#yeah I know ghosts are bound to where they die but I wanted to include megan | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thefirstknife · 3 years ago

Text

Iron Lord Saladin Forge

Season of the Lost dropped some major lore about Saladin and I love every piece of it so I will make a huge post detailing stuff about and what's important.

The lore is on Iron Banner armour which you can see in-game when you go to the armour section. The lore is the same on each class so it doesn't matter which one you read. It's in the order of how armour is set, so helmet -> arm piece -> chest piece -> leg piece -> class item. There's some extras on Iron banner weapons that I'll add as well.

The rest under the cut due to length and also spoilers!

I'll link to the Hunter gear because I'm a dirty Hunter main and I read it from there and that's what I have open because I couldn't remember the names for other two classes, but the lore is the same on all of them. The set is called Iron Forerunner.

We haven't really had any substantial Saladin lore in D2 besides few lore pieces from Chosen and Splicer. Not nearly enough I think, especially since he wasn't properly introduced in D2 at all and it was kinda assumed that everyone would know about him from the Rise of Iron expansion in D1. He had plenty of voice lines, but with no real context. His voice lines in Season of the Chosen were interesting, but also made a lot of people think he's a bad person and a warmongering coward who sat on his butt during the Red War and was then preaching action for action's sake.

The situation is obviously more complex, but I've always said that it's Bungie fault for not explaining more about him prior to his involvement in the Season of the Chosen. Well, now we got some really interesting information at last!

Anyway, helmet first!

Flavour text:

"Some know the legend. We threw ourselves on the blades of tyranny so others may live free." —Lord Saladin

This is referencing the Iron Lords' fight against the Warlords in the Dark Age. Saladin is heavily influenced by his time in the Dark Age. It seems like some really old Guardians never get over the trauma of living through that (Drifter is another example). Side note: this could also be referencing the battle against SIVA since Rasputin is also known as "The Tyrant." It's not fully relevant tho, as Saladin was equally affected by both periods in his life.

This first entry details something we don't really think about when it comes to Guardians: death. It's a temporary thing with them so it doesn't really matter. But Saladin recounts how he remembers his deaths and how each one felt. Despite the fact that he will be brought back, the pain and struggle of dying are very real. There is also the associated trauma of the realisation that you will go through this over and over and over:

He laughed when his Ghost reassembled him. Then, he cried.

It's not something mentioned often, and definitely wasn't a point raised with Saladin. It gives some context to how seriously he takes combat, training and the lives of his fellow Guardians.

Saladin remembers the day he stopped counting deaths. "Something about you is different," Jolder had said, and put her hand on his.

This explains that his worldview of the role of Lightbearers changed the moment he was invited to become an Iron Lord. It's also important to remember that he loved Lady Jolder very much (in whichever way you want to interpret it) and that watching her make the choice to die a final death has had a heavy impact on him.

Saladin remembers all this and more when he looks at the Crow. He feels rage form a hot pit in his belly when Osiris tells him about the young Lightbearer's suffering at the hands of his fellow Guardians. Osiris asks him if he can keep a secret.

"I don't like secrets," Saladin says, and that's the end of it.

Saladin doesn't really say this during Chosen and his interactions with Crow, but it's evident from this that he cares deeply about the young Light who suffered in ways Saladin only remembers people suffering during the Dark Age. It's also important to note that the Osiris he speaks to here is Savathun. Saladin seems to be uniquely unaffected by Savathun's schemes. This will repeat itself again later.

Second, arms piece.

Flavour text:

"Some know the legend. We were forged in the fires of a burning world." —Lord Saladin

Same thing as before. Referencing the post-Collapse Dark Age. The lore tab details a really tragic story of the Iron Lords burying bodies, including the implication of Saladin burying the body of a child. He recalls that these people were victims of Fallen Raiders.

"It's a vicious circle," Efrideet had said as she tied off a funeral shroud with great care. Saladin remembers the bundle being very small. "One day, I'm going to break it."

Saladin remembers how easily the body fit in his arms, how light it felt as he laid it in the grave. He remembers, with shame, pretending not to hear Efrideet's words so he wouldn't need to respond to them.

He remembers not having anything kind to say.

He obviously regrets not having a stronger stance on this in the past. Where Efrideet seems to have always been keen on ending the cycle of violence, he clearly thought differently and is now ashamed of it. This transitions into more about his relation to Crow:

Saladin remembers all this and more whenever the Crow talks back to him. Sometimes, he bites down on the inside of his cheek. Sometimes, he looks up to find his Ghost focused on him with a knowing look.

He doesn't say anything to his Ghost either.

Because Crow was saying things that reminded him of Efrideet. Breaking the cycles of violence, extending a friendly hand, not treating everyone like an enemy. It's evident that this turmoil is still inside of him as someone who spent most of his time fighting for survival, only to be told by those younger than him that there's a way out of that war. It's a very common struggle of people dealing with trauma and specifically PTSD to not be able to imagine and/or live in a world of peace and to outright reject the possibility of peace ever existing. Saladin is very clearly dealing with that and here, we see it from his own POV: despite sometimes being harsh to Crow, there were times when he chose to say nothing because deep down he knows that Crow is right. Accepting that is a long process though.

Third, chest piece.

Flavour text:

"Some know the legend. We rose from the ashes of a dying world to save humanity from itself." —Lord Saladin

Same again, but this is an interesting way to phrase it. He's talking about humanity being a danger to itself, not about any external threat. Ultimately, the Traveler's gift was the first thing that harmed humanity post-Collapse, despite later being the thing that saved it.

This leads into Saladin's thoughts on the Red War, something we've been sorely missing for a very long time.

Saladin remembers losing his connection to the Light. He remembers thinking that the Traveler must have discovered his most secret doubts; the darkest thoughts he shared with no one—not even his Ghost. He remembers the strange sense of relief that had washed over him until his radio crackled to life just moments later.

His deepest secret? Probably that Light is a burden. When he lost the connection to the Light, he specifically thought it had only happened to him and then felt relief. Freedom from the eternal war he has to keep waging. I'm sure he feels incredible shame for thinking it would be better to just lose the Light and die a final death, but alas, he is bound by duty. Especially a Titan's duty.

He stands there thinking about it for a while before finally deciding to embrace that duty. And now we know what he was doing during the Red War:

"Saladin," his Ghost said again, and Saladin remembers moving. He remembers clutching his radio and rallying survivors—those strong enough to make the journey—to the Iron Temple.

It's been abbreviated as him "sitting out" the Red War because he didn't fight. Of course it was strange that the last remaining active Iron Lord did not show up to the City to fight alongside all the others, both Guardians and ordinary humans. That Lord Saladin, someone who endured so many hardships and fought so many battles since the Dark Age, hasn't come to help humanity in its time of greatest need.

But now this hits different. He didn't fight, yes. He couldn't. Losing the Light wasn't just something that made him scared (like all Lightbearers): it was something that made him scared of how he might actually enjoy dying a glorious final death. To end the trauma and the memories of all the horrors he's been through. So instead of throwing himself into a reckless death, he chose to stay in the Iron Temple and protect survivors.

So yeah, he didn't fight, but he did something equally important. The Iron Temple is an extremely well protected fortress that's very difficult to reach and breach, so any survivor he gathered was perfectly safe there until the Red War ended. Sometimes "sitting out" is more noble than fighting.

Saladin remembers all this and more whenever the Crow challenges him on his cowardice during the Red War. He wants to break the young Guardian's back to teach him a lesson about what it's like to feel helpless, but something stops him.

He remembers hearing stories about the Crow's life on the Shore before he arrived at the Tower, and does not raise a hand against him.

The lore entry ends with telling us that Saladin was clearly very agitated about Crow's teasing. But in the end, he remembered what Crow has been through and realised that Crow already knows what it's like to feel helpless. He did not need a reminder and Saladin decided to take the teasing without a response. It truly frames some of those voice lines in a different light, knowing this background.

Fourth, leg piece!

Flavour text:

"Some know the legend. We crossed a burning world with sword in hand, bringing justice and blood." —Lord Saladin

Once more, we are told that Saladin was mostly forged (eheh) through his experience in the Dark Age.

The lore page details a bittersweet memory Saladin has of him with his fellow Iron Lords and friends enjoying some good time over a meal and song.

He remembers Radegast asking him to sing the song taught to them by the people of the blacksmith's village, but agreeing only when Jolder and Perun promised to join in. Their voices rose like wolves in the night and were so raw by morning that none of them could speak.

This is honestly heartbreaking. Saladin being this happy and free to sing and enjoy himself: compared to how he is now. But even with that, he has retained the need to do it again sometimes, if he ever finds people to be comfortable around.

Saladin remembers all this and more when Zavala tells him Amanda has taken the Crow out to drink in the City's streets. He wonders what song they'll sing, if it's anything like the one he's heard everyone humming lately—even though he hasn't tried it himself.

I love how he projects his past joy onto the two young people and wonders if they'll do the same as he did once. Here we also get another hint about Saladin apparently not being affected by Savathun's viral chant. It might be a point relevant in the future.

Finally, class item!

Flavour text:

"Some know the legend. We crushed the Warlords beneath our heel so that they may never rise again." —Lord Saladin

Nothing new here. Just Saladin recounting how hard they went against the Warlords.

The rest is a very poignant lore page that details the relationship between Saladin and Zavala. Zavala studied under Saladin who was his mentor and it's been repeated often that Saladin has retained a "soft spot" for him.

Saladin remembers the first time he met Zavala. He remembers thinking that the Awoken had regal bearing like the stags he once hunted on the Steppes. His shoulders were broad, and his chin held high. When he moved, he did so with the strength and purposeful deliberation of someone with the power to determine his own place in the world.

"You'll never have a son," his Ghost had said, "but it isn't too late for you to take an apprentice."

I love when non-Awoken describe Awoken, there's always something ethereal about it. But I'm mostly putting this part here because of what Saladin's Ghost says.

First, I am incredibly soft for older Guardians adopting younger ones as kids and teaching them. Easily my favourite dynamic ever. Saladin seeing Zavala as a son makes me cry a thousand tears.

And second, is this finally a full confirmation that Guardians cannot bear children? It's kind of a strange place to put it, but it seems to be the implication. It makes sense they wouldn't be able to, but it's also nice to have some direct lore information about it in case it pops up as a question. I'm sorry if this ruins anyone's fics.

Saladin remembers their sparring matches. He remembers how Zavala always got back on his feet, no matter how many times Saladin put him down. He remembers refusing to offer the younger Lightbearer a hand up. Until the day Zavala finally bested him in combat.

He remembers lying flat on his back, left shoulder dislocated and ribs shattered, a strange pressure on his chest that made it difficult to breathe.

"Finish it," Saladin had commanded because that was the way of things. His Ghost would revive him.

Saying nothing, Zavala hauled him to his feet instead.

I love how this is placed at the end, paralleling the beginning of Saladin remembering his deaths and the pain of dying. But instead of "finishing it," Zavala pulls him back up. It's definitely something Saladin hasn't experienced before, especially not before becoming an Iron Lord, when all of his deaths were just gruesome ends to a struggle. Then seconds after, he'd be back up. He took the revival for granted, until Zavala offered him the alternative. Again, an interesting perspective about something we don't usually think about much. I do wonder how Saladin healed afterwards though.

Saladin remembers all this and more when his former apprentice calls him into his office and tells him about the face behind the Crow's mask. Zavala says he knows that Saladin doesn't like secrets; that it's unfair to ask him to keep one of this magnitude, but there will come a time when the Crow needs someone—the way Zavala needed Saladin.

"You never needed anyone," Saladin insists.

Zavala only smiles.

This page ends with the two bonding again. Despite their differences and disagreements, there's mutual respect between the mentor and the apprentice. The father and the son.

And Saladin thinks Zavala never needed him, but that is obviously not true and Zavala tells him so. He also tells him that Crow, and implied Guardians like him, will need the same guidance.

It gives us a full circle back to Saladin's musings about his purpose as a Guardian and Lightbearer. He may have doubted his place in the world before, but seeing as he's still here with us and actively participating and helping; training us through Iron Banner, helping with the Eliksni, refusing to side against the Vanguard despite the difference in opinion, now serving as Zavala's ambassador for the Cabal and easily bonding with someone he would've considered an enemy not long ago...

I think Saladin knows his place. He's one of the strongest Lightbearers and most principled among them. He is not swayed by lies and deceptions, he does not abide by them and speaks plainly. He has deeply rooted beliefs in justice and he will not compromise himself, even if it means conceding his position to make peace with a former enemy when that enemy proves their worth, honesty and good intentions to him.

He is a Guardian.

He is an Iron Lord.

#destiny 2 #lord saladin #lore vibing #long post #more iron lord lore bungie please?#iron temple as a social space?#please?#anyway i love this new lore about him so much #i wish we had it before people formed some crude opinions about him #but hopefully this can retroactively clear certain things up

99 notes · View notes

varric-tethras-editor · 3 years ago

Text

URL Music Meme

A gigantically HUGE shout out to @blueheaded (also @the-dreadful-canine and @little-lightning-lavellan) for tagging me in this. I have been really inactive but this will be a nice post for the end of a very very long day/week/month/summer/life

I decided for a twist I would include my favorite lyrics from each song and of course each are linked for your listening pleasure!

(Asterisk songs/lyrics are all time favs)

***

V - Victoria by Jukebox the Ghost And now you've given me a mission to do, I've got to rearrange the stars so that they're not as far from you. A - Apartment by Young The Giant Cause sooner or later this is bound to stop Come on, let's savor what we're falling over R - Run Away With Me by Carly Rae Jepsen Hold on to me I never want to let you go Over the weekend we could turn the world to gold* R - Ribs by Lorde This dream isn't feeling sweet, we're reeling through the midnight streets And I've never felt more alone, it feels so scary getting old I - Ivy by Taylor Swift How's one to know? I'd live and die for moments that we stole On begged and borrowed time C - Chasing A Feeling by LÉON* We used to stay up forever Just to make every moment last T - Time Turned Fragile by Motion City Soundtrack I know I say that, I'm just fine But I hope you wonder from time to time E - Enough For You by Olivia Rodrigo Don't you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded? Don't you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing? T - Traveling Song by Ryn Weaver Half a heart is aching to grow Soulmates aren't just lovers, you know H - Honey by Halsey She was sweet like honey But all I can taste is the blood in my mouth And the bitterness in goodbye R - Recovery by Frank Turner Because I know you are a cynic but I think I can convince you, yeah, 'cause broken people Can get better if they really want to Or at least that's what I have to tell myself If I am hoping to survive*** A - All Too Well by Taylor Swift* And you call me up again just to break me like a promise So casually cruel in the name of being honest* S - Serotonin by girl in red Oh, been breaking daily, but only me can save me So I'm capitulating, crying like a fucking baby E - Evergreen Cassette by Goldspot If time, time could be bent with the drop of a tear You'd see it rain in our house for a year D - Disloyal Order Of Water Buffaloes by Fall Out Boy Oh, I'm a loose bolt of a complete machine What a match, I'm half doomed and you're semi-sweet I - If Work Permits by The Format Love is speaking in code It's an inside joke Love is coming home*** T - This Must Be The Place by Iron & Wine and Ben Bridwell Home, is where I want to be But I guess I'm already there I come home she lifted up her wings Guess that this must be the place O - Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish I've been walkin' through a world gone blind Can't stop thinkin' of your diamond mind R - Rivers and Roads by The Head and The Heart A year from now we'll all be gone All our friends will move away And they're goin' to better places But our friends will be gone away

Tags under the cut 💖💖💖

@kantrips @ellenembee @purahs @a11sha11fade @a-shakespearean-in-paris @oxygenforthewicked @emerald-amidst-gold @fernaee @maferaths-balls @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold @malewifezevran @cciarants

#wow this is gonna be a lot of songs #okay let me go and pick someeeeee im so excited for this #wow this took forever and im not even done

23 notes · View notes

thiswaycomessomethingwicked · 4 years ago

Note

What do you think Grima and Eomer are most scared of? Apart from being left alone with each other, of course :) I think Eomer is terrified of spiders - he has to ask Eowyn to remove them. Grima's fears are probably grander and more philosophical e.g. non-existence, failure, imperfection. But I bet he's terrified of weird stuff as well - exposed knees, clowns, steep stairs...

Oooooooh I love this question!! (granted I love any and all questions about these two)

[Oh god this got so long, I’m sorry but also not sorry.]

So I mean, it would depend what kind of fear we’re talking about.

In terms of day-to-day fears/things that spook you or creep you out. I think Eomer has a REAL problem with house (mead hall?) centipedes.

‘Too many legs, Grima. They have too many legs. I did not sign up for this.’

Once. when Eomer was like 10, he woke up with a house centipede on his chest and he’s never recovered.

Grima just shoos the critter outside. Eowyn lectures her brother about their importance in the grand ecosystem. Eomer doesn’t care.

Like when Eomer sees a house centipede all the hair on his body stands on end and he feels that cold wash of terror. I mean, if he had to, he could deal with it himself. But he’d be internally screaming the entire time. Stoic externally, of course. He is a brave rider of Rohan! But inside? Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I think Grima gets creeped out by uncanny valley things. Mostly dolls. I think he assumes 90% of all dolls are cursed. One time his niece left her doll behind and Grima had to lock it in a box and hide it in a storage room and he was still a little convinced that it was going to escape and murder them all. Chucky style.

Eomer: I want to get my sister a doll for the baby she and Faramir are about to have. How about this one?

Grima: W h y would you traumatize a baby like that Eomer? Are you a monster?

Eomer: This .... this is a cute doll. It’s not going to haunt them.

Grima: You don’t know that for certain. Look at those beady eyes. Always watching.

Eomer: Ghosts and draugr are fine but not dolls?

Grima: My undead brother might be a pain in the arse but at least I know what to expect from him. Mostly his trying to eat people. But it’s within the bounds of reason. That fucking doll on the other hand? Who knows what it thinks in the dark hours of the night. Who knows what secrets it holds in its heart.

Eomer: . . .I think I’ll just get the kid a stuffed animal horse.

Grima: Much better.

I also think Grima gets easily spooked by flying insects. Like once he ascertains that the sudden movement within his line of vision isn’t going to hurt him, he’s fine. But his initial reaction is to get up and leave very quickly and let Eomer deal with it. Grima has a strong association between sudden movements and getting punched. Reasonable, really.

Shared thing? I think Eomer and Grima both find teeth to be really creepy.

Eowyn: They’re just bones in your mouth. It’s fine.

Grima: MOUTH BONES??? DON’T CALL THEM THAT.

Eowyn: Mouth! Bones! Mouth! Bones!

Eomer: I hate all of this.

Eowyn: Mouth bonessssss!

Eomer shows up in Osgiliath, hasn’t seen Eowyn in like two years, she gives him a hug and whispers ‘mouth bones’ into his ear just to freak him out. Because they’re loving and caring siblings like that.

Eowyn: My daughter is just starting to get her mouth bones in.

Grima: I refuse to engage with this.

Faramir: Babe, why are you like this??

Eomer: I brought this doll for her.

Eowyn: That is so cursed, I’m surprised Grima let you buy it.

Eomer: I don’t know, I think it’s kind of cute.

Eowyn: hmmmm yeah well you’re sleeping with that thing over there so I don’t know that your judgement can be trusted.

Grima: h e y.

Faramir: What kind of family did I marry into??

Now, for deeper fears.

Eomer is the one who has a deep seated fear of failure. Of not living up to the expectations set on him from a very young age. Both as son of Eomund, who is like local hero 101, and as nephew to the king. Being orphaned at a young age, I suspect he had a lot of pressure placed on him to Be the Man in the Family. To Take Care Of Everyone etc.

And it’s hard being the son of someone who has a bit of a legend around them when they’re alive, let alone when they’re dead and so they become an impossible standard to live up to.

This isn’t to say Eomer is a stick in the mud and doesn’t get up to mischief. This is the man who drops sick burns for a living and can be described as “compulsively truculent”. Like, Eomer at 18 was absolutely a bit of a mad lad. But, there was always this fear and anxiety hanging over him of having to live up to great expectations - most of which he’s placed on himself but he’s not aware of that.

Later, I’ve always headcanon-ed that he does a bit of that daft thing of comparing himself to Aragorn and is like “I’m not living up to the story book legend who rules the neighbouring kingdom” and despairs.

Eowyn: You’re doing fine. And really, Boromir and Arwen run 80% of everything. Aragorn disappears into the mountains at any given moment.

Eomer: But what if I’m somehow failing everything at all times? Have you thought about that? That I’m failing our parents and ruining our father’s legacy and destroying our uncle’s trust in me??

Eowyn: . . . yeah that’s not happening. You’re fine.

Eomer: BUT AM I???

Eowyn awkwardly pats his hand, ‘You’re fine.’ Eomer despairs.

Grima: Can’t do worse than me.

Eowyn: Yeah! You can’t do worse than Grima.

Eomer: That bar is so low it’s underground.

Additional to this, I think Eomer is scared of letting things go - like giving up control in situations. Because he’s got it into his head that so long as he is in control he can keep everyone safe and no one will die (i.e. his sister). And he’s terrified of things heading down the Road of Chaos.

Which like, Eomer, good luck with that. You live in Middle Earth and Grima’s still around being the agent of chaos that he is.

Grima: I’ve had a thought.

Eomer: Oh no. Put it back where you found it.

Grima: Too late, I’ve told Eothain and he thinks it’s great.

Eomer: Gods preserve me.

Eothain: Ok but hear us out --

For Grima - he’s got a long of weird, existential fears. The World Ending being the biggest of them. He’s got a bit of a nihilistic, hopeless streak in him that can get quite philosophical in terms of dread.

But for more personal, grounded fears, I think the main one is that he’s terrified of being seen. Of being vulnerable. Because if people see him/know him, surely they’ll hate him and leave him and that would hurt so, so much. Therefore, if he’s mean to everyone, including himself, then people can’t hurt him because he’s already doing their work for them to himself.

Yet, he’s also afraid of being alone and so desperately wants to love and be loved but doesn’t know how to go about making that happen in a healthy, normal manner. So he self-sabotages. Tells himself things like, “I was not a lovable child, and I’d grown into a deeply unlovable adult. Draw a picture of my soul and it’d be a scribble with fangs.” - Gillian Flynn

This just creates a fucked up freeze/thaw cycle of “I want to fit in and belong somewhere, but if people know me they’ll see what an ugly thing I am, better that they don’t know me, so let me shut them out/be mean to them etc., no one cares for me because I am unworthy of it, this hurts a lot, and I think fitting in and belonging would probably stop it hurting, but if people know me they’ll see what an ugly thing I am, better they don’t ... so on and so forth.”

So yeah. His deep seated fears of being vulnerable + being along make for some twisted thinking and lots of self-sabotaging.

Grima; What is emotional vulnerability?? Never heard of it.

Theoden: You could give it a try, you know.

Grima: No. I refuse.

Grima does that thing that Carrie Fisher talks about: “Of all the violence I have known in my life, I have not known violence like the way I talk to myself.”

Thank you so much for the ask! This was an absolute blast to answer. I loved every minute of it.

I love all Grima and Eomer questions.

<3 <3

#Grima Wormtongue #Eomer #ask #anon #reply #LOTR #lord of the rings #lotr headcanons #Grima is scared of everything except things he should be scared of

28 notes · View notes

thisisawonderfulusername · 4 years ago

Text

help from a ghost

ben hargreeves x poc! reader

request: anon

summary: ben helps y/n endure and escape the swedes’ torture

trigger warnings: mentions of tumblr, cursing,

word count: 1.2k

a/n: okay wow, i’m so sorry for not posting any oneshots or anything for the past few weeks, my mental health just went down the drain for a bit lol. but anyways, here’s the first in a while. i’m working on another request and the next part of lstw will be out after that, so i hope that will be soon and i don’t get in another slump lol. sooooo yeah, please enjoy.

your wrists were starting to feel like they were on fire, the rope that tied them together beginning to rub against the skin, making it raw. that wasn’t the worst of your problems, though, not at all.

you stare at the rug beneath you covered in cat hair, mind running a mile a minute as you try to think of something, anything, to do to get you out of this terrible situation. the swedes who had decided you were the best to torture had left you, and it was a much needed break from the dragging of a knife along your skin, the harsh hits, the torture to get any information of the other siblings’ whereabouts, but you weren’t going to budge.

“you need to get out of this.” you don’t need to look up to know who it is. it’s not like it would be hard, who else would be here, if not for a ghost?

letting out a huff of breath, you finally pull your gaze from the floor as a cat rubs against your leg that was bound to the leg of the chair, scrunching your nose up slightly. “that’s a great idea, ben, i never would have thought of that!” you grit through your teeth.

the ghost rolls his eyes from where he sits on the couch to your side, one of his legs crossed over the other with his arms resting atop them. “i’m full of them.” he sighs, glancing to the side for a moment.

“does one of them include anything on how to get out of this shit?” you raise an eyebrow at him, “because if not you can go ahead and leave. bother klaus or something.”

pushing up from the couch, he sticks his hands in his pockets. “i could, but i think you might need me a bit more.” he slowly moves to stand in front of you, and you stare up at him. “due to your situation and all.”

you let your eyes fall shut for a moment, taking a deep breath in. “ben, i really appreciate the thought, but it doesn’t help if you can’t get me out of this fucking chair!” your voice raises with each word until you’re shouting loud enough that you wouldn’t be surprised if someone outside could hear you. you were just lucky the swedes weren’t currently in the house.

“i’m thinking!” he yells in response, but his voice isn’t as loud as yours, and a lot more gentle.

pressing your lips into a thin line, you look around the room for anything that could help you. no sharp objects to try to cut your restraints, nothing helpful in any single way. “think faster, ben. i don’t have all day. i could be dead in the next hour, for all we know!”

“they’re not going to kill you.” he assures, but you don’t really believe him. “you’re too valuable. they think that you’ll eventually break. the only way you’ll die is if you bleed out.”

you stare at him deadpan, “have you ever thought about becoming an inspirational speaker?” you ask him with a sarcastic tone, and he looks at you in annoyance.

“i’m trying to help you here.”

you look to the front door just barely in sight. “try a little harder.”

his loud sigh is the only thing that fills the silence in the room for a moment, and you return to staring at your feet, getting lost in your mind again as you try to think of something.

“i punched klaus before.” he breaks the quiet that had only been filled with the cats’ meowing, and you look at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“good for you?” you tell him in confusion, not sure how exactly this was supposed to help you.

he lets out a huff, looking up to the ceiling for a moment. “you don’t get it.” he grumbles, “i could actually touch him. and that time in the theater, it happened again. i took out all those guys.”

it’s silent for a moment as you stare at him, your eyebrows furrowed. “this is supposed to help me, how?”

he purses his lips. “if you can figure out how he did it, i can untie you.” he spells it out for you, and your lips part at the idea.

“okay, that would be a great idea,” you lean forward as much as you can with the rope tying your arms behind the back of the chair, “but you’re forgetting something.” you lower your voice, “i don’t know how to do that.”

“well, you can try.” he suggests.

sighing softly, you slump against the chair. “how did klaus do it?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper. this idea was better than nothing, and it just might work.

he’s quiet for a moment. “i don’t know.”

you feel the anger that had been boiling inside of you since this whole situation happened trying to surface at that information. you squeeze your eyes shut to keep from blowing up. “you don’t know?” you repeat.

“i don’t know.” he confirms, and you open your eyes to give him the best glare you can. “but we can figure it out!” he steps closer to you, crouching down in front of you and giving the best supporting smile he can.

you suck on your teeth as you stare at him, unable to believe that this was actually happening. “and how do you suggest we do that?”

“just... focus?” he doesn’t seem too confident in the idea, but you sigh softly. “try to think about what you want to happen, and maybe it will work.”

you let your shoulders fall. “okay, whatever. i’ll try it.”

he gives you a smile and you take in a deep breath, letting your body relax as much as you can and closing your eyes. you do your best to focus on the goal.

let him interact with the real world. let him help you out of the rope that held your hands close together, that tied your ankles to the legs of the chair. just let him help you.

when you hear a sharp intake of breath, your eyes shoot open and you look down to ben, who was actually untying the rope around your ankles. your eyes widen and you can’t believe that you were actually able to do it. “holy shit.” you mumble quietly.

“keep focusing.” he tells you, not looking up from the rope that was surprisingly not too hard to get loosened. you give him a nod and close your eyes once again, letting out a small sigh of relief at the feeling of your legs being freed.

he moves around you to get at the rope on your wrists, making quick work of getting it off, and when the binding falls to the ground, you let a smile tug at your lips as you stand up, feeling the ache in your legs as you stare at the skin that had been rubbed raw.

“god, you’re amazing.” you tell him with a sigh, turning to give him a hug. it felt good after all those years of not being able to, and you don’t want to let go in the case that you can never do it again.

you can hear the smile on his face as he speaks. “i know. but we need to get out of here before those guys come back.”

pulling away, you nod, “yeah, good idea.”

taglists

main: @horrorklaus @megasimpleplan4ever

tua: @rasberrymay @noodlextrash @atomicpillar @malfovs

ben: none yet

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #tua #hargreeves #ben hargreeves #poc! reader #number six #the umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy x reader #tua x reader #hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves x reader #number six x reader #the umbrella academy x poc! reader #umbrella academy x poc! reader #tua x poc! reader #hargreeves x poc! reader #ben hargreeves x poc! reader

99 notes · View notes

switchbrainedholylime · 4 years ago

Text

A little more Renga for @emmettspeakz

Sitting next to Reki in English class was beyond awkward. Any kind of harmless small-talk Langa tried to bring in was shot down like a submarine missile. The worst part was that Langa barely knew any of his other classmates, so there was no one to turn to at school.

Their teacher, an American woman named Ms. Boyer, was stood in the front of the class, “Kyan Reki!”

Silence. The American woman walked closer. “Read pages 23-27 of The Chronicles of Narnia.”

“Oh, sure,” And with one mutter, Kyan Reki had just made Narnia out of to be the most boring place ever. He stood up, nearly tripping over the legs of his chair. He mumbled through the reading and then sat back down.

“Langa Hasegawa, pick up where he left off.”

“Right,” Langa looked down at the pages. “Edward followed Lucy into the wardrobe. He thought he was better than his siblings.”

Langa continued to read the portion assigned out to his class and then sat back down. He looked over at Reki, “Hey, you did a great job.”

“Hm,” Reki looked away.

----------

After everyone was shuffling to go home, Ms. Boyer halted Langa from skating down the hallway. Her arms crossed. “Be real with me, what’s going on with you and Reki?”

“Is it really that obvious?”

“Yes. Now are you gonna tell me or not? Because I might know a person who could help you.”

“Really,” Langa blinked. “Sure, what’s their name?”

“They’re a middle school teacher. Follow me,”

“A middle school teacher?” Langa asked. What could they know about me?

------

In the staff room, Langa spotted a bound book with his name on the spine sitting on his English teacher’s desk. Curious, the Canadian picked it up and began to flip through casually until he came to a startling conclusion; it was a book about every detail of his life up to that point.

It started off with his upbringing in Canada as as snowboarder and move back to Okinawa with his mother after his father’s death. It described him meeting Reki, working at the shop. It described his race with Shadow, Miya and ADAM to the T. It was the most in-depth analysis of it he’d seen.

“Hasegawa, right?” A gruff voice interrupted. “My name’s Mr. Tsuchigomori. I see you’ve found your book.”

“Y-Yeah, where did you even GET this?”

“I run the 4pm library. One of the 7 mysteries of the old school building. I’ve only seen the description of those books change once in a hundred years; and it wasn’t pleasant.”

“They tell the future, too?” Langa flipped through towards the back. He hadn’t seen much left to go after his challenge with ADAM. He turned to the last page that read: “DIES CUTTING HEAD ON ROCK WHILE RACING WITH ADAM”.

Langa almost dropped the book on the floor. He was going to race with Adam in a week’s time. He was going to die in it?

“I’d make up with that Reki kid while you still have time.” Mr. Tsuchigomori blew into his cigar. “You can try to prolong your life, but again, this book never really changes that often from what it originally predicts.”

“But I’m terrible at smalltalk. Is there anyone you think could help me?”

“Well, there is one person, and he also happens to be the only one who’s ever changed his fate. If anyone can help you, it’s him.” Mr. Tsuchigomori turned back to Langa. “Since you don’t have much time left, you’ll probably be able to see him, too.”

“’Him’?” Langa asked.

------

Langa went into the old building that served as its middle school section. The blue-haired skater looked back and forth to make sure no one was looking.

“Alright the coast is clear,” Langa bit his tongue and bolted into the girls’ bathroom. He was met with a green-tipped girl who was mopping the floor and a floating boy in an antique uniform. Was that from the 50s? 60s? Why was there a boy in the girls’ bathroom?

Then again, I’M a boy in a girls’ bathroom. I shouldn’t judge. Langa breathed deeply. “Are you Yugi Amane, the one Mr. Tsugomori spoke of?”

“Yep! I go by Hanako, now though...,”

“I have one week left to prevent my death. I’d like your help to, uh...not do that.” Langa stated.

“Wow, that’s a huge hurdle you’ve just thrown on me! I don’t know your name here, buddy! You didn’t even knock on my door or anything.” Hanako laughed.

“I’m serious. The man I’m going up against has touched more underaged boys than a Catholic priest.” Langa sighed. “My name’s Langa Hasegawa.”

“Well, if you say so I’ll have to oblige. Let’s see what I have,” Hanako reached into his pockets. “I mean, I’ve killed before, but right now I’m working on repenting for my sins.”

Langa’s eyes widened. “Okay...,”

-----

Hanako began following the blue-haired skater around the school, and it didn’t take Langa too long to piece together that no one else could see him. He chalked it up to him being a ghost.

“So this is your boyfriend?” Hanako poked Reki who was still ignoring Langa. “He’s a cutie!”

“Hanako, leave him alone. Reki didn’t ask for you to touch his hair like that.” Langa ordered him. Reki then looked over at Langa in confusion.

“What’s going on with you?” Reki asked. “Did you hit your head?”

“I tried the Hanako ritual all the girls talk about. Y’know, knock three times on the third stall in the bathroom, summon the ghost of Hanako, get three wishes.”

“You went into the women’s bathroom, you perv,” Reki pouted.

“He started following me--he’s right behind you!” Langa pointed at Hanako who was making a funny face behind Reki, sticking his tongue out. “No one else seems to see him!”

“You’re really freaking me out here, bro.” Reki looked at him. “You gettin’ enough sleep here?”

“I promise I’m not making this up.” Langa insisted. “Look behind you!”

“I don’t see anyone.” Reki peered over his shoulder.

“Dude, is that Canadian kid alright?” One of their classmates gossiped.

“Maybe he bumped his head?” Another classmate whispered.

Langa hid his face as Hanako floated around him and began to play with his hair, pulling it into a ponytail. “There we go!”

------

Bringing Hanako to S was...surreal. A schoolboy in a 1960s uniform floating around the abandoned factory.

“I think I remember when this place was active. I knew some classmates whose parents worked here!” Hanako looked around at the shell of a factory. “So whadda do ‘ere?”

“We skate, but I’ve got to come up with a good excuse not to go up against ADAM.” Langa held his skateboard.

“Hey, SNOW!” Miya and Shadow came up towards Langa as he was talking with Hanako. They were utterly confused.

“You can’t see him, either?” Langa pointed at Hanako.

“Ah, no. You’re talking to air.” Miya chuckled.

“Look, I got a ghost from school attached to me.” Langa explained. “He followed me here. His name’s Hanako. Hanako, the 7th of the 7 Wonders of my school.”

“A ghost?” Joe blinked.

“How foolish a fantasy.” Cherry scoffed.

“Do yah think SNOW got his head bashed in?” SHADOW asked.

“Look, I have to come up with a good excuse never to skate against ADAM ever, because I read a book that has my entire life in it, including the future...and I die this Saturday night.” Langa pulled out a copy of his book from the 4pm library.

“Whoa...this goes way back,” Miya flipped through the pages. His eyes widened as he got to the end with the skate with ADAM that would result in Langa’s death along with the dismantlement of S. “What...?’

The sound of a familiar skateboard rolled past. Its rider was a hoodie-wearing Reki with a sullen-looking face.

“Reki!” Langa put his hand on Reki’s shoulder. He looked up. “I’m not going to skate ADAM. I’ll stay home Saturday night to avoid him. Please, I miss you. This ghost is not substitute for your cheerful smile in my life! Please!”

Reki’s eyes lightened. “So you won’t skate with ADAM?”

“No, I promise.” Langa embraced his boyfriend in a long, close hug. “I’m sorry for being so selfish. I won’t take your love for granted anymore.”

“Same. You’re my best bro, SNOW.”

“You can call me Langa.”

-------

That Saturday, Langa and Reki sat at home and watched some hilariously bad movies on Netflix. They ate popcorn and Hanako made the duo some plain, good ol’ fashioned homemade donuts.

“So you wanna watch 50 Shades of Grey next or The Room?” Reki sat in Langa’s lap with a donut in his mouth as his boyfriend flipped through Netflix.

“I wonder if ADAM’s noticed we stood him up yet.” Langa grabbed another donut. “Oh well,”

“Man what I wouldn’t give to see that idiot’s face.” Reki laughed.

“Hey I got some candy from the Mokke, want some?” Hanako offered.

“You mean those pink bunnies that pull pranks?” Langa took one of the candies and popped it in his mouth. “That’s good.”

“I know I probably shouldn’t mention this, but I have a twin named Tsukasa and he asked if he could be let out of the school just to see what this ‘ADAM’ guy is like.” Hanako mentioned.

“What’s your twin like?” Langa asked.

“He’s...um, psychotic.” Hanako replied.

------

Langa and Hanako slept over at Reki’s house.

The following morning, they woke up and the newspapers read: Diet Member Ainosuke Shindo found stabbed to death in abandoned factory. Suspect still unnamed and unidentified. If you have any information, please contact the Okinawa Police Department.

“Yeah, I figured that’d happen with Tsukasa.” Hanako shrugged.

“So ADAM just got stabbed by a ghost.” Langa asked.

“Well, I think my job here is done.” Hanako yawned.

#ooc #renga #Toilet-bound Hanako-kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #sk8 the infinity #langa hasegawa #adam #reki kyan #reki x langa #hanako #yugi amane #yugi twins

14 notes · View notes

maxwell-grant · 4 years ago

Note

Seeing your post on le Nyctalope so soon after reading your rather charming post on Judex (I love the idea of a Caped Avenger who decided he'd much rather give up on Vengeance) makes me wonder - would the latter not find his devotion to a quiet retirement rather savagely tested by the Nazi Occupation of France? Might I please ask how you think he would deal with all this?

He definitely would, if possible. While Judex has a much less turbulent relationship with the status quo than other heroes in the sense that the end goal for him was being able to enact his revenge and then settle down, that isn’t to say he wouldn’t stand up to injustice (he did get a sequel after all), and unlike the Nyctalope, he has no particular allegiance to the government, nor any deference to authority besides his mom, and he’s very much still a character in the Fantomas/Les Vampires mold even if he’s not a villain. By the time Paris fell to Germany in 1940, Judex would have been about 57 years old, and definitely a bit aged, but his major strengths have never really been physical. And certainly we have quite a handful of stories told within the Shadowmen anthologies as well as The Shadow of Judex that pit Judex against the Nazis. So yeah there’s definitely room to tell stories in that vein.

But the thing about Judex though, is that I just don’t see him even being alive by that point, or having enough fight left in him for him to be truly able to stand up to the Nazis or survive said encounters. His story was over, his goals were accomplished, and Jacques got to put that damned costume and cursed persona aside to walk off into the sunset (well, as sunny as his 1913 black & white world could get) with his loved one. He doesn’t want to enact retribution for the downtrodden on society’s evildoers for the rest of his life, he doesn’t have much of a vendetta outside of the banker who ruined his life specifically, he doesn’t want to kill, he doesn’t even want to fight unless he’s forced to, he just wants to live the life that he’s been locked out of ever since his dad died and his mom forced him into a vengeful mission for years. And we never know what even happened to him past 1913, except that by this point the war would have ravaged his homeland, and the only “official” Judex stories published in France in the 40s were re-skinned Shadow comics.

Actually, here’s something I just found out: Judex exists in the Marvel Universe. Or, at least he did once, as shown in the Defenders 2012 series.

How is it possible that men and women as remarkable as Randall and his associates have been forgotten? This would be the equivalent of the world forgetting the Avengers, perhaps -- near-inconceivable. Are they forgotten, or... hidden.

They found a group of people just like them willing to kill them all to protect the engines. Well, if "super hero" isn't the right phrase, I don't know what is - amazing men and women - trying to kill each other for it.

He was part of a group of heroes including Captain Nemo and Leonard McKenzie and a bunch of stand-ins referencing other characters, who fought the Confederates of the Curious and discovered, a century before 2012, a “Concordance Engine”, said to be the heart and soul of a universe and the map to everything and something that they had to protect at all costs. When they announce the titles of all the members of the team, he is named “The Shadow, and he shows up always close to a skintight suit-wearing thief woman named “Musidora”, who is a pretty clear reference to the actress who played Diana Monte, and it’s said they were the first to die in service of the engines. As far as I know this is the one time Judex’s been included in the context of a larger superhero universe outside of the WNU/Shadowmen stuff, and here, he dies before everyone else.

When I think of Judex and where he may have ended up past 1913, or even past the war, all that comes to mind are the images of the Franju film, in their ethereal, drowzy, dream-like aspect where the characters in it seem neither alive nor dead half the time. I think of some of the White Lodge scenes from Twin Peaks: The Return, where the characters stumble across these patterned floors and massive drapes and old-timey record music playing on massive theaters and strange figures as it’s caretakers, and it all communicates this sheer otherness that could easily be part of either an afterlife or something weirder.

When I think of Judex, I can’t think of an aging but still intrepid hero rising up to fight the Nazis alongside other like-minded figures, I think of Jacques and Jacqueline as ghosts, maybe killed in the war or claimed by death some other way, dwelling in lavish black and white hallways outside the bounds of reality, content with peace, maybe offering assistence to other heroes who’ve fallen down similar paths of vengeance, the way Twin Peaks’s Fireman and Agent Briggs influence events in reality from outside of it. Maybe he provides them information, maybe he teaches them, maybe he relays to them the cautionary tales of his own life, and so on.

I don’t see Judex having a lifespan outside of the 1910s, but then again, loss of life rarely if ever stops figures like him.

#replies tag #pulp heroes #pulp fiction #judex

6 notes · View notes

ryttu3k · 4 years ago

Text

Finishing up SoNY, ‘bad’ end and final thoughts!

But first, the early game over.

Wow, she just gets shot. Not even slurped? That’s rude as hell XD;;

And on to the ‘bad’ end!

Beginning is much the same, ofc.

“You’re too in love with weaving a good story and establishing a seductive narrative to let facts get in the way.” Foreshadowing for the ‘good’ end, maybe?

God that Embrace scene gives me literal goosebumps.

Alright! Last time I did Danse Macabre and Retributive Justice, let’s try The Risks of Swiping Right!

lmao god I’d eat this guy too. Back to the ghost club! That legitimately is a really neat scene. ...Ooh yes so that’s where the girl was from.

Panhard just lowkey dying at the mental image of Katherine Weise in a fast food restaurant is so good.

The sweet scene between Julia and Dakota hits a bit different after the ‘good’ end XD;;

Went to the park, reminisced, and helped out the guy. That was sweet ;_; High-humanity Julia, this time!

‘Fairy God Mother?’ is great but ‘Vin Diesel?’ is objectively the funnier response.

“Shining even more brightly than usual, Aisling.” Samira got a cru-ush~

Poor Julie. It’s probably been tough without Sophie around :(

Huh. Interestingly, refusing to lie to Mia results in Julia actually feeling genuine loyalty to the Cammies (for now, at least).

Believing Agathon is still alive = more optimistic = different dialogue! See, this is how you make choices have consequences, game!

Oooh boy time to meet Adelaide XD;;

“She uncrosses her legs in a strangely seductive motion. In her mind’s eye, it probably looked like Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct, but in reality, it had all the grace of a tracksuit Slav squatting.” *snickering*

Fight me, Adelaide >:(

‘sup Nastya. Went with the slightly less disruptive routine here XD Huh, she’s an aspiring DJ! Julia is deeply confused as to how being a DJ and being head of security works together.

lmao Julia referring to Hope as a girlboss. That phrase has lost all meaning to me...

The conversation between Julia and Father Leonard is still really interesting. Man, you know who I want Julia to talk to? Anatole. Interesting insights into balancing being queer Catholic vampires there for sure.

lmao oh my god I want to fight this street reporter.

‘I can almost feel my brain losing its wrinkles.’ *snort*

Yeaghhhh the Abyss bit is still so creepy...

Oops. Being honest regarding Tamika and Torque’s relationships gets a fail :(

Oh, or not XD That works! Also, uh, apparently the giant albino ghoul alligator is real, according to New York by Night. He’s Calebros’ pet.

“Because I think I have a pretty good nose for people’s auras. And when I take a good look at you... ...somehow, I have a feeling you’re a surprisingly decent person. Whatever way of unlife you choose, I hope you don’t change it. And that you remember my advice.” :)

“I know.” Oof.

“Hi.” “WAAAH!” lmao sorry Princess XD;; Just trying to imagine Qadir’s face as he tells Julia to find a 1990 glass statue of Scrooge McDuck... dying...

Oh she’s so a Toreador XD Low art options are a fantasy book, an anime DVD, or a video game... those can all be arty, though! And went with the anime DVD called ‘Ririsu no Daibouken’... that translates to ‘Adventures of Lilith’. How on the nose XD “The cover says ‘Lilith’s Carnal Carnival’.” Oh. Yeah, that’d do it XD

“This 90s original video anime presents us with a tale of five big-bosomed samurai warriors travelling through America in search of General Hastavista, The Incubus King. Don’t let all the titillation misguide you: the main draws here are peerless direction, a nearly avant-garde editing rhythm and dialogue that coyly comments on traditional gender roles in anime. Once you see the animation in the final battle, you’ll understand why it never fails to set a sakuga fan’s heart ablaze!”

She’s my new favourite.

“So can I know your name now?”

“Hmmm... Let me think...

No. <3″

I need to stress that the heart appears in the dialogue box. Like. The actual less-than-three heart.

Didn’t investigate the rat this time, so Qadir did and I die. “Glad you’re alright, little guy.” Qadir...

Still not over the drunk blood doll rats.

Kaiser’s still a goddamn creep and this time Julia is not going too far. She still has her humanity, dammit. Final set of traits:

Loyal to the end

Glass half-full

Not into a bad cop schtick

Honesty is the best policy

No more human, still humane

Onwards to the ‘bad’ end! Oops, and Dakota still did the Single White Female thing XD;;

Man I’m still really curious who the ‘good friend’ is!!

Okay! Time for end game!!

So that’s the good friend, huh? “Let me phrase it differently, then. You’re not Ecaterina the Wise, the Agitator of Prague, a Brujah elder causing turbulences all over the world... are you?”

Mention of Christof! Mention of Christof doing shady shit :| Poor Hana.

“An immigrant from Eastern Europe comes to New York City, takes the position she always expected to find herself in, is molded into someone who is no longer herself.”

Julia and Dakota representing Carthage is kind of neat.

I want to say the mention of St Jude is a reference, but I’m not sure what to XD;; Is that from Redemption? Christof could have been the one to tell Hana that.

“Like a two-person human centipede loop or something. An Ouroburos? Or an, uhh, Mobius strip?” No, that’s the other traditionally Sabbat clan XD

That‘s. That’s a hell of a reconciliation XD “Yeah, let’s give it a try. By the way I’m on the run for my unlife, want to go to California and try to find utopia?”

Julia, wear a fucking mask XD

“Hey.”

“Yeah?“

“Do you love me?”

“... Of course I do. For now, at least.”

I still don’t know if I love her. Or even if I can love anyone, for that matter. I’m a fucking monster, after all. I don’t even know if we’ll exist next month. The prospects are not looking good. But although I can’t see myself in the rearview mirror right now...

...I will remember this image of us leaving the city, somewhat melancholic, and somewhat hopeful, forever. And maybe the meaning of this image will be clarified with time. Or maybe I will just force a more positive description on it, and that is what I’ll believe.

No matter what happens... even if oceans of blood lie before us, I will make this a cherished memory.

Whatever possible salvation still remains for me... ...it probably lies in the eyes of another.

Oh dang I have chills.

So the ‘bad’ ending is about the subverted compromise. Julia resigns herself to letting the compromise about the truth of Callihan’s death go ahead. ‘Catherine’ is a walking compromise to hide the Ecaterina’s real deeds. But while Hana is still stuck in her role for now, Julia refuses to accept the compromise she’s made, both the one relating to the investigation and the compromise she made of her own views and morals. It might blow up in her face, yeah. But damn, she’s going to try.

So, final thoughts! For the sake of completion, this is what I said about Coteries:

And of course this is the part where the game all falls apart :-\

Just… god. This is probably the biggest problem with CoNY, and the reason I didn’t bother getting it until it was like… 60% off. The bulk of the game is great - the writing is intriguing, the design is stunning. But the choices themselves are so limited it’s barely worth even getting it at 60% off!

You have three choices of characters, with their own opening chapters and own individual scenes with their touchstones. You have four choices of coterie members, and three sidequests. You can probably get in at least three full story arcs and a sidequest or two, but you’re only ever limited to two of your coterie members showing up at the not-yet-endgame.

So let’s say you decide to play all three protags, which, indeed, is encouraged (there’s an achievement for it). You are going to repeat coterie arcs and side quests, because there simply aren’t enough for three unique playthroughs.

And then you get to the end and literally everything is scripted. You get attacked by the SI. You get rescued by your two coterie members (and then never see them again, despite the game being called Coteries of New York). You meet Torque, you escape the SI, Sophie reveals her plan to Torque, you go to Ellis Island, Adelaide kills Sophie (and despite the fact that you’re given multiple options there, none of them work), Arturo does his spiel, end of game. You don’t even get to choose between ending up blood bound or going “no fuck you” and at least dying with a bit of dignity!

I just. I really want to like it, and there genuinely is a lot there to like! But uuuugh the ending. Like damn at least give the poor protag the option to choose what happens to them!

Anyway. Not sure what’s next. To get all the achievements, you have to finish with all three protags, so that’s three full runs and a lot of repetitiveness (compare to, say, Bloodlines or Night Road. I have eighty-five hours on Night Road and there’s still stuff I haven’t seen!), so I can’t even just… rush it through up to the meeting with the touchstones on the third play. Nope. Gotta finish it :-\

Final rating: 6/10

8/10 characters, 9/10 atmosphere, 8/10 story aside from ending, 3/10 story ending, 2/10 replayability. Final consensus: get it on major sale if you can, otherwise, you might as well just watch an LP. I might do that instead of doing a third run, although I at least want to do a second.

I ended up revising that 6/10 to 5.5/10 after finishing all runs and getting the achievements just out of how goddamn repetitive it was. So, how does Shadows measure up?

Absolutely continued with all the things I enjoyed about CoNY (characters, atmosphere, and writing), and of the bits I hated (cookie cutter protagonists, lack of real choice, repetitiveness, the godawful ending), every single part has been completely improved.

Instead of three fledglings so similar they even have the same internal thoughts, we have Julia, who’s got such a distinct voice that she becomes the most memorable game protag I’ve seen in years, and I’m including non-VtM games in this. This is absolutely her game, and it’s just... absolutely fascinating to read and watch.

Related - actual real choices. There are five key choices that determine the ending, and every single one has actual consequence in-game. You get different dialogue. Different introspection. Different philosophies. And this carries across - if Julia believes Agathon is alive, she’s more optimistic about her relationship with Dakota, too. And of course, both endings are completely distinct and incredibly written - the ‘good’ ending where Julia gives in to her most Lasombra instincts, plays the game, wins it, gets power and respect at the expense of her humanity and avoiding all those wraiths... or the ‘bad’ ending when she listens to her morals, reconciles with Dakota, and leaves for California, uncertain, but hopeful.

Not a lot of repetitiveness. Yes, by design, you’ll probably do two playthroughs. The main plot is much the same, but there are enough options there to get multiple dialogue options and stuff. And for the little sidequests, you can actually get all in with just the two playthroughs, only repeating like... two, I think. Still, I wasn’t feeling actively bored like I was midway through my second run of CoNY!

Loved seeing more in-depth backstory and development for the coterie members. Agathon’s section was particularly fascinating, literally getting into his head.

And just. Atmosphere and music is so, so good.

Final rating: 9/10. Thank you, Draw Distance, you hit it out of the park.

#vampire the masquerade #vtm shadows of new york #ry plays sony

8 notes · View notes

minaminokyoko · 4 years ago

Text

I know I’m screaming into the void here, but

Can we talk about the lack of HarriKarri content in Peace Talks?

Spoilers for Peace Talks below. Also, a very long rant.

Disclaimer: Recently, the reading community has been having conversations about expectations related to professional authors backed by one of the Big Six or equivalent traditional publishing companies. The points I’m about to bring are not me being entitled. I understand that Jim Butcher is not obligated to give me everything I want. I will not demand that he do so. I just want to have a conversation about something I feel is oddly dissatisfying about the content in Peace Talks related to Harry and Murphy, which is my own opinion, and said opinion isn’t going to be slung at the author or anything distasteful like that.

Right, so, to give some context, I’m not a fan of Peace Talks. I read it once and then just sat on my couch for several hours after trying to figure out what to even do with myself because I waited six years for what I consider to be an underwhelming book that was mostly just set up for Battle Ground. I mention it because I admit that if we get Battle Ground in September and all the content in Harry and Murphy’s relationship that was missing in Peace Talks is in Battle Ground, fine, I’ll retract my statements. Some fans have already expressed that they can’t really review Peace Talks or give opinions on it because it feels so much like a companion piece that you can’t evaluate it until you’ve read Battle Ground, as the book seems to be nothing but the precursor to Battle Ground. It doesn’t stand on its own very well, at least not in my eyes, but let me get to the point.

The reason I’ve been feeling angry and betrayed by Peace Talks’ lack of HarriKarri content isn’t just because I’m the Queen of the Harry/Murphy trashpile. I’m not speaking strictly as a shipper this time. Y’all know me. I mean, look, I’ve written 185k words of Harry/Murphy fanfiction, most of which was written during the incredibly long wait between Skin Game and Peace Talks. Yes, I know, it’s hypocritical of me to say I’m not writing this post because I’m a big dumb shipper queen. I do mean it that I sincerely think it’s outright bizarre that we got so little insight into how these two best fire-forged friends and lovers are doing in a romantic relationship.

Let me make my case here. Okay, so the first thing is that romance is a huge element in this series. Harry’s love life is important not only to him as a character, but it actually plays directly into the plot, from Susan’s selfish stupidity to Elaine’s mistrust to Luccio’s mysterious manipulation to Lasciel’s Heel Face Turn. If someone wanted to argue the reason we didn’t see much of Harry and Murphy together as a couple is because romance isn’t the primary focus of the series, that’s not going to hold water. The connection between Harry and his paramours has always been a large element in each of these books in various ways. That’s probably the first thing that signaled that something was off about Peace Talks.

Think about the previous books. Harry’s relationships are both a source of comfort and conflict for him, allowing him to learn and grow as a character, and none moreso than his relationship with Murphy. I have so many of their scenes vividly memorized by now because of how important both friendship and love are to Harry and to Murphy as well. There are milestones that they’ve reached starting from Storm Front onward. I would honestly argue it is the most developed relationship in the series, in terms of how much these two trust and respect and love one another and understand where they fit into the other person’s life. I remember reading that bit in White Night where Bob says they swapped souls through a hug and that left a huge impression on me because I think that’s what soulmates would look and sound like in real life (wouldn’t know, I am single af and going to die an old cat lady.) It’s to a point where, in my honest opinion, there is no Harry without Murphy. She is the other half of his soul. Where he is weak, she is strong, where she is weak, he is strong, and they move forward through every conflict knowing that about each other. And I think the reverse is true. We saw how Murphy took Harry’s disappearance and death—it fucking broke her. Her entire personality and beliefs came crashing down and while she was still able to function in his absence, she was just as much a ghost as he was.

So why the fuck wasn’t there anything in Peace Talks illustrating just how vital this relationship is?

I’m not keen on reading the book again, but from what I remember, we were given roughly three significant interactions between Harry and Murphy that had anything to do with their romance: Harry at the house while she’s recovering, the scene where she takes the casts off, and then her talking to him after Ebenezar almost kills him. And…that’s it. Do they still interact in the book? Yes. But it’s nothing memorable, aside from the threesome suggestion (in all fairness, that was hilarious, and it was even more hilarious to me that both Harry and Murphy didn’t outright say no).

Why is that weird? Because I can seriously name book by book how many significant conversations and scenes that Harry and Murphy have that develop their dynamic, sexy, fun, beautiful relationship…and yet the book where they’re actually together, after sixteen goddamn books, has almost nothing.

And it shouldn’t be like that at all.

I know my own bias. Really, I do. I’ve written so many Harry/Murphy fics that I was bound to be let down when we actually got the canon relationship, but the difference between me being let down and me feeling betrayed is that it feels like it’s for no reason. There are plenty of spots in the book considering it’s kind of short where Butcher could have given us insight into the way they hooked up for the first time. I know I don’t speak for the entire fandom, but I do know there are enough of you who like me wanted to know about their first “official” date or seeing how the people in his life reacted to them finally getting together after so many years. That’s not just shipper trash. That’s satisfying storytelling payoff. It is extremely important to us as readers and to the actual narrative itself that we see what it’s like for Harry and Murphy to be in a mature romantic relationship. Both of them have been longing and pining for each other for ages, and yet Butcher doesn’t give us the meaty bits we’re dying to chomp our teeth into. For God’s sake, Harry was hung up on the little things about Murphy, like her riding her motorcycle or her cute nose and ear lobes or the way she smiles or how she gives him the sass right back to his face. Yet we don’t get any indication of the momentous event of the first time he actually got to second base (or more) with her. We don’t see any of the things that we were clamoring for because these are two best friends giving in to serious feelings and that’s a huge deal since they’ve both pretty much been smitten since Storm Front.

It’s not a matter of appeasing shippers at this point. This relationship is a huge change that is important to both of them, and we didn’t get jackshit about the transition from friends to lovers. Hell’s bells, there’s an entire genre of fics in every work of fiction devoted to this trope and yet Butcher just skipped over it. I swear I’m not making mountains out of molehills. It doesn’t make sense that all the previous books with the exception of Dead Beat (since Murphy was out of town) have significant moments between Harry and Murphy that build on their friendship and partnership yet the moments in Peace Talks are way too short and aren’t anything groundbreaking or memorable. And this is them canonically together, heading for the iceberg, being with the person they love dearly. I want to know what that’s like because I care about them and it feels inorganic that it’s brushed off for plot or other things instead.

I don’t get it. I truly don’t. If Butcher is waiting to unleash the content I want in Battle Ground, I guess that’ll help, but after so much build up, why in God’s name wouldn’t you explore all the things we want to know about how their romance is going? Harry and Murphy have been through literal hell together, for God’s sake. They’re both cagey and in extremely stressful situations—especially poor Karrin—and yet it’s just brushed aside time and time again. It would keep us grounded to see how they handle it as it is one of the few nice things in their lives that they have left.

Those of you who know Butcher know that he’s one of the sadist authors. I know that too. He thinks it’s funny to make us angry and frustrate us and he may have already said it in an interview or a podcast why he chose not to go into detail about the romance (feel free to link me if he has) but for the first time in my life, I think that’s not good enough. It’s not a good enough excuse for Butcher to giggle and intentionally not give us the content we want just because he thinks it’s funny. Yes, as the author, you choose what you write, but this is a slap in the face to people who have been reading these books for so many years and rooting for Harry and Murphy to get their shit together and be happy. We know how the series is gonna end—fucking bloody as hell—so these precious moments are that much more important. If he’s said he didn’t include romantic elements in this book because “haha trollface,” then he can fuck off. We’ve invested time in this series. We care about the relationship and there are so many creative, fun things that could have come out of seeing them together after all this build up.

And yeah, I know, I can write another 185k words of fix it fics and missing scenes. I probably will anyway. I’m frustrated because this isn’t just some shallow checkmark romance in an urban fantasy series. These two are incredible characters and it’s a negative reflection on the work itself when Butcher spent all the time in previous books building up the sexual tension and the pining and the deeply felt affection only to just cut to curtains fluttering when they’re about to get to the hanky panky or just have a quick “I love you” in the tub or the brief talk about family at the end. There are so many conversations they could have had. There are so many scenarios with the potential for romance even with their chastity belts firmly in place due to Murphy’s injuries. This isn’t about sex. This is about fulfilling a precedent that Butcher purposely set up and then just seemed to wave it off for some reason. I’m not saying the book is bad because we didn’t get the content; I’m saying it would’ve been a lot goddamn better if we’d gotten that content.

Butcher’s gonna Butcher. No one can change it. I can’t make demands. My fifteen bucks doesn’t mean I get to call the shots and tell the man what to write.

But I just want to note that I thought it was a pretty shitty choice to exclude it.

Sigh. See you guys in Battle Ground, I guess.

And also AO3.

I’m gonna write a fuckton of missing scenes and no one can stop me.

#The Dresden Files #Dresden Files #Peace Talks #Jim Butcher #Harry Dresden #Karrin Murphy #HarriKarri #Harry/Murphy #rant #spoilers #spoiler alert

46 notes · View notes

lo-55 · 4 years ago

Text

Shattered Chains of Fate Ch. 3

The Rift

Ichigo wonders, more often than not, why it is that even though he can see ghosts, he never sees the ones he wants to. His mother, and now his friends from Chaldea. He can’t see them anymore. The singularities are gone, and humanity has returned to the way it always was. But it’s missing so many people, from his own point of view. Olga Marie isn’t bound to him anymore. She’s moved on. And the rest…

Ichigo sits in front of his mother's grave with his dad at his side. Karin and Yuzu have gone for drinks, leaving them alone for the time being. Rukia, and Kon too, sit on a hill, watching over them and waiting for trouble. He doesn’t want to admit it. He’s carried the guilt in his heart for so long, but now… it’s possible that Rukia is right. That the reason his mother is dead is because…

“Hey, old man,” Ichigo looks towards his dad, who’s been acting weird since he’s come back. More than once he’s caught him just staring. Like he’s trying to figure out what changed his kid so much. As if they were ever that close in the first place. Ichigo let’s him. There’s no way for him to understand what’s changed Ichigo into the person he is now. It’s not something that can be easily explained, and in any case the Mage's Association was pretty clear. No one is supposed to know that magic exists. Including his own family. Anyone who finds out must be killed.

“Yeah?” Isshin looks his way, away from the grave that reads his mother's name.

“About mom. Could she ever see ghosts, do you know?” he looked right at him. Testing Isshin, watching his eyes. He’d never noticed before…

That his dad was hiding behind a dozen walls. And they all started to come up when Ichigo asked his question. Ichigo has spent years with master assassins and traitorous knights. He can see clearly now, for the first time ever. His dad isn’t such a colossal goof off after all.

“Why are you asking this all of a sudden?” he asks and it hurts . It hurts more than Ichigo thought, to know that he was keeping this secret for so long. To know that he could have told him, that both of them could have told him when he was young and he couldn't tell who was alive and who was dead, that he wasn’t alone in it. Karin had always had him, and they’d learned together after their mom had died, who was real and who was not.

Why? Why had they hid these things from him? And could he trust their dad to tell them the truth now?

“... No reason. I was just thinking about her.”

No, he decides, looking back at the headstone. He can’t trust his old man to tell him the truth. So, he’ll have to learn it some other way.

Sometimes, Isshin looks as his son and he sees a complete stranger.

He’s still brash and angry, and he would die for Yuzu and Karin, might have while Isshin wasn’t looking, but he’s not himself. He isn’t the same son that had climbed onto a plane for what should have been a simple job months ago. He’d only been gone for a week. How could he have changed so much?

He was taller, for one thing, and yeah teenagers have growth spurts but they don’t grow three inches in seven days. Their hair doesn’t grow out in a week either, and they don’t get so strong or so self assured that fast.

More than that, his son has this look in his eyes…

A terrible age, even though he’s only fifteen. He looks at them like he’s afraid they’ll disappear. He looks like he’s always waiting for something. For something to go wrong, for the other shoe to drop.

Even before Rukia had shown up and given her powers over to him, and then started living in his son’s closet of all places, he’d been the same. On edge. And the way he’d greeted them…

Ichigo did a lot of things when Isshin attacked him. Hugging him wasn’t one of them.

On top of all that, he’d gone to see Kisuke, to ask what was going on in the spirit world, where he could no longer see, and it turns out that Kisuke agrees. There’s something strange about Ichigo. He’s stronger than he should be, and stronger than he ever was, even without Rukia. And he doesn’t know what exactly happened between Kisuke and Ichigo, but it’s enough that now the old captain is interested in him.

It’s not nearly as comforting as Isshin wishes it was. When Kisuke got involved, things rarely went well. No matter how good his intentions were.

Then he asked about Masaki, and Isshin had faltered.

It was time, it was the perfect time for him to tell him the truth. To sit him down and explain what had happened all those years ago, and tell him about the kind of heritage he had, and what it might mean. He’s wondered, whose power did he get? Isshin, or Masaki. Shinigami, or Quincy? Or both? Or hollow? It’s hard to tell.

But he chickened out. The words got stuck and the world closed off and Ichigo turned away from him. The moment was lost, and now Isshin doesn’t know what to do. It’s so much easier raising daughters than sons.

* *

By the time his ridiculous duel with Uryu is over, Ichigo is willing to bet money that his mother was a Quincy.

Ichigo ends up sitting on a bench, breathing fast but he’s not so exhausted nor so beat up as Ishida, who sits patiently while Ichigo carefully stitches up his arm. It’s easy enough to pass this particular skill off as one he learned from his father and not knee deep in a war, trying to help Roman with the dozens of injured Chaldea staff.

“Isn’t your dad a doctor? Wouldn’t it be better to have him do than let me?” Ichigo finds himself asking They’re lucky Uryu had a needle and thread on his person, even if they did have to bend the needle in an awkward, sloppy approximation of the ones used for real stitches.

It’ll do for now.

“It’s best if my father doesn’t know about this,” he says simply.

“Oh yeah?” Ichigo grins at him. “I take it that means he doesn’t want you doing this kind of stuff then.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Uryu sniffed at him stubbornly. Ichigo glowers at him, and pulls the next stitch harder until Uryu yelps. “Hey! Watch it!”

“Of course it’s my business. This whole stunt that you pulled was insanely dangerous.”

“Are you admitting that you’re weaker than I am,” Uryu lifts his chin, his nose in the air, and Ichigo has to stop himself from karate chopping him in his throat.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m weaker or not! What matters is that we’re not the only people in town that you could have gotten killed with this stunt! Didn’t you notice? There’s hollows that disappeared that neither one of us took out.”

He snaps the thread and grabs Uryu by the front of his shirt, watching his blue eyes go wide and realization dawn for what is apparently the first time. “That means other people are fighting. Other people might be dying. My sister has high spirit levels too you know?! When you pull shit like this you’re putting the lives of everyone around you into the same danger, without even telling them about it! How can someone with top grades be so damn stupid?!”

Ichigo forces himself to lean back, anger still bubbling under his skin. All this trouble because Uryu hates shinigami, and Ichigo isn’t even a real one.

“ Listen ,” he leans in , forcing Uryu to bend backwards over the back of the bench, “I’ll fight you one on one any time you want. But this hollow fighting isn’t a game. And if you ever put other people in danger unnecessarily again, I’ll beat your goddamn face in.”

“Y-you!” Uryu pushes against his chest but Ichigo is immobile, stone and still.

“Do you understand, Uryu Ishida?”

“I. Yes,” he says at last, looking down and away. Only then does Ichigo let him go, leaning back and letting out a grunt when it pulls at his shoulders. He’d over strained himself, just a little bit.

“Hey, Kon!” Ichigo waves his body snatcher over to the pair. “Gimme my body back already, huh?”

“Ah, you’re no fun,” Kon whines, but he sits on the bench and lets Ichigo slide back in without a fuss. Ichigo pulls Uryu up off of the bench and gives him a shove.

“C’mon. I’ll walk you home.”

“I don’t need you to do that!”

“Well I’m doing it anyways. You’re injured, what if there’s still a few more hollows lingering around, huh? Just shut up and start walking.”

Uryu scowls, but starts walking forwards anyhow, with Ichigo in his shadow. During his whole trauma speech and background story Ichigo’s mind had been turning over and over. His dad was a quincy too, even if he didn’t want to admit it, and if Uryu was to be believed, they were the last of them.

Goat-face isn’t going to answer his questions, so Ichigo follows Uryu home, to a house that far too big for just two men alone. He feels old, walking into it. It’s fanciful, but he’s seen the theatres of Rome and the courts of King Arthur.

Ichigo will never be a sensor, but he’s gotten used to trusting the sense inside him that says when someone else is around, and even though it took him a while he’s good enough to be able to follow it if he has to. He didn’t know about the spirit ribbons. Ichigo is used to being clueless, but he’s not stupid. He files the information away for later, and quietly memorizes that feeling of Uryu. It’s more like a taste, clean and sharp, and vaguely like citrus.

His father is much the same. And he is utterly unimpressed by Ichigo arriving on his doorstep with his son in tow.

His eyes are colder than ice, not exactly something Ichigo would want in any doctor he has.

“Hey, old man,” Ichigo raised a hand and, with his usual level of tact, asked ever-so-discreetly, “Did you know my mom?”

* * *

“Do you know where you are?”

The scent of roses and daffodils and the feeling of soft worn wool brushing against his cheek. A ribbon made of magic brushing his nose.

Ichigo opens his eyes and looks into a pale blue sky, wisps of cotton candy clouds stretching across from one horizon to the next.

“I am in a dream,” he says dutifully.

“Very good Dolores.”

Ichigo punches him in the stomach, sending the mage doubled over in a fit of coughing and laughing together. A smile that’s far too mischevious to be soft is aimed at him.

“You have an amazon prime subscription out here?” Ichigo asked, sitting up slowly. The tower still floats, through the sky at the end of the world.

“Well yes. I do run a blog, you know?” though it’s said with a straight face he can see a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth, where even eternal youth hasn’t been able to curb laugh lines. He’s good humor, and a good company.

“Seriously?!”

That gets a laugh out of the mage of all mages. He lays back in the flowers that climb and bloom, thriving in his very presence. He is life and light and mischief, a watcher and a strange sort of guardian.

“Well yes. I can’t spend all of my time merely watching people. The internet made things much more fun! Humans are such innovative creatures, even without magic to help them along.”

Ichigo nodded along with him. “Does that mean that you can email me instead of hijacking my beauty sleep?”

“Oh, you mean you don’t enjoy my company, oh great Master of Humanity?”

Ichigo scowls at him, but there’s a smile trying to pull at his mouth. He struggles to squash it, and he can tell from the glint in his companions eyes that he fails.

“Stop calling me that,” he says for a millionth time.

A firm hand pushes him back into the flowers, under the warmth of the sun in the soft crush of fragrant petals. There’s no perfume that could ever compare. This is a strange place, a beautiful cage, and Ichigo doesn’t fully understand how he can be here and home at the same time. Not that that’s new. He’s been in two places at once more times than he cares to count, and he still only vaguely understands how it’s possible.

“I understand that your life is interesting once more.” The mage stretches out beside him, taller than he and cloaked elegantly in his same old robes. He’s showy and modest at once and it hurts Ichigo’s eyes to look at him for long.

Ichigo groans. “If you mean my entire existence is one giant clusterfuck then yeah. It’s real ‘interesting’ again. But I’m not time travelling again yet so…”

“Poor little master. Your life is so very hard…”

“I’ll hit you,” Ichigo threatened. “Master mage, but a shit fighter. I can take you.”

The laugh that he is granted is bells on the wind.

“True, true. But I believe that things will get worse before they get better. Perhaps you should begin your mage craft training once more.”

“You know I always sucked at that. I could only use real magic if I had a mystic code. Every other time, it exploded in my face. I’m a secondrate mage, that’s how it’s always been,” he says it all simply.

“That is true… Isn’t it funny how that works out? A boy who cannot cast a single spell without assistance ends up defeating the most powerful mage in history. You really are a remarkable human, Ichigo.”

“And you’re trying to get me to do something for you, aren’t you?”

“Aha! You do know me! Yes, I need you to mail something very important to me…”

“You get mail here?!”

* * * *

It’s the tenth time he’s been thrown into the dirt today.

A normal person would have given up and packed it in. A normal person would have humbly accepted that the strength of these titans was beyond their abilities to keep up with.

Instead, Ichigo stands again.

He picks up his borrowed practice sword, dulled so no one can get hurt, and faces his opponent once more.

Mash, Cu, and Medusa, his constant companions, watch him narrow his eyes and plant his feet again.

“One more time, Nero!”

“He’s stubborn, if nothing else,” Medusa mused, not quite out of his earshot. Cu nods his agreement, his eyes never wavering.

“Tha’ll help him,” he said simply. Ichigo didn’t know why but his accent seemed to change just a little each time he opened his mouth. Sometimes he was barely understandable. Sometimes it is perfect english. Or whatever language the magic was auto-translating it to. Japanese for Ichigo, english for Mash, and probably latin for Nero and the surrounding soldiers.

“ ‘He’ can still hear you!” He glared halfheartedly at the pair of Servants, who looked perfectly innocent. The longer he was around them, the more familiar he was with the small changes in disposition and expression, their likes and dislikes. And, to his eternal surprise, the feeling of them.

Cu Cullain felt like trees. Like thick moss on a stone, and early morning mist rolling through thick, ageless trees. His presence was as familiar as an old, trusted hound. They’d only been together for a few months, but his spellwork and the steady draw of his mana felt as natural as breathing to him.

Medusa was the deep ocean, power beneath every surface but beautiful to behold. A crash of waves against the stony shore, her every touch fleeting and feather light while her chains lashed with horror and the chthonic strength born in the age of gods. She was the smooth brush of scales against his wrist, the flash of teeth behind a sweet smile, and gold eyes in the darkness that Ichigo alone did not flinch from.

Theirs was a tenuous relationship. She kept looking for him to stab her back, to cut her head and use it as his weapon. Ichigo was still half expecting to wake up as a statue one day. They only had the barest trust between them but…

She hasn’t let him down yet, and Ichigo endeavours to repay that much if he can.

He raises his sword and barely blocks a vicious strike from Nero. She was shorter than him by far, but he had no chance matching her for raw strength. Or speed. Or her damn near perfect swordplay.

“Focus on the performance at hand,” she orders, her mouth curved in a strange smile. Ichigo didn’t totally understand her. They’d been travelling with her for over a month now, on the way to reach what would one day be london.

“Right,” Ichigo lunges for her, his strikes quick and hard. He’s not worried about hurting her since he can’t even hit her.

It’s graceful, elegant, and nearly effortless for her to knock him flat on his ass again, smacking the flat of her blade against his chest so hard he sees spots. He’s left sucking desperately. His nails bite into the dirt and his grip on his sword tightens until the leather wrapped around the hilt creaks.

“That’s enough for today, I think,” Nero decides. Ichigo wants to argue, but he doesn’t have any breath for it. So he groans like a dying whale and lays in the dirt, his hands shaking, his body refusing to move at all.

Nero lowers herself to the ground, on her knees beside him and how strange is that? A goddamn emperor kneeling with him in the dirt. A demi-goddess, and a druid, and a demi-servant. And Ichigo, just human. But Nero is human too. She’s as alive as he is and she is wiping the fucking floor with him.

“You’re a - fuck,” he wheezes and finally gets his elbows under him so he can sit up.

“Now that’s very rude to say, considering that I’ve been training you out of the goodness of my own heart,” Nero sniffs at him, tilting her chin to the sky.

Why did Ichigo always get stuck with these kinds of bewildering people? Everyone he knew was so weird…

“Yeah, I guess. Thanks, Nero.” A perfectionist and slave driver, but Ichigo was getting better every day. By the time they reached their destination, maybe he’d even be able to land a single blow per bout. Ichigo had never expected to get along with a roman emperor of all people, but even outside of fighting Ichigo has always been, if only mildly, interested in the arts, and Nero only stokes those embers.

Nero smiles beatifically at him. “You have the makings of a fine performer. Even without an Imperial Privilege. I enjoy teaching you.”

Her smile is interrupted by a pinch of her brows and purse of her lips.

Ah, another headache.

It’s very strange, trying to reconcile the young woman in front of Ichigo with the tyrant from history. She’s put her people ahead of her at every turn, and helped Ichigo and his friends. She’s under no obligation to teach Ichigo swordplay but she does, even after long days on the march.

At the same time, there’s a reason Boudica is only her reluctant ally. Nero cared for her people but she was, in another word, a merciless bitch when she put her mind to it. But she was on their side, for now, and Ichigo is learning not to look gift horses in the mouth. So he gets up and goes to her side, and shows her how to press her fingers into pressure points on the back of her neck, and hold it for a few seconds until the headache goes away.

He’s made an archduke for that one.

* * * * *

A rift forms in the Kurosaki household.

It’s always been there, a cut stitches tenuously together by blood and loyalty, and reinforced by love, but now it’s split.

A gaping chasm, and Ichigo doesn’t know what to do with it.

It feels like it’s not something he can bridge. Like this is one obstacle that even he cannot conquer. Master of Chaldea, Final Beacon for Humanity. Commander of Heroes, Beloved, the First Guardian.

He is a hundred things but at the end of the day he is still.

A teenager.

Fifteen and eighteen and four thousand at once.

His dad had lied to him. If not directly, then by omission. For years, for so very long he’d let Ichigo hold the responsibility of Masaki’s life in his hands, had kept quiet when he grew frightened and dark and closed off from the living, so preoccupied was he with the dead.

Never once did he offer reason. Never once did he show his care or cradle his son, or tell him that the monsters were real and it wasn’t his fault .

Not once, in six, seven, eight, nine years did he tell Ichigo that he was not alone. That he and Karin were merely Masaki’s children. That they were born of quincy blood, even if that never put a bow in their hands.

Half the blood means half the power,” That was what Ryuuken had said. And how sad is it that Ichigo had had to hunt down a veritable stranger, once who’s son had spent the entire day bickering and competing and hating his guts, to get answers from?

“ Does my old man know all of this?” Ichigo had asked.

Ryuuken was honest, even if he didn’t want to get into the tangled web of family drama. “Yes,” He’d said, “ But it’s more complicated than that. Isshin has the entire story.”

And he wouldn’t tell Ichigo.

He didn’t tell him on the bloody banks of the river, when a child wandered in desperate hope of finding a phantom of his mother.

He did not tell a ten year old at the foot of a grave marker. He kept silent at eleven, at twelve, thirteen, fourteen.

Fifteen. Under the watching grave of his mother Ichigo had asked. And Isshin had not told.

The house is tense like it hasn’t been since Ichigo got back. It’s tense like a storm, cracking along the edges of the walls and windows. Tense like there’s no coming back from this and Ichigo cannot take the building static in his veins or the hissing of betrayal in his ears, like snakes.

He misses Medusa, suddenly. She would take his pound of flesh for him and then some.

Ichigo go knows, for certain, that if he stays in this house he’ll go mad. Yuzu and Karin, they know something is up. Ichigo’s pretty sure Karin saw the hollow, Grand Fisher, at the grave site. Dead now by his blade, but the vengeance tastes like ash on his tongue. His mother is still dead. His father is still a liar.

His sisters still love them both.

Ichigo loves them, too. More than anything in the world, he fought gods and demons for their sake. For them to be born for them to have a future.

But he can’t spend all of his time at home, and Chad is starting to ask questions that Ichigo has a difficult time answering.

Not ‘was that a demon ghost you just punched in the face’ hard. That answer is ease. ‘Yes’.

But ‘is everything alright at home’ hard. Chad had asked the first time he saw Isshin launch himself at his son in a surprise attack and he’s about to ask it again, Ichigo can feel it in his bones.

So he makes a phone call.

The rest of the world will never know what they did.

The world will not know about him or Mash or Roman or Olga Marie, or the countless others that built Chealdea and kept her running. They’ll never know how much they fought, how much they bled, how much they sacrificed for the sake of the future.

It’s fine with him.

But there are some who know. The Mage's Association, and the United Nations. And a select few people from the Clock Tower in London, where Ichigo has already been offered schooling and job. They know that he stopped the incineration of humanity.

And they owe him.

Three years of pay for working in Chaldeas, and even more for everything else he’d done.

He finds a backpack while he waits for a familiar voice to answer.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” There's a shuffle of sheets and a groan in the background and Ichigo barely pays it any mind as he stuffs a hoodie into his bag and goes looking for his running shoes.

“Not a clue,” he said blandly. “But listen, Waver. I need a favor.”

* * * * * *

#Ichigo Kurosaki #BAMF!Ichigo Kurosaki #Ichigo Kurosaki is Ritsuka Fujimaru #well sorta #bleach #bleach fanfiction #bleach/fate grand order #olga marie animusphere

8 notes · View notes

fishoutofcamelot · 4 years ago

Note

(for the ask thing) any book/tv show/movie/song recommendations?

BRO! I heckin got you man! Now, I’m gonna skip the song and book recommendation bit because that sorta thing isn’t really my scene. BUT! In terms of TV? My rec list is like a mile long. I’m gonna include a read-more line, actually.

BBC Merlin: You know I had to put this on the list. But the fact that you’re on my blog means you’ve probably watched this one, so I won’t go into detail about it. Available on Netflix

Mob Psycho 100: Just a cute, sweet story about a bunch of psychic kids trying to kill each other. A story with this much fighting has no right to be so wholesome. Mob is just a good boy, he doesn’t deserve all this! Fair warning, its messages about identity, self love, and growth WILL make you feel Emotions. Available on various anime pirating websites

Red vs Blue: The found family game is SO strong in this one. By far the best found family plot/dynamic I have ever and will ever experience. The characters are all so solid, yknow? Like it took me three rewatches to understand the plot, but I didn’t even care because I loved the characters SO MUCH. It’s also really, really funny (although some of the jokes have aged a bit poorly tbh). Basically about a bunch of space marines who goof off and accidentally dismantle corrupt governments along the way. Available on Youtube

Supernatural: Is it cringey? Yeah. Does the fandom suck? Also yeah. Is Destiel overrated? BIG yeah. But it’s got monsters, magic, family, and a plot that doesn’t revolve around romance - and really, what more could you ask for? And sure, a lot of people don’t really like the later seasons, but idk I actually prefer them. Season 15 has me THRIVING. I mean come on - character vs author?! Fighting the guy who literally wrote you into existence because he doesn’t want to give your story a happy ending?! Say what you will about Supernatural, but it’s one of the most imaginative shows I’ve ever seen. Available on Netflix

Avatar the Last Airbender: You like stellar animation, intricate worldbuilding/magicbuilding, and a perspective on war that is surprisingly mature for a kids show? Check it out. This show is without a doubt one of the best animated series of all time. Go on. Watch it. It’ll change your life. Available on Netflix

The Umbrella Academy: Time-travelling assassins. Superheroes. Ghosts. Talking monkeys. Murder mysteries. Baller soundtracks. This show will never give you what you expect. I don’t even think I could properly describe it to you. Available on Netflix

Detective Conan: An anime. It’s about a teen detective - think Nancy Drew but bloodier - who witnesses a crime and is fed an experimental poison in order to keep him from telling anyone. But instead of killing him, the poison turns him into a 6-year-old. So now he’s got to solve crimes and take down a criminal organization while in the body of a child. Naturally, shenanigans ensue. Fair warning, the main character becomes a bit of a Mary Sue in later episodes, but the first 300 or so are pretty fun. A few episodes are available on Netflix, but not any of the good ones. You’ll need an anime pirating website for that

Knives Out: My favourite movie ever, of all time. It’s a murder mystery that both subverts and pays homage to its parent genre in all the right places. It’s funny, it’s intelligent, and has a spectacular ending! Although I do wish the fandom would stop being so horny for Ransom, I mean he’s literally racist...No clue where you can find this tbh, I saw it in theatres

Derry Girls: Now I’m not normally a big fan of realistic fiction/sitcom stuff. Despite how funny they are, I’ve not even watched The Office or Parks and Rec because that normal daily life stuff just doesn’t peak my interest. And yet, somehow this story about a group of Irish high schoolers just has me enthralled. Very funny, very well-written, give it a watch. Available on Netflix

Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood: Another anime. Phenomenal animation? Check. Fascinating plot and characters? Check. Detailed magic system that gets my lore-obsessed heart fluttering? Big heckin check. So basically two kids try to use Fantasy Science to bring their mom back to life, only the experiment fails and has some pretty nasty consequences - one boy loses his arm and leg, while the other loses his entire body and has his soul bound to a suit of armour. Now they gotta go through government conspiracies, ethical dilemmas, and Daddy Issues to try and get their bodies back. Available on Netflix

The Disastrous Life of Saiki K: Yet another anime. I know, I know, I’m a nerd, get over it. This show doesn’t have a complex plot or even complex characters, tbh, but what it does have is some amazing humour. It’s extremely funny, and it’s also just a nice show to kick back and relax to. Basically this guy who’s so op that he could rewrite the laws of reality on a whim is stuck dealing with relationship drama in high school despite being very, very asexual and very, very tired. Mostly he just uses his powers to avoid people and eat junk food, which is honestly a mood. Available on Netflix

Scooby Doo! Mystery Incorporated: Honestly I’d recommend almost anything that’s Scooby Doo-related because that was my childhood obsession. I used to have like 20 of the movies on DVD before my mom gave them all away. To this day I still love Scooby Doo, and watch it whenever I get the chance. But if you ask any SD fan, they’ll probably tell you that Mystery Incorporated is the best, most intelligent, most creative installment in the franchise. And they’re right (although I do wish there was less relationship drama...) Available on Netflix

Evil Genius: This is a documentary series about the Collar Bomb Robbery. Now, despite what the above list might indicate, I actually watch a LOT of documentaries, and if I were here to recommend all of them then we would be here all day. Not really ‘funny’ like the other entries on this list, it’s actually rather tragic, but definitely a cerebral viewing experience. Available on Netflix

Screwball: Now this is a documentary that IS funny. It’s about drug scandals in baseball. But the dramatic scene re-enactments are done with child actors that are all wearing fake beards and pretending to be drug dealers. It’s not only a fascinating subject, but it’s got amazing editing and visuals that have me in awe. Available on Netflix

Behind the Curve: Yet another documentary. This one’s about the rise of the Flat Earth movement. You’ll spend most of the time on the verge of having a stroke because of how stupid it all is. Available on Netflix

The Movies That Made Us: Okay okay okay last documentary on the list I swear. This one’s exactly what it says on the tin. It’s a series talking about the behind-the-scenes production of iconic movies like Home Alone and Ghostbusters. I eagerly await the second season. Available on Netflix

Monster Factory: If you’re familiar with the McElroy brothers and their brand of humour, you’ll love this. Griffin and Justin team up to make the most disturbing avatars they can create using video game character creators. The origins of the Final Pam meme. If I had a shirt with a quote from Monster Factory on it, I’d die a happy man. Available on Youtube

Baman Piderman: The dumbest show I have ever watched, but it’s so adorable and stupid and I love it so much. It doesn’t really have a plot, but later episodes allude to the presence of one and I’m upset because there are so many mysteries/questions hinted at and we’ll never get answers because it’s been abandoned. PLEASE watch it. Available on Youtube

Stranger Things: Okay, season 2 was a bit of a let-down imo, but season 1 was ICONIC and the Scoops Troop subplot in season 3 deserved its own freakin spinoff. I’m not joking. I didn’t even like s3 all that much, but the only reason it’s my favourite is because the Scoops Troop plot was so great. People call this show ‘horror’ but I don’t think it’s scary enough for that, although it is admittedly kinda spooky. If you like 80s nostalgia and the horror aesthetic, then I’d give it a watch (Do it for Scoops Troop. Do it for Robin). Available on Netflix

Jack and the Cuckoo-Clock Heart: Despite my overwhelming love for this film, I’ll be the first to admit it’s kinda mediocre. The plot is weird and the romance feels forced, but despite its flaws it manages to be one of my favourite movies. Mostly I just like it for the unique concept and beautiful ending. Also the music is off the par man. Probably because the writer/producer of the movie was the lead singer for a French band called Dionysus (what? I do my research). Available on Netflix

Wakfu: I haven’t seen past season 3, but so far it’s pretty good. You go in thinking it’s just a wholesome action/adventure show about a kid who can create portals - but then it just. Sucks you in. From its bopping theme song to its fantastic found family to the unique worldbuilding, you very quickly fall in love with it. It’s got a cool plot and also talking dragons, and it doesn’t get better than that. Available on Netflix

Mystery Skulls Animated: Technically not a TV show so much as it is a series of animated music videos with a plot, but I’ll be damned if this isn’t one of the greatest things of all time. It’s basically Scooby Doo but if Shaggy got possessed by a demon and killed Fred, causing Fred to become a ghost hellbent on revenge-killing Shaggy in return. And if Scooby was an ancient Japanese spirit that bit off Shaggy’s arm, forcing him to wear a metal prosthetic. Yeah, MSA is wild. It’s only got three videos out so far, with a fourth one coming out this October, but there’s already so much lore! Available on Youtube

Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared: Ah yes, yet another cringey entry on this list. But you know what? Cringe culture is dead!!! And despite its fandom being...like that...DHMIS really is a cool show. Think if Sesame Street was like haunted or something. The episodes about creativity and telling time remain the most unsettling, imo. Definitely worth a watch. Available on Youtube

Inanimate Insanity: Oh boy. Am I seriously recommending you dip your little fingies into the object fandom? Yes. Yes I am. This show is so obscure it makes freakin Detective Conan look popular. At its core it’s a parody of Total Drama Island and Survivor but with anthropomorphized inanimate objects as characters (hence the name). Season 2 is actually really, really good and surprisingly competent. You just gotta get through season 1 first. Available on Youtube

The X-Files: Wow, a live action series on this list? Who woulda thought??? But seriously, this show is really fun. Memes and jokes aside, I love it. Scully and Mulder are fun characters with great chemistry (both platonic and romantic), the Lone Horsemen are hilarious, and every episode is a unique adventure into the most creative acid trips the human mind could conceive of. Phenomenal from start to finish (if you ignore the last season). I have no clue where you would watch this. Pirate it, probably

Buzzfeed Unsolved: Two idiots investigate cold cases and haunted locales while being utter dumbasses about it. You know the “hey demons it’s be ya boi” meme? That came from these guys. Available on Youtube

Kingdom: Ngl, I didn’t go into this expecting zombies. Or for it to take place during Korean feudalism, for that matter. But mediocre dubbing aside, this show has such a clever concept. It takes the zombie apocalypse genre and gives refreshing, unique twists to old tropes that they feel like something new. Seo-bi is my wife and she deserves all the love and appreciation in the world, and those are just Facts. Available on Netflix

My Hero Academia: Superhero high school anime. I personally am not a fan of later episodes/arcs, but the first three seasons are pretty dang good. Diverse, colourful ensemble cast that you easily grow to adore, interesting commentary on disability (although I’m not qualified to give any actual takes on that), and a school curriculum that makes me very, very concerned for the wellbeing of these children. Plus all the superpowers - aka ‘quirks’ - are super imaginative and, well, quirky! I just wish people would stop shipping the main character with his childhood bully...You’ll need to pirate this one too lmao

Danny Phantom: The highlight of this show is its ‘phandom’, because unlike someone (*cough* Butch Hartman), we’re not a bunch of cowards. It’s about a guy who messes around with his parents’ lab stuff and accidentally acquires the ability to die! Well, half-die. He can turn into a ghost and fight other ghosts. Although the show never explores the existential, traumatic fallout of being kinda-sorta-dead, the potential for something deep and emotional is there. Plus there is a LOT of accidental subtext for a Big LGBT+ Metaphor. So much so that the Trans Danny theory is basically canon. Uhhh not available on Netflix anymore so it’s time to whip out your pirate hat, matey

And there you have it! Like I said, I have a lot of TV recommendations. And I just KNOW I’m forgetting a ton, but this is already really long so we’ll have to cut off here.

Thanks for the ask! <3

#ask #fish post

32 notes · View notes

quillquiver · 6 years ago

Text

higher love (in acoustic)

Full credit to @doekent for the idea, which bothered me until I wrote this long thing I also posted to AO3

Castiel has had ample time to imagine how it would happen: in the heat of the moment during an argument, violent and hungry as they fought with teeth and tongue; during the aftermath of a hunt, running on adrenaline and the thrill of being unmistakably, painfully present and alive; in the quiet moments between jobs, soft and sweet and no big deal.

Cas never would have predicted it happen like this: here, with his heart fumbling into a race and throwing itself so violently against bone he’s sure it’s pounding itself into a pulp. Here, with his hands numb, totally soaked in a tingly, cold sweat and so aware of everything around him he’s certain he can feel heat from the Earth’s molten core through the rubber soles of his shoes.

Castiel does not speak. He does not think. He barely feels himself move.

But he must, he thinks hysterically, a moment after the fact. He must have raced across the five feet separating himself and Dean and fisted his filthy, mud and goo-encrusted green jacket, yanking him into a bruising, unforgiving, desperate kiss.

Cas knows he must have done this because his lips sting and his hands are still fisted in Dean’s clothing and he’s breathing as if he just ran a marathon.

“You said you killed the Empty?” he croaks.

Dean can barely manage a nod.

“And Michael?”

“…Yeah. He—he’s gone.”

There’s a tell-tale tightness in Cas’s chest and he breathes shaky and shallow. His vision blurs. “You’re certain?”

Dean smile is quiet, but it’s there. Castiel feels parts of himself unravel. “Pretty darned.”

“That was foolish.”

Dean says nothing. Cas doesn’t blink. If he blinks, he’ll be crying. It takes every ounce of strength he has to give a stiff nod and spin on his heel. He thinks he might be blushing to high heaven, and he feels sick, and he honestly isn’t sure if he wants to try and kiss Dean again, or rain down fire and fury for being left behind.

Castiel isn’t sure where he’s going other than away, but he barely gets three steps before Dean has grabbed his arm. “Hey,” he says, firm. “What’s up?”

“Let go, Dean.”

“Cas—”

“Please.”

But Dean has never—not once—done as he was told... so it’s no surprise when he gently turns Castiel to face him, keeping a careful grip on the right sleeve of his coat with one hand while the other moves up to catch the wetness on his cheek. “Cas, c’mon,” he says.

Cas rolls his lips together, looking up and giving a minute shake of his head as Dean thumbs his cheekbone. It’s leaps and bounds more contact than they’ve ever had outside of life-threatening situations, and that alone is throwing Castiel for the world’s largest “loop”. He wonders faintly if it’s possible to die of emotional excess.

Dean swallows thickly, worry bleeding into his posture and the gentleness of his hands. He’s gorgeous. “…I do somethin’ wrong?” he murmurs.

Cas counts the metal beams on the ceiling.

“You’re kinda worryin’ me over here, man. You okay? Did something malfunction?”

Blue eyes squeeze shut.

“Castiel—”

“I made a deal.”

Dean’s hand freezes.

“Not that it matters now, because The Empty is dead.” Cas’s punctuating laugh sounds hysterical even to his own ears. “Because you killed It. And Michael. And you left me here again while you went and risked your life when I had made a deal with It; Jack’s life in exchange for my own happiness. But I’ll never be happy, will I? Because you’ll always leave me behind. Because I’ll never be enough. Family is a word used to denote conditional love for a only handful of those you apply it to and I’m among them. And I just—I just realized that, I think. Right now. During the aftermath of a hasty kiss because I was overwhelmed by the possibility of loving you openly and unapologetically. Which I do. Love you. But you knew that, didn’t you? Not that it matters, now. I’m dying anyway. This is what death feels like. I’m. I—Can’t—I’m—”

Castiel’s vision is spotting, he’s suddenly freezing cold and he feels woozy and unsteady on his feet. He’s surprisingly calm for someone who is going to die, he thinks absently. Sound reaches him from an endless tunnel, and there is very suddenly a pressure on his back, breathing deep and steady. It takes a few moments for Cas to match that rhythm before he comes back to himself. Faintly, he can hear Dean speaking. His voice is low.

“You’re an asshole,” he says. “Breathe. In, out. Good. You listening, Cas? Yeah? You hear me? You’re an asshole. Keeping breathing. That’s it, with me. Fuckin’—Jesus Christ. Okay. That’s great. Scared me shitless. Goddamn fuck.”

Castiel comes to and finds he’s sitting on a chair in the war room. He’s draped over a kneeling Dean, whose right hand is buried in his hair and left presses against his chest. Cas feels as if he’s been run over by multiple motor vehicles. His trembling hands move to wrap around Dean’s body and the man in question gives a shaking exhale.

Dean leans up. Their foreheads are press together. He’s so close Castiel can see every fleck of green and gold in his irises.

“Listen to me,” Dean says, firm and urgent and something else. “Family is unconditional for every fucking person I apply it to, including you. Jesus—especially you. You fucking—you blind, idiotic pain in my ass, if I’ve left you behind any time within in the past year it’s only because I can’t stand to see you hurt. I fucking refuse to burn you again, Castiel, you hear me? I won’t do it. But it’s hard to keep you safe when you insist on throwing yourself on the sword every time one is in the goddamn room.

“And fine, I didn’t tell you about the fuckin’ death box. Okay. But cut me a little goddamn slack, here—I talked to you and three hours later I threw that entire plan out the friggin’ window. And still, after that—after all of that, you got the goddamn nerve to imply that I, what? Don’t love you? That I’m stringing you along? That I don’t care ’cause you’ll never be good enough? Bullshit. Fucking bullshit. You wanna talk about our actions, how about you fuckin’ explain to me why you made a deal with a cosmic-symbiote and didn’t share with the class, huh?”

Castiel feels his chest tighten in panic again, but Dean presses hard against his sternum, his other hand gentle as it rubs his back. He looks helpless. “…I know you, Cas. I know you did it for the kid. And I know you threw away your happiness like it was nothing because you don’t think what you want is within reach. I don’t know if that’s ’cause you don’t think you deserve it, or ’cause you think we mean more to you than you to us, or what---but that shit makes you righteously reckless. That is why I tell you to go on the easy hunts with Jack. That is why I took Sam to deal with Michael alone. And you’re an asshole if you think that after everything we’ve been through I don’t love you as goddamn fiercely as you love me.” Dean blinks rapidly here, looking down with a frown. “But hell, I’m the asshole who gave you a fucking panic attack ’cause I suck at showing people I care about them. So. Prob’ly shouldn’t listen to me.”

The lump in Cas’s throat is so big he can barely swallow. “You’re not an asshole.”

“Yeah, well, neither are you,” Dean scoffs, moving to bury his face in Castiel’s shoulder.

“You love me.”

“Yeah.”

“You love me fiercely.”

“Guess I do.”

“Dean.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Cas, that’s not—” Dean pulls away, dragging a hand over his face. “That ain’t what I meant—”

“We’re spectacularly bad at this, aren’t we?” Cas says, nerves lurking under a lightness he doesn’t feel. He’s a mess. He’s never understood the figurative meaning of the word ‘fried’ until this afternoon. “Look, I—I will stop throwing myself on the sword if you trust me not to do so, but… but I will kindly inform you that if it were to come down to you or Sam or Jack or Mary and me, I still wouldn’t choose me. Not because I don’t love myself, or care about myself, but because that is who I am, and that is who I will continue to be. And... and you love me as I am. I think.”

Dean chews his lip, rolling his eyes. “Long as you know that I come with baggage the size of these United States.”

The corner of Cas’s mouth twitches up in a smile. “I do know that, yes.”

“Good. And you should also prob’ly be aware that I wouldn’t change anything in my life, even if I could. The way we met, the shit we put each other through, every freaking goddamn apocalypse, I wouldn’t change it. I like where I am now, and I ain’t leavin’.”

Cas’s smile widens and he dips his head in a nod, finger moving to brush the line of Dean’s jaw. “We’re in agreement, there.”

“Swell.”

“Mm.”

This kiss is worlds different than the last. Gentle is too cumbersome a word to describe it—whether due to hesitance or disbelief it’s more the ghost of a kiss; hands squeezing whatever and wherever they fell, brows meeting but lips barely touching. Even still, the imprint of the contact is like a brand on Cas’s mouth.

They pull away only to immediately come together again, with slightly more pressure this time. Dean smells like burnt lightning and radiation. They kiss again. And again. And again—sharing small, chaste demonstrations of affection until Castiel has lost count of them all. Dean’s tongue swipes against Cas’s bottom lip and he opens to him, leaning forward until he’s practically falling off his chair.

The kiss reaches its natural conclusion when they’re too busy smiling to move their lips together.

“You like kissing me.” Dean teases when Cas follows him, wanting more.

Castiel narrows his eyes. “You like kissing me.”

Helping Cas to his feet, Dean catches him by the waist when his vision spots again, holding him until the head rush passes. “C’mon, let’s get some of Sam’s fancy green kale juice into you. I’m gonna wash the cosmic guts outta my hair and then I’ll… meet you in the Cave? We could watch a movie or something.”

Castiel leans forward and pecks a kiss to Dean’s filthy cheek. Even underneath the muck, he can see it glow pink.

“I’d like that.”

#destiel fic #spn spoilers #this is how i'd want it to happen #full credit to my best gal #who put this image into my head #s14 #adventures in fanfic #LOTS OF KISSING AND LFUFF AND ANGST AND ALL THAT GOOD SHIT

320 notes · View notes

kaknzn · 6 years ago

Photo

My contribution for KakuHida Week! Theme: Crossover!

@kakuhidaweek

♥ Hidan had been grown on the stories of the gods. He’d learned from a young age not to cross fairy circles, and the importance of a name. Hidan had been taught incantation, and he had been given the talent to use it. His often overflowing home with baubles, beakers, brewing cauldrons, and old leather bound books spoke back to a time where he had been much younger.

♥

Full Fic Under the Cut or Read it on Ao3 Or DeviantART!

Hidan had been grown on the stories of the gods. He’d learned from a young age not to cross fairy circles, and the importance of a name. Hidan had been taught incantation, and he had been given the talent to use it. His often overflowing home with baubles, beakers, brewing cauldrons, and old leather bound books spoke back to a time where he had been much younger. A beautiful witch with white hair and eyes like asters, she had taken him out to her garden and shown him the little people under the leaves of the pumpkin plants.

“Brownies,” his mother told him with a giggle. “They don’t like to be noticed, hush,” she put her finger to her lips, and he had watched with wide eyes and an open mouth while they pulled weeds and carted them away. These little people built their furniture from his discarded toys, fixed his broken crafts, and kept his messy room immaculate. All they ever seemed to want from him was a bowl of cream, and a little sugar. The day they left, Hidan had missed them, and looked in their tiny home to find all of the lost and shiny trinkets that they had felt valuable enough to keep. As he touched the cool surface of a marble with his little finger, he came to the realization that things discarded could still be of great significance.

His mother had taught him when he was young that humans were not the only things with two legs that walked their earth; sometimes creatures of many legs, feet, paws, and abundant hands were behind the shadows enmasse if you looked for them. They knew about kindness in an intimate way that humans just could not always grasp. His mom had told him about a great many things before she died. When she was young, and living at the edge of the woods, often her gardens bloomed brightest when she had opened her gates to the lost and wandering spirits on the road.

“Be careful with spirits Hidan. They’re tricky things sometimes. There are all manner of things in this world that will lead you down paths winding through the wilds, and you’ll never come back home again.” She told him.

‘It sounds like exactly where I want to be,’ he’d thought to himself, grasping the pendant on his chest. The inverted triangle within a protective circle, denoted in silver, and gifted to him from a man that reached down to him through the red rain. Hidan knew more than most about spirits, gods, and demons. He had been loved by things ghosted away by the wind, and loved things in return in a way that made them dwindle and die. Hidan had a hand of death, and things he tried to grow would wilt away. When he was in his mid twenties he found he was not a human at all; shinigami were not often born of the earth, but it seemed Hidan was different. Because of this, humans were dangerous to care about, he’d learned. Things that died after a handful of tens of years were just not for him.

With thunder that would roll like roiled waves on the ocean, and clouds that took the shapes of many reaching hands from hades, Jashin had plucked this boy from the edge of his home and loved him. He’d taught him that he was on the edge of life and death itself. His mother had given him the gift to walk the line of shinigami. Through the eyes of a god, Hidan learned what life and death meant. He had seen vast expanses of trees at the beginning of time, and he had seen old and crumbling train stations, he’d learned about doors to nowhere, and passages out of time.

Jashin had blessed him. His mother had taught him. And Kakuzu would _test him._

In the peak of one of the hottest summers Hidan had ever encountered in his many long years, he’d had to deal with an abundance of humans coming down into his valley outside of Safflower city. They brought him offerings of bread (home-made), stones, wreaths, and even money. They all had their complaints about the heat-- surely it had to be an angering of spirits, they complained. From his experience, spirits didn’t mess around turning up the heat of an entire city unless they had a serious vendetta. As long as he’d lived on the outskirts of Safflower, never had he seen anything more than wanderers and witches. There were gnomes aplenty, and sometimes trolls, and deer with human faces, but he’d never seen anything powerful enough to turn up the sun. Some time ago, they’d even gotten their own resident witch.

Oh-- that definitely had been some time ago. They’d left behind their familiar in their passing as well. The cat had made his home in Hidan’s, chasing brownies and mice. While Hidan listened to the woes of the human from the city, Scorpion, the old ginger tom-cat would hop himself up into the window to turn his yellow eyes up to the crystalline webs of spiders. So long as Scorp was calm, Hidan found he didn’t need to be suspicious of the people in his home.

It wasn’t until a priest, Deidara, came to his small stretch of land, that Scorp arched his back and hissed, his fur bristling harshly and his claws making lines in the dirt. The little people in his pumpkin patch scurried away. The soot sprites in the door of his home cowered back and dropped their stones and herbs. Hidan clicked his tongue with a tsk as their spell came undone in the presence of a priest. Often magic that used ingredients from the shadows couldn’t stand up against holy men, but something didn’t seem quite right.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” the priest said, his blond hair falling down over his shoulders as it had been picked up by a rare and fleeting breeze. “I’ve brought you something for lunch, hm. Do you mind if we have a chat?” If sunshine were a man, he was certain it was standing before Hidan. That much spiritual light made him squint a little, but he found his stomach unable to resist the smell of basil and pumpernickel. His mouth practically watered from the thought of aged cheese on soft and fluffy bread.

“Sure. I could eat-- talk. I have time to talk,” he stuttered, gathering himself up into a more formal posture. Hidan ran a hand through his hair and beckoned the priest into his home. “Pruinae,” he whispered to the rune in his doorway, and frosty wind chased the heat out of the walls and through the open window. Scorp followed at Hidan’s ankles and grumbled a hiss out at the priest that had crouched down to offer affection with an outstretched hand.

The inside of Hidan’s home was well kept, even if it took him a good ten minutes of rearranging the alembics, beakers, and cauldrons of various broiling substances and sizzling spells to get room for lunch on the table. Some reacted more violently than others to the presence of the holy man-- a simpler spell for a cleaning sprite tried to climb up his arm, and Hidan could feel himself bristle with the raw energy against his skin. It felt like his hair was standing on end as he hastily brushed the spell back into the jar it belonged in and shoved a cork in it.

“What brings you out into the valley? Are you here to bullshit me about spirits making it hot?”

“No, hm,” the priest sat down at the table, disappointed that the cat wanted nothing to do with him. He pulled out a loaf of bread and set it in front of him, and proceeded to slice up pieces of cheese, along with tomato. He unpackaged some meat from the butcher, and hummed a little tune as he worked. Hidan pulled open his cupboards as he listened to Deidara’, his finger running along the labels of several bottles.

“This is going to sound a little strange, hm.”

“I doubt it,” Hidan said under his breath. He pulled a bottle of bubbling red liquid from the shelf. Inside the glass confines, it swirled with a certain glimmer that was strongly reminiscent of blood; Hidan pulled the cork with his teeth, and spat it into his hand. He paused for a second to inhale the deep scent of raspberry and wild cherries. The bottle overflowed with an ethereal mist, and Hidan poured two glasses of the sanguine appearing liquid.

“The church, I think, is haunted by a demon.”

“What--?!” Hidan nearly dropped his glasses, fumbling with the bottle in the process. Without enough arms to hold it all, the liquid careened toward the floor. “Vitae; luculentam et bene servetur,” he commanded, and before it could stain his carpet, Hidan told the liquid to lift itself and tidy back into the glasses. With his teeth on edge, he set one glass in front of Deidara with an unimpressed scowl.

“And why the fu-- why are you, a priest, coming to me about your church?” Hidan could almost be offended. It was massively a conflict of interest to him to deal with anything including christian churches. They were new in the area, to him, and all they seemed to do was sew a seed of stigma against spirits, gods, and the beyonds. “Isn’t that kind of your domain, HM? Isn’t it your job to keep your ground consecrated and demon free or something? In fact, I remember last year when I came to help out one of your flock and I couldn’t get past the threshold!”

“Are you mocking my speech impediment, hm?”

“I don’t know, are you mocking my craft, HM?” Hidan drank straight from the bottle of red liquid, a line of it dripping down his chin as he kept eye contact with the less than enthused priest at his table. Deidara blinked slowly and offered a piece of buttered bread out to Hidan.

“No… Actually, I’m serious. It started at the beginning of summer, yeah,” Deidara looked thoughtful, chewing his lunch as he cast his eyes heavenward. “I guess I started noticing something wasn’t right when the statues started to cry.”

“The statues?” Hidan asked impassively.

“Yeah hm. It was like the whole room got chilly and filled with this deep and grim sadness. It’s hard to describe.”

“THAT was the first thing you noticed?”

“Yeah.”

Hidan bit the inside of his cheek and wondered sometimes just how blind humans really were to the endeavors of the other realms.

“You can’t get rid of it because?”

“Well can you keep a secret?” Deidara leaned in and adjusted one of his sleeves up to the hem of his white glove.

“Like a vault,” Hidan replied, and leaned forward on his elbows, bread forgotten for the bits of juicy gossip. Truthfully, he’d been skeptical of Deidara since he came to the city some time ago. How long ago had that even been? It had to have been years by now.

“I’m not really a priest,” Deidara revealed. “I didn’t even believe in ghosts until it started messing with the statues and the bibles--” Hidan could tell he was at least partially lying. “--Ripping them to shreds hm. Well see, the priest that lived there before-- he kind of entrusted the church to me and I really owed him one.”

“Jashin help me,” Hidan muttered under his breath. He placed his face in his hands and prayed for strength from his own god. “This city is full of blasphemers and heathens. No respect for the sanctity of death.” The holy light emitted by a false priest; it was no wonder a familiar wanted nothing to do with Deidara.

“You’re so bad at your damn job your church is haunted by a demon,” Hidan told Deidara firmly. “You should retire,” he spat, then stood up and grabbed what looked like an old farmer’s sickle from a rack beside his door. He knew the grip of the handle like an old friend, and it thrummed in tune with him with the voice of a lover, too intimate with carnage. Though it looked like an old sickle now, when the circumstances were right, it would reveal its true form for Hidan, and they would reap whatever stood before them.

Hidan didn’t care for demons. They were a nasty lot, tricky like the fae, and self serving without remorse for fiendish actions. Hidan had cleansed his share of demons that were more trouble than they were worth. This sounded like a petty little thing looking for any sort of attention it could get. What better way to stir up a ruckus than to haunt a church? It likely wasn’t even a demon at all. Just a wayward spirit without anything better to do.

Hidan walked out passed the garden and looked down the road to the city. Beyond the buildings, he could see dark clouds gathering and building into towers of cotton grey. The heat of the day had broken to a chilly wind that rolled the grass. Even the brownies had taken shelter. Perhaps he was wrong.

As he attached his scythe to his back, the phony priest appeared in his doorway again, looking out toward the gathering anger in the sky.

“Demons aren’t really so bad it seems, hm,” Deidara sighed. “It’s just starting to freak people out n’ all. I dunno. I asked it to leave and that made everything worse.”

“Of course it did, you have no idea what you’re doing. You could have got yourself cursed you know? The gods of death aren’t very forgiving to people who pretend to be what they’re not and scam others. seriously,” Hidan snapped. Maybe he was getting a little old and a little tired of humans assuming they knew what was best for things that were out of their control.

“Oh it’s far too late for that. We all have our own curses to bear.”

“Don’t you mean “Crosses”?” Hidan asked, one of his brows lifting quizzically.

Deidara shook hands with Hidan, a tongue darting out of his palm to lick between Hidan’s fingers, sending a shiver up his spine that made him want to leave his corporeal form behind.

“I don’t think I do,” Deidara whispered back to Hidan, who became further unnerved when something underneath Deidara’s shirt giggled at him.

---

Wild in his frenzy, Kakuzu stalked toward the doors of the church and hissed when his skin began to fade into translucent obscurity. Parts of him became the floating specs of dust in the sunlight, dispersing to settle on the pews. After thousands of years of being in power, it had come down to the last of his temples crumbling to ruin. The last place he had to call home had been destroyed in an earthquake that cast it down into the ocean. The scripture in scrolls, the remaining gold coins, all of his treasured belongings and books had been washed into the sea. There wasn’t a soul left who remembered the name of the god of knowledge. It had been reclaimed by the earth that gave rise to him.

How ironic.

The way humans had advanced, they didn’t need to commune with the other side about their history. There were paleontologists, anthropologists, scientists, artists; there were libraries, there were computers and phones. Somehow in the busyness of the chaotic growth of humans, they had taken claim over his domain of learning and teaching, and had lost his name to history. Kakuzu had lived through the tragedy of book burnings, and the way humans stole and coveted knowledge like greedy little gremlins reaching for coins in the muck. They didn’t need him anymore. And how it hurt to be left behind in a world so full of knowledge. There was so much for even him to learn, and he would never get to see it.

Forgotten, his form was fading.

Desperately, Kakuzu waved his hand in front of a patron of the church and watched her shiver and close the window to return to reading her bible. And how his heart soared to watch her faith grow the more she learned. It was beautiful to see someone learn their passion for the first time, and so he stood there and savored the moment, as it likely would be one of his last times he would get to see someone discover a subject they loved.

What was truly in a name?

He could barely remember it himself. When he said it aloud at night, it felt like a lie coming off his tongue. The void in his chest would get bigger, and Kakuzu would shiver as he felt himself fading away. It had been 200 years since he’d been able to speak to anyone. That particular morning, Kakuzu was so violently frustrated with his own oncoming death that his sorrow had made the statues weep. The congregation before jesus on the cross had gasped and thought it a terrible sight. The panic raising in the crowd of their voices, he felt the sting in the unknown. He could help them understand. Kakuzu tried to reach out to the people fleeing through the doors, and became horrified as a child ran right through him, leaving a chill in his stomach.

Eventually the woman in the pews left, and he was left alone again peering out the stained glass windows. The holy ground he stood upon could only fuel the flickering fire in his soul for so long before it would be put out. He was just another light in the dark becoming smoke. He had minutes left.

Eventually even stars had to die.

His body had come unstrung, and the strings of fate inside of him spilled out onto the stone, dying as they touched the ground. His essence was gone, and Hidan found him there, weeping over the loss of his ability to perform miracles. Lost, alone, and angry-- how dare they call him a demon? He’d given them everything. He’d given them the word “history” and watched them grow.

“It’s not very often I get to witness the death of a god,” Hidan said sympathetically, and planted himself on the floor beside the threads that lost their gold, withered to grey, and melted into dust.

“You’re--” Kakuzu croaked, his voice drying with the efforts to sustain his form. “A shinigami, yeah. Don’t worry. I haven’t gotten your name or anything. I don’t think I’m supposed to collect your soul. Just a complaint from the local rabble about some crying statues.”

“You can--”

“I can see you just fine. You’re in a bit of a sorry state though. What’s your name?”

Kakuzu felt hope soar through him and he opened his mouth to speak but found… he had no memory of it. His name died on the tip of his tongue, and Hidan scowled looking up at the obnoxious cross and man that towered over them. Not fair. Everyone knew who Jesus was. Everyone knew Death. Everyone knew Fate. But that was how the world worked. When gods were forgotten, they died. It had meant that not even the gods had left this one to perish.

“Why are you here then?” Hidan asked, and set his hand on Kakuzu’s back.

“I have nowhere else,” he confessed. “When I try to leave… it hurts.”

“You’re prolonging the inevitable,” Hidan said sternly, but it garnered no response from the form before him. He’d always been taught about the importance of accepting death, but then, he’d never had to be on the other end of his scythe. He’d only ever been the one to take the hands of the dying and help them reach out to the spirits on the other side. Death was always tragic, and abundant. How many hands of starving wartorn children had he held and watched the fireflies with?

It was different when a god died. They didn’t have an afterlife, they didn’t exist with the same rules as humans did, as a soul within a body. They were whole, and holy. There was no physical or spiritual barrier. This was their before, their present, their after. There would be no second chances, no heaven, no hell. Hidan was at the crux of the end of something ancient, and he had no words of wisdom to make it any easier.

“What god were you?” He asked quietly, and watched the light inside of Kakuzu slowly die away.

“I don’t remember,” Kakuzu replied and looked glumly at his hand as it disappeared. What a miserable way to die. Something inside of Hidan made him inhale his anger and choke on it. The sorrow in the room was palpable, and that’s what he blamed for the welling of tears in his eyes that gathered on his cheeks, and dared to slide down and drip off his chin. His heart would break for this dying god. This would be him one day. Would his death be this lonely too? The injustice of this death made him want to defy everything that he had been taught about the definite line that everyone had to cross. Why would fate send a reaper without the order to collect?

His attention was drawn to the corner of the room, where the floorboards were parted to give way to something living, coming up from the soil beneath the church. How stubborn nature was to defy the constructs of the people around it. There had been a time when the forests had revolted so violently against the settlement of humans. The gods then had died to defend a home that gave way to an uncertain future. There were paths at times even that lead to hungry towns that ate souls because they couldn’t have one, where nature was so angry about being taken over that it tried to claim the lives around it back. The clash of human and nature had led to a lot of evil, and to Hidan it seemed truly evil that this entity wept beside him, nearly alone.

Like the dandelion cutting through the floorboards, this god was stubbornly alive, clinging to the last spark of himself.

“So there is death, there also is life,” a voice in the back of his head reminded him. He couldn’t stand it anymore.Being unafraid of taking risks is what had made Hidan good at his job in the first place. He decided to reach into the depths of the dying god beside him with fingers outstretched and yearning to touch that dying light. His hand slipped through the god’s back, into his chest, and found the tiny doomed glow inside of him.

The god’s soul looked like an ocean.

It wasn’t something Hidan was expecting, to open his eyes again and look up through the waves of rippling light as pages sank through the water to disappear into the pit below. Above him, a school of little red fish swam passed; the daughters of the moon, as beautiful as ever. Somewhere in the vast, and cold unknown of the unexplored, there had to be a name.

‘What is your name?’ He asked into the darkness, though his voice came from his heart, not his throat.

‘I don’t know,’ the darkness replied, and an eerie stillness came over the sun illuminated waves. It wanted him to move toward the surface, but the surface was not where names were kept. As he did with so much of his life, Hidan gripped his scythe and walked down a path into darkness. Like his mother warned him, letting his essence into the soul of a dying god was an endeavor he might not return from. If the god died before Hidan could rescue his name, they would die together. It was a risk he was willing to take.

‘You need to tell me, it’s the only way I can help you,’ Hidan pushed deeper, finding the water give way to smoke and choking flames. This must have been when humanity had started to forget him.

‘They burned my libraries.’ A voice wept.

‘It’s not your fault,’ Hidan replied.

‘I let them.’

‘You loved them. You wanted them to love you too.’

‘They didn’t. Facts aren’t kind.’ That was true. Humanity didn’t like facts.

Hidan frowned and pushed through the smoke. It was no wonder that the ocean was so dark. Humans craved knowledge, but they didn’t care where it came from. This god had found his love in the pages of books, in the light of people learning. He’d become rich in the bounties of their discoveries. Over time, they stopped thanking him. They became ungrateful. The smarter people got, the more ignorant they truly grew sometimes.

Hidan continued forward, backward through history. He watched as whales above his head became larger and more profound. Creatures swam beneath him that had been dead for millions of years. There were gates that no longer opened, realms that no longer existed, Hidan balked at how ancient this god was. The tragedy of his fading into obscurity compounded the colder the ocean became around him. Before there were people, before consciousness, the original gods that had put the worlds together and opened up realms between creatures. This god was never born of another. He was an original. An offspring of the universe. He was timeless, turning to dust in a church with a phony priest.

When Hidan finally walked through the stars at the bottom of the ocean, he found the lonely soul with shackles around his wrists of self made doubt. They weighed him down in a place without light, where he couldn’t see his own accomplishments. There were no living creatures down here aside from the drowning boy who looked toward the surface of the water. It was clear that not only had he been forgotten by history, he had been alone long before the birth of humanity. He loved them for the curious creatures they were, bringing order to chaos. They had not loved him in return.

He had just been too much chaos for them to explain.

“What is your name?” Hidan asked one more time, his voice breaking the silence like the eruption of time itself. The stillness of the water echoed back silence as Hidan’s purple eyes stubbornly kept the gaze of the god’s green ones. Hidan could read his lips and--

And suddenly Hidan opened his eyes. Whole, and in his arms, sinking against the warmth of his affection, the god trembled at the feeling of being truly alive again.

“Your name is Kakuzu, and you are the god of knowledge,” Hidan proclaimed. “And as long as even one person knows your name, you can’t die. I won’t let you.”

---

Scorp liked Kakuzu. There still weren’t very many beings that could perceive his presence, Scorpion was one of them. Hidan had grown used to the way that Kakuzu stared at him while he read. Three weeks had passed since the incident where he had touched Kakuzu’s soul, and he was trying to ignore the way he smirked whenever he caught Kakuzu staring. He spent a long time looking at Kakuzu too. The way he wrote down little notes for things he learned, the way he helped bumble bees off the hot stone paths. There was so much love in one creature, it was a wonder to Hidan that this god presided over something as cold and technical as knowledge.

But then… Hidan had learned that there were different kinds of knowledge. There was wisdom, selective, competitive, fictional, non fictional, and the world was so vast that the possibilities were boundless. Sometimes, Kakuzu would love something new so much that wind would pick up around him and turn the pages of all his books, and knock over ink bottles and potted plants. It would ruffle Scorps fur, and he would blink contentedly before stretching his back and moving somewhere with a little more sun.

Hidan had a plan. If there was one thing he was good at, it was being obnoxious. There was a reason he lived out in a valley outside of the city, and it wasn’t for HIS peace of mind, that was for damn sure. As loud mouthed as ever, Hidan put together an informational pamphlet which could be described as a spiritual resume, he thought. He took these into the city every day, to any place that looked like it could use a little more help in the smarts department. (He’d crammed several fistfulls of these fliers into Deidara’s mailbox: “Have you heard of the god of knowledge?”)

Toting his fliers in a messenger bag, with his unimpressed little cat peeking his head out amongst the envelopes, Hidan faithfully delivered these to every house that would open their door.

“Good morning. Can I have just a minute of your time? Have you heard about the god of knowledge? No-- oh, no it’s not a religion. I’m just trying to help him out. No I’m not crazy. Well fuck you too buddy, have a nice day.” He waited until he heard the fading of footsteps, and scratched a pixie rune into the door. The jerks would be coming to him in a week. Tops.

Inevitably, this strategy worked. He had more business than he’d had in years, paying off the pixies to leave people alone after he’d sufficiently talked their ear off about Kakuzu. He talked at length about how the guy had helped humankind since they were tiny, and that while they really didn’t have to worship him, they really should be more grateful for him because without Kakuzu, they wouldn’t have the lives they had now. Most people rolled their eyes, and went back to their phones, or news papers. Kakuzu, who’d followed Hidan from house to house, thought that at the very least it was an accomplishment to get people reading.

It wasn’t until Hidan met a young blind man near the law district that he actually saw the effect of his work. The man’s name was Itachi, and he lived with his younger brother in a single story home. Fake flowers lined the windows in their kitchen, and beyond the door Hidan noticed children’s toys scattered everywhere. It was just the two of them, and despite the man being blind, he carried the toddler on his hip and kept up with the housework flawlessly… or so he thought.

There were so many brownies in the guy’s house Hidan had to be careful not to step on them, and as a preemptive strike, he zipped the messenger bag shut so Scorpion wouldn’t be tempted to chase after the creatures and piss them off. There was a dull meow from his bag, and Hidan pat it wish a stern shh! He watched the way the faithful little workers followed after Itachi and helped him pick up after Sasuke. They closed cupboards he forgot about, and carried off more than their share of fresh fruit. Though they eyed Hidan warily, stepping away from him in their instinct not to be observed, he did his best to keep them comfortable and pay them no mind.

Hidan spent the afternoon drinking badly steeped tea, and telling Itachi all about the god of knowledge. Politely, the man nodded along, but Hidan was sure he was listening more to the toddler who was chattering about the night before. How he’d been absolutely sure that there were dragons out in the sky last night. As Hidan was leaving, his shoulders sagged in fatigue at another loss, Itachi prompted his baby brother: “Wave and say bye bye, Sasuke,” he aided the boy’s hand, but Sasuke smiled and looked over Hidan’s shoulder to Kakuzu, whose head tilted back at him in confusion.

“Bye bye Kazoozoo!” As Sasuke noticed Kakuzu, so did the brownies crawling about the home. Everything went silent as they all stared at the person who hadn’t been there a moment previously.

“Um,” Kakuzu whispered his unease, and Hidan simply picked up Kakuzu’s hand and the same way Itachi had done for Sasuke, and prompted him to wave.

“Keep reading kid,” Hidan chirped, and pulled Kakuzu along to the next house.

---

Hidan didn’t truly consider his plan a success until he’d been such a pain in the ass to the entire community, that Kakuzu had trouble bumping into people when they went to the market. It wasn’t long before Kakuzu had himself a job at the library. There had been a tentative silence between him and the head librarian who had been actively denying the existence of a supposed god of knowledge since Hidan had started his endeavor.

Every time they would come across each other on the street, logical reasoning versus spiritual experiences would clash. Hidan, inevitably would head back to his little home with Kakuzu in tow, having embarrassed himself screeching about how Shikamaru was literally trying to murder Kakuzu.

“It’s like he doesn’t even care! I’m telling you! He looks right at me-- I’m not a human! I mean for shit’s sake, he talks to shadows! I know he does, I’ve seen them! They follow him around like the plague. If anyone needs your help it’s probably him! Those shadows are gonna kill him, mark my words, Kakuzu. Seriously. Are you sure he’s a genius? Because he seems pretty fucking stupid!”

Kakuzu could only smile indulgently. If there was one thing Kakuzu knew about information, was that the spread of it, true or false, could bring things into existence. Whether Shikamaru believed in him or not, enough people were beginning to know his name that soon, they wouldn’t have to listen to Hidan rambling on embarrassingly about some of his greatest accomplishments.

So when Shikamaru approached Kakuzu and told him he started work on monday, his suspicions were confirmed. Shikamaru had been able to see him since the first instance of their encounter. He’d just had too much fun messing with Hidan.

----

So it came to be that Hidan had saved the god of knowledge. Satisfied with the efforts of his savior, there were nights where Kakuzu would feel the glow of warm golden threads inside of him, and he would spin them into dreams while Hidan slept. In the darkness of the cabin, where soot sprites sorted herbs and magical ingredients, and Scorpion filled the silence with his whirring purr as he loafed himself at Kakuzu’s hip, the god would his affection into Hidan’s subconscious. The light bounced off the walls, warm, and pure, and ancient.

Each night he remembered how that hand had cradled inside his chest, and how hands that had only ever brought death, gave life. Kakuzu thought himself not easy to love. His spirit filled entire buildings, his temper shattered glass and broke spellbound spirits into chaos. He was too big to fit through doorways, he crossed fairy rings without second thoughts, and actively chased the brownies down for his coin collection… But in Hidan’s dreams, where he laid back against the grass and stared up at the lights from the calm sanctity of the bottom of the ocean, he would remember how his mother told him that those who were the most difficult to love often needed it the most. He found that a lot of things that he was taught to be wrong, and he supposed that’s how knowledge really worked. It evolved. It was a living, breathing, loving thing.

Kakuzu was easy to love, and there was definitely nobody who deserved it more in Hidan’s opinion. He was there every morning, reading. Always reading. And he was there every evening before HIdan went to sleep, with pondering eyes that shone like emeralds reflecting the stars.

Hidan was a devoted creature. To his craft, of course, but nobody would ever be able to find anyone more dedicated to the people he considered his. No two creatures had ever been made so perfectly for one another. There would always be a challenge on Kakuzu’s lips to everything Hidan considered true, and there would always be a hard headed stubbornness to argue what Kakuzu had to teach. They were alive within each other, and the nearer they came to one another, the stronger their bodies attracted. From touches, to holding hands, to silences laying side by side, curled into each other.

The first time Kakuzu kissed Hidan, with their lips colliding like light against the earth, it was like Kakuzu had taken his first deep breath of air when he’d been drowning for so long. When his hands found the small of Hidan’s back as he pressed their bodies together in the shadow of their home, Kakuzu realized he didn’t care if anyone else ever knew him. He only ever needed one person to love him.

So long as they had each other, there was no line of definite, there were no impossibilities; Hidan made his home in the greatest thing the universe had ever tried to throw away. What a home it was.

End

#KakuHida #Kakuzu #Hidan #Akatsuki #Naruto

65 notes · View notes

amwritingmeta · 7 years ago

Text

The Players on the Board

Dean - will make a choice, hopefully it’s a rational one tied to his faith in deserving a future… but…

Cas - may be forced into one helluva position… but…

Sam - will most likely get a chance to confront Lucifer once and for all… but…

Jack - will most likely end the season going dark side… but…

AU!Michael - will most likely carry the torch of Big Bad into S14… but…

Rowena - will be instrumental and, most likely, fully powered again… but…

Lucifer - will most likely die

Billie - keeps her hands clean and refuses to get involved… but…

Ketch - may die (for Mary)

Mary - will live, I do believe, at least I hope so. I don’t think her journey’s over… but…

Bobby and the Sunshine Gang - I think they may stick around until we’re a few episodes into next season… but I honestly don’t know. It all depends on how they handle the AU arc. It feels like a dual season that will carry on into the next, unless they make Jack the Big Bad, but I can’t see that happening without Cas going with him and I can’t see Cas going with Jack looking at where the narrative has positioned all the players so… yeah… it’s all very curious… and all very much spec!

Honestly, this post is mostly me rambling and should probably possibly not be taken too seriously. I’ll be so curious to see if I land even in the ballpark. I’m much more happy if I land in the ballpark emotionally with the characters, rather than plot wise, because the plot has a billion possibilities in it!

Truth be told, I wrote this wanting to stay up and watch the episode live, but after a week in Rome and a day of work I’m crashing now. Be back bright eyed and bushy tailed tomorrow. So sorry about the quiet during JiB! I’ll post about that tomorrow!! You’re all awesome and ILY. Niiiiight. See you on the other side. Don’t read my ramblings. I’m just saving them for posterity!

Let’s Talk Scenarios

1. Jack Goes Dark Side

Why would he go dark side, when we’ve been shown, all season, how he’s been afraid of this side of himself, how he’s fought to reject it, struggled with what it says about him and what it means that his father is the Devil, and we’ve seen him strive to embrace humanity at every turn?

I mean, to my mind he even fought off this side to himself as an infant, rejecting it unequivocally from the womb and choosing Cas as his protector while burning Dagon to a crisp. Dagon - the demon who embodied the protector chosen for him and sent by his father to corrupt him into spreading suffering across the world. This tells us that Jack’s goodness is the prevalent side.

So, why would he go dark side?

Firstly, let me comment on the “but” in the scenario. (I shan’t make dirty jokes I shan’t)

I always thought that Jack was bound to go dark side at some point because that felt like such a given, right? We’ve all thought that. He has Heaven, Humanity and Hell inside of him, and it’s most likely crucial for him to explore all three sides before he’s able to find the inner balance necessary for him to bring balance everywhere else.

But… in 13x14 Meredith Glynn pitted Jack against Zachariah’s masterful brain twisting ways and Jack saw right through him. My theory was always that he would be corrupted by outside influences, because it has felt like a recurring theme and would tie in with the nature/nurture commentary as well, and Meredith’s use of Isaiah spoke to me of how, perhaps, Jack wasn’t destined for this type of corruption after all.

He withstood it and came out stronger for it, escaping with Mary and ending up saving lives. Of course, he also finished the episode dressing himself in the lessons he’d been taught by his ultimate father figures - Dean and Sam - coming to the wrongful conclusion that it’s on him to kill Michael.

Using his powers the way Cas is using them now, as a weapon, has a wholly bad connotation to it.

Mary’s comments in 13x22 made me pause as well.

Mary: Jack isn’t going to the dark side. He’ll see Lucifer’s true nature. And he’ll see it through his own eyes - not yours.

God damn it I could meta this moment into infinity with the let go of your need for control, Dean, or shit will happen.

And here’s the shitty thing that could very well happen: Dean killing Lucifer for Sam.

They’ve foreshadowed it, especially with Dean’s prolonged look at Lucifer before walking through the rift in 13x20. And now Lucifer has a hold over Sam by saving Sam’s life. And Dean sees Lucifer as a threat to Jack, which means a threat to everything, and now Lucifer is on cahoots with Michael… yeah, bad shit all around.

If Dean kills Lucifer out of need for control, then it’s possible he’ll lose any control he might’ve had over Jack, any influence whatsoever, and the fact that he robs Jack of the chance to see Lucifer through his own eyes - not through Dean’s - might bring about one hell of a narrative punishment. Dean is Jack’s foremost father figure. Not Sam, nor Cas. Sam is the supportive uncle and Cas has been too absent to actually teach lessons. Jack takes after Dean’s shown behaviour and most of Dean’s shown behaviour has been grief-laden toxic masculinity.

He’s let that go now, but has Jack really had a chance to see it? Not yet. And being included and accepted by Dean this late in the game, and possibly having such a huge choice taken from him when it comes to getting to know his father and make up his own mind about him and what role he should play in his life, it’s possible this would serve to cause an emotional reaction in Jack so great that he begins to reject his humanity and embrace his darker side, simply in order to learn who he truly is and find some other way into that choice.

I don’t know, though. I doubt they’d want to make Jack the new Big Bad, because the Big Bad shouldn’t make people cry and tear their hair that they’re doing bad things. The season Big Bad should pose a real threat and we should want to watch them go down in flames - which can then be flipped, as it was with Amara. Anyway, Jack going dark side would probably not last longer than the dark arcs Cas (Godstiel) or Dean (Deanmon), or they’ll make it a reflection of Sam’s exploration of his powers, but in that case it would make more sense to keep Jack with TFW and have him be a gun under the table.

If he goes proper dark and takes off, I’m unsure if that arc could last more than a handful of episodes (though anything’s possible) and we also have a Dark Horse in this new version of Dean on the horizon and I wonder if they’d want to pile it all on.

2. Cas - the Weapon or the Shield

I mean, he is both - they all are - but there’s a predominant leaning towards the weapon lately, when all season he’s been describing himself as the shield.

How many times has he said that he promised Kelly to protect her son? (many many times)

That could be as the weapon, but protection, to me, sounds more like the wall standing between you and the bullet. He didn’t start dressing himself as the weapon, not properly, until after Jack went into the AU. And now we’ve landed in the blue glow of his angel eyes being associated with pain, torture and suffering.

This is possibly a fantastic foreshadowing for Dean’s eyes glowing blue with angel grace at the end of the episode (because at JiB Jensen spoiled the fact that the image of this other version of Dean will most likely be the final one when he told us that he hasn’t actually played this other version yet)

Now, I’ve written a meta post on 13x19 that has to do with Cas and Choice.

Is it plausible that a situation arises where Cas says he can’t stay and Dean steps in with his words going Hell to the Yes, you Can and you Will, dumbass.

Yeah, it’s plausible.

It seems imperative that Cas stops with the glow-y eyes already, or I fear he’ll start losing himself. It’s also quite beautiful in the sense that he clearly can’t see any other way of existing than this, because how can he rid himself of his grace when Heaven is failing? So it’s almost as if he’s resigned himself to the role he once assigned himself at this point - that of the weapon and believing it’s his only purpose. It’s made a point of in dialogue between him and torture!Cas in the AU, when Cas agrees that they’re the same. *screaming ghost face emoji*

YOU ARE NOT THE SAME AT ALL, CASTIEL!!

And he doesn’t look like he fully agrees, he doesn’t look accepting of this fact - he looks conflicted once he’s stabbed this alternate version of himself. So where does that leave his arc in the finale? What does he need as we push forward? Where’s he at, you might ask?

Well, he needs perspective. He needs to understand he’s wanted for something other than his powers. He needs a way to tap fully into that humanity that’s just beneath the surface now… But this might be something they want to use and build on for S14, you know? Use how Cas’ inner conflict grows bigger and bigger until he’s forced to make a choice for himself.

Heaven will need to be saved for him to actually make that choice, of course, because there’s no way in Heaven or on Earth that Cas will become human if it threatens humanity. And humanity is under threat from Heaven failing and Cas’ grace is one of a few batteries powering it and yes, I do believe this to be true, even if I’m not 100% sure I trust Naomi’s reformation.

There’s also the aspect of how Dean needs to use his goddamn words already. And since we got the codependency focus in the beauty of 13x21 I also do believe there’s a good chance we’ll get a Dean and Cas focused scene in this one. So will Cas finally begin to feel wants through Dean telling him that he is, and I mean properly expressing it, not in a “you’re our brother” way, but haltingly telling Cas what losing him actually did to him, or some such thing.

I’m very curious and hopeful that we’ll get something like this, BUT judging by the promo, Dean makes a TFW speech of facing whatever comes together, which, hey, I’ll take it, but it’s not the same. It’s not the release Dean needs. (and we need) :P

And then we have Dean’s attitude in that promo, with Dean wanting and believing that they can have a future… *goose bumps* *goose bumps all over* Because that’s the final fucking stage, guys. He’s not just cusping anymore. It’s quite possible he’s standing on that peak and is about to race down it and spread his arms and scream FREEEEEEDOOOOOOOOM.

I mean, there will still be road blocks and obstacles and internal battles to fight. Just not the same ones we’ve been watching for 13 seasons. Shift in dynamics. Balls out. All the way. Yes please and thank you.

3. Dean Making a Choice

So, I’ve written a bit about this already and said that my greatest hope for Dean with whatever situation he’s about to face is that he steps into it not frantic and desperate to save everyone else, but calm and trusting that everything will be alright in the end, because he has faith and because he now wants a future, and he can’t believe that he would be put in this situation to turn out the lights, he feels in his bones that it’s to switch them on.

He’s not facing down this threat in order to go out in a blaze of glory - he’s facing it to ensure he has a future to come back to.

That’s my biggest hope for him, so the fact that we now have a scene where he’s expressing hope for the future is pretty… yeah. It’s pretty as fuck.

I mean, hope for the future is a huge, huge bold sign that Dean is beginning to find self-worth. Do you know what that means for the shift in dynamics? Do you know what this means for the love story? *can’t sit still in my chair* I’ll talk more about this in another few paragraphs (or many more) (I don’t know) (fingers decide)

I would love for Dean to say yes to Michael, but the thing is… it’s so EARLY. We’re at the possible probable midpoint of a dual seasonal arc.

Well, what does Dean need? Truly?

a) He needs to let go of his need for control. Now, honestly, if we do get Dean saying yes to Michael, and Michael is in the guise of young John (since Matt Cohen is rumoured to be guest starring), then we get Dean granting admittance to one of the most formidable representatives of toxic masculinity that we’ve ever had on the show, and he looks like the YOUNG version of Dean’s father, the uncorrupted, loving, whole man who was supposed to raise Dean, rather than the broken and haunted drunk that ended up doing such a poor job of it for the most part, then imagine THAT visual manifestation of how Dean has moved on from the toxic masculinity ideal and is now embracing the truth of his father’s individuality.

Like DAMN.

But that’s detail spec and one should never really do that. (oh well fuck it) (it’d just be a cool moment)

Letting go of his need for control peters into everything and affects the codependency positively. In 13x22 this has been set up, with Sam stepping up to the plate, speaking over Dean and taking charge, and Dean pretty much being ok with it. He’s allowing Sam to grow the fuck up. It’s beautiful!!

b) He needs to speak the fuck up after a season of half-truths, stumbling on his words or keeping things completely unspoken. I mean, that’s what we all think. Right? Right. And what needs to happen before he can use his words? He needs to feel trust - in himself. And what shows that he’s beginning to trust in himself? The fact that he’s looking to the goddamn future, that’s what!

He’s not expecting to die. He doesn’t want to die. He thinks he deserves a damn BEACH HOLIDAY. *screams victory into the void* *it echoes forever*

How does he need to use his words? Well. I think he’s showing Sam that he trusts him to have his back, and to take care of himself, but it’s possible the codependency needs him to verbalise this.

However, we have the setup in 13x21 that dealt with Sam’s death and Dean’s reaction to it. Which was to reluctantly make the tactical decision to listen to Cas that it was too late to save Sam and they had to keep going in order to save the other people in their care and get to Jack and Mary, fulfil the mission…

So where might he need to use his words…

Okay, before I get into Destiel, because as much as I kind of don’t want to even speculate, I have some speculation after going through all these notes today, but before that, let’s talk about Sam.

4. Sam and Lucifer and stuff

Is Sam meant to kill Lucifer? Well, revenge is a savage beast that leaves no satisfaction, and we have a visual narrative underlining of that through Gabriel’s fallen expression after he’s assured Sam he feels awesome having killed everyone on his list. The revenge quest of 13x20 is stupid. That’s the whole point of that narrative - to point out the stupidity and futility of indulging in that feeling of more wrongs somehow righting a wrong done to you.

You can’t heal your wounds by inflicting wounds or a killing blow - you heal your wounds by letting go of all that anger and hatred and moving on from it. Forgiveness and understanding is a balm for the soul.

Would Sam take a shot at Lucifer if given the chance, though? Yes, he would. So… It’s possible this chance presents itself in the finale, and if Lucifer does die… that’s another archangel gone. Stakes continuously raised for how exactly to save Heaven, eh?

If Sam does get a chance to kill Lucifer, I almost wish he’ll step down. That he’ll realise that he is in control of the situation, of himself, of his own choices, and he doesn’t have to fear himself and what he’s capable of anymore. He won’t lose control. He’s all grown up now - he doesn’t need his father figure to guide him. He needs to let go of Dean. (I mean, obviously he’ll need to save Dean from whatever the fuck is headed his way but you know) (symbolically Sam needs to push Dean away and dare strike out on his own)

Sam should lead.

And the fact that the bunker is now full of seasoned hunters/soldiers is a fantastic position to put him in, wholly enabling the born leader that he truly is. And, by the by, when I say lead I don’t mean burst through doors with a weapon, I mean he should be at the hub of communication, he should be in the bunker running logistics and doing research, he should fucking MoL, shouldn’t he?

Yes. He. Should.

And perhaps now, being put in this position, the lights will start flicking on in that stubborn head of his and he’ll begin to see what the bunker could be, what it was always meant to be. God, it’d be so gorgeous. I want him to hunt down more legacies, damnit!! Build a network, create a MoL chapter that can do things the way things were always meant to be done.

Come on, Sammy!

5. Billie and the Cosmics

Cosmic consequences, cosmic fate and something else cosmic, or several other things cosmic this season. The word “cosmic” has come up on more than one occasion and, usually, it seems linked to Billie. Well, the cosmic fate was linked to the love spell, which is linked to Rowena, and now Rowena and Billie have been in the same room.

Anyway.

What if it isn’t Michael. What if Lucifer and AU!Michael’s tampering with the fabric of the universe causes rifts to open and something truly, truly bad to come through, the way that was foreshadowed in 13x17? But then again, what exactly did Billie mean when she told Dean “See you again soon”?

I have no fucking clue. GAH.

6. The Greatest Love Story Ever Told

I’m not expecting any payout in the finale on all the foreshadowing and plants they’ve given us throughout the season, let me make that perfectly clears, my dears.

But here’s the thing.

They are separating these men again. We know they are. They’ve told us this is happening. Dean is going to not be Dean and, looking at where we’re at narratively, it’s going to leave Cas pretty much as devastated as it left Dean, with the exception that Cas will not deal with dead!Dean, he’ll deal with possessed!Dean.

Well, presumably anyway.

See, I wouldn’t even consider this if it weren’t for Dean’s position in his progression, which was made clear to us in the promo for 13x23 by how he wants a future for himself, how he’s come so far as to plan what he’d do with it, if they could actually change things and get rid of all the bad in the world through Jack.

Which I doubt they will. Because that’s Utopia. And I don’t think Jack is here to bring that type of balance. But he WILL bring back the balance of the first seasons. At least how I see it. The monsters deserve a chance too. I don’t think you can just eradicate whole species and think this promotes balance. But working together, working proactively - yeah, that’d work. And having teams of hunters working together with MoL chapters would also mean that some people could take a vacation and know that everything’s under fucking control. It’s not all on them all the time.

So, point —>

Dean sees a future for himself. He’s in a position where I can actually, emotionally, see him think “fuck this”, and kissing Cas, because what Dean’s needed, more than anything, is to believe himself worthy of Cas’ love and affections, and Dean is pretty much there now, or so the promo says.

And, the thing is, Cas is in a place where he more or less needs emotional intervention. Because he’s in Heavenly soldier default angel mode and he’s not drinking the beers and he’s not a part of the trio the way he should be. Because he’s removed from them, even after everything, and he is allowing himself to be, not understanding how to break through.

We’ve kept being shown him frowning at Dean’s innuendo. The only innuendo we’ve gotten from Cas is that “epically” and even that could’ve been meant as something innocent enough. Cas isn’t quite there to make the move himself. But Dean…

Yeah, it would be intriguing af if they give us a kiss or even more this episode, because it pushes the shift in dynamics to the forefront and lets the GA know what’s what. It also gives a fresh tinge to the separation, because they’ll be struggling to get back to each other from two sides. They’ll be lovers pointedly wanting to reunite. It’ll be new to watch and will lend completely new subtext and it would be so gorgeous.

If they have them come together in a passionate tangle of limbs without actually resolving anything between them before Dean says yes/is possessed/whatever he’s about to do/is about to happen to him, then we get the love story smacked in the face of the GA, while the tension remains because there’s still been no actual declarations (and you know you gotta have those)…

But yeah. If they’re going for another five seasons I’m not sure. Might be I’ll end up having to film myself eating an over-priced and highly delectable hat here, people. :P

I do not expect Destiel to become text in the finale. It just makes a tiny speck of sense that it could. Either way, there’s been a hella lot of fun subtext to read into this season! *aw yiss*

#spn 13x23 #wild speculation #this WILL need an edit #I know it #I'm too tired and there's no point posting this tomorrow morning so #posting it I ams #xx

14 notes · View notes

tstarkhasaheart · 7 years ago

Text

Never Let Them Take the Light Behind Your Eyes - (Prologue)

Pairing: Bucky x female reader, Tony x daughter!reader

Summary: [Y/N] was just merely 10 years old when Hydra took her and her sister after finding out that their father was a traitor. The two were kept under Hydra’s watch 24/7. Years later, [Y/N]’s sister is gone, and she finds herself living with none other than Tony Stark himself. A few months after she gets there, him and Pepper has adopted her. Now, it’s been 2 years since aliens invaded New York, and everything’s going great. That’s until a certain ghost story comes back to haunt her...

Word count: 1,884

Warnings: language? I think it’s very minor. Mentions of death. (If I missed something please tell me! It’s honestly very late at night)

A/N: woooo, new series! i really hope you guys enjoy the prologue! if there’s any mistakes or anything along those lines, please do tell me. as stated before, it’s very late and i’m super tired so there’s bound to be at least a few mistakes. feedback is greatly appreciated! you have no idea how giddy i get when a get a notification from someone liking and commenting. enjoy :)

(These gifs are not mine. Credit goes to owners)

“You truly thought we wouldn’t find out Oh, you’re so dead when Pierce finds out.” He was right.

Though, the name of the agent driving wasn’t known to you, you knew how right he was. Failing the mission wasn’t something you anticipated, neither was anyone finding out about it. But Hydra was unpredictable.

“Maybe he’d even kill you off just like he did your sister,” the agent stated, his smirk evident in his voice. Your body stiffened at the words.

Your sister was a rule breaker way before you both were captured by Hydra. It was just the way she was. The stricter the rules got, the more she broke them. The second month you two were there was her last month in the world.

She was your hero, and any time someone mentioned her, it struck a nerve in you.

“She would’ve been a fine soldier if it weren’t for her being so... rebellious, but in the end she deserved to die. Don’t you think so?” The way you stared at him in the mirror was full of pure hatred, and he knew he gotten under your skin. “I can still hear her screams. They were like music to my ea-” He wasn’t able to finish his sentence before your whole body was on fire and your hand was wrapped around his throat.

“I think your screams would sound more melodic, don’t you?” you spoke through clenched teeth.

It wasn’t long before the whole car was on fire, including him. His hands grabbed at yours, instantly regretting it as they were burned even more. You could tell it was a matter of seconds before he would lose consciousness.

“Гори в аду,” you spat. “Burn in hell.” Not even a second later you watched the light leave his eyes. You were panting by the time your hands let go of the agent’s throat, your adrenaline rushing from what had just occurred.

The car was swerving all over the road, the steering wheel forgotten long ago. All of the light in the car wasn’t just from the fire. A car was coming right for you.

Your hand gripped the steering wheel and swerved out of the way as the car did the same, avoiding any contact with your vehicle.

The other car had managed to drive away unharmed, but it was the complete opposite for you. The car ended up flipping completely over.

Nearly 100 yards away from you was the city that never sleeps. New York City. No one knew that you were trapped in that car with smoke filling your lungs, and it was only getting worse by the minute.

Tony Stark was one of the many New Yorkers getting ready for the holidays. He hovered outside of Stark Tower, trying to decide how he could possibly decorate it.

“How does this look so far, Pepper?” he asked the blonde.

“Tony, it looks fine,” Pepper responded. She stood across the street on the sidewalk, admiring the many lights that decorated Stark Tower.

“Did I hear more lights?” A groan sounded on the other end.

“If you put anymore lights on that tower, half of Manhattan won’t have power,” she stated, exaggerating tremendously.

“Mr. Stark,” a posh voice interrupted,

“Not now Jarvis. Can’t you see I’m busy putting half of Manhattan in the dark?”

“Sir, if you would, direct your gaze to your right.”

“Jarvis,” Tony scolded the AI as he scanned the tower for any bland spots. “I told you I was busy. Can it wait?”

“I’m afraid not, sir,” the AI spoke. Tony sighed. rolling his eyes as he turned to face where Jarvis had directed him to. At first he didn’t notice anything. He thought it was all some kind of joke until his gaze landed on something that resembled a bonfire.

“Decorating time’s over. Pepper, get in the tower,” was the last thing Tony said before ending the call with her and instantly rocketing over to what seemed to be a wreck.

Stumbling a bit as he landed on the ground a few feet away from the burning car, Tony could hear the hoarse voice of what sounded like a female calling for help. The closer he got, the clearer he could hear the person.

He kept inching closer until he could see that it was, in fact, a female trapped in the burning vehicle. She looked pretty young as well. His heart ached in his chest as he got closer to flames.

“It’s alright! I’m coming!” he shouted over her screams. He sucked in a deep breath as if he were getting ready to go underwater and quickly tore the car door off. When he got a closer look at her, he noticed that her leg was stuck under a piece of metal that must’ve fallen from the roof.

“Jarvis, this thing’s fireproof right?” he inquired quickly as he analyzed the situation in his head.

“For the most part, sir.” That was all of the confirmation that Tony needed before he practically dived into the fire. The heat instantly enveloped his body, and he was sweating in seconds. The only thing he had to worry about now was his suit overheating.

“When I push, I’m going to need to you to pull your leg out. Can you do that for me?” he asked the somewhat young girl. She swiftly nodded and gripped on to the seats on either side of her to get reader to pull.

Tony gripped the piece of metal that trapped her leg, getting in the right position to push it away from her.

“Okay... pull!” He pushed the metal as hard as he could, gritting his teeth together as he did so. He heard her small cry, and soon enough, her leg was out.

The piece of metal hit the seat once Tony let go, and he turned to the girl.

“We’re going to get you out of here and get you patched up. Is there anyone else in the car?” The girl instantly shook her head, and he nodded. “Alright, if I hurt you just tell me.”

He hooked an arm underneath her legs and the other snaked behind her back. Carefully, he got them both of them out of the car.

“Hold on,” he instructed before taking off of he ground. The girl gasped and gripped onto his shoulders. He glimpsed at her for just a split moment before keeping his eyes straight ahead of him. “Jarvis, do a scan for any injuries, and call for the fire department. They’ll know what to do.”

“The New York Fire Department is on their way. Scanning for injuries now,” the AI responded.

He kept his flying slow and steady just in case she did happen to have any injuries. He wouldn’t doubt that she did, considering what had just occurred.

“No severe injuries. There is a cut on her leg, though, that will be needing some care,” Jarvis stated.

“Tell Pepper to get a first aid kit ready,” he mumbled as landed onto the small hangar that he had created for Stark Tower. Tony walked over to the nearest seat and set her down as delicately as he could.

Once she was completely settled, Tony stepped out of the Iron Man suit, letting out a small sigh of relief as he was welcomed by the cool December air.

“Tony,” a concerned voice called. “Jarvis told me you needed a first aid kit, is everything alright?” Pepper emerged from the other room, instantly freezing as she seen the new guest.

“Yeah, just bring it over here,” he said as he kneeled in front of the girl.

Pepper’s heels clicked against the floor as she rushed over to the two, and she handed Tony the kit. He took it as he shot her a grateful smile.

“Keep her distracted, will ya?” he asked sweetly before he went to work on her leg. Pepper nodded and kneeled down on the other side of the girl.

“Hey sweetheart,” Pepper said soothingly. “You feeling alright?” The girl nodded slowly. A small smile tugged at the corner of Pepper’s lips. A hiss escaped the young girl’s lips as Tony dabbed some hydrogen peroxide on the wound which resulted into Pepper grabbing her hand, and she rubbed her thumb on the back of it to calm her down.

“Is there a reason you were visiting New York?” The girl gave Pepper a blank stare; “Like family. You coming down here to visit family?” The girl just shook her head, making Pepper furrow her eyebrows. “Where is your family?” The girl shrugged before shaking her head once more.

“Finished!” Tony exclaimed as he finished bandaging up the wound. “Now, let’s get you hom-” “Tony could we talk for a minute?”

Tony looked over at Pepper in surprise, a bit taken aback by her question, but he replied nonetheless.

“Yeah, sure.”

The two walked into the other room where they were sure the girl wouldn’t hear them, Pepper practically pulling him along.

“She has no family,” Pepper stated as soon as they were out of earshot. Tony furrowed his eyebrows.

“Alright, then we can find an orphanage or something,” he simply responded. The response made Pepper role her eyes and sigh. “Are you worried about her not finding somewhere to stay? I can have her gone in no ti-”

“No. Tony. That’s not at all what I’m worried about.”

“Then what are you worried about?” Tony searched Pepper’s eyes to find what she was exactly feeling at that moment. A sigh escaped the blonde’s lips, and she looked down whilst tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I don’t want her to end up at an orphanage or something along the lines of that. That girl looks like she’s been through hell, and I’m not just talking about where you dug her up from. There’s just something about the look in her eyes,” Pepper explained as she fiddled with her fingers. It took Tony a moment to process what she had said, and when he did, he knew the solution to what Pepper was feeling.

“How about she stays here with us?” Tony asked, and instantly, Pepper’s head snapped up at the offer. “Maybe, if we all warm up to each other, I could go to the courthouse and get some adoption papers. How does that sound?”

Not even a second later, Pepper’s arms snaked around Tony’s neck as she enveloped him a hug.

“That sounds amazing.”

The two walked back to where they had left the girl and found that she was in the exact same spot. Tony cleared his throat and walked up to her.

“You have no one you can go to?” he asked her softly. She shook her head and looked down, almost as if she were ashamed. “How about you stay here?” Her head perked up at the idea. “Does that sound alright to you?” She nodded hesitantly, and he grinned. “Alright, but there’s just one thing we need to know before we go set you up in a room.” She furrowed her eyebrows as she waited for the question, wondering what it could possibly be.

“What’s your name?” Pepper was the first to speak up. The girl visibly relaxed and cracked a small smile.

“[Y/N].”

Tags: @purplekitten30

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky imagine #bucky #tony x daughter!reader #tony stark #tony stark x reader #avengers #bucky series #bucky barnes series #james barnes #james bucky barnes #a #new series #ahhhhhh this is excitng #bucky x female reader

228 notes · View notes