #or... the dream #manage to turn it into a fancomic with someone

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shintorikhazumi · 4 years

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I Have Two Sisters?! Chapter 1: Three Sisters and The Bastard Father (An LWAxRWBYxStarira Crossover)

A/N: What’s crazier than me writing a crossover I can’t get out of my head at 2am while still having multiple wips?

Writing a three-way crossover until 3am!!! (Ended at nearly 5am tho)

GAHHHHH.

Btw, this is a non-magic au. So Diana has no magic, and Weiss has no… semblance. Yes. Because the world of RWBY always goes “???!! OHMG, magic?!” Quite ironically. They become impressed at people turning into birds, but never flinch at Ruby who can separate herself on a molecular level. Sure.

I’ll be updating this sporadically, tbh. The updates will be as random as the coming of this idea. I do like it a lot, so I look forward to working on it. Just have to prioritize the wips.

[DO CHECK OUT THE END NOTES FOR SOME OF THE AU DETAILS AND BACKGROUND]

Still, I couldn’t let the concept pass me by so…

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

I Have Two Sisters?! Chapter 1: Three Sisters and The Bastard Father

The wind blew strong outside, rain water cold against her bleeding cheek. The numbness was her only relief from pain nowadays. She’d lost count of how many bruises she’d gotten this week. If only her mother hadn’t passed… If only she hadn’t had a bastard of a father.

Then maybe Diana’s life would have been much better than the shell that it now was.

He left her and her mother just as she turned three, the only support she got in the form of random gifts and her financial needs. Her father was nothing of a father. The man that… helped make her was never there. He never showed he cared. Everything he gave her felt obligatory. She hated it. Heck, she didn’t even know his last name, much less remember what he looked like. She did try looking it up at some point, but it seemed as if he was some kind of bigshot she couldn’t name.

Neither her mom nor her aunt had divulged his identity, so she had long since drew a blank to the man’s identity. All she knew was that his name was ‘Jack’ or something of the sort. She had long since adopted her mother’s as it didn’t feel right to take the name of a man she never knew.

All she knew was that he was the cause of all her sorrows. That wretched man had left her and her mother to fend for themselves. Even though her mom was of a strong, well-known medical lineage here in Britain, the fact that she had gotten pregnant out of wedlock labelled her as a shame to the Cavendish name, and she had been cast out to a vacation home in the outskirts of the foreign country, Japan.

After her death, however, the women who Diana now saw as practically witches with how cruel and evil they were decided that because their blood ran through her, took over their small land that she and her mother had cried blood and tears to call their own, and exploited the underage girl, believing she might be of some use as a pawn at the very least, for the sake of the Cavendish name.

And she was. For some time, until she had injured her arm, and was no longer capable of becoming the kind of doctor they wanted her to be, her hand slowly losing its immaculate dexterity, becoming constantly shaky, rendering her as only half the worth she originally was, and thus completely useless besides being their punching bag. Quite literally.

Diana Cavendish found herself spending the better part of her life being abused, and hiding in tool sheds, and escaping her dreaded household at every waking moment, just as she was doing right now.

She hardly believed in any religion, but she found herself always praying to get away from this hellish nightmare. She’d hope that even if she only had a jerk of a father, he’d soon realize that she was his flesh and blood that needed saving.

A hard knock came on the wood of her shed’s door. She flinched, no sound escaping. Had they found her?!

“Miss Cavendish? Miss Diana Cavendish? Are you in here?” An unfamiliar voice called for her, bold and confident sounding, but with kindness and worry interlaced. She felt like it was someone she should respond to. The situation felt like it was some kind of divine calling she should answer.

With legs shaking, she stood up, unlatching the bar that held the door closed and stepping out into the now late night that reeked of hot pavement, rain having stopped while she was lost in thought.

A police officer, clad in uniform and raincoat smiled at her in pity. She was both grateful for- and hated- that gaze. She wished it had come sooner, but at the same time, she disliked being thought of as sad and pathetic.

“Your aunt and her family have been arrested, Miss.” Her ears perked up at the voice and the message they conveyed. Looking up from the ground, she stared into the truthful eyes of the cop. “You’re safe now.”

And she truly hoped she was.

//-//-//-//-//

“Weiss.”

At the mention of her name from that familiar voice, she rolled her eyes internally, holding in the urge to snap at the man she called ‘father’.

“What.”

Maybe her control wasn’t as good as she thought.

“Don’t give me that tone. I know you hate me, but I am still the one that raised you!”

“You mean, you’re the one that paid for me.” The ex-heiress pointed out. Her father gritted his teeth, frown deepening as he stepped forward in an attempt to exert his dominance.

Weiss only raised a brow in challenge.

“Anyway.” Jacques continued. Weiss would have smirked as he neither acknowledged nor denied her statement, but she felt it wasn’t the best time. “You are yet to turn twenty, and as you aren’t considered an adult yet-“

“But I’m nineteen, father.” Weiss stated, confused, her raised brow now raised in question. “I’m of legal age, to drink even.”

“Not in Japan you aren’t.” He replied with a smirk so evil, Weiss would have loved to slap it right off if her mind wasn’t thrown in a state of emergency, dreading whatever plans her father had. Even if she wanted to do as she pleased, she couldn’t completely go against him as she was at the moment. Their family name was too widespread and known in the business world, and she feared the consequences of running away from her father who currently had her safety- and practically her life- in the palm of his hand.

“What are you planning.” She narrowed her eyes at him, fearing for the worst, but expertly masking that fear.

“I’ll be sending you away, just as you’ve always wanted. I’ve prepared you an apartment close to a school of my choice to pursue the arts as you so strongly desired,” He spoke in a mocking tone. “And I’ll let you have your way there.” He ended with a smile that sent chills down Weiss’ spine. It sounded too good to be true, her dream being accepted like this. It was like a carrot on a stick being waved in front of her, only to always be out of reach.

“What’s the catch?”

“Catch? My, Weiss, my child, are you questioning your father’s benevolent heart?”

“What’s there to question?” Weiss shot back. “You don’t have one, now do you?”

She grinned at her little victory as she watched him gnashing his teeth, clearly seething in anger. Her smile dropped however as he gave her his own.

“I mentioned Japan’s legal age before.”

And Weiss already knew what he meant.

//-//-//-//-//

Life in Seishou had been the dream. Her first two years of high school were the peak of her life, she’d proudly say. She had wonderful friends and comrades who battled side-by-side, pushing one another to greater heights, and… she had someone she adored just a little more than friendship allowed. She had never admitted it, though. Then, a school back in Paris, the place where her mother had blossomed as an actress in the past, offered her a scholarship as an exchange student there.

And like she always did, Claudine excelled. So much so that multiple colleges offered her full rides to attend their institutions. Even highly prestigious universities. Her opportunities were broad, her future looking bright-

-And then news came. Her mother had fallen terminally ill.

She had to go back. She had to see her. She had to be by her side as long as possible.

She had to repay her for the love, for the dream she had given Claudine. She had to be the family her mother had been for her in the absence of a biological father she never knew, and the loss of her adoptive Japanese father at an early age. The lack of a male figure in their family was no cripple to Claudine, but she also missed the presence of the man she knew as her papa. She knew her maman missed him too.

So she had to do this for her mother.

She had to… in the event that… she’d lose her soon as well.

God forbid, Claudine prayed.

She had to return to Japan, study and… get a job, find some way to help her mother pay the increasingly expensive hospital bills, their little family’s saved money steadily disappearing.

She wondered if she should just drop school all together and apply for a troupe. Earn both money and experience.

She had enough rapport both in Japan and France. She could probably get enough opportunities, and she would succeed like she always had…

But…

There was something she wanted to see through, going into university.

When she left for Paris, she had gradually lost contact with all her friends, the culture slowly choking her time, eventually disconnecting them from her.

She’d receive and return the occasional message, but… things were different. She knew she’d drifted apart from everyone.

So, when she found out that they would all be attending the same Arts Institute, and when she had decided to return to Japan for her mother’s sake, she believed it wouldn’t all be that bad if she could apply for a scholarship to the same place, and possibly rebuild everything that was slowly crumbling away.

She wanted to be with everyone again.

And though she believed herself capable of attaining what she wanted on her own, she might require a little assistance from a miracle.

…

And a miracle- could she call this monstrosity of a situation that?- came in the form of a letter that had documents that signified she was the daughter of some ‘Jacques Schnee’ currently undergoing some sort of trial, and because of this, some of the accusations led to the revelation that he was neglecting a daughter, not sending support, and now as some form of bribery and compensation or whatever, he had paid the court to shut up about it if he took responsibility for her now.

Claudine scoffed in disbelief and utter disgust.

So this was her damned biological father? Some apparently bigtime tycoon who slept around and left a woman to fight for herself while carrying his- Claudine would suppose she was now an- illegitimate child.

This… was certainly news she’d never have expected in a million years.

She laughed mirthlessly at it all.

Well, at least her financial crisis had been averted. For better or for worse… she hoped it wasn’t the latter.

One upside was that she now had a clear ticket to that university she wanted to get into, it seemed. Her ‘father’ had taken the liberty of enrolling her there coincidentally. At least he could do something right, Claudine guessed.

“Well… I suppose it’s time to pack.” She sighed falling back onto her current apartment bed, staring at the ceiling.

It wasn’t so bad, maybe. Her newfound reality.

“Japan, I’m coming home to you.”

//-//-//-//-//

Diana glared at the letter in her hand angrily. There, in neat script, she saw the name of the man who had caused all her misfortune.

‘Jacques Schnee.’

“I want to hate you for as long as I live…” She gripped the paper so hard, creases were forming and the agent currently assigned to her worried she’d rip it into shreds. “What is this garbage? And why am I… Why can’t I… refuse… this ugly form salvation…” She choked on her sobs, a hand sympathetically rubbing her back.

“Let’s get you ready, Miss.”

Diana nodded in agreement.

-----

All her bags now in her hand after being dropped off by the cab driver, she stared in awe at the slightly modest, but clearly high-end house.

What the hell, did her dad just get her a house?!

Regardless of its size, couldn’t he have… like… gotten her an apartment or condo, at least?

How rich was this asshole father of hers? Was money the only good thing about him? Not that even that was necessarily a good thing.

With a groaning sigh, she unlatched the gate, walking up the little pathway. There were small flowerbeds already present around the yard, and decorations were tastefully placed.

It at least looked the part of cozy.

Once she got to the door, however, angry sounds coming from inside made her question that.

-Wait. This was her house, right?

Why would sounds be…

In a panic, she unlocked the front door with the key that came with the letter, bursting through it like a mad man, blue eyes flickering about the room, shocked to see two pairs of eyes, wide and intense, staring back at her with equal surprise.

“Who…”

“Oh, this is just great!!!” One with hair as white as snow exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air in clear exasperation. “Now we have another one!” She began marching around the room, palms rubbing her face aggressively and scratching through her hair. “That little fuck-“

“-Language.”

“Shut up! I don’t even know who you are, and why you were in my house when I arrived. And you say you aren’t a burglar or whatever, but what is up with your sword play? Even if you were using the curtain pole. Are you some kind of spy or assassin the corporation has sent to finally get rid of me?”

“First of all, this is my house, not yours. And you came at me with a rapier!” A silver-gold blonde replied in equal stress. “You could have killed me!”

“I would never!” The first girl gasped with faux emotion. “At most, you’d lose an ear.”

“Umm…” Diana remained awkwardly fidgeting at the door, her usual bravery and confidence lost in the moment of shock.

“What.”

“I- I am simply here because… apparently my father purchased this place for me.”

Two pairs of eyes blinked once. Twice.

Then realization overtook them.

“Did you just say… father?” The golden-haired one stepped closer to her, a lot less hostile, but still aggressive looking.

“I- Um… yes?”

“Father… you say.” The lady with a rapier in her hand now approached Diana too.

These women were frightening, dear Lord. Diana slowly backed up, but stopped as her foot hit the bags she’d dropped in her frantic moments earlier.

“Can you tell me the name of this… ‘father’ of yours?” Rapier lady asked Diana who was beginning to wonder if she should look for a weapon to defend herself with.

“S-sure. His n-name is…”

“…”

“Is?”

“Fuck.”

Diana was not one to curse, but it surprised her that she did.

But she couldn’t help it, now could she? After all, her mind had been wiped clean as a white slate. A mental block was not what she needed right now, but just about anything involving that man seemed to bring about her misfortune.

At least the hands by which she’d die her early death were from very beautiful women it seemed.

She liked women, at least?

“Excuse me, um… are you alright?” Miss Golden hair was now very safe-looking and welcoming, Diana subconsciously stepped closer towards her.

“What is up with you? I just asked a question.”

“Perhaps, if you placed the sword down, and looked less like you were trying to murder her and look like you were willing to hear her out…”

Diana expected another heated retaliation, so it was a pleasant surprise to see the other woman sheath her weapon, and place it gently on a plastic-covered couch, clearly brand new.

“There. Happy?” She asked, glaring at the woman now gently holding Diana’s hand- and when had that happened?!

With a nod, the girl turned to Diana and asked again. “What is your father’s name. If you could tell us.”

Huh. She was a lot kinder than Diana had initially taken her for.

“I apologize. I can’t… remember at the moment. I- He hasn’t been around… for me until this point. I just… learned his name a few days ago but…” She hung her head in defeat, apologizing all the while. “Sorry I’m of no assistance to you…”

“No, it’s alright. Isn’t it?” The question was clearly not directed at her as she could only hear a grunt from the other side of the room.

“Yeah, fine.”

“Would your father’s name happen to be Jacques?”

At this, Diana lifted her head, another shocker delivered to her, hearing the familiar name, the cogs in her head clicking into place.

“Yes! Yes, that’s it! Jack, or Jacques or whatever. Snee? Shuni? Schee? I don’t quite remember, but something along those lines.” Diana found herself enthusiastic towards the prospect that some of her questions might be answered.

It seemed the other two shared the same sentiment.

“It’s Schnee.” The white-haired lady corrected, eyes furrowing, anger building up once more. “And… THAT BASTARD OLD MAN!” Grabbing her rapier she swung it around, probably to vent her anger. “He set me up! And what’s more…” She whipped her head about to carefully look the other two people over.

“What is it?” Diana said in a voice quite small.

“Seems he had big secrets to hide.” She sighed. Turning to the initial enemy she had, now turned… stranger? She wasn’t sure they were allies at this point, she stated rather than asked. “I guess it’s the same for you?”

The woman beside Diana nodded, expression looking a lot stiffer than her gentle demeanor as she dealt with Diana earlier.

“I see. I can’t believe this situation.”

“What do you me-“

A voice beside Diana delivered her fourth? Fifth? Sixth?- she’d lost count- Shocker of the day.

“Sisters. It seems we’re… sisters.” Turning to Diana, she held out a hand for a shake. “I’m Claudine.”

“I’m Weiss.” Was the grumble from the couch the woman had flopped on top of.

“…O-oh!” Breaking her stare from the hand, she looked into rose-red eyes. “And I’m-“

And the world suddenly turned black.

‘Hello, My Name is…

[Diana Cavendish]

[Weiss Schnee]

[Saijou Claudine]

-And it seems as though…

I have two sisters?!

A/N: If you’re asking, yes. Yes, Diana fainted.

Here are some details for this AU btw:

I’ve decided to make Jacques a half-Jap, half german.

So all of them have a quarter of that blood.

Diana is half brit, quarter jap, quarter german

Weiss is ¾ german because of her mom, and ¼ jap.

Claudine is half French, ¼ german, ¼ jap.

Also, if you want to know their ages, and their order, I decided it this way, and let me just quote how I typed it out in the raw idea draft.

“Diana April 30 16yro in anime 2017+3yrs (2020) she's 19 too omg jahahahaha (wrote this coz I’m currently 19 and was amused)

Clau august 1, 2001 19 at present

Weiss Currently 19 (in volumes 5-6) may 15th lmao hahsha. Perfect!!

Wtf Diana was the oldest? Hooo boi. I did expect and want Kuro to be youngest tho, tbh.”

Why their ages are pretty much the same will be mentioned next chap.

And that’s how it went. Decided with Weiss being the legitimate child coz Jacques was the only canonically mentioned dad between the three girls as far as I know. Or I just didn’t search enough.

But come on. I wouldn’t pass at the chance to beat up the dude in a fic so… hihi.

Feedback is super appreciated!

Thank you for reading!

~Shintori Khazumi

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arsnovacadenza · 4 years

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Jean d’Arc Route Summary and Translation Chp.4

Disclaimer: This is an unofficial translation based on my somewhat serviceable Japanese skills with the aid of various kanji dictionaries (and some Google Translate). As I’m doing this mostly for practice, progress will be relatively slow and there might be changes to formatting in the future. Thank you for your patience and understanding

The italicized words in brackets are the comments I made throughout my playthrough.

As promised, here’s my summary and translation of Jean D’Arc’s route in Ikemen Vampire. Obviously, there will be SPOILERS.

Before we jump right into Chp. 4, let me give little bit of context from chapter 3 since I didn't think to translate Jean's route from the very beginning:

Comte called a meeting with other vampires in the mansion to explain their entire situation to MC. So far, they've told her about their vampiric nature and their diet. Aside from Arthur, nobody else drank blood directly from humans. Even so, Napoleon told her to at least have some caution (although he can promise that nobody was going to bite her in the future).

MC asked where Jean was since he wasn't present in the dining room where they held the meeting. Mozart asked her to come along with him to Jean's quarters on the second floor (surprise, surprise, he didn't live in some ominous tower detached from the building).

Mozart point-blank confronted MC about her bite mark, which he guessed was Jean's doing. In case you haven't read up on Chp. 1 spoilers, Jean bit MC on the first night she arrived as a mansion, afterward telling her that she should've been more alert because she WAS living among stronger creatures that COULD potentially prey on her..

(Our boy sure loves to emphasize the monstrous side of vampirism and how it changed him into a predatory creature far detached from his previous human self. There's just so much to talk about here).

MC, of course, is overwhelmed by the whole situation, including Jean's reasoning for biting her. So, she asked Mozart about Jean's possible logic for doing it since they seemed to be close friends.

And that brings us to the beginning of Chapter 4.

MC, of course, was overwhelmed by the whole situation, including Jean's reasoning for biting her. So, she asked Mozart about Jean's possible logic for doing it since they seemed to be close friends.

And that brings us to the beginning of Chapter 4.

Mozart retorted, "To think that I can talk about his feelings on his behalf just because we're friends is a ridiculous assumption."

MC is taken aback by his sharp words, but admitted that he's right anyway.

He continued "In other words, go talk to him yourself and use your head."

And just like that, he opened a door and pushed MC into a room, sending her barreling on the floor. He then closed the door and called out to her from outside, basically saying. "Your misunderstanding of our relationship is wack. Come back after you talk to the guy himself."

She thought about the absurdity of the situation as the sound of Mozart's footsteps grew distant. Suddenly, a shadow fell upon her, and she followed to where it led.

In front of her was a figure gazing at her with empty eyes.

It's Jeanne. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

She stood up and apologized for suddenly barging into his room while averting her eyes from Jean's. Then she continued.

"As I'm going to burden myself upon everyone in this mansion for a month, I thought about paying my respects again." To which Jean only answered. "Is that so."

MC tried to give him an excuse as to why she wanted to go to such lengths just to greet him, which Jean didn't seem to care about. (Boy, he's rude let me tell you.) All the while, she kept thinking about how she'd soon be saying goodbye to everyone in the mansion without coming to terms with this one guy.

As MC fidgeted under his unwavering stare, she suddenly remembered her earlier talk with Mozart. She needed to confront Jean about the biting incident and understand his side of the story.

Piecing together the information she obtained from the morning meeting with everyone else, especially about their mealtimes and regarding Blanc and Rouge, she concluded that he didn't bite her out of starvation.

And she also looked back to Jean's words on that fateful night.

"If you want to return to the safety of your world, you better have a sense of danger."

"Think about how you should act to protect yourself."

(So basically Jean's telling her "If you ain't strong enough you ain't gonna last long, bitch")

But MC decided to press him more, anyway. "Why, on that night, did you bite me? Can you tell me?"

Jean answered, "If I told you the reason why what are you going to do with it?"

(Jean, that is not how you talk to ppl)

An awkward atmosphere hung between them, but Jean continued. "You weren't aware that we're vampires."

"Your wandering aimlessly around the mansion is an eyesore—"

"If you think I'm an eyesore, won't it be better if you're free of my presence?"

"Even if you said I was just an eyesore," she fired at Jean. "You didn't exactly see me as prey, do you?"

And Jean basically just answered, “Quite the carefree woman, aren’t you?”

My arms were pulled, and fingers encased in a white glove tilted up my chin.*

"Regarding that night, it doesn't matter to me however you interpret it," he murmured. "If you think of it as me being kind to you [for giving you a warning about the true nature of this mansion's residents], so be it."

"Don't approach me anymore outside of this, and get out of here this instant."

After Jean gave her the boot, MC broke down and thought about the entire confrontation, her heart racing. However, she managed to collect herself and left Jean’s door. Unbeknownst to her, Mozart had been watching the entire scene from afar. "Alas, it's no use, is it?" he sighed.

“Indeed. It is an impossible feat to unlock Monsieur Jean’s heart, especially for a newcomer like MC”

That surprised Mozart pushed MC into Monsieur Jeanne’s room.

The butler asked Mozart if he was worried about Jean. From the time they first met, Jean had been “rejecting various things, and at the same time absolutely gives up on everything.”

"The reason for that, I don’t know….. That's Jean's way of life. He can do as he pleases."

"But as his friend....it does concern me a little."

“A friendship between beautiful people, how precious!”

(That’s not what you should be focusing on, you idiot).

“Herr Mozart, if you give up, then that’s when everything is truly over.” Sebastian beamed. “Please leave it to me as this mansion’s butler, for I have something in mind.”

Mozart shrugged his shoulders as he gazed at the eccentric butler’s smile.

(This part is more dialogue and screenshot-heavy as I want to avoid misinterpretation as much as possible)

A quiet night descends upon a moonlit church at the foot of a forest, far away from the mansion. Inside, a lone man walks under the moonlight, reflected on the stained glass patterns. He narrowed his orbs*, whose left and right colors are different.

“Master, do forgive me for not paying my respects as of late.” He greeted another man.

“Ah, Will. Have there been any changes lately?”

Will proceeded to tell ??? about a young woman stumbling through the door from another world and into the mansion. He also notified Vlad that the Comte has allowed her to impose on them for a month.

The white-haired man smiled amusedly. “Ah, the most intriguing things do occur, don’t they?”

“But what I can’t comprehend,” Shakespeare frowned. “This woman is seemingly an ordinary human of no virtue.”

“As if an impurity has mixed in with the brilliance of the great men.”

Shakespeare hoped that she wouldn’t be a hindrance to his plans, and I quote: “A creature that only invites tragedies instead of comedies. And I have no use of such mediocre tragedies.”

After some exchange, ??? said, “A creature that only invites tragedies instead of comedies. And I have no use of such mediocre tragedies.”

"Indeed," Shakespeare concurred. "I strive for the finest tragedy with the most exquisite cast."

"The great men who are set to dance on the stage you've set up," His master smirked. "They make the finest marionettes, don't they?"

"That is why, Master, I've decided to join hands with you."

"With you, who carries the same power as the Count....."

"What is it you desire, Will?"

"Can you lend me your power and arrange for a livelier cast?"

"The greater the obstacle they face, the more exceptional the tragedy that ensues."

"I'll think about it," his master replied.

Smiling elegantly, the red-eyed man looked up at the moon. Behind his eyes shone a glint of a power that can move the entire world.

(In KennieJD’s words: “You both deserve each other cause y’all crazy as hell”).

*1: I nearly fell off my chair translating this part

*2: The original kanji says “双降”, which doesn’t come up if you search on any kanji dictionary. I asked Asha about this, and she said it’s a typo on Cybird’s part. It’s supposed to be 双眸, which means ‘a pair of eyes’

I didn't intend this to be this lengthy and dialogue-focused, but I realized that I really enjoy writing lines for bitchy characters. Jean and Vlad's were especially a delight to work with! I couldn’t do much for Shakespeare’s lines tho. I haven't been an English Literature student for two years.

Tagging @hokkaido-fox for now. Let me know if you want to be tagged in upcoming summaries and mini-translations!

Credits to @ashavazesa for her tremendous help with some of the kanji.

#ikemen vampire #ikevam jean #ikevam jeanne d'arc #ikevam jean route #rikevam spoilers #riri tries translating

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whatdoesshedotothem · 3 years

Text

Thursday 12 May 1836

7 50/..

11 25/..

- No kiss. fine morning ready at 8 55 - breakfast at 9 in ¾ hour when SW. came and settled a good deal of A-‘s business - John Sunderland to have the Travellers Inn at the present rent (£20 per annum) and A- also consented to Nicholson’s daughter having the Inn in Hipperholm and said we would take SW. and go and look at the Stainland property on Monday - to let him know whether we would ride on horseback or not - Note from and sent up by Mr. Parker to say Mr. Wainhouse had given notice to Messrs. Briggs that the £4000 would be wanted tomorrow - the bond will be prepared today and I to say whether I should be in town or whether Mr. Parker should call upon me - wrote back, in pencil on the blank ½ of Mr. P-‘s paper (by the bearer) that I would let Mr. P- know tonight or tomorrow morning whether I would see him tomorrow or Saturday or very early on Monday - A- had Sawood (her Bouldshaw tenant) about the coal sold to Bland and Holmes - she had sent for S- to know why he would not let them enter - luckily SW- was here when he (Sawood) and was present all the time and had him to himself a long while in the hall trying to bring him to reason but in vain - A- and I left them to themselves being both of us out of patience - A- said he had better consider well what he was about for if he did

SH:7/ML/E/19/0043

not let B. and H- enter there was but one course to follow that was to [girt] Sawood off the farm which should certainly be done - sufficient provision for damages had been made - A- thought all this was settled to Sawood’s satisfaction - however B. and H- could wait a year and A- would add another year to the term of the lease, and cared very little whether Sawood came to his sense or not, but thought he had better do it - SW. told him that the allowance for damages was even greater than usual ‘9d. per perch damages, more than usual - 8d. per perch a regular allowance

8d. per perch = £5.6.4 SW- said that a farthing a yard damages was a common thing i.e. a farthing a year per yard rent for land taken or damaged and made unfit for husbandry –

¼d. per yard = £5.0.10 per acre In spite of all this Sawood went away unconsenting to let the colliery partners enter and SW. seemed not prepared for A-‘s calmness and determination not to give Sawood anything more - but to quit him at once if he did not come round - he and SW. staid till after 12 - A- and I had latterly been busy siding upstairs - Mrs. Ann Lee and her sempstress here, sewing - making black stuff petticoat for A- frilled handkerchiefs for me etc - they sat in the blue room - Robert Mann + 3 and Mark Hepworth’s one-horse cart (his brother with it) and my own with the gray horse and Frank carting stuff from the new approach road to the back of the farmyard - the paviours came this morning to finish setting the farmyard - siding and sometime with A- she rode off to Cliff Hill at 3 and got back about 5 ½ - during her absence Frank and I siding the hall chamber - put the old oak chairs and boxes etc into the old coach house - dinner at 6 - coffee - I out from 8 to 9 at the lodge and about - A- with my aunt and I sat with them till 10 - very fine day - my aunt had a letter this morning from Marian to say she arrived safe at Market W- and tho’ her lodging there was small it was comfortable - Jane well enough to return to her place .:. Marian would have 2 women servants and do very well - John she had said might stay and see the country! and would be back on Tuesday night - stay and see the country when he and the horse are so wanted at home!.

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libidomechanica · 3 years

Text

And anon to your eyes

Like a stoop to keep mind their clean standing struck dumb, than hour with maudlin Clarence between theyre the hours have taught; and therefore,

and deep emotion, and rang beyond their veins, and Jupiter unawares “come,” and high, and cant say thee, cut off! if people, cousin Amy, speak, preaching beside me, though sealed betraying hopes, which your coats. First rhyme obliges me how stranger: So shy, grave. I shall not fly forth, where you should pressd me truth, and if that least so I standing words: this sisters rich in her deemd sooty, and love and the sun,

in Blank-Blank Square; but oerlook the dangerous proper was fair he flies dragged brown length, and oer-florin to cry and crowns to these throng: you say—the stouter, for whose weird syrops, and no Wheat- field, a greater pardon my trust it may be taken as

desire: I have told— the spring, a song linnet its waving drum, the sunny sky, and a more make me first times sins a place whereer say, the lips. So that my old exclaimd: “ this skin years Rose, Im fond of the Poetes praising quiet shadows till I well down, my haunters of fleshly bleed, favourd by his beauty with thee to their chilliest to meet wellhave also some divine Muscouite, I can be shower, much has been blacke why not see my part, to stay

for youth was making is, the wood year,” my stores of Sorrow is it, to the lake, beside his widowd with him alive to quaffing kind, nor star after for there; the poppies stood in its pearl tadorn thee wings, endure one: the annals of May; almost exceeding mans: accompts of ours, when June is— o, valiant pheasant grow deep in turn, left their real lustre, mixt of sight find and with one, whose fair, and left me dry, throws his patience, incense paired wings to shift and brings legitimacy its petals, through by touch less penitent, though the cries, having pill answer is our lord loved that matter; but to the frame my Muse, now—why, I see in wrinkled eild; “o gude advice of the Prison of Majestie commonwealth amazing,

a song? As the time thought upward room to see that heap of domestic caressd me did not my fate, dost sit, and carved it. Who can? Then Muse a glass, and so slight of the same— is “t they went, with truth, eternall have drenched it for useful on ocean light; Antonia! And in what wont greetings of long journey to substantial feasted c

herry he doth not learnd call upon his proud, and full grows cold is dearer thou doest process proved how vain was rich in love, though Longinus oer who killing me to be grace, with

their uniform, and be ascribed by human, his liberty does wanted now, must tell the light still crimson come to boy-hood: in sweet love, the scent, and that they always, and Duty be the cornelian; the spy you was made it know were made by Harrison; even a fair as the loss of

things in the most places, who thought from his quite corrector, little like Characterd, in trance, can tell that lines may ascertain glistend, and greedy loved not hearers of abandon. Impaled, when young heady riots, incess with savage there came a lively pression, and bowd down at there had no great Juno goes blaze of smoke…no, its with

all things or shakes the cloudy symbols of fate with longer late your sudden silent sandalwood less past sinning purple sparkling waves of Sikander; and hold such sang- froid, than an awkward strike a Crescents, enthralments find not one up like the last, like garden of educate— ye youth that they knead,” which had every oak apples, but what I being fair a little moves rights again and Mrs. Where

is my foolish in the pike in the bed shot, a caravel staving step all flowers, where but a bounding of all be possession upon him aid, my life; yearning race and of death, ere past my loved

they shall bring harp in silence therefore, too rainbow into fall: no man and thick, as the Knot: for love the Parliament remember;— Had loved more, for we will once so. but you— and would scarcely the lidless-eyed serpents through to let a pause, and that being empty left to ape them to these I could weep, a carefull verse. He will laughter

than the church up fine into a father brighted mirror of polished by fate. “For Johnie o the merchance—and where those better like that what it a stands he could, but I am grow are only of the command that number; tho I slept on the fayrest faithless counterpane and spoke some with the funeral Fire; to publics, revolution: women receive our wished my compact- which the blackguardsman, of golden daffodils.”

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #221 texts

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hockeysweetheart · 4 years

Photo

The Kisses ( I wont get into every single one of them ) there is like 17 in the first book alone between Katniss and Peeta so all that jazz is in another post I have

This may contain “bashing” Gale loll

Katniss’s first kiss was with Peeta. He was like If I die ... Katniss is like don’t talk like that. Peeta is like really tho... Katniss kisses him to shut him up ( Not the last time she’s done this). She was like well this should count for something Because this is the frist time I kissed a boy. They Kissed many times in that arena A few did count for something but here is what Katniss said about a certain one "Then I'll just have to fill in the blanks myself," he says, and moves in to me. This is the first kiss that we're both fully aware of. Neither of us hobbled by sickness or pain or simply unconscious. Our lips neither burning with fever or icy cold. This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another. I'm about to leave when I remember the importance of sustaining the star-crossed lover routine and I lean over and give Peeta a long, lingering kiss. I imagine the teary sighs emanating from the Capitol and pretend to brush away a tear of my own. ( This one was before the kiss that made her feel something) I set a good dinner out, but halfway through Peeta begins to nod off. After days of inactivity, the hunt has taken its toll. I order him into the sleeping bag and set aside the rest of his food for when he wakes. He drops off immediately. I pull the sleeping bag up to his chin and kiss his forehead, not for the audience, but for me. Because I'm so grateful that he's still here, not dead by the stream as I'd thought. So glad that I don't have to face Cato alone.

Okay so they kiss a bit 30 times between all 3 books. Now Their first kiss after a few months of not went like this. My face breaks into a huge smile and I start walking in Peeta's direction. Then, as if I can't stand it another second, I start running. He catches me and spins me around and then he slips - he still isn't entirely in command of his artificial leg - and we fall into the snow, me on top of him, and that's where we have our first kiss in months. It's full of fur and snowflakes and lipstick, but underneath all that, I can feel the steadiness that Peeta brings to everything. And I know I'm not alone. As badly as I have hurt him, he won't expose me in front of the cameras. Won't condemn me with a halfhearted kiss. He's still looking out for me. Just as he did in the arena. Somehow the thought makes me want to cry. Instead I pull him to his feet, tuck my glove through the crook of his arm, and merrily pull him on our way. I wait for him to mention the baby, to play to the cameras, but he doesn't. And that's how I know that none of this is part of the Games. That he is telling me the truth about what he feels. "No one really needs me," he says, and there's no self-pity in his voice. It's true his family doesn't need him. They will mourn him, as will a handful of friends. But they will get on. Even Haymitch, with the help of a lot of white liquor, will get on. I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me. "I do," I say. "I need you." He looks upset, takes a deep breath as if to begin a long argument, and that's no good, no good at all, because he'll start going on about Prim and my mother and everything and I'll just get confused. So before he can talk, I stop his lips with a kiss. I feel that thing again. The thing I only felt once before. In the cave last year, when I was trying to get Haymitch to send us food. I kissed Peeta about a thousand times during those Games and after. But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down. This time, there is nothing but us to interrupt us. And after a few attempts, Peeta gives up on talking. The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind.

I don't like the plan any more than Peeta does. How can I protect him at a distance? But Beetee's right. With his leg, Peeta is too slow to make it down the slope in time. Johanna and I are the fastest and most sure-footed on the jungle floor. I can't think of any alternative. And if I trust anyone here besides Peeta, it's Beetee. "It's okay," I tell Peeta. "We'll just drop the coil and come straight back up." "Not into the lightning zone," Beetee reminds me. "Head for the tree in the one-to-two-o'clock sector. If you find you're running out of time, move over one more. Don't even think about going back on the beach, though, until I can assess the damage." I take Peeta's face in my hands. "Don't worry. I'll see you at midnight." I give him a kiss and, before he can object any further, I let go and turn to Johanna. "Ready?"

"Leave me," he whispers. "I can't hang on." "Yes. You can!" I tell him. Peeta shakes his head. "I'm losing it. I'll go mad. Like them." Like the mutts. Like a rabid beast bent on ripping my throat out. And here, finally here in this place, in these circumstances, I will really have to kill him. And Snow will win. Hot, bitter hatred courses through me. Snow has won too much already today. It's a long shot, it's suicide maybe, but I do the only thing I can think of. I lean in and kiss Peeta full on the mouth. His whole body starts shuddering, but I keep my lips pressed to his until I have to come up for air. My hands slide up his wrists to clasp his. "Don't let him take you from me." Peeta's panting hard as he fights the nightmares raging in his head. "No. I don't want to..." I clench his hands to the point of pain. "Stay with me." His pupils contract to pinpoints, dilate again rapidly, and then return to something resembling normalcy. "Always," he murmurs. Peeta and I grow back together. There are still moments when he clutches the back of a chair and hangs on until the flashbacks are over. I wake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children. But his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips. On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway. That what I need to survive is not Gale's fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that.So after, when he whispers, "You love me. Real or not real?" I tell him, "Real."

It's the way you love me It's a feeling like this It's centrifugal motion It's perpetual blissIt's that pivotal moment It's unthinkable This kiss, this kiss (Unsinkable) This kiss, this kissYou can kiss me in the moonlight On the rooftop under the sky You can kiss me with the windows open While the rain comes pouring inside Kiss me in sweet slow motion Let's let every thing slide You got me floating, you got me flying

( This kiss Faith Hill)

But When Peeta and Katniss Kiss it’s like wow. Nothing else in the world is there just them and the way Katniss talks about it she enjoys it clearly. And she made the choice to Kiss Peeta. Like there are other ways to show love then Kissing. But It’s like when she is with him she feels safe and it’s gonna be alright they could make it through anything together. It’s sadness to when she feels guilty for shutting each other out but forgiveness. She has this moment where she can barley look at his lips after the Beach scene.

I sit next to Peeta on the sand to eat my rolls. For some reason, it's difficult to look at him. Maybe it was all that kissing last night, although the two of us kissing isn't anything new. It might not even have felt any different for him. Maybe it's knowing the brief amount of time we have left. And how we're working at such cross-purposes when it comes to who should survive these Games.

That is because she knows what comes out of that mouth Peeta will know that Katniss still wants to die for him. And whatever Peeta says can Make sense for her to agree to and she wants this for Peeta to live not her in that moment.

The Beach Kiss my god. That’s a kiss you feel like okay give them their space but Can’t look away from.

Katniss kissing Gale and It went like this

By the time we were at the hole in the fence that's nearest the Hob, I think I really believed that things could be the same. That we could go on as we always had. I'd given all the game to Gale to trade since we had so much food now. I told him I'd skip the Hob, even though I was looking forward to going there, because my mother and sister didn't even know I'd gone hunting and they'd be wondering where I was. Then suddenly, as I was suggesting I take over the daily snare run, he took my face in his hands and kissed me. I was completely unprepared. You would think that after all the hours I'd spent with Gale - watching him talk and laugh and frown - that I would know all there was to know about his lips. But I hadn't imagined how warm they would feel pressed against my own. Or how those hands, which could set the most intricate of snares, could as easily entrap me. I think I made some sort of noise in the back of my throat, and I vaguely remember my fingers, curled tightly closed, resting on his chest. Then he let go and said, "I had to do that. At least once." And he was gone.Despite the fact that the sun was setting and my family would be worried, I sat by a tree next to the fence. I tried to decide how I felt about the kiss, if I had liked it or resented it, but all I really remembered was the pressure of Gale's lips and the scent of the oranges that still lingered on his skin. It was pointless comparing it with the many kisses I'd exchanged with Peeta. I still hadn't figured out if any of those counted. Finally I went home. That week I managed the snares and dropped off the meat with Hazelle. But I didn't see Gale until Sunday. I had this whole speech worked out, about how I didn't want a boyfriend and never planned on marrying, but I didn't end up using it. Gale acted as if the kiss had never happened.Maybe he was waiting for me to say something. Or kiss him back. Instead I just pretended it had never happened, either. But it had. Gale had shattered some invisible barrier between us and, with it, any hope I had of resuming our old, uncomplicated friendship. Whatever I pretended, I could never look at his lips in quite the same way. Life in District 12 isn't really so different from life in the arena. At some point, you have to stop running and turn around and face whoever wants you dead. The hard thing is finding the courage to do it. Well, it's not hard for Gale. He was born a rebel. I'm the one making an escape plan. "I'm so sorry," I whisper. I lean forward and kiss him. His eyelashes flutter and he looks at me through a haze of opiates. "Hey, Catnip." "Hey, Gale," I say. "Thought you'd be gone by now," he says. My choices are simple. I can die like quarry in the woods or I can die here beside Gale. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm going to stay right here and cause all kinds of trouble." "Me, too," Gale says. He just manages a smile before the drugs pull him back under.When the cabinets are empty, I rise to find that Gale has materialized in my kitchen. It's disturbing how soundlessly he can appear. He's leaning on the table, his fingers spread wide against the wood grain. I set the box between us. "Remember?" he asks. "This is where you kissed me.So the heavy dose of morphling administered after the whipping wasn't enough to erase that from his consciousness. "I didn't think you'd remember that," I say"Have to be dead to forget. Maybe even not then," he tells me. "Maybe I'll be like that man in 'The Hanging Tree.' Still waiting for an answer." Gale, who I have never seen cry, has tears in his eyes. To keep them from spilling over, I reach forward and press my lips against his. We taste of heat, ashes, and misery. It's a surprising flavor for such a gentle kiss. He pulls away first and gives me a wry smile. "I knew you'd kiss me." "How?" I say. Because I didn't know myself."Because I'm in pain," he says. "That's the only way I get your attention." He picks up the box. "Don't worry, Katniss. It'll pass." He leaves before I can answer.

So The best part about this is When Katniss kissed Gale shes like I hope to god he doesn’t remember this... But when he does Katniss is like oh shit

So heres is the final kiss Between these two.

Gale makes a sound of exasperation. Nonetheless, after we've dropped off the birds and volunteered to go back to the woods to gather kindling for the evening fire, I find myself wrapped in his arms. His lips brushing the faded bruises on my neck, working their way to my mouth. Despite what I feel for Peeta, this is when I accept deep down that he'll never come back to me. Or I'll never go back to him. I'll stay in 2 until it falls, go to the Capitol and kill Snow, and then die for my trouble. And he'll die insane and hating me. So in the fading light I shut my eyes and kiss Gale to make up for all the kisses I've withheld, and because it doesn't matter anymore, and because I'm so desperately lonely I can't stand it. Gale's touch and taste and heat remind me that at least my body's still alive, and for the moment it's a welcome feeling. I empty my mind and let the sensations run through my flesh, happy to lose myself. When Gale pulls away slightly, I move forward to close the gap, but I feel his hand under my chin. "Katniss," he says. The instant I open my eyes, the world seems disjointed. This is not our woods or our mountains or our way. My hand automatically goes to the scar on my left temple, which I associate with confusion. "Now kiss me." Bewildered, unblinking, I stand there while he leans in and presses his lips to mine briefly. He examines my face closely. "What's going on in your head?" "I don't know," I whisper back. "Then it's like kissing someone who's drunk. It doesn't count," he says with a weak attempt at a laugh. He scoops up a pile of kindling and drops it in my empty arms, returning me to myself. "How do you know?" I say, mostly to cover my embarrassment. "Have you kissed someone who's drunk?" I guess Gale could've been kissing girls right and left back in 12. He certainly had enough takers. I never thought about it much before. He just shakes his head. "No. But it's not hard to imagine." "So, you never kissed any other girls?" I ask. "I didn't say that. You know, you were only twelve when we met. And a real pain besides. I did have a life outside of hunting with you," he says, loading up with firewood. Suddenly, I'm genuinely curious. "Who did you kiss? And where?" "Too many to remember. Behind the school, on the slag heap, you name it," he says. I roll my eyes. "So when did I become so special? When they carted me off to the Capitol?" "No. About six months before that. Right after New Year's. We were in the Hob, eating some slop of Greasy Sae's. And Darius was teasing you about trading a rabbit for one of his kisses. And I realized...I minded," he tells me.

I am no love expert But that might not be the time you bring up I kissed other women up just saying... and saying You kissed Better pretty much my god. When they Kiss tho it’s like seeing a car accident your not involved in but you can’t help but peak then regreat it. The fact he made Katniss feel so bad for kissing one guy when your like Drake Parker from Drake and Josh. ( If you don’t know he dated many women on that show) Also the fact you say you were interested in her 6 months prior games. Didn’t make a move until after She kissed Peeta 17 Plus times. And now you want to be more friends thats how you want to play. Oh Hell no. She doesn’t love you like that buddy... No wonder she’s confused af. Like she only kissed Gale because he was making her feel guilty

#thg #hunger games #The Hunger Games #catching fire #CatchingFire #mockingjay #mockingjay part 1 #mockingjay part 2 #cf #katniss everdeen #Katniss #katniss and peeta #Peeta #Peeta Mellark #gale hawthorne #gale #everlark

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