#i feel like putting (almost) all of the words/thoughts in one panel puts more focus on kusuo's feelings | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

amandacanwrite · 1 year ago

Text

The Violet Thread of Fate ||

Reluctant Mentor Gale x Unskilled Wizard F!Tav

Length || About 4,000 Words

POV || Dual Narration, Third Person

Warnings || Descriptions of viscera, age gap (about ten years, both adults)

Summary || After waking up on the craggy shoreline of the sword coast, Elinna and Gale reunite with a new common ground.

A/n || I am feeling sort of on the fence about Gale's eagerness in his attraction to Elinna, but I also feel like it's still at least somewhat in character for him--after all in any playthrough you can wind up being blindsided by his feelings for you since he is usually so subtle about his affections. I also just think it's so fun to get the internal narration of Gale's attraction. He always seems so put together, polite and proper. I just love to see a man precariously balancing his carnal desires with his conscience and desire to be a good man. I hope you like it, I know things feel a little slow right now, but I'm planning on taking some creative liberties in the next couple parts. Please also lemme know what you think if you read it! I am absolutely tinkerbell and need the dopamine to live

Chapter Two: A Nightmare, An Awakening

Read Part One Here • Join Tag List Here

A Nightmare

Elinna thought she had died; thought the disintegration of her bodily form was the end of her short, unremarkable life. Much to her surprise, though when her vision once again returned to her she realized she had merely been spirited away somehow.

It took a few moments for her eyes to properly focus. When they finally did, she almost wished that the contact with the tentacle had killed her. It would have been far preferable to where she had wound up.

She found herself locked in a great chitinous pod, looking through smeared membranous glass at what she could only suppose was the nautiloid she had tried to escape from.

Yes…death would have been a far preferable fate to becoming a mindless thrall on a mindflayer ship. As she squinted through the clear panel in front of her and saw what appeared to be a brain walking on four spindly limbs, she realized that her fate could be even worse than regular enthrallment.

The minutes she spent entrapped in the pod felt like hours. A miserable limbo of wondering what would be coming next for her. What if she was already marked for turning into an intellect devourer? What if the enthrallment had already been put in place and she could simply be ordered to do something whenever a mindflayer so wished it?

She couldn’t just stay here. She had to move.

She tried, in vain, to wrench her arms free of the fleshy brindings within the pod. The sinuous tendrils only tightened more and more, leaving her fingertips throbbing and tingling from the blood flow being cut off. She tried to move her feet next and her boots sloshed in some sort of viscera at the base of the pod. She did her best not to vomit as the viscera eked some ichorous fluid into the fibers of her clothing and through the porous leather of her soft-soled shoes.

The last thing she needed in addition to all of this was to be covered in the contents of her own stomach–empty as it was.

The shock of panic cinched tight around her ribcage, making it hard to breathe. And as she struggled to get her lungs to fill, she also struggled to think.

“Calm down, Elinna,” she told herself. “Think about what you’ve read. Think about what you know.”

What did she know about Illithids? They were hivemind organisms. They required high-moisture, high-humidity environments to protect the mucosal membranes of their skin. They primarily fed on the brains of their prey and used psionic energy not only to fight but to control their biomechanical machinery.

She craned her head forward to look for some sort of control panel–something that could get her out of this cocoon of horror.

As she did, a valve-like door opened on the far side of the room, revealing a dizzying network of corridors. And…and one of them. A mind flayer.

Elinna went dizzy as her heart thumped in her temples. She watched in horror and sickly anticipation as it levitated toward something in the center of the room; a cistern of sorts from what she could see. It waved a four-fingered hand and the vessel opened, revealing a golden, glowing brine pool that may have been beautiful if Elinna didn’t know precisely what it was.

The mindflayer coaxed one of those disgusting tadpoles out of the amber liquid and levitated over to Elinna’s pod. She recoiled away from it as the pod opened, turning her face away from the creature and squeezing her eyes shut. She knew exactly how mindflayers reproduced, and she was not interested in getting a first hand experience with ceremorphosis.

She didn’t have much of a choice, though. Even without the parasite, the illithid was able to compel her to stillness.

It was an atrocious violation of her agency; surreal and nightmarish in the worst ways. Her mind was fully intact as the creature made her muscles release the tension they held and coerced her eyes to open. Her body was still and calm, but her heart was racing like a trapped rabbit’s. She watched uselessly as the tiny creature floated closer to her. She cried to cry out as it latched onto the orb of her eye and started to wriggle and squirm until it could find purchase beneath her eyelid.

She was silent. Infuriatingly, horribly silent as the creature continued to burrow its way into her skull.

Her pulse hammered in her ears as she screamed inside her own body, begging herself to fight, to tear her own eye out rather than let the process of ceremorphosis take place.

But her body was still as the tiny parasite worked its way into her eye socket and back into her brain.

Elinna lost consciousness as she felt the unsettling pressure of her brain matter being displaced to accommodate her unwelcome guest.

When she awoke next, she didn’t immediately know where she was. She only knew that it was loud and it was cold. The sound of air ripping past her pointed ears is what brought her back into full consciousness, and though her eyes were open, she wasn’t actually seeing at first.

There was a vast expanse of stars above her, the smell of salty air, the lingering cling of something far more acrid–like the smell of burnt sulfur woven into her clothes.

She tried to parse what was going on, it felt like she was sinking into the ocean–but if that were the case, shouldn’t she not be able to breathe?

Then she saw the burning wreckage of the Nautiloid and everything came back to her.

The travel to Waterdeep, the encounter with Mr. Dekarios, the parasite and…

And she was falling through the sky!

“Not again!” she cried as she stared at the ground rising to meet her with startling velocity. “No, no, no! I will not–This is not how I die!”

It didn’t go very well the last time, but it wasn’t as if she had any other ideas of what to do. She scoped out the approaching shoreline, selecting one spot and earmarking it. After choosing a point on a craggy cliffside, she shut her eyes and tried to gulp in a breath before it was whipped out of her mouth.

“Inveniam Viam!” she shouted.

That strange, surreal feeling of not moving, yet being in a different place came again, only this time it was followed very quickly by the feeling smashing into the ground beneath her, square onto her back. It wasn’t a far drop, perhaps only a few feet, but it was enough to hurt her. She blinked up at the sky above her, the glow of the stars somewhat dampened by the flaming wreckage of the nautiloid as it loudly crashed into the earth just a few moments after her.

She ached as she stood and looked out over the cliffside she’d misty stepped to, seeing the vast expanse of an unfamiliar coast crawling with intellect devourers and the blazing with fires choking out great plumes of black smoke. She dropped to her knees, feeling utterly defeated.

She had no idea where she was. She had no money. No food. Not even a change of clothes with her. She didn’t even know where she was–and she knew she was more than a little directionally challenged.

Her keepers at The Scribes Nest had told her not to leave; had warned her that there were dangers in the world. That she couldn’t hope to survive on the knowledge she’d amassed from books alone. That the lives of wizards often ended in folly.

She knew this, of course. She’d read extensively about every wizard she could find and more than half of them were done in by their own curiosity.

But the ones who hadn’t been rendered themselves undone…they were amazing. Elminster and Blackstaff. Lorroikan and Sammaster. Karsus and Dekarios.

Wait….

Gale Dekarios��he’d been touched by the tentacles, too!

And if she hadn’t died, then that meant he probably hadn’t either. If she could find him, if she could just appeal to him for one favor…maybe he could help her get back to Waterdeep. Maybe she would have an opportunity to prove to him that she could be a good apprentice; that she was worth the trouble of taking on as a student. Maybe he would know how to get rid of the tadpole squirming in her brain.

But none of that would happen if she just sat there on her knees and despaired.

She would need to get back up and put one bloody boot in front of the other.

She would have to be brave and she would have to trust that Mystra would guide her to what came next.

An Awakening

Hells…it just had to be a pocket dimension that saved him, didn’t it?

They were tricky little things–a slice of wild magic that functioned like an oubliette; a place to put things to be forgotten, or to be summoned at a different point in time. He’d used a few in his time, but never for more than storage during travel or to hide the occasional failed potion. He’d thought once that he might use one when it was clear that the orb would no longer be sated by the magic artifacts he consumed; discussed the idea with Tara before she requested not to speak of it until necessary.

“I don’t like think of that eventuality, Mr. Dekarios,” Tara had said to him. “I know I tend to be pragmatic…but it makes me far too sad.”

“Focus,” he scolded himself as he looked around the darkened pocket. He needed to find an opening–or at least find a way to make one, failing that.

It was a mistake that he’d even ended up in one in the first place. A mistake that stemmed from the first mistake when he’d tried to help that girl.

If he’d had any sense, he would have let her run and gone straight to help his mother and make sure Tara would be okay. He could only hope that they were still safely nestled at his childhood home in Waterdeep. At least he’d not seen either of them during his wanderings about the ship.

But then the spelljammer had lurched and started falling out of the sky, and he’d grabbed onto the strongest strand of weave he could find and followed it here. The unfortunate side of that, of course, was that the strength of that thread is precisely what made this particular pocket realm exceedingly hard to get out of. And the parasite so rudely deposited into his brain was not doing wonders for his ability to concentrate.

He held his hands up and closed his eyes, attempting to feel out the strands of weave in this darkened place. Wherever he’d been transported to, it felt very far away from Mystra indeed. Like whatever reality he’d blipped into was one almost entirely devoid of magic at all.

He focused a bit harder, the tadpole in his head wriggling with the effort. He continued to focus, trying not to think too hard about the unnerving sensation. Finally, with some challenge, he managed to pool some magic together. It felt similar to trying to collect enough morning dew on a leaf to drink.

There came a crackle, then a tear. Not nearly large enough to fit himself entirely through, but enough that he could get an arm out.

Perhaps with at least one hand in Faerun, he could channel whatever remaining weave he needed to fully escape this dark corner of nothing.

A sheen of perspiration shone on his brow as he felt around outside of the oubliette. He could feel the familiar moisture of coastal air and it sent a wave of relief through him. He wasn’t far from Waterdeep at all, then. Or at least he’d hoped as much.

Perhaps he could just appear on the main road and hurry straight to his mother to make sure that she and Tara were alright.

He was trying to grasp onto the weave when he suddenly felt the soft, almost tentative brush of fingertips on the palm of his hand.

A person! Perfect! There was no better way to anchor a teleportation spell than to another living soul. It would be a little complex to explain that, though, and he was sure a mysterious arm poking out of wherever he could reach was more than a little unnerving so he settled for simplicity instead.

“Hello?!” He called through the tear in the fabric of space and time. “Is anyone there? A hand? Please?”

He felt the hand withdraw for a moment, then it returned with what he assumed was the person’s other hand. One closed tightly around his fingers, the other grasped a bit higher, accompanied by the sensation of fingertips curling into the fabric of his sleeve. Small, gentle hands. Not small enough to be a child–but perhaps a woman.

He closed his eyes once more and took a deep breath, allowing himself to feel the energy of the stranger on the other side of the opening. He tapped into it, smelling the faint, sweetly lactic scent of peaches; tasting on the tip of his tongue the light flavor of…honeyscotch candy. If Mystra’s energy was violet in color…this energy was the color of the sky during sunrise…a gradient of lilac, rose and cerulean.

Pretty… he thought to himself before slamming the heel of his hand to his brow.

Focus you touch-starved buffoon.

“Whatever you’re doing is working wonders!” he said encouragingly. “I think if you just give me a good pull, I should come right out!”

The stranger pulled and he joined that effort by pushing himself through from the other side with what remained of that pooled bit of magic he’d gathered together.

Finally, he flew out of the pocket realm like a cork from a bottle, regrettably landing right on top of the poor woman who had helped him.

He was quick to shift his weight so he didn’t put the entirety of his considerable heft on the poor thing. Yet, his creaky knees slowed him down when it came to properly getting up. Then again…he couldn’t deny a certain reluctance to rise. He hated to admit it, and if anyone ever asked him he would deny it to the grave…but it was pleasant to feel the soft curves of a woman against him. A year was such a long time to be without it, and to feel warmth beneath him again…

It was a lascivious thought not becoming of a gentleman, he remembered, but one that occurred almost automatically much to his chagrin.

“Hells,” he said. “Forgive me miss. I’m usually much better at this–and usually not so long sedentary that my limbs can’t keep up with my manners. Allow me to–”

He lifted himself up onto his elbows and finally laid eyes on his savior.

It was the girl from before. What was the name? Elinna Inklynn.

She stared up at him with wide eyes and a face flushed with exertion. How hard had she needed to work to pull him out of that portal? Seeing her so close now, he picked up on some of the qualities he’d missed in the dim light of the Waterdhavian evening.

A constellation of mauve-tinged freckles dusted across her flushed nose and cheeks. In the daylight, her skin was almost pale pink. The soft swell of her lips sat slightly parted with a look of surprise. And her eyes…my those eyes were something to behold. Verdant as a sprig of mint and flecked with gold as if she had a vein of ore curling through the irises of her eyes.

“A-allow me to help you up,” he finally stammered. “You’re not hurt are you?”

“Not by you,” she said somewhat breathlessly.

He grunted slightly as he got back onto his feet, now allowing himself to think of the way her soft curves shifted beneath him. He reached a hand down and helped her back up to her feet as well, dusting off her theadbare apron and her slightly puffed sleeves. She was still flushed–perhaps dehydration or fever…or…

“You haven’t happened to have been on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region, have you?” he asked.

The flush could be a sign of the beginning stages of ceremorphosis.

“I couldn’t have phrased it more repellently myself,” Elinna replied.

“No use sugarcoating it, is there?” he asked with a smirk. “I don’t suppose you know what these little passengers will cause if left to their own devices?”

“Ceremorphosis,” she answered without missing a beat. “At least–if we don’t get it handled in a few days…”

Well, color him surprised.

It wasn’t very often that ceremorphosis was talked about among the common man–it was even hard to find books detailing the finer details of the process. The girl may have been a poor magician, but she was clearly learned.

“Suffice to say, it is a process that should be avoided,” he said.

“Agreed,” she said.

It occurred to him that she was behaving…a bit stiff; almost aloof. The young woman he’d encountered in front of his tower had a bit more fire to her than this one did. Then again, they’d just gone through quite the harrowing experience. Both of them were covered in mysterious viscera, they’d been taken hostage on a mindflayer ship and well–the poor girl did just have a strange older man on top of her.

The girl bit down on her lower lip and he found his eyes unconscionably glued to her mouth. She released her lower lip and he watched as the pale pink color returned to it, wondering idly what it would feel like to–

“Are we just—are we just going to pretend that I didn’t beg you to take me on as an apprentice and that you quite sumerilly told me to bugger off?” she asked. “Are we just going to be compatriots now?”

He blinked down at her, his mind catching up with her words.

Good gods, he really was behaving like a lech. He didn’t know where this was coming from. Perhaps it was an undocumented symptom of ceremorphosis–this…uncommon desire he was feeling.

Or maybe he was just, well, desperate.

“Well, I take umbrage with that analysis. I don’t believe I told you to bugger off…At least not verbatim. I do try to not be a miserable ass,” Gale said a bit sheepishly. “But I hasten to point out that we do have a shared problem now–some common ground we didn’t have before. It seems wasteful to part ways at a juncture such as this, don’t you think?”

He looked around in the early morning daylight and frowned realizing that he didn’t recognize anything. “I certainly don’t know the area after all, and judging by the history you disclosed with me, you likely don’t either.”

“Well…no, I don’t. Aside from Waterdeep I’ve not been anywhere other than the Moonshae Islands.” she said.

“And you seem to not have a very strong sense of location judging by our time in the alleyways,” he pointed out.

“That’s true…so then… does that mean you’ll do it?” she asked. “You’ll take me on as your student?”

He grimmaced.

“No,” he said with not a moment’s hesitation. “Not a student–an ally. An equal. It’s best that we tackle this issue together, don’t you think? It makes no sense to travel separately when our searching will likely lead us to the same places. And besides that…”

Besides that, if he started to change into a mindflayer, he wanted to be sure he had someone nearby who could…put him out of his misery and get his body somewhere safe before it leveled a city.

“But I could be more helpful if you teach me,” she pleaded. “I’d just be a liability without your help.”

“I have seen your magic,” Gale said with a bit of a teasing gaze. “And I don’t know if there is much I can do for someone who casts Misty Step with their eyes closed. It seems you’d be more of a liability with the magic than without.”

She blinked up at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Oh, please,” he said. “You must know that it’s a spell that requires a clear line of sight.”

She shrank a bit. “I…didn’t know. No,” she said.

“How could you not know such a thing? You must have read a scroll to learn the incantation,” he said.

“I mean this with the utmost respect, but when is the last time you’ve read a scroll, Mr. Dekarios?”

He inhaled, lifting an index finger. Then he closed his mouth and looked off to the side.

When was the last time? It must have been ages.

“Well,” she said without waiting for his answer. “Most spell scrolls assume a certain basis of classical training, or at minimum an innate understanding of how to channel the weave.”

“I see,” he said. “I’m to assume you’re not a sorceress then?”

“Not to my knowledge,” she said with a sigh.

He clenched his jaw as he looked down at the younger woman. Gods, she really did need a teacher. Maybe he could at least talk to her about theory–or give her a few simple exercises for manipulating the–

No. No.

He had more than enough on his plate without adding a poorly self-taught mage to it.

“Elinna,” he said. “Tell you what. I have a deal to offer–a concession if your like. If we make it through this and…make it out of wherever we are and back to Waterdeep, I promise I will introduce you to some colleagues that will help you get your start as a novice wizard. How does that sound? Fair?”

To his great surprise, she still looked disappointed by that answer. The girl really was an ambitious thing–coming right to his tower to seek his tutelage and no one else's? The poor girl had no idea what she was trying to sign herself up for; a depressed, anti-social, explosive wizard. A depressed, anti-social, explosive and impatient wizard. As far as teachers went, he was not the best candidate for the job.

“Alright,” she finally said. “Let’s see if we can go find a healer together…or maybe some other survivors…of a bath.”

“Oh, to find a bath,” Gale agreed. “Ah, but–before you think you’re journeying with most ill mannered a man–”

Gale gave the young woman a slight bow. “Thank you for pulling me out of that stone.”

When he stood up to his full height again, the young woman was smiling at him, her pretty viridian eyes crinkling at the edges. She tucked a pale copper strand of hair behind one of her delicately pointed ears and looked a bit sheepishly down the craggy shore.

“Ah–it’s almost a dead end over here–I think there might be more ground to cover if we cross through the wreckage…but I didn’t want to do that on my own,” she said.

“A wise choice, I think,” Gale said. “No telling what you would have run into. Not to imply that you can’t hold your own, of course–”

“No, you’re right,” she said, looking away from him a little timidly. “I’ll feel better with you there–it’s nice to have a friend.”

He huffed a soft breath and found himself smiling at how willing she was to call him her friend. Even after all the ways he had been a bit of an oaf to her, he felt in her he had found a bit of a kindred spirit. Someone else who sought camaraderie in perhaps…unworthy places.

She looked up at him and bit the swell of her lower lip again. “Shall we go then?” she asked him.

He gestured to the road ahead. “After you,” he said with a magnanimous smile. “Consider me your ever faithful guard dog, ready at the first sign of trouble.”

She snorted a little laugh and shook her head.

And as he followed after her, for the first time in the last year, he hoped the pang in his chest was because of the orb.

Taglist || @auroraesmeraldarose @thoughts-of-bear @cherifrog @puckprimrose @drabblesandimagines

#writing #authors #writeblr #my writing #bg3 #romantasy #writers on tumblr #writing community #bg3 fanfic #gale fanfic #gale headcannons #gale x tav #student x teacher #professor! gale #Gale dekarios #dekarios clan #violet thread of fate

82 notes · View notes

tinysnailtales · 2 months ago

Text

Inuyasha Chapter 120

The Imp's Whereabouts

More of a 4/5 chapter. Kagome and Kikyo continue to be explored with the addition of Naraku and a focus on character motivations. Thematically, there is more on demons vs humans with some fun plays on fairy tale imagery. Kikyo continues to be mysterious and fascinating, not only to the reader but to the characters, Naraku in particular.

As Kikyo, Kagome, and Inuyasha are sucked out of the cave, I think there's an extension of the "physical representation of the love triangle" I mentioned last chapter. Some of it is circumstantial, but you get Inuyasha ensuring Kagome's safety and then worrying about Kikyo. There's also Kagome yelling for Inuyasha while Kikyo is "passed out"–a reflection of Kagome as living and Kikyo as dead (or playacting in regards to being dead/alive).

Everything with the poison imp of course leads back to Naraku. Kagome thought her arrow destroyed his body, but here he appears with a new one, feeding into the story’s cyclical elements–destroy one body and a new one will form. That, or Naraku’s appearance will be an illusion in the form of a puppet. In this case, the poison imp was made to be a new, stronger body for Naraku. The way everything traces back to him taps into that puppet master, spider web of his, and it almost feels like he’s a sort of god in this world. Or at least that's what he wants to be.

This time, Kikyo stumbled into Naraku’s plans as well and broke the spell he put on the cave. And what a cool panel of the poison imp entering Naraku. The focus on his monstrous, demon hand becoming more human in appearance is reminiscent of Disney's Beauty and the Beast, only here it's another play on the demons vs humans theme, with a more human-appearance being the result of a more demonic presence.

Naraku makes comments about Kikyo that cut into Inuyasha, poking at his feelings for her and placing blame for her fate on him and her love for him. There is emphasis placed on how Naraku interacting with Kikyo gets to Inuyasha as well, and as Naraku bridal carries Kikyo away (another image reminiscent of fairy tales), Inuyasha exclaims: "Keep your filthy hands off her!"��But are Kikyo's hands clean?

"This woman sundered the spell from within, hm? Thanks to her I have this body. She was a loyal servant indeed." The way Kikyo's actions post-resurrection complicate and clash with her "pure" existence in life is very interesting.

"That's a lie! If Kikyo hadn't shot her arrow then Inuyasha would have killed the demon...and his body would have fused with the demon's! So Kikyo...was protecting Inuyasha!"

Kagome seems to try to see Kikyo in a positive light, in part because of her compassionate self and in part for Inuyasha’s sake. She is adamant that Kikyo only acted for Inuyasha's benefit, that she was protecting him and guided by her love. I think this is again Kagome projecting and missing some perspective because if she had been in Kikyo's position, that's what would have driven her actions.

In reality, Kikyo's motivations are murkier and more complicated. Kagome's claim leaves Naraku to reflect that "Then it would seem that this woman truly is the Kikyo who 50 years ago followed you to her death, eh...?" But again, his words are more of a taunt than a true reflection of his thoughts or even what really happened back then.

I do love and find it interesting that while Inuyasha is upset by what Naraku does and says, it is Kagome who fires back at him verbally. And she is so quick to do so. It is humorous in that it gives me some "he asked for no pickles" energy, and of course reflects Inuyasha being better with actions than words, but I also think it is revealing regarding how the two think about Kikyo's behavior.

For all he claims, Naraku in truth does not understand why Kikyo chose to both save Inuyasha and give him a new body when she could have just saved Inuyasha. An "I do not understand" from a character who acts like they are always in the know makes it seem like Kikyo might be a real formidable foe for Naraku. Maybe his plan did not need her to work, but she possessed the power to make it not work.

Also–yes, Naraku. Why did Kikyo do that? I think Kikyo would be a really interesting character to track. It's hard to focus on her solely among everything else, but a reread with a Kikyo-lens would be fascinating! Just look at that chapter-ending glare.

#inuyasha #inuyasha manga #inuyasha chapter 120 #inuyasha volume 13 #kikyo #kagome higurashi #inukag #analysis #close reading #naraku #annotations #nobody asked for this but I ran out of characters on goodreads and had to chop all my thoughts #so here they are

12 notes · View notes

darkreaderdan · 3 months ago

Text

The Last Ride

Hi, hello. i have been having a bunch of random story ideas and I finally decided to put pen to paper and write this story, I also posted on my AO3 account as I am trying to brush up on my skills. I truly hope you enjoy this and I hope to get some type of feedback in case it is horrible.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The jolt woke me. Not a violent shudder, but a gentle nudge, like a child testing if you’re really asleep. My eyes fluttered open, met by an unfamiliar blur. Gradually, shapes solidified. I was sitting, upright, in a seat upholstered in a faded, almost regal, fabric. A deep burgundy, worn smooth with age.

Panic, a cold fist, squeezed my chest. Where was I?

The last thing I remembered was the sterile scent of antiseptic, the rhythmic beeping of machines, and the white, oh, the relentless white of the hospital room. My vision had been narrowing, sounds fading… and then, nothing.

Now, this.

I blinked again, trying to clear the fog in my head. The room… it wasn't really a room. More like a compartment. A long, narrow space with windows that stretched along one side, offering glimpses of… well, nothing discernible. Just a smear of muted colors, like an abstract painting perpetually out of focus. Across from me, a man sat staring out the window. His profile was etched with lines of weariness, his hair the color of tarnished silver. He wore a suit, impeccably tailored, but slightly rumpled, as if he'd been traveling for days.

"Excuse me," I managed, my voice a rusty croak. "Where… where are we?"

He didn't turn, didn't even acknowledge my presence. I tried again, louder this time. "Hello? Can you hear me?"

Finally, he shifted slightly, his gaze still fixed on the passing blur. "Patience," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "We'll be there soon enough."

"There? Where is 'there'?" I insisted, my anxiety escalating. I reached out to touch his arm, but my hand passed right through it.

I recoiled, a gasp escaping my lips. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. This wasn’t right. None of this was right.

He finally turned to face me, his eyes – a startling shade of blue – filled with an unfathomable sadness. "Don't fret so, dear. You'll understand everything… eventually."

His words offered little comfort. I looked around the compartment again, taking in the details. The walls were paneled in dark wood, intricately carved with patterns I couldn't quite decipher. A single, antique lamp cast a soft, amber glow, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. There was a sense of timelessness about the place, as if it existed outside the normal flow of reality.

I noticed a small table beside my seat, and on it, a book. Its cover was blank, devoid of title or author. Hesitantly, I picked it up. The leather felt worn and supple beneath my fingertips. I opened it.

The pages were also blank.

Frustration welled up inside me. "What is this? What's happening?"

The man sighed, a sound like wind whistling through a lonely canyon. "It's different for everyone. Some remember. Some… don't."

"Remember what? Remember where I am? Remember how I got here?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if gathering his strength. "The answers… they're inside you. You just need to find them." He offered no further explanation. I sank back into my seat, feeling lost and utterly alone. The only sound was the rhythmic hum that vibrated through the floor, a constant, unwavering drone.

I tried to recall the events leading up to… this. The hospital, yes. The illness. It had been swift, brutal. A relentless tide that had swept me away before I had a chance to truly fight. But beyond that, the memories were fragmented, like shards of broken glass.

I thought of my husband, David. His face, etched with worry, swam into focus. The way he held my hand, his touch gentle and reassuring, even when his own fear was palpable. The promises we had made, the life we had planned… all gone, vanished like smoke in the wind.

A tear escaped my eye, tracing a path down my cheek. Grief, sharp and agonizing, pierced through the confusion. I missed him. I missed him with every fiber of my being. As the hours drifted by, I became aware of other occupants in nearby compartments. I saw them through the gaps between the carriages, fleeting glimpses of faces etched with a mixture of emotions: confusion, fear, resignation, even peace. Some were alone, others were accompanied by companions, their interactions ranging from tense silence to quiet conversation.

I tried to speak to them, to ask them questions, but my voice seemed to fade into the background noise, unheard and unheeded. It was as if we were all trapped in our own individual bubbles, existing in the same space but unable to truly connect.

The scenery outside the windows remained stubbornly indistinct. Sometimes, I thought I saw shapes forming in the swirling colors – towering mountains, vast oceans, sprawling cities – but they always dissolved before I could make sense of them. It was like trying to grasp a dream, the images constantly shifting and transforming, just beyond my reach.

I returned to the blank book, hoping to find some clue, some indication of my purpose. I ran my fingers over the smooth pages, willing them to reveal their secrets. But they remained stubbornly empty.

The man across from me continued to stare out the window, his face an unreadable mask. I wondered who he was, where he was going, what he knew. He seemed to possess a calmness, an acceptance that I desperately craved.

"How long have you been here?" I asked him, breaking the silence.

He didn't turn. "Long enough," he replied, his voice still low and gravelly.

"Do you know where we're going?"

"Eventually. You’ll discover it, one way or another.”

"And what happens when we get there?" I pressed.

He finally turned to face me, his blue eyes piercingly intense. "That, my dear, is the question, isn't it?"

His answer offered no solace. I felt a growing sense of unease, a feeling that I was on the verge of something significant, something terrifying.

I began to experiment, to test the boundaries of my reality. I tried to open the compartment door, but it was locked, sealed shut. I tried to break the window, but my hands passed right through the glass, as if it were nothing more than an illusion.

I was trapped. Utterly and completely trapped.

Days, or perhaps weeks, blurred into a continuous stream of monotony. The hum of the… whatever it was we were traveling on… became a constant companion, a dull ache in the background of my awareness. I slept fitfully, plagued by fragmented dreams that offered no clarity.

I spent hours staring at the blank book, willing it to reveal its secrets. I tried writing in it, using my finger to trace letters on the page, but nothing appeared. It was as if the book was waiting for something, for a key that would unlock its hidden potential.

One day, I found myself drawn to the window. The colors outside seemed to be shifting, becoming more vibrant, more defined. I could almost make out shapes, forms that hinted at a landscape of unimaginable beauty.

As I watched, a single point of light appeared in the distance, a tiny spark in the vast expanse of color. It grew larger, brighter, until it filled my vision with its radiant glow. A wave of warmth washed over me, a feeling of profound peace that I hadn't experienced since… well, since before the illness. It was as if a heavy burden had been lifted from my shoulders, a weight that I hadn't even realized I was carrying.

The man across from me stirred. He looked at me, a faint smile playing on his lips. "It's time," he said softly.

"Time for what?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

He didn't answer. The light outside intensified, bathing the compartment in its golden radiance. I felt a pull, a gentle but irresistible force drawing me towards the window. I hesitated, fear warring with anticipation. What awaited me beyond this journey? What would I find at my final destination?

I thought of David, of the life we had shared, of the love that still burned bright within my heart. And I knew, with a certainty that transcended all doubt, that I wasn't alone. That somehow, somewhere, we would be together again.

I took a deep breath and reached out, my hand passing through the window without resistance. I stepped through the opening, into the light.

The sensation was overwhelming. It was like being embraced by a thousand suns, each one radiating warmth and love. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the feeling, letting it wash over me, cleansing me of all pain and sorrow.

When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in a garden.

It was unlike any garden I had ever seen. The flowers were impossibly vibrant, their colors shifting and changing in the light. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blossoms, and the sound of birds singing in perfect harmony.

A path, paved with smooth, white stones, wound its way through the garden, leading towards a distant horizon. And standing at the beginning of the path, waiting for me, was David.

He looked younger, more radiant than I remembered. His eyes sparkled with joy, and his smile was as warm and welcoming as the sun.

"Eleanor," he said, his voice filled with love. "You're finally here."

I ran to him, tears streaming down my face. He embraced me, holding me close, and I knew, in that moment, that I was home.

The journey was over. The destination had been reached. And I was finally, truly, at peace.

I looked back, and I could see the… the thing we were riding. It was just a blur of color, fading into the distance. I didn't need to know what it was or where it came from. All that mattered was that it had brought me here, to this place, to this moment.

I took David's hand, and together, we walked down the path, towards the horizon. The future was unknown, but it was filled with hope, with love, and with the promise of eternal happiness.

As we walked, I glanced back one last time. The blur of color was gone, vanished without a trace. And in its place, I saw a single, shimmering star, twinkling in the twilight sky.

I smiled, knowing that somewhere, out there in the vast expanse of the universe, another soul was beginning its journey. And I hoped, with all my heart, that it would find its way home, just as I had.

#original post #original story #oc #new writter #new work #original character #original content #original work #writer #aspiring writer #my book #writers of tumblr #new writer boost #new writers corner #new writerblr #new writers on tumblr #new writers society

1 note · View note

booktravelergal · 8 months ago

Text

First Time Manga Read Review: "In the Name of the Mermaid Princess" | Book 1-3 | SPOILERS!

I first came across the book when searching through CrunchyRoll store front, but bought them on sale through Books-a-Million. At the time only three of the books were available to purchase with the next issue being a pre-order, so afraid of waiting I just got the first three to see how much I ended up liking the series.

| Story Basics and Comments |

Reading the small blurb online for it I thought the story was going to be something much different than expected. I can't really describe what was going through my head, but best put something akin the usual fairy-tales I've enjoyed as a child, with a sprinkle more adventure. The setting is the theme of [insert race] vs humans sort of trope, the whole 'we don't like your kind because of reason here' with added magic. Only the non-human races have magic and the humans called them cursed, which sets up the Princess who was born a mermaid kept secret and being forced to take experimental drugs to make her human. Plot is as follows, an outsider comes into her life which convinces her to make rebelling choices against her father; this leading to her needing to flee and travel to her betrothed in belief he accepts her. Some action and all that good romance, not just with the Prince.

Over all, following the story the Princess can get pretty repetitive in her inner/outer dialog and to me it seems very fast pace. Think almost level of Deku from My Hero Academia, when he keeps repeating his reasoning for being a hero even though as an audience we know, after the fifteenth time he's stated it. Having more dialog-less moments wouldn't be bad, especially already know her reasoning we can read into the moment, at least for most moments. The story is moving and there is no time for the character to soak up where she is traveling through, nor really make full relationships with those she meets. Which on one hand is why the dialog for the Princess is like that and the story itself seems shallow, because we don't get to take at least extra time with minimal fluff-fill-moments to learn more of each place she visits. The other downside with this is that the story never really builds onto that complexity this trope would need to feel rounded, so far as of book three at least. The trope for this plot is not a black-n-white one, it's a complex multi layered that requires some world building. Luckily in book two we do see a non-human being as cruel as a human, willing to help capture another non-human for money even almost kill her companion due to being wanted dead-or-alive. The Princess does acknowledge it, but it isn't really touched up on afterwards only then focusing on humans again. Otherwise, the reason behind why humans call non-humans cursed and fear them isn't really explained. It's safe to assume due to being born humanoid beast or the magic, but for it to be this extreme something big had to have happened. So far, nothing has really been hinted towards that kind of historic moment.

| Artwork and Panels |

The artwork is very cute and lovely, anatomy is well handled with effects not over used too much. Panels are also creatively and dynamically used, making a satisfying read as well a great skim through for artist. They are also very easy to -read- panel art wise, following the character's actions and focus without being too confused; including the uses of blacks to whites which balance each page for that readability. There is no fan-service within this manga, serving a good break from many other manga with it inside the artwork. Dialog bubbles aren't covering the art and isn't over bearing, kept short with just enough words needing to be read. The designs aren't super detailed, but there is enough to keep things from looking too plain and boring. There isn't really a use of the 'goofy faces' or 'goofy chibis' exaggerating the expressions, the portrayal of character emotions is solely kept within the design for them and style; so if you've ever felt annoyed of a 'goofy face or chibi' ruining a moment, it won't happen in this manga.

| Ending Words |

For what it is, I do enjoy it so far. I'm a huge fan of these fantasy worlds with unique lore to its story, as well a good romance with some drama and adventure, so its writing being passable I am fine to collect and continue reading. However, I do hope over time it can slow down with the now main group compiled together and do some more world building to grow characters. I do enjoy this sort of trope plot, one such being Frieren and how the demons are written into the story, but do hope for this one it isn't one sided with no reason behind it.

These are just my thoughts and review, I don't mind hearing from others and chatting about the Manga. I just wanted to share my opinion.

Note: Original I tried to post this within the sub-reddit, but I found trying to follow the rules seemed too complicated since it was so specific yet also too vague to follow. So I made a tumblr to post my reviews. Hope you enjoy.

#manga #review #in the name of the mermaid princess #mermaid #romance #adventure

1 note · View note

kikokus · 2 years ago

Text

Sanji Since the Time-Skip, Part Eight (Chapters 810-813)

…So it’s been almost nine years. I’ve recently gotten back into One Piece and am caught up with the manga again, and since I’ve had some requests to continue this series (and there’s obviously been a lot of Sanji content in that time!) I thought I might as well go and do that!

This covers the few chapters of Zou but there’s actually a lot of great Sanji character moments within those four chapters so it seemed to make sense to keep it as its own section. As before, standard disclaimers apply.

[Part One] // [Part Two] // [Part Three] // [Part Four] // [Part Five] // [Part Six] // [Part Seven]

Let’s see if I still remember how to do this...

So not only does everyone seemingly accept that Sanji’s the obvious choice to fill the position of captain in Luffy’s absence, there’s actually an entire chapter named after ‘his’ crew which really emphasizes the point that we’re supposed to look at him as taking that leadership role for the time being.

And, because of that, most of the examples in this part have something to do with Sanji stepping into said leadership role, and that starts here once they can clearly see the city’s been destroyed and Sanji’s first reaction is to leave the others behind where it’s at least relatively safe and go off by himself to make sure he doesn’t put them in any danger.

Chopper threatens Caesar a lot during this part as well but with Sanji here you can tell how much emotion there is behind his words and how angry he is because at this point it’s not even a request anymore, it’s just an order. I really do like how this is set up because the reveal with Sanji’s new wanted poster being ‘only alive’ is before this, but there’s really no other indication as to what that means and once you find out more about his birth family it makes sense why he’s able to take charge as easily as he does.

But for as emotional as he’d been with Caesar, he recovers very quickly here and is the only one to point out that they shouldn’t let their guards down just because it seems like the enemy's gone. Caesar also tries to deter him from deciding to help the Minks by painting them as hostile towards humans and really, all Sanji has to go on right now is Law’s word that his crew is there so he has to make a decision on the spot as to whether trying to save them is a good idea.

Sanji being observant is nothing new but at least in this case we really don’t see what Wanda’s holding until he warns Nami so it’s revealing it to us as readers, too.

I like that this is stated so plainly because the last time we saw Sanji he was very adamant about escaping with Caesar and not letting Big Mom get her hands on him since that was the promise he made to Law, but now that Doflamingo’s been taken care of he sees that as going along with the fulfillment of said promise. He’s also obviously weighing the option of whether or not Caesar’s worth all of the potential trouble both to his crew and to the Minks (and being snarky while doing it, which I always appreciate.)

Though I think he quickly realizes that it’s not quite that simple as just handing Caesar over and being left in peace, and I feel like by this point it’s probably hard to keep track of all the people Luffy’s picked a fight with but Big Mom’s obviously a significant one and Sanji’s not ignoring that.

This is about the most authoritative we see him when it comes to giving orders and it’s very brusque while also keeping Nami and Chopper safe and shutting down any sort of wild ideas Caesar might have. The focus on the panel of him looking down at Bege and giving that little cocky nod is also some pretty great foreshadowing but has another purpose in showing us how easily he can slip into that sort of role when it’s needed.

Sanji doesn’t really have to say this because conceivably this negotiation doesn’t involve the Minks outside of Pekoms being there but once again it speaks to his inherent kindness that he doesn’t want to cause them any more trouble after what they’ve already been through.

This is more just about how well Sanji knows Luffy and knows that he would never agree to becoming a subordinate of one of the Yonko, but at this point I think he’s still trying to find a way for all of them (except Caesar) to get out of there safely. It’s also interesting that earlier we get Brook talking about vaguely about the Vinsmoke family and Nami remembering that Sanji had told them before he was born in the North Blue so it wasn’t as if he was afraid to share that part of his past, but that was as much as he was willing to divulge.

Sanji’s expressions in this chapter are so telling, and I think it’s very effective considering that we don’t know exactly what’s happening but we can tell from his reactions how serious it is and because he’s not saying anything one way or the other that’s all we have to go on. But this is where it turns from him wanting to escape with everyone to him realizing that, now that he’s been told Zeff’s in danger, that’s no longer an option and it’s more about getting the others out instead. There’s a panel directly after where he lights a cigarette which is a very classic ‘I need some time to think’ move from him as well.

That little sad smile says so much…he’s accepted his fate and is saying goodbye in the only way he knows how, and I think he’s being honest here: he never intended to hide anything because, for him, he’s left that part of his past behind and cut all ties with his family so he didn’t consider it a factor or something to dwell on but now circumstances have made it impossible to ignore.

His dialogue goes with what I was saying earlier but I really put this here because it shows him using Observation Haki again and while he can’t say for sure that it’s the Minks, he knows they’re likely the most powerful beings left on the island and he’s willing to take that chance if it means getting the others to safety. I’ll also point out that through this entire section he never even tries to frame it as just ‘getting Nami out’; he wants all of them out of there and goes so far as to hug them (even if it’s with the excuse of making it easier to toss them all out at once).

Sanji’s definitely taking a chance here but even with the little he’s been told about the current situation it’s one he can afford to take because it’s not as if he doesn’t know what Judge is like and he can already infer that Big Mom has some sort of use for Caesar so threatening him is about the easiest way to make his point and gain the upper hand for just long enough to do what he needs to.

And I think Sanji’s also banking on Bege being smart enough to realize that, too (which he does) so while there was a lot that could have gone wrong he’s managed to accomplish his goal of making sure the rest of the crew is safe. If you look closely at some of the panels in this section there’s these little double curved lines around Sanji which are usually an indication of trembling/shivering but even though he’s obviously emotional he’s still holding it together enough to at least make it seem like he’s in control.

I’ve seen some comments that after so long Sanji should know the crew would back him up regardless of what trouble he’s in but Sanji’s nothing if not consistently self-sacrificial and this time, because it’s dealing with a part of his life that’s existed since long before he met any of them, I think he truly does see it as something he needs to do on his own. His smile still hurts me, though.

…And that’s the end of this section! That…probably went on longer than it needed to but I guess it proves that almost a decade later I still have a lot to say about Sanji so please feel free to like/reblog if you found this interesting at all and we’ll…see about working on the next part…

#one piece #sanji #sstts #nobody remembers this series but...it's back...

36 notes · View notes

captnjacksparrow · 4 years ago

Note

Hey. So when do you think Sasuke realised his true feelings for Naruto? I feel like he knew since part one itself, in some way at least. He was aware of something. When Sasuke tells Naruto his body moved on its own, I feel like there were seeds of realisation or at least a trigger point. In Shippuden, he always seems like he is fully aware of his depth of feelings for Naruto, he gets super emotional because of it. The fact that he is driven to ask Naruto again and again about his feelings, and is disappointed except for chapter 698 proves that he knew this feeling was somehow different, and he wanted understanding from Naruto, maybe to validate his own feelings, since he is equally inexperienced if not oblivious like Naruto.

He knows deep down that Naruto is special to him, he adores Naruto privately, he had since before the genin days. At the end of vote 1, I think he realises it fully, his true feelings for Naruto. What do you think?

Wonderful Ask, Anon!!! 😍😍😍.

[[Lengthy Post ahead]]

WHEN DID SASUKE REALIZED HIS TRUE FEELINGS FOR NARUTO?

I am damn sure, like 100%, the moment he realized his true feelings is when he thought he was going to die and recollected all the memories he shared with Naruto (including the Accidental Kiss and Roasting Sakura for insulting Naruto) for one Last Time in the Land of the Waves Arc.

You might be thinking now, "What makes you so sure?"

Well, Kishimoto just hammered into our faces in many plotlines.

How is this panel has to do anything with Sasuke?, You may ask.

The answer is here.

"You will realize what you are, as death comes to embrace you".

Itachi, no matter how cold he acted before Sasuke in that battle, he simply couldn't keep up his Evil Brother act at the final moment of his death.

He just smiled. That is who Itachi really was and always will be for Sasuke.

Again, you may ask, 'All this happens much later in the series, Kishi might've had a different mindset back when he was drawing part 1'.

You are right. But Kishi's mindset was the same all the time. He even established this 'True face before Death' theme very strongly in Land of the Waves arc itself.

This is who Zabuza really was. He didn't treat Haku like a Tool. Infact, his final words were, "I wanted to go the same place as you".

Kakashi made sure to convey this message to Haku in the War Arc, when he fought with the Edo Tensei'ed Haku and Zabuza.

And there are many characters who died in this series. Almost all of them projects their true feelings before their death. Just rewind the deaths of Nagato, Yahiko, Konan, Obito, Madara. You might've noticed that there won't be any lies. For Example, Obito. When he died for the first time, he was really thinking about Kakashi and Rin. He even said, ‘I wish I could’ve spent more time with them’. That’s who Obito really was. He was convinced with that Tsukuyomi plan because he wanted to live in a dream world where Rin and Kakashi will be with him happily.

So, a person, at their final moment thinks only about all their memories shared with that 'precious' person signifies only one thing. That person must have unconditionally loved the one they thought about.

Sasuke realized that he loves Naruto at that moment and he had no regrets because he smiled before falling into Naruto's lap.

And I always wondered, 'Why did Sasuke thought only about Naruto? Didn't he have any other good memories other than the ones he shared with Naruto?'.

Well, this goes way back when he was just 8, right after the Massacre. Yes, the chapter 698 confession. But I am not going to attach all the panels here as I will go in-depth about it later in this post.

However, there are three panels that provides the general gist of what Sasuke felt about Naruto, the whole time.

Happiness:

Whenever Sasuke watches Naruto, he reminded him of his family and it made Sasuke 'felt relieved' or 'feel warm and fuzzy'. Simply put, Naruto's presence made him happy.

And did Sasuke ever felt relieved?

Yes, he did!!

This above scene happens sometime after the massacre and yet, somehow Naruto could make him smile even in that distressful situation.

And this is one recurring feeling which Sasuke experience whenever he comes in contact with Naruto. After the Massacre, somehow Naruto became his source of happiness or relief. This panel right after massacre, that smile before his ‘supposed’ death, on seeing the Great Naruto Bridge with a relaxed smile, VoTE2 smile.....

Sasuke smiled at all these scenes and you know the reason why!!!

Weakness:

This is exactly opposite from how he felt earlier. And this conflicting thoughts are what Sasuke was battling in his mind throughout Part 1 and Part 2 until Chapter 697. He liked Naruto's presence. But, For him, the very thought of bonding with him made him feel weak.

According to Sasuke, the stronger he bonds with someone the more he has to worry about losing them and the very thought of losing them will put him in a precarious position which is considered as a weakness. And Sasuke doesn’t want to experience this again.

Meaning, Sasuke doesn’t want to feel the pain of loss over someone, ever again. He wants to be the person who don’t care about anyone.

Did Sasuke ever expose his weakness?

Yes he did!!!

This is his absolute display of weakness and this is what he always wanted to avoid. The very thought of something is going to happen to Naruto made him do something that put him under immense pain.

Yes, In his mind, he doesn’t want to care about anyone’s loss. But his body doesn’t seem to listen to him. And that’s why his body moved on it’s own.

God!!! This made me cry!!!!

Pain:

Now, this feeling Sasuke had towards Naruto was very evident in the War Arc. That one time he sensed Naruto’s Chakra in Konoha and asked Orochimaru to hurry up. Also when Naruto was bawling after seeing countless shinobi’s deaths, Sasuke’s reaction changed from ‘I don’t care 😶’ to ‘How dare you😠’, I consider all these moments where Sasuke was bothered about Naruto . But since, I want to focus only on Pre- Land of the Waves moments, I’m not going to add those moments here.

Did Sasuke felt pain in Part 1?

Of course, he did!!!

Well, I always consider this scene as something ‘very personal’ for Sasuke.

In this post, I’ve written about how chapter 3 is masked by the ‘Accidental Kiss’ as a comical facade but when you analyze it deeply you will find that Naruto and Sasuke’s rivalry thing goes long back, even before the series started.

After hearing Pinky’s insensitive comment, what Sasuke did here was completely extreme. He was just giving her a ‘Murder Stare’ which was way too extreme for Naruto, if he was just a teammate. When in reality, Naruto was not just his teammate. That’s why I think Sasuke was bothered by this insensitive comment and roasted her because he knew Naruto was suffering from this loneliness ever since he saw him when he was 8. And when someone made fun of his loneliness, Sasuke just couldn’t keep quiet.

Isn’t this some form of feeling pain of the person you care about and standing up for them?

This is another scene which I don’t have to go in detail about.

On my first watch, I always wondered, ‘Why Sasuke was making exceptions for Naruto? They just know for a very few days and yet why was he giving his lunch and standing up for him, which he doesn’t have to in the first place? It’s just 2 episodes in and Sasuke has already made 4 exceptions, why was he doing this?’

But after watching Episode 478, I came to the realization that Sasuke did all these because he knew about Naruto before the series even started.

It’s funny that before this scene, Sasuke was giving his long-ass serious speech to Pinky about how he is an avenger, he was crying at that time, he wants to get stronger than someone and wants to kill him, he can’t waste his time here..... And yet when he saw Naruto suffering from Hunger, he just gave his lunch without minding the consequences. (Ninja Career says Hello!!!!)

Now, Let’s get back to my previous question I posed here,

Why did Sasuke thought only about Naruto in his final moments? Didn't he have any other good memories other than the ones he shared with Naruto?

The answer is, ‘Sasuke always felt any one of the three extreme emotions such as Happiness, Weakness, Pain in the presence of Naruto. And all these 3 extremities are not something you feel for everyone unless that person shares your blood or the person you love unconditionally. Sasuke, at this point has no one that shares his blood plus the only blood relation left was the one he wants to kill. And since Sasuke thinks he is going to die, he doesn’t mind thinking about his happiest moments with the person he considers as ‘precious’ , because somehow Sasuke considers Naruto as ‘His Person’ or you can say ‘a part of himself’’

And that’s why I think Sasuke realized his true feelings just when he was about to die.

At the end of vote 1, I think he realizes it fully, his true feelings for Naruto.

I had this same thought before, anon!!! But after multiple re-watches, I realized something else. You cannot realize your true feelings and say a painful ‘Good Bye’ at the same time.

Realizing true feelings works only in two ways,

You either say a ‘Good Bye’ to someone. After leaving that person you may realize you miss that person and eventually you may come to term with your feelings.

You already have a strong feeling established in your heart and say a painful ‘Good Bye’. And VoTE 1 belongs to this category.

Simply put, Break ups and Love realization cannot happen simultaneously.

And that’s why Sasuke casually said, “To me, you’ve become my closest friend” without any hesitation. Because he already knew it otherwise obtaining Mangekyou Sharingan (MS) will not be possible if you don’t have such a strong feelings established already.

That whole battle started off as a way to obtain MS but then it changed into his desperate attempt to cut off his bond with Naruto to become stronger and only killing him can sever it because it’s such a strong one. It’s not a bond that will be severed by saying a simple, ‘Thank you’.

At this moment, Sasuke must be realizing he simply cannot cut off this bond and he is again making an exception by letting this one weakness to exist and embracing it by being closer to him for one final time.

And this is one of the hauntingly brilliant way of conveying A Connection indirectly. And the best part is... this scene is not accidental. We know Sasuke felt stinging pain in his arms and knelt down & coughed up blood. How did he end up straight above Naruto’s face?

It’s because Sasuke simply wanted to convey his unbroken bond with Naruto by deliberately leaning towards his face. Rain falls on Sasuke and all those droplets passes through Sasuke’s face and falls upon Naruto’s face or it is very possible that Sasuke might by crying and his tears might be touching his face, but either way, it creates a Connection which he couldn’t able to cut off. In the fillers, Sasuke’s sweat drop falls on Naruto. It’s almost similar to how at the end of chapter 698, both of their blood connects together to form a connection. Which means only death can separate their connection.

That’s why I feel that this is the moment where he is painfully saying his Good Bye for one last time, it pains him immensely because he already knows that leaving his ‘precious’ person who became a part of himself is not very easy added to that he hurt him so much during the battle. And for this reason, Sasuke felt ‘leaving Naruto is like ripping off half of his body’.

He knows deep down that Naruto is special to him, he adores Naruto privately, he had since before the genin days. What do you think?

Sasuke always fights this inner battle within himself. Mind Vs Heart & Body.

His mind says, ‘No more Bonds. Just stay alone. That will save you a lot of pain’.

His body says, ‘Create Bonds. Feel Relieved’.

When Sasuke met Naruto near the lake pier, His body wins the battle and that’s why he smiled back at him despite the trauma he went through few days earlier. This is when Naruto became special to him.

When Sasuke attempted to make friendship with Naruto. His body wins the battle and that’s why he offered food, trained along with him.

When Sasuke died for Naruto by casting away his dreams, his body moved on its own.

At the beginning of VoTE1 battle, his mind said, ‘Leave Naruto. Pursue your dreams by treading in a darker path by filling your heart with hatred’. His body said, ‘Be with Naruto. Achieve your goals by filling your heart with Love’.

By the end of VoTE1, Sasuke came to the conclusion that he really couldn’t sever his bond with Naruto, no matter how hard he tried. That’s why his body moved on its own and ended up straight above Naruto’s face for one last time. Carrying all the heart break of a painful breakup, Sasuke treads towards the darker path. For the very first time, Sasuke’s mind won the inner battle. And he was extremely saddened by it.

Throughout Shippuden, Sasuke mostly listened to his mind and whenever he does, he was seen pushing Naruto away like leaving with Orochimaru, ramming chidori through Naruto’s Shadow Clone when pursuing Itachi, promising to kill Naruto before Attacking Konoha, wanting to fight with Naruto in VoTE2.

But whenever he followed his heart, you can see scenes like Sasuke occupying Naruto’s personal space in Orochimaru hideout, Sasuke smiling at Great Naruto Bridge, asking Obito about Kyuubi (Naruto) when he joined Akatsuki, stopping his rampage on seeing Naruto’s eyes under The Bridge, asking Obito to wait and listened to Naruto under the Bridge, sensing Naruto’s chakra in Konoha and getting concerned about it, prioritize saving Naruto over everyone in the War Arc, switching off Sharingan at the last moment. These are all the moment where Sasuke’s heart was winning over his mind.

And finally at the end of VoTE2, Sasuke happily claimed, ‘I lost’, meaning, his mind which always asked him to cut the bond with Naruto lost to his Heart and Body which always wanted him to be with Naruto. And when Sasuke felt that he was unconditionally loved by Naruto who was willing to share his pain, Sasuke cried happily and finally sealed his Bond with Naruto.

But anyways, I still get this question, why do Sasuke had to battle his feelings for Naruto like a lover? And why Naruto had to act all Tsundere towards Sasuke for most of the Part 1 if only they are friends!!! Like Shikamaru was never shown to be acting tsundere towards Chouji or Naruto. Or Obito was never shown to battle his feelings towards Kakashi!!! Itachi was never shown to be obsessed about Sasuke all the time. Or Hashirama was never obsessed about Tobirama either. Like we were shown many fraternal bonds, friendly bonds throughout the series. And yet why none of those bonds fits for Naruto and Sasuke?

Well, this post is not the right place to cover these questions and I am simply going to leave it at that.

Sasuke realized it very early and that’s why he decided to push Naruto away by the end of Part 1. Whereas Naruto truly realized his feelings at the end of Part 1 and decided to put himself close with Sasuke in Part 2 and finally confessed in VoTE2 that, ‘Remember, you once gave me your food during the Bell Test? It’s because you simply can’t tolerate to watch me suffer before your eyes.... I also feel the same way about you.. I simply cannot see you suffer alone when you were willing to give your body to Orochimaru... It just hurt me a lot inside’.

They finally realize the feelings they had for each other is a love in a broader sense which cannot be labelled under a certain term (it may include a father, a mother, a friend, a lover too) and we can call them as Pure Soulmates, where one cannot live without the other, where one cannot bear to see the other one suffer and they always wanted to be standing next to each other sharing their happiness and pain in their hearts.

#sasunaru #sasunarusasu #narusasu #sns #naruto #sasuke #they are the eternal soulmates #naruto analysis #meta post #when did sasuke realize his feelings for naruto

314 notes · View notes

psychewritesbs · 4 years ago

Photo

Chapter 160: How much of Yuji’s life has been orchestrated? + Megumi the stage-five clinger

Happy JJK-Sunday!

If I had to describe chapter 160 with as few words as possible, I would say: Oh f*ck...

My favorite moment was, of course, Megumi acting like a stage-five clinger. His interaction with Yuji in this chapter is especially ominous in light of Yuji being adamant of protecting Megumi from Sukuna.

A second favorite was Sasaki showing up in this chapter because of the implications moving forward.

Let’s jump right in.

How much of Yuji’s life has been orchestrated by Kenjaku?

We start the chapter with Kenjaku talking to none other than Sasaki, one of the members of the Occult Club at the high school in Sendai that Yuji used to attend.

Of course, the bomb that Gege dropped on us in this chapter is when Kenjaku thanks Sasaki “for getting along with my son”.

Like... excuse you?

Not only does this 100% confirm that Kenjaku used Yuji’s mother’s body to give birth to him, but this specific moment + some foreshadowing from previous chapters also opens an interesting can of worms about Yuji’s life: just how much of Yuji’s life has Kenjaku orchestrated?

For me, the implication is that Sasaki had an assigned role to play in Yuji’s life that would inevitably lead to him eating Sukuna’s finger.

I am assuming this because although we don’t see Kenjaku’s interactions with the other people in Sendai, we get to see that, in addition for thanking her for getting along with Yuji, Kenjaku is incredibly kind to Sasaki. We also learn that she’s the only one who has received a special message from him (thanking her).

Ready to make this whole interaction more ominous? Someone pointed out that the kanji in Sasaki’s name means assistant.

All of this brings us right back to Yuji’s free will--or lack thereof?

We already know that Kenjaku claims he made Yuji “ingest” Sukuna’s finger and that Megumi is rightfully concerned with this idea because he witnessed Yuji eat Sukuna’s finger “of his own free will.”

It’s also becoming increasingly obvious that Yuji was "created” solely for the purpose of becoming Sukuna’s vessel.

What this new reveal about Sasaki does is that it makes everything feel like certain events have been part of Kenjaku’s master plan all along. While this still feels a little farfetched, it will come down to how Gege works this idea into the story moving forward.

Come to think of it, even Yuji’s grandfather’s dying words to Yuji take on a new meaning since we know Wasuke knew something was definitively up with Yuji’s mother.

Another possible bit of foreshadowing all the way in chapter 1: While the intersection in the second panel below could be ANY intersection in Japan, it sure looks like the Shibuya crossing:

A quick note on the importance of kanji meanings in JJK before moving onto the next section: knowing the meaning of Sasaki’s name tells us that names are important in JJK. If you haven’t, I recommend you read my break down on the meaning of Megumi’s FULL NAME. His first name is important, but so is his last name.

The plans moving forward

Going off to Tokyo Colony #2 are Panda and Hakari.

As the strongest, Hakari feels like he should take on Hajime. As for Panda, it looks like his focus will be on hunting down Angel.

Side note: I love that Hakari is still calling Megumi names. Guess Senpai can’t help himself.

I must admit I was disappointed to find that Kirara will stay behind to report, but it is what it is. I am assuming Gege could see no use for Kirara and decided to leave the character out of the action for the time being.

As for Megumi and Yuji, they’ll be heading to Tokyo Colony #1 to target Higuruma, everybody’s new favorite Law & Order boss.

This brings us to Megumi’s current state of mind...

Megumi the stage-five clinger

I had a hard time coming up with the title for this section because what I see happening is that Megumi is starting to feel the pressure of the looming deadline for Tsumiki joining the Culling Game. What his behavior shows, however, is that he needs Yuji with him and is clinging onto him but won’t come out and say it--opting instead for aggression towards Yuji, the very same person he needs most.

His behavior reminded me of how Megumi could be mean to Tsumiki even though he clearly adores her. Apparently that’s the meaning of being tsundere. I’ve read about the term tsundere before but it never “clicked” until this moment and I just love Gege’s interpretation of the trope through Megumi’s character.

It goes without saying that it was REALLY interesting to me to see Megumi’s dynamic and interaction with Yuji in this chapter because it looks like Gege is letting us know Megumi’s state of mind continues to be one of desperation--remember that dogeza bow from chapter 157?

The thing about Megumi is that he looks stoic on the outside, but he’s actually an incredibly emotional person who doesn’t often show how he’s feeling.

I hadn’t caught on, but in chatting with @justafrenchlondoner about the chapter, they pointed out Megumi’s behavior in his dynamic with Yuji appears nervous and aggressive.

Upon a second look I have to agree that Megumi is acting out of character and aggressive with Yuji when all that Yuji really wants is to protect Megumi from Sukuna.

And yes, let me go ahead and sound like a broken record as I remind you of Yuji’s rather ominous words from chapter 143 yet again:

And this is the part of the chapter that knocked the air out of me: Megumi telling Yuji to stfu about Sukuna but Yuji thinking to himself “as long as I’m around you will suffer” back in ch143 is so damn ominous.

Oh f*ck...

But this is what REALLY gets me about this whole interaction and why I’m calling Megumi a stage-five clinger...

Even though Megumi is calling Yuji selfish, in reality, the one being selfish is Megumi.

This is, of course, my own interpretation of the situation, but to me it feels as though Megumi is clinging onto Yuji’s strength for dear life.

It’s almost like Megumi needs not just Yuji’s physical strength, but also his unwavering conviction or mental strength.

If you think about it, Megumi has only recently started fighting to win. Remember how unsure he was of himself when fighting Sukuna for the first time? It wasn’t until he went up against the Cursed Spirit from the Yasohachi bridge that he let go of his inhibitions.

Megumi’s battles during Shibuya were the pinnacle of his growth as a character in that moment. If I remember correctly, according to the timeline of events, the Shibuya incident happened around two weeks prior to the current chapter. You could say that although he is more comfortable in his strength than before, Megumi is still growing into his strength at this point.

The thing about Megumi is that everybody and their Divine Dog believes in him and sees his potential except for him. As Gojo tells him “you undervalue yourself.”

Looking back, the way Megumi asks begs Yuji for help in chapter 143 is very enlightening of how Megumi needs Yuji’s strength:

I initially had read this to mean Megumi needed Yuji’s physical strength. Upon second look, however, Megumi has always seemed to have admiration for Yuji’s conviction.

With the looming deadline for Tsumiki’s vow to join the Culling Game, as Megumi starts to feel the pressure to make his plan work, who better to keep around than the person who will always go for the home run and whose strength he admires?

In other words, like hell he’s going to let Yuji leave his side. Which, again, only makes it more heartbreaking to think Sukuna is up to no good regarding Megumi and Yuji wants to protect him from that.

Oh f*ck.......

The panel below feels like a bit of a lighthearted and comical moment, but it’s also interesting to note that this is the second time they “fight”.

The first “fight” having taken place during the Cursed Womb Arc.

If you will remember, Gege used the Cursed Womb Arc and the Origin of Obedience Arc to show us how much our favorite trio had grown.

Not sure Gege is going to parallel something here again, but just interesting to note.

Oh f*ck...

Ya, please excuse the French.

Despite the many words I’ve shared here, this chapter left me mostly speechless.

I feel like I’ve been trapped in Gojo’s limitless domain expansion and all I can think is “oh f*ck” or “halloween” (if you catch my drift).

Chapter 160 was incredible because it looks like Gege has finally finished putting all his pieces into place and is ready to go for the kill by:

Starting to unravel the story bit by bit, giving us all of the twists we both saw and did not see coming, and

Ramping up the stakes. Taking into consideration the estimates that JJK is somewhere around 60-70% done at this point, It’s not a matter of whether some of our beloved characters will die, but about who, when and how they will die

One last detail

I love the last four panels of the chapter showing Panda, Hakari, Yuji and Megumi all wearing their uniforms (barring Panda) and getting ready to become official participants of the Culling Game by entering their respective barriers.

Knowing that Gege is a very talented artist capable of showing and expressing emotions through his art, I feel like these panels tell us a lot about what the characters might be thinking and I thought I’d expand on that.

Bear in mind this is my personal interpretation as an artist:

Panda looks excited and ready to fight, perhaps even confident. Panda is saying “bring it!” with his body language

There’s a hint of something I can’t describe in Hakari’s face. It’s almost like he’s coming face to face against how big of a challenge this is going to be and yet he’s resolved to walk straight into “the depths of hell itself”

Yuji looks focused, determined to go in and give it his best no matter what comes his way--that’s just who he is

And then there’s Megumi. I’ve been drawing Megumi recently, and one thing I noticed is that he has very specific micro-expressions. In his panel, he’s warming up his wrists as though he’s getting ready to fight, he has a focused look on his face, but the shadows around his eyes say he might be feeling like he is carrying the heavy burden of the uncertainty surrounding the situation he’s going through

With all that being said... the Culling Game is officially starting and we’re in for a one-way ride straight to hell.

Thank you for reading and happy JJK-Sunday!

What about you? What did you enjoy most about chapter 160?

#fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #yuji itadori #itadori yuuji #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen manga #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #god i love jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen meta #jujutsu kaisen theory #jjk ch 160 #gege akutami #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #hakari kinji #jjk meta #jjk theory

183 notes · View notes

nev3rfound · 4 years ago

Text

blame it on the neighbours : b.b

having recently moved in next door, you and bucky become fast friends. however, there's something looming between the two of you and it comes to light when it's revealed you're in the hospital. (1.7k)

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!

requested: yes! by the very sweet @didsomeonesaybucky warnings: bucky freaking out if that counts? descriptions of hospitals

Ever since you moved in and became Bucky's next-door neighbour, he could tell things were going to be different. In the first instance, he could hear you in the corridor, chatting away happily to your other neighbours, offering baked goods. He watched cautiously through the peephole, still having to yet meet you, he merely observed from afar.

When he finally met you, it wasn't the interaction he quite hoped for.

Standing in front of his door with a tray of cookies in hand, you release a shaky breath having heard from your other neighbours that the occupant in apartment 4F wasn't the friendliest. But you would simply have to judge that for yourself, you told them.

"He's a bit of a strange one, dear." Your neighbour, Clarissa in 2F warned you as she accepted the container of muffins you had made that morning. "Doesn't really leave or go out much, I think I've only ever heard him say morning once in the six months he's been here!" Her words echo in the back of your mind as you lift your hand up, knuckles lightly tapping the door.

With wide eyes, Bucky hesitantly walks toward the door and stares straight through the peephole. His breath halters, watching as you stare down at your feet.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky glides his fingers over the several locks across his door and slides through the small gap in the doorway with an attempted smile gracing his lips.

"Hi," You start, now lifting your eyes up toward this mysterious neighbour who is definitely not what you anticipated. "I, I'm Y/n, I moved in next door a week ago," Motioning to your apartment, Bucky forces his eyes to glance across down the hall before averting them back to you, taking in your features up close as you rub your lips together.

"Yeah, I heard you moving in." Bucky comments, internally cringing at his choice of wording. "I mean, I," His words falter at the sound of you chuckling softly to yourself. "can I start again? Is that alright?" He asks, grateful that you nod. "It's nice to meet you, Y/n. I'm James."

"Well, it's lovely to know my other neighbour, James. I, these are for you." Thrusting the tray forward, Bucky pushes his door open further with his foot to accept the tray, forgetting he didn't have his glove on.

Your eyes wander down to see his left arm is entirely metal. "Thanks." He mutters, feeling your eyes burning into his arm.

"I'm sorry," You quickly say, looking up at his face. "it's rude to stare, my Mom would scold me if she were here right now."

Bucky shakes his head, moving his leg to catch the back of the door. "Don't worry 'bout it." He brushes it off, but he notices your eyes wandering around the bland corridor and your lips parting.

"You don't happen to know any good places for dinner 'round here?" You move the conversation on, causing Bucky to raise a brow in response. "I'm kinda new to the area and I was wondering if you knew any good spots." You shrug your shoulders, hoping he couldn't read your mind and know that sentence was a complete lie.

"Erm, yeah." He sheepishly tells you, hearing Doctor Raynor droning in the back of his mind about putting himself out there, and not on those godforsaken dating apps again. "There's a great sushi place I know of."

Your smile brightens at his suggestion, and Bucky can't ignore how his lips rise at the sight. "Great, wanna join me then since you know it so well?" You suggest nonchalantly. "And you can always enjoy those as a dessert afterwards."

Looking down at the tray of warm cookies, Bucky tries to hide the sound of his stomach grumbling against the tray.

"Sure," He reaches into his apartment, grabbing his things including his gloves before following you out. "so, what brings you to Brooklyn?"

It's been several months since you moved in next door, and Bucky couldn't be happier that you plucked up the courage to knock that day.

Every week you two hang out, sometimes you join him and Yori for lunch who spends most of the time trying to convince Bucky to ask you out (only to be scolded when you're absent.) Sometimes you'll cook dinner, dance around your apartment and watch movies or wander around the city whilst Bucky tells you old stories; just like normal friends do, right?

It was truly blissful, but there was still so much about each other you had yet to learn.

Running his fingers through his combed hair, Bucky tugs on his blue henley before heading out.

As he locks his front door, he carries out dinner that he promised to make for you tonight.

"Oh, James." Your neighbour in 2F, Clarissa, stands in front of her door with her handbag and walking stick.

"Hi, Clarissa." Bucky forces a small smile, having heard her conversations regarding his past, muttering about having a murderer in the building shouldn't be allowed.

"Heading into Y/n's I take it." She hums, eyeing him carefully as he nods in response. "She should be back later, told me she had to go to the hospital." Waving herself off, Clarissa turns the lock in her doors.

"The hospital?" Bucky speaks up as the containers in his hands begin to slip, his mind going a hundred miles an hour. "Y/n's in the hospital?" Trying not to yell, Bucky steps closer, causing Clarissa to clutch her handbag tightly in front of her chest.

"Yes," Clarissa states calmly, but Bucky notices the keys in her right hand begin to shake.

"Thanks." Bucky mutters, stepping away as he darts back into his own apartment and grabs his coat, barely able to process his thoughts before rushing down the stairwell with nothing but you on his mind.

Reaching the entrance to the hospital, Bucky hands the driver some money without any words being exchanged. Bucky knew he looked like hell; he couldn't focus properly on anything. He had only seen you last night, the two of you in his apartment painting his living room walls, laughing together as you accidentally flicked paint across his cheek.

The reception area was crowded, voices bounced from wall to wall as Bucky strode toward the desk where a woman sat, staring blankly at a screen.

"How can I help?" She asks, briefly glancing up at Bucky before focusing on her screen once more.

Suddenly lost for words, Bucky homes in on a man crying in the waiting area, loudly sobbing into his hands as a nurse stands over him.

"Y/n Y/l/n, I'm looking for Y/n." Bucky forces the words out as the Nurse simply nods whilst typing away, humming a tune to herself.

"Oh okay," The Nurse pauses as her eyes scan over the monitor.

Clutching the edge of the desk, Bucky can hear the plates in his metal arm whirring as his grip tightens, nearly tearing the panel off as the silence becomes insufferable.

"So Y/n is currently in the operating theatre." The nurse tells Bucky nonchalantly, glancing up to see something change in his expression.

"No," Shaking his head, Bucky steps back. "she, I, I we were going to have dinner." It sounds pathetic to him, saying it aloud. But seeing you, having any moment with you made him feel human again, almost normal.

"Yeah, crazy how schedules fall." A heavy sigh leaves the nurses lips, unaware of the cool gaze that is locking in on her.

"Do you know when she'll be-" Before Bucky can finish his sentence, he's caught off guard by someone calling his name from the corridor.

"James?" You chuckle, walking toward him wearing your uniform adorned with your badge.

"Doll?" Bucky stutters, stepping closer as he tries to stop the tears in his eyes from forming. "You, you're okay?" He mumbles, looking you over, keeping his hands on your arms.

"Why wouldn't I be?" You ask, evidently surprised. "Everything okay, James?" Lowering your voice, you peer down to look him in the eyes whilst his head hangs low.

"Clarissa said you were in the hospital." Bucky huffs in annoyance to himself. "I, I didn't put it together," He mumbles. "I forgot that you,"

"That I'm a Doctor?" Holding back the laugh in your throat, you sigh before tugging Bucky closer into your embrace. "I'm okay, James. I'm only sorry you came all this way."

Keeping you in his arms, Bucky doesn't want to let go. Whilst your face rests in the crook of his neck, he allows a few stray tears to fall in relief. "I, I made us dinner." He eventually says, feeling you pull back to look at him, your eyes softening at the trails left on his cheeks.

"Oh, James." Raising your hand, you cup his cheek. "I'll be off work in an hour. I'm so sorry I should've said something or let you know sooner."

Shaking his head, Bucky takes your hand from his cheek and runs his fingers over your knuckles. "Don't worry 'bout it, Y/n. I'm just glad you're safe." He tells you, wishing he could say something else, but for now, that was enough.

"Did you make,- Your eyes light up in excitement, but Bucky cuts you off before you can finish your sentence.

"Yep." Bucky chuckles as you do a little dance. "You're such a dork sometimes, doll."

"Yeah," You admit, slipping your hand from his as you bury them in your pockets. "but would you have me any other way, neighbour?" Raising a brow to him, Bucky shakes his head. "Thought as much."

"I'll keep dinner warm for you." He smiles, hearing the word neighbour circle his thoughts. Yet, for once, Bucky forces his intrusive thoughts aside as his lips brush across your forehead. "Be good, Doc." He can't help but laugh to himself at the sound of your heart beating rapidly whilst externally, you remain cool.

"I'll try my best, Barnes." You salute him, watching as he walks back out of the hospital, knowing he's one step closer to calling you his girl.

t a g l i s t (thank you for the support!) link in my bio and at the top of this piece to add yourself☺️(if your user isn’t tagged, it’s because nothing comes up sorry!)

@bissstuff @psychicforest@lourightm@mywinterwolf@justsomedreaming @stanlux17 @smokeandnailz @supermoonchildbroski @xrosegoldwolfx@courtneychicken@marvelsangels@supraveng@tommy-lee-81@smilexcaptainx@fandom-princess-forevermore@sarge-barnes-sir@pleasantlysecretdream @decaffeinated-fangirl @howdyherron @kirby-boo @florencxs@eldahae @handmesomecoffee @hi-my-name-is-riley @dev1lbella @thanossexual @alissaginger @sambucky8@notbrooklynsblog @nikkixostan @cosmiccaptian @adoreyou976@sarcasticallywitty15 @multi-fandom-princess07 @16boyfriends-and-me @courtneychicken @mackevanstan80 @torchwoodoctor @pleasantlysecretdream @yougottalovefandoms @magicalxdaydream@soccer-100000 @tenaciousperfectionunkown @talksoprettyjjx @btsonthedaily @jessyballet @katiaw2 @buckyswildflower@lucrea @weenersoldierr @katiaw2 @lucrea @amelia-song-pond @bluelakeee @dottirose @emilytheukuleleplayer @5-seconds-of-mendes @rudystilins @bookfrog242@wild-rose-35@fleurlovesbucky@iiclarixa @soldierstucky@twinerd14@lieswithoutfairytales@ateliefloresdaprimavera@teenwonder@weenersoldierr@nobody-will @ilikemypolarbear @rottenstyx @original-in-itself @sebby-staan @bbl32 @lyoongx @iilwjbb @siriuslyslytherin @chazubagi @youngmarveltastypersona

460 notes · View notes

misslovasstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Why Dazai is a complex character

We all know how hard it is to get in this man’s mind, right?

First, let’t take a look on what makes a character complex:

- Conflicted or contradictory motives - Change or grow as a result of the story’s actions - Decisions advance the story’s plot - Create conflict in the story’s plot or theme - Learn something about themselves

It fits Dazai perfectly, right? Now let’s take them one by one.

1. Conflicted or contradictory motives

- to die/to find meaning/to save others/? What the audience is given to realize is that Dazai wants salvation through death. His desire to die comes with a shade of humor to hide how sad and tragic it really is. Other than that, one motive of his is the promise he made to his friend who died on his arms. You see it right? Dazai’s motives are contradictory because he saves people but can’t really save himself. Although Dazai is on the side of ‘good’ which is actually something that doesn’t really exist in BSD world because everything is more like in a gray area, his motives are more focused on others rather than himself. While on the mafia, his focus was on himself, his doom and suffering. That’s what made him so miserable. People aren’t sure whether Dazai has changed, and they question his conflicted motives. But in reality, it’s very simple. Dazai has no hidden motives other than the ones we already know. He’s not the type to aim for power and fortune. Dazai just wants a bit of happiness, he wants to answer questions that are impossible to answer. I’d like to quote a Dostoevsky saying:

“Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.” ― Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment

2. Change or grow as a result of the story’s actions Dazai’s grow is something people fail to see. I’ve read thoughts on this matter and some claim that Dazai hasn’t changed at all. That is partly true. Before Oda’s death, Dazai was not open to people (and still isn’t) but the difference stays on how he dealt with it. In the dark era, Dazai drowned himself in misery, seeing only darkness and claiming that this is how it always has been for him. Whilst in the time being, Dazai hides his misery behind a smile and happy facade. Bsck then, he made no attempt to change, nor did he tried to look things differently. Dazai was alone, completely. There were times he was surrounded by people he genuinely cared about, like Oda. Now, the thing is, without Oda, Dazai may have never gotten the development he got. Hardly would the things lead differently if Oda was still alive. With Oda, Dazai felt comfortable, not judges. He felt like he could open up with him because Oda would always listen to Dazai without joking around or judging him. That’s the reason why Odasaku was the only person that came close to understanding Dazai, because he was the only one Dazai opened up to. I believe that is becuase in reality, Dazai trusted Oda. We know how easily he can see through people. Perhaps, he saw in Oda that kindness and goodness that intrigued him. He saw such integrity and selflessness that made him lower his guard. Their relationship was beautiful. They let aside the ranks and always had each other’s backs. Sometimes, between two people, it just clicks. It feels like you’ve known each other for a long time and you find yourself comfortable, you let yourself be. That’s how Dazai was. Maybe, the only thing that kept him happy, was his friendship with Odasaku and Ango. Because those were two people that accepted him the way he was, people who appreciated life and had dreams and goals, something that Dazai longs to have. When Odasaku died, Dazai’s hope died with him. Although extremely intelligent, Dazai is optimistic. He had hope that he’d find a solution to his problem, but Oda’s words shattered him.

Dazai did not cry. But you can tell that he’s ready to. Look at his face and tell me that that’s not the most devastating Dazai you have ever seen. His lip trembles and his eyes give away how hard it is for him, how hard it has always been. This is the moment that Dazai takes the decision to change, keeping the promise of his friend to become a good man and protect others.

3- Decisions advance the story’s plot Dazai is the one who comes up with brilliant strategies, but that’s not all of it.

- He took Atsushi under his mentoring and hired him as an agent in the ADA. Atsushi plays a very important role in almost every mission or situation that ADA is in. If Atsushi wasn’t in the ADA, things might have gone completely different. - Dazai decided to join the good side. Yet again, if Dazai didn’t join the ADA, there would be no Atsushi, no shin-soukoku and probably the ADA would have already fallen due to the immense power the mafia would have with Dazai in it. More people would die, wars would destroy the city and things may have gotten to be worse. - The creation of shin-soukoku The plot goes around Atushi and Akutagawa as the new generation of the double black, a powerful duo brought together for the good of the city, to defeat the greater evil. Their mentor, who sees the potential in them better than everyone else, has forcefully made them work together, which had successful results. If Dazai didn’t make such decision, Atsushi and Akutagawa may had already killed each other. - Dazai decides almost any plan and strategy there is. He plays his cards well and the way he thinks and acts determine the aftermath.

4- Create conflict in the story’s plot or theme - Dazai’s a problematic character for a lot of reasons. He’s lazy, distracted, unbothered, mysterious and secretive. Sometimes, unwillingly he creates conflicts that sometimes as viewed lightly by the audience. Like the shin-soukoku conflict. A part why Aku hates Atsushi is because he is Dazai’s junior and that he gets almost everything that he himself once desired. He gets praise and acknowledgment from Dazai. The latter, has not acknowledged Aku that way he wants to, but surely he has acknowledged him on his own way. Dazai made him part of the new double black and puts his trust in him and Atsushi. Dazai too believes in the quote that ‘only a diamond can polish a diamond’. Furthermore, we have the conflict between the mafia and the ADA. You may think that it’s not directly tied to Dazai, but he plays a major role. Having Dazai in the opposite team, makes it harder for the mafia to create successful operations. Not only Dazai’s intelligent and cunning, but he’s an ex-member himself which makes him even more of a threat to the mafia. His suicidal tendencies is the reason why he met Atsushi in the first place. So in a way, Dazai drives the plot of the story.

5- Learn something about themselves I believe that this is the point we are all looking forward to. Although we have already caught a glimpse of Dazai considering his worth as a human being in the Dead apple movie, but also in the manga countless times.

Just look at his expression. How his eyes close so peacefully when Atsushi claims that he does things that let him know that Daza’s a good guy (visiting graves and also in the end of the movie...)

Dazai sees himself rather harshly. He judges himself for his past and puts himself in constant misery. Maybe he doesn’t accept the fact that he’s a ‘good guy’, but he’s desperately trying to be.

Take a look to the following panel (chapter 50)

You can tell how much Dazai wants to help and this warms my heart so much.

“Yosano could heal me and I could help in the search”

He clenches the sheet because of the frustration of not being able to help; that his ability is holding him back.

HE’S BLAMING HIMSELF.

Like one would say that he’s injured, or that he was shot, but no. Dazai puts the blame on himself like he always does.

I’d like people to acknowledge Dazai’s growth because our boy is trying so hard. Dazai literally went from hell to salvation. He has already found his salvation but he hasn’t recognized that yet.

In conclusion, Dazai is the complex character we so much love. In the future, maybe we’ll be able to see him a bit more happy. Genuinely happy.

(sorry this was very sloppy but I hope you get the point)

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs dazai #bungou sd #bungou stray dogs analysis #bungou stray dogs theories #dazai #Dazai Osamu #dazai analysis #being a dazai stan is hard #dazai manga #dazai san #dazai scenarios #bsd dazai #bsd dark era #bsd anime

800 notes · View notes

plush-rabbit · 4 years ago

Text

In God's Warm Embrace

Pastor Simeon decides to talk about you and your little absence around the Church as of late.

Warnings: could be considered noncon, or like coercion

Warnings: 4.2K

A/N: (〃￣︶￣)人(￣︶￣〃)

You walk through the corridor, the statues looking upon you. White roses are placed in vases at each window, the petals wilting at the ends and falling onto the lace tablecloth. The eyes of a crucified Jesus seem to follow you as you enter a room. It’s empty, only pictures and a singular cross looking upon you and keeping you company as you sit on a teal cushioned chair and wait.

The room is filled with light, the rays of the fading sun catching amongst the panels and shining a kaleidoscope of colors onto the room, peeking at the top of your knees and creeping to your thighs. Your hands are moist with sweat, your brow knitted with worry and your lips pulled into a frown. Shame floods your body, burning hot with the fire from hell, your tears slipping down the curve of your face and dripping onto the collar of your shirt. You’re stuck in silence while the world outside moves on, living shame free and simply existing.

The door to the office opens with a gust of warm air entering, and in the same breath, it’s closed, clicking to a lock. You swallow and your mouth is dry, your gaze sticks on the hardwood floor, trying to make out a pattern within the lines. A chill runs through your body when two hands rest on your shoulder, gripping tightly onto you.

Silence rings in your ears, deafening and enough to make your ears ache. “You know I care for you deeply, do you not?” He offers no room for you to answer him. “I do my best with what I can, while I’m in charge of the church- in charge of you. You know you’re able to come to me if you’re ever struggling.” His index finger twitches against your shoulder. “Have I not made that clear?” He squeezes your shoulders with both hands.

“No, Pastor Simeon. You’ve made it clear I can turn to you. You’ve taken great care of me ever since I found the Church.” You can hear laughter ringing outside the window, the color on your knees twinkling with each passing second. “I appreciate it very much.”

“Then, you’d be willing to tell me why I found you with Pastor Raphael? You know, he doesn’t just allow anyone in his office.” His nails are cushioned by the fabric of your blouse. “Nor does he allow anyone to sit so close to him.” You can hear something venomous in his voice, a low hiss that is gone as soon as it came.

“I simply needed help planning the monthly party. You seemed busy with a new follower and I didn’t want to take away your attention.” Your heart leaps into your throat, catching and making it impossible to breathe. “I didn't mean to offend.”

“You know I’m always happy to make time for my favorite follower.” His hand creeps closer to your neck, his skin warm against your clammy one. “While you’re here, I’ve also been meaning to ask you why you haven’t shown up on Friday nights? You know we still hold services on those nights.” His index tickles the base of your neck, stroking upwards onto you. “Where have you been?”

You rub your thighs together, anxiety deep in your joints, making you antsy and uncomfortable. “I’ve met some friends,” you confess. “We go out on Fridays and well, Fridays are usually empty so I assumed-”

“Ah,” he says simply. “You believe that your own enjoyment is above others who are seeking guidance from our Lord.” He sighs, his hands coming closer to the base of your neck, fingertips light against you. “I see the Devil has tainted your heart,” a sad tone lacing at his words.

“No!” You gasp out, trying to look above. “It- It’s not-”

His words cut through yours. “Tell me, are these friends the ones who saved you when you were alone? When you were lost and broken? Are they the ones who rescued you from damnation?” You shake your head. “I can’t hear you.”

“No,” you mutter, twiddling your hands together. “That was you.” You swallow, your lips dry and the swirl of colors makes it hard to focus. “I apologize. I just thought-” your lips pull into a straight line- “I had thought that perhaps I could go out. I didn’t mean to abandon my duties here. I promise to do better.”

“You’re in God’s house. You should know that promises made under here are sacred.” You nod your head. “Speaking of Fridays-” his hands finally wrap around your neck and you startle- “you’ve been missing confession during then.” Your hands flutter but make it no further than your chest, your eyes trying to latch onto a reflective surface to look at him. He says your name in a light whisper, his fingertips caressing the front of your neck. “I’m sure you have things to confess. Don’t fret, we all sin from time to time. We are only made in God's Image, but he’s the one who gave us free will. As long as we find our path to light, we’ll surely be saved.” He clicks his tongue, a hand faltering away to slip past your shoulder and tease at your collarbone. “Is there anything you’d like to confess? After all, you have my undivided attention.”

“I’m afraid I have sinned.” His hands tighten around you. You aren’t sure if it’s a threat or something else- even then you aren’t sure what the “something else” could be. “As you mentioned earlier, I’ve been putting my own satisfaction above others. I fear that I’m becoming selfish in my ways. However, I know that with enough prayer, I could overcome this. I think I'll head home tonight and pray.” You don’t know how to feel with his hands around your throat, not liking the way they seem to claim over you. “I still need to purchase items for the monthly party.”

As you move to rise from your seat, he pushes you back down. You fear that the Devil’s clawed hands will rise from the floor and grab at your ankles. You call his name, straining your neck to look up at him and when you meet his eyes, you look back down, murmuring an apology for daring to look at him.

“You’ve been lacking your duties, playing around with people who don’t care for you- at least not in the way I do- and now you want to rush home? You’re already here, let me help you. Let me be the one to help you repent your sins. I am a man of God, devoted and under his light, it’s only right that I save you from damnation.” His words leave a sinking feeling in your stomach, aching and twisting around, pulling tight until acid is rising- thick and burning. “You want to be forgiven, don’t you?”

You nod your head. “In the confessional?”

“No, dear.” The colors are warm on your skin, his hands light, and the room cold. “This one is a bit more personal. Something that I’m only willing to share with you.” The sun shines outside, colors reflected across the room, shining in an heavenly light. “Hebrew 4:13-” he sounds almost smug as he speaks, his abdomen pressed against the back of your chair- “Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account.” You can feel him hover closer to you, his hand lowering past your collarbone and slipping to the curve of your breast. “You seek to repent for your sins, do you not? Do you think Raphael would still be intrigued with you after learning that you’re abandoning God to seek out pleasure from others? I know how you care for the opinion of others.” His hand massages at your breast, pulling at the cup, your hardened nipple peeking through the shirt. “Come now, my little lamb, make the wise choice.” His finger pinches at your clothed nipple, causing you to pinch your thighs together, a shameful sound muffled between your closed lips. “Do you wish to confess your sins to me?”

Your body is lit aflame with the way that he touches you, an uncomfortable growing wet spot forming between your legs. “I wish to repent, Pastor Simeon.” Your stomach drops at your words, your heart beating against your chest and a cold feeling wraps tight around you. “Please, help me.”

“Open your mouth,” he says, a hand hugging your throat and forcing you to look up at him. You do as you say, the tip of your tongue peeking past your bottom lip. “You wished to repent for your sins.” His lips curve into a thin smile. “Well, I’m about to help you.” He bows his head, the apple in his throat bobbing as his lips are pursed together. Spit falls onto your tongue, the taste bitter with wine, and thick with salvation, as you close your mouth and swallow it. A hand cups your face, his hand softly curling into a petting motion. “Good-” he pulls away and you watch him move, standing before you with hands on his belt, the metal clinking together as he undoes the belt- “get on your knees and take my cock into your mouth.”

You can still feel the way that his hand felt when it was wrapped around your throat, the lingering feeling of something tight coiling around you and you fear that you’ll be left with bruises. “Yes, Pastor Simeon,” you whisper under your breath.

The chair squeaks in the room, your knees cold as you meet the floor. You open your mouth, wanting to speak further, to perhaps put a stop to this or have some sort of guidance, but the taste of wine weighs heavy on your tongue, your breath coming out in short pants as your hands tremble to unzip his pants. You inch close to him, the zip echoing in your ears as you pull it down. He removes his shoes and kicks them off the side, his pants lowered and he stands in his briefs in front of you, the outline of his cock bulging against the fabric. Your hand cups over the outline, your lips pulled into a frown when warmth emanates from it and burns against your palm.

“Are you okay?” You look up at him, with wide eyes, sneaking a glance back to where your hand still holds his covered cock. “I understand, being tempted is quite different than actually committing the act, but I assure you-” his hand curves over the top of your head- “this is for you. I’m trying to save your soul. I was chosen by God, I wouldn’t dare trick you in any way.” He senses your hesitation, the worry in your eyes that brim over with tears. “How about this? Kiss me. That way, it’ll be an easy transition for you.” He helps you onto your legs, standing against him, his hands cupping your face and lips bittersweet with wine. “We’ll kiss like lovers. Make love as one, and I assure you, that after today’s session, you’ll be one step closer to God’s Light.”

His lips are soft, tongue even softer as it slips between your lips. His kiss is nice- something pleasant and slow that makes your stomach churn as if butterflies were inside of you. You lean closer to him, pressing your chest against his and your hands are awkwardly stiff at your sides. He’s still pressed against you- his erection stiff and pulsating with heat as he deepens the kiss.

A hand leaves your face, leaving you cold. You whine into him when his hand traces down your body, grabbing at your empty hand and placing it above his cock. He holds yours, gently mimicking jerking motions as the kiss continues. Saliva pools under your tongue, slipping past the corners of your lips and dripping thickly onto your shirt. Your head spins, fever burning your skin as the summer heat does to you. You hold together onto him, the cock thick in your hands as shakily continues the motions without his help. With a mouth filled with his tongue and shared spit, he pulls away, pecking at the corner of your lips to your jawline and against your neck- right below where your heart pulses. His briefs are slipped off, the heat of his member burning against your hand.

“Get on your knees. It’s time to worship,” he says quietly to you, his hands wrapped around your arms, guiding you to your knees. “Remember, that this is for you.” Your knees meet the cold floor once more, your joints aching and lips already feeling bruised despite the soft kiss. “You’re the sinner and I’m the one guiding you to salvation.”

Your cupid’s bow bumps against his cockhead, a slimy trail of pre-ejaculate spreading across your lips. A hint of something salty replaces his bittersweet taste, you push yourself forward, your lips opening as you wrap them around his cock. His hands cradle the back of your head, a sigh of pleasure filling the air between the two of you.

“Suck on it,” he orders, pushing your head deeper onto his cock, until it hits your uvula. You hollow your cheeks, the soft, plushiness of it pressed against the side of his cock. “Just a bit harder, my dear.” His hands knit between your hair and his fingertips press against your scalp. “You suck on my cock, and I’ll guide you.”

True to his word, he guides your head, pushing you deeper down his cock as tears spring to your eyes, your ears hot and chest losing air with each thrust. Your mouth closes around his cock, a pitiful attempt at sucking at his cock while he thrusts your head onto him. With each thrust, the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, his hands holding tightly onto you. To say he is forceful feels almost wrong, but his hands are heavy, his gestures anything but sweet and the only kind words that he can hiss out between his clenched teeth are praises that make your stomach twist. You aren’t sure if it’s his taste that is acidic or sickness settling in.

“But while my relationship is secure with you, I know sin can break our fellowship at times. I’m still human, and I often forget who I am and Whose I am. You want to convict and correct me, not shame me.” His voice cuts through the air, louder than your choking. He holds power in his voice, muttering through the prayer, increasing in volume as his moans do. “So before I take communion today, I’m asking You to truly search my heart and reveal hidden things for which to ask Your forgiveness.”

The noises that fill the room are loud, gagging and wet slapping sounds with each movement. Your jaw aches, tears slipping past the curve of your face as your nails dig into his thighs. You call his name and it’s unheard, a jumbled mess of slurred sounds that are lost within the wet slapping sounds. Yet, even with his cruelness, something pulses between your legs. It’s an uncomfortable situation, something thick slipping past your entrance and resting on your underwear, the twisting in your stomach rivaled by a burning ache.

“Oh my,” he grunts, pressing your face down to his base. Your tongue slips around the underside of his cock, tracing at a vein as saliva slips down your chin. “My little lamb, you feel fantastic.” He’s too deep in your mouth, closing at your throat and blocking any air that can travel. “Just hearing you gag is nearly enough for me.” Your face burns, burning hot tears form and cling to your lashes. Your mouth bubbles with drool, your palms slapping against his thighs as you call to him through his cock. Something acid crises in your throat, only to be washed away by his thick seed. It slides down your throat, heavy and filling, white creaminess staining your tongue and burning past your tears.

When he pulls you away, you cough, small specks of semen ruining the cherry wood floors. You gasp for air, the scent of candles burning strong in the air. “Sim-” a cough interrupts your words- “Simeon,” you hiccup, your hands flat on the ground. You look up at him, watching as he strokes his cock, semen dripping onto the floor. “What are you doing?”

“We’re not done yet,” he says as he grabs you by your biceps and lifts you into a standing position. “I apologize for the roughness but it’s what the Lord commands me to do. Now, it’s time for the other steps.” He presses you against the edge of his desk, the hem of your skirt in his hands and his breath close to yours. His thumb brushes away your tears. “Lift up your skirt for me, my sweet lamb.”

“What?” You ask in a strained whisper, wrapping your arms around yourself, giving yourself the comfort you desperately need. “What do you mean? Wasn’t that enough?”

“There can never be enough salvation.” he grabs your hands and lets them hover over the hem of your skirt. “Now, lift up your skirt. Don’t make me repeat myself again, dear.” He takes a few steps back. He gives you a slight nod, allowing you to proceed.

You lift up your skirt, the fabric clenched in your hands, and even though you just had his cock in your mouth, you feel exposed. Simeon hums in thought, stepping towards you, his index finger tracing over your slit. His index presses harshly against you, almost teasing at your entrance and when he pulls away, the tip of his index is shining. He tilts his head and rubs his index and thumb together, your arousal smearing between the two, as his hands on your thighs as they reach the hem of your underwear and pull down. You can feel a cool strand of your arousal slap against our warm skin when the fabric pools around your ankles.

Your clothes are removed, falling onto a lifeless puddle on the floor. You rest on the desk, your hands flat against the table as you peer at your Pastor. He fills the gap, the tip of his cock smearing between your lips. You gasp out, your head shaking as you look around the room. ��Wait- Wait,” you stop him. He listens and gives you a tender smile.

“What’s wrong, my dear?” His hand cusps at your face, his thumb brushing against your lower lip.

“I’m a-” your face burns with shame as you look down. Your hand is casted in rainbow light. “I don’t- I’m saving myself till marriage. I don’t- isn’t there another way?”

“My lovely lamb,” he whispers out, his lips ghosting over your collarbone and resting over a pert nipple, another hand covering your other breast. “You don’t have to worry about that right now. God won’t hate you for acts of love. If that’s difficult for you to comprehend, why don’t you think of me as your God for now?” His lips peck at your nipple, his mouth opening and suckling at your breast. “Making love with God is not a sin.” You arch your back as he nurses on your breast, his other hand massaging and kneading at the other breast.

Tears dry in your eyes, your gaze wide and doe-like. “What about a condom? I’m not on birth control or anything.”

“My dear-” he kisses at your breast once more, lolling the hardened nipple with the tip of his tongue- “with me inside of you, it’ll be much more pure. It’ll be the pure essence of me- our God- in your body. Nursing at your womb and filling you with life. Don’t deprive yourself of that.” He lifts his head, your breast is cold from the air, the other pert from touch.

Your rim is stretched, a pain sparking between your legs. The crown of your head is pushed against his desk, your hands lawing around his biceps. He muffles your yelp with a rushed kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips. You gasp for air, pulling him closer to you and wrapping your legs around him, hoping that that will deter him from continuing.

It doesn’t.

He thrust into you, pulling away, his cock stretching you virgin walls. He pulls away from the kiss, his lips on your neck before he rises above you and kisses your lips once more. Your legs loosen from the hold on him and he grabs at you, pushing your legs into a bent position over your body. Everything feels much too tight, the position only bringing a stinging pain with pleasure right at the cusp, your body aching for anything to remove the pain.

In a desperate attempt, you bring your hand to rub at your clit, letting out a breathy moan when it does relieve you from the pain. He kisses your lips once more and unable to think, you can only press down at your clit.

“It stings,” you murmur between the lips. “Pastor Simeon, it doesn’t-”

“Just give it a second.'' His hand replaces yours and his fingertips feel foreign compared to yours. “Such a good follower to know that you have to play with yourself.” He presses the kiss deeper, his hands finding a sweet rhythm that makes you gasp into his mouth, the pain fading away with every thrust. “How ever did you know to do something like that?” His pace quickens, a wet clicking sound filling the room as he pushes himself inside of you. “Do you do this often or-” his fingers pinch at your clit, causing you to squeeze your legs together, your cunt wrapping tightly around him- “did someone teach my favorite follower something so perverse? What was it? Were you being a whore and touching yourself or did you let someone play with you?”

“Me,” you choke out, clinging onto him, so desperate for another kiss to dull the fading pain. “It was me.” Your tears catch on your tongue and you shake your head at the taste. “I’m so sorry Pastor Simeon. I was weak,” you moan, closing your eyes until colors and organic shapes fill the inky blackness. You can feel the gold cross around his neck rest between the valley of your breasts, a cold surface against your fevered skin, it bobs and piches at you with every thrust.

He grunts above you, moaning your name until it sounds odd in your ears, his cock twitching inside of your velvety walls. His cock fills you, stretches your cunt and makes you feel impossibly full. Your clit pulses with arousal as you drip around his cock, pulling him close to you, desperate to feel his burning skin upon yours. He calls your name, stuttering his hips inside fo you before coming to a still. You’re filled with his seed- creamy white that spills out of you only to be pushed back in by his hands. You’re covered by him, your entrance puffed and spilling with white discharge, your body shakes as he pulls himself out. His lips meet your in a tender kiss, sucking at your bottom lip and holding you close.

Your eyes are heavy with exhaustion, your body shaking lightly as thick semen pours out of your ravaged cunt. You call for him, your hands blindly searching as they fall past the edge of the desk. His lips press against your forehead, cold hands that touch at your feverish body, makes you lean into him. His lips smile against you.

“You’re free to rest here as long as necessary.” You open your eyes at him, your brows furrowed but without energy and no room to have any coherent thoughts, you are unable to ask him anything. “I hate to leave you here, but I have a meeting to attend. I’ll hope to see you again next Friday, of course.”

You turn your head lazily towards him where he’s already buckling his belt. “Next?” You ask with a pause. “What do you-” a yawn ruins your sentence and chance to speak.

“Surely, you did not believe that one session was enough to lead you to redemption? Oh my, sweet lamb, no.” He clicks his tongue and shakes his head with a patronizing huff. “You’ve told me yourself that you’ve touched yourself- do you believe that God would take in such a whore?” He smiles at you and it’s cold. “He wouldn’t,” he says simply, adjusting his collar, the necklace that once laid between your breasts now rests between his. “But I’m here to watch over you. To give you the treatment that you deserve and make sure you get into God’s good graces.” He walks to the door, his back turned to you, until his hand is around the knob. “Now remember, you wanted this, and I’m more than happy to help, my dear lamb.”

The door clicks close behind him and you are left in a darkening room, the kaleidoscope of lights vanished long ago, only a dripping trail of semen leaking from your cunt. Your body aches and you feel cold, naked under the eyes of the Lord. With shaky limbs, you rise from the desk, wearing the clothes as they are- wrinkled and dirtied from the dust on the floor. You pat yourself down. The doorknob is cold under your touch, your body pricked with goosebumps, and let the door close behind you.

206 notes · View notes

volleychumps · 5 years ago

Note

hi,, i love your writing !! this is kind of odd but can i request a (slightly nsfw) morning after with fem!s/o x oikawa, kuroo, terushima, and osamu? you had a one night stand but they actually like you so they convince you to go on a date after making you breakfast or something like that? please and thank you 🥺

Thank you for 2.8k<33 I love you all.

More Than A Night. (w/ Oikawa, Kuroo, Terushima, and Osamu)

Warning(s): slight nsfw themes

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

Oikawa

“You’re up early.”

You flinch in the midst of shouldering your jacket on as you glance behind you, wondering just how rushed you looked as you blush in embarrassment, causing the brunette to grin in turn. Oikawa yawns through a playful grin with one eye closed, adorning a pair of sweatpants and nothing to cover his bare torso as he crosses his arms over his chest in amusement. You look to the cracked open door, smiling a bit sheepishly.

“I didn’t want to um, impose?” Your words come out questioning as you look away, swallowing tightly at the sight as Oikawa takes knowing steps towards you. You shudder when the setter’s hands you knew so well carefully take the jacket you were in the middle of putting on, slipping it off your shoulders slowly while humming to himself.

“Trust me, lovely- if you were bothersome I would’ve had you out of here hours ago.”

“Oh all mighty one, to what do I owe this special treatment?” You tease, remembering that before last night, Oikawa was still one of your friends, regardless of whether or not last night’s events could cause a rift in your friendship with one another.

“You really want to know?”

You blink, feeling his fingers gently touch the side of your face to get you to look at him, realizing he had been simply running his finger against the side of his jaw as he seemed to be soaking your features in the morning sun.

“In fact, what if I asked you to impose for a little longer, Y/N-chan?”

“Y-You don’t regret last night-?”

“Are you kidding me?” You feel heat swirl in your cheeks as Oikawa’s teasing tone had taken a serious edge, feeling his hand slide across your cheek to cup your face gently.

“Should I be kidding you?” A nervous chuckle slips your lips as Oikawa hangs your jacket on the hanging rack again without looking, chocolate orbs seeming to root you in place as he takes one of the few steps he can towards you.

“I’ve wanted you for years, Y/N-chan.”

“Liar.” Your voice falls to a whisper as Oikawa tilts his head in a seemingly mocking-manner, annoyance glinting in his eyes at the fact that you didn’t seem to believe him.

“Want proof?” He takes another step, voice also falling to a soft tone before taking a strand of your hair in his fingers, kissing it sweetly as you redden at the gesture.

You close your eyes, feeling Oikawa dip his head into your neck, lips smirking slightly against your skin as a newfound heat emerges in the contact as the brunette speaks, gently pressing you up the door and shutting it tightly in the movement.

“So what do you say we make my wait worth it- and make this official, already?”

Kuroo

“You are not reading through my comic books right now.”

“You’re right, I’m actually wondering how a nerd like you got laid.” You retort, flipping through the pages as you bite your lip, hiding your face in the process as you see Kuroo walk into the room from your peripheral view.

“You slept with this nerd, so I don’t think you’re one to talk, kitten.”

The events of last night had been a little fuzzy, but little details came back to you as you blush, pretending to focus on the panels of the sci-fi comic book as you hear Kuroo set something down on the bed, leaving his retort unanswered.

A bright grin crosses your features as you use the blanket to cover your chest as you sit up, seeing the simple breakfast of eggs and toast in the middle of the tray along with a cup of coffee just how you liked it. Your grin grows teasing as you lift the mug to your lips, watching your friend eat a piece of toast on the end of the bed in all his shirtless glory.

“Is this one of the perks of sleeping with the Kuroo Tetsurou?” You try to keep your voice light, and Kuroo quiets down after scoffing in response, eyes calculating and thoughtful as you withold the urge to sigh. Of course things would be different. Was it even possible going back to normal after sleeping together?

“There are a lot more perks if you stick around, trust me.” Kuroo winks, and you roll your eyes at his flirtatious nature, watching him finish off his toast before beginning to get out of bed, shuffling around to pull your shirt from yesterday overhead.

“Well, as fun as this was, I say we revert back to the day before yesterday-”

“...don’t want to.” Your ears perk up at Kuroo’s faded mumble, not hearing him properly.

“Hm? Speak up or I’ll dirty your comic books.”

“I don’t want to go back to how we were.” Kuroo’s voice seemed to be teetering on the edge of strained as you quirk a brow, feeling dissappointment dig into your stomach.

“Oh.” Your smile turns wobbly. “As in...you don’t want to be friends anymore?”

“..Exactly.”

“...Then I guess I’ll be taking my leave.” You break the tension residing in the silence, Kuroo catching your wrist before you can dash out of his bedroom with a wet heat in your eyes.

“That’s not what I meant.” Kuroo’s voice was oddly serious- a tone you didn’t hear that often- before tugging you into his chest into his sitting position so you were straddling his lap. His feral eyes raked over your half-clothed body, mouth beginning to nibble at the sensitive spot on your collarbone as an embarrassed sound slips your lips-

Kuroo smirks, hand trailing underneath your shirt as he feels your heartbeat at the slightest touch of your chest.

“I want to be able to see you like this every morning, kitten- that’s what I meant before you jumped to conclusions.”

His hand presses against the small of your back, pressing you up against him even tighter as comic books lay open and forgotten, a half-drunk coffee cup growing cooler beside them.

“I want to lose you as my friend and keep you as my everything.”

Terushima

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice that the other side of my bed was cold?”

“I’m surprised you’re capable of noticing things.” You hum in reply, smiling a little as you feel the spiker’s arms wrap around you from behind, Terushima’s chin resting on your shoulder as he examines what you’re doing. You poured the dark liquid from the coffee pot as you basked in the morning light, having left the blonde in bed with slightly wobbly legs.

“This almost feels like we’re married, no?”

“Totally.” You hadn’t meant for your words to come out that sarcastic, but you knew better. Terushima Yuuji had been a friend of yours for years, but one night of heat and mixed emotions didn’t change the fact that the spiker was the exact definition of fuckboy.

“Y/N you’re acually gonna make me cry one day! You’re so cold.” Terushima whines, feeling at complete ease at the thought of you standing in the kitchen with a brewed coffee pot for the two of you.

“And my coffee’s getting cold too, so you can start calling up another one of your girls in line to warm yourself up.” You reply without missing a beat, feeling Terushima tense up before relaxing again.

“Jealous?” Terushima smirks against your shoulder, still not letting you go as you roll your eyes, smiling nonetheless.

“To be honest you are great in bed, my friend. Kudos to the next lucky girl.” You wink, feeling Terushima’s grip on your waist loosen slightly as you finish off your coffee, the spiker spinning you around to lean into you, cornering you against the counter.

“Go on a date with me! Coffee isn’t breakfast.”

You stare at your friend for a solid second before shaking your head, laughing a little in disbelief. “Do you typically bring girls out on dates after you sleep together?”

“No, not usually.” Terushima shrugs, and you laugh again before feeling his hand snake down to your waist, his hand tracing up your bare thigh as heat floods your cheeks, the spiker before you eyeing you with an emotion you couldn’t pinpoint.

“Yuuji-”

“One date.”

You blink at the seriousness tinging his words, gasping when he lifts you up to sit you on the counter to stand between your legs, smirking when his breath hits your lips as he watches your eyes dart between his lips and his eyes.

“Give me one date, Y/N.”

“...Fine. Only because you’re acting is phenomenal at the moment.” You give in, kissing him deeply on the lips as Terushima’s grip on your waist tightens the slightest bit before you brush past him, humming as if nothing serious had happened.

Terushima sighs as he hears the shower turn on, leaning his back against the counter before pouring his own cup of dark brew into the mug you had been drinking out of, a hand running through his hair as his usual bright almond eyes seemed to have darkened.

“Acting, huh?”

Osamu

“Y/N. You’ll sleep into the afternoon.”

“Please let me?” You croak, shielding your eyes from the blinds Osamu had opened an hour before.

“Nope. I have breakfast going, I laid one of my shirts out for you.” The wing spiker leans against the doorway of his bedroom, watching you wake up in a slightly confused manner as you slowly sit up, the corner of Osamu’s lip twitching at the sight. You hug the blanket to your chest embarrasedly, smiling a little bashfully.

Osamu clears his throat, attempting to clear the awkward atmosphere. “Can you walk okay?”

“Someone’s cocky.” You comment, taking Osamu’s shirt and pulling it over your head although it engulfed your figure. “And no, by the way- I can’t.”

You yelp, feeling your friend’s arms tuck beneath your legs and back before picking you up as if you weighed nothing, causing your bare legs to thrash around slightly in complaint. Osamu remains indifferent, walking to the kitchen with ease.

“You said you couldn’t walk, and I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”

“I was actually planning to go straight home...” You trail off, sweatdropping when Osamu sits you in the chair across from his before taking his own seat.

“You have time. Your class doesn’t start for another hour.”

“...right.” You mumble, putting your hands together to begin the meal. The two of you eat in silence, Osamu not being very talkative to begin with- the friendship you two had fostered had been put into such a threatening position from last night’s slightly drunken decisions. Do you go about your day and pretend it didn’t happen? Address it and stop being friends?

“-be my girlfriend.”

You choke, the statement/question coming out of Osamu’s mouth casually muffled by his mug as the twin looks out on the morning sun as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on you.

“...are you sure you aren’t confused?” You eye him directly, all shyness and awkwardness washed away as Osamu lazily meets your eyes, forking some more food into his mouth with a nod.

“I’m sure.”

“Look, Osamu- just because we slept together doesn’t mean you’re under any obligation-”

Your eyes widen when Osamu had suddenly leaned forward, hand entangling in your hair to kiss the corner of your lips from across the spread on the table, sitting back and resuming to eat his rice with a shrug.

“There was a little rice near your mouth-”

“Are you even listening?!” You exclaim, flustered at the lazy boy’s actions as Osamu sighs before setting down his chopsticks, something he never did, before eyeing you evenly, fighting the amused smirk on his lips at how flushed you looked. He tilts his head, standing from his chair before shrugging.

“If you don’t want to go out with me, then..”

You panic, heart confused with mind in tow as you stand, catching the back of his fitted black shirt before he can walk away.

“I...we can maybe...try it?” You make out in fidgety embarrassment, Osamu releasing a deep sigh that had his shoulders lifting up and down before turning to glance at you. The gray haired boy tugs you into his chest tightly by the wrist, mumbling into your ear as he watched with a satisfied look at the pink that dusted your cheeks.

“You seriously can’t be this cute this early in the morning. I think I’m hungry for something else now.”

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

General works: @takemetovalhalla @kasandrafaye @dreebbles @savemesteeb @yams046

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu anime #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa toru #haikyuu kuroo #Kuroo Tetsurou #haikyuu terushima #terushima x y/n #haikyuu osamu #osamu miya #haikyuu reads #haikyuu requests #hq x reader #hq x y/n #hq scenarios

2K notes · View notes

viperbarnes · 4 years ago

Text

The Tie That Binds – [Two of Eight]

[B. Barnes, Soulmate AU]

Summary: HYDRA took everything from you, your life, your future, they even burned off your soulmark to make sure nobody would go looking for you. Now the man they forced you to fix reappears in your life, to make amends and to be ‘of service’.

You know that they made him do all those things, that James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is not The Winter Soldier, that he’s innocent. You don’t blame him.

But that doesn’t make seeing him again any easier.

Warnings: Panic attacks, language, talk and depiction of home invasion and abduction, canon level violence, HYDRA levels of torture, angst, fluff, slow-ish burn, friends to lovers.

Note: This is entirely un-beta'd so all mistakes are my own. Thank you for reading!

<- Prev / Next ->

The room is cold enough that you can see your breath in the air. Around you, the low hum of activity signals the debrief after a mission well-done, various personnel seeing to their jobs as you do yours.

The Winter Soldier sits as still as a statue in the chair set out for him, already waiting when you’d arrived. You’d been in the middle of some of the best sleep you’d had in weeks when your cell door had flung open, and you’d been unceremoniously dragged from your bed. Even though they blindfolded you every time, by now you knew the way to the debrief room by heart.

You aren’t sure how long they’ve had you, time passes strangely when you only ever saw the inside of a cell. You’d attempted to keep track at first, but eventually you’d lost count of how many days had passed, or if they had at all… for all you know, you’d been counting nights, anyway.

It must have been years at this point.

You work quietly on the Soldier’s arm, the incredible piece of machinery and engineering the only bright spot in your confined life, but even that had worn thin some time ago. You were never permitted to really look at it, just fix any faults or problems that it had. And it certainly had its faults. After you’d first been taken, and you’d realised there was no way you were ever leaving here alive, you’d tried to make do, to make the best of your situation.

After every mission, the Soldier would need repairs made to the artificial limb which, while an astounding piece of biomechanical engineering, seemed to be oddly fragile. You had kept yourself busy, thinking up ways to improve elements of the arm, so that it wouldn't need so many repairs, but when you had approached someone vaguely in charge about it, you’d been told to keep your mouth shut.

Interestingly, a few of your proposed improvements seemed to present the next time you’d worked on him, though, none were executed in ways that made them truly useful.

You keep your head down as you work, eager to finish as soon as possible. You didn’t often pay much mind to the goings-on around you when you were called to service, but the heated conversation happening several meters away from where you sat beside the Soldier put you on edge.

A man in a suit and a man in nondescript military fatigues seemed to be having a barely civil discussion, moving in and out of English, and what you think may be Russian. The man in the military fatigues was one you’d seen plenty of times before. He never spoke to you directly, but the soldiers and guards of the facility responded to him like the lash of a whip. You’d heard him referred to as Karpov, and you can only assume he was in command of this facility.

The man in the suit however, you’d only seen a few times, and only ever in the debrief room when the Soldier had returned from a mission. He was American, his accent made that much clear, but further than that you didn’t know.

You’re still leant over the metal limb, several of its outer panels peeled open and removed so that you may access the mechanics inside, when the heated conversation gets nearer. You flinch at the movement out of the corner of your vision, causing your tweezers to tap into a wire that they really shouldn’t. The result is a small spark, and a slight shock for your ‘patient’, and though he doesn’t move an inch, when you hiss at your own mistake, and swivel your eyes up worriedly, you find he’s dipped his chin enough to watch you out of the corner of his eye.

You can’t tell if he’s glaring or not, his face always sullen and morose, but briefly you feel the urge to apologise.

You don’t however, fearing a reprimand from either of the arguing men who still near.

“You hide behind that book, Karpov.” The American man shakes his head.

“Without me and my book, you are nothing.” Karpov all but spits back. You feel your body stiffen as they begin to circle around the Soldier, and you by extension.

“Is that right?” The American man taunts, stopping on the other side of the chair to you and planting his feet. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Солдат, убей ее.” He commands in perfect Russian.

Before you can even register what is happening, there is a hand around your throat, forcing you back and up, until your feet have left the ground. A crashing sound joins the sudden chaos, your small workbench of tools upended and scattered over the concrete floor, all other personnel in the room backing themselves against walls or desks as they watch on in shock and surprise.

You can only gasp as your airway is constricted, and you’re left to claw pathetically at the hand that has raised you from the ground. Fear and adrenaline fuel your futile fight, and you look desperately to Karpov, who watches on in thinly veiled horror.

Your eyes feel ready to pop from their sockets, your ears filled with nothing but the sound of your own blood when you’re suddenly released, dropping to the ground like a sack of bricks.

You gasp for air, the cold burning your throat and lungs as you drink it down. You scurry back out of pure instinct, spluttering and terrified, sending your fallen tools even further in every direction.

The American turns to his companion, a smug expression smeared across his features. You can’t hear what he says, your senses still too scrambled to pick it up properly, but he gestures to you, leaving Karpov with some final words before he turns on his heel and leaves.

You’re still shaking, gasping for air in terror when Karpov finally turns back to you.

He orders you to finish your work, and then he leaves.

You wake with a soft gasp.

Swallowing thickly, you force your eyes shut again as you take in several deep breaths, calming yourself as best you can. Unable to help yourself, you lift a hand to delicately touch your throat, where the bruises from your dream feel all too real for several seconds, before they fade into memory.

You could have died then, you’re sure of it. All your suffering, all the effort HYDRA went into seeking you out, it would have amounted to nothing. And for what? A petty power play?

It makes you feel small, which makes you angry.

You know they were an evil Nazi organisation and all, but they’d upended your entire life, completely ruined any semblance of normalcy you could ever hope to have again, and they hadn’t even had the decency to act as if you weren’t replaceable.

For all you did know about HYDRA and it’s going ons, there was so much you didn’t know. After you’d been freed, you hadn’t gone out of your way to seek out information, everything you knew was everything you’d found out about during your court hearings.

When Captain Rogers had brought down SHIELD and HYDRA, there had been a dozen raids on known facilities, the one you’d been at at the time being one of them. But bureaucracy would be bureaucracy and they’d had to officially investigate and clear your name before you were truly free to go.

There wasn’t much question about your innocence though, HYDRA hadn’t really bothered to code any of their notes or files on you or your capture.

By the time they’d let you go, you were more than willing to disappear and never hear about HYDRA or SHIELD or anything else to do with it ever again.

You’d managed it for almost seven years, too, until The Winter Soldie– Bucky– had shown up.

You chew on your lip and glare up at your ceiling, and then, with a hefty sigh, you reach for your phone on the nightstand, and the slip of paper tucked beneath it.

---

Once more, you marvel that the man before you is the same as the one who occasionally haunted your dreams.

It was rather incredible what simple expression could do to change a face.

Bucky Barnes sits in the corner of the coffeeshop looking both innocuous and extremely out of place as he fiddles with the gloves he still wears. His distraction must be true, because he only notices you once you’re already halfway to the booth, his face lighting up with recognition. For a moment he looks as though he might stand up to greet you, but you give him no time to do so, quickly sliding yourself in across from him with a thin smile.

“Thank you for meeting me.” You greet, settling yourself into the seat. Bucky waves you off with a shake of his head and seems to adjust himself in his place.

“Of course… is something wrong…?”

It’s strange to you, that you can pick out nervousness in his voice, that he would let himself be so readable, but then you wonder if he even realises. You give him another thin smile and shake your head, but reach for the menu.

“No. Nothing is wrong. Have you ordered?”

After two coffees are delivered to your table, yours a simple latte, and his a caramel mocha with marshmallows that you have to raise your brow at, you settle in once more and focus on why you’d asked him to come.

“You said… when you approached me, you said you were trying to make amends…?” You say, but it comes out more like a question than you intend. Bucky’s brows knit together and he nods.

“To be of service.” He confirms. A part of you bristles at that, a part that thinks he’s done quite enough of serving others for one lifetime, but you brush the thought aside.

“I– I thought of something that maybe you could help me with…” You aren’t expecting his face to light up the way it does, or for him to lean forward almost unwittingly. Momentarily you’re reminded of a very good dog.

“I don’t know much about HYDRA. Or why they did what they did… but I want to know.” You find yourself unable to meet his eye fully as you say this, instead focusing on gently turning your coffee cup around in place on its saucer.

“If you have questions, I’ll answer everything I know.” Bucky tells you a moment later. Something in his voice makes you feel as though he understood, and you wonder if he’d felt the same at some point. You look up at him briefly, grateful for the lack of judgement.

“Do you remember everything that you did? Were you aware of what was happening, or does it just feel sort of dream-like now?” You can’t help but blurt out seconds later, as if the opportunity might be gone in a few few minutes. Bucky blinks, and you can see him restraining the small quirk of his lips as he takes a sip from his cup and places it back down again.

“It’s a little bit of both. I remember everything, but it does feel ‘dream-like’, in retrospect.” He tells you.

“Who was Karpov?” Your next question makes him pause, a brief, almost undetectable flash of disgust and anger crossing his features before he clears his throat and speaks again.

“A Soviet, then Russian intelligence officer… He ran the program for a time…” Bucky frowns as he speaks. You nod, having thought as much.

“He’s dead, now.” He adds after a moment, and you glance up at him questioningly.

“Wasn’t me.”

You proceed to poke and prod at his brain for the next hour, and to his credit, he answers every single one of your questions as best he can. Even subjects that you think he may not normally broach, or things that seem like they might be classified, he tells you honestly.

You’ve both gone through two coffees when you’re finally coming to the end of your questioning, your mind filled up with more information than you could possibly hope to remember at length, but that wasn’t the point.

The odd ease you’d felt the last time, when he’d shadowed you around the grocery store, is gone. You no longer felt as though he posed some kind of threat, which was ridiculous, because the sheer size of him should have instilled that in you. The fact that you had so many traumatic memories tied to him should have sealed the deal, but somehow, it’s like none of that mattered.

That in itself gives off its own unease.

You feel like you’re in a constant limbo.

A comfortable silence had settled between you since your last question (and answer), and you watch Bucky finish off his drink. He’d removed his gloves halfway through your talk, and you’d done your best to steer your eyes away from the shiny black and gold of his new metal limb. Now though, you find your curiosity piqued at the sight of a strange black mark on the underside of his wrist, only visible when his sleeve pulls back just so.

You’d never noticed it before, though why would you have? You were always too focused on his metal limb. It makes you wonder though, which leads you to staring at your own hand, at the discreet lumpy white scar on the back of your palm.

“Do you know why they removed my soulmark?” The question comes quieter than all the others, and you don’t look at him as you ask it, though you see from the corner of your eye that he stops and stares down at your hand too.

He doesn’t reply at first, and you almost think he may not have heard you. When you do look up at him, he seems to jump, blinking rapidly and tearing his gaze from your hand.

“My guess is they didn’t want any loose ends…” He says slowly, but frowns.

“They didn’t remove yours?” You nod to his wrist, which he looks down at, clearly resisting the urge to cover it up again.

“They tried… but the serum… I guess it prevented them from doing any last damage to it.” Bucky tells you, finally meeting your eye again. He looked pained, but you don’t understand why. It wasn’t as though he really did lose his mark. Not like you.

For a brief few moments a burning jealousy overcomes you.

It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair that he should keep his and you should lose yours! You would forever be left wondering, no matter how much you healed from your ordeal, you would forever be left with the scars of it, unable to truly move past it.

You stare down at your hand again and feel the anger fuel you.

“They took everything from me. My life, my career… even love,” You wave your hand briefly before scoffing and shoving it into your lap. You didn’t want to look at it anymore. You didn’t want anybody to look at it anymore. Bucky sits quietly, face drawn into an intense scowl.

“I should hate you. I want to, believe me…” You purse your lips and shake your head, blinking away any tears that spring to your eyes. Now was not the time.

“But I can’t, ‘cause even though what they did to you was worse… You’re the only other person who understands. And I don’t have anybody else.” You shake your head again and feel the tension leave your body with your words.

It’s as if saying them out loud releases the anxiety in your bones. You feel lighter all of a sudden, the heaviness that you’d felt since gaining your freedom, the tiredness, it seems to diminish somewhat.

When you can finally bring yourself to meet his eye again, Bucky is watching you with something like sympathy, though, it feels softer than that.

“I was alone, and I thought I was fine with that.” You ball your hands into fists and let out a deep breath.

“And then you showed up.”

Bucky’s lips quirk, but this time he doesn’t try to hide it.

“Does that mean you’re no longer alone, or that you’re no longer fine with it?” He asks, and you can’t help but chortle.

“I don’t know yet.”

---

The burning question Bucky had had since he last saw you, the one he’d not known how to answer, resolves itself in the worst way possible.

He stares at the lumpy white scar on the back of your hand and feels his blood run cold. He’d been scared that you’d realised the truth, or that he’d have to tell you sooner or later, but this is far, far, worse than that.

They’d removed your soulmark.

Bucky knows they’d tried with him, remembers the searing pain, but it had never worked. With you however…

His chest aches just thinking about how you must feel. It was clear by the look on your face how much it affected you, and regardless of how you would have reacted had your soulmark been untouched, to find out he was your soulmate, Bucky wishes this were the one thing he could go back and change.

It leaves a hole deep in his chest.

But something else nags at his mind, long after he’s parted ways with you. You had no idea who you were to one another. It feels like a cruel joke played by the universe. Bucky clearly still made you uneasy, and even if you felt as though you could understand one another, that was very different to wanting to be soulmates.

No.

Bucky decides that you deserved more than a cruel joke. After everything you’d been through, you deserved true happiness.

And Bucky Barnes would rather see his soulmate happy without him, than miserable because of him.

If you like and enjoy, a comment or a reblog would be greatly appreciated!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes/you #story: tttb

193 notes · View notes

persephone-is-here-omg · 4 years ago

Text

Part of the Job.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Reader.

Warnings: Smut. Oral, female receiving, slight choking, fingering, teasing. Alcohol.

Word Count: 4059.

Rating: 18+.

Masterlist.

More Bruce Wayne bullshit, hoes. And watch your backs, because if I give into the idea I have there’s gonna be a Bucky Barnes/Bruce Wayne/Reader fic coming your way and you won’t know what hit you.

"Bruce Wayne" The gruff voice at the other end of the line says as you examine the boutique box that had just been delivered at your door.

"Hey... Uhm... I think you sent a dress or something by mistake to my place" You say prodding him for information, but you know is not a mistake.

"Not by mistake, we have something to do tonight and I need you to wear that dress" Bruce informs you of your plans and you can't help but nod slowly, even though he can not see you do it.

"So, what if I have plans tonight?" You tease, hardly containing the glee in your voice "Maybe dinner or something, probably with a guy you wouldn't like"

If you had Bruce in front of you, you know you'd see him frown for a moment, just a short little second, then he'd look at you with those clear blue eyes of his, face completely neutral "I know you don't have any plans"

"You know, is kinda rude of you to just dispose of my time like this" You keep teasing, just pushing a little more.

"You knew what you were getting into and it didn't stop you. I'll be there at nine tonight" He says and hangs up.

You giggle and bite your lip, staring at the box still closed on your bed. You haven't even opened it yet, not that you don't trust Bruce's taste, you just wanted to give him shit about it first. You tell yourself he probably knows the sizes of every person that's ever come into his proximity, but still a part of you preens with pride at the idea of having so much of his atention. Not that you would ever admit it to him.

You open the box and look at the dress, is nice. Is a really nice dress, black with delicate beading details that make a swirling pattern on the sides, a deep v in the front that shows quite a bit of cleavage is kept together by a sheer mesh panel. When you turn it around you can see the low back and how the skirt is slightly longer at the back.

You jump, a few hours later, as you come out of the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy black towel and find Bruce seated on the armchair in your room “God damn it” You mutter “What are you doing here so early?”

“Does the dress fit?” He asks, his intense gaze fixed on you.

Holding the towel tight around you and narrowing your eyes “You know it does and that is weird”

Bruce raises an eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth raised just the tiniest bit “Is it?” The rest of the sentence is left unsaid, but you know what he's thinking about.

You roll your eyes “Where are we going, anyway? That you need me to dress like a showgirl”

“Remember that arms dealer I had been trailing?”

You nod.

“He frequents a clandestine casino, here, in Gotham. We are going there tonight” Bruce explains, fixing his tie.

“Oh, so we're wasting money tonight?”

“Mainly. There's some illegal fighting, too but I’ll only fight if I have to. They have a strict dress code, hence, the dress” He looks at you intently, then adds “You should wear that black coat over it. Is cold outside”

“Okay, daddy” You answer in a sarcastic tone “Now… Can you give me some space?”

The corner of his mouth lifts almost imperceptibly in amusement and you can almost hear his thoughts, then he stands and walks pass you and out of the room “Don’t take too long”

The door closes after Bruce and you walk towards your dresser, pull on a pair of panties and then sit down and start to get your makeup done, then your hair. Finally you put on the dress, paired with black, high heeled shoes and the coat Bruce suggested.

Bruce’s back is to you as you come out and clear your throat “I’m ready” You stand there as he turns around, his eyes moving slowly down your body, taking you in.

"Perfect" He says and walks over to you "Let's go"

Bruce opens the passenger side door for you and you look at him with a tilted head as he gets on the opposite side "I thought Alfred would be driving"

"Alfred's busy tonight"

"Busy, huh?" You nod and watch as he starts the car with calculated moves "And what did he say about my stitches?"

"He said you did a marvelous job" You beam at the praise "Thinks you should patch me up more often"

"He does?"

"Is what he said" Bruce counters and then starts driving.

Silence extends between the two of you as your eyes watch the city lights pass you by, then you turn your head and look at Bruce, see his eyes dart from the road to you, see his hand tighten on the gear shift. You realize you are going out of the city.

"So, B" You start and he turns his face again towards you, you know he wants to tell you not to call him 'B' he also knows you're not going to stop "What made you pick this dress? But, more importantly, can I keep it?"

"Is a nice dress and is yours" He answers, simply, to the point.

"I know is a nice dress, Bruce" You tilt your head and lean closer to him "But why did you pick it for me?"

Bruce drives out of the road and looks at you, one hand on the steering wheel and another on the gear shift "I knew it would look good on you and would fit into the place we're going" His knuckles are white, as if he's holding back from something, he lets go of the gear shift and places his hand around your neck loosely "And I like how you look in it, very much" He lets go of your neck and starts driving again, you squirm in your seat, bite your lip and take a deep, shaky breath, let your head rest against the seat.

You cross and then uncross your legs and Bruce grips your thigh firmly "Stop" He kneads your thigh but doesn't add anything else, his hand moves slowly up your thigh and stops right under the hem of your dress.

Bruce moves his hand back onto the gear shift and you turn your face to look at him, watch the tick in his jaw, think about telling him to park somewhere and just fuck you already, is what you both want. But you know Bruce and know he won't do it, he'd tell you to focus on tonight's mission and that you should take this as an exercise in delayed gratification.

About twenty minutes later, he parks outside a rather inconspicous building, a man you assume works security approaches the car as Bruce rolls down the window on his side. He hands the man a small, black card and then the man steps back, Bruce gets out of the car and walks over to your side, opens the door for you and offers his hand for you take as you step out of the car. His hand finds the small of your back and you can feel how his thumb moves in a slow motion over your coat as he hands the keys of the car and guides you towards the door.

Once inside a very young girl takes your coats and Bruce's hand is back on your back, his skin is warm on yours, his hand is rough and calloused, and he guides you towards a poker table. When Bruce sits down you lean over his shoulder and kiss the corner of his mouth, it's a show after all and in this show, that's your part to play "I'll go get a drink, do you want something?"

He nods takes a moment to think and then says "Scotch, no ice, please"

You walk away towards the bar, order red wine for you and scotch for Bruce, then head back to the table. You hand the glass to Bruce and stand right behind his chair, a hand casually draped over his shoulder as the game unfolds in front of you. Your fingers find their way into the hair at the nape of Bruce's neck, you start to play with it distractedly as you keep your eyes open, roaming around the room, locating possible way outs and security personel. You lean in again and whisper in Bruce's ear, pointing out all the possible exits, a flirty smile on your face as you explain to him. Your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. Bruce smiles, that cocky self-satisfied smile, the one from the tabloids and magazines. After a while, and after loosing a considerable amount of money and gaining some back, Bruce stands up and wraps his arms tightly around your waist, lips brushing against the corner of your jaw, you smile and caress his hair.

"Lets go to the bar" Bruce directs "That's our guy" He has his arm around a girl that doesn't quite look of legal age and you turn to Bruce, almost as if he can read your mind he adds "I know. All these girls are way too young. We'll deal with it"

You make your way to the bar and sit on a stool, Bruce stands behind you, arms caging you in with your front to the bar, his lips meet your skin right at the point where your neck and shoulder meet, one of his hands moves down to your thigh and again the calloused pads of his fingers move up, stopping at the hem of your dress making your breath hitch "Focus" He whispers, but you know that he knows it is impossible for you to do that when he's touching you like that, it almost feels like this isn't part of facade. The bartender comes and Bruce orders the same two drinks. The guy sitting a couple of stools away turns to look at Bruce.

"Are you betting only?" He says and you follow Bruce's gaze toward him.

"So far, but I've heard about the fights" He sounds exactly as he should, too much money, too much time.

The guy smirks "You don't look like you need the money"

"I don't need the money" Bruce confirms "But I would enjoy a fight, work some stress off"

You know he can perfectly handle the kind of fighting that takes place here, but you still play up your part " Are you sure?"

He nods, starts walking and takes the jacket and tie off, handing them to you, then rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to the elbows and steps into the circle of people. He stands in the middle for a while and your gazes cross, then his oppenent walks in and the fight starts. Bruce dodges some hits and lets others land, if he wanted to this fight would be over already, but he's supposed to be playing the bored billionaire in search of some adrenaline. So he allows it to continue, even crashing against the onlookers a few times. It comes a point, though, where you can tell he's done with the game. There's a bruise blooming around one of his eyes and a small cut on his lower lip, he manages to make it look like something completely fortitous, but you know better, when he knocks his opponent out and gives you the smallest of smirks.

Bruce takes his tie and places untied around his neck, the jacket is drapped over his arm as he steers you towards the door "Lets get out of here" His hand rests just above your ass, his fingers spread wide, it reminds of just how big his hands are. The same girl that took your coats gives them back and as you step out the door the car stops right in front of you.

The drive back into the city is not really going back into the city, is towards Wayne Manor you realize. You don't say anything, instead let the anticipation course through your body, fill you with a buzzing energy that almost makes you shiver and your skin breaks out in goosebumps. Bruce steers right into the tunnel that leads to the cave, he drives as if he's in the other car, takes his curves really close and if it was anyone else you might get nervous but not with him. He parks seamlessly and perfectly and your door is open even before the car is fully parked. Your heel touches the ground and you're out as soon as it stops moving, you push the door closed without looking behind you, trying to give you time to get a hold of yourself.

You can hear Bruce's steps behind you, he's purposely keeping his distance, you stop in front of the computer, roll your neck and feel him cage you against the desk. He says nothing, he doesn't touch you, just stands there waiting until you turn around to face him. The space between you feels electric, buzzing with that undefinable energy right before something happens. Is in these moments that you realize just how tall he is, how big he is, you look up at him and he hauls you onto the desktop, sets you down on it and kisses you right away, his hand cups your jaw, it does it in that way that leaves no doubt who's the one in charge here. You like it. He uses his other hand to push your coat down, you pull your arms free and wrap them around his neck, move down his chest and undo the buttons of his shirt, pull it free from his slacks and place them on the broad span of his chest.

Bruce pushes the straps of your dress down your arms, until your breasts are exposed and your nipples harden against the chilly air of the cave, his hands move towards your chest and cup your boobs. His thumbs circle your nipples and your back arches in response, you want to be closer to him with as little space possible between you, but he keeps his distance, watches your face intently.

"What?" You say, trying to hide the vulnerability in your voice. How exposed you feel when he looks at you like that.

Bruce moves one hand back to your jaw, makes sure you hold his gaze as he says "I like watching you. I like that little crease between your brows when you try to guess what I’m thinking" Then he's kissing you again, hard and hungry, teeth grazing your lower lip, his tongue slips inside your mouth and it feels all consuming. The kisses move to your jaw, down your neck, to your chest, his lips close around your nipple and Bruce sucks on it until it’s hard and aching, making your back arch, your nails dig on the exposed skin of his arms. He moves to the other side and this time bites the underside of your breast, moving in tandem as he tugs the skirt of your dress up, over your hips.

He uses both hands to rip your panties off, first one side then the other the sound reverberates through the cave and, after he's done, Bruce pulls them away and stuffs them inside the pocket of his pants. You feel exposed, vulnerable in a way that drives you wild, as you watch Bruce come down in front of you, between your thighs, your skin prickles with anticipation.

You shiver under the intensity of Bruce's gaze, unwavering as he looks at your face for a few seconds. Then his lips graze your thigh, is feather light at first, goosebumps break on your skin and you bring your hands to the edge of the desk, gripping it tightly. He sinks his teeth on the inside of your thigh and you hiss, it stings enough for you to know that it will leave a mark that will in time turn into a bruise. You bury one of your hands in his hair "B-Bruce" You stutter, feeling him move closer to your core "Oh, my God. You're enjoting this too much" You can't hear him, but you see his shoulders shake and narrow your eyes, open your mouth to give him some witty, smartass response but it dies before it even forms as his lips come into contact with your sex. A gasp comes out of you instead.

"Fuck" You breath. Bruce grasps your thighs and pulls you forward, to the edge of the desk. His tongue darts between your folds, following the edges of your slit, swirling around your clit. You close your hand around Bruce's dark hair and moan, long and drawn. His tongue delves inside you, then his lips close around your clit and suck. You toss your head back "Fuck" You repeat, he's reduced your vocabulary to one word and you can't form a complete thought, not when he is between your legs, face buried in you, lips pressed against your most intimate parts. You feel it start on your toes, that warm coil that tightens the more he works on you, feel it start to tug and tug, slowly at first, then all of a sudden until it releases and you cry out, thighs trembling, hands both pushing him away and holding him in place. Bruce works you through it, doesn't stop when you're coming down, he lets go of your thighs and stands up, brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them.

You follow his hand with your eyes, barely register when he says "I didn't even had to wet my finger, you're so slick" His fingers circle your clit and make you jump, still reeling from your previous orgasm. The way he says it is almost mocking, it really just makes you want to slap him.

"G-god I hate you" You groan as he thrusts two of his fingers inside you and his shoulders shake almost silently again, moving in and out, scissoring and hooking. You move your hand to his sides and dig your nails in Bruce's skin, making him hiss, but it only makes him focus more on making you cum again, not that is going to take long. Your skin prickles with anticipation and you can feel how the orgasm builds deep in your belly. He curls his fingers once more, flicks your clit with his thumb again and you're cumming hard, letting your head fall into his shoulder, eyes closed tight and toes curling. He kisses the side of your head and you turn your face to kiss him, move your arms around his neck again, then drag them down his chest and drag your nails over his absm leaving red, angry marks in your wake.

You undo the button on his slacks, pull the zipper down and push your hand inside his boxers, wrap it warm and soft around his cock, keep your eyes fixed on his face, the way Bruce's mouth twitches as he groans your name, and pushes his pants and underwear down, just past his ass, leaving with more than enough space to move your hand up and down his cock. He groans your name again.

Bruce grasps your thighs once more, lowers his gaze and looks at your hand around his cock for a moment, until he decides it's been enough. He lets go of your thigh and instead wraps that hand around your neck firmly "Go on, guide me inside you" He orders, always in control.

You do as he says and drag the tip of Bruce's cock inside you, your mouth agape as he fills you inch by inch. You cling to his sides again as he makes you hold his gaze, he pulls back halfway in, then starts thrusting inside once again, until he’s buried deep inside you. Bruce stays like that, then grinds against you, making you gasp against his lips.

Bruce's hand is still firm around your throat when he starts moving, is a pace right in the middle, not too slow and not too fast, just in control. Always in control. He grinds into you every time he bottoms out, makes you gasp and dig your nails deeper on his sides. He doesn't let go of your neck, keeps you looking at his face. You move your hands down and grab Bruce's ass tightly, moan against his lips as he kisses your lips and thrusts harder. He reaches so deep into you it is hard to breath. Bruce leans over you as you let go of his ass and hold your weight on your elbows as he takes a nipple into his mouth, your walls clench around him and a moan of his name tumbles through your lips, you cross your ankles behind his back and whine "Please, please" That voice is almost unrecognizable to you, its small and pleading, makes your cheeks burn.

Bruce envelopes you with his arms, tightly secured around your waist and lifts you from the desk, there is a squeal and then a moan when he thrust hard, then he's sitting down on the chair and his hands are gripping your hips, encouraging you to move and ride him. You oblige, there's no way you could say no, not when you're on edge and he refuses to look at anything else but you.

One of your hands is on his shoulder and the other grips the back of the chair so tight, somewhere in the back of your mind you think your nails will tear the leather, but your hips move above him, you ride Bruce fast and hard, chasing after your third orgasm of the night, the sound of your skin against his resonates through the cave and comes back to both of you, filling the space between his growls and your moans, his grunts and your whines. He wraps his arms around your waist again and for a moment you think he will stand up again, but instead he holds you in place and kisses your shoulder, your neck, bites your skin the feeling of his teeth marking you makes you shiver in his arms, makes your hips buck wildly of their own accord and as he chases and catches your lips, Bruce thrusts up into you, holding in you in place with his arms around you, he kisses you deep and thoroughly, all tongue, teeth and wild need. You're so close to each other his pelvic bone drags against your clit every time he moves, heightening every sensation and when he buries a hand in your hair and tugs the fire consumes, it wreaks havoc through your entire body as you cum, arching your back and eyes watering as your walls tighten around his cock velvet fist like. The look on your face, the goosebumps on your skin are enough to trigger Bruce's own orgasm. His name tumbles from his lips in a raspy, deep tone, you tremble in his arms but he holds you tight in place, balls deep inside you, his cum warm inside you.

You both pant as you get your breaths back, Bruce rests his forehead against your chest and you play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. You can feel his semen starting to leak out of you and believe he will pull out of you and let you stand. He does pull out of you, but he keeps you there, watches as his cum drips out slowly, then gathers some of it on his fingers and brings it to your mouth. You open obediently and suck on his fingers, moaning around his fingers, until they're clean, then he kisses your lips, a growl deep within his chest as he tastes both of you in your mouth.

"Fuck" He curses looking at you "I can't keep you out of my head, I can't keep my hands off of you"

He always says this, it almost sounds as if he is chiding himself for it, for not keeping it 'professional' but the truth is you don't want him to.

And you say as much "Then don't. I don't want you to"

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #batman x reader #batman x you #my big bad furry #batman fic #bruce wayne fic #batman imagine #bruce wayne imagine #don't judge me #i have no self control when it comes to bruce wayne #and i won't even try

223 notes · View notes

samuel-de-champagne-problems · 4 years ago

Text

Crawl Home to Her

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem BAU Reader

Warnings: Religion is mentioned, slight mention of supposed homophobia, drug use, death and thoughts of dying, kidnapping (it’s Spencer’s POV of Revelations)

Author’s Note: I was listening to Work Song by Hozier and felt like it fits PERFECTLY for what Spencer was going through when he was kidnapped by Tobias. I took some creative liberties, but much of the plot lines up to the show’s episode. I linked the song if anyone wants to listen to it before they read or after, it’s such a beautiful song. Hozier is in my top three artists; his voice is just so beautiful and soulful.

Summary: The only thing that’s keeping Spencer alive is the memories of his Heaven. Maybe someone how a faithless man will escape Death’s grasp on faith alone.

Word Count: around 3.2K

Category: Angst

Crawl Home to Her

When Spencer comes to the first thing he notices is the smell of burning. The stench permeates the air around him, filling his nostrils. The second thing he notices is breathing. Breathing that is not his own. A man stands before him and it takes him a second to piece it all together. The throbbing in his head takes much of his energy. He can feel the blood drip down the back of his neck and cake onto the collar of his work shirt. Strangely, all he could think about is the time his father told him a respectable man never wore a spoiler shirt. Well dad, look at me now, Spencer thinks grimly. He hates that his father occupies his mind even when he’s about to die. He has much more beautiful things to think about than the man who called him a failure.

“They’re gone,” the shadowy figure tells him. Tobias, Spencer thinks. Tobias is the unsub.

“Who are they?,” Spencer asks, his voice must sound as cowardly as he feels. He hopes that Tobias didn’t get Y/N. He can’t live with himself if he let his partner, in more ways than one, get hurt.

“It’s just me know,” Tobias answers, in such a way that it’s almost obvious.

“Who...Who are you?” Spencer croaks. The lightbulb hanging above his head taunts him. He has the lightbulb, but where’s the ideas? Where are the answers? Where is the light of safety?

“I’m Raphael,” Tobias says, standing to his full height, towering over a trembling Spencer.

Raphael... The angel...Spencer’s mind turns but is halted by the horrible smell coming from his side. It invades his mind and nothing seems to make sense.

“What’s that smell?” he asks.

“They’re burning fish hearts and livers. Keeps away the devil,” Tobias or Raphael answers, Spencer is not too sure who he’s even talking to at this point.

“They say you can see inside men’s minds,”

“That’s not true, I-I study human behavior-” Spencer reasons, but is cut off by Tobias/Raphael’s passive shushing.

“I’m not interested in the arguments of men,” Raphael tells him. He turns around to rummage in his pocket for something that Spencer can’t make out in the dim light of the shed. Between the lightbulb blinding him and the stench of the liver burning, Spencer’s senses are overloading themselves. Focus, Spencer, focus, he begs of himself.

Don’t let him win. Don’t let him win.

Tobias pulls out a revolver and a bullet. He toys the bullet in Spencer’s face, asking him “Do you know what this is?”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t breathe.

“It’s God’s will,” Tobias says rationally.

The cocks the gun and aims it towards Spencer’s head. If he pulls the trigger he’d shoot him straight in his head. Staring down death, all Spencer can think about is him suggesting that they split up. He was the one who left Y/N, he’s the one that’s responsible.

“You don’t have to do this,” Spencer tries to reason.

“I’m just an instrument of God. This is your salvation, this is time to repent for your sins,” Tobias says, pulling a chair to sit next time. It’s strange, Spencer thinks, Tobias is not that much older than he is. This job has forced Spencer to think of the countless paths that he could have gone down. Part of him thinks that could have easily been on the other side, the angry part of him, the broken and sad part of him.

“Tell me your sins, and may God forgive you,” Tobias says, his voice almost as fearful as Spencer feels.

Spencer closes his eyes, trying to think of all the things he’s done wrong in his life. All the people he’s hurt or the mistakes that he’s made. But at this moment there’s nothing running through his mind by the thought of Y/N. The way she’d hold him after a case or the way that she’d listen to him with light in her eye’s. It’s nice to have someone who cares, Spencer thinks. Or at least it was.

“I’m a good man, Tobias, I’m a good man. Like you, we catch the bad guys, Tobias--we are the same. We catch the sinners.” Spencer professes, trying anything to get out of here alive. He’d do anything to get back to Y/N. To get back in her warm embrace.

“We all have our sins, including you. You just need sometime to sort them out,” Tobias says, and like that he’s gone with the wind.

***

It’s early morning when Spencer wakes up, the sun bleeds through the cracks of the wood panel door. His clothes are caked in his blood and dirt. His hair is stringy and the blood from his ear clogs his hearing. But he’s alive, he's still here, breathing the same air as Y/N. Somehow that’s enough to keep him hoping that she’d find him- save him.

The door opens with a sudden slam, Tobias walks in carrying a load of logs. There’s something different about him. Spencer thinks that there’s an air of arrogance, an air of superiority in his walk.

“What are you staring at, boy?” Tobias- or at least the man who looks like Tobias Hankel asks.

“You’re not Raphael?” Spencer reasons.

Tobias throws the pile of logs into the box on the floor of the shed. He stands up to his full height, but there’s something that’s taller about him than last night. There’s something more intimating about the man standing before Spencer.

“Do I look like Raphael to you?” Tobias asks, the sneer so apparent.

Spencer decides to ignore that, answering this person, whoever he is, is not in his best interest.

“Thank you for burning these, for keeping us safe,” Spencer says, trying to get on his good side for his sake, so he can go back to Y/N.

Y/N. If Spencer can just close off his mind and focus on her, he’d be okay. He’d get through this. If he can just close his eyes he can just feel her touch or taste her lips against his. If her kisses make him a sinner then crucify him. Least he’d die a happy man, with the promise of tomorrow with her endless love.

“Don’t try to trick me, you’re are filthy liar, you’re a disgusting sinner,”

God, Spencer thinks, waits until he hears that he’s from Vegas and fell in love with a man. Spencer focuses on breathing, not the itch from being dirty with his own blood or not the thought of impending death.

“It will be over if you confess, boy. Confess your sins!” Tobias yells.

“I’m not a sinner,” Spencer says, almost defiantly. There’s a surge of strength in Spencer, and he swears that the small memories of Y/N makes him a stronger person.

“We are all sinners”

“The Lord spoke unto Moses saying, ‘speak unto all the congregation of the children of the lord’ and say unto them, ye shall be holy, for I, the lord your god, am holy,” Spencer quotes, the fear somehow seeping back into his voice.

“You know Leviticus,” Tobias says, almost surprised. Yes, Spencer thinks, even heathens can quote the Bible.

“I know every word of the Bible, I can quote it for you?” Spencer pleads.

“Even the Devil can read,” Tobias tells him.

Spencer’s wound bleeds down his neck, the throbbing almost pounds to the beat of his heart.

“It’s time to confess, Spencer Reid,” Tobias whispers, leaning into Spencer.

“I’m a good man, Tobias. I finally found someone who puts back the pieces. I found someone who loves me, and I can’t leave her like this. I can’t do that to her.” Spencer confesses.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs,” Tobias quotes, and as he does his face seems to drift off. It’s like he's there with Spencer, but not there at the same time.

“First Corinthians, Verse 13,” Spencer recites.

“Hmm, so your parents did raise a believer,” Tobias reckons.

More or less, Spencer thinks. He might not believe in God the Almighty, some entity in the clouds watching over him, but he does believe in love and maybe even an afterlife. He has to believe in an afterlife, because if he doesn’t he’d fail to give Y/N forever.

“Yes,” Spencer says, settling on playing the part of a righteous believer.

“Yes, my parents read me the Bible. They are good people too,” Spencer tells him.

Spencer’s not really sure what happens next, but the blow to his head makes the world go black and the sweet memories of Y/N fade into the distance.

***

A cool rag presses against Spencer’s head, where he figures where “Tobias” hit him, or whoever was there with him.

Dissociative Identity Disorder. DID. DSM-5. 300.14 (F44.81). Tobias has three personalities, Spencer thinks. He remembers the day vidily. Reading about DID with Ethan, they sat on the lawn of the park near school. His memories are distrubed by a very confused looking Tobias, who hold bandages and a wet rag.

“What’s your name?” Spencer asks, hoping that whoever was there last night is gone.

“Tobias,” he says, almost meekly. Spencer recognizes something in that, somewhere deep inside him, he recognizes the fear that Tobias wears like a shield. The man here last night must have been his father...

“Who was here last night?”

“My father, Charles,” Tobias says. “I’m sorry if he hurt you.”

Tobias turns to reach in his bag, he brings out a vial of clear liquid, a needle and a long piece of cloth. He ties the long piece of cloth around Spencer’s arm, who with a sudden realization fights to get away from Tobias.

“NO! Please, NO!” Spencer yells, trying his hardest to fend off the inevitable.

“It helps, Spencer. I’m trying to save you from him! It’s gonna help, it helped me,” Tobias tells him, continuing to tie the fabric in a tight knot above Spencer’s elbow.

“Please! I don't want it!” Spencer pleads as the room folds in one him, the darkness is not welcoming, it's suffocating. It’s sucking the life out of him and he can’t escape it’s clutches.

***

There’s another person in this shed, Spencer thinks. He tries to strain his eyes to make out who it is. It’s not Tobias, the shadow is too short for him.

Y/N.

She’s wearing a dress, the blue dress that she wore on their first date. He loves that dress on her. He’s sure he’d love any dress or anything she’d put on to wear for their first date, because well, it’s their first date.

“Spencer,” her voice is even more comforting than usual. It’s syrupy sweet and he feels like he’d get a toothache just from listening.

“Sweet Spencer, you need to come home to me, okay? Come home to me baby.”

He tries to call out to her, but it’s futile. She's a ghost, but she looked so real. Maybe he’s the ghost and his eternal damnation is to haunt her. He’s able to see her, but never able to get close enough to feel the way her hands caress his checks or the way her eyes light up at his touches.

The spooky beauty of his girlfriend is whisked away with the familiar shoots of two tall, skinny figures. His parents. His father sits there on the table with a sneer on his face. His mother has this faraway look on her face. Spencer’s twelve again, listening to his father yell and slam the bedroom door as he rushes out the door, never looking back.

The shadowy figures are gone as soon as they came and are nothing but a reminder to Spencer that he’s not worthy of love. He feels guilty. He really does, but the needle going into his vein brings back Y/N and for now he wants nothing more, but to see her, even if it’s not real.

***

Spencer’s not sure if he craves the clear liquid in the vial because he gets to see Y/N or if he craves to see Y/N because gets to the liquid coursing through his veins, the slightest reminder that he’s alive.

He’s alone in the shed, but there’s a bright green light blinking. A computer, he wonders. Is this the way from the Ninth Circle of Hell? Is this his way home, his way to Y/N?

His thoughts of home and of their warm bed are interrupted by who he can only assume is Raphael, enough time has passed for him to be rising to the surface. Part of him misses Tobias, they’d probably would have been friends growing up. Two outcasts raised by a parent who meant well, but did do irreparable harm in the end.

“It’s time to choose,” Raphael announces. He points to the computer screen, which lights up. Spencer can only assume that his face is being streamed across the internet. Garcia, and probably the entire team are watching this, watching him at his lowest moment. He swore that he’d never show Y/N himself like this, even though he knows that she’ll love him still.

“Choose a member of your team to die. You are all sinners in the end, but it’s time for you to choose who dies.” Raphael tells him, his voice booming, a stark difference from the nervous murmurs of Tobias.

“No,” Spencer shouts. “Kill me, kill me instead!”

“Choose or they all die!” Raphael yells.

Think, Spencer. Think. He looks around at the shed, trying to think of an out. His eyes latch on to the shovel sitting in the corner of the room. That’s new, he realizes. A cemetery, a grave...

“I choose Y/N,” Spencer says, not truly believing what he’s saying, but praying that she gets the message.

“Why?” Raphael asks.

“She’s prideful and careless,” Spencer reasons, trying his hardest to appear nonchalant.

“Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before the fall,” Raphael quotes.

“Yes, John 14:27,” Spencer says. And with that his fate and Y/N is sealed. It’s funny in a twisted way, he always knows that his fate would be forever linked to hers, but not just in this way.

“Come on, boy. Get up,” Raphael orders him.

Spencer makes it to his feet and the pair make their way into the night.

***

Spencer’s not sure how far he’s walked, but his feet are numb and he can’t feel anything in his arm. The inside of his arm is littered with marks, a constant reminder of the cravings he’s feeling. No, he tells himself. What he craves is Y/N. He makes his way up the rocky terrain of the cemetery, hoping that she’s on her way to rescue him, hoping that she’s there to wash away the dirt and kiss his scars.

Raphael is at his side, pulling him along. It's a strange similarity to Dante and Virgil and their journey to the depths of Hell. Maybe in this scenario Spencer isn’t Dante, maybe he’s Beatrice waiting for his Dante to rescue him.

“Please, I need rest. I’m exhausted,” Spencer tries to argue, but it’s no use. Raphael’s grip on his arm only tightens.

“Keep moving,”

They arrive at the cemetery. Spencer is not ready to die. He’s not ready to die and leave Y/N. He wishes he really did believe in God because maybe, maybe he wouldn’t be as scared as he is right now.

“Dig,” Raphael tells him, tossing the shovel on the ground at Spencer’s feet.

As if he’s shaking Death’s hand, Spencer reaches down for the shovel and starts to dig. Each deposit in the mountain of dirt is a cry for help. Each time he cracks his neck in pain or rubs his hands in exhaustion is a goodbye kiss for Y/N.

Spencer stands to his full height. He’s nearly as tall as Tobias, somehow he still feels like a child.

He suspects that Tobias feels the same way. Maybe one day Spencer will come to regret his choice. Maybe one day Spencer will be grateful that he reached into the very depths of his strength to fight to the very end.

“Tell Tobias I’m sorry,” Spencer says, the tears flooding his eyes.

Spencer bangs the back of the shovel against Tobias’s head. His limp body falls to the ground and suddenly he’s terrified that Tobias is somehow still alive. Spencer scrambles for the gun and pulls the trigger. He’s not even sure how many shots he fires but the body is punctured with bloody holes. Spencer, clutches are Tobias’s lifeless body. As if he can squeeze him back to life.

He thinks he’s imagining it. He thinks that he’s on the brink of death. There’s a light, a soft yellow light beckoning him home. A voice calls out to him, clear and strong, it’s drawing him in and Spencer is crawling from his own grave to the voice that he could recognize anywhere. He’s teetering between Heaven and Hell. Y/N’s voice and light tether him home.

“Spencer!” she calls. Finally, he thinks. Finally, she’s close; he lets himself believe he’s safe.

“I’m here!” he shouts, surprised at the force of his voice.

“Oh Spencer,” she says, running to him.

She falls to the ground next to him. Spencer is scared that she’s not real, that it’s the drugs in his system again making him believe that she’s nothing but a cruel figment of his mind.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I knew you’d find me. Please forgive me, I didn’t mean it,” Spencer cries, his face tucked into the crook of her neck.

“Shhh, baby. I’d find you anywhere. Hmm, let’s get you out of here. You are safe now Spencer,” she tells him softly.

Spencer may not be a man who believes in God but he has to believe in Heaven, because Heaven is holding him in her arms.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader angst #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #mgg

252 notes · View notes