#open wounds series

[captainbobbin]

what do you think about the concept of haunting the narrative? like a character's whole thing being how Not There they are and yet they still influence how the story goes. it makes me think about a lot of things personally, like how people who aren't in my life anymore still affect how I act and the things I like, they haunt the narrative of my life basically. (sorry if this is strange new/old thing came up in the current hyperfixation that still has me in a stranglehold that made me think about it)

SORRY I meant to answer this far sooner - I've been rotating the answer in my head a lot haha! Gonna do a read more as I am sure I will ramble.

So I wanna say that I try to make sure that in all of my longfic series there is an overarching sense of that exact feeling, of there being someone unseen that we hear about and sense and we see their aftermath even if we don't 100% see them, or at least don't see them right away.

In my Stardew Valley Withstanding The Tide series, its most definitely Elliott's biological family. For context: Elliott, the writer, finds himself having to take care of his friend, Braeburn's, farm after a series of horrible incidents lands them both in trouble of various kinds, physically, financially, and emotionally. Elliott struggles deeply with his worth and his ability and if he and Braeburn are even friends because he simply cannot grasp the idea of him being worthy of someones time, space or energy. For the entire first part of the series we don't get a lot of information about Elliott's past at all, but I really wanted there to be a sense of 'oh this man has such a warped view of himself and there was absolutely a reason for it'.

As the second part of the series, Redamancy, goes on, we get more and more information until we meet Elliott's mother in the flesh, and I really wanted it to feel like a solid heart-stopping moment. Like this mythical, foreboding woman that has twisted Elliott's sensibilities and has only been passively mentioned is suddenly here and she is just one normal human person but she is terrifying because of the way she has had her claws sunken into what is essentially our protagonist for not only his whole life but the entire story so far. I think I even have him describe her as a hydra after the cliffhanger haha. Elliott's father is absent from the story, but that only really adds to the grief he feels; is it better to have someone you have removed from your life be entirely gone, never to return? How do you describe the feeling of knowing that someone who ought to have loved you is still just out there somewhere, living their life, unburdened by what they did to you? I write from my own experiences and I really hope that it shows - the abstraction of familial ties makes a person both desperate and terrified to form new connections to people. Elliott's familiy and their mixed intentions and twisted expressions of 'care' are things I really wanted to hang over him, even if it isnt explicitly talked about in the first half of the series.

For my DQXI Open Wounds series, there is just so much dread hanging over Hendrik, but the most obvious haunting of the narrative is by that of Norberto. For context: the world has ended and Hendrik is tasked with guiding The Luminary through the wreckage so that things can be made right again, and along their journey they reconnect with The Luminary's missing friends. However, Hendrik has secrets of his own, and has been in a state of grieving for practically his entire life. Norberto, a boy he had grown up with and idolised, vanished into the night without warning, and ever since then, Hendrik has carried the weight of that very personal loss in his heart. So as he and The Luminary make tracks across the ruins of the world - ruins that Hendrik had part in making - he thinks of Norberto. Norberto who has to be dead, he has to be, he must be dead and gone, something out there killed him because he was so good and just vanished. He never wrote. He was never heard from again. Norberto is long dead and Hendrik adored him, has never gotten over him, has never loved another. Hendrik has long lost his faith and struggles with the idea of there being an afterlife anymore, if there ever was one to begin with, but he wants so badly for Norberto to be out there, somewhere, up above, looking out for him, waiting for him, guiding his hand as he marches through the land in search of light... only to find Sylvando. Sylvando, who left in the middle of the night nigh on fifteen years ago and has changed his name, taken up a new profession, and is ecstatic to see his old best friend again. Hendrik, naturally, is torn apart. Someone who mentally he had envisioned as this unshakable, wonderful young warrior forever gone has been alive this entire time, and now lives as a travelling entertainer. He's different. Vastly different. Everything is upside down. Hendrik's worldview is shaken so many times over, people he thought he could trust have betrayed him and this boy, this person he had internalised as an angel sat on his shoulder, is now in front of him, laughing at him and being a bit of a dickhead. Hendrik already has so much grief, has seen so much loss - having Sylvando in his life ought to feel like a win, but he cannot help but just be so upset by all of this.

There's other characters thematically haunting the narrative of course - Jasper, Mordegon, the other sentinels of course - but I really wanted this harsh tone of Norberto being seperate to Sylvando, to Hendrik's own focus on this boy having haunted him for his whole life. But at the same time it is him, and he's the same, but he isn't. Would Hendrik have behaved the same if he had known the truth? About anything? How would life had been different if Sylvando had at least said goodbye? Is it too late? Were they doomed from the start? Does Sylvando even give a shit about what he's done - does he even know what he's done? Hendrik by nature is a stern and quiet character that broods and self-flagellates and struggles socially, so to be met with someone who is his equal in many ways and yet his opposite, one who he has such a history with, one who knows how to love and love so openly.... Hendrik has been carrying around a ghost for the last twenty years, only to find out that its body was still wandering around out in the big wide world, laughing and smiling and celebrating while he mourned.

And of course for my KH Left Foot Over The Right series you know it's Xemnas. I think he's mentioned in every single chapter. While Xehanort was the one who caused such ripples in the universe and put so many horrible plans into action, Xemnas is the one who had such a personal, intimate stake in Saïx and therefore Isa, let alone poor Terra. For context: Isa wakes up newly reformed and overwhelmed by humanity, crippled by guilt and unsure of what to even do with himself - Terra recognises him and their two groups come together as one as they try to figure out a new life together. Memories of Saïx and Xemnas haunt them both. Again, like my Open Wounds series, I really wanted this separation of Who They Once Were and Who They Are Now; that the past is the past and who they used to be are dead and gone and they're different now, it's a new life, change happens and this is real and things can be better - but I really hope that in my lfotr series that it's obvious that Xemnas is ingrained so deeply into everyone's psyche, not just Isa and not just Terra but the kids and Lea and everyone else; the amount of damage he did, whether conscious or not, is unavoidable and everyone is living in the aftermath of it all. Xehanort's war, the Realm Of Darkness, Nobodyism, they're all fresh and still healing and it is a lot. There are a lot of moving parts in the KH series canonically and every little thing has meaning and can cause other things to happen. Ansem The Wise, Eraqus, the entire Organization, they each influence the story, let alone the main cast of Sora and co; I find the side characters and their influence over the canon story far more interesting! Saïx canonically does so much behind the scenes that we never fully see, and he has been my special interest for eighteen years now haha - he has simply gone through so much and to suddenly be thrust back into a position where he can not only see the aftermath of everything he's done, good and bad, but feel it truly for the first time in his entire adult life? It's hard. Existing is hard. Learning is hard. Healing is hard.

Lfotr, to me, is fully about healing and how vicious is can be. While ofc there's other themes and feelings I want to portray, the path of becoming yourself and coping and reaching out and connecting is my main focus. There are good days and bad days, times when your history is a little too close for comfort, moments when the future seems far too big and far too open. Again, I write from personal experience and use my fics as a way to kind of channel my thoughts. After going through intense periods of trauma and hardship, sometimes you behave in ways you don't want to, sometimes you think in ways you know aren't healthy, sometimes you find solace in strange places and sometimes you latch onto people a little too much because they give you hope. Terra and Isa have both been impacted by what Xemnas has done, and I hope the flashbacks and memories of both him and Xehanort really make it clear that after going through so much for so long that the impact was deep and irreversible. Isa's body will always have memories of Xemnas and what he did, how he was, what he wanted. And Terra's body will always love him, despite everything.

There is also, of course, The Presence in the Realm Of Darkness :) Haunting the narrative, hm....

Life is made of cycles and patterns and things coming back - but it's also made of change and things slowly, almost unrecognisably shifting until its too late. I really hope that in my writing (or at least my longfics where I have time to ramble lmao) that the feeling of the past and its effects prevail, and I really want there to always be a sensation of a bigger, wider world being out there beyond the words I write. I want the characters I portray to feel real and human (where applicable) and for it to really seem like they've lived lifes full of lots of different feelings and memories and that all of them still bear scars in some ways.

The absence of a person can be as impactful as their presence. Sometimes even moreso. The actions of one person, the presence of one person, the smallest and most simple aspects of a person, it can all feel so grand when you focus on it - and can feel even more grand when, suddenly, they're not there anymore. I think very much that my work feels rooted in a human angle of grief - I find it very tricky to write fluff you know! - but I think our experiences around sadness and heartbreak and change help ground us in reality, and that's certaintly the vibe I would like my fics to have. Even if I am writing about yknow disney werewolf keyblade wielders and fantasy clown knights fighting dragons lmao

[pansy-picnics]

Happy halloween vampire au is back who cheered

[epikhightechnology]

"I love you, Pete"

[anpanman95]

the war flashbacks are flash-backing and it’s nOT FUNNY

pls give him a loving father JUST ONCE

[bright-eyes-strawberry-lies]

Percy rubbing the scar on his palm and thinking of Luke.

Luke choosing to steal a yacht named after Perseus' wife.

Percy recognizing Hermes as Luke's father upon first sight.

Luke putting out chocolate and champagne and letting them get a full night's rest.

Percy recognizing Luke's demigod scent the moment they boarded the yacht.

Luke calling Percy his favorite cousin.

Percy's hands shaking when he reunites with Luke for the first time since last summer.

Luke asking them to stay.

Percy trying to change Luke's mind.

Luke helping them escape.

[fadelbison]

Ray's mother, music and the barriers to his heart that Sand must overcome

TW: discussion of suicide This is building upon the shorter meta I wrote here about the Micro song that plays during Ray's suicide scene. The parallels between Ray's arc in falling for Sand and Mew are so overt that I was completely overlooking the person that Sand is really up against in Ray's wounded heart and who, I believe Mew is ultimately a proxy for - his dead mother. I go into a little bit about how Sand's affection for Ray can sometimes read as familial here and I think it's quite readily noticeable how Ray acts very childlike around Sand with his puppy dog eyes and constant wheedling. One thing I do want to note is that Ray doesn't particularly come off as childlike in any of his other interactions either with his friends or in his conversation with P'Yo except for perhaps that first night when he got drunk and told his friends how much he loved them and during the suicide scene when he cries wrapped up in Mew's arms, distraught by how his mother never loved him. I think Ray is the epitome of someone with a deeply wounded inner child and the only way he can ask for love is as a child, somewhat helplessly and appealing to people's caretaker/protective nature. The parent child relationship between Sand and Ray comes up a few times through the episodes. The earliest explicit acknowledgement as far as I can tell is here at the end of episode 2:

There's another explicit nod as to how their dynamic is set up within Sand performing acts of service for Ray in Ep 3:

Sand says he has been Ray's driver, drinking buddy, shrink and chef. Three of those things - driving him around, cooking for him and providing him emotional support are not just familial activities but activities you would normally do for a young child. Sand pointedly leaves out that they've had sex from this list of services. And yes, that's because Sand doesn't view sex as a service and if it was just this then it would be hard to make the point that I'm trying to make which is that Sand needs to fulfill that parental attachment need that Ray craves; give him that type of no strings, unselfish kind of love before he will ever be able to gain Ray's trust enough to be able to build a romantic relationship with him. So how is the show making this point? That Sand is replacing not just Mew but Ray's dead mother in his heart? Well, let's start with the two things that Ray's mother has left him with: 1) music and 2) her alcoholism. Ray's friends were all very surprised when Ray volunteers to arrange the music for the party. While that was more about Ray's lack of interest in taking responsibility (His now in restrospect gut wrenching 'I'm only good for spending money' line from Ep1 like ouch) but it also indicates that none of them really know or connect with Ray over his music. How can they?

Music is such a deeply personal part of him, that's where he keeps the love he holds for his mother; the love that is entirely grief - painful in its vastness, beautiful in its consistency. And the first thing Sand tells him to do is be grateful for it - her good taste in music. The second thing? Is to show him how to enjoy it:

The fact that he's taking his hand and Ray is half resisting it, the silliness of the gesture more than the touch itself but he's undeniably enjoying himself - It reads to me like the awkward, stilted movements of a childperson who doesn't know how to move their limbs when they're first being taught how to do something. And when you realize that the song that Ray plays for Sand in ep2 is the same one that is playing when he's taken the pills - the positive associations that Sand is making with Micro in Ray's life suddenly becomes monumental. This happens twice more in the show. Once, in the car when Sand ditches his date to drive them to Ray's house where they engage in a delightful flirtation around it, Ray singing badly while Sand eats it up complains about it

And again, at the night of the party when Ray tells Sand to play Micro for him and Sand like the simp that he is serenades him with it:

But their connection over music doesn't stop at teaching Ray to cherish and honor his past - and unknowingly the pains that are attached to it. No, Sand goes further to expand it, help Ray find a space for himself in music, carve a corner of it that isn't only pain, isn't only that moment of seeing his mother laid flat on that floor with a whiskey glass inches from her fingers.

When music is such an integral part of Ray's personality how else does one interpret this scene other than Sand telling Ray to move on, when Sand plays Selina and Sirinya for him because finding new music he likes is Sand's happiness how else do I interpret it as anything other than Sand teaching Ray how to be happy? What am I supposed to do but pull out my own hair when they're connecting over music, looking at each other like this:

And Sand will do it AGAIN - as the ep5 preview suggests - take Ray's hand and teach him how to enjoy contemporary music while Ray makes his awkward, adorable face where he's having fun in spite of himself. And the sheer amount of joy that Sand gets in seeing Ray like this is just - they're so insufferable:

But perhaps the most surprising (and delightful!) of all is this:

Ray taking his headphone off, interrupting this magical moment of being with Sand and the music, telling him he wants to be close to nature and drink beer - for the very first time Ray desires alcohol not as a means to destroy himself but as a vehicle of peace and of connection and I haven't been well since seeing it and understanding what it means. In many ways, Ray's mother is such a tragic character. I know nothing of this woman other than the three seconds I have seen of her dead and the frightful way she has driven her son to follow in her footsteps, to feel so unloved and unwanted. And yet she named him Ray Pakorn (pakorn meaning sun) - a ray of sunshine. Perhaps even, her ray of sunshine.

How can I truly believe that she never loved him?

I know Ray tells Mew that she never held him but he loves her so dearly, wants to be with her so desperately, she permeates every moment of his life so thoroughly that the loneliness she left behind isn't a gaping emptiness but the festering carcass of a love so profound and full to bursting that Ray keeps trying to give it away, keeps trying to love his friends, keeps trying to save them and aches in the way that he finds no recipient for it.

People wonder what Sand sees in Ray, why he would fall for him. But Ray is a creature made entirely of love, soft still in the way he lets it rule his life, innocent in the way that he asks for it, precious in the way that he gives it away - How can Sand be anything but desperately in love with him?

[hydrangeawrites]

Was thinking about Takasugi seeing Gintoki again for the first time and all the emotional turmoil that must have come with it like "He's alive." "It's been so long." "He looks taller." "What the hell is he wearing." "How could he move on." "How dare he move on." "I can finally end everything." "I can finally kill him end him." "He's alive." "He's alive."

"Gintoki is alive."

[astrowarr]

so now the only solo players are martyn (deranged red life who just lost all his friends and family permanently to a couple of green lives, who laughed and laughed as if they weren't filthy murderers) and scar (alone by his own design as he burns all his bridges, and shies away from every connection that could be anything more than just simple, clinical allyship)

[todayisafridaynight]

[teapot-of-tyrahn]

Gempearl or Pearleo drabble perhaps? ^_^

WARNINGS ; DESCRIPTIONS OF GORE & (REPEATED) MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH.

—

“I’m sorry … I’m sorry. Sorry, sorry! My bad… I didn’t — I didn’t think they’d die so quick…” Not again. It was happening again. "Wooooah!" "You did it, Pearl, you did it!" "Stop stealing all my kills!" She could barely hear their exclamations over the voices echoing in her head. Her own voices. Or, rather, voices' of who she had once been, what she had once done, of what she was doing again. [ “Get her! Get ‘er, babies! GET ‘ER! Hahaha… OH! Oh." ] [ “Yes! Oh — Oh… Oh my gosh… ooooh my gosh…" ] It was always her. Every time. No matter what she did, no matter what she tried… It was always by her hand. It was always the same.

ZombieCleo fell to their death while fighting PearlescentMoon.

[ "Oh — Martyn—! AH—" The scream was ear-piercing. It was a strangled, deluged sound as Cleo's airway was flooded with a salty sanguine, as she choked on the sticky substance filling her mouth, drowning in her own blood. A branch was embedded straight through her torso, the bough skewering right through her abdomen and entrails. The sight was a beautiful conglomeration of death and life; a rotting corpse impaled by an evergreen conifer. Her blood dripped to the ground and seeped into the soil like plantwater, sinew would soon putrefy and wither off Cleo's carcass to serve as fertilizer... The tree's branches would continue to grow, life would prosper from their death, and the spurs would soon contort and twist around her corpse in an ethereal state of thigmatropism and occlusion. She'd look absolutely beautiful. "I don’t feel any remorse!" And she didn't! She'd been waiting to kill Cleo for a long, looong time. Ever since the first session. Such a pity she could only do it once. She'd love to see that look on Cleo's face again - the horror, the terror, the foreboding realization that Pearl was about to take her last life, that permadeath was approaching, that it would be Pearl's scythe that would harvest their soul... She didn't think she could ever grow tired of that expression. "Why, you kill my dogs, you might as well be killing me at that point, haha…!" Pearl took Cleo's limp hand, the skin already beginning to grow cold, and lightly pressed her lips against the back of the corpse's hand. Then, she sunk her teeth into the decayed muscle tissue, ripping out a healthy chunk of a hypodermis and tendons, and spitting out the flesh she'd managed to tear off onto the forest floor. She'd never been a fan of rotten flesh, but her puppies loved it, digging into the flesh like a buffet as they gouged themselves' on the zombie's marrow. She smiled. She'd always have a piece of Cleo with her, now, forever! Inside of her dogs. ]

ZombieCleo was slain by PearlescentMoon.

[Hell hath no fury like a mother. Hell hath no fury like Cleo. Her rage was silent, an unspoken fury, an animalistic ire. The frenzy of a mother who had just lost their last child, whose sons had both met their untimely end, a woman with no regard for her own life, as they had nothing left to live for. She had nobody waiting for her to come home to them - no kids who needed her protection, who she had to stay alive to be there for, because there weren't here anymore. But like Hell she was going to join them without putting up a fight first. Without trying to drag the one who had killed her son down to the depths of Hell with her, kicking and screaming, clawing and crying. "Wait, hold on, nonono, we can't be killing Grian—" "PEARL! Do something about this!" Pearl hadn't been intending to kill Cleo. Not now, not seconds ago. She hadn't pushed them off that ladder to kill her — there had been water at the bottom, she'd thought she would land unscathed, surely, just a little goof. But they hadn't. Pearl had said she didn't regret it - and that was true. How could you regret doing something you'd never even thought through? You couldn't regret something you hadn't even done on purpose. That was an accident, a mistake, not a regret. All she was trying to do was to get Cleo to stop attacking Grian. To crit her a few times until she backed off when she was low on health and they all stopped fighting. But they hadn't backed off. Even when they must have been on the verge of death, they didn't make the smart decision and back off when they were being one-v-three'd, the zombie only dug her own grave deeper. She had made their bed, right next to her children's, and they intended to lay in it. The zombie left no corpse behind. There was no carcass to speak of. No cadaver, no viscera, no innards; she was there one second, and gone the next, a flash of lighting erasing every remnant of their existence. The only indication of what she had done, that Cleo had ever been, was the blood. The blood staining her blade. The blood staining her clothes. The blood staining her hands. She had just been trying to protect Grian. She really hadn't meant to kill them. But she had. She had too. It was their own fault, really. Pearl just wished they hadn’t let herself be blinded by grief. It could have easily been avoided. If she had two nickels, it wouldn't be a lot, but it was sure weird she’d killed her twice, huh? ]

ZombieCleo was slain by PearlescentMoon.

Three times makes a pattern. [ “I was super excited to be in an alliance with you…” ] She really had been. Pearl thought they could be friends this time. Things could be different. She could make it end differently. Cleo had never liked to be defined by fate, anyway, had they? They'd defied fate before. She could do it again. And, yet, no matter what Pearl did, no matter how hard she tried, it always seemed to end the same. With Cleo's blood on her hands. And, whenever she finally managed to clean them, she was forced to sully them again with the same blood she was doomed to spill over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. Wasn't it tragic? The killer in love with the corpse she was always doomed to kill. The corpse in love with its' killer no matter how many times she plunged a dagger into her heart. Cleo always forgave her. Pearl never forgave herself.

Why don't you see the pattern by now? I'm going to kill you. I keep killing you. Why do you keep letting me kill you? I don't want to kill you. I can't get your blood out from underneath my fingernails. I can't get the smell of decay out of my nose. You only have one life left. I already took your second. I'm going to take your last. Don't let me. Please, please, just run, just hide, just don't let it be me again. It can't be me again. ... I don't want it to be me again.

—

the most doomed yuri ever. i am always thinking about how pearl was responsible for TWO of cleo's permadeaths IN A ROW ... pearl can NOT stop murdering her gf FR !!! anyway this is the in the pov of pearl after she took cleo's second life in secret life and realized the Cycle was Doomed to continue !! // @mcytblingsbracket

[thatfanficstuff]

Open Wounds - 22

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Soulmate!Reader

warning: normal for me. guns and shooting and stuff.

A/N: its been a minute but here you go.

You stood to one side of the command room with your hands behind your back and your gaze straight ahead. Not even twitching unless you were ordered to. Strucker’s perfect little pet. He kept you close at all times unless you were locked in your cell to sleep. His prize. And wasn’t it lovely?

Not for the first time you considered crushing his throat with your bare hands. Of course, assuming he didn’t explode your head, someone else would certainly kill you before you could escape. Sometimes, you wondered if it would be worth it. Then you’d remember your mate and what fate would await him for your disobedience.

A jolt of pain radiated through your brain and down your neck. You winced and clenched your teeth to keep from screaming out. You snapped your gaze to Strucker. He smirked and slid your remote back into his pocket. “You were drifting. Pay attention, Nicto.”

“My apologies, Herr Strucker. Did you have orders for me?” If you listened to his conversation and he wasn’t giving you orders, he shocked you. If you didn’t and he was, he shocked you. Asshole. Someday, you were going to shove that remote up his ass.

“Your former associates have discovered your location and are attacking our base. Get rid of them. Kill them. Bring me Soldat by any means necessary.”

No fucking way. “Of course, Herr Strucker.”

You stepped over to look at the monitors showing all the activity around the base. There was a lot more than the Avengers here. Was that Melinda? What the hell was she doing here? And Matt. And Wade. And the spider kid. For fuck’s sake. They could have at least the teenager at home.

Spotting Bucky breaching the south entrance, you left to head in that direction. Strucker would be right behind you, watching your every move. You’d nearly reached the area you’d planned to intercept Bucky when a blur of black and red crashed into you rocking you on your feet.

“Princess, I’m so happy to see you,” Wade shouted while wrapping you in his arms.

You allowed yourself just a second to breathe in the scent of your best friend. A moment to take comfort in his touch.

“We’ve got company,” he said in your ear.

You sucked in a breath and shoved him away from you. A kick to his chest sent him stumbling down the hallway. Before he could fully regain his footing, you drew your firearm and placed a round right between his eyes. That image was going to haunt you for awhile.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and holstered your weapon. Stepping over the temporary corpse of your best friend, you continued down the hall. Finally, you turned into the storage area where you expected to find your soulmate.

As it turned out, you found not only him but Natasha as well. The were deep in conversation and hadn’t noticed your near silent approach. Idiots. You leapt over the railing at the top of the stairs. The metal beneath your feet reverberated with the impact of your landing. Both assassins immediately focused on you with wide eyes and weapons aimed.

Bucky’s gaze turned soft when he realized it was you and the muzzle of his gun lowered to aim at the floor. He said your name softly, like a prayer.

“Soldat,” you said in response, keeping any warmth from your voice.

He flinched. Natasha’s aim remained true as always. You kept your eyes locked on your mate as you removed your gun and dropped it on the floor.

“You owe me a fight, Soldat.” You hoped he went along with it or you were going to have to fight Nat and she wouldn’t be nearly as nice.

Buck narrowed his eyes as he looked you over from head to toe. Finally, he swallowed and gave you a nod. “I got this, Natasha.”

She hesitated a moment before stepping back and lowering the gun slightly. You glanced at her quickly then back toward the door before snapping your attention back to Bucky. It was enough for her to get the message and she shifted the weapon to aim at the doorway behind you.

Once Bucky stripped himself of his weapons, the two of you circled, sizing each other up. “I’ve missed you.”

You clenched your teeth, wanting to say it back, but not daring to. The walls around here had ears as the saying went. You couldn’t risk it, not until you had the information you needed. “Then you should come home, Soldat. Come back to Hydra.”

And, gods, the look of pure terror that flashed through his eyes gutted you. You willed him to see the truth in your gaze. You would never subject him to Hydra. Not again. He’d suffered enough for one lifetime. You just needed to make sure he lived.

With that thought, you surged forward. You punched, kicked, attacked and he took it all. He didn’t swing back. Didn’t crowd into your space. He only blocked your blows. All of his moves defensive. This went on for several minutes until you finally managed the motion you’d been attempting from the beginning. A twist of your hand and a feint to the side had his earpiece in your ear instead of his.

His brow furrowed in confusion and you grinned while the two of you continued to fight. “Hey, greenie. Got a question for you?”

You spoke quietly, knowing the Stark tech would pick you up and the Hydra cameras wouldn’t.

“Junior?” Banner asked, shocked to hear your voice.

You rolled your eyes. Of course, everyone had picked up Tony’s stupid nickname. “Buck have a chip in his head?”

There was a moment of quiet. “Not anymore. It’s the first thing we took care of. It’s always the first thing…Shit. Give me a minute.”

And the voice in your ear went silent.

“Who?” your mate demanded.

You snorted as you sent a high kick to his head. He grabbed your ankle and lifted it so you were forced to flip backward away from him. “Guess.”

“Enough,” Strucker’s voice came and you immediately stopped fighting. Stepping aside like the good little soldier. You turned to him, arms behind your back, stance wide. Ready for orders.

Nat and Bucky stood behind you. Strucker stood just inside the door, two soldiers on either side of him.

Strucker pulled your remote from his pocket, thumb hovering over the kill button. “Return, Soldat, or she dies.”

Before Bucky could respond, another voice interrupted the odd standoff.

“Hey guys, I found a secret room.” Tony’s excited voice trailed off on the last two words. “Well, this is awkward.”

Chaos erupted as Tony shot one of his repulsors in their direction. You and Bucky both dove for your weapons and white-hot pain jolted through your brain. You pressed your palms against your temples as a scream ripped from your throat. Your teammates worriedly shouted your name while they fought Hydra and protected you.

When the pain subsided slightly, Bruce was yelling in your ear. “Did it work? Are you okay?”

The pain continued to fade and you opened your eyes to see Strucker frantically pressing the button on the remote.

“Don’t do that ever again,” you answered Bruce as you grabbed your gun and rose to your feet. Your stare never left Strucker.

“As long as you don’t get any more murder chips in your brain, I won’t have to.” His relief was evident in his voice.

You smirked and grabbed the earpiece. “Buck.” When he glanced at you, you tossed it to him. Then you headed for the stairs and Strucker. The man saw you and immediately turned and fled.

You pushed your way through Hydra soldiers with wide strides. They ignored you, assuming you were still on their side. When you passed through the group shooting at your friends, you pulled the pin on the grenade hanging from one of their belts. You hustled around the corner and grinned when it exploded a few seconds later.

Strucker stood further down the hallway, obviously hoping you wouldn’t make it this far. When he turned to flee, he nearly impaled himself on a katana.

“You’re…you’re dead. She shot you in the head,” Strucker stammered out.

You didn’t have to see Wade’s face to know he was grinning. “Sure did. Hurt like a bitch, too.”

He shoved Strucker back in your direction. The asshole turned to find you striding toward him, your gun aimed at his head. He held up his hands as if he could stop you by pure force of will. “Nicto, you don’t want to do this. Come back to us. We’ve done so much for you. Help me escape and all will be forgiven.”

“Knees.”

“What?”

By that time you’d reached him and you pressed the barrel of the gun against his forehead. “Get on your knees.” When he hesitated you yelled, “Now!”

He dropped instantly, hands still up as he pled for his life. “All I did was make you better. You can’t deny it. I improved you. You should be grateful.”

A whispered, “The fuck?” came from Wade.

You pressed the gun harder into Strucker’s flesh, knowing it would leave a bruise should he live long enough. “Perhaps I should show my gratitude by doing to you exactly what’s been done to me over the years.”

Strucker closed his eyes but said nothing.

“But, you see, I’ve been thinking about putting a bullet in your brain for a long time and I would hate to disappoint myself.” You leaned forward. “It would be oh so satisfying to know that you were gone and that I’d done it. That you were no longer around to torment anyone.”

Your finger twitched as you debated what to do with the man on his knees in front of you. He needed to die. There was no question about that. But how? You weren’t the only one he’d wronged. He’d committed countless war crimes. Tortured and experimented on people. Did he really deserve the quick death a bullet would bring?

“Don’t.” You froze at the voice behind you and sucked in a trembling breath. “Don’t do it, sweetheart. You’ll regret it. You’re better than that.”

Your hand trembled as you let the gun fall away and turned to face the man whose voice you thought you would never hear again. Tears blurred your vision before dripping down your cheeks. “Daddy?”

[captainbobbin]

Hi, hello! 💜 📝🦐 please! 💜 Also: *boop!*

(in response to this ask meme)

awuaaaagh a boop! - prepare for one in return mwuaha - also I'm gonna do these two out of order because it will flow a little better haha, plus I'm rambling so its under a readmore -

🦐 - tell me about a character or story that is giving you shrimp emotions right now

spoilers for DQXI ahead!

I went back and replayed some more DQXI yet again yesterday (I play a good chunk of it every week on stream for my chat and I always loredump and theorise with them as we play haha) but I had missed a few weeks due to the recent funeral and other irl distractions. But going back to it was like coming home and. man. man. Hendrik. Hendrik my special boy who I love so dearly. I could talk about him for weeks, he has rewired my brain chemistry. I'm pretty sure you followed me for my KH stuff in general but DQXI is another square enix game and to me Hendrik has a nice overlap with the way I characterise my version of Isa. Hendrik is a big brooding dad type of guy who begins as an antagonist to the player due to being misled, lied to and betrayed; as the game goes on you realise that not only is he the most powerful thing in-game but that he is wracked with survivors guilt, catholic guilt, imposters guilt, every kind of guilt imaginable, he's a giant socially awkward unstoppable force teddy bear man who is the worlds most revered hero, destiny's chosen strongman, a horsegirl and a clown and I will never tire of talking about him he is just so so special to me. He's so pretty. I think I spend most of my time playing DQXI either deep-diving into lore/theories or just going 'god look how pretty Sylvando is. Look how pretty Hendrik is. I love them. I love them so much' lmaoooooo (a lot of people pair Hendrik and Jasper together and I totally get that but I love Sylv and Hendrik winding up together, they just work so well as a pair, they fit together so nicely auuugh)

One of the things we talked about in my last DQXI stream was that right at the start of act 2, when Hendrik is at your side but not a party member yet, (and hes only just getting over his projection of angst onto you and he's trying so hard to be better already and he dedicates himself to you there and then pretty much), in the throne room of Heliodor's ruined castle where Hendrik once served you fight the Spectral Sentinel Tyriant, and we discussed the possibility that Tyriant might just be the reanimated dead body of Arnout, the former king of Zwaardsrust (Hendrik's original home, which was razed to the earth when he was just a little boy.....). The size of the body, the way it fights, the fact that the orb it is designated is the purple orb, which was buried in the ruins of Zwaardsrust..... awauaugh I love this game so much and I am obsessed with digging up lore and playing with it, especially the stuff revolving around Sylv and Hendrik haha

I just. I love the guy. He has so much grief and inner turmoil and layers and the entirety of Act 2 is him learning to be a person again and trusting those around him, pushing through his internalised blame (with debatable results) and just trying to heal while out on the road. I'm just. obsessed with him. My big purple wife 💜

📝 - tell me about a project you're working on, or share something from a WIP -

here are some messy notes I did recently for the next instalment in my Open Wounds series, which is about Hendrik dealing with his emotions regarding Norberto (Sylvando) and their strange, budding relationship -

Thank you, my darling. It hung in his ears. Hendrik had followed Sylvando to the Stallion and back five times over, carrying whatever burden he was issued, internally leashed by those words of praise. In order to save the world, one needed provisions. The ship needed stocking. Hendrik was only doing his duty. It was merely a boon that he did so whilst looking at Sylvando's back, sauntering ahead of him, smile easy and reputation preceding him. The scarlet clouds ought to make the clown vanish into gloom, as it had yesterday, yet spirits seemed to have risen. Like Hendrik's own flesh, perhaps the world was healing, just a little. The clown's presence certainly gave the impression of that effect. The longer they were in Gondolia, the more people came out of hiding, the more townsfolk did business with them, the more smiles began to appear. Conversations were had with shopkeepers that Hendrik did not understand - don't you worry, honey, those Beastly Boys aren't so anymore! They've done me very proud since last I was here - and Sylvando glittered under Erdwin’s Lantern, a thought that was both horrid and harpsichordical; in times of strife and despite any grief, the strong flourish and bloom, and to observe a knight perform his duty and be one with the people, taking hands and offering encouraging words, offers of support, promises to repair, all while doom crept ready to be taken down, it offered Hendrik a cacophony of implacable feelings that he really could do nothing with. He just followed, experiencing it, fascinated by the way civilians recognised the two of them, recognised that the two of them were together, recognised that the two of them were different, and then recognised that the two of them were the same. 

Shamefully, Hendrik had almost forgotten to think of Jasper. Shamefully, he still rather had.

The only time Hendrik's mind had drifted to Jasper was when, as they gathered materials together, idly talking about nothing - and by the Gods it was nice to talk at all, to be able to talk at all with him - Sylvando regaled some airy tale of a time when he had discovered some squeaky little mousies had made snuck aboard his ship and tried to make a nest in a gap in the pantry floorboards. He talked of how he had kept an eye on them, left small amounts of food near the opening to save the mice from gnawing through sacks and taking more than their share. Sylvando had scooped them out the next time they moored and freed them, finding some snug shrub to set their fluffy little hiding place under and watching them scurry away. He had told the story, again, smiling, faint gestures with his hands, harmless, pressureless, filling the silence. It was rather admirable, and Hendrik could not help but think that it spoke of Sylvando's character, a character that had not changed despite everything else changing so much. Norberto had tried to bring home a wild sabrecub once - his father forbade it, for obvious reasons. But the boy - and now the jester - had always been able to see the good in all things, had always had a soft spot for creatures in need of aid. 

Hendrik's back tingled.

Sylvando had cared for rodents aboard his vessel, had refused to outright kill pests that, by all means, he could have and perhaps should have to ensure the ship was clean and safe and without burden. Instead he had left tissue nearby for them to nest with, crumbs and peeling nearby for them to eat, and had personally made sure that the mice had a real home as soon as he was physically able to, carrying them to where they ought to be with gentle hands and no doubt nurturing words.

Vermin, Jasper would have said. Disgusting, vile, loathsome little cockroach-beasts. He would have raised his boot over them and brought it down swiftly with a wrinkled nose and curled-back lip. 

If we pass where I left them, I'll show you, Sylvando had turned to him and said, smile light and charming. It's the finest little mouse-house around! I bet none of their other forest friends have purple crepe paper and ribbons adorning their humble abode, eh? Those little stowaways got only the best - I'd have nothing less on my ship, you know.

Hendrik peered out of the window, stood in the belly of The Stallion. 

[quietwingsinthesky]

🔥 most controversial take on 13?

sobbing. anon i don’t know her yet. how can i have hot takes.

uh most controversial take on 13 is. uhm. that she’s not kissing me? right now? 🤨 highly irregular.

[cmdonovann]

man. ive had this art in my drafts since like three dnd games ago (so, like, two months? lmao) and have been putting off finishing it because NOTHING i could draw could possibly express how fucked up this fight made me feel. immense shouts out to my DM for a) understanding my taste in symbolism and themes, and b) letting raz literally kill himself with no consequences

[calciumcryptid]

I don't know how to explain it, but Scylla from Epic the Musical: Thunder Saga is a VegasPete song. Particularly the coup on the major family, with Vegas as Odysseus and Pete as Scylla.

[mariocki]

Play for Today: The Cry (BBC, 1984)

"It's best forgotten about."

"You're not gonna be making a complaint?"

"Complaints? We're not making any complaints! We don't want to know about any complaints."

"Complaints against who?"

"Well, the police."

"Who should I complain to about the police?"

"Well, the police, I suppose."

"What good would that do me?"